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lamaisongaga · 2 months ago

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FASHION CREDITS: LADY GAGA AT COACHELLA WEEKEND I

Eight years after she first made history at Coachella, Lady Gaga reclaimed her throne in 2025 with a headlining performance that was nothing short of operatic chaos.

Choreography by Parris Goebel, styling by HARDSTYLE, hair by Frederic Aspiras and glam by Sarah Tanno-Stewart.

Her dark pop spectacle opened with a haunting visual interlude titled “The Manifesto of Mayhem”—a cinematic overture that reintroduced the world to Mistress Mayhem, Gaga’s latest alter ego.

Bathed in crimson light and surrounded by shadows, Gaga emerged on the screens in a rare archival piece: a bondage-inspired black leather straitjacket from Dolce & Gabbana’s Spring/Summer 2003 collection. The jacket, adorned with a grid of heavy buckles and silver hardware, set the tone for the night—iconoclastic, provocative, and entirely in control.

The incredible black mesh boater hat with rubber barbed wire around was created for our girl by milliner Lara Jensen who‘s been working with Gaga for over a decade!

Her angelic counterpart donned the Garden Fairy mesh corset top made from recycled vintage fabrics ($925 - sold out) from Central Saint Martins graduate Gyouree Kim‘s Spring/Summer 2025 "Cherubim" collection.

If the "Manifesto of Mayhem" set the tone, then what followed was pure operatic excess. Gaga made her true entrance atop a towering crimson structure draped in velvet folds—her silhouette like a deity descending upon her disciples.

The look? A custom creation by avant-garde visionaries Samuel Lewis, Athena Lawton and William Ramseur—a pleated, studded spiked masterwork of red velvet drama. Drawing inspiration from Edwardian silhouettes and Mugler’s villainous couture—particularly his take on "Lady Macbeth"—the jacket was armored in silver pyramidal studs, its spine and shoulders flaring like a queen prepared for battle.

Beneath the sweeping opera curtain–inspired skirt—engineered by the theatrical masterminds at Jet Sets —hid an elaborate cage several feet tall, housing Gaga’s dancers like a twisted chorus of shadows. The garment was both fortress and stage, its hem draping downward like blood-soaked drapery from an abandoned palace.

Topped with bone-like protrusions with crystal embellishments at the collar and sleeves, Gaga became something between a saint and a specter. Her performance from this fortress-skirted throne was a visual aria: high camp meets high art, rooted in madness, resurrection, and pure spectacle.

The opera singers beside her were dressed in huge wavy constructed yellow and black skirts with beaded velvet tops, custom-made by Candice Cuoco.

In one swift motion, she shed the heavy opera curtain—only to unveil a sensual, custom-made Samuel Lewis and Seth Pratt creation beneath. The ruby-red satin dress featured a sharp bodice with architectural puff shoulders and a plunging open front that gave way to the black lining. A crystal-embellished sash draped diagonally across her chest.

For the most intimate and arresting act of her set, Gaga appeared in a teddy—part lingerie fantasy, part gothic confessional, custom-made by the same duo. Crafted in rich black satin, the piece featured a sculpted bustier, delicate lace trim, and a shimmering crystal-embellished cross that ran from neckline to hem, catching the light like a whispered scandal.

Gaga strutted across the stage in the surprisingly affordable Leza over-the-knee boots by Steve Madden—retailing for just $89.99. Yes, you read that right.

"OFF WITH HER HEAD!"

Three of the characters are wearing these impeccable black veiled headpieces and dresses which were created by Nasir Mazhar in 2021, originally for balletLORENT.

Gaga's string orchestra wore draped black taffeta gowns made by AGRO STUDIO with custom headpieces all created by Lara Jensen.

As the lights dimmed and the stage transformed into a sepia-toned wasteland, re-emerged not as a pop powerhouse, but as a ghostly relic of beauty undone. Lying among skeletal remains and grains of dust, she conjured a scene straight from a tragic gothic fable.

For this act, titled “And She Fell Into A Gothic Dream,” Gaga wore a custom Dilara Findikoglu corset mini dress—a distressed, doll-like creation that whispered of innocence lost and romance decomposed. The off-white, almost bone-colored garment featured delicately frayed edges, an asymmetric hem, and panels of antique lace that seemed stitched together by time itself. Every rip and raw edge told a story of longing, survival, and sorrow.

The dancers wore skeleton masks made specially by Sarah Sitkin!

Gaga stepped back into one of her most iconic songs—"Paparazzi"—but this time, she didn’t just revisit it. She rearmed it.

As the familiar opening notes rang through the desert sky, Gaga reappeared in a custom Manuel Albarran armor bolero and matching helmet—a direct visual homage to the Mugler look she wore in the original "Paparazzi" music video.

For the high-octane performance featuring Gesaffelstein, Gaga slipped into a custom Marni catsuit, based on the house’s Fall/Winter 2025 collection. The original red suit—featuring beaded embroidery of a black wolf—was reimagined for Gaga as a skin-tight, asymmetrical bodysuit, fused with nude illusion mesh and stitched with jet-black sequins that glinted like sharpened claws.

To elevate the glam rock look even further, Gaga threw on a custom coat made entirely of hand-cut blue and black paper feathers, inspired by the brand’s Spring/Summer 2025 collection.

A true blast from the past are her Savannah vinyl corset boots from Penthouse.

Her female background dances all wore custom costumes by Courtney McWilliams paired with the Miista Imogen black lace-up sneaker boots!

As the opening of "Zombieboy" echoed, Gaga returned to the stage, wearing a striking custom look designed by Samuel Lewis and William Ramseur: a military-inspired royal blue satin bustle coat, tailored to perfection and cut with razor-sharp precision. The garment featured exaggerated puffed shoulders, a nipped waist, and a flared skirt with an almost theatrical silhouette, marrying 18th-century regency with gothic fantasy. The pièce de résistance? The coat’s intricate gold embroidery, stitched by the artisans of Altesa Embroidery, which shimmered like bone filigree under the stage lights—mirroring a skeletal ribcage and spine that gave the look both regality and decay.

But Gaga didn’t stop there. To crown the ensemble, she donned a custom Marni paper feather helmet, styled like a twisted jester’s crown with raven-black plumage erupting from her temples.

The studded harness belt, she wore during "Zombieboy", was custom-made by Jonathan Burdine in collaboration with Iggy Soliven.

For "Shadow of a Man", Gaga emerged cloaked in mystery and command, donning a custom Louis Verdad x Samuel Lewis creation that was equal parts military regalia and avant-garde sculpture.

The charcoal grey structured jacket, tailored to her frame like armor, featured razor-sharp lines and a high, asymmetrical collar that framed her silhouette like a shadow in motion. Bold black patent leather straps slashed across her shoulders and waist, adding a sense of futuristic restraint to the otherwise regal tailoring.

Underneath, she wore black stretch vinyl shorts by Los Angeles Apparel.

For the final look of the night, Gaga delivered a breathtaking visual transformation in a total couture creation by Matières Fécales (formerly known as Fecal Matter), a brand famed for its futuristic, grotesque, and avant-garde sensibilities.

The custom ensemble was a full conceptual look, comprised of a satin-stitched bodysuit featuring a haunting red anatomical cross motif—meant to evoke the feeling of surgical stitches, resurrection, and rebirth (and a nod to the "Abracadabra" music video!). The bodysuit alone was a spectacle, but Gaga layered it with even more drama: a translucent organza coat (cropped specifically for her performance), and an exaggerated feathered bustle skirt constructed from delicate white plumes that moved with every beat, adding an ethereal weightlessness to the performance.

The silhouette was further intensified with a sculptural feather collar piece—a headpiece of long, otherworldly white feathers shooting upward like wings, perfectly framing her head and extending the theatrical effect, created by Paul Battenberg-Cartwright.

On her hands, Gaga wore elongated gauze gloves created by artist Yaz XL, designed to resemble haunting, claw-like monster hands. The exaggerated fingers extended dramatically into crystal-embellished tips, catching the stage lights with every movement and adding an eerie elegance to her already ethereal silhouette.

To complete the look, she grounded the ensemble with custom white lace-up ankle boots by Chrome Hearts.

The dancers were all dressed in custom Luis de Javier white lace looks and Balenciaga Cagole white boots! The nurses, that wheeled Gaga in, wore custom ILONA red gowns and hats.

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sneezarify · 7 months ago

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A horny, shy fetishist who’s prone to terrible unstoppable desperate sneezing fits. I’m talking 10, 12, 15 sometimes 20 sneezes in one go.

Well, today they can tell they’re due a fit. A persistent tickle has plagued their nose all day…. and that’s bad, because with that tickles comes that warm flicker of arousal. You see sneezing turns them on, always has, hell even the tickle turns them on, and after 15 sneezes they’re rock hard every time.

They've been sat at their desk for hours snorting, sniffling, jostling and nudging at their nose, but now it’s getting dangerous. Their nostrils won’t stop flaring! The itch has become their sole focus. Their nose feels, somehow, bigger more inflamed as the tickle grows.

