Hello hello hello, I'm here to ask for like headcanons or an imagine (or whatever, idk, can you tell I've never requested a fic in my entire life) about Luka slowly realizing he actually has feelings for someone? Like genuine ones? I'm not super duper into Alien Stage but I imagine him being super fake (and manipulative lol) especially when it comes to dating. Like, I don't even think he would get into a relationship if he doesn't get something out of it, but what if he, y'know, slowly starts to realize he actually likes the person he's with? Like how would he deal with that and stuff 🫣
GOLDEN BOY, BROKEN GLASS, MAY THE SUN SHINE ON YOU !!
premise— it’s hard to know, to realize, that he has fallen in love, not when the genuine concept of it has been slowly eradicated and painted into something twisted and cruel by the hands of these aliens; alternatively, what he’s like slowly falling in love and coming to terms with it.
content tags and warnings — pairing: luka (w/ gender-neutral reader) | kind of established relationship, not an alternative universe, slight angst with fluff, i fucking hate you heperu (heperu is luka’s guardian alien) | wc: 0.7k ; headcanons
"jellyfish"— i was listening to sad music so now this came out as sad
The ‘love’ LUKA had received from Heperu was the only love he had known and so, he views the world around him in the same lens, carving his heart out of the same rotten wood that was used to create his being. What can he do in the face of something so tender, so sharp, so gentle, like needles stabbing into his hands but caressing him sweetly all the same?
Was love meant to be as draining as this? Was it meant to tire and wear out his bones? Was it meant to make his heart clench, thorns ripping at his throat? Was it meant to make him reach his hand out for you, to let his touch linger across your skin, to always seek the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his? It’s a little strange, the odd ‘pain’ in his chest blurring into an unfamiliar feeling of comfort and warmth. He’s not one to run away at the face of such unusual feelings, but maybe he’ll turn away from it, to dismiss it as nothing (it’s not what Heperu taught him).
When did his eyes start to follow you everywhere you go? When did he begin to wish to chase the shooting stars, despite the constricting feeling on his throat, just so he could have the chance to see you, bare and flawed underneath the same skies that had forsaken him, that had abandoned you? He never had seen the problem of hurting others or being hurt as long as it is meant for him, for his own good, but when he sees twist in your expression, the hollow in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, he’s suddenly bitter and thorned. He tries to be kind, in ways that he knows of, in ways that he has seen, experienced, and learned.
To be seen as nothing but manipulative and cunning with his princely and charming demeanor, to be seen as a blank slate, to be seen only on the surface of his sweet smiles that never seem to reach his eyes. But it’s better to be misunderstood than to have you see the wretched and tangled strands that is sewn to create the fabric of his existence, to be viewed under the same limelight he is being put beneath than to have you notice the bleakness of color in his golden eyes that rivals the sun—except his light never exists, only when he gazes at you does it ever shine.
It’s hard to understand him either—not when he cannot understand himself also. He wishes to take away all of your pain, all of your problems and worries, to have you rely on him and only on him, to view the world in your eyes, to cup your cheeks in his hands and press his lips against yours (he has heard of the act of kissing, a strange way to convey and pour one’s desire, adoration, and love to another). He’ll lie down on the grass with you and watch the stars, he’ll listen to your songs and music, he’ll let you put those red flowers found in the Anakt Garden on his hair.
Maybe he does and say such things in the name of ‘control’, ‘possession’, ‘obsession’, or anything that can be used to label whatever reason he has just so he could see that pretty shade that adorns your cheeks, the smile that etches across your lips, the sound that bubbles out of your throat, the eyes that glimmer when you look at him. Maybe it’s just those feeble things that make him feel humane, that makes him break away from the shackles that binds him to the image of ‘Luka, the star’, that makes him realize that he does adore you.
(Whatever this fragile bond you share with him, built on weak foundations of the love he has known and the love you have shared, fragile and fleeting like glass teetering on the edge, he’ll seize it, he’ll shape it, and he’ll make it unbreakable—he’ll make it real, he’ll make it his.)
He likes to believe that he deserves the kind of love he has yet to know of, out of the clutches of Heperu and into the warmth of your own. To hold it into his hands, tightly, unrelenting, never letting go—contorting into control as long as it is his.
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— summary; after you become a zombie, luka follows after you.
