#aemeath

im doing, so well. please give my daughter back

Summary: Rover family hcs by yours truly! Just something sweet to cure the lingering bitterness of the 3.1 story.

Tags: Rover x gn!reader (rover can be either m!rover or f!rover), aemeath is a child here, found family, familial fluff, you and rover are aemeath’s parents, platonic love, canon divergent au where everyone is happy, highkey not proofread, i wrote this at 3 am

wc: 817

A/N: it never happened it never happened it never happened aemeath is alive aemeath is happy it never happened-

You thought your spouse completely lost their mind the day they randomly brought back a soaked little girl in their arms. Apparently, Rover happened to be nearby when she fell into a lake. You remember scolding them harshly while drying off the child with a towel—specifically because they forgot to keep her warm while making the trip back home.

After having a long discussion with each other and confirming that the girl did not have any available guardians, the both of you decided to take her in as her adoptive parents.

Would it be okay to request more male!Rover x reader content? I’d really love to read it, thank you so much!

A/N: BESTIE SAME the latest update had me shitting tears. also, of course it’s okay!! you’re always welcome to request anything, bae <3 i actually had this one in my drafts and decided to finish it after seeing your request lol (sry for taking so long). hope you like it x—it’s inspired by the 3.1 version lore.

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒

(Or How We Accidentally Became Parents)

Word Count: 5,300+

Description: First, you and the golden boy of Startorch Academy were deskmates. Then, you both were housemates. Now, there’s a kid calling you ‘Mom’ and him ‘Dad.’ It’s a perfectly normal progression... right?

Disclamer: since this is an alternate universe, I’m going to make the Midnight Rangers a thing in startorch as well, so they’re not limited to jinzhou. i need them to act as patrol/police officers in this oneshot.

The first thing you learned about Startorch Academy was that it was prestigious. The second was that it was impossibly huge. The third, and currently most pressing fact, was that you were an idiot.

You stood at the threshold of Lecture Hall 3B, clutching your bag strap like a lifeline. The room was a coliseum of tiered seating, buzzing with the low hum of a hundred students settling in for the first semester of Resonator Theory. You squinted at the whiteboard at the front of the room.

It was a white rectangle. That was all you could say about it with certainty.

"Nice going, Y/N," you muttered to yourself, the curse directed at your nightstand back in your temporary hostel, where your glasses were currently sitting, folded and useless.

You had contact lenses, technically. But in the rush of moving your entire life to Lahai-Roi and the nerves of being a transfer student, you’d forgotten to buy solution. So now, you were navigating the Ivy League of Resonator schools with the visual acuity of a mole.

You navigated the steps carefully, trying not to trip. The front rows, the "splash zone" for eager students, were full. The back rows or the nap zone were also packed. Your only option was a spot in the middle, next to a guy with dark hair who seemed to have built a fortress of solitude around his desk.

"Is this seat taken?" you asked, squinting at him.

He looked up. Even through the blur, you could tell he was striking. Sharp jawline, dark hair that fell somewhat messily over his forehead, and eyes that were... gold? They looked gold.

He stared at you for a beat, his expression unreadable, before silently moving his bag off the chair.

"Thanks," you breathed, sliding in.

The professor, a stern woman named Baizhi, started the lecture immediately. She wrote furiously on the board, her voice projecting through the mic.

“The fundamental frequency of a Tacet field correlates directly to the resonator’s…”

You squinted. You leaned forward. You pulled your eyelids at the corners, hoping for a miracle of refraction. Nothing. The equations on the board looked like a family of spiders having a dance-off.

Panic started to set in. This was the foundation class. If you missed this, you were doomed. You opened your notebook, your pen hovering over the paper, waiting for Baizhi to say what she was writing. But she didn't. She just tapped the board and said, "As you can see here, the variable changes."

You let out a soft, defeated sigh, slumping in your seat.

Suddenly, a notebook slid into your field of vision.

You blinked, startled. The guy next to you—Rover, if the name on the corner of the page was right—had pushed his notebook to the center of the shared desk. His handwriting was impeccable: sharp, clean, and perfectly legible. He had copied the diagram from the board and even added side notes in the margins.

