#Not sure if I'll make this Dead Tired or gen yet

[dcxdpdabbles]

Mr Flavor Soda Part 2

Mr. Flavor's Soda gains traction once the creator starts selling in a fixed place. Anthony's Pasta also grows in customers when word gets out that there is a surefire way of crossing paths with Mr. Flavor on Mondays and Fridays.

It's mainly because Mr. Flavor has gained a reputation for being hard to find. It was almost as if he vanished from one side of the city to the next without so much as a hint of how he got there.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't well known. He was a young teenager, likely fifteen or so, who always rushed about Gotham doing questionable parkour.

People had seen him climb up fire escapes only to do crazy leaps, looking to be aiming for his knees to break on each landing. He was spotted doing cartwheels across walking lanes, sometimes going over the hoods of cars that stopped on the lines instead of around.

He deliberately looked for the most haunted places in Gotham, walking with a traveling tea set because "the ghosts like to have tea parties." He had picnics in the middle of dark alleys, asking the air if it would like a second cup but pouring nothing from his teacup.

People were often confused by his responses when speaking to him. Nothing he said was particularly bad, but it showed his severe social awkwardness.

Customers walked away bemused but holding bottles of delicious beverages.

Another odd thing about the boy was his refusal to sell any of his creations for more than a single dollar. Nothing in Gotham was cheap. A regular Zesti was at least two dollars and nineteen cents, but Mr. Flavor looked appalled to charge so much.

A kid claiming to be among the original group that discovered Mr. Flavor, bestowing him the nickname, quoted the strange soda maker as saying, "If someone gives me a dollar, then I am one dollar richer. But if someone gives me two dollars, then they are two dollars poorer instead of only one."

It sounded humble on the surface, but it didn't really answer the questions the kid had originally asked him which were: "Why do you only charge a dollar? Why not more?"

Some people in Gotham were weary of Mr. Flavor. He didn't sound all quite there in the head. He wasn't near the level of insanity of the supervillains running around, but it wouldn't be a surprise if they all woke up one day to find out Mr. Flavor had snapped.

The remaining skeptics also regarded his drinks with cautious eyes. Despite his claims and the word of Red Hood, many wondered if Mr. Flavor was putting some kind of drug in his drink, hoping to spread it to the masses with his cheap prices.

If he was even selling soda at all.

Zesti is a familiar and beloved brand, but Mr. Flavor was once seen tasting the beverage and shouting, "Is this cream soda?!" He then bought one bottle or can of every soda option from the same gas station.

Each one was apparent "cream soda" according to Mr. Flavor. It was confirmed that the drinks the young boy made were far from the flavor of what they considered soda.

Now, Tim didn't see anything wrong with that. Jason had brought back samples of the other's work, and though the ingredients were interesting, they were ultimately confirmed to be soda. Or as close to soda as Mr. Flavor claimed it was.

He was just a bit eccentric while wandering Gotham. Nothing to worry about. Tim, knowing Jason, Bruce- and maybe even Dick with how determined his eldest brother was to try one of the sodas- had everything regarding Mr. Flavor under control; he chose to turn his attention to a series of missing people reports hitting Old Gotham.

There was no visible connection with the victims besides all having long chestnut hair. Age, gender, and social class didn't matter to whoever was taking these people- and Tim knew they were being taken. Tim found it strange that people who vanished were last seen near the same area, having built a map showcasing they were being targeted within a triangle that covered well-known shopping districts.

It was a bit of ground to cover, but Tim figured if he wandered around there long enough, he would attract the kidnapper's attention. He opened his closet, dusted off his old wig, and an hour later, Caroline Hill made her way over to Old Gotham.

Tim originally hated his Caroline Hill as he did not like disguising himself as a woman, but over time, he grew to adore how easily he could change her backstory and his mannerisms to fit with whoever Caroline was that day.

Sometimes, Caroline was a first-year medical student working through clinicals and rotations. She was overworked, under a lot of stress from her assignments, and didn't have time to be distracted by a social life, much less a man asking her out.

Sometimes Caroline was a highschool student who enjoyed community service. She was friendly, outgoing, and more then willing to take the lead in projects. She was naive and sheltered not losing faith in people quite yet.

Other times, Caroline was a high school dropout who didn't know what she wanted. She would apply to any job that would hire her, dreaming of leaving Gotham one day to find a dream to chase. To her, life was dull and meaningless.

Caroline was even a fashion model once. She was famous for her streetwear outfits and gorgeous selt-taken shots. Tim was proud to say her submission to LexCorp's phone promotion contest was still being broadcast, and she received checks for her work. She oozed confidence as a woman who knew what and when she wanted it.

It showed in her walk as she strutted down Old Gotham, stopping to enter any clothing Boutique she saw under the pretense of looking for an outfit for a big-shot party. She was dressed like the world was her runway, but not a red carpet.

If anything, she dressed like a woman who used to live in Old Gotham during its glory days, gracefully wearing the vintage outfit.

Her attire drew the eye of more than one person, especially when she ran her hand through her long, lush hair, making it fall smoothly against her lower back.

Tim figured model Caroline would be a much more tempting target, mainly because she carelessly browsed the various shops and little cafes. Anyone who watched her could tell she was unaware of her surroundings, and Tim had to carefully ensure they never doubted her blindness for even a second.

It was well; he was in an antique shop, glancing at lipstick holders, when something finally happened. The door swung open with a bang, and he allowed himself to jump as it would be something Caroline would do.

"Sorry! I gave the door a little too much razzle instead of dazzle!" a voice yells. Tim twists around to see a boy his age, with wild black hair—as if he did try to run a comb through it, but the strains refused to yield—and big, sparkling, far too aqua eyes.

Was he wearing cheap color contacts? Or was he a meta?

"No problem, Danny." Ms. Pinkney, the owner, a sweet woman who had refused to marry and was now approaching her sixties, smiled back. "Are you here again to play with Cyrus?"

"Yup, I'm going to beat him today." The boy chirps, walking over to a display that was roped off. He didn't seem to care for the sign on the red rope that read "WARNING: HAUNTED BY ANGRY SPIRIT" as he stepped over it.

It was the notoriously cursed chessboard and the two original armchairs from the eighteen hundreds.

Tim knew of the rumor that the man responsible for Gotham's architectural style- Cysrus Pinkney- had been in the middle of a chess game with his friend Solomon Wayne on the eve of his fortieth birthday when he had died.

He had been poisoned in the middle of a large party thrown by Henry Cobblepot, and no one to this day knew who his murder had been. Following Pinkney's death, terrible things happened to anyone who tried to sit or even move the chessboard. Sounds of chess pieces clicking on the board, low mutters in a man's voice, and even the chair moving back and forth began to appear.

Figthen that Cysrus still lingered; Henry had gifted Cysrus's wife the two chairs, the board, and the table it sat on. She took it home and learned that only she and her children were allowed near Cysrus.

He attacked all the others, including Solomon and his other best friend, Amadeus Arkham. The attacks were so bad that everyone eventually knew not to bother Cysrus.

He became an Urban Legend of Gotham, and many tourists would travel to Old Gotham just to gawk at the Pinkey's haunted family heirlooms.

Tim watched him confidently sit in an armchair before a chessboard. He gave the opposite chair across from him a wide smile. "Hiya Cyrus."

A lamp near Tim was flung at the boy, who took the hit with a laugh. "No need to be rude."

The lamp shattered against the ground, appearing to have been lifted again, only to fall as the boy reached out and moved a pawn. Tim's stomach dropped. His experience with Greta had taught him that ghosts were very real and, when their deaths were left unsolved, often very violent.

This guy had no idea what he was dealing with.

He opens his mouth when the teenager is suddenly flung from his seat, flying across the room and smashing against the wall. Ms. Pinkney laughs as if she just saw a toddler throw a fit.

"Honestly, grandfather, must you be so rude? Danny is just trying to play with you."

