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thecaptnoname · 2 days ago

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Dead Sector Diplomat

Dead Sector. Such an ominous yet fitting name for this infamous stretch of land. Even the grass and trees here look sickly or dead, as if struck by some malady. It isn't helped by the fact that the border of the sector is lined by stone pillars such that one would be forgiven for mistaking them for gravestones. However, those pillars served a different purpose entirely — to etch the borders of the living and ward the death off, with grass green and alive on one side of them and withered yellow or even black the further it went.

Such a dismal landscape did tend to take a toll on one's mind, which is why only the most valiant and sturdy soldiers got stationed here. Such as Rotomanch.

Rotomanch was the captain of the Hell's Gate — the biggest blockpost placed on the sector's main road. Another relic of the Great War, he remembered, the Great War of Undead and Unaliving.

It was then when the swarms of rotting bodies, half feral with rage, ransacked and razed the neighboring villages, turning those unfortunate to stay into their ilk, led by the Necromancer. Nobody knew their name nor did they learn their reasons, only that with every man down their undead army grew up. So the kingdoms and czarstvas convened and went scorched earth on them, and then staved them off as a united front, with Potoya clan at the spearhead. Rotomanch's own clan.

He turned back towards the green hills, contemplating. In five hundred winters since then, the nature did heal back from the dead quite immensely. It was a much more sorry affair back when the War just finished. People treated these posts as literal graveyard shifts. Some of them wavered and asked for transfer. Some of them took their own lives. Rotomanch briefly wondered if any of his ancestors, despite their grand and hallowed reputation, did something something silly like that themselves, but he shook that thought away. Didn't feel right.

Nowadays, though, that stretch of dead land lined with tombstone pillars was a sobering reminder that whatever bickering those warring fiefdoms had, mattered not in the face of literal death. At least, they had some presence of mind to send their finest troops in.

And the Potoyas had the right idea of establishing a new stone castle, just shy of a day away, to host the Unified Defence of the Living.

Except nothing happened in the five hundred winters since. Not a single squad or even a lonely scout — even the birds were a rare sight, since there was nothing to feast upon.

Rotomanch tried to remember the later days of the counteroffensive, but failed to glean the reasons for such a sudden quiet. The Necromancer fled almost as fast as they struck, no arrow or spear was able to reach him with its fatal certainty, so he couldn't've died of any wounds, being the coward he always was. Dying of old age also was out of question — it wasn't unheard of for powerful mages to be able to reach immortality in one way or another, and being able to summon and control the army he was able to amass, he certainly had the right amount of power to tap into lichdom.

~***~

Rotomanch's musings were quickly thrown away at the sound of activity above the gatehouse.

"Captain Potoya! I see a wagon!" was Sergeant-Senior Dubnin's report.

"Right I am!" he acknowledged and ordered: "Grimwald! Take the post while I look up", before exiting through the door and taking the ladder.

Paradoxically enough, the gatehouse was a big beefy stone building, almost a tiny castle in its own right, and looked totally out of place when surrounded by the warding pillars. It was probably reasoned that the gatehouse was to be built first, since the main road provided a good chokepoint and was likely to be raided by a bulk of the undead forces, should they strike again, and the walls would serve to funnel them down into this bottleneck trap. Except when both the castle and this outer gatehouse were finished, the viability of building an entire wall encompassing the Dead Sector was put under scrutiny and in the end, got buried under the weight of international bureaucracy. And now, that very bureaucracy, Rotomanch felt, was going to bury the victims of the next Undead War.

The Captain scaled the ladder with speed and resolve, putting a significant strain onto the straps it was tied with — another siege-proofing aspect of their blockpost — and clambered onto the floorboards, taking a hand offered by Dubnin with a gratuitous nod, then followed him into the open. On the wall, a couple of guradsmen — those being the Hibbers brothers, Liam and Lloyd, — were looking intently into the distance — Lloyd with his squinted eyes, Liam through the mounted telescope, — probably observing the mysterious wagon.

Seeing their superiors walking in, Lloyd pushed himself off the crenolation, straightened up and snapped a salute, discreetly nudging his brother with a knee. Liam stiffled a grunt and turned away from the direction of his brother.

"Sorry, Cap'n, didn't hear ye coming," he bleated apologetically, before carefully moving away from the telescope, as to not bump it off its bearing, and finally gave a proper salute. "Nothing much to report, Cap, just a single carriage, no escort, no nothing, moving strictly along the paving at a moderate speed," he reported, allowing Rotomanch to take the station at the watching tube. "I feels, something's wrong with the carriage, though I can't yet see as to what."

Rotomanch glanced back over his shoulder, processing this information, then nodded in acknowledgement and turned to look through the ocular, while behind his back, the men tensely looked over the wall, hugging its jagged stone teeth.

The landscape was mostly a giant plane covered with blackened thistle of dried grass and occasional hollow husks of dead trees, with rolling black hills starting further away. With such a surrounding, the gray serpentine of a paved road, despite not being properly maintained for over half a millennia, was almost as bleached as a bone blasted with sand. And rolling down this grey, was an even whiter carriage that seemed to be throwing up big clouds of grey dust. Except, the dust from the cracked pavement with rare sprouts of black grass, reasoned Rotomanch, would've looked black or a much darker grey. Besides,...

"Where are the horses?" he asked aloud, looking to Sergeant-Senior Dubnin, then, realising his mistake, turning to face the brothers.

"That is what irked me out, Sir. Not even the skele-horses," Liam replied. "Whateves it is, I do not like the feels of it, Sir."

"Maybe we shoulda send de runnar? To warn de fortress?" suggested Lloyd, gesturing with his eyes.

"Aye," said Rotomanch, "Go tell Grimwald to fortify — gods know what this thing is about."

At that, Dubnin clicked his heels and ran back into the left tower, while the Hibbers bros. waltzed around each other, with Liam running along the wall to the right-hand tower and Lloyd laying against the stone with his blazecaster at the ready. After a moment of deliberation, Potoya unslung and fidgeted with his own as well, affixing it right under the telescope's tube, praying the zero wasn't too far off as it was.

~***~

As the carriage continued creeping closer, more details eventually became visible: two people sitting on a bridge atop of it, one most likely at the helm, and another seemed to be holding a staff, which he, at some unseen signal from the former, fidgeted with, in order to unfurl a banner. A white banner.

Second-line Lieutenant Grimwald looked on via his spyglass directed into the peepslit, when he heard the Captain's footsteps growing closer to his left. The moment they started rounding behind his back and approaching from his right, there couldn't be any mistake: the Captain is coming to his post.

When the door opened and Potoya entered (strangely, with Dubnin's borrowed blazecaster), the LT regarded him with a nod and briefly continued observing, before turning to Captain.

"Have you seen it, Sir? They've unfurled the banner," Grimwald asked, lowering his spyglass.

"Aye," nodded Rotomanch, "They are rising a white flag. I wonder at the meaning of that."

Grimwald shrugged in response. "Let us just hope this isn't some trick to breach unabated," he half-muttered, putting away his looking-glass and turning to slot his caster into the firing port. Rotomanch nodded in agreement and vacated himself from the guard post.

Outside, a small contingent of troops was already inspecting their gear and affixing sabernettes to their blazecasters, ready to repel a possible invasion with all of their power. Steelate cuirasses with maroon phoenix emblazoned on their chestplates — a symbol the Potoyas picked to represent the undying resolve of the humankind — and armoured kneeboots shimmered dully in the sunlight due to their matted finish making them a good compromise between the weight, the mobility, their protection and visibility. Everyone had their capellinas' faceplates risen up so as to be able to see better before they truly had to join the fray.

Finishing, everyone stood at attention — left foot up, arm to the shoulder, step, right foot up, caster grounded, step, — and waited for their Captain's orders. Rotomanch smiled internally, seeing how perfectly their backwater garrison followed their drills.

He stepped in front of them.

"Soldiers of Fort Phoenix!" he addressed. "Finally, in 450 winters since its establishment, we are seeing some sights of activity in these here dead waters." Some soldiers quietly snorted at the wordplay used. "A single carriage is driving right here, from the Dead Sector, with white banner raised as a sign of a peaceful delegation," he continued and shifted to look over the troops. "Considering a total lack of any interaction with the undead, aside from the infamous Great War, assume hostile intent possible. Prepare to fight rigorously, but DO NOT engage, until provoked! Pay attention to the flanks and inspect the wardstones as necessary." Rotomanch took a pause to look at the stationary clock they had. "The carriage is going to arrive in two wick burns, so that doesn't leave us much time to prepare. Together we rise!"

"FROM ASHES AND FIRE! OORAAAH!!" bellowed the troopers in unison, before the Lance Sergeant started blowing his whistle and barking his orders, distributing the foot riflemen and mountees into groups.

"Whickelmacht!" Potoya shouted through the commotion. "When you're done here, join me on the outside!"

"AYE, CAP'N! SCOOT IT!" replied the portly Sarge, wasting no time to shoo the troops into action.

~***~

From the outside, the gatehouse looked like an intimidating hedgehog of stones and spears, either pointed up as a toothy fence, or forth, like bristles of a scared animal. Foot soldiers and mountees inspected both the border's barrier and the new arrival, with mountees' caster carbines slapping gently against their hip holsters.

From the other side, a single white carriage rolled, with two guys sitting on its bridge, with one of them holding a large flag. From a much closer distance, one could certainly see that the carriage was indeed white — or rather ivory — due to its exterior being fashioned out of bleached bone plates, with green oxidized copper lining its contours with some quite artisanally impressive lines, especially — the flats of the wheels, and that both of the people on the carriage's bridge were indeed some sort of skeletal folks dressed in some pretty classy suits made out of dyed leather. As to where the leather and some of the dyes could be sourced from, that wasn't the question anyone wanted to dwell upon.

As the distance shortened even further, one could see that the clouds that were formely mistaken for dust, turned out to be some kind of a light smoke or vapour, and an increasing warbling whistle accompanied by an erratic rumble left no doubt that the wheels were spun by some kind of an engine — whatever unholy abomination they managed to devise.

Some short length of road away, one of the skeletal folks, the one with a flag, exchanged some hand signals with the other, who jerked and twisted some levers, making the carriage to creak, groan and stop with a loud hiss. After a moment and a few more lever manipulations, the warbling and rumble quieted down, but not died off entire — the driver was idling his engine, obviously. The flagbearer skeleton turned halfway in, bent down and knocked onto a previously obscured window, which soon slid away. The flagbearer started gesturing to someone behind the window, while the driver skeleton glanced at them with what must be a bored look.

Captain Potoya and Lance Sergeant Whickelmacht (who stood the gate alongside Gefreiter Lonnitz) watched the scene unfold.

"What is that all about?" boomed Whickelmacht's deep whisper.

"No idea, Sergeant," answered Rotomanch, standing easy and internally wincing as the flagbearer skeleton fumbles to catch the white banner he almost dropped due to his furious gesturing.

Finally, the carriage's window slit shut, the flagbearer made a couple more gestures to the driver, who killed the engine, and started clambering down from the bridge.

"Everyone! This is the moment of truth! Steady!" shout-whispered the Captain to the troops behind him.

"Ready!" was whisper-reported back, with Lonnitz and Grimwald saying so with uncanny synchronisity, and Sergeant-Senior Dubnin leading the target with the scoped blazecaster.

~***~

The flagbearer skeleton, dressed in a red sort of leather camisole, black leather pants with a single large bleached stripe along the seam, a black tricorne and black leather sabots, touched down the road, leaving his white banner up on the bench, and rushed to open the door for the passenger section of the carriage. The driver, who was dressed quite similarly, sans the stripes and with a simpler wide-brimmed hat, meanwhile, glanced down and then looked up at the crenolated wall. Out of the carriage stepped, one after another, a total of five similarly thin leather-clad figures, after which the door was swiftly closed by the tricorne-wearing adjutant, who then retrieved the flag and allowed the small posse to march in front of him.

"Wowzers..." gasped Gefreiter Lonnitz in awe, earning a side-eye from Lance Sergeant Whickelmacht. His reaction was totally understandable: one does not expect the rotten beasts of the Dead Sector to look this impressive.

The undead dignitaries all wore leather clothing, of course, but with differing colours — greens, blues, brown, black — embroided by gold and silver linings, according to their tastes, and some added gemstones for extra shine. But what was, perhaps, more alien and probably perturbing, is the decorative spikes, splints and perforations in their openly displayed bones. And at least three of them were wearing some sort of collars around their necks — two of them had ornate gold and sapphire scarab-shaped bulbs under their skulls, while the third — worn by a modest looking he-skeleton in green-and-silver camisole, and black-and-silver trousers, slippers and cylinder cap — had more of a brass finish and boxy shape about it. It also became apparent that those skeletons also had glass spheres encased into their eye sockets, with some opting for various gemstones in place of their irises and some — like the brass-collared fellow — having them outlined with some wire.

The head of the delegation, a smartly dressed skeleton with swirls and vines etched into his face's left, gold ornaments on black leather, emerald pupils, gold scarab collar and an emeral pin in his side cap, looked over the militarymen guarding the gatehouse.

