#I only watch for the Luka moments now

[nionom-art]

Hey, are you up to date with MLB? If yes, what are your thoughts on Argos (both character and design)?

I’m not up to date, but, I have watched the big Agros episode (I cannot remember what it was called off the top of my head- you know, the one where he sings). At the moment, the only characters I am happy with writing wise are Felix and Kagami (although their current relationship has a massive power imbalance as long as Felix has the peacock miraculous).

As for his design, I actually love it? I can’t quite explain why, but the weird, out there colors, the hood, boots, and the shape of the overcoat just kinda all go together in a way that makes me happy. Also, the outfit looks fire in extreme lighting situations.

[eggonthemoon]

Alien Stage Round 6 Character Analysis and Lyrics Breakdown

Okay so obviously spoilers, don't click Keep Reading if you haven't watched Round 6.

God fuck it's so fucking beautiful, where do I start?

I don't even know what is going on with those rapid shots of what I assume is some form of experiment that Till was involved in. I have no clue what the goal was or if it succeeded but somehow (for no real reason other than that one image of Luka standing behind Till ominously) I feel that Luka is involved with it.

Was this an attempt by Heperu's (Luka's guardian) rival to make a human capable of going up against Luka? Till being the youngest and Luka being the oldest also means that Till's guardian could have caught on to what Heperu was planning to do with Luka and then start experimenting on humans shortly after and it would still somewhat line up with the timeline.

But I'm getting into conspiracy territory, back to suffering!!

Allow me, to the tips of your fingers

Allow me, to the ends of your feet

Dissolve me in your gaze

I don't want to let you go

Oh this hurts. Seeing him look so defeated and exhausted, you can tell that even though to the public it's not certain whether Mizi died or not it doesn't matter to him. Because she's still gone away from his world, where he is unable to reach her. He wants to dissolve and die but he also doesn't want to let her go if there is even a sliver of hope that she lives.

Please, leave me scars

Please, hurt me so that

Not a single drop of me remains

Let me drown in you

The footage that plays to these lyrics really show how defeated he is. He refuses to sing, his passion for the art completely dead and buried. And (his guardian I assume) when someone shoves the fact that Mizi is gone in his face he lashes out and punches one of the aliens near him.

Until these falling stars

Are buried in the blur of time

However his heart isn't entirely in it and is quickly apprehended.

He is beyond exhausted and doesn't even protest or put up a fight while (the same alien he punched btw) another alien runs their fingers through his hair.

On your icy lips

Read my soul

Yes, my soul

He hopes that even if Mizi is dead that her spirit watches over him, seeing his soul and by extension, Him, for all that he is. Every thought and breath until he falls asleep is for Mizi.

But didn't we already know this is how he'd be like? Time for something juicier~

Even if your cold words

Carve scars beneath my eyes

May they linger on your tongue

You can break me apart

God this is heart shattering. Even if Till doesn't care for him, even if Till throws hurtful words his way, Ivan will still lie awake at night, cherishing what sliver of attention he is given. It doesn't matter if Till hates him, because as long as he is on Till's mind Ivan is happy. He is entirely in Till's hands, capable of being build up or torn down depending on how much (or how little) he is perceived by him.

Notice my pain

And mend me right now

To quiet my fears

I'll drown in you

He wants so deeply to be seen by Till, noticed. Till who doesn't let anything hold him down and always picks himself back up became a pillar of hope and strength to Ivan. It didn't matter how or in what context he gets to be seen, so he went out of his way to provoke him just to get Till to look at him even for a moment.

This was mentioned a while back on VIVINOS Patreon but the entire incident where Mizi and Till got attacked by that hound monster was orchestrated by him. I feel like there is two possible reasons for this depending on when in the timeline this takes place.

Either he wanted to test Till's resolve in hopes of being proven wrong about his courage (after all your hopes can't be dashed on the rocks, if you never had hopes to begin with) only for his obsession to end up growing even stronger than before.

Or he tried to let Till get roughed up enough that he'd be transferred (solitary confinement? emergency room?) somewhere else away from the others at Anakt, so they could escape together.

But we all know how that turned out.

Either way what Ivan wants isn't freedom, he's long since given up on that. There's no point in his freedom if the person that inspired him to yearn for it isn't by his side. He needs Till there, his very presence to reassure him that no matter what Till won't falter. But he failed to take account of the one thing that weakens Till's resolve.

Mizi.

Mizi is to Till what Till is to Ivan. And so without Mizi in his world Till crumbles. Since Till will only go where Mizi is and Mizi already gave away her heart to someone else, it's impossible for Ivan to be free while keeping Till in his world.

And so he follows him, resigning himself to a life without freedom.

Sick of these nights to come

To be engulfed in silence

But the distance between them is killing him, and each and every day they come closer to their inevitable doom.

It doesn't matter if they believe the lie the aliens told them, that if they die singing they will be blessed. Because what is the point in that? How can going somewhere far away from the people they love be a blessing?

In your gaze where I am seen

Consume me

Yes, me

His desires mirror Till's. He wants his soul to be seen by him, recognized for his undying love for him. He wants Till to see that he can give him all that Till yearns for in Mizi and more.

To this everlasting melody

Face to face we dance

And yet Till still refuses to look Ivan in the eyes.

Things get a little unclear but since they aren't shown singing here and there's no flashback to accompany the lyrics, we can assume that at this moment Till most likely gave up on singing.

With our story

Lost in forever's embrace

I'm not sure if Ivan intended this from the start or if it's a decision he made then and there but one thing is certain. If Till stops singing then that would mean he forfeits, he'll lose. Till has never once given up. Even when he went back for Mizi that night, he never intended to leave her in the first place. But now without her he crumbles.

And Ivan can't let that happen, not like this.

Moral grey area aside, this scene is so deeply moving to me

And I don't say that in a romantic context, absolutely not. This is something much deeper than just love. This is the culmination of everything they've been through, all those moments lead up to this.

Because this isn't a kiss.

This is Ivan throwing his life away for Till.

Till was going to loose, the only thing that could overturn that is if his opponent attacks him. The kiss was to distract Till and keep him from catching up to what Ivan was planning.

Just look at the contrast between their first and second kiss. As soon as the score board shows Till is in the lead, he gives him a gentle peck on the lips. The contrast is stark and full of meaning. This was the genuine kiss, hidden behind a smokescreen of aggressive bravado created from the previous one.

And it worked. Till was completely convinced that Ivan's intentions was to kill him, and he was fully intent on letting him.

I know a lot of people doubted his intentions. Because he didn't let go of Till's neck the minute he saw their scores, a lot of people assume that this was Ivan trying to drag Till down with him.

But the minute he coughed up blood what does he do?

He smiles.

and let's Till go.

He's only human. He might know logically that Till has won the match. But emotionally he refuses to let go until he is certain.

Until he knows for a fact that he is the one bleeding and dying he'll keep up his charade.

And then.

And only then.

Till truly sees Ivan.

As he dissolves in his gaze.

[anantaru]

DAY 3 — BIMBOFICATION

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

kink. bimbofication — the process of transforming into an airheaded slut, perfectly happy to be used and degraded

𖧡 — including — luka, blade

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, bimbofication, dom/sub dynamics, oral (male! receiving), throat fucking, slight power imbalance, rough, name calling (stupid, fucktoy, slut), petnames: angel, both parties are consenting

𖧡 — LUKA

you whimper softly as your throat was being nipped on by luka, lightly bitten into with milky-white canines edging the outline of your pulse, your body quivering symphonic, hand in hand, with your enjoyment. and the man was satisfied with you, because the sounds rushing from your lips were so sweet, whilst luka suddenly found himself wanting to draw this out as long as possible, to watch how his stupid, pretty darling glances up at him, moaning louder and having absolutely no control over the situation.

it's like your brain was shutting off at the feeling of him slowly lining himself up with you— yet you loved every moment of it, couldn't wait to feel him stuck between your thighs, suddenly beginning to begging for it, mewling out a cute, "i need you, i miss you." whilst the hunger didn't cease in you, longing for more;

"please please luka, let me feel you."

luka hums softly before smirking out, "you're so cute.." he teases, blinking down, "just look at you.." before bumping the first two inches in, his thick tip splitting you wide apart, witnessing the wetness that immediately covers his cockhead as he pulls out— only to press it back in. you're moaning out together, as one, your eyes shut tight when he's slanting his entire weight on top of you, your face hiding in his neck while you‘re pressing heavy kisses on top of him.

you push your hips up further, pushing up still for more, leaving your cunt open and exposed for luka— so he could claim you, fuck you stupid for all you care, and when he praises you, declares you his one and only fucktoy, princess and perfection, you feel tears well up in your eyes. in that moment and in this state of delicate bliss, you just let him use you as he pleases and needed it, your pussy creaming, your liquids secreting such a sweet liquid on his girth that luka just pushed and pressed back into you, groaning into the back of his throat at how you were gripping his cock so hard, almost pressing him out from the intensity.

absolutely no control, that’s how he’d describe you— but that's okay, especially when you're feeling so pleasured, so stimulated, and just at peace, complete even.

𖧡 — BLADE

blades loves how responsive you were to his cock deeply burrowed in between your hot mouth, how sensitive you were while you're hiccuping because of the strong care of his length slotted in your mouth— you think you can sense him in your throat already, he‘s so big and heavy that your jaw clenches, harmonious melodies of your chokes holding his mind hostage. it's how you show him how you’re feeling when he's using you— or, how he's making you feel with his cock melting on top of your tongue, his cock thudding, the onslaught of pleasure resulting in grinding his hips into you.

your cunt flutters around nothing in frustration when you inch your mouth into his length, in and out, your mouth twisting over the flesh so it's all wet and soiled, whatever made it easier for you to just keep floating and sucking him off— you're his beloved airhead, always wanting to cling on his cock as long as you could, never stopping drinking up his creamy cum as well— your used, puffy lips stretched thin as your eyes roll back before consuming copious amounts of his pre, the bitterness tasteful, it has you rub your legs together when you didn't even realize the advanced pace blade was going for now.

it's the easiest that way, when it's blade who makes the decisions for you, because frankly, you didn't need to make decisions, it's jarring and makes your head hurt, you'd rather have your sweet, perfect blade do it and do anything under his will. you only need blade, point blank, rolling more of your mouth against his dripping cock when having him entirely in you, hiccuping around the length. blade can feel it, your throat constricting, of course, he can notice it all.

the way your hands are a little trembling, yet desperately holding onto his upper thighs for stability, your nails biting into the clothed skin and ripping into the fabric— yet he pays it absolutely no mind, encourages it even when you’re bobbing your head over the length, all he could really do is watch the mess evolve in front of him and have you slide his cock in the way he wanted it, holding onto your head while mindlessly hissing out when he ruts his hips back in the fieriness of your mouth, then growling when you pierce your foggy gaze up at him.

to fill the void inside you, from all the parts of your life, you required blade to fill it up— your beloved blade, beginning to stroke your head and whisper sweet nothing above you, "you‘re so eager." he claims, "fuck— my eager angel." and that alone was enough to give him his strongest orgasm.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {7}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: A short skip over the winter break and into 2024 season.. Warnings: 18+ only, fluffies WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight

Christmas Eve 2023 - French Alps The air was still when you woke to a fresh dumping of snow on the mountain. The window provided a picture of tranquillity and the embers in the fire gave a peaceful glow to the dark wood walls. Charles had disappeared at dawn for a morning ski with Arthur and you squinted against the white glare to try and find them on the mountainside. 

You probably could have gone back to sleep if it wasn’t for the door crashing open and the sudden weight of a child on your legs. Penelope crawled up to the headboard with a squeal and jumped into your arms as Max just reached the bedroom door. 

“P, watch out for auntie’s tummy,” Max reminded. She now had to watch out for yours and Aunt Vicky’s tummy, since your sister had announced her pregnancy a few weeks ago. “Sorry, she slept the whole flight so she’s full of energy. I tried to get her to play with Luka but she wanted you.”

“That’s okay,” you said as she burrowed under the blankets and put her cold feet on Lando’s back. “Are you excited for Christmas?”

Penelope nodded eagerly while Lando slowly woke and you were grateful he was wearing a hideous pair of santa-themed pyjama pants. With even more children around for Christmas this year, everyone had taken to wearing pyjamas. It was good for moments like these, but bad for quick access when you were spooning in the night.

“Papa let me open some presents early!”

Max disappeared out of the room with a wave, heading back to his suite with Kelly down the hall. The small mountain retreat had been completely rented out for another combined family holiday and at the rate the Norris’, Leclerc’s and Verstappen’s were procreating, an entire resort would be needed to host you all next year. Your bet was on Max and Lorenzo becoming fathers next. 

“How exciting! And what did you get?”

Penelope held out her arm to show a mermaid inspired charm bracelet. “That’s beautiful!”

“It’s got Ariel!” she exclaimed, pointing to a red haired mermaid as she bounced excitedly. 

“Is that an earthquake?” Lando asked as he scooped the little girl up into a hug. “No, it’s little P. Why are you waking your favourite uncle up so early?”

“You’re not my favourite,” she said with a fit of giggles.

Lando hung his head and shook it with fake sadness. “Kids are brutal.”

“Kids are honest,” you corrected before kissing his pout away.

“Gross,” P said as she screwed up her face and started to climb off the bed to find ‘Maxie’. She did a sudden u-turn and scrambled across the bed to gently touch your stomach before leaning closer and whispering, “Bye-bye, baby. Love you.”

She was gone again, this time the door swinging shut as she left with no farewell for you or Lando. He let out a little chuckle as he pushed you back into the pillows and drifted down the bed, taking the blankets with him. 

“Hello, baby,” he murmured softly to the bump. At just more than half way along your bump could no longer be mistaken for overindulgence or bloating. “You are looking lovely and round this morning.”

“Wow, you really know how to sweet talk a lady,” you chuckled as you combed your fingers through his hair.

“Shh, I’m having a conversation with my daughter, no eavesdropping,” he warned with a smirk before brushing your shirt up and pressing a kiss to your skin before continuing his conversation. The moustache and shaped beard he was slowly but surely growing thicker tickled with each whispered word, the movement of his lips dragging the coarse hairs over your sensitive skin until goosebumps prickled. 

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he said with a smile as the door creaked open and Charles walked in with wind-kissed cheeks. “I just want to hurry up and hold you.”

“Patience, mon cher,” Charles said with a grin, depositing the second layer of cashmere he had worn under his ski jacket on the coat hook. “It’s only four more months.”

Lando groaned at the reminder before shifting on the bed to make space for Charles. 

“Anything you want to add this morning?” you asked. 

You reached for the hem of the shirt, ready to pull it down if it was a no when a knock had you freeze. No, it wasn’t a knock. The thud hadn’t come from outside, but inside. You dropped the shirt and stared at the jut of your hip, right where the skin went soft as it stretched up to your ribs. That soft tissue bulged ever so slightly as you felt the strange sensation of pressure and it drew a gasp that shocked your boyfriends.

“What? What is it?” Lando asked, his voice thick with concern. 

“Give me your hand,” you ordered, already reaching for one of each as you placed them on the spot. “Shhh, just shhh.”

You felt it again and Charles exhaled a shaky breath that ended in a joyous laugh before grabbing Lando’s hand and shifting it slightly. 

“Wha-”

“Shh,” you urged as Charles pressed a finger to his lips. The silence grew and everyone held their breath, waiting.

The air wooshed from Lando with an exclamation, “No fucking way!” His eyes grew wide and he stared at his palm as if the imprint of his daughter’s foot was permanently held on his skin. “Holy shit! She…she…kicked.” 

Charles wrapped an arm around Lando as their shimmering eyes met yours. Pure happiness saturated the room, spilling out into the hall as the door opened and Oliver appeared a little worried. “Everything okay? I thought I heard Lando screeching.”

“Everything’s perfect,” Lando grinned, ignoring the joke he had heard since hitting puberty. 

“She just started kicking,” Charles explained with an equally bright grin, while you danced your fingers along your side, trying to tickle her foot. 

“Core memory unlocked, huh?” Oliver laughed at his brother’s eagerness, remembering the first kicks with his own daughters. “Breakfast is ready when you are.”

“Thanks, we’ll be there soon,” Charles said as Oliver closed the door again.

“Do we have to?” Lando asked as he curled back down and stared at your stomach intently. “I could watch this all day.”

“You can stay but I am hungry, and she is now shy,” you teased as you pulled your shirt back into place and climbed out of bed. With a groan he followed you to the walk-in wardrobe, just like you knew he would. 

“Is the powder good?” Lando asked Charles while they changed into some casual day clothes perfect for the warm interior of the retreat.

“It’s perfect,” Charles all but moaned, it was hard to believe they were talking about snow but both of them loved to ski. “Arthur wants to head back out after lunch.”

Lando looked at you and you waved a hand. “Sheesh, babe, I’m not your keeper. You can go if you want.” 

Lando hated being away the most, not that Charles enjoyed it, but there wasn’t the same level of separation anxiety that Lando had. “I don’t want to leave you here on your own.”

“On my own?” you laughed and slipped your feet into some simple flats before heading to the door. As soon as it opened the cacophony of everyone congregating in the great room down the hall spilled into your room. “I couldn’t be on my own if I tried.”

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxvertappen1, maxfewtrell and 1,382,589 others yourusername This kid scored the gene pool the lottery. Merry Christmas from my family to yours.

Round One - Bahrain 2024 Fuel fumes drifted up from the pitlane to the balcony you stood upon as the start of the season's first race grew closer. It was strange to look down the entire length of billboards and see no new faces among the driver line up. Fernando still filled the garage beside Lance, but you held no resentment for your replacement. He was making the most out of an opportunity and it almost gave you hope that even after leaving Formula 1, maybe - just maybe - there was a way to get back in. 

Next year would be interesting with so many contracts up for renewal. It was a chance to see new faces on the grid, or perhaps some old faces returning if rumours were to be believed. You wouldn’t mind seeing Sebastian make a return. For the moment, everyone was still too busy talking about Lewis and his move to Ferrari to give much thought to the other shocks that might come with the disruption. The open seat at Mercedes was going to be sought after by every driver stuck in a midfield car. 

“You look deep in thought.”

