#sleep drunk luka

[verfound]

FIC: "Of Lost Luggage, Shirts, and Other Things" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

(This one is also kinda @rierse's fault, based on a prompt she dropped in the disco about someone wearing their own merch. 😂)

Read on Ao3

Prompt 69: Airport

Luka stared at the woman behind the desk with…honestly, he wasn’t sure what expression was on his face.  He was going for disbelief, but with how exhausted he was – and how long the last few days had been – it was probably something more akin to disdain.

He was, admittedly, probably doing a fairly decent impression of the Captain’s scowl.

It wasn’t her fault, he reminded himself.  She was just the messenger.  You don’t shoot the messenger.

…he was in desperate need of a coffee.  And a shower.  And some clean fucking clothes.

(And a T-S specialty, because the airport Cinnabon Crusher had bought him as an apology was still sitting too heavy and too much on his stomach, even nine hours later.)

“What…do you mean…” he started, slowly, closing his eyes and forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath, “…you lost…my luggage?”

“I am so sorry, M. Stone,” the poor girl said.  She looked like she was about to piss herself – which was probably fair.  He was still new enough that she probably hadn’t heard of Luke Stone yet.  Most likely, the poor girl just saw ‘Stone’, saw the VIP party his ticket had been attached to, and remembered the horror stories he was sure she had heard about Jay over the years.  She was probably expecting a wild crocodile to come barreling out of boarding, ready to chomp her head off for daring to lose a Stone’s luggage.  “It…it appears it’s not here.  It…looks like it might be in Barcelona?”

…they hadn’t been in Barcelona since the beginning of the summer tour.  How the shit had his suitcase traveled to Barcelona from New York, when the rest of them had made it to Paris just fine?

“We can have it back to you in a few days,” she said.  “I am so sorry, M. Stone, but –”

“It’s fine,” he said, his jaw clenching uncomfortably as he held up a hand.  God, he just needed to sleep.  And a shower.  And a clean fucking shirt – he’d smelled like bad Indian takeaway since New York, thanks to Crusher.  “Just…call me when you have it.”

He slumped away from the counter, rubbing his hands over his face.  A throat cleared nearby, and he looked up to find Penny holding a shirt up for him.

“It’s not ideal, but at least it’s clean,” she said.  “Until you get home.”

“They lost my bag,” he said.  There was a niggling in his stomach, an unpleasant reminder of…his eyes widened as he stared at Penny.  “…Penny.  They lost my bag.”

“I know,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and squeezing.  “Breathe, Luka.  It’s all right.  We’ll get it sorted.  Luggage gets lost all the time – it’s not the end of the world.”

…it felt like it.  Penny knew just as well as he did what was actually in that bag and how very important it was that it was not lost.

“Penny –” he started, but she shook her head and pushed the shirt into his hands.

“Go change,” she said.  “Go home.  Get some sleep.  I’ll track down the bag, and it’ll be back in no time.  Everything will be fine.”

“It’s a sign,” he groaned, dropping his head back into his hands.  “Penny, Gina flew out specifically to give me that…oh my God.  Oh my God.  Gina’s gonna kill me.  Tom’s gonna kill me.  It’s –”

“Stop that,” Penny said, swatting his arm.  “Go home.  Sleep.  Catch up with your…Marinette.”

…he almost smiled at that.  Almost, because as much as he loved the sound of ‘his Marinette’ she was only going to be his Marinette if that damn bag wasn’t lost, which it currently was.  God, this day couldn’t get any worse…Penny rolled her eyes and pushed him towards the exit.

“Change.  Sleep.  Stop freaking out – this means nothing, Luka!” she called as he wandered off.  “It’s going to be fine!”

…he wished he could believe her.  Usually, he would.  But he had too much riding on that damn bag – like the rest of his whole damn life – and he couldn’t help but wonder if losing the bag meant everything really was about to fall apart.

. : .

It didn’t take him long to change his shirt.  The other one – the one Crusher had spilled his curry on before the plane took off – went straight into the bin.  It was probably stained beyond saving, anyway, and it was just an old white shirt.  He could easily replace it.

But when he tugged the new shirt over his head and stared back at his reflection in the mirror of the airport restroom, he couldn’t help but think maybe the curry-stained shirt was preferable.

There was no way Penny could convince him that the only clean shirt in his size they had extras of was the summer tour shirt.  He looked like such a tool, walking around with his own face slapped on his chest.

He was not awake enough for this, he thought as he scrubbed his hands over his face.  Coffee.  He needed coffee.  If he was going to make it home, he needed coffee.

Airport coffee wasn’t always the best, but it was still better than nothing, so he found himself shambling towards the food court before making his way into the city.  It was probably for the best, anyway – he’d have a time finding a cab now, and the others were probably already on their way to their respective homes.

…like he would be.  If the stupid airport hadn’t lost his stupid luggage with the stupid…

He was going to be sick.

Maybe coffee wasn’t the best idea after all…

“Oh my God,” a voice gasped in front of him.  His brow furrowed, his expression scrunching.  That voice…there was something familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite place what…  “I love that artist!”

…fuck.

He did not have the mental fortitude to deal with fans at the moment.

“Oh my God,” he said, his voice maybe a tinge more sarcastic than he had intended, “yeah!  Me, too!”

There was a beat – a longer-than-necessary pause – where the person had grown uncomfortably silent, and he sighed as he shook his head.

“…sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes.  “Long flight.  Yeah, um…he’s ok.”

He finally looked up at the fan, and his brow furrowed as he stared at her.  Large, dark sunglasses covered her face, and her short hair was tucked into a bright pink scarf.  She was dressed simply enough, in short pink overalls with a white shirt underneath – but there was something…familiar about that shirt.  Something that was trying to click in his jetlagged brain but just wouldn’t.

Something he felt he should recognize about the bits of green – leaves? – peeking out over the top of the overalls.

“More than ‘ok’, I’d say,” she sniffed, her lips turning in a frown.  “Though he’s kind of being a butt right now.  Might make me reconsider how cool I usually find him.”

“…that’s…fair,” he said, nodding.  “Again.  Sorry.  Long flight.”

“It’s a shame,” she said, sighing as she turned away.  There was a bag at her hip, and he would swear he watched it snap shut without her even touching it.  What the hell…?  “Usually, I’m a pretty big fan.  I’d even venture to say his biggest, though I know some people who would fight me for that title.”

She looked over her shoulder, and her cheek moved in a way that made him think she had just winked at him.  He blinked, his brow furrowing again as he tried to focus on her.  It was…kind of hard, when she was kinda blurry and there seemed to be two of her.

“Anyway,” she said, stepping forward as the line moved ahead of her.  “I’d heard his flight was coming in today.  I was hoping to surprise him, big fan that I am.  But traffic was terrible, and I heard I just missed him…and how bad that flight actually was.”

She heaved a longsuffering sigh, and he shook his head as he scrubbed at his eyes again.  That voice…

“So I thought I’d get him some coffee, but you see how long this line is,” she said, turning back towards him.  “I’ll be lucky if I catch him at all at this rate.  Don’t you – mmf!”

The pieces finally clicked into place, and he grabbed at Marinette’s wrist to tug her against him.  He bent her back, slipping her shades onto her head as he kissed her stupid.  Her hands gripped at his shoulders, and he would swear her foot even popped behind her.

“…about time,” she giggled at him.  He chuckled and shook his head before stealing another kiss.

“Asshole,” he huffed, rubbing their noses together.  “You were enjoying that entirely too much.”

“You’re adorable when you’re jetlagged,” she teased, her hand coming up to caress his jaw.  She frowned at the touch before tapping a finger against his skin.  “You need a shave.”

“Flight from hell,” he sighed, sagging against her.  “…forty-eight hours from hell.”

“Penny said they lost your luggage,” she said.  A throat cleared behind them, and she rolled her eyes before pulling him out of line with her.  He whined as they lost their place, but she leaned up to kiss his jaw.  “You know their coffee will taste like feet, anyway.  Let me get you home.  We can stop at my parents’ and get you some proper food.”

The mention of her parents had his stomach seizing all over again.

“…your dad’s gonna kill me,” he groaned, dropping his forehead on her shoulder.  “The suitcase, Marinette.  They lost my suitcase.”

“It’s ok,” she said, laughing as she patted his back.  “Penny said it’s in Barcelona – it’ll be here by tomorrow.  Day after at the latest.”

“No, but I can’t see your parents until I have the suitcase,” he said, shaking his head.  “Tom already knows – he’s expecting…I can’t…”

“Luka, Luka, hold on,” she said, placing her hands on his face to try and steady him.  She smiled as her thumb brushed beneath his eye, and he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.  “What’s going on?  It’s just a suitcase.  You have clean clothes at home – ones that don’t scream I’m an Egocentric Rock Star.”

She was teasing, he knew, but it still made him frown as she poked the face on his chest.  His face still scrunched as he caught her fingers.

“Hey,” he said, “I happen to love the person who designed this shirt.  Lay off.”

Her smile warmed, and she pulled his face back to hers for another kiss.

“She loves you, too,” she whispered against his lips.  “But it’s still a little tacky wearing your own merch, don’t you think?”

“If it was one of the other shirts – with the album logo or lyrics or something – it wouldn’t be as bad,” he sighed.  “It’s just because it’s the stupid tour shirt, with my stupid face on it, that makes me look like a stupid idiot.”

“Hey,” she laughed, hugging him tight, “you’re anything but.  Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“I lost my luggage, Marinette,” he groaned, pulling her close.  “I lost the ring.  How could I lose the ring?  I was supposed to hold onto it until it was safely on your finger, where it belongs, but now it’s lost in stupid Barcelona and you’re gonna say no and –”

“…Luka,” she said, her voice suddenly too-quiet with an odd edge to it.  He hummed, and her hands fisted in his shirt and tugged.  “Luka.”

She pulled back, staring up at him with wide eyes that had no right to look as beautiful as they did, not in the shitty airport lighting.  She tugged on his shirt again, and he frowned as she swallowed.

“What?” he asked, shaking his head to try and clear it.  She swallowed again, and he was distracted by thoughts of wanting to bite her neck.

“What ring?” she asked, and his eyes widened as his brain finally started to catch up to him.

…shit.

[kitkat13001]

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖

>> luka couffaine x reader

>> established relationship, mentions of alcohol, reader is slightly intoxicated, reader and luka are childhood friends, title is from tv girl and jordana’s song “sweet to dream”

“okay, listen. i know for a fact that alix spiked the punch, so maybe it’s that, but also,” you breathe, the words coming so rapidly as you gaze into luka’s eyes. “also, i’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate.”

luka laughs softly, amusement dancing in his deep blue eyes. “is that so?”

you nod probably harder than you should because your head spins and you feel a little dizzy. 

“okay,” luka smiles, his hands warm on your shoulders as he tries to steady you. “you clearly have had too much to drink.”

you giggle, leaning forward to rest against his chest as you look up at him. “can i have a kiss?”

“baby, you are drunk. intoxicated. under the influence.”

“come on,” you whine, “please? just a kiss! i won’ even tell anyone, i promise.”

“oh, just one? you promise?” luka teases. 

“i swear it on my whole heart,” you nod dutifully, words slurring together. 

luka shakes his head and stares lovingly down at you. you try to make your eyes really big and bat your lashes. 

and still, as ridiculous as you must look, luka looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. you’re lost in his gaze as he leans in and you’re almost upset when his eyes flutter closed and you lose the vision of blue. but then his lips are ghosting over yours and your eyes shut too. 

it’s chaste and short and sweet and over before you want it to be. your bottom lip pushes out in a pout and luka just laughs at you again. 

“come on,” he sighs, smile still lingering on his lips as he guides you down the hall. “let’s get you to bed.”

you complain the whole way up but it’s superficial. you’re still floating from the kiss. metaphorically, of course, because your feet catch on every single step on the stairs as you go up to your room. 

“please remind me to never let our friends near the punch ever again,” luka grunts, hoisting you into his arms as you decide that your legs have lost any and all independence. 

you burst into a giggle fit as he heaves you onto the bed, exhaling and blowing a strand of blue hair out of his face, which is flushed from the effort of carrying you up the stairs. 

you try to unlace your shoes but your fingers are wiggling in the funniest of ways and now you’re certain you’re not even touching the laces. luka swiftly undoes them and playfully throws your feet up on the bed. 

“come on, it’s bedtime for you.”

you settle underneath the covers as luka tucks you into them, handing you a stuffed animal like a child. the minute he leans away your heart pauses a beat. “luka?” 

“mm?”

“will you stay?”

“wasn’t planning on leaving, babes,” he chuckles, making himself comfortable on the edge of the bed. one of his hands wanders along the patterns in the blanket, the other reaching to turn of the light. it leaves the room in the dim but warm glow of your salt lamp. 

you hum happily, nestling yourself further into the covers. 