"No spells fired? That's very promising," he concluded, before going just a step closer and nodding a restrained bow. "Good afternoon, gentlemen! I hope, our arrival didn't startle you too much. My name is Grechtebald vid Moommel, and I, along with my companions, am hoping to broker peace and open borders for both of our nations!"

Your bloodline has guarded the boundary between the kingdoms and the world of the dead for 500 years. Since the Great War nothing has happened. Today something came through. Not an army, but an undead diplomat and a small entourage.

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kingdomvel · 2 days ago

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New season boring af pt2

Steddie | modern au | famous actor Steve Harrington | 4.9k | ao3

part one

“Are you talking with that guy again?” The sound of Robin’s voice startles Steve, who can only lock his phone and slip it into his pocket to hide it from her. He wasn’t even talking with Eddie, that’s the embarrassing part. He was looking at the pictures that he had shared with him over the months they have been talking.

“No,” Steve says, but he must not sound very convincing.

“Steve! I’ve told you he could be a weirdo, or a stalker!”

“And I’ve told you he is not a stalker, he was not that interested in me before we started texting. And he works in a record store all the way in Chicago. I’ve seen it.”

“Do you understand the concept of catfishes? He could still be a stalker.”

“Well that stalker has seen my dick, so” Steve shrugs.

“WHAT? You whore!” Robin shouts, Steve is very thankful that they are alone in the makeup trailer now. “When did this happen?”

Steve crosses his arms and grumbles, knowing what is coming. “A month ago?”

“A MONTH?”

“Yeah.” And what a fucking month it has been. Steve can still remember that first time in perfect detail. Steve had not expected Eddie’s picture. At all. He had been hoping for a reaction, that’s why he had chosen that movie, but Eddie had given him something much better. The sight of his tented pyjamas was only surpassed by the sight of his actual dick on the video call later.

Steve will admit – only to himself – that it was reckless and dangerous, but it was also the culmination of weeks of studying Eddie’s picture, of watching time and time again the little videos he posted in his close friends stories (the day Steve had been added to the list was another peak for him, as embarrassing as that is) playing guitar and dicking around with his friends (maybe he was the stalker of the two). It was Steve seeing how he affected the guy he had the hots for after months of being sexually frustrated with barely enough time to jack off between filming. Because of course Eddie wasn’t only funny and nice to talk to, he also had to be the hot friend of his group.

He had not been planning for that reaction, but he was not going to pass up that opportunity. Seeing the hand he had seen wrapped around guitar necks for so long wrapped around Eddie’s cock… Steve was never going to forget that sight.

“This is crazy, like, do you even know his name?” Robin interrupts his thoughts.

“Of course I do, he’s Eddie.” He’s always known his name, it’s in his profile.

“Surname?”

Steve pauses. “You don’t know the surname of all your friends.”

“I think in this case you should have asked, Steve.”

“Why can’t you trust me with this?”

“I just worry about you, and maybe I’m a bit sad that you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“I knew you would just nag me about it.”

“Hah! So you know what you did was wrong!”

“If you didn’t want this to happen then you shouldn’t have made me watch Notting Hill.”

“That’s different!”

“How.”

“Well, for one it’s a movie,” she says, putting up a finger. Steve rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. That’s pretty obvious. “Two!” Robin puts up another finger. “They met in real life, not the internet.”

“It was the 90s, of course they met in person. Are you saying that it would be fine if I went to Chicago and met him casually in his record store?”

“No, maybe, don’t try to distract me.”

“Keep your points coming, come on.”

“Three!” Another finger comes up. “Hugh Grant is... hot?”

Steve snorts. “Eddie is hot too.” They wouldn’t be having this conversation if he wasn’t. “And anyways, you are a lesbian, you have no opinion on this.” He waves it off with a hand.

“I still have eyes, and that’s what everyone says.”

“Not valid. Your arguments are not accepted, I know you don’t think Hugh Grant is hot.”

“But that’s not the point! Ugh, okay.” Robin pauses for a few seconds, but Steve knows she’s not finished talking. “So, he saw your dick, did you see his? Wait, no, don’t tell me details. A month ago? I still can’t believe it. Have you done that again?”

And there she is. Steve laughs. “Yes, we’ve done it again.”

****

Steve.hrrgtn: hey, just a quick question

Steve.hrrgtn: what’s your surname?

Batking: why? trying to steal it for yourself?

Steve’s heart should not skip like that from that line.

Steve.hrrgtn: just so I know who I should address the restraining order to when you finally try to murder me

Batking: fuck youve been talking with robin again?

Batking: its munson

Batking: edward munson

Batking: you need anything else? my social security number or something? Ill send you a picture of my drivers license

Steve.hrrgtn: I think I only need that for now, thank you for your cooperation

Batking: you better not be lying about the reason

Batking: if I catch you writing one mr and mr munson in your diary you will need the restraining order for real

Steve’s heart should NOT skip like that from that line.

****

Steve takes a picture on the mirror of the dressing room, stylists still all around him. Nobody pays attention to him, they are all too busy for that, packing up and chatting. Steve should be taking the graduation gown off so it can be packed up with everything else, just so they can go home earlier, but he had to take the picture first. He had taken pictures with the rest of the cast, sure, but this is different.

He is smiling, cap held in his hand.

Steve.hrrgtn: *picture attached*

Steve.hrrgtn: just graduated

He sends the message and moves to take the costume off and his own clothes back on. When he takes his phone back, there is a message already waiting for him. A smile makes its way to his face in a second.

Batking: at the grown age of 25, took you even longer than me and I did my senior year three times

Batking: congratu fucking lations

Steve.hrrgtn: you are an asshole

Steve.hrrgtn: but do you know what this means??

Steve moves around the room, thanking everyone. It takes him a while, so he is confused when an answer is not waiting for him when he looks back at his phone.

Steve.hrrgtn: Eddie?

Batking: *Screenshot of the I’M FREEEE!!!!!! WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY FUCKING LIFE meme*

Batking: this?

Batking: sorry sweetheart I was looking for the meme

Steve.hrrgtn: EXACTLY THAT

Steve.hrrgtn: not like the WORST because I met Robin here and all but FUCK YEAH it’s over

Batking: these four months of waiting for the torture to finish must have felt so long

Steve smiles, typing as he walks outside. They are having a wrap party later, so he needs to find Robin so they can get ready together.

Steve.hrrgtn: hmm not really

Steve.hrrgtn: I had someone sending me memes to entertain me that made the time fly

Batking: must be one hell of a lucky guy

Steve.hrrgtn: assuming genders now?

Batking: oh sorry, are you cheating on me with another meme provider? Am I not enough for you now? You looked for someone else to keep you company?

Steve knows this is just teasing, that Eddie doesn’t believe that. Still.

Steve.hrrgtn: nah

Steve.hrrgtn: just you

****

Batking: okay were you going to tell me your mother is a fucking coppola

Steve.hrrgtn: she is a very respected lady

Steve.hrrgtn: also barely a coppola

Batking: still a coppola

Batking: you are a nepo baby

Steve.hrrgtn: every day it amazes me how little you know about me

Batking: I like keeping you humble

Batking: my brain doesn’t understand that the steve from my phone is really the Steve Harrington on tv sometimes

Batking: so I try not to see stuff about you on the internet

Batking: feels weird

Batking: MY ROOMMATE ON THE OTHER HAND

Batking: he was reading your wikipedia page and your mothers name was in blue so he started following the lead

Eddie had told him once that he hadn’t told his friends about what they had going on, that they just wouldn’t believe him. That must have changed. It makes Steve feel giddy.

Steve.hrrgtn: aw you finally told your friends about me?

Batking: they said they are happy to feed my delusions

Steve.hrrgtn: lmao

Batking: anyway that’s not the point here

Steve.hrrgtn: whats the point?

Steve.hrrgtn: you already knew I was rich and famous

Batking: yeah but this feels different

Batking: you are a nepo baby its like I should hate you

Batking: but you are such a good guy

Batking: from a rich family, hot, nice, funny…

Batking: you cant have everything its unfair

The rich family part doesn’t really do anything for Steve. It’s just a fact. But Eddie complimenting his personality and appearance? That always works on Steve.

Steve.hrrgtn: is this a way to get me to call you?

Steve.hrrgtn: because in the words of a metalhead I know

Steve.hrrgtn: flattery works on me

Batking: it wasnt at first

Batking: but I wont say no to a call with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen

Steve lets out a huff. Eddie and him both know what he did there.

He taps the call icon.

****

Steve stands frozen in the middle of his living room, the smile that had been on his face now completely wiped off. For the first time since he started talking to Eddie, his heart has dropped to his gut at one of his messages.

He keeps his gaze on his phone, the screen staring back at him.

There is a screenshot of a picture of him and Nancy coming out of a restaurant at night. He has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. That was just last night, Nancy had been upset and he had been trying to shield her from the flashes. The picture is accompanied by the headline ‘Caught in the act! Steve Harrington back with ex?’. Eddie’s message is under it.

Batking: glad you are having fun now that filming has finished

It’s- not right. Steve knows Eddie’s snarky comments, knows the feel his teasing. This is not it.

Steve.hrrgtn: I thought you didn’t look for stuff about my private life on the internet?

It comes out as defensive, and Steve instantly regrets it, but it had been one of the things he liked about Eddie, how he learned about Steve from him and not from rumours and the internet.

Batking: turns out that talking to you makes it unavoidable

Of fucking course it does. Who was Steve kidding? He knew this was bound to happen, that the media was going to be a problem at some point. He tries not to blame it on Eddie.

Steve.hrrgtn: it’s not like that

Steve.hrrgtn: she’s just a friend

Steve.hrrgtn: she had a fight with her boyfriend and needed a bit of a pick me up

Batking: you don’t need to explain yourself to me

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? At the end of the day, they have not even met each other in person. That doesn’t make this feel right.

Steve tries to imagine how he would feel if he saw Eddie having dinner with an ex. He doesn’t like the feeling at all.

Steve.hrrgtn: I still want you to know

He needs him to know.

Batking: really steve it’s okay

Batking: I shouldnt have sent that

Batking: Im not sure why I did

Steve has an idea why he did, but he is not going to say it, too afraid of fucking everything up if he does.

Steve.hrrgtn: its okay

Steve.hrrgtn: you are giving me an excuse to bitch about the lack of privacy and how much I hate paps

Steve is sure Eddie is going to recognize it as what this is. A weak attempt at diffusing the tension. Steve hopes it works.

Batking: you know im always open to listen to you bitching about your lavish life

It’s still a bitchy comment, but Steve lets out a sigh of relief. He recognizes that heat.

****

Batking: holy shit steve

That’s the only message on Steve’s phone, it’s the only message from Eddie for a couple of hours. Steve very patiently (or not) waits for him to elaborate, growing more and more nervous when he doesn’t.

Steve.hrrgtn: Eddie? Did you get murdered?

Batking: sorry I texted you as soon as I got the call and then the guys came over and I got swept way

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s okay

Steve.hrrgtn: but what happened? Something good?

Steve really hopes it’s something good.

Batking: we got a gig

Batking: like an actual gig

Steve.hrrgtn: holy shit eddie!

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s amazing

Batking: can I call you?

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows that. They are way past the point of internet acquaintances or friends who sometimes jerk off together on the phone.

Steve hits the video call button, and Eddie answers almost immediately. He is walking away from the cacophony of his friends, a blush high on his cheeks and his hair a mess even as he tries to brush it down. He looks stupidly good.

“Jesus, you look great,” are the first words out of Eddie’s mouth.

Steve snorts, he had been lying on the couch thirty seconds ago. His hair is a mess, he hasn’t shaved in two days. He never lets anyone see him like this. Eddie is different.

“Shut up. You got a gig!”

“We got a gig!”

“How did it happen?”

“You know my friend Chrissy?” Eddie asks. He closes a door behind himself and the noise is now gone, they are alone. Steve nods. “She got a job at a venue that doubles as concert hall and club and they are doing a metal week or something like that. They are bringing some very cool groups from all around the country- I’m so excited to see some of them- but that’s not the point. They wanted to give an opportunity to a local band and that’s where we come in!”

“They gave it to you?”

“They said they really like our vibe.”

“Of course they do,” Steve says with a snort. If Steve didn’t know better, he would say that Eddie just came out of a movie set set in the 80s. Perfect vibe for a metal week.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing! You do have the vibe. Tell me more about it, when’s this happening?”

“It’s very short notice but-“

Steve listens as Eddie tells him all about it, with his excited gestures and the wide smile that splits his face. They talk until Eddie’s friends come to get him to go for celebratory drinks.

As soon as the call ends, Steve calls Robin.

“How do you feel about going to Chicago in two weeks?”

****

The venue is loud. It’s already full when Steve and Robin arrive, just a few minutes before the concert starts. It’s not big, Eddie had told Steve so, but it still has a proper stage, and actual, stablished groups have concerts here. It’s a big step from the bar where Eddie and his friends usually play to an audience more interested on their drinks and conversations than in listening to them. People had to pay for this, even if it was a ticket that included a drink or if it was included into the week pass.