You broke away from staring at the starting lights to accept a cup of herbal tea from your mother. “Just thinking about how the grid will look next year.”

“Gotta get through this one first,” she reminded. “Speaking of…it’s going to be hard having a newborn at home with those two away so much.”

“I know,” you sighed, resting your arms on the balcony rail as you blew the steam from the mug. The wall calendar at home was already marked with the first half of the season, all the nights Lando and Charles would be away circled in red ink. It had been collectively agreed that flying with a newborn wasn’t a great idea so you would only attend the races you could drive to until she was at least three months old. “This year’s calendar is fucking intense.”

“I want you to know you can call me day or night, sweetie, and I’ll be on the next plane.” She reached for your chin and turned you to face her as your throat clogged with emotion. “I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to do on your own, you saw it firsthand.”

“You’ve got your own life, I don’t want you to drop it all for me.”

She laughed softly and wrapped you in a careful hug. “You’re my daughter, you are my life, my granddaughter is too.”

“Thank you,” you sniffled and wiped your eyes, seeing the cameras in the pitlane pointed your way. “Gah, you made me cry. Now I’ll be on fucking Drive to Survive. I can already see the subtitles ‘Y/N crying as the season starts without her’. Wankers.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at the camera and flipped them off, making you choke on a laugh. “So much maturity for a grandmother.”

“Yeah well I have been wanting to do that for a while, and I figure I can’t get you fired since you’re unemployed.”

You shared a grin and thought maybe you had more in common than you realised. You thought your fight came from Jos but now you saw a flash of it in her protectiveness and your chest warmed.

“I’m not unemployed, I’m a Lady of Leisure.” You laughed at the roll of her eyes before adding. “I might even get a Birkin for a push present to complete the initiation.”

“What the hell is a push present?”

“It’s a present a new mother gets for destroying her vagina pushing a baby out.”

It was her turn to choke on a laugh. “That’s a thing?”

“Apparently so.” 

“Does the baby not count as a gift?”

“Hmm, maybe you should go ask them?” you said as you jutted your head to the plethora of influencers walking around the grid taking selfies with everyone. She wrinkled her nose at the idea, quite content to stay out of the fray like you.

“No, thank you. Oh, there they are.”

You scanned the crowd and saw Max, Charles, and Lando walking out to the grid together, their heads huddled close as they tried to hear each other over the crowd. They made a beeline to the strips of red carpet and Max stood between the other two as they took their places for the national anthem.

“Looks like the podium lineup to me,” your mother whispered.

You chewed your lip and hoped the data from testing was as promising as it looked for McLaren and Ferrari. But you could never tell quite how much of it was real with the strategies and sandbagging. “I hope so, my boy’s need a good start this year.”

Click here for the next part.

[hypnogold]

Crescent High 3

Lukas had only been in the U.S. for a few months. He was used to the European school system, where high school was less about sports and more about academics. But here, in America, things were different. That’s what he liked about it. Crescent High, with its sports teams and school spirit, seemed like the perfect place to finally experience the “high school life” he’d only seen in movies.

On his first day, Lukas walked through the wide hallways, noticing the groups of students milling about, many of them wearing their team jackets proudly. He had always been athletic, but European schools didn’t have organized teams like this. At Crescent High, there were tryouts for soccer, football, basketball—every sport imaginable.

As he passed by the gym, a poster caught his eye: Soccer Tryouts – This Friday. A smile crossed his face. Finally, a way to connect, to belong.

Lukas arrived early, his nerves a mix of excitement and apprehension. He had trained in local clubs back home in Europe, but this was different. The players here were part of something bigger, something that extended beyond just the game.

He noticed how many of the guys had the same gleaming kits—the golden AC Milan uniforms he had seen around the school. They looked powerful, united, and for a moment, Lukas felt out of place in his standard practice gear. He asked if he could borrow a golden kit. Coach approved and gave him a normal golden kit, not yet transformative. He was powerfull on the field.

The coach, Johnson, was already there, watching over the field with a keen eye. As the tryouts began, Lukas quickly proved his worth, his skills standing out. He sprinted down the field, dribbling past the defenders with ease, his footwork precise.

By the end of the session, Coach Johnson approached him. “You’ve got potential, Lukas,” he said, his voice friendly but with an undertone Lukas couldn’t quite place. “You could really fit in here. How about you stop by next week for a meeting with the team? We’ve got some things we think you’ll like.”

Lukas grinned, nodding. It felt good to be noticed.

The Following Week...

Lukas was getting used to life at Crescent High. The cafeteria, the lockers, even the massive gym felt more familiar now. He had even made a few friends. Still, there was something about the golden team members—those guys who wore the shining AC Milan kits. They always seemed so tight-knit, always together, always smiling. It was like they knew something the others didn’t.

The meeting Coach Johnson had mentioned came at the end of the week. Lukas showed up, a little unsure of what to expect. Inside the locker room, some of the team members were already there. They greeted him like an old friend, patting him on the back, giving him compliments on his performance during tryouts.

“Here,” one of them said, handing Lukas a folded piece of clothing. “Coach wanted you to have this.”

Lukas unfolded it. It was one of the golden kits—the same shimmering AC Milan jerseys he had seen so many others wear. His heart skipped a beat. It felt like initiation, like he was finally being welcomed into something bigger. He wanted to be a part of it. But something about the kit… it seemed almost too perfect, too polished.

“Try it on, bro,” one of the guys said with a grin. “It’s part of being on the team.”

Lukas hesitated. “I mean… it looks great, but…”

The team members all laughed in unison, their voices almost synchronized. “Don’t worry, man. Once you’re wearing it, you’ll feel right at home.”

Over the next few days, Lukas kept the kit in his locker, untouched. Every time he passed it, he felt a strange pull toward it. It wasn’t just about fitting in—it was more than that. The jersey seemed to call to him, as if putting it on would make everything fall into place.

At practice, Lukas started to notice the little things. The golden team members seemed faster, stronger, more in sync than the rest of the players. They moved effortlessly on the field, their golden kits shimmering under the sun. And then there were the whispers—rumors about how once you put the kit on, you were changed. Lukas brushed them off, thinking it was just superstition.

But every day, the urge to wear the jersey grew stronger. It started as curiosity, then turned into something he couldn’t shake. And yet, he still resisted. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him felt that once he put it on, there’d be no going back. Coach needed Lukas faster, so he used his secret weapon on him... Now he is one of them.

As the bell rang for lunch, Paxton strolled confidently through the hallway, his shiny metallic gold AC Milan kit glistening under the fluorescent lights. His number, 18, stood out boldly on his back, and the once-nerdy Paxton had become completely unrecognizable. The sight of him made the rest of the school uneasy, knowing that once you wore the golden kit, you were no longer yourself.

Inside the locker room, a group of four students huddled together. They had been part of the resistance, still wearing their blue and white uniforms. Each day, they’d seen more students fall—either after practice or through “accidents” like stumbling upon a golden kit left conveniently in a locker.

“We can’t keep hiding,” Matt, one of the students, whispered. “They’ll find us eventually.”

“Coach threw a kit over the bathroom stall yesterday,” Jake muttered. “It enveloped Dan. He didn’t even have a chance. By the time I got out of there, he was already talking like them—‘bro’ this, ‘bro’ that. And that dumb grin…”

Across the room, Luke, one of their smarter classmates, had an idea. “What if we break into the supply room where they keep the golden kits? We could destroy them, or at least hide them.”

Matt nodded. “That’s risky, but it could work.”

Meanwhile, Paxton had overheard part of their conversation. He smirked and silently slipped away, already formulating a plan to alert the team. He knew they wouldn’t have much time to act.

Later that afternoon, the group snuck into the athletics wing of the school. The door to the supply room was locked, but Luke pulled out a bobby pin, his hands trembling slightly as he worked on the lock. Finally, it clicked open.

Inside, rows of golden kits hung neatly. Their shimmering glow was almost mesmerizing. Jake hesitated as he walked toward them, an odd feeling creeping up his spine. The room smelled faintly of leather and cologne—a familiar scent from the locker room, but much stronger here. His resistance started to waver. “Maybe we shouldn’t destroy them,” he mumbled, almost in a trance.

“What? Are you crazy?” Matt snapped. “That’s exactly what they want.”

Before Jake could respond, the door slammed shut. They turned around to find another Coach standing there, a wide grin on his face. “Going somewhere, boys?”

Luke, trying to keep his cool, stepped forward. “We’re just looking around, Coach.”

Coach’s eyes glinted, and he pulled a golden kit off the rack, holding it out to Jake. “You’ve always been one of my best players, Jake. Why resist the inevitable? This kit was made for you.”

The temptation was too strong. Jake’s hand slowly reached out, brushing against the kit’s smooth fabric. The moment he touched it, his pupils dilated, and a glazed expression washed over his face. He couldn’t stop himself from putting it on. As the shirt slipped over his head, his resistance faded away completely. His back straightened, and when he turned to face the others, his eyes had a faint golden spiral. “Bro, you gotta try this,” Jake said with a wide, stupid grin.

Now let's make you complete Golden Boy. The assistent of coach sprayed Jake, sealing his transformation.

1 week later...

Mr. Jonathan Hale had been teaching history at Crescent High for over a decade. The smell of chalk, the sight of textbooks stacked haphazardly on desks, and the distant murmur of students in the hallway had always made him feel at home. But lately, things had changed. The usual atmosphere of Crescent High was shifting, and Mr. Hale couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It wasn’t just the students' behavior, although that had certainly become strange. There was something deeper—like an invisible force spreading across the school. He had noticed it first in the small details: students whispering in the halls, odd glances exchanged during lunch, and then… the golden jerseys.

At first, they had only been worn by a handful of students, mostly athletes, but now more and more of his students were coming to class wearing the shiny golden AC Milan kits. The jerseys seemed to exude an aura of confidence, even power. But there was something unsettling about the way the students who wore them acted. Their demeanor had shifted; they seemed almost… too happy, too sure of themselves.

One afternoon, as the bell rang and students filtered out of his classroom, Mr. Hale sat at his desk, lost in thought. That’s when Matt, Luke, and Jake walked in.

Mr. Hale had always liked Matt and Luke. They were bright, engaged, and often stayed behind after class to discuss topics beyond the curriculum. Jake, on the other hand, had recently started acting differently. Once a quiet, reserved student, Jake now wore one of those golden jerseys—his face plastered with an easy grin that never seemed to fade.

“Mr. Hale,” Luke started, nervously glancing at Matt. “We need to talk to you about something.”

The older teacher looked up, curious but slightly apprehensive. “What’s going on, boys?”

“It’s Jake,” Matt said, his voice low. “And the others. There’s something wrong with the students wearing those golden kits. They’re different. We think they’re… being changed.”

Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jake, who was standing a bit too still, his arms crossed, that familiar unsettling smile plastered on his face.

“Changed how?” Hale asked.

“Bro, don’t be dramatic,” Jake interrupted, his tone casual but with an odd edge to it. “It’s just a uniform, man. We’re all part of the team now. You’ll get it soon.”

The way Jake said it made Mr. Hale’s stomach churn. Something wasn’t right.

Luke stepped closer to the desk, lowering his voice. “Coach Johnson… he’s behind all of this. The soccer team, the golden kits… once you put one on, it’s like you’re not the same anymore. Jake… he was never like this before.”

Matt nodded. “We’ve been trying to resist it, but it’s getting harder. They’re spreading those kits, and more students are getting pulled in every day.”

Mr. Hale leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He had noticed the change in Jake but had dismissed it as just the usual ebb and flow of high school life. Now, hearing Matt and Luke’s concerns, it all started to click. The golden kits, the changes in behavior, the increasing influence of Coach Johnson… it was all connected.

Hale glanced at Jake again. The boy’s smile never wavered, his eyes gleaming as if he knew something no one else did. For the first time in his career, Mr. Hale felt a chill run down his spine while looking at one of his students.

“You’re saying these jerseys are doing something to the students?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Matt nodded. “It’s more than just a uniform, sir. It’s like… once you wear it, you become part of the team. But not in a good way. You’re not yourself anymore.”

Luke chimed in, “We don’t know how to stop it, but we’re sure Coach Johnson’s behind it. He’s recruiting students one by one.”

Mr. Hale leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper. “And how are you two avoiding it?”

“We’ve been hiding,” Luke said. “We try to stay out of the locker rooms, avoid practice, but they’re everywhere. We don’t know how long we can hold out.”

Matt added, “We thought maybe you could help us. You’re the only teacher we trust. You’ve been here for years, and we know you’ve seen things change.”

Mr. Hale nodded slowly, his mind racing. “I’ve noticed something’s been off, but I didn’t realize how deep it went. This is… this is serious.”

Jake, still standing there, let out a soft chuckle. “Come on, Mr. Hale. It’s not that deep. We’re just evolving, bro. The team’s growing, and soon everyone’s going to be a part of it. You’ll see.”

Hale’s eyes narrowed. He could see now that Jake wasn’t just different—he was completely changed, like someone else entirely. And it was the golden jersey that had done it.

“We need to figure out a way to stop this,” Mr. Hale said, turning back to Matt and Luke. “But we’ll have to be careful. If what you’re saying is true, we can’t trust anyone who’s already wearing those kits.”

Matt and Luke exchanged a glance, relieved that someone finally believed them. But the weight of what they were up against hung heavy in the air.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Matt said, determination in his voice.

Mr. Hale nodded. “First, we’ll need to gather more information. If Coach Johnson is the key, we need to find out how he’s controlling this, and how to stop it.”

Jake stepped forward, his grin widening. “You can try, bro, but once you put on the kit, you won’t want to stop it. You’ll love it. Trust me.”

Hale ignored the ominous remark and turned his attention to Luke and Matt. “Stay low. Avoid any situation where they might get you alone. And if you see any more students changing, let me know immediately. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

As Matt and Luke left the classroom, Mr. Hale glanced at Jake one last time. “Jake,” he said quietly, “what happened to you?”

Jake smiled, that same eerie grin spreading across his face. “I became part of something bigger, Mr. Hale. Soon, you will too.”

Matt and Luke hurried to the locker room after their meeting with Mr. Hale. They knew they couldn’t hide forever. The golden team was everywhere, growing larger each day. Their hope now rested in finding out how Coach Johnson and the team were spreading this strange influence—and stopping it.

As they entered the locker room, the tension was palpable. Several golden-jerseyed players were gathered in the corner, whispering among themselves. Matt and Luke stuck to the shadows, watching from behind a row of lockers. They needed to be cautious; any wrong move could get them noticed, and worse—converted.

Then they saw it.

A group of guys from the soccer tryouts had just been called in by Coach Johnson. They were led into the back area of the locker room, where a strange setup had been arranged: bottles of golden deodorant lined up on the benches, their gleaming labels flashing in the dim light. Luke squinted, confused.

“What’s that about?” he whispered.

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know… but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

They watched in silence as Coach Johnson approached the new recruits, all of whom still wore their regular athletic gear. “Alright, boys,” Johnson said with a grin. “Time to welcome you to the team.”

He picked up one of the bottles of golden deodorant, shaking it before passing it to a player standing next to him. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Give it a spray.”

The player, unsure but eager to fit in, pressed down on the nozzle. A thick mist of golden smoke filled the air around him. For a moment, the entire locker room was enveloped in the glowing fog. When it began to clear, Matt and Luke’s eyes widened in shock.

The player’s clothes had completely changed.

His casual practice gear had been replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan kit, his number clearly marked on the back. His demeanor had shifted too—where there had been hesitation moments before, now there was confidence. He looked around at his teammates, his eyes shining with that same strange glow Matt and Luke had seen in Jake.

“Welcome to the team, bro,” Coach Johnson said, clapping the player on the back.

The player, now fully transformed, gave a slow nod. “Feels right, Coach,” he replied, his voice lower, more relaxed.

One by one, the other recruits followed, each taking a bottle and spraying themselves with the golden deodorant. Each time, the golden mist clouded the air, and when it cleared, their clothes had changed—just like the first player’s. Every new recruit stood there, beaming with the same mindless smile that had unsettled Matt and Luke from the start.

“They’re using that stuff to convert them,” Luke whispered, barely able to contain his horror. “That’s how they’re doing it.”

Matt clenched his fists. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening right under his nose. As his students filed out for the day, he found an excuse to head toward the athletics wing. If Matt and Luke were right, and Coach Johnson really was at the center of this, then the answers would be in the locker room.

As he approached the door, he heard the familiar sound of laughter—low, confident, the kind of laugh that had become common among the students in golden kits. He pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound.

What he saw inside confirmed his worst fears.

Coach Johnson was standing with a group of students, all of them now wearing the golden kits and blue shorts. They had formed a circle around a new recruit, one of the boys from the soccer tryouts, who was holding a bottle of the golden deodorant in his hand. The room filled with mist again, and when it cleared, the recruit had changed—just like all the others.

Mr. Hale stepped back, heart pounding. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could something as simple as deodorant be part of the transformation? It didn’t make sense… and yet, there it was.

Hale retreated from the locker room, his mind racing. He needed to regroup with Matt and Luke. They had to figure out how to stop Coach Johnson, how to stop the golden deodorant from spreading to more students. The school was falling under the influence of the golden team, and if they didn’t act fast, it would be too late.

As he left the athletics wing, he spotted Matt and Luke by the entrance. Their faces were pale, but their eyes were determined.

“We saw it,” Luke said quietly. “We saw everything.”

“So did I,” Hale replied, his voice firm. “And now we know what we’re dealing with.”

Matt nodded. “What do we do next?”

Hale looked back at the locker room, then turned to his students. “We need to find out where that deodorant is coming from. If we can cut off the supply, maybe we can slow them down.”

Luke stepped forward. “And then what?”

Mr. Hale’s eyes hardened. “Then, we figure out how to break this… before it’s too late.”

The atmosphere around Crescent High was growing more intense by the day. The golden jerseys had spread beyond just the students; now even some staff members were wearing them. Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the eerie feeling as he passed the once-familiar faces of colleagues who had recently donned the shiny kits, their expressions vacant and their enthusiasm almost robotic.

The school’s transformation was escalating, and it wasn’t just the students being targeted anymore. Each class gets another colour shorts to know who is who.