Fuck! their breath catches, “HEHH…HEH-NGGGXT - NGGXXT” they groan after two rapid fire stifles slip out…and their cock throbs in response.

At least no one heard, they think… Getting blessed just adds to the arousal.

They try and stay calm, but it doesn’t take long for their breathing to get unsteady and shaky again, they beg not to sneeze again but “EHHH-NGXT… HEH-NGGGXT-CHEW…ahhh..aaahhh… ahhh!! ...AHHHH-NGGGXX-CHEWW”… fuck! Each sneeze is such a horrible, sexy tease. Especially when they loose control of stifling, and a wet mist coats their arm.

This time they receive chorus of “bless yous” and it drives them absolutely wild. His cock stands to attention.

But they can’t focus on that, because at this point their nose feels itchier than ever, and before they can even achieve a full sniffle … “HAHH!! HHHAARRSHU, HAARRSHHHUU….” 9 back to back sneezes expel themselves from their nose.

The coworker next to him blessing each sneeze in shock! Bewildered and concerned at that almighty sneeze display.

He keeps his dripping wet hands clasped over his nose, before he sniffs, and looks up, sheepishly wiping them on his trousers. As expected he’s now ruby red, his heart pulsing, and sniffly. His rock hard cock straining against his trousers. Of course he’s unable to move for tissues until he’s feeling a little calmer downstairs.

“thank you” he stutters. Eyes on his computer pretending to work as his cock strains against his trousers.

#snz scenario #work snz #snz thoughts #Aroused snz fit #Rock hard from snz #Prone to sneezing fits is how I want my men #snz kink #snzfucker #snzblr

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papiliotao · 2 years ago

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꒰ 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✩࿐

pairings: alhaitham, kaveh, kazuha, lyney, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)

content: fluff, modern au, college au, the reader is a sleep-deprived student, correction: everyone in this fic is a sleep-deprived student, cuddling, reader is sick in scara’s, venti makes a cameo in kazuha’s part, reverse comfort in kaveh’s

summary: small scenarios with the genshin boys as your roommates! ♡

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, so i decided to finally finish it up. i hope you enjoy!

₊˚ପ ALHAITHAM

Tonight, it feels like endless night ebbs and flows into the very core of your being, chilling you with fragments of a glacial atmosphere.

It’s cold.

Even with multiple blankets wrapped around you, you can’t help but shiver, shake like a vibrant autumn leaf in a passing zephyr. Winter is approaching, and unfortunately for you, you may have relished a little too much in the gilded threads of summer warmth that had graced the world a few months prior. For now, you’re unable to stand the gradual freeze that’s beginning to spread throughout your city.

Slumber is tempting. It lures you in, wrapping you in a blanket weaved of starlight and dreams. However, it’s all an illusion. In reality, you’re far from sleep. You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to pass the gateway into the oneiric realm. Not with the sensation of frostbite threatening to consume you whole.

Eventually, you decide to get up. You’re certain that you won’t be able to fall asleep, at least, not without more blankets, so you decide to make your way to Alhaitham’s room to ask if he has any spares.

Although you’d normally feel guilty for rousing someone from slumber, it’s not that late as of right now. Either way, you’re quite certain that your roommate is still wide awake, most likely losing himself amongst the yellowed pages of a verbose book. After all, he always seems to have his nose buried in a complex tome, filled with words that make your brain hurt.

Slowly, you drag yourself out from under the plush covers of your bed. The floorboards groan slightly as you stand, exhaling under the pressure of your footsteps. You make your way down a hallway drowned in shades of midnight, making your way towards the golden light seeping out into the corridor from under the cracks of a closed door.

The door to Alhaitham’s room.

You knock, the sound seemingly echoing down the walls of the hall, repeating in a chorus of onomatopoeia.

A few seconds pass before the door opens to reveal Alhaitham. Strands of silver hair messily frame his face, and yet as the aquamarine hues of his irises meet your gaze, you find that he’s just as dazzling as ever.

“Do you need something?” he asks, his voice as flat and monotonous as always. As usual, your roommate’s front doesn’t betray a single hint of emotion. Not even irritation.

You pause for a moment, still a little intimidated by Alhaitham. Although you’ve been living together for a while now, his apathetic demeanour can be slightly off-putting at times. Nonetheless, you eventually manage to steel your nerves.

“Yeah,” you say. The word comes tumbling out of your mouth clumsily. “Do you happen to have any extra blankets?”

Alhaitham pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

You hold your breath, hoping that he’ll say yes, and you’ll be able to get this over with.

However, he shakes his head, and you feel your heart drop, shattering into a thousand shards of fragmented ruby.

“Oh,” you sigh, trying your best to hide the dejected expression overtaking your features. “That’s okay. Sorry for bothering you.”

You turn away, ready to head back to your room, but Alhaitham’s voice stops you.

“I think it’s safe to presume you wanted a blanket because you were cold, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t bother to answer it. Instead, you freeze, becoming akin to a statue carved of pale blue ice.

“Then allow me to propose an alternate solution.”

You turn around, meeting Alhaitham’s eyes once more. Lakes of turquoise, typically devoid of emotion, are now filled with a particular spark. You can’t quite determine what it is, but there’s a subtle glimmer — barely visible, but it’s there.

“Why don’t you stay in my room for the night?”

Your eyes widen, and you feel your jaw drop. For a moment, you just stand there, absolutely still and dumbfounded.

Perhaps you had heard Alhaitham wrong. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, making mirages materialize out of nothing. The blank expression painted over your roommate’s features certainly makes you think so.

“Excuse me?” you blink languidly, staring at Alhaitham as if he’ll disappear into thin air if you take your eyes off him.

“I said why don’t you stay in my room for the night?” he repeats nonchalantly, the evening chill seemingly intertwining itself into his tone. His gaze remains fixated on you.

Your mind blanks for a second, each intricate acrylic line of a composition painted over, leaving you with nothing but an empty canvas. As you stand still, a thousand scenarios seem to flash through your head, filling up the blank space with a myriad of thoughts — some pleasant and some unpleasant. However, you soon realize that you don’t have time to weigh all the pros and cons of your decision, as Alhaitham is staring at you intently, awaiting your answer.

“Sure,” you blurt out.

You’re not sure what compels you to accept his proposal. Perhaps it’s your longing for the comfort of shared warmth. Perhaps it’s a result of your inability to say no to others due to a fear of disappointing them. Or perhaps it’s because you’ve grown a lot closer to Alhaitham than you’d care to admit.

Although you’re still slightly intimidated by him, you’re certain that he’d never do anything to harm you. And there are even times where he shows he has your best interests in mind (despite the fact that you were initially under the impression that he cared little for others).

You’re snapped out of your trance of reminiscence as Alhaitham speaks once more.

“Alright,” he says, taking your hand and leading you over to his bed. His grip is firm — not suffocating, but at the same time, not so soft that the connection between the two of you would be easily severed.

Alhaitham’s touch sends butterflies, tinted a colour reminiscent of spring blossoms, dancing within the pit of your stomach. It’s enchanting, and at this rate, you’re not sure how you’ll be able to handle sleeping in the same bed as him.

He allows you to climb into bed first, tucking you in with an unexpected amount of care. You know Alhaitham’s not exactly the cold-hearted jerk many make him out to be, but you didn’t anticipate that he’d be this gentle, his touch akin to the caress of sunlight on a spring day.

After the man ensures that you’re cozy, he lies down beside you, embracing you. As he does so, you feel a wave of heat overwhelm you. To your relief, the frigidness that had once gnawed at your very soul is now gone, but unfortunately, you’re faced with a new problem.

Alhaitham’s actions have flustered you, and to your misfortune, it feels as though crimson embers of embarrassment are bursting into flames far too quickly for your liking.

You’ve solved one issue, but in turn, you’ve accidentally created another.

This is going to be a long night.

₊˚ପ KAVEH

It’s no secret that your roommate is a perfectionist.

Whenever his eyebrows knit up in a jumble of discontent and pools of liquid ruby tinged with sunsets glint with hints of frustration, it becomes obvious what’s going on. He’s spent too long trying to perfect yet another assignment. The bags that seem to perpetually line the undersides of his eyes are dark shadows — serving as an eternal reminder of the man’s exhaustion.

There are times where you find him hunched over his desk, teetering on a thin tightrope, walking a line between the waking world and a wonderland of dreams. Of course, he refuses to succumb to the temptations of a golden slumber time and time again, forcing himself to fixate on his projects until he’s finished and happy with the final product.

Today is one of those days. The cold light that leaks through the cracks beneath the door to Kaveh’s room seeps into the hallway, serving as a warning written in a display of molten opalescence.

Stark white. Cutting through the darkness of deep midnights with ease.

It’s jarring, and when you press your ear to the door and listen carefully, you manage to make out the sound of Kaveh muttering underneath his breath.

You know you have to do something. Now. Before your roommate decides to work himself into a stupor again.

You take a deep breath, inhaling night air reminiscent of the crystalline waters. It’s refreshing, and as you breathe out, a sense of tranquility washes over you.

Steeling yourself, you knock on Kaveh’s door, the sound seemingly reverberating through the corridor in a myriad of echoes.

