ratatouillewastakendammit

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Embers and Ebony

Chapter 1

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: pro hero!reader having to go undercover and snuggle up to Dabi in order to infiltrate the league, the first chapter for this blurp and commission for @purgatoryvisitor 🩵

Warnings: slight descriptions of violence/injury; I also took a lot of creative liberty with OC's and stuff so that's fun; language; lots of exposition

Word Count: 3.6k

The Hero Public Safety Commission's office had always freaked you out. 

It was a building that continually radiated a strong chill, even in the Summer. Titanium guarded each side of the skyscraper, making it look more like a prison than an actual agency. Automatic doors opened proudly once you scaled the concrete stairs. However, their compliance seemed less like a welcome, but rather a goading dare to enter for anyone who didn’t belong there. 

Come on in, their creaking hinges whispered. Find out what happens. 

The inside was no different. 

A high temperature did nothing to quell the coldness brimming through the metal walls and marble tile. They echoed underneath the heels of your boots and bounced off the hallway corners. White lights, far too blinding to be practical, illuminated the surface, leaving nowhere for you to hide. In fact, the floor seemed to have been recently polished, its pristine shine reflecting your image to the plethora of security cameras hiding between every few meters. 

The newly scrubbed surface seemed to be the job of Kaho, a pop of color within this world of silver. Even the dark navy cleaning uniform she wore did nothing to dull her radiant hues, which seemed to glow so much brighter in an arctic desert like this. As she waved in your direction, a gaggle of brightly painted bracelets jingled against her wrist. 

You lowered your hood and offered her a mouthed ‘sorry’ for walking over her newly mopped tile while walking by, to which the elderly woman waved off with a jolly grin. 

Her cheerfulness quelled the gargling pile of nerves in your stomach a little. Still, the quiet, bubbling heat continued to gnaw at your abdomen. It didn’t matter how many times you opened the doors to the penthouse office. 

You would always cross them uneasily.

Rin Tsunahito was a stern looking man with black hair slowly speckling into silver. At first glance, some may have theorized that age had hardened him. However, he had always been this way, as long as you had known him at least, harsh lines and angles carved from duty only accentuated by time. Even as a teenager, he had seemed light years away from you, despite the actual difference being somewhere around thirty five years. 

Another thirty five and he would probably still be here, sitting atop his leather throne and piercing his subjects with those bright green eyes. He was much like the building in that way; cold, but unmoving, a pillar of responsibility surrounded by a world of chaos.

The man seemed to be an extension of the room he inhabited as well. He embodied the precision in which each stack of paper on his desk had been perfectly aligned, the way his name plaque had been strictly positioned to be in the exact middle of it. The suit he wore had not even a speck of lint or hair, as stainless as the shining windows that allowed the dark gray of a rainy afternoon to illuminate the room. 

That emerald glare seemed to dull just slightly when you walked in, serious expression softening just the tiniest bit for less than a moment. It was just barely noticeable, but you had trained your vision to catch it, to crave the way those wrinkled brows would smooth over before folding back. “You’re here. Good.”

Waiting, you allowed the silence to fill the space between you for a moment before making sure that he wasn’t going to continue. Talking over your superior was a devastating mistake that you had learned to avoid. “I read that you needed to see me?”

He nodded. “I have a new mission for you.”

Two of his fingers, the middle and pointer had been slashed off, supposedly years ago while dealing with a particularly violent interrogation, if you chose to believe any of the stories the HPSC staff would tell. They had been replaced with metal prosthetics. One worker in particular had spread the story that if Rin took them off, and you got close enough to look, you might see the barely noticeable indentation of teeth left behind on the lacerated flesh. 

The steel glinted in the overhead light as the digits grazed over a stack of folders, carefully deciding on the correct one before picking it up. With his other, less titanium endowed hand, he beckoned you forward.

Taking the invitation, you slowly began to ascend the short set of steps leading up to his desk. During your first week here, you had always thought that the room was far too big for a single person, regardless of whether or not that individual happened to be the Commission's director of hero services and coordination. But you shortly began to realize just how much space his personality took up. It seemed to permeate the air whenever you opened the door, filling your lungs with a sparking mixture of excitement and nerves. 

That feeling only grew stronger as you carefully accepted the file from him, twisting the clasp and opening it up just as you had many times before. 

And just as those times before, the giant word ‘Nyx’ had been printed out in bold Times New Roman font, your legal name typed much smaller to the right of it. Below, a black and white image of you was displayed next to a plethora of additional information like your age, status, and, undeniably most important, your quirk. 

Usually, the rest of the content was filled with information, either on a group or the specific members that would be subject to your infiltration. This instance was no different, although it still had you pausing as you soaked in the data. 

The images before you were ones that you had seen scattered across wanted posters and news stations alike in the past few weeks. The first paper sported an extremely blurry photograph, like it had been captured by someone either very nervous or in a hurry. Still, it was easy to see the pale blue locks and milky skin. 

The next didn’t even have a face at all, but rather an inky cloud of swirling violet along with a golden pair of eyes. Unfortunately, whatever printer this had been created from didn’t do the character justice, those pupil-less flames a muted excuse for the usual glow that you had seen on the television.

You looked up at your boss. “The League of Villains?” He just stared back at you, waiting for a sign of displeasure or hesitancy. Instead, you offered him a look of determination. “How would you like me to get in?”

Generally, you would be tasked with the specifics.

Be creative, he might say. Just try to help us keep any casualties to a minimum.

This time seemed to be different. “Use the Cremation Villain.”

Clearly, the shock must have broken through your dutiful, indifferent expression based on the short frown Rin shot back at you. You voiced your surprise regardless. “What? You’re talking about-”

“Dabi, yes. I’m sure you heard of him.” Those steel fingers ruffled through the stack of papers you were holding, drawing out the one with your specific target's information. “We’ve received intel that he has been regularly attending a certain bar on the outside of the city. As of now, he’s our best shot at getting into the League.”

Your eyes flit over the parchment, taking in the information. His criminal moniker had been bolded just like yours, but ‘legal name unknown’ had been branded beneath. 

‘Unknown’ seemed to be a common theme concerning his data.

At least, until it got to the ‘wanted for’ section. 

Phrases such as serial murder, arson, and torture were easy standouts. 

“Fifty percent of the villains in this city are homicidal maniacs. The other half are self-righteous psychopaths who believe they can heal society by taking out heroes,” Rin continued as you read. “Your target is a bit of both. Use that.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you began to flick through the papers once more, this time settling on a teenage blonde with fangs and a bright grin. 

“You’re about the same age. I’m positive you won’t have an issue using that as well.” 

That definitely made you look up. “And you’re talking about…”

The stream of questions seemed to be gnawing at his patience, emerald eyes narrowing in a way that made your stomach curl. “Seduce him. This wouldn’t be the first time.”

It hadn’t been. 

But those times had been easy. 

Simple.

A bunch of lower grade criminals who couldn’t beat you on their best day. Maybe a drug dealer or quirk smuggler. At worst, it had been a member of the Italian mafia that had sent you on a flight across Europe. 

This was different. 

This was a murderer; a prominent member of one of the most infamous groups in Japan, one that had been known specifically for killing people like you. 

Being an underground hero meant that you had specialized in undercover missions more than a few times. Over the years, you had become bodyguards, celebrity guests, and lackeys. Each mask fit your face perfectly, seeing as it had been kept a secret for your entire career. 