“luka?” you call out softly again. 

again, he hums. “mm?”

“am i your soulmate?”

he chuckles quietly to himself, leaning down to leave a kiss on your forehead. “i’ve known that since i was ten years old, honey.”

his soft and warm voice envelops you and you drift off to sleep with the comforting feeling of him right next to you. 

[deviousdeliciousness]

A Drunken Giant Pt. 1

Poor little borrower Sai comes to realize that his giant friend Luka really isn't the same when he's downed a few drinks too many.

Funny what being drunk can do to a human's conscientiousness.

~~~~~~~

Sai jerked upright at the sound of the front door slamming closed, his heart feeling like it'd collided with his chest at his shock over the sudden, booming sound. He placed his hand over his sternum, letting out a quick breath to calm himself, scoffing internally.

Geez, it was obviously just going to be Luka, who Sai had thought had learned better than to make such loud noises now that he knew the tiny was around.

Sai rolled his eyes, falling back onto the huge, feather-stuffed pillow beneath him with his arms splayed out wide. In the couple months since he'd first truly met Luka and began to slowly, tentatively expose himself fully to the giant, things had been... pretty great, in all honesty.

Sure, Luka could be a little oblivious at times over how his size difference made some of his actions seem from Sai's perspective, but the tiny had soon learned that his giant friend was more than willing to correct his unwitting mistakes as long as Sai let him know about them.

For the past week, they'd been getting even closer still. It started because a mouse had found its way into the walls - a very unfriendly mouse, to specify - so Luka had proposed that Sai stay with him full time until one of the humane traps the giant bought successfully captured the mouse to be released somewhere suitably far away.

Sai had agreed, albeit reluctantly, but the thought of waking up in his little nest to a feral mouse trying to chew off his arm had more than sealed the deal.

Which was why Sai was where he was now.

Luka had gone out to celebrate something with some of his human friends, and he would be coming back pretty late. Neither of them wanted to risk Sai having to walk across the floors while the mouse was still on the loose, so Luka had helped Sai over to where they both usually slept: the giant's bed.

Which wasn't as terrible of an idea as it sounded like!

Sai had balked the first night when Luka had suggested it, but he'd eventually calmed down after the giant had explained things. The bed itself was king-sized, which meant that there was plenty of room for a borrower next to a human, and Luka pretty much slept like the dead. As in, once he fell asleep, he was more or less as still as a corpse except for the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest.

This all meant that it was perfectly safe for Sai to commandeer the pillow on the other side of the bed, and, along with a soft handkerchief Luka had donated to him for the cause, Sai had been having some of the best sleeps of his whole life.

Now however, Sai couldn't help but feel a shiver of unease go down his spine as he watched Luka finally stumble into the room, the giant's cheeks flushed a dark red and his eyes hazy and half-lidded.

Sai swallowed. He'd... he'd never actually seen Luka drunk before. Not even tipsy - not since the the giant had become aware of Sai's presence in their shared home.

The tiny carefully sat up fully on his pillow, watching with a slow yet undeniably growing sense of leeriness as Luka leaned heavily against the door-frame and peered unsteadily around the room, the giant letting out a hiccuping exhale as he did so. Sai could smell the alcohol on his breath from across the room, and it made his nose wrinkle and his burgeoning trepidation exponentially rise.

Luka's gaze lazily drifted over to the bed, and Sai stiffened when the giant's eyes finally landed on him, the resulting stare feeling like it was pressing down on him with all the weight of a cement brick.

It was too much. As he watched Luka's eyes light up with a disproportional amount of drunken glee upon having spotted him, Sai was consumed by a feeling so damnably chilling and so bitterly, achingly close to having become unfamiliar to him now welling up inside his chest. He flinched as the giant began to stumble towards him, each step loud and reverberating and so unlike what Sai had let himself become used to - let himself believe would never change.

He shakily got to his feet, taking a hesitant step back, then another as the giant's uneven gait failed to falter at his retreat, the familiar feeling of his own feet sinking into the soft pillow below him now menacing. Just another reminder of how impossible unlikely an escape would be.

"C'mere lil' guyyy," Luka slurred, his arms jerking up in front of himself, his thick fingers - each of which was nearly as wide as Sai's torso and as long as Sai was tall - curling inwards towards his palms in a grabby motion that made a bubbling sort of sick feeling clench in Sai's stomach.

A quiet noise of distress leaked past his lips without him even realizing, but he doubted the giant heard it anyways.

And it was too soon (far too soon) when a large, foreboding shadow loomed over the tiny's form (his shaking form, and when had he begun to tremble?), and he could no longer repress the urge to cower, crouching down and curling in on himself as if making himself any smaller than he already was would somehow make everything go away. It wouldn't. But it wasn't like he had any true options left. His throat had closed up with the thick lump that had formed in it; he wouldn't be able to get a single word out to the giant. No protest. No defense. And he knew with a cold sense of certainty that the edge of the mattress was too far away for him to reach before he would be caught.

(And privately, in the far recesses of his mind that he ruthlessly suppressed, Sai was terrified of the thought of Luka lunging at him if he tried to escape, the giant's gentle-turned-monstrous now uncoordinated hands unwittingly - so easily - crushing the life out of the tiny in his careless, thoughtless grip.)

So it was now, for the first time since the tiny had met his giant, that Sai felt completely and utterly afraid of the other being.

~~~~~~~

Cliffhanger ;DDD

huhuhuhuhuhuhu what will drunken Luka do?

[senselessviolets]

“dream a little dream of me”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

EXTREMELY dubious consent, somnophilia (reader is in and out of sleep), sleep/drunk sex (both Roman and Reader are drunk but Roman is more active/the one initiating during encounter), smut, alcohol, language, implied Roman eating disorder, erectile dysfunction mention, pervert!Roman, needy Roman, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

A oneshot by @cum-a-calla opened my eyes recently and I realized “Roman + somno” might be my peanut butter & jelly. Like wow. What a concept.  Jokes aside, this fic is dark so PLEASE be wary of the warnings above. <3 

Summary:

Post-S4, Roman and Reader begin to date after working at Waystar Studios together. While they bond and flirt more and more, he continues to keep her at bay. One night, the two get extremely drunk at his apartment and suffice it to say—they both wind up getting what they want.

This was maybe your third or fourth time sleeping over. You honest to god never thought you’d make it this far. For all of his gross jokes and sexual provocations, Roman reviled intimacy.

It’s why when he first started to court you; you were so taken aback. You’d been around; you knew what the mumblings were about his ‘eccentricities’. You were the Director of Creative Affairs at the Waystar Studios L.A headquarters. A position you were remarkably young to have; your famous two-time Oscar-award-winning actress mother and prominent movie producer father having nothing to do with it at all.

Following the Gojo acquisition, Roman withdrew from executive operations, accepting the fact he no longer had a place there. That and he outright refused to be in the same room with Lukas Mattsson.

As such, he returned to the entertainment side of things (this time with no Frank to boss him around) and went back to living in L.A around the clock. Things hadn’t changed much in the three-year hiatus he had from working at Studios. 

Well, except for you. 

It was only in his absence that you got your job. You wondered had he been around during that time, if he would’ve made a stink over your dad pulling the strings and landing you the job. A practice that was completely foreign to him, no doubt. Of course with it being Roman, you knew with full certainty the answer—yes. Because who was he if not the world’s biggest hypocrite/walking contradiction?

You found this to be even more apparent after your first date. Roman made a point of booking the two of you a reservation for the most high-end, gourmet French restaurant in the city. Even though when the waiter came around to your secluded table with the 16 oz beef ribeye he’d ordered, Roman did no more than fidget with the garnish on the plate. 

While on that same date, though he’d surprised you at the beginning of the evening with an ornate bouquet of red roses and white orchids—he didn’t deign to even so much as hold your hand the rest of that night.

Three months later, you and Rome had exchanged a myriad of kisses and flirtatious squeezes around the office. The suggestive texts the two of you exchanged, making tempting offers and filthy propositions. All of that build-up only to result in chaste nights in at his flat, eating takeout and bitching about the latest tentpole flop your studio was in the midst of developing. It could be worse, you thought. To say your needs were being met, though, would be a lie.

Tonight was different. Tonight was heavy. 

The two of you had spent a good portion of the night sprawled out on the wooden floors of his living room, talking about nothing and downing a Japanese whisky neither of you could pronounce. The taste hadn’t left your mouths. You wondered if his would taste the same. 

After deciding to turn in for the night, you gradually make your way toward the master bedroom, stumbling over yourself. He stops you from colliding into the wall several times. You and Roman make the most obnoxious-sounding cackles as the both of you hap-heartedly flop onto his Hastens Superia bed. You let yourself fall deep into the cotton wool mattress, landing somewhere between sleep and a drunken haze.

You feel yourself be pried out of this state as a force slowly turns you so you’re on your back. You can tell by the faint outline of his fluffy hair that it’s him. In this lighting or lack thereof, you don’t really know for sure. You give a weak smile, maybe even whisper a small “hi”. He waits to proceed until the expression has fully faded from your face and the heaviness in your eyelids takes over. His lips made rough with the scratch from his beard, are forcefully pressed onto yours. Once again, you are ripped out of the peaceful purgatory between awareness and slumber you’d just been slipping into. It’s hard to not liven up at the wet sensation of his tongue slipping past your lips. 

Roman hadn’t ever kissed you like this.

Using your chin, he pries your mouth with his index finger so it's more open to him. Briefly, you consider gliding your tongue along his own, to reciprocate the motions, to achieve the taste you yourself so desperately craved. But you didn’t want him to stop. 

To get in his head like he had a tendency to. To sever himself from you yet again.

So you remain still. Pliant. His.

Meanwhile, his one free hand has wandered elsewhere. Roman’s fully straddling you at this point so you can feel a firmness in between his thighs that hadn’t been present before. The hand alternates from palming himself to cupping your bare mound. The chill of his fingers causes you to flinch. You suppose in the arduous journey to get to his bedroom, you must have lost your bottoms. You don’t entirely remember having ever taken them off yourself. 

It would remain a mystery.

The oversized white button-up blouse of yours has opened itself to Roman and his gaze. He moves the opposing sides of the fabric so they’re no longer covering your chest. Roman dives face first, smushing his face against the warm pillowy flesh of your breasts, inhaling deeply. He kneads them with his fingers and takes them into his mouth, sucking more gently than he wishes to. It’s clear Roman wishes not to disturb your ‘slumber’. 

He shows you a devotion other men had hardly shown you when you were fully awake. It was all a jumbled mess in your head. Due to the surrealness of the whole situation but also the liquor as well.

Instead of working his way downwards like most guys naturally would, Roman instead makes his way up to your neck, burrowing his head in the crook near your shoulder. He takes a deeper inhale of the tender flesh there. Eventually his nose prods into your hair which was strewn all over the pillow your head rests on. There were times at the office when you could’ve sworn he took a brief inhale of your hair when sneaking past you. You didn’t say anything. Even after you two had begun ‘dating’, you still didn’t question it.

While Roman halts his movements and lies on top of you, your mind drifts, thinking something to the effect of, ‘if he’s this much of a pervert when I’m asleep at night, what kind of disgusting shit does he get up to in the daytime behind my back’?

You have no time to dwell on the thought because something cold and slender traces your opening. Due to its tensility, you’re able to make out that its his finger that now fumbles around your entrance. There’s no foreplay, no crescendo because in an instant, Roman is inside of you. You can’t help but mumble a whimper at the sudden intrusion. He freezes, keeping the tip of his finger in you. When he sees you don’t stir and go back to sleep, he plunges what feels like his index finger deeper into you. So deep, you fear he’ll run out of space to fill. He stops just before it becomes too uncomfortable. Not that the interaction was all that pleasant. 

Mentally, you were aroused but physically, your body had yet to catch up.

“...not wet,” he says to himself. 

He withdraws his hand quickly, spitting multiple times on his now two fingers, and wedges them both inside of you. The lube of his saliva provides some slick but it’s still making you sore. 

“That better…? Hm…? Yeah…?” he coos, watching your emotionless face, “That what you need..?”

He smirks briefly when he sees your eyes flutter. 

“Oh…you dreamin’, baby? Hm, you dreaming about me?” Roman taunts, in a shrill soft voice, “You better be. You better fuckin’ be.”

You clench reflexively as he says it. Roman drags his lower teeth against the smooth skin of your arm as he continues to pump his fingers into you rapidly. Fast enough that your increasing wetness is audible in the still silence of his bedroom. Roman ceases all of his movements at once, letting out a sharp exhale. Gradually, he removes his fingers from your pussy and a moment passes before you begin to feel something warm and moist being smeared across your lips. You realize it's your own fluids. The notion makes your stomach flip.