Tim watches her hair shift as if someone- or something- was ruffling her hair. Yikes, it was a poltergeist who unliked Greta was not visible but able to touch anything he pleased.

"Knight G1 to F3!" Danny yells, climbing to his feet. The scraping sounds of something being dragged across the floor as Danny twists around with his arms spread wide as a very large wardrobe rushes at him. He welcomed the attack like an old friend, nose cracking as it broke.

"Going Ghost!" Danny screams through his blood, landing on the ground as the wardrobe nearly crushes him.

Tim's mouth drops open. He's taunting Cyrus!? Not challenging his existence but straight up taunting the angered spirit?!

"Grandfather!" Ms. Pinkney scowls. "Stop this at once! You're usually more friendly than this. Danny is a guest!"

"It's okay, Ms. P! I think it's almost Cyrus' death day. All ghosts tend to get a little cranky around that time. Besides we're scaring the lady."

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for " lady" Danny to refer to him as he still wears Caroline. It's enough for the boy to leap to his feet, pat himself down—ignoring the broken nose—and strut to Tim.

Before the undercover man can say anything, Danny yanks out a bottle and hands it over. "Sorry about that, ma'am. Here, I have one on the house."

A Mr.Flavor bottle is thrust into his hands; the bubbling clear water with the leaping boy has green and yellow undertones. It's the only difference to the bottle Jason showed him not too long ago.

The teenager smiles, his teeth colored red. "You're quite pretty. Have a good day! Don't let your drink get warm!"

Then he skipped right out.

"Wha?" He blinks, and Ms. Pinkney slides right up to him with a ruthful smile.

"I know what you're thinking. I don't believe Danny is eccentric, but he has a good heart." She starts carefully, studying Tim's face with far too much intensity. It's not the kind of attention that one gives someone who they are just trying to convince to leave someone else alone. Her eyes linger on his wing for a few seconds too long.

Isn't her shop smack in the middle of the missing people's map? Interesting.

"Who was that?" He says instead, making sure Caroline's voice sounds breathy and sweet.

She smiles "Danny. But most know him as Mr.Flavor."

Tim looks at the bottle in his hands, feeling the ice-cold beverage- did he just pull it out of a freezer?- and unclips it to have a sip. It's nothing like soda, but it is at the same time.

It was far smoother than other sodas, with far more bubbles, and the flavor made his tastebuds sing.

"Oh, looks like you got Sprite. That's one of my favorites," Ms Pinkney comments. "Rare that one. Danny usually sells out by now."

"Does he come here often?"

The old woman laughs. "I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree, dearie."

Not what he meant, but if it kept his new number one suspect to chat more, he is fine with the assumption.

"Does he not like girls?" Tim asks, allowing his features to pull into a pout. He is very grateful that her made Caroline young enough to pass for his own real age.

"I don't believe he likes humans, I'm afraid. Male or female."

Huh?

But Ms. Pinkney's attention was distracted by the chess board, which shook slightly as the pieces previously moved by Mr. Flavor returned to their starting positions. She walked over to carefully lift up the thrown wardrobe.

Tim is quick to help her, slowly restoring the shop to its former glory. It's only after they finish that the old lady glances in the direction in which Mr. Flavor disappeared.

"Grandfather Cyrus is my great-great-great-great-grandfather. It's easier for me to call him grandfather since he's been around for generations, but his closeness has made the family tree a bit sensitive to the paranormal. I'm unsure what Danny is, but he doesn't feel human." She sighs. "I doubt he will find what he is looking for if he continues going about things like this."

"Like what?" Tim asks, stepping closer. "What's Danny looking for?"

The old woman's dark eyes chill down his spine as she gazes at him. "Death."

In the corner of Tim's eye, a man sitting at a chess set nods his head. He decides it's a good time to end his daily undercover work. Tim leaves, strutting with less grace as his mind recounts everything he knows about Mr. Flavor.

He is unaware of the person watching him from the alley, eyes tracing the lovely mane of chestnut hair. The grin that blooms over their face is nothing else but hungry.

[justanotherfoolhere]

I managed to write something for the KakaIru Valentine’s Week 2021!

Me: I want to write something. Maybe a double drable or a ficlet. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.

Also me: spends the whole day writing a 3k words one-shot. Ooops.

Anyway:

Title: Soulmates (I know, very original)

Rating: T (could be gen)

Pairing: Kakashi/Iruka

Wordcount: 3283

Tags: Kakairu Valentines Week 2021, Fluff, Light Angst, Soulmates, First Dates, Friends to Lovers

You can read on ao3 too!

            Soulmarks appeared around six or seven years old.  But it was not as exciting as one could imagine: as much as the tropes of 'first words they say to you', 'a cool mark where they first touch you' or even 'matching marks' or 'their favorite thing tattooed on your skin' were popular in books and films, the reality was far less thrilling.

               Words appeared on your forearm, but not the first ones they would say to you. No. The words that appeared were the ones they would say the moment they realized they loved you. It didn't even have to be words they say to you. You could very well never get to hear the words yourself, if whoever your soulmate is realized it when by themselves.

               All in all, soulmarks weren't that important. They were not reliable and, even if they were, they just made sense when your soulmate already loved you. Not that helping at all. Sure, children loved seeing the words and tracing their little fingers over them, and teachers took advantage of that to teach them proper spelling, reading, writing and calligraphy. Nothing made a kid work harder at writing something right than copying the words on their forearms over and over again.

               Adults, on the other hand, mostly ignored them. Sure, some helpless romantics (cough, cough, Gai, cough) still clung to them like a lifeline, but most people just kept going about their lives and never seeking them out.  Let life that its course and everything.

               Kakashi avoided his like the plague.

               It hadn't always been like this. As a child, he liked to daydream about his soulmate as much as his peers. Things got different when his father died though. Grief settling in, chilling his bones and washing away his childlike hopes. Things only got worse when his team died, when he saw Obito be crushed and failed on his only promise, failed to keep Rin safe. Then their sensei died too and he was alone.

               He didn't deserve love. He didn't deserve a soulmate.

               And a bitter and irrational part of him reminded him that everyone who loved him died. He'd be doing his soulmate a favor if he never met them.

              *

               People thought Kakashi was being stubborn or proud when he refused to go to the hospital after a dire mission. He wasn't. Well, not totally.

               When he was a kid, the words on his forearm sounded odd yet funny.

               Of course he'd try to shrug off a stab wound, the idiot.

               Like, him? Getting stabbed then just walking away? Sure, little Kakashi knew first hand how a ninja's life could be rough, but the idea was so foreign and ridiculous. He'd never ignore something so drastic!

               Also, it sounded like a funny thing to say when you love someone. Didn't sound affectionate at all.

               He was glad for it when he grew up. Maybe his soulmate wouldn't be burdened with loving him (sure they would like Kakashi a bit, but maybe not love him). And maybe Kakashi wouldn't even be present to hear it, since the sentence wasn't adressing him.

               Still, he didn't want to take any chances. So, since Kakashi can remember, he stitches up his own stab wounds. Avoiding getting stabbed also helped, but it was near impossible in fights with shurikens, kunais and the ocasional sword.

               He figured whoever his soulmate was, they must work at a hospital or be a medical nin. So he avoided both. Seemed like the best course of action.

              *

               It was just another day. A common, boring day. Kakashi was waiting in line to hand in his mission form (he was still scribbling some things on it as he waited) and could barely wait to be done with it, so he could drop dead on bed. The last mission was a nasty one and he had barely washed the blood off his face before coming here.

               Sure, he could procrastinate it, as he ever did, but now he had five old mission reports still blank and an increasingly annoyed Iruka who chewed him out for it. So he decided to drop the habit and actually hand in this one as soon as possible.

               His whole tired body complained about this choice, though.

               "I can't accept it," Iruka said with a thinly-concealed scowl.

               "Why not?!"