And anyone who had been given the pleasure of linking it to your real identity was secure behind bars. 

“Do we have a problem?”

The comment pulled you back from your thoughts, back to that stern, glaring face that tugged an immediate response from you. “No, sir.”

“Good. I’ll have more information sent over by tomorrow night.” Gaze falling over your form, Rin took a moment before giving you a small nod. “Dismissed.”

That tiny dip, his own discrete way of saying ‘I believe in you,’ followed you out of the office, a beacon of light blinking amidst the murky pool of unease. 

Still, that luminance continued to dim as you left the HPSC office, its muted glow slowing flickering out and leaving no distraction from the situation you had found yourself in.

⭒∘☽☾∘⭒

The first time you had met Dabi was around three months ago. 

Well, ‘met’ was technically a strong word, but you couldn’t exactly come up with another term to describe the interactions.

As an underground hero, most of your time had been spent taking care of the dirty jobs the more popular pros couldn’t be bothered with. It wasn’t anything that you minded; working within the shadows had been something written within the strands of your DNA. Your role was something more akin to a legally endorsed vigilante, seeing that fifty percent of the police force didn’t even know who you really were. You didn’t receive any public applause or acknowledgement, but you personally didn’t care one way or another.

But it was always a nice change when you were blessed with a different opportunity. 

That day had been one of them.

Apparently, you had been one of the only heroes within a mile of the attack. To be honest, you hadn’t actually been on the clock, but you had been trained to keep a pack of all your essentials whenever you were away from the commissioner's office. It had taken seconds to pull the suit from your bag and slip it on, the ebony fabric light and tailored to be donned quickly whenever the time came.

With the slightest bit of grief, you left behind your street clothes and container of takeout you had specifically decided to brave the public streets for before sprinting toward the chaos. Thankfully, there was still enough light left in the day to have darkness pooling in the corners of the isolated alley. You jumped into one of the shadows, allowing your form to coagulate with the murky gloom and sweep you in the direction of incomprehensible yelling.

Smoke assaulted your senses when you pulled back out of the shade, creeping in through the mesh of your mask to tingle your throat. The sound of screaming came next, piercing through the air and cacophony of madness around you. 

Civilians were running in all directions from what appeared to be the center of the havoc, one of the newer hero agencies that had grown popular due to their more recently hired tree-manipulating pro. Now, the shining windows covering the building had been blasted apart, their shards of glass littering the sidewalk. They crackled and popped under the feet of office workers and the general public alike as they fled the scene. 

As they passed, you silently stole three of the shadows they left behind, drawing them upward from the concrete until they began to forge dark figures.

Their inky forms stared at you with eyeless faces, attentive and ready for whatever command you would issue. Without having to speak, you sent them off toward the crumbling structure to make sure there wasn’t anyone left trapped inside. Each was just slightly different from the next, the contrasting features stemming from something as simple as an outline of a baseball cap or baggie sweater their original owner might have been wearing. Regardless, they worked perfectly in tandem, accepting you as their similarly clad leader.

Your wardrobe was fairly small, so it didn’t really have much competition, but your hero suit was probably your favorite piece of clothing, an opinion that would probably withstand time, even if you someday found yourself with an extensive closet. The material was surprisingly breathable, even with the short hood and mask that ran over your face. With the way it completely enclosed your body, it even made it difficult to distinguish between you and your shadow soldiers on a dark night. The outfit covered every inch of your flesh like a second skin, barely noticeable yet protective against anything from flames to acid.

That statement was meant quite literally, seeing as once while on a mission to catch a group lacing pain reliever pills in order to destroy a pharmaceutical company by killing its patients, one of the offenders had tried to overcome you by tipping a vat of cyanide in your direction. 

Obviously, it hadn’t worked, yet you were grateful to the commission designers regardless.

But unfortunately, just as some bullet proof vests were not similarly immune to the slashes of a knife, your costume had been designed with the idea that you, a professional, would be quick enough to avoid most sharp force objects. 

Today, you hadn’t been.

It was an explosion that had gotten you, or more specifically the giant chunk of cement it had seen barreling your way. The concrete had been blasted apart, sending pieces spiraling toward a haggle of young children screaming in tearful terror. 

Arms outstretched, your reach elongated towards them as you drew from any shadows that the evening sunset had painted across the city-scape. The darkness curled around the rock like vines and then you pulled, yanking it away from the group and back into the ground with a thump. 

A small sigh of relief stole your attention just long enough for you to barely notice another wayward lump of blasted sidewalk careening your way. 

If you had been any slower, it might have decapitated you completely. It just barely missed you, the jagged edge slightly grazing across your face and leaving a small, scarlet scratch in its wake.

Thankfully, the wound wouldn’t scar, especially with some aloe and time spent in the medical wing. However, the actual scrape wasn’t what worried you, but rather the small strip of fabric of your mask that had been torn away in the process. It left a diagonal opening on part of your face exposed, specifically the upper part of your nose and right eye. 

There was barely enough time to worry about that, however, and you turned your attention to a flipped over minivan caught beneath a fallen lamp post. 

With a giant yank, the wispy fingers of your quirk were able to tug the light away from the car, allowing you to pry open the dented doors and help the elderly couple out. The silver haired man grabbed his husband once they were on solid ground and dragged him away with a rapid thank you shouted in your direction, the latter clutching his partner's arm with hands clasped in fervent prayer.

You moved on to a fallen teenager whose leg seemed to be twisted in an unholy angle. With a flick of your finger, two shadows tore away from the ankles of a duo sprinting past. Both soldiers glided to either side of the boy, wrapping a wispy arm under his shoulders before carefully lifting him and whisking him away.

Whenever you were chosen to participate in a more publicly visible fight, the message that came along with it was always clear: don’t make a scene. 

Press was a nasty, probing beast, sinking its claws to any new heroic face with a flashy power it could find. From the distance, you could begin to hear the clicking call of their camera shutters, a noise that you had been explicitly ordered to avoid at all costs.

Thankfully, more pros had begun to arrive, giving you leeway to make a quiet exit as soon as possible. 

Your value was founded in the concept of secrecy, something the commission was desperate to preserve. Getting civilians to safety then hightailing it out was your one and only task. 

However, it was almost impossible to look away when you saw the League arrive. 

It had only been a few weeks since they had made their debut in the media, but it hadn’t taken long for their story to spread like a disease. It infected the public’s sense of peace, keeping families indoors after nightfall and hero agencies in constant disarray from the impending threat they posed. 

The one with periwinkle curls was easy to recognize, especially with the plethora of pale, amputated hands covering every foot of his sickly body. Some of the others were just minor league criminals you'd seen as well, probably picked up by the group with the promise of more power. 

But there was one that you couldn’t place. He must have been new. The dark purple scars lining the flesh of his hands, neck, and face would have been hard to forget. The rest of skin was covered by a white shirt and long black coat, but you were almost sure that the marks would continue to trail throughout the entirety of his form. 

That's when he lifted a hand towards what you noticed to be the older couple from earlier. 

The silver haired man seemed to have tripped, his partner continuing to mutter prayers as he attempted to hoist him up. It seemed to be no avail and a bright blue fire crackled to life in the cradle of their assailants touch. 

It was almost instinctive, the way you raised an arm of your own, grasping at any remaining sparks of power you had left. The shadows shot up from the corners of the streets and out through your fingers, creating an ocean of pure black that washed over them. Your waves were strong enough to push them out of the way, but amply gentle in order to keep their aging bones from being crushed under the sweeping tide. 