Roman proceeds to lick it off your lips. His tongue becomes more and more greedy and taking the opportunity to drag along the sides of your full cheeks. You get the impression this is something he’d thought about doing before, if not entirely because of how slowly he does it. 

He’s fucking savoring it. 

‘This’ll be it. He’ll just continue to fuck around a little more and use it as spank bait later,’ you predict. 

The thought of Roman penetrating you with anything more than his fingers was truly unfathomable. There’d always been the rumor at work about him having ED (though the type of ED varied depending on who you were talking to) and needing the little blue pill to so much as jerk off. You never knew what to make of those claims. You disregarded them. But the stiffness that has been rutting against your hips and waist and thigh for the past half hour had you now wondering; ‘was he gonna go all the way?’.

A few more moments of nothingness pass. Then the metallic sound of a zipper being undone overwhelms your senses—the sonority soon replaced with dread. Even if he did position himself between your legs and bury himself fully inside of your unaroused cunt; ‘what would it really change?’ 

It wouldn’t suddenly make it ‘rape’.

 That ship had sailed several digits ago. 

You were on the pill if he decided to be lazy. You were clean and he had assured you many times he was as well—and you chose to believe him. The answer to your self-questioning was that it would simultaneously change ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’. 

So you brace yourself for his full weight on top of you once more along with the new sensation of being stretched open on his cock.

But it doesn’t come. 

Roman rolls off of you completely, laying adjacent to you on the mattress. There’s the rustling of fabric as he shimmies his slacks down his thighs. Roman’s hand flies to your wrist as he slides his dick into your relaxed grasp. Spitting into his palm and gliding the wet over the head of his cock, he begins to fuck your own fist in earnest. 

The most pitiful, squeaky boyish moans leave his lips and he pants them into your shoulder, hot from the heat of his breath.  

“F-f-fuck…oh f-ff…I…I fuckin’ need this, need this,” Roman whines into your hair, “Oh…oh…ohhh…needed this, need this, fuckin’ need this,”

His hips continue ramming into your hand at the same relentless pace. He’s clearly pent-up. Probably from the months of emotional anguish, familial turmoil, betrayal—with a dollop of grief on top. Small dabs of wetness is felt on your skin. At first, you think he’s drooling from arousal but you later realize those were tears. 

It doesn’t deter from his sheer desperation, his uninhibited need, all on display. 

You had been the one submitting yourself to him but somewhere along the way, the roles seemingly had become inverted. You hold back from biting your own lip. You had made it this far. You couldn’t fuck it up now. Not for him. If he stopped, you felt like you’d die a small death then and there. 

“Oh, please, my sweet. Sweet little thing, please be sweet. Please be good. Please take what you need. What you’ve earned,” you’d chant, if you were even capable of speech, “Please cum. Please cum now.”  

There’s no humanly possible way he could’ve heard your inner dialogue but his hips buck wildly and he unloads into your palm like he did. 

“Thank you, thank you, I needed it, I needed it, baby…oh, I fuckin’...I fuckin’ needed …,” he trails off.

His vibrating body eventually after a long while goes still. You’re able to unravel your hand off of his softening cock. The stickiness between your fingers is still lukewarm. If you had the strength or the agency, you might wipe it off with a Kleenex or onto the sheets or the perv in you may try to sneak a sniff or a lick. But you like him are beyond spent. He stays facing you, laying on his side, now sound asleep with a gentle snore. You remain on your back, shirt ripped open, naked from the lower half, face staring deep, deep into the void of the ceiling. 

It was this empty blackness—this dark—that you slowly felt yourself being compelled to. It’s where your darkest urges liked to dwell. The desires you never felt the courage to voice, even to those you trusted the most. It felt cliche to say you often saw Roman on the other side of this void. You got the impression it’s an island he’d marooned himself on for a long time. Every partner that tried to swim out to him sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor. And there they stayed in the depths of his subconscious. Submerged, sodden, drowned memory of a person that for years would continue to be buried by guilt. By shame. Fear. You refused to succumb to that same fate.

As you let the sleep overtake your tired limbs and melt into oblivion, you swear you see him in that void. Expressionless. He’s numb, like you. He’s scared, like you. He doesn’t know what he wants, much less what he needs. And neither do you. So in the meantime, you silently agree to meet him there in that void. In that black. Again and again. 

As long as you found each other in the end.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P7]

(Yandere Reader Insert)

[Series Link]

[Content warning: religious trauma, sexual trauma, explicit language, violence, suggestive contents, addiction]

(Real talk? We are in a tie between Lukas and Yuki in terms of reader favorites ( lukas fans are in anonymous asks and they are freaaaaky.) First- sorry for the angst. Second, maybe this will warm some of us up to Lukas? But tbh? I wanna kick his ass all the time. So idk. Like i would NOT let myself near that man but i am an impartial creator. Im curious thooo lmk how we feel abt lukas so far 🫶 aside from wanting to sleep w him.

@perhapstheyregone)

Between interlaced fingers, the gaps seemed forevermore.

[Recap last chapter:

Lukas' POV: Lukas followed you and Yuki out, but his attempt to interrupt the moment was foiled by a very angry and drunk Hanao who argued with Yuki. Lukas could not understand what the argument was about except that it concerned a woman in the foreign dept named Sasaki. Hanao attempted to hit Yuki, but you took the punch instead. In the process, you threw Lukas out of the way and made him hit a wall, which excited him. Yuki noticed Lukas' strange reaction to the pain but did not say anything about it.

Your POV: after the fight, Yuki offered to take you home and asked Lukas to watch over Sasaki for the rest of the party. You and Yuki took a cab to your home. During the ride, you were too shaken up by a text your mother had sent, and it was revealed that your brother (who suffered from addiction) had relapsed. By the time you reached your apartment, it was clearly late for Yuki to take the last train home, but he still offered to walk you up to your door, seeing that you were unwell.

Yuki's POV: on the way upstairs, you cried. He was unsure what happened, but he tried his best to take you to your door, being as gentle as possible. You offered for him to stay the night, given that he was way late for the train. It was revealed here that Yuki was sexually abused by a family friend when he was a teenager, which resulted in his fear of any attempts at flirting coming from women. However, seeing as you did not have any ulterior motives except for trying to make up for the "troubles", he agreed, feeling more compassionate toward you. Here, he noticed that it was his first time willingly saying "yes" to staying the night at any woman's house.)

Lukas didn't like how teritorial he felt anymore. He didn't want to prove himself by sleeping with another person when you slipped away in Sakamoto's arms - even the mere idea made his skin crawl. He liked to tell himself that he was no longer burdened by feeling small and unspecial ever since he stopped going to church and started going to house parties where he would kiss and tell, but the feeling came back from time to time. He felt eyes from above watching him when he messed up women's bedsheet, his pleasure poisoned. "I'm not going back", he would think, "fuck all that", but when the show was over and the girl looked at him with doe eyes to search for aftercare he wanted to smother her with a pillow. But that wouldn't undo what he did.

Sometimes  back in college when he would go back home for the summer, Lukas wanted to cry and beg to be let back into the safety of the church. "I was wrong", in that fantasy he would shout with his knees on the ground, "take me back". The neat front lawn and the rose gardens stayed the same, as did the trickling fountain with the chubby cherub, as did the blooming magnolia and cedar elm, as did the sounds of mourning doves. Still, he felt bare and naked under the blue summer sky with no clouds to shield him from the sun. He wondered if his parents would take him back in were he to come back this time donning the cloth of the progidal son, or if he had to wait for the heaven's gate to be sure of the feast. So he held back, coming back into the air-conditioned living room loud and obnoxious, hugging and kissing his family. Nothing changed. He would go into his childhood bedroom - it would be wiped clean of any dust or spiderweb, his stacks of old videogames laid in the corner, his movie posters on the wall. The blinds would be left ajar, letting sunlight filter through and hit the freshly made bed where he would lie in and notice how small the pillow had gotten. He would wait until dinner was served, and at the table everyone would sidestep his absence from the church. Sometimes, his father would ask for his Sunday plans, to which he would say "I'll meet you guys for lunch". His mother would nod, and the awkward silence would soon be broken by his sister's stories about what happened at school. Lukas couldn't even try to pity their faith - it was cemented into them, sturdy and unchanging. It was so strong, he suspected, that they still held out for him to come back one day and attend mass again. Though, summer would pass and he would pack his back and leave again with a couple of weekends plans in his pocket, missing the haze of liquors and perfume. Next time, maybe.

This summer there weren't any plane flights back to Texas. Instead, he lied in the hard, narrow bed, his leg hanging out of the thin blanket as he stared at the ceiling. Outside, he saw electric wires and concrete apartments spreading until the horizon. It was a different quiet - no cricket, no winds going through the trees, no tinkerings of subtle magic when he would hear an owl hooting over the rooftop. Plain silence, as if the city outskirt was holding its breath to wait for something else to happen.

He wondered about what Sakamoto and you were doing, and a pit opened in his stomach. Lukas thought about what he would do if he were there with you instead. Sex? The idea was hollow and laborious - that wouldn't do. He had come to the realization that he didn't want to do to you what he had done to others - to undress, to use, to fantasize about smothering. Instead, he wanted to get on his knees and listen to you with his head on your laps and his arms wrapping around your legs. He wanted to look up into your eyes to see them unreadable to the point of emptiness and your lips harsh and stern, the same way you looked at the pest who had harrassed you that night at the concert. He wanted you to raise your iron fist and beat him senseless for his beating heart and his unwitting erection. You would disregard the excuse of "I can't help it", refusing the wired-in biological plea of his body. None mattered but the stark difference between sinful and sinless - and he was sinful.

__

Yuki didn't know how it happened. You were on the couch with your quilt wrapped around you, freshly showered with your hair still wet, and he was at the sink making a ginger tea from what ingredients he had procured in your barren pantries and depressing fridge. Then he was seated next to you whose breaths were still short and nervous. He wasn't sure what to say, so he presented the tea to you nervously. You feigned a smile. He didn't. He closed the distance, unable to find anything to say to ease your mind. He asked what happened. You talked. He recognized the people in your stories from all the other conversations, but they used to be just names and surface-level anecdotes. Now he understood, he said. You looked the other way, your quilt slipping off, your neck bare. The water droplets glistened on your skin. He wanted to do something selfish now, but he didn't. In shame he looked down on his laps, feeling heat spreading through his body like a wildfire. He stuttered when he said that he was sorry, and that addictions wasn't something one could control. You said something about you being a coward, but your exact words escaped his spinning head. He said it was hard to be strong all the time, and that he hoped something could happen for you to let your guard down because you didn't deserve to be in survival mode all your life. At that, he glanced over, flinching a little to see you turning to him again, wide-eyed like a deer in headlight. The heat from his body was messing with his ears - he could not hear you correctly when you opened your mouth to speak, but he could make out that you had tripped on your words as well. His breath got caught in his throat. Reasons fled. He brought himself closer quickly, afraid to lose the moment.

But he didn't know how it happened.

No turning off the lights, no getting ready, neither lipstick nor perfume, he had you as you were. He felt heat within him, yet you were even warmer to the touch. You held onto him anxiously, nodding when he asked for your approval, and smiling at him when he was where he needed to be. He didn't notice the time, but it didn't matter - it was a Friday night, and he wasn't supposed to be anywhere else but the cat cafe he had promised to take you tomorrow's morning. This felt right, he thought, and from the look on your face when he leaned in to kiss your again after it was over, you agreed.

__

In the next morning when you saw Sakamoto hestitated before shyly picking up the condom wrapper you both had forgotten on the night stand, you knew he would have questions you didn't want to answer. You didn't say anything as you poured water atop the coffee filter and closed the lid.

"Is it from your last boyfriend?"

You felt his self-consciousness. His bare back was on you, the lines of muscles pressing against one another showing the tension vividly. The dress pants he had put on weren't so defined without the belt, leaving him dishelved. You looked down, feeling anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

"No... just someone I was getting to know."

You always hated this part. This usually would be time for the man to ask how many you'd gone through, what were they like, if they were better in bed. Then, when you refused to answer, they would scoff scornfully to say that you were indeed "openminded". You did not sleep with many people, but you knew any numbers above zero could put a dent in their ego. Nervous now, you swallowed, trying to fix your dry throat.

"It's not too old, is it?"

"3 months ago."

"I never heard about him, but sounds like he wasn't very nice."

At this he turned around. You didn't expect the smile on his face - it wasn't wry and disdainful. You thought it was a little smug, with his nose scrunched and the corner of his lips etching upward to show his teeth. Bashfully laughing, you covered your mouth with your palm, your other hands wrapped around your torso, clutching your shirt.

The playful look on his face dropped at that. You tried not to look at him as he walked over.

