xbugs

[xbugs]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 100 likes!

Tumblr wanted me to post this...

But thanks guys- love you all ❤️❤️

[xbugs]

Hello, I hope you are well. First, I wanted to tell you that the one-shot on Lukas Radzevičius is really good, and I wanted to know if you plan on writing more about him ?

Good morning/afternoon,

Thank you, I'm really glad you liked it! I would be happy to write more, especially if there are any requests. I might be a little busy since I have 3 exams left in my exam season, but after that, I'd be happy to take requests or just write more in general. Don't be afraid to send in any requests, love you all.

:)

[xbugs]

The Chord to His Heart

Alanas Brasas x Reader

A/N: I haven't written anything in literal years but i got inspiration at 2am with a friend so enjoy this and her fic at @xbugs when she uploads it!! :) This is a work of fiction, do not take this as fact or genuine, this is just a bit of fun.

Context: Brangioji = sweetheart/my treasure. Širdelė - sweetheart/little heart.

Warnings: None, just a fluffy fic! :) go to your dentist after. Established relationship.

To keep authenticity, the characters refer to the Lithuanian school system, which would be two years behind the British school system (ex. Lt yr 7= Uk yr 9)

Enjoy!! (Word Count: around 1k)

“You sure Lukas isn’t coming by? I wouldn’t want to impose you know-”

“I’m sure, I’m sure he’s busy. Should be getting some sleep, he deserves it after all.”

Alanas rests his ringed hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the studio. With the door clicking shut, you sit down as he takes his guitar carrier off his back. 

“You know, I forgot something.” He leans towards you, pressing a kiss to your hairline. A grin spreads to your face.

Stupid.

So so stupid. But you still smile nonetheless, keening at his affections. The coldness sets back into your chest as he pulls away to set up his guitar, plugging it into the amp and fishing out a guitar pick in some narnia-esque crevice of the studio. 

“So what are you practising? Tavo Akys? Niekas?” You ask, settling into your little corner, eyeing him a little. Your gaze travels down his figure, eyeing his rounded out features, lingering on his nose and lips a little too long. 

His lips quiver in amusement, feeling your stare but trying not to give it away too much. It takes the crackle of the amp to snap you out of your admiration of his features, looking back down at your phone and sliding the edge of your thumbnail down the side, between the screen and the case. 

“Brangioji… you have a bit of a staring problem, hm?”

“Can’t help it, y’know? You’re easy to adore.. And to love.”

He lets out a flustered scoff, unzipping his collared fleece jacket that he takes everywhere, as the tips of his ears turn slightly pink. A smirk graces your lips, readjusting in your spot as he contorts his wrists and fingers under the premise of a wrist exercise; not a possession, thankfully.

“Have you ever played guitar before?”

“Only when I was in year 7 with lessons from music. So I’ve basically forgotten everything anyway.”

“C’mere, love, I’ll teach you the ways of the electric guitar.”

You snort, stifling a giggle at his dramatism towards the beloved ivory Fender Jazzmaster, your lover tracing the details of the instrument with his fingertips like a movie villain with a pampered persian cat. With a small huff, you let him pull you to your feet, adjusting you to his liking to the point where you’re both comfortable. The sofa dips a little extra as you are seated between his legs, his chest pressed to your back. Alanas’ breath tickles the spot under your ear, his face tucked next to yours over your shoulder.

“Comfortable, Širdelė?”

You just nod, melting back into him, the position more than familiar to the both of you. It was reminiscent of late nights of watching House with takeaway, or letting him cling to you as you would do your makeup for work. His frame engulfs yours as he leans in, taking your hands into his, slightly gasping at how cold they are. Alanas rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, pressing a few ticklish kisses to your knuckles, dried from the unpredictable spring weather. 

“Your hands look so much cuter in mine, myeah?” He teases, nosing your ear a little, placing a few kisses there next. 

That same warmth ignites in your chest, worming it’s way out of your heart, winding around your ribcage and into your bloodstream; your heart beating faster for him. Only him. Always him. 