Sapphires flames rushed by the pair, just barely missing the newly singed soles of their shoes. 

The villain seemed surprised for a moment, palm curling in distaste as his gaze traveled towards the direction of his victims' salvation. 

Over to you. 

There was another flash of azure that had you freezing, but it didn’t seem to be stemming from his hand. No, was coming from his eyes, a pair of glowing cerulean irises that pierced right through you.

That icy glare froze the blood in your veins, a horrendous juxtaposition to the stream of flooding heat he had just released. Suddenly, the small rip in your mask made you feel all too exposed as that glare trailed over your form. 

Shit

Shit Shit Shit Shit

Rin’s voice laced over your own. 

Get out of there

The villain had trapped your gaze in his just long enough for Kamui Woods, the shiny new hero at this agency, to curl the couple into the tender confines of his branches and whisk them away to safety. You just barely caught them in a tearful embrace as the timbers encapsulated their shaking form. 

The scarred man seemed to have noticed as well, glancing back for a moment, a motion that had you jumping back into the shadows and swimming away to solitude. Screams and explosions began to melt away from your ears as you traversed back toward the alleyway, the knowledge that more heroes were arriving to take care of the situation stifling the needful ache to go back and help stinging in your chest.

Your body had begun to shake when you pulled away from the gloom. The scene had left a distasteful mix of unease and exhaust that rumbled in your stomach throughout the entire journey home.

It wasn’t until you actually arrived back to your room that you were able to take a real breath, knowing that there was no way that the chaos of today would have followed you back. Still, you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling tickling your skin. 

And those eyes. 

Those blue, glowing irises burned into the back of your eyelids, clutching onto your consciousness as you slowly allowed the sweet relief of sleep to encapsulate you, hoping that by tomorrow, you might forget their simmering glow and the way he looked at that couple before attempting to set them ablaze. 

Pure indifference. 

It was at the moment that you realized just how grateful you were to be working out of the spotlight, away from any fight that would include the League. 

You never wanted to see him again.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

A Humans Touch

“What… what did you do?” You whispered, the sound brimming with disbelief.

The being, whether or not it was still Jax you weren’t sure, scoffed. Harsh and callous, the sound was a far cry from their usually cool drawl. “What did I do? Please. I had barely made the offer before they were practically begging to sell themself away.”

Amber eyes gazed back at your own, dreadfully gleeful stare boring into you. 

If you had been blind and looking at them from the nose down, you would have been perfectly certain that it was your friend standing in front of you. But this imposter, this demon was simply wearing their skin. The voice itself made you want to wince. Its unkind lilt failed to match the soft features surrounding the mouth it came from. It was like watching a puppet show, fabric and yarn replaced with flesh and organs. Still, a bit of that original pitch came bleeding through in the background, almost as if the vocal cords were unable to fully accommodate their new owner. That haunting duet made for a destructive symphony, something akin to what one might get if they mixed beautifully seasoned live singers with a faulty record player.

Each syllable reinstated the possibility that Jax might be gone forever. For all you knew, they could be buried beneath layers of human matter or just vanished completely. Their frame could have been reduced to nothing more than a husk, the thing they had used to dance and laugh and create diminished to a mere shell for a ventriloquist to play with. 

“What a rush. It’s been years since I’ve been in one of these things before. Almost forgot how homey they are.” Bill rolled his shoulders, craning his neck to the side with a small pop, the muscles probably screaming in protest from hours hunched over a work table.

They-he, took note of your horrified expression and stupefied silence, sighing in bored apathy before continuing. 

“Ah, come on, toots. No need to overreact. Strawberry top is perfectly fine. Just gotta-” Bill paused and the golden hue drained from his gaze, slitted pupils molding into a sphere and blooming with a friendly shade of brown that was slightly veiled over with a white sheen. He seemed to almost melt from Jax’s body, form bubbling from their skin to create that recognizable pyramid that flew to your side. “Do some repurposing.”

The thin fog seemed to fade from your friend's cornea as they blinked, raising their hands in front of their face and shifting the digits, like they were in disbelief that this body was once again theirs to control. Running to their side, you grasped their shoulder, searching frantically for any sign of physical trauma or pain. “Are you okay?”

Of course, studies on the potential side effects of demonic possession were practically nonexistent, unless you included the film industries' lackluster examples. Still, you breathed a small sigh of relief when you looked into their eyes and missed any sign of a concussion or something similar. On the contrary, they glistened with excitement, matching the giant smile that had broken across Jax’s face. “I’m amazing. This whole damned state is a minefield for paranormal activity and we’ve barely scratched the surface of it!”

Shock had you lost for words, the entire novel’s worth of comprehensible questions soaked to a dampened destruction with your own panic. “What were you... why?”

They looked back at you, face filled with confusion until they realized the true inquiry resting under your hurried tone.

Why would you do this?

“Why? I’ve learned more in the past ten minutes than in five months!” The exhilaration slowly trickled out of their expression, grin melting into a disappointed purse of the lips.“Why aren’t you excited?”

“Didn’t he tell you what would happen? What you would be giving up? And you still said yes?” You asked, a useless plea to think this over meshing with the question.

As if you could undo what had been done.

As if you could change anything.

Jax scoffed. “Are you serious? I can’t believe you’re being like this right now. What I ‘gave up’ is barely anything compared to what I can learn now. What I can achieve now.”

Their fervor infested timbre had your shoulders folding over your body slightly in dejection. It hit you like a sack of bricks right in the chest, demolishing your argumentative defenses. “I just… It just feels weird.”

“Just because you didn’t feel the same doesn’t mean that I should feel bad. I’m not stupid, okay?”

The bite of their words nipped at your reasoning and you frantically began to backpedal, hoping to get a hold of the conversation with shaking fingers. 

Breath

“No, no, you’re right. I’m sorry. It was just a surprise and I was caught off guard.”

Silence filled your ears, hovering over the both of you like a toxic gas. It siphoned the air from your lungs and had you scrambling further for reprieve.

This isn’t their fault.

“If you’re happy like this, that’s all that matters. I’m sorry. I promise I don’t think you’re stupid.”

This is mine.

Maybe it had been the genuineness coursing through your tone, or the mere remnants of elation leftover to lighten the weight of despondence, but Jax took a breath of their own, walking over to meet you on even footing. 

“Just trust me on this.” They squeezed your hand, the gesture more friendly in anything else. Regardless, the pulse thumping under your skin had you pulling back slightly, as if they could have felt the muted beat with their ring finger resting above it.

“Sure. I trust you.”

⭒⋆△⋆⭒

With the new semester looming in the distance, a few other graduates had begun to make home in the small dormitory complex on the Northside of campus. Excitement from the new students trickled through the halls, most eager to further a bachelor’s or associate’s degree. For the early arrivals, this was the perfect time to form relationships. It was everyone’s hope that they would at least get along to some degree, rather than be stuck living next to an enemy for the next four months.

A story popped into your head, one that a classmate had told you about during your first week here. Apparently, a wealthy girl had slithered her way into not only renting her own dorm, but the two on either side of her as well, just in case she wasn’t a fan of the inhabitants.

According to your classmate, her parents actually owned the small town adjacent to this one, which brought up the question as to why she would actually be going here in the first place. The professors were lovely, but it was a fairly well known fact that this was the place to go for those who couldn’t afford much else in the state of Oregon. 