“[Name]? Is that you?” he asks, his voice ringing out loudly, fragmenting and shattering the quiet ambience.

You hear the sounds of drawers opening and closing, papers rustling, and footsteps falling.

“There’s no point in hiding anything,” you tell your roommate, picturing the distress swirling like nebulae in his vibrant crimson eyes. “I know you’ve been working late again.”

The noises come to a halt, and peace returns to the late night atmosphere once more. Soon, the sound of soft footsteps fills your senses, gradually growing louder in a crescendo until you’re sure that Kaveh is right in front of the door.

Not a second later, it swings open to reveal a sleep-deprived Kaveh clad in pyjamas.

“Alright, I’ll admit it,” he sighs. “You caught me red-handed.”

Silence permeates your senses for a few seconds, but the illusion of stillness is quickly shattered as Kaveh breathes out a sigh.

“I just can’t seem to figure out this one last thing,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. “I seriously can’t take it anymore. It’s driving me insane.”

For a few seconds, his gaze remains averted, staring down at the wooden finish of his desk, tinted a subtle peach under the topaz shades of light spilling from Kaveh’s lamp. If you didn’t know any better, you would have sworn that he had fallen asleep. However, your eyes eventually meet hues of dulled rose, glittering with a faint spark concealed by exhaustion.

“You should rest,” you tell your roommate, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder. To your relief, he doesn’t flinch or pull away when you touch him. He simply slumps and begins to stand up.

“I suppose you’re right,” he speaks slowly, his voice laced with resignation. “Maybe a short break will help me clear my mind.”

Kaveh walks over to his bed, brushing locks of sunshine away from his eyes. The mattress sinks like quicksand as he lies down and tucks himself under the covers, enveloping him in layers upon layers of plush comfort.

You turn away, switching Kaveh’s lamp off before you head back to the door. However, just as you’re about to leave, Kaveh calls your name.

“[Name],” Kaveh starts, his voice seemingly amplified by the abyssal midnight overtaking your surroundings.

You spin around, only to be met with the sight of Kaveh’s silhouette outlined against backdrops of navy and black, enveloping the world in curtains of phantasmagoric silk.

“Can you stay with me?” he asks. His voice trembles slightly, and he sounds sheepish — almost shy. “It’s just that, if I don’t have you around, I might convince myself to start working again.”

You freeze.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

It takes three seconds for you to fully process Kaveh’s request, and when you do, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“I would be happy to.”

And with Kaveh’s permission, you climb under the covers of his bed with him. He wraps an arm around you. The position feels far too intimate for two roommates who harbour nothing more than platonic feelings for each other, but you decide that that’s a problem for future you to address.

For now, you decide to close your eyes and seek solace in a realm of breathtaking dreamscapes. Finding joy in each cotton candy cloud, each droplet of crystal rain, and each gilded leaf within a fantastical world found far away from reality.

And yet as you drift off to sleep, you find that there’s one thing in the waking world that has become far more tantalizing than anything your imagination could ever conjure: the warmth of Kaveh’s embrace.

₊˚ପ KAZUHA

Golden ribbons of warmth caress your face as you open your eyes to find yourself awake again. A wave of tranquility washes over you, weighing down your eyelids with a serene lullaby — an ode to quiet mornings spent in the solace of your home. You want nothing more than to stay in bed for a few more minutes, but you have classes.

Groggily, you stretch and then pick your phone up from where it’s sitting on your nightstand in order to check the time. The screen lights up with a cold radiance, a stark contrast to the gilded rays of the sun, as you turn it on.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

It’s 9:30 a.m., and you’ve already missed the start of your first class. You grimace internally, but you can’t dwell on your feelings for too long. After all, the longer you delay, the more you’ll miss.

You change in record time, pulling on a comfortable hoodie and jeans, grab a few of your belongings, and rush out the door.

The chilly autumn air brushes against your skin as you make your way to class, and the enticing fragrance of sap hits your nose, tantalizing you with a perfume that carries nostalgic memories. In the corners of your vision, you watch as leaves coloured shades of vivid crimson, marigold, and amber swirl in a waltz signaling the end of summer and the beginnings of harsher days. The scenery is beautiful, and if you weren’t in a panic, you would have stopped to admire it. However, you force yourself to ignore the scenes around you, continuing to focus on your primary objective.

When you arrive at the lecture hall, you’re panting. Simple oxygen feels like ambrosia to you, sweet and satisfying, refreshing in a way that it’s never been before. For a few moments, you stand outside the room and catch your breath. With each inhale and exhale, you get closer and closer to finding a rhythm until finally, you’re no longer gasping for air.

Quietly, you walk into class, trying your best to avoid disturbing anyone. Thankfully, nobody seems to notice as you take a seat near the back of the hall, settling down in your seat. Time passes slowly as class continues on, and it almost feels like universal laws operate differently within the small bubble of the room you’re currently sitting in. Everything seems to take an eternity, and you can’t do anything except watch the minutes tick by, each addition of one moving you closer and closer to the end of a mundane lecture.

It feels like the moment will never arrive, but eventually, you’re dismissed. Thankfully, there’s quite a while until you have to go to your next class, so you decide to wander around for a while.

For a while, you stroll aimlessly, eventually finding yourself back outdoors once more. Now, you can truly savour the beauty of your surroundings, relish in the splendor of each flaming leaf that drifts by and each rivulet of tepid light that pierces through the crystalline coolness of the autumn air.

You stand there for a while, simply enjoying a break after a hectic morning.

Until something else — or rather, someone else — catches your eye.

Under the shade of a maple tree stands your roommate, basking in the glory of a crimson waterfall composed entirely of maple leaves dancing gracefully until they hit the ground. His platinum hair is tied back in its usual ponytail, each strand of silken moonlight swaying as a gentle zephyr blows by, and his eyes are a shade of ruby that flawlessly mimics the autumnal landscape.

He’s as breathtaking as ever.

But before you can admire him for long, hues of starglitter and rose petals meet your gaze, and a small smile dances across his lips. Without a word, he walks over to you.

“Running into you here is certainly a pleasant surprise,” he says, his grin widening.

“You say that as if we don’t already live together,” you remark, laughing a little.

He chuckles, the sound as light and airy as autumn winds swirling leaves around in a finale of farewells. The lighthearted atmosphere is truly euphoric, especially after such a stressful morning.

Of course, good things never last for long.

“Good morning, Kazuha. Good morning, [name]. How’s my favourite couple?” a cheery voice asks. In the edges of your vision, you see a figure donning twin braids of sapphire and turquoise approaching. It’s Venti — one of Kazuha’s friends.

Both you and Kazuha freeze, a frigidity crystallizing the ambience into icy fractals. And yet at the same time, you can feel your face beginning to heat up.

Couple?

Before you can clear up the misunderstanding, Kazuha speaks.

“Good morning to you too, Venti,” he says. “We’re doing well, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” Kazuha subtly averts his gaze, staring at the ground, but you swear you can see a blush dawning on his cheeks in shades of sunset. “[Name] and I aren’t a couple.”

“Oh really?” Venti asks teasingly, giggling in a manner that sounds almost maniacal, “then why are they wearing your hoodie?”

You look down, and sure enough, the top you chose to wear today was Kazuha’s. He had allowed you to borrow it a few days ago when you complained about the chilly autumn weather, and you had forgotten to return it. Apparently you were in such a rush this morning that you pulled it on without a second thought.

“It was an accident,” you blurt out, wanting to clear up the misconception as soon as possible. “I woke up late, and I was in a hurry.”

“Uh huh,” Venti nods, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Sure. I believe you.”

“No, seriously. We’re not a couple,” you reiterate, sighing as Venti laughs quietly.

“Whatever you say,” he says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

Without another word, Venti skips off, jubilantly humming to himself. And now, you’re alone with Kazuha, left to deal with the awkward aftermath of Venti’s assumptions.

“That was… interesting,” you remark.

Kazuha nods.

“I hope you didn’t feel too uncomfortable,” he says, smiling at you gently, a light blush still coating his cheeks. Although you’ll never admit it out loud, you find him quite cute when he’s flustered. Venti would have a field day if he knew you found your roommate so adorable.

“I’m fine,” you reassure Kazuha, “and I’ll return your hoodie to you as soon as possible,” you add.

However, to your surprise, Kazuha shakes his head.

“You can keep it if you want,” he tells you.

“Really?”

Kazuha chuckles.

“Really,” he assures you. “As long as you don’t mind being mistaken for a couple, that is. I know I certainly don’t.”

₊˚ପ LYNEY

“Lyney, if I remember correctly, you told me you perform magic as a sort of side hustle, right?” you ask your roommate.

The question comes from out of the blue, but you want nothing more than to learn about the man you’ve recently grown to be infatuated with. Besides, he’ll probably think nothing of it; it’s only natural for someone to want to get to know their roommate.

“Yeah, I guess you’d be right,” he responds, averting his gaze from his phone and glancing at you. “Although I’d say it’s more about putting on a good show than the money.”

