BNHA x Reader

Overhaul x Reader

The first time you meet your soulmate and the two of you touch, you will receive a mark, like a tattoo, chaining you to your soulmate, the colour of your soulmate's eyes.

I stare down at the golden mark on my fingertips, where I had first touched his skin.

When I met him, it was dusk. He was in an alleyway, bleeding and cursing anything and everything.

With my quirk, I had touched him, and made him whole again. The golden colour of his eyes had stained my fingers.

Hearing a knock, I slip on a new black vinyl glove, and a black medical mask.

"Come in," I call, picking up the firearm beside me and leaning back in my chair.

A man with a white and black mask opens the door, and I slip the firearm into a drawer.

"Hello, Chronostasis," I squint my eyes as if to smile, knowing he can't see my mouth. "Hello, Overhaul."

Chronostasis steps aside, allowing his boss through the door. I reach my arms up, resting my head on them.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I ask, my eyes dragging across the both of them.

"I have a proposition for you," Overhaul looks around the room, his golden eyes discerning the scarce objects, likely noticing the absence of dust.

"A proposition?" I ask, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my desk.

"Leave us, wait outside," Overhaul doesn't even turn to his subordinate. The man leaves the room, and likely the building.

"Something private," I observe.

"I want you in the Shie Hassaikai. By my side. Your quirk is very useful, and I feel like I have more to offer than this," his gaze meets mine, "business you have."

"That's a strange way of saying that I'm a hitman," I muse, and I can't help the way my eyes narrow as I look at him. He really is handsome.

I toy with the opening of my gloves, trying to ignore this feeling. We're soulmates, we should be together, right?

I'm sure he knows, too. I wonder what tattoo he ended up with.

"I suppose. Still, my offer stands," he holds out his hand, concealed with a white glove. It beckons for me.

Mustering up all of my self-control, I stand. "I must apologise, I don't feel like making this decision at this time."

"Don't feel like it?" His voice lowers, sending shivers down my spine.

"My head isn't clear enough," I feel my heart beat faster at his dangerous tone.

"Look at me," he growls, demanding. "Look in my eyes."

I let my gaze drag up, up, up. From his slacks, his dress shirt, the white tie I want to grab and pull him down for a kiss with. His neck, his jawline, the beaklike mask, all the way up to his golden eyes, so very much the same colour as the mark on my fingers.

His eyes narrow further, staring into my own. Staring into my soul.

He steps forward, gloved hand reaching out and resting on my face. Another reaches up, unclipping his mask, pulling off the black medical mask under it, revealing what can be nothing other than the mark of a soulmate. A handprint rests on his jaw and lower cheek. And it's colour is the colour of my own eyes.

"This is your doing, isn't it, Soulmate?"

I step back, clutching my hand close to me before slowly peeling off my glove. Golden fingertips were exposed, making his matching eyes soften.

"And this is yours," I answer. "I accept your offer."