However, as the tale went she had chosen this university to stay connected to her childhood sweetheart, some young education major who ended up with the highest set of grades the school had ever seen.

It was cute, regardless of whether or not it was true.

Music blared in the room next to yours, its giddy tune muffled only slightly by layers of feeble insulation. You recognized the singer, an up and coming pop star who had made her debut over the summer. Pictures of fiery red hair and a painted face had been plastered all over social media, abundant enough for you to see them, at least.

Steam washed over your face as you slit open the film to your frozen meal, coating your skin in warmed moisture. You stirred the contents gentilly before readjusting the plastic and placing it back in the microwave for a second time. The bowl spun as you watched, tired eyes reflecting the soft yellow glow. 

It had been a long day. 

The quiet hum of hot air had you lazing into a daze then jumping when the alarm went off. You scrambled to hit the ‘off’ button, not wanting to bother any of your neighbors, regardless of the jaunty toon still blasting from next door.

“Why aren’t you staying with Jax? Doesn’t the whole ‘bodily possession’ thing mean you’re connected or something?” You gave the contents another stir, finding satisfaction with the levels of heat before grabbing the meal and moving over to your bed.

“You think I wanna room with that hyper fixated maniac? They’d keep me up all night with their stupid questions. Besides, I go where I please.” Bill lazily strolled over, proving the point as he flopped down right next to you.

Scalding pasta hit the roof of your mouth as you took a bite, the flavorful sauce melting into nothingness in the wake of the heat. You exhaled, hoping to alleviate the blister as you opened your laptop and began to scroll. 

Titles and covers whizzed past your vision, certain ones popping out among the others every once and a while. It wasn’t long before you selected your film, a recently produced sequel to an 80s slasher. 

In all honesty, gore wasn’t always your top contender when it came to horror flicks. The dark genre was most appreciative when paired with a good plot and creative antagonist. 

Blood and guts seemed to be Bill’s vice of choice, though, so you didn’t mind pulling up a slightly more grisly story for your nighttime watch sessions.

This one in particular had quite the gruesome start, with one of the minor characters being decapitated with a wayward drone before the beginning credits had even rolled. The sight of his sliced, isolated head had you put your bowl down as the possessed teen rose above the lake, body supinated and drenched with a macabre mix of blood and water. 

Your gaze shifted from the screen to the male beside you for a split second, the state of your inner thoughts relocating from a state of disgust to uncomfort. “Are you able to… uh, get small? Or whatever.”

It might have been halfway visible from your now-averted gaze, but the cocky grin forming on Bill’s face was more than clear enough. “What? Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?”

“No.” The rapid lie felt foreign on your tongue. Dryness coated its surface as the desire to spew a more detailed excuse threatened became cogent. It had been months, probably even longer since you had shared a bed with anyone, let alone a fully grown person.

Or person-adjacent.

Still, something about the extra pairs of limbs and lack of acute angles made the close proximity so much more intense, formal in an almost intimate way that didn’t seem right for the friendship you both shared. 

“I’ll let you know that I’ve had some pretty famous admirers over the centuries,” He bragged, the statement conversely lax, like he was describing an old devotee who hadn’t been anymore than an annoyance. “I bet I get that bloody little organ in your chest beating. Don’t I, doc?” 

Objectively, he was undeniably attractive, in more ways than one. 

Those human vises, the sharp features, lean stature, and bits of muscle poking out from underneath that suit made him handsome. 

But it was that otherworldliness that made him beautiful. Slightly pointed ears framed his face wonderfully; golden-tinted skin matched that gorgeously unique left eye that flashed just a touch every time Bill got excited. The other was just as hauntingly beautiful. They were endless circles of pure darkness, reflecting everything but the life many possessed within this feature. He was the type of creature that you could get lost in. 

Objectively.

You had noticed that unquestionable, shallow thought poking in the back of your mind a few times, but it was easy to ignore, especially when you knew it wouldn’t progress to anything. 

Plus, the gift certainly did not match the lovingly wrapped outsides. 

That always seemed to swiftly extinguish any looks-based spark you held for most men in general. 

Regardless, your brain was seldom able to influence any of the pesky other hormones in your body, that minute pulse traveling up your wrist speeding up just slightly at the mere implication. 

“The answer is still no. And even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t say anything. I’d be scared of your ego actually detonating.” The fib came out smoother this time. “Try working on that first, then maybe you’ll be able to get a date.”

Linguine wrapped around your fork, embraced by a tangy sweet sauce and chunk of bell pepper. You stabbed at a spinach-ricotta meatball, almost wishing that you had found a less-gory time to enjoy it. Of course, the meal wasn’t homemade; you would probably need to find recipes for microwave-only courses if you wanted to start cooking. Regardless, it was pretty tasty. For a frozen meal connoisseur, you’d had your fair share of hidden gems and icy let downs, so you knew what you were talking about.

“Liar.”

Mid chew, you turned to Bill, allowing the flavors of salty cheese and seasoned vegetables to melt on your tongue with an inquisitive raise of your eyebrow.

“I can hear it.”

Taking a moment to swallow, you repeated the statement, voice lifting toward the end in the wordless appeal for completion. “You can hear…”

He grinned, creeping closer to you. The initial urge was to jump away, but the still-blistering bowl of food and laptop resting upon your lower stomach had you rethinking. 

With a slow lightness, he raised an arm up, pointer finger straightening to tap at the space between your chest. The touch was hideously warm, even through the thin fabric of your shirt. Nevertheless, it had you frozen, ice coursing through your nerves and freezing the motor sensors that kept you mobile. “Your heart, doc. You humans and your bodily systems are always so damn noisy.”

He’s messing with you

Trying to get a reaction.

Inner reassurance did nothing to the lightness currently blocking the pathway between your brain and mouth. Rational thoughts got stuck there for a moment, delayed amidst the plethora of flustered ones. He was practically on top of you, knowing smirk indicating that it wasn't a mere bluff and kicking you into action.

You smacked his hand gently, flexing your legs and forcing him to back off in the process. “Maybe because you’re being creepy. Girls don’t like that either. Or whoever… whatever gets you going.”

Finally, he seemed to be somewhat satisfied with how much he embarrassed you for the night, giving in and shifting back into his original form. “Whatever you say. Besides, isn’t it normal for someone to want to curl up in bed with his pet from time to time.”

Pet

You were starting to hate that word.

“Still not a dog.”

“Never said you were, toots.”

⭒⋆△⋆⭒

“I’m going to kill my academic advisor.”

“You and every other graduate student from what I’m hearing. What happened now?”

“He took a million years to tell me that I need Anthropology 2235 to graduate next semester and almost every section is filled. The only one left is taught by a lady with a two-point-seven stars on ratemyprofessor.” Jax scowled, typing furiously away at their computer. “Apparently, she grades attendance too.”

“Ouch.” Chewing on the words, you attempted to dig for some bright side to the situation.” Still, the attendance thing isn’t too bad. For you, at least, I suppose. I’d feel bad for everyone else, but I’m glad that’ll be an easy grade.”

It wasn’t very surprising that they genuinely enjoyed learning. Once all of those annoyingly-bothersome prerequisites had been completed, that pleasure had grown even more. Honestly, they might’ve just skipped out on renting a dorm all together, with half of their day spent in class and another quarter in one of the school’s labs. For them, graded attendance was a positive aspect to a professor, regardless of the grumbling and rolling eyes of their peers.

