#also wince i was in the city o wandered about a bit and went to a charity shop

[a-sleepy-ginger]

9/4/24

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Saw a couple of black pigeons (never seen black pigeons before they are very cute)

Sweet potato chips

Tiger bread toast

Started watching Shuumatsu train doko e iku no and so far it's great

Teased my dog (somehow every time I close my hand there's something in there and he must have it)

Helped my mother cook rice

[filthficdump]

Good Thing This Job Has Benefits.

AN: I wrote this in one day, I’ve developed a hyperfixation on The Walten Files, so you get to enjoy this absolute mess I’ve made.

You can also read it here on AO3. There’s no romance, it’s a gender neutral, nameless reader fict. There’s no death, because I am NOT about to write angst about a happy family :(

When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around. Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd.

The gravel under my tires crunched as I drove through the night, bopping and tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song, singing along. It was late, most likely near or after nine PM, but I wasn’t about to take my eyes off the road to check. That’s just asking for trouble.

But someone picked you from the bunch, one glance was all it took. Now it's much too late for me to take a second look.

New job, it’s been going great! I wouldn’t have thought I’d get to use my programming degree so soon, but I’m so happy I got this job. Sure, it’s for a kid’s burger joint, but there’s animatronics and other stuff, plus that finance minor rocketed me straight to an assistant manager position!

Oh, baby, give me one more chance, to show you that I love you. Won't you please let me, Back in your heart.

In the distance I could see a pair of headlights and slowed my car a bit and moved a bit to the side to provide them more room. These roads were narrow and I really didn’t think I wanted to get into a car crash and have to deal with that with what’s left of my savings and likely my first check.

Oh, darlin', I was blind to let you go (Let you go, baby) But now since I see you in his arms (I want you back)

The thought ‘That car looks like it’s moving really fast- too fast’ is the last thought in my head as the car got close, too close to stop the car or move away, there’s a ditch and trees on my side of the road. My hand hit the horn hard, blaring, but they served and-

CRASH!!!

Yes, I do now, I want you back. Ooh, ooh, baby, I want you back.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I want you back. Na, na, na, na.

When I come back to, I’m upside down, held up by my seat belt. Ho-ly-shit. I got into a fucking car crash.

Oh shit! I got into a car crash- The other car! I struggle to turn to look out the window and I see the other car against the guard rail. It’s hard to get a good look at the other car, seeing how I’m upside down and in the goddamn ditch, but I need to get out of the car.

I instinctually went for the pocket at the door, looking for my seatbelt cutter, but it had fallen out. Thanks, gravity. Thankfully, it’s on the roof of the car and I grabbed it before grabbing the handle of the door, pushing it open before I pressed my free arm against the roof of the car and-

“ FUCK! ” I yell, feeling the pain shooting up my arm and shoulder. Holy fuck, why did it hurt so bad?! We’re in the middle of the woods and I can’t remember the last home I passed and my car is upside down.

Either someone comes or I’ve got a long walk. I grit my teeth and cut the seat belt, falling head first into the ceiling and then out the door, tumbling until my butt hit grass. I flung the seatbelt cutter to the side and struggled up, using my door as support before I had to climb up the slippery slope of the ditch and onto the road.

My more useful arm held the other to my chest as I limped. Just about everything hurts. My chest, my shoulder, my leg, my face. Why did this have to happen? I was having such a good night, and now I’m in a wreck and about to give this jackass a piece of my mind. If he’s not dead.

I got closer to the car and looked inside. The man was unconscious, leaning against the steering wheel. I looked to the back instinctually, not expecting to see two terrified children! Oh god, wait- No, they’re alive. They’re looking at me.

I pulled open the driver door, still looking back at the kids, “Uh… Hey. Are you kids okay?” I asked, leaning down to look at them better. A boy and a girl, clearly siblings. They were sniffling and crying, but nodded, “Is this your dad?” I asked, pointing at the unconscious man. The car reeks of booze.

“N-No…” The boy sniffled, “He’s our uncle!”

“Okay, okay… Well, I’m gonna get us to help.” I said and went over to the passenger side, opening it up. The paint was scratched and the panels dented, but the car was still running. It would be shorter to keep going the way I came from, the city and a hospital is that way.

I reached over and wrapped my arm around the unconscious man’s chest, dragging him over into the passenger seat where there were beer bottles on the floor. Not even a seatbelt? He’s lucky he didn’t die.

I buckled him in and shut the door, walking back around to the driver’s seat before getting in and shutting the door. I tested my foot on the gas and hand on the wheel, my other arm resting in my lap.

Thank god the car still worked! I just started driving, the car feeling quite literally fucked as it went over the road, but it’s a working car!

It was perhaps ten or fifteen minutes down the road, “Um… So, what’s your guys’ names?” I asked, looking back at them through the crooked rear view mirror. They must have been so terrified. They were just in a car crash, and now their jackass drunk uncle was unconscious and a stranger was in the car with them.

“I’m Edd… She’s Molly…” Edd said, his sister was holding a grey bunny toy. Looked like one of those prize stuffed animals we keep at Bon’s Burgers prize counter, but it wasn’t blue or purple, and the restaurant hasn’t been opened yet.

I introduced myself and really focused on the road, “That’s a really cool bunny. It’s like the ones we have at my work.” I said, smiling, “Ever heard of Bon’s Burgers?”

The girl looked confused, “Y-Yes? Our dad works there.” She said. Oh no, were they my co-worker’s kids? Which co-worker?

“O-Oh? What’s your dad’s name?” I asked, glancing over at the man in the passenger seat. I couldn’t see him very well in the dark car, but I could hear his deep breathing and slight snoring.

“His name is Jack Walten. Our mom is Rosie!” Edd said, and for a moment I thought I was going to get into another accident. Jack… Walten…?

My boss's kids?!

“Ha-Ha, oh wow… Small work. I started working there. Today was my first day, actually…” I said, muttering a few swears under my breath, “I met Jack! Um… Do either of you know his phone number…? We’re gonna need it when we get to the hospital.”

The boy nods and I sighed- Wait, if these are Jack’s kids, then the man...

Another glance. We’re getting to the part of the road with street lights. I recognize those glasses. This was my other boss, wasn’t it? Please don’t say it is, I just crashed into my bosses’ car. Wait, no, he crashed into me! This wasn’t my fault!

The bastard is too drunk and irresponsible. He could have killed himself, the two kids, or even myself! For god sakes my car is in a ditch!

“Let’s just… Listen to some music, okay?” I offered and put on the radio, driving with my knee for the moment since my injured arm was starting to go numb. It better not be broken, I swear to god.

Once we got into the city I went straight to the hospital, parking in the emergency parking lot. “Okay, can you guys walk?” I asked, unbuckling my belt to look at both of them. They opened their doors and the girl winced.

“My ankle hurts!” She cried. Edd thankfully didn’t seem too injured, but he had a burn from the seat belt.

“Okay, okay. Hold on, I’ll carry you.” I said and got out. My leg felt like it was covered with biting fire ants, but I wasn’t about to leave her alone for them to just get a wheelchair.

I bent down and she reached up, one hand clutching the stuffed bunny as she wrapped her arm around my neck and I held her up on my hip, my only good arm holding her up, “Okay, okay, okay.” I mumbled softly and the boy was by my side, “Okay, grab my hand.” I said, offering my injured hand. I didn’t care that it hurt, I knew he was putting on a brave face.

He took my hand and I walked them both in. The tired nurse at the desk looked up at us and looked terrified before she quickly called for help, “We have another in the car. The black one out front.” I said, “We were just in a car crash.”

“Oh my god!” She said as more nurses came, one that had a gurney and I put the girl up on top and the boy got to sit in a wheelchair, “Are you their mother?” The nurse asked as one of the other nurses tried to sit me down in a wheelchair as well.

“No… I’m the one their uncle crashed into.” I said and reluctantly sat down. I didn’t realize how fast my heart was beating, it must explain all of the wandering thoughts that clouded my mind.

I was brought to the same room that they were, but curtains separated me from them. Doctors and nurses came shortly and my vision grew quite spotty. Information was exchanged, my nearest relative was an hour away and it was late, so it’s a toss up if they got the call.

One of the children gave a nurse the phone number to their home, and already my head was coming up with the worst thoughts of what would happen. Will I be fired? Is he going to sue me? I’m probably just as guilty as Felix in his eyes.

Speaking of Felix, if Jack doesn’t fire me he will! If he doesn’t get arrested.

“Pardon me…” One of the nurses said, drawing my attention, “We need to cut off your shirt. Your arm is likely dislocated and we don’t want to move it.”

Oh god, if they cut off this shirt I’ll have to pay 25 dollars to get another. “Um… No, it’s my only uniform.” I said and with my one good arm undid the buttons before another nurse pulled from my uninjured side and I pulled it the rest of the way off, letting the nurse take it.

Unfortunately, pants and shoes too, but I got a nifty gown and now they could resume looking me over. What I didn’t appreciate was them having to pop my arm back into place, that was awful.

They had to bandage up my cuts and test me for brain damage (just a mild concussion) and put my arm in a sling, my ribs were also likely fractured. Molly's ankle had to be splinted as it was strained and Edd had a slight concussion.

At least I got to change back into a spare set of plain clothes that they happened to have, but that required a nurse's help with the newly relocated arm that ached and hurt when I moved it.

Felix hadn’t been brought to our same room, and an officer came to question us. I told the whole story, and just to be sure they breathalyzed me. Unlike a certain driver I blew a 0.0 BAC.

Our stories matched up and they pulled back the curtains to allow us to see each other and talk. They were still shaken up, but they were told their mom and dad were on their way a while ago. Great. I’m just glad their parents were still awake and were on their way, even though I knew there was going to be so much to talk about and I was going to have to justify myself to both of the worried and likely angry parents.

I talked to them about school and what they liked to do, how they just came from a school party. Molly was excited to have her friends sign her ‘cast’ and Edd thought he would be the coolest kid in school for surviving a car crash.

I remembered being their age and smiled and nodded along as I was put on a low grade painkiller and we were given water to drink. After about 20 minutes I could hear a commotion and a man and two women calling out for the two children. They called back and moments later a frazzled looking man, my boss Jack Walten and his wife Rosemary, along with his worried looking teen daughter Sophie rounded the corner of the doorway and in that moment I had never seen anyone look so relieved.

The reunion was toothrottingly sweet, all five hugging and just overjoyed to see their children okay and alive. I couldn’t help but smile, even though it felt like I was intruding on something that should have been private.

Edd brought me up and Molly joined in, the both of them talking at once and practically over each other as they tried to explain everything that happened. I’m not sure if their parents or sister fully understood, but what was grasped was that Felix crashed into me, and I drove them to the hospital.

Both Jack and Rosemary looked at me and I awkwardly waved. He looked confused, like he recognized me but unsure from where, “Hi, boss…” I said, introducing myself for the second time that day.

We only met for ten minutes earlier today, but his eyes widened in surprise. “You… Felix crashed into you?” He asked, “And you got my children to safety?”

I timidly nodded. Please, please don’t be angry.

The officer presented himself and cleared his throat, “Your employee here was driving home when Mr. Kraken, who was intoxicated, who was driving the other way crashed into them and knocked them from the road into the ditch while Mr. Kraken’s car hit the guardrail.” The officer explained.

“I um… I was upside down but cut myself free and climbed out to check on the other car, and I saw that he had Molly and Edd in the back and my car wasn’t about to get out of the ditch any time soon so I just… drove them here.” I finished, punctuating the end by nervously drinking the rest of my water.

“He was drunk?!” Rosemary said, stunned and clearly angry. The officer nodded while Jack’s fist clenched, clearly enraged. I would be just as shocked and angry if I had children and they were put in danger by someone who’s supposed to be their friend.

I should probably be just as angry that some drunk asshole- who is my boss no less- nearly killed me, but I was just glad that we were all still alive. Sure, my car is fucked, and so is about 50% of my body (exaggerating), but my bones will heal and I’ll repair my car or get a new one. I mean, that’s what insurance is for, right?

What I didn’t expect out of all of this was to be hugged by Rosemary. Oh yeah, it fucking hurt but I just kept that to myself. She sniffled and I awkwardly patted her back with my one good arm, “Thank you for keeping them safe…” She said quietly.

“I-It was nothing, really.” I said timidly, “I wasn’t about to leave them alone.”

“Nothing? You saved them!” Jack said and shook my hand when his wife pulled away to dry her eyes and hug all of her children once more, “I can’t ever thank you enough for what you did for my family. I… I couldn’t stomach the thought if…”

I gave him a reassuring squeeze of his hand and he clasped my good shoulder, “It sucks that this happened in the first place but… I’m just glad everyone is alive…” I said, giving a nervous smile.

“Is he alive?” Jack asked, looking at the officer as he let go of my hand and shoulder.

“Yes, he is. We will be pressing charges, he blew above a 0.3.” The officer responded and Jack nodded, seemingly ‘pleased’ with that.

After exchanging contact information and addresses with both Jack and myself he departed, leaving the family to resume their reunion. I smiled awkwardly and looked away awkwardly, scratching my neck.

I haven’t heard anything about my relative having called or if they were coming, so I could only assume I wouldn’t be getting a ride from them. Or a ride tonight at all.

For a moment I was lost in my head, feeling a bit too sorry for myself. I moved all the way out here because there were jobs and rent was cheap, but I was so far from my family and friends, and even though I helped their children would I even still have a job?

I refilled my paper cup and sipped on the cold water before a nurse came to let us all know that after a final check over, we would be set to go home in an hour or so. Great, I better start making calls or something.

For a moment I didn’t realize that Rosemary was talking to me. I looked up as she repeated my name, “U-Uh yeah?” I said, looking a little confused.

“Do you have a ride home…?” She asked. Ah, oh no. I’m not about to ask these clearly exhausted parents for a ride home, I could only imagine they just wanted to get home and be with their children.

“No… But I can get one, don’t worry.” I said, but Jack shook his head.

“Nonsense, it’s the least we could do. You look like you need some sleep.” He said, making me chuckle.

“So do you two.” I laugh, “Really, you don’t need to. I’ll get a hold of someone eventually. Really!”

Rosemary shook her head, “No way, sincerely it wouldn’t be a bother. Where do you live?” She asked, and I reluctantly gave my street address, “Oh, you live just a bit down the way from us!” She said. Looks like it’s out of the question.

The doctor came and checked us all over one last time before giving me a prescription slip for painkillers for the next week and a half and we were permitted to leave. Jack carried his daughter while Rosemary held her son’s hand and I followed behind them.

I won’t lie, I’m pretty damn nervous. Checking out of the hospital took a little while as well, but soon we were free to go. That will be a fun bill to pay.

Rosemary sat in the back with the children, not giving me any chance to protest as I had to sit in the passenger seat next to Jack. Edd and Molly were clearly tired, cuddling up to their mother as Jack turned on the car and carefully pulled out.

It was incredibly clear that Jack was very, very focused on the road, not wanting to get his family into a car accident as well. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, but I was just so glad that this didn’t end in tears.

The car ride to their home was mostly quiet, only some light conversation made. Jack was interested to know how I enjoyed my first day on the job.

“It’s been exciting…” I chuckled and he laughed softly, but I wasn’t all that comfortable or any less nervous. I did just want to get home and rest, because tomorrow morning I likely had to call my insurance and figure out how I’ll be getting to and from work.

If there even was a job anymore. With one half of the business owners likely going to jail I didn’t know if Jack would take on the massive workload, or if he would even want me to work there anymore.

“We’re here.” Jack let them know.

We pulled into their driveway and Sophie was the first to get out to help her mother take her siblings into the house with Jack telling them that he would be right back after he dropped me off.

“Have a good night, everyone…” I smiled and waved at them. Edd and Molly sleepily waved back before they went inside and shut the door.

It was surreal, everything that had happened. And now I was alone with my boss as he started to drive towards my home.

“I can’t believe he happened to crash into you…” Jack said and I nodded silently, “I could never thank you enough… You… I just can’t believe…” His voice cracked and he brought his hand up to wipe his cheeks.

“I’m sorry this happened… I’m just glad your children are safe…” I said, fidgeting with a stray string on my pants, unsure if I should pat his back or would that be too far? “You have a beautiful family, Jack, I’m sorry that you’re having to drive me home…”

“Don’t be sorry, you drove them to the hospital with a dislocated arm! I couldn’t imagine what it was like, being run off the road and into a ditch, upside down!” He said and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“To be honest, it was like a dream. One moment he’s coming towards me and I move aside since the road is pretty narrow, the next I see that he’s a bit too close over to my side and then finally I’m upside down in the ditch.”

“And- It was you! Who would have thought that my new employee would be the one to get hit.” He said, smiling softly, “Oh and don’t you worry about rushing back into work! I will be paying you your wages, you helped my family out, I’m going to help you too.”

“You-You really don’t have to do that. I’ll be okay!” I insisted, but he shook his head. He wasn’t having it.

“I want to, you don’t understand how stressed and worried we were…” He said, “I called Felix over 20 times, I thought the worst had happened and I… I started to lose hope I would ever see them again.”

“He’s going to jail for this, no doubt…” I said, “Will you be taking over the business…?”

“Yeah… It’ll be a lot but I think I have someone who I can rely on to help.” He said, smiling.

“Oh, good! I’ll try my best to pull my own weight.” I said, smiling, “I know you guys took a big risk hiring me fresh out of college but-”

“I- It’s you!” He said, “I know you just started, but your finance and programming degree is going to be a massive help!”

“Wha…?” I gaped at him. Me? Did I get a promotion? “I would be honored to help!” I smiled. I think I just became a manager or something, I’ll figure that out when I go back to work.

I pointed out my house and he pulled up in front, “I won’t let you down, I promise.” I gleamed and he smiled, holding his hand out for me to shake.

I did, not expecting him to pull me in for a hug. Looks like this was a really huggy family, it was pretty similar to my own family. “I know you won’t. Would you mind if you gave me your number so we can speak tomorrow? I imagine Edward and Molly would like to hear that you’re okay.” He asked.

I nodded and waited until he got a pen and a small black book to put my number in it before I opened the door, “I’ll speak to you soon, then… Have a good night, boss.” I smiled and he laughed.

“Just call me Jack. Really.” He said, “Have a good night.” I nodded and got out before shutting the door, walking to the front door. I grabbed the spare key from the mail box and gave one last wave after I unlocked the door. He flicked his high beams at me before he started to back up and I opened the door, shutting and locking it behind me.

It’s been a really strange night.

[quickspinner]

Month of Miracles - Dressing Up Part 2

Find the prompt list here!

Hallmark Movie AU Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 (end) | Read Month of Miracles on AO3

Marinette tapped her pencil on the small stack of sketches and sighed. She felt dissatisfied with them, but that was nothing new. She was dissatisfied with almost everything she made these days, so why should this be any different?

Her thoughts drifted back to Luka for the hundredth time. She was going to have to face him again. He was expecting her and she really did need to source some materials from the wardrobe he was offering. 

She might be able to put it off a day, though, she mused. Maybe it would be better to give him some space, anyway. She had just rejected him, after all. That had to sting, no matter how chill he acted about it. Marinette would be doing him a favor, staying away for a day. She could go shopping and see what she could get in the way of basic materials first. That was a perfectly plausible excuse. 

Coward, she thought sourly at herself, and sighed, dropping her head into her arms.

It would be easier if she didn’t like him so much. Marinette turned her head and looked at her phone where it lay on the table in its cheerful pink case. She could text him, but...would that be weird? People here didn’t seem to do that, they just...popped up. He’d told her just to show up whenever, but…

I don’t have his number, she realized suddenly. How funny was that? All the times they’d talked, and they’d never even traded numbers. 

She wouldn’t even be able to text him when she went back to the city. The thought made her ache, but she pushed it aside. That was the kind of problem you could push off for later, she thought as she packed up her things. Not like making out with a guy you were probably never going to see again once the week was out. Which was a real, actual problem that should be avoided. 

Right?

Marinette groaned, and grabbed Gina’s car keys, marching out of the door. She had a job to do, and surely she was still professional enough to manage that much. 

She had herself mostly together by the time she pulled into the Couffaine farm. The yard wasn’t empty when she pulled in, to her mild surprise. 

“Ahoy, Marinette!” Anarka called, waving at her, and Marinette, feeling she should be polite, got her kit out of the car and walked over to where Anarka was working. Ankara was unloading some small saplings from the back of a pickup truck that looked a lot like Luka’s, only about twenty years older. “For a moment there, I fergot it was you and not yer grandma pulling up,” Anarka chuckled as Marinette approached. “Here t’see Luka, I expect? He said ye were comin’ by.” 

“Yes,” Marinette tried to smile, and hoped she didn’t blush too hard at Luka’s name. Yes, hi, I kissed your son this morning and broke his heart, so this isn’t awkward at all. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?

“He’s been working like a demon all day,” Anarka commented, lifting another tree down with a grunt. “He was drivin’ me crazy, bein’ so efficient, and I about bit his head off.” She glanced at Marinette, who tried hard not to look guilty. “Told him to make himself scarce for a bit. I think he went t’ take a shower, but he should be done by now.” 

“Oh,” Marinette said lamely, trying very hard not to think of accidentally walking in on a freshly showered and not entirely dressed Luka. Maybe awkward small talk was for the best. “He, um. He said you were done for the year?”

“Aye, closed to the public fer the year,” Anarka smiled. “Though o’ course if there was anyone in town that needed anythin’ we’d open right back up. Nah, the public part of business is done for the year. Now it’s just all the work nobody sees.” She turned away from Marinette for a moment, walking over to the rail fence that separated the rows of trees. Marinette followed, unsure what else to do, her kit bumping against her knees as she carefully skirted the saplings. 

“Never really thought I’d end up in a place like this,” Anarka said, leaning her elbows against the fence rails. “There’s a kinda poetry t’ it, though. Renewal. Rebirth. The old makin’ way for the young.” She winked at Marinette, and then went on. “I might not even be here by the time these trees are big enough t’ cut. Got a wandering foot, y’know, and it’ll take seven or eight years minimum for these to get the size where anyone would even consider cutting ‘em. Who’s to say I won’t be off to some new adventure by then? But they’ll still be here, growing, because I planted them. Endings, beginnings. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one apart from the other, aye?” 

Marinette made a noise in reply automatically, but Anarka’s musings had put her thoughts on another track, and she barely heard the last bit. 

Anarka eyed her sidelong for a moment, and then sighed and shoved herself off the fence, turning to smile at Marinette with her hand on her hips. “Out with it, lass, what’s on yer mind?”  

Marinette blushed, snapping back to the present. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.” 

“Maybe not,” Anarka shrugged. “Ye can still ask, though. If I don’t want to tell ye, I just won’t.” 

Marinette shifted her weight and adjusted her grip on the handle of her kit, still uncomfortable, but...“Were you...disappointed?” she asked in a low voice. “When Luka gave up his career?”

Anarka laughed loud enough that it echoed back to them. “Nah, lass, I was proud . Luka was miserable, livin’ that life. It takes guts to admit that and come home, ‘specially when everyone around you is telling you how lucky ye are, having a talent and a chance like that. Like somehow you owe some cosmic debt and if ye don’t stick it out, yer wastin’ somethin’. Like success is a cookie cutter and ye have to slice away bits of yerself to make it fit.” She shook her head. “It’s not how I raised my kids. I taught them to take chances, and I taught them not to let fear make their decisions—and I also taught them that there’s no shame in what the world likes to call failure. There’s no shame in trying out the different shapes of success until you find one that fits, instead o’ tryin’ t’ force yerself into the one kind.” 

Marinette blinked at her, surprised at the way her expression softened as she spoke. 

