#also yeah new oneshot when i come back from mass!!! or maybe even before. who knows.

[liverpool-enjoyer]

for the first time in like five months heres uefa high as tweets!!! also new uefa high one shot coming later today hehe

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

[artificialqueens]

A Series Of Mutual Feelings, 1/3 (Scarjah) - Pazinae

chapter 1: i hate u (and the feelings mutual)

Chapter Summary: Ra'jah is determined to have a fresh start and be a better person, now enrolled as a first year fashion school student- but Scarlet has a way of always making her newfound plans falter. With a rocky high school history, the (not so) fortuitous pair endure some mutual hatred

A/N: enemies 2 luvers scarjah everyone xoxo meant to be a oneshot, but got a little carried away n my doc for this is currently 19 pages long ahaha so to be more palatable it will be a 4 chapter story (its says 3, but you'll see). this one is mainly the intro for the story to understand where they're at emotionally in the present, and is mostly ra'jah centric on her growth + kylie friendship fluff bc theyre the cutest, and a bit of scarlet pov. feedback super super welcome, enjoy !!! 

***

Scarlet strode down the hall with a sway in her hips, her heels clacking on the laminate floor. What kind of tacky ass bitch wears heels to school anyways? Ra'jah scoffed internally, watched the girl saunter like she's on a tightrope, each tantalizing step brought her foot exactly in front of the other. Her body fell into a rhythm, stomping the fucking campus like a lion stalking the jungle for the sheer fun of watching it’s prey scamper. Scarlet's bouncing skirt, her signature grin and luscious ginger curls sprouting out her scalp made her gag. And not in the stunning way. Just as quickly as she came she was gone, and, to be fair, she was just another girl sandwiched in the masses just getting to where she’s going. But she could pluck that arrogant little redhead bitch out of any crowd. Not a conscious choice of course, hell, being reminded of her sheer presence causes a battle of trying not to roll her eyes behind her skull. She can't help that she sees her. Not when Scarlet's lips are painted the same shade of bold crimson as the tight, sleeveless top she's wearing, like a fresh drop of blood in a sea of grey clad bodies swimming around in their hoodies.

This isn't high school anymore Ra'jah. A repetitive reminder that needs to be said evermore until it's understood at her core. Because It's different now, she knows that- it has to be. No fucking way are her dreams going to get caught up in everything again, they're too big to be put at stake. She can't live just to be like that again, and this time she's too grown to waste her time on useless people. High school was a bubble, a 4 year trance that she's left and is more than ready to forget about. 

"Hey, Ra'jah!" That southern, velvety voice could only belong to one stunning woman. She turned around to spot her speed walking to catch up. 

"Aye! Kylie!" Ra'jah stopped and gave a little wave as Kylie approached, her highlight shining even in the shitty indoor light. The two moved over to the side of the hall, and leaned against the wall. "If it isn't Miss Kylie Sonique Love," With such a pleasing name, Ra'jah doesn't think she will, or, really can ever get tired of saying the other girl's name. "What's up?"

"Nothin', just tired as fuck," It's kinda cute, the way her accent gets stronger when she's grumpy. "I'mma pass out at some point, I did not get enough sleep." Even as a grumble her voice is so soft and angelic, Ra'jah could probably fall asleep to the blonde reading true crime murder stories. 

"Goddamn, it sure as hell doesn't show!" Which is true, Kylie was as effervescent as always, any visible messy hair from under her beanie looked intentional. Even in her oversized t-shirt and shorts, there was an undeniable, captivating charm about her that made it impossible for her to look bad "You look gorgeous girl" 

"Awh, thanks honey," She smiles a soft, hazy smile. "You don't look too bad yourself." She hums, eyeing her up with a grin. Before she could even argue a response, the country girl quickly perks up and slaps her hand on Ra'jah's shoulder in excitement. "Oh also! I want your opinion- I'm thinking about dying my hair pink." She can see the visible sparkle in the pair of eyes looking at hers. "Thoughts?" She asks, voice becoming giddy "Oooh bitch! You better, that'd be so fierce!" The (mostly) purple haired girl exclaimed, delight evident in her voice "For real, you'd look so good. And you know, ba-BY" she claps her hands together just for added emphasis, "I support ALL the impulsive hair decisions".

"Yess, obviously I want input only from bad bitches with the best hair"

"I told you I did these myself right?" she asked, running her shoulder length hair through her twirling fingers. "I've been really into doing hair recently"

"Wait, really? It looks so pretty, the fade to purple is so good"

"What'd you mean 'wait really' hoe, what you implying 'bout my hair skills?" 

"Just that a talented woman like you should share your expertise!" Even when she was loud her voice was just as comforting, the tone reminiscent of a silk blanket on her skin

"All it took for me was bleach, a bottle of violet Arctic Fox dye, and the holy spirit of Brad Mondo"

"First of all I'm not trusting no mans named Brad," Ra'jah cackled a little because, yeah that's fair. "And secondly, if you're free, come an' help a girl out then!

"You're inviting me over? Wow we're moving kinda fast Kylie" 

"Oh shut up bitch" but the undying twinkle in her eye confirmed the unsaid agreement that Ra'jah would be doing Kylie's hair, at some point.

"I'm free on Thursday, can I visit then?"

"Yea that works" She smiled, and the closeness between the two wasn't something the taller girl ever planned, or really felt before. But she had it now, a friend she really cares about, and she never wanted to lose it.

"Shit what time is it?" Even in her Shitty Human era she was still a timely gal, her mother didn't raise no late hoe. "Don't stress it Raj, we have like 15 minutes. Introduction to drafting and sewing, right?"

"Yes ma'am. Wanna start going?" "Sure thing" This year is for a new start, making new friends, and getting a chance to create new first impressions. Rebrand herself y'know, and the hindrance that is Scarlet's existence, wrapped in all the ancient things she'd rather not think about, won't stop her.

The walk to class was a pleasant blur. With Kylie yawning and walking essentially shoulder to shoulder with Ra'jah had they been the same height, they slipped into both  comfortable conversation, and silence. With all the noise around them, their presence brought an ease without any awkwardness. 

 A trek opted through the outdoor route that was albeit a tad longer, provided some well needed greenery and fresh air.

"You excited for class?" Ra'jah asked, only half aware of where she was walking to. Her body was on autopilot, and Kylie knows the way, probably.  

"You're amazing if you can get excited by class"

"It's fun!"

"Only 'cause you're good at it"

"You're good at it"

"You know what I mean. Isn't this one your favorite?" 

"It's not my favorite" 

"Uh huh"

"I just like it a lot. Maybee essentially jus' cause I don't hafta try" It was a mandatory course, but Ra'jah's not complaining. Perhaps it's a little vain to enjoy something just to remind everyone you can do it, but it was an easy break from the rest of the courses. And a nice little egoboost.

"So I'm right!" 

"C'mon it's October and we're still on basic techniques"

"It's called introductory," She remarked. "Do you even pay attention half the time?"

"No but bitch neither do you"

"True" Kylie grinned in agreement.

"The way you're coming for me but it's easy for you too!" She hasn't been sewing as long as Ra'jah, but she has great taste so it really balanced out. "And let it be known that I use that class time to think about incredibly productive things"

"Oh that's her name?"

"What?" She didn't mean for her tone to drop. Didn't mean for her legs to stop walking, planting themselves into the cement. Didn't mean for the smile on her face to plummet at the implication. Her visceral reaction was louder than the cluelessness she gave off.  

"Calm down" She giggled, as if Ra'jah's reaction woke her up from her grogginess, her breathlessness equivalent to a shot of espresso for Kylie. "You just seem really occupied sometimes is what I meant"

"Me? No I'm not" She couldn't convince herself.

"Okay babe. The models of your fashion sketches just look a little reminiscent"  

"You know Scarlet isn't the only person with ginger hair right?" Ra'jah bites back, the condescending tone not her intention, but not exactly unwanted in the moment. Scarlet is insufferable, she doesn't want her own name slandered is all, being associated with the arrogant shit.

"Baby, I ain't mention Scarlet. That's all you.'' She had a shit eating smirk and maybe Ra'jah takes everything back about how nice friends are. IF there was inspiration, Scarlet is objectively nice looking so it's not a big deal there might be similarities if you squint.  

"She was implied" 

"If you want her to be"

They get inside and take a seat at one of the large tables, divided into stations with a sewing machine and some material at each one. Ra'jah takes a spot at the edge, with Kylie seated to her right. 

 On paper, it's all been planned out for Ra'jah; during her strolls between classes she'll take in all her surroundings and actively look for inspiration, pondering all the natural shapes and patterns of the world in a way she can manipulate into clothing. On paper, she'll make the most out of the introductory class, sketching designs between the minimal notes and sewing practices. On paper, she'll finish the mornings class with ease and have extra time to practice some new things. 

In reality? Paper is flimsy, especially when its accountability is held by a fleeting mind. It's hard to bask in the world when unwanted questions plague her head. Mostly revolving around a certain redhead. God, fuck her. Fuck her pretty eyes and fuck her sculpted face and fuck her euphonious voice. Does everyone who sees Ra'jah see her patheticness? How she allowed some cunt to infiltrate her mind, set up home in her head and take up all the space? Let her infect every cell in the brain like a parasite until her skull is nothing but an infiltrated shell for an infestation caught up with infatuation?

"Ra'jah, you good?"  The girl sat across from her, Trinity, piped up, and Ra'jah had to bite back a smile. The icy, timid girl she met just a few weeks ago was starting the conversation.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You just looked a little spaced out" 

"Nah, it's just that this class is a breeze an' I'm just thinking about a project for another class" 

"Mmm"

"Plus it's hard to just think of designs when there's no inspiration"

"I mean, we're supposed to practice gathering and making ruffles right now"

"Oh shit! We are?"

"Yeah girl!" Ra'jah, shaking her head at herself, finally picked up some of the fabric around her and got to work. "You'll be alright?"

"Oh don't worry about me! I'm all good"

"Okayyy if you need anything just yell" Ra'jah replied with a hum and a nod. Watching the girl running the fabric under the machine, memories of the first time they'd talked flashed, days of the nearly silent girl feeling so distant.

  "I really like your earrings" The girl raised her head, looking left and right a little as if making sure it was directed at her. 

"Thanks." She mumbled, vaguely looking at Ra'jah's direction. 

"If you don't mind, where'd you get them?"

"Uh, I thrifted it."

"Oh, cool" Ra'jah smiled, before quickly adding "Thanks". The raven haired girl didn't reply. The start of the intriguing game of 'does she hate me, is she shy, or both?' 

   After all the awkward attempts made for the quiet girl to be comfortable and maybe make a friend, a sense of pride rang through her. She met Kylie and Trinity here a mere month ago, and yeah, maybe she could be nice. She could walk the fineline of warm socialization without being annoying. The new Ra'jah doesn't do unnecessary mean quips just for the sake of a little power rush. She can be authentically her while being polite. New Ra'jah makes friends- not enemies. 

"Oh by the way" Ra'jah snapped her head up at Trinity's voice 

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I know it's a little random but do you know what you're gonna be for Halloween?"

"Huh. Well, I haven't really thought about it" Ra'jah remarked, "I just don't care for Halloween and all that"

"Really? Girl, you're not gonna do anything, dress up, go out, nothing?"

"Baby all that work and money for some costume I'll wear once? No ma'am- and the fuck will I do, I barely have ideas for school!"

"Hey, you could wear anything and it's a costume. Wear a black dress, you're a cat"

"You think I'm that basic?"

"Yeah?"

 "Fuck you" She snorted, and Trinity had a goofy smile, looking at Ra'jah with a sense of familiar fondness. "And thanks, really, but I don't care for all that spooky shit anyways"

"Damn, alright!" Teeth out and all, she laughed. The blonde on the right leaned in a little, a pleasant opposition of Trinity's hesitation is Kylie's eagerness

"Jesus Ra'jah, what did Halloween do to you?" The southern girl butts in. "You could dress as the grinch of Halloween, steal children's candy" 

"You know what, yeah, I'll be a sluttified grinch"

"You're kinda built the same already" Trinity joins with a grin

"Hey!"

"Sluttified? Are you implying the grinch isn't sexy enough?" Ra'jah choked a little at that, found herself smiling with some dopey content, at what exactly she's not sure. 

"Do ya'll think being the grinch would count as like, being a furry?" Trinity asked, voice dripping in an odd amount of seriousness. 

"What? Baby no" Kylie jumped in. "Yes! absolutely, how would it NOT?" Trinity argues, and maybe it's the easiness of everything.  Of how nice it is to just fall into banter when you let people in. Bouncing off the two girls, she doesn't need to think of how to be funny, how to one up herself, remind everyone of why she's worthy. She can just, be. And that warrants a smile. 

With Ra'jah's elbow propped on the table, she rested her cheek against her palm to face forward, before turning a little to face Trinity

"But why do ya ask Trin? About Halloween"

"Oh, kinda last minute but I just want some ideas to figure mine out" She shrugs, and Kylie leans over once more. It's a little heartwarming, how physically close she always instinctively wants to be. 

"Oh! Are you going to the Halloween party this weekend?"

"Nah parties aren't really my thing"

"Awh, but it'll be fun!"

"Yeah standing in a mass of people I won't talk to will be so fun"

"Fine- Ra'jah, are you goin'?" Rajah turns her head to follow the voices like a cat keeping up with a beam of light. 

"Uh..."

"RIGHT, forgot, Halloween's not your thing". A party where she can have a disguise, let loose and have fun. It feels almost embarrassing to admit to her newfound friends that she's never been to a party, and the thought of a Halloween party didn't even cross her mind. Maybe Halloween isn't not her thing, it's just not something she'd indulge in. For reasons. Like, schoolwork. 

"Welllllll…" Ra'jah hummed, dragging on with a small grin

"OH the prospect of partying changes things huh?" 

"You know, me an' Halloween, we complicated okay!" They laugh, but Ra'jah's left thinking. New or old Ra'jah both, spends a little too much time in the internal realm of the brain. 

The class falls silent except the murmurs of the buzzing machines, and the three chatter in whispers. Although usually it's mostly her and Kylie with occasional injections of confirmation from Trinity

"You're insane if you think spaghettini is better than fettuccine" Kylie protested "Spaghettini is literally the objective worst"

"Says who?!" Ra'jah paused sewing to look up at Kylie in defiance

"Me!"

"Trinity which is better" 

"Huh? Ya'll It's too early for this." Trinity complained.

"Oh, says the bitch who asked if the grinch was a furry" Ra'jah retorted, but Trinity brushed her off to look at Kylie "Oh wait! Also, Kylie, what're you gonna be for Halloween?" She gave a little snicker before answering 

"Don't come for me but honestly? Was thinking about being a cat" 

"AAAAAH!" Ra'jah and Trinity erupted laughing.

"But like, a hot one okay!" Ra'jah quickly tried to redeem herself.

"You'll be the hottest ass cat around" Plus, worse comes to worst, Ra'jah will be a witch or something, and they can be hot and basic together. 

When the class ended, they packed their things, and exchanged their goodbyes

"I'll see y'all around!"

"See you! Good luck on your textile project Trin" 

"Thanks!" She waved, yelling a final "Bye!" 

"Bye!" The three part, and Ra'jah makes her way to her second class. History of costume and design was next, and quickly weighing it out, she decided to take a quicker path through the halls. Suddenly, the weight of a body knocked at her side, the two stumbling around for a few seconds. A gust of papers had fallen from both parties' arms, and landed on the floor.

"Oh shit! I'm so-" Scarlet cuts herself off when she looks up at whom she's bumped into.

"Maybe watch where you're going" Ra'jah snorts out of sheer instinct, squatting down to gather her papers where Scarlet follows suit, just a little too close. The vague, sweet scent of strawberries she gives off is suffocating.

"Maybe if you weren't such a stuck up cunt taking up half the hallway I wouldn't hit you" The attention sends a masochistic jolt down her spine

"Uh oh someone's in a bad mood. Stuck up cunt that's a new one! Love the creativity. You should drop out of this school and be a writer" As much as she screamed internally to just shut the fuck up and get your things, it was so easy to slip back to this.

"Thanks but I'm good! When you fail out this year you can give it a try"

"Baby, me? Fail out?" Please don't imply that. Please don't make me doubt that I can and deserve to be here. I don't want to seek approval from others, but I can't help but be hurt at disapproval. Of course, her thoughts don't verbalize as the words that come out of her mouth. "That's a lot of talk for a girl who probably spends more hours getting fucked than studying" Before she can think it through, process the flash of hurt on her face and the way her fingers tense around the last piece of paper, before Ra'jah can really understand the weight of her own words she continues. "But I guess that's how you get yo' A's right?"

Their exchanges were in aggressive whispers, hushed to anyone above them. To most people, they'd find a sight of two girls muttering to one another while they pick up some things they've dropped.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet" Scarlet huffed, standing up in one swift motion. Those words aren't a compliment. Like, at all. So why does Ra'jah's dumb, twisted heart stop for a second? The implied connection of herself and 'pretty' slows her body and slurs her mind until she's pushing herself up off the ground in slow motion. It's been so many months of mundanity, the small interaction felt all so familiar and foreign and exciting at the same time.But the haziness of her words and their little games makes her forget for a second of what the fuck just happened, and a wave of patheticness washed over her as she started to walk, eyes focused at the cream walls. For all her hemming and hawing, Ra'jah hasn't. Fucking. Changed. 

A rush of everything dives into her guts, a sick adrenaline coated in dread, self loathing and the slight urge to cry, nestling in her stomach like a bird claiming a branch as it's home. Her skin was electric, and she hated to admit she loved it, the thrill of interacting with her, cattiness and all. Imagine feeling this much from fucking bumping into someone? Fingers clenched, nails digging in her own palms at how much she hates her. Intense emotions are a high of their own, and Ra'jah can't help but indulge. The piercing sting of her flesh being pressed in with her nails is intensified as she listens for the faint voice of that lanky girl always accompanying Scarlet. 

"You good Scarlet?"

"Yeah, thanks" She can't look back, but she can't help but wonder- are they hugging? Holding hands? It doesn't- it shouldn't matter to her. The fun amusement pales in comparison to the misery settling in. The realization that she's fighting with Scarlet like they're 16 at the back of English class.

Of all the schools, why'd that girl have to come here? Of all the things to pursue, why the same as herself? Of all the people, why'd it have to be her? Ra'jah didn't have the audacity to explore the last question. What she means, she's not too sure. The only thing in the world she's sure of is that she can't be both New Ra'jah™ and Old Ra'jah™ to different people. The line between the two existences isn't so bold anymore, and painting over the bumps isn't as effective as she'd hoped. 

  ***

  Truth be told, watching herself move around in skirts was one of her favorite things- just about tied with watching others watch her. Maybe that's why she joined cheer in highschool. Especially with the support from (or, lack of thereof) a certain grimacing purple haired girl, a runaway model from a fashion show who wound up wandering this school. She never needed to turn and look, didn't need sight to know there's a burn at her back, nor who it's radiating from. Scarlet always walked with just a bit of a straighter back, just a bit more purpose, and just a bit more stride in her step when her favorite pair of wandering eyes were around. A small part of her always wants to turn around, catch her gaze and watch her frantically look away and pretend she's talking to someone. Or maybe she'll hold it, stare back with just as much intensity. But her wistful attention is enough of an ego boost. The scowl ridden bitch, smile washed away just for her, and yet that's where her attention lied. It made her bite back a smile. 