Silence met your statement and you swiveled your gaze to see if maybe they hadn’t heard you, only to be met with wide eyes and lips pursed with guilt, comically remnant of a small child who knew they had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Well, I wasn't exactly planning… on going to all of them.”

“Really?” Funnily enough, the response echoed something your mother might have said as well, whenever you or one of your siblings was planning to do something that she didn’t exactly agree with but wanted to support regardless. 

Jax seemed to clock that too, diving into defense mode. “My research is more important! I have a sparkly clean record for the past five years of university anyways!”

“Besides that one time the elevator in Nester broke down.” The retort was more of a joke than anything, a meager attempt to cool them down that seemed to help.

Barely.

“Besides that, yeah. But that wasn’t my fault either. And I thought you agreed that you wouldn’t judge me for doing all this.” They gestured to Bill and the rest of the room, attaching everything that had occurred in the past few days to ‘this.’ 

But a single word definitely wasn’t enough to encapsulate everything happening. It was like trying to neatly wrap a package that was bursting at the seams. A big, shiny bow might enfold it, but the contents were still poking out from the feeble cardboard.

You raised your hands in surrender. “Not judging. Just… surprised.”

That touch of physicality seemed to dim the flames just a bit, sprinkling bits of extinguishing fluid on their temper. You inwardly sighed in relief as they cracked a grin of their own, their respective agreement to the truce. “I’m just giving you guys a chance. I’d be embarrassed for the rest of you if I got on the dean’s list every semester.”

The laugh you offered back had a hint of hesitancy, the flavor leaving a sour taste as it left your lips. 

You swallowed it down.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

A Humans Touch

“What the hell, Bill?” you groaned, eyes narrowing as you watched the creature in question fly down in front of your face. 

Indifference seeped from his tone as he shrugged. “Oops. Musta bumped into ‘em what they were muddling around.”

Scowling, you turned around and immediately began to panic once more as you took note of the smartphone in Jax’s hand. “He’s not gonna hurt you!

They paused, thumb poised above what you fretfully guessed to be the ‘begin call’ button to something like animal services or the police. “He?”

“Yeah. Just try to take a deep breath. I one-hundred percent understand how you’re feeling right now.” The thought of how accurate that statement was would’ve made you grin if you weren’t seriously panicking. If you remembered correctly, you might have actually been in the exact same position at this point. “But it’s all gonna be okay. I promise. Just hear me out, alright?”

Reluctance was simmering over their still fearful features, but Jax slowly lowered the phone regardless and awaited your explanation.

And so you told them everything.

At this point, they had gotten up, collecting themselves enough to draw closer and examine Bill. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just… I just figured you might react badly.”

I just don’t trust you enough to keep a secret

Not one like this

I don’t think anyone could

“Well, at first, yeah,” they returned in admittance. “I thought I was high.” You chuckled. “Yeah, I get that.”

“But he’s amazing! Do you understand how incredible this is?” Hesitance now washed away by the flood of discovery, they reached out a finger, hoping to possibly skim over Bill’s exterior, but receiving a quick slap in return.

“Hands off, strawberry top.”

The harsh response and surprising moniker had them raising an eye in your direction.

“He doesn’t care to use people’s real names. Probably your hair,” you answered, gesturing toward the scarlet tinted roots mixing into the bleached curls.

The reason potentially being because he didn’t believe humans worthy of the proper identification was something that you left out. 

For now.

However, the stark, inconsiderate callousness of Bill’s personality might not have mattered at all. Jax was now looking at their hand in wonder, almost like that had been kissed by an angel rather than being struck by a demon. A fatal determination had begun to darken their eyes, only fragmented by the everpresent glow of amazement reflecting off dilated pupils.

“You’ve got to let me join.”

Confusion had you blinking stupidly back at them. “Join? Join what?”

“Well, you’ve been studying him, right?”

“A bit, I suppose,” you replied with a weak shrug.

“So, let me join in.” They shot up, the insistence of their plea carrying over from their tone to their assured expression to the hands that were now gripping your shoulders just a bit too tightly. “I swear on my life I won’t tell anyone. And think of all the scientific revolutions we could make! All the people we could help!”

Swallowing, you looked toward Bill, noticing the complete lack of concern overtaking his form as he began to attempt balancing a ballpoint pen on the edge of his finger. Regardless, you were positive he was paying attention to your conversation.

“Okay.”

⭒⋆△⋆⭒

“That was not okay!” 

You slammed your door shut, flinching slightly as the sound clamored across your dorm room. Hastily unzipping your bag, you grabbed a notebook and began to organize your course calendars for the upcoming semesters. Busywork was an easy outlet whenever you were feeling stressed.

Work was something you knew.

Something you could control. “Oh my, is somebody jealous?”

Ink began to bleed into your paper as you scoffed with incredulousness, a black hole starting to suck your rushed lettering into its ebony stomach. It threatened to seep through the parchment, infectious tar staining the aged wood underneath. “Obviously not!”

But somewhere deep, concealed in the depths of your consciousness and buried amongst all the other thoughts you would refuse to acknowledge, he was right.

The notion that this otherworldly being had chosen to follow you home, chosen to stay despite having literal worlds to explore, had brought an undeniable emotion of pride along with it. It was that feeling of being just the slightest bit special that you had raced after for most of your adult life, grasp inching closer with every A or personal achievement, just to slip through the skin of your fingers every time you took a moment to visualize just how unremarkable your life had really been.

Most children want to make a difference, to leave a more significant mark on this Earth than some governmental documents and a gravestone. Naturally, as time goes on, that hopeful gleam is dulled by the expectations. Bills and debt and lack of time slowly corrode at those aspirations, chipping away until the idea of even a stable life began unachievable.

You always found it funny how the journey of a ‘normal’ life was seen as unimportant by many, despite the fact that so many fail to achieve even that. 

With him, it was easy to feel a little bit less trapped within the confines of society's standards; it was easy to feel special.

Still, that wasn’t exactly it either, was it? 

Over the time you had spent together, you had found yourself, albeit a tad unwillingly, slowly considering Bill a friend. Of course, he was rude and more than a touch inconsiderate at times, but your humor was sufficiently dark to handle his own callous remarks. You enjoyed his company enough to ignore the giant warning flags flitting in front of you, their own clothed edges stitched and signed with his own threats.

So, yes. 

Maybe you were a bit jealous.

But there was absolutely no chance of him ever getting the benefit of knowing it. 

“Aww, don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still my favorite pet.”

Setting the pen down this time, you hesitated and turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. “Pet?”

At this point, he seemed to have silently shifted back into his mortal form, tall stature looming over your seated position. He slipped a hand under your chin, gently lifting it up so your eyes could meet his. “Of course! I always enjoy having a human plaything in my back pocket.”

You frowned, jerking your face away from his touch. A quiet warmth started to heat your cheeks at the unprecedented newness of the contact. He was a touchy guy, sure, but that had felt grossly intimate in a way that had you shivering. “I’m not a dog, Bill.”

“Eh, all you Earth creatures are the same one way or the other.” He waved you off with a smirk. “And regardless, you didn’t seem too bothered. Didn’t even think to ask me before agreeing to work with someone else.”

A small pang of guilt thumped in your chest as you paused. “Okay, well, I’m sorry about that.”

