#the first looked better on my phone. The lower brightness probably allowed me to overlook the misplaced smudge

[castaccio]

I know people dislike the implications of Shadows of Rose, but consider:

The spirits watch over Rose for her whole life. (Read Left to Right)

[aalissy]

A Text Away

Happy holidays @miraculous-gelli! I was your @mlsecretsanta this month! I really hope you enjoy this! I hope you’ve been having a great December!!

AO3

Marinette carefully checked the surroundings outside her balcony, making certain no one was around to see her before she transformed. In a quick flash of pink light, she became Ladybug and swooped out of her bedroom. Brilliant yellow lights twinkled under her as she used her yo-yo to swing over to the Eiffel Tower. Upon landing, she sat down on the edge, dangling her feet slightly as she overlooked her beautiful city.

“Well hello there, my beautiful lady,” Chat purred as he deftly landed beside her, barely making a sound.

“Hello kitty,” Ladybug turned her head to look over at him with a blinding smile.

His expression was eager as he waved his phone in the air, “I assume you haven’t forgotten what we agreed upon during our last patrol.”

Rolling her eyes, Ladybug brought out her own cellphone, “No, Chat, I did not. I just figured we would patrol first,” she arched her eyebrow at him. Her partner sat down next to her, bouncing slightly as he reached for her phone. She merely held it further away from his grasp, shooting him a pointed look as he pouted, “Remember, Chaton. This is for emergencies only. I don’t want to get any memes or random cat puns from you at 2 in the morning.”

“I purromise not to do that,” Chat wiggled his eyebrows at her, “Cat’s honor.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she muttered, handing the device over to him which he took eagerly.

He merely waved her off, quickly tapping his number in her contact list, “You know how absolutely purrfect this idea is. If one of us gets stuck in class during an akuma attack, we won’t be left wondering where the other is.”

“Yes, I remember the argument you brought up last patrol,” Ladybug’s lips pursed as she glanced down at the cellphone in her hands, “You did remember to buy a new cellphone, right? I don’t want to accidentally learn your identity if, by some random chance, I already have your contact information.”

Her words seemed to cause Chat to freeze for a moment before he looked up at her with a guilty smile. Ladybug’s eyes narrowed slightly as he paused his typing to squirm at her heated stare.

“Well, you see.”

“Chat!” her glare grew fiercer, about to yank her phone back out of his hands.

Her partner chuckled, holding his phone away from her as a bright smile lit up his face, “Relax, LB, I remembered the rules. Besides, I’m not going to miss out on the opportunity to text you.”

“For emergencies, Chat! Emergencies only!”

“Right, right,” he nodded seriously, “Emergencies.”

Pinching her nose tightly, Ladybug turned back to the device in her hands with an exasperated sigh, “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” she quickly tapped her number in before shoving the device at the superhero next to her, “Take it before I change my mind.”

Chat grabbed the phone with a cheeky smile, handing her own back to her before he extended his staff, “Guess I had better get started with patrol, then. Text ya later, bugaboo.”

“Get back here Chaton!” she called, rolling her eyes fondly before following after him with a quick twirl of her yo-yo. 

Patrol passed quickly as the two ran across rooftops, looking for any signs of trouble. Ladybug snuck several glances at her partner running parallel to her and noticed that he seemed much more energetic than before. With a quiet chuckle, she saw his own gaze dart to his phone multiple times. Luckily, they spotted no signs of trouble and the two parted ways with a few happy waves. The two of them then turned and arrived at their separate homes. 

With a mighty yawn, Ladybug landed on her balcony, releasing her transformation. Back to Marinette, she quickly opened her trapdoor and flopped down onto the bed that awaited her with a relieved groan, “Oh Tikki, I’m so tired. I feel like I could sleep for years.”

“Knowing you, you probably will, Marinette,” her kwami giggled as she floated above the girl’s head.

“You’re probably right,” she chuckled back before snuggling further into her pillow.

Just as Marinette was about to slip into the warm beckonings of sleep, the phone above her bed chimed with a notification. With a frustrated growl, she yanked the thing down, prepared to put it on Do Not Disturb when she noticed the contact info. Biting her lip to stifle a laugh, she opened the message.

Your Kitty: Is this Ladybug?

Rolling her eyes at his message, she hunched further back into her covers, typing a response.

Ladybug: No, this is just the only other girl you gave your new phone number too 🙄

Your Kitty: LB! It is you!

Ladybug: Who else would it be you silly kitty?

Ladybug: Also, did you really put Your Kitty in as your contact name??!!

Your Kitty: But of course bugaboo! Who am I if not your kitty 😿

Your Kitty: I can’t believe you only put yourself in as Ladybug! Aren’t we a little past formalities at this point? We’ve been guarding Paris together for a year and you decide to do something as boring as Ladybug?

Ladybug: Figured you’d put me in as Your Lady as soon as you could 🙄

Your Kitty: You’re not wrong 😹

Your Kitty: I assume you’ve already changed my contact name then?

With a light flush to her cheeks, Marinette hovered over the change name icon. Blowing out a breath, she kept the name and returned back to their conversation. Determined to keep Chat from learning this information, she changed the subject quickly.

Ladybug: Didn’t we agree that this number was to be used for emergencies only? Quit texting me and go to sleep!!

Your Kitty: I just wanted to make certain it was you, M’lady 🥺

Your Kitty: In fact, I’m still not completely certain...

Your Kitty: Can I call you just to make sure?

Ladybug: You have got to be kidding me 🙄

Your Kitty: Purrty please 🥺

Shooting a quick glance over at the kwami next to her, Marinette noticed Tikki watching her curiously, “Didn’t you say you were going to bed early, Marinette?” the small bug spoke, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“I know, I know, but it’s Chat. You know he won’t shut up unless he realizes that it’s actually me,” she sucked her lower lip into her mouth nervously. 

Tikki rolled her eyes, snuggling further into her pillow, “Well it’s up to you. Don’t forget that you have school tomorrow. Goodnight, Marinette.”

“Goodnight, Tikki,” she kissed the top of her kwami’s head before sliding down her ladder and collapsing into her desk chair. The chair spun slightly with the force of her jump and, gathering all her courage, she managed to press the call button. 

Marinette was barely allowed a small squeak before her call was immediately answered and a breathy voice greeted her, “Ladybug? Is it really you?”

It was a few seconds before she could respond, her eyes darting around the room in a panic before taking a deep breath, “Yeah, it’s me.”

A deep sigh emitted from her phone and she could practically picture her partner running a hand through his messy, blonde locks, “Good. I was getting worried there.”

“Yeah,” Marinette chuckled awkwardly. Silence settled around them and she squirmed in her chair uncomfortably, “Well, guess I had better go then. It’s getting pretty late! Goodnight!” she blurted out.

Her finger automatically went to press the end call button, when Chat’s panicked voice came through her phone, “Wait!”

“Did you need something else?” she nibbled her lip nervously.

“Well, no,” his sheepish voice entered her ears, “I just wanted to talk to you for a little longer. I still can’t quite believe we’re doing this.”

Marinette tsked sharply, “We’re not supposed to be, remember. This was for emergencies only.”

Chat chuckled deeply, “Now I really know you’re Ladybug. Only you would think of the rules at a time like this.”

“Well, they’re important, Chat,” her words betrayed her tone as a small smile spread across her lips.

“You’re smiling,” he sang out.

“No, I’m not,” Marinette scowled at him.

“Yes, you are.”

“Shut up.”

This time a comfortable silence settled between the two. Resting her head on the back of her seat, she swiveled her chair back and forth slowly. Her eyes drooped slightly and were then drawn over to Tikki who was slumbering adorably. A soft smile spread across her face and she prepared to say goodbye when Chat’s next words froze her.

“You know, sometimes you really remind me of someone. Especially your voice when we’re talking like this...”

Marinette froze before relaxing. Surely he hadn’t actually figured her out, she waved the panic away. Curiously, she asked, “Who do I remind you of?” 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

She paled considerably as her blood froze. Panic flooded her as she began thinking rapidly, searching for something, anything, to dissuade him. Marinette’s eyes shot over to Tikki anxiously, almost expecting the kwami to have woken up and begin scolding her angrily. How has Chat managed to figure out her identity again? This is terrible!! He could get akumatized, she stood up from her chair and began pacing as she scolded herself.

Before she could speak and deny his claims, however, her partner spoke once again, “Don’t worry. I know you’re not her,” an almost regretful sigh escaped him and Marinette paused curiously at that, before he continued, “The battle against Kwambuster proved that. Still, I think you’d be very good friends!”

“Y-yeah, I’m sure we would,” she stuttered out, still shaking slightly, “I really need to get to bed now, though. I’ve got school tomorrow after all...”

“Oh,” Chat’s chipperness lowered and Marinette could practically see his ears drooping, “Well, goodnight m’lady. Text ya tomorrow!”

“Chat! You had better not!” her warning message was cut off, however, as her partner had ended the call. With an angry scowl, the designer quickly plugged her phone in before diving into bed. Tikki’s eyes blinked open to look at her once before slowly shutting once again. She giggled quietly before kissing the top of her kwami’s head, letting herself drift off as well. 

In typical Marinette fashion, she woke up five minutes before class was supposed to begin. With a strangled shriek, she threw herself off the bed, scrambling to get dressed and make it in time for first period. After changing into her usual clothes, her eyes darted over to Ladybug’s phone in panic as it let out a quiet chime. Yelping, Marinette dove for it, scanning the message in alarm as she listened for any sounds of an akuma attack.

Your Kitty: Good morning, M’lady 😸

“I’m gonna kill him,” Marinette grumbled, shoving the phone in her bag as she raced downstairs to grab a croissant before heading off to class. Kissing her parents goodbye, she ran outside to begin the trek to school. Bursting through the doors, she gasped in air as she apologized profusely. Mlle. Bustier gave her a disapproving look before handing her the worksheet for the day. Shrinking back sheepishly, she quickly grabbed it before ducking into her seat.

“You get enough sleep, girl? You look exhausted,” Alya commented as soon as she sat down.

Giving her best friend a tired smile, Marinette groaned, “I stayed up too late working on a new commission.”

Alya nodded with both sympathy and understanding, “I get you, girl. Just be careful, alright? I don’t want you overworking yourself.”

The designer grinned brightly over at her before turning back to look at Mlle. Bustier as she continued her lecture. Pulling out her notebook, Marinette began to doodle and design some new sketch ideas as she quickly finished her classes. Towards the end of her last class, however, the new phone in her purse buzzed and she glared down at in disbelief. Sneakily pulling out the device, she checked the text from her partner.

Your Kitty: Hope you had an absolutely pawsome day 😸

Ladybug: Emergencies ONLY!

Your Kitty: But my good morning texts to you are important 😿

Ladybug: You almost gave me a heart attack this morning stupid cat! I thought there was an akuma attack and I was already late for school!

There was a stifled snort in front of her and Marinette’s gaze was drawn towards the sound. Her mouth parted slightly in shock as she saw Adrien hunched over his desk, cradling his phone protectively as he seemed to be typing a response to someone. 