Scarlet is a pretty thing, and she didn't need constant confirmation to remind her that she's beautiful. She's hot, she knows it, Ra'jah knows it, and Scarlet knows that's all she is to her. A pretty thing. Whatever. She's not important. 

In fear of her brain melting, and/or being fried to a crisp, Scarlet doesn't bother having two classes back to back. Her mental capacity is full, and a nice salad will probably help with that. She's on her way to meet with Yvie for lunch, thinking about their weekend plans, when she takes a misstep and stumbles, all her weight focused in her shoulder which slams against someone else's side.

"Oh shit! I'm so-" the universe is an asshole. May the odds never be in my favor. 

"Maybe watch where you're going" Her sneer is venomous, and the universe has suddenly become just the second biggest asshole. 

"Maybe if you weren't such a stuck up cunt taking up half the hallway I wouldn't hit you" Ra'jah didn't do anything, a rational voice lectures, but she ignores it the way she's ignoring the taller girls face. Scarlet's grabbing at her papers, avoiding eye contact because that selfish pile of shit on her right takes up enough space as is, and if she looks into her eyes, sees that stupid fucking face this close she might do something bad. Like, in the sense of, punching her. Yeah, she can't look at her or she'll beat her up. Because that's a fight she'd win.  

"Uh oh someone's in a bad mood. Stuck up cunt that's a new one! Love the creativity. You should drop out of this school and be a writer" Ra'jah snides, and she needs to drop out before Scarlet gets grey hair from her. 

"Thanks but I'm good! When you fail out this year you can give it a try" Her words are about as empty as her own stomach, because she hasn't eaten since last night, and Ra'jah will quit fashion school and become a science engineer before she fails out. 

"Baby, me? Fail out?" Yeah, with the flawless outfit you're wearing that you sure as hell made just because you were bored one night. Your pants could literally be sold as a luxury brand. The girl who started sewing when she a embryo in the womb, you'll fucking fail out.  "That's a lot of talk for a girl who probably spends more hours getting fucked than studying- But I guess that's how you get yo' A's right?" Scarlet looks up, not at Ra'jah but away from the ground, and the urge to yell, hit her, and cry come up at the same time. She wants to scream, get everyone in hearing range to know that Ra'jah is a loser who will amount to nothing. She wants to reach out and choke her. But articulating her anger into words is too much, and she ends up just whispering whatever words are willing to come out as she gets up, not caring if she left any papers behind. 

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet" And that's the closest thing to honest Scarlet's said all day. 

In the distance, she sees Yvie walking towards her, so she waits until the freshly dyed green haired girl is caught up beside her. 

"You good Scarlet?" 

"Yeah, thanks" The two walk together, side by side, and Scarlet loops her arm through Yvie's, linking the pair. 

"You know, Scarlie, you should stop wearing heels before you break your ankles"

"Hey!" She giggled, slapping the taller girl's arm in response. "I never fall, people just get in my way" Yvie scoffs, unable to stop the corners of her lips turning up and giving her away, forever endeared by the shorter girl. Scarlet's affection makes her forget that they've only known each other for a month. They reach a set of blue doors, and Yvie opens it, holding it for Scarlet to come through. Her face seems puzzled 

"Are you down to go to Mika's Cafe? I want to get some coffee" 

"Sure, they have nice breakfast sandwiches and omelettes, I'm down" It's only a few minutes away from campus 

"What's on your mind"

"Just like, school stuff. I have to make a dress for creative fashion design, and I'm just thinking about it, and what I wanna do" Would it be tmi to blurt that Ra'jah is insufferable? 

"Cool," Yvie hummed, and spiteful words cycled through Scarlet's head, deciding on what exactly to say, before Yvie beats her to it, whipping her head in some seeming urgency

 "OH by the way, I know you're busy with your project and you're determined on getting in the top 5 and all," 

"Uh huh" 

"Buuuuut, there's a Halloween party this weekend, and I was gonna go with Brooke and her friends but they're not going anymore," Scarlet knows how Yvie feels about Brooke, and to be fair she's only met her a few times in passing, but how someone like Yvie could fall for someone as uptight as the boring blonde is beyond her. She doesn't dare bring up another possibility of why her dorm mate would be avoiding the stoic girl, a possibility involving a particularly hot headed latina glued to the Canadians side. "They decided clubbing downtown would be more fun or whatever," They're outside on the pavement now, and the afternoon breeze graces their skin. It's a welcome environment, and Scarlet slows down her pace to enjoy the air, with Yvie quickly matching her pace. 

"Wouldn't you rather go clubbing though? Like not with Brooke and them but with others," Scarlet is friendly and all, but she swears Yvie is somehow friends with half the school. She sure as hell can find a group to go with.

"I guess, but I want to go to the party," she quiets a little as she continues, "There are some people I want to see there, for fun and stuff"

"Mmmm!" Scarlet widens her eyes, looking at the taller girl with a knowing glare, sprinkled with a teeny bit of judgement. 

"It's kinda lame to go there alone!" 

"No it's not!" 

"Scarls, yeah it is"

"Why do you even care? Wanna impress some girls?" In response, Yvie rolled her eyes so hard Scarlet could practically feel it. 

"'Cause you want me to go to a fun Halloween party by myself? 

"Yes! You could walk up to anyone and there's like an 80% chance you already know them, and a 100% chance you'll become friends anyways" The quirky girl's charm is undeniable, she'll be fine without Scarlet. Yvie gives a defeated sigh

"Seems kinda homophobic" 

"Ugh you know what's actually homophobic? The fact that more people aren't madly in love with me. I'm LITERALLY perfect" The prospect of love feels like it's been dangled infront of her, her whole life. Imagine looking like Scarlet, and never dated before?

"You're right girl, you are" Yvie laughed her deep, hearty cackle and Scarlet wanted to melt a little. 

"Thank you, finally someone with taste" Looking at her outfit, she remembers that the tall girl's taste is kind of debatable, and Scarlet almost wants to say she takes it back

"You think Ra'jah has good taste then?" 

"What?" 

"Also a party seems like the best way to meet more people y'know?" She brushes over her last question, and it's much better that way.

"You know what, whatever 'll go with you" Scarlet agrees so she'll shut up. If she hears her roommate bring up she-who-shall-not-be-named-because-shes-a-stick-in-the-ass anymore she might lose her mind. And, she really doesn't have any other plans for the night so might as well.

 ***

AN: going to be a while for the next chapter bc im busy so here's a lil thing lol xo

***

They weren't supposed to meet here. Weren't supposed to see each other. At least, that's what Scarlet tries to tell herself.

"You are such a fucking pain, oh my god" Scarlet seethed because everything is hazy except the impassive girl standing before her and she can't think straight. Her cold eyes are apathetic and Scarlet wants to implode, like a glass thermostat engulfed in a burning heat where it's not a question of if, but an inevitable when? "Maybe I am arrogant" Her voice was coated in a sickly sweet frustration. She pushed further into Ra'jah's space, the taller girl stiffening at the ever decreasing space between the two. How can she be so still, so unreactive? This is all so amusing to her? Is she having fun, so fucking detached from everything and watching Scarlet crumble? Pretending like she cares about Scarlet past her pretty face? Enjoying her sadistic game? Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her. 

"Maybe I am narcissistic" Their faces were inches apart, and Ra'jah could feel the angry womans hot breathe on her cheek, the pungent smell of alcohol intruding her nose.

"But I'd rather be a confident, arrogant narcissist than whatever kind of sad fuck you are" 

Scarlet growled, and she wanted to breathe fire, burn Ra'jah's existence out of her mind and scream at everything she felt because of her. Except that she sees her, and wants her, wants to hurt her and touch her and without thinking her hands are digging around Ra'jah's waist.

"You are such-" Scarlet was interrupted as the other girl leaned in, framed the shorter girl's face with both her hands, and pressed her lips against Scarlets. Any thoughts or mental functionality she had were put to an abrupt stop. This wasn't supposed to happen. It's been so long, but no time has passed since they were last like this. The plug to her brain was pulled, and it's all static and her bodys done a full 180. Ra'jah's piercing lips are numbing, and her overheated body feels like it's been dunked in ice where all her nerves are all in shock. They weren't supposed to do this anymore, it's the only thing they've ever been able to agree on. She was frozen, unable to move, or think, far too busy being hyper focused on the familiar sugary lips on hers, sending waves of nostalgia through her body. Time has only heighted the intoxication. She gains some composure and surges forward, but Ra'jah's pulling away, opening her mouth to finally say something.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet"

[samwrights]

I Found You

I have no excuses for this one except I’m a dirty dirty Overhaul fucker.

On the real though, this one was very loosely inspired from Yagami Yato’s plot lines for Dabi and Overhaul. These routes inspired the Underground and Dabi and Kai’s occupations, otherwise everything else was just me being a simp.

⤞ Pairing: tattooed!Reader x Former Villain!Chisaki Kai

⤞ Word Count: 16,850. Yes you read that right.

⤞ Warnings: language, arson, awkward questions, reader smokes, I shafted Dabi again and made him the best friend...again, slightly vivid gore, mentions of death, male masturbation, daddy kink, age difference, breeding kink (ish), dirty talk, dom!Kai, 

I’m sorry this is so long. Just kidding, no I’m not. I love writing really long fics. Honestly, I’m trying to see how much I can push the boundaries of my writing and how long I can keep one idea conhesive and consistent and how much I can flesh out. Eventually these longer oneshots will be cross-posted to my AO3, I just really need to do my paper. Also Tropium Tattoos is pronounced as Tro-Pie-Um.

The color of fire always burns in accordance to temperature as well as the material that it’s burning. Watching the local Underground clinic slash orphanage burn not only red, but an almost ethereal green from the copper couplings and details of the building felt like an early Christmas warning—like the Underground was a target and the rest of the hidden city would soon follow by the holiday. That warning was only followed by disgust at the thought of someone feeling the need to go after a free clinic and orphanage in a city built out of a hollow sewer full of exiles for whatever fucking reason. 

Your heart is an amalgam of aching and sorrow and anger as you watch the flames burst through the windows of the shoddy building from a safe distance. From where you stood outside of your tattoo parlor only two blocks down, you see a crowd beginning together. Much to your surprise, most of them were only kids with one adult herding them—a man you recognized to be the owner of the building currently meeting its demise. 

The doctor of the clinic is as calm as ever, or rather trying to be, quietly attempting to do a headcount of his children. It seemed that concentration was alluding him, given the situation, because he swears up and down that he knows he has nine kids. Yet, he seemed to be unable to count past eight. He’s trying not to panic, but one of the kids speaks his greatest fear into fruition. “Daddy, Eri’s not here!” Golden eyes widen until the sclerae are fully round, pupils constricting in fear. This ‘Eri’ was special, you realize as you observe from a short distance away. The doctor is looking back at his children who are all in some form of tears and shambles then back at the burning building like a ferocious game of ping pong. Chisaki Kai can’t just leave his kids out here—not when he is almost certain that this attack was premeditated. But his daughter, his eldest daughter at that, was still inside potentially being engulfed by flames. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

Your body moves without a second thought. 

Your body moves, ignoring the screams from other bystanders for you not to go inside the burning clinic as you burst past the dilapidated red door. Upon entering, copper decor and steel support beams had fallen from the ceiling, sparking flames that were separating you from the stairwell that led up to the orphanage. There was no way you would be able to find this Eri person through the wreckage—not alone at least. Maybe your dumb quirk was good for something. 

You didn’t even realize you had a quirk until the age of twenty when you had gotten your first tattoo. It wasn’t anything crazy—a traditional-style three-eyed wolf’s head on your arm—only to wake up the following morning with no soreness, no tenderness, and no ink on your body. The wolf laid beside you, curled up in your bed, somehow manifesting into real life. At first it was terrifying, of course, but after learning how to return the creature back to your body you realize it might not have been a total waste of money. Your quirk, something you jokingly called the Magic Pencil quirk in reference to a Spongebob Squarepants episode from your childhood, was officially registered through the government on the Surface as Life Canvas. Again, it was a pretty dumb quirk unless you knew just what to utilize. Now your body was littered with dozens of creatures, weapons, hell even a telephone just in case you might need it. But the wolf was your favorite, as it was your first, and he was just the one to call for in this situation. Activating your quirk, you pinch at the ink on your forearm until it begins to peel off before setting it down on the ground. The line work stands on its own before the ink fills out into a three-dimensional mass and a now recognizable creature. 

“There’s a child somewhere here. Help me find them,” you implored your creation, cautiously climbing around the shambles while it did the same, though much nimbler than you. Fragments of the stairs were missing, some of railings were in flames—it was hard for you to get anywhere at the moment. A scream rips through the walls, a young girl you realize. She’s probably now seeing your large and somewhat creepy three-eyed wolf. Maneuvering carefully, you find spots that have yet to burn until you see a little girl cowering away from flames in her bedroom and away from your quirk. “Take my hand!” You try to scream, but the way building was going down was deafening. Instead, you cross a patch of fire to scoop the frail child in your arms and trapping the both of you behind a brazen wall of flames. Patting the wolf on the head, as if deflating it with your magical hands, it flattens back into a two dimensional drawing and returns to your body to grant you the ability to switch out to a manifestation that would prove to be more useful in this situation. You repeat the process, this time with a Phoenix from under your bosom that emerges just outside the window closest to the two of you. “Hold on tight,” you tell her as you pull her flush against your own body before smashing through glass to land the back of the Phoenix, covering her head to make sure the shards didn’t mar her skin. With a gentle descent, you place her feet first on the concrete with her family. 

“Eri!” The doctor of the clinic calls out in relief, arms wrapping around his daughter tightly. Your lips purse in a small, tight smile before you’re off on your way again, riding off into the horizon on the back of your strange creature. And for a moment, Chisaki Kai is torn between going after you to thank you while Overhaul wants nothing more than cleanse his children and you for touching his precious daughter with a vile quirk. He settles on the former, golden eyes watching your back disappear into the dark cavern of the Underground city. 

Weeks had passed since the fire burned down the orphanage clinic. Tabloids were published trying to figure out who the mysterious hero was, though most of the articles feared that an actual Hero was among the residents of the Underground. The Underground welcomes Heroes like the human body welcomes the plague—they tried to be eradicated and killed off. Not to say that quirks themselves weren’t welcome, no. It’s just that most of the residents were quirkless and those that did have one were all registered in a public database, separate from the government mandated one up on the Surface, so that quirk wielders were no secret. 

All but you, anyway. 

One of these well-known resident holders was Chisaki Kai. Quirk: Overhaul. Local doctor and caretaker of the orphaned, quirkless kids. Though, whether their powers had yet to manifest or he had removed them himself due to his vile distaste for the genetic mutation was unknown to the public. 

Another was the leader of the Underground: Dabi. The Cremation user who was presently lounging in one of your dingy, beat up sofas of your tattoo shop. “You know, most of the people just want to know who you are,” he supplies, flipping through the most recent news article. Instantly, he knew it was you that had rescued the little girl from the burning building, knowing full well of your quirk regardless of how rarely you used it. 

“And half of them want my head because they think I’m a Hero,” you spit the last word out as you finish tidying up your workspace. Your last client of the evening had just left, leaving you to close up shop while Dabi came to bother you as you did so. Not that you complained considering he had been a close friend for a long time. “Like I would ever be a Hero.” Heroes were the reason you and many others here in the Underground existed in this hidden sewer metropolis. Whether the Heroes had destroyed their livelihoods, their families or, in your case, accidentally killed your parents while you were still a teenager and you had nowhere to go, they were at fault for the creation of this cozy, dingy city. 

“Says here that Eri wishes to personally thank you,” Dabi adds, turquoise eyes flickering in your direction as you stop at the mention of her name. “We could hold some little rally, get you a medal—“

“Dabi, no.”

“—or you could just stop by town hall with me. Overhaul and the kids have been staying there while the clinic gets rebuilt.” You mull his words over in your head while capping all your ink bottles and putting them away in their respective drawers. Dabi takes your silence as a gesture of you thinking, even more so as you aggressively sanitize your client chair. “Come on, [ name ], she’s just a kid.”

“Yeah, but I hate kids.”

“Then stop acting like one.” With that, the leader leaves your shop, bells tolling as he exits. You weren’t being childish, you internally bite, silently and stubbornly. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t want to just announce that the lone tattoo artist of the Underground had a quirk that the public didn’t know about. It wasn’t your fault that your body moved without thinking. And it certainly wasn’t your fault that you rescued the daughter of the most notorious quirk hater in the city. 

Chisaki Kai was not quiet when it came for his distaste of quirks despite having one himself. Rumors floated all around the Underground that all of the children in his care had their quirks removed by his own hand, Eri included. What kind of monster did that? To his own child, no less. The thought made you sick to your stomach, only reaffirming your initial decision to not meet with Eri. 

But thinking of her brings great sadness to you. She was merely a child—a child who probably didn’t understand her father’s distaste. A kid who just wanted to thank the woman who saved her and nothing else. A sigh passes your lips as you head up the stairs from your shop to your attached apartment, turning off the lights to Tropium Tattoos. It’s not fair to deny her, you think. 

Maybe you’ll just sleep on it for now. 

 The following morning was quiet, as it was every morning in a city built out of a sewer. But eerily...too quiet. The sound of chirping nature and wildlife was a foreign concept now, especially years later. But there were no sound of bikes or clunky old cars passing by or arguing neighbors—if noise was present at all, it was in the form of faint crackling and crinkling of papier-mâché but somehow on a grander scale. It was new. There’s a grotesque smell in the air; a cross between a stale bonfire and rotting wood and warm smoke. 

Oh no. 

Oh fuck.

Panic fills your veins, throwing your nearly bare body out from under the covers. Ripping open your bedroom door and flying out the narrow entryway that led to the stairwell, you’re met with orange flames burning the wood of your staircase leading down to your shop. There’s no time for you to think about anything other than retreating back to your living room, to where the flames had yet to enter the threshold. Glancing out the large bay window behind your couch, you debate how steep of a drop it is from your second story down onto the cold pavement without sparing a second thought to how you could break your own fall. Contemplation wears down at your time to escape, you realize, as the fire is now entering your living space and burning brightly like a firework and catches onto the wooden console table in your entryway as well as the walls. Without another moment’s hesitation, you throw yourself through the window, bracing for impact from both the glass and the inevitable shattering of at least one bone. 

“[ name ]?!” You hear Dabi yelling over the sound of collapsing support beams from the inside of the building. All that’s on your mind is pain—throbbing pain and an ear-splitting cry as you try to cradle your probably broken arm from the back alley of your shop. Dabi calls out your name again, running over towards you while still trying to be somewhat mindful of all the shards of glass in fear of accidentally kicking more in your direction. Between rapid breaths, a few heavy coughs escape your lungs, no doubt from smoke inhalation. “I got you,” he murmurs as he picks you up gingerly. Another groan leaves your lips—your whole body hurts and were you more coherent and not in shock, you probably would have realized sooner that you’d broken more than just your arm. “Find who did this and bring them to me,” Dabi snarls at the small squadron behind him attempting to put out the fire that was destroying your livelihood as he makes his way back to town hall. 