Gym teachers GOLD:

Math teachers BLUE:

History teachers BLACK:

Biology teachers WHITE:

Matt, Luke, and Mr. Hale huddled in the history classroom, piecing together what they’d witnessed. “It’s spreading faster than we thought,” Matt said, his voice low. “It’s not just the blue students anymore.”

“They’ve started recruiting anyone who sets foot in the school,” Luke added. “Teachers, janitors, even delivery people.”

Mr. Hale nodded grimly. “The deodorant. That mist—it’s how they’re doing it. We have to move fast. If we don’t, there won’t be anyone left who’s not part of this golden team.”

Mr. Carter

Mr. Hale had always respected Mr. Carter, the math teacher across the hall. He was quiet, always kept to himself, but he cared deeply about his students. So when Mr. Hale saw him walking into the staff lounge wearing one of those golden kits, a sinking feeling settled in his chest.

He had to talk to him.

Later that day, Mr. Hale caught Mr. Carter in the hallway. “Carter,” he called out, his voice hesitant. “You got a minute?”

Mr. Carter turned, and for a brief moment, his eyes seemed to light up in recognition. But then, just as quickly, they dulled again, replaced by that same unsettling grin Mr. Hale had seen so many times before. “Hey, bro!” Mr. Carter said, his voice unusually cheery. “What’s up?”

Mr. Hale’s stomach churned. Carter had never spoken like that. “I wanted to ask you about… your new look.”

Carter chuckled. “Oh, this?” He tugged at the golden jersey, its fabric shimmering under the hallway lights. “Coach Johnson hooked me up. Said it was about time I joined the team. It feels good, man. You should try it.” Blue teacher means Math bro! All the students are now becoming blue students.

Hale’s heart raced. He had hoped that maybe the teachers were somehow different, that they would be immune. But no, Carter was fully under their control now.

“What happened, Carter?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm. “How did you… change?”

Carter’s grin widened. “Coach gave me a little nudge, that’s all. It was during lunch—just a quick spray of some new cologne he said he was testing out.” Carter leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Honestly, I didn’t think much of it at first. But after I inhaled it, everything just clicked, you know? I felt like part of something bigger.”

Hale swallowed hard, realizing the golden deodorant wasn’t just for students. Anyone could be converted. “You don’t… feel any different?”

“Only better, bro,” Carter replied, clapping Hale on the shoulder. “You’ll see.”

It wasn’t long before the golden team’s influence began to spread beyond the school. Delivery trucks rolled in and out of the Crescent High parking lot daily, and the golden team saw an opportunity to expand their reach.

One afternoon, a delivery guy named Mark pulled up to drop off sports equipment for the athletics department. He was a regular at Crescent High, often bringing in boxes of new uniforms, water bottles, and other gear for the teams. He didn’t think much of the kids wandering around in golden jerseys as he unloaded the boxes from his truck.

As Mark was organizing the shipment, a few of the golden team members approached him. “Hey man, need a hand with that?” one of them asked, flashing the familiar grin.

Mark shrugged. “Sure, if you guys don’t mind.”

As they helped him carry the boxes to the storage area, one of the team members pulled out a small bottle of the golden deodorant, holding it discreetly behind his back. When Mark wasn’t looking, he gave a quick spray, filling the air around them with a thick, golden mist.

The transformation happened almost instantly. As the mist cleared, Mark coughed lightly, rubbing his eyes. When he blinked again, his clothes had changed. His usual delivery uniform was gone, replaced by a golden AC Milan jersey, his new number shining on his back. He didn’t even notice at first. But as he stood up straight, the change settled in. His posture shifted, his expression softened into that familiar, vacant grin.

“Bro, you good?” one of the team members asked, knowing full well what had just happened.

Mark blinked, his eyes glowing faintly for a moment. “Yeah, man,” he replied, his voice relaxed and calm. “I feel great.”

The team members laughed, slapping him on the back. “Welcome to the team, bro.”

Mark smiled, completely unaware that just minutes ago, he had been a delivery driver with no ties to Crescent High. Now, he was one of them.

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale was trying to focus on his lesson plan, but his mind kept drifting back to the growing problem at Crescent High. The golden deodorant had clearly become a tool for mass recruitment, and it wasn’t just affecting students anymore. With teachers like Mr. Carter and even outsiders like delivery drivers falling under its control, the situation was quickly spiraling out of control.

He had to act.

“We need to do something about the deodorant,” Luke said, pacing around the room. “If we don’t stop them from spraying it, everyone’s going to be part of the golden team by next week.”

Matt nodded. “I’ve seen them spray it on guys when they’re not looking. It happens so fast. One minute they’re normal, and the next, they’re wearing the jersey.”

Mr. Hale stood up, his decision made. “We’re going to need help. We can’t do this alone anymore. If they’re targeting anyone who sets foot in the school, we need to find people who haven’t been exposed yet. But more importantly, we need to figure out how to reverse this.”

“But how?” Luke asked. “We don’t even know what the deodorant is made of.”

Hale glanced at the door, making sure no one was listening. “I know a few people outside of school—some old friends from the district. Maybe they can help us get to the bottom of this. But we need to be careful. If we get caught, we’ll end up like Carter or worse—like Jake.”

The three of them nodded, knowing that time was running out. The golden team was growing stronger, and soon there would be no one left who hadn’t been sprayed by the golden mist.

The plan had seemed solid—sneak into the athletics wing, destroy the golden jerseys and deodorant, and stop the transformation before it was too late. But Mr. Hale, Matt, and Luke had underestimated the power of the golden team.

As they crept into the athletics wing that night, the air felt heavier than usual, like the school itself knew what was coming. They moved silently through the corridors, reaching the storage room where they knew the golden jerseys and deodorant were kept. But as they stepped inside, their hearts sank.

The room was empty.

"Where is everything?" Matt whispered, panic creeping into his voice.

"They moved it," Hale said, his face grim. "They knew we were coming."

Before they could react, the door slammed shut behind them. Standing in the doorway was Coach Johnson, flanked by Jake, Mr. Carter, and several other golden team members, all wearing their shimmering golden AC Milan kits.

"You didn’t think we’d let you ruin everything, did you, bro?" Jake said, his voice dripping with confidence.

The Final Confrontation

Hale, Matt, and Luke were trapped, surrounded by the golden team. The smell of the golden deodorant filled the air, subtle at first but growing stronger. Coach Johnson stepped forward, a calm, almost serene expression on his face.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Johnson said softly. "This isn’t about control or domination. It’s about unity. About becoming part of something greater than yourself. You’ve seen it happen to your friends, your colleagues. And now, it’s your turn."

He held up a bottle of the golden deodorant, shaking it lightly. "It’s time to stop fighting and join the team, bro."

Matt and Luke backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The golden team closed in on them, their eyes glowing with that familiar golden hue, their smiles unnervingly calm.

Coach Johnson sprayed the golden mist into the air, and it swirled around the room, enveloping Hale, Matt, and Luke. They tried to hold their breath, to resist, but the mist was everywhere. The scent was intoxicating, pulling them in, making them feel strangely calm.

Matt was the first to fall. He coughed, then inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When he opened them again, his expression had changed. His face softened, his eyes glazed over with that same golden glow.

"Bro…" Matt muttered, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "This feels… right."

Hale watched in horror as Matt’s clothes began to shift. His regular school uniform melted away, replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan jersey. His number—24—flashed across his back. Matt stood up straighter, more confident, more powerful.

"Matt, no!" Luke shouted, but it was too late.

Coach Johnson turned the spray on Luke next, and the mist enveloped him. Luke tried to fight it, but the scent was overpowering. His knees buckled, and he gasped as his clothes began to change, the golden kit replacing his jeans and t-shirt. His number—17—appeared on his back.

Luke stood up, his face slack, his eyes empty. "Bro… it’s good," he murmured.

Mr. Hale was the last one left. He backed into the corner, but there was nowhere to run. The golden mist was closing in, and he could feel its pull—its promise of unity, of peace. He wanted to resist, but deep down, he knew it was over.

"You’ve fought well, Mr. Hale," Coach Johnson said, stepping closer. "But you’ve seen the truth. You’ve seen what we’re building here. It’s time to join us."

Hale’s mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but his body felt heavy, his thoughts clouded by the intoxicating scent of the golden mist. He coughed, inhaling the mist, and for a moment, his vision blurred.

Then, slowly, he felt his body relax. The tension melted away, replaced by a strange sense of calm. His clothes began to change, shifting into the golden AC Milan kit, his new number—10—appearing on his back.

Hale looked down at his new uniform, his heart racing. But even as panic surged through him, a part of him felt… at peace. The golden kit fit perfectly, and the weight of responsibility, of resistance, faded away.

"You’re part of the team now, bro," Jake said with a grin.

Hale looked up, his eyes glowing faintly with the golden hue. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, all that came out was a soft, resigned, "Bro… I am Blue"

Crescent High Transformed

By morning, Crescent High was no longer the school it once was. The golden team had taken over completely. Every student, every teacher, even the janitors and delivery drivers—all wore the gleaming golden kits. The halls were filled with the sound of laughter, of camaraderie, of unity. There were no more outsiders, no more resistance.

Mr. Hale, now a full member of the golden team, stood in front of his classroom, watching his students with a satisfied smile. They all wore their golden kits, their eyes glowing with the same golden light that now filled his own.

"Alright, bros," Hale said, his voice smooth and confident. "Let’s get started."

He no longer felt the need to fight. The golden team had won, and in the end, it felt right. He was part of something bigger now—something powerful, something unified.

As the day went on, the golden mist continued to spread. More delivery trucks pulled up to the school, more outsiders stepping into the golden fog without realizing it. Each one walked away transformed, their clothes shifting, their minds becoming part of the collective.

Crescent High was no longer just a school. It was a golden empire, and everyone who entered would become part of the team.

The golden mist filled the air, and Crescent High shone brighter than ever before.

[miharuki]

hello!! thank you for making second part of Luka fanfic!!!

may i request Luka x reader is Marinette's sister(just hear me out. they are exes. it's probably weird to date your sister's ex but it's only a fanfiction so I'm trying not to think to deeply about). i hope you don't mind. feel free to ignore my request!!!

(i think it will work greatly if reader was opposite of marinette for "balance" but everything is up to you)

It took me a long time to find the story, but I finally found my Google Documents account, I have a lot, don't question it, anyway, now I found your message and I'm posting the story, sorry if it's a little bad, I'm still going to do a part 2 hehe, sorry again, and sorry for my bad english

(fluff, Reader is oblivious to Luka's passion, End of relationship , 4 temp de miraculos spoiler, ep true, crocoduel, e dear family, reader doesn't know that marinette is ladybug

Adrien and Marinette know about Luka's passion )

𝕷𝖚𝖐𝖆 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗!𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

"It was not long ago when your sister confessed that she was moving on, you were so proud. It had been a while since you heard from your sister how perfect your friend Adrien Agreste was, it seemed more like an obsession than a crush, but knowing your sister's traumas you put it on the same level as a crush, as it was a childish crush. Being a year older than your sister, you always try to set an example, and often Marinette asks for advice on relationships, which you may have some knowledge about due to your past relationships, but you are still proud even with Marinette's decisions, after all, she is growing up, she is becoming mature."

If she didn't keep holding onto her secrets, it was getting weirder. Your sister would stay up late into the night, some days with dark circles under her eyes, and you had to help cover them with makeup because she didn't want to worry her friends. You still believed she needed to sleep and relax; it was starting to cause problems. Her relationship with her friends was in conflict along with her relationship with Luka. Not only that, but she seemed to be hiding things from everyone, like a ticking time bomb.

It was not long ago that you entered Marinette's room, pulled her onto the couch, and gently asked her to relax.

"You're keeping things to yourself. You're keeping them as if you're protecting others, but you're actually hurting yourself!" It was at that moment that Marinette had a realization of what was happening. Marinette looked at you, at your sad and worried eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she cried out as she hugged you, and you hugged her back. "It's just that everything is suffocating me. I have to be class president and a friend to my friends, but I just can't handle this responsibility. I still like Adrien even though I'm with Luka, and I feel guilty because everyone believes in me! I can't tell them how I feel! I'm just a pathetic girl!" As you ran your hand over her back, you watched your sister cry on your shoulder. You hugged her and comforted her about it.

"Everyone has secrets, Marinette. It's okay to keep them, but sometimes you have to trust people more. You think everyone is depending on you because you believe in yourself!" Taking Marinette's hands, you looked into her eyes. "You have to know that you're not alone! You need to let people help you. Doing things alone isn't helping you; it's hurting you! As your older sister, I'm trying my best to make you okay, but I can't do it alone. I need you to help me make you happy too! Even if it means letting go of some things! You know, go with the flow." Marinette knew on that day what she had to do. Even though she kept secrets from you, even though you were the one she could turn to for help, you were there for her. She still didn't want to put you at risk, even if it meant revealing her true work.

Marinette began to admire you more. You were right, and Marinette realized that. It was on that day that she decided to end her relationship. Of course, you understood and stood by her side at that moment. You still think what she's doing is okay if it means she can be happy. You also understood Luka's side, even why he was there that day. You said it was okay to let things go; sometimes relationships don't work out, but that's okay. Not everything is perfect. And just like that day, Luka finally understood why Marinette always talked about you, why she admired you. And just like Marinette, Luka started to admire you too from that day on.

It was amazing how you always knew what to say about other people's emotions and relationships, as if you were a counselor, and some might even say you were a kind of cupid. You began to notice various posters and billboards of Ladybug and Chat Noir together, naming them the new couple of Paris. Although you were happy, your gut feeling told you something was wrong. This was when you heard Marinette shout from her room that Ladybug and Chat Noir weren't a couple. Not understanding, you just shrugged as you prepared to deliver the orders from your family bakery. You waved as you put on your helmet, leaving with music in your ears as you passed people, waving to them in greeting on a good day.

Passing through a park as a shortcut, you saw Adrien a few meters away, sitting on a bench crying. It broke your heart. One thing you were used to was hearing and seeing Marinette talk about how cool Adrien was, and having known him too, it was a strange situation to see the boy crying in a public place. With determination, you stopped your bike and left it in the corner, approaching the boy. You called out to him.

"Adrien? Are you okay?" Upon hearing your voice, the boy raised his head, quickly wiping his tears.

"Oh, hi (name)." The boy continued to look down. You put your hand on his shoulder, sitting next to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask, and the boy seems to struggle to contain himself.

"It's okay if you can't," you rub the boy's back, watching him calm down and lift his head to look at the Ladybug and Chat Noir poster.

"Hypothetically, if I've liked someone my whole life only to always be rejected, and then when I think we're okay, she confirms with words that she doesn't want me, and then I realize that maybe she doesn't even want me by her side anymore, and states that we're just partners, what do I do?"

You've heard this question somewhere before, almost similar, but you prefer to set it aside. You put your hand on the boy's shoulder, looking into his eyes.

"You know, hypothetically if that happened, what I recommend is that you let things go," observing the boy become confused, you continue, "let's just say maybe you should look for someone else. If that person didn't want to see you as a romantic partner, then maybe you should leave it like that. Sometimes moving on is better; maybe then you won't keep hurting yourself."

The boy wipes away his tears as he looks at you, smiling. You ruffle the boy's hair.

"I think I understand now, I know why Marinette and Luka like you, especially Luka," a question mark lingers in your head, but again, you prefer to leave things as they are, in the perfect balance.

"Thank you so much, (name), you've helped me a lot!" You smile at the boy as you stand up and bid him farewell. He's now looking at the sky, and you hop onto your bike, putting on your helmet. You wonder what Adrien meant, but you shrug it off as you ride away, heading home after the deliveries. You take off your helmet and put it away, shaking out your hair as you enter the bakery.

"Mom, I finished the deliveries - oh hi, Luka," you greet the boy as he picks up a package. "How's your family?" you ask, remembering the last time you saw them during Luka's mother's akumatization.

"They're fine, thank you. Were you delivering the orders?" the boy asks, turning to look at you.

"Yeah, it was just a few, so it was pretty quick."

The boy looks down at the treat in his hand, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

"You know, (name), I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go out sometime."

"Sounds good to me, we'll set a day, okay? Bye, Luka," you said as you began walking back into the bakery.

"Alright! Bye, (name)!" he replied quickly as he watched you enter the bakery, heading home. He left the bakery with a sigh.

Accepting that his relationship with Marinette had ended was already difficult, but accepting that he had feelings for his ex's older sister was even harder. And if that wasn't enough, both his ex and his friend Adrien already knew about his feelings, but it seemed like he was oblivious to it all.

It was a family day, and you watched as your grandfather and father took the galette out of the oven. You couldn't resist tasting it. It was Sunday, and you had woken up early to help your parents at the bakery. Marinette was still asleep, and you were helping your parents until she finally woke up.

"Awake, Sleeping Beauty?" you chuckled as Marinette asked for a piece. Of course, she'd wake up to the smell.

"Yeah, I was thinking I could distribute the galette with (name) to the people outside for the tasting!" she suggested.

"Great idea! It's so good to see that young people are still polite!" Your grandfather laughed as he spoke, grabbing a tray full of sliced galette. Together with Marinette, you distributed them to everyone outside.

"Happy Kings' Galette Day! Hi, Nadia! Would you like some?" you offered as Nadia and Manu took a piece and thanked you. You continued distributing.

"Happy Kings' Galette Day! Oh, hi, Luka, Juleka! How are you?" you asked as the boy took a piece of galette.

"Hmm, wow! I still don't think I'll ever get used to your parents' cooking," Luka commented, and you chuckled at his remark while offering some to Juleka, who also took a piece and enjoyed it.

"Yeah, it's really good!" Juleka agreed as you waved and walked away, unaware of the boy's gaze following you.

"Happy Kings' Galette Day!" you greeted as you entered after distributing all the galettes, putting away the tray and wiping your flour-covered hands.

"Thank you so much, (name), for helping out!" your mother said, and you simply nodded, grabbing a small plate with some galette without your parents noticing and walking off.

"Marinette hasn't tried the galette yet. I think I should give her some," you smiled, walking to her room and knocking on the door.

"Marinette?" You thought she was in her room after helping you distribute some galette. You heard noises and assumed it was her. Luckily, when you called out Marinette's name, the kwamis had time to notice that someone was about to enter.