               "Well, for starters, you're still writing it," Iruka gestured to Kakashi still scribbling on the form, using the desk for support, "go home and rest a bit, Kakashi. You can give me the report tomorrow," wow, Kakashi thought, he should look really deplorable if Iruka missed the opportunity to reprimand him.

               He didn't recall when Iruka went from calling him "jounin-san" to "Kakashi", maybe sometime between their quarrels about what an acceptable form was, but it always made his heart skip a beat. A silly little crush, but Kakashi allowed his heart this treat. It's not like he'd ever act on it anyway.

               "Yeah, maybe I should," Kakashi concedes, too worn out to complain. A shame really, he wanted to see Iruka smiling at him for handing in a report in time for once.

               He manages to walk away two steps before Iruka calls him again, scowl deepening and something too akin to concern on his voice.

               "Kakashi, you're bleeding."

               "Oh, that?" He look at the growing blood stain on his vest. It didn't seem too serious in the fight, and he could barely feel it over his generaly aching body, "yeah, I just came from the mission, I'll take a look at it at home," he smiled, trying to look reassuring despite the mask covering most of his face.

               "Fine," there was a finality to his tone. Kakashi thought it'd be the end of the conversation.

               Than Iruka called someone to cover for him and, in less than a minute, he was up and grabbing Kakashi by the hand.

               Kakashi made a mental note that Iruka was fast and could move pretty silently when he wanted to. The blush on his face hidden by the mask.

               "Uh, you don't have to—"

               "I do," Iruka cut him with his best non-nonsense voice, "since you clearly can't be trusted to prioritize you own well-being, and I'm sick of watching it after every mission of yours."

               He let Iruka half-guide half-drag him, not even bothering to keep track of where they were going until he sees himself being pulled inside Iruka's apartment.

              *

               "I know it's a mess," Iruka didn't sound apologetic in the slightest, "but it'll have to make do," he gestured for Kakashi to sit on the sofa, throwing some things on the floor to make space, and went to fetch a first-aid kit in the bathroom.

               Kakashi took a moment to took everything in. The papers and books thrown everywhere, a few take-out packages littering the floor, the clothes scattered around. It was not dirty, just messy, which made sense with how much work Iruka had between teaching kids and scolding jounins. He probably didn't spend that much time here. Enough to make a mess, but not enough to tidy it properly.

               Still, it felt homey. Warm and safe.

               "Shirt off," Iruka came back, a serious expression, and motioned to his blood-soaked vest.

               "Maa, sensei, at least pay me a dinner first," Kakashi joked, attempting to both lighten the mood and conceal his own nervousness. Iruka didn't seem impressed.

               "Fine, fine," he took his shirt off, it landed with a wet thump on the floor.

               Iruka's eyes widened for a sec before he recomposed himself.

               "I can't believe you decided to wait on a line to hand me a half-written form after you got stabbed," Iruka sighed, pouring antiseptic on the wound without a warning, "whoever let you graduate in Academia is a moron. You have no sense of self-preservation. Or common sense," he admonished.

               Kakashi winced at the sudden sting of antiseptic, but accepted the scolding. It was fair enough. Despite the harsh words, Iruka's hands were gentle when he started stitching him up.

               "It was not really stabbing, just a tiny hit. With a kunai," He said nonchalant. Maybe Iruka would give it less importance if he did too, "I've had worse."

               "I don't doubt it," Iruka didn't look at him, his eyes on the task, "And most people call 'a hit with a kunai' stabbing," he said wryly.

               Ouch.

               When Iruka was finished with the stitches, he put some ointment over the wound and dressed it. Kakashi insisted it was more fuss than it was worth.

               "Just lie down and get some rest," Iruka sighed, "I'll fetch you some pillows and a blanket. Don't you dare getting up,"

               "Really, you don't have to. I'm fine, I can go and sleep in my own house."

               "I want to," and there it was, the finality to his voice that made clear not even the Hokage could get Kakashi out of that couch, "now stop being stubborn for a second and sleep."

               Kakashi complied (what other choice did he have, really?) and Iruka made sure to get him comfortable, a pillow under his head, another one supporting his sore legs and a fluffy, warm blanked tucked snugly over him.

               Kakashi was drifting off to sleep when he heard Iruka muttering to himself.

               "Of course he'd try to shrug off a stab wound, the idiot."

               Kakashi heart raced a bit, the too familiar words sounded weird now that he actually heard it. He'd have fled if he wasn't so comfortable and on the brink of sleep.

               His last thought was that he was wrong about his soulmate not liking him that much. He'd never imagined someone could say "idiot" in such a fond, loving tone.

               *

               Kakashi's half-baked plan of avoiding Iruka didn't even have a chance to be properly formed. It'd be a nigh impossible task when he woke up on Iruka's sofa, covered in Iruka's blankets, inside Iruka's house and with a very nonchalant Iruka sat on the floor near him with a new take-out bag on his lap.

               "Oh, good, you're awake," he said, putting his food down, "Hungry? I bought some ramen."

               "I— Ah," he said eloquently, "no, you shouldn't have bothered. I'll— I should head home now. Finish all that late reports and everything," he all but stumbled while trying to get up.

               There was a faint, amused smile on Iruka's lips.

               "That's okay, Kakashi, calm down," he handed him a bowl of ramen, "you can run away and never look at me again after you eat," his voice was even. It didn't sound like a joke nor a reprimand.

               Kakashi accepted the chopsticks offered to him and they ate in silence. there was still a bundle of warm blankets on Kakashi's feet and the sofa was more inviting than it had a right to be.

               Iruka didn't look bothered at all for the silence. His face was unreadable, as if he already expected it.

               Wait—

               "You knew!" Kakashi accused, pointing a finger at him.

               "I knew what?" Iruka feigned inocence, then, when Kakashi grunted, added more serious, "yeah, I figured it out some time ago."

               Kakashi was stunned by how lightly he said it.

               "How long ago? Exactly?" He narrowed his eyes. Iruka put a hand on his neck, a nervous habit.

               "Well... I kind of knew since we became sort-of-friends? But I just confirmed it some months ago," he tried to laugh it off, then extended his forearm to Kakashi's field of sight.

               There, in neat letters, was written Maa, Iruka, I already said I'll finish the reports! No need for violence.

               Kakashi kind of remembered this talk. It was so similar to all the others they had that it was hard to place exactly when this one took place. Iruka had rolled up a magazine and smacked Kakashi's nape with it, saying he would 'beat some sense of responsibility into him if he had to'.

               "There are not a lot of people who never hand in their reports and are on a first-name basis with me," he explains, "the 'maa' narrowed it down a lot too."

               "...I see," Kakashi was at a loss of words. So his soulmate wasn't a medical-nin like he thought, but a sensei with years of practice in patching up kids and adults alike.

               "Yes. Well, I, uh," this was getting more awkward by the minute, "I'll go back to work now. you can take you time before you leave. Eat, take a shower... You can hand all your late reports to someone else later."

               Iruka was already getting up to leave when Kakashi hastily grabbed his wrist.

               "Wait! Are you leaving just like that? After telling me you knew I was your soulmate for months?"

               "Well, I figured you didn't want a soulmate," He smiled, and there was no judgement there, "I wouldn't have told you, either. But, since, you know now, I guess it's okay if you want to put some distance between us," he motioned vaguely to the pillows Kakashi had knocked on the ground in his hurried attempt to leave.

               Kakashi couldn't find a good enough answer, so he watched mutely as Iruka made his way to the door and closed it after him.

               *

               Days passed.

               Kakashi thought it'd be fine. Iruka have handled everything so well. They hadn't sought each other out and, when they bumped into each other, Iruka was polite but distant. 'Kakashi' went back to 'jounin-san' or even 'Hatake-san'. He didn't act weird or sad either.

               So why did it hurt so much?

               Kakashi felt like he was missing something. Which made no sense whatsoever, because he and Iruka never were a thing to start with.