It takes everything in Dabi’s body to not stamp his entire way back into his living quarters and the only reason he isn’t is because he’s carrying your busted body. This is the fourth fire in two weeks with no discernible pattern. All he knows is that it started with Overhaul’s clinic and now has somehow reached your quaint and quiet tattoo shop. As a leader, it makes Dabi want to tear his hair out. As a friend, he’s just pissed off. 

He’s thankful you’ve passed out just so he doesn’t have to deal with you bitching about how gruff he’s being. Though, it certainly dawned on him that you had probably fallen unconscious from the sheer agonizing pain of breaking multiple bones simultaneously. He sets you down, far from gently, in the residential living room upstairs of the Town Hall building. “Overhaul!” He bellows out, not even caring if the children heard his angry tone right now. 

“I told you to stop calling me that,” the doctor appears from around the corner, a clearly agitated look on his face, even beneath a simple black mask. The irony isn’t lost on Dabi despite his composure—he remembers once upon a time when Kai only went by the name of his quirk. Funny how years go by. “Her again?” Overhaul all but sneers, looking at your limp body that was covered only in a thin tee shirt and a pair of panties. Ignoring that little fact of seeing so much painted flesh, he notices the distinct smell of burnt wood and swelling under the skin where the breaks were. “What happened to her?”

“Someone set [ name ]’s tattoo shop and apartment on fire. She jumped out of a window to get out.” Dabi is absolutely seething, little sparks of blue flames leaving his nostrils as he lets out tufts of air. “Idiot had no idea how to break her fall and busted her shit. Can you help her?” 

“I suppose that would make us even.” The doctor snarks back thoughtlessly, but he can’t help but wonder why you didn’t use your little quirk to save yourself as you had with Eri. 

“Good. I’m gonna go find this fucker.” With that, Dabi storms out of the living room and out of the town hall building, leaving Kai with the woman that saved his daughter’s life. At least maybe now, Eri could say thank you like she had been asking to do. He could say thank you. 

Chisaki adjusts you on the couch so that you’re entirely flat on the cushions, mindful of the glass that’s embedded in your skin. If anything, he should probably remove those first. With gloved hands, he picks out all the shards he can see with his golden eyes while his mind wanders as he looks at the lines and colors of the tattoos that covered your body. From neck to toe, there was ink on nearly every inch—even the one dragon-snake hybrid on your face that wrapped around your temple and cheekbone. Despite your [ hair color ] locks matting your skin, Overhaul found all of your tattoos rather intriguing to look at; almost as if it weren’t flesh because the contact wasn’t causing him to break out in hives. Like your body told a story without you even needing to speak. 

After getting all the glass cleared up, Kai gently pushed on your arms and legs, checking for any signs of bones out of place from where they should be or cushioning and swelling to protect the damaged areas, outside of the very obvious ones that nearly looked like softballs. Two breaks in your femur, four in your ulna from what he could feel—nothing that Overhaul couldn’t fix. Though, he had to make sure that everything had set the way it was supposed to and that you were able to use your limbs after he did the repair. That meant he would actually have to speak to you, and he comes to the realization the two of you never actually had the chance to speak to each other before. Maybe he shouldn’t be as judgmental of the fact that you had a defect—maybe you were like him and abhorrent at the fact that you had a mutation to begin with. 

After using his own quirk, Overhaul checks for a pulse on your neck with two fingers, making sure you at least had a heartbeat before patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness. In the meantime, he continues picking out the fragments of glass that escaped his initial sweep—a task made slightly easier when the shards caught the light contrasted the dark lines embedded in your dermis. For a brief second, you stir against his touch before your eyes snap open. “Holy fuck, what happened?” You all but howl when you come to. You let out a deep gasp for breath, suddenly aware of the dull throbbing in your arm and leg as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings. 

“Can you tell me if this hurts?” The doctor to your left says evenly, emotionless even, as he holds your wrist between his thumb and middle finger, moving your arm in all sorts of ways. A sharp inhalation sucks in between your teeth as it twists in ways you weren’t sure it could before. A grimace touches his lips underneath is plain, black cloth mask—maybe he didn’t set the bones correctly? Overhaul lays your arm flat, ready to make his adjustments, but as his gloved fingers padded closer, you found yourself retreating further into the depths of the couch cushions. 

“I-I’m good,” your words come rushing out, desperate to dodge his touch. Why did you wake up with Overhaul over you? Did he take your quirk away? You’d have to investigate further when you were alone, test it out in private. Ignoring the dull hums of pain coming from your arms and legs, you manage to sit up, slumping over your knees before you realized where you were. “Town hall?”

“Yes. Do you remember anything?” You shake your head—you remember waking up to smelling the smoke in your apartment. You remember the fire creeping up the stairwell and the way orange painted your once tan walls. You remember jumping out the window, but everything else after is met with a blank slate. “You broke your arm and legs in a few places—I reset them with my quirk.”

“Oh,” is all you have to say. “Uh, thank you.”

“Speaking of thank you,” Overhaul palms his knees before pushing off of them from the wooden stool he’s sitting on, standing at his full height and smoothing out his black dress shirt and slightly creased slacks. “My daughter would like to thank you for rescuing her a few weeks back.” 

Dammit. 

It wasn’t like you could just say no to Eri’s father when it was only the two of you—that would just make you look like an asshole or worse; he could just kill you and say you died in the fire. It was even more difficult to decline considering the young, silver-haired girl was peeking her head from behind a partition, wide-eyed when her dad mentioned her. With your own eyes softening at the sudden contact, you offer an awkward smile that you pray comes off as welcoming. Overhaul beckons her to come closer, holding one hand open until the young girl is tucked underneath his hip. 

“U-Um, t-thank you for saving me,” a squeak spills past her dry lips before she runs out of the room as quickly as she came. You didn’t blame her. Even if Overhaul is her father, he gave off an intimidating air that surely would frighten any child. It made you wonder how such a man ran an orphanage. But to your surprise, Eri returned, though this time not alone. A flock of children was accompanying her, each of them with bright eyes and big smiles adorning their unique appearances. 

“Thank you for saving our sister!” They chime in unison. The sight made your heart swell and soften, even if only slightly. Eri steps forward cautiously, pushing through her own trepidation as she stands before you and throws herself at you, hugging you tightly with arms around your neck in gratitude. As if triggering a domino effect, a few of the other children felt the need to express the same sentiment. An uncomfortable laugh bubbles past your lips as you awkwardly wrap your arms around the gaggle of kids—you may not like them, but you weren’t that much of an asshole to deny them a hug. 

Kai’s typically hard, cold expression mellows at the sight. It’s heartwarming, he gave it that, but a part of him cannot stave off the tiny bubble of envy he feels seeing his children so ready to embrace you when they initially had such a hard time adjusting to life with him. He loved these kids—and it was quite clear you felt the opposite—so why hadn’t they gravitated towards him like they did you? Underneath his mask, he grimaced before internally shaking his head. They were his children, they loved Kai regardless and he knew that. “Alright kids, why don’t you go play and let [ name ] rest? It’s been a rough morning for her.” The use of your name shouldn’t have shocked you, or maybe it was fear that crawled up your spine at the doctor’s endearing tone. You weren’t aware that he knew who you were. The kids let out a collective groan before listening to their father and exiting the living room. As soon as each of their little, youthful heads is out of sight, you breathe out a sigh of relief. 

“S-sorry,” you mumble out, suddenly reminding yourself that it was probably rude of you to make a sound as such and you wanted to make sure you did nothing to insult Overhaul to his face. A huge part of you felt that one wrong word out of your mouth meant the end of your quirk or your life. 

“It’s alright, I know they can be a handful. Though, they seem to be quite taken with you.” His tone is still rather polite, you notice, and his voice is entirely different than what you’d thought it would be in a one on one interaction. You thought it would be deeper, as whispers and rumors of Chisaki Kai being an incredibly cruel, bitter man painted a different picture in your head. But the man standing before you looked every bit as broken as you felt on the inside—as if a part of him had an empty chasm residing in his chest that could not be filled by the nine children in his care. 

“I can’t imagine why,” you reply. 

“Neither can I,” he says without skipping a beat, his tone still airy and light. Before you can rebuttal with your quick wit, Dabi storms in with his eyes locked on to your now conscious body. Gesturing with his head, over exaggerating the folds of his damaged skin, he encourages you to follow him downstairs to the mayoral study. Silently, you sauntered off behind him, leaving Overhaul alone in the living room, while you could feel the internal flames burning within Dabi. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe the look on his face.

In the office, photographs of burnt down buildings, rubble, and the skeletal framework of Underground businesses were littered across the large, maple desk. All the while, the leader of the Underground was grumbling to himself repeatedly while tugging at his raven locks in frustration. Not only had someone burned down local businesses in the city, let alone a close friend’s business, but it seemed that someone was attacking his city from the inside. “I wasn’t able to save Tropium.” You offer no response, mostly because there isn’t one to have. You felt anguish over losing your home, sure, but knowing how hard Dabi worked to protect the Underground, you can’t quite imagine how he’s feeling.

Instead, you respond with, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I should be asking you that. Your home is gone, [ name ].” He had a valid point. Perhaps you could find a few local contractors and give them some work—it wasn’t like you didn’t have the money to spare. But that would probably take some time considering, from photo evidence, the place—all of them—was going to need to be built from the ashes. “Stay here while you figure it out. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t you already have Overhaul and the kids staying here?” Maybe Dabi didn’t notice the way your voice trembled as you spoke his name, even more so after having woken up to him by your side. But the thought of you, a quirk wielder that kept that little fact hidden from the public, temporarily boarding with a man who was vehemently against the abomination of quirks gave you severe anxiety. Additionally, there was the nine little children that also were a factor and the thought of one of them waking up in your temporary residence and intruding on what little privacy you would have—

“And?” Dabi asks, pulling you from your reverie. “[ name ], I know I don’t say this enough, but you’re one of my closest friends. I don’t feel right not giving you a place to sleep.” His quirk may be Cremation, but Dabi was a master manipulator when it came to pulling at your heartstrings whether or not he was aware of that. You let out a sigh of conceding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to argue your way out of this one. 

“One condition, bud,” you hold up a single index finger, the black quill feather tattooed there standing erect, “find me some contractors to help rebuild all the buildings that were burned dow.”

“That’s gonna cost ya,” Dabi hums, as if contemplating. And he was, but rather in estimated cost as opposed to the proposal itself. Physical currency was a rarity in the Underground, as the city ran on a merit and bartering system. Real Surface money was only used for certain occupations. Realistically speaking, he knew money was no object to you considering the wealth, or rather hush money, you acquired from your parents’ death, so there had to be another reason. Knowing you as well as he did, it was probably the fact that the faster your homes were rebuilt, the less time you would have to spend sharing walls with Overhaul. Very smart, the leader mused. “You got a deal, doll.”

 You lost count of the days that had gone by since you took over the project of rebuilding the structures that had gone down. While the orphanage project had already begun, you had hired two additional bodies to help the progress go faster so that Dabi could return to his duties without the addition of eleven more mouths to feed. Simultaneously, you had been at your own construction lot from metaphorical sunup to sundown, helping contribute and manage the two men that were hired for your location. 

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you told Dabi repeatedly when he asked where you’d been all day. 

This project was an opportunity for you to set up shop in a reimagined way—to be able to design both your studio space and your living space exactly to your tastes. It had sort of become your baby and you wanted to be as hands on as possible. 

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you kept telling yourself. 

Tropium’s new store front was stunning, albeit a bit ill-fitting with its new modern style in contrast to the Underground’s more rustic, steampunk look. But the charcoal grey stone walls with chunky white trim filled your heart with a sense of pride that your business would hopefully rise from the ashes much like that of the Phoenix tattooed under your bosom. 

Currently, you were upstairs with the tiny team of contractors while going over the floor plan of your currently bare apartment. Given the space of the empty building, you managed to enlarge your rooms at the cost of downsizing your entryway and living room. It still felt homey and, with the addition of a small office that served as a spare bedroom, you figured on nights that Dabi hung out and didn’t feel like going home, he had a space too. After laying out the floor plan and going over schematics with the team, you ventured back downstairs to continue sanding down the counters for your studio space. 

“So, this is where you’ve been spending your time?” Oxygen freezes in your throat as you’re met with Overhaul’s golden eyes and black mask. Albeit he wasn’t in his normal dress shirt and tie for once, but rather sporting an oversized hoodie and tight denim jeans. 

“W-what are you doing here?” Is all you can say back. You aren’t sure if you’re moving or even breathing at this point. The pressure you feel from a man whose face is half-covered is terrifying—liquid gold was dull in comparison to the intimidating eyes of Chisaki Kai. 

“Dabi told me about your little deal,” his voice rolls like honey straight from the dripper as he makes small flits toward you that subconsciously leave you retreating back up the stairs one step at time. A deep groan rumbles in his chest when he sees your reaction—not that he blames you in the slightest. Overhaul is more than aware of his notorious reputation both in the real world and in the Underground and is accepting of strangers’ reluctance to be around him. He knows he’s partially to blame for not trying to quell the stigma around him by formally introducing himself prior. maybe not being such a condescending jackass when he first officially met you would have helped as well. 

But he can’t squash the little bouts of jealousy that filled him seeing his children flock to you like dragonflies in search of water that almost make him bask in your trepidation. 

“Take a walk with me,” Overhaul adds, torn between offering you a gloved hand as a metaphorical olive branch or simply turning around to see if you follow. He opts for the latter merely for the fact that you’re covered in dust and paint from your days’ work. Bounding after him, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your loose overalls as you try to catch up while bearing in mind to keep a short distance between the two of you. The two-block walk is brief and silent as you end up at the construction site of the clinic. Perhaps your memory of the building you never visited beforehand was skewed, but it you were certain it was much larger now. “Feel free to look around. After all, you’re paying for this.” There’s a twinge of malice that paints his invitation that isn’t lost on you, but you decide to forego the welcoming regardless. 

Passing through the threshold cautiously, you’re greeted with what looks to be a regular, two story home. The skeletal structure foreshadowed a kitchen, dining room, living space, and a hallway leading to two rooms. One staircase that lead to a basement, one that lead upstairs—it was strange to see the clinic become more of a home than anything else. “Where are you putting the clinic?” You ask meekly, careful not to touch. Just because Overhaul invited you to check out the specs, doesn’t mean he wanted your lingering fingerprints ingrained in his space. 

“Basement. I figured it would be better for the children to have majority of the space.” A pregnant pause takes over the conversation once again, leaving you to roam around the new space in appreciation. A part of you was pleased with the work the contractors did for this family, a large part even, but there was a small nagging voice in your head that was still telling you to retreat back to your own project. “Why did you do it?” 

“Do what?” A brief chuckle that is muffled by his mask dances on his lips. He’s not sure which of his theories he wants to start unraveling first. So he starts with the one he believes to be most ludicrous—the conspiracy that you or somebody you worked for was trying to take this children away, or Eri at the very least. If people on the Surface knew about her and her quirk, Kai doesn’t doubt a bounty would be on her head. But truth be told, he knew this seemed unlikely. You had never bothered to even engage with him or anyone else in his family until recently, despite having come to the Underground shortly after its establishment. 

“Rescue my daughter, for starters.” Of course he starts with the question you don’t have an answer for. To which you can only respond with the truth—your body moved on your own when you saw the panic in his eyes. Also knowing he had to watch his eight other children and ensure their safety prompted your body to act automatically. “You used your quirk to save Eri, but not yourself. Why?” Your eyes narrow slightly in both suspicion and out of confusion. It was strange that Overhaul kept demanding answers and logic and reason for things you did as a knee jerk reaction. Considering you’d only discovered your quirk just before going to the Underground, it wasn’t exactly what you would call a natural reaction. Plus, weaving through danger for someone else wasn’t as simple as just running in and out of the building as it was to jump out your bay window. Judging by his silence, it seemed he accepted that answer.  “And the contractors?”

“I just want all of our lives to go back to normal, including Dabi.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—rather just a short omission of the truth—and it wasn’t like you could tell him that you couldn’t stand living in such close proximity with him due to fear. But Overhaul had a knack for pinpointing a fib like a honeybee in search of something sweet. 

“You’re lying,” he bites. You shake your head almost violently, as if the movement will deter your mouth from telling him the truth in its entirety. There was no way you could admit the fear he instilled in your bones or the anxiety you felt standing close enough for him to touch you. Sure, you may have felt that your quirk was less than impressive but that didn’t mean you wanted him to take it away or worse, your life. Knowing that he knew about it too, while the public didn’t which was a requirement for living in the Underground, only reaffirmed your worries. “Do you fear me?” Overhaul asks, making note of the way your fingers were trembling and way your eyes constantly averted his. 

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a mere whisper, barely rising above the hammering and drilling of the construction workers. A part of you wished that your admission made you feel better—like it felt like a weight lifting off of your shoulder rather than making it feel like you were denying some greater truth—a part of you just wanted to run and hide and pretend this interaction wasn’t happening. 

It shouldn’t have hurt Kai as much as it did to hear you say it out loud, considering you were nothing but a stranger. But you were a stranger that his children were so utterly enamored with and all he wanted was to understand. Yet, the feeling of disappointment is a dull thrum in his chest, long forgotten with a wide array of other emotions and coming only second to his envy. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, though the monotone voice almost sounds insincere. 

Perhaps, his jealousy is misplaced, he thinks. His children may be drawn to you, but at least they didn’t tremble or wrack their bones with trepidation the way you do when you see him. If anything, his jealousy is replaced with empathy. Despite your clear distaste for youth, you got along swimmingly with his kids and they clearly wanted to be present with you. It must have been difficult for you to be near them, even more so considering you trembled in their father’s presence. The two of you stand in silence with you looking away pretending to soak in your surroundings of the plastered walls. Overhaul is observing your nervous ticks—the way your twitching fingers are exaggerated by the ink in your skin or the way your knee bounces impatiently along the hardwood. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, come look at my roo—oh! [ name ] is here too!” Bounding down the unfinished staircase was one of the orphans in Overhaul’s care; Shura, if you remembered correctly. 

“Just stopped by to see how the place was coming,” you offer in addition to a sheepish wave. Before you know it, Shura is grasping one of your hands with both of his while guiding you up the stairs. 

“Come see our rooms, [ name ]!” Overhaul watches with curious eyes at the way one of his sons is so overzealous to include you in their little world. The appeal makes no sense to him—you were just a stranger with skin like a Monet painting that had made little to no effort for these children outside of rescuing Eri and allowing them to shower you in their affection. 

Why did acknowledging that their enthusiasm to include you hurt Kai even more so, knowing you were afraid of him?

Trudging behind, Overhaul peers through the open doors upstairs to see each of his kids decorating their freshly painted walls. In Shura’s room, you were sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees while the little boy explained to you that he wanted his room to be decorated with narwhals. The excitement he had, and the knowledge of even knowing such a creature existed, was quite charming. “[ name ], are you gonna join us for dinner this time? Dabi says you’re always working, but daddy always makes you a plate just in case!” Your eyes glance over to Overhaul and his leisurely pose as he rests one arm on the door jamb. For a moment, your mouth open and closes repeatedly as you try to stutter out some semblance of an answer. 