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole for that."

"No...", you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut now.

The air hung heavy. You felt his breath over your shoulders.

"Are you trying to hide from me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just overwhelmed."

He didn't say anything yet. You felt his arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. His cool skin soothed your nerves.

"Do you regret it?"

"I was worried you might be."

That wasn't a "no" and you knew he noticed. You had violated your golden rule: no coworkers. Still, you would be a liar to claim that you never thought about him in this way. Those were fleeting thoughts, ones which you brushed off and treated as intrusive fantasies.

Last night proved you wrong.

You worried because outside of this apartment you were somebody else. You had a mother waiting for you to come home and inherit her fortune, a father who sat silently in his study mourning over the only masterpiece he ever wrote, and a brother who had just returned to rehab after three seemingly clean years. Under the sleepy, monotone current of Tokyo you brewed an urgency to come to their aids, to wait for their calls and texts. Every week, your mother's grievances about your father's lovers sat on your screen like a sour reminders. Any other, your brother would ask for money, and were you to see it fit you would monitor all the pictures he sent for signs of relaspe before wiring him what he asked, little by little, making sure to let your parents know behind his back. Sooner or later, a part of you knew the house of card you had built in Tokyo would topple under their breaths. You remembered the ultimatum they had given - if something serious happened to your brother, you were to go home.

Last night was a close call.

"It would be difficult at first, yes... but I think it will be okay eventually. I think my family will like you."

Your heart dropped. Your voice had no weight as you choked out "what?", stunned. Readjusting your body so you could face him, you saw his earnest eyes gazing at you.

"What?" - he asked back, puzzled.

"What do you mean your family?"

"I thought we were- I thought you-

He stumbled over his words, the light in his eyes dimming. His mouth was left hung open. He left his thoughts dormant at the tip of his tounge for way too long before painfully whispering "I thought this meant something."

You were frozen in his arms like a statue. He held you, his arms dropping down to your side, fingers lacing tighter than before. You wanted to say something, afraid that he would leave.

"It does."

"Then... the next step is to get to know each other, right?"

"Yes, but... what do you mean your family would like me?"

Was he thinking marriage because he felt he had used your body improperly? Or was he playing the same, disappointing game of overcommitment to string you along?

"It's..."

He went red to the tip of his ears.

"I was hoping we would get somewhere serious... but my family is complicated."

You didn't squirm away from him like you had planned to yet. Instead, you let your head fall to his chest, weary.

"Mine too."

The soft sunlight had turned into a glare through your curtain. You felt your skin dampen under the heat of his body when you asked - "so then... what do we do?"

He didn't say anything as he held you tighter.

"I can get through it with my family... but I-

You had mistaken his fear for indecision. Pulling yourself away, you had your eyes cast down and let the sinking feeling wash over. Whatever, you thought, the moment was real, but perhaps it ought to stay that way. It was for the best - after all, nobody made any promises. Swallowing all the tenderness you had felt and all the moments you had watched his kindness shine, you felt the weight of your family leaning against you.

He helplessly watched, unable to say that he didn't want you to suffer what was in store.

[mars-writes-yandere]

The persistent flirt, Luka,who always gets what he wants. When he sets his eyes on something and wants it, hes going to get it. His curly blonde hair and deep blue eyes add to the charm. He's known for sleeping around and using women like tissues.

what the cock (🐓!!!!!) i love him

YESS HES SUCH A DICK and he really softens up after reader but his cheesy pickup lines and bad jokes stay

he'll say shit like "You remind me of my little toe, I'll probably bang you on the coffee table later when I'm drunk." and expect you to swoon.

Before he really gets to know you too he'll flirt with other girls in front of you in hopes of making you jealous. It usually doesn't work which makes him start putting REAL effort in.

[hsr-texts]

[ folder info ]

╰┈➤ list of works for each bundle

would you love me if i was a worm

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, gepard, jing yuan, sampo, welt ╰┈➤ sequel ╰┈➤ asta, himeko, natasha, kafka

accidental confessions

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, welt

happy birthday messages

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, luocha

drunk texts

╰┈➤ gepard, welt

keeping up with the stellaron hunters

╰┈➤ 1

[ platonic ] i want a cat!!

╰┈➤ blade, gepard, jing yuan, welt

sands of grief

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, luocha

sly as a cat

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, welt

astral express and you (platonic)

╰┈➤ the astral express members

night owl

╰┈➤ gepard, jing yuan, luocha, natasha

kpop stan reader

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, luocha

express surprise party!

╰┈➤ the astral express members

the express worries over you

╰┈➤ the astral express members

programmer reader

╰┈➤ jing yuan, luocha, serval, yanqing

rainy day blues

╰┈➤ stellaron hunters

crazy rich bitches

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, gepard, sampo

bonding with the stellaron hunters

╰┈➤ the stellaron hunters

lost reader

╰┈➤ gepard, welt

troublemaker

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, welt

an exotic pet?!

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, welt

I'm a Barbie Girl!

╰┈➤ danheng, jing yuan, luocha, welt

cloudy skies

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, gepard, luka

taking care of the baby

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, luocha

disturbing their sleep

╰┈➤ welt, luocha, dan heng, seele

affectionate reader

╰┈➤ blade, dan heng, jing yuan, luocha, welt

coward reader

╰┈➤ blade, gepard, jing yuan, sampo

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter 1

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; evil exes...

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1: it's supposed to be my year - Andy 

Third Person POV 

The Red line is a good place to hide from the world. 

A dive bar that's only really known by locals and a perfect hideout for the local team, The Boston Bruins. This is where we can find the hero of our story. Or a broken heart reeling from the shock of a lifetime. The bartender puts the third glass of Glenlevet 12 in front of the broken man at the corner of his bar.  

Andy 

“You want something to eat Barber?” 

I shook my head. The idea of food just made me want to throw up. This must be the worst day of my life. Sitting at our local dive, all I wanted to do was to drink myself to sleep. Maybe then I'll wake up from this nightmare. Have you ever been stood up at the alter?  No? Lucky you. 

“Knew I’d find you here.” I looked over to my best friend and alternate captain Lukas Andrews. He signaled to Mike, the bartender, and pointed to my glass. “You ok?” 

“I'm great. Just perfect.” I pulled at the tie on the collar of my tux. “I mean I paid for an entire wedding and the down payment on a house, but my bride decided to fuck my team mate the night before our wedding and lucky me I overheard them arguing about it right before she was going walk down the aisle.” I slammed back my drink. “Oh, and she runs away with said teammate.” 

I signal for another. And dropped my head to the bar. “Andy maybe you should slow down?” Luke said. 

“Why? I don't want to feel Luke. I just want to numb the pain.” Can’t he see that I just want me heart to stop hurting.  I was betrayed by two people that I trusted tremendously and now have to deal with not just one heartbreak but two.  

“I know buddy but maybe you should sleep?”  

Luke’s a great best friend to have.  He always tries to take care of me and I’d do the same for him.  But right now, I don’t want to take care of myself. “No, we drink.” 

That's the last thing I remember. 

Please let me be dead.  

That could be the only explanation as to why I was in so much pain. The alternative is that its a massive hangover and that would suck worse. I cracked an eye and sunlight hit me like fucking a truck. Fuck, I’m alive and it was going to be a hell of a day. It took everything to get to the bathroom and throw up like I’m a goddamm teenager.  

I’m a 31-year-old professional hockey player. I don't get drunk anymore. 

At least I didn't before yesterday. And it hit me that the love of my life screwed one of my best friends and teammates the night before our wedding and I got listen to him beg her not to marry me. 

Fuck Fiona and fuck Craig Bailey. 

I wandered downstairs, the aroma of fresh coffee hitting me like water in the Sahara. This is why Luke is my best friend. Fully expecting to see him sitting at the island, I'm stunned when I see my other best friend and Luke's sister making breakfast. “Morning?” 

Leighton Andrews.  

If there was one girl I wish I could marry it would been her. I’ve known the Andrews siblings since Luke and I were in kindergarten. Hell, I've been around since Leia was just a sweet little baby. She was an annoying brat for most of my childhood. But then when we came home for Christmas our freshman year of college and every change. Leia was only 14 at the time but she grew up way more than that. She had always been short, taking after their mother but everything else had grown up. She had tits that were perfect, a banging ass that I wanted to feel in my hands. 

There was just one small problem. 

She's my best friend's sister. 

To call Luke overprotective would be the biggest understatement in the world. After their dad died in a freak accident, Luke took his job as “man of the house” very seriously. He made sure that his mom didn't feel lonely, and he made it his mission to protect his sister by any means necessary. 

As the dutiful best friend, I, of course, helped him in his mission to protect her. 

Did I have selfish reasons? 

Yes.  

Did I tell him that? 

I'm alive so what does that tell you. 

“Hey Andy, good morning!” Leia chirped.  She had always been a ball of sunshine and it was something that I loved about her. Except, wait, how did she get into my townhome? 

“I say this with love, Leia, but what are you doing here? And how did you get into my house?” 

She flashed me that goddam smile that makes me give her whatever hell she wants. “Mike called.” 

Sadly, that's enough of an explanation. 

“Where's lover boy? I thought you guys were attached at the hip?” I poured myself a cup of water, drained it with two ibuprofen and then moved on to coffee. 

“Bret is on a business trip right now. He'll be back on Friday.”   

Bret.  Blah, the man was a waste of space in mine and Luke’s opinion.  He’s a stockbroker for some Fortune 500 company. When Leia started dating him, he was the epitome of douche bag. For the last year, Leia had subtly changed.  She used to be a free spirit, dressed however she wanted.  But Bret wanted a sophisticated partner that was like the other wives of brokers in his company.  He would spend money to upgrade her wardrobe and then they bought a house together six months ago.  I hated that. Even when I was with Fiona, I knew Leia deserved better. But she’s happy, and that’s all I can ask for.  

“Was he even at my wedding? Or as I call it the implosion of my life?” 

Leia came over and wrapped her arm around me and put her head on my shoulder. “He was there. He told me to tell you how was and sorry that Fiona was a complete bitch.” 

“He did not say that.” 

“Ok, fine, it was me but that's because it’s the truth.” Leia smiled at me sadly. “I’m so sorry, Andy.” 

“Thanks, Leia.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I guess I'm just glad I found out before I married her.” 

“She's an idiot Andy. I mean who in their right mind ditch a man like you?” 

This really wasn't the time to get a semi. Her compliment is doing things to me.

“Please don't tell me she did it because I neglected her or drove her into another man's arms? I mean I know I’ve been busy but I was trying to secure our future, you know?” Fuck, did I screw this up? I was working to be named captain this upcoming season.  The Bruins made that announcement a couple of weeks ago.  It had been awesome at the time but was it tainted now? 

“I don’t know. She’s been with you for like three years. She knows what it's like to be a WAG. She’s a fucking idiot Andy.” She moved to rub my back. 

I looked around my townhouse. “I have to move out of this place because I have a new home. That she wanted. Fuck,” I dropped my head onto the kitchen counter with a thud. “Ow.”  

Leia chose at that moment to let out a series of adorable giggles, her second-choice weapon in her arsenal. “Feel better?” 

“No,” I mumble. 

She came over and kissed my forehead. “Everything is going to be ok. You are the captain this year. Your best friends are right beside you. And we'll always be by your side.” 

I looked up at her. “Promise?” I held out my pinkie, something the three of us have done since we were kids. She took it with her own. 

“Promise.” 

“Fuck, who turned on the brightness?” Luke wandered into the kitchen. He took a seat next to me and lowered his head into his arms. “I’m never drinking with you again Barber.” 

“I didn’t say you had to match me drink for drink Andrews.” I looked around, searching for his girlfriend. I vaguely remember her coming with him to the bar. “Where is Miranda?” 

“She’s sleeping.  I tried to wake her, but she said she’s not getting up unless I can promise pancakes and bacon in bed.”  Luke looked at his sister.  “I love you.”  

Leia rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, yeah.  I’m doing this because I need to make sure you guys were ok. I gotta get back home for a meeting.” 

I smiled at her. “You’re the best Leia.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

After the banging in my head subsided, I went to the new house. I needed to make this place my own. Fuck whatever Fiona wanted. I would make this the home of my dreams, not hers. As I walked up to the front, I saw someone sitting on the stoop. “The fuck are you doing here?” The nerve of this guy showing up to my house. 

Craig stood up. “I just want a minute to explain.” 

“Explain what? How you "accidentally" slept with my fiancé or how you were trying to convince her to leave me?” I raged. This fucker has balls, I'll give him that. 

“Andy, it’s not like that. I'm in love with her. I have been for a long time.”  

“You slept with her once and all of a sudden, you've been in love with her for forever? Bull shit man.” 

“It wasn't just once,” he said quietly.  