— warnings; DEAD DOVE, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. MINORS DNI.
— notes; this is my first time writing for zombie stage & i literally do not watch it, i just happened to see luka one day and attached myself to him like a leech bc boy hot. reblogs are appreciated and pls donate to my Ko-Fi if you like my stuff!
He comes to see you alone.
No managers.
No cameras.
Just the whisper of the door easing open and the sound of his shoes on concrete, too light, too clean for a place that smells like blood and rotting flesh and disinfectant.
This is what your world has been reduced to, when the spotlights dim and the cheering fades away.
A small holding room under the stage, dark and dank and cramped, tucked out of existence.
And you — what’s left of you — strapped tight to a metal table. Wrists, ankles, chest. Blindfold pulled tight over the empty sockets of your eyes.
They took them last week for the auction block.
Your nostrils flare.
Catching the scent of him, of the faint chemical sweetness of his stage makeup under the burning, scorching antiseptic.
Then you thrash.
The restraints scream under how hard your hips jerk up, hard enough to bruise. A long, high-keening sound rips out of your throat — Lu . . . Luh — wet and bloodied and ruined, syllables collapsing into moans, because the infection has robbed you of just about everything. Your fingers claw helplessly at nothing. Your body twisting and contorting towards the sound of his voice like a plant turning towards sunlight.
Luka stops just inside the door. He doesn’t flinch at the smell of rot and decay, the blood dripping from your body, how you twist and jerk helplessly against the restraints trying to get to him. He tilts his head in the same way he does on camera when he’s deciding how much of himself to give the fans. Princely. Bored. Interested under the surface in a way that never quite reaches pity.
Nnn . . . Lu . . . Aaaa . . .
He moves closer.
Stops at the edge of the table.
“. . . You still know me.”
The words sound soft. Pleased, almost, in his mouth. That little tilt in his tone, the one he uses when something finally behaves the way he wants.
He doesn’t take the blindfold off. He likes seeing you like this — straining, desperate, mouth agape and wet with saliva and blood, your body desperately trying to crawl out of its own skin to get to him. And when he trails two fingers down your jaw, fingers brushing through the wet mess of blood and saliva trickling down the corners of your mouth, you surge up so hard the table creaks, until your skin splits and fresh blood pours. A long, broken moan. A please lost somewhere in the wetly desperate mess of sound.
“Shhh,” He croons, and his voice is poison encased in velvet. The smile on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m here.”
He leans in.
The kiss isn’t gentle.
He doesn’t know how to be gentle; he never learned softness and tenderness after he was broken and rebuilt by that hellish place he was born and raised in.
He kisses you with the same precise cruelty he brings to his performances: he seals his mouth over yours and takes and takes until there is nothing left of you to give. Tongue pushing past your teeth, swallowing down iron and infection and the sound you make when you finally get what you’ve been thrashing for. You kiss him back like you’re starving. Like some buried piece of you is still in love and screaming through all the rot and decay.
He can feel the infection, surging through his cells and rewriting him from the inside out. The fever-sweet wrongness coating his tongue, sliding down his throat. He doesn’t flinch. Luka swallows all of it, and when he pulls back, a thread of saliva hangs still, connecting the two of you. His lips are shiny, and his eyes are dark in a way the cameras never get to see. The veins on the inside of his wrist are already darkening with poison, standing out in stark contrast to the milky paleness of his skin, and still, Luka looks at himself like he’s checking his newest costume.
“That's the transfer,” he murmurs, sweet, almost fond. “But it won’t be enough if I'm careful. And I'm never careful with you.”
He undresses you next.
Slow. Methodical. The paper-thin hospital shift pushed up, restraints loosened just enough to bare what he wants. The sensation of cool air on your fevered skin. His palms map you like he’s memorising a new choreography — waist, thighs, the soft flesh of your breast, the place between your legs already slick from nothing but his voice and the kiss.
Another wrecked moan leaves your lips while you writhe and arch so hard that the chest restraints creak, trying to say something that might be please, more but comes out sounding like p-hh… ahh— Luk-aa — nonsense words broken into pieces.
“Still mine,” he says quietly. Not a question. Just a fact.
When he gets your clothes off, your body decaying and ruined and beautiful, he doesn’t bother undressing himself — just enough for what he means to do. Belt, fly, expensive fabric shoved aside so he can line up and sink into you.