“Just in case,” the doctor adds, as if to add more pressure to his son’s convenient question. The golden orbs you normally deterred from swirled with an intensity that, much to your surprise, didn’t wrack your nerves like they normally did. It was as if they were filled with remorse rather their typical bitterness, maybe sympathy even, imploring you to consider Shura’s inquiry. 

“I should go finish my work for today then so I can be home for dinner,” pushing yourself off of the freshly carpeted floor to stand. At some point while Shura was giving you the grand tour of his room, your legs had fallen asleep, causing your first step to hobble and throw you off balance and trip. 

“Careful,” Overhaul chimes, bemused at the way you flail to recover from your stumble. To your surprise, he’s pushed himself off the door jamb, crossed through the threshold of Shura’s room, and has his arms locked underneath yours to keep you steady. “Drink some water before going back to work.”  

“R-right,” you stutter out, hyper aware that his hands are touching you. He feels the way your tendons bunch together in your arms at the contact, even more so when your pupils lock into his. It untangles one more thread in his theories, one he figures he’ll push on later because it’s a theory just as farfetched as his last one. “I’ll, um, see you at dinner,” the last syllable rises in intonation as you squeak, flitting away and ignoring your numbed legs and blood burned cheeks. Meanwhile, Overhaul chuckles as he watches you scurry away, the blush painting your cheeks burning into his mind just as well. The way you moved was reminiscent of when he had reset your bones and the way you recoiled thereafter. But through thorough observation, he knew that reaction wasn’t fear this time around, no. Fear made you quiet, not nervous or jittery or force your pupils to dilate. 

This was something else entirely.

Something else entirely to the point where Chisaki Kai is unsure if he even wants to entertain the possible theory that maybe, maybe, you’re the slightest bit infatuated with him. 

“How nice of you to join us,” Dabi sneers teasingly when you set foot into the private entryway of town hall’s attached home. The makeshift family of ten is already seated at the extended dining table, an empty seat awaiting you on Dabi’s left with Overhaul on his right. Each of the children that you had come to be familiar with over the last few weeks had lit up like your presence was a treat—a strange feeling, considering you’d done the most to avoid being in the temporary residence. 

“Go wash up, we’ll wait for you,” you had never seen Chisaki Kai without his mask, let alone heard his voice so clear. The angelic lilt rivaled expert fingers rimming crystal glasses, hypnotizing you to do as he said without so much as a fight. Entering your room, you immediately discard your dirty work clothes and shower hastily, scrubbing off flecks of dried paint and dust. In seven minutes and nineteen seconds, you’re out of your en suite bathroom and shucking on leggings and a long sleeve tee before joining everyone else at the dinner table. 

To your surprise it felt quite...normal. Was this how families had dinner together? You were unsure, considering your parents had never been one to have the three of you gather together for a meal—they were always too busy working until the day they were killed nearly a decade ago. 

It surprised you how natural the flow of conversation was, even with nine children ranging from ages four to seven. Even more to your shock, Dabi was more than willing to indulge the kids in their stories. But the creme de la creme was seeing maskless Overhaul smiling and laughing and attempting to get his kids to eat their vegetables. Was this the real Overhaul? Had his notoriety preceded him so greatly that you feared him for no reason at all? Your intuition tells you no and, perhaps, to some degree it’s right. There was still a dangerous air that encapsulated Chisaki Kai, but it wasn’t one that made you instantly retreat like touching a cake pan you’d recently pulled from the oven with a bare hand. If anything, it was alluring as opposed to intimidating. 

The kids were so happy you finally joined them all at dinner. Rapid fire questions from any one or even two of them made you hesitate to answer but you did your best to keep your face even and amused. Children may not have been your favorite, but however the heck Overhaul was raising these ones, especially all nine of them, was truly wonderful. Throughout conversation, Shura and even shy little Eri had scrambled into your lap with each one of them taking a leg while the three of you ate. Initially, Kai had scolded them both, saying they were being rude to which you only shook your head and allowed them to stay, much to his surprise. 

After dinner, the children cleared the table. Those that were able of the younger ones brought stacks of dishes to Eri and Shura whom were in the kitchen washing plates and silverware—their duties as the eldest of the nine. Dabi has pardoned himself after thanking the family for the meal to hole himself up in his office. According to the leader of the Underground, the investigative team was still working around the clock to unearth who was responsible for the fires. You had found yourself in the garden of Town Hall, tablet and digital pen in one hand with a cigarette in the other. Drawing was the only leisurely activity you indulged in when not working on rebuilding Tropium. 

Typically, Dabi would join on you on these evenings with stacks of papers and a cigar between his lips as he bounced ideas off of you to figure out potential perpetrators. Needless to say, it surprised you when Overhaul enters the makeshift garden that was really just a manmade pond with lily pads and rose bushes aligning the sinkhole. “Hi,” you offer meekly, averting his gaze by keeping your own glued to your tablet screen. 

“Hi,” he returns, twisting up a shapely brow at the cigarette between your index and middle finger. For a moment, he’s torn between asking what you’re working on or if you had any ideas to who burned down both of your homes or even how the rebuilding of Tropium was coming along. But he can tell by the way the filter of the cigarette squeezes between your fingers that you’re tense, that you can sense there’s a reason for his presence and decides to forego small talk. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” his voice is small and unsure and drastically different from the Overhaul you were used to. Nonetheless, his statement catches your attention and pulls it away from the screen of your tablet. 

“I’m more afraid of what you can do,” you admit quietly, “I don’t want people knowing about my quirk. Dabi was the only one who knew and now your entire family knows and—“ you pause for second, hesitating on whether or not you should continue. But Overhaul was brave enough to tell you had what been bothering him, even if only a minuscule issue, you figure you owe him the same. “And I don’t want you to take it away.” The broken syllables leave your lips bare above a whisper, reaffirming at least one of the theories the doctor had about you. Of all the conspiracies, it made sense that this one was the most likely to explain your reactions to his presence, no matter how much he had hoped it to be some strange, magnetic attraction. 

You had bought into the whispers of the Underground that said Chisaki Kai’s life mission was to overhaul the population and remove quirks. 

Dejection fills his chest as he lets out a sigh. Maybe this was being too honest, his inner voice argues as it debates on his next words cautiously, but he feels the need to burn clean. “[ name ], what do you know about me?” 

“That you were a Yakuza leader and you think quirks are a plague that need to be eradicated.” Overhaul closes his eyes languidly, peeling them back open at a snail’s pace while the warm, golden orbs stare off into the never-ending tunnels of the Underground. 

“I became the leader of the Shie Hassaikai when I married my wife at twenty-three and took over for her ill father. It was a quirk marriage, but a happy one, nonetheless. At twenty five, my wife had Eri and while most children’s genetic code didn’t activate the gene for a quirk until a few years later, Eri was born with her quirk activated,” you listen deeply, soaking in every word leaving Overhaul’s maskless lips. His eyes drop down to stare at his gloved hands before burying his face in them for a moment to swallow his guilt quietly. “Eri can rewind time on living things and the first person she used it on—“

“—was her mother,” your voice barely vibrated past your lips as you made the connection. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill the contents of your gut not out of disgust, but rather an overwhelming surge of sorrow. 

“I lost my wife when I was twenty-five. The rate that she was being rewound at was too much for her body to handle and I had to overhaul my own daughter at birth just to get her quirk to deactivate so she didn’t destroy everyone she touched,” had Chisaki Kai not come to terms with the truth a long time ago, he would have shed at least a single tear recounting these memories he had buried. Either that, or almost hurled recalling the way his wife’s body had imploded until chunks of skin and muscle tissue and blood ended up spewing all over his chest and face. There was a reason he constantly wore gloves and a mask—the smell of cooking carcass and burning meat never left him and the exaggerated mask stuffed with lavender was the only scent that eased him. “I was angry at the world for a long time.”

“I am so sorry, Over—“

“Kai,” he interrupts, “or Chisaki, at the very least. I don’t go by that name anymore.” After a bout of silence, Chisaki continues further. Eri never grew up with a mother or siblings and after things had gone south on the surface, he wanted to raise Eri in a place where people didn’t know the truth about her or the mother she never had the opportunity to meet. So he fled to the Underground with Dabi; he started helping tend to the ill and taking in quirkless children who had lost their parents on the Surface to Heroes. 

In a moment of vulnerability, you felt the need to offer the olive branch and share your own story with this man after he bared his soul to you. And so, you tell him about the accident. How, while in pursuit of a villain, the small mom and pop diner that your parents frequented on Friday afternoons was accidentally set on fire by Endeavor and trapped and killed of the patrons inside. You were in your first year of high school at the time—fourteen and preparing for university until you realized you would need to work full time in order to continue paying the bills until the settlement from Endeavor came. University was down the drain. It took years for the dividends to be decided and the lawyer managed to get you a considerably high amount thanks to emotional damages, but riches and wealth would never quell the resentment you held towards the then number two pro Hero for being so reckless. That was nine years ago. Somewhere along the way, you’d met Dabi and he granted you a home and space to continue to hone the craft of tattoo artistry that you had picked up from working part time in a parlor, as recompense for his father killing yours. Though, you’d left that last little tidbit out, unsure if Kai knew of Dabi’s lineage. “I’ve been in the Underground for the last three years, give or take.”

You had always been rather indifferent to the concept of heroism until that day. Even more so when you had met Dabi—a man who was wanted and was supposed to be a villain. Yet he extended warmth and welcoming to you, offering you refuge in a new city he had created for the exiled and wandering. 

The grey areas only widen with this conversation with Chisaki Kai. A notorious man, an infamous man, known for causing utter chaos on the Surface both as the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and as a super villain, was sitting across from you and sharing the most intimate moments of his life. 

Maybe the concept of heroism was skewed to begin with, you think to yourself as you put out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. Maybe Dabi and Overhaul weren’t the real villains—only designed that way because of the way some omniscient creature in the stars that you couldn’t see. 

“I remember when you first opened Tropium,” Chisaki hums bemusedly, “the children said you looked like a coloring book.” The only fitting response you have is laughter. Neither of you thought laughter would be something the two of you would indulge in together. But the way your cheeks cinch together at the corner of your eyes or the tufts of air leaving your nostrils in a short snort and the somehow smooth staccato of your chuckle sounds like holiday bells after the first snowfall. It was a peace that Chisaki Kai hadn’t known for some time now. It was a peace he didn’t know he needed, and it makes him wish that his magnetic attraction theory had some truth to it. “Your secret is safe with me,” he says finally after the laughter had died off. 

“Thank you, Chisaki,” 

 You started coming home for dinner every night, figuring the two contractors didn’t need you there to micromanage them, until you stopped dropping into the worksite all together. With a full house, Dabi was out more frequently, preferring to be in the field to investigate the fires as much as he could. This left you with Chisaki and the kids more often than not. On occasion, you would run to the local market with Eri and Shura or had even done arts and crafts with some of the younger ones. As a sort of inside joke, you had bought each of the nine coloring books. 

Currently, the kids were playing volleyball in the makeshift garden while you and Chisaki supervised. It was no longer tense between the two of you, a sort of bond forming since that one night. You should have seen the inevitable question coming. Though you more so imagined it would come from Dabi in the form of some snide comment with sexual implications regarding how close you and Overhaul had become. Never did you anticipate his oldest son asking, “[ name ], are you going to be adopting us? Are you going to be our new mom?” 

“I-I—“ you were a deer in headlights and the question was a freight truck gunning in at ninety. Looking over at Chisaki for help, who seemed almost unwilling or at the very least unsure on how to, you shake your head before staring back at Shura’s big blue eyes. These children had begun carving a special place in your heart due to how they came to be in Chisaki’s care, sure, but you still had your reservations about kids in general. Not that the doctor blamed you—maternal instincts didn’t necessarily apply to every female. “I-I don’t wanna take you away from daddy, he works so hard to take care of you all and he does such a good job,” for a second, Shura’s expression becomes crestfallen. 

“But we all like having you around, [ name ],”

“I’m not going anywhere, buddy, I promise,” the seven-year-old boy promptly wraps his arms around your neck, squeezing tightly as if you were going to dissipate into the air in front of his very eyes. Without hesitation, you hug back briefly before telling him his siblings were waiting for him to start the next set of volleyball. “Was that okay?” You ask quietly, looking over to the doctor. From underneath his mask, you can see the twists of pain coloring the dusty gold hues of his irises and the way his jaw tenses. When he remains quiet, you anxiously reach for an e-cigarette—a fruity one that wouldn’t alert the kids or burn Chisaki’s nostrils from the scent—and pull the tip to your lips. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to Shura, you think as you exhale a large cloud of smoke. 

But Overhaul’s stomach is twisting and churning, and he crosses his legs over the knee to squeeze his legs together tightly. He’s thankful for the black cloth mask that covers majority of his facial features as he bites his lip and his nostrils flair while he tries to control his breathing. Think of anything else, his mind snarls. Think of the days in the Shie Hassaikai, think of the children, think of literally anything but the way you called him “daddy” and how the blood rushed from his brain and straight to his dick at an alarming rate. It was so innocent—there was no reason Kai should even be thinking of it in any other way—but primal instincts were taking over, twisting into a delusion in his brain into hearing you repeatedly call him daddy while he fucked you from behind. 

“Can you watch the kids?” Chisaki chokes out, standing up abruptly and fleeing inside the temporary home. He doesn’t even have the chance to hear you ask if he’s alright as he’s rushing upstairs to his en suite bathroom. Entering his room, he rips off every shred of fabric covering his body before turning on the shower to the coldest temperature he could tolerate. But there wasn’t enough cold water in the Underground or gruesome thoughts of his wife’s sudden death that could stave off the erection he was currently sporting. “Fuck!” He snarls out viciously, mind running rampant with salacious daydreams. Out of sheer need, Overhaul wraps one hand around his cock, the other bracing himself on the shower wall while the cold water runs down his spine. 

Chisaki Kai is livid—raging over the fact that he is reduced to such actions over a simple word that he hears multiple times on a daily basis. It wasn’t that he was abhorrent at the thought of masturbation in the slightest—he was a human with natural human needs, after all—but this desperation that filled his gut and fueled his hard on was less than desirable. But he can’t stop the aching he feels to hold onto that blip of memory of you calling him daddy. He savors it like the first bite of a meal and indulges it in the same way he’s trying to coerce his own orgasm. 

Throaty groans and grumbles wrack in Overhaul’s throat as he fists his angry, weeping cock, twisting and turning it as he prays for reprieve. It’s not enough; it’s not your mouth or any other oriface he would rather be shoving into, but the friction rubbing against his veins would have to be enough. He’s far from gracious at this point. Cupping and massaging his balls with one hand while thrusting into his enclosed other at ferocious speeds was all in the name of merely getting off. “Fuck,” he hisses out once again as he feels the very start of his orgasm. As much as his natural instinct is just telling him to sit back and enjoy the ride, his common sense tells him otherwise, tells him that he’s filthy for doing this and he doesn’t deserve to indulge in these thoughts. 

But he needs that extra push to satiate his natural instinct. 

Succumbing to his deeper, carnal desires, his imagination wanders back to you. With golden eyes screwed shut, he pretends it’s you he thrusting into, that it’s you stringing together languid profanities between your lips; that it’s you begging for daddy to fuck you harder. 

That it’s you begging daddy to fill you up and make you into a mother. 

“Oh, shit,” Chisaki is gasping for breath as he cums on the shower walls—the last thought to flood his mind serving to break the dam. He licks his lips and swallows hard, his skin becoming dry despite standing in the cold shower. After his ragged, uneven breathing returns to some semblance of normal, he peels his heavy lids open and stares at the fluid coating the shower wall. For a moment, shame washes over him because he feels pathetic and small. But the moment is brief before it was replaced with a dull burn of hunger that may never be quelled. 

Pathetic, Kai thinks again as he scrubs his body clean, before exiting the arctic shower. Never before had he been in such a state, even at the ripe age of thirty-two, to masturbate to the mere thought of another person. Perhaps he was that touch-starved, all things considered. 

He can’t bring himself to gaze at his reflection as he gets dressed. Adorning grey joggers and a red zip up hoodie, in addition to his usual mask and gloves, he maneuvers his way back to the makeshift garden where the children are still playing with together. But rather than you sitting alone at the patio table as you were, Dabi had joined you in the seat directly across from you. 

Both of you were sporting matching cigarettes in your respective hands with matching distressed looks on your faces. 

“We’ve been waiting for you,” you say in an almost indifferent tone, a departure from the way Kai had heard you in his mind seconds ago. It was a sentence typically accompanied with some sass, but your eyes were devoid of emotion at the moment. Cautiously, Chisaki took a seat beside you at the patio table, propping an elbow on the armrest closest to you before resting his temple on the same closed fist he had just used to beat himself off. You pay it no mind, how close he is to you, but rather put out your cigarette on the ashtray on the table as a courtesy to him. “Dabi,” your tone is thoughtful as you say your best friend’s name, making a hand gesture that signifies him to speak. 

The leader of the Underground opens the manilla folder that was harboring the photos of both of your burnt down homes as well as the two other destroyed businesses. “It’s been a challenging investigation, but after eyewitness accounts and working with local law enforcement from the Surface, I’m pretty sure my bastard brother was behind this shit,” Dabi grits out. 

“Brother?” Kai asks, confirming your suspicions of him being unaware of Dabi’s genealogy and family tree. To this, the leader pulls out a mug shot of Todoroki Shouto. The face wasn’t entirely familiar to Kai, save for the small resemblances to Dabi. Same jaw shape, same blue eye with the same dead look. 

“Why us?” You ask, flipping the photo over. While it had been awhile since you had resided let alone visited the Surface, you knew that there was some rumors in the air about the start of a war, but what possible reason did Todoroki have for going after the Underground when everyone kept to themselves? For Chisaki, who ran a free clinic, and his children? What about you—why go after you?

Outside of Dabi, hadn’t the Todoroki family tortured you enough?

The city leader takes a deep breath, exhaling smoke as he extinguishes the dead cigarette on the ashtray. According to the patchwork man, Todoroki had confessed that he was selected for a covert mission from the Hero Association. The primary goal was to eradicate any and all quirk wielders within the Underground so they didn’t procreate further, so no overpowered quirks would mutate in the next generation of Underground born children. Overhaul lets out a scoff at the explanation—leave it to the Heroes to act so recklessly and selfishly. 

If quirk mutation was the concern, only him and Eri would have been targeted, maybe Dabi as well. Probably Dabi as well. But they burned down Tropium Tattoos, the home of you whom had the legally registered quirk Life Canvas up on the Surface. They burned down a farm whose owner had a quirk that could manipulate light and sunshine—whose farm fed the patrons of the Underground. They burned down the house of the guy who had a weird magnet quirk. It sounds more useless than he actually is—Dabi ended up capitalizing on his manipulation of magnets to create magnetic elevators up to the surface for supply runs and other necessities. 

This was about population control. 