On some front, he was exactly right. He hadn’t seemed precisely concerned about your answer to Jax. Though, when would he ever be? Still, you could have easily pulled him aside and asked, ignoring the formidable call to immediately please those around you for just a few damn minutes.

“You’re forgiven.” “You’re ridiculous,” you sighed.

“But you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. I’m far too interesting.”

A small grin bled through your attempts to remain indignant. “And so modest.”

It was always so much harder to stay irritated when it was panic, the usual poltergeist, instead of actual vexation possessing you. Anger seemed to be ever elusive for you, quickly replaced by self blame or sadness that made it irritatingly difficult to hold your ground within an argument. 

But wasn’t it just so much nicer to apologize for your own wrongdoings and move on, rather than stew in rage regarding another’s?

Unhealthy, maybe, but still nicer.

That route would have boiled you alive one way or another, simmering wrath radiating from someone you cared about easily melting your defenses until there was no stubbornness left, only the pathetic plea for forgiveness.

Because that’s what you really felt, wasn’t it?

Stubbornness. 

You couldn’t be angry towards those you were silently grateful for even offering you a spot in their life at all. 

So it was an unfortunate truth that you were unable to stay mad for long, regardless of how much this slight issue had you crumbling in a panicked frenzy.

Besides, it’s not like this would affect you too much, right?

⭒⋆△⋆⭒

Wrong. 

If you weren't currently being deprived of your rarely precious chances of sleeping past noon, it definitely might have been comical to see how differently you and Jax took to work. 

It's not that you were lazy, per se. 

It just happened that your type of studying employed a less direct approach. 

All doctors studied their patients, whether it be something like pediatrics or brain surgery. They would research, taking in all past issues and ailments ranging from mental to physical to ancestral. Then, some might even experiment.

That may be a crude word for it, sure, but no one really knows for sure how a person will react with treatments or medications. Bodily functions might be thrown into disarray as medical practitioners tried to play God, maneuvering through hormone levels with pill bottles and gloved fingers.

If everything went well, they would continue to analyze, yearly checkups and chaotically signed prescription slips ensuring an improvement. 

For those who could afford it, at least. 

So, yes, you were fairly certain that all doctors, and most other professionals in the scientific field, studied those around them.

However, it was massively easier to get someone to open up when you approached their issues as a friend as opposed to an examiner, a helpful factoid that you had learned fairly early on in your journey of psychological education.

Your comrade, on the other hand, definitely had a different strategy. 

It had begun three days ago with a text asking to meet around nine in the morning, a time no self-respecting college student would ever adhere to during break. Still, you had set a few alarms and braved the campus grounds to meet with your new study partner.

Jax had become a complete force of nature, a hurricane of inquiries and school supplies.

Unlike your own, their questions hid behind no friendliness. They barreled through any social expectations that were usually of a scientific survey, the blatant directness

And it was actually their blunt inquisitiveness that had you realizing just how little you knew about Bill.

Do you know how old he is?

Old.

Where is he from?

A different universe.

Any blood relations?

None that he cares to talk about.

Apparently, the candid interviews were a sorry opponent to Bill’s diverting answers and you could almost feel the silent annoyance overtaking your friend. At this point, they had been asking you things instead, hopeful, but ultimately mistaken, that you had any more information on him to reveal. 

None that they would appreciate to know anyway. 

It wasn’t surprising that a cryptozoologist wouldn’t have any interest in the psychological activities of one of their specimens, especially seeing as most of those critters lacked any sort of transcribable mental processes at all.

While it did make you feel a bit useless, you understood their frustration. 

Bill was a treasure trove of scientific revolution, but you both seemed to have lost the key. It must have been irritatingly tempting for Jax to just grab a sledge hammer and smash that chest open, hoping that they might avoid a rough case of tetanus from the splintered wood.

 So you had tried your best to keep your mouth shut when they began to delve further, ignoring your own personal desire to pair analysis with a side of empathetic patience.

Besides, Bill had always been horrendously stubborn and haughty, so you had no doubts that if he didn’t appreciate any of the investigation tactics, he would promptly call for a stop.

And that he did.

You had to bite back a graceless mix between a laugh and a groan of disbelief when Jax asked for a blood sample. Their needle-holding hand had received another quick slap before Bill flew off, shooting a middle finger as he took a seat on your left shoulder. 

“Is he always that touchy?” Your lab partner asked, noticing as their specimen leaned back carelessly above your collarbone.

“Only on his own terms.” By now, you had gotten used to the constant handsyness, even if you weren’t close to being allowed to initiate the same amount of contact in return.

“Why is he even staying with you anyway?”

The question had you stiffen slightly in hurt as you tried to remain vigilant of their usual bluntness. “I’m honestly not even sure. He tried to make a deal for my body  in return or power, riches, knowledge, etc, Supernatural style, but I said no-”

“You said no?”

“Yeah…” You swallowed, taking note of their addled expression. “Just doesn’t seem worth it.”

With a short hum, they went back to writing, scrawling itch of an old, drying pen against parchment meeting with the clock on the back wall to battle the quiet.

Tick tick tick

The sound echoed over the silence, consistent tap slowly drawing you into a hypnotic lull. It slowly began to fizzle away into that lethargic sludge that was your current state of mind, molding to match your heartbeat until the room slowly started to fade away as well. 

“Sleepy?”

You flinched, blinking back the fogginess clouding your vision to see a knowing smile. “Oh, yeah, sorry.” Clumsily laughing the drowsiness off, you looked to your upper left, catching the clock that had you near snoozing in your line of sight. “It’s already six. Are you getting hungry at all?”

Jax followed your gaze and sighed, almost as if the insatiable human demand for sustenance was merely a time wasting roadblock to their “Damn, you’re right. Want me to go and grab something?”

“I got it. Besides, I’ve got a coupon for the Indian place down the road that expires in a few days. You guys just hang out here.” You waved them off politely, glancing down at the small pyramid now seated in your lap.

Halfway expecting an objection, you had been suspiciously surprised to receive a lazed ‘whatever’ in return to your proclamation of leaving. 

For such a supposedly blasé creature, Bill was quite clingy.

To you, at least.

Much to Jax’s annoyance, he seemed to answer your questions a hideously obviously lot more than he would their own. 

Even worse was when you had to slip away to get a sip of water or grab a snack from the nearby vending machine.  He refused to stay in the classroom, instead opting to follow you out into the hallway. 

It was a personality trait that had you extremely enticed to start making teasing comments for each instance, but equally reluctant to drive that behavior away.

Which is why the distrustful ease of his response had you slightly weary, but it definitely wasn’t enough to keep either of you from a proper meal. “Okay. I’ll be back in half an hour. Just be careful, I guess.”

Unease gnawed at your stomach as you left the building, gray walls of concrete meeting a seemingly ever equally lifeless sky. The lacking sun had the wind nipping at your skin and your leisurely walk turned into a slow jog in hopes of getting inside once more.

It just now occurred to you how Bill hadn’t yet decided to morph into his human form in front of Jax, something that you made a mental note to disclose later for research purposes. 

Of course, it did make a bit of sense. 

You had been interested in all the ways that made him human. 

Jax was interested in everything that made him not. 

Bill was a performer, that was something you had noticed very early on. 

All these thoughts paddled through your mind as you walked across town, buzzing ideas just enough to distract you from the chilliness until you reached the desired eatery.