You break.
A raw cry tears out of your throat — high, shattered, half his name and half nothing at all. Your body clamps down around him like it’s trying to keep him inside you forever. He groans low against your throat, forehead pressed to yours over the blindfold, breathing through the strongest wave of infection yet that’s rewriting him from the inside, and through the hotter, simpler fact that he’s inside you and you’re his again.
He treats it like a private performance, the idol and a private, captivated audience of one. Driving into you with deep, measured thrusts at first — perfect control, hips rolling like he’s still on beat. As every roll of his hips drives the infection further into him — unnatural heat blooming under his skin, pulse stuttering, that beautiful composure breaking apart at the edges as the pleasure and virus are entwined together.
He fucks you like a vow. Like possession. While he fucks the sickness into himself and the last clean pieces of you into him. You can’t form sentences, just moans, sobs, broken gibberish — Luh — ah — ah — and he kisses it out of your mouth. Wet. Open. Filthy. Messy. Licking the garbled syllables off your tongue and giving them back as a low laugh against your teeth.
“Still in there,” he pants, almost wondering, almost cruel. “Still mine.”
He comes inside you, with a quiet, wrecked sound. His mouth sealing over yours again, kissing you through it, hips stuttering, the infection lighting up his bloodstream like stage lights. You follow on the feeling of him pulsing inside you and the taste of his breath going wrong-sweet. His name, ruined, leaving your lips over and over, nothing but heat and vowels and want.
He doesn’t pull out right away. He stays buried inside you still, forehead to yours, thumb stroking the rotted corner of your cheek and lips where you’re still trying to speak. Purple already creeping under his own nails. He looks wrecked and radiant and beautiful.
“There,” he whispers, almost tender, in the way that only Luka can make tender sound like a claim. His skin is already unnaturally warm, his eyes fever-bright. His pulse stutters, his heart beating wrong in his chest. “Now you don’t get to leave me, and I don’t get to leave you.” A soft, ruined little laugh. “Perfect, isn’t it?”
Later, when the alarms finally blare, and the handlers finally come flooding into the room, they find the famous idol half-dressed and already turning into a monster, his body still twined like a vine around the zombie on the metal table who won’t stop making soft, broken sounds into his throat.
And Luka, smiles that stage-perfect smile with blood on his teeth, a terrible, beautiful thing and says:
Can I request luka x reader from alien stage comfort?? I am craving one after watching wiege whatever it’s reader comforting him or the opposite); (doesn’t have to be after wiege either can be anything)
a/n : thanks for requesting !! also of course heh. I actually don't know how to write comfort (after 2 years of solely writing angst...) so I'm sorry in advance LMFAO
whisper to the trees (ask box) ... : open! feel free to request more alien stage, or any of the fandoms that are listen in my master list ^^
Backstage
luka x reader (comfort)
Today wasn't your day, and Luka could see that. Having been...well, not exactly the best person for his life in terms of empathy or sympathy, he gauges his competitors' emotions and laughs at the slightest hint of despair.
So when he sees the same expression that he usually delighted in when face to face against his 'rivals' on stage, now on you, he wasn't exactly sure on what to do.
You were sitting in the make up room, after another nameless PR stunt for the aliens. Something about this day in particular felt draining. Could it have been the burn out, perhaps? Or maybe something else? You weren't sure, but you felt like shit.
Luka was 'busy' reading his schedule(given to him by his alien secretary), but after hearing what felt like the millionth sigh from you, did he finally take action. He takes the space next to you, and immediately, you began to speak.
"Sorry. I disturbed what little bit of personal time you have left-"
"Is something going on?" He bluntly said, eyes staring straight into you. You paused. His words were outright, and his blank expression yet slightly gentle tone caught you off guard.
"No, not really... Just a bad day, I suppose."
He hummed, seemingly not believing it, but he nodded either way. He leaned back on the couch, eyes fluttering closed and his fingers holding the tips of your hair.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
You remain silent, and this time, he is the one that sighs. But not from sadness, no.
From exasperation.
"You don't need to tell me right away if that's what's keeping you from talking. I don't know what happens to you 24/7, but you don't need to pretend. We're not on screen, no one to see." His voice slightly shook as he continued. "So, just let it out. Even if you think I'll laugh. Even if you think it's stupid to."