It was a form of genocide that Overhaul himself was all too familiar with. 

“Well that’s fucked,” you sneer, reaching for one more cigarette, “the fuck is wrong with your family, dude, and why are they all trying to kill me and my family?” Chisaki turns his head in curiosity, no longer resting on his knuckles. The only time you had brought up your family, around him at least, was when Endeavor killed your parents—

Oh. 

He pretends he doesn’t feel disappointment when he realizes you weren’t implying he and the children were your family. 

“Why the hell do you think I left, [ name ]?” Chisaki almost feels as if he shouldn’t be present for this conversation; like it was meant to be private between the two of you. But he can’t bring himself to leave your side, not with the way anger is crinkling in the form of crow’s feet at the corner of your eyes. Dabi excuses himself after a long bout of silence, leaving you to stew in your bitterness while Overhaul directs the kids to wash up for dinner. You don’t realize all nine of them had left the garden until the doctor is standing over you, despite the small wisps of smoke billowing from your cigarette with a hand extended towards you to pull you from the patio chair. You’re sure to extinguish the stick, knowing how the smell often offended him before taking it. 

“Why don’t you go rest inside for a minute and wash up while I make dinner?” He offers quietly as he pulls you to your feet. The entire time, Chisaki maintains eye contact, his golden orbs unwilling to break their trance with your form. But thanks to the distress and the rapid pace that your brain is moving, you aren’t even aware of your surroundings or the way Chisaki is just standing in front of you until you’re running into his broad chest. Instinctually, you recoil away from him. Not out of disgust or fear like before, but rather respect, knowing how he is about touch and physical contact. 

“Sorry—“ his arms are nestling at your waist to keep you in close proximity and you’re suddenly reminded of the time your legs fell asleep at the orphanage and you had stumbled trying to walk. Chisaki had been there then too, holding you steady much like he was now. There was something drastically different to the scenario now compared to back then. The doctor didn’t shy away from the contact anymore, didn’t draw his hands back like he touched a freshly stoked lump of coal or break out into itchy hives. If anything, his gloved hands lingered just a little bit longer—too long even for Chisaki—before gingerly patting your head and retreating inside the home. 

And maybe if you weren’t trying to process the fact that the Surface was attempting to start a war with the Underground, you would have dwelled more on the warmth and security coming from Kai. The poise he held coupled with the fire and desire in his eye would have been enough to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

Dabi never came back that night. Rather than leaving his head seat at the dining table empty, Chisaki sat to your left with his daughter filling his space temporarily. You sat directly across from Eri, the girl who was once too timid to thank you now smiled brightly every time you looked at her. Other than your best friend’s absence, dinner was relatively average. Conversation went on as normal, sharing laughter and smiles between all of you—it was a nice delusion that for a moment, you were all a complete family and you weren’t so enrapt with the heartbreak of knowing these ten humans were targets to the surface. 

The children cleared the table as they always did, but rather than having the two oldest do the dishes, you offered to clean up instead. “Why don’t you kids gather up in the living room and have daddy put on a movie for you?” Clearly excited from the reprieve of duty, the orphans all head off, touting something along the lines of Frozen versus Tangled. But your back is already turned away from the family, getting started on putting away leftovers and scraping away scraps on plates and entirely missing the way Kai’s eyes drain from gold to a murky mustard. It misses the way his jaw clenches tightly as he settles the debate for his children, turning on Tangled—the clearly more superior film—before he returns to the kitchen. 

The sleeves of your ragline tee are pushed above your elbows as you hum an unknown hymn, unaware of Kai stepping cautiously toward you. Despite having just eaten, the doctor is filled with a renewed hunger entirely as his grip finds limp purchase on your hips much like they had before dinner. “You know, I think we need to have a talk about you calling me ‘daddy’ in front of the children,” he murmurs hotly against the shell of your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Your blood is torn between running cold from the predatory drawl in his words and boiling from the sudden close contact. 

“I-I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kai licks his lips before running his teeth behind your ear and down your neck, suckling on the flesh as he mumbles a response. 

“Do you want to?” You contemplate his question in full, though it proves to be a challenge with the way he’s pressing warm, open mouth kisses to your neck and shoulder and the way his hands are kneading at your hips. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?” He asks again, his voice a low grumble yet somehow is louder than thunder as it isn’t hidden behind a mask. Had this been months ago when he had asked you an identical question when you were perusing the reconstruction of the orphanage, you would have said yes again. But this wasn’t fear—fear wasn’t a word you associated with Chisaki Kai anymore. 

Warmth. Strength. Dedication. Resolve. 

Love. 

Those were the words you associated with him now. 

“No,” you finally respond, shutting off the water before turning to face him. It was a rare, momentous occasion when you got to gaze upon his bare face outside of having meals together. His golden eyes swirl with elation, even more so as your painted fingers brush stray locks that fallen just over his brows. Despite a rather simple appearance, especially in comparison to yours, there’s something elegantly charming about Chisaki Kai that had never gotten the full appreciation he deserved. 

Tentatively, you nudge him closer to you from the back of his neck until your lips are pressed against his. For you, it’s an experiment just to feel him in such a manner. For Kai, it’s torture in every sense of the word because it’s a tease after all of the salacious thoughts that have marred his imagination. Taking a leap of faith, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body flush against his because right now there isn’t enough contact in the world that would satisfy him. 

The once delicate, experimental kiss becomes hungrier at his hand as he’s exploring your mouth with tongue, groaning as he does so. The scent of smoke and fresh cotton wafts into his nostrils between his sharp intakes of breath as he refuses to break contact. It’s as if he’s trying to commit the moment to memory, to burn it into his brain. 

As if this was never going to happen ever again. 

“Kai,” you whimper out his name, his true name, between pants of breathlessness for the first time. Just as gingerly as before, your fingers are cradling the man before you by the temples. You’re gazing at him fully, unabashedly, as you run a thumb just below his distinct lower lashes. Chisaki’s head dips a bit further into your brief touch before you skip away from him. 

“Wait, where do you think you’re going?”

“Come on, let’s go watch the movie with the kids,” you chime, holding a hand out to him as if he didn’t just have you all but pinned to the kitchen sink. 

“I was serious when I said we needed to have a talk.” Despite his verbal protest, he takes your hand in his, trailing behind as you saunter off towards the living room where the children are fully invested in the film. Plopping down on an empty space on the couch, you bring Kai with you until he’s nearly resting on top of you. For a moment, he releases your hand, opting to wrap an arm around you to pull you closer. “Back to avoiding me, angel?” The doctor grumbles into your ear, low enough so as not to alert the little ones. 

“Figured it would be better to not risk being interrupted,” you whisper back, smirk twisting your lips. Chisaki’s licks his own dry plains, tugging you even closer so that you’re sitting on one of his thighs instead. That predatory miasma that surrounds him on a day to day basis is seeping out of him tenfold, but intimidation when it came to Kai was now a foreign concept to you. It brought back that same seductively dangerous feeling you’d felt the first time you had dinner with the family or, thinking back further, to when you went to scope out the renovations. A part of you wonders if that fear you once had was displaced as soon as you knew he was going to keep your quirk a secret. Displaced with an attraction to him that was easily confused with fear. 

A part of you wonders if you ever really did fear him at all. 

Maybe you didn’t. 

Your mindless thoughts wander to anything other than the screen, casually leaning back so that your head settled on Kai’s clavicle. The doctor looks down at you with a curiosity that is replaced with a warmth that temporarily quelled his lust. As much as he had been fighting his day dreams of fucking you, having you in his arms surrounded by his kids stoked a different fire inside him. 

He didn’t want this domestic moment to end. 

He hopes that desire translates into the simple gesture of his lips pressing into your hair. 

Chisaki Kai was finally caving into his wants and being honest with himself. He doesn’t want this makeshift family to go back to normal when you finally returned to Tropium or when his family returns to the Underground clinic. There isn’t a single cell in his body that believes having you in his lap and curled into his chest feels anything other than right. He’s overwhelmed with the idea, the fantasy, of you moving in and being with the family. Your family—in the collective sense—with Kai by your side with your nine orphans. 

During the lantern scene of the film, he presses another kiss where the roots of your hair meet your forehead, lips lingering a little longer than normal. In response, you look up at him curiously to find his muted golden eyes staring right at you. There was a plethora of different things that Chisaki wanted to say to you, especially with the way you look so heavenly in his arms. But he settles with the murmur of, “I don’t want things to go back to normal.” 

“Neither do I,” you whisper, gracefully accepting the way Kai’s lips mould over yours almost lovingly. In a sense, it’s your way of finally admitting to yourself the feelings that worked and wriggled their way into your chest. The thought of returning to your lonely little two-bedroom apartment by yourself just seemed daunting now, despite the initial rush to get to work on the remodel. No more waking up to bright eyes at the table for breakfast or coloring with the kids; no more having Kai cook a delectable meal or having him accompany you in the garden for a smoke. It broke your heart just thinking about all you would be missing out on when life returned to somewhat normal, war aside. 

The doctor sucks gingerly on your lower lip, nipping slightly with his canines as his tongue wholeheartedly dances with yours. The kiss is full of longing and desire and it made his brain go fuzzy with strange thoughts. A part of him can’t remember ever feeling this recurring surge of wanton lust and infatuation when Kai would kiss his wife and, in regular circumstances, he would have felt guilt over it. But this warm, wet entanglement of your tongues is more loving than he was accustomed to and it excited him. Than you were even accustomed to. 

“So stay with me, sweetheart,” the nickname he’s given you sounds almost patronizing. But the admiration that seems to be laced in with it sends a shiver down your spine and leaves the hairs on your arms standing at full attention as the film comes to an end. “Time for bed, children. We’ll be by in a little bit to check on you,” Chisaki calls out to his protesting kids, though making no motion to move from his planted position on the sofa. When he’s certain that all nine of them are out of earshot, he adjusts you in his lap so that both of your legs are draped over his thighs. You call out his name, pulling him from his thoughts that take him far away from the present. 

“You said you wanted to talk,” you remind him. A part of you is afraid to start conversation because you aren’t sure what direction he wants to take this. Chisaki could have an entirely different meaning of returning to normal than you, but for you...

You didn’t want to wake up every morning without him being nearby. In the rawest form, that was the only way you could piece it together into a coherent thought. But even more than that, you felt as if there was so much more you wanted to see from Chisaki Kai. He was becoming more open with touch, no longer breaking out into hives when he touched others and even going so far as to hold you, albeit very languidly as he was now. Another part of you wanted to know if he would be beside you when it came to the impending war with the Surface. 

Mostly, you just wanted to know if he wanted to be by your side too, even if logic wanted to tell you this was a bad idea. 

“Will you stay? With me?” Kai implores quietly. His eyes are locked with yours, the gold shining brighter than ever. 

“You say this after I renovate our homes?” A short, lighthearted scoff leaves his lung in lieu of laughter at your attempt of a joke. Because, despite him echoing your own deeper, innermost thoughts, a part of you refused to believe this was reality. As if reality was actually playing a prank on you. 

Of course he had thought of that little fact. It was the longing desire he felt in his bones to have your presence that he hadn’t taken into account, but that need burning at the pit of his stomach had outweighed any semblance of logic that urged him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“The kids will grow up eventually and need their own space away from the orphanage. We could always save it for them.”

Answers you were expecting from Chisaki Kai: not that. 

Had he invested that much into the idea? To the point where he planned on you still being a part of the orphan’s lives until they were adults?

“‘We’?” You ask. “And what if “we” don’t work, have you considered that?”

“No,” Kai’s voice is clear and calm as ever, exuding the very confidence that once made you tremble, “I want you in every sense of the word. I’ve already said my vows and had my shot at forever. I want that sort of permanence with you and I know that some part of you wants me too.” At a loss for words, you opt to brush the backs of your nails along his cheeks endearingly, trailing them down until your hands find purchase around his neck to bring him close enough that you can feel his lashes tickle your cheekbones. The silence between the two of you was deafening and damning, yet welcoming as it’s broken with him pressing his lips fully against yours. 

For a moment, it feels as if the hunger stirring within his gut is satiated—satisfied with the even the tender, loving gesture of pulling you closer still until you’re straddling his lap. As if you were trying to fuse your bodies together because there was no such thing as too much physical contact right now. Kai encircles your waist with his arms, hoisting you up as he motions to stand and causing you to wrap your legs around his midsection. You don’t ask where you’re going; partially because your tongue is too busy just indulging in a private dance with his, partially because it doesn’t matter where he takes you. You’d go with him anywhere, no questions asked. 

It’s a challenge and a half maneuvering up the stairs with you anchored around him so tightly—even more so that with every step he took ended up grinding your pelvis along his ever-growing erection. Kai felt liberated this time around, shamelessly rubbing against you this time rather than scurrying off for a cold shower and a five-minute session with his hand. Your eyes open as he unceremoniously tosses you onto the plush blanket of your borrowed bed. Immediately, you’re greeted with the sight of Chisaki Kai hastily shredding off his tee shirt and lounge pants, leaving the doctor in strained boxer briefs. 

Briefly, you’re blown away by the sheer beauty of him—like a statue of Adonis come to fruition before your eyes. Even with the uncomfortable twinge in his golden orbs from your unnerving gaze. It was different, to say the least, to have you gawking at him with such adoration when he felt he was the only one doing so. “C’mere,” your voice comes out as a near broken whimper, a call to which Kai heeds graciously. The bed dips as he kneels at the edge, crawling closer until he’s hovering above you. Gingerly, your fingers trace over the smooth skin of his cheeks, tracing down his lips and neck until they ghost over his collarbones. 

“Sweetheart,” Kai groans out, snatching your hand in his as it continues to trail further down his bare skin. “As much as I want to bask in the romance of all of this, you called me ‘daddy’ earlier, and I think it’s time you suffer the consequences.”

“Yeah?” You sneer sardonically, pushing into your elbows until you’re both touching nose to nose. “Like it when I call you that?” His breath is hot as it fans over your features, the wanton lust tangled within the golden hues of his irises becoming overwhelmed with feral desire. Kai’s hand that isn’t supporting him over you grips tightly at your baggy tee, pulling harshly to tear at the fabric keeping your bare body from him. For a moment, his breath becomes caged in his chest upon seeing your semi-nude form for the first time. But the moment is flitting as he’s reminded of his aching, hard cock twitching underneath his undergarments. 

“Hands and knees, baby,” the slow, torturous movement you give in reply grates at Kai’s nerves, prompting a resounding smack to the ass of your joggers the moment your bottom is visible to him. “Daddy’s already impatient, dear,”

“And what’s Daddy going to do about that?” 

Similar to the treatment he gave your shirt earlier, Kai dug his fingers into the waistband of your joggers. Though he did not have nearly as much luck tearing off the thicker material, the gruff motion is enough to expose you, leaving your bare, pulsing core in plain sight while the cloth gathered at your knees. His chest presses against your back, his skin searing hotter than hellfire, as he places languid kisses along your shoulder. “I promise, I’ll spoil you with attention later. But right now, I need you,” his voice is something reminiscent of begging, only amplified by his suddenly bare cock dancing along your slit and smearing pre-cum along it before cautiously slipping the head in. 

Throaty groans leave both of your lungs simultaneously. Kai swears up and down that this was heaven manifested into reality. Part of him thinks this is all a dream, the way your walls are squeezing him to tightly as he pushes in centimeter by centimeter. “K-Kai,” you whimper. The calling of his name awakens something gutturally primal within him. 

“Uh uh,” the doctor tuts, ceasing his movements. “What’s my name, baby?” In lieu of a response, only pants of shortened breath escape your slackened jaw. There was no way Chisaki Kai was human, you decided. Not with the way his words sent every cell in your body into overdrive or the way his fat girth stretched you so deliciously without even entirely plunging his engorged cock. Not with how, despite his notoriety once proceeding him, he was often blatantly honest with you and certainly not with how utterly enamored he was with you and vice versa. “Say my name, baby, and I’ll give you a reward,”

“D-daddy, please,” you whisper in between breaths. Abiding by his word, Kai works his thick length into you, albeit still slowly, until your bones presses into his pubis and his whole cock carefully bottoms out inside you. His right hand trails up your tummy and dances along the skin of your sternum until his fingers encase your throat gingerly. Keeping still within you, the doctor tugs at your throat until you’re only resting on your spread knees as his lips ghost along the outer shell of your ear while he gives slow, deep, steady thrusts.  

“You like having daddy’s fat fucking cock in you, angel? Feel so fucking good around me, yes you do,”

A real poet, Kai was. 

Turning your head to face him, your fingers lace themselves in his messy locks and pull his lips to yours in a kiss that is entirely devoid of lust. He can bring the heat all he wants—it was your mission to make sure he understood that you wanted him in more than just sex. Even if the slow torturous withdrawing of his cock was absolutely divine. 

And he felt it too. Even with his hand delicately cupping your throat or the way his pelvis greets your plump ass with every thrust or the way your wet walls clench on him as if trying to expel his cock from inside of you. Kai can feel it in the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms or in the tufts of breath that leaves your nostrils because he leaves you absolutely breathless. He feels the love, and he wants to bask in it. 

Now that he’d quelled his hunger slightly, Chisaki pulls away from your endearing lip lock while simultaneously withdrawing his length from you. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss before Kai turns you over, pressing your back against the mattress and sliding home once again. The passion and intimacy he feels is overwhelming, boiling his skin through every pore as he bears weight on one arm while the other caresses your cheek. “I meant it, you know,” the murmur dances like air along your own lips, warm breath inviting. “I want you in every possible way. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, experience every season that doesn’t pass for us in the Underground with you.” 

“Kai...” in return, you seal you mouth along his, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer and coaxing him to move. Slow and steady, he withdraws himself from within you before snapping his hips once again until he’s fully sheathed. Each thrust feels like thunder. “M-more,” you choke out, breaking apart your kiss momentarily to beg. His focus shifts down to where you’re connected—where each vein of his throbbing erection greets and becomes acclimated for every crevice within your cavern. Angling his hips along with your own with the assistance of his hand, he manages to welcome that spongy weakness that makes your knees buckle and regurgitate a scream in response. 

“Right there, princess?”

“P-please!” The hand under the small of your back moves to hook around your knee, it’s twin mimicking the gesture and leaving you entirely at the mercy of Overhaul whose mission at the moment is to rearrange your insides in an entirely different sense. Pinning your knees to the bed, Kai is at the perfect angle to ram into your g-spot over and over at a rapid, even pace until you’re clenching around him deliciously, silently coercing his orgasm. “Oh my fucking god,”

“Mm, you’re so tight, baby. Ya gonna cum? Gonna cum nice and hard for me? Cum for daddy,” his words are almost enough—almost. And it was as if he knew the filthy, slopping sound of his cock reaming you wasn’t enough. Though whether enough for you or him remained a mystery, his thrusts are becoming erratic as he’s panting and grunting an unabashedly as he chases his release and oxygen. “I love you,” Kai’s voice is broken, “love you so much, just wanna fill you up over and over until your body only knows the taste of me.” And you aren’t sure if it’s his nasty, vile words or the way he is utterly knocking away at your g-spot that is causing you to convulse around him—that brings you over the final hurdle and over the dam. Screams rip past your lungs as your back arches as much as it can from it’s confines while your fingers twitch out of necessity to grip something—anything. 