Lilac hues make your mind go blank as you make eye contact, enchanting you with oceans full of stardust and sunshine alike. Lilac. It’s a colour you’ve come to adore. Before meeting Lyney, it was a shade known to you as the border between night and day, mixed into compositions of dawning sunrises and fading sunsets. But now, it’s synonymous with magic and mystery, and it’s all thanks to your charming roommate.

“Oh, I see,” you mutter.

You’re surprised that your voice doesn’t end up shaking. Simply looking into Lyney’s eyes is causing your heart to beat rapidly, igniting crimson sparks of giddiness and glee with each thump.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to be in love.

“Why do you ask?” Lyney inquires, tilting his head slightly. “Are you interested in seeing a trick?”

Lyney flashes a charming smile at you — a smile embodying the enigmatic charms of various twilight hues. He reaches his hand up to brush the few strands of dusky hair that had fallen in front of his eyes away, and somehow, the subtle action makes you find him all the more attractive.

“I would love to,” you say, “if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

You wait with bated breath, feeling the whole world still as you await Lyney’s response. The carefree atmosphere solidifies into something denser, heavier, as tension begins to build.

“Well, I usually don’t do private shows like this, especially not out of the blue,” he remarks.

For a second, you feel your smile fall.

“But since it’s you, I can try,” Lyney says.

A grins dances upon your lips once more, and the elation from before comes back in full force. Unbridled adoration swirls through your heart, taking down each and every glacial barrier in a roaring tempest of rose and vermillion. With every day that passes, you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into the clutches of romantic fantasies.

“Thank you.”

With that, Lyney rushes to his room. A few seconds later, he returns with some props and a top hat, midnight black adorned with velvety scarlet and magenta detailing, perched upon his head.

He performs for you, and it’s absolutely enamouring. His prowess is incredible, and it’s clear he’s enjoying putting on a show for you. The entire performance is interesting, captivating. However, it’s Lyney’s last act that stands out to you most of all.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what my grand finale will be,” Lyney announces with a fiery sort of flamboyance. It’s amusing because you’re the only audience member, but at the same time, slightly endearing.

He takes his hat off, reaching his hand into the void within. Slowly, he pulls something out.

The verdant green of a stem lined with thorns appears first. Then you catch sight of luscious leaves. And lastly, the delicate petals of a rose enter your line of vision. They’re tinted a vibrant purple, reminiscent of sparkling amethysts.

“For you,” Lyney says, handing you the flower.

Upon closer examination, you note that the rose is unblemished. It’s perfect. You wonder if Lyney put any thought into picking out this particular flower, but you brush the thought off. Embers of newly-kindled feelings of romance brush against your skin.

You’re flustered.

Flustered beyond measure.

Awkwardly, you take the rose from Lyney, your heart fluttering as your fingers accidentally bump against his. His skin is soft, and his touch is tantalizing. You wouldn’t mind feeling his hand in yours.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, averting your gaze and looking anywhere but into the very lavender irises that will never fail to enchant you. “It’s stunning.”

“A stunning flower for a stunning person,” Lyney says. The sincerity lacing his tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and you have to stop yourself from melting on the spot. “Do you know what the purple rose represents?”

You shake your head as sudden curiosity and cupid’s final arrow strike simultaneously.

He leans in, moving so close that you can feel strands of silken platinum tickle your skin. A soft breath lightly brushes against your ear as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Love at first sight.”

₊˚ପ SCARAMOUCHE

Weak beams of winter light filter through the curtains of the window beside your bed, illuminating your room with a radiance tinted pale blue. With a foggy mind, you make your way over to the window, leaving the warmth and comfort of your covers to do so. The chill pokes at your skin like a thousand miniature needles of ice, and yet you continue on.

As soon as velvety veils of fabric fall away from glass panes, glacial sunshine spills through. The panoramic scenery that welcomes you is a glazed-over landscape, thick blankets of pure white sprinkled with glimmers of stardust. Even the branches of the tall evergreen trees surrounding your home are dusted with powdered opal. Nothing is free from the frigid caress of winter, and you’re suddenly reminded of this fact as you start coughing.

Oh. You’re sick.

You blink slowly, an unbearable headache making itself known by jumbling your thoughts into nothing more than incoherence. Begrudgingly, you decide to lie back down, pulling a few blankets over you in order to stay warm. However, the layer of plush protection isn’t enough to shield you, as shivers continue to wrack your body.

For a while, you just lie there, huddled and trying to cling onto any remaining heat, any remaining comfort. You close your eyes, feeling absolutely helpless against the coolness that threatens to permeate the very essence of your being. The world around you begins to become distant as grogginess and discomfort plague you, but soon enough, you’re snapped out of your haze.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The last thing you want to do is answer the door.

“[Name]? Are you in there?” your roommate, Scaramouche, calls. As usual, irritation laces his tone, but there’s something new this time. Maybe you’re delusional, but it almost sounds like concern.

“Yeah. Come in,” you manage to respond.

Your voice is unsurprisingly hoarse, and you have to strain in order to be heard. However, in the end, it seems that you were just loud enough because seconds later, the door opens with a click. In its wake, a man with hair reminiscent of desolate midnights walks in. Soon enough, you find your gaze meeting hues of deep twilight fading into a paler shade of periwinkle akin to the colour of forget-me-nots.

“Wow, you look awful,” Scaramouche remarks bluntly, examining you.

You feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“Can you not?” you shoot back, mustering the strength to glare at him between coughs and sniffles. “I'm kind of dying here.”

Scaramouche scoffs.

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone,” he says, turning away and walking out the door.

Once again, silence envelops the atmosphere, ebbing and flowing throughout the greys and blues of an early winter morning in soundless waves. Although you’re thankful for the serene ambience, you also feel awfully lonely now that your roommate is gone. All you can do now is stare blankly at the wall in front of you and entertain yourself with your own thoughts.

Time becomes a blur, and yet it stretches on as well. It feels like you’re trapped in a sort of limbo — suspended in a mundane reality without any sort of respite or the slightest idea of when you’ll finally find your refuge.

That is, until you hear the hinges of the door creak once more.

Scaramouche is back.

You look up. To your surprise, the glints of starlight that dance within his indigo eyes show a rare sort of softness, and he’s carrying a bowl of soup.

Without a word, he sets the bowl on your bedside table, staring at you expectantly.

“Is that for me?” you ask.

Scaramouche groans, rolling his eyes.

“Who did you think it was for?” he says, averting his gaze.

A small smile dances across your lips. Although your roommate doesn’t want to show that he cares for you, you’re beginning to realize that he’s looking out for you in his own way.

“Thank you,” you respond. However, just as you’re about to reach for the soup, you’re attacked by another fit of coughs.

Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on you once more, and he sighs.

“Do you need me to spoon feed you or something?” Although it sounds like he’s mocking you, you can tell he’s serious to some extent.

“Do you want to feed me?” you say, trying to muster a playful tone. Even though you’re sick, teasing Scaramouche is as fun as ever.

“I will if it means you’ll shut up,” he mutters, taking the bowl carefully and scooping up a spoon of the soup.

With caution and a shocking amount of attentiveness, he lifts the spoon to your lips, and you open your mouth. To your surprise, the soup is actually quite tasty. You didn't expect your roommate to be such a good cook.

“How was it?” Scaramouche asks after you swallow. Not a hint of emotion shows through the veils of apathy he’s crafted as he awaits your response.

“It was amazing,” you remark genuinely. ��I’d love to try some more of your cooking, and… thanks for taking care of me.”

Scaramouche looks away, but as he does, you notice a colour reminiscent of delicate rose petals rising to his cheeks, tinting porcelain akin to the snow outside a vivid shade.

“Don’t mention it.”

₊˚ପ XIAO

Procrastination is every student’s worst enemy, and you’re no different.

You had spent the past few days putting off your latest assignments and neglecting your studies more than you’d care to admit. It’s not that you didn’t want to work and study, but every time you tried to start on something, you’d feel put off by the copious amounts of labour you’d have to put in. And unfortunately, now you’re reaping the consequences of the seeds you had previously sowed.

It’s currently 1 a.m., and all you can see outside the window is ebony fragmented by the occasional streetlight or polychromatic star. Your eyelids are beginning to droop of their own volition, but you force yourself to stay awake. You have something important due later today, and unfortunately, you’ve barely even started on it.

So you have no choice but to continue on, allowing yourself to fall into the treacherous grasp of sleep-deprivation all because of your poor decision-making skills.

The minutes seem to count down all too quickly as you toil, yet at the same time, the mundane assignment makes every second feel like an eon. It’s a paradoxical distortion of the universe’s concepts, but it’s something you’ve grown far too accustomed to in your time as a student. Panic and hopelessness set in more and more with every tick of the clock, and eventually, you lose all sense of time, burying yourself in a pile of work.

The next time you look up, you notice that it’s well past your first scheduled break time, and you’re absolutely exhausted.

You stand up, stretching and relishing the sensation of being able to move your aching limbs after hours of sitting in the same position, mulling over boring assignments. However, your momentary respite is ruined, as it isn’t long before the creaking of a door pulls you out from the temporary euphoria that had taken over your mind.