This draws a chuckle out of him, causing him to drum up the nerve to start pressing more kisses to the side of your face. He leaves no stone unturned as his guitar is ditched next to him, winding his arms around your waist and hoisting you up slightly onto his lap for easier access. Despite your giggles and squirming, he doesn’t let up his rather soft assault on your face, pressing his lips to every freckle, blemish and spot on your visage. 

When he finally lets up, he leans in slightly closer, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You know what guitarists do when they’re all sweaty?”

Before you can even reply, he sticks the crimson guitar pick to your forehead, completely shattering the intimate moment shaped between you two under the dimmed yellow studio lights. You jokingly frown, causing him to mutter apologies into your skin, his voice interrupted by his laugh throughout. His lips travel to your lips like pilgrimage that he swears he cannot get enough of, hands travelling up to your neck, just to hold, to feel your pulse thrumming under his fingers.

Alanas’ blue eyes meet yours, his heart swelling in his chest and straining against his bones at the trust in your eyes. The eyes that see the same, sun, moon and stars look at him with the same devotion to him, to his hands that create sound, warmth and love. He slowly leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before committing fully, mouth slotting with his in the most gentle manner possible from a man filled with that much love for someone like you. Someone he would tear himself apart for, just to be rebuilt by your benevolent hands that find so much solace in him. 

He pulls away, lips hovering over yours as you try to catch your breath. Swiping his thumb on your cheek, he asks a simple question.

“Is E-minor a good chord to start with?” 

[xbugs]

Distraction

Lukas x Reader

fluff

reverse comfort

massage

romantic

established relationship (I think)

I'm sorry to any poor soul actually reading this - this was written at like 1 am while I was very tired so this probably has no depth whatsoever.

1.4k words - one shot

This is almost like a test fic but I still hope you enjoy it! :) Also there are like almost no fics so gotta rectify that. If you're interested in an Alanas fan fic please check out my friend @milk-bby

The streets of Vilnius bustled as you ran down the paved streets, the trams and traffic passing you in your peripheral vision. The plastic bag grasped between your fingers rustled quietly from your fast paced steps. You looked around to make sure you turned the correct streets in the bustling city. You were still getting used to the intricately laid out streets of Vilnius having moved to live in the cityscape a few months back. It was late spring and the humidity prophesied incoming rain and the clouds swirled in multiple shades of grey. You looked around diligently before lightly jogging across the street to cross, nearing your location. You were supposed to bring Lukas lunch, even if he didn’t know that. You had decided to do so and he would have to deal with it. 

Eventually, the familiar studio came into view as you traversed the streets. You walked towards the glass door with the white lettering engraved into it to signify passerbys of the studio's name. You stepped inside, relieved to hide from the brewing rain and hustle and bustle of the city, politely greeting the receptionist that took care of all the studio bookings. She didn’t question your arrival, smiling politely, having seen you around a few times in the past. Almost as if on instinct or muscle memory you made your way up the steps, heading to the hallway with studio doors and busy artists. As you paused outside of a familiar door faint music filled your ears, familiar beats and guitar strums quietly filtering through the soundproof foam on the walls inside. 

Once the music came to a stop, signifying a break or an end of a song, your knuckles rapped on the door. There was some shuffling inside before the door opened and a familiar figure met your eyes, a mix of blonde and brown streaks falling in front of his blue eyes, the familiar eyebags that seemed to always linger mimicking yours. He looked surprised to see you, almost like you were the uninvited kid at a birthday party. After an almost ritualistic and usual staring contest he shifted out of the way to let you into the studio cabin, his demeanour easing up. You automatically looked around, feeling overwhelmed by all the buttons and dials, almost as if you were in a spaceship of some sorts. 

“What are you doing here.?” He murmured, an overworked hand running through his hair that seemed to constantly fall in front of his eyes. You jokingly considered buying him hair clips as a joke. 

“I brought lunch.” You replied, glancing over at him, your voice matter-of-fact. You held up the bag in your hand, the food sealed behind the white rustling plastic.

His gaze seemed to almost immediately soften with gratitude, his lips parting for a moment before he spoke. “You didn’t have to..” He muttered. “But what did you bring?” He followed up almost instantly. You definitely had to.

You smiled, almost slyly, but not all the way there. “Koldunai. Kepti.” 