I didn’t think Adrien would ever be the type to text someone during class, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

Longingly, she wished that it was her texting Adrien right now, wondering who had managed to completely capture his attention. Pursing her lips slightly, Marinette was drawn out of her dreary thoughts by a buzz of the phone in her lap. 

Your Kitty: You? Late for class 🙀? LB, I never pictured you as the type. Next, you’ll tell me that you turn in homework late. Or, even worse... text during class!

She giggled quietly at his message. Biting her lower lip softly, Marinette contemplated what to type. Though she recognized the sound of a bell distantly, she ignored it and wrote out her message.

Ladybug: I’m certain that an honorable cat such as yourself would never be late for class then. And I can’t even begin to imagine you texting in class 😉

Your Kitty: Oh, fur sure, m’lady.

Your Kitty: Also, thank you for the wink 😻💚

Rolling her eyes, she began typing out another response when she was interrupted by a throat being cleared, “You coming, Marinette?” 

She blinked up into the bright green eyes of Adrien who was smiling down at her. It was then that she recalled the sound of a bell ringing and realized that the whole class was empty apart from them. Wincing, Marinette grabbed her backpack and stood up quickly, managing to stutter a response to her crush, “Y-yeah! Sorry! I guess I just lost track of time!”

“It’s alright. I did too,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Her gaze darted down to the phone he was fiddling with before returning to his eyes. A light pink flush had overtaken his cheeks and she quickly averted her gaze. Returning to her half-typed message, Marinette finished it to avoid contemplating who could make Adrien lose track of time.

Ladybug: Oh, lap it up kitty, because that’s the only wink you’re going to get if you keep texting me and it’s not an emergency!

Pressing the send button, she looked up to see Adrien open his mouth before the buzz of a device broke the silence. Blinking, she looked down at her phone to see if Chat had actually texted her back that quickly. A frown creased her brow, however, when she was only met with her message. A deep chuckle in front of her caused her to look up as she saw Adrien looking down at his own phone with amusement.

Huh, her brow furrowed as he began typing, that was weird.

He finished typing rather quickly before looking back up at her with his dazzling green eyes. Marinette shuffled awkwardly for a second before feeling her phone buzz again. Swallowing quietly, she watched as Adrien’s eyes narrowed at her curiously before she looked down at the message from her partner.

Your Kitty: You wound me, bugaboo 😿

Tucking the phone back in her purse, she smiled brightly at him, “S-so, are you excited for the, um, weekend?”

He nodded almost absentmindedly at her as his gaze remained locked on her purse for a few more seconds. Eventually, he seemed to drag his eyes back to hers before raking a hand through his hair, “Yeah, definitely. What about you?”

“Course of,” Marinette clenched her eyes shut as she mentally face-palmed before correcting herself, “I-I mean of course.”

“Should we head out now?” a small smile twitched at Adrien’s cheeks as he jerked his head over to the door.

“Yep,” she mumbled quietly, shifting the bag on her shoulder nervously as she avoided eye contact with him. Opening the door, she headed out into the hallway and heard Adrien follow along behind her.

“So, I just have to ask,” his words broke through the quiet of the halls, “Was the Marinette Dupain-Cheng really texting during class?”

Her lips parted in surprise as she paused, swallowing nervously at the familiar conversation. Her crush stopped with her as he looked at her curiously. Clearing her throat, Marinette considered her answer to avoid stuttering, “I suppose I was. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you were also texting though, Adrien. I didn’t think that you were the type.”

Her eyes scanned his for any sense of recognition. Finding none, she let out a quiet breath of relief. Adrien’s lips quirked into a half-smile before he responded, “And here I thought I did a pretty good job of hiding it.”

“Yeah, if you count snickering at your phone in the middle of class hiding it,” Marinette chuckled before her eyes widened. Oh my god, did I actually just say a full sentence to Adrien without stuttering?! She squirmed uncomfortably for a moment as he seemed to search her own gaze for something.

A few more moments passed before the model in front of her opened his mouth and spoke, “You wound me, Marinette.”

A jolt of familiarity hit her and her mouth dropped open in shock. Her brow creased in confusion and disbelief before she brushed aside the weird feelings. Shaking her head at herself, she gave Adrien a small, uncertain smile before turning and beginning to walk once again.

“So, who was it that you actually allowed to text you during class?”

“A friend from work,” the practiced words fell from her mouth with ease. Not a lie, but not the full truth either, Marinette thought to herself with satisfaction. She regarded him from the corner of her eye before asking the question she was dying to know, “Who were you texting?”

A goofy grin overtook Adrien’s face as he glanced down at the phone in his hands, “Same as you, actually.”

Her chest constricted as she quickly looked away from her crush. A pretty model then, she thought to herself disappointedly. 

“No, no, not a model,” Adrien spoke beside her, causing her eyes to dart over to his own, “Though she definitely could be.”

Oh god, did I really say that out loud?! Marinette thought to herself in mortification. She sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth as she realized it must be a make-up artist or a pretty photographer. She shoved aside the thought that it could be one of the designers and quickened her step. Humming to him in response, she looked desperately at the door in front of her, willing it to come closer.

A quiet buzz sounded from within her purse and Marinette practically skidded to a stop. Her hand hovered over the clasp uncertainly before Adrien’s voice broke through her haze, “Aren’t you going to answer that. It could be that friend from work, you know...”

She swallowed, looking up at him to see him gazing down at her with a small, gentle smile. Giving him a shaky smile back, Marinette opened her purse, reaching for the device to check her texts.

Your Kitty: Have you ever considered modeling?

Hesitating, she peeked up at Adrien from beneath her lashes shyly. That small smile was still on his lips and she quickly returned to her phone.

Ladybug: Why do you want to know?

Marinette chewed her lip nervously after she sent the message. Squeezing her eyes shut, she listened for the small buzz of Adrien’s own phone. It came quickly and she opened one eye slowly as she watched him begin to type.

Your Kitty: Just from a conversation...

She sucked in a harsh, disbelieving breath as her hands shook slightly. She still managed to send the message though, this time watching Adrien’s phone intently. When it let out a telltale hum, her mouth dropped open with a quiet gasp.

Ladybug: I’ve always been more into designing to be completely honest...

Marinette watched as his gaze drifted up to hers, a questioning word falling from his lips, “M’lady?”

Her hand came up to slap her mouth in shock before lowering it slowly to respond, “Kitty?”

Suddenly, she was engulfed within a pair of arms and she let out a quiet squeak as she was spun around. Laughing loudly, Marinette buried her head in Adrien’s shoulder as he continued to spin them both around. Eventually, he put her down, tucking a wayward strand of hair back into her ponytail as he gazed down at her in awe. 

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered, her voice choking slightly, “Surely I’m dreaming.”

“No,” Adrien whispered, shaking his head down at her as a wide smile stretched across his face, “You’re not dreaming. Unless I’m dreaming too.”

“If I am dreaming, please don’t wake me up,” Marinette’s own voice dropped to a low murmur. 

One of his hands dropped down to squeeze her own tightly, “I won’t... but Marinette, I really need to ask you something. Am-am I the guy?”

She squeaked, ducking her head down shyly before nodding. A thumb lifted her chin back up to look at him, however, as Adrien smiled charmingly down at her. She blinked and suddenly her image of Chat and her image of Adrien merged together. I can’t believe I’ve never connected them together before, Marinette thought in wonder.

“C-could I kiss you, Marinette? Plea-”

Before he could finish asking, she crashed their lips together. Leaning up on her tip-toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck as his own came to wrap around her waist and tug her closer.

Eventually, Adrien pulled back for air and smiled smugly down at her, “Does this mean I can text you memes at 2 in the morning now?”

Marinette laughed loudly, nodding emphatically before pulling him down into another sweet kiss.

[petri808]

Mirror’s of the Soul

Hau’oli la Hanau!  Happy Birthday!  @dark0angel13  Hawaii misses you ;)