“Hey,” a calm voice utters. It’s melodic like a beautiful song you wouldn’t mind hearing on repeat. “Are you alright?”

You turn around, and as expected you’re met with the sight of your roommate. Honeyed eyes filled with a dandelion warmth shimmer when met with the dim incandescent glow of your desk lamp, and locks of seafoam frame his pale face. Even though his hair is messy, and there are visible bags under his eyes, Xiao looks as stunning as ever.

“I’m fine,” you say, miraculously stringing together a couple of words despite your exhaustion.

“You’ve been up all night,” Xiao observes, glancing at your messy desk — a testament to the few hours you had been chipping away at your work. Somehow in that time, you’ve managed to make it look as though some sort of wild tempest had ravaged your room.

“You’re saying that as if you don’t stay up all the time,” you shoot back.

You flinch. Your tone is harsh and dripping with venom, but you hadn’t meant your words in that way. They were from a place of concern, but it seems that Xiao understands.

“That’s true,” he remarks, “but I’m not as keen on working myself to death as you are.”

A second passes.

Then you realized that you may have gotten a little bit carried away due to your momentary burst of energy — a rush of exhilaration prompted by a sense of urgency.

“Oh.”

Xiao sighs.

“You need a break,” he says, hesitantly walking over to you and intertwining your fingers with his.

His actions surprise you. Most of the time, Xiao avoids touch, but now, he’s holding your hand. The tepidness of Xiao’s skin on yours causes lucidity to wash over you. Suddenly, you feel more aware of your surroundings.

Your roommate pulls you out the door, exiting your dorm swiftly before you can refuse. Truthfully, you wouldn’t have denied him his demand anyway. Although Xiao seems like a tough person on the outside, his heart is forged of silvery moonbeams — glittering lights that illuminate the world with a subtle phosphorescence, not quite as glaring as rays of sunlight, but equally as bright, nonetheless. As a result, you’ve grown to develop a soft spot for him.

When you exit the building, the first thing you notice is the crisp, fresh air. After staying cooped up in your room for so long, it’s relieving to breathe in the liquified stardrops dissolved within the night atmosphere. Your head clears up nearly instantaneously, and finally, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Feeling better?” Xiao asks, noticing the change in your expression immediately.

He’s usually not the brightest when it comes to interpreting emotions, so your prior distress must have been extremely obvious. Nonetheless, you brush off your embarrassment and swallow your pride, nodding to reassure Xiao that yes, this is helping, and yes, you’d like to stay here with him for a while longer.

Xiao seems to get what you’re trying to convey, so he continues walking, leading you under the gold-lacquered light of the lamps lining the path before you. Right now, it feels as though your hearts are connected, and for once, you’re under the impression that Xiao’s let down his walls.

You know that once your midnight escapades cease, you’ll have to face a world of pain, but perhaps it’s worth it.

After all, exhaustion is temporary, but maybe, just maybe, this lavender haze will endure forevermore.

thank you for reading!! if you liked this, i’d really appreciate it if you reblogged this fic.

#r.archives *ೃ༄#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #kazuha x reader #lyney x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x you #genshin fluff

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razorblade180 · 22 days ago

Text

9 Days of Lancaster Day 9: Dancing

Ruby:Zzzzz

🎶🎶🎶~

Ruby:Zzzzz

🎶🎶🎶~!

It wasn’t often Ruby woke up grumpy, but today might be an exception. The sound of music was a beautiful thing. However, waking up at 10am on a weekend was a crime. The huntress opened her eyes and turned over in bed to find her partner missing. Against her will, she sat up and accepted the soft lighting seeping through the curtains. She just might fight Jaune today.

The girl slowly got out of their warm and cozy bed to go down stairs wear the source of the music was. It was only right that Jaune was a morning person. The world had to give him something Ruby would find unacceptable. At least it wasn’t pineapple on pizza. Still, it was ten in the morning!

The culprit of her awakening came into view halfway down the stairs. Draped in a cleaning apron and armed with a duster, the man swayed his hips around the apartment and hummed before the dust bunnies. He was really getting into it. How long has he been cleaning? The place was spotless. His head continued to bob and his footwork got fancier as the chorus kicked in. Try as she might, Ruby couldn’t fight the smile creeping up on her face.

Ruby: I did in fact ask for this life.

Jaune: 🎶It’s a new dawn. It’s a new day. It’s a new life… *turns head* !? For me~🎶 *holds out hand*

Ruby:*red* Oh boy…

Jaune:🎶And I’m feeling good~🎶

He dropped the duster and literally swept Ruby off her feet and into his arms, twirling her into waltzing position. She didn’t dare stop his antics but she didn’t have the energy for it either. Ruby let him lead completely, her body swaying to his movements almost like a marionette; it was getting incredibly hard to act unamused. He pulled her in close for head to lay on his chest as their dance continued.

Jaune:Good morning~

Ruby:You are so ridiculous. How are you so active so soon?

Jaune:I woke up and saw the cutest face next to me.

Ruby:I find that hard to believe since my pillow had drool on it.

Jaune:Since when have I hated the sight of you drooling?

Ruby:*red* Okay mister, I will step on your feet. I haven’t had any coffee yet and you’re cracking jokes.

She was twirled again before being lead into the kitchen over by the breakfast bar. Her boyfriend finally let her go so she could sit down. Ruby looked over at the coffee pot to fill it, only to see it was hot and ready. The sound of the microwave opening turned her head towards it to see Jaune walking to her with a plate of eggs, bacon, and cinnamon french toast. He placed it right in front of her, gave her a mug, then kissed her softly before going back to cleaning.

Okay, so living with a morning person wasn’t the worst thing ever. Ruby’s face was absolutely flushed. He literally spun her into a good mood. He even had the sugar and cream out! Ruby made her special brew and watched the man continue this work.

Ruby:It’s dangerous to treat me this well. You better be careful.

Jaune:You say that like you’re not already crazy about me.

Ruby:I can get crazier. The well is deep and my love is vast.

Jaune:Same here. All this is just a little reminder. Plus this place had to get cleaned anyways.

Ruby:I’ll help when I’m done.

Jaune:No need. This was actually the last thing. I turned on the music cause I was done and ready to wake you.

Ruby:Oh…then I guess I’ll enjoy a shower after this.

Jaune:Sounds like a plan.

Ruby:You’ll be there too. I’ll clean you up.

Jaune:An even better plan! *starts dancing again*

Ruby:Pfft, I love you. *swaying*

Jaune:Now you’re feeling it! I love you too.

Ruby took a sip of her coffee and kept swaying as she ate a delicious breakfast. Who knew love could be this melodic? She just might be dancing for the rest of her life.

#rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #rwby lancaster #9 days of lancaster #9 days of Lancaster 2025

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hihomeghere · 3 months ago

Text

Nightmare | Arthur Morgan x f!reader x Charles Smith

Summary : Arthur has a recurring nightmare. Part of the series Baptized by Fire

Word count : 3k

Warnings/tags : Mention of death, slight panic attack for Arthur, talk of dead child (Isaac), feelings of inadequacy, poly relationship, Arthur morgan x reader x Charles smith, reader has female gentalia and menstruates, talk of children and pregnancy, talk of natural contraception

this will be the last chapter in Spring! This is my favorite that I've written for these three so far, so if you enjoyed it please let me know!

divider by @saradika

Arthur knew this trail by heart, the map in his satchel long forgotten as he led Boadicea along it. The sun peeked through the trees, golden rays guiding him through the spotlights from above. He tipped his hat a little lower on his face, shielding his eyes from the rays.

Birds raised their melodious voices into a natural chorus, accompanied by Boadicea’s hooves clopping along the dirt path. A breeze rustled through the leaves, pulling his attention away from the path for only a moment. Arthur’s heart felt light, as though whatever weight had been pulling him down was lifted. A sense of anticipation built in him the longer he rode. He wanted to set his heels in Boadicea’s side, urging the horse into a sprint, but he refrained. Letting her easy trot take him along. He emerged from the canopy of trees, leaving his sanctuary from the blistering heat.

Still, he would endure whatever Mother Nature sent his way. There was nothing that could damper his spirits today. He was going to see them today. The thought sent a flutter through his stomach, his hands tightening around the reins. The worn leathering creaking under his hands. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, dryer than ever under the smoldering sun.

The fauna felt it too, the further he ventured the more barren it became. The wildflowers and ferns, wilted and yellowed against the harsh conditions. Arthur felt sweat run down his temple, wiping the salty streak away from his face.

Jesus, it was hot.

That trickle had now turned into rivulets, pouring off of him the longer he rode. He raised his eyes, catching the waves of heat as they danced on the horizon. Turning the sky and earth into a watercolor, the two bleeding into each other.

He pulled out his handkerchief, wiping it haphazardly across his face. Boadicea’s hooves crushed the scorched dirt beneath them, although all Arthur cared about was in front of them.

His life was ahead, in that tiny house. Those tiny fingers and toes, that mop of sandy brown hair much like his own. Her warm and welcoming smile, never changing no matter how long his sorry ass had been gone.

He had made up his mind, the pack on Boadicea’s rump confirming it. This time, this time, he was staying.