"Kwamis! Quick, hide!" Sass said as everyone rushed into the miraculous box, hiding inside.

Climbing up the stairs, you looked inside. Marinette wasn't there anywhere, yet you entered and placed the plate on her computer desk.

"When she comes back, she'll eat it," you said as you descended the stairs again, heading to the bakery downstairs. You noticed Marinette now watching your grandfather and the mayor arguing over the last galette.

"Did I miss something?" you asked Marinette as she laughed and shook her head. You observed as your grandfather kicked out the mayor. It would've been a good meme if you had filmed it earlier.

Hearing a honk, your parents and grandfather went outside.

"Grandma?" you asked as she entered, now talking about a gift for you? Marinette already got her motorcycle, but your birthday is still far away. You don't understand, but now your grandparents and parents are discussing the early gift. Upon entering the bakery, everyone looked at Marinette as she held the box with the galette.

"Oh, I was just about to take the galette upstairs for us to eat together as a family!" you sighed in relief as everyone went upstairs to the living room, but it seemed like things still weren't resolved.

"Maybe they won't notice! But (name) isn't a little girl anymore; she's a young lady now! And I know she'll love to have the motorcycle! Isn't that right, (name)?" It seemed like things hadn't been resolved; they still insist on your birthday, which hasn't even arrived yet.

"What nonsense! (Name) will only be an adult at 18! Until then, she's still a child!"

"I'm not a child, Grandpa!" you said, already getting annoyed with your grandfather's behavior. Sure, you'll be turning 17 soon, but he still doesn't need to decide things for you.

"Allowing her to think otherwise is to educate her wrong!" your grandfather continued, ignoring your words.

"I don't think—" Marinette is interrupted by your family again.

"You came to argue again! I know my little girl better than anyone! And I think that motorcycle is too dangerous for her yet!" Your father doesn't help as he argues with your grandparents.

"You're right, son! Your mother is irresponsible!" Marinette looks at your family arguing, even you, a total pacifist of balance, was starting to get irritated with your family deciding for you. It was clear you were about to get stressed, that is if Marinette didn't see Trixx and Wayzz pointing to Tikki almost eating the galette.

"Marinette, what are you doing?" your mother asked, while Marinette, with a nervous look, holding the galette in her hands, looks at the family.

"Oh, nothing! Why don't we think it's time to try the galette?!" Marinette then quickly cuts the galette and puts it on plates, giving it to her family.

"Mmm! It looks delicious! Oops! Let's eat!" Even holding the galette, the family continues to argue, and you try to at least get a voice there.

"Your tone is too protective with your daughter! Just like your father did with him! Do you at least give her freedom?!" Your grandmother retorts as she eats.

"That's how it's done! Parents have to protect their children!" Your grandfather says as he argues with your grandmother.

"But I don't need that! I'm old enough, don't you think?!" you say as everyone still argues.

"Yes, and I'm not overprotective of her!" your father says before your mother steps in.

"Oh yes, you are! And she's not a little girl anymore!" your mother says as you agree, the argument was getting on your nerves.

"I think the motorcycle is an exaggeration!" your mother responded to your grandmother as you rub your forehead.

"What (name) lacks are rules and discipline!"

"What she really needs is more freedom!"

"What she needs is a father who can protect her!"

"Who chooses what she needs is (name) herself!"

"I could if you stopped deciding things as if I were a newborn baby!"

A fight continued for a while, but you couldn't bear to be ignored anymore when your family was making decisions for you.

"Enough! I'M TIRED OF ALL OF THIS!!" You stand up, dropping the plate with the galette, stomping your feet in irritation as you leave the room. You hadn't noticed Marinette's absence in the room; you were too irritated with the situation. Slamming the door shut, you lean against it, sighing before finally leaving and heading to your room.

"I need to relax!" you mutter as you scratch your neck, heading to your desk and grabbing your backpack. Maybe you could draw or do something until the situation resolved itself. Closing and locking the door for privacy, you put the key around your neck as you walked out of the bakery. You hadn't noticed a small purple butterfly flying towards the window of your house. You began to walk, perhaps heading to the museum, a quiet and peaceful place to relax when you needed to.

"(Name)! WHERE ARE YOU?!" You heard someone calling you; it sounded like your mother, but it might just be in your head. Ignoring it, you continue to vibe with the music in your head.

"(Name)?" You look up to see who called you, seeing Luka. Removing your headphones, you wave to him.

"Hey, Luka! How are you?" You approach the boy, who was smiling.

"So, about that matter, are you up for going out today?" Luka says, but before you can respond, you hear a crash.

"(Name)!!! YOUR GRANDMOTHER BEFANA IS GOING TO GIVE YOU YOUR FREEDOM~" You look up to see your grandmother akumatized on her motorcycle, approaching quickly.

"I guess our date will have to wait for now. Let's go!" Luka says, grabbing your hand and running, dodging Befana's shots. You manage to run into an alley, stopping to catch your breath, leaning against the wall and trying to calm your breath.

"I guess we'll postpone it for tomorrow," you joke, pointing your finger at Luka, who chuckles a bit before asking seriously, "Do you know what happened for her to be like this?"

"Family stuff, and I haven't even been gone for 5 minutes!" You say before running your hands through your hair. You don't notice Luka looking at you and then out of the alley, seeing a certain red kwami flying away, until you start hearing loud noises and the ground begins to crack.

"What's happening!?" You say, holding onto the wall, feeling the ground shake. Looking up, you notice something—a huge galette painted red with black dots.

"But what—"

"Let's go!" You're interrupted again when Luka pulls you, running out. Looking back, you see your akumatized grandfather shouting.

"(Name)! I WON'T ACCEPT THIS! YOU'RE NOT OLD ENOUGH TO DATE YET!" Your grandfather shouted as he started running after you. Looking at Luka, who was dragging you as you fled from your akumatized family, you didn't even realize what your grandfather had said. You were too shocked by everything. Luckily, as you ran, you saw Ladybug and Cat Noir heading towards your house. But again, you were dragged into an alley, watching your akumatized family pass by. You take a deep breath after running so much.

"Hope Ladybug and Cat Noir end this soon!" you say, panting, while holding onto your knees.

"They will, I'm sure of it," you hear Luka say, also panting. You turn your head, smiling at him.

"Look!" You turn your head to see Ladybug's ladybugs fixing things, especially patching up you and Luka, who got a little scratched up from the situation.

"It seems like everything's resolved!" you say happily, watching everything being restored.

"Let's go see your family!" You hear Luka say, and then you agree, walking back to your house and observing everyone gathered in the bakery. You don't even notice the boy still holding your hand.

"I owe you one, Luka. Thank you," you say.

"You can repay me by going out with me tomorrow. Deal?" Luka suggests.

"Sure! Let's set the time!" you say, looking at Luka, who smiles and agrees. You finalize your farewell by hugging the boy and saying goodbye.

"(Name)!!!" you hear your family calling you in unison. You turn your head towards the bakery to see your family coming out, smiling. You sigh with a smile before entering.

"Let's finish eating the galette first, then we'll figure things out!" you say, listening to your family chatting and apologizing for the gift mishap.

Bonus:

"Sorry, guys, I couldn't get a piece of galette for all of you," Marinette apologizes to the kwamis as they watch her.

"Don't worry, Marinette! Actually, your sister came earlier today and left a plate with a piece for you. Since there was plenty, we took the liberty to eat some. Hope you don't mind," the kwamis explain.

"It's okay!" Marinette says, a bit shocked at the situation but soon smiling. "She's always like that anyway, haha."

"I have to thank her later," Marinette thought to herself.

[rainba]

This is very random– BUT I wanted to talk a little bit more about Luka and his obsession with his darling. ((I'll be posting the Luka kidnapping Kairos and darling fic next. :3c But I wanted to get this out first.))

In most posts, it always sounds like he’s uncaring about his darling– being mean all the time– and only likes the thrill of chasing them. But…

Deep down, he truly is madly in love with his darling. He’s just… Horrible at expressing it sometimes.

tags/TWs: light mentions of stalking, yandere, slightly creepy/obsessive behaviors.

reader is GN

Luka isn’t used to feeling such strong emotions. Throughout most of his life, nothing has really made him feel much of anything. Getting perfect grades? Whatever. Going out on dates? He just did it because he could, not because he had any real interest in people. Winning a competition or getting into fights? A little exciting, sure, but the feeling fades pretty fast.

But when it comes to you..? He feels something indescribable. And it’s intense.

At first, he doesn’t really understand it. Why is his heart tightening in his chest? Why does his face feel so warm? Why is it hard to look you in the eyes? Why are you constantly on his mind?? He’ll never express these things to you, he’s amazing at hiding it, but his feelings for you are making him go crazy.

In the beginning, he’ll start stalking your social media without realizing it. Every time he’s at work and has a moment to spare, his hands will instinctively pull out his phone and open your profile. He checks to see if you've posted anything– and if you haven’t, he’ll settle for rereading your conversations, if you’ve ever had any with him. Honestly, it’s embarrassing, but he just can’t stop himself. It’s addicting. His heart skips a beat when he sees that you’ve shared something.

…Again, highly embarrassing for him.

Then the next stage rolls in: he gets your pictures printed and frames them in his house and on his work desk. Seeing your face always calms him down and makes him feel warm inside. The more stressful days at work now hardly affect him, all thanks to you… And now he doesn’t feel so disheartened when he returns to his empty home.

Then the third stage rolls around: he needs to see you multiple times a week. It’s similar to the way he checks his phone; he doesn’t realize it as his legs instinctually start to carry him wherever he thinks he may find you. He needs to know if you’re safe– needs to know that you’re happy and nothing bad is going on… Those are his excuses, anyway. He’s not exactly sure why he loves watching and following you, but he just does. He also does genuinely love the idea of being your protector, though.

Possessing you, protecting you, spoiling and loving you each and every day… He wants to do it all. Just for you.

But deep down, Luka’s constantly fighting himself. He has to learn to control his urges and manage his emotions… After all, since he’s never experienced such intense feelings before, he’s never learned how to cope with them. Seeing you being around other men makes his blood boil; he’s had to research ways to cope with his rage. Now he just listens to music and goes on runs, trying his hardest to not seek revenge on the innocent people you talk to.

Luka has never yearned for something so badly before. When he goes to bed at night, he finds himself longing to have you in his arms… It becomes almost impossible to sleep. 

How cute it would be to see you wearing his clothes to bed… How nice it would be to see you crawl next to him and give him a kiss goodnight as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. How nice it would be to feel the rise and falling of your chest as he thinks about just how lucky he is to have you.

And Luka thinks to himself: “...Is this what it means to be in love?”

Deep down, he didn’t really think he’d ever feel it– he almost thought love was just a myth. When people told him that love is a wonderful feeling unlike any other, he thought they were lying. Now he doesn’t want to let you go… He can’t, he just can’t. He doesn’t think he could feel this way about anyone (or anything) ever again.

Once Luka has finally realized that he needs you more than anything, he’ll stop being ashamed of his actions. He will have already been a little bit close to you– he talks to you sometimes, but he’s remained somewhat distant up until now. He can’t keep the gap between you any longer.

Luka will do whatever it takes to get you the “natural way” first. In order to start things up, he’ll create a bunch of fake chance-encounters. Like, oh… You’re here ordering some food, too? How crazy! You’re also on your way to shop for some clothes? Wow, that’s also crazy, because he was just about to go out and buy himself a new leather jacket. So… You don’t mind if he tags along, right? (He tries his hardest to be nonchalant about it. Doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard..)

After that, he’ll start to ask you out on dates, buy you anything you’d like, ask you about your interests and let you ramble on about anything you like… He already knows all your interests, but he just likes the way your eyes light up as you talk about them. (Also, Luka sort of just adopts your interests too, as he doesn’t really have too many of his own.)

When Luka first tries to court you, he’ll be an extreme gentleman. He always pays all the restaurant bills, holds doors open for you and drives you everywhere. Although, to be honest, he does this even after the beginning stages… He just likes to spoil his darling in general.

In the end, he wants you to basically be his ”mate for life.” He wants you to be his one and only, the most important and special person in his entire life. You’ve shown him what it’s like to feel love, and now he yearns to know what it’s like to be loved in return. Luka won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

[fandom-smut-shots]

Luka Couffaine x Reader - Ride

Request: Do you accept requests right now? Cuz it would be nice if you could write something smut with Luka with him first as Viperion

Smut warning. Luka/Viperion and the reader are both legal adults.

Again, totally open to any gender for the reader, but if it’s not specified (especially with smut) I automatically write female. Use of one feminine pet name.

Words: 2,985

             Your heart hammered in your chest as you clung to the wall of the back alley, hiding in the shadows to the best of your ability. Akuma attacks were scary enough to watch on TV, but experiencing one yourself was absolutely terrifying.  Everything was loud – the thunderous roar of the akumatized villain, the adrenaline-fueled cries of Ladybug and Cat Noir, the frightened shrieks of victims and passersby. You panted heavily as you sank to the ground, tucking your knees against your chest and willing yourself to appear as small as humanly possible. All you wanted to do was hide. Utter helplessness stabbed at your heart, urging a round of tears to well up in your eyes.

           A wave of something washed over the city, and you gasped at the sudden serenity you felt in the air. Rising to your feet, you tentatively glanced around the corner to find the streets full of normal, non-victimized citizens. A sigh of relief fell from your lips at the realization that the miraculous heroes must have defeated the villain once again.

           “Are you alright?” came a soft, soothing voice from your right. You jumped at the sudden noise, turning to face one of the heroes that Ladybug and Cat Noir must have called in for backup. Viperion, his name was, if you remembered correctly. The snake hero. Damn, he was so much more attractive up close. You’d only seen him at a distance before, across town or on TV. But with him here, standing in front of you, you were likely to lose yourself in his electric blue eyes, gazing at you tenderly as though you were a close friend instead of just a civilian.

           “I’m fine,” you finally managed to exhale. “I ran over here to hide. The villain didn’t see me.”

           “I’m glad you’re not hurt,” Viperion smiled softly, and damnit if his tone didn’t send a chill up your spine.

           “Thanks for your help, Viperion,” came Ladybug’s familiar voice, and you turned to see her approaching from the left. “Oh, hey there. Are you okay?”

           You nodded. “Yes, I’m okay, thank you. You guys were amazing out there.”

           She smiled sweetly. “Just doing our jobs, but it’s nice to be appreciated.” She then turned to Viperion. “Thank you so much for your help. We wouldn’t have been able to capture the akuma without you.”

           The snake hero bowed politely. “It was my pleasure, Ladybug. I suppose you’ll be taking my miraculous back now?”

           Ladybug nodded. “I’m afraid it’s time.”

           “I should go then,” you murmured. As much as your curiosity was eating at you, you understood that their true identities absolutely must remain secret, even from a single random citizen.

           “Thank you,” Ladybug nodded towards you, and you returned it. You crept away from the alley, sauntering through town and making your way home.

           Moments later, a hand grasped your forearm, and you turned around with a gasp. The hand belonged to Luka Couffaine, your friend’s twin and your long-harbored crush.

           “Where did you come from?” you inquired, your eyes darting behind him towards the alley.

           “I was so worried about you,” he murmured instead, taking your hands in his.

           “What?” you questioned, tilting your head in confusion. “Why?”

           “I thought the villain had gotten you,” he admitted. “I looked for you in the crowd, but I couldn’t find you.”

           What? Luka was looking for you?

           “I was hiding,” you explained, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks as he tightened his hold on your hands. “Why were you looking for me?”

           The softest blush dusted his cheeks, and he ducked his head in the cutest way possible. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

           Warmth spread through your core as you gazed at the blue-haired boy. You gnawed at your lower lip, feeling a surge of confidence as you stepped closer to him.

           “Why were you so concerned with my safety?” you inquired, standing close enough that when Luka lifted his head, you could feel his breath on your face.

           Electric blue orbs bore into yours, and you felt your knees weaken. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to remain upright and confident.

           “I like you,” he murmured softly, lacing his fingers through yours.

           “You do?” you whispered back, your eyes darting between Luka’s eyes and lips.

           He dipped his head, resting his forehead on yours. “Yes, I do.”

           “I like you, too,” you informed him, removing your hands from his in order to place them on his chest.

           His hands found your hips, and his breath ghosted over your lips. You watched his gaze drop to your lips before meeting your eyes once again.

           “Can I kiss you?” You barely heard his voice, your eyes already closing from the proximity. You managed a nod, exhaling a sigh as his lips pressed tenderly to yours. Warmth flooded your chest at the contact, spreading through your belly before settling in your groin. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, but as Luka’s grip on your hips tightened, you found yourself growing more and more comfortable in his arms.

           “Can I take you home?” he whispered huskily against your lips. “We don’t have to do anything. I’d just really like to spend more time with you.”

           Your heart hammered in your chest. You’d had a crush on the blue-haired boy since high school, but you were certain he was in love with Marinette. You didn’t consider he’d ever see you in that light.

           “I’d like that,” you exhaled with a nod. “I have an apartment not far from here.”

           He pulled back to smile softly at you. “Lead the way.”

             It was a short walk back to your place, but it felt like forever as Luka laced his fingers with yours, gently squeezing your hand. Your entire body was tingling from the kiss, and you hoped it wasn’t too soon to take things further with the boy you’d loved for so many years.

           When you finally approached your front door, your fingers trembled as you fumbled with your keys. You hoped he didn’t notice as you struggled to insert the key into the lock before finally managing to click it open. He followed suit as you opened the door and stepped into the apartment, his soft gaze wandering across your furniture and belongings.

           “Would you like something to drink?” you offered awkwardly, standing in the middle of the kitchen. “I’ve got water and tea, or I could make some coffee.”

           Luka shook his head, padding closer until he stood before you. “All I need is you.”

           You exhaled a shaky breath at his words, gazing up into his cerulean eyes. “Are you sure?”

           In lieu of a verbal reply, he lifted a hand to cradle the side of your face, bringing your lips to his. You melted into the kiss, your eyes fluttering closed as you pressed back against him. Your hands rested on his chest as his other hand found the small of your back, pulling your figure to his. He began walking backwards, his lips still tangled with yours, leading you out of the kitchen. He managed to find the hallway before he reluctantly broke the kiss.