Anarka was silent a moment and then sighed. “Still. You do your best to teach them, but you never know whether the lesson’s gonna stick. So when I think of the courage it took for Luka to walk away, to look so-called failure in the face and turn it into just another lesson learned, to find a way to believe that he’s still his father’s son even if he doesn’t follow in the old man’s footsteps—I’m so proud I could burst.” Marinette started slightly as Anarka suddenly stepped forward and put a surprisingly gentle hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Luka’s never needed to prove his talent to me, lass. He’s still finding his feet again, and that’s okay. When he’s ready, he’ll make success fit him instead of the other way around, I’ve no doubt of that.” She squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, and looked at Marinette for a long moment. Marinette swallowed nervously, but couldn’t think of anything to say. 

Ankara let her hand drop and jerked her head towards the house. “Go on now, we’ve both got things to be doing. Go straight on in, he’ll be expecting you.” She turned back to her young trees, and Marinette, clearly dismissed, turned towards the house, butterflies surging back to life in her stomach. She was being stupid, she told herself. Luka had accepted her rejection gracefully, and tried so hard to make her comfortable. Marinette was sure she’d hurt his feelings if she suddenly got awkward about being around him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. 

Marinette sneaked a glance back towards Anarka, and then despite what she had been told, she knocked as loudly as she could. She lingered on the doorstep as long as she dared (which wasn’t very long, knowing that Anarka could see her not going on in), and let herself into the house. She could hear guitar music even before she got the creaky old door open, and once inside, she followed it to the great room. Luka was perched on the same fragile-looking chair as before, with an acoustic in his hands this time. He looked up as she entered, and smiled, laying his hand flat against the strings. His hair was damp, and his t-shirt sticking to him a little bit. He couldn’t have been out of the shower long and Marinette was kind of glad she’d stopped to talk to Anarka. 

Luka stood up and put the guitar in a stand, and Marinette realized she hadn’t even said hi, but it seemed too late now. “I was starting to think Mom was going to talk your ear off before you made it up here,” Luka teased gently as he straightened. 

“Oh, we were just, um—” Marinette winced. “Talking.” She was so lame, ugh. 

“I saw through the window,” Luka grinned. “Figured you’d get here when you were ready. The stuff’s all in the attic, so…” He gestured towards the stairs, and then reached for her kit. “Can I get that for you?”

Too flustered to object politely, Marinette let him take it, and then followed him. She should say something, she thought, but she couldn’t think of anything.

She sighed mournfully as they climbed the stairs. Part of her ached for what he was offering—but she was pretty sure that same part wouldn’t want to let him go, and that was just...and really, she was such a disaster, and he was amazing, and he deserved so much better than someone who was so mixed up and wishy-washy. Why did they have to meet like this? Would it have been different if they met before?

Except before, she was with Adrien, too dazzled and in love to even see anyone else, and Luka had been a rock star, surrounded by all the glamorous women he could possibly want, and she had never really stood out, as Audrey loved to remind her. She just didn’t have Adrien’s celebrity magnetism, nor Audrey’s force of personality, so she was always overlooked. It was no wonder that nobody ever really saw her until she came here. 

“Well, here we are,” Luka’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was reaching up to grab a hanging cord. 

Marinette shook her head and slapped her cheeks as Luka pulled the attic ladder down and ascended it. None of this was actually solving the problem at hand. She needed to keep her mind on the costumes. Marinette had sketched out some ideas at home, thinking she could probably get some sheets to use as a base, and then maybe she could source some of the less expensive things from Luka’s old wardrobe for embellishments on the fancier things like the angels, or for the snaps and things. There was a single big box store in town, actually; the selection would be limited but surely she could find some things there too. This project was ridiculously easy, when it came down to it. She had a plan that would work, and it was all simple sewing, stuff she could do in her sleep. No sweat. 

So why were her hands shaking?

She lifted her hands and watched them tremble before her eyes. She felt her breath getting short.

She started when a large hand closed over both of hers. “Marinette.” She looked up, and Luka was there, framed against the light coming down from the attic. “Are you all right?” 

“Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly, with a smile that was a little too wide. “Just, hoping there will be some stuff I can use.” 

Luka smiled. “It’ll be fine. Come on up.” He shifted his hold to just one of her hands and drew her up the narrow stairs after him.

He let go of her hand once she was up, and Marinette looked around in mild surprise. The attic was cleaner than she expected. Cluttered, like the rest of the house, and full of things in piles and stacked, sometimes draped in sheets, but she didn’t encounter the dust she had expected, and the small, high windows were clean and let in plenty of light. She wondered if they were just carting things in and out of here so often that they kept it clean, or if they used the space for more than storage. There was a clear path to where they needed to be, and she followed Luka across the creaking floor.

Marinette waited nervously as he whisked the protective sheets off two racks of clothes. Marinette had to blink as the light hit the clothes; there were metal accents and rhinestones and metallic fabrics everywhere, and she was unprepared for the amount of light they threw back in her eyes. 

“There it is,” Luka sighed, folding his arms as he sat on a trunk a short distance away. “Every bedazzled scrap of it.”

She had to giggle a little at that. Luke Stone had certainly favored ostentation, though that was almost unavoidable when you played with Jagged Stone. 

Still, they didn’t have to, she thought, as she walked up and began mechanically sliding looks along the rack to have a look. They could have played up his simplicity. They could have made him stand out by contrast, rather than by imitation. She wondered if they were deliberately setting up an implied rivalry between father and son with their choices, or if they just hadn’t thought a rock star could be simple. Costume design wasn’t exactly the same thing as fashion design, but there was enough overlap that— 

Marinette brought her thoughts back to the present, and swallowed as she stepped back again, suddenly overwhelmed. She turned away and opened her kit slowly, taking out the stack of drawings she’d left on top, suddenly profoundly dissatisfied with them. Rose and the kids expected her to work magic with this stuff, and all she had was a pile of generic toga-style costumes.

Simple. Uninspired. Pedestrian. 

Her gut began to churn.

Marinette glanced at Luka nervously, and then jerked her gaze quickly away, but of course he caught it. 

“I don’t have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “I can go back downstairs and you can just call me if you need help with anything.”

That was so far from her thoughts that it gave her pause. “You...don’t make me uncomfortable,” she said, and looked back at him with a sad smile. “You never have. You’ve been...really wonderful, Luka, now matter how weird things got. I am uncomfortable, but it’s not about you.” Taking a breath, Marinette stepped back to the rack and ran her fingers down the fabric in front of her in a practiced motion, taking in the composition and the drape almost without conscious thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luka asked quietly. 

Marinette thought about that for a moment, and then turned back to the garments on the rack. “Not tonight.” She couldn’t afford to get worked up now, she had to figure something out. She...she had to do something, she couldn’t just…

“Okay.” Luka said simply, and Marinette swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. He was so understanding, but—what was she going to do? She couldn’t just drape the kids in sheets and call it a day, they deserved so much better than that. She had to figure something out, she had to—She put both hands in her hair and pulled it, trying to focus on the clothes in front of her, but her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut tight and held her breath, trying to keep it together. 

Luka’s hands closed on her shoulders from behind, squeezing lightly, and Marinette turned to him in a rush, burying her face in his chest. 

“Marinette, look at me,” he said, pushing her shoulders back gently and taking her face in his hands. “Just breathe, and look at me.”

Marinette stared up into his blue eyes, reflecting calm and assurance while all that fluttered in her chest was panic and self-doubt.

“Slow down,” he said emphatically. “It’s okay.”

“But I—” she began, and he shook his head.

“Marinette. There’s no failure here. Anything you put together will be better than moldy, moth-eaten rags. Without your help we’d all be frantically cutting armholes in pillowcases or something. No matter what you do, Rose will be ecstatic.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “These are the lowest possible stakes. You can’t screw up, so just have fun with it.” 

Marinette turned her head out of his hands, looking at the designer, rock star wardrobe laid out for her to use. “But—”

Luka reached over and grabbed her fabric scissors out of her kit. He grabbed a shirt at random off the rack, and cut it in half in a ragged line. Marinette stared as he offered her the scissors back. “That’s how little I care about this stuff,” he grinned. 

Marinette’s mouth closed abruptly and she glared at him, and would have snatched the scissors from them if they hadn’t been—well, scissors. Well-sharpened fabric scissors at that. Instead she took them with the appropriate amount of care even as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have needed that,” she told him, kicking his foot lightly. 

“I have faith,” Luka grinned wider. “You’ll manage.” 

She huffed and turned back to the garments, and looked at the second rack next to her. Luka backed away, leaning his elbows on an old dresser as he watched her. 

Marinette studied the racks, and suddenly she pulled out her phone, swiping to the group photo she’d taken at the library today. She looked over the children there, at their dyed hair and punk haircuts and all-black outfits interspersed with riots of color, and began to smile a bit. “Okay,” she muttered, picking up a leather garment studded with rhinestones. “I guess this Christmas is about to get a little bit rock ‘n roll.” 

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly.

Marinette barely noticed him, eyes lighting up as her mind began racing. She picked up the stack of designs she had done earlier and crumpled them absently in her hands. “I need my sketchbook,” she muttered. 

“I’ll get it,” Luka said, shoving off the dresser and crossing the room. “Where?”

“I left it in my car. On the passenger seat, I think.”

Luka clattered down the stairs and out of the front door to grab Marinette’s sketchbook. Halfway back up the stairs he hesitated, and ducked into his room to grab his own notebook. Marinette practically snatched the book out of his hand, digging in her kit for her pencils, and Luka grinned, sitting back on the trunk again and resting his notebook on his knee. 

He watched her, fascinated, as her focus narrowed to her task, and she began sketching, making notes and separating out items from the stacks of clothing he never thought he’d look at again. Luka began scribbling notes to himself as well, just...idle thoughts, the web of concepts and ideas that eventually came together to make a song, but he kept looking up to watch her, intrigued by her creative process. She muttered something to herself or tossed something aside with more vehemence than usual and he grinned. 

Slowly, the attic transformed, suddenly strewn with gaudy clothes. Several distinct heaps were forming. Every once in a while Marinette would stop, and go back to her sketchbook, scratching in new details or ideas, or crossing something out with a sigh. 

He jumped slightly, though, when she tossed the book aside with a little scream, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s never going to hold up with that kind of weight, I’m so stupid —” 

“Whoa,” Luka said, a little sharply than he’d meant to, putting his notebook aside and getting up quickly to go to her. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I just—I should have accounted for this, and I didn’t, and now I have to change it—”

“Okay, so change it,” Luka said, putting his hands on her shoulders again to make her look at him. Marinette looked at him like he had two heads, and he almost laughed at her. “Marinette, you’re an artist, not a machine. It’s okay to backtrack and change your mind.” He smiled at her, hoping he looked reassuring and not enchanted. “I know every artist is different and music isn’t the same as fashion, but for me…” he shrugged. “Success comes from a series of small failures. You try something, and it mostly works, but something isn’t quite right, so you make a change and try again. That’s not something to be ashamed of or upset about. If you’re that frustrated, we could take a break. Or if you want to rework it some and come back tomorrow, that’s fine too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute, her mouth working soundlessly. She looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, and then back up at him. 

“Do you want to take a break?” Luka asked her. 

“I...no,” she said. “It’s...it’s not that big of a deal, I’m pretty sure I can fix it if I...um—” 

“Okay,” he said simply, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. He really wanted to hug her, to hold her tight and tell her how amazing he found her, how entranced he was watching her work, how alive she looked when she was creating, but—he couldn’t, so he squeezed her shoulders and then let his hands fall. “No need to explain it, I trust you.” He glanced down at the book, and then looked away. “Sorry, I’m not trying to peek, but that—that looks really badass.” He couldn’t help looking again, and, blushing, Marinette turned the book so he could see. His smile grew as he looked at it. “That’s amazing, Marinette, what are you worrying about? If it looks half this cool in real life we’re going to have to have someone standing by to give Rose oxygen.” 

Marinette giggled, and looked back down at it herself. “You really think so?” she murmured, with a small smile that made his heart skip. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any sweeter. 

“I definitely think so,” Luka told her, backing away. He sat down on the floor this time, leaning back against the trunk. He groped behind him blindly for his notebook and nearly knocked it off the far side of the trunk. 

Marinette gave a pleased hum, and then took a deep breath before her brows furrowed into her concentration face. Luka drew his knees up and leaned one elbow on them, smiling like the fool he was. 

There were a few more frustrated groans, but no more spirals, and Luka kept quietly in his place even as piles of fabric grew around him. Finally she sat back and sighed. “I think that’s everything I’m going to need.” 

“Cool.” Luka looked up from his notebook and smiled. 

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Marinette gasped, looking around as if she had only just now realized the chaos she had created. “I can help you clean it up—” 

Luka cut her off with a laugh. “You’re welcome to,” he chuckled, “but there’s really no need. Clutter is a way of life around here. Trust me, the only reason they were so organized to begin with is because they were delivered that way.” His eyes fell to her sketchbook. “Can I see what you have in mind?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any more.

Marinette tensed up immediately, biting her lip. She looked at the book and then at Luka, and then she offered it to him.

Luka took it, though his eyes stayed on her, concerned and a little baffled by her hesitation when the one sketch he’d seen had been so cool. Marinette turned back to the pile of garments she had chosen, though, and so he let his eyes fall and began looking through the few pages of sketches she had made, careful not to go beyond even though he was aching to see more. A slow smile grew on his face as he looked, and he shook his head slightly. “The angels are still my favorite, but these are amazing, Marinette. You might want to get some earplugs because Rose is going to shatter glass when she sees these.” He grinned up at her. “I knew you could do it.” 

She smiled faintly, but looked away. “They’re just pictures, though. I still have to actually execute the designs.” 

“Hey,” Luka said, reaching a hand up towards her. Marinette blinked in surprise, but she slowly stepped forward and put her hand in his. He tugged gently, and she sank to her knees in front of him. “ Yeah, you might have to make some changes when you go to actually put it together, but that’s part of the process for everybody. Sometimes a song I thought was finished doesn’t work out right the first time I play it with the band, and I have to make some changes.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I don’t know what’s going on in there,” he poked her forehead gently. “And I’m not exactly up on fashion, but—” he gestured at the racks of clothes. “I have some experience too, and I gotta say…” he shook his head, and turned the sketchbook towards her. “You outclass anybody else I’ve worked with by far.”  

Marinette blushed deeply. “They’re just costumes,” she murmured, tucking her hair back as she looked away. 

“They could have been, but they’re not.” Luka offered her the book back. “Marinette.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do you like them?”

Marinette looked back at the drawings, and bit her lip. Her face was growing red again. “Yes,” she finally admitted quietly. 

Luka put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face back up. “Stop thinking so hard,” he said gently. “I know it’s easy to lose faith in yourself, but...you’re creating something, you have to find a way to tune all of that stuff out and just be in that moment. You can deal with the aftermath afterwards.” He grinned. “That’s what editing is for, right? Or so I’m told. I was never any good at it.” 

Marinette smiled. “That’s why your music was so good. It was...raw, instinctive. Still polished, but deeply emotional. It’s why I always loved it.” 

It was Luka’s turn to flame up red, and Marinette giggled. 

“That wasn’t fair,” he huffed, pulling his knees up to hide his face in his arms for a moment.

Marinette laughed harder. “How many thousands of records sold and you blush at a little old compliment from a fan?” she teased. 

Luka turned his face on his arms so that he was looking at her. “You’re not just any fan,” he said, and smiled at the pink returning to her cheeks. He sighed, raising his head, and letting his legs fall and cross beneath him again. “Don’t ever let anyone let you feel like you’re not special, Marinette.”

“It’s definitely not a problem when I’m with you,” she said, and then bit her lip, like it had slipped out without her intending it to. 

“Good,” he grinned, and then decided he’d better move before he did something stupid. “So, show me what you need me to take down to the car for you, and we’ll just leave the rest of it like this until you’re done in case you need to come back for something.” 

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and she scrambled to her feet. “Right.” 

She told him which piles of clothes she wanted to take, and Luka got some bags and gathered them up. Marinette made a token effort at tidying up, despite Luka having told her to leave it. She hung a few things back on the rack, and paused suddenly, hand hovering over a jacket still on the rack. 

Marinette picked it up slowly, looking at it. The scent of leather and something like electronics hit her nose, and her eyes widened slightly. She felt around the bottom hem and found something hard and rectangular there. Another minute of searching, and the jacket lit up in her hands, the fiber optic lights sewn into the seam pulsing faintly. 

Marinette laughed a little, and crossed over to the trunk Luka had been using as a chair all afternoon. She sat down and spread the jacket across her lap. She remembered this. He’d been wearing it at the show she’d gone to. They’d started with all the lights off and just Luka on stage, wearing this jacket and the pants that went with it, making him just an electric outline on the stage when the curtain went up. 

Hard to reconcile that image with the guy from the tree farm, she thought affectionately. But then, he’d always had a reputation for being a sweetheart, good to his fans and generous with his time, so...maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe. 

At least this contraption is well made, she thought, running a finger along one of the light tubes. It was still secure after all this time, and clearly in working order. 

The lights began to flash and jump around, and Marinette giggled. It had started that right before Luke had swept his hand up and down in a dramatic power chord that had rattled her teeth. Once again it was hard to reconcile them in her mind. It was almost funny, now that she knew Luka, remembering those dramatics. 

The light reflected back off something in the corner of her eye, and when she looked, she saw it was the metal coil of Luka’s notebook, half buried under a pile of clothes he had shoved out of the way. She picked the notebook up and smiled a little bit as she did so; the page was a mess, full of scratched out lines, and the writing went every which way in a complicated web. Was this how his mind worked? It was so different from her own process— 

Jewels Diamonds in the sands of time Those are my memories with you And even if it’s only a precious few They’re the ones I’ll keep when everything else flows away

It made Marinette think of her first fashion show, when she’d been new and excited about the garments she was putting out there, excited and happy. That moment shone jewel-bright in her memory, despite all the drudgery that had followed it. That was she was working for, after all, another chance at that feeling. All of this frustration would be worth it if she could have another moment like that. 

Marinette blinked back to reality and suddenly realized what she was doing. She slammed her eyes shut and turned the notebook over in her lap. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked at that, she thought frantically, her heart suddenly beating triple time. This—this was private, just like her designs were, and she shouldn’t have—but she hadn’t meant to— 

Luka’s heavy boots thunked on the stairs and Marinette jumped, dropping the notebook so that it landed on the floor splayed open with an inelegant smack . Marinette scrambled up and hurriedly grabbed it again. She hastily smoothed it out as Luka came the rest of the way up into the attic. “Oh, I think this one is yours,” she said, holding it out to him. 

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Luka said, curling it in half and sticking it in his back pocket. Marinette tried not to wince. “Anything else?” His eyes landed on the jacket in her hands. “Oh, I see you found the switch,” he chuckled. 

“Will you put it on?” Marinette blurted, and Luka raised his eyebrows at her. “Please?” she smiled, hunching her shoulders slightly as she held it up.   

Eyebrows still raised, Luka took it, and slipped it on. He grimaced slightly as he zipped it up. “Definitely doesn’t fit as comfortably as it used to,” he commented, tugging down on the hem. “Not too bad, though.” 

“You probably build muscles in different places, hauling trees,” Marinette said absently, stepping forward to adjust the way it sat across his shoulders for a moment. “Not as uniform a workout as using a personal trainer. It gives you a more natural build.” She smiled a little as she smoothed the arms and stepped back.

“It still looks good on you,” she observed. “You were wearing this at the concert I went to. The first time I saw you live.” 

Luka smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t exactly have the same effect in my attic, does it?”

“No,” Marinette smiled back. “It was a wonderful performance, though, and I guess I wasn’t expecting to be reminded of it just now.” She bit her lip and asked in a rush, “Were you...were you writing a song? Just now?” She gestured vaguely toward his pocket. 

Luka looked a little taken aback, but not offended. “I was starting to,” he admitted. “I...really enjoy the time we spend together, and it was really nice, seeing a new side of you today. I guess I felt a little inspired, yeah.” 

Marinette’s breath caught. “It was...about me?” 

“About you and me, yeah,” he admitted. “Does that bother you?” 

Marinette’s eyes widened. “No!” How could he think she’d be offended by such a thing? It was...it was amazing, that she’d inspired anything in him, when she was so—and—how she had felt, in that first fashion show, was he...was he saying he felt that way with her ? She shied away from the idea even as she thought it, it was so...so much, and she was so—she was—   

Oh no. Luka was looking at her intently, a slight crease in his forehead. She tried to think of something to say, but her internal meltdown was too complete, and she just stared at him. 

“You’re extraordinary, Marinette,” Luka said softly, and his expression was completely serious and not at all flirtatious. “Getting to see you work today was a privilege. I’m better for meeting you, even if my heart breaks when you’re gone. It’s...it’s a long way from being a song, but I meant it.”

“But I’m…”

Luka shook his head slightly, a smile softening his expression. “You’re what, Marinette? Tell me everything, I want to hear all of it.” 

Marinette gaped. “You—you—how do you do that?” she cried, throwing her hands up. “You’re sweet and kind and you have an amazing talent but you’re so laid back and grounded and—”

“And you are all of those things too,” Luka laughed. “Except maybe the laid back part.” He grinned, and Marinette made a face at him. “You kinda maybe worry too—”

Marinette had taken two large steps toward him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled. Luka staggered, grabbing on to her shoulders as she dragged him down and kissed him. 

He made a very undignified noise even as his arms were coming down to wrap around her. Marinette couldn’t hold the kiss very long; she hadn’t taken a good breath and her nose was smashed against his cheek, so she was forced to break it before Luka really even had a chance to respond. 

Luka sucked in a breath, blinking at her. “Are you sure?” he blurted, and then looked like he wanted to kick himself. Marinette had to giggle, giddy with elation and adrenaline, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. 

“No,” she told him when she was able, and a little shiver of fear went up her spine before she stomped it down again. “But I’ve never met anybody like you and...anyway, you’re right. It’s stupid to be tearing myself up over it when I could just be kissing you instead.” 

“Very logical,” he laughed, and Marinette kicked his shin lightly.

“Take off this ridiculous jacket,” she told him, tugging. “I can’t take you seriously in this thing.” 

“I don’t know, I’m suddenly a lot fonder of it than I was a moment ago,” Luka grinned, putting his hands over hers on the lapels. His tone was teasing, but his thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and there was a light in his eyes that had her heart galloping all over again. 

She slipped her hands away, and Luka fumbled at the hem until he found the switch, turned the lights off, and shrugged the jacket off, dropping it carelessly on the trunk beside them before reaching for her again.

They were still wrapped up in each other when Rose popped her head in the attic looking for them, and rattled the windows with her scream.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

[paperficwriter]

Your First Date

Some sweet, fluffy batarou. Being teens in love.

Cut is for length, not for content.

“Oi, Badd. Why didn’t we go on a first date?”

“Well, ya hospitalized me, and then ya went on some kind of monster rager and ended up becomin’ some kinda gargoyle thing? With horns, I heard? And then ya ran off for a hot minute until ya showed up here ‘cause Zenko thought you were some kinda stray to bring home, and here we are.”

“...Heh, yeah, that just about covers it.”

Somehow during months of living together, this conversation didn’t even come up until they were sitting together on the couch, watching an anime one evening that depicted a boy and a girl in a very typical ‘is this a date?!’ situation. They were quiet for a little bit after that, until Badd prompted him by elbowing him in the arm. “Did ya want to? I mean, I feel like we kinda skipped that whole thing, yeah? Usually ya date before ya start livin’ with someone.”

“So what’s the difference between going on a date and dating?”

Badd paused the television and turned to him, wedging himself into the back sofa cushion on his side. “The date’s kinda...the thing itself. Datin’ is when you’re, like, ‘Let’s see how this pans out and if I wanna be your girlfriend for the long haul.’”

“Does that mean we skipped straight to making you my girlfriend?”

“Psh. I’m savin’ my girlfriend status for The One. You lose.”

Garou chuckled and pulled one of Badd’s hands over to rub between his. “Never been on a date before,” he mumbled.

“Are ya serious?” Badd winced when Garou bent one of his fingers sideways. “Ow. I didn’t mean it t’ be shitty! You’re good-lookin,’ so I figured ya woulda had to beat ‘em off with a stick!”