Batking: we are about to come out and I’m nervous as fuck

Steve.hrrgtn: I thought everyone already knew you were gay?

Batking: shut up

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t be nervous

Steve.hrrgtn: I know you are going to be amazing

Batking: I wish you were here

Batking: its going to be the gig of the century

Okay so Steve has not told Eddie that he was coming to see him, so what? He really wanted to see him in his natural environment, just him, not influenced by the knowledge that Steve would be in the audience.

Steve.hrrgtn: I’m always with you

Batking: you know what I mean

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t worry about that

Steve.hrrgtn: you go give the best performance all these people have ever seen

They stay out of the dancefloor slash pit, up in the balcony next to the cloakroom. They have a great view of the stage and the only reason Steve can think for them being the only ones here is that it may not be allowed, but an employee starts walking towards them and just turns around when he takes a good look at them.

Batking: okay we are coming out now

Batking: ttyl <3

Steve.hrrgtn: <3

“It’s starting,” Steve tells Robin. Just a couple of seconds later the lights dim and four figures take up their positions at the stage.

When the music starts, it is loud.

Steve feels so fucking proud. He had seen videos of Eddie’s band performing at bars or jamming in the studio they rent, but they are not like this, they are nothing like this. It’s like they had been living in a cage and were now released in the wild. Steve was fully prepared to lie to Eddie about what he thought of the concert. He has seen a lot of groups more experienced than Eddie’s that were not as good, that didn’t know how to hype up the audience like them, that weren’t so natural with it. Now, seeing Eddie on stage, he knows that he won’t have to lie about them being incredible.

Steve’s eyes can’t stray from Eddie. It’s like a magnet. Better than any video, better than any call. He can see the whole him, the way he moves, the way he smiles and his hair flows. The way his fingers move on the guitar. He can’t wait to be closer to him.

“Try not to ruin your underwear before you even meet him,” Robin yells into his ear. Steve pushes her away from him, but they are both laughing.

Steve has been wondering for days about how will Eddie react when he sees him for the first time. If it will be after the concert, when Steve inevitably makes his way to the green room, or if Eddie will be able to spot him in the audience. If maybe Steve will miss the moment Eddie’s eyes land on him.

The moment ends up being impossible to miss.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says into the microphone.

His eyes are focused on Steve, his mouth gaping. Steve laughs and waves to him and Eddie gives him a small wave in answer from the stage before his eyes jump back down to the audience.

“Holy shit you guys are great,” he tries to brush it off. “Keep the energy up for the next song!”

The concert continues, but now Steve catches Eddie’s eyes every few minutes, a smile coming to both their faces every time.

It’s not long before Eddie is speaking again.

“It is with great sadness that I must inform you that the next song is our last. Yes, yes, I know, very sad,” he says in response to the oohs from the audience. “I just wanted to take a minute to thank the organization for putting their trust on us and giving us this opportunity. Also to all of you good humans that decided to use your money to come see us, I expect your follows by tomorrow.” He starts playing, the others matching the rhythm. A repeating single note. “To all the metalheads and non-metalheads here,” he adds, louder, his gaze fixing on Steve. “I’m taking groupie applications. The requisites are: One! Be a male, sorry ladies. Two! Be 25 years old. Three! Have great hair. And four, have at least one teen choice award for best shirtless scene.” There are confused sounds from the audience, but Eddie is grinning and Steve is laughing. “Very easy to meet, the backstage door is impossible to miss.” He flicks his gaze to the side, and Steve follows it to see a door at the side of the balcony. He sends him a thumbs up. “Okay, lets rock this shit!”

The concert ends with a bang, and Steve and Robin scurry off to the backstage door before people start coming up to go out for a smoke, because not many people seem to be going home yet, the venue staying open as a bar. They don’t run into any problem because again, an employee takes one good look at their face and opens the staff only door for them. Steve has to admit that sometimes being so famous has its perks.

The sound of the music gets muted the moment the door closes behind them. The corridor is long, but they only have to follow the shouts of exited boys.

Eddie is the first person Steve sees when they get to the green room. He is jumping up and down while hugging his friends and they all scream. Steve crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe with a grin, Robin next to him. Eddie must catch the movement with his side eye because he stops and turns to them with a grin.

“I told you you were going to do great,” Steve says as a greeting.

The other boys finally stop too, and Steve sees the confusion and disbelief down on their faces when they take them in.

“Eddie, tell me I’m not seeing your imaginary boyfriend,” one of them says.

“You are Gareth, aren’t you? The roommate,” Steve says, pointing at him while he walks over. “Eddie has told me about you.”

Gareth takes his hand with his mouth wide open and barely a coherent thought behind his eyes. Steve sees Eddie’s eyes land with a laser focus on their clasped hands.

“Can’t believe I owe Chrissy twenty,” another boy says with a groan. Jeff, Steve is pretty sure.

“You bet I was making it up?” Eddie asks, offended.

“I bet you were too deep into a parasocial relationship.”

“And I bet you were getting scammed by a catfish,” the other boy says.

Robin lets out a cackle.

“I told Steve the same thing!”

They start talking around them, but Steve doesn’t care. He is two steps away from Eddie, he can see the sweat from the concert glistening on his skin, the deep brown of his eyes staring into him. He needs to close that distance. Before he can take a step forward, Eddie speaks.

“Do you want to come out for some fresh air? There’s a fenced back area for deliveries, should be empty.”

Does Steve want to go with Eddie to a spot with just the two of them? Fuck yeah.

“Yes! The air is so stuffy here, I might die if I don’t come out for a few minutes,” Robin says.

Eddie moves his eyes from Steve to her, his smile turning awkward.

“Right, yeah. Guys, we are stepping out for a couple minutes, okay?” Eddie calls out, taking a leather jacket from the back of a chair. “Follow me.”

Steve’s gaze drops to Eddie’s ass when he walks past them and back into the corridor. Fuck. He needs to close that distance.

Eddie holds the door to the outside for them, gesturing for them to come out with his other hand. His fingers are twitching, his whole body is, for that matter. He’s nervous, Steve can tell.

The door closes with bang after them, and they stand in the dimly lit outside. Robin is talking, and Steve feels just a bit bad about how Eddie and him are very obviously not listening to her.

Eddie is fiddling with the zippers of his jacket, his eyes roaming Steve’s body and flicking to Robin for a second from time to time.

They stay like that for a couple of minutes before Eddie takes a pack of cigarettes from a pocket of his jacket.

“You smoke?” he asks Steve.

“I’m an actor,” Steve says as answer.

Eddie smiles and, before Steve can reach out to grab a cigarette, Eddie has grabbed two and put both in his mouth. He moves to put the pack back in his pocket before he seems to remember that they are not alone and offers it to Robin, but she declines and starts talking about how tobacco is bad for your lungs and teeth, actually.

Steve can only look as Eddie lights both of the cigarettes at the same time and offers one to him. He takes it, their fingers brushing and sending electricity all through Steve’s body, their eyes fixed on each other.

“Okay, this is too much, I’m going inside.” Robin says, both boys turn to her. There is a beat of silence, and Steve realises she was waiting for one of them to say something, but they are both too late. “Your friend Chrissy was at the bar, right? I’ll tell her to get me a drink, you boys just… do whatever, no rush. Just- be careful or whatever.”

They stare at the door until it closes, the bang the one thing that makes Steve snap back towards Eddie. The boy is taking a drag of his cigarette and Steve mirrors him.

“Sorry, I just-“ Eddie starts. He is flicking the barely there ash. Steve can guess he needed something to do with his hands more than a real smoke. “Part of my brain is still trying to keep up with the fact that you are actually here and real and not a creation of my imagination.”

“Why? You fantasize about me that much?”

“Oh, you have no idea sweetheart,” Eddie answers with a sly smile.

Fuck. Hearing that directly from Eddie, looking at his face while he says it with no phone screen separating them is making the metre between them feel unbearable.

“You know what they say, sometimes you need to touch to believe.”

Eddie chuckles. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

But he still takes a step forward and the next thing Steve knows is that Eddie has a hand cupping his face and their lips are squeezed together in a messy kiss. Steve barely has time to answer to the kiss, drop the cigarette and grab Eddie back before the guy is pushing away and putting a hand up between them.

“Sorry, I should have- very real by the way.” Eddie says, punctuating the last part with a wave of his hand. “Great advice there, I-“

He can’t say more, because now it’s Steve pulling him closer into a kiss. There is no interruption now so the kiss goes on, and on, and Steve makes Eddie open his mouth to kiss him deeper, pulls him closer to him. This is everything he had hoped for and more. Eddie matches him beat to beat.

They get lost into it, until some voices come from their side, and Eddie pushes him away against Steve’s protests. He doesn’t allow him to go too far, one of his hands holding Eddie’s face and the other his hip close to his.

“You want to wake up to some scandalous headlines?” Eddie asks with a smile.

“Maybe they will get the memo if they find me on my knees for a guy.”

“Getting ahead of ourselves here, Steve,” Eddie says, but Steve sees how his eyes darken.

“Sorry, did you have better plans for tonight?”

Eddie shakes his head, “nothing that could beat corrupting the golden boy.”

“You think our friends will forgive us if we just leave?”

“Jesus, I really hope they do, I’m not stepping back inside and getting distracted.”

Steve laughs and kisses Eddie again, just a short press of lips. “Lead the way then.”

****

Steve.hrrgtn

New instagram story

Image id: a group playing on a stage, the lights surround them, a sea of hands holding drinks and heads below. There is a caption on it

“The gig of the century”

@/corrodedcoffin

ClubHarrington: Steve Harrington just shared an Instagram story from a metal concert in Chicago.

MrsHarrington: since when does steve like metal??

Stevenation: omg!!! He’s in my city Whats he doing here!!!

Stebitch: guys a friend of mine went to the concert and told me that the guitarist said he was taking groupie applications and started describing Steve when he listed the requirements

+ What???? That’s just creepy, I hope Steve gets away from that fast

+ omg!! Did anyone record it?? I need the video! I need to see Steve’s reaction to that!!

Stebitch: they are a very small band so no one was recording but I swear he did

+ do you guys think they are…. You know….

- Your mind

****

Steve walks back into the room with two glasses of water and kicks the door closed behind him. Eddie is still naked on the bed -Steve hasn’t put any clothes back on himself- and he is lying on his side, snickering while he looks at his phone. Steve stops, takes a second to admire Eddie’s naked back.

Steve’s phone pings on the nightstand. There’s only one person he has his sound on for.

“Did you seriously just send a meme to me?”

Eddie turns his face to look at him, “sorry, force of habit.”

Steve lets out a sigh and puts the glasses down on the nightstand. He gets on the bed and hugs Eddie from behind, hooking his chin on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Come on, show me what’s so funny you had to send me now.”

Eddie scrolls back up.

tag list (sorry if I missed someone): @steddiefication @tailsfromthecrypt @orionchildofhades @coralineinwonderland @theohohmoment @what-if-a-dragon @juiceicicles @margaglitterdeath @sofadofax @estrellami-1 @dreamercec @bisexual-chaos-demon99 @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 @me-ig7 @efratfangirl @what-if-a-dragon @juiceicicles @margaglitterdeath @sofadofax @estrellami-1 @dreamercec @bisexual-chaos-demon99 @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 @me-ig7 @efratfangirl @live-laugh-love-dietrich @yesdangerpls @nerdyglassescheeseychick @agree2disagre-kicks @fuzzyduxk @saramelaniemoon @disrespectedgoatman @aol19 @yikes-a-bee @adealwithher @coralineinwonderland @sanctumdemunson @comedictragedy @marklee-blackmore @karakro @yusukesmomjeans @lumoschildextra @pondypip @xtraordinarally @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @child-of-cthulhu @shrimply-a-menace @ravenfrog

#you just know Eddie is pissed Gareth got to touch Steve before him #Gareth will never let him forget it #I have to say i am overwhelmed by how many people liked the first part of this #damn #sorry i couldnt answer #hope you guys like this too #steddie #my steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic

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xinganhao · 1 day ago

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this love shit sucks! 🎤 chan x reader.

(although he does say, "if we’re still single at thirty…" and doesn’t finish the sentence.) ⸻ ikaw mula noon anniversary series 🎵 pare ko, eraserheads

includes: friendship, romance; mentions of alcohol consumption, drinking buddy!chan, idiots in love, feelings realization/denial

Cocktail Recipe: The One You Call After Midnight

Ingredients:

1 overflowing cup of shared McDonald's fries (cold, soggy, mysteriously comforting, eaten out of the same crumpled paper bag like you're two raccoons in love denial)

2 and a half shots of bottom-shelf tequila (regret optional, bonding inevitable, courage-enhancing in small doses)

1 splash of "remember that time?" nostalgia, aged to perfection

3 heaping tablespoons of mutual exasperation with dating apps and the people who say "I love hiking" unironically

5 a.m. pancake runs (substitute with waffles during emotional emergencies, or hash browns when one of you is "definitely not crying")

A generous dash of your laugh when he's tipsy and trying to flirt with the bartender (badly, tragically, like watching a puppy chase a car)

1 cracked phone screen from a drunken fall, both of you insisting "it still works!" as you use it to take blurry selfies

4.5 late-night heart-to-hearts, stirred, not shaken, spilling over with half-truths and quiet hopes

Half a teaspoon of lingering eye contact that lingers too long to be innocent

A pinch of jealousy when he hears about your date with that guy who wears too much cologne and keeps calling you "babe"

One whole hoodie you "forgot" to return, now infused with your perfume and his growing confusion

1 emergency Uber ride where you fell asleep on his shoulder and he didn’t wake you

A fistful of inside jokes nobody else understands

A drizzle of the way he says your name when he's tipsy and a little too honest

Instructions:

In a dimly lit dive bar, begin with two and a half shots of tequila. Let the burn fuel a flurry of increasingly unhinged stories about failed Bumble dates, including the time you matched with someone who brought their mother to the first date. Laugh until your sides ache and your cheeks hurt, and then laugh some more when he accidentally spills salt all over his lap.