You’re granted no reprieve in that regard, but it matters not with the way Kai is still smacking his hips into yours, dragging out your orgasm even longer while in pursuit for his own. There is no amount of physical contact in this moment that is enough for him, even as he slats his lips over yours and slides his tongue inside your mouth to greet yours. Hips beginning to stutter, Kai is fighting every fiber in his soul—torn between the dichotomy of wanting to cum and stave off his orgasm because he wants to feel the welcoming, convulsing walls of your pussy forever. And though you’d already came at least once, the pressure was building again rapidly from the stimulation of the uneven rhythm of Kai’s hips. Part of you is thankful his tongue is hungrily dancing with yours to keep your screams muted so as not to wake the children down the hall. But the rumbling in his chest from his own throaty groans become overwhelming, forcing him to break away to and let his grunts and slew of curses fly from his mouth freely. 

“I love you, Kai,” the moans are just as bad coming from you, but those four words coming from your lips are what do the aforementioned man in. And he can tell there is no lie dripping from a silver tongue here—you mean every ounce of these four little words. For everything that is Chisaki Kai—the former Yakuza leader, the former villain, the doctor, the father—you loved the man before you. 

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he wails, the rhythm of his cock head tamping against your womb matching the pacing of his broken speech, “daddy’s gonna cum so fucking deep in you, gonna make you mine forever, angel.” Another hissed out string of profanities pass through as his dick twitches almost violently, shooting out ropes of seed and painting your walls white. You can tell he meant what he said, even in his lustful spew, by the way he leaves his softening erection inside of your spasming cunt and sealing his emission inside until he was almost certain his claim held permanence. 

“I meant it too,” you mumble into Kai’s sweaty neck as he collapses on top of you. Though he’s boneless at the moment, having spent all of his energy, you feel the breath of his questioning grunt beside your ear before his face is attempting to look at you while half buried in your pillow. Gingerly, he removes his now flaccid member from you, adjusting himself so that his form molds around you and wraps his arm securely around your stomach. 

“You know,” Kai starts off slowly. The rich timber of his voice is thick with exhaust but is warm and welcoming all the same. “I was jealous before.”

“Jealous? Of what?” 

“My children love you—a woman who was nothing but a stranger who doesn’t even like kids. They warmed up to you so easily, much easier than they did with me,” there’s a brief pause between his statements, causing you to adjust under his grasp until you’re touching nose to nose with the doctor. His eyes are closed for a moment, his long and feathery lashes greeting the tops of his delicate cheekbones. “So I tried to understand. Tried to figure just why they gravitated towards you.”

“And what did you find?” Peeling back his eyelids, Kai’s rich amber eyes bore into your own. Irises swirling with admiration before the view is flooded with a sudden closeness and the press of his plush lips against yours in the most loving fashion.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to answer. 

He had found determination and independence, qualities of a strong woman that his daughters looked up to. Free and proud and brave, he thinks, are the reasons his sons admired you. But there’s something more. There’s a love and warmth that you bring to the family, yet a sternness that doesn’t allow them to run rampant (not that they would under Overhaul’s upbringings) that spoke so motherly to each of his nine children. And somewhere along the way for the last six months that the Clinic had been under remodel, Kai found himself gravitating to all of those exact qualities in you, the envy transforming into an admiration of his own. It was an error in his initial magnetic attraction conspiracy theory; he thought that your fear had changed to attraction when it was his all along. 

But Kai’s not always the greatest with words, and the thought of spilling his deepest thoughts of you seems a daunting task that he’d rather replace with kissing you instead. Considering you asked a question, however, he did feel the need to respond with something—anything. 

“I found you.”

 “Honey, I can still help, you know,” you whine for the umpteenth time, folding your arms over your chest as you stand in the mayoral office of Dabi with your partner. It’s been a year since Todoroki Shouto had burned down Tropium Tattoos and the Underground Clinic and tonight was finally the night that the Underground had planned on mobilizing their forces. It had taken a full year of investigating, planning, building alliances with those on the Surface, and patience for the citizens to finally strike back. 

Enough was enough. 

All of you had been exiled at one point or another, but now the Surface was trying to exterminate all of you. 

“Angel, no,” Kai chides sternly, igniting the twitch on the leader’s face. Granted it had been six months since you and Kai had first declared this little relationship of yours and, as your best friend, Dabi was still slightly hesitant on the idea. Not that his opinion had much weight considering—

“Kai, I am only three months along. I can still fight!”

“Hell no,”

“Absolutely not,” both men snark simultaneously. Best friend or not, personal opinion aside, there was no way in the ninth circle of hell that Dabi was going to let you go to war while you were pregnant. And with Kai being the father, the chances of you getting your way in this moment with him were even slimmer. The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his black cloth mask with his thumb and middle finger before letting out an annoyed rift of air. “Dabi, I’m gonna take [ name ] home before we go over invasion plans. Do you mind?” 

“Nah,” the leader waves his purple and nude hands in dismissal, “besides, we should wait for Hawks to get here before we start all that.” With that, Kai grabs your wrist with his gloved hand and drags you away from the office. He knows you want to fight, and he knows you want to protect your family—all eleven with himself and the embryo included. But as a father with another—biological—one on the way, Chisaki Kai just can’t bring himself to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. 

“Sweetheart,” he calls out, stopping just outside of the currently closed Tropium. The grey and white building looked crisp and clean and everything you wanted it to be but you often found yourself closing up shop early and coming in late to spend more time with your nine children at home. At the very least, you were grateful that your parlor was only a block or two away from the clinic. “I need you here where you can keep our children safe in case anyone slips through the cracks.” Even with his mask on, you can tell that Kai is trembling ever so slightly. The thought of someone making their way into his home and hurting his kids, hurting you, was enough to unleash the beast within. 

“I know,” you respond quietly. Using his grip on you to your advantage, you pull the doctor towards you until he’s towering over you and looking down directly into your eyes. “But you know me, always ready to jump headfirst into the fire,” his amber eyes soften, thinking back to a year ago when you had saved Eri from the burning clinic. To think that a year later, you would be living with him and carrying his child and occupying nearly every cell in his brain. 

“It’s your turn to watch the kids,” he jokes pulling down his mask below his chin to slat his lips over yours lovingly. It’s only half a joke—he knows better than anyone you would do anything to protect them. He’s known that since day one. 

“You better come back to us,” your demand is quiet and breathless and laced more with concern than it is with threat. The thought of Kai dying while on the Surface has plagued you for the last six months, even more so when you found out you were pregnant. He knew it too, knew how much worry and panic had disturbed your sleep when the realization that war was an option had settled in. Despite the knowledge that he carried about different afflictions and ailments; Kai had been at a loss for how to quell your anxiety. He hopes that circumstances aside, him reaching into the right-side pocket of his heavy, army green coat and pulling out the small black velvet box is the correct move. Gingerly holding up said box until it’s in your line of sight, he takes a step back before peeling back the lid to showcase a single, solitaire diamond set in a simple gold band. 

“I promise you I will come back. And when this is all over, we can finally enjoy our life in peace, so long as you’ll have me.”

[laceymorganwrites]

Hoodie

THIS CONTAINS MANGA SPOILERS

Word count: 2,406

Pairing: Kuroo x reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: You´re one of Karasuno´s former managers and used to be in a relationship with Kuroo, however things didn´t exactly work out. Meeting him again is bittersweet.

Mini playlist: Hoodie - Hey Violet (this oneshot was inspired by it)

                       7 - Catfish and the Bottlemen

                       Guilty - YONAKA

Taglist:      @energetic-tangerine       

The warm sunlight woke you up as it was hitting your eye and immediately afterwards the smell of coffee hit your nose, making you sit up in your bed.

You yawned and stretched a bit before getting up and going into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Usually it would be a normal day of work for you and your roommate Sugawara, but you were lucky to be able to take the day off today.

You felt yourself getting giddy as you thought about the events of today. Finally you´d see your old high school friends again! It´s been way too long and you couldn´t wait to meet them in person after all these years. You made sure to stay in contact but still, talking on the telephone wasn´t the same as meeting in person.

Sure, you former third years met up as often as you could, occasionally some of the others would join but it was simply impossible for your schedules to work out for all of you. And the reason for your meeting was something you were beyond excited for: it was the game between the Adlers and the Black Jackals, teams consisting of some of your old acquaintances as well.

“I can´t believe Shoyo is back!” you went downstairs in your pajamas to greet Sugawara who was just reading the newspaper.

“Yeah me too. And that he made it into the team after the years he was gone… I can´t wait to see him” he smiled at you and handed you some breakfast.

You thanked him and joined him, immediately starting to eat. This whole day felt so sentimental, it was weird not to stand on the sidelines anymore, it felt so wrong not to calm Hinata, Yachi and Yamaguchi down before the match. You missed being a part of this, but more than anything you were so proud of Hinata to make his debut in such a renowned team.

When he told you that he met Oikawa in Argentina you were quite surprised, he really did come around, yet something about this whole match didn´t sit right with you.

It was unfamiliar, even uncomfortable to see Kageyama in the opposing team. They once were the duo that always thought of something new and crazy, always up for the unexpected, and now they were rivals.

Bokuto had promised you that his new setter Atsumu was just as good, but you had to see that for yourself.

“I´m so excited to see Daichi and Asahi as well, it´s been too long. I´m so glad we´re able to watch this game with our friends” you exclaimed, making Suga laugh slightly.

“I´m just glad we worked so well and got done grading so quick, imagine having to work today” he sighed. You worked at the same school as teachers while Asahi was studying abroad and Daichi became a police officer.

It truly was amazing what had happened ever since you graduated.

College was absolute chaos, Suga and you were roommates ever since you could remember, but managing the work for the classes, the essays, the practical semester, the jobs to pay the rent… it was stressful.

Somehow being out of college and finally teaching was way more relaxing than college itself.

And now you would see Hinata and Kageyama going up against each other, it was terribly exciting, yet you didn´t want any of them to lose. It was like you raised them after all.

Well, you were just a mere manager then, but still, you got quite attached to those two and were pretty sad when you graduated with the others.

“Don´t ruin the mood, Suga!” you whined and he apologetically raised his hands in the air.

You really didn´t want to imagine the mountain of paper work that usually waited for you in the office.

“We should probably get going to get good seats” you reminisced and Suga nodded.

You went back up to your room and went to your drawer, planning to just pull out whatever and throw it on as you usually did.

But something made you stop. This oh so familiar fabric, the scent was long gone and yet you swore you could still smell him on it.

Without thinking about it, you put on the hoodie that Kuroo once had given to you when you were still together.

The thought of him made you smile, yet it left a bittersweet sting in your heart. You really thought you were meant to be, your relationship endured all of high school and even the first year of college, but that was it. With him being in Tokyo and you in Miyagi, the distance was just too much. And with all the exams and studying you couldn´t even talk that much.

It made you really sad, that was already in the past but you still weren´t over him quite yet. It made you feel pathetic.

But was it really so wrong to want something that you didn´t even fight for? Neither of you did, you just accepted the fact that the distance was too great, which was stupid. You thought too much about it, about him. You only knew what he was doing through Hinata who got the information from Kenma.

Did you even have the right to be in his life anymore? If he wanted you to be, he´d reach out.

But maybe he thought the same, yet you didn´t want to text him, fearing to annoy him in some way.

Wearing his hoodie felt as if he was here with you, you swore you could still smell him on the fabric, but that was hardly possible. Maybe you just liked to imagine that. As you liked to imagine his hands around your waist, his head nuzzled in your neck as he told you how unfair it was that his hoodie looked so much better on you.

With one last sad smile you joined Suga in the car to drive to the stadium.

You were lucky since you left your home early and got a nice parking lot that was near the stadium.

You basically ran all the way to the entrance to see the others, Suga following close behind.

Neither him or you could contain your smile as you saw Asahi and Daichi waving over at you, once you finally made your way through to them, you initiated a big group hug.

This.

You missed this, this feeling, their laughter echoed in your heart, almost bringing tears to your eyes, never did you want to think about losing touch or losing them, it would be too devastating.

As you walked in, you first bought some onigiri from Osamu and caught up with each other.

“Isn´t that Kuroo´s sweater?” Daichi pointed out once you all sat down, you luckily managed to get good seats.

The question made your heart sting, you had no right to wear it, yet you did, chasing after something long gone.

“Yeah, it is… it´s weird isn´t it?” you softly said with a sad expression on your face.

“I don´t think it is, you broke up and still loved each other. I think it´s more hurtful to break up with someone when you´re both still in love. If it would´ve been a bad break up you´d be over it by now. But you still love him, so naturally it hurts more. Besides, he never came to get it back, so there´s really nothing wrong in wearing it” Daichi explained, making that fuzzy void in your heart appear again.

“Don´t you think it´s pathetic that I still love him?” you whispered again, a frown appearing on your face.

“No, it isn´t. Besides, I bet he still loves you too. Trust me, the decision wasn´t easy for him either” Suga added, but before anyone else could say anything to that, the players walked onto the court and a big grin formed on your face as you saw them.

It was weird, you cheered for both teams and very loudly at that, but you missed this.

You missed the adrenaline, the absolute awe of seeing Bokuto´s service ace, seeing Hinata fit in so well, seeing the odd quirks each player had, how far they´ve all come.

It made you sentimental, thinking back on the time you had your first training camp. The same feeling of nervousness and the unexpected was what you felt right now.

That´s also when you met Kuroo first.

He was such a dork back then and the whole process of asking you out was awkward, but the memory brought a big smile to your face and your heart clenched.

You remembered him texting you about his day and when you finally could meet, you´d lay in his bed and listen to songs that reminded him of you.

In the first year of college, you explored the cheapest shops you could find in each other´s city, he got you a cute key chain that broke ten minutes afterwards.

And when you went out to eat in that ramen shop in the back alley that looked really sketchy only to rush through the rain after.

And then it was over just like that.

Because no matter how hard you tried, it wasn´t enough.

You didn´t even realize you were crying until Suga pointed it out when the game was over.

“I´m fine...” you sniffed: “Just thinking about him. Again...” you groaned and wiped your tears away in frustration.

“I should be over it, shouldn´t I?” you whispered.

The teams were already off the court, showering and getting dressed for the interviews.

You excused yourself to go to the restroom, you couldn´t be this glum today when you were with all your friends, it wasn´t fair.

The chattering of the crowd around you was blocked out by you, it was mere white noise, you kept your eyes fixed on the ground as you made your way through the masses, until…

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” you stopped in your tracks, you must´ve heard wrong, but when you turned around to face the owner of the voice, it really was Kuroo.

It was like fate was making a sick joke about you.

You pondered whether you should face the situation like an adult or just make a run for it, the more seconds you stared at him in shock, the latter sounded greater than anything else.

He hadn´t changed at all, well, other than the suit he was wearing. It was something you never thought you´d see him in, something so official and important looking, you always thought he´d look out of place in it, but seeing him like this now made butterflies erupt all over again.

“Tetsu...” you whispered, as if to make sure it was real, as if to make sure it wasn´t just a stupid daydream of yours.

He fought his way through the masses to get to you and for some reason you let him.

Maybe you were like a deer in the headlights, frozen in fear, or maybe you were just curious where this would go.

“Hey, it´s been a while… I didn´t think I´d see you here today” he said, awkwardly scratching his head.

He cursed himself internally for calling out to you, this was a stupid idea. What was he thinking? That you´d jump in joy to see him? That you´d run to him and throw your arms around him like nothing ever happened? Yeah, bullshit.

None of that would happen, you didn´t miss him. He fucked up and regretted it more than anything else, and now he had the audacity to actually approach you again? Great job, Kuroo…

“Well, me neither…” you said at the lack of better words.

You just wanted your heart to stop pounding so much, you cursed your feelings.

“You look great” he said, voice cracking a bit, he was trying his hardest to keep his cool, not to break down crying in front of you. He saw your puffy eyes and it broke your heart, it broke his heart how wrecked you were when you broke up, how utterly defeated you agreed with him that this was for the best.

“Thanks…. You too. I never thought I´d see you in a suit” you commented, trying your best to sound neutral but you couldn´t hide the way your voice shook.

He nodded, letting out a short shaking laugh and explained his career path to you, you just nodded along, smiling in pain and congratulating him.

At least he chose something that made him happy in the end…

“I can´t believe my hoodie still looks better on you… didn´t think you´d keep it after everything” he said quietly.

He looked into the distance, not having the guts to look you in the eyes, but it was the same for you. Yours were still glued on the floor.

“I don´t know why I did” you admitted and somehow his heart clenched at that.

“I´m sorry. I know it´s way too late for that, but if I had my priorities straight back then, if I had fought more for us, maybe we could´ve been together still” he blurted out without thinking, all of his regret was apparent in his voice and it took you aback.

“Fuck. I´m sorry, that was stupid… I don´t wanna put any pressure on you, it wasn´t your fault, I just… I really miss you. But it´s not my place to say anymore, I´m sorry” he did it again, screwing things over and making them worse than they were.

Kuroo was about to leave to interview Hinata when you stopped him.

“I miss you too… it wasn´t just your fault, Tetsu… I shouldn´t have let you go just like that” you announced, admitting that it didn´t sit right with you how you just broke up without a real reason for it.

He gave you a warm smile.

“Do you think we could try again? And this time do it right?” he chuckled, to which you nodded heavily, smiling right back at him.

You just couldn´t let go of each other, you didn´t want this warm feeling to ever disappear.

“I´d love that. We should get coffee sometime when you´re free.” you suggested and quickly exchanged numbers before he had to excuse himself to get to the interview.

Kuroo apologized for being late to Hinata and you went back to your friends with a smile you couldn´t shake.

[pepperful-qt]

Citrus 🌿

Kita Shinsuke x Reader SMAUish ; Part 2

masterlist

Warnings: mentions of injury & blood (small) ; 

yk how I said this series is based on a oneshot? yea here it is (~3.2k words)

~

You huffed out a breath as you passed through the school gates. The early January air was just cool enough to chill your breath into a puff of visible vapor. Not quite freezing, but cold enough to warrant a layer or two.

Damn, should’ve worn gloves, you internally cursed and shifted your grip on the box in your arms. 

Within the parcel, as well as a tote digging into your shoulder, resided your surprise: a selection of bread rolls and freshly harvested fruits you’d picked up from your uncle’s farm the evening before. You knew that despite their confidence and reputation, most of the boys would still struggle to maintain a normal balanced diet and sleep schedule, so you decided to make sure they had no excuse to slack off. Hell, one of them had already proven you right. 

As promised, you’d stayed up for a full two hours helping Atsumu, who now owed you boba, make some amount of progress on his schoolwork before falling asleep yourself an hour later. So, about three hours of sleep. Oh, and thanks to that slacker you’d also had no time to prepare the oranges and watermelon the night before, and you’d be roasted alive if you were caught making a commotion in the kitchen before the sun had even risen. No, it was much easier to just call it “club stuff” and complete your work in the gym’s office you shared with Coach Kurosu. 

So here you were, lugging multiple pounds of food through campus while the sky had barely begun to light and the winter breeze lashed at your exposed skin. 