No more running, no more being a damn coward. He was gonna own up to his actions, not mistakes, never a mistake. The ruby ring weighing down his pocket, never straying far from his mind. He would do it right, after being wrong for this many goddamn years he could do right by her. He could be happy with her.

Despite the sweltering heat, damn near stealing the breath out of his lungs with every breath, he smiled.

And finally, finally, the house came into view. He couldn’t help himself, digging his heel into her side with a resounding ‘hyah’, they raced towards the house.

Only they didn’t make it far before he saw the graves.

His stomach sank like a rock, the world fading away as his eyes fell upon the two crosses. He urged her to go faster, as though that would clear the image like a mirage. He slung his legs over her back, his knees almost buckling as he hit the ground.

He smacked his lips together, all the moisture sucked out of his body, he didn’t know if it was from the sun or… this. Two graves.

He raced towards the small house, tears clouding his vision. He hastily wiped them away, swallowing past the growing lump in his throat.

But this wasn’t right. It wasn’t like before, the graves… they weren’t packed with dirt. They were open, and instead of Eliza and Isaac’s bodies buried deep in the ground, it was you and Charles.

“No.” He whispered, his voice shaking as he dropped to his knees. “No- no, no, no.” He repeated as though his words could turn back time. Could undo what monstrosity had been done to the two of you. His heart thudded against his ribs as he jumped into one of the graves. He gathered you in his arms. “C’mon sweetheart- c’mon wake up. Open- open those pretty eyes f’me.” He babbled, pleading for you to look up at him. His hand gripped your hip, feeling the ice cold flesh under your blue dress, now stained with dirt. It was one of his favorites. He held your lifeless body, his hand brushing against your stomach. It was like he was shot, the air knocked out of his lungs as he felt what was obviously a bump. Your stomach rounded with a child, their child. He drug himself out of the grave, pulling you with him. He laid you down on the ground, his body pulled towards Charles, his body much heavier and bulkier than yours, but he still managed. His eyes moved from you to Charles, bile held behind his clamped jaws until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Bracing himself on his knees as he emptied his stomach onto the grass. Tears streamed down his face, his nose running like a spigot. How damn pathetic he looked was the last thing on his mind.

You looked so peaceful, like you were only sleeping. His angels, just sleeping, that’s all.

But the cold chill of your bodies brought him back to reality. He clasped Charles hand in his own, pressing kisses to his palm as he dragged you into his lap.

He had failed again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ He cried, his chest constricting painfully with each ragged breath. “I love you, I’m sorry!”

Arthur woke with a start, his heart pounding as he sat up in bed. He hadn’t had that dream in a while. Charles' warm back radiated heat to one side of him, while you slept curled up on the other. He panted, running his hand down his face as he tried to gain control over his sporadic breathing. He didn’t need to wrack his brain to figure out why his subconscious had pulled it forward.

You were late. It wasn’t something that didn’t need to be spoken out loud to be known. You were quite regular with your monthlies, sometimes they were a day later or perhaps a day earlier. But never for three days.

They were always prepared. Extra sheets set out on the trunk at the end of the bed. In case the red devil came when you were sleeping. Charles would have tea ready to be brewed once the cramps started in your lower belly. The cloths you used were cleaned and laid out, ready for use, along with your sanitary belt.

But you hadn’t needed any of them yet.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been so surprised, him and Charles were always spilling into you. But only on the so called ��safe’ days. Arthur still didn’t quite understand how there were days of the month you weren’t ‘fertile’. Although he wasn’t well versed in the way women’s bodies worked despite having gotten Eliza pregnant all those years ago.

But it didn’t matter to him, you said you couldn’t get pregnant on certain days, so he believed you. So why the hell were you late?

Sure, you and Charles had times where Arthur didn’t join you. It didn’t matter, he trusted the two of you. There were times when it was just him and Charles, or just him and you.

But he didn’t believe that you’d go behind his back trying to get pregnant without at least talking to him about it first.

It was moments like this that the little bug began to whisper in Arthur’s ear. Telling him he didn’t belong with the two of you, that he was only bringing you two down, that you’d both be better off without him, that you didn’t need him.

Normally a kiss from Charles or your arms wrapped around his waist would silence this little bug, but this one couldn’t seem to be quieted.

He groaned, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. You shifted, seemingly disturbed by the noise. You swung your leg up onto his hip, pressing yourself against him. Instinctively he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. He felt something against his thigh as you cuddled up against him. Something wet.

Arthur nudged Charles, pushing the bigger man’s shoulder.

“Hm?” Charles mumbled, looking over his shoulder at Arthur. His eyes squinted in the low light of the dawn.

“Reckon, we're gonna need to change the sheets.” He said softly, looking back down at you. Charles nodded, immediately getting out of bed. Arthur shook your shoulder, gently rousing you from your sleep.

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you up.” He said softly, rising from the middle of the bed. Charles was lighting the oil lamp on the bedside table, casting a golden glow over the three of you.

You quickly realized what was happening. A low sigh leaving your lips as you started to strip out of your blood stained nightgown and bloomers. Arthur went into the main room, grabbing a wash rag from the kitchen. He wet the cloth in the basin before returning to the bedroom. Charles pressed a kiss to your crown as he moved to the other side of the bed, collecting the sheets. Arthur handed you the rag, letting you clean your thighs off before you put on your sanitary belt.

He headed back into the main room, working on getting the fire going before you eventually made your way out to join him.

As he added the logs to the hearth, he couldn’t get the image of you and Charles’ lifeless bodies out of his head. The almost waxy look of your skin, the unmistakable bump under your dress… He shook his head, trying to clear the image as he sat down in his chair.

You shuffled out of the bedroom, Charles poncho falling to your thighs. You curled up on his lap, resting your head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling your body heat under his fingertips. So unlike his nightmare, you were alive, both you and Charles were alive.

The only sound was the gentle creak of the rocking chair and the light crackle from the fire. But it wasn’t tense or awkward, just comfortable.

Charles came out of the bedroom, laying the sheets in the basin to soak. He sat down on the identical rocking chair, rubbing his eyes as he let out a yawn.

“What woke you up?” He asked, looking over at Arthur. Of course he would ask that.

“Nothing.” He mumbled, brushing his fingers through your hair. He knew he had given himself away almost immediately. You stiffened just slightly before you lifted your head off his chest, sparing a glance at Charles.

He understood what you meant now. When you had first come to live with him and Charles you would complain about the ‘silent’ conversations that were had. Arthur was now on the outside of one of these conversations.

“Arthur, are you alright honey?” You asked looking back at him.

God damn that sweet honeyed voice, how could he ever lie to you? Not that he was the best liar anyway, not when you and Charles could read him like a damn book.

“You know how I was almost married before.” He asked, his fingers running over the ruby ring resting on your finger.

“To Mary.” You nodded, furrowing your brows as you tried to figure out where he was going with this.

“After she… after she called it off there was another girl. She- she was young and I was a fool.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I got her pregnant.” He didn’t miss the way your eyebrows shot up. “She had Isaac my- my boy. I’d visit when I could but each time I was gone it just- just felt like an eternity. Christ, he’d go from sitting to walking, babbling to talking. But I had the gang and I’d send her money, not that that counted for much.” He knew he was rattling on but he couldn’t help himself. “I was such a fool back then, still am in some ways I suppose. I was so focused on the gang, on Dutch…” He trailed off, anger and guilt burning deep in his belly, only cooled by the gentle touch of your palm on his chest. “One day I rode out there and-“ He cut himself off, the lump in his throat growing too large to speak.

“Oh Arthur,” You said softly, running your thumb over his cheek. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t deserve to be comforted, but he couldn’t bear to push you away.

“All over a few dollars.” He shook his head, “I didn’t know the first thing about being a father and- I doubt I’d be any better now.” He muttered, looking into the low burning flames.

“Did you know?” You asked Charles, raising your head to look at him. He nodded, moving his gaze back to the fire.

“I… I used to dream of them, finding the graves…” His voice broke as he fought to speak, “But this time it- wasn’t them. It- it was you n’ Charles.” He saw Charles wince out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh honey.” You sighed, his words tugging at your heart strings, “Honey it’s okay, it’s okay.” You said cupping his cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone. Brushing away any stray tears. “What happened was a tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault-“

“If I had been there-“ He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head, “I could’ve saved them. If I would’ve done right by them they’d still be alive.” He choked back a sob.

“Arthur-“ Charles sighed looking over at the two of you.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling his head to your breast. He melted in your embrace, holding onto you like you would disappear into thin air if he let go. He listened to the thump of your heart against his ear, his tears slowly drying as he took in a few shuddering breaths.

How the hell did he manage to find two of the most understanding people in the world, and how did he make them both fall in love with someone like him?

The awful part was he was disappointed when you started to bleed. He wanted it. He wanted to see you grow round with Charles and his baby. To feel the babe shift and kick under your skin. To watch as you grew into a mother, he knew you’d be perfect. To see Charles be a father. To have a second chance at what he missed with Eliza and Isaac, to make them proud.

But he didn’t deserve it.