               Iruka was right, he didn't want a soulmate. Never wanted one. The lingering thought that he would hurt whoever it was or that he didn't deserve any happiness present on his mind since he was a kid.

               Yet there he was, hurting and wanting to go after him.

               He's better off without me, Kakashi reminded himself once again.

               *

               It took Kakashi almost a month to put his finger in what exactly bothered him so much. He came to two conclusions.

               One: Iruka was a good liar.

               The scene of him leaving with a smile played again and again in Kakashi's mind, haunting his dreams and following him through the day. It hurt, like being rejected on repeat, nonstop. A cruel thing, really, like his mind enjoyed torturing itself.

               But then he payed attention to details, like he should have done since the beginning. Like any good jounin would have done. Iruka left with a smile, and it looked real, but he wouldn't meet Kakashi's eyes. And his tone was too cheerful, as if he was trying to compensate for something.

               Every time he bumped into Iruka (accidentally at first, deliberately later), he saw it. The hesitance, the too-happy smile, the eyes wandering around but never quite meeting his eyes. The lingering touches and the sad look on Iruka's face when he thought Kakashi wasn't looking.

               Iruka lied to him when he said he was okay with parting ways. Lied when he said he understood Kakashi's wish, when he made it so easy to ignore everything and leave.

               Two: Kakashi had grown up.

               This one should be pretty obvious, yet it took him weeks of introspection to realize it. He had just... Grown up. Made peace with everything that happened. It still hurt, and he still caught himself sobbing after nightmares or feeling guilty, but he knew, deep down, that it was not his fault. And no one would die just for loving him. It was a childish idea.

               He spent years pushing away the idea of a soulmate, but he couldn't picture Iruka dying because of him. He knew Iruka could stand his ground just fine and, even if he couldn't, Iruka was far better than him at reaching out for help.

               And Kakashi deserved some love too. He blushed at the thought, but he knew he had to tell it more to himself. He deserved it. Iruka deserved it too, if he still wanted Kakashi after the shitty way he dealed with the situation.

               Well, just one way to find out.

               *

               "Oh, hello, Kaka— Hatake-san," Iruka smiled at him, like he always did, that fake yet convincing one.

               "Kakashi is fine, Iruka," Kakashi felt bold. Or at least maybe he would if he faked well enough, "I, uh, wanted to talk to you. In private. Mind if I pick you up after you're done working?"

               "I—," was Kakashi delusional or was it a faint rosy blush on Iruka's cheeks? "Fine, you can pick me up here in two hours. Sound good?"

               "Sounds perfect!" He grinned and with the last of his bravery added, "it's a date then."

               Iruka made a choking sound and Kakashi left with the goofiest smile.

               *

               Kakashi's place was different from Iruka's. Tidier, nothing out of place, but with a thin layer of dust on the less used things and too much free space. It wasn't as homey. Kakashi found himself missing the messy couch and thrown around clothes and books.

               "So, let me set it straight," Iruka gave him a pointed look, "you decided you want a soulmate after trying to run away and pretending nothing happened for a month. And you want to take me on a date," He briefed.

               Kakashi nodded, it seemed like an accurate description. He could unwrap all the insecurities and emotional baggage later.

               "Fine," Iruka pressed the bridge of his nose, "took you long enough. I don't even know why I try to make sense of it."

               "That easy?" Kakashi was a bit surprised, "I had prepared a speech and everything. Scribbled a half-decent poem," he threw some crumpled papers on the table. Iruka chuckled a bit.

               Good. He wanted to see his genuine smile.

               "If I wasn't willing to, I wouldn't have bothered to patch you up in the first place," He explained, "idiot," he said as an afterthough, but in the same fond tone he used before.

               Kakashi found himself smiling too.

               "Well, what about dinner tomorrow then? Anywhere you want."

               "Oh, I have a better idea," the smile on Iruka's face was a bit devilish now, "just meet me at my place tomorrow. Let's say... At seven?"

               "Deal," Kakashi really shouldn't have ignored the chill on his spine at the evil grin.

               *

               "That's your idea of a nice first date?" He whined, his wrist hurting from writing too much.

               "That's your idea of good penmanship?" Iruka retorted, giving him yet another blank report to fill, "We are almost there! Just two more," he said a bit more encouragingly.

               "We? What exactly are you doing?" He handed another complete and pristine form to Iruka.

               "Moral support," he didn't miss the slight jest on Iruka's voice.

               Accepting his fate, Kakashi sighed and prepared himself for a night of writing down mission details he just vaguely recalled whilst Iruka criticizes his calligraphy.

               "Don't sulk like that. I have some ice cream in the fridge. We can have it after you're done," he used his slightly-less-stern teacher voice. The one he used to bribe the pests to finish their homework so they could play.

               "My hand is killing me," Kakashi said with a dramatic flair, "you'll have to feed me, sweetheart," he mocked, making Iruka laugh at both the exaggerate whining and the sappy nickname.

               "You're impossible," Iruka rolled his eyes, which, Kakashi noticed, was not a 'no', "Does it mean you'll go to the hospital now after being stabbed at least?"

              "Never," he replied with a grin, "that's what I have you for now, right?"

              The glare he received wasn't enough to spoil his sudden good mood.

*

*

*

It was fun to write! And can fit in three prompts! (soulmates, first date, friends to lovers). That bit was mostly accidental I swear! It just happened.

I don’t think i’ll try my hand on other prompts, but it was fun! That’s my first time in a writing challenge. Thanks for @kakairu-rocks for the funny prompts and for answering my questions!

Also, you can thank @kakairuincorrectquotes for single-handedly giving me the headcanon Kakashi will never, ever go to the hospital after being stabbed. You’ll have to pry it from my hands now!

Bye. ♥

[thedyingmoon]

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

XX

***

"Lo, a shadow of horror is risen,

In eternity! Unknown, unprolific!

Self - closed, all - repelling:

What Demon hath form'd this abominable void,

This soul - shudd'ring vacuum?

Some said 'It is Urizen', but unknown, abstracted,

Brooding secret, the dark power hid."

"Vergil, are you sure you want me to read this?" The girl asked the little boy one fine morning in the beautiful garden. "We've read this lots of times."

The little boy looked up with pure, innocent eyes. "It is Urizen! Urizen!"

"I know, I know,..." Galatea answered, helpless in front of the sweet child. "Okay, I'll read it for you. But, you have to listen while I read about the Little Lamb! Or the Tyger, or,..."

"URIZEN!"

The girl sighed and opened the book once more.

"Times and times he divided, and measur'd,

Space by space in his ninefold darkness

Unseen, unknown! Changes appear'd

In his desolate mountains rifted furious

By the black winds of perturbation."

"Gala - te - a!" The child cried as he ran to her.

"What happened? Why are you crying?"

"Dante kicked me in the face!"

Galatea wrapped her arms around the boy and rubbed his back. "Sshh, it's okay. I'm here now. I'm here. I will protect you,..."

"For he strove in battles dire

In unseen conflictions with shapes

Bred from his forsaken wilderness,

Of beast, bird, fish, serpent, and element

Combustion, blast, vapour, and cloud."

"Vergil! Where are you? Vergil!" Galatea called as she desperately looked for the boy.

But, instead, she found her mother lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Her own blood.

"Mama! Mama,..." The girl uttered in shock, unable to believe that such a thing would happen to her.

The woman smiled at her, her eyes glistening with tears. "Please, find him and save him before it's too late! Protect him at all cost. Save him from his death!" She begged you once more. "I' am so sorry, my dear. Fulfill my wish, I beg you,... Galatea,... "

The girl reached out a hand but, she was too late,...

"MAMA!"

"SAVE HIM! FULFILL,... MY LAST REQUEST!"

"Your wish,... is our command,..."

***

You walked aimlessly around, wanting your enemies to find you. You waited for something to happen, anything at all, as you traversed that lonely and dangerous road.