Fold in the McDonald's fries, ideally consumed while sitting on a questionable curb somewhere, his jacket over your shoulders, your eyeliner smudged but your sarcasm sharp as ever. Bonus points if someone honks at you and he flips them off in your honor.

Add the pancake run. This is not just food—this is sacred ritual. Let the syrupy comfort of carbs at ungodly hours soften the sarcasm into something suspiciously affectionate. Watch him butter your pancakes without asking. Pretend not to notice.

Slowly mix in mutual venting over dating apps. Grind in just enough existential dread to bond over, but not so much that you both give up and start a cult. (Although he does say, "If we’re still single at thirty..." and doesn’t finish the sentence.)

Pour in the eye contact. Let it simmer. Make it weird. Let it stretch one second longer than friendly. (He'll notice. You both will. You'll pretend not to.)

Sprinkle in the laughter that always bubbles up when one of you tries to flirt with someone else and fails miserably. Stir gently until the moment turns from teasing to strangely quiet. Add a drop of "I didn’t like seeing you with him" and swirl it around, but don’t speak it out loud.

Let sit overnight. Preferably on his couch, under a shared blanket that neither of you acknowledge. Feet brushing. Breaths syncing. You pretending to be asleep when he tucks a pillow under your head, his fingers brushing your hair for just a second too long.

Reheat the whole mixture the next morning over texts that begin with: "U alive?" and evolve into memes, in-jokes, and that picture of you both with fry grease on your cheeks. Serve alongside a hoodie that you definitely stole on purpose and are wearing as you text him back.

Optional garnish: One cracked phone screen, a symbol of the chaos you both embody. Neither of you has it together, but the fractures make it easier to see each other clearly. The love slips in through the cracks, doesn't it?

Finally, pour everything into a tall glass rimmed with realization and just a hint of fear. Drink slowly. Sip cautiously. Let the flavors settle as he watches you, mid-laugh, bathed in streetlight and absurdity, and thinks: God, I am so fucked.

Serving suggestion: Best enjoyed when you least expect it—possibly during a shared hangover on his couch, wrapped in a blanket that smells like comfort, old fries, and something that might just be love in disguise. May pair well with strong coffee, scrambled eggs, and the possibility of something more.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

#lee chan x reader #chan x reader #dino x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #dino fluff #dino imagines #dino smau #chan fluff #chan imagines #chan smau #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine

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moonflowergirlsworld · 3 days ago

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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?”

“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 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.

Because This isn't pure love.

This is love born from obsession.

#yandere wuwa #yandere wuthering waves #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves #wuwa #yandere x reader #yandere #wuwa rover #wuwa rover x reader #yandere rover #male rover #male rover x reader

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crow-with-a-book · 10 hours ago

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I may have forgotten about this for like....a week, but I'm here now. (and then the entire post got nuked right when i finished it so i have to write it ALL again, sigh)

Fav Color: Dark Purple, or like a nice gold

Last Song: Tongues and Teeth by The Crane Wives (i love them so much)

Currently Reading: The MtG Artifacts cycle 1 Book, which has The Thran and The Brothers' War in it. Read the first story a few years ago but don't think I ever finished the second story so I picked it up again (Haven't played Magic in forever, but Ik at least one of my cards has a quote from this book on it. Which is neat.)

Currently Watching: Nothing really, I don't watch that much tbh. Tho my recent YT has been MHW challenge runs (that are just making me wish I could play World again, my laptop is so bad it can't even run it ;-; 6 years....)

Currently Craving: Uhhhh. Banana Split. Probably.

Coffee or Tea: Neither. Don't like soda either. Pretty basic in the drink department. I usual only drink water (when i actually remember to drink something) or lemonade if I feel like it.

Uh, tags...@sparrow-ceiling @glxtch-bxtch @bibliomancer7 and whoever, im honestly so bad a tagging people

GET TO KNOW YOUR MUTUALS!

Rules: answer and tag six people you want to know better

Thanks for thinking of/tagging me @thoughtslikeaminefield It’s been a pleasure interacting with you the past couple of days ❤️

1. Favourite colour: Teal

2. Last song: Save Tonight - Eagle Eye Cherry

3. Currently reading: Outlander Series (technically it’s collecting dust on my bookshelf because I mostly read fanfic…)

4. Currently watching: Single’s Inferno, Medium, and forever casually rewatching SPN

5. Currently craving: the bag of sweet chilli & sour cream chips I bought earlier (just waiting for kiddos to go to bed)

6. Coffee or tea: coffee! An iced latte any season.

@losers-clvb @middleearthislife @my-stories-vault @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @jollyhunter

#tag game #gonna go crawl back into my hole now #said my few words for the next month

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daydreamgoddess14 · 3 days ago

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The Reading Rooms

Time for the weekly round-up! The response to this last week was INCREDIBLE! I hope the writers listed got some amazing comments and plenty of love because they deserve it!

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

This week was a busy one! I've been trying to get the next chapter of For Your Consideration finished, and I also posted the first part of a new miniseries - Breakfast.

On reading, I actually read some non-Bucky related stuff this week (shocker!).

Roy Kent / Joaquin Torres / Bob Floyd

This absolute gem Blood, Mud and Everything In Between by @roseandxanderfics featuring Roy Kent and an F!Rugby Player.

Come A Little Closer by @yourauthorjen featuring Joaquin Torres and F!Reader

The magnificent @marvelwitchergilmore killed it with two Joaquin fics I read this week: Where it Hurts and One Night

Sweetness by @cowboybeepboop featuring Bob Floyd x F!Reader (so, so cute, I am becoming a Lewis Pullman girlie)

This cute friends to lovers with Bob x F!Reader by @withahappyrefrain AND also The 5 Times You Flirted with Bob (I LOVE the TGM gang in this one 🥰)

And then, of course, there was SO MUCH BUCKY this week. So much.

Busy Woman by @wbellab (which also has part 2 linked, so be sure to read both!) (F!Reader)

Sneaking Around AND admitting feelings for Bucky by @fanficgirl429 (F!Reader)

Guys.... I have a thing for the suit. I read two fics about the suit. in the suit?! by @delicatebarness and the new uniform by @buckysouvenir (F!Reader, both insanely hot. It's the suit, it's killing me.)

Y'all - have you read declassified by @dreamwritesimagines?? You need to. If Congressman!Bucky gets your vote (yes, yes please) then this is for you because it's PERFECT. Off you pop, go read it now. Three parts so far and I am ITCHING for more. (F!Reader)

We're all into our Tower fics again (🤘2012!) so Interim Measures by @cheekybarnes should be on your list! (F!Reader)

When @mandoalorian starts the notes with "eventual smut and there will be a lot of it" ... well, sign me up. It's the start of if this is war, i surrender (F!Reader)

@sunday-bug has got a glorious Stucky x F!Reader fic Their Little Spitfire

@lessersole has a really great Congressman!Bucky fic which features Matt Murdock (yaay!) Bridging Boroughs (F!Reader)

Everything's Just Perfect by @ama3003 - soooo good, I'm a sucker for an exes fic! (F!Reader)

If we're calling him Sergeant, I'm here for it pals. Hey, Sergeant by @marvelwitchergilmore is sooo good!

I literally read this because I loved that @little-miss-dilf-lover wrote the words "chub on" and I couldn't stop giggling. Nevertheless, Morning Wood was phewww so good!

GIRL DAD BUCKY?! @flowersforbucky, my love, mine all mine was gorgeous 😍

@daxisyzz gave us Light After the Shadows and fluffy, lovely Bucky.

You might recall my excitement about there only being ONE BED!! in this @fanfictiongirlie fic Perfect - which also has a part 2 linked!

Finally, we all need to show Skittle some love over at @mrsbuckybarnes1917 because she finished Plus-One Problems this week - 106k words!! An absolutely bonkers achievement 🙌

I think that was it for this week 😅 I mean, there's probably more. My notes app and my google doc reading lists are not it - I can't keep up! And trying to save stuff in my 'likes' doesn't work either. Also, I wrote this on my laptop this week not my phone. Much less stressful 😂

Happy reading, gang. Enjoy this bloody gorgeous gif I just found. I'll be rewatching it for the foreseeable.

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rosenclaws · 2 days ago

Note

Hi!!!

Long time lurker first time asker but I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on how the Logans would treat an S/O with really bad cramps. I am straight up suffering right now and these headcannons have been getting me through it 💕💕

reall cramps are fucking brutal I hope this helps makes things a little better!

Origins Logan -

He'd be so sweet and hate to see you in pain. He'd come home and see you curled up on the bed and he'd know right away that something was wrong. You try and get up and pretend it's not that bad but he sees right through you. He climbs into bed with you and lets you cuddle into him. He runs hot so his warm hands will sit where you want them too. He's like ur own personal heating pad. He'll run you a bath and sit on the edge while you soak in the nice warm water. He does shamelessly oogle you in the water but you don't mind. He'll be there for whatever you need.

Trilogy Logan -

He finds you curled up in his bed holding one of his shirts to your face. He could hear your quiet whimpers of pain from the kitchen. Look okay not to be crass or anything but...Logan totally tracks your cycle. Its not on purpose he can just smell when your body changes. He grabs a water bottle and some meds and brings them to his room. You take them but it doesn't really help that much. Logan is a bit of a dick in the charming way where he teases you about it. Asking if his poor baby is in pain and you playing along. Of course he'll do anything for you if you ask but he's gonna pretend like he doesn't want to. He does really hate seeing you in pain though and his soft side will break through when you ask him just to cuddle. He also runs hot, all of them do. So he's just ur own heated blankie ready to take all your pain away.

DOFP Logan -

He's got this down to a science. Logan is used to how painful your cramps can get and he hates it. He can see in an instant how much pain you're in and he does everything he can to help. He's taken note of what works and what doesn't over the years. Warm bath, pain killers, chocolate are a yes. He cancels your classes much to the joy of your students and he spends the day taking care of you. He'd totally carry you around too if you asked. He's at your mercy pretty much and he ignores the giggles of the students and the snide comments by some saying he's whipped. He is and he's proud of it.

Old Man Logan -

He does his best to make it all better. You're texting him about it and it kills him that he can't come home to help but he needs to finish this day out for the money. He does stop at the gas station for some snacks he remembers you devouring last time. By the time he comes home it's pretty late. You're curled up on the bed trying not to cry and his heart breaks. He wipes away your tears and shows you the things he got for you. He climbs onto the bed and lets you crawl into his lap. His big hands soothe the pain and for the first time all day you're able to sleep

Worst Logan -

He's your big teddy bear. He's a little confused don't get me wrong but if you send him to the store he'll come back with everything you asked for and more. Like a stupid magazine he thought you'd like or candy or like a cucumber. He's surprised when you just want him to hold you. He's worried that he'll hurt you or do something wrong. He doesn't realize that his warm body is all that you need. He'll sit and watch some rom coms that make you cry and not even make fun of you for it and when you ask to take a bath to end the night he's jumping at the chance to undress you. No funny business of course but he can look.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett headcanon

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sugardollcurse · 2 days ago

Note

god i love the way you write the boys....your dialogue is always so good and characteristic!!!

could i possibly request one where a reader is also a beatle and is in love with one of the boys & he's in love with her too but it's one of those unspoken things they don't acknowledge cause they don't wanna ruin the band and "if it was gonna happen, it would have already." but now with all the stress of the get back era / post-break up, he sort of realizes its now or never and confesses? george or paul seem the type for that sorta thing but idc which beatle truly....whichever one would be most fun for you to write, i just love a good yearning!! if it interests you ofc if not no worries!

𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

꒰ pairing ꒱ george harrison x fem!reader

꒰ summary ꒱ george had been in love with you for years. you’d been in love with him too. but it had always been unspoken.

꒰ note ꒱ thank you so much angel!! and thank you for this beautiful little ache of a request.. i love it so much.. yearning forever and ever!!

You were sitting on the rooftop of Apple Corps, legs swinging over the edge like a madwoman, cigarette tucked between your fingers, breath fogging up in the freezing January air. Below you, London roared and shifted, unaware that the most famous band in the world had just cracked apart.

The wind clawed at your coat, pulled at your hair, but you didn’t move. You were staring at the sky… grey, flat, unforgiving. Just like everything else lately.