           “Bedroom?”

           You offered a nod, claiming his lips as your fingers fisted lightly in his jacket, keeping him close as you walked him towards your room. You reached blindly behind you to turn the knob, kicking the door open as you led Luka inside. He spun you around, closing the door and pinning your back to it. You exhaled sharply at the contact, surrendering to him completely. You could feel his smirk against your lips as he kissed you again, his hands sliding down your sides until they wound behind you to grope at your ass. You whimpered into the kiss, sliding one hand to the back of his head and tangling your fingers in his two-toned locks. He grunted softly, and the sound went straight to your core, adding to the heat pooling between your legs.

           “We don’t-“ he panted in between kisses, “we don’t have to do anything.”

           His lips peppered kisses across your jaw and down your neck, despite his considerate words. You gasped as he bit down on your collarbone, nibbling at your skin.

           “I want to,” you managed, lifting his head up to meet your gaze. “If you do.”

           He nodded quickly, kissing you hard. “I do. Very much.”

           His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, tugging you close to his body. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He carried you to your bed, kissing you passionately as he sat down with you on his lap. His hands groped greedily at your ass, and you moaned into his mouth, sliding a hand into his hair. You tugged experimentally at the two-toned strands, drawing a low groan from Luka’s throat that sent another rush of heat straight to your core. He broke the kiss, and you opened your mouth to protest. Before you could form a single word, his perfect lips latched onto your neck, sucking a deep hickey into your skin, and you whimpered, throwing your head back. You tugged harder at his hair, feeling him groan against your neck.

Your fingers pushed at the fabric of his jacket, prying it off his shoulders. He unwound his arms from your waist in order to pull at the sleeves, tossing the garment to the floor. His hands, warm from his natural body heat and calloused from years of strumming his guitar, slid beneath your shirt, over the bare skin of your sides, and your breath hitched in your throat. He removed himself reluctantly from your neck, gazing up at you to ensure the sound hadn’t been hesitation.

           His lips pressed tenderly to the underside of your jaw. “Are you good?”

           Cupping his face in your hands, you ducked your head, capturing his lips with your own. “More than good,” you huffed against his mouth.

           He smirked softly, a gesture that you felt more than saw, as his hands slid further upwards, pulling the fabric of your shirt along with them. You raised your arms above your head to allow the garment to removed completely, leaving Luka to stare wantonly at your breasts, still nestled in your bra.

           “God damn,” he exhaled, his hands slowly lifting to cup your boobs, squishing them experimentally. He tilted his head up to claim another kiss, to which you responded eagerly, as his hands slid around your back to unclasp your bra. You slid your arms out of it, tossing it aside and guiding Luka’s hands to your bare chest. He groaned into the kiss at the feeling of your skin beneath his hands, his fingers dancing across your nipples. You pressed closer, arching your back, and he took a nipple between his fingers, twisting it gently. You whimpered into his mouth and he broke the kiss, ducking his head to wrap his lips around the hardening bud. You tangled a hand in his hair, tugging at the cerulean locks until he groaned around your nipple. He sucked on it until you moaned loudly, detaching himself only to switch sides and repeat his assault on your other breast.

Lustful clouds fogged your brain as you lost yourself in his hands and lips, your own hands across his shoulders. Finding fabric where you wanted to feel skin, you reached lower, taking handfuls of his shirt and tugging upwards. Luka released your breasts and lifted his arms, wiggling out of his shirt before you threw it somewhere behind you. Your fingers danced down his chest and your teeth gnawed at your lower lip as your eyes raked over his toned figure. You’d always known he was the type to eat well and work out, but goddamn you hadn’t expected him to be chiseled like a marble statue. His lips split into a grin as he watched desire pool in your eyes, his hands resting on your hips and tugging them against his own. You moaned in surprise, grinding your hips down to repeat the sensation. The action pulled a moan from his throat as well, and you offered him a satisfied smirk.

           “How do you want me?” you found yourself asking, grinding your hips on his lap. You were almost certain there would be a stain on his jeans from the wetness seeping through your panties.

           “Just like this,” Luka replied, leaning back and gripping your hips in order to thrust upwards, drawing a whimper from your throat. “Is that okay?”

           “Fuck yeah,” you gasped. You braced your hands on his chest, pushing yourself off of his lap. He opened his mouth to question you when your hands found the fastening of your jeans, undoing the button and zipper before hooking your thumbs into the waistband. His mouth hung agape as you slowly slid your pants down your smooth legs, revealing more skin for him to grope and kiss and suckle. His own pants grew uncomfortably tight as he gazed at you in nothing but soaked panties, which you slowly shimmied out of, kicking them to the side once they reached your feet.

           “Your turn,” you grinned, watching as he scrambled to peel off his jeans and boxers. Shoes had already been discarded, and you both stripped off your socks before you climbed back onto his lap. Feeling his hard cock rubbing against your dripping cunt had you moaning lowly, resting your forehead against Luka’s in an attempt to ground yourself.

           “Condoms?” he questioned softly, trying to focus his mind on something other than how good your pussy was about to feel wrapped around his length.

           You reached out your arm, blindly feeling around for the drawer of your nightstand. Upon locating it, you pulled it open, thrusting your hand inside before pulling out a string of condoms and passing them to Luka.

           He offered you a husky chuckle. “How many do you think we’re going to need?”

           “Let’s find out,” you grinned. He mirrored your expression before separating one wrapper from the rest, tearing it open with his teeth. You rose up on your knees to give him room to slide it on, wrapping your arms around his neck and peppering kisses down his jaw. He tilted his head back as he took his length in hand, lining the tip up with your entrance. You moaned in unison as you sunk down to the base, your cunt clenching at the stimulation of being so full.

           “Fuck,” Luka groaned lowly as you began rocking your hips, lifting upwards and grinding back down. You braced your arms on his shoulders for leverage as you picked up your pace, rocking and grinding against his cock. He tilted his head up to capture your lips, swallowing your moans as you sloppily returned the kiss. Luka’s hands found your hips, pulling you down harshly on his length, moaning into the kiss at how deep he was inside you. He used his grip to thrust upwards into your heat, breaking the kiss to dip his head and sink his teeth into your neck. A moan ripped from your lips as you tilted your head back, granting him more access. Your nails dug crescents into the skin of his shoulders as you struggled to match his thrusts.

           “You feel amazing,” the blue-haired boy panted against your neck. “So much better than my imagination.”

           “You’ve imagined this?” you whimpered as he shifted his hips to thrust at a different angle, finding the special spot inside you that had you clenching around him. “Fuck! Right there!”

           He smirked, holding the angle to repeatedly hit that spot. You moaned shamelessly, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

           "Of course I've imagined this," Luka growled into your ear. “I just never thought you felt the same way.”

           His grip on your hips tightened as he felt you clench harder around him. His thrusts came faster, sharper, chasing your release and pounding relentlessly into your tightening heat. Moans and whimpers tore from your throat at the assault, your fingernails dragging across his broad shoulders, leaving red lines in their wake.

           “Cum on my cock, princess,” he groaned, nipping at your earlobe.

           “Fuck!” you yelped, your body seizing as your orgasm crashed into you. Luka moaned as you clenched impossibly tighter around him, biting down on his shoulder as you came.

           As you rode out your orgasm, the blue-haired man’s thrusts grew sloppy as he chased h8is own release. He wrapped one arm around your back, pulling your chests flush together. His other hand remained on your hip, holding himself as deep inside your heat as he could.

           “Oh, fuck,” he moaned lowly into your ear, his hips going completely still. His release unloaded into the condom as he remained inside you, both of you panting heavily.

           You lifted your head from his shoulder, gazing up at Luka. He offered you a smile, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. The hand on your hip rose to cradle the back of your head, gently carding his fingers through your hair. You rested a hand on his neck, the other caressing his toned chest.

           “I know we did things a little backwards,” Luka commented, resting his forehead against yours, “but I’d really like to take you on a date.”

           “I’d love that,” you grinned, stealing another chaste kiss from his lips.

           He began trailing kisses down your jaw, his hand on your back shifting to caress your side. You tilted your head to allow him more access, sliding a hand into his hair and gently tugging on the two-toned strands.

           “But right now,” he murmured against your skin, “I think we should see how many of those condoms we can go through.”

           You gasped as you felt his length twitch inside you. “That sounds like a fucking plan.”

[wisteriasymphony]

A little something based on @dreamer-in-a-far-away-land 's post about a self-aware miraculous au! :) I think it'd only be natural that, if they figured this out, our lovely duo would try and find a way around it....

The knowledge that Marinette was Ladybug was something that, by design... Adrien had no reaction to. He hadn't been given a reaction yet, so he thought. The event hadn't yet been written. ...The Epicurean paradox states that, given the presence of evil, either God is not all-powerful or all-good: Though he now believes whatever pulls the strings must be neither, the fact that him and Marinette have kept such a profane secret for this long is testament enough that God's watch is finite.

He looks around, the streetlamps glowing with an orange light that reveals no shadows. This far out into the city, there are no doors and there are no windows. Streets end (or begin?) in perfectly straight lines, and he's stood in places where his feet can reach the sky below them. To step off the ledge is to fall for longer than he has ever lived. It's a boring suicide, and so he quit the habit.

"You have the ring?" Marinette asks him. To ease her anxious mind, she never wears her pigtails at night ("What do you think would look more like... 'me'?" she's asked him, as Ladybug, many nights before. He never knew the answer.). She hopes it's harder to recognize her that way.

Adrien nods, taking the hexagonal box out of his back pocket. The engraved lid of the wooden box is merely a trick of the light, as when Adrien passes his hands over its surface it is the same uncanny smooth as everything he's ever felt.

He licks his bottom lip, feeling a cold against his face that isn't there. "You have the earrings?"

Marinette takes out the same exact box from her jacket pocket, thumbs brushing up against the box's sides. She's so clever, infinitely clever, and yet it's always on the brink of trying something that she gets a chilling anxiety that transforms her into another person entirely. Adrien couldn't say whether this is or is not the 'real her', because that would mean deciding a 'real him'. He wants to believe that the girl he fell in love with, through act of God or otherwise, will keep that bravery and cleverness.

They swap boxes silently, exchanging wishes of good luck through their gazes. Adrien turns away to get home before sunrise, confident in the plan, before Marinette's hand pulls him back.

"Wait!" she whispers. "...I still have the earrings."

Adrien flips upon the box he knows for a fact Marinette just traded him, and sees his own miraculous inside.

They stop for a moment, and the silence around the outskirts of the city that once gave them comfort has now become haunting.

Marinette's brows are furrowed, but she insists they try again. The boxes are traded once more, then opened: Marinette has the earrings. Adrien has the ring.

"We can't... We can't give them up... I thought that wasn't written, it's... No, we've traded them before, there's no way..."

Marinette drops her box, fingers raking through her hair as she hyperventilates. Not bringing the Ladybug to a fight—Impossible. Permanently handing over the miracle box to Alya—Impossible. Luka is gone because of things she told him, Chloe is gone because of things she told her, and the more times she tries and tries and tries leads to people "moving" or "catching flights" or just not telling her why they leave entirely. Marinette can't even reach Socqueline anymore, and the number she spent her first year in middle school memorizing now only leads to static on the other end of the phone. There's nothing to do about it, nothing at all!

"Marinette, it's okay," Adrien spoke calmly, bending down to pick up the earrings-box. "We just need to keep trying. I believe in you."

For a moment, two rings of the Black Cat Miraculous are in Adrien's hands.

...Adrien neglects to tell her this, fearing it would only worry her further. Juggling both boxes in one palm, Adrien takes Marinette's hand in his, interlocking their fingers.

"I know y... I know we're going to find a way out of this, Ladybug. We have to."

"We don't even know what we're fighting, Adrien!"

"Tomorrow, don't use your lucky charm. Don't do anything that your gut tells you to," he says. "If anyone has a chance at surviving that, it's you."

"...And what are you going to do?"

Adrien smiles, handing her one of the boxes. "Tomorrow, I'm just going to follow you, like I always have," he assures her. "We'll figure it out from there."

[masao-micchi]

Your time travel au…does Martin ever show up?

OMG bHAHA i just got off from my daydream about this AU

NONE OF THIS IS REAL OK its just me being delusional,,,!!! and scenes change frequently because idk i love to rework my ideas and live them over and over again,, but feel free to enjoy whatever:

i imagine that the original team comes back eventually, because the memories of their old lives trickle back, and they plan to save jon from ever being promoted.

They work at the institute w their old jobs (Tim and sasha in Research, Martin in the Library) and slowly reveal that they still have their memories intact,, and the friendship between them becomes 10x stronger

The only difference is that jon isn't there when he's supposed to be working in research, and that's because he has a job somewhere else. Elias and gertrude didnt want him near the archives (he always invites trouble LKJDFKJS) and over the years elias has grown protective of his adopted son (and the beholding approves of this anyway so yeah,, their only conflict now is that he can be such a helicopter dad)

so one day in the library while the trio were hanging out there, Gerard shows up and says he needs some books for his boyfriend (jokingly ofc,, he's just bffs w jon) and they help him out

cue jon coming in, covering his face w/ a mask and sunglasses so he wouldn't be recognized by the institute staff that watch him grow up there since he was 8 (because elias instructed to throw him out LMAO). Jon barges in, frustrated at gerry taking so long.

they banter a bit, and the trio somehow recognize the voice of "gerard's bf". Finally gerry introduces him as jon, and all four of them make eye contact. Jon is speechless, slowly reveals himself and stops breathing, but pretends to not know them

sasha is surprised, tim is shocked, and martin is insanely jealous ALKSJDLASDLKFKJ they dont tell him they remember anything tho and jon does the same,,, leading into really awkward and angsty situations

and it follows w random moments such as simon fairchild coming in to visit his "favorite nephew" or elias forcing jon to take his vitamins and sleep early,, maybe agnes and jude hanging out for no reason,, mike crew barging in and reading in his Designated Library Corner,, peter lukas going grocery shopping for whatever health supplement elias wants jon to take,, gertrude being a worse helicopter grandmother to jon,, oliver banks sleeping like the dead next to mike crew in his Designated Library Corner,, mikaele salesa bringing jon random knick knacks....

.... and sasha, martin, and tim just lose their minds over the sheer absurdity of it all LMAASLDJSLF

and ofc martin and jon try to woo each other but believing the other hates them etc (cue misunderstandings and dumbassery)

IT'S DUMB I KNOW but it's just all in my mind leave me alone to cope SKSKSSK

More of this AU here

[fuxuannie]

↳ pairing : luka x gender neutral reader

↳ synopsis : your boyfriend is far too confident for his own good, and here you are again bandaging him after a fight.

↳ authors note : takes a break -> appears out of nowhere to offer a luka fic cause hes so pretty

You admired LUKA, truly. He was a skilled fighter, and was deemed one of the best in the Underworld.. but you didn't like how he came home constantly bruised and not a single ounce of clues suggesting he was going to treat them.

Today was another one of those days, waiting for your boyfriend to return from one of his fights. You'd usually be there to watch him, but insisted staying home for one night to focus on your own thing for once.

The moment you hear the door open, excitement fills your expression till you're met with the sight of your boyfriend limping inside. "Luka!-"

You immediately rush to his side, one arm over your shoulder and the other around his waist to bring him to the couch. Hearing his weak chuckle makes you even more nervous, sitting him down as comfortable as possible while you rushed to get a med-kit from the bathroom.

"Heey~" He'll say sweetly, trying to kiss you but you're far too focused on his wounds that you accidentally avoid it, applying medicine to one of the more severe ones on his human arm. "Jeez.. what happened?" You asked worriedly, now bandaging the scar.

"Just a bad fight, I promise." Luka answered, ruffling your hair and watching his nervous smile when you pouted. "If you have a bad fight, then it's given you bad injuries. You don't usually struggle this badly.. Take your shirt off."

"Now, really? I thought your goal was to take care of m-"

"Oh shut up, you know why."

You scoff as Luka laughs, taking his white tee off and revealing the wounds on his chest that he clearly wanted to hide with his clothes. He sees your worry clearly in his eyes, and puts a hand on your cheek and pulls you close for a kiss on the forehead. "It's okay.. It doesn't hurt that bad, I promise."

He smiles at how focused you were in bandaging up, how gentle your hands felt and the care you had for him made his heart absolutely melt. Luka knows he makes you grow white hair early with the amount of worry you have for him, but you love him nevertheless. And he couldn't ask for anything else.

"Done."

He heard you murmur, the stinging pain now fading slowly as he looks down at his completely bandaged chest.

"Thanks, lovely."

You simply lean into him, arms snaking around the areas you made mental note were okay to touch and avoiding the ones with injuries.

"Please don't make me worry like that."

Luka goes silent, he can't promise that he won't get into more fights and lose.. cause he will. But he decides to compromise; "I'll do my best to take care of myself, okay? No matter what.. I won't scare you like that."

You nod softly, accepting that proposal. Feeling him fall down into the couch and drag you along with him to lay ontop of his chest.

"Doesn't this hurt?"

"Nah, even if it did, I'll take it just to feel your heartbeat against mine."

You chuckle at his cheesy-ness, your hands to his cheeks as you pull him in for a very needed kiss. "I love you." You say softly, pulling away only to be dragged back in for a much longer one.

"I love you more."

[vendetta-if]

Damn the last update was so 🥺 can I ask you which is Luka's most cherished memory of little MC and little Ash when Viktor was alive and when he bacame their surrogate father?

Oohh 🥺🥺 Good question. He, of course, has a lot of cherished memories of times spent with his family and loved ones, but some stand out a bit more than the rest. Since I can’t really choose, I’ll do two for each ☺️ So, buckle up, this will be a long one.

Also, quite a number of these memories revolve around Christmas. Christmas celebrations has always been a memorable and cherished tradition for the Morozovs, especially for Viktor and Luka because it was one of the rare moments where they got to spend a lot of time with their father.

Pavel would always make sure to clear out all of his schedules weeks surrounding Christmas and New Year, and sometimes, he even cleared the whole December and first half of January. This is of course to spend more time with his wife and two sons, and to just take a break and even vacation with his family.