Holy shit, did Garou just blush?! “It’s not like I really had a chance, with the whole ‘leaving home and living at a dojo and then dishonoring said dojo and everything afterward,’ you know?”

Badd dragged his thumb against one of the long lines across Garou’s hand. Then he realized it wasn’t actually the love line, or the life line, or whatever. But rather, it was the pink, faded scar left from his hero hunting. “That means if I take ya out on a date, it’s not just our first date but your first date. Officially.”

Garou nodded. “Which means it can’t suck.”

“Hey, my dates don’t suck.”

“They better not. You don’t have an excuse like I do, since it sounds like you’ve been on a million, you hussy.”

Badd snatched his hand back so he could grab him by one of his wild ‘ears’ of hair. “I ain’t a hussy! And I haven’t been on a million dates! Just a few!”

Thin fingers jabbed at his side right into one of his ticklish pressure points, and Badd’s body buckled in on itself. “No, no, you’re clearly the dating pro, so you better wow me or I’m leaving!”

“Fine!” Badd threw himself on top of Garou, grabbing him by his shirt. He dropped his face close to his with a huge grin. “Then I’m gonna take ya on the best damn date o’ your life. So get ready, wolf boy.”

Garou snuck in a kiss onto Badd’s round nose, flashing his own teeth in a smile. “Okay. I’m holding you to that.”

—

Badd ended up borrowing a car. Although he had gotten his license, he didn’t really need one in the city, since he either walked wherever he needed to go or took public transportation. But if he was going to take Garou on a date, they were going to have to head out a little distance from his normal stomping grounds, enough that no one would immediately recognize him or, worse, ask questions about Garou.

And even as it was, Badd still didn’t sport his normal pompadour, and Garou had one of his beanies over his trademark hair. “So, where are we going?” Garou asked as he reached over to play with Badd’s loose strands where they framed his face. 

“It’s a surprise, ya goober. Also, I, uh...didn’t wanna talk about it so much in front o’ Zenko or she’d be sore we weren’t taking her.”

“Scandalous.”

“Shut up!” Badd gave him a shove, but he was smiling. The drive itself was nice; the air was cool, they listened to some music (and since it was just them, they didn’t even have to suffer through Amai Mask’s discography), and the sunset was a beautiful bleed of color across the horizon. 

Garou grinned when Badd turned into a hotel. “Oh, so it’s that kind of a date, huh?”

“It ain’t like that! Don’t be weird!” Badd’s cheeks burned up to his ears. “I got us a room so we didn’t have to rush back tonight, and so I didn’t have to find some random place to park.”

When Badd got back from checking in, Garou had his face out the window of the car, sniffing, eyes big. It was like he was looking into the distance, at nothing in particular, an invisible interest.

Badd couldn’t help ruffling the top of his head. “What is it, boy?” he asked like he was talking to a dog, “Whattaya smell, huh?” 

Garou rolled his eyes but didn’t really divert his attention, though his did close his eyes. “It’s been forever since I went to the beach. I can smell the sand and the water...and I can hear it.”

Badd turned his ear up, letting the wind hit him. He could just barely make out the salty scent, but he certainly couldn’t hear it. “Good thing that ain’t the surprise.”

Tipping his head curiously, Garou got out of the car, and they started walking down the road. 

It couldn’t be but so surprising, because they could see the boardwalk from the half-mile mark as they walked up toward it. A large road right beside piers and docks had been lined with shops, stands and various attractions on either side, and there was a huge ferris wheel lit up with sparkling lights.

Badd had insisted on going during the week, so since it was Wednesday there weren't nearly as many people as there probably would have been on the weekend. On top of that, it was also late in the season, so there weren’t visiting tourists to contend with either. “I know ya hate crowds as much as I do,” Badd commented as he took his hand. “And I wanted your first date to be a good experience, ya know.”

Garou was staring in every direction, his mouth just a little bit open. Shit, was it too much? Had Badd overdone it?

What finally came out was: “I want to eat everything.”

Badd laughed. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

When Garou said everything, he wasn’t kidding. Like a bloodhound, Garou made a beeline for the spots that had the best-smelling greasy food scents, and Badd found himself being dragged to stand after stand to buy long skewers of yakitori, shioyaki and ikayaki. Each one was shoved into his face to try. “Please at least keep the squid in a different hand. If I think I’m gonna get chicken and bite into the ikayaki, I’m gonna hurl.”

Garou just took a bite of each. To spite him.

Now, the noodles he could get behind: yakisoba with deliciously tender pieces of pork; hot, sour Thai noodles that warmed him up to the core; a ramen burger made with prime beef and huge pieces of near-solid noodles. Garou was about to lead them to the taiyaki parfait stand, when Badd finally put his hand on his arm.

“Babe. Ya know I think the world of ya, but can we digest for, like, five minutes?��

“I guess.” He smirked and kissed a spot of sauce off the corner of his mouth. “You weakling.”

Next, Badd took him to an arcade. It was set up to look like one of the “classic” ones, with pinball, huge games with old displays that were probably twenty years old, and racing games that made Garou have to fold his long limbs inwards to get to the gas and brake. 

When he caught Badd laughing, he glared. “I’m still going to kick your ass, even if I do dislocate my hip.”

“You are older than me, Stretch. That’s a real concern.”

“By a year!”

But they figured it was time to go when Garou laid into a test-your-strength punching dummy a bit too hard and snapped it off its support. In his defense, Badd absolutely should have been watching him closer. Garou had a tendency to get carried away.

As they explored the area even more, they came to a set of shops outside a mall connected to the boardwalk. Garou wandered over to an open stand and stopped so hard his heels screeched. “Oh my god, Badd, look at this.” At first, it just looked like they were selling little trinkets and random junk...until Badd got a closer look. “It’s fucking knock-off hero stuff like you find online!”

Badd nearly choked as he picked up a toy that he could only guess was supposed to be Genos with huge neon eyes and a perfectly rectangular mouth. One hand was on backwards, and the paint job was so abysmal it was like it was just dipped in random colors. A figurine of Atomic Samurai actually had a gun for some reason, Zombieman had been painted lime green, and then…

“You have to buy it.”

“I don’t have to do any such a damn thing.”

“Please. I need this as a memento of our first date.”

Badd sighed and paid the ridiculous amount for a Metal Bat action figure: the torso was so big his head was roughly pea-sized, he was wearing a skirt and his bat looked like it was a wooden one. “It’s literally in the name! Metal Bat! They had one job!”

Garou cackled as he pocketed his prize. “Villains beware! The amazing Wood Bat! Special move: Splinter Spirit!”

As the sky was just beginning to transition from a red-touched blue into night, Badd walked Garou out onto the pier that cut into the ocean far enough that it was actually quiet, compared to the street. A torii gate stood alone overlooking the water and the far-off sunset. Garou stared up at it as Badd explained, “There used to be a shrine on the water, but it got destroyed by a typhoon or somethin.’ They left the torii up ‘cause the sun falls right inside it, yeah? And it was still standin,’ so...yeah.”

“You know a lot about this place.”

Badd grinned, kind of lopsidedly. “Yeah…”

“Like you’ve been here before. More than once.”

“Heh, guess I’ve been caught.”

Easily hopping up onto it, Garou sat on one of the wooden rails of the dock and looked out over the easy-going waves. “That’s fine. There are only but so many places you can take dates, so obviously there’s going to be some overlap.”

“What? Oh god, no. Garou.” Careful not to push him over, Badd got between Garou’s long legs, hands holding his waist. “I ain’t...I’ve never brought another date here. Never. You’re the first.” He sighed. “I came here when I was a kid, with my folks. And Zenko after she was born, for a couple of years but I think she was too young to really remember it. This is, uh…” He cleared his throat. “This is the first time…” God, don’t cry, don’t fucking choke up. “Since…”

“Hey.” Garou’s fingers rubbed the back of his scalp and pulled his face into his stomach. “I got it. It’s okay. I like it. A lot.”

“...yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s the best first date. I thought you were just going to drag me out to something really lame and I was going to have to be like, ‘Nooo, Baaadd, I loooove it…’”

Badd snickered and jabbed Garou in the side of the leg. “Jerk.”

Garou continued on in the mock-patronizing voice as he jumped off the ledge and back to the dock. “‘Oh my gooood...no, you put soooo much effort into it…’”

“Well now if I ever do disappoint ya, I’ll see right through you!”

“Of course you will, because I am so transparent and you are so perceptive.” Garou tugged him toward the ferris wheel. “Come on, I think this is a good time for this one.”

Badd nodded, and when they got to the ramp, there really wasn’t much of a line. They climbed into the next available car together. It was one of the new, fancier ferris wheels, with a compartment that people could sit in facing each other while looking out a window on either side, at the sea or at the glittering city skyline in the near-distance. Slowly, they started the climb, and as Badd watched the crowds below get smaller and smaller, he could feel Garou’s eyes on him. 

“So, I’m new to this, but it seems pretty obvious that this is when you’re supposed to kiss on dates, right? That’s a thing isn’t it?”

Badd turned his hand over when cool fingers rubbed his knuckles. “Yeah, I think ya kinda...play it by ear, and when it feels right, ya jus’ go for it.”

Garou leaned close, his smile reflecting the bulbs outside that lined the ride’s spokes. “I think you’re supposed to call the shots though, right?”

“Yeah...I think so.” Badd moved like he was going to close the gap between them, but then put his fingers up to block Garou’s lips. “Wait.”

“...seriously?”    

“Trust me.”

It was only about a minute until they rounded the curve and there they were, at the top of the wheel. In the grand scheme of things, it probably wasn’t that high up but...here, it was the highest point, and for them it might as well have been the top of the world. And before Garou could ruin it by saying something dumb or complaining about the hold up, Badd yanked him into the softest, deepest kiss he could give, putting every ounce of himself into it.

They didn’t actually break it until they were almost at the bottom again, and even then they stayed close, gazing into one another’s face.

“You know…” Garou gave him another little peck, smiling through it. “I think I could get into this whole dating thing.”

Badd hummed, and he kept his fingers loosely holding his shirt so he couldn’t get far away from him. “Yeah...kinda figured ya might feel that way.”

[cat-soda]

near’s belated birthday oneshot!

A hand on his shoulder turns him around abruptly, and Near is halfway to pulling out the pistol he has concealed at his waist for this very reason when 

“So, it is you, Near!” 

oh. Gevanni. 

“Wow, sir, you’ve grown so—” the other man stops, narrowing his eyes at Near’s aborted movement. “Were… were you about to shoot me?!” 

“I was startled,” is Near’s bland response. He resists the urge to twist his hair. 

This is why he doesn’t do any goddamn fieldwork.

or, near has a nice day

Pairings: none, but slight sutenia

Wordcount: 4755

Warnings for: slight ooc, lots of headcanons, original characters

[Ao3 Link]

It’s almost the end of summer when Near pulls on sandals over his socks and Rester’s baseball cap over his hair, tucks all of his hair into a pink and blue windbreaker, slips on a pair of sunglasses, then goes to stand in front of a mirror. He’s almost completely unrecognizable as himself. He’s never worn so many bright colors before, and he finds it to be a bit off-putting. Without even a trace of white on him, was he still ‘Near’?

He’s starting to think this isn’t such a good idea.

Over sticks their head through Near’s doorway, with a, “Bro, what’re you still doing here?! I can’t distract Halle and Rester forever!” Near blinks out of his mild identity crisis. “Go on, get!”

“Overture, I was thinking, maybe this isn’t—”

“L, you think too much,” they say shortly, pointing a stern finger at him. “Stop it, and get out of here before I start hollering for Linda.”

Near wants to refute this statement, because even someone as bullheaded as Over wouldn’t dare to poke the metaphorical sleeping bear in the eye (or, actually, maybe they would. Near sometimes thinks he might’ve chosen a successor a little too similar to Mello. His mistake, honestly) but they’re already pulling him by the sleeve out of his bedroom and sneaking him out the front door, and Near thinks that a teenager shouldn’t be able to push him around so easily. Over waves him off with an exaggerated air-kiss, to which Near’s only response is to stare, perturbed, back at them. “Be impulsive! Do something fun!” 

‘Impulsive’ and ‘fun’ are hardly words that Near would use to describe himself, but he digresses. He gives them a short nod, pulls Rester’s stolen baseball cap a bit more securely over his head, and sets off at a fast pace down and out of the alleyway and into the city.

And, it was important to note, Near hasn’t been outside… in a long time. 

It’s always a somewhat strange experience, leaving his headquarters’ dark, room temperature spaces and bright computer screens, and adjusting to whatever it is the rest of the world decides to throw at him. There are breezes and bright skies, and Near doesn’t usually care about whether or not his hair gets in his face, so long as it doesn’t obscure his vision, but out here, wayward strands of white hair whip his cheeks and get stuck in his mouth. He keeps his mouth shut and his eyes wide, taking in the world around him, and asks himself where he should go. 

Admittedly, this was one of those few things that Near had not taken the time to plan out. 

As he’s wandering down the sidewalk, almost hugging himself to keep from accidentally making contact with anyone else, he spots a cardboard box off to the side. He can hear small sounds coming from it, snuffling sounds and tiny whimpers, and he leans over to look inside, then can’t quite stifle the gasp that escapes him at the sight. 

IT’S A DOG. 

A VERY SMALL DOG. 

What do I do with this information, he thinks. He crouches down closer to the box, and has a staring contest with the puppy. (He wants to pet it.) (He shouldn’t pet it.) (But, God, does he want to.) The puppy is scruffy-looking and collarless— the natural assumption being that it’s been abandoned (and no, he doesn’t want to cry at the thought). What is the procedure for ensuring that abandoned puppies are placed in suitable, loving homes with good and kind owners? 

He calls Linda. 

“I’ve found an abandoned puppy,” he says without preamble. 

“Near, no,” she replies immediately. “Do not.” Then, after a moment of silence, “Fuck. You’re making that face, aren’t you?” He is not, in fact, making that face —as he hasn’t made that face since he was twelve, not that she would know; furthermore, what would be the point in doing so with no one else around to see it?— but he’s certainly not going to tell her that. That face was particularly useful back when he lived at Wammy’s, and had been especially effective against three specific people (one of which was Linda, of course). 

Mello called it cheating. Near calls it ‘using his assets to their full potential.’ 

So no, he doesn’t deny her statement. And then, “Ughhh, fine,” she says. 

Success!

“I will be there in a short while, then. Please h—”

“O-on second thought!” He pauses, perplexed, at her interruption. Linda doesn’t stutter. It was unlike her to be anything other than confident and sure, as was the case for most Wammy’s kids. “Maybe you should stay there, Near! Yes, that’s right! Stay there and, um, tell me where you are! I’ll come pick up the puppy, and you should stay out! For like five more hours. Catch those rays and vitamin D, haha!” Most Wammy’s kids were also very capable liars. Emphasis on most. It appears that Linda has gotten worse at it over time. For what reason could she be lying, though?

He considers the date. Ah, that was probably it. August 24th. It’s his birthday. 

Interesting. Following this line of thought, he comes to the conclusion that they must be planning some sort of surprise for him. It makes sense now, why Over and Linda had been so insistent and particular that he went out today. He almost wants to tell her that they needn’t bother to do anything too big for him, but prior experience informs him that that might end up offending her. And Near fears no god 

but he does fear Linda. 

He does not say anything to her of the sort, and instead goes, “If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, of course! See you soon!” The line cuts off sharply without Near telling her where he is. 

...so she’s been tracking him. He wonders if she’s been using the CCTV cameras to do so or if she’s placed another tracker on his phone. 

He bends back down and reaches a tentative hand out to the puppy. It sniffs his hand curiously. “It seems we will be parting ways soon. Not to worry. It will only be for a short while,” he says, voice solemn. The puppy yips and licks his fingers. 

He lets himself indulge in a couple of pats to the puppy’s head, and it whines when he hears a voice that is not Linda’s yell, “Near!” and suddenly stands.

He hasn’t heard anyone other than Linda use that name in quite a number of years. For just over a decade now, he’s been ‘L’ to just about everyone who knew him. In fact, the only other person who refused to use his new moniker was Gevanni, who’d resigned several years ago.  

He glances around, wary of his surroundings, and doesn’t see anyone suspicious. He also doesn't consider the possibility that he might be snuck up on. 

Another oversight on his part, really. 

A hand on his shoulder turns him around abruptly, and Near is halfway to pulling out the pistol he has concealed at his waist for this very reason when

“So, it is you, Near!”

oh. Gevanni. 

Speak of the Devil, and He shall come, as they say. 

“Wow, sir, you’ve grown so—” the other man stops, narrowing his eyes at Near’s aborted movement. “Were… were you about to shoot me?!”

“I was startled,” is Near’s bland response. He resists the urge to twist his hair. 

This is why he doesn’t do any goddamn fieldwork.

“Y-you… you can’t just—” Gevanni stops, lips twitching upwards into a slight smile. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, huh? It’s just strange to see you by yourself. Is Halle not around? Commander Rester?” Ping! He glances down at the phone in his hand, then pockets it.

Ping, ping, ping! Gevanni winces. Near only tilts his head, scrutinizes the older man quietly. “No. I’m by myself.”

“Oh, that’s—” Then, Gevanni gets several pings from his phone in quick succession, and he finally gives Near an apologetic glance before looking down at the screen. He pales instantly, and Near has only seen him do that under one circumstance: while being reprimanded by Agent Lidner.

So she and Commander Rester were, presumably, in on the surprise as well. He had thought it’d been suspiciously easy to get away from Rester’s watchful gaze. Well, agent? What is it that Lidner’s told you to do? There’s a slightly sadistic side to him that is presently very amused, and enjoys watching the older man squirm— Near can’t help the small huff he lets out from his nose.

Gevanni puts his phone away with an overly-bright smile and a nervous laugh. “Hey, sir, why don’t we, uh, walk this way? For a bit? We could, um…” His eyes land on a nearby poster in bright red and yellow colors. “Go to the carnival!”

“Why would I want to go to a carnival?”

Gevanni looks Near in the eye and leans in close. “You can win so many plushies.”

“I’ve been convinced,” replies Near. He thinks, then amends his statement. “But I must wait here for just a bit longer.” The plushies, too, could wait. 

“Why’s that?”

Near crouches back down beside the cardboard box, reaches out and rubs the puppy behind the ears obligingly when it whines, and lets his actions answer for him. 

Gevanni crouches beside him, voice hushed and awed as he whispers, “Puppy.”

“Indeed.”

The older man lets the puppy sniff his hand, then lick his palm before he whimpers, “Oh, precious baby.” Near grants him a moment to compose himself.

Linda arrives several minutes later, already smiling at Gevanni despite herself, and Near comes to the conclusion that ah yes, she’d been watching the CCTV cameras, then. Upon introducing herself to Near’s former employee, she coos over the small puppy and gathers the box up into her arms. 

“Thank you for doing this, Linda,” he says, after giving the puppy one last gentle pat.

“No prob!” She hip-checks him affectionately as she walks past. “Now, get out of here, twerp. Take O’s advice!”

“That hardly tends to turn out well,” he reminds her reproachfully.

“Try it anyways! Nice to meet you, Stephen! Don’t stay out too late, Near!”

“Even though I no longer look like a child,” he mutters to Gevanni once her back has disappeared from view, feeling petty and petulant, but also saying it low enough that none of the cameras can pick up on it, “she insists upon treating me like one.”

Gevanni snickers. “Yeah, that sucks. I mean, you finally look like you’re almost old enough to drink.”

Near narrows his eyes at the man, who was still giggling to himself. Clearly, Gevanni has gotten too comfortable with poking fun at his former boss. Then, Near’s expression softens. Well, he supposes that’s alright. They’re no longer in a professional relationship, after all, and haven’t been for some time. 

He wonders if they could be called friends, then, instead.

“Oh, by the way,” Gevanni says as they begin walking toward the carnival grounds. “Why are you dressed like that?” He gestures at Near’s windbreaker, and Near pulls some of the pink-and-blue fabric away from himself to examine it. “It’s not bad— no, it’s pretty bad. You look like that 90s kid from Vine a couple years ago? ...no? I guess you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about, huh?” 

Near shakes his head.

“Yeah. Well. I’m guessing you didn’t mean to dress like him, then, right?”

“No,” he says. He fiddles with the loose tail of his bracelet. 

“Then… why?”

“Mm.” Near waits until he finishes looping, then unlooping the tail around the rest of the bracelet before answering as Gevanni waits patiently. “I am… someone who clings to familiarity,” he says, finally. “When I was very young, my mother told me that white was the color of grief. Of course, Western viewpoints differ, so many of the other children never understood why I insisted upon wearing white and only white. Somewhere in my mind, I think I believed that doing so would somehow make my family’s death hurt less, or that I would wake up and find that it’d all been a horrible dream.” He pauses, picking out his words, and pulls his hair out of his jacket, letting it fall down the length of his back. “I was often moved from orphanage to orphanage and back again. I had… intricacies, as you know, that they hadn’t the means to deal with. I constantly asked for more books and puzzles and toys; I was too intelligent to be satisfied with anything they provided, which was one thing on its own, but that on top of having to pay for my prescribed eyewares and skin ointments was too much. They called me ‘unruly’ and sent me on my way.”

“You, unruly.” Gevanni smiles. “Imagine that.”

“Yes,” Near agrees. “By the time I arrived at Wammy’s, the color white had been the only constant in my life. It sounds strange to say now, but by that point, I had considered it almost a part of who I was. I still do. Even then, I knew it was irrational, but still I refused to wear anything else. The things children come up with to cope,” he muses, beginning to braid a strand of his hair, going cross-eyed and trusting Gevanni to lead the way. “When Mello died,” he starts, then stops, voice catching in his throat, feeling the weight of the cross hidden under his shirt like a noose around his neck, and abruptly aborts the thought. “I wanted to try being someone new,” he finishes lamely. He keeps braiding.

Gevanni nods like he understands, and Near briefly worries that he’ll prolong the conversation. “We’re here,” he says instead.

Near looks up at the fairgrounds, brushing aside his hair and letting the loose braid unravel in the process. “So we are. You have money, don’t you?” The other man looks stricken. He frantically begins patting down his pockets. “Otherwise this whole endeavor will have been pointless,” Near deadpans.

“I’VE FOUND IT, IT’S OKAY.” Gevanni pulls his wallet out from his fanny pack. “I’ll go get tickets for us. Wait here, please.”

Near waits.

Not even a minute later, a tiny girl with pigtails sidles up to him, cheeks sticky from the fried dough in her hands. “Your hair’s white, mister.” She doesn’t look older than six.

“Yes.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

“That’s cool,” she says, biting into her fried dough and spilling sugar onto the grass. “My hair’s magic.”

He highly doubts this to be true. But, on the off-chance that it is: “Oh?” 

“Yeah.” She leans in close, and Near bends down to listen. “It turns brown in the sun!” She shoves her fried dough into Near’s hands, stepping a bit away to put her hands on her hips. “See, my hair’s black right now, okay? But look!” She hops out of the shade into the sunny clearing and holds up her pigtails. “Now it’s brown! Isn’t that cool?!”

It’s not. What was actually happening was that her black was really a very dark brown, and the pheomelanin pigment present —typically overshadowed by the eumelanin pigment— caused a lighter tone of brown to present itself when hit by direct sunlight. Hardly something to be called ‘magic.’ “It is,” he lies, and she beams at him.

Surprised, he tentatively smiles back. 

“Alice!”

The little girl shrieks, “Mommy!” and runs into the arms of a woman by the ticket booths. “Mommy, he has white hair, but he agrees that my hair is cooler. Come see, come see!” Alice begins to tug her mom over to where Near was still squatting in the shade, still holding onto Alice’s sugary treat. Her mother eyes him with suspicion.

He gives them a single wave. 

The little girl returns and retrieves her fried dough, and then her mother hurries her away, lecturing all the while over her complaints. Near’s hand drops. 