You looked up at him. He wasn't looking at you. He was staring straight ahead, his chin propped on his hand, spinning his pen lazily. But he didn't pull the notebook back.

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest that had nothing to do with the academy's heating system. You quickly copied the notes, glancing between his page and yours.

"Thank you," you whispered when Baizhi turned to erase the board.

Rover turned his head slightly. Up close, his eyes really were gold, piercing, yet surprisingly calm.

"You were squinting so hard I thought you were going to pop a blood vessel," he said. His voice was low, smooth, and lacked any real malice. "Forgot your glasses?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You tried to take notes on the table surface for a second before you opened your book."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Please tell me no one else saw that."

"Just me," he said. And for the first time, the corner of his mouth ticked up. "I'm Rover."

"Y/N," you replied, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "And I owe you one."

He just hummed, sliding the notebook back as the lecture continued. "Don't worry about it. Just bring your eyes tomorrow."

***

"I owe you one" turned into "I owe you lunch," which turned into "I owe you my GPA."

Over the next month, you and Rover became an unlikely fixture in the library. He was Startorch’s golden boy; top of the class in tactical resonance, quiet, mysterious, and generally unapproachable. You were the chaotic transfer student who was brilliant at practicals but a mess at theory.

It worked. He organized your thoughts; you forced him to actually interact with humanity.

But while your grades were stabilizing, your living situation was imploding.

"They're raising the rent again?" Chisa gasped, nearly dropping her bubble tea.

You slammed your head onto the cafeteria table. "Thirty percent. Who raises rent by thirty percent in the middle of the semester? My landlord is a villain. A literal Tacet Discord in human skin."

"You can't afford that," Chisa said sympathetically. "Startorch dorms are full, too. I checked for you."

"I know," you muffled into your arms. "I have three days to move out or pay up. I’m thinking of buying a tent and living in the quad. Maybe Professor Baizhi will adopt me as a lab specimen."

"That's grim."

"It's reality."

You didn't notice the shadow falling over your table untill a tray was set down next to your head.

"You're making a scene," Rover’s voice cut through your misery.

You sat up, hair messy. "I’m mourning my housing security. Let me be."

Rover sat down, methodically opening a carton of milk. He looked immaculate as always, his black jacket sharp against the sterile white of the cafeteria. "I heard you talking."

"Eavesdropper," you accused without heat.

"You were shouting," he countered. He took a sip of milk, his golden eyes scanning your face. "You need a place to stay."

"Unless you have a secret mansion in your back pocket, yes."

Rover paused. He set the milk down. He looked at Chisa, then at you, then sighed as if he was about to make a terrible mistake.

"I have a room."

You blinked. Chisa choked on a boba pearl.

"What?" you asked.

"I have a house," Rover clarified. "My parents left it to me. It’s near the academy. There’s a spare room. It’s... empty."

You stared at him. You knew Rover valued his privacy. He was the kind of guy who left parties after twenty minutes and never revealed anything personal. The idea of him sharing his space was alien.

"You live alone?" you asked.

"Yes. And I prefer it that way." He frowned, looking like he was arguing with himself. "But... you're not annoying. Mostly. And I need someone to water the plants when I’m on field missions."

"You have plants?"

"Y/N." He gave you a look. "Do you want the room or not? The rent is..." He named a price that was criminally low. It was less than half of what you were paying at the hostel.

"That's charity," you said, stunned.

"That's the 'I don't want to train a new lab partner if you drop out due to homelessness' discount," he corrected. "Three days, right? I can pick you up with the truck tonight."

You looked at Chisa, who was furiously giving you a double thumbs-up behind Rover’s back.

You looked back at Rover. He was feigning indifference, picking at his food, but the tips of his ears were slightly pink.

"Okay," you said, a smile breaking through. "Okay, deal. But I’m cooking. I’m not paying that little without contributing."

Rover shrugged, hiding a small smirk. "Acceptable."