“Knew I’d find you up here.”

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

George’s voice was quieter now. Less sure of itself. Not the sharp, smug tone he’d used in ‘64 when you’d all been invincible. Now, it was lower, softer. Like something heavy had settled into his bones and never left.

“Didn’t know you were looking.”

He stepped beside you, the soles of his boots scraping on the rooftop gravel.

“Always do.”

You took a slow drag, let the silence stretch. If you spoke too soon, you might say something stupid. Or worse, something true.

George sat next to you, not too close. Not touching. Never touching. That was the thing about you and him, it had always been like this. Almost. Nearly. Not quite.

You both stared out over the city.

Downstairs, the building still echoed with whatever was left of the band. Someone, probably Paul, was arguing with Glyn again. John had disappeared with Yoko an hour ago. Ringo was politely hiding in the loo.

You and George? You always ended up here.

“D’you remember Hamburg?” he asked suddenly, voice a bit hoarse from the cold.

You let out a small sound. “Christ. I try not to.”

He laughed, the first real laugh you’d heard from him in weeks. “You were always knackered. Couldn’t keep up.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep up when you’re playing till three in the morning and getting screamed at by German drunks on your break.”

He smiled at that. “You were better than all of us, even then.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking ash over the ledge. “You’re a shit liar.”

“’M not lyin’.”

Something in his tone made you glance over at him. He wasn’t looking at you, just at the street, his jaw tight, his profile sharp in the dull sky.

“You were always better,” he said again, softer this time. “Smarter. Sharper. Didn’t talk just to hear yourself. And you always saw through all of us.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you said nothing.

“I used to think…” He trailed off, exhaling hard through his nose. “Ah, forget it.”

You turned to face him fully. “Don’t do that. Say it.”

George met your eyes. And for a second, everything dropped. The sarcasm. The walls. The careful, polite distance.

You saw it there, plain as day.

“I used to think,” he said slowly, “that maybe, if we weren’t the Beatles, maybe you and me could’ve… I dunno.”

He couldn’t finish it. You finished it for him. “Been something.”

His eyes flicked to yours, surprised. “Yeah.”

The silence now was heavier. More loaded.

You swallowed. “I thought about it too.”

George looked down at his hands. He was fiddling with the cuff of his coat, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“But we were the Beatles,” you said. “And that meant… you couldn’t touch anything without it breaking.”

He nodded. “So we didn’t.”

You bit your lip. “And now look at us.”

George gave a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah. Funny, innit? Didn’t want to ruin the band, and we ruined it anyway.”

You stared at the skyline, chest tight. “If it was ever gonna happen…”

“It would’ve already,” he finished. His voice was hollow.

You both went quiet again.

But this time, it didn’t stretch comfortably. It ached.

George suddenly stood up, shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets. He looked like he might walk off. Might disappear.

“I don’t want to regret you an’ all,” he said suddenly.

Your head snapped toward him. “George-“

“I mean it.” He was pacing now, just a little. Agitated. That nervous energy he got when he was writing something that mattered and couldn’t get it down right.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it for ages. Maybe years. I dunno. Could be since Hamburg. Or India. Or even earlier. But it’s always been there, hasn’t it?”

You stood, your breath catching.

George met your eyes. “An’ I kept tellin’ meself it was too risky. That if I said anythin’, I’d mess up everythin’. You’d go. Band’d split. People’d blame me.”

A pause.

“But the band’s splittin’ anyway.”

You couldn’t breathe.

George stepped closer now. “So what’s the bloody point in pretendin’ anymore?”

Your chest ached. “What are you saying?”

He looked at you like it hurt. “I’m sayin’ I love you.”

The words didn’t come out perfect. They weren’t romantic or lyrical. They were raw. Ugly with fear.

“I think I’ve loved you for a long time,” he went on, eyes bright. “And I didn’t say it ‘cause I thought I was protectin’ somethin’. But… I dunno.”

You were still frozen.

George’s voice broke slightly. “Say somethin’.”

You swallowed thickly. “I love you too.”

He blinked.

“I never said anything because-“ You laughed, quietly, bitterly. “Because of all the same reasons. I didn’t want to lose what we had. I didn’t want to be the one who ruined it.”

“But it’s wrecked anyway,” he said. “So maybe… maybe we start from here… yeah?”

You looked at him, really looked.

The George who stood before you wasn’t the little boy from Liverpool anymore. He wasn’t the cheeky lead guitarist. He wasn’t the shadow behind John and Paul.

He was a man. Tired. Brilliant. Terrified. Hopeful.

You reached for his hand. Slowly. Carefully.

And he took it.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee

#george harrison #george harrison x reader #george harrison oneshot #george harrison fanfic #george harrison imagines #the beatles #the beatles fanfic #the beatles oneshot #the beatles x reader #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #beatles x reader #beatles

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fairyhaos · 2 days ago

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seventeen and horror movies

notes: this is from ages ago but apparently i never posted it lol so im doing it now

masterlist

seungcheol

thinks horror movies are really cool! they're not at the top of his list, though, and he definitely prefers action movies with less psychological tricks and less fussy plots of good guys beating up the bad guys, but the suspense in horror films is always great too. laughs when the bedraggled and emo villain first appears on the screen and says that the villain looks like [insert which ever member pissed him off recently]

jeonghan

the most calm. offers his hands as stress balls to any members who need it during the film. was probably not paying attention for the entire thing, his brain having logged out of the human world and logged in to the angel network or something. offers to make popcorn every time, and by some weird psychic ability of his he always gets up to do refills right as the popcorn is running out for everyone. records seungkwan kicking chan into tomorrow every time they finish a film

joshua

is basically the human shield for the other scaredy cat members. he doesn't particularly like horror movies, but he's pretty good at keeping in his flinches and doesn't get that many nightmares from them afterwards. often gets dragged out to make cookies for dk bc he cant handle the movies. the person that everyone goes to at night when they can't sleep. once had a total of five members in his room after they all watched 'the shining' together, and let them sleep in his bed with him for the rest of the week.

junhui

loves (!!!!) horror movies so much. thinks they're the pinnacle of film industry art. gets scared by the super horrifying ones, but loves that feeling of getting scared so much. doesn't get nightmares bc he basically forgos sleep for two days straight after they watch a film, so he bores the nightmare demons into not visiting him. at least, that's what he swears by. does need to hide behind some of the other members tho when it gets a lil too scary for him to handle

hoshi

the epitome of reckless cockiness. boasts every single time that he's Great at handling horror movies, despite having a track record of Definitely Not being great at handling horror movies well. unintentionally engaged in a screaming duet with mingyu this one time. refuses to leave the room even when the members try to force him out bc he's too loud. always wakes up wonwoo, either bc he digs his fingers into his thigh thinking that he's jihoon or bc he's just being way too noisy. doesn't remember a single thing about the plot, pretends he remembers everything and says they should totally watch it again sometime

wonwoo

agrees to watch it with the members, ends up falling asleep halfway through. while everyone is talking about the terrifying cinematography afterwards, he's just sitting there like o_o bc he doesn't remember anything about the movie. he doesn't even mean to fall asleep, it just accidentally sort of happens. is woken up by hoshi during every movie tho bc that man is basically a high-pitched whistle when he's terrified and he gets terrified by horror movies all the time

jihoon

gets scared, but is scared the moderate amount. flinches at the jump scares, lets out little yelps at the sudden screams, but always does that cute giggle afterwards to show that he's more embarrassed than anything. has soonyoung's hand around his thigh like a vice the entire movie, and he has yet to figure out if the man is doing it to try and keep jihoon in place or to keep himself in place. sometimes gets nightmares after, but he doesn't really sleep enough to even have dreams on a daily basis, so.

minghao

doesn't like them, sits through them bc if too many people leave then chan gets sad that people aren't watching the movie he picked. pretends he's chill with it but he sits in the armchair by himself all curled up like a shrimp, hugging a cushion and squeezing his eyes shut whenever he gets too scared. after the movie's finished, though, he doesn't think it was all that bad. does that mean he's willing to watch it again? not really. but at least he's not getting nightmares for a week like the others.

mingyu

cannot even Think of watching them (1). is too terrified. clings to joshua so hard that he leaves the man with bruises on his arm. screams the loudest at every unexpected noise on the screen, even if it's something as tiny as a floorboard creak. can never finish the full movie, either bc he gets yelled out by the other members for being too noisy or ends up too creeper out and runs away to hide in hansol's room and watch him sleep to make sure he's okay

dokyeom

cannot even Think of watching them (2). gets all three of the 95 line to baby him for the first part bc he insists that this time he Will get thru it. holds jeonghan's hand the entire time. and seungcheol's. also has joshua's hand (the one on the arm Not being held hostage by mingyu) hovering near his face, ready to cover his eyes when something scary pops up on the screen. never makes it past the 45 minute mark without getting teary-eyed and having to leave, asking joshua to bake him cookies with him or something to help him calm down

seungkwan

gets absolutely terrified if theres any gore. psychological horror? hell yeah, he's down. demon/exorcism horror? so long as no ones peeling off anyone's skin, he's fine. horror movies (especially the ones chan picks) often leave a bad taste in his mouth tho so theyre not really his favourite. vows to never ever watch another horror movie that chan's picked out again, always ends up sitting on the couch squashed between jun and chan during the next horror movie viewing. beats up the maknae after every movie for suggesting something so grotesque and horrible

hansol

doesn't watch. he's not a big fan of the mildly plotless, gory horror movies chan always picks and instead goes into his room. tries to read a book or do something productive, ends up just falling asleep on the floor. wakes up to mingyu's face inches from his in almost pitch black darkness, the elder trembling like a leaf in the wind while telling him that he was guarding him while he was asleep to make sure he was okay. he turns on the light in the room and spends the rest of the night reassuring mingyu that the sounds he's hearing outside are totally normal and no werewolf is trying to break through their windows

chan

was probably the one to suggest the horror movie. he's pretty chill with them, finding them interesting (if not sometimes rlly repetitive) to watch. the suspense is his most favourite thing ever. he thinks it's super cool. flinches sometimes, but always laughs after. is the only one grinning with excitement once the movie is finished. looks around at his hyungs and asks if anyone would be willing to watch it again with him sometime?

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble @allieyaaa @aaa-sia

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feedybot · 3 days ago

Text

The Clean Plate Club

It started with leftovers.

“Just finish the rest of mine, babe. I’m stuffed,” he said one night, nudging his plate toward her. She blinked, fork halfway to her mouth, then glanced down at the extra potatoes smothered in butter.

“I already had so much,” she murmured.

He smiled. “You’re always saying you hate wasting food.”

That was true. She gave a half-laugh and shrugged, then pulled the plate toward her. She was full, but not too full.

Just a little extra.

It became a habit—small at first. He always seemed to cook a bit too much, or claim he wasn’t as hungry as he thought. “You’ve got a better appetite than me,” he’d say with a grin. “You’re my Clean Plate Queen.”

She rolled her eyes the first time he said it, but… she did finish it. Every time. Even when her stomach felt heavy afterward. Even when her jeans started pinching a little at the waist.

He kept cooking.

Big breakfasts on weekends. Second helpings at dinner. Desserts he “just wanted to try out” from recipes online. She never asked for them, but somehow, she always ate them. And he was always there, smiling, proud of her clean plate.

He never said anything when she started sighing more after meals. When she groaned and patted her stomach, teasing that she was too full to move. When she unbuttoned her pants under the table without thinking, then quickly did them back up before standing.

And always—always—he praised her.

“You’re amazing.”

“Such a good appetite.”

“I love seeing you enjoy it.”

By the time spring rolled around, the weight had significantly gone up. She didn’t know that, of course—she hadn’t stepped on a scale in ages.

But she felt it.

In the way her belly pressed against her tops now. In the way her bras left deep indents on her back. In the slight bounce she caught in the mirror when she walked past in just underwear.

She tried a few half-hearted workouts. Skipped dessert a couple nights. But he always noticed. He always comforted.

“You work hard. You deserve to relax.”

She smiled. She finished her plate.

She stopped taking full-body selfies.

Not on purpose at first—it just happened. A cropped shot of her hair. A cozy photo in a big sweater. A mirror selfie that conveniently cut off just below the bust.

She still looked good. She knew that. But things had changed. The sweaters she loved last winter now clung oddly at the stomach. Her thighs had started to rub, just enough that she noticed when walking uphill. And sometimes, late at night, she’d catch herself cupping her belly with one hand without even realizing it.

“Do you think I’ve gained weight?” she asked one night, voice casual. Too casual.

He looked up from the couch, eyes warm. “Why?”

She shrugged, poking her stomach through her t-shirt. It gave under her finger, soft and pliant. “I dunno. Just feels like I’m a little puffier lately.”

He tilted his head, studying her with a faint smile. “You’ve been eating well. Sleeping better. Not stressing all the time. Maybe your body’s just… settling in.”

She rolled her eyes. “That sounds like something people say when they don’t want to admit someone’s gotten fat.”

He laughed. “It’s something people say when they like what they see.”

She blushed. Didn’t push it further.