Herbs and spices greeted your nose as you walked in, cold air battling the warmth from inside and quickly meeting a cozy defeat. The sound of sizzling meat enfolded your frigid ears, crisp vibration promising a savory feast.  

Darkness embraced the room, scattered lamps providing enough light to contribute to the homey atmosphere. 

Reflecting the grin, you began the order, receiving a steaming bag of containerized goodness fifteen minutes later.

Heat radiated from the package and you set off towards campus once again, cradling in close to your midsection as you allowed the warmth to soak into you.

It was a wasteland now, but it wouldn’t be like that for long. The next semester would begin in a little under two weeks, summoning all the chaos and frenzy of syllabus day. Students would be rushing all over, excited chatter masking the assurance hidden nerves that came with each new class. 

Last year, you were exactly the same. Funnily enough, it was practically impossible to worry about something like grades right now.

The world you lived in made it easy to be anxious, whether it be about something like school or finances or relationships. You, unfortunately, found it even more effortless to find miniscule factors to uneasy about. Of course, the abundance of experience, along with years in therapy, meant that you were able to ignore the baseless apprehensions quite well. 

Which is why it was extremely annoying that you were unable to expunge the dark mass of worry bubbling in your gut. The heavy feeling contrasted with the flitful lightness sitting in your chest, almost as if you could float away at any moment. It seemed to reflect the idea of control drifting too, fizzling away in the atmosphere. As always, you went over everything in your life that could possibly be going wrong, along with the worst possible consequences. It was a tiny exercise that helped you get your bearings and re-evaluate the potential harmfulness of your current situation. However, you were unable to come up with anything of note.

So why am I so scared?

Nearly going two steps at a time, you made your way up the stairs, letting out a sigh of relief as you opened the door. Jax was hunched over their desk with their face buried in a pile of notes, almost exactly the way you had left them.

“Sorry that took so long. They didn’t have any more of the curry you wanted, so they had to make a new batch. But now you get to have it fresh off the stove!” You set the bag down, glancing around for your triangularly shaped friend. “Where’s Bill?”

Silence.

“Jax?” 

“Hey, doc.”

The response had you looking around for Bill, that grating, male voice seemingly hidden behind your lab partner.

“You alright?” Leaning to the side, you searched for any evidence of an interdimensional creature being concealed among Jax’s mountain of papers. But it was nothing, just an exhausted grad student exploited by their own need for knowledge.

Overworked, but normal.

And then they turned.

 Revealing two giant, yellow eyes. 

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

A Human’s Touch

The roar of the wind was smothered by the clamorous slam of your door, but neither sound actually registered, muted by the possibilities whizzing through your brain like bullets. You looked to Bill in expectation, fearfully awaiting the explanation to whatever had made a creature like him ruffled. 

“Well, as you know, I’m obviously an extremly powerful otherwordly entity, which means that I’ve got what you might call an aura.”

“An aura?” It was hard not to raise an eyebrow, but after centuries of different slang, you were sure he probably didn’t care to keep up, much less adhere, with any of it.

“Yep! Of course, none of you guys could even begin to register the strength radiating off me.” The continual slander geared toward the intelligence of the human race was the least of your worries, so you let him continue without protest. “And neither can the other crazy creatures living on this celestial plane. Not unless I let them.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re saying there’s more-”

“But, they can if I’m connected to a host, regardless of whether or not I’m actually inhabiting their body. So, it’s no surprise that some of them will be attracted to you. If you’re starting to dream about these things, those beasts are probably already starting to hunt you down.”

Horror slowly began congealing in your stomach “You’re serious?”

“Would I ever lie to you?”

The answer should have most definitely been ‘yes,’ but the panic hitch hiking on your train of thought was loud enough to overwhelm any other logical idea. 

“Then you have to leave! Like, right now!”

“Sorry, not gonna happen.” He flew over to you, instant proximity backing you into the door. “But I can offer something else.”

Any closer and that giant eye would’ve ran straight into your nose. Bill seemed to take notice of the overwhelming amount of stimuli surpassing your senses, pupil narrowing in what you might have guessed to be gleeful recognition before resuming on with the supposed solution. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen all the paranormal movies. Those amulets are one of the only things Hollywood got right. Protective marks, talismans, whatever you want to call ‘em. They’re pretty popular in other universes actually, very fasionable.” One black arm elongated, wrapping around your wrist and yanking it upward to pat the back of your hand. “It would go right here. And the best part is, it wouldn’t even hurt! I know your type of ink takes weeks to heal, right?”

An almost sickly feeling was left behind as you tugged away from his hold, almost as if his mere touch would leave you infected, an earthly being terminally doomed to the most unearthly of deaths. It wouldn’t have mattered one way or another. Apparently, you were already sick. “You want… me to get a tattoo?”

“Ding, ding, ding! But nobody except you, me, or whoever else I decide to grace with my company will be able to see it.”

Apprehension must have been evident upon your features, the usually collected facade you employed now bashed by this sledgehammer of information, and Bill swiftly morphed into his human form. The stark difference in height that you just now had the opportunity to truly distinguish did absolutely nothing but make the unease worse, shoulders curling forward as the rest of your stature threatened to fold in on itself in nerves, begging to hide beneath the layers of skin and muscle with the rest of your organs. 

“I don’t think you understand how dangerous these things are. Obviously, I could take care of them lickity-split, but I probably can’t say the same for your little friends.” A cackle pulsed through freshly molded vocal cords as he watched your expression jump further into frightened shock. “You really thought interdimensional evil would try to keep collateral damage to a minimum? You’re basically a nuclear missile for magic radiation right now. I give everyone within a five mile radius a week at most before they end up in body bags.”

Emotional, sometimes. 

Naive, maybe. 

But you definitely weren’t dumb. You had studied the behavior and processes of those around you enough to know when something was amiss. 

It was almost undeniable that there was more than he was letting on, a few pages of the story that you were almost certain had been ripped out of the book to keep you in the dark. Plus, the rapid amounts of knowledge attached to a potential time limit was basically engineered to pressure you into an impulsive decision.

Honestly, if it had just been you, you might have waited, taken a moment to shuffle through your options before branding yourself to this creature, one that you had wanted nothing more than to get rid of a week ago.

But if there was any morsel truth to what he was saying, that wasn’t what you were dealing with.

And the mere notion had you nauseous. 

“And if I do this… those things aren’t going to be able to track me? Or hurt anyone else?”

Bill had begun picking at his nails, seemingly unbothered with the entire situation. “Uh-huh. They won’t have a reason to. I just need your skin and a few seconds.”

Suspicion filtered your view as you eyed him. “What do you get out of this?”

A sharp laugh of vexation echoed over your dorm room. “You think I want to deal with those interdimentional maniacs? Absolutely not. Doing this just means I don’t have to be wasting my time getting rid of them.”

Blood had begun to salt your saliva, roots of scarlet blooming along your bottom lip and teeth from the nonstop anxiety biting. The minor sting seemed to draw you back into reality and you ducked around him, reaching for and opening an old notebook. “Draw it.”

Not leaving out a sigh of vexation, Bill snapped. Ebony bled through the paper almost instantly, swirling letters of another language you couldn’t hope to begin to recognize lacing between one another into a small, circular design. 