Based on the folklore of a “dog-man” in Hawaii called the Kaupe.  Spun to be a werewolf AU lol, but with a twist.  The Kaupe was used in the DC tv show Legends of Tomorrow.  It was pointed out to me that Lucy’s character reminded them of character from Witcher 3 as well lol.

~~~~~ Nalu AU one-shot

Lucy had heard the wild rumors of the dog-man of Nu’uanu Valley, but she chalked it up to Hawaiian folklore.  These islands were full of such supernatural tales, and as a transplanted college student, seemed more like ghost stories intended to keep children from misbehaving.  She hadn’t heard of any actual werewolves confirmed in the last few centuries, and this was probably not a real case.  As far as she was concerned, superstitious hocus-pocus wasn’t going to keep her from hiking in the valley.  It’s lush rainforests, waterfalls, or Pali cliff overlooks were stunning, especially near sunset or sunrise.  A slice of nature surrounded by a growing metropolis.  

While the professor droned on at the front of the lecture hall, one of her closest friends slides into the seat next to her.

“You’re late Natsu,” she whispers, “class started 20 minutes ago.”

“Did I miss much?” the young man retorts.  Lucy shakes her head.  “Then I’m not late at all,” he grins back.

She rolls her eyes but can’t help a chuckle from escaping.  “Got any plans this weekend?”

“Tomorrow yeah,” he shifts in his seat, “but should be free Sunday.”

“How about you take me on a Dave ‘N Busters date Sunday so I can kick your ass at RD again.”

“You’re on!”

The next morning, Lucy awakens to perfect outdoor weather.  Balmy breezes lightly shifting her curtains and blue skies as far as the eye could see.  It seemed her roommate hadn’t made it back to their dorm in the night, probably staying the weekend with her boyfriend off campus.  Lucy sighs, and turns on her bed facing the window, maybe one day she’ll be able to do the same.  Yeah sure, Hell might freeze over before Natsu saw her in that way.  He was the best of friend that any could be, but no matter how many times she threw subtle hints or flirted with him, it all seemed to go right over his head.  Oh well, the times they spent together sufficed, but for now the valley was calling her name.

Not only did she like simply being surrounded by the peace and tranquility the forest could provide, it also served as a perfect, distraction free place to write her stories. Notebook, extra pens, fully charged laptop, trusty outdoor blanket, lunch, and ready to go, she ascends the Lulumahu Falls trail.  It was only a 2-mile hike round trip, but unlike some of the other trails in the area, this one cut through a bamboo grove and wasn’t one of the official paths.  As such, traffic tended to be lighter with fellow hikers opting for the maintained trails instead.

She reaches the end of the line and finds a shady area with large flat boulders to sit on.  Thank goodness for the recent sunny weather.  The trail had been mud-free, humidity was lower, and the air was crisp.  Lucy takes out her laptop, balancing it on her thighs and gets to work, letting the sounds of the forest send her into a rhythm.  Her words flowed forth like the gentle burbling of the nearby stream of the same namesake.  Hands gliding across the keyboard like the chirping birds around her.  Every now and again there was a crackle of a falling branch, or footsteps of a fellow nature seeker, but she paid these no mind, her characters keeping her enthralled.

It was great when ideas came to her so easily.  The infamous writers block plagued her from time to time, but not today, and it wasn’t until the light was growing dim that she realized how long she’d been in the writing zone.  Oh crap!  It may still be warm for fall, but the sun also set quicker in these later months.  She checks the time on her phone and guestimates another hour tops before she needed to get out of there.  Alright, this chapter was almost finished, she could make it!

She didn’t make it.

And by the time she’d stumbled into what she assumed was the Kaniakapupu Ruins, it was dark, cell phone coverage was nil, and it was growing a bit chilly.  Thank goodness for her blanket!  Lucy had two options, keep trying to find her way out through unmarked trails and risk getting more lost, or staying put until morning.  The clear skies were in her favor and the bright harvest moon chased away some of the darkness.  She groans and finds a decent rock to plop onto, guess she’ll just hunker down for the night.  

About a half mile away, deeper into the Nu’uanu valley, something catches the scent of the lone female, but that wasn’t good, for he recognized the scent.  ‘What is she doing here and on this night of all nights?!’  He came here to hide during this phase of the month, an ancient calling against his bloodline to guard the heiau of Kaheiki.  Legend has it, his ancestor had impregnated a human female shortly before being killed by a chief from the island of Hawaii, and to atone for that progenitor’s misdeed’s, a descendant was born as a Kaupe every hundred years or so to guard the heiau of the priest that helped to stop it’s rampage.

A thousand years later, it was Natsu’s bad luck that this curse fell upon his generation and with puberty came the confirmation.  He tried consulting the most knowledgeable kahuna’s and priests he could find in the hopes of breaking the curse, but they all told him the same thing, this was his ancestors atonement and only the gods could see fit to change that.  Yeah, well his family had been punished enough for something they hadn’t even done.  It wasn’t fair in this modern era to keep suffering like this.  All he wanted to do was settle down some day like a normal person, but who would want a freak like him?

Natsu’s worries were confirmed the moment he crept up to the ruins and sees Lucy sitting on a rock all bundled up.  With his keener eye sight, he can see her hiking back pack near her feet and puts two and two together that she must have gotten lost.  He could only imagine how cold she must be with nothing more than a light blanket to stay warm with.  At least his fur helped with that, but it was still another 10 more hours before the sun will rise.  Natsu paces as he weighs his options.  Great, so what should he do?  He couldn’t leave her all alone.  But if he made his presence known it might scare the wits out of her.  

He fails to realize that Lucy is now staring in his direction.  It was strange at first the mixed scent of Natsu and canine.  She couldn’t see him through the darkness but knew he was out there somewhere, but putting the clues together and it wasn’t a total shock.  Lucy groans internally at the irony.  The man had been keeping a secret, though she was no better.

“Natsu,” she lets out an exasperated exhale and stands up.  “You might as well come out I know you’re there.”  

That was impossible!  How could Lucy know that he was there in the first place, and second, he wasn’t some random person!  He hears her sigh.  

“Natsu, I can pick up on your scent, now please just come out.”

With a lot of trepidation, he steps beyond the tree line into the clearing.  “Lucy… but how??”

“Just come closer,” she sits back on her rock, “we both have a lot of explaining to do.”

Okay things were getting a little weird, and considering he was the werewolf, to think this was all really strange was… Weird!  No one outside of his family had ever seen him in this form because he’d done well to stay completely hidden from humans, and even though clearly this woman knew it was him, Natsu was still hesitant to let Lucy see him for what he was.  It was also a bit unnerving how unfazed she seemed to be.  He finds a fallen log about 10 feet away from her and sits down on the edge of it.  If he needed to take off again, it would only take mere seconds to do so.

Lucy adjusts the blanket around her body, then props her head with her hand against her knee.  “I assume you are confused?”  Natsu nods.  “Back home, my family hails from a long line of hunters…. Creature hunters.”  She tips her head, “I remember my mom telling me how my great, great, grandfather immigrated to America to establish a line of Heartfilia’s in the new world.  I think it’s silly and I moved here to get away from it all because I didn’t want to continue the tradition.”  An exasperated sigh escapes her lips.  “How ironic that I run into one so easily.”

“That still doesn’t make sense.  How did you know it was me?”

She taps her nose.  “I can track.  Look I know it seems strange, and it’s not normal for a human to do that so easily.  How do I explain it…  Somewhere in my family line, an ancestor was imbued with a few abilities.  I can’t see in the dark, which is why I’m stuck here, but an enhanced olfactory system allows me to detect scents, especially inhuman ones.”

“And, what do creature hunters do exactly?” his voice filled with an air of hesitancy.

“In the old days, they hunted to kill.”

Natsu tenses up and leans back, “should I leave?”

Lucy just waves her hand, “I came here to Hawaii to get away from that life.  Just wanted to be normal, ya know, but it seems I can’t run away from it either.”  She shivers as a breeze funnels through the clearing.

“Are you cold Lucy?  I’m sorry I don’t have a jacket or anything and I can’t leave the area till morning.”

“Why not?  In fact,” she pats the area next to her, “come closer and tell me your story.  It’s only fair since I shared mine.”

“I--I really don’t like anyone seeing me like this, you’re the first outside of my family to.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you and I don’t care what you look like.  I know you’re still you.”  Natsu shakes his head.  “Suit yourself.”  Lucy stands up, gathers the blanket around her and trudges over.

“Wait, what are you doing!” Natsu scrambles to his feet, tripping, and falling backwards over the log with a thud.

She rushes over to help him up, “Are you okay?!”

He rubs the back of his head, “I’ve got a hard head,” he winces, “more my pride that got hurt.”

Lucy chuckles, “see,” she pulls him to his feet, “should’a just stayed still.”

After getting him to come back to the rock with her, Lucy pulls her feet into a cross-legged position. “Alright, now spill.”

With a deep exhale, Natsu lets the words flow.  Everything he knows about his family, the curse, and what it’s like to be a Kaupe….  

All the while Lucy sits quietly not wanting to interrupt him.  She’d heard other tales of werewolves, old legends and such, including the idea of a curse causing the transformation.  Though this was the first time she’d heard of a curse carrying on through a bloodline before.  Guess, there is a first time for everything.  The tale he told was heartrending.  Their family’s ancestor may have been cursed because of a cold-blooded killer nature, but the man sitting next to her was nothing like that.  Natsu would give you the shirt off his back if you were in need and he always made her feel safe, especially at night.  If only there was a way to break the curse.    

Having determined for herself what kind of soul lay behind his Olivine hues, the longer she stared at him, it occurred to her that Natsu… wasn’t that bad looking in this condition.  Hawaii didn’t have wolves so did that make him more of a Weredog?  Not that she truly knew what a werewolf or weredog was supposed to look like since old tales differed on appearance.  Some depicted them as more human with canine features, others as more canine-like and barely human anymore.  Almost all of the stories described large fangs and claws dripping with blood, no ability to discern right from wrong or with any human consciousness left.  Boy were they wrong in this case!  Natsu was fully aware of himself and more scared than she was.  

His human fangs did look a bit longer than normal, his eyes still green but more canine-esque, with claws on his fingers and toes.  Tufts of fur covered the parts of his body that she could see, but he wore a t-shirt and baggy pants, so it wasn’t much.  A tail was definitely coming out of his lower back with pointy ears growing through his pink head hair.  Lucy tips her head, those ears were really cute!  She wondered what he would do if she rubbed them…

“Ahem.  Are you even paying attention anymore?!”

“Huh?”  Lucy shakes her head.  “Sorry,” her face flushes and she’s glad it’s too dark to see it.  “Curiosity and all.”

“I can’t let you touch them, so don’t even think about it.”

“Touch what?”

Natsu rolls his eyes, “my ears that you’ve been staring at for a solid 5 minutes.”

“Oh, why not,” she pouts.

“Because they are sensitive.”  Okay that was a semi-lie.  They were sensitive but rubbing them made him feel good in a provocative manner.  “So, as I was saying, we have no idea how to break the curse, no one in the family ever knows who in the next generations will become the next one, but it usually happens when the current Kaupe is close to death.”

“Is this why you’ve never tried to make a move on me?”

Well that was blunt!  “Um, I guess, yeah…” he scratches his head, “wh-what makes you think I would have?”

Lucy shrugs her shoulders a little sad by his response, “wishful thinking, I guess.  Anyways, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me Natsu.”

“Y-you know Lucy,” he averts his eyes to the ground, “if I had… asked… what would you have answered?”

“Yes,” she turns his chin back and smiles, “I do like you, if that wasn’t already obvious.”  Chuckling, “I just figured you only saw me as a friend.”