I stopped. “Wanna run that by me again?” I must have not heard him clearly 

“It wasn't just the once. We've been seeing each other for the last year.” 

We all heard that right? 

“You've got to be kidding me! You've been fucking my fiancé for the last year?” I don't even let him respond. I deck him across the chin and drop him to the floor. Lucky for him, Luke shows up just when I go to hit him again. 

“Andy! Stop! He's not worth it.” Luke grabs my arm and pulls me back. Another set of hands takes mine. I look back and see Leia and I calm a little under her touch. 

“I fucking hate you! You were one of my best friends and you did this to me. Fuck you! You're dead to me!” 

“We are on the same team Andy!” Craig argues. “I’m sorry but I love her, and we didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“I don't give a shit. She was mine and you fucked me over. I'll work with you on the ice, but I never want to speak to you or look at you outside of the arena ever again! Go back to your bitch and tell her I'll send her shit to her mother's.” Luke pushes Craig away from me and down the drive. I turned away and Leigh wrapped her arms around me, and I buried my head in her neck, sobbing into her. “Why?” I asked her. 

“I don't know Andy but I'm right here.” She rubbed my back as Luke dealt with Craig. “Let it out, I've got you.” 

This was supposed to be my year. I had the captaincy, I had a championship caliber team and a fiancé that I thought loved me.  

This was supposed to be my year.  

Now I know what it's like to get screwed over with my pants on. 

Life is funny like that. 

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

[the-delta-42]

Sued

Sued

Marinette flinched as Alya threw her belongings. Nino, Marinette and the rest of the girls, excluding Lila and Chloe, were sitting in Alya’s room as the novice journalist had her melt down. Marinette was quick to catch a snow globe that Alya sent flying, while Nino tried to calm her down. In the end, Alya had just collapsed on the floor and just sobbed incoherently.

“So, what happened?” Asked Alix, prompting Alya to make a series of noises that could only be described as baby talk. If baby talk was done while crying and moaning how her life was over and she’d have to live in the middle of the woods and wait for a wolf to eat her.

Marinette bristled, chaotic meltdowns were her thing, not Alya’s.

“Yeah, Alya, only dogs can understand you.” Snarked Alix, as Alya let out a shuddery whine.

“You know that video that had Lila saying she was best friends with TDC’s little sister?” Asked Juleka, making everyone look at her, “TDC got in contact and is now trying to sue her for house and home.”

“But you posted a video insulting TDC and dissing his music.” Rose pointed out.

“I have no legal address, so the bitch can’t get me.”

“But TDC wasn’t even the subject of that video, Jagged Stone was.” Said Marinette, as Alya slowly dragged herself to her wardrobe.

“He’s a young celebrity, I think they’re just touchy.” Shrugged Juleka, as Alya accidentally knocked a pair of her shoes down from a shelf and hit her on the head.

“Speaking of touchy.” Said Marinette, before looking at Rose and Myléne, “I need salted caramel ice cream, the Princess Bride, Alya’s secret fox plushie that she totally doesn’t sleep with, really soft blankets, the curtains to be closed and the doors to be locked, stat.”

In a sudden flurry of movement, Nino suddenly found himself in a makeshift movie theatre, with the Princess Bride playing as the girls took turns to stick a spoonful of Alya’s favourite ice cream into Alya’s mouth. The last time Adrien or one of the guys had a break down, they all drunk as many sodas as they could until Adrien threw up. Nino frowned; they should probably come up with a coping method that didn’t end with Adrien throwing up. Nino shook his head; he’ll revisit that later.

Alya let out the occasional sob or sniffle as the film went on and by the credits, she’d fallen asleep.

“I’m going to call Skye and ask for her help.” Said Marinette, quietly talking to Nino, “I know Mike’s visiting and usually she isn’t far behind.”

“Who are Skye and Mike?” Asked Alix, making Marinette and Nino look at her.

“My older siblings,” Said Marinette, “They’re twins.”

“Wait, you have siblings?” Gasped Rose, making Marinette look at her.

“Yeah, I have three, it used to be four.” Dismissed Marinette, her tone stating the conversation was done.

S

Adrien groaned and tried not to breath to heavily, he’d snuck out the previous night and gone over to Luka’s, where he, and the rest of his friends, tried strange flat soda called ‘rum’. Adrien had drunk an entire big bottle and had thrown up into the Seine. He’d gladly let Myléne kill him, if his father didn’t first.

“Spent too long socialising?” Demanded Gabriel, making Adrien jump and gag.

Adrien swallowed and looked at his father.

“I had a couple of sodas with a friend who’s going on a tour with his dad.” Confessed Adrien, “I was going to get him a card, but I forgot.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, “And this soda was?”

“Rum.”

Gabriel didn’t move for a moment, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Serena, please clear my schedule, Adrien doesn’t know what Rum is.”

Adrien froze, before he gagged again, and threw up all over the table.

“And Serena, bring a mop.”

S

Adrien stared at the bottle his father had shown him. Adrien didn’t know if he should be embarrassed or proud that he didn’t know what Rum was and that he had his first drink while underage. Adrien didn’t think underage drinking suited him; he was glad his father spent time with him. The new solicitor was going to meet them in a few minutes, Adrien had been told that a woman called Skye Cheng would be representing his father and the company.

Adrien jumped when he heard a knock on the door. Verity, Nathalie’s latest stand in opened the door, “Ms. Cheng is here to see you, Sir.”

“Good,” Said Gabriel, getting to his feet, “Show her in.”

Verity nodded, before leaving and returning with a short woman with brown hair, light skin and forest green eyes. Adrien stared at her, because she was a dead ringer for Marinette.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Said Skye, “shall we begin?”

S

Marinette scowled at a tall man with shoulder length black hair and grey eyes. The man held Marinette’s phone over his head.

“You’re going to have to be better than that, Little one.” Taunted the man, making Marinette glare at him.

Marinette swung her leg out and kicked the man in the shin. The man jumped as Marinette’s foot hit him, but didn’t release the phone. Marinette pouted at him, before looking down the stairs.

“Maman, Michael’s stolen my phone!” Yelled Marinette, making the man scowl at her.

“Pot, kettle, black arse.” Retorted Michael, before Sabine yelled up the stairs.

“Don’t make me come up there!” Both Michael and Marinette flinched, their mother loved them more than anything in the world but neither wanted to be on the receiving end of her ire. Michael dropped the phone and ambled into the living room. Marinette glared at her brother’s back, before he tripped over a stool and landed on his face.

“HA!” Yelled Marinette, before she spun on her heels and walked into a door.

Skye poked her head through and saw both Michael and Marinette on the floor.

“Do I want to know?” Asked Skye, rhetorically and carefully stepped over Marinette and Michael.

“No.” Said the two, before Marinette sat up.

“Skye, I need your help with something.” Said Marinette, getting a sigh from Skye.

“Marinette, you and I both know that you can’t sue the mayor’s daughter for ‘being a bitch’. It’s a waste of time and money.” Dismissed Skye, quickly locating a seat.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.” Argued Marinette, “But, it’s not to do with that, one of my friend’s is being sued by an artist because someone else mentioned them at the start of a video.”

Skye froze, before looking at Marinette, “Is this to do with the Kitty Section-TDC incident?”

“Kind of? I mean, TDC is suing Alya because another classmate claimed to be friends with his sister.” Elaborated Marinette, getting a frown from Skye.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Asked Skye, getting a confused look from Marinette, “Toby’s going to be here some time tomorrow.”

“What’s Toby got to do with TDC?” Asked Marinette, getting incredulous looks from Michael and Skye.

“Okay, Mike, I owe you an apology,” Said Skye, after a minute, “you are clearly no longer the dumbest one in the family.”

S

Toby absently blew a bubble with his gum, scrolling through conspiracy theories on his phone.

“Hey, Jackaal,” Said Toby, leaning back in his seat, “apparently aliens built the pyramids to hide giant emitters for something.”

Jackaal, a Kwami thar resembled a jackal, sniffed, “Extra-terrestrials could never be so creative.”

Toby hummed, before scrolling on his phone again. It pinged, making him groan, “Great, Karen’s decided to start another lawsuit.”

“You need to find a new manager.” Said Jackaal, floating next to Toby’s head, “If she keeps going, you might not get any work.”

“I’ve already started looking for another one,” Said Toby, looking at Jackaal, “it didn’t help when she started dead-naming me.”

“And you call me an animal.” Sniffed Jackaal, turning his nose up.

“I caught you chewing your ass because my cat had fleas.” Stated Toby, leaning forwards, “You literally told me that kwami couldn’t ‘get fleas’.”

“That’s beside the point.” Hissed Jackaal, “Wynnter and Plagg are worse than me.”

“Yeah, I still don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” Said Toby, before jumping to his feet, “What’s taking so long? We should be there by now.”

“The train stopped over an hour ago, you were on your phone.” Said Jackaal, getting a groan form Toby.

“Oooh, Mike’s gonna kill me.” Murmured Toby, quickly grabbing Jackaal and stuffing him in his pocket.

“You know where to send my luggage.” Said Toby, as he passed Karen, “Oh, and I want you to drop that lawsuit on that blogger person.”

He didn’t wait for Karen to respond, before bolting off the train.

S

Toby laughed as he spotted the Bakery, entering a skid so he could slide into the door on his knees. Toby face planted the door, it was then, he remembered the door opened out onto the street and not into the bakery.

He heard someone running down the stairs, Toby grinned up at Marinette, “Hey.”

“Sorry, the bakery’s close, we’re having a family reunion.” Said Marinette, before shutting the door and locking it.

Toby stared at the door as Marinette walked away. Michael appeared in the door’s window and looked at Toby. The two held eye contact, before Michael opened the door and hauled Toby to his feet.

“What’re you doing down there?” Asked Michael, as Toby entered the bakery.

“I tried to slide in on my knees.” Muttered Toby, getting a smirk from Michael.

“Do a lot of work on your knees?” Asked Michael, struggling to keep a straight face.

“You’re a dick.”

S

Marinette slid down in her seat when Michael walked in with the man she’d locked out of the bakery.

“Toby reacquainted himself with the front doors.” Said Michael, dropping into a chair, “It was hilarious.”

“Marinette didn’t recognise me.” Protested Toby, as he perched on the arm of the sofa.

“She last saw you five years ago,” Said Skye, her tone flat, “before you transitioned.”

“Oh yeah.” Toby dropped himself into an armchair, “I forgot about that.”

“Idiot.” Muttered Skye, getting a snort from Michael.

“Bitch.” Retorted Toby.

“Dick.”

“Cow.”

“Whore.”

“Slut.”

“Twat.”

“Cunt!”

“Okay,” Michael got between Toby and Skye, “let’s all take a deep breath.”

Michael to a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, “Right, first point of call,” Michael turned to Toby, “apparently, you’re suing Marinette’s friend.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, some blogger girl.”

“Oh, her,” Toby straightened up, “That was Karen, my manager, I’ve told her to drop it.”

“She hasn’t.” Said Marinette, holding up her phone, “She’s sent another cease-and-desist letter to Alya, she’s told Alya to take her blog down.”

Toby sighed, before groaning, “I don’t suppose you know any good managers who don’t have any clients?”

“I’ll look around.” Said Skye, dropping into a chair, “Hopefully Maman didn’t hear us in the bakery.”

“I did.” Called Sabine, as she and Tom put the cleaning supplies away, “Set the table, dinner should be ready now.”

The four looked at each other, “How does she do that?” Asked Toby, dumbfounded.

S

Karen Jones smirked to herself as she walked up to the bloggers school. Christine was just confused, she’ll stop taking those pseudo-science drugs, she’ll understand why she’s doing this.

“Karen?” Karen stopped at Christine’s disgustingly deep voice, “What are you doing?”

“I am serving legal documents to the defendant.” Simpered Karen, as a girl who appeared in that blogger girls video appeared at Christine’s side, followed by two more people, Karen assumed they were her parents, “Oh, there’s one now.”

Karen shoved a document forcefully into Marinette’s face. Marinette looked down at the document, before handing it to Toby, who handed it to Michael, who handed it to Skye, who tore it in half and walked up to Karen.

“Mdm. Jones,” Skye’s voice was cold and formal, “I am her legal counsel, and she will not be accepting any documents from you.”

“She’s some brat trying to profit off Christine’s success.” Snapped Karen, as Toby bristled.

“Obviously, not only are you deaf, but blind as well.” Snarled Toby, stalking up to Karen, using it height to his advantage, “Neither she,” he pointed at Marinette, “nor her friends will be receiving any legal documents now or ever!”

“Christine, you’re just confused,” Dismissed Kareen, trying to make her way past Toby, “She’ll turn out to be a prostitute or drug addict in a few years.”