Gevanni comes back with a bundle of yellow tickets in his hands. “What was that about, sir?”

He’s silent for a moment. “You think my hair’s cool, don’t you, Gevanni?” He pulls his sleeves over his hand until only his fingers poke out. 

“U-um…? I mean, I do, but…”

“Nevermind,” says Near breezily. 

“I-it’s not like I don’t think it’s cool, don’t get me wrong—”

“I said, ‘nevermind.’”

Gevanni shuts his mouth.

Near weaves a strand of hair between his fingers and over his knuckles, then releases it. He feels awkward. “...I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“But I just went to get—” Gevanni pauses, getting an amused look on his face when he asks, “Did you wanna try an Elephant Ear? I can get one for you.”

“Don’t you just want to see me spill sugar all over myself?” Near returns, then scans the fairgrounds. “Now, where are the plushies?”

The barrel of the gallery gun twists just slightly left at the end, so Near makes sure to adjust accordingly to the right, and after that, it’s almost too easy to hit the plastic cups off of the shelves. The barrel’s smoking by the time he finishes with the third row, and the attendant’s shakily asking for the gun back and telling him that he could pick out any of the plushies as long as he never came back. 

“I can only take one?” He asks, doubtful. With how many cups he took out, he should get at least three, shouldn’t he?

“You can take as many as you fuckin’ want, man, just— just get outta here.”

Near surveys all of the toys hanging at the top of the booth, then glances back at Gevanni, who already has a couple of plastic bags filled with similar items and an aghast expression at the utter massacre of plastic cups before him. “Gevanni,” Near says. 

The other man snaps to attention. 

He looks back at the toys and regretfully limits himself to four. “We should have thought to bring a wagon.”

Gevanni sags, then stands up straight up again. “Wait a second.” He narrows his eyes at his companion. “Sir, isn’t your aim, like… really bad?”

Near raises his eyebrows at him, already holding plushies of a teddy bear, a frog, and a truly disgusting Minion within his arms. “Why do you say that?” He reaches for a pterodactyl to complete the set.

“Well, it’s just... I remember you used to have all those darts and you would aim them at the board and miss every single one. And then, either Ratt or I would have to collect them all off the floor for you.” Gevanni catches sight of Near’s sudden smirk. “Don’t tell me you— You did that on purpose?!”

Near’s smirk softens into a smile. “Please don’t misunderstand. As you’ve seen, I have certain needs that I’m sure other employers don’t require from their employees. It can become tedious, and it isn’t as though many CIA agents are trained to be caretakers… Whatever it was you all signed up for, the reality turned out to be quite different, did it not?” He picks at a loose string on the pterodactyl’s foot, thoughtful. “And I am… quite useless without others around to help me. I had to see if you would be able to put up with everything I asked you to, even if it seemed silly or ridiculous… It was a necessary measure.” The smirk returns. “Oh, and it was funny.”

Gevanni doesn’t seem to be paying attention to the jibe, though, and Near is somewhat unsettled by the earnest look in his eyes as they make eye contact. “You’re not useless, Near. Not in any sense of the word.”

“That’s hardly the point—”

“No, I know! I just…” Gevanni shifts his bags all into one hand, running his other hand through his dark hair. “Needing help for things like that— it doesn’t make you useless. Needing help in general isn’t a bad thing, and I’m sorry you ever thought…” He trails off, then starts again, “No, nevermind. But I do want you to know that you’ll always have people around to help you. You have a lot of people that care about you. I-including me.”

Near blinks. “Gevanni, you don’t work for me anymore,” he gently reminds him. 

“I know that too!” Gevanni yells in response, already flushed cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “I mean…” He quiets and rubs the back of his neck. “As a friend. I care about you as a friend.” Then, he turns serious again, the setting sun washing him in colors of fire and life and loyalty, and Near, he— “I don’t ever want you to feel as though you’re alone. Okay?”

(...Near goes breathless.)

Near turns away without answering, and instead says, “It’s been a while now. I suppose it’s time we head back.” He begins to walk away. 

“Oh, um. Okay, sir.” 

Gevanni moves to follow after him, but then Near adds, “It's been bothering me for a while, but you needn’t call me ‘sir,’ anymore, Gevanni. ‘Near’ is fine.” He looks back over his shoulder at him. “It’s alright if we’re friends, after all, isn’t it?”

The other man blinks owlishly at him, then breaks out into a grin. “Yes! Just ‘Stephen’ is okay, too!”

“Mm. Let’s go home, then, Stephen.”

“Happy birthday, L!” Ah, so there’s the promised surprise.

Near steps through the doorway with Stephen in tow, looking around at the confetti littering the floor and the streamers haphazardly hanging over computer screens. There’s a table set up in the middle of the room with a cake —half unfrosted— sitting on top; surrounding it is a collection of Near’s finger puppets. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble…”

Linda starts her finger-wagging. “Don’t even start! We wanted to do this for you, so I don’t wanna hear a word!”

Over bounds toward Near, peering at his toys with interest. “L, where’d you get so many toys?” They glance up at Stephen, who’d stepped around the pair of them to place the rest of Near’s winnings off to the side, then add in a whispered tone, “And where’d you pick up such a cute guy?”

“Stephen,” Near says, catching the man’s attention, “is a former employee of mine. He accompanied me to the carnival today.”

“Scandalous.”

Near gives them a stern look, but doesn’t deign to give them a response, and instead says, “Stephen, this is Overture. I’m training them to take over for me as L once I retire.”

“’Sup!” Over sticks out a friendly hand that Stephen doesn’t hesitate to shake. “You like banjos?”

“Um— no.”

Halle laughs as she enters the room. “Pity, that. O loves them.” She goes to help Near set his plushies with the rest of his bags and takes him aside to debrief him in her usual professional manner, “The puppy has been cleaned and fed, and it appears to be in good health. Commander Rester has already made arrangements to bring it to the animal shelter tomorrow morning.”

Near nods, stubbornly stoic. “Good work, Agent Lidner. I’ll be sure to thank the commander as well.”

Halle’s face softens. “Did you want to see the puppy?”

“Yes,” he replies. 

She chuckles, redirecting him toward the kitchen area where Rester has an apron on over his trousers and the puppy is asleep on a soft pile of blankets and pillows nearby. It’s a strangely domestic scene that includes a neatly-swept floor, a variety of soapy pots on the counter, and a very buff man standing in the middle of it all up to his elbows in mostly-clean dishes. 

Rester wipes his hands on his apron, stiffly nodding in greeting. “Sir.” 

“Commander Rester,” Near says. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

“Yes. Please make sure to eat some of the food before you—” But Near is already sinking to the floor next to the puppy, knees cracking and popping grossly as he folds into his usual sitting position. Rester sighs. “Nevermind.”

“Will you—” Rester leaves the area, then returns with a tennis ball and a deck of tarot cards that he hands to his employer. “Ah. Thank you.” The man nods again, this time making to leave and rejoin the others, but he pauses when Near adds, “Please be sure to set some of your cooking aside for me, as well.”

At that, the older man smiles warmly. “Of course, sir. I’m glad you made it back safely.” He leaves. 

Near takes out his cards. 

He shuffles them, then after a second’s contemplation, sets out three cards facedown. He flips over the leftmost card. Four of Swords in reversed position (representing inaction and exhaustion). Then, the Empress, reversed as well (encouraging self-care… did Rester mess with his cards again?) Finally, the Fool is flipped over, upright (...signifying new beginnings). Past, present, and future. Hm. 

He is shaken out of his musings when the puppy sniffles, then sneezes and wakes itself up. It lets out a high bark before catching sight of him and wagging its tail expectantly. 

“Hello.” Near lets it sniff his hand before reaching to rub behind its ears. “Did you sleep well?”

The puppy answers him with a huff and sleepy eyes. 

“Perhaps not well enough, then.” He continues rubbing in the hopes of having it fall back asleep, but it shakes off his hand and clambers into his lap to bite at the tennis ball. “If you’re still tired, then you should go back to sleep.” The puppy pushes the ball around with its nose and Near’s advice goes thoroughly ignored. 

“That’s pretty ironic, coming from you,” Linda pipes up from where she’s leaning against the doorway. She can’t have been standing there for long; Linda always manages to announce her presence as soon as humanly possible, often without meaning to. 

“Linda.”

“That’s my name!” She sits down cross-legged beside him, and pets the puppy as she asks, teasingly, “And what do the cards say today, O Wise One?”

“That Linda should mind her own fucking business,” Near shoots back flatly. He gathers up his cards, shuffles them again, then starts stacking them together while Linda giggles. 

A few minutes of silence pass where Linda watches as he lays the groundwork for a rather uninspired cylindrical shape before she asks, voice uncharacteristically soft, “Can I help?”

“If you’d like.”

She nods, then takes out three of Near’s finger-puppets from her pocket —one black-haired, one brunet, and one blond— and doesn’t answer Near’s inquiring glance. She only smiles and shifts to stack cards together with steady hands. And when they’ve run out of cards, and the cylindrical structure looks awfully similar to a ruined Roman Colosseum, she picks up those three figurines and places them neatly in the middle. Near meets the gazes of the miniature Matt, Mello, and L —the real L— and doesn’t look away. 

“Like fallen gladiators,” he mumbles out loud. 

She shrugs. “They’d be proud of you, I think. Of the person you’ve become.”

“You’re optimistic.”

“Someone has to be.”

The puppy had fallen back asleep at some point with the tennis ball still half-hanging out of its jaw, so Linda gently pries the ball out as Near twists a strand of hair around his finger and tries to get lost in his thoughts. Then, Linda lays her head on his shoulder and entwines their hands together in a loose hand-hold that Near stops himself from pulling away from, and she says, “I really do think they’d be proud, y’know. I’m not just saying that.” 

He hums in response. 

“And if they’re not, then,” she squeezes slightly, “Rester and Lidner and O and I —that Stephen guy, too— we’re more than proud enough for all of them.” 

With that, she relaxes into him fully, watches as he starts braiding that strand of hair, still wearing Rester’s baseball cap and Linda’s friendship bracelet and the gaudy windbreaker that Stephen didn’t like, and Near almost believes her. “...thank you, Linda.”

“Hey, Near?”

He rests his head against hers. “What is it?”

“Did you have a good day today?”

The cap, the bracelet, the jacket, Overture’s overzealous hands and Lidner’s lipstick smirk, the sunset and Stephen’s warm blue eyes, and three finger-puppets, and idly, Near wonders what L would think. He decides it doesn’t matter. Near curls his fingers around Linda’s, and says, with a peculiar upturn of his lips, “I did.”

---

a/n: i meant to get this out sooner but im really slow and this oneshot went thru a couple rewrites tbh,,,,, its still not exactly where i want it to be, but i think its pretty okay for what it is. this is my first time writing such a smart character haha, i wonder if i did okay ^^; i definitely had some trouble with writing him as true to his character as per canon vs the idea of him i had in mind, and i ended up going with what the near in my head wanted, so hes prolly a little ooc. lets be honest, why would near ever wanna go outside anyways, lol? the pacing i also felt was a little weird, and the oneshot also didn’t exactly have a running theme throughout, which is a shame, and i kinda wanted to make callbacks and references and stuff like that, but i suppose it follows the kind of “day in the life” feel that i wanted near to experience, so oh well! it was fun, anyways! btw, tumblr formatting is hella weird, total respect for everyone who’s ever posted a fic here before.

oh, some songs that i was thinking of while writing this: Answer; When Will My Life Begin? (Reprise 2)

[chain-unchained]

September 6

Another Friday, another long trip into Zuzu City. It really wasn’t that bad if Shane was having a good day, or even a decent one, but the trip was hell if he was struggling. This was especially true for today; the whole night, his back had been repeatedly and painfully spasming, meaning sleep was pretty much out of the picture. When he mentioned it to his therapist, they suggested that it was possibly due to his depression, and said that if it continued or got any worse to call and they’d work on either upping the dosage on his medication or trying a different one to see if that helped.

But that didn’t really do anything for him now, and he was really dragging his feet along as he finally got back into town. ‘Ugh, I just want to go to bed.’He thought, rubbing his face with a yawn. Stepping onto the path that lead both to Ashe’s farm and towards town, he paused. ‘… I know I should at least drop by and say hey to him, but I don’t know if I’ve got it in me…’

After some intense contemplation, he moved his hands to the small of his back and pressed against it as he arched backwards, trying to pop his spine in the hopes that it would ease the pain a little. As much as he didn’t feel up to it, and as much as he could hear his bed calling to him all the way from home, Ashe deserved at least a little bit of his time that day. It wouldn’t be fair to him otherwise, and there was a good chance that just being around that happy go lucky doofus would put Shane in a slightly better mood.

It was frustrating that such simple things as visiting his cute as fuck boyfriend still took so much effort. Some days it felt like he was really getting his life together, and then he’d have a shitty day like this one and it felt like he was back to square one. At the very least, he hadn’t had another relapse; that had to account for something, surely.

 “Brush, brush, brush the knots out~” Ashe sang cheerily, running a coarse-haired brush through the mane of his newest family member—a beautiful bay gelding he’d named Silva. “Who has the prettiest mane in the valley? You do~”

Silva snorted and stamped her front right hoof into the dirt with a flick of her tail. She was still a young mare, full of energy and plenty of attitude, and she hadn’t quite decided if she liked Ashe or not yet.

“C’mon, don’t you snort at me like that.” Ashe moved to brush her tail, and as if to test his reaction, Silva kicked one of her hind legs as he got near them. “Whoa—hey now, was that really necessary?” He looked to her face, and she innocently turned away with a flick of her head and a whinny. “I know getting your hair brushed isn’t fun, but you don’t want to get mats, do you? So just settle down and—”

He went to brush her again, very narrowly avoiding another kick from the fiesty mare. “Jeez! That one almost got me!” He fumed, puffing his cheeks out as planted his hands on his hips. “What’s gotten into you? Are you just in a bad mood today?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say I am.” Shane joked, making Ashe jump a little from the unexpected sound of his voice. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“You scared me…” Ashe let out a breath as he turned to face the taller man, smiling happily despite his racing heart. “I’m happy you came to see me though~” After a moment, the smile began to fade. “Are you having a rough day?”

Shane sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah… it’s just one of those days. My back was killing me last night so I didn’t get any sleep, and it hasn’t stopped hurting all day. In fact, it’s probably gotten worse…”

Slowly he reached out to Ashe, gently taking hold of his upper arms as he rested his forehead against the shorter teen’s shoulder. “Are things always gonna be this hard…?” He murmured, asking no one in particular, squeezing Ashe’s arms slightly in frustration. “…. Sorry… I’m just… so tired of having to try so hard just to function like a normal person. It’s exhausting.”

Seeing Shane like that, it was all Ashe could do to bring his hands up and slowly run his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “I’m sorry that today’s been so hard.” He said softly, wanting to offer at least some small comfort to him. “… Would a massage help at all?”

“Nah… I’ll be alright. I just needed to vent a little—” As Shane spoke, he attempted to straighten up, and a pain sharp enough to steal his breath away shot up his back; agonized, his hands unconsciously gripped Ashe’s arms tight enough to hurt, though just for a moment. “… Actually, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Smiling sympathetically, Ashe slid his hands down Shane’s arms and took hold of his, gently pulling him towards the porch; he sat his boyfriend down on the steps and moved to sit behind him, ever so slightly nervous since he’d never really given a massage to anyone before, much less the person he was dating. Unsure of how much pressure he should use, but having seen just how much Shane’s back was bothering him, he went in rather forcefully, pushing his fingers into the muscles in Shane’s back. Instantly, Shane went rigid, letting out a sharp hiss of pain, and Ashe immediately pulled his hands back, eyes wide. “Ah—s-sorry! That… that hurt a lot, didn’t it?”

“I-It’s fine…” Shane hunched over and planted his hands on his knees for support, trying to get his breath back; after a few seconds, he looked over his shoulder to Ashe with a pained half-grin. “Maybe just a little gentler this time, chikadee.”

‘Ch… chikadee…?’ Ashe felt his cheeks heat up at the nickname. “O-Okay.” He shifted closer and put his hands on Shane’s back again, this time using much less pressure as he worked his fingers in a circular sort of motion. The muscles in his back were so tense and rigid that the pressure still drew a hiss from Shane, and he paused again, his brows furrowing together; glancing back at him, Shane shook his head and gave him a feeble thumbs up to continue this time, turning back around and letting out a sigh as Ashe began to move his hands again.  “D-Does it still hurt?”

“Only a bit.” Shane closed his eyes and let his head droop forward. “… Hey, chikadee? Can you go a little lower?” He asked, and of course Ashe was happy to do so. “…. Little lower…. Liiiittle lower…”  He visibly jolted as Ashe’s fingers started kneading that ‘magic’ spot. It was the spot on his back that was easily the most tense, and Ashe could feel the knot in the muscles. “Fffff… stay right there.”

For several minutes, Ashe steadily worked away at that one spot, slowly feeling it loosen beneath his fingertips; he kind of wondered if this actually felt good or not, but Shane had stopped making those little winces and hisses of pain, so at least it seemed like it didn’t hurt—at least not as much, anyway. “Is this helping at all?” He asked hesitantly. “….. Shane?”

“ZzzzZZzzz….” It had helped more than he’d realized; Shane was out like a light, finally at ease enough for his exhaustion to win him over.

“….” Ashe smiled and shifted closer, gently pulling the snoozing man back to rest against him and folding his arms around him. “You dork…” He murmured, pressing a shy kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. “Sleep as long as you want….”

 It was only ten or fifteen minutes before Shane came to with a quiet snort, forcing his eyes open with no small amount of difficulty to find himself gazing up at Ashe’s smiling face. “Ah, shit… sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off like that.” He apologized, embarrassed. “I… wasn’t out for too long, was I?”

“Mm, not really.” Ashe loosely wrapped his arms around Shane’s neck, his hands resting against the man’s chest. “Probably fifteen minutes or so. I guess the massage helped~”

“Yeah, it did.” Shane moved his hands to gently hold onto Ashe’s arms. He was always surprised by how stick-thin they were, even with all the strenuous farmwork that Ashe did day in and day out. But it still felt nice to be held by them like this, to feel the warmth of his boyfriend against him. “… Hey. C’mere for a sec.”

“Hm?” Curious, Ashe leaned down a bit; Shane reached his hand up to gently cup his face, shifting to sit up enough to press their lips together. It was only the second time they’d kissed like this, and Ashe could feel his heart skipping several beats in his chest as he closed his eyes and pressed into it. With the same ease as the first time, Shane’s tongue slipped into his mouth, gently rubbing against his and eliciting a faint shudder from the farmer. Back in Shane’s hey-day as a gridball player, he’d gotten around quite a few times, and even though it had been years and years since he’d last been with someone, he still remembered a few tricks he’d learned in those days.

He remembered also not to overdo it for the sake of romance, pulling back after just a few short seconds to gaze up at Ashe’s flushed face. “Thank you, Ashe.” He murmured, brushing his thumb against those pink-tinted cheeks. “Not just for the massage, but just… for everything.” In that moment, he was glad that he decided to suck it up and come say hello. “…. I really need to get going. Jas and Marnie are probably wondering where my ass is.”

“Oh!” As Shane reluctantly got to his feet, Ashe clapped his hands together excitedly. “I can give you a ride there if you want. Just let me get the cart hooked up to Silva and—”

Shane glanced over to the fiesty mare, who had wandered over to some of the bushes surrounding the farm and was contentedly munching away on one. “Chikadee, I dunno how I feel about you riding her just yet.” He admitted, a knot of anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Ashe getting bucked off. He’d had his reservations about Marnie selling her to him in the first place, since even Marnie—who in her youth had won more than a few horseback riding competitions—had trouble dealing with her. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I can handle walking. You don’t mind me cutting through your farm though, right?”

“Ah, no that’s fine, but…” Ashe’s brows knitted together. “Are you sure?”

“Ashe,” Shane turned to face him with a serious expression on his face, “when I got here, that horse nearly kicked you. I’m not hurting that bad that I’d want to risk your safety like that.” He could tell that even despite what he was saying, Ashe simply didn’t get that Silva’s behavior was dangerous. “…. Promise me that you won’t try to ride her until she mellows out. Okay?”

That wasn’t something that Ashe was excited to hear; he’d gotten Silva so that he could ride her, after all. “…. Okay.” He conceded reluctantly, even though he really felt in his heart that Silva wouldn’t ever actually hurt him. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” Shane leaned close and pressed a kiss to the top of Ashe’s head. “I’ll see you tomorrow... Oh, before I forget. Make sure you don’t make any plans for the 21st next month.”

It was such an odd request out of nowhere. “Oh-kay…. Why though?”

“You’ll figure it out.” For some reason, Shane wasn’t even surprised that Ashe didn’t remember what the 21st was. “Okay, I’m going. For real this time.” He made his tired legs carry him towards home, before he could think of another reason to linger at Ashe’s side; as much as he enjoyed being there, he was so tired…

  It was a sign of the passing seasons that by the time he’d gotten back to the ranch, the sun was already halfway hidden below the horizon. During the summer when he’d come home from therapy, it had barely even started its descent, and there were still several hours of daylight left. But now it was already becoming dark out, which meant that soon his walks to and from the ranch, both to work and to therapy, were going to start to suck. Especially if it was raining… He groaned just thinking about it.

“I’m home…” He called as he let himself in. The plan was to spend a good… five minutes or so with Jas, or however long he could manage, then go and sit in the shower for however long the hot water lasted, and then go to bed and fucking pray that he could actually get some sleep that night.

He heard the rapid pitter-patter of Jas’ shoes against the floor as the girl raced from her bedroom. “Shaaaaane!” She cried out happily, jumping up and tightly hugging him with no knowledge of his sore back. “I missed you!”

“Oof—” Using every ounce of willpower he had to repress the yelp of pain that rose up in his throat, Shane caught his goddaughter so she didn’t fall. “Hey there, squirt. I missed you too.” Honestly, he should have expected that kind of greeting, since it was how she’d reacted to him coming home for the last week or so. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Guess what, guess what!” Jas bounced up and down in his arms, barely able to contain her excitement. She didn’t even give him a chance to answer before she proudly told him ‘what’. “My report card came today, and I got straight A’s again!”

“Wha—no way.” Shane pretended to be staggered by the announcement. “Again? I guess that means I owe you 50g, huh?” He set the girl on her feet and made a big show of pulling out his wallet to pull out her ‘good grade allowance’, his fatigue and discomfort eased a little by the pride he felt at her repeated accomplishments, and the fact that he actually could save up now to give it to her. “That was the real reason you were excited that I’m home, isn’t it?”

“Nooooo!” Jas giggled and held out her hand expectantly as Shane plonked five shiny gold coins onto it. “I was excited because I love you~”

Shane paused as she gave him that heart-melting smile of hers; after several seconds, he pulled out two more and added them to the others. “I love you too, squirt.” He answered with a smile as she hugged him again. He kind of both loved and hated that she knew how to play him like that. His back throbbed painfully a moment later, reminding him that as much as he wanted to spend the evening with her, it just wasn’t something he was up to doing that night. “Hey, Jas? I know we always have our special time together when I come home, but… do you remember what I told you, about me sometimes needing to be alone for a little while?”

Hearing that, Jas was immediately distracted from the shiny coins in her hand. “Are you having a bad day?” She asked, looking up to her godfather with worry written on her face.  

“Kind of.” Shane put his hand on top of her head. “I think tonight, I just need to be by myself. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, though. Okay?”