A few days later, she tried to slip into her old high-waisted trousers for a meeting. The zipper stopped halfway up.

She stood there in shock, staring down at the gap, belly pushing forward like it had a mind of its own. She sucked in and tugged—but the waistband bit in deep, creating a bulge above it.

Her boyfriend walked by just as she was struggling.

“Those look tight,” he said gently. “Why not wear the black skirt instead? You look killer in that one.”

She hesitated.

Then changed.

Then, like always, she cleaned her plate at dinner.

The hallway smelled like old wood and floor polish, and the elevator looked exactly like she remembered—ancient, narrow, with a grated folding door and tarnished buttons that stuck when you pressed them.

“God, this thing still works?” she asked, shifting the tote bag on her shoulder.

Her boyfriend chuckled. “Barely.”

She hesitated in front of it. The mirrored interior panels showed her reflection from multiple angles, more than she liked. She caught a glimpse of her profile—her soft belly pressing into the fabric of her dress, the gentle curve beneath it rolling forward just enough to peek past her hips.

“I think I’ll take the stairs,” she muttered.

“C’mon,” he said easily, already opening the gate. “It’s five floors.”

She hesitated—then sighed and stepped in. The space was cramped, just enough for the two of them to stand shoulder to shoulder. As the door clattered shut, she felt her back brush the wall and her belly just barely graze the front panel. The metal seemed closer than it used to be.

Halfway up, the elevator gave a little groan and jerked. She squealed and grabbed his arm.

“It always does that,” he said calmly. “It’s not the weight.”

She blushed. Hard. “I didn’t say it was.”

He looked down at her, then ever so subtly, let his eyes drop—trailing over the roundness of her stomach, now clearly outlined by the taut dress fabric. She crossed her arms, as if it might hide her midsection, but all it did was press her breasts up tighter and deepen the visible crease of her belly underneath.

When the elevator stopped, she stepped out quickly, tugging her dress down. He followed her, watching the way her thighs rubbed slightly as she walked ahead, faster than usual.

Her sister greeted them at the door, all smiles and hugs, but the moment had already done its damage. She spent most of the visit shifting uncomfortably on the couch, adjusting her dress every few minutes. Snacking, yes—but with a distracted air, chewing slower, lips pressed tight.

He stayed quiet, letting it sink in.

She was starting to feel it.

Not just in her jeans or in the mirror—but in her body, her movement, the way the world interacted with her. The elevator had made sure of that.

She didn’t say much on the way back.

The car hummed beneath them, city lights drifting across the windshield in smudged streaks. Her arms were folded tightly over her middle, pressing her belly into an awkward shape beneath the seatbelt. Every bump in the road made her feel jiggly, aware.

“That elevator was stupid,” she muttered after a long silence. “Why would anyone still use something that old?”

He glanced over, but didn’t reply.

She sighed. “I just… I felt huge in there.”

Still, he said nothing. Just let the radio fill the space between them. She stared out the window, lips tight.

After a few more minutes, she spoke again, voice lower.

“Can we stop at McDonald’s?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I just… today’s already been crap,” she added quickly. “And I’ve been trying to be good. But right now, I just want to eat something terrible and not think about anything.”

He nodded once and turned the car without a word.

In the drive-thru, she ordered without hesitation.

“Double cheeseburger meal. Large. With nuggets on the side. Oreo McFlurry and please add a chocolate milkshake - large - as well.”

He didn’t blink. Just paid.

By the time they were back on the road, she was already digging in. She ate in silence for the first few bites, chewing angrily, wiping ketchup off her lip with the back of her hand. But with every mouthful, her shoulders sank a little more. Her breathing slowed. The food did what it always did—dulled the edge.

Halfway through the fries, she let out a soft groan and rested a hand on her stomach.

“Ugh. I’m gonna regret this.”

“You always say that,” he said quietly.

She smiled—barely. “And you never stop me.”

“Why would I? You’re beautiful when you let go.”

She gave him a look. “You’re weird.”

And she kept eating.

Back home, she moved slower.

The food had settled like a stone in her belly, heavy and bloated. She rubbed it absently as she stepped into the bedroom, kicking her shoes off with a sigh.

“I need to change,” she mumbled, tugging at the hem of her dress. It clung to her more now than it had earlier, riding up along her thighs, the fabric stretched tight over her middle like plastic wrap.

He leaned in the doorway, silent, watching.

She pulled the zipper down a few inches, then tried to wriggle out of it—but the dress didn’t budge. The fabric creaked as she twisted, her full stomach in the way, her backside resisting every inch of movement.

“Jesus,” she huffed, breath catching. “It’s stuck.”

Her hands worked furiously—tugging, pulling, shifting side to side. But the dress wouldn’t slide over the swell of her belly, or the soft roundness of her ass. Every motion just made it ride up more, bunching awkwardly under her hips. Her face was flushed now, damp with sweat.

She let out a frustrated growl. “Why is everything so tight all the time?!”

Then, trying one last time, she gave the dress a sharp yank upward—and lost her balance. She stumbled backward and collapsed onto the edge of the bed with a heavy thump.

That’s when it happened.

Rrrrrrrrip.

A sharp, unmistakable tearing sound echoed through the room. The seams at her side gave out all at once, the fabric splitting wide over the fullest part of her belly. Her skin, hot and flushed, pushed through the gap, soft and pale and unignorable.

She froze.

So did he.

Then—

“Oh,” he said, grinning. “Oh wow.”

She stared down in horror. “No. No, no, no—this was new.”

“You really thought that dress still fit?”

“I wore it last month!”

“Babe…” He stepped closer, eyes trailing over the exposed skin, the deep crease of her belly now spilling freely onto her lap. “That wasn’t last month. That was January. And you’ve been quite… busy ever since.”

She looked up, wide-eyed.

He crouched down in front of her, eyes hungry, voice soft and low. “You’ve been stuffing yourself for months. Always finishing your plate. Always just a little more. Or a lot more. You thought you were being good—counting calories, walking once a week. But all the while…” His fingers brushed along the exposed curve of her belly, tracing the stretch marks. “All the while you’ve been growing. Rounder. Softer. Fatter. Your belly started ever so slightly to bulge out and never stopped expanding.”

Her mouth opened—but nothing came out.

“You hardly noticed,” he whispered, reverent. “And now look at you. All of you. There is so much now… belly taking up half of your lap, thighs at least twice as wide and don’t get me started on those hips of yours…”

Her dress was pulled taut around her chest and hips, but utterly surrendered at the middle. Her belly rose and fell with each breath—swollen from food, shame, and something she couldn’t quite name.

“I—I don’t know how I let this happen…”

He smiled. “I do.”

Then, eyes locked on hers, he let his hand drift over her tight belly. She could feel herself blushing. Was it unease she was feeling? Humiliation? Panic? Probably all the above.

,,Look at what you have made of yourself. You really couldn’t help yourself, could you? You’ve grown so much so fast… so well.”

That was the moment her body completely betrayed her because she leaned into his touch and pushed as much of her belly into his arms as she could. He couldn’t stop the groan he let out.

Next thing she knew the dress was finally ripped off her body. And her boyfriend? He got into what he did best - worshipping her body.

#wg text #wg writing #belly expansion #feedee belly #feedee girl #feeder feedee #feeding kink #feed me #make me fat #soft feedism #growing feedee #feedee encouragement #cute belly

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marvelwitchergilmore · 14 hours ago

Text

Memory Braid

Summary: Thunderbolts Tower Drabble -> Bucky braids Yelena's hair whilst speaking Russian.

Disclaimer: I saw somewhere a headcannon (maybe it was in the comics? I don't really know) that said Bucky taught Natasha how to braid her hair in the Red Room. This kinda evolved from that, so credit to the original poster for the Natasha/Red Room HC. Mostly fluff as a Tower based Fic. Not Proof Read.

The mission had been a long one; for everyone.

Alexei had been quiet, disappearing into his ‘memory’ room for a few hours. Ava had made some food before she disappeared down the hallway. John had gone straight to the training room. Bob had disappeared into the library for a while, handing Bucky a book he’d been saving for him since they left for the mission.

Yelena had gone for a shower and once Bucky had gotten himself cleaned up, he’d been sitting in the living space reading.

Bob was right; it was a good book.

However, just as he got half way through, a pair of feet started patting down the hallway from the kitchen. Bucky looked up to find Yelena dressed in her pajamas, a pint of ice cream under her arm with a spoon and a hairbrush in her other hand.

She didn’t have to say anything. She rarely ever did. Bucky just looked at her as she stopped beside him, dog-eared his book, closed it and laid it beside him before opening his legs up.

Yelena sat on the floor, in between Bucky’s legs before she pulled the lid from her ice cream away.

For a while, she didn’t speak. Neither of them did. The only sounds made were the ones from Yelena’s spoon digging through the frost on the top of her food and the sound of the brush going through her hair.

Eventually, Bucky laid the brush on his thigh as he started to section her hair.

“Do you still have nightmares?” Yelena asked, her accent becoming a little thicker as she reverted to her birth-language.

Bucky sighed, replying in Russian. “They’re getting easier.”

Speaking Russian with Yelena was helping them. After they’d settled into the Tower, Bucky had been awake late one night and Yelena had been surprised to find him still awake.

It was that night Yelena had learned two more things about Bucky.

One; that most of his nightmares were in Russian. He could still speak the language but was too afraid for the nightmares to become worse.

Yelena had promised him a solution that could help.

Talking to her.

The second thing she learned was; Bucky knew how to braid hair.

“I had a kid sister, but she got sick before we joined the war effort.” Bucky had explained to her. “Ma wasn’t well so I helped her with a lot more…girl stuff I guess. Once I was in the war, I helped Peggy a few times. Guess the skill stuck and, even when I was training in the Red Room…I helped Natasha learn.”

Yelena’s eyes had almost bugged out of her head when she found out. “Natasha? You…taught her how to braid hair…in the Red Room?”

Bucky shrugged, uncertain himself. “It wasn’t long after that they took me to Serbia for a memory wipe and more psychological conditioning.”

Yelena had sat back, dumbfounded. “She always said it was natural talent.”

That was the first night Bucky and Yelena had also shared stories and laughed.

It felt like freedom for both of them.

“Sometimes I remember things, from when I was little.” Yelena said. “With Natasha.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Yelena shrugged. “It’s not much. It was during my peewee soccer days.”

Bucky didn’t mind. For the next twenty minutes, he listened to Yelena laugh her way through a memory of her and her sister.

Half way through the story, Bucky reached his hand down and Yelena lifted her wrist. Plucking the bobble from her, he securely tied one braid before starting the second.

“Oh, and then Molly decided she was going to be the guard to the castle. So, I simply argued why would she want to be a guard when she could be a knight-”

By the time Bucky had finished braiding Yelena’s hair, he just stayed sitting behind her, listening to her story as she started to wave her spoon in the air.

“So what happened?”

“Well, Natasha came over and told us we’d be playing a different game. And-”

As Yelena’s story came to an end, Bucky smiled. It was nice to hear something fun in Russian. It was also nice to see the light come back into Yelena after a mission that had been tough for everyone involved.

“All done.”

Yelena examined the braids. “Well done. I forget how much better you are at these than me. So unfair.”

“He does have the hair for it.” Ava said as she walked into the room.

“How long have you been there?”

“Like three minutes. You guys hungry?”

Bucky looked at the Brit. “Who’s cooking?”

“Not Alexei.”

Both Yelena and Bucky relaxed. The last dish Alexei had made hadn’t turned out so well.

“We’ve got mac and cheese in the pantry,” Bob said as he walked inside.

“With hot sauce?”

“I still can’t believe you eat it like that.”

Yelena leaned back to look at Bucky. “Oh, I’m sorry Mr I-make-everything-like-it’s-still-1943. Hot sauce is amazing.”

Bucky nodded. “I agree. Doesn’t mean it has to go on mac and cheese.”

“Party pooper.”

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arbitrarykiwi · 3 days ago

Note

will there be more producer reader x thanos??

i loved the last one so much!😫

LIVE in the Studio

Originally it was planned as a one off…but ask and ye shall receive 🤲🤭 hope you like it nonnie!!!! sorry for the wait 🧎‍♀️

A/N: if you haven’t read the first producer!reader x thanos you can find it here! This can be read as a one off, but is based on the relationship from my previous fic :)

Warnings: smut (18+) , p in v sex , dry humping , oral (f receiving) , doggystyle, creampie , squirting , multiple orgasms , sex while being recorded (audio), dirty talk , may be more read at your own risk

It was so late…you hated yourself for doing this once again. You really needed to separate work from life. Yet here you are- on your scheduled off day- working over the same small snippet of a beat over and over and over.

It’s not even the actual music composition! That would interest you! That’s why you became a producer! It’s the fucking intro. You know…the maybe 3 second clip of the rappers tag or some cheesy line spoken by some girl about how badly they need the rapper of whatever song it’s on.

You know it’s important, all part of the song is. And arguably the intro is the most important, the part that grabs people’s attention and gets them hooked. But since you know that, you’re prepared! You have samples and tracks galore of various women speaking into the mic in a girly, high pitched tone. Each saying different things in different cadences in different languages. You have enough of these sound files to have finished 300 song intros by now!!