Your heart filled with heavy and conflicting emotions, your eyes red with tears that silently fell non - stop, your head burdened with all the visions of the near future, you moved on, waiting for something else to happen.

Deep inside your heavy heart, you still longed for a sliver of hope, no matter how small,...

... you want to find him and tell him everything,...

But, it seemed that the man, himself, did not want to be found.

Or, did he?

V was observing you with keen, wary eyes as you aimlessly walked around. Like you, he was waiting for something to happen, anything at all, no matter how small.

But, unlike you, he was not longing for any kind of hope.

He was looking for one last proof to end all your lies.

There was nothing in his mind but your complete and utter destruction. So much so that he spied on you for four days without you knowing it. He had seen how you fight, how you moved, how you finished your enemies but, he knew that you have not revealed your true colors just yet.

And for that, something huge must happen - a larger, much stronger enemy. The type for you to use your true potential with.

And, it seemed that he didn't have to wait for too long,...

You looked up, your eyes wide with anticipation. You felt and heard some movement, and surely enough, a group of scythe - wielding Demons appeared before you.

Three, six, twelve, eighteen, twenty - four of the same demonic species appeared, overwhelming you with their numbers.

V concealed himself quickly, not wanting to waste his energy by helping you. He watched you as you drew your rapier and shield in the form of a bow and a violin. You made your first move but, he saw it was too reckless. You managed to evade the first attack but, the second one landed a strong, direct hit right on your mid - section. The scythe - like arm of the Demon then extended, carrying you with it, and pinned you to a wall.

The poet resisted to help you still, watching as the Hell Judeca plunged its weapon deeper within you. He knew deep within his being that you would unleash your true power any moment now.

However, something truly weird, and yet, expected, happened. The moment the wind blew and your blood dripped on the ground beneath you, a strong scent of fresh flowers wafted through the air, confusing the enemies and making them freeze.

As soon as the strong scent reached V, he covered his nose in an effort to protect himself. Your alluring scent has never attacked him this effectively before, and it took all his strength and effort to prevent himself from going directly to you.

But, not the same could be said about the Demons around you.

To V's utter surprise, he saw how the Demons kneeled in front of you, like you have just become their master.

His eyes widened in shock and his hand dropped from his nose and mouth.

It was all true. Fleminger was right, all along. You're the Dreadnought!

On the other hand, you were so confused as to what just occurred before your very own eyes. The fearful Demons, which considered ending your life a bit earlier, all started worshipping you like you were their queen.

You looked down from your wound and realized it must have been your blood that drew them to you.

All of a sudden, an idea struck your head.

Despite your wounded state, you drew your weapon and started attacking the Hell Judeca that wounded you. It didn't even flinch as you pushed the bow deep within its heart. The other Demons didn't even react as it fell lifeless on the ground before you. They remained rooted to the earth, mesmerized by the mere sight and scent of you.

V watched intently as you finished the Demons one by one, none of which were doing anything to protect themselves. And as you were about to kill the last Hell Judeca, something roared not far from where you were, and a few moments later, a larger, much fiercer enemy came running towards you like a raging bull.

You tried to jump away but, your rapid bloodloss was hindering your movements. Just as you were about to get mauled to your death, a dark being in the form of a volley of spikes rose in front of you, fully stopping the Demon and making it stagger.

With your blurry sight, you saw V as he landed gracefully in front of you, commanding both Shadow and Griffon to attack the enemy. And when it could no longer move from the series of hits it received from his demonic familiars, he plunged his metal cane deep within its flesh, finally putting an end to it.

Bloody and tired, V turned and looked at your pitiful form, looking cold and uncaring. Despite that look of his, he went directly towards you and caught you as you were about to collapse.

"V - v,..." you stuttered as you felt numbness taking over your whole body.

The man didn't say anything. Instead, he lifted you effortlessly and carried you to who knows where,...

*

The next time you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring at the ceiling of Nico's trailer. You slowly and carefully sat up straight, feeling the thick bandage wrapped around your stomach, and looked around.

Despite your glum mood, the sunny and cheerful weather outside greeted you as you made your way to the dashboard. You saw the time and date and sighed.

June 15, 6:45

It was the expected date of the Dreadnought's arrival.

And then, one thought came to mind - V.

Well, you still kind of promised to Nico that you would confess.

You had to do it. You had no idea how long you would last, so, it's all, or nothing. After all, you're about to face the Dreadnought in a few hours. You had to really do it, before anything bad befall you.

And you must say it now, before,...

You saw him there, standing outside of the van, calmly reading his beloved William Blake anthology. He was alone, and it was a perfect timing.

You inhaled deeply, actually expecting for the worse. Even despite your friend Nico's reassurance that everything would turn out fine, you just could not shake off the foreboding feeling that this insane idea would end up with disastrous results.

But, then, you're here with him now. There's no use turning back.

V saw you in his peripheral vision as you made your way towards him.

Hiding his sigh, he asked in a polite and well - mannered way, "How can I help you?"

"I, uhh,..." You stuttered. "I wanted to tell you something."

"Go on." V answered, intentionally making himself uninterested in this conversation.

"I just wanted to say,... uhh,... thank you. For saving me earlier."

"I always come when I can to help those in need." He lied, for he didn't want to save others, at all. Especially you.

He just wanted to be the one who would finish you.

Your chest felt heavier, your breathing more labored. Your lips trembled as you tried to say the words,...

"You are such a good person, and I,... I really like you,... for that,..."

And why was he not surprised? Of course! You're a deceiver! And now, it looked as though you're doing everything you can to win him for one last time.

But, it's never going to work. V was dead set on his goal.

You took what courage and little confidence you had left and decided to pour everything out of your bursting chest.

"What I mean to say is, I really, really like you, V. I just thought I should let you know before,..." There! You finally said the words. But, before you could even begin to say the word 'Dreadnought', he looked up from his book with a smile on his lips.

He left his spot and went slowly towards you, swinging his cane playfully.

At last! That smile! You missed his smile so much. You just ached to see it once more,...

"Those words you just uttered, were you certain about them?" He asked you, that strange smile still on his lips.

Your heart suddenly became heavier as nerves took over your whole system. Something was really wrong about V and how he smiled at you.

It didn't look,... genuinely happy.

"Sorry?"

He just chuckled, like he was making fun of a child.

"Those feelings you have for me, I'm afraid we do not share them mutually." He simply said without any difficulty.

He is,... breaking my heart?!

"I see. Well, I just wanted you to know - "

"But, that was not enough for you, yes?" Using his cane, he made you look up to him, propping your chin up to properly meet his piercing gaze. "You said I'm a good person, if I got it correctly."

"Y - yes."

"Then, I do feel obliged to tell you that I' am not the person you seem to know. I' am neither a good person, nor a hero you consider. In fact, I' am the villain of your story."

I' am the villain of your story,...

You heard that same line again from one of your unwanted visions,...

But, this time, it's for real,...

"V?" You said helplessly, confusion and sadness taking over.

"And I, may I add, only helped you because you seem so,... useless. Why would you even take up this massive commission in the first place? You are not as half as strong as the weakest Devil Hunter here to begin with. You are just a weak human who relies on others for survival."

"I,... " You felt the tears wanting to pour out once more, feeling this endless torture wanting to break you until you could no longer retaliate.

It hurts,...

V, I'm doing this for you! What I've been doing for ten years, I'm doing it all for you!

And he surely didn't know your own reason for doing all of those, even though the pain you felt hiding all those things kept on piling up, higher and higher, until you could no longer contain the sadness.

Until you could no longer contain the tears of frustration and heartbreak.

And he didn't stop there despite seeing the tears in your eyes.

It seemed like breaking your heart was not enough.

Oh, my, V thought sarcastically. How genuine that is. What a great actress! This girl deserves an award! What would it be? Shadow's scratches? Too easy. Griffon's thunder? He would refuse to do it.

This cane? Hmm, a slow and painful death. I like it.