“What am I even doing”, you grumbled to yourself through gritted teeth.

Finally you reached the gym doors and set down the load before catching your breath and blowing warm air into your cupped hands. Not wanting to deprive yourself of heat any longer, you pulled out the keyring Coach had given you earlier and moved to unlock the padlock before realizing there were only two keys on the ring, neither of which were for the gym lock. 

You only had the key to the office. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” you exclaimed, yanking at the padlock. The office was connected directly to the gym, like the clubroom was, so no gym entry, no office entry. 

Bouncing on the balls of your feet, partially from frustration and partially to keep yourself warm, you pulled out your phone and pulled the scarf you were wearing around the bottom half of your face like a mask. 

You clicked off your phone and shoved your hands into your pockets, looking around in the vain hope that maybe Kita would come strolling by. 

Great. Just great. 

Well, it wasn’t the end of the world. Warming your hands with a breath once more, you set to work on preparing a makeshift fruit-prep area on the pavement, ignoring the thoughts of how much of an idiot you were for not realizing earlier that you were missing a key. It was only when you held the knife above the waiting watermelon (you figured you should do the difficult ones first) that you legitimately questioned your choices. 

 I could just go back home and bring the fruit tomorrow. You cast a wary glance at the mounds of waiting food, immediately dreading the idea of lugging it all back home. No, you already said that you would have a surprise today. Besides, this is supposed to go on for the whole week. Just be a good manager and suck it up.

With this new resolve, you brought down the knife expertly and began slicing. Before long the two watermelons were properly portioned and set aside, and you moved to the oranges. They were a true specialty of your uncle’s farm, and it just so happened to be the beginning of the perfect season for the fruit. A little bead of pride and excitement swelled in your gut as you pictured the faces of your teammates when they finally got to try them. 

As the sky grew steadily lighter, your fingers too began to stiffen and tingle in the cold. Before long they’d be numb despite you constantly blowing warm air on them, making the chopping process slower and slower. 

“Y/N?” 

You immediately jumped at the soft voice that broke the silence of the past...hour? You had no idea how long it had been since you started. Looking to the source of the sound you saw none other than the team’s captain. His head tilted slightly to the side and his eyebrows were knit in a reserved look of confusion, looking expectant.

“Kita!” you quickly greeted him, as if nothing were out of the ordinary and you weren’t surrounded by a mass of fruit. With the greeting you jumped to your feet, only to have a knee momentarily buckle in protest after being in a crouched position so long. The flash of the knife in your hand immediately prompted you to set the knife back on the cutting board on the ground.

“Uh, surprise?” You mentally slapped yourself at the less-than-smooth recovery.

Kita’s eyes followed the movement carefully, then swept over the scene in apparent evaluation. 

“How long have you been here?” he asked. The one question I don’t know the answer to.

“A little while,” you responded, deciding that wasn’t an untrue answer. It was strange. It wasn’t like you had been caught smoking or vandalizing or some other prohibited thing, so why did you feel so guilty? 

“I, uh, meant to use the office but, well…” you trailed off as Kita pulled out a small metal keyring, similar to your own. He didn’t smile, but there was a kind look on his face as he approached and opened the doors that had kept you at bay.

“You’ll catch a cold staying out here so long,” he sighed, leaning over and hoisting your school bag over his shoulder and picking up the largest parcel before moving to stand expectantly in the doorway. “You're our manager, which means you’re part of the team too. We can’t have you falling ill.”

“Right,” you nodded after a moment of temporary shock, and began to gather up what was left. For some reason, you were suppressing a small smile. After you slung on the tote and carefully gripped the cutting board in your now numb red fingers, you approached where Kita was patiently waiting. You flashed him a small smile of gratitude to break the awkwardness, but a moment later his gaze drifted downward and his lips downturned into a small frown. His eyes widened the slightest bit as they fixed on where your hand held the cutting board.

“You’re bleeding,” he stated, his tone a bit too calm considering his words. You followed his gaze and sure enough one of the fingers you’d used to steady the fruit had a thin line of red. Apparently your fingers had gotten numb enough that you hadn’t felt the cut, not to mention the cold was turning your skin dry and red.

“Oh, I am,” you acknowledged with a nervous hollow laugh. “I guess the knife slipped at some point.” Tentatively, you flexed the finger. It was a shallow cut so the bleeding had already stopped, and the only discomfort came from the protest of your numb joints. As you brushed your other hand over it to inspect it further, a sharp pain shot through your hand and a small hiss escaped your lips. 

Ah, the orange juice.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Kita tense when you flinched. In two quick steps he was in front of you, placing the box on the ground near your feet. 

“It’s nothing, it’s not deep or anything,” you insisted, a bit startled at the sudden proximity. Kita held out his hand and paused.

“Can I see it?” he asked, his eyes carefully watching your own in gentle query. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remarked on how much lighter they were than you remembered.

You gave a conceding sigh and met his hand halfway with your own, nearly jumping at the warmth of his palm. Almost immediately he curled his fingers underneath yours to examine them in a delicate but sure grip. His eyebrows shot up at the touch.

“You’re freezing,” he commented. From the breathiness of his voice you assumed it was close to a gasp for him. His thumb traced around the wound. The warm contact sent a shiver through your body. You noticed the skin around it starting to turn red and irritated, likely from the cold and acidic liquid. 

A moment later Kita pulled away and turned towards the gym doors, reaching out to give your arm a gentle pull.

“Come on, you need to warm up and get that taken care of,” he spoke matter-of-factly. It was a familiar tone that didn’t command, but simply stated the obvious truth, and it was useless to argue against. Suppressing a grumble, you allowed yourself to be guided into the gym by the captain. 

“Do you have the key to the coach’s office?” Kita asked as we placed our things outside the door to the aforementioned office.

“Oh, yeah.” You pulled out the keyring from your pocket, giving it a jangle for emphasis. Kita held out a hand expectantly.

“Go to the bathroom and run warm water over your hands and clean out the cut,” he began at your questioning look. “Don’t come back until you have full feeling again.” Ah, that tone of his was back.

“Fine,” you sighed with a smile and dropped the keys into his waiting palm. Suddenly, a horrible thought dawned on you. “Oh, how long did I have that cut?! Some of the oranges might have gotten blood on them, the knife too!” With a groan you brought the heels of both of your hands to your temples, rubbing them in frustration.

“Y/N,” the captain’s quiet voice captured your attention after a few moments of silence. His expression was almost blank, with the downward quirk of his lip giving the only sign of disapproval. “Your priority right now should be taking care of yourself, not the oranges.” 

“Ugh, sorry,” you grumbled, feeling rightly scolded. You knew you were acting like a child. “It’s just first the gym, and now this. Nothing seems to be going right for this stupid surprise.” Your sleep deprivation must’ve been getting to you as your eyes started to burn. No, no, don’t you dare cry over something like this! 

“It’s not stupid.” Kita stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. You could only blink in response. His gaze travelled to where the fruits were piled up, seemingly in deep thought, before finding you once more. “And it’s not ruined either.”

“I...suppose not,” you said softly. His head tilted just slightly in consideration.

“I didn’t take you as someone to easily give up, either.” 

You gave a thoughtful hum, a few moments later letting out a soft chuckle. He’s right. Somehow he was always right. There was a strange comfort in his words. He always spoke sincerely and straightforwardly, which was one of the reasons everyone held him in such high regard. To hear anyone else say an assessment like that might’ve normally come across as an attempt to console or fan your ego, but with Kita, it was just the truth. It was something he believed.

You didn’t care to suppress the smile that pulled at your lips this time.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you laughed, finally feeling warm again. “Thank you.” 

Kita merely nodded as you turned to go, but you could’ve sworn that there was a ghost of a smile on his face too.

It took about ten minutes to fully warm your hands and thoroughly clean the cut. It wasn’t deep, but it happened to be just where the first joint of your index finger was. The skin stretched when you bent it, causing only mild discomfort. It was more of an inconvenience than anything else.

You were also able to check your phone. No messages from Suna, unsurprisingly, and it was almost half past five. Vaguely wondering why on earth Kita was here so early, you strolled back to the office, finding it open with the light on. The scene that greeted you, however, made you freeze in the doorway. Kita had cleared off a portion of the desk and arranged a professional looking setup for fruit preparation. He’d shed his outer layer and now stood over the cutting board with the sleeves of his sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows and latex gloves now adorning his hands. It seemed as though he’d already resumed work on the oranges, and the pleasant scent of citrus wafted to your nose.

You would’ve laughed at the amusing image had you not been equally shocked to see him there in the first place. 

“Ah, Y/N, you’re back,” he greeted when he noticed you in the doorway. One after the other he removed the gloves, gesturing you to sit in the desk chair. Wordlessly you obliged.   

“I’ve cleaned the knife and cutting board and checked over the other oranges, so there’s no need to worry about that,” he informed you as though reading off a list of chores. 

 “In ten minutes?” Your eyes widened in amazement. It seemed he really was capable of anything, though you cringed a bit when you realized he may have had to wash your blood off the utensils. As you lowered yourself into the chair you noticed an open first aid kit that Kita was now combing through. 

“Hand,” he commanded, holding out his own with antiseptic in the other, apparently ignoring your inquiry.

“Oh, I can do it,” you insisted with a reassuring smile, reaching out for the tube. “Believe me, I’ve bandaged myself up from far worse than this.” The hand holding the tube retracted as Kita let out a deep sigh.

“Let me guess, you’re also going to try to stop me from cutting the rest of the fruit, too?” he guessed, quite accurately, with a small quirk of an eyebrow. Your smile faltered a bit and you brought back your outstretched hand. “I don’t doubt that you can bandage your wound, or that you can continue preparing the fruit with little difficulty, but you don’t have to push yourself. I’m offering my help because I want to.”

You stared at him again, trying to process his words. Out of instinct you almost muttered Are you sure? but you were also positive that Kita had already made up his mind. With a small nod, you placed the injured finger above his hand for him to take.

“Didn’t you say yourself I’m not one to give up easily?” you questioned as he went to work wrapping up your finger. 

“Yeah, I did,” he affirmed, a recognizable spark of fondness in his eyes. “You fit the team well.” The warm feeling of Kita’s praise swelled in your chest once again.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckled softly. “Though support from the sidelines is all I can do,” you sighed, your gaze fixating on the literal fruits of your labor.

“Do you think it’s insignificant?” he asked bluntly. 

“No, not exactly,” you answered after a moment of thought. “I won’t deny that there’s times when I wish I could do more, but as long as I can do my best to help us fulfill our potential, well…”

“It makes it all worth it?” Kita’s quiet tone might’ve been imperceptible if you weren’t in a room alone in the last hour before dawn, but you heard him clearly. His hand had paused where it was wrapping your finger, and he caught your eye. Slowly, his cheeks lifted in a genuine, knowing smile. “I think I understand.”

The moment passed quickly, but you found the image of his expression burned into your mind.  

“You put in just as much effort as everyone else.” Kita caught your eye again before focusing on wrapping the bandage and taping it up. “It doesn’t go unnoticed.” 

He released your hand and stood up, allowing you to test out the expertly dressed finger. Satisfied, he readorned his gloves and began chopping the oranges, leaving you to ponder his words in a moment of comfortable silence. 

Kita had always been a constant presence during your time on the team. Despite not being captain your first year, it had been him who had shown you the ropes of managerial duties. It wasn’t just for you either. Kita was the rock, reliable and strong, that kept the team together, though ever so quietly. It wouldn’t surprise you if he felt that he had a sideline role as well.

Eventually, the two of you fell into easy conversation. You told him about Suna, who you’d been neighbors and childhood friends since before middle school. He mentioned his grandmother, and you noticed the softness in his eyes return. You told him about your uncle’s farm, and even told him to try one of the orange slices, though he refused until he had finished his work. 

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Part 2: "oops"

A/N: Whoaa title namedrop. Suna is NOT a morning person y'all. Also, yes I have cut myself while my hands were numb and didn’t realize it’s a thing. also also, this was originally a oneshot, which is why this part is so goddamn long.  

Reply or send an ask to be added to the taglist (my reply will be from my main blog bc stupid tumblr rules)!

@therealwalmartjesus

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Birthday Traditions

Summary: Peter realizes he missed his birthday, which brings up some emotions. Luckily though, a familiar White Wolf is there to comfort our favorite Spider. 

Words: 2.4k (roughly) 

Notes: prepare to have your heart ripped out. Also, it’s a oneshot. But i do like the Bucky and Peter dynamic, so there may be more. No promises though. 

Warnings: mild swearing, angst, sadness. 

The sky was lost in a blend of golden colors. Endless orange, yellow, and dust cast all around going on for miles and miles with no end. Gold shined down on the landscape and rays of sunshine draped down from the sky from an unexistant sun. Silence was all that could be heard, seeing as how a small boy walked away from the masses of people that had suddenly appeared after the Snap. He didn’t want to listen to panicked chatter anymore. It was all he had been hearing for months and he had gotten tired of it.

So here he was. A small boy in a suit of red, gold, and blue, looking out over the chasms of the Soul World. His brown hair whipping across his face and once soft chocolate eyes turned rock hard. Yes, the Soul World was beautiful...  and yet Peter Parker hated it.    

He hated it with a passion that refused to go down. For this was his prison, as it was for millions of others, and this whole place was just a reminder for him. A reminder as to how he was trapped here, helpless. A reminder that said he could only imagine how catastrophic the outside world had become, and a constant reminder for him that he couldn’t do anything to help the rest of the Avengers who weren’t trapped in the Soul World.

Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He gazed back at the landscape and couldn’t help but despise it’s vast orange-yness. Earlier that “day” he had come to realize something, which startled him and made him come out here in the first place.

It had been his birthday “yesterday”.

He had missed his birthday and hadn’t even known it. The revelation put him in a solemn mood, which had unsettled a certain super soldier. But Peter hadn’t realized that, so while he decided to go on a walk, he didn’t know that someone was watching him.

Bucky had been the first to notice Peter’s mood, but the spiderling left the group before the White Wolf could say anything to him. Ever since they had come to the Soul World, Peter had seemed a bit off. But sure, he was still optimistic and encouraging for others, telling them that everything would turn out alright. But in the moments when he thought nobody could see his face, his eyes became sad and his shoulders sagged. And Bucky saw just how much toil the kid had been through. Sure, he put on a brave face for others and for the younger kids, but he was still only a kid himself.

After the Snap had happened, and all of the Avengers and Guardians appeared in the Soul World, they all really started to get to know each other. Because in a place as strange as this, it was safe to know who you’d be spending eternity with. Plus, there wasn’t a whole lot to do there in the first place, so... And while they were there, Bucky had really started to get to know the Spider-Man, or Peter Parker, and since they weren’t fighting each other in an airport, it was a lot easier. 

They talked and told each other stories about the random adventures they both had. The teenager especially loved hearing his war stories and all the missions he had done with Steve while he was a Howling Commando. And he even mentioned that his high school principal was related to one of the Commando’s, which Bucky thought was pretty extraordinary. He also learned that the kid was a lot like Shuri in many ways. He loved science, having made his original webshooters, and they both loved vines and memes to the point where half of the stuff they referenced didn’t make any sense at all. And Bucky betted his bottom dollar that they would’ve been great friends if they had met. 

So while he and Peter began to learn more and more about each other, Bucky started to think of Peter as his little brother. He never had a little brother before, so this was both new and exciting for him. The Wolf was grateful for a chance like this, and even though the circumstances they met in were horrible, Bucky was glad that he met Peter.  

So as he watched Peter begin to walk away, he began to wonder what caused the boy to go in such a mood. But he thought against going after him to find out. Cause maybe the kid just needed some time alone, and Bucky, of all people, knew how that felt. So he left the kid alone, until he was suddenly urged by a voice to follow the kid. To reach out to him. Bucky refused and continued to listen to the conversation between Sam and Wanda. But the voice in the back of his head kept nagging at him. Until finally he caved and turned around to walk in the direction Peter was going. His friends noticed.

“Bucky? Where you going?” Sam called out. The White Wolf glanced at his friend.

“I just need to do something. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry about me.” He gave a curt wave and turned back to the dusty plain. Sam watched on in curiosity before shrugging his shoulders and continuing his talk with Wanda.

Bucky had been walking for a while and had begun to doubt that he was going the right way, but each time that he did, his gut told him to keep going. So he did. He kept on walking, keeping an eye out for his little brother, when he suddenly saw a distant shadow.

There he is. Bucky thought.

He walked up to the edge of the cliff and glanced down at the boy beside him.

Bucky looked back to the horizon in silence, not saying anything to the teen, and sat down next to him. His metal arm clanking against the ground as he did.

He said nothing. And neither did Peter.

Instead they listened to the wind howl in their ears and let the silence consume them. For Bucky, it was nice. Listening to nothing except for your own breathing and the soft clatter of rocks. But as nice as it was, it was strange. He had grown up in New York, had travelled the entire world, and had fought in wars. He was used to the sound of mayhem and cars honking at each other. In the city, there was always something making noise. Even in Wakanda, there was some kind of animal making noise. Never really any silence. So being here in the Soul World, was both nice, and unsettling.     

He and Peter sat next to each other for a little bit, before Peter broke the silence.

“It’s weird isn’t it? The silence.”

The verge of a smile tugged at Bucky’s lips. He had just voiced the man’s thoughts.

“Yeah. It is pretty weird.”

Peter hummed. “I’m so used to hearing sirens and cars honking at each other, that I didn’t even think a place could sound like this.”

“Me too.” Bucky glanced at the kid next to him. Taking into account the fact that his hair had dirt in it and his face was covered with ash. A chip here or there in his suit and a cut or two on his face.

And a broken look in his eyes.

The White Wolf’s heart stopped; It was a look that so many had, but only few knew. Bucky knew that look well, for he had it too.

“Kid?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?” Peter glanced at the ground at the question.

“I guess.”    

Bucky’s eyebrows creased. “What’s wrong?” He asked without hesitating. Peter looked up at the man, the broken look still in his eyes and water began to fill them.

“I just- I- ” his voice broke and his head bowed again. Unable to look Bucky in the eye anymore. “I missed my birthday.” he said in a hushed whisper. “It was yesterday.”

Bucky looked at the kid with a soft gaze. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” Peter said after a few moments. They sat a little longer in silence before Bucky spoke again.

“What did you do on your birthdays? Anything fun?”

Peter looked up at him, a little surprise evident on his face. “What?”

Bucky shrugged. “What did you do on your birthdays? Any traditions?”

Peter wiped at his eyes and rubbed his nose, attempting to get rid of the unwanted tears. “Uhm. Yeah.” He sniffled. “Me and, uh, my aunt, we would drive to this ice cream shop and get ice cream.” a rogue tear went down his face. 

“She would get caramel pecan and i’d get mint chocolate chip, and we’d get chocolate and eat that one together. Then, Ned would come over, and we would watch Star Wars: A New Hope.” Sniffle. “ We’d make popcorn and May would order a pizza... It was great. Every year. It may not have been much, but it was enough.”

The teen stopped talking, and the sound of his sniffling filled the air. Bucky just sat there and watched the kid. Hesitantly, he placed his real hand on the teen’s shoulder, startling the boy out of his crying and causing him to look up at the man. Bucky gave him a sad look and glanced down.