That was if your current client was normal. But he wasn’t. Far from it.

“Nah…too boring.” He says, lackadaisically- you can hear the disinterest in his voice. “C’mon señorita…” He dramatically groans, “that’s all you got!? I know you can do so much better.”

You groan, elbows thumping against the desk as you put your head in your hands, palms rubbing at your tired as you suck in a deep breath. “You do realize I took the time out of my day…my off day…to help you with this and you’re being a fuckin’ dick.”

You deadpan, turning away from the computer in your studio. Your eyes are burning and you’re so exhausted. You have no idea why you agreed to do this.

But when you turn completely, making eye contact with the hazy eyed, every cocky grin of the late night client. A smile breaks through the annoyed frown.

“You’re complaining but yet, you answered my text, you unlocked the studio, and here you are 3 hours later working your magic….all for me.” Thanos grins, leaning forward on the couch and resting his elbows on his knees.

A blunt hangs lazily from his hands, his purple hair is a mess- sticking up in every which way. He makes a show of looking younger you over, drinking you in like the finest wine he’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

“You love me! Don’t deny it. That’s why you answered and let me in so late. You jus’ love spendin’ time with Thanos.”

You cringe at him referring to himself by his own stage name. You’ve known him for so long, he’s Choi Subong to you. You were making beats for him since before he even had his stage name!

“I let you in and answered you because you said all you needed was a simple intro for a song you already had written…” you say, scooting your desk chair across the floor, closer to him. “But that’s not what we’re dealing with here…now is it?”

You lean in, matching his position- elbows resting on your knees. Your face is inches from his, as you speak he is overwhelmed by your perfume.

And hes but a man! When you lean forward hes graced with the perfect tease of your cleavage, tits very obviously not contained by a bra- evident by the visual of your nipples poking against the shirt you wore. He wants to make a comment, one that will make your thighs rub together like they did that one night…

The night he’s thought about over and over since it’s happened. Hell, he’s fisted his dick raw remembering the way your cunt felt wrapped around him. Neither of you mentioned it though. You two went about your normal routine, sure you both flirted a bit more than usual but neither of you brought up the night he fucked you stupid while you were both tripping.

While he’s distracted, you yank the blunt from his fingers and glare at him- it has no real mirth behind it. You take a long drag, the weed relaxing your body and wrapping your mind in a warm silken feeling that makes the late night in the studio a little more tolerable.

“I have gone through all the files I have, Subong-“

“Thanos.”

You roll your eyes and playfully huff, “Okay…Thanos” you emphasize his stage name in a tone that has him shifting in the couch, legs spreading to ease the uncomfortable feeling in his pants. “I’ve gone through all the fucking files. You liked none of them. What the fuck do you want for this intro?!”

“I mean seriously, I’ve gone through every possible option and even edited the ones I have to fit whatever image you had in your head for this, it’s been hours and we have nothing. Not even an idea of what you want for this.” You say, scooting your chair back and turning to face the computer once again. Your fingers work against the keyboard, blunt loosely hanging from your lips.

He wants to hear you, he does…but the way you’re rambling about your practice with an enthusiasm that almost seems engraved into your bones and mixed within your blood- he thinks it’s the prettiest you’ve ever looked.

His body moves on its own. He stands from the couch and walks across the studio. Once behind your chair he stills. Thanos smirks, planting his hands on the desk on either side of you, effectively caging you into your seat. He leans down, his head resting on the back of the chair to your left. He’s so close you can feel the warmth of his breath fan your cheek.

“I dunno what ya’ want me to say sweets…none of them are what I’m looking for. None of them fit.” His voice is low and gravely, flowing through your ears and filling your mind with static. “And you’re gonna tell me I’m wrong? I think you know just as well as I do that none of those are exactly what I need.” He says, lifting a hand up to point a finger at the monitor open to a file of audio snippets.

You sigh, as much as you hated it, he’s right. Not one of the hundreds of clips you have fit the song. Sure the work. But they aren’t perfect. “Okay fine. What do we do then? It’s 3am I can’t call up anyone else to come record some voice line for an intro.” You respond, turning your head to look at him the best you could.

He turns his head, mirroring your movement, a devious grin on his lips. The low light of the music studio and the blue hue of the computer’s monitor makes it to where you can almost see your own reflection in his pupils. Blue eyes, pupils blown so big you can only see a sliver of iris, dart from your eyes to your lips.

It takes everything in him not to jump on you then and there, looking up at him from your chair oh so expectantly, lips slightly parted as if you were just waiting for him to kiss you. You were- but you would never admit that to yourself, let alone him. Images of your plush lips wrapped around his cock dance in his mind like his own personal porn video.

“You’ll have to do it then.”

His words make you come out of whatever trance you were in. “W-what? No i’m not….” You look to your computer, the trinkets on your desk, really anywhere but him. “You don’t want me to do that…I won’t sound good. I don’t have the voice like those girls-“

“Bullshit”

You pause, turning your chair more to face him. Thanos is stood tall now, stepping to the side to look you directly in the face, arms crossed.

“Thanos…be serious you don’t want me to do the intro. I don’t have that…” you trailed off, hands waving in the air as you try to find your words, “that whiny, needy, breathy tone you’re looking for here.”

He scoffs at your words, looking at you as if you just tried to argue that the sky was red. “You sure had that tone when I was balls deep in you the other week.”

Your eyes widen, face flushing as the unspoken night of intimacy was brought up. The redder your face becomes and the wider your eyes get as you try to find your words has his grin growing into something sadistic- like he’s finding joy in your embarrassment (he is).

“F-fucking hell…” you choke out, trying to sound indignant. “You’re unbelievable…” you grumble, crossing your arms and scowling at him.

“Yeah, yeah…” Thanos says brushing you off, eyes rolling nearly to the back of his skull. Tattooed hands grip the back of your desk chair and spin you back forward, facing the microphone that sits on your desk, pop filter inches from your nose. “I’m unbelievable, annoying, making you work on your off day…blah blah.”

As he speaks he puts your headphones on your ears and leans over you, hand on your keyboard and mouse as he begins to set up to record. “Why don’t you….” He begins in a singsong voice, “give me what I want and then you’ll be free to go back home and sleep…” He clicks record.

“Spending all this time complaining when ya could have just gone and done the damn thing already and I would have been out of your hair…” A finger finds itself twirling a strand of your hair as he speaks.

You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, his cologne is all you can smell. Drawing in a shuddering breath you look blankly at the filter in front of you, thighs pressing together to ease an ache you didn’t realize had began to bloom. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”

He shrugs, “give me somethin’ like…” He hums to himself and smirks, “‘Thanos it’s so hard~’” he mocks a female voice, voice cracking as he moans out the words. You can’t help but laugh, your own giggle echoing out through the speakers. The sound dies down when you realize that it’s now your turn to do something, give him the intro he wants.

Your eyes flutter shut drawing in a breath as you lean forward closer to the microphone. “Thanos~” You draw out the name with a wanton purr, you might as well do it right if you’re gonna do it, “…it’s so hard.”

You sit back, opening your eyes and spinning your chair around to look at the purple haired rapper behind you. “That work?? Can I go back to bed now?” You ask. Trying to do anything to end this torment you’ve been put through.

Your eyes look over him from bottom to top, catching the very obvious tent in his pants and the was his cheeks are flushed. “Are you seriously hard right now?! From that?!” You say, trying your best to sound mad but admittedly the visual is making your mouth water.

He shakes his head ‘no’, that’s the only reaction you get. “W-what?!” You babble out, it’s cute, he thinks. “You do it then!!” You say, glaring at him like it would do anything.

He makes his way across the studio in two long strides. Large hands grip the back of the chair and tug it to the side. You assume he’s gonna sit down and direct you to what he wants, that would be easy. But no, when you stand up out of the desk chair, offering it to him, he pushes it out of the way completely.

With practiced effort and in quick succession- he moves. He’s pressing himself behind you, one hand gripping your shoulder and pushing you forward. You hate how pliant you are under his touch, immediately folding forward with his light push and landing chest first on the desk.

You lift your chest up the slightest bit to look behind you. You’re trying to catch his eye to glare at him with feigned anger but his gaze is trained downward. His hand that’s not outstretched to your shoulder is pushing up your shirt, fingers dancing over the dimples in your back before going lower to feel over the globes of your ass.

“You didn’t need a f-fucking intro you just wanted to get your dick wet- ohhh fuccckkk” your sentence is cut short when Thanos, the ever confident man he was, grinds into you. He’s not teasing with it, no, he’s pressing his clothed bulge in between your ass cheeks and making sure he catches the zipper of his jeans just right on your cunt. His hips roll slow and steady, pressing into you as if he’s trying to fuck you through the layers of clothes between you two.

“Oh yeah! Seeeeee~ That’s perfect!” He chuckles out, hand crossed over your back and gripping the plush fat of your hips. “Somethin’ jus’ like that…” he says, the octave of his voice dropping. The hand of on your shoulder moves, reaching further over you to grab the microphone and move it in front of you. “Let’s see if we can get you to do something like that again….gotta get the perfect take, huh?”

You bite your lip, eyes already threatening to roll back into your head as you feel the thick imprint of his cock grind into your shorts. A muffled moan is caught in your throat as the fabric of your underwear and shorts, pushed by his cock, rocks into your clit in the most delicious way.

“Awh c’mon…” Thanos whines, you can practically hear the pout on his face without even turning back to look at him, “don’t hide all your noises now…don’t you wanna finish this up quick and get back to bed?” He teases, leaning over you so his lips ghost along the shell of your ear.

You sigh out, the feeling of him trapping you against the desk, pushing his clothed cock harder against the now soaked fabric of your shorts has your mind hazy, all notions of being bratty and talking back are swept from your mind and replaced with the long suppressed need you had for the egotistical rapper.

Painted nails dig into your hips, both of his hands finding purchase on the plush skin. He pulls himself back up to a standing position, eyes turned downward to look at the way your ass is pressed against him, his fingers digging to the the flesh that spills over the waistband of your shorts. A low, animalistic growl reverberates within his throat has he keeps the steady rhythm of rocking you back against him.

Suddenly the feeling of his cock pressing into your covered entrance is gone. His hands remain on your hips, slowly dragging downward to splay his palms across your ass. When you crane your neck backwards you can’t even stop the wanton moan that falls from your lips.

Thanos is on his knees, hands gripping at your ass cheeks and pushing upwards, spreading you open for him. His face is so close to your clothed cunt, eyes right in line with the large darkened area of your shorts you know is there. “Fuckin’ messy thing….” He mumbles in an awestruck, breathless tone. One hand pulls away from your ass to trace a finger down the emphasized crease of your pussy in your shorts.

You keen, hands clawing at the desk as a shaky, soft moan rolls off your tongue, hips moving on their own and pushing back into his hand. “Seee~” He coos, “I knew she missed me…soaked right through these shorts…” as he speaks his fingertips slide under the hem of the shorts that fall on your ass. He pulls at both sides of the fabric, exposing more of your ass to him. His eyes are fixated at the imprint of your cunt that is so very visible, the fabric of your shorts impossibly soaked.

One of his hands drops from your ass, fingers coming up to ghost around the silhouette of your clit in tight circles. “Mmmphf fuck…” you let out after a shaky exhale, knees nearly buckling from the stimulation. Your head snaps back forward, forehead falling to the desk. Thanos chuckles, he’s so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cunt.

“Hmmm…” he says, as if he’s thinking over the answer to life, “not quite what I’m looking for….need something more.” He teases, like it’s even for the intro at this point.

“Y-you gotta give me m-more.” You’re spitting out, trying to sound some kind of authoritative. You weakly lifting your head off the desk to look back at him and if you were in any other situation, the mocking look he gives you would have nearly made you kick him out but at this point….fuck he looks so good.

“Ohhooo…look at you tryna’ be all bossy and dominant.” Thanos laughs in your face, eyes trained on you like a hawk. He nods his head to the side, motioning to your pussy, “not really workin’ when you’ve soaked through your shorts like some teen seeing her favorite boyband.” He pulls at the fabric of your shorts, gripping the middle of them with one hand, fingers looping through both leg holes. He pulls up, dragging the seam of your shorts right against your aching clit.

Your back arches, hips pressing back searching for any kind of stimulation, a broken whine of his name ripping through your chest. “That’s more like it….” His hand slides lower, back of his hand pressing against your cunt, “tell me what ya want sweets, I’ll give it to ya’, you know I will…jus’ gotta ask.” He practically purrs out, adjusting his grip on your shorts to slip his fingers under your panties as well, gripping both of the garments in his hand, face moving impossibly closer, his breath fanning your cunt.

Your mind spins, fighting to have some decorum and to list all the things you wanted him to do to you like a mile long check list. Lust wins over in the end and you suck in a shaking breath, “N-need your tongue, fuck, please…” you whine, pressing your hips back, searching for his face. His grin widens, just thinking of the way that would sound being played back.