“We’ll be careful Arthur.” You said, petting his hair, “We’ll just keep track of the days and if you’re really worried we don’t have to-“

“I don’t want to be careful.” He huffed, pulling away from you. He got to his feet, pacing in front of the fireplace. “I don’t want to be careful I want-“ He ran a hand through his hair, knowing he probably looked like a fool. “I want- I want…” He trailed off, biting his lip as he shook his head.

“Arthur?” Charles asked, his deep timbre voice setting his blood ablaze.

“I’m making a damn fool of myself.” He grumbled, running his hand down his face.

“Arthur.” You stopped him, grabbing the hand that had been clenched into a fist at his side. “If… if having a- a family- is something you want,” You started slowly, looking over at Charles before you continued, “We want it too.” You said, running your thumb over his knuckles.

“You mean it?” He asked breathlessly, looking from you to Charles.

“Yeah.” Charles nodded, an easy smile on his plump lips. Arthur looked between the two of you, seemingly stunned for a few moments before he pulled you towards him. His hand grasped at Charles' shirt before he too was pulled into Arthur's embrace.

“Yer serious?” Arthur asked, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his face into Charles' neck.

“We’re serious honey.” You said wrapping your arms around the two of them. “I mean, it ain’t no secret that Charles has wanted to see me in that way.” You giggled. Charles let out an amused huff, shaking his head. “Just didn’t know you wanted it too.” You hummed, moving back to kiss his cheek.

“I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” Arthur said, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he looked from you to Charles. The loves of his life, here in his arms, agreeing to start a family.

“We’re pretty lucky too, cowboy.” Charles chuckled, squeezing your waist before pressing his lips to Arthur’s, “Now I’m going back to bed, and I think you all should join me.” He said with a yawn.

“What do you say honey?” You asked, leaning your head on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed.” He nodded, letting you and Charles walk him back to bed.

Arthur fell asleep, tucked in between you and Charles.

He dreamt of Boadicea, riding her along the dirt road. His heart in his throat as he watched the door open, Isaac’s sandy brown hair flying in the wind as he raced towards him. Arthur jumped down from her back, his arms flung wide as he caught him in his embrace. Through tearful eyes he looked up towards the house. Eliza stood on the porch, her warm gaze finding him. From the inside of the house you and Charles walk out, his arm around your waist. That pretty little blue dress hugging your figure as Charles cups your belly.

“C’mon pa!” Isaac said in that sweet boyish voice, tugging on his hand as he led Arthur to the house.

He never had that dream again.

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#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #charles smith #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #charles smith x arthur morgan #Charles smith x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader x charles smith #arthur morgan x charles smith #baptized by fire #hihomeghere

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kometqh · 2 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫

Captain Rex x f!reader

When Skywalker assigns you and the 501st boys on a mission, he thought nothing could go wrong. After all, you were one of the best Jedi around. In the flurry of a quick, excitable night, you couldn’t have proven him more wrong. Word Count: 3,238 Warnings: Alcohol consumption, pining Rex, sad Rex, affection (🤯) A/N: SURPRISEEE!! I'M ALIVEEEE :D This piece has been sitting in my WIPs for months now, all because I didn't think it was good enough-- Coming back to it after months I’ve realised I love it the way it is for the first chapter ;)

Golden grains of sand brushed past the group in a chorus, whistling under the amber glow of the setting sun. It'd been hours at that point, hours since the squadron had been dispatched on their mission and they were already running low on water rations and energy. Clone troopers were specifically designed to be able to withstand all sorts of environments and situations, yet even they felt exhaustion after a continuous trudge through the dusty, ruby sandstone canyons. That paired with the constant threat of starved creatures ten times the size of their group lurking about, it was surely enough to keep anyone on a fine line between mind-numbing exhaustion and crippling fear.

Looking up, Rex sighed quietly as he listened to the quiet complaints and grumbles of his men. His feet were aching from a full day of travel, and his throat had been parched for what seemed like millenniums after he'd given Jesse the last remains of his water. The constant scorching heat had also been, unsurprisingly, anything but helpful.

Jedi General nowhere to be seen, Rex urged his men to continue their miserable shuffling pace, until she'd return to them. Until she'd relay information, or let them rest, or reassure them. Until then, he had to maintain composure, never let his men down.

It was shortly after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, when the skies turned into a canvas of magenta and rosy pink splashes that the General returned. Wearing khaki shorts, a sandy top and a beige cloak, she blended in perfectly with the sunset dunes. Her lightsaber had been safely tucked away, attached to her hip so it was easy to reach for.

"There is a small town just a few clicks South, I believe there might be an inn that we can make a rest stop at. Any objections, Captain?" She eyed Rex up and down, brows furrowing at the sight of his sand-worn helmet and sweaty complexion. In one hand, she held a paper map, in the other she held a flask.

"N- No sir." He responded quickly, posture stiffening up under her scrutinising gaze. She wasn't exactly keen on being alone on a mission with his squadron; not after the last one. He looked down to her flask, feeling the arid desert air clawing at his throat with every breath he took.

"Apologies, it took me a while to realise where the town was. I hadn't seen a paper map in years, nevermind used it." She sighed, feigning some sort of annoyance as she reached out to Rex, head turned away, offering him her water. "Now go, tell the squadron we're leaving in a moment."

"Yes, General. They'll be up and running in no time." Slowly, he carefully took the water, shooting one last look to his general before turning in the direction of his squadron, who'd been impatiently tapping their feet and awaiting further instructions.

As he made his way over, a small inkling of hope settled deep in his gut. She still cared for him, for the others, even when she did her best to avoid them. Rex knew he needed to get to the bottom of this, but for now he had more important things to do. Fives and Hardcase seemed to turn into a team of unbearable jesters each time a mission involved too much walking and not enough action.

—————————

The inn was nothing if not dusty and run-down. It survived hundreds, if not thousands of sandstorms, and its' exterior spoke of those memories as if they were ghost stories told by a campfire. The entrance consisted of a pair of faded, walnut saloon doors, which squeaked and groaned with every brief gust of wind that'd swerved past their hinges.

The exterior of the inn was a sand-tarnished, foamy green wood with a large sign that read 'The Smoker' in fancy letters, but the interior contrasted it with deep, velvet ruby walls, candle lighting and a golden-rimmed bar that extended into the parlour in a half rectangle.

Rex had never been to such an establishment, and he even felt a tinge out of place in such an old-fashioned, un-modernised place in his armour and trusty blasters.

An older gentleman was stationed behind the bar, polishing a glass. Black streaks ran through locks of grey, and his moustache was carefully trimmed into two, twinning strands which curled up at the tips. His cheeks were chubby, brimming with rose colour over a small smile. His attention was redirected to the group, as their entrance was proclaimed by the chime of a small, golden bell.

"Welcome to the galaxy's finest ranch inn, the Smoker, how may I be of service to you all?" His voice was deep and husky as an aftermath of too many smoked pipes, croaking against the smooth tune of a saxophone in the background.

"A couple of rooms, as well as whatever these lot want. Put it all on my tab please." The General spoke quietly, leaning against the countertop. The man eyed her up and down, giving a small grunt in response. She turned to the rest of the group, exhaustion tugging at her features. "Don't go too wild, we've still got a mission tomorrow." And with that, she was off, swirling a room key on her finger.

A few mutters floated between the men as they spread out across the bar, ordering drink after drink.

Rex felt his headache worsen as he rubbed at his forehead. For the life of him he could not figure out how to get his General to act normal with them again. Her behaviour had entirely shifted since their last mission together, and he couldn't blame her. His face still felt hot whenever he reminisced, however she'd become distant and cold towards not only him, but also the others. Parts of him regretted that night whenever he was met with her cold shoulder and distant gaze.

"What's on your mind, Captain?" Jesse's voice interrupted his thoughts, placing a hand on Rex's shoulder. Jesse was a smart cookie. His eyes quickly followed Rex's line of sight, humming in understanding. Jesse had also found himself on the receiving end of her new behaviour, no matter how sugary and honey-coated his words were.

"She'll come around, Rex. She needs some time to figure things out, she's our general after all," He paused, gently tugging at his vod's shoulder, "Let's go, you clearly need a few drinks in you Captain." And with that, the two men joined Fives, Hardcase and Echo at a faraway booth, the men nursing some cowboy whiskey and shots.

Rex was in for a long night.

———————

It didn't take long for the boys to stuff Rex with drink after drink, someone always ready with new rounds each time Rex had thought his glass was empty. Fives took a liking to the music, though he had commented on the lack of civvies in the area, or the lack of their beloved general. Him and Tup were the only ones who, in the past few weeks, had managed to carry out some form of conversation with the general. Rex tried everything to make them spill the beans, from bribes to begging, but the two had sealed their lips shut, their loyalty almost astonishing the Captain, but he knew they were good men, loyal men. So, he didn't push anymore.

Somehow, Hardcase had managed to get his hands on a few 'cowboy' hats, as the bar owner explained, and the boys seemed to love them. Rex was the only one who seemed to be listening to the bar owner's stories, his eyes glazing over and a fond smile gracing his lips as he recounted his favourite memories. The one that had caught Rex's attention was peculiar – it was to do with women, or cowgirls, to be exact.