He expected to see her little face fall with disappointment at those words, but to his surprise, Jas just nodded her head in understanding. “Okay~” She agreed with a smile. “I hope you feel better.” She gave him another hug and headed back to her room to play with her dolls. “Night night~”

“Uh…. Night, kiddo.” Shane watched her go off, slowly rubbing the back of his neck. Jas had taken that way better than he’d expected her to. ‘Yoba, she’s growing up so fast.’ He thought, letting out a slow breath as he stiffly made his way to his room. ‘I’m just glad that I’m not missing any of it now…’

[opheliathedreamer-blog]

OKCryptid // Pt. 3 { Ghoul }

You decided to linger over one of your lower percentage matches out of curiosity. It consisted mainly of nighttime stills of the graveyard at the outskirts of the city and sound bites of popular Gothic rock bands. He didn’t post a photo of himself. The only hint you received as to his identity was that he was a male non-human of unspecified age whose name was Grindel. The tone of his profile description (Location: The Void. Occupation: Feasting on corpses overlooked by the machine) would have given you cause for concern if it weren’t for rare glimpses of his sardonic humor (Mood: Wake Me Up Inside).

You debated whether you should message him for a few moments before deciding to take the plunge. If he seemed a bit too off, you could always block him.

         You: Evanescence fan?

         Grindel: Unironically? Never

You snorted.

         You: Given the spooky aesthetic, I thought you would be

         You: Which I like btw

         You: There are a lot of gravestones on your profile

         You: Are you into history?

         Grindel: Of a sort

         You: It a secret?

         Grindel: Yes

         Grindel: I wouldn’t want to have to kill you

Although you rationalized that he must have meant it as a joke, a shiver raced up your spine. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Hell, your neighbor was married to an ogre that was at least twice his size, but, much to your chagrin, you couldn’t help but remember your parents’ stern warnings— Monsters can wear their masks in public but nothing’s changed. Our ancestors made us wary of them for a reason.

         Grindel: Where do you live?

Of course his next question didn’t alleviate your anxiety in the slightest. Icy tendrils slithered around your heart, and you debated following your plan B and blocking him, before your fingers typed a message of their own accord. Curiosity killed the cat, or so they say.

         You: The abyss. It’s right next door to the void. Can’t miss it

         Grindel: Nice

         Grindel: I see you too work in the food industry?

         You: A bartender, yeah

         You: Crappy job but it’s temporary

         You: I’m still looking for an artifact restoration position someplace local that doesn’t call for thousands of years of experience

         Grindel: Are you interested in history then?

         You: Of a sort

Two can play at this game, you thought. After he didn’t respond for five minutes, you pocketed your phone and started to load your washer before you felt it vibrate. He had responded by attaching a photo of a dilapidated mausoleum. A cracked stone family crest displayed a raven holding a chalice in its talons.

Your tension concerning his previous comments gradually melted away. This was an area in which you thrived. The carvings had to have been at least three centuries old, possibly older. It was, however, hard to tell due to the copious amounts of lichen and ivy decorating the tomb.

         Grindel: This belonged to the Korbin family. The last heir, Emelia Korbin, died in 1876. Since then, no one seems to pay attention to it.

         You: That’s a shame. I bet it was stunning in its hay day.

         You: Is this from the cemetery in town?

         You: I never knew it housed anything this old

         Grindel: There’s a lot of things people can overlook

         Grindel: Past things often fade away in the dark

         Grindel: I look after them though

Your ears all but pricked. Was that a clue?

         You: So, you’re a groundskeeper?

         Grindel: Undergroundskeeper

You mentally repeated the word, brow furrowing. Undergroundskeeper. Did he help construct coffins? Did the mausoleum vaults descend that far?

Or did he live underground? You knew some bat people and cave fae who were particularly sensitive to light. That would explain why all his photos were taken well after the sun had gone down.

Before you could offer a possible answer to the mystery, you glanced at your phone’s clock and saw that your shift started in half an hour. Cursing under your breath, you ran towards the door.

         You: Sorry shift starts soon

         You: I’ll text you later

         Grindel: Thank you

Although you hadn’t the time to reply, the odd nature of his statement kept your thoughts turning. Not “okay. Not “all right, ttyl.” He said, “thank you.” A part of you started to feel sympathy for the secretive monster. It seemed that not many took the time to get to know him.

You went through the motions at work, chatting with the regulars and painting on a smile whenever someone outstayed their welcome. The bouncer, a minotaur named Frank, was pretty good at looking out for everyone, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t experienced a few lewd comments and wandering hands.

You normally brushed it off and went about your night, head down and ears closed, but that night one of the patrons, a troll who had one too many, was far too insistent for comfort. You had told him you weren’t interested for the sixth time that evening and politely excused yourself in order to go wave down Frank before the troll’s calloused hand shot out and wrapped around your neck. Your breath caught in your chest as he pulled you forward. The scent of vodka and whatever trollish mead he had been pouring into it stung your nose. You weakly struggled as his tusks scraped against your face in an attempt at a kiss. 

You sent a silent prayer that someone would intervene and, a few seconds later, a few orc bikers that were regulars pulled him off. The troll growled something in his native tongue and threw a few punches. You watched in relief as Frank ran over and got him in a headlock from behind. One of the bikers—Zadok, you thought it was—bellowed at you to call the police.

The troll paled, blurry eyes rapidly blinking. He stopped struggling. “Whateva.’ Ah’ll leave. Jus’ let go o’ me.”

Zadok looked at you. “You want to press charges on this asshole?”

You looked at him, hand over your racing heart, and remembered a news headline from days prior. There was a robbery at a convenience store. Just some teenage kids sneaking around and trying to pilfer some booze. The elf got off scot free. The troll with him was sentenced to five years in prison because the police insisted that the necklace he wore, a collection of claws and fangs from kills starting after his coming-of-age ceremony, was a weapon.

You thickly swallowed and shook your head. “He’s drunk. Just let him go.”

Frank escorted him out, yelling after him that if he saw him in there again, he would call the cops. You glanced down at the counter and realized your splayed hands were faintly trembling. Glaring, you clenched them into fists and wrapped your arms around your middle, breathing deeply, in and out.

“Hey,” Zadok softly began.

You turned your head so sharply that the orc winced. “You okay?” he asked.

You exhaled roughly through your nose, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“It’s almost closing time, and the boys and I ain’t got nowhere to be. Want us to help you home?”

“Nah. I know you have to work tomorrow, and Marnie’ll be worried. I’ll just call an Uber or something.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.

He didn’t look convinced but let any budding arguments die with a sigh. “Kay. Take care of yourself, all right, Y/N?”

“You too, Zadok. Thank you.”

Those who had witnessed the altercation went out of their way to leave extra tips and, when the Lagoon finally closed, Frank volunteered to drive you home himself. However, despite your previous promise to call an Uber, you found that the crisp night air was clearing your head. Your body was also so full of adrenaline that you feared if you were driven home and tried to sleep, you’d stay up all night thinking about it.

You thought back to the old cemetery. A foolish thing, perhaps, but your hobbies had always done wonders in alleviating your stress. You had your phone, and you had pepper spray hidden in your back pocket. And, with how taut your muscles felt, you thought you could outrun anything. Besides, you wanted to see the mausoleum for yourself.

Frank thought it was a terrible idea once you told him but, knowing how stubborn you were, he made you promise to text him once you arrived and once you were safely home. If he didn’t hear from you in twenty minutes, the time it would take for you to walk there, he said he was calling the police. You reassured him that you would and then set out for your walk.

The chilly weather caused you to huddle inside your hoody for warmth, but you appreciated the full moon and the scarce stars that could be seen through the haze of light pollution. The more you walked, the more you relaxed. As you texted Frank updates, you actually felt your eyelids droop. It had been a long night. After a few moments of looking, you’d head back home.

Upon reaching the cemetery, you drank everything in—the languid shadows birthed by the yellowed moonlight, the mournfully swaying weeping willows, the damp grass and time-stained stone, the scent of decaying flowers, incense, and overturned soil. You were surprised to notice how many prominent non-human families were there. You even saw a Baron or two, one an elf and the other a goblin. You silently wished you had brought a notebook so you could jot down dates and try engraving some of the more battered headstones, but you promised yourself you would return in the daylight.

You were leaning downward, poised to take a picture of the late Yera Offley’s stone, featuring her battle-ready relief, when you saw an approaching shadow out of your periphery. Remembering the previous events of the evening, you ducked behind a nearby mausoleum and waited. The quadrupedal creature drew closer. You hid your phone’s bright screen against your chest. No sound heralded its coming, and that somehow frightened you more than its actual presence. 

“You should have known better than to loiter in graveyards at night,” a throaty rasp announced. “Didn’t I warn you? If I found one more of you children defacing the graves, there would be the Underworld to pay.” 

You fumbled with your back pocket. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” 

When you finally retrieved the pepper spray, you struggled with the safety release and dropped the can.

“Shit!” you hissed under your breath. 

You reached for it and saw another hand emerge. Its elongated, emaciated fingers were tipped with ivory claws, and fine hair grew on its knuckles and what you glimpsed of its palm. Your breath caught in your chest, and you reeled back with wide eyes. It was gangly and faintly humanoid, even though it seemed to prefer traveling on all fours, and was clothed in a tattered button-up and trousers. Its ears were large and tapered into points, and its red eyes were a stark contrast to its colorless skin. Its nose, which consisted of two raw slits, flared and its mouth, filled with sharp, yellow teeth, shut with a snap.

You barely registered that you were hyperventilating until your head grew light and black spots danced in your vision. The creature retreated and held out up both its hands placatingly.

“Calm down, Y/N. I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else... I won’t hurt you.” It slowly retrieved the can of pepper spray and offered it to you. “Here. It’s all right.”

Seeing that it wasn’t going to eat you outright, you slowly accepted the proffered can and forced your breathing to slow.

“How do you know my name?”

It canted its head to the side. “The same way you know mine.”

You tried to organize your scrambled thoughts until it hit you. Undergroundskeeper. Cemetery pictures. Past things often fade away in the dark. I look after them, though. Grindel, one of your matches on that ridiculous dating app, was a ghoul.

“You’re not supposed to be real,” you said. Ghouls were a legend, a myth, a creature that humans and monsters alike referenced in scary stories to discourage rebellious teens from disrespecting the dead. 

“And you wonder why I don’t advertise what I am,” he snorted. “There are monsters that even monsters fear.”

You thought back to his listed occupation status: Feasting on corpses overlooked by the machine. You had thought it was a grunge reference, but he meant it literally. You shakily chuckled. A living myth was in front of you, one who killed grave robbers and could supposedly travel to and fro between the mortal realm and the Underworld.

And you had matched with him 65%. The incredulity of it wasn’t lost on you. 

He blinked, seemingly confused. “What?”

“I’m tired, terrified, and in disbelief at the fact that the cryptid among cryptids took the time to install a dating app.”

He glanced downward. “Tch, All the other ones have emerged. I thought…” He waved his skeletal hand vaguely before he shook his head. Thin, cracked lips frowned. “Ah, what was I thinking? If the others face persecution, the guardians of the dead will only face that much more.”

You grew silent at his morose tone, and a part of you felt sympathetic. You remembered how he thanked you when you told him you would talk to him again. 

“Maybe... but I think if there are people brave enough to get to know you, minds will change.” You paused and added, “Like mine. I... I’d like to get to know you.” 

He surveyed your face in disbelief before his eyes landed on your neck. He slowly reached forward a hand. You gasped, more out of surprise than fear, as you registered his cold hands. His claws, which could most likely rend bloated flesh like a scissor could paper, rested on your skin as softly as a breeze.

“Who did this?” he murmured. His breath smelt of carrion. You tried to ignore it, but your stomach still instinctively curled. 

“What?”

“There’s a bruise here.”

“Oh.” You exhaled. “Just some drunk asshole at work. It bad?” 

“It depends on your definition of bad.”

You cracked a smile. “You’re always so damn cryptic.” 

His sharp teeth winked in the shadows as he returned a roguish grin. “Mysteries are no fun if they are solved right away.” His grin faded and he withdrew. “Still, I apologize for that. You weren’t kidding when you said it was a crappy job.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I told you it’s only temporary.” 

You placed the can back in your pocket and slowly rose to your feet. Your legs briefly wobbled. Grindel reached up to help you stabilize.

“Are you all right?”

You nodded, barking a short laugh. “It’s been a ride. My body’s still trying to catch up.” After texting Frank another reassurance that you were all right, you turned to your newfound companion. “Grindel?” 

“Yes, Y/N?”

“The initial reason I came here was to see the Korbin mausoleum. Could you take me to it?”

“Of course.”

Pictures couldn’t do it justice. The Romanesque carvings were breath-taking, and Grindel showed you a secret passage into the tomb, where you were able to read walls of names and observe countless bas reliefs of the harpy family.

“You like it?”

“I love it. I’ll have to come back with some of my notebooks. I’d love to do research on them. They must have so many stories to tell.”

“You’ll come back?”

The fragile hope in his voice tugged at your heart. Before you realized what you were doing, you knelt down and wrapped your arms around his neck. His skin was still as frigid as you remember, and it was disturbing how you could feel every rib and bump in his spine. However, your sympathy outweighed every other thought when Grindel carefully returned your embrace, hands hovering just above your hoody. If you were still a little frightened, then he was terrified of this fragile tie between the two of you.

You mustered up the courage to turn your head and gently press your lips to his sharp cheekbone. He sharply inhaled. His breath still testified to his unorthodox diet, but you found you could grow used to that, too.

“I promise.”

@thetravelerwrites, @ban23

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT/Baron Jitsu fanfiction: Dating... With Children - Chapter Three

(Also on AO3 if you want to leave a comment or kudos)

Plot:  Benjamin Draxum hardly considered himself a man of high social standing. Not because he was uncouth or unworthy of it, mind you, but simply because he didn’t have much of a social life. Hard to have one when he usually spent his days at work, cooped up in a lab for so long that he often had his lunches in there, and his nights at home reading or doing research for more personal projects. But perhaps meeting handsome semi-retired movie star - as well as his four young sons - could change all that…

((CHAPTER THREEEEEE!! Here we go~! ^v^))

To the few people who knew Draxum well, they could say with ease that the man was definitely a perfectionist. Not just in his work and scientific process, but in everything. From presenting himself to others (despite how anti-social he tended to be), to the daily chores he did, to the food he made for himself. Anything less than perfect was an annoyance, an aggravation. Perfection was control, and Draxum could only seem to let himself feel relaxed and satisfied (or at least, as close to those things as he could get) when he felt like he was in total control.

Naturally, his perfectionism had began to slip into his dating life, as well.

Despite already having a recipe in mind when he invited Lou over to his place, Draxum had still ended up spending a good chunk of his work days that week going through various online recipes, just in case there was something better. He did however hold himself back from texting Lou if he had any preferences or allergies, figuring that he would have told him that from the beginning if there was anything to worry about. Besides, Lou had cooked him a good meal without any assistance, and Draxum felt obligated to do the same. To show that he could… and to just make Lou smile that cheesy, over-confident grin of his.

Draxum groaned, shaking his head a bit at his own eagerness. What was he, a head-over-heels teenager? Pushing the feelings down for what was at least the dozenth time that day, Draxum exited out his current tab and went back to his actual work.

“Um, Dr. Draxum?” a voice said from over his shoulder, “I have those test results you needed.” Draxum turned his chair slightly to look at one of his interns. A college graduate, short and lanky with a head of pitch black hair that stuck up slightly, who was eager to both please and learn. A bit too eager, if Draxum was being honest, but at least the kid paid attention and was fairly competent.

“Good,” he said, taking the paperwork, “Now, have either you finished-?”

“Reading those new reports and picking out relevant info?” another voice from his other side finished for him, “Yep! Got ‘em right here, boss!”

“Doctor,” Draxum corrected, narrowing his eyes a bit. His other intern was about on the same level of competence and eagerness as his partner - they even looked similar, with this one being a bit rounder and having more neatly combed black hair - though a bit of an airhead at times. Draxum would often catch him (sometimes both of them, if whatever they were doing was entertaining enough) on his phone, and if it weren’t for the fact that their field of study at the research lab was already understaffed and he didn’t have any other choices for interns, he would’ve kicked them out within their first week.

“Ah, right, sorry,” the other intern nodded, handing over the papers. Draxum took them and glanced over both it and the lab results. Once he determined that there weren’t any obvious errors and that they were indeed what he had asked for, he dismissed them with a silent nod and went back to his own data.

As they walked back to their own desks, the two interns shared a look. “...So, hey, you wanna know something weird? Just before I went over there, I saw him looking at recipes! Again! Something is up.”

“Man, nothing has to be ‘up’. Maybe this is just a new hobby he's trying out. With all the cooking shows out there, lots of people are getting into cooking! Or hey, maybe he's planning on leaving science and becoming a chef or whatever.”

“Whaaat? No way! He loves science stuff, he's not going to just walk away from it! ...You know what I think? I think he's looking all this stuff up because he's getting ready for a da-”

“Huginn. Muninn.”

Hugh Huginn and Matthew Muninn both froze, wincing. “...Huh. So he does know our names,” Muninn whispered in awe. Huginn elbowed him sharply.

“If you two want to waste your time gossiping, you can take it back to the university you came from,” Draxum told them, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, “But if you wish to still work here, then I'd suggest you both get started on your next assignments. Now.”

“O-Of course, sir- er, Doctor!” Huginn grabbed his partner’s arm and quickly led the way back to their separate desks.

Draxum held back a sigh, still scowling as he turned back to his papers. “Fools,” he muttered under his breath.

--------------

When Friday finally came around, Draxum once again left an hour earlier than usual, making sure he had plenty of time to both prepare for their meal as well as make up for any interruptions or issues he could possibly run into while cooking (as well as New York traffic).

Thankfully, luck seemed to be on his side that day, and he made it home within the hour. Upon entering his home, Draxum glanced around his apartment, just to make sure that there was nothing he needed to tidy up. A bit of a pointless task, given that he always kept his apartment spotless, but a thoughtful one nonetheless.

His two bedroom apartment (one room for his home gym and the other to sleep in) was one of the higher end ones in Manhattan, being just a few blocks away from Times Square. It wasn't a penthouse, but it still felt spacious enough to feel comfortable. His home had hardwood floors all throughout the living room and small kitchen, and the walls were painted a pale blue, free of any sort of paintings or decorations with the exception of Draxum’s framed doctorate. Near his already dusted and organized bookcase was a large window, teal curtains closed like always. A dark blue couch, a black coffee table, and a decent-sized television brought the minimalist room together, adding just a bit of comfort to the space.

Satisfied with how his place looked, Draxum then walked over to his kitchen, the recipe he had chosen saved on his phone and the ingredients he needed already in his home. Granted, he already knew the recipe well, but he still didn't want to leave any room for error. In a way, second dates (or was it third? Did the art gallery count?) were even more important than the first, given that now there were even more concrete expectations of the other person, as well as certain goals they both wanted to meet...

“Focus,” he told himself, once again pulling his mind away from thoughts of the other man (and just how close they had been the last time they saw each other, how they had almost-). Taking a moment to clear his mind and tighten his ponytail, he began preparing his perfect date night dish: Steaks with potato gratin and a white wine sauce, certainly a meal that was both delicious and impressive. Yes, he could just see the look on Lou’s face when he- no, no, damn it Draxum, focus!

First the potatoes, which Draxum made quick work of, peeling them with ease. Slicing them and mixing up the butter and creme didn't take too much time either. He watched the flames of the stove carefully, and knew just when to turn down the heat to avoid burning them. Really, while ‘chef’ certainly wasn't one of the first words Draxum would ever use to describe himself, he was pretty proud of his cooking skills. Cooking was just simple chemistry, in a way.

After several minutes on the stovetop, Draxum transferred the potatoes from the pot to a baking pan, placing it in the oven. The potatoes would need to bake for about half an hour, and he wouldn't start the steaks until they were halfway done, wanting both the main and the side dish to be finished at the same time. So, with a bit of time to kill, he wandered back over to his living room and turned on the tv.

Being more of a literature fan than a television fan, Draxum usually kept it on either one of the science channels for an interesting documentary or two, or on the local news for current events or to just act as white noise in his otherwise silent apartment. But he wasn't in the mood to listen to his city's annoying blonde anchorman and all the documentaries currently playing were ones he'd already seen, so he decided to browse the guide a bit. As he did, he realized that he hadn't really planned anything for the two of them to do after their meal.

Draxum hummed, narrowing his eyes a bit as he continued scrolling through shows. They hadn't had anything planned last time either, and had ended up just talking for a while. It had been enjoyable enough, but would Lou find that boring this time, especially after they had already shared two fairly long conversations over the phone throughout the week? “I suppose we could watch a movie or something…”

Whether or not there was anything good on though, that was the question. But hey, that was what streaming was fo-

Draxum stopped, a familiar title catching his eye: Fist of Jitsu-Fury. One of the very first films in one Yoshi ‘Lou Jitsu’ Hamato’s career, back when he was gaining a following but wasn't quite a superstar yet. He doubted that the film held up very well at all but… “Oh what the hell.” Draxum clicked on it.

He had come in at the middle of the film, just as a fight scene started. He chuckled at his date, much younger (and clearly inexperienced, given how slightly wooden his line delivery was) his date was on screen, as well as the ridiculous jumpsuit he was wearing. ...Still, the low neckline while garish wasn't exactly a hindrance…

“-And I say that your reign of terror shall end now, evil one!” Lou boasted. The villain of the film, some yakuza boss with mystic powers, cackled.

“That's what you think, foolish boy! Face the wrath of my gang and perish with dishonor!” Draxum snorted. Good lord, who was writing these scripts?! Honestly, there was only one reason this series had so many sequels, and the Lou on screen seemed to know that too, judging by his genuine smirk. The funky Kung-fu action instrumentals came in just as the yakuza began to charge the hero, but Lou refused to look worried. Instead he stood his ground, prepared a punch, and gave his infamous battle cry.

“HOT SOUUUUUUP!”

“I still don't know how that of all things became a catchphrase,” Draxum muttered, eyes still glued to the screen. Perhaps he’d ask the Lou in the present for the story later… As he watched, he truly remembered why the fight scenes in these films were so popular. With Lou having been the only one on set with such a high level of training, Draxum wondered if he had just been paid to actually beat up stuntmen, given how realistic it all looked and how well the fight flowed, the edits being practically non-existent.

He could see the calculation and focus on Lou’s face perfectly, even through the fuzzy low-definition of the movie. Each move was a mix of both effective and showy, perfectly timed and presented with style. Every kick and punch, every duck and roll, the jumps and flips, the blocks and counters-! One of the opponents managed to get a lucky hit in, punching Lou’s shoulder and grabbing his sleeve in an attempt to pull him down to the ground. A severe underestimation. Before the poor movie extra could even realize what was happening, Lou grabbed his arm and threw him up and over, tossing him completely offscreen, losing the top of his jumpsuit in the process.

“...These movies are still cheesy,” Draxum mumbled, though his smile never fell. Cheesy, yes, but admittedly still pretty amazing, in their own way. And… Wow, now he was also remembering Lou’s former title as ‘the Tightest Abs in Hollywood’.

With the yakuza grunts all down for the count, it was time for the final boss battle. Lou was sweating a bit, but was nowhere near too exhausted to fight, and grinned at his enemy. The boss sneered back at him, standing up from his seat. The two opponents stared each other down, and-!

...What was that sound? Yanked back to the present, Draxum realized that the sound he was hearing was his timer! He had completely forgotten what he was doing! With an annoyed growl, he turned off the tv and went back into the kitchen. Thankfully, the potatoes were not yet burned, but they had been close, and they were definitely overdone now. “Great…” And the steaks. He hadn't even cooked the steaks yet!

So Draxum took the pan out, setting it on the stovetop to hopefully help keep it from getting cold, and grabbed a skillet as well as the already thawed steaks from the fridge. Feeling like he had no time to wait for it to heat up, Draxum just turned the stove up to high, tossed the steaks in and started seasoning them. Unfortunately, because of the skipped step, he underestimated just how long it would take for the steaks to cook.

So when he moved to flip the meat, he was greeted with a nearly blackened burnt side, mocking him as the other side started to sizzle. And as he turned the heat down to avoid any further burning, Draxum could feel his own temper start to rise… “Okay, maybe the sauce will help cover it up?” He wondered, still trying to keep some hope. But it didn't amount to much, given that the recipe called for making the sauce in the same pan as the steaks, which meant it would most likely taste slightly burnt as well.