He takes a leap, “what about now, even after knowing this about me?”

“Hmm,” Lucy leans against him, resting her head on his furry shoulder, “the huntress and the werewolf,” she chuckles, “it sounds like a movie plot, but,” she looks up and smiles, “yeah, I’d still like to be your leading lady.”

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Lesion oneshot in which Lesion meets someone important during his first mission and then realises he was horribly wrong over the course of a few years. (Rating T, culture clash + hurt/comfort, ~9k words) - written for @yovelie! I can’t thank you enough for this commission and all your encouragement 💞💞 You continue to be a delight! Find my commission info here!

This fic has been posted to AO3 as well!! Read it here :)

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His presence alone demands respect: he has the aura of someone who turns heads unconsciously, who parts a crowd with no effort and without realising, of a man used to making himself heard. Tze Long inadvertently holds his breath as the broad-shouldered, imposing European paces the room, studying the papers handed to him upon entry and not yet having directed a single word at anyone. He oozes confidence and competence, a good mixture as far as Tze Long is concerned, and despite the circumstances, he’s calmed down considerably. With this fortress of a man on their side, he has nothing to fear.

The man’s companion is less impressive, reminds Tze Long more of an aged schoolkid, sitting the wrong way around on a chair and resting his chin on his arms, eyes lazily trailing after his superior. If anything, he’s an apprentice, for some reason deemed worthy enough to follow this legend around despite proving himself lacking in several aspects – physical appearance is just one of them. He merely scanned the report Tze Long neatly put together before switching to playing with a lighter instead, face bored and impassive.

Indonesian weather doesn’t agree with either of them and yet Tze Long can’t pretend he minds, not when it forces the two to expose their toned arms and causes sweat to bead up on their foreheads enticingly. This is a moment in which he stops wondering why he’s got it so bad for Westerners.

Paper rustles and restless footfalls stop. The tall man fixes Tze Long with a level gaze which shouldn’t cause his heart to skip a beat like this. “Your name is…?”

“Liu Tze Long, sir.”

Two pairs of eyes drill into him yet he returns the stare without blinking. “You know who I am?”

He nods. “I do, sir.” How could he not? Operation Nimrod gained international fame and besides, all special forces have their own celebrities, pass on gossip just as swiftly as the Hollywood scene. Vineyards work fast, especially concerning the British SAS, most acclaimed organisation worldwide. Tze Long has been following this man’s career for about a decade now, hungrily devouring every tasty piece of information he could find. This is his idol before him, in the flesh, and he still has trouble believing it.

“Good. This is James Porter.” The sidekick gives a half-hearted wave and a half-hearted smile. “You’re the one who interpreted the files on the laptop found in Macau?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Fucking bubonic plague”, Mike Baker mutters with a shake of his head, pushing back his sweat-soaked hair. “What do you reckon, Jamie?”

“Complete neutralisation asap”, comes the reply without hesitation, yet delivered like a disagreeable school report, “the files didn’t indicate the existence of more than one lab, so only one infiltration necessary. We’ll have the SDU assist us in gathering intel and coordinating the whole thing, go in, destroy the prototypes and samples as well as all data and leave.”

Tze Long nods mutely. They’ve identified the location of the extremist’s laboratory already which is why his superiors deemed it necessary to ask the Brits for help – their expertise in storming a building riddled with mercenaries and equipped with a worryingly potent biological weapon is limited. He doesn’t let his surprise over James’ astute observations show. He should’ve figured every member of the SAS has been recruited for a reason.

“Almost.” Mike leans against a table and Tze Long’s eyes drop lower all by themselves. “There’s no need to ask more people for help. We three are more than capable of taking down this megalomaniac – the fewer people can alert these terrorists to our plan of attack, the better. We don’t need the SDU’s fancy gadgets if we can help it. Right?”

The last word is directed at Tze Long who nods automatically. He indubitably knows best, seeing as how he’s not only still alive but also in active duty after all this time. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

“See? Even he agrees with me.” James simply rolls his eyes, visibly exasperated, but doesn’t dare object. If he had, Tze Long would’ve been appalled with the blasphemy. “You’re both knowledgeable in toxicology, so you better figure out how to get rid of this nonsense while I do observation and planning. Also, if you call me ‘sir’ one more time, I’m gonna personally feed you my badge.”

Tze Long opens his mouth, throws a glance at an extremely amused-looking Porter and decides against speaking up.

“Alright, let’s brainstorm on how to neutralise this plague without causing a medium-sized epidemic”, Porter turns to him with a cheerful grin. “Or, as I’d like to call it: the fun part.”

.

~*~

.

Macau has never held any fascination for Tze Long for as long as he could think – the old Portuguese buildings, yes, but once he’d seen them, there was only glamour and glitz to discover, new ways of relieving encumbered tourists of their money and the vice-like grip of the Chinese government tightening on a city doomed to be a one-trick pony forever. He never bought into the explosive potential of the casinos, prioritised work over luck and ended up in a respectable place as a result. Things work out eventually, but always through hard work and not unnecessary risk-taking. He prefers necessary risk-taking.

This day, however, he’s come to experience it through someone else’s eyes and allowed the city to dazzle him as if he was a toddler experiencing the Lunar New Year fireworks consciously for the very first time. Everything is bright, loud, inviting and affordable, even for his wallet, and he takes great pride in explaining all the local delicacies, the colonial history and differences between Macau and Hong Kong, as well as Asian customs in general. Most Europeans he meets either already know their fair share about the region or are much more interested in an entirely different thing, so it’s with childlike wonder that he accompanies Mike and James traipsing through Asia’s Las Vegas.

They’ve washed up in a Din Tai Fung purely because Mike knows the restaurant chain and was thirsting for a little bit of familiarity after an entire day of concentrated culture shock – but not familiar enough to allow them to forget they’re in another continent, like one of the many American fast food chains might’ve done, even given their differing menu.

“I never would’ve pegged you for a gambler”, Tze Long chuckles in between dumplings and marvels not for the first time at the fact that conversing with one of the most renowned blades has become this easy over the course of a singular mission.

“Me neither, but results don’t lie.” Mike frowns at the cup of green tea before downing it in one go. He doesn’t look like a fan. “If you hadn’t dragged me off, I might be a few thousand quid richer.”

“If we hadn’t dragged you off you’d be on your fifth Singapore sling and probably hitting on a coat rack”, James states drily.

“A miracle – the man who bets on everything shies away from roulette.”

“Not everyone has your kind of pocket change. And besides, I only bet on meaningful things. Like the fact that I’m gonna eat more than either of you of these – what are they called again?”

“Xiao long bao.” Tze Long pokes at one of the steamed dumplings filled with pork and hot soup. “And don’t bother betting anything, my stomach becomes bottomless when it comes to them.”

“You look like you don’t have them very often, in that case”, Mike interjects with a grin and definitely did not expect Tze Long to mirror his expression and retort: “You look like you have them a little too often.” He’s come to learn that friendly banter is not only viewed favourably but also generally expected, and not for the first time he’s grateful for his extended interest in expats.

Once James is done laughing (which takes a while and is made worse by Mike’s glare), he suggests: “These things are bloody delicious, so I’m definitely not gonna lose. Let’s bet on a dessert.”

Tze Long agrees, and their banter continues. An outsider might not identify them as extremely recent acquaintances, not with how easily Tze Long laughs, not with how naturally James elbows him in the side, not with how nonchalantly Mike overlooks their antics. But near death experiences have a way of forming unbreakable bonds, invisible strings tying near strangers together and inspiring them to treat each other almost like family: an involuntary gathering of people who share a fundamental trust. It’s easier to ignore shortcomings or differing opinions when they’ve had each other’s blood on their hands, and never before has Tze Long felt this connection as strongly as with these two Englishmen. They will stay in contact after this, that much is obvious, and maybe he’s made friends for life.

Maybe he’s made more.

Mike was the first one to ask him for his number, and if he noticed Tze Long’s fingers shaking, he didn’t comment on it.

.

As expected, both of them end up too full to even think about trying the molten chocolate-filled dumplings nor the matcha cake, so they agree on a draw after probably having miscounted anyway. Tze Long shows his gratitude for Mike’s winnings paying for their meal by gifting him a charm for his phone, one that’s not too tacky and meant to bring good fortune, and because he doesn’t want James to be empty-handed, he buys one for him too. They walk off the food coma by one of the beaches; it’s cooled down a little over the course of the evening and so neither of them takes their shirt off. Shame.

They linger outside of the hotel.

“You’re going back to Hong Kong tonight?”, Mike inquires, stretching in the humid night air and displaying his long limbs like an unconcerned predator knowing it’s at the top of the food chain.

“Yes. I sleep better at home and the ferries go regularly even at this hour. It’s a shame about your flight, I would’ve liked to show you my home.”

“And I’d like to show you ours”, James replies, sounding surprisingly genuine. Usually, half of what he utters is sarcasm and the other half jokes – if he hadn’t displayed professionalism and competence during their mission on top of that, Tze Long might’ve refused to work with him outright. “If you’re ever in Europe, call.”

“And if you’re ever in Asia again, let me know.” He fidgets. His throat is swollen with all the half-sentences threatening to burst out, all the confessions he’s suppressing… but there’s a foreign body in the way and he’s not willing to lay himself bare before these attentive eyes which have been following his every move for days now. He’s long understood that laziness and disinterest are a cover to hide a sharp sense of observation as well as a keen mind. James prefers being underestimated. Mike, on the other hand, is as authentic as it gets – he never holds back, sees bluntness as a virtue and wastes no time in hiding. Enviable. Tze Long wishes he could do the same.

“I forgot to buy smokes, be right back”, James announces into the short silence and disappears as if he’d read Tze Long’s mind. The opportunity is perfect, made even better when Mike addresses him directly.

“I’m serious, it was a pleasure working with you.” His chest swells at the genuine compliment. “Even if you’re as suicidal as Jamie. You’ll get far. Do you have a lot of experience under your belt already?”

He omitted this fact as to not spark any doubts, but now he might as well admit it. “Actually, this was my first mission.”

Mike’s brows lift, just like the corners of his mouth. “And you waited this long to tell us? You son of a bitch, I don’t believe it. I have even less doubt about your future now. I hope to see you again soon.” He holds out his hand and Tze Long takes it, feels a warm palm against his own, a strong grip, melts under approving eyes. “You did well. I mean it. Take care of yourself, will you?”

Please, he thinks but doesn’t even dare finish the thought let alone allow his tongue to betray him, dumbly repeats the word in his head over and over like a mantra, like a spell he’s trying to weave. Please. Please. “Yes. You too. Have a safe flight.” And with those words, Mike Baker seemingly vanishes from his life. Silhouette starkly visible against the bright light of the hotel lobby, the embodiment of everything Tze Long wants and wants to be, he leaves, in his wake the hot night air clogging lungs and airways and hearts.

When Tze Long turns, James is silently offering him a lit cigarette. They share it without a word, just like Tze Long often enforced an awkward quiet between them through non-committal replies or flat out ignoring quips despite their wittiness. Looking back, he feels bad about it.