His hand pulls the fabric of your shorts and panties to the side, letting out a low moan of his own when he’s inches away from your glistening cunt, puffy and leaking for him. “I’ve been thinking bout this cunt every fucking night since you let me fuck…” Thanos drawls out, free hand reaching up to trace a line up and down your cunt, collecting your arousal on his fingers.

“You’re fucking dripping, haven’t even touched you….dry humping gets you going that bad, huh?”

You mewl, scratching at the wood of your desk, trying to have some restraint not to push yourself back onto his fingers. It would be so easy to sink the long digits into your cunt.

“Just fucking do something!” You cry out, getting impatient. The need you felt in your lower stomach was becoming unbearable.

He laughs, a sound that soon becomes muffled as his mouth engulfs your pussy. Your eyes are rolling back, a sound akin to a mewl falling from your lips.

Messy as ever, he eats you like he would never get the chance to eat your cunt again. His tongue lathes over the entirety of your cunt, rolling between your puffy folds like he’s mapping you with his tongue. He’s shameless, moaning and groaning into your pussy as he slurps down everything you have to offer him.

“Sweetest fuckin’ cunt I’ve ever tasted.” His words are muffled against your pussy, lips tickling you with every word. “So pretty too…” he muses, pulling back to admire your pussy, one of his thumbs pulling apart your lips, spreading you open. He watches as you clench desperately around nothing, the visual making him feral.

He’s back on you, lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and sucking. His tongue rolls over the bud, flicking against the bundle of nerves. Your hips jerk back, a wanton cry of his name falling from your lips.

“Yeah….” Thanos groans, a hand coming down in a sharp slap against your ass, the flesh recoiling against his palm, “ride my fuckin’ face, baby. Take what ya’ need.” He hisses through clenched teeth, hands moving to the sides of your hips to guide your hips up and down.

He lolls his tongue out, grinding you against it and swallowing down every drop of your syrupy arousal. When you begin to move on your own he drops his hands completely. He’s so good, you can’t help but chase the pleasure he offers.

Your hips move viciously, dragging your pussy along his tongue and nose. He shifts slightly, moving his tongue to circle your entrance. “Oh fuck, please!!” You cry out, hips jolting downward to spear yourself on his tongue.

He lets you, moaning into your cunt when your velvety walls close around his tongue, completely engulfing him with your taste. You have to still for a moment, catching your breath in a needy cry as you feel the pink muscle lick around your insides.

A hand comes down on your ass again, encouraging you to move again. You whine, moving your hips, lifting yourself up and down his tongue as he kneels below you. You can feel his blissed out grin, he’s practically in heaven- tasting your sweet cunt while your ass bounces against his face.

His tongue lathes against your clenching walls, echoed by obscene slurps. The only thing louder than him devouring your cunt is you moaning, crying out mixes of praises and his name.

Thanos wants nothing more than to continue eating you out. But as much as a front he puts on….he’s an impatient man. His cock is aching and straining against his jeans. He’s certain if he keeps this up he could blow his load in his jeans as he’s kneeling below you.

He pulls away in a mess of saliva and your wetness. You turn back over your shoulder, whining at the loss of contact. “Easy, baby…” he chuckles as he stands up. One hand splays over your back, running down the curve of your spine as the other one works hastily to undo the button of his pants, “imma give you what you need…”

He lets out a hiss as his cock is finally freed from its confines. It falls out hot and heavy, resting against the curve of your ass with an audible ‘plap’. Just the weight of it on your ass has you moaning and pushing back onto him desperately.

Thanos grabs the base of his dick with one hand, dragging the thick cock-head up and down your weeping cunt. Everytime the head of his cock catches your clit, your knees buckle and a whimper falls from your lips.

“Been thinking about this…your cunt squeezing me…” he muses, pressing the tip into your entrance. You barely have time to moan before he’s pulling back out. “Never had a fuck like you…hadn’t fucked anyone since you..”

The admittance makes your heart swell in the oddest way. You know he’s a player- he has a new girl around his arm every day. But since the time you fucked weeks ago, bordering on a month now, he’s not seen anyone else.

“H-hah…please put it in…f-fuck don’t tease.” You plead, turning around to look at him with wide doe eyes.

“When you ask like that how could I deny you, sweet girl?”

When he pushes into you, it’s a stretch that has you arching your back and rolling your eyes back. You know you’ve left claw marks in your studio desk by now.

“So f-fucking right…Pussy was made f’me.” His words hardly register as he continues to bottom out. With a final surge, he’s sinking balls deep into you.

Both of you let out moans, a sinful harmony that is soon over taken by wet squelching sounds. You feel so entirely full. You swear you can feel him in your throat.

“O-oh my fuck-“ your words are cut off in a choked sound as with a slow pull of his hips, his cock is pulling out of you. He pulls out only half way before driving back into your warmth.

“G-gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” His words are a low growl, his hands dig into the far of your hips, eyes fixated on how the flesh spills through his fingers.

A purr of his name rolls off your lips as he begins the rhythmic thrust of his hips. He drives his pelvis flush against your ass with each thrust, making sure he sheathed himself fully in the heaven that was your cunt.

He’s rutheless, driving you back to meet his thrusts. “F-fuck!” You cry, head turning heavenward, eyes screwing shut in overwhelming pleasure. “O-oh s-shit! F-feels so fucking good!” Your words are pathetic, weak syllables that are broken by the rough drive of his cock into your pussy.

“Takin me so well. Fuck…you should see how stretched you are.” Thanos huffs, pulling harder at the fabric of your shorts and panties to pull them further to the side, giving him a better view of the mess he’s making of your cunt. “Pretty little pussy’s taking me so so fucking well.” He’s repeating like a mantra with every thrust.

Your mind has become hazy, the head of his cock bullies itself against your g-spot every single time he thrusts back into you. You need more. His thrusts speed up, becoming violent. It’s a deliberate, delicious pace that is mind numbing. Your thighs are a mess with your arousal coating them, anytime you tip your head down to look between your thighs you’re met with a creamy mess that only becomes larger by the passing second.

“I-it’s too much!” You whine out, syllables broken up by choked moans. Wet squelches fill the room, echoed by slapping of skin. He laughs, low and sadistic, his hands raise up, holding themselves in the air as if he’s at gunpoint. “It’s too much?!” He mocks, “you’re the one fucking yourself back on my cock, sweetheart. ‘S alllll you.”

His words make you realize he’s right, your hips are moving on their own, brutally slamming back into his pelvis before drawing forward so just the bulbous tip of his cock rests inside your wet walls before repeating the motion again and again. He’s completely still.

It is too much, every time your hips thrust backwards your body is locked up with spasms of pleasure that has tears pooling in your eyes. But you can’t stop, it feels so fucking good. Every time you sink all the way back onto him, your cunt is stretched so wide to take all of him in. His cock reaches depths you would never be able to reach yourself, bullying its way through your clenching walls to kiss against your cervix.

“H-holy fuck, feels so fucking good~” you cry out, body falling slack against the desk. Your hips slow, your muscles aching.

“Ahh, princess work herself up too much? All tired…” He hums, hands lowering back down to run over your sides before settling on your waist. “Need Thanos to help you out, huh?”

You nod, already fucked too dumb to care about talking back. “Yes! Yes please!” You cry out, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. “Fuck I-i need it…T-Thanos please, want you so fucking bad.” You sob out, begging for your release that you can feel blooming deep within your core.

The cat like grin stretches so far across his face it almost seems inhuman. He can just hear how that little sentence of yours would sound at the beginning of the rap song right before the beat kicks in. That’s exactly what he was looking for.

“Mhm I know you do…fuckin’ squeezing me so hard.” Thanos muses with a nod of his head, chin tucked downward so he can watch everytime his cock slips out of your cunt, glistening in your syrupy arousal and every time he thrusts back forward, he watches with a salivating mouth, the white creamy ring that forms at the base of his cock- getting messier with each erratic thrust. “Creamin’ all over my fuckin’ cock…so messy”

You whine, his words making your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. His fingernails grip crescent moon shapes into your flesh, using the leverage to bring your hips back to meat each one of his devious thrusts.

Your head is peeled off the desk by a large hand threading into your hair. “You gonna cum? I can feel it, you’re close, just suckin me in anytime I pull out.” Thanos lips dance along the shell of your ear, rough voice filling your mind with fuzz. As if to prove his point, each time he draws back his hips, far enough to rest just the head of his cock in your cunt, you can hear a lewd sound, something between a squelch and a pop coming from your cunt.

“I wanna cum, please, fuck, ohmygod.” It’s shameful, really, he already has you begging for a release without even asking you. “Yeah? Wanna cum pretty girl?” He laughs into your ear. “Begging without being asked…well aren’t you bein’ so good f’me.” He praises. As he speaks the hand in your hair moves across your sternum, pulling you flush against his chest.

The angle drives him deeper into you, stretching you out in ways that have you seeing stars. His thrusts are unforgiving, animalistic even. It’s so sloppy. You can hear the droplets of your mixed arousal fall out of your cunt and onto the tile floor of your studio with a sick wet ‘splat’. “Mhm!! Mhm!! Please!! Ohmygod I’m so fuckin’ close, right there!” You moan out, rushed and babbled, your head kicking back to rest against his shoulder.

His other hand snakes down your stomach, tattooed fingers splayed against your skin as he works his way down. Like he mapped your body out with years of studying and exploring, his fingers find your clit. It’s a sensation that makes you nearly fall to the ground.

“That’s it’s….Thanos’ got you, wan’ you to cream all over my cock pretty girl, make a fuckin mess.” His fingers work your clit in circles in time to his thrusts, it doesn’t take long till your orgasm crashes over you, hitting you so violently you have no time to even prepare. “Oh fucking shit! Yesyesyesyes!!”

Your cries echo out through the studio, one of your hands reaches behind you to grip at his purple hair at the back of his head, trying to ground yourself, you almost think you’re going to pass out.

He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, never letting up and stringing out your high. It’s almost like you’re hit with a second wave, your orgasm gushes out of you- clear liquid spraying on the floor and onto Thanos’ thighs.

“Oh there we fuckin’ go!!” He chides out like he won the fucking lottery, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Knew you could squirt again f’me. Always so fuckin’ messy. God I love it.” Thanos growls, hips slapping against your ass with reckless abandon.

“Gonna fuckin’ cum so deep in this cunt.” He growls in your ear, “been dreamin’ of it since last time.”

His words make you whimper, eyebrows upturning as you pass the point of fucked dumb, you’re being fucked into another dimension. “Yeah, I know you want it too. Want me to fuckin’ fill you up, hm? T-tell me you want it.”

His voice begins to waver, teeth gritting as he holds off, wanting to hear you say it. You sob out, tears wetting your eyelashes as you feel yet another orgasm begin to bloom, one after the other, giving you hardly anytime to catch your breath.

“Yes! Want it so f-fucking bad! N-need to f-feel it!” Your words are jostled with each of his thrusts, coming out in pathetic hiccups as you weakly move your hips back in time with his thrusts.

You feel his body lock up behind you, his arms tightening around you- pinning to him. When you feel the thick spurts of his cum paint your insides, you’re cumming again, eyes rolling back and body convulsing against him.

“Thatssss it…” he growls behind you, hips jerking up into you sporadically, fucking his cum back into you. There’s so much you can feel the thick, warm globs be forced out of you with each thrust of his cock back into your raw pussy. “So f-fucking good. B-best fuckin pussy.” He’s babbling out obscenities, words slurred as he works himself through his own orgasm.

He stills, chest heaving, arms staying tight around you as if he was afraid you’d leave. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t, you were still trapped against the desk.

“I think we got what we needed, pretty girl…” he muses, “did so good f’me..”

You hum happily, blissed out. You can still feel the dull stretch of his softening cock in your cunt. An almost comforting fullness. Your hands picking up off the desk to lay on top of his, fingers interlacing.

“I know exactly what sound clip I’m using” He huffs, nose nuzzling along the column of your throat. You can hear him draw in a sharp breath, inhaling your scent.

“Mhm….” You mumble, fucked out of your mind, hardly paying attention. Your eyes and body are tired, you’re sure if Thanos wasn’t still holding you up, you’d fall down to the ground with how weak your knees were. “Use whatever one you want…’m so fucking exhausted…” you sigh, head lolling back against his shoulder.

That was a mistake on your part. Those words. ‘Whatever one you want’ because sure as shit when you send Thanos the finished file, not even listening to the part at the beginning he mixed and added whatever intro he desired from your little recording session, when the song drops your moans are being streamed left, right and center.

It’s not just a noise in the background to emphasize a high hat or a snare, no, it’s so very obviously you getting railed by him, moaning out a ‘fuck Thanos! You’re so good with your tongue’. Your words are even broken up by pants and whines!!!

That’s the last time you let him have any say in what you produce for him.

I reallly hope you guys like this one! This is kinda my first big ask I’ve answered since I’ve been back (besides my sub! Namgyu x thanos x reader fic) so I’m a lil nervy to put this out. This one was started like two days ago because I’ve been thinking about this ask (it’s been in my inbox for a hot minute I’m so sorry) and I just HAD to do it. I love me some producer!reader x thanos. It was so fun to write the first one and this one!

Thank you for your support as always !! - <3 kiwi

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