Without missing a beat he pulled up a chair for you, silent gestures of kindness. The two of you sat down as you unravelled the styrofoam food box with the fresh dumplings inside. You carefully handed it to him along with a plastic fork. He rushed a thanks before making sure the sauce was adequately mixed with the dumplings, trying not to drop any. 

“They smell good, thanks.” He stated before beginning to poke through the shell of the dumplings and eat, careful not to drop any. “We’re not really supposed to eat in here.” He said with a sense of defiance in his tone, eliciting a chuckle from your lips. 

You watched him eat for a while, ready to offer a napkin at moments notice. Your elbow rested against the empty ledge of the table of buttons, eyes trailing his form. He did offer you some but you insisted you had bought it for him. In reality you may have grabbed a small snack on the way to the studio. You even discarded his trash for him as the moment he was finished he was back in work mode. You huffed before stretching and moving to stand behind his seat, watching him work over his shoulder.

”I can’t concentrate if you’re staring.” He said in a passing whisper, his hands typing away on his keyboard.

”Well, maybe I don’t want you to work.” You retorted, a few wind tousled strands of hair falling in front of your eyes. Lukas let out a soft breathy chuckle, slightly rolling his eyes at your statement. 

“You never do.” He reminded you, his words playfully chastising. “That’s why I usually don’t let you in. You’re a distraction.” 

You playfully nudged his shoulder, not enough to cause any harm if he were to press the wrong button. “Take a break.” You urged, voice half playful and half serious. He scoffed playfully, glancing up at you momentarily.

A soft hum left your lips, ignoring his dismissal of your urgency. Your hands gently ran over his shoulders, attempting to soothe the tense muscle under his greyscale shirt. He tensed for a moment before his shoulders started to relax and drop down, occasionally shifting into the pattern of your hands. He let out a satisfied grunt as your hands moved from his shoulders and up his neck before tangling into his bleached hair. “Maybe I can take a small break..” Lukas said quietly before his eyes fluttered closed, his frame leaning back into the seat, almost moving it side to side on its spinning mechanism. 

A satisfied smile graced your lips as he gave in, that’s usually how it went. Your hands moved through his hair, fingers brushing his scalp in a combing manner, almost like the calm waves of Palanga when you visit in the late summer evenings. You watched in relief as his features softened, relieved with the chance of a break amidst the chaos of work and deadlines. “See? It’s not that bad.” You teased quietly, not wanting to ruin the calm.

He nodded weakly, his eyes peacefully shut and lips ever so parted. You leaned a little closer, lips brushing against his neck in a ghosting manner. He hummed in recognition but didn’t attempt to stop you. The dim lighting in the studio added to the calming atmosphere, the foam padded walls eliminating any hustle and bustle from the outside. It could’ve started raining by now and you just wouldn’t know, lacking the pitter-patter on the nonexistent glass panes. Your hands left his scalp, moving back to rest on his shoulders, thumbs massaging the tense muscles. Your lips moved up to his jaw, the pressure of your lips holding more weight now, proper kisses. His hand reached up, finding one of yours on his shoulder before tangling his fingers with yours, his hand giving yours a grateful squeeze. 

“You always do this..” He complained with no real malice, his hair tousled from your hands combing through it moments before. 

You gently pulled your lips away, fingers still intertwined with his. “Do what.?” You played innocent, managing to hold back an incriminating smile as you hovered behind him.

“I’m not even going to argue with you.” Lukas retorted, rolling his eyes playfully. Not wanting to ruin the relaxing sensation of the moment between the two of you. 

“You wouldn’t win anyway.” You huffed with pride in your eyes, watching as his hand holding yours shifted.

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, words stunted at your playful audacity for a moment. He raised your hand to his lips, placing a kiss to your knuckles before glancing up at you. “Do you want me to pretend I didn’t just hear you say that?” He teased, a smug smirk on his lips as he let go of your hand.

Your fingers gently twirled a strand of his hair around them gently, the motion slow and soft, the blonde perfectly swirling around your skin. “Yes, please..” You muttered, letting him inflate his ego for a moment.

You didn’t mind. You never did.

[xbugs]

I can relate: 😭😫💖🌸🦋