"...I don't know. Today just feels worse than all the other days."
"Mmm...thats okay to feel. I've had days where I wanted to just run away."
"But you didn't."
"Because you're here."
"You can't be serious."
"Try me." He smiled. "It's true, though. I would've left this god forsaken place already if it weren't for you staying here. I wouldn't last that long out as a rogue, though."
You cracked a half hearted smile. "I don't exactly believe you, of all the humans, to abandon your survival over me."
He blinked yet again. His words took a soft but serious tone.
" I'm genuine about that. What, you really think I'm all bark no bite?" He smiles, pinching your cheek, though it wasn't painful. "I'd abandon all of the achievements I have and all of the privileges I forced myself to achieve for you. I mean, it wasn't my desire to be this way. It was my guardian's. What I really want is just you. You could beat me up, do anything you want, as long as you even acknowledge me."
"You're weird Luka."
"Whatever keeps you not being so depressed on me. Though I suppose I've failed in that aspect." Sighing, he tilts his head. "You don't need to be perfect all the time, you know. I see the way you try. And it's painful. Painful for me to watch you fight back tears and let out a fake smile; the same one I use. I prefer to see you genuine, even if that means all I see is your snot filled face. I'll still love you either way."
When you heard his last sentence, it cracked open a dam in you.
Something salty and wet dripped from your face, and before you realized it, you were crying. His words were cliche, standard, downright creepy, even, but he looked genuinely concerned at your demeanour. His hands twitched, expression contorting to one of acceptance and affection as you suddenly embraced him. It was warm but weirdly cold (mostly because he was just cold all the time). His hand wiped your tears, the other lightly rubbing your back. Hums left his mouth as each stray tear that left your eye was wiped away.
" Must be a really bad day, huh?...You'll be okay. Whatever you're crying about, I think it'll just pass."
His usual masked face he used, now discarded into a more vulnerable state. Now, it was a comforting, almost sweetly warm Luka. No longer was his on-stage persona, and the only thing that remains is the essence of emotion that even his guardian couldn't remove from him. Being human.
Request: "I’d love you forever if you did something fluffy with luka from miraculous" @toiletpaper
Warnings: A few season four spoilers
A/N: Luka is absolute boyfriend material and the only reason I'm not mad Mari dumped him is because Adrien is literally her other half (and I've been waiting for that ship to be canon for ages but I digress)
mister softy
he's just such a sweetheart yk?
definitely plays the guitar for you
writes you songs sometimes
not even just love songs
sometimes it's songs that suit whatever you happen to be feeling lately
he's attentive like that
takes you on chill dates
like to cafés or the eiffel tower
cuddle dates too
and lemme tell ya
cuddles with this boy would be immaculate
i'm talkin 10/10
likes being big spoon the best
tucks you under his chin and pulls you flush against his chest
gives you little kisses atop your head sometimes
also likes when you lie with your head on his chest or lap
just plays with your hair, all of his love evident in every gentle movement
gazes at you tenderly when you talk, giving you his complete undivided attention
w i l l take you dancing
i cannot be convinced otherwise
whether it's classes or slow dancing under the moonlight
as long as you have fun and he gets to hold you, that's all that matters
will teach you guitar if you want
he's an excellent teacher
patient, kind, understanding
also wraps his arms around you from behind and places his hands on yours to help you find the correct chords but anyway
always holds your hand when you two are walking together
it doesn't matter where you are or where you're going, he's going to hold your hand
it's just second nature honestly
puts a lot of thought into your gifts
he wants to tailor each one to suit you perfectly
all the forehead kisses
definitely one of his favorite places to kiss you
it just properly expresses how deeply he cares
that warm and gentle love he has
but also hand kisses
like if he's holding your hand, sometimes he'll bring it up to his lips and press a soft kiss
or if his head is on your lap and you're playing with his hair, he'll take your hand for a second to kiss your palm
it's just instinct for him to return the affection
would introduce you to his mom
would be like really chill about it too?
like no stress, all vibes
he's just really confident she'll like you
would be thrilled if you got along well with his sister
esp if you two actively hang out
her making friends and getting closer to people makes him happy, and if it's you? even better
if the most important people in his life get along, he's thriving
probably introduced you to marinette
mostly to show that he's got no secrets from you but also because she's still one of his closest friends
really wants you two to get along
issues between the two of you would break his heart
also!!!