***

Living with Rover was... surprisingly easy.

He was clean, quiet, and respectful. The house was a modern, two-story build with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the snowy landscape of Lahai-Roi. It was beautiful, but stark. Before you moved in, it looked like a model home. Furniture perfectly placed, no clutter, no personality.

Within two weeks, you’d changed that. Your books were stacked on the coffee table. Your mugs (you had a collection) were in the drying rack. A throw blanket was draped over his pristine grey couch.

Rover grumbled about the "clutter," but you caught him using the throw blanket more than once.

It was a Tuesday evening in November when everything changed.

A snowstorm had hit Lahai-Roi hard. The wind howled against the windows, turning the world outside into a white void. You and Rover were in the living room. He was reviewing tactical footage on the holoprojector, you on the other hand was studying for a history exam. Then, out of the blue, the doorbell rang.

You both froze.

"Who rings a doorbell in a blizzard?" you whispered.

Rover frowned, standing up. "Stay here."

He walked to the door, his posture shifting instantly from 'relaxed student' to 'combat-ready resonator.' You ignored his instruction and peeked around the hallway corner.

He opened the door. The wind roared, blowing snow into the entryway.

There was no one there.

Rover looked down. His tension broke, replaced by sheer confusion.

"What the..."

You stepped forward. "Rover? What is it?"

He stepped back, revealing a small bundle on the doorstep. It was a child. A little girl, maybe five or six years old, with bright pink hair that stuck out in every direction. She was wrapped in a coat that was three sizes too big for her, clutching a stuffed bear that had seen better days.

She looked up at Rover with wide, teary eyes, shivering violently.

"Papa?" she squeaked.

Rover choked. Actually choked on his own spit.

You rushed forward, maternal instinct overriding the shock. "Oh my god, she's freezing!"

You pulled her inside, kicking the door shut against the wind. You knelt down, rubbing her small arms. "Hey, sweetie. You're okay. You're safe."

The girl looked from you to Rover, her teeth chattering. Then, she looked at you, her eyes lighting up with recognition that definitely shouldn't exist.

"Mama!"

She threw herself at you, burying her face in your sweater.

You froze, your hands hovering over her pink hair. You looked up at Rover.

Rover looked like he had just been hit by a train. He was staring at the child, then at you, his face a mask of pure horror and confusion.

"I have never seen this child in my life," Rover stated, his voice jumping an octave.

"Well, she seems to know us!" you hissed, hugging the shivering girl back because you weren't a monster. "Is she... do you have a secret child, Rover?"

"I'm twenty!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Do the math, Y/N! No!"

The little girl pulled back from your chest, sniffling. She looked at Rover, then pointed an accusing finger at him. "Papa left me at the station."

Rover’s jaw dropped. "I did not! I was at the library!"

"She's confused, Rover, don't yell at her," you scolded, picking the girl up. She was surprisingly light. "What's your name, honey?"

"Aemeath," she sniffled, resting her head on your shoulder. "I was waiting... and then the snow came... and I saw the light here."

"Okay, Aemeath," you said soothingly. "We're going to get you warm, okay?"

"We need to call the Midnight Rangers," Rover said, pacing the hallway. "This is... she's lost. Her parents must be frantic."

"The storm knocked out the comms towers an hour ago, remember?" you reminded him. "We can't call anyone until the weather clears."

Rover stopped pacing. He looked at the storm raging outside, then at the pink-haired child clinging to you like a koala. He let out a long, suffering sigh.

"Fine," he grumbled. "She stays. For the night. Tomorrow, she goes to the police."

Aemeath looked at him, blinked, and then stuck her tongue out.

"Don't do that," Rover said sternly.

"Papa is grumpy," she whispered to you.

"Papa is extremely stressed," you whispered back, playing along just to tease Rover.

***

The storm did not clear in the morning. In fact, it got worse. The academy canceled classes for the next three days, Startorch locked down, and the comms remained spotty at best.

You were trapped. In a house. With the guy you were low-key crushing on, and a child who was convinced you were her parents.