Not that it really mattered, when the main and side dishes had already been screwed up. But that's fine, it's fine, he could still fix this! He had plenty of things in his fridge, surely he could make something else before-!

*knock knock knock* “...” Slowly, Draxum looked at his phone, wondering if he could play the ‘I didn't realize you would be early’ card. The bold numbers on screen said otherwise. 6:38. Lou was fashionably late, and Draxum had officially ran out of time.

With a sigh, he turned off the stove, and went to answer the door. Had he been in a better mood, he would've smiled at the fact that Lou had dressed up a bit, wearing black slacks, a white collared shirt and a fashionable blue jacket along with his usual yellow tinted glasses.

“Hey, you,” Lou greeted, tilting his head a bit, “You look like you don't want me to be here, what's up?”

“In a way, I don't,” Draxum admitted. Lou was a pretty blunt and direct guy, and so was he. “The meal I prepared for us ended up not being to my standards, and I'm very annoyed about it…”

“Ah.” He stood on his toes slightly, looking over Draxum’s shoulder as he sniffed the air. “Doesn't seem that bad to me.”

“It is, trust me.” Stepping aside, Draxum allowed Lou to walk into his apartment. “Just sit down and I’ll just cook something else or, you know what, I’ll just order in. We don't have all night.” With a scowl still on his face, Draxum went into the kitchen to grab his phone, and rather than taking a seat on the couch, Lou followed. He looked curiously at the steaks, and then the potatoes.

“You sure we can't just eat these?”

“Yes,” Draxum all but growled, “The steaks are partially burnt, and the potatoes-”

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lou take a fork and stick it right into the pan. Draxum sputtered a bit, but was ultimately too shocked to stop him from taking a bite. “Mm,” Lou nodded, chewing for a moment before swallowing, “A bit overdone, yeah, but still good!”

“...” Draxum narrowed his eyes a bit. “You don't have to force yourself to eat it, you know. It's not like I'm incapable of cooking things that aren't overdone and burnt-”

“I know,” Lou said, “Just like you should know that you don't have to go ‘above and beyond’ just to impress me or whatever. You're a smart, muscle-bound scientist who has great hair, is pretty good with kids and fun to hang out with, so you're already pretty up there. Now come on, let's eat before this stuff gets cold.”

Draxum said nothing, and just watched as Lou opened up three different cabinets before finally finding the plates. “...We don't have any sauce to go with the steaks.”

“We can use ketchup.”

Draxum scoffed, finally cracking a smile. “Seriously?”

“What?” Lou smirked back at him, “You got something against ketchup?” Draxum just sighed, this one not nearly as heavy as the last one. Not wanting to waste it, he then opened the fridge and grabbed the white wine along with the ketchup.

When he sat down and tried the food for himself, Draxum had to admit, Lou was right. It definitely wasn't perfect, and it was nowhere near his usual quality, but even so… It wasn't half bad.

“You know, in terms of so-called ‘kitchen disasters’, it could have been a lot worse,” Lou told him as he put a small glob of ketchup on his plate, “Have I told you about the time I accidentally murdered my new blender when I tried to make a smoothie?”

“Impossible.”

“I thought so too, but let me tell you: NEVER try to blend avocados.”

Sometime between their second helping of food and raising Draxum’s pantry for whatever resemblance of dessert they could find, the two ended up moving from the table to the couch. Lou let himself lean on Draxum’s shoulder, and Draxum in turn didn't try to push him away. Their conversation slowed and soon enough they fell into a comfortable silence.

“...So,” Lou said after a while, “Do you want this to be a thing? I mean… Do you want us to be a thing?”

“...Do you?”

“I think that's pretty obvious. But I still wanted to ask, both to avoid pushing you into anything you might not want yet - or at all - and because you just seem like a guy that likes things to be clear.”

Draxum hummed, leaning back as he allowed himself to think about it, his arm still hung loosely around the smaller man’s shoulders. He really did enjoy both (all three?) of these dates, but did he want it to be official?

...Honestly, even with all the changes, obligations and risks that came with it that he could think of and acknowledge, Draxum could still only come up with one solid answer.

“I think… That I do.”

For a moment, Lou did nothing. Then, suddenly, he sat up and turned so he could look at his date - his boyfriend - properly, a bright grin on his face. Chuckling a little, Draxum smiled back at him.

“Okay okay, I already have an idea for our next date! Are you ready?” He asked, pausing for effect, “...Dancing!”

Draxum stared back at him, his expression flattening, even if he was still a bit amused. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on, it'll be fun! And I know this one place in Queens-”

“I don't dance.”

“You don't dance at all, or you don't dance around other people?” Draxum didn't reply, instead mustering up a glare that Lou could still only grin back at. “Because, I have a pretty good solution for the latter.” Standing up, he fished his phone out of his pocket, and tapped on the screen a couple times. After a few seconds, an old eighties dance song began playing from the small speakers.

“You know, I'm already starting to regret this decision.”

“You are only saying that because you're not dancing yet~” The ex-action star shimmied his hips a bit, dancing from side to side and doing a bit of a spin before gesturing for his date to get up as well.

Draxum rolled his eyes as he gave in, standing from his comfortable seat. “You are incorrigible.”

“And you, are lighter on your feet than you think you are, I'm sure.” He moved to pull Draxum into the groove, and on instinct Draxum shifted his arm, almost as if he was blocking an attack. Though, once he noticed this action, he quickly put his arm down, slightly embarrassed.

Lou however, was the exact opposite. “...Ohhh, so it's going to be like that, eh?” Smirking, he shifted into a fighting pose, though still swayed a bit as the music continued to play. Draxum raised an eyebrow at this, but slowly moved to do the same, their eyes locked on one another’s. Lou moved to strike, and Draxum once again blocked it. As they began to circle each other, Draxum then attacked Lou, who in turn blocked with both grace and flair.

Every step, every move - whether it was in attack, defense, or simply a ‘normal’ dance move - was done to the beat of the music. Their bodies flowed with the melody and with each other, never faltering and complimenting the other perfectly. After grabbing one of his punches, Draxum pulled Lou into a twirl, making him chuckle. When Draxum tried to kick him, Lou ducked and slid around his partner’s body, back brushing up against his chest and causing his face to heat up a bit. On one occasion, they both moved to a attack and grabbed each other's hands, pulling themselves in close and pushing against each other before pushing away.

When the song finally ended, they found themselves in a position that felt like a mix between a hold and a dip. “...Told you you could dance,” Lou spoke up, his smirk softening a bit.

“Hmph, I said I didn't, I never said I couldn't.” Draxum slowly brought his dance-spar partner back onto his feet, but didn't let him go completely. Lou’s phone had started playing a slightly slower song, but neither one of them were really listening.

“...I was wondering,” Lou started to say, “I said what I liked about you earlier… What do you like about me?”

Draxum thought for a moment. “...You're less annoying than other people.” It was so blunt and so probably the least romantic thing ever that Lou just had to laugh. Not in a mocking way, of course, but still he laughed - and despite everything, it made Draxum smile. He made Draxum smile.

Lou, who was over the top and absolutely ridiculous and (if this week alone had proved to be any indication) distracting to the point of being aggravating. ...But he was also caring and loving, fun and free-spirited, strong and handsome… Yes, DEFINITELY handsome.

Even after only knowing him a short while, Draxum could tell that Lou loved fully, lived life in the moment, and rolled with the punches - both figuratively and literally. Simply put, Lou was bright. Like a candle, warm and inviting, rather than like a blinding and all-consuming spotlight. He'd invited him in with that damn smile of his, his family practically claiming him as one of their own before he'd even had time to stop it, and now…

Now, Draxum was willing to jump headfirst into the unknown. For them, for him, for all of this.

Laughter finally calming, Lou noticed just how much closer Draxum was getting. His eyes widened a bit before closing, and as another beat passed, the distance between them finally closed. Lou put his arms around Draxum’s shoulders as they kissed while Draxum moved his hands from his date’s back to near his waist.

Deepening the kiss, Lou began to let himself lean back, leading the way back to the couch. He chuckled as their lips broke apart, both of them a bit breathless. “Heh, I’ve uh, I’ve probably got about half an hour before I have to go relieve the babysitter…” He ran his fingers through his new boyfriend’s auburn hair, loosening his ponytail a bit. “Want to make the most of it~?”

Draxum smirked back at him, not minding the warmth in his face. “I suppose I don’t mind,” he replied, cupping Lou’s face as he gave him another quick kiss. “And, tomorrow maybe we could meet for brunch or, or something? I know this one diner that I believe has a half-price children’s menu-”

Lou barely gave himself enough time to nod before pulling Draxum in for another deep kiss, letting that action be the rest of his answer. Draxum hummed, closing his eyes and moving even closer, being more than happy to continue their little make-out session for as long as they could.

Yes, this was definitely what he wanted…

The following Monday, Huginn and Muninn couldn’t help but stare as the doctor walked into their lab. Frankly, they weren’t sure what was stranger: The fact that Draxum was wearing a turtleneck despite it barely being below seventy outside, or the fact that he had walked into work without a scowl!

It wasn’t until Draxum moved to go get some more coffee that he finally noticed his interns staring at him. He met their eyes… and gave them a small nod. “Good morning, you two,” he said simply, leaving the room.

Huginn and Muninn stared at the spot where their boss had been, mouths agape, before turning to look at each other.

“...Oh yeah, he TOTALLY had a date last weekend.”

“I hope he has a date every weekend.”

Aaaand with that little arc completed and these two officially together, I'm sorry to announce that this story will be going on hiatus for a little while. As much fun as I have writing fanfiction, I really need to focus on my original stories for a while. So, I'm going to take a break to work on those outlines and hopefully get at least one of the original stories I have in mind started.

HOWEVER, barring any complications (or if Canon!Draxum does something that makes me just despise his character, heh), I should return to this story eventually. I have plenty of ideas for it, and I definitely want to get at least a few of them out. I also want to make the people who have supported this story so far happy. So yeah, it may be a few months, but I WILL return to this story eventually. Thank you all again for your support, and I'll see you next time!

[kinkyacademia]

Heya Mod Pasta! Hope you’re well! Could I request a kind of love/hate or lust/hate competitive relationship between Powerloader and an s/o who’s also a costume designer but who’s costumes are pretty avant- garde. Like they both respect the hell out of each other but also can’t stand each other’s costume tastes. Thank you!! 🌺

This is saucy. Hey, has anyone considered that I would give one of my left toes for Iida x Midoriya? Now, now, let’s not fret, I would give the left half of my body for Villain!Iida x Villain!Deku.Btw I might not respond to all of my old requests? I barely have any villain ones, and I’m really feeling villainy lately.OKAY OKAY BUT: “power loader? Power… power THRUST, a loaded THRUST”

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

Your favourite thing to do with Maijima was to drive around town and simply enjoy the sights. The drum of the engine was soothing the the both of you, and he was more than willing to jump to anyone’s aid if there was a villain attack.

Oh, and of course you were ready as well with your micro tech. Maijima cursed it to all hell, saying “things shouldn’t suddenly appear out of no where!” You still fought with him, hand in hand, but the aftermath of your bickering never left the city in one piece. You still patched each other up, albeit giving a couple lashes out when possible, and had some great anger/make up sex afterwards.

And this was one of those times. After a rather large villain had attacked the city, you and Power Loader were called out to fight. You rushed out of the door with a couple devices attached in just under two minutes, while you had to wait a couple more for him to strap in and activate his machine, “Jesus, just imagine how many civilians are being crushed under rubble right now! I swear, I WILL fucking go without you!”

“And you wouldn’t be able to save ‘em, eh? Just go fight, it’s a better sight than you yelling!” He grabbed the controls, glancing one time down at you before jumping off. You quickly caught up with a scowl, and he was snickering to himself, that bastard. Your support items kept your speed up with his own, and you latched onto his hero suit; it’s how you usually would travel during a crisis like this.

“Oi, I can pull people out of rubble just as, if not faster than you! You’re in a block of metal, for Gods’ sake!” You looked around for the issue, trying to spot the street you were called to.

“Oh, really, with those small little gadgets? Give it up, you’re making up for the lack of a flashy quirk with some flashy shit,” he snapped, and you pointed him in the right direction when you saw something black crash into the top of a building. He muttered to himself as he shifted gears.

“Give it up, you’re just jealous that they’re the largest thing attached to me,” you laughed luxuriously at his gaping, offended mouth as the warm air rushing past you came to a sudden halt. You had arrived at the scene of the crime, and you jumped off to find the villain and the pro hero you usually worked with as Maijima instantly went to the calls of the wounded.

“This conversation is not over,” he threw over his shoulder, and you felt a rush of adrenaline at his words.

-

You yawned as you fixed a simple dinner (practically breakfast with how late it was) for Maijima and you. He had been injured in the fight, and you were home a lot earlier than him. He wasn’t going to be in the hospital for long, so you thought the least you could do was not grace him with your presence after his surgery and just fix some food up.

Just as you finished and played yourself, the front door opened. You waited for him to shout “I’m home!” But it never came, just a small groan of pain. You quickly put your food down on the counter, far from his dog, and rushed to find him slumped against the wall of the foyer. He had bandages around his shoulders, mid-section, and left lower leg. You felt a pang of sympathy for him, “Hey, hey don’t push yourself, how can I help?”

“I’d really… REALLY love some of whatever yah made,” he chuckled, wincing in pain. You helped him to the table, scolding him you endangering himself.

“I’m just glad you’re home. What the hell-WHO the hell did this to you?” You ate furiously, and he picked at the food as he told his story of absolute shitty heroics. He couldn’t have a shirt on for the next couple days until his shoulders healed, which wasn’t that bad since he never wore one in the first place, but he also had to wear shorts as not to aggravate his leg wound. His current shorts were torn to hell, and you realized that at least part of his story was the full truth.

“And the building came down like a skyscraper - you saw it, eh? Yeah, well I was directly fucking under it, and that villain used his quirk to crush the top- hey, pay attention to me!” He whined when you pulled your phone out to text a friend. You eyed him, smiling and then continuing, “Oi, when I said our conversation wasn’t done, I meant it asshat.”

“Oh, and where would you like to continue? At “this is the biggest thing on me,” you flashed a bracelet that could unfurl into a fully loaded machine gun, “or your block suit that’s currently out of commission in the garage?” Your disappointed gaze betrayed your curiosity.

“Let’s start with: that’s NOT the biggest thing attached to you, and you know it, so stop making fun of my height,” he snapped, taking a rather large bite of food and accidentally crunching on the fork. He quickly grabbed his jaw, moaning in pain before sighing and shaking his mat of ginger hair out of his face.

“Right, your height,” You snickered, and he gaped in offense.

“Alrigh’ alrigh’, I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, but you seriously were-? Fuck, do I have to prove-? Fine, fine, just let me shower after dinner,” he mumbled to himself as he shoved food into his mouth. You blinked in surprise- he was serious about that? It was just a joke… His determined expression gave you a feeling that he was not kidding about plowing you down even in his roughed up shape just to prove his point about his dick size.

Well, that was one way to go about it, “Really? You’re out of commission, Maijima, not happening. Your inadequacies are going to get you even more injured,” you growled, glaring at his flushed cheeks and narrowed dulled blue eyes.

“I suggest, (F/N), that you consider not insulting your boyfriend before battle,” his eyes flirted over to lock with yours, causing your stomach to instantly flush with butterflies. He still did that to you, “I’m still riled up and full of fight. I’m not taking it out on the punching bag,” he pushed himself up, putting his plate in the sink and then grabbing your shoulders roughly with his large hands, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Leave the shitty gadgets behind this time, won’t you?”

-

You were changing into pajamas when the wooden bedroom door opened. He came out in a towel, skin tinted pink with hot shower water (the only thing able to get off the amount of grime he accumulated every day), but he pulled it off to dry his hair off a bit before throwing it at the hamper. You scowled; he would be the death of you, dammit, “Hey, pick that up-“

“Nope, bedtime,” he pushed his fluffy ginger mat back, stifling a yawn as he stretched his arms. He winced in pain, but his shoulders were already looking better. You raised an eyebrow, reaching for your book slowly in hopes that he still wasn’t serious about the sex. He was wrapped half like a mummy for gods’s sake!

Nope. He pushed your book away from you, climbing overtop and sinking into the fuzzy white blanket. He glared with disapproval, “You’ve got to learn to take me seriously.”

“Not when you say your inventions can protect you from falling buildings,” you snapped back, and he grit his teeth as he narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t you fucking dare-“

“Oh, I fucking dare, Maijima, I do. You told me “oh, everything will be fine, it’s just a couple starter villains!” And look at you now. Just…” you lightly pushed on his shoulders, trying to get him to let you take over, “Let me ride you, we’re not going back to the hospital.”

“Mmm, it doesn’t look like I feel like doing that today, huh sweets?” He purred, leaned down to capture your lips with his own. You begrudgingly kissed back, grabbing his jaw instead of his arms as you usually would. As his hands began to wander down you body, he pressed on, heating the kiss up. You managed to get a couple words in between the breaks, though.

“You wouldn’t… have gotten hurt… if you just used my…” you pulled back into him, and he stopped you by pulling your shirt off and diving down to greedily grope, nip, and suck on your breasts.

“Mmm, I think I woulda been crushed to a pulp,” he chuckled, and you growled in distain.

“Fuck off, you’d have dodged everything in time,” you pulled lightly on his hair, and he responded with something akin to an animalistic purr. You looked down to his naked body, admiring his hardened erection that looked much too painful to keep unattended. Your skin warmed up in want and desire as you mumbled profanities. Damn he was good with his mouth, “Maijima, just shut up and fuck me.”

“I thought you’d never have the audacity to say it,” without missing a beat, he pulled your bottoms down with your panties, not giving a second thought to preparation when he saw how turned on you already were. You knew he wouldn’t give up the moment he got home, all your prior words of resistance were just banter. This was your relationship, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

He climbed back up, and you wrapped your trained, lithe legs around his lower back to avoid the fresh bandages. You stared into his piercing, bright eyes as he aligned himself with you. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, smirking at his deep blush. In all honesty, his switch nature was probably wanting you to take over, but his pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Shut up,” he thrust inside you, and your breath caught as you bit your lip. He paused, letting you take a second to adjust. When he started to pull back, he hummed in content, “Well isn’t that a pretty sight?”

“Head your own words, asshole,” your hands dropped to his chest, and he rolled his eyes as he started out slowly.

“Hey, that’s not what we agreed on, isn’t anal a weekends thing with us?” He tipped his head to the side, his hair falling onto your breasts. This caused you to snort, chuckling.

“I swear, I will get a strap on one of these days,” you leaned up, and he leaned down for you to kiss. Instead, you bit his cheek, sucking on the mark as his eyes widened, blush deepened, and a whimper escaped his lips. Damn you, damn you… he just couldn’t get enough of your tricks, gadgets and otherwise.

“In your dreams,” he was already panting from feebly struggling against you, and you pulled him down by the jaw for a quick, hard kiss.

“Harder, or I take over Mai,” You warned, and he blinked in surprise before realizing that he had slowed down to a snail’s pace. He quickly sped up, placing his elbows on the pillow on either side of your head. You moaned in satisfaction, each of his thrusts moving your hands and causing them to brush over his nipples, a small soft spot of his. You had wanted this to be quick, but now that he had started, his point was proven loud and clear; you definitely didn’t want this to stop.

The friction, the movement, every pant felt surreal as you grinded your hips into each of his thrusts. He was also conscious of your needs, propping himself differently every minute and shifting his hips until he found the perfect spot to have you screaming. He hadn’t intended on being so rough tonight, but things just happen, eh? When he began to ruthlessly plough you into the mattress, your soft touches became kitten scratches across his chest.

“F-Fuck… Maijima…” You muttered, your voice fading into a loud moan. He simply grunted in response, too focused to really reply. You loved every part of him, and as the knot inside the both of you grew, you let him know through broken words, “You’re so deep, shit, mmmm, right th-yes, please,” you both were a mess of tangled legs and lost glances. He occasionally locked eyes with you and gave you a quick kiss, but he liked to hide his face in your collarbone and suck on it to let himself focus, not unlike how he would suck on the end of pens while he worked on his costumes. It always left a nasty hickey.

When everything became too much, you warned him with a high-pitched sigh. He felt you tense around him, clenching around his length. He quickly finished himself, letting go of your collarbone to whisper, “So, are you going to take everything back, or?…”

“Fuck - fine, sure,” You mumbled angrily, wrapping your arms around his back. He pulled back to nuzzle into your cheek, then peck you with a victorious smile.

“Birth control?” You quickly leaned over to the nightstand, opening and pulling out the pills to take it. He chuckled, awkwardly waiting for you to finish. Your phone’s reminder had gone off a while ago, thank gods he had the memory of an elephant. On that note, his next words made you splutter even worse, “I think those wristbands are actually very pretty, you know.”

“If you’re looking for me to compliment-” You started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head as he pushed himself up and walked over to your dresser, grabbing a towel. You admired the view from the back, smiling unconsciously as things cooled down.

“No, listen, what if you made a whole suit? That would be hard, yes, but then we could match,” You hummed to yourself at his suggestion, mulling it over as he pulled on a pair of flimsy boxers, “Besides, you’re always hot in battle.”

“You still look like a block, but I guess our amazing suits could have great bionic sex,” You grinned, waiting for him to see your expression. He slowly turned to you, his face practically blue in horror.

“And this is why we aren’t married yet,” He whispered, causing you to laugh. Eventually he joined you; not only laughing, but in bed after changing the sheets.

[ellanainthetardis]

We’re plannin for Four today. Amongst other things...

[FF] or [AO3]

42. 9 Weeks

“You don’t seem impatient.” Eileen teased, taking a sip of her smoothie.

Effie sighed, letting her eyes wander around. They were sitting outside the Clarkes’ coffee shop, at one of the few empty tables left. Business was booming, helped in no little part by the nice weather and the genius idea of settling tables and chairs on the sidewalk. It was busy and the boys Eileen and Liam had hired to help were running around almost comically.

They had been talking about the trip to Four ever since Effie had arrived and, truth be told, she was starting to be sick of the subject.

“Well, it is all set.” she said slowly. “So there is no escaping it now.”

She had selfishly hoped, to the last, that they would manage to avoid it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go on a trip, she loved traveling and she loved Four, but April was so little still… It would be a challenge to take care of her in a different setting than their house where everything was readily within reach.

She had booked a hotel – and hadn’t listened to Haymitch when he had insisted on something small – one her father had shares in and that would not only cost cheaper than this sort of resorts would normally but that would also come with a guarantee the staff wouldn’t babble about any of them. Annie had offered to host them naturally but with three of them and a baby, Effie had politely declined and didn’t think she had imagined the other woman’s relief.

Katniss, if possible, was even less enthusiastic than she was. The press had been hounding them all like vultures lately, trying to figure out what was going on with Panem’s star-crossed lovers now, and making their lives a living hell. The girl insisted a trip to Four would make it worse. Effie was divided on the issue.

Now that they had gone to all the troubles of securing her the right to travel though, it seemed moot not to take advantage of it. It had been more complicated than Haymitch had expected and no less than Effie had dreaded. When she had phoned Plutarch to inform him they were thinking about taking Katniss to another District, she could almost hear the blood leaving his face and leaving him white as a ghost.

It was unclear for a while if Katniss was still Haymitch’s charge or if her coming of age had put an end to that. It was also unclear if her interdiction of leaving Twelve had now been lifted or not.

She had had the distinct impression that Plutarch was leaning toward not.

In the end, after consulting Doctor Aurelius and after a short conversation between Haymitch and President Paylor, it had been agreed Katniss was a free woman once more. It had also been agreed that Haymitch should make sure nothing went wrong.

Somehow, she wasn’t sure that his promise to make her leave her bow at home had amused Paylor.