“Wanna join me upstairs?”, the Brit asks as he extinguishes the mutual vice and leads the way when Tze Long nods. Mind and expression carefully blank, they ride the elevator up and enter the luxurious room after James has unlocked it. It’s about the same size as Tze Long’s apartment in Hong Kong. “Shower? Your preference.”

He shakes his head and watches the other man approach him, closes his eyes only a second after their lips touch.

It’s always so obvious, with Europeans. They make no move to hide their interest or curiosity, seem to have no off switch whereas Tze Long has stumbled over vague acquaintances, locals whom he’d never have suspected in the past. James telegraphed clearly until he knew he was understood, and then continued unintentionally.

He’s a good kisser, at least. Considerate, adaptive, even playful – he manages to coax a few smiles out of Tze Long as they just stand there and kiss, despite him feeling like the entire last week didn’t even matter. He wouldn’t have felt like this even if they’d failed. But James is more and more successful in taking his mind off it, and for that he’s grateful. He does have a nice build, favouring the torso over legs but Tze Long doesn’t mind, not when he can run his hands over hard muscles and feel them dance below his fingertips.

They crawl onto the bed, James shirtless and unreasonably attractive-looking, dark mane fanning out on his pillow and ribs expanding prettily with every deep inhale over Tze Long toying with his tongue. He’s hard, both of them are, and it’s no surprise that the first piece of clothing James tries to undo are Tze Long’s trousers.

“I top”, he whispers against a swollen mouth and slides lower to capture an erect nipple with his lips.

James picks up on his phrasing. “Exclusively?” He doesn’t sound like he minds and lets out a beautiful little moan.

“Exclusively Westerners.” Tze Long doesn’t mention he rarely sleeps with locals as it is – many of them are a mirror to his own insecurities and remind him of the endless questions about his marital status. He’s met wonderful local men, yes, one wonderful woman too, an outlier who sadly didn’t stay by his side or else she could’ve made most of his life a lot easier, but when it comes down to it, he prefers the natural demeanour, the surprise over him having to hide, the cheerful forgetfulness concerning their cultural differences. It’s easier to not be reminded than to overcome.

“Had enough of white guy machos who come to the ‘land of the bottoms’ expecting everyone to fall at their feet?” He’s amused yet not mocking.

“Not far off”, Tze Long admits with a smile and leans up for another kiss which is eagerly accepted. He’s starting to get the impression James would be content with nothing but snogging the entire night and the thought makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s not a race thing”, James mutters, hands gently stroking over Tze Long’s body, “I just like pretty people.”

And I like people who take what I’m willing to give without much fuss, Tze Long thinks and marvels over how the body below his comes alive at his every touch. He’s a magnet and James made of metal, has no choice but to strain towards him, intense gaze fixed on his face. Somehow, it hurts looking at him. “What else do you like?” Tze Long parts legs with a soft push to an inner thigh and settles between them.

“Anything. I’m not picky.” Coming from anyone else, he wouldn’t have believed it, but it rings true for James. “Live out your fantasies.” He smiles and means it, despite his next words. “I know I’m a substitute.”

Tze Long’s mouth goes dry. His cheeks burn, actually feel on fire. Restless digits roam over exposed skin but none of its warmth manages to penetrate his own. He feels cheapened, caught. He knows James noticed. He just thought he’d have the decency not to mention it.

He tries to save it with a kiss, but it’s sticky, sickly sweet like too much candy, the taste clinging to the roof of his mouth. Like Macau itself, a pretty façade and nothing more. James can tell he’s not feeling it anymore, he’s sure.

“You don’t have to”, James says, so full of understanding Tze Long’s stomach is in knots.

“I want to”, he lies. Kind eyes blink up at him. James really is handsome, at third glance. He imagines what it’s like to actually fuck him. He wonders what he’d feel like afterwards. The thought is sobering.

“How about we walk around the city some more instead? There were other places you mentioned we didn’t get to see. I’ll just skip sleeping.”

Tze Long doesn’t ask whether it’s really alright with James. He just nods and gets up.

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~*~

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Confrontation goes against his nature. He’s always cultivated a healthy mix of empathy and disillusionment with humanity as a whole, both to understand other people’s actions as well as not care too much – he’s self-sufficient, needs little to be content, is ambitious without being overzealous, and he believes that everyone eventually gets what they deserve. Picking fights, holding grudges, none of it appeals to him, instead seems clunky, awkward, unnecessary. He lives and lets live, expects others to show him similar courtesy but doesn’t cause a fuss when they don’t.

This, however, is different.

“I’ve been working on this for two months, as you’re well aware, and now you’re saying I won’t be permitted to bring this mission to its conclusion?” His tone is even but his fingers flex, betraying his anger, even resentment.

Mei Lin had to pull him aside so they don’t have this conversation in front of the rest of their team, for which he’s grateful, though he hopes it doesn’t appear as if he’s questioning her authority. She’s gotten enough shit as it is. “Yes”, she replies curtly. “This is non-negotiable. Leave.”

Tze Long catches his fury before it breaks out of him. He respects her like no other, and unlike his peers, doesn’t hold her to higher standards just because she’s a woman. She’s had to work twice as hard to receive half as many commendations. No, this isn’t about her. “You know my work is important to me”, he appeals to her sense of duty, but he’s got the impression he’s not talking to her in her function as his superior right now, despite all.

“This isn’t your call to make either way.” He believes it. If their roles were reversed, if he begged her to exclude him from the mission yet she deemed him irreplaceable, she wouldn’t allow it. “I will bear the consequences. I am aware of what I’m doing. And you need to go.”

He sincerely hopes she’s not committing career suicide, not after she’s fought her way into the SDU, clawed her way up with iron discipline and excellent results. She could have him officially rebuked for insubordination if he refused and stayed. So he doesn’t.

.

A few hours later, he feels his father’s pulse fade under his fingertips.

.

Tze Long feels like he’s underwater. Like he’s a singular grain of sand, mercilessly and relentlessly being tossed around by the tide, ground up against his brethren over and over again until they’ve all lost their edge, become smooth and round and compatible, until they make up a pretty picture as a whole, with their personal identities vanishing in favour of making up a greater good.

A metropolis like Hong Kong seems to have this effect on people – at least on most of the ones he’s met. They turn into exchangeable faces, rehashing the same conversations over and over, fulfilling their purpose and causing no ruckus. Oiling the machine. On bad days, this impression weighs him down amid the traffic noises, the daily rush to work and back, the desperate attempts to take the mind off everything. On good days, he manages to spot beauty wherever he goes, smiles and small gestures of kindness, the shocking diversity of the city representing unification and celebration of life in all forms. Hong Kong is colourful in more ways than one, if he dares to look.

Today is a bad day.

He’s frantically chewing on a toothpick while tonguing the sore spots in his mouth where he poked himself before. A friend suggested replacing cigarettes with something else to keep his mouth occupied and help suppress the addiction, and after dismissing chewing gum and carrots, he’s landed on this. So far, it does nothing to quell his anxiety.

When Mei Lin leaves the building, her expression is unreadable until she’s stopped right in front of him, blinking up into the painfully direct sunlight. They study each other, both looking for signs of weakness not to exploit but to encourage. Eventually, she nods. “We’re good”, she announces and both of them slump a little in relief.

What she really means to say is: I’m good. But Tze Long doesn’t correct her. “What did he say?”

“He was understandably upset I would force you off the mission after you’ve been the most involved op in the whole thing. He blamed me for being soft, for endangering the rest of the troop by replacing you. And he told me I shouldn’t have let you know about the call.”

Tze Long nods silently. It’s what he expected.

If she’d told him of the call afterwards, he wouldn’t have been there to witness his father’s last breath.

“But there was someone else there. SAS. Apparently a friend of yours.”

His stomach flips. Did he really come? He wouldn’t have thought – he messaged him that day, late at night, not expecting a reply as usual. Responses were scarce, have always been, so he figured he’d get a supportive text back in a week or two. Not this. His heartbeat quickens and he has to hold himself back to let Mei Lin finish instead of charging the building.

“He wanted to know what happened and then offered his own advice. I’ll spare you the details, they argued a bit, but he held the opinion that amid our discipline and rigorous training, we mustn’t forget we’re also human. Because this humanity is the entire reason we’re doing any of what we’re doing. And in his opinion, I acted according to this ideal and therefore shouldn’t be punished.”

“That does sound like something he’d say”, Tze Long agrees quietly.

Both of them turn to the busy street as if on signal, take a deep breath, compose themselves. He wants to embrace her, wonders whether she’ll take it the right way. Everything is impermanent, he recently received a sharp reminder of this, and his need to cherish everything he still has left throbs behind his temples. Instead, he settles for an earnest: “Thank you. I didn’t agree in the moment, but I do now. You made the correct call.”

“I know.” She fixes him with a gaze so full of sympathy that it paralyses him. “I’m sorry.”

He just nods again. Despite all, he wants to ask her about him, what he was like, whether she liked him, whether she understood who exactly he is. The realisation of how much he cares is frightening, even more so when he hears footsteps behind him, clearly approaching the two of them. He’ll never be ready to face him, never has been, and so he takes the plunge without hesitation and turns around, turns to -

“It’s just me”, James states almost apologetically the moment he must notice the disappointment in Tze Long’s expression.

Whatever it is, whether it’s the uncomfortable vacuum Tze Long has been carrying around with him for a few days already, hindering his ability to feel anything, whether it’s the relief of seeing a familiar, friendly face, whether it’s the fact that James just helped Mei Lin – it’s not nearly as big of a letdown as Tze Long would’ve expected. Yes, he’d hoped it’d be him. But after a second, he’s already come to terms with the fact that it isn’t, and if he’s completely honest, he doesn’t even mind that much. “Good to see you”, he says and means it.

James’ face lights up with a smile. “Good to be here.”

.

Their dynamic is different.

Tze Long fails to pinpoint why, whether it’s the long months – years, he realises – of constant communication, the fact that he’s not looking over James’ shoulder for most of the time, or the sad circumstances. He’s sociable enough, always enjoys making and keeping friends from all over the world which has come in handy not only at his job but also in his spare time, so he kept up the steady stream of messages between the younger Brit and himself. It wasn’t like they texted every day, yet he expected a message at least once a week and wasn’t ever disappointed. Usually, it was either a world event which occupied them, a remarkable injury on either side (like when Tze Long broke his toe by demonstrating his lack of skill on the tightrope, or when James dreamt bad, flailed around in his sleep and punched himself in the nuts), an entertaining story they came across or just a simple checking in. Casual, pleasant, inconsequential conversations.

Now that they’re face to face once more, James is much more tangible, with that singular dimple he actually pointed out at some point, the laid-back attitude which puts Tze Long at ease immediately, filled to the brim with terrible ideas and even worse jokes and never turning down a challenge. He’s a painting which has come alive, surprising in its actuality yet its core still intact. It’s not like meeting an entirely new person, more of… seeing a whole.

In the half-day they have available, Tze Long shows him Hong Kong. The flight leaves late at night and James bemoans the fact that he’s got trouble sleeping on planes as it is, so the jetlag will kill him, and Tze Long doesn’t ask whether he was in the area anyway, doesn’t ask when he arrived in the first place, why exactly he came.