It’s not a surprise that Viktor and Luka end up continuing the tradition when they have their own family as well.

So, with that additional context out of the way, let’s start with when Viktor was still alive! 🥲

One of his most memorable memories from back then was MC’s fourth birthday. He didn’t really know what to gift his four-year-old nephew/niece/nibling, so he went with Cara to go scour for presents.

He had gifted Ash one of those ride-on toy motorcycles for their birthday that year and Ash loves to ride it around (It’s like a mini Ducati one 🥺). So, when he stumbled on those ride-ons vehicles toys again, he decided to go safe and buy one of the car ones for MC. He totally forgot that Viktor and MC were living in an apartment and didn’t have too much space for it 😭

The afternoon ended up being spent hanging out in one of the parks in the city with Viktor, Luka, and Cara hanging out and watching Ash and MC zooming around on their little vehicles 🥺🥺 Somehow, that little memory sticks to him to this day.

The other memory from back then that is memorable for him is actually that first Christmas where MC met their grandparents for the first time, even though the night went a little bit chaotic at the end. But to him, it was one of the few times before Viktor’s death where the whole family was reunited—even Ash and Cara were there too…

Now after Viktor’s and Cars’s death and he became MC’s and Ash’s guardian…

One of the memories he cherishes is the first time the three of them actually celebrated and enjoyed Christmas together. Before that, the mood always ended up being too sombre to really do anything festive other than having dinner together and opening gifts.

It was around 3 years after Viktor’s death (and around 2 after Cara’s), when MC and Ash seemed to finally get out of that slump period in their lives. They decided they want to celebrate Christmas cheerfully like before, even if it’s only three of them now.

So, they ended up baking—or more like trying to bake—cookies and cupcakes for Christmas and keeping it a surprise for Luka. The results were… less than stellar (although, depending in your headcanon for your MC’s interest and skill in cooking and baking, they might end up being edible at least 😆) and they made a huge mess out of the kitchen.

Luka was, of course, surprised in more ways than one and found the situation funny. The mood lightened for the rest of the night and the three of them actually ended up enjoying Christmas Eve together, watching classic Christmas movies together all night while drinking hot cocoa and eating cookies after having dinner. It was also kind of a turnaround moment for the three of them, so it is memorable to Luka.

The other memorable memories are attending Ash’s and MC’s graduation ceremonies, simply because they are milestones moments that every parent would remember for the rest of their life—Luka’s no different, although he always gets a little wistful reminiscing on that… Because it should’ve been Viktor and Cara sitting where he was sitting in those ceremonies.

[solestixx]

1- lukas matsson x reader

word count ≈ 6600

warning: smut and mid writing

____

“Ken- you know this isn’t my scene.” Your voice goes quiet, simply just peering at your brother, anxious for his reaction.

He’s been a bit of a pain in the ass lately, the whole family was a pain in your ass lately, but perhaps it was always this way. The Roy family created chaos and unnecessary drama, that was a given. It was something you tried to detach yourself from; the business, the craze, the constant chatter– it all drained you. From the moment you were born, it was as if your family was screaming from all sides whether it be Roman and Shiv fighting over shit all, or your dad blowing up in your faces.

You always knew that you didn’t fit into the puzzle. You were born a little bit too late, grew up with faint glances of your older siblings, and dismissed like the baby you were. Maybe that was the reason you never considered joining Waystar, or perhaps why a place was never offered. 

Your dad was your dad, perpetually disappointed in you – while at the same time maintaining that you were his favourite. You all knew it was Shiv, but the very fact he insisted that it was you made you villain number one to your siblings. 

So there you were, their little sister who was a fucking writer, twiddling with your ungroomed thumbs, waiting for your family to forget who you were. That being said, it was a surprise when you opened your email to find a very flashy invite to Kendall’s 40th. You didn’t think that your brother would want what he perceived as his Debbie Downer boring little sister at his grandiose douche fest.

“Come the fuck on, it’s my party, Bambi, cheer up, enjoy yourself for once,” Kendall says. “Come on, I’ll take you somewhere special.” As he’s about to leave, you stop him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Wait, Ken. I have a gift for you.” You hand him an envelope, “I didn’t want it getting lost in the mix.”  

Kendall stops with his buzzing, which is probably coke-induced and takes the envelope from your hands. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you sigh as you watch your brother tuck the envelope into his coat. 

He quickly puts a hand on your shoulder before he starts to navigate you around, waving and fistbumping his friends walking by. As quickly as you had gained Kendall’s attention, it faded away from you, as he yelled over at his assistant who seemed new, but you weren’t around enough to know. “Yo! Comfrey, ship up my little sis to the treehouse.”

His assistant – Comfrey, who you knew had definitely been speed walking away from her boss before he hollered out at her – whipped her head towards the both of you. You were the odd couple, Kendall’s glazed over eyes and dopey smile mixed with your grimacing under his touch. “Coming!”

Kendall gives you a pat on the head– a move he often did in childhood, his eyes dead as always as he gives you a good-enough smirk,  “You should avoid the other sibs, they’re strictly business right now – serious work only.”

You smile at his unconscious insinuation. You weren't a serious person to them. You weren’t anything you guessed, “Have fun, okay Ken? And try not to be a complete dick tonight,” you ask before Comfrey pulls me away and Kendall saunters off. 

You watch your brother from the corner of your eyes, and quickly try to keep up with the bouncing ponytail of his young assistant. The hollowness in your chest that used to exist – that there would be ten years ago –  had disappeared now, you were completely okay with the empty promises and empty phrases. 

It’s what you grew up on. Raised in the top two floors of the highest buildings in New York, the Scottish highlands with your father’s forgotten castles, or in sprawling ranches in the middle of nowhere for tax purposes. At least that was the childhood you had with the Logan Roy experience.

After Uncle Ewan’s wife passed away, when you went to her funeral with your whole family, Dad decided that he’d leave his youngest with his brother to build your character. Your siblings were already almost in college and you were, well, the youngest and still complaining about multiplication and school field trips. So, from then on, you distanced yourself. Not entirely by your own volition, but every decision after was. And you prayed that every decision following would be as well.

As you try to keep pace with the taller woman, “So Comfrey, how’d you become Kendall’s assistant?” 

The woman turns around for a second to get a glance at the youngest Roy, she presses her lips together before curtly responding, “I’m his PR rep.”

All you do is hum in understanding, she was a PR rep that was running around like a low-level worker bee trying to satiate her older brother. It was like all people in their lives. 

You pass by the flashing lights, tall glass windows, and strange art installations, not so much admiring them, more like begging to just dissolve into the floor. To melt like the witch in the Wizard of Oz would be your opus, your ooey-gooey pile of person simply having a hard time leaching onto the rich person floors.

When you spot the all-too-familiar treehouse you wince. It seemed that Kendall’s childhood trauma manifested in an exuberant part of his fortieth birthday party. “This is Kendall’s little sister, she’s cool.” Comfrey motions the guards behind her, as you stand awkwardly – it looked like they needed visible confirmation you were you? It took them a second for their heads to look at your orientation. 

While they make way for you, opening up the roped fence, you thank Comfrey, then watch her scatter away, and hurry away probably to clean up Kendall’s inevitable fuck-ups. 

She was nice enough, you guessed; could be worse. 

You wandered through the treehouse with no purpose, staring at the tree trunk columns that looked borderline tacky and its leaf-casted shadows on the walls. You weren’t alone in the room, no there was a boatload of Kendall’s rager hedge fund friends, or celebrities whose faces you remember enough to dart away from – but still, you were alone. You felt eyes on you, people knew that you were a Roy, but eyes don’t give you company. 

The space was large enough to walk around for a few minutes, but eventually, you assumed you just looked out-of-place. Pacing around like a failed dracula, circling his already knowing victims. So you resigned yourself to a couch near a wall, praying that nobody approaches you. At least you wouldn’t be sneak-attacked from the back. That was your worst fucking nightmare – a hand on your back and a networking LinkedIn smiley techie. 

Leaning into the couch’s thin leather you try to get comfortable. The lights were bright enough you hoped, to not ‘ruin the vibe’ with your phone’s obnoxiously bright screen. Staring at your home screen, you forget any work that you had to do – literally nothing of importance that would make you look like you were doing something. Yes, you were writing a screenplay right now, which would be a good thing to work on if you could concentrate in the noisy fucking room. So you just went on Candy Crush, your finger languidly swiping your high school iPhone wanting to shoot yourself. 

You spent an adequate amount of time doing that, getting cozy enough to tuck your feet under your body and let your hair out from the bun it was in. It felt okay, you still wanted to go home, but you were waiting until at least ten percent of the crowd was gone so Kendall wouldn’t get prissy. 

But you couldn’t keep the peace, of course, you couldn’t. Because there Kendall comes into the room, not looking for you, but for a man sitting on one of the benches in the middle of the party.

“There he is!” You internally shrink, like a deflated balloon as your brother approaches. You hide like you were habitually doing as a child, trying to dart off from where you were oh-so comfortable. You hear Kendall saying some other bullshit which you tune out in your panic, but as you’re set to leave he calls out your name. 

“Bambs!” He turns to the man next to him, “This is my sister– she isn’t a vulture like the other ones, don't worry about that.” He looks back at you, then at the man again, “She’ll take care of you, they avoid her like a fucking plague.”

“Really nice, Ken,” you say, walking towards them reluctantly, resigning to sit next to the blonde man. He was tired-looking with hardly-noticeable but still visible rings underneath his eyes, a small smirk of interest on his face as he doesn’t shuffle to give you space, instead moving closer to you.

Kendall leaves, for a reason you are unsure of. You try to stare in his retreating direction as you feel the stranger’s hot eyes on you. You couldn’t read this guy, he seemed like a regular dude at first glance and to your relief he didn’t seem crazed in the eyes or serial-rapey.

“You’re the youngest one, aren’t you? The recluse?” he asks, his accent isn’t American, it was something Nordic – you hadn’t met many of them in your life. 

You turn towards him, to be polite of course, although your body tries to twist awkwardly, making sure he isn’t too close, “Good use of deduction.” He’s attractive, vaguely familiar like everyone in the room, obviously important to your brother, but you still have no fucking clue who he is. “And you’re? One of my brother’s friends?”

He smirks, laying back on a column behind him, “Yeah, we’re best buddies, like peas and a pod.” 

“No name?” He laughs, like he was in disbelief that you didn’t know who he was, “I like this, I’ll be your mystery man, hmm?” He leans further towards you, raising his eyebrows – the lack of space making your face hot. 

You try to escape any feelings of chagrin, crossing your legs, and staring into his eyes which felt like it was more of his soul. Who was this fucking dude? “A mystery man in my childhood treehouse, you’re sounding like a pedophile to me…”

He nods as though he agrees, laughing, “You have a history in this, I assume, with your family.” Oh yes, Uncle Mo. “What do you do? The tabloids say… writer?” 

A part of you feels insecure in your lack of knowledge about him. He knows your occupation, your name, and would probably be able to trace your life back to childhood through the internet, while you sat here like prey for his predator. All in his casual clothing and wolfish smile. 

“Yes, some screenwriting, some things more authorial, enough to get by.” 

It seemed like the idea of ‘getting by’ was amusing to him as he smiled when you said that. Almost as if he was in disbelief that a Roy would ever need to make enough to get by. Maybe he was older money, maybe he grew up in a big castle like you, a prince or something… your mother had always had people like that over when you were young. It was funny, the old aristocrats with their wine and screaming kids. No he wasn’t old money... his whole being read new. New money. New power.

“You dress like you write children’s books, like a sexy-librarian-kindergarten teacher – it’s hot, if I dare-say,” he says. You can feel him looking her up and down and she doesn’t know if you hate it or like it. You may be leaning to the latter with how lonely you’d been feeling for so long. 

You almost roll your eyes, although your face heats up. How long has it been since someone somewhat complimented you? Sure they called your writing good, praised you in those magazines– no journals they called them, but nobody ever looked at you. Even if it was a half-insult. 

You did dress conservatively, at least to control the narrative of yourself. Stemming mostly from when the paps took pictures up your skirt as a teenager. They weren’t even decent enough to wait until you were eighteen, the moment the vultures saw that you wore a short-enough skirt they chased you around trying to get a glimpse of the most elusive Roy sibling; the paps were constantly chasing a story, and for the duration of your childhood you were the most interesting part of the billion-piece puzzle belonging to the Roy family.

Without any response, he moves even closer, if that’s humanly possible – your arms pressing up against each other. He was warm, warmer than the stuffy room around the two of you, “Trying to insinuate something, mystery man?”

“Ja, maybe I am,” he says, before leaning close to your face. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” He offers you a hand to get up, which your body wills you to take, but your brain knows logically any man your brother wants to woo is a douche, yet you’d always think with your feelings. He pulls you through the treehouse, walking into more of a secluded room. 

You feel people watching you, more than before, more than they would the youngest Roy, but his hand feels so warm in yours, and he was even more attractive standing up. Taller than your smaller stature – you were the shortest of your siblings along with the youngest, the baby. It felt nice walking next to him, it felt safe. But still, it felt almost dangerous.

You breathe out a thank god as the two of you get off of the wooden bench and your butt touches a soft surface again. It’s more secluded than your spot before but like every corner of the party, there were still people around you. 

“Not a fan of crowds?” he asks, getting comfortable on the couch and leaning back as you feel his hand rise slowly on your thigh. Like he’s apprehensively confident.

“Is anyone really?” you ask him, he nods slowly, his eyes asking me to go on, “I don’t know why I’m here, maybe just feeling shitty about my family situation, you know? I don't spend much time with them… ever.” You eye the man as he intensely looks back at you – eyefucking you believe it’s called. Oh and his eyes are blue, you’d never noticed that before — remarkably they’re not empty, the soul was still there, at least right now. You have to admit that he’s hot, in this light even more so. His features affirm my suspicions of where he’s from– and as you stare at him even longer you can't quite remember when you’d ever seen a hotter man. “Do you still have no name?”

He grins, looking away, “You’ll know soon enough, won’t you? This is fun for now.” 

“The only name I know you by is pedophile, and I don’t think you want people overhearing. Seems like we have eavesdroppers,” you glance over at the small groups of people around you. You assume that they’re small investors, that they probably know Kendall and whatever business he has with the mystery man. 

“You’re right, my facial expressions plus my conversation are very relevant to the stock market and usually equals tanking.”

“You talking to me will probably tank it, whatever stock you’re talking about—“ you stop yourself from continuing, would Dad be mad that you were talking to him? “You’re not part of Kendall’s crusade, right? Like my father won’t try and assassinate me for speaking to you?”

It’s almost like he enjoys that notion as he laughs to himself, “Don’t worry about Kendall, your dad hiring a guy maybe, but right now I’m to be courted.” He gestures with his hands – which to you are strangely very animated, “You care about what your dad says, do you?”

You respond nonchalantly, though your hands squirm and you look to the ground, “It’s a constant fuck him, and at the same time I love you, Daddy, I guess. He was shit, is shit, but sometimes he’s not too bad.”

“You call him daddy?”

For the second time today, you feel yourself crawl into your skin, “Oh yeah, when we’re in bed together definitely.”

Mystery man almost giggles at your comment, and there’s something affable about that. He was constantly switching from this serious man to a very unserious one. There was some strange part of this that you liked, you liked the attention the way that he looked at you, the bubble he created around the two of you, the way his hand was increasingly inching. 

You think back to the way this night started. You were quite desperate to leave, a bit dampened by the way Kendall accepted your gift, and guilty that you weren't at home taking care of your cat and working. Then you were delivered by this tall Viking man and you were uncomfortably comfortable with the way he made you feel. 

“I kind of want to get drunk.”

“I have no qualms with that,” he responds, a grin on his face as you both get up and inch towards the bar, his hand slipping onto your back easily. 

The time at the bar was spent in easy conversation, you stand against the wall, with him looming in front of you as you drink together. Him a beer and you a drink with a name you’re unsure of – hating yourself for so much enjoying the tang of the liquified poison. 

“Why aren’t you part of your family’s business?”

The way he looks at you… you feel like there’s genuine interest, you look into his eyes and there’s a gleam that scares me. Was he playing with you? Was this a play for your family? You still have no clue who this man is. You let him get too close to yourself, hand on your waist – eyes on yours, too close for a stranger. But you just want to be happy,  to feel like you exist again. Not a fly on the wall, the main course. 

“You know,” you shrug your shoulders, taking another sip as he just looks at you with a weird facial thing that you don’t quite understand. Like he’s teasing you, but ever so slightly, begging you to spill – which you do. “I’m the baby, y’know – Bambi or whatever.”

He tilts his head back as he absorbs, “Bambi… I like that, you look like a Bambi – the deer right?”

“Yes the deer, they–” I hurriedly take another sip of my drink as I recount the story of my ubiquitous nickname, “Once Dad went hunting and brought me along, we spotted a deer and instead of uh– killing it I kind of ran towards it, while his gun was still aimed. He said that he was about to shoot me like I was a Bambi, he said I was so fast that he almost pulled the trigger while watching me through the scope.”

Mystery man looks at me with wide eyes, “Jesus fuck, that’s a shit thing to say. How old were you?”

“Uh maybe ten, by then my siblings were gone and he visited me where I lived with Uncle Ewan in Canada.”

“What a fucking prick.”

“Yeah.”

You stare at each other for a minute, him in front of you and you below him, you really like his eyes. You break it though, your head was starting to spin from the one drink and he was making it almost worse. “Come on, let’s go sit down, I’m gonna get stumbly.”

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you walk towards an empty space with a few chairs around a table and plop yourself down. Curling into yourself, you can just feel him situating himself next to you.

“You’re a lightweight, aren’t you? You look like one too,” he says, taking a swig of his still-almost-full beer.

You glare up at him as you start dozing off, “I’m gonna nap, you do you, pedophile.”

He guffaws, “Okay, no more pedophile jokes, the press hears and I’m done.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you mutter before tucking your head into your own shoulder. 

“I have to ask you something before you nod off.” He seems almost genuine in his words as he furrows his eyebrows and leans towards your chair. You lift yourself ever so slightly showing that you’re listening. “We’ll fuck later right? Like guaranteed?”