“Not looking forward to that train ride, are you?” Eileen chuckled. “I bet if Haymitch had thought about it, he would never have suggested it. So long stuck in a train with a baby…”

“Quite.” she frowned. “Fortunately, I managed to sweet-talk Secretary Heavensbee into letting us borrow a hovercraft on account of Katniss. Why, I had to be creative and I don’t think he really bought it but he was nice enough to oblige. It will only be three hours.”

“Already too long.” her friend commiserated.

She nodded her agreement and brought her cup of iced tea to her lips. “I do intend to treat this as the honeymoon we didn’t have, though. He is warned he’s not allowed to complain.”

Eileen grinned leaning closer and taking a conspiring tone. “Does this mean more lingerie shopping in the future?”

They giggled like young girls. Effie had almost forgotten what it was to have a female friend her own age and she was grateful for Eileen’s presence in her life. It was good to have someone with whom to talk about those things and who wouldn’t run away screaming because they saw Haymitch – or her for that matter – like a parental figure of sort.

“I seem to have exhausted the stock we bought last time.” she grinned.

“Already?” Eileen pouted, sounding almost jealous. “You’re lucky. Between the girls and the shop, Liam and I can’t get five minutes to ourselves.”

“Finding time hasn’t been the easiest thing of late.” Effie admitted but her lips soon stretched in a smile again. “However, the good thing with Haymitch is that a flash of lingerie is enough to make him forget everything that isn’t me.” There was more giggling. She distractedly stirred her iced tea with the straw she hadn’t used. “I don’t think I will find anything new or worthwhile at the shop though. Twelve is seriously lacking in the clothing stores department.” There were two clothes shops, neither of which really had anything good, and, given that she felt the need to replace her entire wardrobe because it wasn’t fitting like it used to, it was problematic. She had ordered some dresses from the city but she disliked having to send them back when they didn’t fit. “I think I will buy some fabrics, rather. I will do a better job myself.”

She had already sewed herself a couple of summer dresses with darling matching outfits for April – which had made Haymitch laugh entirely too much – but with a baby to take care of, it was a slow process. And she had never tried to design lingerie before. It would be a challenge.

“That dress you had the other day, the red one… That was one of yours, right?” Eileen hummed. “I would kill to have one like that.”

Effie brightened. “Oh, nothing easier! I can do one for you. Perhaps not the same cut, we don’t have the same figure, but something similar enough. Just come by the house when we’re back and I will take your measurements.”

Her friend beamed and thanked her profusely even as she assured her there was no need. She was always happy when people liked the clothes she had timidly sketched and put together by herself. That Eileen wanted one was the greatest compliment of all.

They were laughing when Liam approached the table with Fanny in his arms and an apologetic wince. “Sorry, but the little miss is hungry.”

Seeing Fanny in Eileen’s arms made her heart ache. She missed April so fiercely all of a sudden… She tactfully averted her eyes when her friend maneuvered the baby and her scarf so she could feed her without anyone seeing anything. She would never have been as bold as doing that outside but it didn’t bother her. Once upon a time it might have, now… Now she was a mother herself and she understood the need to answer to one’s child immediately.

“Do you still miss breastfeeding?” Eileen asked softly.

Effie finished her drink before clearing her throat. “I am trying not to. We have enough problems without me adding my insecurities to the mix.”

“Haymitch would understand.” her friend chided her gently.

“He does to some extent.” she agreed. “And, truly… April is healthy. That is all that should matter. Isn’t it?”

Eileen studied her with sympathy, sometimes glancing at the baby in her arms, hidden from view for now. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel bad now and then.”

Effie smiled at her and then dismissed that line of conversation with a  wave of her hand. “I should probably go. I still need to swing by the bakery and I have left Haymitch alone with April long enough.”

They exchanged goodbyes and good-wishes for the trip to Four. Effie walked to the bakery quickly, impatient to go home. She didn’t pay attention when she pushed the door, not quite expecting to interrupt anything.

Peeta and Delly bolted apart when the little bell over the door rang.

And Effie stood there frozen, not happy at all with what she was seeing.

The two young people were red in the face and staring at their shoes like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Had they been kissing?

“My apologies.” she said coldly, in a clipped voice that made her now fading Capitol accent come forth. “I did not mean to intrude. I simply wished to check one last time that you would not mind taking care of Snowball.”

“Effie…” Peeta winced.

“I should go.” Delly said, sounding every bit as embarrassed as she should be in Effie’s opinion. “Goodbye, Mrs Abernathy.”

She watched the young woman sneak on the other side of the counter and out the door, all the while squirming under her angry gaze. Good. She liked that she could still make people squirm.

“It’s not what you think.” Peeta sighed before she could say anything.

“Do you take me for a fool?” she hissed.

Peeta crossed his arms and looked everywhere but at her. “Look, Katniss didn’t try to get in touch and now you’re all leaving for Four… What am I supposed to…”

“You broke up with her.” Effie snapped. “What is she supposed to do? Serenade you? Convince you not to sleep with that girl?” She let out a deep frustrated sigh. “I do hope she is worth it. I do hope so for your sake. Because I guarantee you, you are making a mistake.”

“I thought you weren’t going to take a side.” he grumbled.

“I wasn’t. I am not.” she retorted. “But you are being an idiot and I cannot keep my peace about that.”

“We didn’t even kiss.” Peeta muttered. “You came in when…”

She lifted her hand, the authoritative gesture enough to interrupt him. “I am not interested in what you do or not with that girl. Not when I have to comfort Katniss every two days when she cries her heart out about you leaving her.”

“She cries?” Peeta frowned.

And he was sounding far too pleased about that.

She understood he was waiting for a demonstration of love or, at least, a declaration of sort. He wanted Katniss to go the distance. She understood. But Katniss was devastated and unable to face another abandonment. This was all going too far.

Effie pursed her lips, shook her head and turned to leave the bakery, not trusting herself to not say things she wouldn’t mean.

She was so angry.

She knew it wasn’t her place to intervene. The children had to live their own lives, make their own choices and mistakes. They were young, that was the thing.

She had been seventeen when she had met her first serious boyfriend and it had been marvelous for a while but then it had gone to hell. He hadn’t been the love of her life despite what she had convinced herself of.

There had been other men after that, other relationships she had invested herself in only to see them crumble to dust.

She had been twenty-two when she had met Haymitch.

She had been twenty-nine when she had realized she had feelings for him that were more than lust.

She had been thirty-five when they had agreed they should give it a shot even if it was long distance.

She had been thirty-seven by the time they actually got around to live together and have a normal relationship – as normal as they could be anyway.

For love to endure, it took time.

The children had jumped into their own relationship after entirely too much trauma and had clung to each other in a codependency that she had no place to judge given her own need to have Haymitch near but that couldn’t be as bearable for young people as it was for someone her age. As for figuring out what was true and what was false in their personal history between the star-crossed lovers act and what the Capitol had done to Peeta…

It wasn’t her place to intervene.

But, damn, did she want to.

Sit them down and lecture, perhaps.

Or…

She didn’t see the man and the huge box he was carrying and she collided into him with enough strength that they both found themselves sitting on a pavement.

“Oh, my! I am so sorry!” she exclaimed, her eyes darting from the man to the open truck full of boxes and the house’s open door a few feet away. Newcomer moving in.

“No harm done.” the man promised, getting back on his feet and outstretching a hand for her. “I wasn’t looking.”

She thanked him with a smile once she was back upright and opened her mouth to welcome him to the neighborhood when a little girl called out from the other side of the street. “Are you okay, Mrs Abernathy?”

She vaguely recognized the girl as one who lived a few houses over from theirs in the Village. There were two other children with her and they were staring at Effie as if they weren’t sure how she would react. They looked ready to flee a very nasty witch.

“Absolutely. Thank you…” She racked her brain and made a valiant but uncertain attempt. “Gerta.”

The little girl beamed, waved and turned back to her friends who were whispering with awe at her supposed bravery to address Effie Trinket.

It saddened her that children still feared her so.

But there was nothing to be done, she supposed.

She turned back to the man in front of her, intending to finish her greetings, but the words died on her lips. The stranger’s face had closed off.

“Abernathy?” he repeated coldly.

And she had been having such a nice day with Eileen.

She didn’t even try to discuss it. She forced a bright fake smile on her lips and sidestepped the man. “Have a nice day.”

“It’s sickening what you got away with.” the stranger called after her and, despite her best intentions, she flinched.

She wished she had taken Snowball with her.

The man had already gone back to unloading his boxes and wasn’t paying her attention anymore but she felt scared and small and defenseless all the same. Her mind flashed back to Clay and his promise to make her pay and… She took a deep breath and hurried along the street, only relaxing a little when she spotted the slope that went up to the Village.

All those people who hated her, who thought she had gotten away…

Would they change their mind if they knew what had really happened to her? She had tried really hard not to think about her parents’ sudden but expected curiosity for the war. She wasn’t sure she could handle it. Her mother going to lectures to try and understand… Her father questioning Haymitch…

The knowledge that her father now knew was hard to bear. It was shameful somehow. She knew both he and Haymitch would have had something to say about that particular feeling but to her it was. It was too private to be shared. Even with her parents. Even with Haymitch sometimes.

She truly admired that man who was speaking out publicly and trying to bring attention to the fact some Capitols had been hurt during the war too. She really did. If only she was half as brave…

But it was a different situation.

She had never been a rebel, not outwardly at least, and she had been an escort.

A monster.

She swallowed hard and chased the word out of her mind.

We are who we are.

Snowball’s barking and the honking of the geese made her blink and she realized she was home a heartbeat too late. Her mind had wandered and her body had taken over.

She fumbled with the keys. Her fingers were shaking a little.

The dog must have been in the backyard because he didn’t rush to greet her. She followed the noises to the living-room and couldn’t help a smile when she spotted Haymitch sitting on the floor. April was on her back on the padded baby playing mat with yellow plastic arcs from which were dangling toys; she was letting out those delightful little chirping noises that sounded so much like laugher, her arms were reaching out as if she was trying to catch the giraffe-shaped rattle Haymitch was shaking above her head.

He glanced at Effie over his shoulder with an amazed look. “Here’s Mama. Be a good girl, now, sweetheart… Mama’s here to watch… Come on…”

“What happened?” she asked, almost in dismay. “What did I miss?”

She had missed it the first time April had managed to grab her ragdoll. Of course, she could only hold it for a couple of seconds, she lacked the strength to do otherwise, but it was always so precious when she grabbed her toys or stuffed animals, even for a short moment… Effie had been in the kitchen fixing her bottle and she had missed it.

“Nothing yet.” he smirked. “I think she was trying to roll on her side earlier.”

“By herself?” she exclaimed, excited. She joined him on the floor and sat on April’s other side, so proud she thought she would burst. She had noticed their daughter was trying more and more to lift her head when she was on her stomach and she was certain she would start crawling in a couple of weeks. But she had never rolled on her side by herself yet. “Should I grab the camera do you think?”

Haymitch shrugged his ignorance, making sure to keep April entertained by shaking the rattle. He was trying to coax her to the side, she figured.

After long minutes, he grew tired and placed the rattle down with a sigh. “Next time.”

“She’s growing up so fast.” Effie lamented, watching the baby suck on her tiny fist, drooling everywhere.

“We still have some time before she leaves the house for college.” he snorted.

“She’s almost three months old. Have you seen those weeks go by? I am telling you, she will be eighteen tomorrow and we won’t even realize.” she argued with a pout, reaching out so April would wrap her free hand around her finger. “Mama missed you very much, my darling. I am never leaving you for that long again.”

“You were gone two hours.” Haymitch chuckled. “Someone’s feeling dramatic today.”

Her pout deepened. She toyed with the idea of telling him about the newcomer but she decided against it. The man hadn’t been threatening. He hadn’t even insulted her or spat at her feet… Of course, he hadn’t exactly been nice either – or even polite – but… It was better than some of the things she had to content with in the District and, truth be told, it wasn’t the worst she could expect. People resented her presence and they had their reasons. It made her grateful for the ones who had chosen to actually look further than just her past as an escort and had welcomed her in Twelve.

“Where’s Katniss?” she asked. It wouldn’t do to be careless. The girl was around their house more often than not lately. Effie was now really thinking about remodeling the study into a guest room after all because the girl couldn’t keep sleeping on the couch. If this was to go on, she would prefer it if Katniss had her own space.

“Hunting.” he shrugged. “Sae needed some fresh meat.”

“Good.” she sighed, her annoyance coming back full force now that she was sure the girl wouldn’t accidentally overhear something that she didn’t particular want her to eavesdrop on. “I walked in on what would have been Peeta and that Cartwright girl’s first kiss. And I am not sorry I interrupted them, let me tell you.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “The boy was always the easy one. What the fuck is he doing making our life difficult now?”

Perhaps it was a sort of acting out, she mused. They had always been more focused on the girl because she was problematic and her rash actions made her a danger not only to herself but to all of them. And now there was April and Peeta had always been so self-reliant that they hadn’t been paying the boy much attention at all.

And perhaps it had nothing to do with them altogether and she was just being self-centered…

“Language.” she rebuked in an automatic response. “It is good we are taking Katniss away. I am starting to fear… This might not be an easy fix.”

“Yeah.” he agreed with a sigh. His gaze lingered on April and then came back on her. “You had fun with Eileen?”

She welcomed the change of topic with a grin. “Why, yes. We talked about buying more lingerie.”

“Is that so?” he smirked.

“Why?” she purred, batting her eyelashes. “Do you object to that?”

“Time for April’s nap, yeah?” he countered. “Can show you what I think about it…”

“Show me?” she teased, biting down on her bottom lip. “I did not know you cared to go over my wardrobe with me…”

She had missed the flirting and the teasing and she reveled in the way he was still looking at her. In the books, they warned going back to a normal sexual life could be a challenge for some couples. It was a field where they had never met a challenge in their life. She had feared he would treat her differently now but it had been unfounded.

“I’ve got a few id…” he started, a twinkle in his eyes only to stop and point at their daughter with an entirely different form of enthusiasm. “Look! She’s doing it again.”

And April was, in fact, trying to roll on her side.

“Should we help her?” Effie suggested, reaching out and letting her hands hover just in case the baby needed her. Not that their daughter could hurt herself but… “Show her how to do it?”

“She’s figuring it out.” he denied. “Look.”

It took a few more minutes before April managed to roll from her back to her side. Effie clapped with pride, her sight blurred by stupid tears. Haymitch wasn’t faring any better: looking at him and hearing the praises he was bestowing on the baby, you would have thought she had just climbed a mountain.

“She is so smart.” she whispered, unable to resist the urge to pick her up and cuddle her. Haymitch shifted, resting his back against the couch and she leaned against his chest without a second thought, completely relaxing once he wrapped his arms around the two of them. “So, so smart… You are going to be a genius when you grow up, my darling. You will do great things, I just feel it.”

She felt Haymitch’s lips against her hair.

“My girls are made for greatness.” he said very seriously.

She burrowed into his warmth and let everything that wasn’t this wash away.

Everything else didn’t matter.

Not when she had him and their baby safe and near.

[kairiofknives]

Trading Hearts (Part 2)

Summary:  It’s been months since Akira won his freedom and saved the world. Now, back in his home town, separated from his friends and girlfriend, Futaba, Akira finds that the place he grew up doesn’t necessarily feel like home anymore. Back in Tokyo, Futaba starts to piece together that Akira isn’t exactly happy with his change in scenery. She resolves to do what she can for the man who changed her life, whether he is aware of this endeavor or not.

Warning: Spoilers for end of game

Read on AO3

The walk home from school was boring to say the least. Kyoto was a sizable city, no loss for things to do should anyone want to do things, but it felt more hallow than somewhere like Tokyo. Akira guessed this was because his high school and most of his life was restricted to mostly one suburb. He lived ten blocks from his school. The strip mall was only another 15 minute walk from school. He lived near a pretty large city, but it has all the intimacies of a small village in rural no where.

Strolling up the stairs of his complex, he unlocked the door and called out "I'm home", despite the lack of need. He heard his dad jumbling around in his bedroom, probably packing his suitcase. Akira checked the time on his phone. His dad was probably running late.

"Welcome home!" Morgana greeted from atop his favorite plush chair. Akira smiled and patted Morgana's head. He adored that he and his best friend could still communicate, but whenever his dad was around, he stuck to physical affection rather than verbal conversation with Morgana. His dad was skeptical enough of his homecoming as it was. No need to make him think he was clinically insane.

He peeked into his dad's room for a minute. "Hey. How goes packing?"

His dad turned and nodded at him. "Hey, Akira. Well enough. I'm almost done. Should be out of here within the next fifteen minutes."

Akira nodded, "how long is this business trip for?"

"I should be back Wednesday. I'll leave you some money for groceries. Don't forget to get the cat more food."

Akira smiled, slightly amused. "I don't think Morgana will ever let me forget that."

Three loud knocks at the door interrupted their conversation. Akira frowned. That was strange. They almost never had visitors, and there was no reason for it now that his dad was leaving for the weekend.

His dad smiled. "Go answer that, would you Akira?"

His eyes narrowed. His dad smiling like that was also a bit weird. "Sure."

When he wandered back into the main room, Morgana was up against the window trying to see who it was. Akira met his eyes and made a questioning gesture. Morgana simply looked back at the window, then at Akira once more then jumped down, heading back towards their bedroom.

What the actual fuck?

The knocking came again. The boy sighed and went to the door, opening it rather quickly and muttering, "May I help you?" before he had a chance to see who it was.

The shut down of activities in his brain reminded him of the screech of a train's breaks as it entered the station. Or the sound of a record player scratching to a halt. The day had seemed somewhat normal before getting home. Maybe he had been hit by a bus crossing the street? Or he fell asleep in class and was still dreaming? He had felt a little weird about the fact that Futaba had said she couldn't talk at all today, given that she was off of school for a short break. But nothing set off alarm bells.

And yet, marvel of marvels, Futaba Sakura was standing at his front door, wearing a mile long grin and carrying a small duffle bag and a huge backpack with her.

"F-Futaba...?"

"Surprise!!" she cried, bouncing on her feet a bit. "I figured since I have a break from school that I'd come visit for awhile."

He nodded, only slightly comprehending what she was saying. Futaba kept on smiling, obviously pleased with herself and his reaction. Not even registering how impossible this whole thing was.

"Akira?" he heard his dad call from behind him, feeling amused. "Are you going to let your guest in?"

He spun around to face his father, feeling a bit lost. "You knew..?"

Futaba chirped, "I got your home phone number and address from Sojiro. Planned this whole trip myself! You should be proud!"

His dad laughed, gathering his bags together. "She was quite persuasive, I'll admit. Come on in, Futaba. Make yourself at home."

Futaba spared Akira a look. He moved further into the house, still not quite sure how to react in this situation. Futaba followed him in, seeming uncertain for the first time since she got here.

"You'll have to excuse my quick departure. I'm a bit late. Akira? A word?"

He nodded, giving his best attempt at a smile to Futaba, then following his dad outside and to the street.

"I was promised no funny business but, I know how it is to be young so, just in case, there are condoms in my bathroom."

Akira groaned. "Dad."

"Not saying you have to or even should make use of them but better safe than sorry, yeah? Be a gentleman, Akira."

"Yes sir."

"You can sleep in my bed if you'd like to give her space, but I trust your judgement, ok?"

"Ok..."

"Good. My taxi will be here any moment. Enjoy your weekend."

"Alright. Same to you."

Akira turned and walked up the stairs, waving once more to his father. At the door, he took a breath. Then another. Everything was fine. This was a nice thing. A pleasant surprise. No need to feel panicked. When he felt a bit better, he opened the door and stepped inside to see Futaba still standing in the middle of the living room, looking just as nervous as he felt.

"D-did your dad threaten you or something?"

Akira shook his head, leaning back on the door for support. "No. He told me there are condoms in his bathroom in case we end up having sex."

Futaba blushed bright scarlet, squealing a bit and breaking out into fidgets. "O-o-oh geez. Ooookay. That. Um. That is NOT how my conversation with Sojiro went. Um. Yeah. Your dad is... surprisingly chill."

He laughed a bit under his breath, smiling awkwardly. "Yes. He sure is."

They were quiet for a moment, each stewing in their own embarrassment and thoughts. Akira had just finally gotten over his shell shock at Futaba being here, all the way in Kyoto (ok maybe he still wasn't over it) when a quiet voice called out to him.

"Um. Akira... you're not mad at me for being here, right?"

His eyebrows shot up instantly. "Mad?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming. I wanted it to be a surprise. But I guess, maybe, you may not have wanted me here. I...really never considered that. But, if that's the case, I'll change my return trip to tomorrow. It's really no big-"

"Futaba, no. No no no. Oh, you giant goofball, come here."

Akira hurried to his quivering girlfriend and drew her tightly into his arms. He squeezed her tightly, pressing his face into the crown of her head, though the angle was a bit weird for his neck. Futaba's own arms slide around his waist after a moment of hesitation, gripping the back of his jacket tightly.

"I'm sorry I froze up like that. You really did surprise me. Don't mistake that for anger or disappointment though; I'm...really happy to see you. And really nervous because I didn't expect to have a full weekend alone with you out of nowhere."

Futaba laughed, slightly muffled by his shirt. "I'm so relieved! I was worried."

They stayed that way for a little while longer, before separating. "So. It's almost dinner time. Sadly I don't have too much to offer..."

Futaba perked up, running to her backpack. "Never fear! I thought ahead and brought this!" She revealed a container of curry and rice. "Figured you might want a little taste of home."

Akira's heart melted a bit. What on Earth did he do to deserve this? "You're absolutely right. Let's go heat it up."

Before they could get very far and streak of black flew across the small home. "Futaba!!"

The girl gasped in delight, passing the food to Akira so she could catch the bundle of fur in her arms. "Oh, Morgana! I missed you so much. You stopped saying hi to me during Skype dates. How rude."

Morgana was purring profusely, nuzzling his head against Futaba's neck and cheek. "That's not my fault! I wanted to keep talking with you, but this guy thought his dad might be weirded out if he caught you guys having a conversation with me."

Akira winced. That wasn't exactly how he wanted this conversation to progress. Moving into the kitchen and pulling out a pot, he acknowledged that it was bound to happen though. Part of the reason he was so hesitant to be excited about Futaba's presence was the inevitable discussion of his situation here. And honestly, knowing Futaba, that might just have been her intention all along.

"Care to comment on that, Akira?"

Yep, suspicions confirmed. This was an intervention.

Akira turned to look at Futaba, but instead of seeing annoyance or anger, he only saw anxious worry. He smiled to himself. Sweet girl was probably running herself ragged over this for days just to help him out. He might as well repay her generous amount of effort with a bit of his own.