Toby snarled and grabbed Karen’s jacket, “If you keep insulting my sister, no one would be able to find your body.”

Karen went white, “S-s-sister?”

Toby huffed through his nose, “Yes, this is my baby sister, Marinette. You know, the fashion designer.”

Karen tried to form words but kept opening and closing her mouth like a fish.

“Oh,” Said Toby, glared at Karen, “by the way, you’re fired.”

“W-what?”

“How else can I say it?” Pondered Toby, “You're being let go. Your department's being downsized. You're part of an outplacement. We're going in a different direction. We're not picking up your option. Take your pick.”

“You, what, I,” Karen spluttered, “you can’t fire me!”

“I just did.” Snapped Toby, stepping around her, “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have to embarrass my sister.”

S

“Did you really have to ‘Emperor’s New Grove’ her?” Asked Marinette, as Toby followed her to her class.

“Yep.”

“Why?” Asked Michael, frowning at the back of Toby’s head.

“It just felt right.” Answered Toby, before kicking a door open.

Ms. Bustier looked up from her computer, as Toby did a somersault-roll into the room, “Hello, you wonderful eggs!”

“Is it too late to be launched into the sun?” Marinette asked Skye, who nodded.

S

Alya stared at the document Marinette’s sister had put in front of her.

“This is a cease-and-desist order,” Explained Skye, “This should get Mdm. Jones off your back and this,” Skye produced another document, “is an application for a restraining order, which should prevent her from approaching you.”

“And,” Alya swallowed, “and this will stop those letters?”

“They should.” Answered Skye, gently, “If you need some time to think about it, feel free to take as much time as you need.”

Alya nodded, taking the documents, and put them in her bag, intending to discus them with her parents.

[alnstkinkmeme]

Till trauma exploration, sexual/abusive Lukatill, romantic Ivantill, reincarnation AU, angst

tags : ooc (till fucks but for sad reasons), till w a pussy, underage substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, luka and till hatefuck while drunk and ivan sees the very end of it, ivan kinda suffers too, heavy ptsd, past sa/sexual abuse (in the alnst universe), just more sad the dove has been shot and its not coming back, also mizi suffers a bit too, could also be abo for added suffering (as in when till and luka hatefuck till could be in heat, gets pregnant, and then erases it all while ivan is losing his mind), undealt with trauma everyone was reincarnated, modern times setting. the main four grew up as childhood friends, no memories of alnst, till still has a crush on mizi as a child but realises pretty quickly she's very much into girls when they were all around 13 and found mizi and sua kissing everything goes by fine, nothing out of the ordinary. not until one night when they were second years in high-school where till and mizi both remember everything, and not just remember, they can see it as if it was yesterday. they can feel the sensations. specifically for till, he can see ivans death, smell the rain and feel the kiss he and ivan shared, and worse than that. he can feel what urak did to him, every sensation and smell and touch is fresh in his mind. during alsnt everyone was so on edge wondering if they would make it to the next day, dealing with traumatising situations everyday, so they never really had the time to sit down and process their emotions or trauma. that meant that till was immediately sent into a downward spiral.

it starts with cutting class (ivan notices but doesn't comment), then moves on to worse things fast, smoking, drinking, getting a fake id from luka due to his rich kid bullshit privilege (in exchange for the id he gave luka a blowjob, luka said it as a joke but till ended up doing it). till uses the fake id to go to clubs to try and numb his mind enough to not have thoughts, he loses his virginity to a guy probably old enough to be a slightly young uncle in a dingy bathroom stall. he without realising it sought the horrible feelings arak gave him during his abuse, it was all he knew and it was so fresh in his mind it felt like everything he ever experienced before he remembered immediately disappeared. he continues to sleep around, with both men and women, he felt actual pleasure more so with women as they had the same downstairs equipment so they were able to please him a lot better. he became good at sex, he never fully enjoyed it though, it was simply to numb himself further. ivan notices things pretty quickly, from tills breath smelling like nicotine and cheap booze, to marks all over his collar bones and neck that he tried and failed to cover with bandaids or concealer. the heavy eyebags under his eyes and the biggest thing, him distancing himself from everyone and everything. time skip something something they make it to college, tills behaviour doesn't stop and his friends (mainly ivan) have had enough bystanding and want to stage an intervention. that intervention ends in a lot of yelling, fighting, mizi being completely silent the entire time due to her having a pretty good understanding of why till is doing this (she probably would've spiraled too if she didn't have mizi), hyuna and ivan are having the biggest reactions, ivans mask fully gone and his worry and anger at such a bad breaking point he cant control his emotions. hyuna is pissed in a big sister like way, she's over protective of till and basically is his big sister. somehow some way till ends of physically fighting ivan, hyena tries to get him off and ends up getting elbowed in the face. and luka is just standing there, looking down on till. [Please read the rest on the meme! Tumblr won't post it all]

to add your own prompt, please see the meme or send one to our inbox! | to see all the prompts in one place, check the index, or the tags below

[princess-of-the-corner]

Turnabout Snapshot(s) maybe? because Vincent is a photographer. but also what is the full story behind the blackmail part?

Oh that could work!

Putting the actual blackmail part under the cut because it's skeevy but I can get into skeevy plots with this au because they're all adults and lawyers and there's murders!

Jagged is trying to leave Bob's record company because Bob is a FUCK. He's famous enough that he wouldn't have any trouble signing with a new one, or may even go ahead and make a record company of his own. He just has to wait a little bit for the contracts to be up.

Bob doesn't like this because Jagged is basically the Golden Goose for him. Even though XY is popular, he's 20 now which is 'old' in terms of teen hearthrob pop idol so his time is limited as he doesn't have enough genuine talent to be more than a pretty face.

Bob starts trying to dig up dirt on Jagged to blackmail him into staying, but he can't find much of anything? Jagged is surprisingly clean for a rockstar. No illegal drugs. He's pretty loyally with Penny at this point. The only scandal he had was Luka's existence, but that's already public knowledge

So he decides to create a fake situation and has XY help. Basically just having XY talk his way into Jagged's hotel room right at the same time Bob gives Vincent the code to sneak in and take pictures, and hope XY can at least make it look like Jagged is trying to sleep with him? Not the worst but it would be 1.) an affair 2.) an affair with a male 3.) an affair with someone so much younger than him(even if XY is of legal age). So like yeah it's still blackmail that people would pay money to make it Go Away.

Obviously Jagged is not interested at fucking all, but XY just has to make sure that Vincent gets a compromising shot, right? Maybe get Jagged far too drunk to realize what he's doing.

Part way into the night XY decides he can't go through with any of this(Jagged is actually really nice and is giving XY the 'sorry your dad fuckin sucks would you like help getting away from him because I know people' speech)

XY panics and has a fight with Vincent in the hotel room trying to get the camera to delete the photos that were taken. He manages to win that fight.

Unfortunately Bob was keeping an eye on things and is pissed that XY is ruining things. Knowing that blackmail is a loss but unwilling to let Jagged jump record labels, plus knowing he can't let word of what they tried to do get out, he goes for killing Vincent and framing Jagged for it.

Jagged, during this whole confrontation, is /really/ fucking drunk. And he has no recollection of any of this happening the next morning.

[verfound]

FIC: "Of (Not) Telling the Parents" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Direct continuation of Of Lost Luggage, Shirts, and Other Things. Quick & Rierse know what they did. 😂🖤

Read on Ao3

Prompt 63: Stage Fright

Luka wasn’t used to having this problem.

He was a professional rock star.

Like…still starting out on his solo career, sure – he had a handful of EPs under his belt, and he was working on his first full-length album.  He had opened for Jagged friggin’ Stone – had played in Jay’s own band! – before sold out arenas across the globe.  He’d been on TV – he’d been on Saturday Night Live!

And every time he took the stage it was…effortless.  Making music had always felt like breathing to him.  Playing was second nature.  There was nowhere that felt more like home than behind his guitar.

…well.

Maybe one place.

Marinette’s arms were starting to feel more and more like home with every passing day.

…which was probably what had led to the current problem.

Standing outside her parents’ bakery.

Marinette tucked against his side, her arms wrapped securely around his middle.

And scared absolutely shitless to go inside.

“…I can’t do this,” he said, shaking his head.  “We should come back tomorrow.  Darning, I am not rested enough for this.  I am not caffeinated enough for this.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” she giggled, looking up at him.  “Breakfast.  Decent coffee.  Exciting news.”

“We can come back tomorrow,” he insisted, squeezing her hand.  “Or the day after.  Technically, there is no news yet.”

“Bullshit,” she said, tugging him down for a kiss.  “There’s news.”

“I haven’t technically asked yet,” he insisted.

“There is news, Luka Llewellyn Couffaine,” she huffed, kissing him again.  “You aren’t taking this one back.”

“I can’t take back something I didn’t –” he tried again, but she just pulled him into another kiss that…honestly?  Left him a little dizzy.  It probably wasn’t safe for public display, either – even in Paris.  Especially in front of –

“SABINE!!!!  SHE SAID YES!!!!”

…shiiiiiiiiit!

The next thing Luka knew, Marinette’s mouth had been jerked away from his own as Tom hoisted them both up in a bear hug.  The world started spinning around him, and he groaned as he ducked his face against Tom’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his flipping stomach.  That probably wasn’t the best idea, because Tom was still whooping and hollering and was entirely too exuberant for the way his head was pounding.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Tom whooped.  “See, Luka?  What did I tell you, son?  There was no possible way she’d ever say no – she’d be crazy to!”

He clapped a hand on his back, and Luka hadn’t even realized he’d put them back down until his knees buckled under him and he went tilting towards Marinette.

“Luka!” she cried, rushing forward to catch him.  He groaned as he slumped against her, and she laughed breathlessly – maybe a bit manically – as she rubbed his back.  “He’s had a long couple of days – maybe…go easy on him?”

“Isn’t that what I should be telling you, mon choux?” Tom asked with a wink that had Marinette shrieking at him as her face lit up with a fiery blush.  “Oh, relax – I’m not that ignorant to what young people in love get up to!  Especially young people in love who are about to be married!”  He leaned in even closer, and Luka wasn’t looking but he was pretty sure Tom winked at them.  Winking would be a very Tom thing to do, especially when he followed it up with: “Besides, where else are my grandbabies supposed to come from?”

“…kill me now,” Luka groaned, his voice just low enough that he hoped only Marinette heard him.  She smiled and patted his back, and he almost smiled when she kissed his shoulder.

Until Tom laughed, grabbed his other shoulder, and pulled him back into a half-hug.

“Now, now, Luka, none of that,” he chided gently.  “This is good!  We need to celebrate!  Have you two thought about any details yet?  Themes, colors, your cake, a date…?”

“Tom, please,” Sabine chided as she followed a customer out the door.  She waved goodbye to the woman, who was giving her a knowing smile, and turned back to her husband.  “He just got in today – within the last hour, from the looks of it.  Let the poor boy find his footing first.”

“Oh, pah – he’s fine!” Tom said, shaking him.  He turned to Marinette with a grin.  “Well, mon choux?  Let’s see it!  I’ve been waiting years for this!”

“Papa…” Marinette sighed.  Luka looked up just in time to notice Sabine’s eyes had looked to Marinette’s obviously, painfully bare fingers.

“Marinette, sweetheart?” she asked.  Marinette looked up, her eyes widening when she saw Sabine’s pointed look.  “Is…there something you maybe don’t need to tell us?”

“What?  No,” Marinette said, quickly tucking her hands into her pockets.  “We’re engaged.”

“We are not,” Luka groaned, dropping his face in his hands.  “We can’t be engaged until I ask you, and I’m not asking you until…just tell them, darning.  This day can’t get any worse.”

“Luka, stop it right now,” she huffed.  She stepped over to him and pulled him into a hug, thwacking the back of his head before bringing it down to her shoulder.  “Dummy.  I don’t want to wait for a stupid ring – yes, you dummy, it is just a stupid ring,” she bit when he tried to argue, because it wasn’t.  It was her nonna’s ring that she’d been in love with since she was a little girl, and using it as her engagement ring was supposed to be this big, stupid, romantic gesture that she was going to love, and he’d gone and lost the damn thing like the damn idiot he was.  Why would she want to marry him after he lost her nonna’s ring?  “I want to be engaged to you now.  I want to be married to you now.  Stop making such a big deal out of this – it’s just the jetlag talking.”

“It is not,” he insisted, but then he shook his head and pulled away, blinking at her.  “…you still want to marry me?”

“Yes, you idiot,” she laughed.  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you since the airport!”

“But I lost the ring,” he insisted.

“You what?!” Tom yelped, and he winced as he glanced back at him.  He leaned closer to Marinette, whispering probably not quiet enough as he kept his eyes on her father.

“…don’t tell Tom,” he said.  “Marinette.  He’s going to kill me.”