You close your eyes again before you can roll them, although a tiny smile slips onto your face – you hope he won’t see it as you bury your face into the back of the lounge chair. 

“I saw that grin, I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“Fuck off, asshole.”

“Don’t contradict yourself now.”

You shake your head in mock embarrassment as you go to sleep. Your head was throbbing a bit, and your heart was beating faster – but you realize that you’d forgotten the loud music, and the crowds of people around. You’d forgotten. You’d found solace after so many years looking for it, in the middle of a mock replica of your childhood treehouse.

And this sleep was peaceful for a while, but then a fucking earthquake rumbled you awake. 

“What the fuck,” you grunted as you felt hands on your shoulders, your eyes bulge open and you see Roman above you. “Rome, leave me alone, you bitch.”

“Were you trying to seduce Matsson for dad?” 

You just roll your eyes, not understanding in your incoherent state what the fuck your brother was talking about – per usual. Looking around you saw that mystery man was gone, and the party was still raging around you. And his name was Matsson? Strange name, but a little bit fitting. 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about… why’d you even wake me up, miss me that bad?” you asked, clearly trying to antagonize him with your whiny voice.

Roman with all his pessimism and ass-holery deadpans at you, “Well I’m fuckin’ sorry, you totally missed the six foot tall Viking who was camped out beside your unconscious body?”

“Is that not the point of being unconscious, dumbass?” 

“Did you fuck him, Bambi? Were you so fucking tired after fucking him that you had to take a big girl nap?”

“There’s something psychologically wrong with you.”

Roman sits squatting on the top of the chair as he pseudo-interrogates you, “Y’know he didn’t let me fucking wake you up, was that a power play or did you let him do you?”

“Rome, I have no idea who that man was, he just said he was your friend and Ken told me to keep an eye on him.” Half-lying was your thing, you guessed. Your life was full of half-lies, momentary omissions of details, ignoring parts of sentences so you seemed more innocent. That was the life of a youngest child out of five you guessed.

“And since when were you Kendall’s bitch?” “Since he invited me to something, unlike you.” 

Roman completely skipped your comment before going off again, “Did he tell you anything, Matsson?”

“Oh yeah, he told me he fucking hates your guts,” you say with a smile, watching your brother getting riled up.

“I’m going to tell Dad that you fucked him if you don’t tell me the truth,” he threatens, it was fun being in this position. You’d so regularly in your childhood been put down by your older siblings, so it was interesting being the one to give it back to them. You finally understood the appeal. Ah, leverage. 

You smile as you pretend to recount, a finger to your chin as you mockingly itch it, “Oh he told me that Dad’s an asshole and he has no interest in business with any of you creeps.”

“You’ve seriously been spending too much time with Uncle Looney? You know that right? You sound delusional, completely and utterly gone.”

As you sit up straighter trying to compose yourself, you eye Shiv coming over to where you and Roman sit (although he’s very much standing, pacing, like a lunatic), her hair a mess and her makeup smudged all over. She’d either just had mind blowing sex or something was seriously wrong with her. 

You and your sister were strained to say the least. You wanted the idealized big sister who would braid your hair and make you up. The sister who would talk about boys with you and argue with you over stealing her clothes. You guessed Shiv more so wanted to prove herself to Dad – she’d always been his favourite. You were more of an afterthought to her. The kind of afterthought that made you do a double take when you remember that you’d buried it so long ago. 

There wasn’t any sentimentality in the title of sister with the two of you. You were just another sibling, and probably her third favourite before Connor. But still, you love her, and you know in the deep recesses of her heart she loves you too. All the siblings love each other, although a strong belief for you was that there were certain dynamics that you were excluded from because of your age and difference in childhood. 

“You do you, Roman. Just know that I’m hoping for your business with him to fail, just handing you my two cents.” Business was a strange concept to you, you were always pushed away from it as a child, leading you to know less than nothing about it. At one point you felt like you would go into it, but that too was ripped away from you. So right now, you just wanted to make Roman feel bad. Sure it was wrong to want to churn your brother into pieces, but it felt so good.

“I know you’re a fucking liar, so just like, sit with that, okay?” 

“Whatever, Roman.”

Roman ignores your words calling out for Shiv. Shiv runs a finger through straight but frizzy hair before coming to give you a half-hug.

The hug was weird and a little bit detached, but it was something, and it made you feel not instantly uncomfortable, but almost happy. Happy to see your sister again a little bit. “Bambi, it’s been like two fucking years.” 

It hadn’t been, but you agree. It felt like it.

“I didn’t know you were keeping track–” you try to say, but Roman quickly cuts you off. Biting off that Shiv was out dancing. Dancing was a human thing. You didn’t know your only sister was a human. 

“Guys, I’m gonna go now, I’ll probably not be in touch, so yeah,” you try and gracefully leave as your siblings bicker about finessing or some shit. 

They both nod non-committedly as you trot off observing Kendall and Connnor at the opposite poles of the room. You choose to not go off towards Kendall, who you knew probably already ruined his night with his overthinking or underthinking. Instead you go to Connor, probably your only kind brother, albeit the fact sometimes he was fucking lawful psychotic.

“Con, Con,” you call out, your small purse at your side as you push it around your body – you’d refused to give it to security earlier, citing personal reasons which they were too scared to deny. They probably assumed it was your period or something like that – you’d made that insinuation when they didn’t relent for your last name.

You see Connor’s coated body turn around as he returns your call, “Bambi! My favourite sister – you remember Willa?” Connor gestures to his arm candy, who didn’t seem too excited to meet you – or meet you again, but obviously faked it. She was very pretty, nearly to the point where she made you feel insecure. But then again, no hate for your brother, but she was with your brother. You were sure Connor had mentioned her in a phone call, but you two never really talked about those kinds of things. He was always ranting on about politics (you think you’re the only one who would listen, so he took advantage of that) or you would talk about your life – never about the company, or really how he was doing besides his ranch. 

“Yes, at Shiv’s wedding, I believe?” She just nods, and you’re both just pretending to know when you last met. There was no recognition in her eyes, and you don’t think you’d ever interacted with her. It was a nice connection you’d had, a shared lie always brings people together.

“Ken, told me you were here, but I thought you’d be gone by now.” Connor pulls you into a hug before saying, “Have you been taking care of yourself, sis?”

“I’ve been doing okay, normally as always.” Noticing his cast, she asks, “What’s up with your arm, Con’?”

“Oh, I was doing an Irish jig as one does, and boom I slipped and it bent in all different directions,” he describes in a strangely vivid way. “I’m feeling better though, Willa helped me recover, right sweetheart?”

“Yep,” she nodded, a smile on her face as she bore her eyes into mine – uncomfortable? Very.

Connor was probably the only one of your siblings you regularly spoke to, yes it was by phone, and no you didn’t always enjoy it, but there was a beautiful normalcy to speaking on the phone with your brother. With Kendall or Roman it always turned into business– about Dad. With Shiv it was her ranting about some political thing, well maybe that was before she turned so Waystar-loco. 

Connor was your normal brother.

“Have you heard of my recent presidential proclivities?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks at Willa for support – in which she enthusiastically nods her head.

Maybe he wasn’t exactly the most normal of brothers, but he was more normal than the brother who spoke about you having sex weirdly too much or the one who can’t stop fucking over your dad and snorting cocaine. 

You nod, but before you hear a tumble and watch Roman bending over a kneeling Kendall. What a fucking dick. Kendall’s girlfriend, who you also didn’t recognize was helping him up, and you stood there with no intention to help or rush in, frozen to your spot.

Connor shouts out, “Everyone take it easy, okay?” as Roman maniacally laughs and Kendall helps himself up. 

As Kendall walks past you, Connor, and Willa he grumbles, “Take your fucking coat off,” repeating it to Connor as he walks like a man scorned. Willa blocks Connor from Kendall trying to calm the younger brother down. You avert Kendall’s gaze, standing next to Willa blocking Connor who looks to the ground much like you.

Shiv seemingly walks away from the scene as well, but in the opposite direction from Kendall, and immediately after Willa and Connor walk arm in arm out, saying a quiet goodbye to you.

With one glance to Roman, who’s still muttering curses under his breath on the sofa chairs, you leave. You’d quickly sobered up, and it was time to face the darkness of New York. Walking out of the luxurious Manhattan skyscraper you peer at the artificially brightened roads and the strange silence of the backroads. Instead of taking an Uber or Taxi, you opt for the Subway. You didn’t take an allowance from your Dad like Connor did, you never inherited anything ever, and your last poetry anthology wasn’t lucrative enough to have casual taxi money. You were sure nothing would happen on the Subway, from experience you know that there would just be a few people throwing up and tired workers coming home from the night shift.

Before walking down into the station, you check your phone, one hand on the railing and the other carefully gripping onto your phone. Attention split both ways.

Unknown

Know who I am yet?

1 Missed Call from Unknown

Your heart skips a beat, an adrenaline rich positive-ending to the night beat skip.

Instead of heading inside, you turn around, sitting down on the top step of the stairs, hoping a coked up crypto-bro doesn’t push you down. 

Pressing the call, a part of you hopes he doesn’t pick up, so you can return to normalcy, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

“Bambi?”

You groan, “I thought the story would stop you from calling me that.”

“Not because of the story, it suits you–” he pauses, the line going crackly as you hear him talk to someone, “You’ve left the party?”

“Yeah, walking home now.” “Walking? This is America, ja? You’re on a death mission.”

“It’s not too late, you know serial killers only come out after two in the morning.”

“I can send a car, hmm? You can come over here.”

“What does ‘over here’ mean? To a stranger’s home?”

“You promised me something, didn’t you?”

“Hmmmm, a promise? I don’t remember.”

“Send me your location, I’ll get my guy to get you.”

“Okay, I’ll send my location to a stranger just because he was nice to me at my brother’s party.”

“See you soon then.”

____

The drive was awkward to Matsson’s (you preferred mystery man to what seemingly sounded like a last name, although it might be a first, Europeans were in themselves a mystery as well). The driver was quiet, and the car was a rich person’s. It was a car you were all too familiar with, the car you drove in during your childhood, the same tinted windows and leather seats.

Same thing of riding up to the penthouse of a hotel – he was only here temporarily you surmised. You’d probably be a one-time thing. 

When the elevator doors beep open and you’re in a hallway with one door, anxiety fills you up. What if this was a trap? If he was some sort of sexual pervert, or even worse an axe murderer with an even worse temper than anyone you could find on the New York streets?

But before you can even knock the door swings open and a hand pulls you in, “Fucking asshole,” you whisper as you feel his lips trace over yours, your breath in his. 

He’s rough, and rushed, like he’s a man starved – of you. 

As he starts tracing his fingers underneath your shirt you push his back, two hands on his chest as he kneels his head to meet yours. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know your name,” you say, almost embarrassed that you hadn’t found it on your own, “Matsson? That’s your name.”

He doesn’t respond, just pulls you close to him, before picking you up into his arms. You restrain a squeal as you struggle in his arms. He navigates through the hallways, looking as though he was confused on the layout of his own homebase, he finds the bed – splaying you down and standing above you like an animal.

“You know, I refuse to orgasm without your name,” you insist. He moves closer and closer, uncharacteristically quiet as he pulls your shirt up laying a hand on your stomach, the other tracing over your soaked panties, slowly creeping towards your sensitive skin. 

He’s strangely gentle with it, until he pulls your panties to the side, spreading open your legs as he buries his face into your pussy. You move your two legs onto his shoulders, as plays with your nipples – languid twisting and faint touches that leave you just wanting more.

You let out a yelp as you feel his tongue move into you, like a fucking shark he dives into your clit as he watches you for your reaction. You know you look like a mess, breathless and desperate. “Please, please–” you moan, desperate for his tongue, for his touch, his everything. 

“Your pussy’s so good, baby– fucking heaven,” he whispers into where his head lay between your thighs. As he blows gently on it, you are wholly exposed and cold, you start squirming. Your thighs start pressing around his head, trying to push him further, which seemed to turn him on even more. Your legs start to shake as your orgasm builds up and builds up, you feel like screaming from the bliss of it, his attack on your pussy is like God reigning down on earth. “Refuse to orgasm, hmm? Want me to stop?”

You shake your head as he continues, “Please, keep going, keep going—” He listens to you, beginning to rub your clit as the feeling of everything continues to crash down on you

“Come baby, come.” He keeps on licking you up, every fucking crevasse. 

Your orgasm came hard and quick, with a groan and a twitch your eyes rolled over as you released his head from in between your thighs, and as quickly as he got there, he climbed on top of you – his larger body engulfing yours as he hurriedly kisses you. 

“I want to inside me,” you say into his ear, you could feel him from underneath his pants as he grabs your ass, groaning into you as you palm him. 

“Take off your fucking clothes,” he orders, as you do it, you take off the loose t-shirt you’d been wearing to Kendall’s party off slowly, you can feel him staring at your tits, and a part of you loves it. Loves the attention you get from him. As you take off your pants from where they are bunched up from your ankles, and then the greenish-blue granny panties you wear, you watch him take his suede pants and then his boxers off. Oh god, you feel yourself thinking as you stare at him. 

He picks you up as he brings his length into your entrance, rubbing it on your clit. He keeps going, relentless before he surprises you and slips it in, tilting your head towards him so he could watch you as he fucked you. 

You hear him groan as he starts with slow thrusts, he would push in and then wait five seconds before slowly sliding out— making sure you felt every inch of him. He was too big and you felt so full, with every time he pulled out you felt like five years were taken from your life span, that time had slowed down too much. You fucking needed him.

Of course he starts going fast, rough. There were no thoughts in your mind as you arched against him, and moaned in his mouth as he kissed you. Deeply and raw, like he had everything to lose and you would disappear in a heartbeat.

Pinning your hands above your head, he continues with his pace, passionately and without bore– “You’re so good for me, I just want to be inside you all the time,” he says a grin on his face as he watches your face before glancing down looking at his dick pound into you. 

He presses kisses to your throat as he whispers, “My name’s Lukas, Lukas Matsson–” strangely enough hearing his name sends you off the edge as you moan out unintelligibly, overstimulated as he keeps on going, getting more and more erratic. 

Not long after, he pumps into you a few more times before completely spilling inside of you, collapsing on top of you, not leaving your warmth as he buries himself deeper.

You don’t say anything afterwards, you let him lay on top of you as he stays inside of you all the same. It feels like time doesn’t pass as he wraps his arms around you, “Stay the night?” he asks, all you do is nod. 

You lay in silence for a few more seconds before you tell him, “I’m on birth control, by the way, pretty fucking risky to cum inside me without asking though.”

“I wouldn’t be mad at a little me running around if I could fuck you again.”

Not saying anything, you press a kiss to his neck before tucking yourself closer into his body– finding sleep comes to you when so often it fails you.

[teyamsilly]

YOUNGEST SULLY ii

summary the youngest daughter of the sully family is just two years younger than tuk. just how the sully family treats her!

pairing sully! reader x platonic! sully family

note this is not proof-read!

a/n it's been months since i paid attention to my stories lmao. i'm so sorry for the late post! i hope this is good enough for all of you

part one | part two

jake shared a special moment with each of his children, and he wants to make one with you

out of the siblings in their younger years, you are the most adventurous, even more than lo'ak

you had the knack of throwing everything everywhere and jake wanted to turn that into a hobby

what's better than archery?

jake brought you to a small pond that he brought neteyam when he was just younger. now that he's fifteen, he's more focused on his warrior duties. although they are small, neteyam always exceeded in his tasks. he secretly hoped that you shared the same passion as your big brother.

"daddy, look! this fish has blue and green on it's skin!" you exclaimed, your face nearing the water.

"that's beautiful," he smiled. jake made sure to note what the fish looked like to avoid hitting it with the arrow. just as he was about move closer, all the arrows he had on his arms fell on the ground. groaning, he picked them up. "so, sweetie. here's the plan for today…"

jake began explaining without even taking a glance at you

you were fascinated with the fish, until you weren't

the sounds of leaves ruslting in the forest made your ear twitch, looking at your father to see if he recognised it, but he didn't

you pondered over your decision if you should follow it and alert your dad, but you knew he would say no

you learned a lot from your big brother, lo'ak. he says, "dad will always say no, so learn how to do things secretly."

jake continued to explain the basics of archery. of course, he told you how archery was your mother's and neteyam's forte and how it could become yours too— he wishes you do. "you ready, babygirl?" he asked with a grin presented on his face, however, it quickly vanished when you weren't there.

"y/n?" jake yelled, running through the forest. 

he trailed back to the path the two of you used, but you weren't there. the area close to the lake was clear too. distraught, he gripped his dread locks. where could you have possibly gone? or perhaps someone took you at his vulnerable moment? what if something happened to you? oh, jake wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

jake then ultimately decided to get back home to inform neytiri about what's happened, and then call his warriors to go do a search for you. just as he was about to turn back, the sound of your giggles caused his ears to perk up. he quickly rushed to the direction he heard your voice.

"y/n!" he called again. 

"daddy!" 

jake assumed, from your heartily laughs, that you found something intriguing again

like a flower with colours that you have never seen, or a baby pa'li that lost his mother and you brought it home with you to make it a family pet (jake had to make a dramatic story about how it left because you didn't want to let it go)

but to his horror, you were playing with a palulukan

he stood frozen in his place as the palulukan guarded you from him, hissing

"y/n, come here."

you furrowed your eyebrows. "but, why? it's luka!"

it was jake's turn to look at you with confusion. "a what?"

"luka!" you groaned and rolled your eyes like it was supposed to be the easiest thing known to pandora. "he found me days ago when i went to the forest alone."