It was chaos.

Day 1

"I want pancakes!" Aemeath announced at 6:00 AM, jumping on Rover’s bed.

You woke up to the sound of a heavy thud—Rover falling out of bed—followed by a groan of pain. You rushed to his door, stifling a laugh. Rover was tangled in his sheets on the floor, glaring at the ceiling, while Aemeath bounced on his mattress.

"Pancakes! Pancakes!"

"I don't know how to make pancakes," Rover rasped, sitting up. His hair was a mess, sticking up in tufts. It was adorable.

"Mama does!" Aemeath pointed at you in the doorway.

Rover looked at you, his golden eyes pleading. Help me.

You sighed, smiling. "Okay, pancakes it is. But Papa has to help mix the batter."

Aemeath cheered. Rover stood up, grumbling, but followed you to the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was a war zone. Aemeath had managed to get flour on everything, including Rover’s black t-shirt.

"It’s not tactical," Rover muttered, trying to whisk the batter while Aemeath sat on the counter, swinging her legs.

"It’s cooking, Rover, not a military operation," you laughed, flipping a pancake.

"Is the heat distribution even?" he asked, peering suspiciously at the pan. "The edges are browning faster than the center."

"You are impossible," you said, taking the whisk from him. Your fingers brushed his. He didn't pull away this time. He just stood there, close, covered in flour, watching you cook with an intensity that made your heart hammer.

"Yummy!" Aemeath yelled, shoving a piece of pancake into her mouth. "Papa, eat!"

She held out a syrupy piece on a fork toward Rover.

Rover hesitated. He looked at the fork like it was a weapon. But Aemeath gave him the puppy eyes—big, wobbly, devastating.

He sighed, leaned down, and took the bite.

"Good?" she asked.

Rover chewed, swallowed, and looked at you. "Good."

Day 2

You were in the shower when you heard the screaming.

Panicked, you wrapped a towel around yourself and sprinted into the living room, water dripping down your legs.

"What happened?!"

You found Rover sitting on the floor, looking more terrified than you’d ever seen him in combat simulation. Aemeath was sitting in front of him, holding a hairbrush.

"He's hurting me!" Aemeath wailed.

"I am not!" Rover defended, holding up his hands. "She asked for braids! I don't know the physics of braids!"

"You just pull and twist!" Aemeath cried.

"That sounds like a torture method!"

You slumped against the doorframe, clutching your towel, laughing until your sides hurt. Rover looked up at you, his face flushing red. His gaze dropped for a split second to your towel-clad form before snapping back to your eyes, his blush deepening.

"Can you... assist?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Give me five minutes to get dressed," you said, grinning. "Papa needs a lesson in hair styling."

Later, you sat on the couch, Aemeath between your legs as you deftly plaited her pink hair. Rover sat on the coffee table, watching intently.

"Over, under, tighten," you explained. "It’s just a pattern, Rover. Like coding."

"Coding doesn't scream at you if you miss a loop," he muttered.

"Here," you said, finishing one side. "You try the other."

He moved to sit behind Aemeath. His large hands were clumsy at first, trembling slightly. You guided his fingers, your hands over his.

"Gently," you whispered, leaning close. You could smell his soap, it was clean and sharp. "Just like that."

Rover focused, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he finished a messy, lopsided braid, he looked as proud as if he’d just defeated a Threnodian.

"I did it."

"You did it," you smiled.

Aemeath ran to the mirror. "I look pretty!" She ran back and hugged Rover’s leg. "Thanks, Papa."

Rover froze, then slowly, awkwardly, patted her head. "You're welcome... kid."

Day 3

The mood shifted that night. The storm was dying down, which meant tomorrow the authorities would be reachable. The reality that this little fantasy was ending hung heavy in the air.

You were sleeping in the guest room (Aemeath had claimed your bed, so you were on a mattress on the floor next to her) when she woke up screaming.

"No! Don't leave me! Papa! Mama!"

You bolted up, grabbing her. She was thrashing, sobbing hysterically.

"I'm here, I'm here," you rocked her.