“Oh, son, I’m not…” Tom sighed, his expression crumpling, but Marinette was already turning Luka’s face back towards her for another kiss.

“You didn’t lose the ring, Luka,” she said.  “The airline did.  You just…made a rookie mistake.”  She looked around him as he slumped against her, smiling sadly at her parents.  “He left it in his suitcase.  And the airline put it on the wrong plane – we’ll have it back in a few days.  He’s just…it’s been a rough couple days, and he’s too tired to be sensible about it.  Or to accept that I’m saying yes with or without a stupid ring.”

“He was really excited about…” Tom started, but he shook his head and chuckled.  “It’s all right, son.  These things happen.  Next time you’ll know to keep the important stuff in your carryon.”

“Ask him about the time he lost his lucky rolling pin sometime, dear,” Sabine said, reaching over to rub a hand along his back.  “It took us a month to get it back, all because he was afraid security would consider him a terrorist.  He was inconsolable.”

“All right, all right – don’t get me started on questionable packing choices, sweetheart,” Tom said, smiling fondly at his wife, “or I’ll tell them how your brother got us hung up in security for three hours for smuggling contraband into the country.”

“Oh, he’s already done that,” Marinette teased.  If he was more awake, he would probably beg her to not spill his secrets like that.  Especially the embarrassing ones.  Especially to her parents he needed them to keep liking him…  “He loves his Lucky Charms.”

And he might have laughed, if he didn’t feel like they were all ganging up on him.

“Why do I feel like I’m losing here?” he asked, sighing as he pressed his forehead against her neck.  She was too comfortable – he was going to fall asleep where he was standing, if he wasn’t careful.

“You’re not losing,” she said softly, her fingers running through his hair.  “You get to marry me.  How is that losing?”

“…I can’t marry you yet, though,” he sighed.  “Stupid Crusher.  Stupid Fang.  Stupid airline.  Stupid me.”

“I should get him home,” she sighed.  “I thought coffee might help, but I think sleep will work better.”

“Of course, dear,” Sabine said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.  “Get him home.  We’ll celebrate later – because we are celebrating, yes?”

“Yes,” Marinette said, nodding firmly.  “It wasn’t how he wanted to…ok, fine, technically he didn’t ask, but you can’t tell someone you have a ring waiting for them and then…yes, we’re celebrating.”

Tom laughed and scooped them all up in one last hug, and Luka groaned as he lost his balance again.  It was all right, though: Marinette was still holding him, and Tom was holding all of them, and Tom would never drop them on their asses like that.  He was pretty cool like that.

“Of course we are,” Tom said, and Luka groaned as he ruffled his hair a bit too enthusiastically.  “You two are getting married!”

Luka glanced up at Marinette as those words sunk in, and a stupid smile filled his face as he saw the grin on hers.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid anymore.  They were going to get married.

And that…that was pretty damn cool.

[writeandsurvive]

Could I request a Luke Leone from Fire Country x female reader.

Hey anon! First of all, excuse me for taking so long to get this done! And second, I really hope this is what you were looking for. I'm not really not with my writing lately, but I really wanted to write for the gorgeous Luke Leone! Let me know if you enjoyed it 🫶🏻

Warnings: drunk!reader

Sunshine and Rainbows ~ Luke Leone

Luke Leone checked the time on his phone after the knocks at his door woke him up. With his eyes still half closed, he wondered who the hell was knocking at 4 in the morning, but as he heard them again, he knew and in the end, he wasn't totally surprised. 

He opened the door to find you, barely standing on your feet. You had some glow sticks around your wrists, your hair seemed out of place - probably not the way you made it earlier. Luke quickly scanned your body from head to toes, and tried to remain unmoved by your tiny dress - at least pretended to. You looked up to him with those sad puppy eyes, and he grabbed your hand to make you step inside his apartment. As you almost tripped on your feet - the heels weren't clearly not helping - Luke grabbed you by the waist and directly took you to his bedroom. You didn't protest at all, but rather loved it. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck. "You've got to let go of me, sweetheart." He gently said as he put you down on his bed. 

"No! Never." 

"We've got to get you into something comfier."He forced a bit on your arms to make your hold loosened. You whined as he pulled away. 

He started to work on your shoes, and you actually moaned had your feet were free. Then he grabbed a t-shirt of his and put it next to you. "Do you think you can get out of this dress and into this shirt by yourself?" All you did was lifting your arms in the air. 

Your dress was so short, it was practically not covering your butt anymore. Luke only had to pull a little and he was able to take it off your body. 

Extremely short dress and no bra. It was turning him on as much as it was making up angry. How many men stared at you a little too much tonight? How many tried to touch you? Hit on you? Did you let them? Did you do something with one of them? He tried to shake those thoughts out of his mind, as he covered you with his own t-shirt. He loved that very much. 

You were half asleep already, meaning that Luke needed to hurry. He shook your legs a little. "Babe, don't fall asleep just yet. You need to take your contact lenses off." He fished into your purse, finding the little container for your contacts. He didn't pay attention to the flying paper that fell onto the floor. 

"Can't--" You mumbled. 

He softly stroked your face, trying to get you to wake up a little. "I'm not putting my fingers in your eyes. You just need to grab them." He'd seen you do it many times, sober and drunk, without any mirror. He knew you could do it. "You can't sleep with them on." 

After some more encouragement, you finally got them out. Luke was actually impressed how easily you did it even in your drunken state. "Good girl," he praised you, and that got you to smile. 

"I'm your good girl, yes?" You leaned in, kissing him. It was sloppy and awkward, definitely not the best kiss, but Luke indulged you for a few seconds. "Make love to me, Lukas." You laid down in such a rough movement, you almost bounced on the bed. "And make the room stop spinning! It's not funny!" 

Questions were running through his mind, but he figured there was no point to ask them at this point. He managed to get to drink some water, and got some of your make up off as you left some of your products in his bathroom. 

Your head was pounding terribly. Your month was dry like ever, you felt dirty, and your stomach felt really funny. It was only when you left the bedroom, and couldn't find the bathroom that you realized that you weren't at your place. "Bathroom is right here." You heard. Slowly looking up to Luke, you felt very much ashamed. You followed his finger and went into the bathroom - even though you knew exactly where it was - without saying a word. 

Luke prepared breakfast, made some coffee and had some water and pills ready for you. He didn't know how long you stayed in the bathroom, but it was very long. When you walked into the kitchen, you were wearing the tiny dress again, you smelled freshed out of the shower - you obviously used Luke's shower gel but he couldn't focus on that - and there was no traces of make up on your face. 

"I'm sorry for barging in here in the middle of night." You said without looking at him. "I shouldn't-- I'll be out of your hair in a second." You were sitting on the stool, and started to put your shoes on. Before you knew it, Luke's hand on your ankle, preventing you from continuing. 

"I made you breakfast." He said, "But take those first." He approached the pills and water to you. You did feel embarrassed, but some aspirin felt like an amazing idea at this moment. He put your purse and shoes away as you swallowed the pills. 

"Thank you for breakfast, Luke, but I don't think I can eat anything--" 

"Just a little." He put the plate of eggs and waffles in front of you, alongside a coffee mug, before taking the stool next to you. "Two sugars and milk." He said, when you grabbed the coffee. 

"Thanks." 

You were not hungry at all, still feeling very much sick. But you focused on your plate, as you didn't want to look at him. Meanwhile, he was staring like he was studying you, taking sips of his own coffee. "Look, I'm really sorry for showing up here. I don't know why and even--" 

"You don't know how you got here?" He had an accusing tone and you shook your head no. He sighed loudly, a tiny growl making itself heard. "I think I already told you that if you ever needed a ride--" 

"I didn't want to bother you." 

"You came to my place!" He retorted.

"And I'm sorry for bothering you!" You raised your voice, and it made your head hurt a little more. 

"You didn't bother me! You never do." He said, calmly.

"You said I was clingy to your friend. You said that the lines were blurred for me now and you may have to stop seeing me."

Luke stayed silent for a moment, just staring. Eventually, he put his hand on your exposed thigh. "Please don't," you whispered but he didn't pull away. Instead, he stood up and got even closer to you. 

"I'm sorry." His free hand gently stroked your cheek. He could tell that you were on the verge of crying and he hated that so much. 

"Sorry for what you said or sorry that I heard it?" 

"Both." He admitted. "My friends, they--" he paused. "You know my reputation, okay. You know how I've been with women-- I just told him what he expected me to say." 

"Luke, you don't have to try to take it back, alright? That's how you feel, so fine, we're not seeing each other anymore. We were not in an actual relationship anyways, so it's all good." 

"Your mouth says things but your face says different." 

"I'm hungover."

"Then why aren't you looking at me?" 

Annoyed - and exhausted - you finally looked back at him, barely holding back your tears. "What did you want to me to tell, huh? That I fell in love with you, even though you told me not to?  That I want our relationship to be more? That I wish that you loved me back? It only hurts more because I feel so fucking stupid and ridiculous."

You didn't know what you expected Luke to respond, but you definitely did not expect him to crash his lips on yours. He kissed you like it was the last kiss. His hands were cradling your face, before one of them grabbed your hair in a fist. You were holding onto his t-shirt, trying not to melt away.

He pulled away, his eyes not leaving yours. He immediately noticed the tear rolling down your cheek and he caught it with his thumb. "I'm scared." He whispered. 

"Scared of what?" 

"You, me, my feelings for you. Your feelings for me." 

"What's so scary about those?" 

"The fact that I can lose you, I can hurt you, I can make you unhappy--" 

"Why do you only focus on the negative, Luke?" 

"Because--" he sat back on his stool, as he took a deep breath, close to tears himself, "Love has never been a positive experience for me." 

It was your turn to stand up, settling between his legs. You ran your hand through his hair. "I cannot promise you that it'll be all sunshine and rainbows, because that doesn't exist. But I am in love with you, Lukas. And I want to you to have a positive experience. I want to be your positive experience." You softly stroked his cheeks, "You deserve it. You're worth it."

His arms were tightly wrapped around your waist, as he pressed his forehead against yours. "You're too good for me."

"Date me for real and you'll see that I'm not." You joked, hoping it'll lighten up the mood just a little. You felt better when you heard Luke's adorable laugh. 

"Only if you throw away the paper in your purse, with a phone number written on it." 

[flannel-cladpika]

Hot Cocoa - Human!Sweden x F!Reader

A/N: Wrote this many years ago, but decided to come back to it and touch it up a bit.

TW: Fluff

The sound of wood being cut was the first thing to greet your ears as you opened your eyes. 

You looked out the frost-covered window beside your bed, only to see the familiar tall stature of your blonde housemate out in the mid-calf deep snow, wielding an axe and cutting up logs in only a sweatshirt and thick pants.

You reached for your phone on your bedside table. It was still only 7 in the morning and the current temperature outside was -28 degrees C.

You sighed. "He knows better than to go out without his coat."

You'd known the "Nordics" since childhood, and had grown up in the same neighborhood as them for a few years. Even when they all moved back to their homelands, you all still kept in contact regularly.

When you had decided to moved into an apartment in Sweden, you were welcomed by all your friends with a party and booze, which ended with a very drunk Matthias needing to be cared out the door by Tino and Lukas while Emil and Berwald looked on in a mixture of amusement and disapproval.

However, about a month into your stay, your apartment was flooded due to a plumbing issue, and left you with nowhere to stay for at least a few months. Berwald came to help you pack up everything that could be salvaged, and even offered up his home for you to stay in. You had agreed, thankful for his generosity.

You didn't know that you'd be finding yourself still staying there a year later, since the house was three times the size of your apartment and Berwald had insisted that you stay with him instead of going back to that "run-down place". He had a point. The place was old and there was always something that needed to be fixed.

Even after having stayed with the Swede for over a year, you still worried for his health whenever he went out into the cold underdressed.

So, after climbing out of your comfy nest of blankets and putting on the fluffiest coat in the closet along with your thickest sweatpants and snow boots, grabbed Berwald’s parka and headed out into the snowy wonderland.

“Berwald!” you called as you opened the back door, stepping outside and immediately noticing how the snow came up to your knees.

Said man stilled his axe at the sound of your voice. The male turned to see an image that made him almost chuckle.

There you were, trudging through the deep snow, bundled up in the large white fluffy coat he bought you (which he bought because he thought you looked cute in it), carrying his parka in your arms. You looked like a little snowshoe hare.

However, he soon became worried once he remembered how cold it was, and instead walked towards you to meet you half-way.

You reached up and put the large coat around the Swede’s shoulders, sighing as you did so. “Ber, I know you’re used to the cold, but you’re still human, and you need to stay warm! How many times must I remind you?” you scolded softly, not a trace of malice in your tone.