"You would only become a burden. I suggest you leave this place even before the first signs of the enemy." He said, letting your chin go as he gave his final warning to you. He was about to walk away when he heard you call his name.

"I will not be a burden, V!" You helplessly said to him, tears streaming down your face. "I have to face this battle, please!"

"Apparently," V said in a threatening voice as he turned back to look at you. He strode towards you like a predator, and you had to step back in fear of what he might do to you. "You are not only useless, but an imbecile, as well. If I were you, I would gladly take this chance to leave in order to spare my own life. Take it from me, it is better to run away."

You could not say any more words to him. He completely broke you, and now, you just stood there, shocked, and a complete whimpering mess. He brought the tip of his cane down as forcefully as he could, summoning Shadow in the process as some of his tattoos vanished from his pale skin.

You looked as the great, dark Demon growled at you, something that made you even more heartbroken, for the huge cat, for some reason, used to purr quite loudly and shamelessly whenever you scratch her chin and ears as she laid down beside you.

"Now, we do not want bloodshed here so early on in the game. Leave. Now." He warned for the very last time.

You had no choice but to turn away. From the Dreadnought. From your purpose.

From the man you have grown to love despite everything.

And as V made his way towards the north where the largest Demon awaited, he felt a strange kind of pain crawling underneath his skin. He looked at his hand,...

... and noticed that it was crumbling,...

V's eyes widened in fear. He closed them, wanting to chase the hallucination away. He opened them once more and glanced at his hand,...

... it looked normal.

Griffon materialized and faced him.

"You,..." the demonic bird began. "YOU HAVE GONE DOWN TOO DEEP FOR ME TO SAVE YA!"

The poet only chuckled. "For what purpose must you save me, pray tell?"

"I'm sorry, V." Griffon answered mournfully. "I'M BREAKING OUR CONTRACT! YOU'RE NO LONGER THE STICK SHAKESPEARE NOODLE I USED TO KNOW! YOU'VE BECOME DIFFERENT! YOU - "

"By all means, go." V chuckled, not caring in the least for his very first companion. "But, I do hope you are aware what will happen to you if you break the contract,..."

"I DON'T CARE! YOU'VE GONE FAR ENOUGH!" Griffon yelled, his golden eyes glistening with unspeakable pain. "YOU JUST HURT THE WOMAN WHO - "

"Wanted to use me like a whore. Is that it?" V finished for him, his eyes and facial expression alike getting darker and more evil.

"FFFUUUCCCKKK YYYOOOUUU!" Griffon shrieked angrily as he flew up high, summoning all his powers to attack his former master.

But, he couldn't,...

Despite everything, Griffon respected V. He knew he was only brainwashed by that Fleminger guy. And he needed someone to wake him up.

Griffon needed you to wake him up.

He withdrew his attack and calmed down. This made V cover his face and show a sick kind of psychotic mirth.

"Hahaha. Hahaha! HAHAHA! You make me laugh,..."

"You're not worth it,..." The demonic bird quietly said, letting V laugh it off, and finally left him, breaking their contract once and for all.

And he sure wasn't joking about it. V noticed how some of his tattoos vanished,...

Meanwhile, back in the trailer,...

"Hey, hey, sshh, it's okay,..." Nico gently whispered to you as you let it all out on her.

You have been crying non - stop since V rejected you, and you didn't care in the least how you looked.

If it was written that he must murder you in order for him to survive, it won't hurt as much if he only had the same level of emotions for you!

But, no!

Again, you were wrong!

How stupid of you!

He already stabbed your heart, and fuck! It hurts!

It hurts so fucking much!

"I'll go." You told Nico. "I still,... h - have to g - go,..."

"Ya sure about this? You would surely not make it outta there alive. Not for gettin' smacked by Demons." Nico, who only recently found out about your fate, told you.

You looked up from the towel that Nico offered you to wipe your tears with.

"I know. I have accepted that ever since I decided to join. Nico, I know my fate, and I embrace it."

"You know your fate but, not the dying bit, huh? That's a bitchy move by your entities right there!"

"I don't know. They must have a reason for keeping it from me until now."

Your friend sighed.

"Still can't tell him?"

"No. He doesn't have to know."

You glanced out of the window to see the massive thing floating in the sky towards the deserted city. You were sure that the others were already dealing with it as of the moment.

That must be the Dreadnought, then.

You sighed, inhaled deeply and exhaled almost angrily. You wiped your tears with the drenched towel one last time and madly slammed it on the table near you. You stood up, rubbed your nose with your arm in a very unlady - like fashion, took your weapons, and angrily faced the radio.

"Why does my heart go on beating?

Why do these eyes of mine cry?

Don't they know it's the end of the world?

It ended when you said goodbye."

"TURN THAT FUCKING THING OFF!"

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!" Nico obliged as she did so hastily.

"Could you play something more upbeat for a change?!" You asked bravely, ready to face your own death. "Like, with no heartbreaks, or rejections, or douchebags, or what the fucking ever?!"

Nico gasped in fright. "Wow! Sailor - mouth Nero sure made an impact to you, huh, hon?"

"Just fucking do it!"

"Alright! Alright!" The freckled woman said and slammed the jukebox button on. "How about this?!"

You listened to the upbeat music and nodded in agreement.

"Good. Now, at least I won't have to die having LSS of The End Of The World."

Nico nodded. You have become angsty and mad, and at least that's better than you moping around, tending to your broken heart.

"I'll go, just like the usual."

"Alone?" Nico asked.

"And after the boys." You said with utter resolution. V may have rejected your feelings, but he would not dare reject your permanent, once in a lifetime offer of an insurance policy, and you damn well know it.

"Hey, come here." Nico wrapped you in a tight hug all of a sudden. You really were dead set on dying now that she couldn't help but be sad.

Then, the prophetic entity's words came back to Nico's head,...

"Would you weep, human?"

"Uh, it depends,..."

"You are strong and vigilant. Remain as such until the promised hour."

"I'm gonna miss you so much, hon." Nico quietly said to you, still not letting you go. "You can always go back here when the going gets tough."

You controlled the tears as it threatened to spill again.

Damn, you're going to miss your only best friend in the world,...

"I'm gonna miss you, too." You answered as you hugged her back with the same intensity. "Oh, God. I wish I had breakfast,..."

At the mere mention of a meal, something suddenly banged on the windshield of the trailer. The two of you looked to find it was only Griffon who somehow landed on the glass, wings spread and beak up.

"Chickee?" You mumbled as you opened the door and waited for the demonic bird to enter.

And when he finally did, boy, had he got something truly surprising for you.

"SWEET PEA! I'M DYING!" The bird whined.

"What do you want me to do?! I'm gonna die too, you know?!"

Griffon's eyes widened. Of course, you would find that out,...

"CONTRACT! WE NEED A CONTRACT!"

"Chickee, I thought you're V's - ?" Nico asked when she was abruptly cut off by the bird.

"SHAKESPEARE AND I ARE OFFICIALLY THROUGH!" Griffon announced. "SWEET PEA, ARE YA GONNA ACCEPT OR WHAT?! V'S OUT TO KILL YA!"

"I KNOW!"

"THEN, MIGHT AS WELL WE DIE TOGETHER THAN ALONE!"

After a few agonizing moments later, you found yourself marked with the same tattoos as V's, only a bit smaller and more subtle than his loud ones.

A proof that you and Griffon,...

"... we're partners now!" The bird gleefully announced in your head, thinking about what the entity told him before.

"Remain true to your instincts. Even in the face of true danger."

"I don't know what weird shit just happened but, I do sure feel better with you partnering for good." Nico admitted as she crossed her arms.

"Yeah." You answered. "I feel ten times better."

Griffon materialized as the markings on your right arm vanished.

"FUCK YEAH!" The bird triumphantly screamed. "Hey, you know what, it felt somehow cleaner inside you than V's,..."

"Whatever you say." You answered as you walked out of the trailer for the last time. You looked at both Nico and Griffon, smiled, and screamed,...