The door flew open. Rover stood there, shirtless, a resonator sword materialized in his hand, ready to kill whatever was hurting her.

"What is it? A Tacet Discord?"

"Nightmare," you said softly. "Put the sword away, Rover."

He dematerialized the weapon instantly and dropped to his knees beside the mattress. Aemeath threw herself at him, sobbing into his bare chest.

"You left," she cried. "In the snow. You walked away."

Rover stiffened. He looked at you over her head, his expression pained. He wrapped his arms around the small girl, pulling her close.

"I didn't," he said, his voice unusually rough. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

Rover hesitated. He looked at the pink hair, the small hands clutching him.

"I promise," he said. "I'm not leaving."

She cried for a few more minutes before exhaustion took over. She fell asleep right there in his arms.

Rover didn't move to put her down. He just sat there on the floor, holding her, staring at the wall.

"You're good with her," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rover glanced at you. In the moonlight, he looked softer, younger. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Neither do I," you admitted. "But... we make a pretty good team."

Rover looked at you. His gaze drifted to your lips, then back to your eyes. The air between you crackled, thick with unsaid words.

"Y/N," he started, his voice low.

"Yeah?"

"When the Rangers come tomorrow..." He trailed off. He looked down at Aemeath. "Maybe... maybe we can foster. Until they find her relatives."

Your heart skipped a beat. "You... you'd do that? You hate noise. You hate mess."

"I hate a lot of things," Rover said. He looked at you, his gaze intense. "But I'm finding that there are some things I'm willing to tolerate. Even enjoy."

He wasn't talking about the child.

***

The next day, the comms were still down, but the roads were cleared. You needed supplies. Aemeath refused to be left behind, so the three of you bundled up and headed to the only open supermarket in the district.

It was surreal. Rover was pushing the cart. Aemeath was sitting inside it, swinging her legs. You were walking beside them, checking a list.

"We need eggs," you said. "And more flour, since someone spilled half of it."

"It was a tactical error," Rover defended.

"Papa is clumsy," Aemeath giggled.

You turned into the aisle and ran smack into Yangyang and Chisa.

"Y/N!" Chisa gasped. "We were so worried! The comms were—" She stopped. Her eyes went to Rover. Then to the cart. Then to the child who looked suspiciously like she belonged there.

Yangyang blinked, her polite smile freezing. "Oh. I... I didn't know you and Rover were..." She gestured vaguely at the domestic scene.

"We're not!" you said quickly.

"We are!" Aemeath announced. "We are buying pancakes!"

Chisa’s jaw dropped. "You... you have a kid? Since when? You moved in two weeks ago!"

"It's a long story," Rover cut in, stepping slightly in front of you and the cart, a protective shield. "She's lost. We're taking care of her until the Rangers station opens."

"She calls him Papa," you added helpfully, enjoying Rover’s suffering just a little.

"She has his eyes," Chisa whispered to Yangyang. (She didn't, but the lighting was weird).

"Anyway," Rover said, his tone signaling the end of the conversation. "We have to go. Ice cream is melting."

He steered the cart away, his hand brushing the small of your back to guide you. It was such a natural, practiced movement that it silenced whatever questions Chisa had left.

As you walked away, you heard Chisa whisper, "They are totally married and hiding it."

You felt your face heat up. You looked at Rover. He was looking straight ahead, but he was suppressing a smile.

"Married, huh?" he murmured.

"Shut up," you mumbled, elbowing him.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

He stopped the cart in the frozen aisle. The store was busy, but in that narrow space between the pizzas and the peas, it felt like it was just you.

"Would it be so bad?" he asked quietly.

You looked up at him. "What?"

"Pretending," he said, stepping closer. "Being... us."

Your breath hitched. "Rover, are you..."

"Mama! Papa! Kiss!" Aemeath yelled at the top of her lungs.

Several shoppers turned to look. An old lady cooed. "Aw, young love."

You turned bright red. Rover, however, didn't flinch. He looked at Aemeath, then back at you. A challenge sparked in his gold eyes.