meeting his dad
when i tell you it was something else
listen
mans is
a lot
like, he's a famous rock star for a reason
he's got a crocodile for goodness sake
(who loves you, btw)
but i mean, if anyone's gonna immediately welcome you into the family, it's jagged
automatically gives you his hoodie/jacket if you're cold
like doesn't even say anything, just takes it off and hands it to you/wraps it around you
def brings you food when you're sick
and a hoodie of his for extra comfort
he knows his scent is comforting so he wears it all day beforehand to make sure it smelled like him as much as possible
he just wants to be the amazing boyfriend you deserve
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
So,,, I really love you and your blog so catch me requesting often. Could you pretty please write Luka with a character that has the Bee Miraculous? She's cute and sweet but won't hesitate to stand up to any bully!
Sweet Bee Miraculous User x Luka headcanons!
-At first, meeting you, you were so kind and sweet that he wanted to protect you. He knows that most people who’re that sweet get bullied and pushed around by others.
-So when a bully came up to you, he was about to defend you to hell and back!
-Until you verbally destroyed that bully with your sweeter-than-honey voice.
-He was shocked but in a good way and was impressed then his jaw dropped to the floor after catching you transform into the hero Honey Bee 🐝 to defeat an akumatized bully.
-He’ll ask after the battle and will keep your secrets to the grave.
-Luka absolutely loves you! And lives to see you stand up for others and kick ass!
-He’s supports you no matter what, need answers to your homework because miraculous duties come first? No problem! Need an excuse to escape to transform into Honey Bee? Also no problem!
-You’re his queen and he’s your king <3
-When you’re not busy with school or miraculous duties, you and him are stuck to each other like glue- no more like honey.
-He writes songs about you, Honey Bee. To others he’s just a dedicated Honey Bee fanboy but he then winks at you, your and his little secret!
[SPOILERS]
-After Luka gets the snake miraculous, you and him are a team!
-You two become a duo almost as famous as Ladybug and Chat Noir!
-Who would’ve known that a bee and a snake would make such a good couple?
FACE CLAIM: In game, A male model (whose name I don’t know ^_^;;;)
Visual:
HAIR COLOR: Black
EYE COLOR: Storm Blue
SKIN COLOR: Tan/Olive
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Vibrant blue eyes, stern expression, dark stubble
HOME COUNTRY: Free Marches
HOME TOWN: Ostwick
RACE: Human
HEIGHT: 6′1″ ( 185.42 cm)
WEIGHT: 195 lb (88.4505 kg)
BODY TYPE: Tall, Muscular/Athletic
Visual:
GENDER: Male
PRONOUNS: He/Him/His
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
VOICE: British Inquisitor voice except a bit deeper and gruffer
PERSONALITY: Stern, Passionate, Headstrong, Flirty, Blunt, Loyal, Kind
PSYCHOLOGY: Slight Social Anxiety, some Insomnia, PTSD after Trespasser
PHYSICAL HEALTH: Healthy
PARENTS: Caius Trevelyan (Father), Helena Trevelyan (Mother)
SIBLINGS: Andreas Trevelyan (Eldest brother), Cassian Trevelyan (Older brother)
EXTENDED FAMILY: Maxwell Trevelyan (Younger Cousin), Matthew Trevelyan (Younger Cousin), Vincent Trevelyan (Younger Cousin), Marcus Trevelyan (Younger Cousin)
ACCENT: Free Marcher
OCCUPATION(S): Former Senior Enchanter of the Circle of Markham, Inquisition Agent, Inquisitor, Red Jenny
TALENTS: Mage (Knight Enchanter, Battlemage, Spirit, Elemental), singing, befriending small animals, jewelry making
TITLE(S): Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, Lord Trevelyan
NICKNAME(S): Tough guy, White knight
ALLERGIES: None he knows of
FAVOURITE COLOUR: Dark Blue, White
FAVOURITE FOOD: Apple Pie
FAVOURITE ANIMALS: Small birds, Horses, dogs
PETS: None
BEST FRIEND: Dorian Pavus (Inquisition), Varric Tethras (Inquisition)
FRIEND(S): All of the Inner Circle, Dagna, Scout Harding, Josephine, Leliana