“Me and Steve used to have a tradition too. We would save up our money and dare the other to go on the biggest attraction of the year.” Bucky smiled. “One year, we went to Coney Island and rode the Cyclone. Steve ended up throwing up.”

Peter got a look of surprise and a small smile grew on his face. “Really?” Sniffle. “The famous Captain America who jumps from airplanes and fights aliens threw up on a rollercoaster?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, he sure did.”

Peter laughed, as short and small as it was, and that little moment of delight made Bucky’s heart soar. Then a look of confusion flashed across Bucky’s face.

“But, why would you get three types of ice cream?” he asked the teen. The broken look returned to his eyes and his lips curled into a nervous smile.

“Well, you see... my Uncle Ben… he got the chocolate ice cream.”

Bucky then understood what Peter was saying. And regretted asking the question.

“Oh. I see.” he mumbled.

Peter nodded. “So now, every year when we get ice cream, we get one for him. Just to keep his memory alive, you know.”

Bucky nodded. But then fresh tears began to pour down Peter’s face as he began to cry again.

“But now… what if Aunt May… Got ice cream for me all by herse-” His voice broke as he began to sob. All the months of being scared, worried, and strong finally crashed down on him, and Peter was no longer a brave hero, but an ordinary kid from Queens who had been taken from his family too soon. Bucky realized this and drew Peter in for an embrace. The boy’s eyes were closed shut, yet he still clung to the White Wolf, letting all of his pain and fear pour out.

Bucky didn’t know what to do. All he could think of was to hold the kid tight and let him know he wasn’t alone. And it was in this moment, that Bucky realized just how small and afraid Peter was. He was a KID! A little kid who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and had ended up here. A was given this huge responsibility that only few carried with them, and even then they were adults!

He was just a boy.

A boy who had lost his uncle, his mother, his father, the chance of a normal childhood, and now, his life. He had no friends here, no one to comfort him in all of this, because he was the hero. He was supposed to be the one to comfort others, and yet rarely, did someone else comforted him.

It then struck Bucky like a slap to the face.

Peter was like Steve. In every sense. A kid who had lost so much, only to get up and keep on fighting. And not for glory, but because it was the right thing to do.   

So there they sat. A 100 year old man and a 17 year old boy, a soldier out of time and a child with a burden too heavy for his shoulders, embracing on a cliff side.

Bucky let Peter cry and he understood how it felt, so once Peter had settled down and his sobs resided to hiccups, did Bucky let go. And they were back to where they had started. Sitting next to each other on a cliif’s edge, staring at the vast golden landscape. All was silent once more. Except for the occasional hiccup from Peter. 

“I’m sorry.” Peter suddenly blurted out. Bucky turned to him confused.

“Why are you sorry?”

Peter shrugged. “For that whole… breakdown thing.”

A surge of anger erupted inside of Bucky.

“Don’t apologize for grieving. Don’t apologize for not being strong all the time. And DON’T you apologize for being scared. Because dammit Peter, you are allowed to be scared.”

Peter looked startled at the outburst, but it was replaced by gratitude. He glanced down at his hands, wiping the last of the tears away, and smiled.

“Thanks Mr. Barnes.” Bucky scoffed.

“Peter, I’ve told you time and time again, call me Bucky. It’s what my friends call me.”

Bucky stood up and shook off all the dust that clung to his pants before offering his hand to Peter. “Come on. We gotta figure out what we’re gonna do now.”

Peter looked at the hand in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well I doubt we’re gonna find birthday ice cream here. So we have to find something new to do for your birthday. Who knows how long we’re gonna be stuck in this goddamn place.”  

A smile lit up Peter’s face before he grabbed Bucky’s offered hand.

“How about we find the others so that we can really start celebrating.”

“Sounds like a plan Mr. Bucky.”

“You’re gonna keep doing that ‘Mr.’ thing aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Bucky, I sure am.”

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Magic and Monsters

Champ x Reader

Magic and Monsters

Prompt: I just watched the Goosebumps movie and I was really sad that no one wrote anything for it! So, maybe a oneshot about Champ. You’re Zack’s sister and Champ is just in awe of you and tries to woo you and he thinks it’s futile until it’s the scene on the Ferris wheel and maybe you tell him you like him just in case you both die. And maybe afterward when everything is okay you kiss?

Note: AAAAAAH I LOVE CHAMPPP <3 GOD BLESS

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1053

Tonight was not going as planned. At all. Your stupid brother had gotten you both into a huge freaking mess complete with a gang of ghouls and a living dummy.

You were currently hiding out in a grocery store with Zack, his new friend Champ, his soon-to-be girlfriend Hannah, and Hannah’s dad, who also happened to be R.L. Stine. Quite a bunch. And then there was you, a White Witch, even though the others were unaware of this fact. Well, until now.

A gigantic snarling werewolf was perched above where Stine was hiding under the table. In the moment before he noticed him, you threw your hand forward, shouting a defense spell.

“Relinquo!”

A flash of white magic shot from your palm, blasting the werewolf to a puddle of ink. Already, it began to reassemble, but the shot of energy had given you all enough time to escape the store, finding refuge in the parking lot outside. This time, when the werewolf attacked, it was taken out by your aunt’s car.

Finally, when there was a calm moment, you finally noticed the look Champ was giving you. His eyes were wide, mouth open in awe. He couldn’t stop looking at you.

“What?” You finally asked.

“That was...the coolest thing ever! How did you do that?” Champ asked. He took one of your hands, turning it over to look at it in hopes of finding an explanation to what you had done inside the store.

“Yeah, I’m gonna second that.” Zack looked at you uncertainly. Not even your own brother had known you could do that.

“I’m a witch. I thought you sort of knew that.”

“I knew you liked candles, but…” Zack shook his head. “Wow, that might have been useful earlier.”

“It’s not exactly something I can control. Next thing you know, I’ll just be another monster on the shelf.”

Champ looked at you sadly, tentatively reaching for your hand.

“I’m not scared of you.” he whispered, his voice growing louder as he became more confident. “Actually, do you want to go out for dinner sometime? I know this great place-”

“I’m not sure now is the time for that.” You cut him off sort of quickly when the group started jogging off towards the graveyard.

He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

***

The night, just when you thought it couldn’t get any crazier, had led you through a graveyard full of zombies, a crazy high school dance attacked by a giant mantis, and now to an amusement park of all places. As it turned out, Hannah wasn’t all that normal either. She was a ghost. This explained the look she had given you when you talked about being a monster on the shelf.

You were guessing she knew the feeling.

The five of you had hidden in the Funhouse for a hot second, but then Slappy appeared in the mirrors, around every corner and bend. Champ was shaking, fear in his eyes. And as soon as Slappy released the Blob from the book, you grabbed Champ’s wrists and tugged him along with the others.

The only place to hide now was the Ferris Wheel. It was the only place high enough to escape the Blob’s gelatinous mass.

You were crammed between Zack and Champ, heart racing as you watched your brother’s fingers fly across the keyboard.

“The End!” Zack pulled the pages out of the typewriter and jammed them into the manuscript.

“What happens now?!” Champ panicked, looking down at the monsters that were starting to assemble at the bottom of the Ferris Wheel. It was then that the shit hit the fan. The wheel lurched forward, beginning a deadly roll down the hill. You gripped Champ’s hand as tight as you could and raised the other, letting the power flow to your fingertips and then shouting a protective spell.

“Praesidio!”

A wispy ball of white light enveloped the four of you, protecting you from the wind, the gravity, the fall. When you landed, the ball shattered like glass, causing you to collapse on the ground as the four of you were thrown from the cart. Your body felt numb, limbs tingling with the remains of whatever magic you had left.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Champ, Zack, and Hannah rushed to your side.

“Zack, open the book. I’ll be fine.” Your voice was weak. Champ kneeled beside you, pulling you into his lap. You felt like your arms were noodles, and you could barely move. You couldn’t get your eyes to focus, so everything was blurry, and you couldn’t take a full breath.

Zack’s eyes lingered on yours, waiting to make sure you were okay. He had never seen you like this before, but protecting the group had taken its toll.

“I’ve got her.” Champ promised Zack. Your brother looked at you for a little while longer before venturing out into the clearing with Hannah.

“Champ…” you looked up at him, unable to reach out or do anything more than move your mouth.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He tried to act calm, but he was freaking out and you could tell. He had never met a witch before, and he didn’t know how to handle this.

“No, listen.” You blinked a few times and exhaled a long breath. “I really like you. And if we get out of this alive, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

“R-really?” he smiled and laughed a little. “I thought you were gonna say you never wanted to see me again, but that works too.”

You laid there unable to move for several more minutes. Slowly, the feeling was coming back to your numb limbs. You wiggled your fingers, curled your toes, rolled your wrists, and then eventually sat up.

Champ’s eyes widened at the feeling of your lips on his, warm and soft. His eyes were wide and he didn’t how to react. He had never been kissed before. What was he supposed to do with his hands? He felt your hands, soft against his cheeks. And then, when you pulled away, he exhaled a dreamy sigh.

“I’m sorry. You probably weren’t-”

Before you could finish your statement, his arms were tight around you, pulling you close to him.

“I never thought I’d know what magic felt like, but believe me, it was amazing.”

[puppetwritings]

Burned at the Stake || Minghao || Oneshot

Word Count: 2108

Genre: witch!au, fluff

Summary: Minghao wasn’t usually one to meddle in other people’s businesses. But he also wasn’t going to stand by when someone was being innocently murdered.

Woozi // Mingyu // Wonwoo // Seungcheol // Junhui // Hoshi // Joshua //

You couldn’t place how you felt in this exact moment. Was it hatred? Terror? Anger? Sadness? Or perhaps it was betrayal. Whatever it was or however many mixes of negative emotions it was, there was one that that was clear–you were in pain. Of course, being tied to a stake and having your skin seared off did that to you.

Now, how had you ended up in this position?

It started off simply. A girl was jealous. Or, rather, envious. You had what she couldn’t have and that was your boyfriend. One thing led to another and she had accused you of coming into her dreams at night and attacking her. You tried to kill her and you almost succeeded. On top of that, she told your boyfriend that what he felt wasn’t real love–it was witchcraft. Who, in this day and age, she asked, could love someone that deeply? You thought it was absurd. They felt that she was correct. You were a witch.

Witches in this area were not revered like they were in other parts. In other parts, they were gods and deities in mortal form, come to save and protect the humans. Here though, they were the Devil’s helpers. And you had committed the greatest sin of all–you seduced a man and made him a slave to you and your love.

Of course, you knew this was all lies. You knew that you weren’t a witch. You were born and raised the daughter of a baker who had unfortunately passed on now. You were born human, raised human, and if you had not been met with this untimely incident, you would remain human for as long as you lived. Now, you would remain dead.

It was strange how the human brain worked though. You were dying and it was obvious. Your skin was slowly burning and you could smell yourself, like an unappealing meal being cooked at the homeless shelters. Your hair was at your chin and as the flames rose, it was slowly being burned off as well. However, no matter how much pain you were in, you still managed to cry. Screams still managed to leave your mouth. Even at the point where you should have accepted the inevitable, your body rejected it. And your mind rejected it. You were begging for help, praying and hoping that someone–anyone–would come save you. You were lucky the gods felt generous today.

Your savior, or future savior rather, was in the crowd. He stood among them as a human because that’s what he looked like. Hanging from one ear was a long earring that nearly reached his shoulder, an infinity charm dangling from it. On his other ear was two piercings, both simple crystals though a little higher up was a cuff that looked like a dragon. He wore a cloak. An odd attire for this part of the world. And crawling up his neck was another image that looked suspiciously like the dragon on his earring. On his face, he wore a mask of disgust. But not disgust at you. Disgust at them.

No matter what you had done, this was unwarranted punishment. It was cruel and disgusting to treat a human like they were an animal. In fact, your savior didn’t even think humans would treat animals this cruelly.

At first he had wanted to walk away. He was a busy person and he was just passing through town. He had somewhere else to be. He was going home after a several month trip but he had arrived here when they began tying you to the stake and he had stayed to see what they would do. He was not disappointed.

A sigh left his lips as his brows furrowed with trouble. Should he save you? The answer was yes. But did he want to? Also a yes. So the obvious conclusion was…

A dark mass suddenly covered the sun. The people of the town looked up as a heavy storm doused the flames. In the commotion, the young man stepped up to the stake. You weakly turned your head over to him, barely able to focus. You were able to take in his impish features for a moment and registered he was slashing your bondages with…with nothing, before you fell from the stake and slumped against him, losing your consciousness.

The townspeople all gasped in terror and moved back at the sight of this young man. He turned menacingly towards them as the clouds began to gather further.

“Because of a stupid accusation, you were going to kill a human girl,” the young man said.

“She’s a witch!” the girl who had been envious of you proclaimed.

The young man turned towards her and she suddenly felt her limbs freeze up. “Shut it, girl. I know a witch when I see one and she is definitely not. If she had been, do you think she would have allowed you to tie her up?”

There was a murmur through the crowd. The young man turned back towards you, carefully lifting your chin up so he could see you clearer. You poor thing. The young man turned back to the crowd, “I will take her back to my town. Await your punishment from the Heavens.”

And with that, he was gone–a black Chinese dragon taking his place.

“I can’t believe you brought a human into the Witch’s Den. Of all people, Minghao, I thought you were the sensible one.”

Minghao turned to glare at his friend who stood, lazily slumped against the doorway to his room. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung shrugged, shifting against the frame and resting his head against it. “Many people don’t. I give it anyway.”

“Can you leave?”

“No, I came to look at the girl,” Soonyoung pushed himself off the frame and walked over, his arms still crossed across his chest. He clicked his tongue, “Look at those burns…do you think you can heal them?”

“If I can’t, then I’ll just ask Jun,” Minghao murmured.

Soonyoung nodded, “Good idea. Except Jun is out of town.”

“She’ll be fine until then. He’s coming back tonight anyway,” Minghao sighed, sitting back down and getting off his knees.

“Why’d you rescue here? Or rather, where?”

Minghao glanced up at Soonyoung and sighed, folding up his cloak and his jacket. “I passed by that one town–the one that vilifies witches. And I saw her being burned.”

“They burn witches there?”

“It’s an excuse, I think,” Minghao reached over, carefully brushing your hair away from your face. “Someone was just trying to kill her.”

“She’s not even a witch.”

“Exactly.”

Soonyoung shook his head. He nudged Minghao, “So, what are you going to do?”

“They’re going to have a taste of Divine Punishment.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow and then tugged at the collar of Minghao’s shirt, looking down until Minghao swatted him away. “Is that why your dragon isn’t here? Did you leave it in that town?”

Minghao nodded. “And it won’t leave until the place is flooded.”

Soonyoung shook his head, shuddering, “I never want to make an enemy of you.”

“Then get out of my room right now.”

Soonyoung jokingly saluted and marched out, closing the door behind him.

Minghao turned back to you with a sigh and a frown. He was afraid to touch you. Healing magic had never been his strong suit and he didn’t want to forever scar your appearance. If he waited for Junhui, he’d be able to do something. He would be able to fix you better than he ever could. But if Minghao messed up now, the effects would be irreversible. It was just a matter of what to do with you before Junhui came back. If you woke now, there would be panic for sure. He would have to put you into a coma. Not that you would really need his help but just in case…

At least you were safe now, Minghao thought as he watched you breathing softly. But what you would do after this, he wasn’t sure. Would you be willing to live with a bunch of witches if they allowed it? Being raised in that community, would probably be against it–thinking that they were agents of the Devil…Minghao found himself worrying about you. It was odd to think he hadn’t even exchanged a word with you, yet he was fretting over your wellbeing. Was it because you were pretty?

Minghao chuckled to himself. Maybe you were an enchantress like they had claimed.

It wasn’t long before Minghao was beginning to nod off, his hand holding yours as if to reassure you that you were fine now even if you couldn’t feel him.

Junhui came home later that night. He was greeted by several people, all telling him that Minghao needed his expertise. This was new. Minghao needed him? Minghao hadn’t needed him since he acquired his dragon, why would he need him now?

Nonetheless, Junhui rushed up the stairs to Minghao’s room and knocked once. When no answer came, he knocked again and then one more time for good measure before he entered on his own. The sight surprised Junhui more than the request for help. Minghao sat beside his bed, his hand holding some random girl’s and this random girl looked charred. Her skin had splotches of scarred tissue and it shocked Junhui to the point he couldn’t move for a second. It wasn’t until Minghao groaned in his sleep that Junhui moved forward, shaking him awake and the first thing Minghao heard was “Who is this?”

Minghao sat up immediately and turned to look at Junhui. He stood, removing his hand from yours, and stepped aside. He nudged Junhui forward, “Can you save her?”

“I mean, yeah, obviously,” Junhui nodded. He vaguely waved a hand, “This sort of thing is a piece of cake. I wouldn’t even need to use my phoenix.”

“Then can you,” Minghao gestured towards you.

“Alright,” Junhui shooed him further to the side and held out his hands over you.

Minghao turned away as a quiet chant began to come from Junhui’s lips. It wasn’t even a minute before the chanting stopped and Junhui mumbled a “See? Easy.”

Minghao turned back around and he couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. Junhui glanced at him, “Um, we might have to give her a haircut but other than that she’ll be fine…she should have woken up though.”

“Oh, I put her in a coma,” Minghao waved a hand over you and turned back to Junhui, “Thank you.”

Junhui nodded, “No problem. No problem…is she your girlfriend–”

“Please leave.”

“Okay,” Junhui turned, leaving without an answer.

Minghao turned back to you and sat down next to his bed again. He watched you silently and noticed your breathing even out. He smiled a little to himself again until you shifted, your eyes fluttering open.

“You’re awake?”

“Am I dead?”

Minghao laughed and your eyes drifted towards him. He shook his head, “No, you aren’t. I managed to save you before any damage was really done.”

“You saved me?”

Minghao nodded.

“You…” you remembered the vague outline of a young man standing beside you as soon as the fire was put out. “Who are you?”

“Xu Minghao,” he said with a smile. “I’m a witch.”

“A witch?”

Minghao smiled, seeing the fear in your eyes. “I’m not going to do anything bad to you.”

“Of course not,” your voice trailed off despite yourself. “You saved me. I should be thankful.”

Minghao nodded and then he reconsidered before he shrugged. “I did save you but Junhui was the one that restored your body. I’ll take you to go thank him once you’re feeling better.”

You nodded shyly.

Minghao shifted on the ground, “What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

“Your name,” Minghao smiled. “What is it?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Minghao murmured under his breath. He smiled and held out his hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand timidly and then turned to him, “Where am I?”

“You’re at the Diamond Witch Den,” Minghao replied. “You can stay with us for as long as you want. You can’t really go back home, can you?”

You pursed your lips. That was true. You were accused of being a witch and then you were subsequently saved by one.

“It’s fine,” Minghao reassured you. His cheerful tone made you look up. “This place can be your home now.”

You felt your cheeks warm and your heart flutter. You nodded, a smile lightly gracing your lips. Maybe this place wasn’t going to be so bad.