"She's going to make a scene if we don't," he reasoned, his voice teasing but his eyes dead serious.

"We can't just—"

Rover leaned in. He didn't give you time to overthink it. He cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone—just like he had when he wiped the flour off yesterday—and pressed his lips to yours.

It wasn't a fake kiss. It wasn't a "for the show" peck. It was soft, warm, and tasted faintly of the coffee he’d had that morning. It was a question and an answer all at once.

You melted into him, your hands finding the lapels of his coat. The grocery store faded away. The annoying music, the cold air, it all disappeared.

He pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against yours.

"Okay?" he whispered.

"Okay," you breathed, dazed.

"Yay!" Aemeath clapped. "Now buy me chocolate!"

Rover laughed, a real, genuine sound that you wanted to bottle and keep forever. He kissed your forehead, then turned to the cart. "Alright, menace. Chocolate it is."

***

The Midnight Rangers station was chaotic when you finally arrived the next afternoon. The power was back, and reports of missing persons were flooding in.

When you explained the situation to Officer Jianxin, she typed Aemeath’s description into the database.

"Ah, yes," Jianxin said, her expression softening. "We have a match. Her aunt reported her missing three days ago. She got separated at the train station during the evacuation."

Relief washed over you, followed immediately by a crushing weight of sadness.

"Oh," you said. "That's... that's great."

Rover stood silently beside you, his hand gripping Aemeath’s shoulder.

"Auntie is coming?" Aemeath asked, clutching her bear.

"Yes, sweetie," you said, kneeling down. "She's coming to take you home."

Aemeath looked at you, then at Rover. Her lip wobbled. "But... I want to stay with Mama and Papa."

Your heart shattered. You fought back tears. "We aren't really Mama and Papa, remember? We were just... borrowing the titles."

"You felt like them," Aemeath whispered.

You hugged her tight, burying your face in her pink hair one last time. "You were the best roommate we ever had."

When her aunt arrived—a frantic, grateful woman who cried and thanked you a dozen times—it was time to go.

Aemeath hugged Rover’s leg. "Bye, Papa. Don't be grumpy."

Rover crouched down. He looked at the little girl, and for a second, you thought he might actually cry. "I won't. Be good, Aemeath. Don't scare your aunt."

He slipped something into her pocket. A small, tactical flashlight he always carried. "For the nightmares."

She beamed, waved, and walked away holding her aunt's hand.

The walk back to the truck was silent. The house felt incredibly empty when you got back. The toys were gone. The couch was just a couch.

You sat down on the sofa, pulling your knees to your chest. "It’s quiet."

"Too quiet," Rover agreed. He stood by the window, looking out at the melting snow.

"I guess... I guess we go back to normal now," you said, trying to sound cheerful. "Just roommates. No more pancakes at 6 AM. No more braiding lessons."

Rover turned around. He walked over to the couch and sat down next to you closely, invading your personal space in the best way.

"I don't think I can go back to normal," he said.

"Why? Did the noise damage your hearing?"

"No," he said. He took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Because 'normal' didn't include you. And I don't want a life without you in it anymore."

You looked at him, your heart doing somersaults. "Rover..."

"And," he added, a smirk playing on his lips, "Aemeath was right. We make a good team. Maybe... maybe we practice?"

"Practice?"

"Being a couple," he clarified. "For real this time. No audience. Just us."

You smiled, squeezing his hand. "I think I'd like that."

"Good," Rover said. He leaned back, pulling you with him until your head rested on his shoulder. "Because I already told Chisa we were dating, and she’s probably planning the wedding."

"You did what?!"

"Tactical advantage," he shrugged. "Stops other guys from asking you out."

You laughed, punching his arm lightly. "You are terrible."

"I'm efficient," he corrected, kissing the top of your head.

The house was quiet, but it wasn't empty. Not anymore. It was filled with the promise of something new, something that started with a shared desk, survived a blizzard, and bloomed thanks to a pink-haired menace who called you Mom and Dad.

And honestly? You couldn't wait for the next chapter.