He suggests Din Tai Fung once more but James shakes his head, inquires about other local specialties and trails after him until they reach the night market on Temple Street which isn’t as crowded as usual seeing as it’s only afternoon. Like in Macau, Tze Long revels in his position as tourist guide and points out miscellaneous facts, tells a few anecdotes and buys a chocolate-flavoured egg waffle as well as milk tea so James can munch and sip on something while marvelling at the colourful trinkets and embroidered clothes offered en masse. In order to get him to try as many stalls as possible, they share portions of dim sum, grilled squid and braised meat, and it delights him to see that James is willing to try basically everything – except for stinky tofu, which is understandable. Tze Long barely smells it at this point but he knows it’s quite off-putting to people not used to it.

Before they head to visit the nearby temples, he purchases fresh fruits to complete the culture shock: some lychee-like longans, a shockingly bright pink dragon fruit and a sweetsop, Tze Long’s personal favourite with its creamy, aromatic flesh. James’ curiosity knows no bounds and, very uncharacteristically, he doesn’t treat Hong Kong with his usual biting sarcasm. It’s not reverence he shows either, and Tze Long would be hard pressed to describe his attitude as anything more precise than simple enchantment.

They barely manage to get to Victoria Peak before sunset. Just like the rest of the city, the mountain is flooded with people, all trying to get the best selfie before moving on, whereas James leans against the railing on one of the viewing platforms and merely looks. Tze Long steps up next to him, close enough to touch, forcing the bustling activity behind them to the back of his mind and tries to see his home through James’ eyes. Below them, countless skyscrapers stretch upwards like fingers, reaching out for infinity.

“What about where you live?”, James wants to know after a long while. “I want to see where you used to work. Where you grew up.”

He shakes his head after some deliberation. “We don’t have time for that”, he lies when in reality he’s not ready to face this part of his life again, especially not show it to a stranger of sorts. His past feels deeply personal somehow, his struggle to end up where he is now like a secret he’d better keep. Part of it is simple vanity – he wouldn’t like to imagine James telling his colleagues, telling him. And of course, the one person who shared this history with him has now passed away.

James’ eyes are on him, attentive, almost waiting. “Next time?”, he asks, sounding hopeful. Tze Long wonders what kind of impression he’ll take away from this short visit.

“Yes. Next time.” He’s not sure if there will be one, but he hopes he’ll feel differently about himself by then.

“What was he like?”

A deep breath. How is he meant to answer this question? “Kind but firm”, he offers and puts a new toothpick in his mouth. “No time for nonsense but always willing to listen if something was on my mind. Distracted, at times. Whenever he found a gift for me, he’d present it so proudly. He was happiest when he could teach me things, show me the world. When he couldn’t work anymore, he -” His voice breaks, so he stops talking. Despite it not being his fault, guilt had plagued his father for decades. Having to rely on his only son, witnessing Tze Long’s struggle took its toll on him just like on Tze Long himself, though it changed into fierce pride later on, once he became a Flying Tiger. But he remembers the forlorn stare into their empty cupboards, the reassurances of being able to mend clothes, shoes, self-image.

James is going to get a sunburn and it’s not going to be pretty. He hasn’t tanned much this summer yet and Tze Long wants to reach out to protect his skin from the merciless rays. To maybe run fingers through his luscious hair. “He sounds like a good father.”

“He was.”

And despite the serenity of the moment, James actually goes there: “Your description of him reminds me of someone.”

Tze Long fights down the urge to simply leave. He’s better than that. “I bet you won’t drink a whole glass of durian milk”, he switches topics and earns a side-glance he’s incapable of deciphering.

.

“- you should’ve seen his face when I told him to shove it, pure comedy, this dude was not used to anyone saying no to him, not with him built like a bloody fridge and that stupid fuckin’ tattoo on his forehead, something daft like carnivorous or edgelord, I don’t even remember, I only remember thinking: this lad must’ve randomly picked a word from the dictionary that sounded cool.”

Tze Long moves his own drink out of the range of James’ flailing arms but makes no move to interrupt him.

“And me, a foot shorter and seemingly harmless, refusing to budge? Well, you can imagine what happened.”

“I do hope you wiped the floor with him.”

“First he punched me in the throat, but yes, afterwards I most definitely wiped the floor but only because he tripped over some barbed wire, nearly shredded his entire dick and bled all over the fucking linoleum. That was the last time he tried to sell some fake insurance, I’m sure.”

Drunk James is adorable. He’s become a waterfall, largely unaware of himself not in an inconsiderate way but an endearing one, speaking his mind openly and demanding Tze Long’s full attention. He fills silences with anything and everything, after two cocktails already, and he goes deaf when Tze Long tells him that going on a plane while intoxicated might not be the best idea. They’re perched by the bar, sipping bitter liquor because today is just one of those days and let the soft pop music relax their muscles.

While he prattles on, rants about the next odd encounter, Tze Long gets distracted by the curve of his eyebrows and the hard jaw and he wonders whether he’s still interested. What he’d say to the suggestion of dipping into a hotel real quick. It’s less than an hour until he has to be at the airport, however, hardly enough time, but idly toying with the idea is fun nonetheless.

“Thank you for coming”, he eventually manages to interject while James takes a breath.

“Aye. Mike relayed the message and it sounded like you might get in trouble, or your colleague might. He’s off gallivanting around the Middle East somewhere I think, claims he’s busy doing recon or whatnot but I bet he’s lazing in the sun and resting his bones. Soon he’s gonna be the oldest bloke in the SAS, did you know? Fucker’s immortal. Some of the lads who bet on his retirement are gone themselves by now.”

Tze Long did not know this. He doesn’t know a lot of things about Mike. “I appreciate your help, in any way.”

“Believe me, your boss didn’t.” James grins and it makes him look years younger. “I might get shit for it but my major has my back. And I got yours. If anything else is up, let me know and I’ll travel half the world again.”

He has no doubt James would, and he tries to identify whether it’s a snipe aimed at him for texting Mike only, not him, but isn’t sure. His brooding is interrupted when he spots a familiar figure at the other end of the counter, glancing over and flashing him a wide smile. “Oh no”, he mutters to himself.

“I swear though, that bloody rotten egg fruit, whatever it’s called, I’m never touching one of those again, I still wanna throw up every time I burp.” James interrupts himself to follow Tze Long’s gaze. “What, someone making bedroom eyes at you?”

“Yes. He’s very charming, to be honest.” He sighs, shaking his head. Should’ve known better than to drag James to his usual club. “And very married.”

“That happen often?”

It’s too complicated to go into detail, so he nods. Having grandchildren continues to be one of the highest priorities in the life of a parent, and Tze Long has met many, many guys living a double life – one for society and their family, one for themselves. He’d rather not get involved with these men even if it means limiting himself.

“Want me to take care of it?”

The seemingly innocent question makes him huff in amusement. “Please don’t start a bar fight, I’d hate to get banned.”

“More than one way to show you’re not interested”, James mutters and true, he’s right.

Tze Long doesn’t even mind. He puts his toothpick aside.

They meet halfway between their chairs and James’ corners of his mouth are turned upwards when they do. He tastes of rum and tobacco and the tendrils of addiction pull at him enticingly at the reminder of what he’s given up; the background noise fades in favour of his own heartbeat and James is still smiling, never once stops. His smile feels like a thinly-veiled accusation and a self-satisfied victory simultaneously and yet Tze Long can’t get enough. James switches to his chair, actually settles on his thighs without breaking the heady touch of lips on lips, clearly uncaring of the spectacle they’re putting on. Tze Long’s hands stray to his sides and for once, he’s not picturing a different body between his palms.

“I think we’re good”, he murmurs after a while, after all decency is long overthrown.

“Hmm, no, he’s still looking”, James hums back without even opening his eyes once, smile widening, but when Tze Long withdraws, he relents and instead pulls him into a hug.

And it just overwhelms him. The rare feel of a warm body makes him realise he hasn’t deliberately, consciously touched another human being in days, reminds him of the empty apartment he’ll return to, chock full of memories and shards which don’t cut deep by themselves yet make up a fearsome blade as a whole; reminds him of the desperate loneliness which creeps up on him now and then, whenever he’s weak, whenever he lets it. He thinks of the eternal double check mark, message received, thinks of his colleagues’ triumphant faces as they recounted the successful mission without him.

He clings, hard, and only notices the supportive arms wrapped around him once his fingers have stopped shaking. He’s breaking down in the middle of the bar, visible to everyone, to people he knows, and the shame burns almost worse than his grief.

Regardless, James is still there. Whispering nothings, stroking his back soothingly, acting as if none of this was out of line. His warmth is painful because he’s unsure how to repay it, but right now he has no choice but to accept.

“It’s okay”, James tells him like he really believes it. “You’ll be alright.”

.

~*~

.

He turns out to be correct, even if it takes some time for Tze Long to wholly believe it.

A piercing stare accompanies the realisation together with a suffocating amount of information he’s expected to digest and memorise, and yet he couldn’t be happier. The office is nondescript and icy for his standards and he can already tell it’ll take some time to get used to this part of the earth.

“I am very happy to know you in our team”, Six finishes with a seriousness Tze Long respects. “Welcome to Rainbow.”

“It is an honour.” He matches her tone. “I’m looking forward to working with you, ma’am.” He knows when he’s dismissed, gets up and ready to start this new chapter of his life, but curiosity gets the better of him: “May I ask – am I the only one of my unit you’ve recruited?”

Six’ expression softens. The formal part is over, she can rest assured all her points have come across and therefore she allows herself some friendliness. “No. One of your colleagues will join us as well – Mei Lin Siu.”

He finds himself smiling. “That is an excellent choice, ma’am.”

“Funny. She said the same thing about you.”

.

~*~

.

England is cold, empty, quiet and boring. And Tze Long is surprisingly fine with it.

He traded comfortable warmth for considerably less rain – even if the Spanish operators give him an odd look over this statement – and exercising outdoors is less suffocating, less of a chore. Admittedly, he could do without winter but after having been enlightened about layers, sealing gloves and sleeves and other tricks which Mira and Jackal divulge gladly, it’s not that bad. Even if summer has him a little homesick now and then. Sometimes he also misses the liveliness of his home, the many faces just like his, the natural way people accept each other as an inevitability. Here, it happens that existing in a space earns him disapproving glances.

But it’s quiet. He sleeps like the dead, hasn’t been this calm in decades and finally finds enough time to really pursue hobbies he had to neglect previously: he reads for days on end, dabbles (and generally fails) in a few crafty endeavours, follows the news from the silence of his apartment, feeling secure, comfy, safe. He picks up cooking, much to James’ delight, and together they spend a weekend on xiao long bao, having to re-do the dough several times and despairing over the soup gelatin only to give up and attempt it again a week later, nailing it first try. And whenever the muted quality of this country threatens to overwhelm him, he puts on some music, a film, or simply invites James over.

He doesn’t have many complaints, not when he spends most of his free mornings in bed with a steaming cup of coffee by his side and phone in hand, the world under his fingertips. Still, it required some getting used to the way people treat each other, the blunt and direct style of communication, the many gestures which would be deemed horribly rude in Asia.