"LET'S DO THIS!"

***

Just before going with his sisters, Cassandra roamed around for a while inside the burning house. She knew exactly where Vergil was. But, she knew she was too late to go to him now.

It was,... inevitable,...

She just have to do one last thing before going away to find a new vessel,...

... a disposable vessel that would carry them until the day they would reunite with Sparda's blood.

She looked up and spread her arms, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Forgive me for what I have to do." Cassandra said as she closed her eyes. "But, I have to do this in order to protect us. I pray you do not feel sorrow, for these memories shall return the moment we reunite."

A strange kind of light emanated from her body as she said those words, and when she finally dropped her arms, she sighed.

"Until we meet again,..."

***

~ A V X Reader set in an Alternate Universe wherein we finally caught up with the prologue! Wow! How long has that been? 🤔

~ Now tagging ( again ) these wonderful people: @heaven-on-a-landslide , @gxthghoulfriend , @boundbysoul , @krazy06 , @ehrzeth , @lessy86 , @ceruleanworld , @simmy-ships , and @diabeticsugarush . 🖤

***

The present

*

Dante stopped dead in his tracks. He was about to face the horde of Demons before the much larger and fiercer - looking Dreadnought when some words suddenly came up on his lips.

"Andro,... meda,..." The Devil Hunter mumbled under his breath. "Cassandra,... Galatea,...

... who,... are they again?"

***

Note: In movies, the little scene we see after the credits rolled in ( just like in the MCU ), are called "tags", or commonly and infamously known as "end - credit scenes". Congratulations, you just saw one in this chapter. Yeah, the more you know. 👌👍👍

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

[chonzu]

Hello there! Would you happen to have some headcanons for Mr. Compress and Twice? Gen and/or shippy, I'll take everything. :'D

YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT GOTDANG PLACE.  Some of these pertain more specifically to stories I’ve come up with rather than just HCs tho.

Mr. Compress HCs.

-45 years old. 

-A very bad cook. But he’s a very good baker! When he is stressed out he bakes and so his whole apartment is, like, full of cookie tins and bread and all sorts of shit. Usually for meals he gets take out or makes very simple dishes.

-Speaking of his apartment, he’s got a big apartment suite under a fabricated name. It’s rather empty, as almost everything but his bed, his couch, and his kitchen are in compress orbs and neatly organized into boxes and containers. He knows where everything he needs is.

-Enjoys shoving round, smooth objects in his mouth. Magnets, his own compress orbs, D&D dice, smooth rocks and gemstones. It’s kind of an impulse.

-His parents were both involved in the yakuza. His dad ran a comics shop on the side and his mom was a well known stage performer. She believed in magic and fantasy and stories and though he got along with both she is the one who encouraged his belief in magic and performance. They were killed when Atsuhiro was 20, though he didn’t even know until then that they were yakuza. (This could change?? I’m still learning about their set up and how they operate)

-He does not like card tricks because they are simple, and they are the first ticks his mom taught him. So he’s been doing it a while. Thinks they’re boring. He enjoys incorporating his quirk into his performances as well, but he has a whole plethora of magic tricks that do not involve it. People seem to be interested in magic without the use of quirks, and that he is a master of.

Twice HCs. Myy friend usually RPs Twice and makes stories with him and so I usually go off of that! These are some that I just really enjoy.

-Twice and Toga are actually uncle and niece. They didn’t really know each other much till they coincidentally met again in the League. They enjoy each other’s company and Twice just craves love from his family. He Needs Validation.

-He was kind of a punk child. Baseball bats. Fighting. Never home by curfew. Started drinking early, smoking early, cloned everything, and never really had a good relationship with his parents so tried to stay away from home as much as possible. Class grades weren’t very good.

-ADHD

-Twice never really killed all of his clones. At the purge? Yes. All dead. But there were clones from prior, and clones that went awol, and clones from years ago that lasted so long they became stronger and became their own persons, in a way. Stronger than the average clone. He knows deep down that this is possible and occasionally feels a clone dying, but he’s never really sure which clone it is, and he’s forced himself to pretend that none of these clones exist.

-Best friends and childhood friends with Giran (who is actually younger than him, he just looks old). Their relationship is currently strained as everything going on has been stressing Twice out, but he doesn’t really hate Giran that much. Giran always speaks to him like a regular person despite knowing everything that had happened, and being the one to find Jin a week after the clone purge. Jin works as a scout for Giran, and was hired for the League based on the experience Giran knows Jin has. 

-Twice never really has a solid, stable place to live. Given that he can clone money just fine, and isn’t as courteous about the economy as Momo is, he kind of just pays for motels months at a time and when he gets tired of it or starts associating things with his time with the clones, he packs up and moves. The League is one of the only consistent things he’s had since the clone purge and also the weird family he’d been looking for so he’ll take what he can get.

Shipping. Not as developed yet since my main ship is Kurogiri/Atsuhiro but I am super interested in developing this more. I just wish they had more interaction or something more in common! It’s easy for me to ship Kurogiri and Atsuhiro because they have a similar aesthetic asfdf.

-Jin and Atsuhiro never really interacted much until the Vanguard Squad attacked the training camp. Afterward they started to feel for each other and after the AFO vs OFA attack started to become closer. 

-Both of them feel comforted with their masks on, and so they understand when the other refuses to take it off. There’s a type of mutual understanding as well with Twice’s large scar and Mr. Compress’ arm. Obviously not the same scale of injury.

-They both know how to have a bit of fun. Atsuhiro really pulls maskless Jin out of his dark and introspective nature and they become loud and kind of overdramatic. But Atsuhiro is also capable of the same level of thought as Jin, and they can go on for hours just talking about whatever. 

[uc-fakeadoption-au]

Chapter 7 is out!!

read on ao3:

chapter count: 7/?

rating: teen and up audiences

category: gen

warnings: no (archive) warnings apply

relationships: Nathan Drake & Victor Sullivan, Nathan Drake & Samuel Drake, Samuel Drake & Victor Sullivan

additional tags: fake adoption au, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, also titled just a dad and his two sons, Young Nate, Young Sam, aka hes not balding yet lmaoo, “young” sully, Team as Family, Fluff and Angst, pretty good amounts of fluff tbh, Family Bonding, accidental family acquisition, There will be headcanons, content warning for sully bc he’s young and hot, dare i say…dilf sully?, yes beta we DON’T die (like sam!!!), place-filler ocs (they don’t mean shit to the story I just needed someone for certain roles), Other Additional Tags to Be Added

chapter summary: fluff and egg sandwiches (it was 3 am when i wrote this and i was hungry!!)

alternative to ao3 under the cut:

Getting to the apartment wasn't as bad as he imagined, despite the dense yet not quite heavy silence. It was strange, but not unbearable. Though he almost wished Nathan was awake, the kid's boundless curiosity would really be appreciated right now. That and he was almost a "mediator" between Sully and Samuel.

That silence sure left enough time for him to begin to realize the implications of what he just did. He was aware from the beginning that the way he went about this would make him actually responsible for the boys for at least a few days. Didn't mean that he was ready for it. What did he know about taking care of children, after all?

But it was just a couple of days, probably. It couldn't be that bad. Still, he sighed, rubbing a hand behind his neck. He was really in over his head, huh? Goddammit, Sullivan.

As absorbed he was in his thoughts, he almost missed their stop. Good thing he had enough time to get to know the way almost by heart, he sure had been too distracted back there.

"We're here, kid", he muttered, turning to the backseat. Looked like Samuel had started to doze off as well, but he shot upright as Sully said the first word.

"I can see that", the kid responded, lacking bite for once. Guess he was tired, then.

"Okay, let's get in, get you boys to bed. Or the couch, specifically. We can talk tomorrow".

"Yeah, sure", he started to wriggle from under his brother, trying and failing to wake him up. He was almost resorting to poking Nathan awake when Victor stopped him.