"If a cowgirl takes your hat, or any other woman for that matter, it means she's interested in seeing more of you," The bartender paused, chuckling to himself as he watched Fives and Hardcase engage in an arm wrestle, "And if you let her, you're essentially telling her you're also interested," After that, Rex seemed to forget to listen to the rest of the story, his thoughts flying to you immediately. As he sipped on his iced whiskey, an idea came to mind. He adjusted the hat atop his head, downing the rest of his drink. He stood up abruptly just as Hardcase won the wrestle, cheering and celebrating in his drunken state. He'd definitely had too much to drink, but Rex would entrust Jesse and Kix to look after him when he'd be throwing up.

Now, Rex had a mission.

He received a few curious glances from the troopers around him, but no one questioned it as he walked towards the stairs, a small wobble in his step.

The hallway seemed to be swaying just a tad as he climbed up with a death grip on the golden rail, praying to the force not to fall and make a fool of himself. The stairs seemed to go on and on forever, taking him up higher into dimly lit hallways, and he wondered just how big this inn was. It didn't seem to be much from the outside, but the inside was certainly a maze.

Many doors lined the hallway, and he realised he didn't actually know where his General was staying. His last sober memories were of Kix joining their table, an annoyed expression tugging at his features as Jesse seemed to regret drinking a tad too fast. Shaking his head – which turned out to be a mistake – Rex stumbled down the hallway, groaning as bile rose up to his throat. Kriff, what was he thinking?

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe you wouldn't even think to entertain his drunken antics and banish him straight to bed.

But Rex had to try.

The absence of your warmth and kindness was searing a hole directly through his chest. It worsened with every mission, with more distance that you added between the two of you, building a bridge littered with thorns and shards, making it impossible for Rex to cross. You were all he thought of each night, your gentle touches, adorable laughter, your sweet smile and song-like voice. He refused to acknowledge it for a long time, but eventually he realised he was completely and utterly enamoured with you. Ever since that night, far before it even, you had stolen his heart. Hidden it away so deep within your grasps. He knew he was a fool, but he couldn't help it.

A sober voice screamed in the back of his mind to go to bed, to leave you be, and a drunken part of him seemed to accept defeat. He looked like a pathetic drunk, dressed up as a cowboy, stumbling around hallways, desperately trying to find you.

Kriff it. He should go and sleep instead of bothering you further. His drunken antics would only drive a further gap between the two of you. If you needed space, space was what Rex would give you.

Huffing, he placed an unsteady hand on the nearest doorknob he could find. Twisting it, he didn't even bother looking into the room as he rose a hand to rub at his head. The hangover would hit him like a brick in the morning, he was sure of it.

As the door opened, he frowned. It was dark.

How long had he and the boys been drinking? The General wasn't going to be impressed with them for sure.

Rex closed the door with a soft 'click', his arms automatically, but lazily, unclasping his armour. It was muscle memory by now; shoulder pads first, then the chest, arms, legs, so on and so forth.

There were small, fuzzy spots dancing in his vision, the room before him swaying side to side, his feet stumbling over one another as he reached the only bed in the room. Exhaustion suddenly weighed in on his shoulders like a stack of bricks, and he felt himself sluggishly fall into the soft, comfortable mattress. He struggled to twist his body to the side, grunting as the duvet beneath him refused to budge. He pulled at it, his bones turning into slurry and his muscles losing all their strength as alcohol continued to circle around his system.

Finally, something seemed to shift.

The blanket slid out from underneath his bare back, and Rex sighed in relief as it draped over him, the cold material comforting and easing his tired muscles.

His eyelids drooped over, sleep reaching out to him in strong waves of drowsiness as Rex sunk further into the bed.

It was probably from the drowsiness he was slowly beginning to feel, but his heart leaped up and into his chest as he realised – the bed shifted.

He wasn't alone.

His senses kicked in and Rex leaped up from the bed, cursing in the meantime as his legs got tangled in the sheets and his body tumbled to the floor like a sack of bricks, eliciting a loud 'thump' that may have been noticeable all the way downstairs.

"Kriff- I'm so sorry," He began apologising, swallowing down the momentary fear and panic that flowed through his veins, "I didn't realise there was someone in here, I-"

Foreign hands travelled to his shoulders, their warmth seeping into his skin as they sought to comfort him, "It's okay Rex, there's no need to panic," A soft, smooth and caressing voice spoke out into the darkness of the room, and Rex's brows pulled together in confusion. That voice, it was familiar. He knew-

"General?"

"Yes, it's me Rex. Let's get you up now, shall we?" You were quick to help your Captain get to his feet, noticing that a large, dark brown hat resided hung from his neck. His skin was burning hot against your palms, and your hand wandered to his forehead as he laid back down. "You're burning..." You paused, scrunching your nose, "You reek of alcohol, Captain. How much did you drink?"

"Not enough apparently." Rex grumbled out as he pulled his newly acquired hat over his face, hiding his scowl from you.

Your brows furrowed at his response, surprise and confusion flooding your veins simultaneously. Was he upset with you? If that was the case, you could understand why. You hadn't been the friendliest or kindest over the last few rotations, and guilt did eat away at you whenever you were the cause of that dejected look in Rex's eyes. But he was nothing if not patient. He gave you your space and didn't try to break your boundaries. Maybe the alcohol stumped the patience that Rex never seemed to run out of.

"Are you upset with me Captain?"

He gave you no response, no hint as to what he was thinking or feeling.

"Rex?"

A deep huff left through his nose.

"Rex, what's-"

Suddenly, he was sat upright, a hand swiping the cowboy hat back onto the crown of his head. His gaze was piercing, even in his drunken stupor, as his nose remained just inches from your face, "You really do make things difficult, don't you, mesh'la." His voice was a murmur as his hazy honey eyes stared deeply into yours.

Before any words could leave your parted lips, he cupped the side of your face, a coarse thumb tenderly caressing your skin.

"Please don't make this difficult, General." Begging words barely above a whisper, your Captain slowly, carefully, leaned in. His eyes held the utmost adoration as his lips stopped just a kiss away, his presence overwhelming and freezing up every muscle and nerve in you all at once. The smell of whiskey was strong, but that familiar scent of seawater and pine lingered, stopping your breath short as your eyes fluttered close.

His movements were slow, calculating and considerate as Rex hesitantly teased the gap between your bodies.

Blood pulsated loudly in your ears, the hairs on your body tense as goosebumps flushed your skin in waves, the intensity of his proximity to you silencing any stray thoughts you had. In that moment, it was just the two of you. It was just the sound of his shaky breaths mixing together with your own, the slight tremble in his hand as his grip tightened and then eased, as if he was uncertain of what to do, the smell of whiskey and the taste something sweet familiar, something that had you wanting to reach out for more and never let go. And there was also the sight of him. Those golden irises, those thick lashes fluttering over his eyes. The pinkish hue that dusted over his cheeks, the heat emanating from his body as he struggled against every instinct within him that screamed at him to just kiss you, to just hold you and to just love you.

He made his choice.

His fingers dwindled downwards, tracing slopes down your nape as he eased an inch to the left.

Soft lips pressed against the corner of your mouth, pouring all his thoughts and feeling into that one, simple kiss, his nose gently scraping against yours as he took in a slow, steadying breath.

"I'm sorry, mesh'la," He muttered sweetly, voice broken and barely breaking above the confines of a whisper as he stilled against you.

Taking a sharp inhale, the imaginary shackles dropped from your body.

You pulled away slowly, your hands enveloping Rex's as you pressed it against your chest.

"It's okay Captain," You shifted away from the bed, feeling as his fingers entangled with yours and tugged, quietly pleading for you to stay.

Looking up at you, Rex knew deep down that you couldn't do what he wanted. He knew he shouldn't even try, and yet his body seemed to act on its own will whilst he remined watching from behind a glass prison. His chest tightened as he noticed the way your eyes seemed to droop, your lips drawing into a fine line so as to not betray your thoughts and feelings. Time stopped as the two of you remained frozen, yet again, gazing at one another, savouring the last moments before your fingers trickled from his grasp, falling in tow with your other hand as you reached for the duvet.

"Sleep, Captain, we've got a long day ahead of us," You whispered out, pulling the covers over his chest as Rex gave a small nod, resting against the soft pillows beneath him. Your movements came to a halt as you took notice of his hat, yet again, and an idea sparked in your mind.

Your fingers reached nimbly for the material, gently pulling it away from your captain.

With heavy fingers, he reached out for it, his eyes already struggling against the weight of his drowsiness.

"What are you..?"

Lifting a finger to your lips, you let a small smile tug at the corners of your lips as you placed the hat atop your head.

"Goodnight, Rex," And with that, you were out before he could even blink.

Rex remained frozen in his seated position, his mind struggling to balance the feeling of drowsiness and shock at your actions. The alcohol flowing through his blood wasn't any help either, and he soon found his head hitting the pillows as his muscles seemingly turned into jelly.

A small smile blossomed on his face, even as the events of the night slowly blurred and faded under the whiskey and the rush of his feelings..

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