The man’s eyes softened at your actions, proceeding to put his arms through the sleeves of the winter garment. “Tack.” he replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

You smiled. "You're welcome. Now, I'm going to head in and go make us something warm. I'll see you inside." 

He nodded and turned back to the pile of yet to be chopped wood.

Stepping through the snow, you made your way back, taking off your coat and snow-covered boots once inside and changing into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt that said 'Let Me Have My Coffee First.' It had been a gift from Berwald, and while it was too big to wear out, you found that it made the perfect sleep-shirt.

You contemplated what to make as you looked through the fridge and cabinets. Having found milk, heavy cream, and chocolate, you decided that hot chocolate was a good option.

Just as you grabbed a medium pot that was hanging, you heard the back door open, letting in a small gust from outside.

You peeked out from the corner of the kitchen to look at the man who'd just come in.

It was a little comical. 

There he was; coat, pants, and boots all caked in snow, and a large arm-full of chopped logs in his hold. His hair and eyelashes still had snow stuck to them too, reminding you that you should’ve brought him his hat too.

You smiled a little before returning to the kitchen, hearing the blonde setting down the wood in the metal firewood holder next to the fireplace in the living room.

"I'm done with the firewood." the man stated aloud in his usual monotone and heading upstairs, likely to change out of his current clothes and into something more comfortable.

"Ok! Just starting on the hot cocoa!" you called from the kitchen, pouring the milk and heavy cream into the pot as you put the heat to medium-low.

After a bit, you heard Berwald come back down the stairs and head into the living room. You heard him opening the flue of the chimney and putting logs into the fireplace as well as the sound of him striking a match.

You smiled at the thought of a nice warm fire to sit by.

You continued to smile as you absentmindedly stirred the milk and cream, making sure the mixture didn't scorch.

After a few minutes of stirring and then adding the chocolate and a bit of cocoa powder to undercut the sweetness, you finally turned the stove off and went to grab two mugs from the cupboard.

Unfortunately, the mugs were on the top shelf and you couldn't quite reach them, though it wasn't without trying.

Suddenly, there was a toned chest pressed against your back and a muscular arm steadied on the counter to the your right while the other reached up and easily grabbed both the handles of the mugs you were hoping to get.

"Here you go." Berwald said, backing up to hand you the cups and look into your eyes as you turned around to face him.

You had to suppress the blush that wanted to creep onto your cheeks from the blonde's close proximity. He wore a pair of black sweatpants that seemed to hang off his hips, and a grey t-shirt that hugged his form just enough that you could make out the faint outlines of his muscular figure.

"Thank you." you said as calmly as you could, turning back to the stove with the mugs.

"No problem. I'll go get some blankets." the male stated, heading off towards the hallway closet.

You let out a small breath of relief before pouring the chocolatey contents of the pot into the two cups and adding some mini marshmallows from the pantry.

You walked into the warm, fire-lit living room with the two mugs in hand. Berwald opened up the large fuzzy blanket he'd grabbed and motioned for you to get under the covers. You carefully sat down next to him on the couch, offering him the mug that said "Viking Life" on it.

The icy-blue-eyed man hummed in satisfaction once he took a sip of the hot beverage, a miniscule smile on his lips.

"It's good." he stated plainly.

"Thanks." you replied, scooting slightly closer.

"(Y/n)?" the man asked, turning toward you .

"Yeah?" you responded turning your head to face the man whom you'd slowly grown to love over the past year.

Just as you faced the blonde, he leaned down and kissed you, catching you off guard. It wasn't forceful or needy, but it wasn't entirely chaste either. It felt like a kiss that you’d give your spouse as you left for work. 

Your cheeks bloomed with a red that would’ve put the Danish flag the shame.

“W-Wha-” you began, before being cut off.

"Jag älskar dig. I want you to marry me." Berwald said without a hint of hesitation or jest.

Your eyes widened as you took in that information. After a few moments however, you began to laugh.

"Is something funny?" Berwald asked, genuinely confused.

You sighed. "Ber, you can't just say you want to marry me when we haven't even dated." you explained.

"Do you love me?" the blonde asked, still straight-faced and no sign of being nervous.

You blushed at the question, but shyly nodded.

"Do you not want to marry me?" he followed up.

The blush on your cheeks only reddened. 

"I never said that." you replied.

"Then what is the problem?" the Swede inquired, seeming not to understand the issue.

"Berwald, we haven't dated or even had any kind of romantic relationship. Wouldn't you say that it's a bit too early for us to get married?" you asked.

The Nordic man pondered your words for a moment. He’d loved you for a long time, and from your reaction to his kiss and your answers to his questions, you felt the same.

"No, I don't. We have lived together for over a year and we've known each other for a lot longer. I love you and you love me, so I don't see any problem." the man stated, as though he wasn't talking about one of the biggest decisions of a person's life.

"I-I, b-but...umm.." you stammered, trying to think up a rebuttal to that statement.

"Well, y-you don't even have a ring for me, so-" you started.

But you were promptly cut off by the man before you fishing into his pajama pants pocket and pulling out a little velvet box. He opened the lid to reveal a modest but beautiful silver ring with a small icy-blue gem in the center.

Your jaw dropped at the realization that he was completely serious about this.

"Will you marry me?" Berwald asks, a faint hint of a smile on his lips.

You sighed with a chuckle. There was just no convincing him, was there?

"I will." you answered with a smile, kissing the man’s chocolate-flavored lips as he put the ring on your finger.

-THE END-

A/N: Sorry I’ve been gone for a while! I swear I’m not dead! Just been low on motivation and inspiration. This took A LOT of rewriting, as I wrote this many years ago back when I was in high school. I’d say about half of this is rewritten or completely new additions to the original draft.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you guys enjoyed!

Translations

* Tack - Thank you

* Jag älskar dig - I love you

[grizzlyofthesea]

Dumb Vocaloid Headcanons, Part 2: Crypton Future Media/Piapro

In general

Super futuristic androids built for singing and performing

No combat abilities like the Internet Co. Vocaloids, but they look more convincingly human than the male Poids and CUL (about on par with GUMI and Lily)

Live in a mobile cyber-home since they frequently need to travel for concerts

Have a giant stash/vault of all the things their fans have given them

Getting a bit anxious about moving to Piapro Studio, but generally optimistic about it

Close with the Zero-G and Internet Co. Vocaloids

MEIKO

The fun mom friend

Meant to be 30-ish years old

Confident and outgoing

Enjoys gardening and going on long hikes

Has regular lunch outings with Mew and Chika

Will do the "hold my beer/sake/whatever I'm currently drinking" thing to show off the most unexpected, random skills

A weepy/emotional drunk

Cishet ally

Unofficially married to KAITO

KAITO

The weird but cool dad friend

About two years younger than MEIKO, both in software release and in physical age

Huge history nerd

Favorite ice cream flavor is Blue Moon

Snuggles with his scarf like a teddy bear when he's sleeping

BFFs with Gackpo and Kiyoteru

Hates waking up before 2:00 p.m.

Pansexual

Unofficially married to MEIKO

Hatsune Miku

Super sweet and kind

Loves performing with her friends more than anything

Tries her best at everything

Puts on a more stoic, "refined" persona when wearing her Append gear just because it makes her feel cool

Was so proud of Teto becoming a SynthV vocal that she cried a little bit

Also super proud of GUMI kind of becoming the new face of VOCALOID now that Crypton has stepped away

Can be a bit too concerned with helping others; has a habit of overstepping boundaries

Confused by people declaring her the creator of Minecraft and Harry Potter, but rolls with it

Aroace; romance-favorable and sex-neutral

Kagamine Rin

Len's (slightly older) twin sister

Argues with Len over truly stupid things, but they love each other in the end

Exchanges fashion tips with Una

Loves cooking and baking; has nearly perfected her recipe for orange chicken

Super strong and athletic, with her favorite sport being volleyball

Adrenaline junkie; especially loves roller coasters

Her road roller privileges have been revoked after engaging in too much tomfoolery.

Genderfae, but still very much in the "egg" phase

Kagamine Len

Rin's (slightly younger) twin brother

Argues with Rin over truly stupid things, but they love each other in the end

Runs a gaming channel on YouTube called xXxBananaVobana07xXx

Knows how to play the keytar, the theramin, and the Otamatone

The sole driver of the Kagamine road roller after Rin's last incident

Had a parkour obsession at one point

Has sort of adopted Oliver as his little brother

Cishet ally

Has a slight fanboy crush on Sachiko but is really interested in SF-A2 miki

Megurine Luka

Autistic and has alexithymia

Writes poetry in her free time; said poetry is usually dark/brooding with vivid imagery

Wants to learn how to skateboard

Sometimes does 3:00 a.m. fridge raids. Always 3:00 a.m.

Tuna is her favorite, but she loves most seafood...except for scallops.

Doesn't smile much outside of performances, but when she does, you know she means it

Cares for Miku, Rin, and Len as younger siblings (even though she was released after them)

Gave the other Cryptonloids rudimentary lessons in English before they got their English voicebanks

Biromantic asexual; not currently interested in anyone

[kieran-the-writer]

Statement of Salome Lukas

XV. The Fog of the Lonely

//CW: Mentions of SH, dissociation

16th July 2007

As soon as Michael was out of sight, Salome pressed her back to the hull of the cargo ship she called her home, her legs weak and her breaths heavy, icy fog pouring out of her mouth with every exhale. Her skin felt clammy, as if she were coming down with a fever. It had been too long since she’d fed. She cursed weakly; the amount of time she could go without feeding the Lonely was growing shorter and shorter.

     She shook her head, not wanting to end her evening with that hovering over her head. It was probably nothing.

     Probably.

     With a steadying breath, she pushed herself off of the Tundra’s hull and began to walk in the opposite direction she’d seen Michael go. She didn’t want him to see this. Her wits were enough about her to remember that. Her vision blurred, but she had to keep going. She couldn’t let her uncle or Gerard know she was this week this soon after her last feeding.

     There was a small, hidden part of her that knew that Peter Lukas, her uncle and adoptive father whose approval she sought desperately, was just what Gerard had been trying to show her all along: a manipulator who viewed her as a tool to serve the Lonely: a monster, like the Eye’s archivist or the Spiral’s distortion.

     Salome shivered and forced her hazy thoughts elsewhere. Her glazed eyes focused on a hobbling, drunk middle-aged man walking in the other direction. She made a beeline towards him as cold fog spilled from her lips and dissipated into the air. As she approached, the man’s bleary gaze struggled to focus on her. “H-hey, what…?”

     Salome breathed out a thick cloud of fog, silencing the man and his questions, and when the haze cleared, all was still. She braced her hands on the brick wall behind her, feeling as her nerves began to wake up and her mind cleared at this sacrifice to the Lonely.

     “I’m sorry,” she murmured through a choking wave of guilt, but she knew the man wouldn’t hear her. He wouldn’t even see her; he would continue to wander, sobering up to find himself forever lost and alone in a cold, endless, empty, and utterly silent London until he eventually died in that place. She normally didn’t cast people into the Lonely like that; she would usually just find an empty nightclub with a stage and karaoke machine and feed off the passive loneliness and fear of the smattering of patrons as she sang some song or another about heartbreak or loss. But she’d waited too long, and she knew that if she’d waited any longer, she would have slipped into a heavy dissociative state, and she didn’t have enough bandages for that right now.

     A brief flash of resentment towards her uncle ignited in Salome’s gut before she smothered it. He just didn’t know how to raise me, she told herself. He didn’t do this on purpose.

     A jarring chime met her ears, and it took her a moment to get out of her own head and recognize her phone’s ring tone. She glanced at the caller ID, flipped her phone open, and hit accept.

     “Yes, Uncle? …Yes, the fundraiser ended a short while ago... …I’m just topping up. I’ll be back soon,” she said, her voice almost robotic. “Yeah. Goodbye, Uncle.”

     Salome hung up her phone, chewing on her jaw. As she walked, she picked at her hands, thinking about her two interactions with her uncle that evening. First, he sought her out at her room, and now he called her. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal. She wondered if Elias had something to do with it. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d gotten caught in the crossfire of their bickering.

     She sighed, her mind beginning to clear after this last feeding. Good.

     Then she felt awful for thinking that, and she made her way back to the Tundra for a few minutes of wallowing in her guilt in the shower before trying to sleep.

     Her phone buzzed in her hand. Flipping it open, she saw a text from Michael: “I had fun on our date tonight. Sleep well, Sal :)”

     Salome’s lips quirked up as she sent a quick reply: “I did, too. Thank you. Let’s plan another in the morning. Goodnight, Michael. :)” before slipping her phone into her bag and continuing the worn path from the familiar London docks to the cramped cabin she called her home.

--

Masterlist

Taglist: @atinyladybug-daydreams @teethsies-chompies @zeelzebub