"Leave him be. I'll just carry him up", he paused, reconsidering after remembering Samuel's jumpiness. "If that's ok?"

The kid just waved his hand about dismissively, sliding out the nearest door. "Just don't let him fall on his head or anything and we're good".

~

Maybe insisting on carrying a whole eight-year-old kid up a few flights of stairs wasn't the best idea, but it was too late now. He failed to consider the awkwardness of it all, but everyone was too tired to mind, least of all Nate himself, looking dead to the world as he slept.

Actually opening the door was a bit of a chore with one of his arms full of sleeping kid, even if the kid in question was lighter than expected. He made do in the end, settling Nathan on one end of the small couch, indicating the other one to Samuel, who was more aware now but still looked exhausted.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll see if I can find a blanket or something for you two".

The kid nodded noncommittally, settling down close to his brother as opposed to where Sully showed him first. He went into "his" bedroom and managed to find a spare blanket tucked in the closet.

Taking it back and handing it to the eldest Morgan, he reassured once again that he'd explain everything in the morning and bid him goodnight. Victor knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep until he explained everything, though.

~

The next morning, he was back out as soon as he heard the first noises coming from the other room. Sounded like only one of the couch's occupants was up and about. And it turned out to be Nathan, which was a relief — he didn't think he could handle Samuel right now, especially after all last night's strangeness. Hopefully, the kid would stay quiet for the time being.

"Morning, kid", he greeted quietly.

"Good morning", he replied in a surprisingly low tone. Guess he didn't want to wake his brother up either. He wasn't sure he could deal with an even grumpier Samuel right now, so that was good.

"You hungry? Want some breakfast?" the kid's eyes lit up.

"Hell yeah!", he chirped and as an afterthought, "Please and thank you".

"Come on, then", he laughed, gesturing at the tiny "open floor kitchen" tucked at the corner of the room. It was actually just a precarious setup with a barely working stove, a mini-fridge, and a microwave. It was ridiculous, really, but it worked well enough.

"Okay kid, don't get too excited. I don't even know what food I still have in here". He rustled through a rickety cabinet getting some instant coffee and a few slices of slightly stale bread. "Hm, check the fridge, will ya?"

Thankfully, the kid's search was bountiful. He found half a gallon of milk — luckily, not expired yet! — and an almost empty carton of eggs.

"I think our only option is egg "sandwiches" unless we just eat plain bread. Whatcha think, kid?"

The boy pretended to think hard, "The sandwiches are okay, I guess".

"Egg sandwiches it is, then". He busied himself with making breakfast while the kid just hung around, exploring the surroundings. Multiple times, he got dangerously close to Samuel, who was still sleeping away on the couch, but it seemed it was never enough to disturb him. He only started to stir when everything was almost ready and the smell of food was present.

At that point, Nate got close to his brother and just startled him awake by yelling an exaggerated "wake up, sleepyhead ". That was what succeeded in the end.

"Welcome to the land of the living", Sully joked. "Are you awake enough to start demanding explanations or can you wait 'till after breakfast?"

He grumbled something intelligible, which Nathan helpfully translated into "he says he wants breakfast first!" So they ate.

~

Breakfast was surprisingly a quick and clean thing, despite the kids dangerously strewn about the couch and carpet (why Samuel insisted on sitting on the floor and eating from the shitty center table, he would never understand). Soon enough, they were all ready to talk. The boys ended up being quicker than him to start, taking over each other the first opportunity they got, which ended up being a jumbled mess he couldn't be bothered to decipher.

"Children", he interrupted. "One of a time or we'll be stuck here all day just tryin' to understand one another".

"Ok", both he and Nate looked at Samuel sideways at that. If the kid told him was to be believed, his brother's "ok's" never really meant that.

"We wanted to ask–"

"What we want to know, Victor, is why did you even bother to get up all the way back here? You were only supposed to get us out and away as soon as that whole thing ended, nothing more".

"That's right", he replied.

"So. Why are we here?"

"There's been a bit of a… change of plans, kid".

Both of them looked wary after hearing that, though one was obviously tenser than the other. "What exactly is that change?"

"Nothing too bad, I promise. It's just that, after that stunt we pulled — especially the part where you two got caught — made it a bad decision for you to stick around here. Because of that, you'll need to stick with me a little longer."

"That's ok, right..?", Nate trailed off as soon as he saw his brother seething at Sully.

"Hell no! Unless you can tell exactly why is that, we ain't going anywhere with you, old man". This was getting old by now.

"I can't just drop you anywhere, you'd just get found out and sent back there ", he explained. "You might want to leave the city, maybe the state entirely and I'm one of the few people that will help with that no questions asked. That’s also the only way to get your cut from the job–"

"What? Why?"

This time, it was Nate who interrupted, his brother too busy struggling with all that teenage angst bullshit he was harboring since day-fucking-one, but that was starting to really make itself known.

"The client is a few states away, guess he got tired of waiting around and bailed. He'll only pay up when the artifact is actually delivered to him, so we need to get to him, anyway".

"And the only way of doing that is also coming with you, yeah?", Samuel sounded muffled, face mushed against the table.

"It's not like you got a whole lotta options, kid. Most people aren't likely to help kids your age around a city, imagine getting you out of the state entirely. Without money, well. It's even worse odds". He wasn't even exaggerating on that one.

"C'mon Sam, it's not that bad! "

"Oh, it really is. Do we really wanna depend on him for all of that? The dude that lied to us from the moment we met him?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence", Sully muttered, mostly unheard.

"It's like he said, most people won't want to help us! We should stick with someone who does, Sam!"

"Hellooo, do you even hear yourself, little brother?"

"Yes, and sound completely fair!"

Victor was getting tired of all this bickering. If they don't want help, they better decide that fast. He needed to go soon, too. They weren't the only ones that got seen committing the crime, after all. The only difference was they got caught.

"Okay, listen up. You work out what you want by yourselves, I'm going back to my room", he announced. "I'm going to leave in a couple hours, with or without you. If you two wanna come with, you better be here and ready."

~

Back in his room, he could still hear their discussion, but it did get progressively lower. Then, a thump and a pair of clangs as they opened the window and got into the fire escape. He assumed they just went into the roof for privacy, but he didn't dare hope. For all he knew, they were just ditching him. Not that it was a problem, it surely would be easier on him, though the thought of them just up and leaving made him somewhat sad? Disgruntled?

Well, better stop moping around and getting shit done. Packing wasn't going to do itself and he needed to be ready to leave by the time he had told the kids before or he'd just sound like an idiot to them.

He really should stop worrying so much about what they thought, anyway. Again, they weren't his kids, their 'relationship' was little more than means to an end, to both parties. Whether they thought of him as something good or just some crazy old man, that was up to them and didn't really matter in the end. They'd be going their separate ways after all that.

It shouldn't matter, it really didn't. The thought made him uncomfortable anyway. Ah, goddammit, I don't have time for this. The sooner he gets everything done, the better. Then he could leave all of it behind and just never think of it, of them again. Simple.

~

The fifteen minutes before the marked time were pretty stressful. Surely not the most stressful in Sully's life, but still: stressful. He was sure the Morgans weren't coming back, which, good for them? But he was also genuinely worried about them.

Just a few minutes before the time, he heard the twin clangs again. Huh, they actually came back. As always, Samuel led the whole "speaking their mind" business.

"Victor."

"Samuel."

"We decided to accept your offer, on the condition that you let us go as soon as we get to wherever the client is and take the money. Also, we can bail whenever we want, for whatever we want, no questions asked.

"And, we still expect to receive your cut if that happens", Nate added. "Deal?"

Good lord, they were demanding.

"Sure, deal. You both ready to go?"

Both just vaguely gestured to their drawstring bags. Okay, so now he was sure those were all of their belongings. Not a lot he could do about that if the boys got it their way. Oh well, that was a problem for future him.

"Great. Let's get on with it, then. Welcome to the show, boys".