Title| you're a masterpiece
Genre| romance / humor / comfort
Rating| k+ - t
Fandom| Tokyo Ghoul
A/N| let's pretend that Akira simply doesn't have her quinque because she's waiting for a new one to be commissioned/someone fucking took it because they want her dead or they want her angry. Either way, she goes to the grocery store and she runs into a strange couple there.
A/N 2| i am not yet completely familiar with Akira's character, but it's 4 AM and i wanted to write something cute.
Shopping — Akira
Akira liked to think of herself as a reasonable person, a strong member of the CCG and master of self-control. And yet, she could not help the hair on the back of her neck standing up because right in front of her was a young man with snow white hair.
She had stopped at the grocery store on her way home, determined to have a decent meal for herself — no one was getting time to eat right these days — and after a quick whirl around the otherwise deserted corner grocery store, she had gathered her items and stepped up to get in line at the only register to find him before her.
She had seen the white-haired ghoul before, dead-on, his half-mask leering menacingly at her as his single eye narrowed in something like hatred. She had been fascinated by the stories Amon had shared with her of the particular ghoul that had been, up until recently, partial only to the Twentieth Ward. Off the record, Amon had told her — under strict confidence — that around the time the ghoul had first shown up he had spoken to him and warned him to get away.
Akira felt an involuntarily shiver roll down her spine as she stepped up to the register, pretending to fiddle with her bags as she inspected this possible ghoul.
From behind, she could trace a resemblance between him and the white-haired ghoul; so much so it was startling. He was around the same build and height, but the clothes he was wearing were much looser than the leather, all-black ensemble the white-haired ghoul wore like a uniform.
Then the obvious, and obnoxiously, colored hair which could simply be just a passing fad amongst college students and the like who actually wish to look like the creatures that kill in the night. She clucked her tongue in distaste and tried to see around him for what he was buying.
It was the most obvious answer, though she could be only assuring herself. If the boy — a college student by the looks of his shabby dress — was buying food he was just a weirdo, if not.
Except the store clerk had already bagged his items in canvas and was chatting him up as he nodded sympathetically. "Are you ready for that test on Western Literature this week? Kami, I think I'm going to fail."
"Well, I can let you look at my notes tomorrow. I have a free hour around noon."
Annoyed, Akira wondered why they were just standing there. There was a line and she was out without her quinque. She wanted to go home and get some rest until such time as she could have her quinque again, then she would be fine to be roaming about at all hours.
"Excuse me," She had been glaring at the two so intently, she had not realized the other man sneaking up on behind her.
Akira's head snapped back to the man who had spoken. Sunglasses, she noted upon seeing him, and then the gleam of the silver lip and eyebrow ring sunk in with tattoos, tattoos, tattoos. His hair was long and dark, with part of his head shaven into fine bristles as the rest was gathered into a ponytail.
Kami, he looked like the kind of man a rebellious girl would take home to meet her parents.
"I'm with him." He indicated to the college student with one long, painted finger.
"Oh, of course," She took a step back and he shuffled passed her, his arms — tatted forearms on display until the sleeves of his cardigan covered her view — were full of coffee filters which he unceremoniously dumped onto the counter. He was wearing clothes similar to the college student, but much better suited for him. Loose necked tee shirts, frumpy and torn jeans, a cascade of jewelry. He looks like a goth hipster.
"Think you got enough?" The cashier joked, but quickly scanned and bagged the items upon catching Akira's murderous glare.
"We drink coffee like its water." The tattooed man stated as a way of answer, and then looked to his companion, a elegant brow quirked, "Ooh, did we forget —?"
"We have a case back at the apartment." The college student soothed and began to take out his wallet to pay. He swiped his card and punched in the pin number. The taller man peered over him.
"Was that my birthday?"
"Why are you looking at my pin-number, Uta-kun?"
He smiled at him. "You make it so easy." Bags swinging at his sides, Akira could see that they were, indeed, full of coffee cans. Six, to be exact.
In that moment, the cashier turned his head to punch something into the slow moving register—are you fucking kidding me? Akira glared at the cashier — the tattooed man leaned down, stealing a quick kiss that Akira had seen thousands of times from hundreds of other couples. The college student hummed and gathered up the rest of the grocery bags, staring dreamily up at him.
Akira balked, unbeknownst to the two in front of her.
"Have a great day!" The cashier chirped as the two sailed out the door, made a left turn and were soon out of sight. "Uh, next?"
She was going home.
Do you think I actually know what this is? Crack, possibly crack.
I've fallen in love with Tokyo Ghoul and I am never going back.
-queenchesh