"Let's make ourselves some food, then we will talk."

~~~

The curry had been everything his memory supplied him with and more. Sojiro had sent so much with Futaba that not only did they have enough for the two of them, and Morgana, but they probably also could get some breakfast out of it. What a good man, that Sojiro Sakura.

Morgana, now extremely content with how full he was, offered to go take a walk. Akira popped the kitchen window open so he could let himself back in when he wanted to, and he and Futaba headed to his room.

"Do you have school tomorrow, Akira?"

He nodded. "Yeah but I'd gladly skip if you wanted to spend the day doing something else."

She laughed. "Naw. It's ok. I think Morgana and I will have a nice relaxing morning lazing around. Then we can do something fun after school. Sound fair?"

Akira smiled, content to be able to plan to spend his afternoons with Futaba again. Just like old times.

Futaba took her time examining his room. He had shown her most of the decorations over Skype before, but he enjoyed watching her at any rate. Her wandering eyes and childlike wonder were huge reasons he enjoyed her company so much, after all. She noticed things most people didn't. And once the outside world stopped being such a place of terror for her, her interest in exploring was certainly adorable. Even though she only showed that interest with Akira present.

And if that fact made him endlessly happy and proud back when she was first starting to explore, could you really blame him?

Her exploration stopped at the framed pictured on his desk, just to the left of where he kept his computer. He inwardly sighed. Of course she would notice that. Futaba gently lifted the picture from it's place and examined it carefully. After pondering it a bit, she inquired, "is this from a school function of some sort?"

Akira nodded. "Graduation party at the end of junior high. It coincidentally was also an awards ceremony for the parents, so most of our class' parents are there too."

Futaba looked carefully down at the picture, searching for something. Akira explained before she could even ask, "You won't find him. My dad wasn't at that event. He was in Hong Kong at a huge conference for work."

Futaba swallowed. "And...your mother?"

"Took off when I was 6 months old. Haven't heard from her since. I was the only student there with no family members in attendance. But it honestly never bothered me. My dad worked his ass off to get a job that paid well enough to support us both. Luckily for him, he even enjoys it. The trade off was that he leaves for business often. But that was fine too. I've never needed much guidance from anyone and usually occupied myself easily. So it wasn't an issue."

"What about this issue with Morgana being allowed to speak?"

A chuckle.  "That's mostly me being paranoid.  My dad wouldn't send me away to a mental hospital or anything just because I started speaking to a cat.  He leaves me do my own thing, no matter how weird or out of the ordinary that thing is.  He's really a good father, all things considered.  Out of everyone in this town, I guess I just wanted to ensure I still had one person on my side.  You know?"

Futaba nodded, smiling at him, and replaced the picture on the desk. She took Akira's hand and pulled him to sit on the bed with her. Once they were both settled, she asked, "were you lonely?"

"Not particularly. I wasn't a social reject or anything. I played with tons of other kids in primary school. Hung out with people in junior high and even the first year of high school."

Futaba took his hand in her, playing with his fingers. He grinned, amused by her cute fidgeting. He pressed on, "if anything, the only weird bit was that I didn't consider anyone my friend."

"Yeah? Why not?"

"The city of Kyoto is big, but everyone I've gone to school with has been in this same suburb since we were in primary school. There was the occasional kid that moved in or moved away, but the vast majority of the faces and people never changed. And that sort of meant that we were already resigned to our opinions of one another. And we knew what other people thought of us. I was the quiet loner with no mother. My classmates expected me to develop severe emotional issues because that's what their mothers always gossiped about. I guess that's why my arrest was a surprise to basically no one."

Futaba squeezed his hand but said nothing. He continued, "when we last Skyped, you asked if coming home wasn't what I expected. I told you it was exactly how I thought it would be. And it was. I was used to everyone expecting terrible things from me. Tokyo was exactly like that at first too, which is why I was never bothered by it. Just because my record went away, didn't mean the negative opinions would. Here, that sort of thing follows you forever. So when everyone here wanted to speculate about who I killed to get my record changed, I wasn't surprised."

He paused, returning the squeeze Futaba had given him. He knew she wanted to hear this but that didn't mean he wasn't  waiting for her to ask him to stop. And if she did ask...he would. He didn't want to over step the boundaries of what she wanted to know accidentally.

"You also said it was you who changed. What does that mean?"

He laughed, slightly exasperated. "You heard that huh?" She nodded. "Like I said, the way I was treated at first in Tokyo was exactly what I expected. Sojiro treated me like a time bomb he was forced to hold. The kids at school were terrified of me, somehow personified my looks to match the rumors. As if a tall lanky kid with glasses looks like a criminal by stereotype."

"Fake glasses," Futaba corrected snidely. "Can't trust a guy who lies about being blind."

"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious," he snarked, obviously failing at hiding his grin.

Futaba nodded, compressing his hand once more. "So it was like that at first. But...?"

"But there were people who weren't like that. Ryuji and Ann fell to the rumors at first too. But after getting to know me, they would defend me to other people. The fact that they would do that...well it changed how I viewed the world essentially. I was changing the hearts of others in two different ways where I used to think those things were set in stone. Even Sojiro eventually came to welcome me into his world with open arms. After spending a year with friends, actual friends, and a patchwork family at LeBlanc, well how could I possibly be content with going back to square one?"

Futaba nodded, "So there's nothing actually wrong you just aren't satisfied with your surroundings because you found better ones."

"More or less."

"Makoto told me you weren't planning to take any college entrance exams. Said she thought you were facing some sort of resistance from your teachers and maybe even father. Is there any truth to that conclusion?"

He shook his head, smiling incredulously at Makoto's wit. "She really does put information together easily. Yeah, there's a bit of resistance I suppose. Dad wonders if I'm really serious about it. Said its pretty expensive to do on a whim. My teachers and advisors don't seem to think it's possible that I would want to take the exams. I was put into the regular, non college track classes by default. But honestly, I know that if I dedicated the time to talking to them, they'd all support the decision. I suppose my biggest hang up is that I'm not sure if I want to."

"Gotcha," she replied, releasing his hand and stretching a bit. Futaba turned to face him, opening her arms to him with a sweet smile on her face. Akira huffed out a laugh, unable to resist such a cute offer. Once he was wrapped up in her arms, she leaned back until they were laying back on the bed, both lying on their sides and holding onto one another.

The steady beat of Futaba's heart was calming. It could easily lull him to sleep if he wasn't still so lost in thought. Now, relaxed and much less nervous, the flood of emotions rose up to smack him directly in the face. Instead of trampling it down, as he always did, he let it spill out instead.

"I am not happy here. It's nice to see my dad again, but part of me is so bitter that he could just send me away like that, even if he claims it was for my benefit. Its funny. I expected Tokyo to feel more like a prison than jail, not to be more of a home than I'd ever had before. And I supposedly won my freedom back, but yet I returned here, to a place that still expects criminal actions of me. It's so hypocritical it's almost funny." His eyes started to burn. He closed them against the tears, snuggling further into Futaba's arms. "I don't know if I miss Tokyo. But I really miss my friends. And my family. The one I found and made for myself."

Futaba's thin fingers came up to stroke his hair, scratching lightly along his scalp. The feeling was heavenly. "What can I do for you, Akira?" Futaba tightened her hold on him. "Tell me. What do you need? Let me help."

Akira sniffled, shaking his head. "There's not a whole lot to be done for now. That's kind of why I didn't want to say anything to you. It's not that I don't trust you, or the group. Please believe me when I say that much. But, I don't want you guys agonizing over a situation you can't do much to fix. And don't say you wouldn't cuz you already have. You being here is proof of that." He smirked up at Futaba, whose eyes were also red rimmed and glistening. She stuck her tongue out at him, bringing another genuine smile to his face. "Honestly just this is enough. I feel better than I have in ages."

"Akira, even if I can't fix it, I want to help the situation. I think maybe you feel better now because you were able to vent. Think of Ann: how many times have we let her rant and rave about something we couldn't do anything about? This is just like that. No more secrets. Please?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You're right. Agreed, no more secrets."

He felt her smile against his forehead. "Good. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm about to pass out."

Akira chuckled. "Yeah. I'm tired too. I'll go sleep in my dad's room. Just a warning though, I share this bed with Morgana and he will likely join you in an hour or so."

"Perfect! I bet Morgana makes a great snuggle buddy." They shared a grin as Akira got up to show Futaba the bathroom and help her get ready for bed. "Hey, what should we do tomorrow after school?"

He considered their options for a moment before suggesting, "wanna see where I spent most of my life? I can give you the grand tour. I'll warn you though, it isn't very exciting."

"Sounds amazing!"

Akira spent that night in his dad's bed, eternally grateful that today ended up being completely and unexpectedly weird. And for the first time in awhile, he was looking forward to tomorrow.

~~~

"I still can't get over the fact that this part of town has four ice cream shops within ten blocks and a Starbucks but no dedicated electronics store."

Akira chuckled, placing his bag down on the chair by the door to his room and pausing to pat Morgana on the head. "The huge general store has enough for our every day needs. It's not like there was a real electronics store near LeBlanc either."

Futaba launched herself onto the bed with a heavy sigh. "Totally not the point, Akira. Why all the damn ice cream? There are better uses for the space."

Slipping off his jacket and hanging it neatly in his closet, Akira smirked over his shoulder at the redhead. "You couldn't possibly understand until you've tasted said ice cream. In the summer, those stores are actually heaven on Earth. And they each do something slightly unique with the ice cream."

"Four stores is still excessive. I mean, even if you had one scoop from every store that's still a metric fuck ton of ice cream. Can you imagine the brain freeze? I could never be trusted with that kind of power...I'd get so freaking fat," she grumbled poking her flat stomach.

Akira took a moment to admire Futaba. She seemed so at home, thrown over his bedsheets like she owned the place. He had spent an entire day showing off his childhood home to his girlfriend, who rode a train despite her huge amount of social anxiety from Tokyo just to see him and cheer him up. The abnormality of the whole situation just made it seem surreal. Things like this simply didn't happen to him. He would probably never be able to repay her...

But the day had been legitimately fun. They really hasn't even done anything but it was still the most enjoyable experience he had had since...well, since he was still the leader of the Phantom Thieves. That chapter of his life had indeed closed, but if Futaba was willing to push herself to make sure they stayed with each other in the chapters to come, he could damn well manage to reciprocate. The feeling of warmth that thought brought him settled in his stomach and sent excited shivers through his body. How ever could he expend all this pent up energy...?

Futaba chose that moment to prop herself up on her elbows to look at him. "Hey. Heyyyy. Whatcha thinking about over there, Mr. Dude?" The way her shirt had ridden up her stomach gave him a wonderfully pleasant idea.

A smirk slowly spread across his face. "I was thinking," he drawled, removing his glasses to stow them safely on his desk before he took a single step towards the bed. Futaba's eyes became alert instantly, cautious but also curious. Good girl. "Even if all that ice cream did make you fat, I don't think I'd mind all that much." Another step. "After all." He stopped moving, letting the muscle in his legs coil like a cat about to pounce. "There'd be more of you to tickle then."

Futaba shrieked, understanding flooding into her all at once. But it was far too late. Akira tackled her to the mattress, long, skilled fingers digging immediately into her sensitive sides, drawing laughing screams from his poor victim.

Akira had to hand it to her, for someone so small, she packed quite a punch. Her legs immediately came up to smack into his sides, hard, drawing pained grunts from his lungs. Her nails bit into his forearm and hip, pinpoints of pain not quite enough to force him from his perch. Her body writhed, bucking and twisting endlessly in her desperate attempt to flee. But Akira counteracted this particular measure by lowering more of his weight onto her, an almost instinctual response.

The laughs and struggling continued for awhile longer.  Akira in his flushed and equally giddy state, could not deny that the sensations coursing through him were remarkably intimate and that, under slightly different circumstances, such movements would even be considered erotic. Futaba's flushed face, heaving  chest and glittering eyes certainly didn't detract from that vision. His fingers were still smashed between them, gripping along the hacker's soft physique and using them to produce pleasant breathy noises from Futaba. Suddenly, Akira was warm for an entirely different reason, the sensory overload enough to pause his attack, allowing them both to catch their breath, foreheads pressed against one another, bodies still interlocked. Futaba's eyes slid shut in relief, a wide smile across her slightly parted lips.

Her lips.

Their previous dates had always been wonderful, but Futaba was still too uncomfortable with physical affection to kiss him before he left. Their heartfelt goodbye had been no less sincere with a bone crushing hug rather than a kiss, but that didn't mean Akira didn't want more.

And oh, he wanted.  Futaba was a complex creature of many different sides. One moment, she was gushing with the innocent childlike wonder of exploring new places and checking things off her promise list. Then next, she was mercilessly destroying their foes using her hacking abilities. Those moments, where he could practically smell the victory rolling off her in waves, made his gut tighten and breath quicken even before they had been together. The vivid and varied pieces of Futaba Sakura were all equally enthralling and he wanted nothing more than to be the singular benefactor of those elements forever.

A shuttering gasp puffed out against his lips, and he realized that in his thoughts he had leaned down to where their lips were separated by only a hair's width. Futaba's eyes were wide and trained to his own. He wanted. He wanted. But he wouldn't dare.

Rolling over onto his back, Akira folded his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes with a sigh. Glumly, he realized now why Sojiro was so loath to let them be alone once he knew they were dating. It was incredibly difficult to rip himself away from Futaba like that, but before he was ever her boyfriend, he was her friend. He knew she was still working on getting used to the social aspects of life. There were some, like being ok in places with people, that he allowed himself to push her into faster than she'd like. This was not one of those things.

Their relationship was not a stick Akira could use to scratch some primal itch. He loved Futaba and wanted just as much as she did to not have to exist without her around if he didn't want to. And if thus, he had decided long ago that advancing their physical relationship would be her call. Besides, he was happy with things just the way they were. He wasn't sure how fast he wanted things to go either.

Now if only his body would remember that.

"H-hey."

Opening his eyes, Akira turned his head to look at Futaba. Her eyes were trained on the ceiling with that familiar hint of determination. He smiled and hummed to show he had heard her.

"Ya know," she started, voice soft but clear. "The Joker I know has absolutely no problem taking what he wants, even if he has to steal it." She turned her head then to gaze into his eyes, a slightly smirk upon her lips, the challenge in her voice obvious.

Akira's breath hitched but he replied airily and without hesitation, "The most valuable treasures are those freely given."

"If I remember correctly, I'm the one who asked you to steal this treasure in the first place," Futaba snarked, looking much more relaxed already. She looked playful and excited and the confidence in her words made Akira shiver pleasantly. "If you need reminding, here it is: the treasure is yours to take if you want it."

Akira paused, then smiled and said, "Very well." Without waiting for a response, he sat up and jumped off the bed, smiling wider at Futaba's confused and displeased "huh?"

He strolled over to his desk, ruffling through it for the materials he needed. Working quickly, but legibly he finished his little project and tucked it behind his back as he strolled back to Futaba, whose eyes were sparkling, anticipating his next move probably.

"Here," Akira said, presenting the slip of paper to Futaba. "Addressed to one, Futaba Sakura."

Futaba's smile only grew wider. "A calling card?" She giggled, accepting the paper and sitting up. "Oh my. I'll have to read it."

Akira sat down on the bed next to her, biting his bottom lip slightly to attempt to hide his own smile. "Please do."

She cleared her throat theatrically, causing Akira to chuckle, and began, "To Futaba Sakura, the irresistible demon of cuteness." She paused to scoff and roll her eyes. "For your terrible crimes of being adorable, your heart shall be stolen. I will take from you a kiss, the most sought after treasure of them all, and make you change your evil ways. Sincerely, Joker."

Admittedly, the blush on Akira's cheeks couldn't get any deeper. He knew he was being cheesy when he wrote it, and looking at the soft glimmer in Futaba's eyes he knew he didn't regret it even a little bit. But damn, that was embarrassing.

"Wow," Futaba sighed, laughing a bit. "That was so cheesy I might die." They both chuckled. "There's only one issue, Mr. Phantom Thief." She turned to face him, blushing adorably.

"Oh," he grinned, "what's that?"

Futaba raised a hand to his cheek, cupping it gently, running her thumb along his slightly stubbled jawline. "You already stole my heart. I have the original calling card on my cork board to prove it." She continued to stroke, eyes trained on his lips as she licked her own to moisten them. Akira's breath quickened. "But I suppose, it wouldn't be true to say you can't steal it again. It honestly feels like you find new and interesting ways to steal it all the time. And I do hope you never stop wanting to steal it, so..."

Taking a deep breath, Futaba removed her glasses and set them on the nightstand before facing him again and meeting his eyes. "Steal away, Joker."

Akira let out a shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed with too many emotions. "Futaba." He slid his arms around the girl's waist, drawing her closer until they were almost chest to chest. Futaba balanced herself by putting her other hand on Akira's shoulder. He liked the weight of it. "You're just as cheesy as I am and definitely have stolen my heart multiple times too. Especially during this trip, I...can't even begin to explain how much you being here means to me. How much I needed this. So, since we are both obviously looking to steal from each other...how about we trade instead?"

Futaba's eyes grew wet and shiny and she sniffled once before nodding and pulling his face closer. Akira closed his eyes and leaned forward to meet her and their lips met softly.

The first kiss wasn't too much more than their lips pressing against each other, nor was the second or the third. But by the fourth, the nervous fibers holding them rigid collapsed and they melted into each other, trading long, sweet kisses and gasps when the need for air became too much. At some point, dozens of kisses later, Futaba's hands slide up into Akira's hair, becoming lost amongst the dense curls. Akira used one hand to draw Futaba closer, their bodies slotting together just as easily as their lips, and placed the other on the back of Futaba's neck, thumb resting just on the edge of her jawline to help position her head in the right angle.

The couple thought they could easily do this forever, but the kisses did naturally decrease in intensity and slow down. After awhile, they were mostly holding each other, with their foreheads pressed together, stealing occasional pecks. When they opened their eyes, they both whispered, "Wow," then laughed and kissed once more.

Eventually, they untangled themselves, both blushing profusely. Futaba collapsed on the bed on her back and opened her arms in invitation for cuddling. Akira naturally could not decline, and settled against her side, face buried in her neck. She ran her fingers through his ridiculously messy hair, and sighed happily. "I always thought kissing would be kinda gross, but that was pretty awesome."

Akira hummed, nuzzling his nose against her neck. "I'm glad you liked it. I will absolutely never be opposed to spending our time doing that."

"Well, good, cuz I'm gonna need some more of that before I leave on Monday. I might have become addicted."

"A tragedy to be sure. But sadly, I have no doubts that Sojiro would A) kick my ass and B) send you to a rehabilitation hospital if you told him that."

"Ha!" Futaba chortled, arms tightening around Akira. "You're so right. Guess we will have to keep a low profile."

Akira glanced up at her "Secret make out addicts?"

"Hell yeah," Futaba grinned.

They say in comfortable silence for awhile, before Akira sighed, "One more day."

Futaba's hands paused in their pattern of playing with Akira's hair. "Yeah." She resumed her motions, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "Hey." She got a hum in response. "Let's figure out a plan tomorrow. For what to do next."

Akira squeezed Futaba gently, asking "For the short term, or...?"

"For however much we can get done. We can look at your break schedule and ours and see when they match up. See if we can get you back to Tokyo for break. Then, start thinking about next year maybe. You've got to take college entrance exams soon if you're going to, right?"

"Yeah," he murmured.

"Let's look at some places and see what we can make happen. Even though we would be on break, I'm sure Makoto and Haru would help you study and give you pointers over break. We can call Ryuji and Ann and see what their plans are. We'll figure something out. As long as you can look forward to the future without hating what you see...I'll be happy."

Akira was silent, so for a minute she thought he fell asleep, but then he pushed himself up onto his elbows and kissed her soundly. When he pulled away, his eyes were slightly wet. "You're amazing, Futaba."

Futaba smiled and brushed his bangs back. "Yeah. So are you though."

He kissed her one more time then, said "Let's get to bed. We have a bunch of planning to do tomorrow apparently."

"Yessir!"

When Futaba left that Monday, Akira was disappointed to see her go, but wasn't sad. He had a good solid plan and amazing friends to help him with it, not to mention his fabulous girlfriend. He wasn't content with his situation in school or even at home, but he at least knew he had an escape plan and tons of support. There were certainly worse things.

[junotrash-blog]

AU ; Chapter 2

Pairings ; Main ; Kuroo/Reader

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Someone snaps their finger in front of your face bringing you out of your thoughts. You blink, looking up to see one of your co-worker and friend, Haiba Lev. Lev is a tall, half Russian-Japanese studying in the same university as you. You two know each other by working in the cafe, Lev works in the cafe a bit longer than you. The guy nearly scared you half to death with his intimidating height the first time you met when he is actually just a giant baby.

"You look tired, you okay?" He asked. The cafe today is not so busy unlike during the weekends. Your eyes gaze to the clock, it read, 3 : 17 PM then back to Lev.

"I guess I slept a little late last night. I also had a weird dream about meeting Kuroo Tetsuro...weird.." you answered, laughing sheepishly, "It felt so real but when I woke up I'm on a bed in my apartment that's when I realized it's just a dream."

"That's really a weird dream.." Lev agreed, looking out of the glass window of the cafe, his green eyes widened, tensing up immediately. 

"Is something wrong?" You followed his gaze to see a red ferrari pulled up just in front of the cafe. Lev excused himself, going to the back of the counter. Brows furrowed, you tilt your head. Why would someone that wealthy be coming to a cafe in this area? This area are mostly small shops and apartments. Nonetheless, you didn't really care, continuing to clean the tables.

It was a tiresome day today. Not getting enough sleep, tripped over your foot while in a hurry to go to class, going to class late and being lectured by a customer earlier today. You sighed at the thought. You feel that this is only just the beginning.

The sound of the cafe door creaked open along with the chime of the bell hanging on the door making you wince. Someone needs to oil the door. Even without looking you can hear heavy footsteps approaching your spot, probably to find a seat at the corner of the cafe. A shadow loomed over you and you told them that you'll be finish shortly.

"Found you, kitten."

Upon hearing the sound of that familiar voice, you perked up, slowly turning around to see Kuroo Tetsuro with a small smirk on his face, hand on his hips clad in a black suit. A confident aura surrounding him. The man's hair is as wild as ever just like what you saw on TV. Kuroo placed his hand on the already clean table, leaning slightly with the support of the said hand, head tilted.

"How may I help you..?" The unsure tone of your voice was a dead giveaway of how confuse you are. Suddenly, you wondered if you were hallucinating.

Kuroo raised a brow, his lips stretched even wider, "Not a single 'thank you' for bringing you back to your apartment after you passed out?"

So it wasn't a dream-

"Wait, it wasn't a dream?" You repeat your thought out loud.

Then you remembered that you saved his life last night by pushing him out of the way.

"Hah? You should be the one who says 'thank you', I saved your life! If not then you'd be a barbecue!" a glare was sent to his way, and the man held his hands up defensively.

A squeak interrupted before you can lectured him further. Your manager straightened up, her eyes wide in a panic, "___, apologize right now."

Mouth gape open, you stared at her in disbelief, "But manager, he-"

"I'm sorry about this, boss!"

Boss?

You did a double take, looking between the manager then Kuroo alternately before you let out a loud 'what'. Lev who was behind the counter, ducked his head down, pretending to be making coffee. Some people in the cafe either whispered to themselves while some began to pull out their phone in case something happened. 

"I own this place, lady." Kuroo leanes his face dangerously close to you, his hazel eyes gleamed in amusement, "..and coincidently, you work here which made it easy for me to find you."

"What do you want from me then, sir?" 

The man grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you out o the cafe whilst you complained in protest. The manager and Lev can only stare as you were dragged into the red ferrari that you now know belongs to Kuroo Tetsuro, the renowned billionaire and founder of Nekoma, the private police force. He shoved you into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut then went to the driver's seat, putting on his seatbelt, you followed suit even though you are tempted to jump out of the vehicle and run for your life.

If not for the gun you now noticed tucked in the pocket of his pants.

As he drove off, you prayed to whatever is up above the heavens to save you from this man for you did not do anything wrong to deserve this. What if he is taking you to jail because you're a Special? It is well known how much Kuroo dislike Specials, Specials who commit crime. So it's a relief (not really) since you've never commit a crime your whole life unless having a cup of coffee in Black Cat cafe without paying is one.

"I need you to do something for me."

Kuroo suddenly spoke up, his eyes trained on the road in front of his, making a sharp right turn casing your head to bump against the window followed by a hiss escaping your lips.

"Oops, sorry."

"It fine," You spat bitterly, crossing your arms, "Before answering your question, how did you know where I live?"

"Now, now, no need to get all angry sweetheart," Kuroo teased, causing you to feel even more annoyed, "I saw your ID in your bag and did some background check."

You did a double take at what he said , "You rummaged through my bag? And why a background check?!"

"Just to make sure you don't belong to ant of those gangs wandering around the city, especially a Special."

You've never felt this offended in your whole life.

"Excuse me? Just because I have abilities you don't have doesn't mean you have to discriminate me like I'm some sort of wild, rabid animal. Why do you hate us so much-"

"Because your kind killed my parents."