Tze Long idly ponders cultural differences while Mike hands him a bowl of rice, chopsticks simply stabbed into it.

Next to him, he can sense James’ eyes widening before he quickly snatches the utensils and holds them out to Tze Long instead. They share a secret, slightly embarrassed smile, just like they did when Mike presented him with four sample bottles of whisky from his favourite distilleries – he can’t expect everyone to be aware of common superstitions, but he would’ve guessed the social stigma around the number four would’ve been widespread enough to have reached Mike’s ears. Even Mark pulled a face in the background, and James elbowed him, accepting one of the bottles gratefully.

Mike is trying, that’s the part which counts, and Tze Long is fiercely appreciative: he hasn’t celebrated his birthday properly in an eternity, certainly not with colleagues which have become more than that over time, and certainly not with gifts as thoughtful as the ones he’s received (like the high quality tea from Mei Lin, and an entire book series of English classics from James). Mike is trying, and as he’s come to realise over the years, this doesn’t always amount to much. But it doesn’t matter, provided he manages his expectations.

Somewhere along the way, he’s stopped drinking up literally every single word dripping from his lips, stopped blindly accepting, stopped the worship. Mike is a friend. Mike is even a bit of a shit friend a lot of the time, yet his heart remains in the right place – which is a little distant, a little distracted, and far, far away from Tze Long’s.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked”, he informs his gracious host matter-of-factly, and can spot the flattered happiness through the ensuing modesty. It’s certainly not the best thing he’s ever eaten, but his statement remains true nonetheless. Aniseed in curry is courageous and the result a little odd yet edible, and so complaining is the furthest thing on his mind.

When Mike is back to bustling around in the kitchen, Mei Lin quietly asks the other guests: “He really went all out. Does he do this often?”

“Never”, replies Seamus, sounding amused. He looks a giant next to Tze Long’s comparatively dainty teammate, though they seem to get along well. “He’s forgotten Mark’s and Jamie’s before, and gave me out-of-date rum truffles for my birthday.”

“Aren’t you on a diet?”, she asks, prompting a meaningful nod.

“He really cares about Tze Long, even if he’s not sure how to show it”, James interjects, sounding bored. “They’ve been friends for a long while, after all.”

“We have been friends for a long while”, Tze Long feels the need to point out. James’ eyes slide over to him, bore into his skull, almost intense enough to cause him to lower his gaze – but he doesn’t. He knows what it’s for, all the dismissive replies in the beginning, him acting as if the clown (whose humour meshed surprisingly well with his own, who was willing to undertake the same risks as him, who watched his every move) was invisible. If he could go back, he’d act differently. If he could go back, he wouldn’t spend a significant amount of his life chasing after a castle in the sky.

But he did, and now it’s done.

“We have”, he affirms, and instead of agreeing, James gets distracted by Seamus addressing him, and this simple fact shouldn’t bother Tze Long as much as it does. He doesn’t have a monopoly on him, he has to regularly remind himself of this. He didn’t earn the right to have one.

.

Joining Mike in the kitchen feels less like a conscious decision and more of an escape. “I can’t thank you enough”, he begins and is immediately interrupted by a scoff.

“You could lie and tell me this blobby pudding isn’t the most sorry-looking excuse for custard you’ve ever seen.”

“This custard looks delicious”, Tze Long lies smoothly and Mike’s gruff laugh mends his brittle soul a bit. They’ve learnt to interact with each other without any of the awkwardness prevalent in the beginning of Tze Long’s time in Rainbow.

“Good lad. And you don’t need to thank me, it’s the least I can do. For once, you could shut up and accept people being nice to you.” It’s ingrained in Tze Long to fight for the bill, react modestly to and dismiss compliments rather than accept them, refuse gifts a few times when receiving them. He opens his mouth to object, but once more Mike is faster: “I’ve received complaints about you, you know. You’re being too bloody nice – people just need to mention a book and you’ve already promised to let them borrow it, you give lifts to unsuspecting whiners and generally are too friendly. We’re in fucking England, no one knows how to deal with that shite here.”

Tze Long grins, even if he’s aware Mike isn’t purely joking. “Are you suggesting I’m not already playing my part in making our work environment… more toxic?”

The eye roll he receives is inordinately satisfying, yet his triumph doesn’t last. “No, lad, I’m telling you to go out and bloody take something for yourself. Something which you’ve wanted for a long, long time. You’re allowed, you know? You’re allowed to demand things.”

And this strikes a chord. The smile on Tze Long’s lips fades the further the words sink, float down, down, down into the murky depths of his subconscious which reacts with instant, intense panic. Because they only become louder the deeper they reach, their echo reverberating and creating a cacophony making it impossible to think straight. Unhelpfully, his conscious mind provides a solution, the one suggestion which he’s carried on his tongue for years, wrote on his forehead, the one truth he thought irrevocable: “Are you telling me to ask you out?”

The awkwardly-shaped sentence lodges in his throat, causes the gears in his head to grind and shriek, and it’s wrong, so wrong, if Mike says yes he’s never setting foot in his flat again, fuck the idolising, fuck professional relationships, he’ll curl up in ball and shake and shiver and shudder because no, it’s not what he wants, maybe something he never wanted in the first place.

While he’s still reeling from what’s raging on inside him, Mike throws him an almost pitiful glance. “Not me I’m talking about”, he grumbles. “I mean the one bloke whose friendliness you’ve always accepted without any protest.”

And isn’t that the fucking point?

It’s the one person who consistently made him lose face, no matter what, humiliated him with his displays of adoration Tze Long could never hope to repay, proved him unworthy with every breath he takes, and his presence burns under his fingernails, a constant itch chipping away at his honour because he deserves none of it and yet he wants. Oh he wants. He’s humbled by every easy laugh following disrespect, and the more this shadowy figure was pushed away, the harder it tried to keep up, and keeping it hazy is so much easier than allowing its entire being to invade every nook and cranny of his life.

Only -

That already happened a while ago, didn’t it?

James is outside, an unopened beer in his hand and smoking by himself because Seamus doesn’t endorse his addiction and Mei Lin and Mark hate the smell. He’s glowing in the setting sun, illuminated almost from the inside and Tze Long viciously wishes his brilliancy was contagious. “What’s wrong?”, he asks, unaware of the storm raging behind Tze Long’s unchanged exterior.

“I’m cold”, he replies, earning furrowed brows.

“It’s July.”

“Yes.”

They look at each other. James’ lips purse around the cigarette and Tze Long wants to grab the bottle and smash it on the asphalt, just to expend some of the energy throbbing through him. “Did Mike say anything? Are you okay?”

“I bought two tickets to Hong Kong.” And it’s out. With this, he’s handed himself over and there’s no going back.

“You’re going with him?” Carefully neutral. James stubs out the cigarette and takes out his key ring with its bottle opener attached. There’s a piece of string, too, displaying some of the decorative beads Tze Long recognises easily. The charm must’ve fallen off or broken after extensive use over the years.

“I wouldn’t want him to come along.”

Busy hands pause. He still doesn’t understand. “Mei Lin is accompanying you?”

“No.” They don’t have leave at the same time anyway. But he and James do. Always had.

Fingers twitch. Then slowly set the beer down on the stone steps behind them. He’s looking everywhere but at Tze Long, long hair falling into his eyes. “So -”

“I’ve been buying two ever since I joined Rainbow.” They both know how conscious he is of spending money.

“Jesus”, says James.

Tze Long is dizzy. He expected this moment to taste half-fermented, almost rotten, like a fruit ignored for too long, but instead it’s an explosion of refreshing flavour and pleasant sweetness, horrifyingly addicting. His face hurts and he realises that he’s grinning from cheek to cheek, must look like a lunatic if James’ expression is anything to go by. “Come with me. Please.”

And James seems to understand what he means, even if a frown tugs on his mouth and the face he makes is one of sorrow and not happiness, yet when Tze Long steps closer, James latches onto him like a drowning man.

His turmoil is far from appeased, but one thought prevails above all, forces his emotions to simmer down: I might not deserve this, he thinks, but he certainly does. He holds James until he’s shaking only with laughter, nothing else, the half-suppressed bouts of relief convincing him more and more of having made the right decision. They’re each other’s anchors, unwilling to let go, and beam at each other so brightly it blots out the sun.

“I’d love to”, James tells him in that rare, genuine tone of voice Tze Long has never heard him use with anyone else. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side.” His lack of hesitation only increases James’ luminosity. “I’ll show you everything, James. I’ll show you all.” This seems to convince him, no doubt due to the far-reaching implications.

This time, when they kiss, Tze Long knows for a fact he won’t feel his stomach drop afterwards. And it’s mostly because he knows it won’t be their last one.

[chocobabyporcelain]

How would the bros react to an S/O who wears jfashion? (I'm trying to think of things you like but all i can think of is jfash)

I am so here for this. But of course, you knew that.I did a different subfashion with each bro, but if you wanna see a specific bro with a specific fashion, just shoot me an ask and I’ll get to it.I’ve included a links to a pinterest baord on each fashion so if you’re not familiar, you can get a better visual.(Also, side note, I can totally see Iris dressing in Visual Kei)

Tags: @neko-otaku13 @itsmootothecow @itshaejinju @mp938368 @ffxv-milkshake @bespectacled-girl @insomniacapples @expectogladiolus

Noctis –Decora:

Noctis had known you since middle school, but he’d never seen yououtside of school before. Which meant he’d never seen you inanything other than your school uniform and the minimal makeup yourschool would allow.

Whenhe saw you at the arcade, dressedbrighter than a rainbow, he couldn’t help but stare. Nobody couldhelp but stare. Not all of them appreciative.

Youwere dressed in a bright yellow cut-sew with multicoloured polkadots, along with a red and blue chequered skirt over rainbow tights.There were glittery greenplatform sandals on your feet and a strawberry patterned jacketdraped loosely over your shoulders. You had a seemingly impossibleamount of hair clips decorating your bright red wig and plasticjewellery lining your wrists and fingers. Yourfuzzy, blue monster backpack was hanging limply from your arm as youand your friend, who was dressed similarly, battled on one of themachines.

“Yes!” you yelled out your victory, throwing your hands in theair as you jumped up and down, your backpack bouncing on your arm.

You friend groaned loudly and threw her head down in a pout. “You’reonly good at this because you have more experience.” she grumbled.

Noctis could hardly believe it was you. Could this really be (Y/N)?The girl in his class who kept to herself and barely said a word toanybody? The girl who got so embarrassed when she mispronounced“disestablishment” that she refused to speak for the rest of theday?

He took a deep breath and slowly made his way over to you. “(Y/N)?”

Youturned to face him, youreyes widening when you saw exactly who was addressing you. “PrinceNoctis!” You stepped back, subconsciously pulling your jacketfurther around yourself, as if trying to hide.

Your friend cast a look between the two of you and smiled. “I’mgonna go grab some sodas.” she said, slipping away before you couldcall her back.

An awkward silence stretched between you, both of you looking aroundin different directions.

“It’s—”

“You—”

You both spoke simultaneously, and then laughed nervously atyourselves.

“You first.” Noctis insisted.

Younodded.“I was just gonna say it’s a little strange seeing you outside ofschool.” You pulled yourbackpack to your front, running your fingers through its soft fuzz. Anervous habit you’d picked up somewhere along the line.

Noctissmiled at you, giving your coord a once over. Which made you a littleself-conscious, honestly. “You look amazing.” he gesturedvaguely at your clothes. “So bright andbeautiful.”

It was hard to tell who blushed harder at that comment, you orNoctis.

“Colourful!”he corrected. “Bright an-Bright and colourful.”

Youchuckled. “Thank you.” Youlet one arm fallfrom your bagto your side, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt. “It’scalledDecora fashion.”