"you went to the forest alone?"

you nodded proudly. "uh-huh! when no one was watching!"

it took a while for luka, the palulukan, to let his guard down around jake

apparently, you created the bond with luka a few days ago

you didn't think it would be a big deal. you've seen your mom and dad bond with creatures, why can't you?

jake started to regret describing palulukan as creatures who only acts to defend themselves in a heroic way to you because who knew you would bond with one?

he's just glad that you were safe

when jake finally convinced you it was time to go, you hugged luka by the head and he only nodded his head

the plan he had now were long forgotten, the first thing he wanted to do was tell neytiri how their youngest daughter, who was only 5 years old, tamed a palulukan

their little palulukan makto <3

neytiri never imagined having a big family

she thought that she would stop with two children, but as her children grew, she realised that she wanted more until she didn't

five was already enough for her

each of her children had distinguished personalities that separate themselves

neteyam is responsible and composed. truly what the eldest should be

kiri is connected to everything around her, yet she could be mischevious at times

lo'ak is famous for his rebellious attitude

tuk is charming and funny, well expected for her age

but you, however, are different. you were a well mix of your older siblings. you could be responsible sometimes, scolding tuk and even lo'ak for the things they did. you tamed a palulukan at a young age! and you love walking around the forest, something kiri loves to do everyday. most of the time, you would engage lo'ak in his activities and get scolded by your father together. and tuk, she's your partner in crime.

neytiri thanks the great mother every night for the family she received

"mama," your small and soft voice calls for her.

neytiri hummed, her eyes staying on the top she's weaving for you. recently, you complained about your top being old and repetitive, so she decided to make you a new one. 

neteyam and lo'ak were out with jake for warrior duties, kiri was with mo'at for her tsakarem duties, and tuk was with her bestfriend. you didn't feel like playing with anyone, and stayed at home with your mother.

"i want to be like you when i grow up."

"is that so, little one?" neytiri smiled.

"yeah! i want to be a mother."

neytiri's eyes widened, instantly her gaze left the work from her hands and to you. you were smiling up at her innocently. she thought that when you said you wanted to be like her, she assumed that it would be a great hunter.

"a mother?" she repeated, still flabbergasted. "why is that?"

"because it's beautiful, don't you think? you and papa raised us, we turned out great. neteyam's recognised as a promising future olo'eyktan, kiri is connected to Eywa than grandma, lo'ak's outgoing nature makes him easy to talk to, and tuk makes anyone feel special. i want to raise a family as great as ours, mama! but maybe it's because you did a good job though…" you trailed off. "doesn't matter! i'll do a good job too!"

neytiri only watched you with tears welling in her eyes

of course, she knew she did a good job. she sees it everyday and was told by jake with any opportunity he gets

but to hear it from one of your children, moreso youngest? 

you paused when a tear fell from your mother's eyes, trickling down her cheek

"mama, is everything okay-"

neytiri placed her hand on the side of your head, smiling fondly, her thumb brushing your temple. "you have grown too fast," she whispered. she leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

you smiled brightly at the action. "did i grow taller?"

neytiri laughed, "oh, yes. really tall."

"do you think i would grow as tall as neteyam?"

and one by one, her children came back to their home

neteyam and lo'ak were first. tired from their duties, lo'ak didn't waste his time to sleep on his mat while neteyam joined them

kiri and tuk were next. tuk joined the circle and began telling her adventures with her bestfriend today

because of the noise, lo'ak woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. neteyam beckoned him to join them, because he didn't have a choice. he begrudgingly joined the circle

soon, the kids were lively and conversing with one another

neytiri observed them, her smile never leaving her face

she sighed happily, "thank you, great mother."

[zabala0z]

TMA S3 FINALE (and me screaming)

I don’t know where to start. Maybe the fact that everyone I like in this podcast always dies? Yeah I’ll start there. What the fuck guys. What. Like. What?????

I’m not going into my usual format but holy shit. MAG 119 was like motion sickness but for my ears. The music. I hated it so much. That organ. Tim. Tim. I knew he raised too many death flags, Jesus. Like I’m happy and all for him but GOD NO. AND DAISY??? Though when she started attacking the shit out of Breekon and Hope, I did internally cheer her on. The fact they tried to act as Basira made me wanna scream. Now that I think about it, was Daisy being influenced by one of the entities?? Like The Slaughter?

Basira is so much stronger than me. Like genuinely, I think she got bumped up a couple places just by her sheer logic during 119 and I am so impressed 💀 so much so, I’m wondering if she had like any internal help, y’know??

Orsinov is like one of the most horrifying sounding characters here. The moment she put on Gertrude’s and Leitners voice, I shrieked. Something about the sing-song voice, the way she inflects certain words makes my head spin. Like Michael.

Little backtracking, Martins situation with his mom is like devastating. And the moment Elias started speaking, I knew he was gonna pull out some traumatizing shitty news to give Martin, I hate him.

Fast forwarding: Jon’s dreams

Okay. So. Jon I guess is in some sort of coma and man are his dreams fucked up.

All the people that appeared in there were the people who gave physical statements. Not super hard to figure out but we had Dr Lionel Elliott, Tessa Winters, then Daisy but obviously she’s not there (DAISY 😭), Karolina Górka, Jordan Kennedy, I think the melted woman refers to Jude Perry, the hunters (Julia and Trevor), Naomi Herne and then the pitying figure. The only woman I would think would fit this vague description is Sasha because of course it’s vague, he doesn’t remember her and I’m going to sob.

Bit scared on what Jon is turning into. Whatever it is, it’s not anything good. He’s watching a lot and I guess he’s watching other people’s dreams- or nightmares- and just….watching??? I’d be terrified.

Elias got arrested. Love it. Though, “Be seeing you” I HATE YOU. 🫵🏻

Would be happy but god damn PETER LUKAS has replaced him and I don’t know if that’s worse or better because we at least know Elias’s actions and his limits. We don’t know much on Peter and I don’t like him at all. At least he’s giving them paid leave. And a counselor. I personally need a counselor for this WHOLE SEASON.

When people told me “good luck” when I started getting into TMA, I laughed it off. I should’ve taken it more seriously because I have never felt more distinct and unpredictable emotions than listening to this podcast. I think that’s all my thoughts. Mostly I’m just uhh dying here. I hate everyone and this podcast and I’ll be listening to the beginning of Season 4 tomorrow!

Again, thank you to everyone who has been following my mini rants and crappy theories. Remember when I thought Gertrude was living in the tunnels??? But seriously, thanks to anyone who has been like fully reading through my posts. School has been wack and the people, and just the podcast as a whole has been making my time less stressful 💀 anyways that’s too emotionally vulnerable so thank you!!!

[wol-fica]

-𝐖𝐨𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐌𝐞?- 𝐏𝐓𝟑

parings - wenclair x daughter!reader

summary - you were born into a family of freaks, and that was the norm for you. but slowly, your interest in your family diminished due to lack of attention towards you. how will you cope?

warnings - family draamamammamaa

an - wanted to give some sappy R moments with her mothers ( won’t last long tho )

——————

“Keep a smile on your face Luka, you look stupid when you’re sad.” You murmured to your brother, eyes on your principal as she recited the rules for parents weekend.

It was a dreadful day, grey clouds rolling overhead while a chilly wind blew threw the quad. Students were strewn across the area, some sitting on the picnic tables while others stood shivering in the cool air. 

Principal Weems was giving announcements for todays later arrivals; the parents. Soon, the school will be overrun with families from all across the state who have come to see their children’s accidemic successes.

Among that group will be your family, consisting of your parents, brothers, grandparents and uncle. Your mom had insisted on them coming to visit you and Luka, so now the two of you had to worry about impressing all seven of them instead of just four.

“I’m not sad.” Luka whined, pouting slightly, “I’m freezing.”

“Suck it up, weather should not the thing to defeat you today.” You said, wincing when the wind stung your skin, “We still have to deal with them.”

“I’m excited to see everyone, it’s been awhile since Uncle Pugsley has visited.” Luka replied, “Are you ready for Louis and Leo’s chaos?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of your younger brothers causing havoc among the school. They will be the death of you, it was just due time until it happened.

“They will behave, or I will throw them into a pit full of rusty needles.”

Luka chuckled, rocking on his feet to keep himself warm as Weems finished up her announcements. 

“Your families will start to arrive in about twenty minutes, I suggest you prepare yourselves!” Weems said, dismissing everyone with a wave of her hand.

You cracked your neck, closing your eyes while you rolled out your aching shoulders. The past few nights  you had decided to skip sleeping and study the next chapter of Goody’s book; Spells On The Natural Elements, which provided a plethora of useful information for you to use. 

Her book has been very interesting, full of spells, potions, ways to commit arson, and even illustrations of mythical animals that she apparently had encountered. Drawings of her life in her village and her distaste for a certain “Crackstone” could be found on almost every page, which was so humorous to you. 

“Y/N.” Luka said, bumping his shoulder into yours, “I think they are here.”

Your head turned to the doorway, watching as adults and kids spilled in to greet their nevermore children. Among them, your dark family could be seen entering with grace; excusing your younger brothers sprinting at you and Luka.

“¡Hermana! ¡Hermano!” Leo said, jumping into Luka’s arms for a hug. 

Louis was close behind him, shoving himself against you and pulling you into a bone crushing embrace. Your arms were tight at your sides, rigid whil he hugged you.

“Louis.” You snarled, looking down to give him a deadly glare, “Let go.”

He complied, grinning and turning to greet Luka. Leo stepped up to you, but thankfully he had enough of a brain to only hold out his hand for a fist bump. You reluctantly complied, cringing all while you did.

“Nice to see you big sis.” He said cheerfully, giving you a smile, “How’s school going?”

“Utterly horrible.” You replied, a small frown forming on your face, “The people here are disgusting.”

“Sounds awesome.”

You nodded, your focus now on your remaining family members that were making their way towards you. Your uncle looked nervous but happy, waving to people as he passed by. Your grandparents, cheery as ever, had glowing smiles that reached just to their eyes, age barely showing on their clear skin.

And then their was your parents. 

Your mom was first, decked out in her colorful attire of white jeans, a large pink coat with feathery edges, a bright blue top, pink winter boots, and a rainbow beanie that draped over her pink and blue streaked hair. Your mother was right behind her, quite the opposite of her outfit. She was dressed in black combat boots, black cargo jeans, a white and black stripped sweater with a black jacket over it, and a thin black scarf to top it all off.

Revolting.

“There are my two favorite eldest grandchildren!” Your grandfather said, pulling you and Luka into a tight hug, “How have you been?”

“We’re alright, just chugging through the school year.” Luka replied, scratching his neck nervously while you scowled.

“I hope you both are enjoying fencing class.” Your grandmother said, gracefully gliding over with a smile, “Have either of you gotten the title?”

“Y/N has!” Luka said happily, but shrank down when you glared at him warningly, “But she doesn’t care for it.”

“Just as an Addams should, you take after your mother so well.” Your grandmother said, clasping her hands together in praise.

You sighed, internally cursing yourself for getting that title. Fencing was never a huge interest for you, but after Weems practically demanded that you take the class, you decided to give it you all rather than be just mediocre. Hence how you got the spot as the teams captain.

“There’s my girl.” A voice sounded, causing your eyes to widen and turn around a little to fast.

Your mom was there, a smile on her face as she held her arms open to you. She was one of the very rare few who you tolerated hugging, something about her embrace was so warm and comforting to you.

“Lobo Madré.” You stated before walking into her arms, your face tucking itself into her neck for comfort.

“What’s going on sweetheart?” Enid questioned with concern, rubbing your back with her hands, “You doing okay?”

You nodded, holding on tightly to her body. She smelled of some sort of fruity perfume, the thick scent invading your senses. Her hugs felt like home, which is where you so badly wanted to be at the moment. 

Soft hands came up to your shoulders, pulling you back from her so she could inspect your face. The back of her hand went to your forehead to check your temperature, a frown gracing her lips at the feeling.

“You’re a bit hot. Are you feeling okay?” She questioned, brushing a lock of ebony hair out of your face.

You shrugged, now recognizing the aching headache that sat in the front of your skull. Your eyes closed at the throbbing pain, subconsciously leaning yourself back into your mom’s arms.

“My head hurts.” You mumbled, practically going limp in her warm embrace.

“I think it’s a fever.” She spoke softly, almost as if not directed to you, “Willa, I’m gonna take her to her room.”

“Do you want me to come with you? Is it that bad?” Your mother asked, turning to face your mom.

“Is it okay for her to come?” Enid asked you, squeezing you to get your attention.

You nodded, too sleepy to argue or consider the consequences of your parents potentially finding Goody’s book. Your brain felt foggy and dull, and thoughts were not processing correctly through your head, which meant the percentage of you saying or doing something to reveal your little secret was a solid 75%.

“Okay.” She replied, then turned to address the rest of the family, “We’re gonna take Y/N to her room!”

Everyone nodded, turning back to Luka to talk about school. Your mom clasped her hand in yours and led you along, her arm around your back to keep you steady. The walk was painfully long and uncomfortably quiet, the silence causing anxiety to rise in the back of your throat with each step you took.

Soon, you arrived at the burgundy-scorched door, its brass handles welcoming you into its space. The large, half-rainbow window sent rays of colorful sunlight onto the oak floors, cascading your face in light as you entered your dorm room.

“You kept the window the same?” Your mom questioned, a small smile on her lips, “I thought you would rip it off.”

“Never had the time.” You mumbled, heading to your bed to sit down. 

You sat near your pillow, using your body as a wall between the book and your concerned parents. Your nerves were aflame at the thought of yourself getting caught, but you couldn’t focus on that right now.

Wednesday was surveying your room, her fingers tracing the old wood as if she were reminiscing her time at Nevermore. The way her black eyes scanned the room made you nervous, like you didn’t meet her standards of living or something.

You heard shuffling behind you, your mom emerging from your bathroom with a cup of water and some ibuprofen. She came around your bed, sitting next to you to hand you the medicine. You slipped the pill into your mouth, taking the glass from your moms hand to help you swallow it.

“That will help you feel better.” Enid said, pulling a piece of hair behind your ear, “You should sleep as well.”

You nodded, setting the now empty glass on your desk before moving to remove your shoes. Your mother came around to you, grabbing the chair from your desk to sit in front of you.

“Have you been sleeping normally? Any random headaches or feral urges?” Your mom asked, her hand rubbing your back in a comforting manner, “Has the moon been exceptionally interesting lately?”

You sighed, shaking your head no. Whenever you got sick or received any migraines, your mom would immediately be concerned if you were potentially wolfing out, but that never was the case.

“Just headaches.” You said, kicking your shoes under the bed, “And some nausea.”

“Dizziness?” Wednesday asked, leaning her hands on her knees whilst watching you, “Light Headed?”

“Yeah…” 

She pursed her lips, giving Enid a look that somewhat resembled an “i think i know what’s going on.”

“Have you had any visions?”

Your head shot up, a look of pure horror on your face. Why would she ask that? Did Luka say something? What do they know?

“No, of course not.” You responded a bit too quickly, your voice shaky and untruthful.

“Y/N…” Your mom said, running her hand up and down your back, “Be honest with us.”

You sucked in a breath, your bottom lip slipping in between your teeth. You had two options; tell them the truth and potentially lose your progress with Goody's book, and also be sent to therapy. Or lie and say you are just feeling sick and a bit feverish because of the drop in temperature.

“I…” You started, your voice faltering under your mothers deadly gaze, “I’ve been seeing some things…”

Wednesday sighed, shaking her head slightly and looking away from you in disappointment. She stood up, walking towards your window to look out of it.

“You should have told me.”

“Why?” You asked, confused at her statement, “What would that do?”

She turned around, disbelief on her facial features as she stared at you. Your mom was silent beside you, her gaze switching between you and Wednesday.

“Because I can advise you, so you don’t end up hurting yourself.” She said, slowly turning back to the window.

“Like you ever cared before.” You muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

She whipped back around, now standing in an offensive stance.

“I do care, you are my child.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and standing up to brush your pants out.

“Doesn’t feel like that.” You said, walking around your bed to put your uniform jacket in the hamper.

“I’m sorry you don’t acknowledge my affection for you.” She stated; a challenge.

“And I’m sorry you can’t even get your compliments across without cringing in disgust.” You growled, throwing your socks into the laundry basket.

“Y/N.” Your mom scolded softly, a warning to back down.

“No, let her be defiant.” Wednesday said, rolling her eyes at you, “She will see where it gets her.”

“Probably in the same spot I’m always in; the corner where no one sees me.” You replied snarkily, shaking your hair out.

“Y/N!” Enid said, now standing up to face you, “Don't speak to your mother like that.”

“What difference does it make? You two don’t give two shits about me anyways.” 

Your mother  gave a low hum, stepping towards you until Enid stopped her by putting her hands on her chest.

“Enid let go, she shouldn’t be allowed to act like this.”

“Yeah, let her go!” You shouted back, a coy smile on your face, “Let her hit her kid and see what it does!”

“Y/N stop.” Your mom said, turning to you with a glare, “We did not raise you to act like this.”

You laughed, shocking the both of them. Your body doubled over with a giggling fit, your eyes wet from tears.

“You barely even raised me at all.” You wheezed, wiping some wetness from your eyes.

“Dammit Enid, let go.” Wednesday snarled, trying to push past her wife, “Her attitude is pissing me off.”

“And honestly!” You continued on, knowing your next point will hit a nerve, “I wish you two were never my parents.”

The silence in the room was deafening, one could hear a pin drop if they stood in the space. Normally, you would find people's utter shock and horror to be amusing, but being that your mom’s mouths were wide open in disbelief, you felt a pang of sadness in the pit of your stomach.

Tears were first, welling up in the rims of Enid’s eyes. They cascaded down her face, dripping off of her chin and onto the floor. Her lip wobbled sadly, and you almost felt bad for her. Wednesday on the other hand, was completely frozen. She looked as blank as an empty canvas, her normally terrifying eyes looking dull and distant.

“You don’t mean that…” Your mom said slowly, her voice shaky from crying, “Tell me you don’t mean that.”

Feeling defiant, you stuck your chest out and tilted your head up slightly, “Every. Word.”

Unsurprisingly, Enid let out a sob, her body collapsing into Wednesday’s arms. The latter held her close, a familiarly disappointed look directed at you.

“Hope you’re happy.” She said to you before taking Enid by the hand and leading her out of the room, leaving you alone.

Typical, You thought.

A voice in the back of your head was screaming at you to run after them and apologize, to take back every word and say it was the fever talking; but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

You were stubborn and single-minded, only looking out for yourself and ignoring anyone’s advances of trying to be close to you. Friends were not an option, and you wouldn’t even care for them anyways…..wait…..that sounded way too familiar.

Maybe you were more like Wednesday than you actually thought.

—————————

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