“I’dlove to hear all about it,” Noctis was almost embarrassed at howquickly he’d spoken. “If, y’know, you’d like to tell me?”

Youswayed a little, rolling up onto the balls of your feet with a brightsmile. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” you replied, maybe alittle too eagerly.

“Cool.”

Iswear, Decora is a lot nicer looking than the coord I just described.

Prompto – Fairy Kei:

You were sat on a high wall just behind the overlook in Lestallumwhen Prompto first saw you. He caught sight of your pastel pink andbaby blue sneakers dangling just above his line of sight. “Oh,”he muttered softly as he looked up and saw you in your entirety.

Your fluffy tutu in pink, mint and lavender splayed out either sideof you, draping over the pastel candy-print tights that encased yourthighs. The pink sweater you were wearing (in Lestallum, which wasquestionable enough) was easily three times too big for you, one sidehanging off your shoulder, and had “Barbie” written across thefront in pretty cursive letters. You wore baby blue knee-highs overyour tights, with little pink teddy bears holding balloons on thesides, disappearing into your high-top sneakers. Your hair was dyedin split colours, pink one side, blue the other, and was tied up intwin-tails, with slightly uneven tie-off points which looked clumsy,but cute. You were swinging your legs daintily, fully engrossed inyour phone.

Prompto couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face ashe looked up at you. A real life fairy princess, perched comfortablyatop her vantage point, looking out at the world. You were beautiful.A true vision in soft pastels.

He took a deep breath, gathering the courage to call out to you.“Exc– Excuse me!”

You peered over the top of your phone, unsure whether or not thevoice was calling you. You saw the blonde man down below waving toyou, and you gave your own shy, tentative wave in return.

“Hey, this might sound weird but, um,” he lifted his camera, asif to make you aware of its existence. “Would you be comfortablewith me taking your picture?”

You knitted your eyebrows, worrying your lower lip a little. “Oh,erm…” You considered it, briefly.  He seemed genuine enough andhe did ask permission first. That’s gotta count forsomething, right? You took a breath and forced a smile. “Yeah,sure.” You placed your phone down beside you and held up a peacesign.

Prompto hesitated. “Are you sure?” he called up. You werebeautiful and he definitely wanted a picture of you, but hewasn’t prepared to make you uncomfortable.

“I’m sure.” you replied, giving a short chuckle.

Prompto smiled up at you once more and aligned his camera, spending alittle time adjusting in a way that was comfortable and got a goodangle. He framed it perfectly, the midday sun behind you in a waythat made you glow radiantly.

“How do I look?”

“Gimme a sec.” He quickly made his way up the small hill, and youswivelled around on the wall to greet him.

You jumped off your comfy perch and grabbed your soft backpack offthe ground, stuffing your phone back into the yellow fluff.

Prompto stopped short when he caught sight of it. The fluffy birdshaped bag was recognisable anywhere. “Is your backpack a chocobo?”he asked with an excited smile.

You giggled, pulling your soft bag closer, cuddling him like aplushie. “Yeah. He’s super cute. I love him.” you said, swayingthe bag as if nursing a child.

“I think you might be my favourite person.” Prompto muttered,unable to stop the heat rising to his cheeks.

Blushing just as bright, you gave another nervous giggle, buryingyour face in the soft fluff of your chocobo backpack. “Do you, um,”you lowered the bag from your mouth, realising it was probablymuffling your speech. “Do you think you could email me that pictureso I can use it for my blog?” you asked, gesturing to his camera.

“Oh, sure thing.” Prompto reached into his pocket and dug out hisphone, opening his notes app and handing it to you. “Here, writedown your email address.”

You took the phone from him, typed in what you needed to, and handedit back.

Your name, email address and phone number.

“(Y/N?),” he smiled. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks.” You began to fidget with your bracelet, a band ofplastic, pastel beads spelling Cry Baby that was previouslyhidden beneath your sleeve. “So, do you have a name, orshould I credit you as Mr. Camera.” you asked.

Prompto snorted at the nickname. “It’s Prompto.” he replied,maybe hoping a little that you’d call him Mr. Camera anyway. Maybehe thought it sounded kinda cool.

“Prompto.” you repeated.

That’s when a car horn decided to blast, startling the both of you.

“(Y/N)!” you heard your friend’s voice call.

You looked up to the road, where you could see the car of anotherfriend, the one in question leaning far out of the window. “Get in,loser. We got a tea party to get to!”

You waved and turned back to Prompto. “That’s my ride.” Youhesitated, rocking slightly on your heels. “So… text me later?”you trailed off cautiously.

“Sure thing!” Prompto’s reply was immediate. “I’ll send thephoto tonight.”

You smiled and nodded. “Thank you so much.” With that, you rushedto your friend’s car, pausing to wave before you climbed in,ignoring your friends as they teased you.

Prompto waited until the car drove off before looking back at hiscamera, at the photograph of you, sitting atop the wall with thatsweet smile. “Ah, geez.” he muttered.

He had it bad.

Hereis my very own Fairy Kei board!In fact, most of the coord in this is based off my actual wardrobe.

Also,can I throw out the headcanon that Prompto is totally prepared totwin with his Fairy Kei S/O?

Ignis – Uchuu Kei:

For as long as Ignis has known you, he’s known about your penchantfor space. Many a time he’d found you, in the wee hours of themorning, curled up on the woven chair that sat on your balcony,staring up at the night sky.

He loved the sound of pure excitement in your voice as you pouredover your star chart, talking endlessly about the vastness and beautyof space, yet to be explored.

The crescent moon string lights you’d hung around the vanitymirror, the nebula print cushions you’d decorated the bed with, thenebula soaps in the bathroom, all of it may not have been to Ignis’staste, per say. But, a shared home should have equal representationof all parties coexisting, and that was your mark.

He’d noticed you were starting in integrate your passion for spacein your outfits. It started with your nails, your usual block colouracrylics traded in for nebula patterns. Then, there was a pair ofholographic creepers you had your heart set on from the moment yousaw them.

You’d started to wonder if you could make your whole wardrobe spacethemed. Or would that be silly? You supposed it was. After all, youweren’t a little girl anymore, and they probably didn’t even makespace themed clothing in your size.

Still, that didn’t stop you looking it up at home whileprocrastinating work. You scrolled through pages and pages ofchildren dressed as aliens and astronauts, becoming more and morediscouraged at each microhuman you saw draped in silver, green andUFO print.

Until, you stumbled upon something amazing.

You slammed your hands down on the table, staring wide-eyed at thescreen on your laptop.

“(Y/N)?” Ignis called, poking his head around the door of thesmall dinning room, where you were (supposed to be) working. “Whatwas that? Are you alright?”

You smiled at him over the top of your heavily decorated laptop.“It’s a thing!” you muttered, your voice pinching slightly asyour excitement become more apparent. You beckoned him over to showhim the images on your screen.

Ignis came to stand behind you, placing an arm across your shoulders.He watched with you as you scrolled down the page, showcasing imageafter image of people—adults—wearing nebula patterns,silver, constellations, aliens. Space fashion was a thing!

“It’s called Uchuu Kei,” you said, opening a few images in newtabs for a closer inspection. “I can’t believe it’s actually athing!”

The excitement in your voice brought a smile to Ignis’s face. “Ithink it’d suit you nicely.” He pointed to a particular image onthe screen. I girl dressed in a silver dress, navy, star sprinkledtights and holographic creepers. “You’re halfway there, you justneed the dress.” he commented with a chuckle.

You laughed along, mulling it over in your mind. Could you reallypull it off? You wanted to, but you weren’t convinced. What if youjust looked really silly? “You think so?” you asked, a littleshyly.

“Certainly.”

And with that, your mind was made up. You’d try out Uchuu Kei. Andif it didn’t suit you, it didn’t suit you, and it would be alearning experience and you’d move on.

It started with you collecting garments, tucking them away in yourcloset until you felt you had enough to build a semi-decent coord. Itwas mostly tops and sweaters, you noticed. All with aliens, crescentmoons, rocket ships and various other space motifs. You only had ahandful of suitable skirts and one pair of shorts, and two pairs oftights.

When you felt you had enough, you wanted to work on building a coord.You gathered all of the Uchuu clothes from your closet and laid themout neatly on the bed. You’d pick up a shirt, lay it over a skirtand then put it back, picking up a different shirt and trying again.

You were there for hours, and quickly growing frustrated.Why was coording so hard?

When you finally settled on what you hoped was a workable coord, yougot changed, applying a little makeup and checking yourself over inthe mirror. “Ignis,” you called, making your way out of thebedroom and landing before your boyfriend in a cute curtsy. “Do Ilook alright?”

Ignis regarded you with an appreciative hum. You were wearing a shortsleeved t-shirt, black with a little green alien riding in a UFO withthe words I BELIEVE written in bold, friendly letters.On top of that was a nebula print suspender skirt, the strapsdecorated with badges of UFOs and rocket ships. You were wearing oddsocks, one navy and sprinkled with glittery stars and one a plainwhite, both pulled up to just under your knees, and on your feet,your beloved holographic creepers.

With a gentle smile, Ignis got to his feet, placing a hand on thesmall of your back, pulling you closer. “You look exquisite,darling.” he whispered, softy brushing a stray lock of hair fromyour face. “My little space princess.”

Someexamples of Uchuu Kei.

Gladiolus – Oshare Kei:

Gladiolus has known you for a long time. He’s seen all of yourabrupt style changes, and they happened often.

When you two met, you were playing around with Gyaru. It was acomfortable style, but the fake tan was annoying, and the bleachedblonde and heavy makeup really did not suit you.

You very briefly tried a Classic Lolita style, but thatquickly evolved into a more Gothic Lolita style, which youfound far more suited to you. Far more stylish.

Moriwas one of Gladio’s personal favourite looks on you. Theloose, floaty dresses and thick woollen cardigans gave you adelicate, doll-like look, and the earthy tones made you appear like aforest sprite.

When you announced, out of the blue, that you wanted to try adifferent style, Gladio had to admit that he was sad to see yourforest girl look go.

He very quickly changed his mind when he saw your next style.

Thefirst thing he noticed was that you haddyed your hair again. Mostlyblack this time, with neon pink dip dye. The vest you had on was alsoblack, full of rips with more neon pink peeking through. Hecould see the slightest hint of black, Lycra shorts peering outbeneath your short, pink and black tartan skirt. Yourblack and pink striped socks were uneven, one just below your kneeand the other pushed down to mid-calf, both disappearing intobattered, black converse.

Youspun on the spot, your skirt flaring out and showing off how snuglythose shorts fit. “What do you think?” yourquestion ended in a nervous lilt to your voice as youendedyour twirl in a cute little curtsey.

Gladiolooked you up and down, a muted grinplaying on his lips. “I think,” he said, pulling himself up offof the sofa and approaching you. He held your wrist in his hand andtwirled you once more, leaving you giggling and almost falling intohim. “thatyou look amazing.”

He stepped back, admiring you all over again. “What’s it called,again?” he asked.

“OshareKei.” you answered. “It’s kinda like Visual Kei, but morecolourful.” You swayed alittle, glancing down at your outfit. “Well, more pink, on thisoccasion.” You chuckled nervously, suddenly becoming self-criticalof your chosen colour scheme. Was it too same-y?No, no, plenty of coords use a two-colour palette, you looked fine.Better than fine. You lookedamazing! Right?

Gladioraised an eyebrow at you. “Hey, I know that look.” He lifted youup by the waist and held you with one arm under your butt and theother supporting you back. Herested his forehead against yours and looked you in the eye. “Believeme, (Y/N). You look incredible.Better than… the girl fromthat… Visual band you like…”he trailed off, trying toremember the band, or the girl, or anything, really.

Youscrunched your nose a little. Well, that was vague,but you decided you’d take the compliment, anyway. You smiled,wrapping your arms around Gladio’s neck, swinging your legs gentlyat his sides. “Thanks, Gladio.” you muttered.

Ican see Gladio really being into the “soft punk” vibe Oshare Keigives.