Snatching back the journal, you grabbed your computer and began searching. As expected, the markings were completely alien to the internet, whatever dialect had been scrawled was either millions of years old or from another universe entirely. It just slightly registered that you might be holding a priceless artifact right now, whispered evidence of foreign worlds trapped in the confines of parchment and charcoal, something scholars might pay millions for fated to be hidden forever, buried among the rest of your secrets.

Impulsivity had started to blur at your vision, fogging over anything but that internal clock begging you to make a decision before anyone else got hurt, regardless of how little you actually knew.

The teachers, overworked and underpaid, but trying their hardest nonetheless.

The students, innocent minds just like yours hoping to learn about existence and barely making an indent in the impossibly inaccessible cavern information out there.

The family that would inevitably start to call, pleading for a visit once the holidays drew closer. 

“Fine.”

A dull pain, the budding promise of a headache later, throbbed in your temple when Bill spun your desk chair around and halted the rapid rotation with his foot before grabbing your hand. You watched, a mix of nerves and awe coagulating into a pot of simmering anticipation, as he lifted it up. The edge of his lips grazed your skin, leaving you to watch in wonder as he began.

Forgotten language ripples off his tongue like honey. Some of the syllables were completely silent, and a small part of you wondered if they had traveled beyond the auricular spectrum of this celestial plane, the sound fizzling into the universe where it might actually be heard someday.

Secret words seem to drop from his mouth onto your skin, slipping under the surface and infesting it with its ink. Ebony began to bleed through from beneath the dermis, swirling marks blooming like vines and capping off with thorny streaks of the unknown dialect.

As Bill pulled back, you were able to see the resulting talisman forever etched onto the back of your hand. It matched the symbol on the paper, minute imperfections spurred by the ripple of bones stemming toward your digits. A pleasant tingle danced up your arm, the feeling wavering toward how it would if your limb fell asleep, save for the vexing prickliness that usually came with it. Regardless, you immediately drew back and stretched the limb around, hoping to wring out the foreign sensation soaking into it. It slowly began to leak away after a few seconds, but the feeling of phantom fingers brushing over you made your hair stand on end. 

Still, the alien beauty added to the vast sense of relief had you brimming with solace. Wonder and gratitude were slowly clouding over any rays of intuitive suspicion you had earlier. 

You looked up with a smile, the brimming gratitude a pathetic imitation of the arrogance lacing Bill’s own. “Thanks.”

“No problem, doc.”

⭒⋆△⋆⭒

“You’ve seriously never faked being sick? Or just not shown up? It’s so easy. You basically just do nothing!”

“I already said that I’d help. If you were gonna be such a pain, why didn’t you say something a few days ago? Then I could’ve tried to reschedule or something, at least.”

Water coated the underside of your boots as you walked across campus. The sky was a muddy gray, its lifeless palette a perfect match to the fallen, decomposing leaves that were littered across the cement. It was quite an enjoyable day, however, the insipid flair adding to Autumn’s own spooky aesthetic and being something that you enjoyed. 

Bill, on the other hand, was not in as good of a mood. 

On the contrary, he had been particularly snippy for most of the afternoon, shooting snide comments your way whenever you had done anything to prepare for later. And while you did feel a bit bad that he was being strung along to your, potentially boring, study session with Jax, he had been there when they asked, so he had ample time to prepare. 

Plus, you had suggested multiple times that he just stay behind or even pop off to whatever apocalyptic dimension was frequented on those hours he refused to share anything about, but it was met with refusals and the occasional flick on the forhead.

The triangle in question followed you from behind, the harsh wind doing nothing to deter his smooth hovering. “Obviously, that doesn’t matter. You should have just cancelled all together.”

Rolling your eyes, you extended your arm towards the door to Fletcher Hall. The pads of your fingers wrapped around the handle, its chilled metal exacerbating the shiver rumbling under your thin jacket. “Can you just promise to play nice? It’ll be over in less than an hour.”

That was a bit of a fib. Jax had proposed a forty-five minute session, but they had the unfavorable tendency to ignore the clock in favor of their work. 

“I don’t make promises. I make deals. Now, if that’s something you’re interested in, I can definitely-”

“Nope.”

You jogged ahead before Bill could berate you for interrupting him, a gleeful smile tugging at your lips. At this point, the back and forth quips that you and him shared felt friendly and fun. Besides, he hadn’t even come close to making true on his threatening promises, whether it be to make a garland from your limbs or eat your fingers like carrot sticks. They were fairly engaging from a psychological point and you had easily called bluff, almost awaiting whatever creative warning he would issue next.

The inside of the building was scarcely better than the out, but it wasn’t a surprise that the school would have turned off the heating over break, so you had come prepared.

Kind of. 

After surviving a few years of winter, whether or not the majority of that time was spent inside in front of your computer, it was easy to kid yourself into believing that you were practically made for the snow. As such, it was just as easy to forgo some extra layers in hopes of saving extra time or money, so you wouldn’t exactly be ready for expedition Antarctica. 

Thankfully, this odyssey of exploration would be for your mind instead of body, so there shouldn’t be too many physically extensive voyages.

In fact, the triple flight of stairs would most likely be the most tiring undertaking of the day. 

Running up the steps seemed to have drained the air from your lungs, your very own Mount Everest right here in the Pacific Northwest. You ignored the mocking comments Bill made concerning your stamina, or lack thereof, as you collected yourself, wanting to employ a guise of unbotheredness before opening the door next to you. 

Jax was already bent over a microscope, gaze glued to whatever new specimen that had been draped over the glass slide. The hinges creaked, tired from years of abandoned neglect, and announced your presence. Dark brown eyes trailed over to you, lighting in excitement as they bounded over. 

“Finally!” Jax kicked the door closed behind you with their foot, swiftly twisting the lock closed before grabbing your hands and pulling you towards one of the tables. “Wait til you see this.”

You fought back a giddy smile at the touch, guessing whatever left them so enthused might offer a distraction. Based on the way their own grin dangerously wavered over the line of what most people might consider sane, you were probably correct. Actually, the eagerness might have even been contagious. 

It was enough to keep you from noticing the way Bill’s giant eye narrowed in annoyance, in what possibly might have translated into a death stare equivalent in his human form. 

After dropping your wrist, Jax bent down, fingers wrapping around some cloth-enclosed package with a gentleness that didn’t seem possible in their current state. It was placed upon the metal surface before cautious hands began to undo the twine wrapping around its surface, almost as if they were defusing a bomb.

For all you knew, it very well could be. 

Even after all these years, Jax hadn’t seemed to have changed. They had always been interested in what others might call abnormalities, the tiny errors hiding in the coding of your already imperfect world. You remembered hearing them talk to a teacher one day during middle school, raving about some article they had seen of a two headed calf. A polaroid of the creature had been featured in their locker wall for the next week, completed with their very own clumsily rendered sketch of the inner muscle proportions. 

The constant guarantees from parents and educators alike that this was not a stable career path failed to deter them in any way. In your opinion, each unsupporting remark was just another gasoline-soaked stick, tossed onto that roaring fire of determination and reduced to ashes in minutes. 

They had majored in anatomy, sure, but that definitely didn’t stop them from going out into the forest each weekend and finding the oddest specimen they could. 

Last month, it had been a small quail with strangely looking crest feathers. Those big eyes and round bodies had left Jax just as inquisitive as the question-mark-looking plumage. 

This time, you noted as the fabric fell away, was another bird. 

Or birds, apparently. 

“Are those woodpeckers?”

One of the avians puttered around the cage, long beak pecking at the bars of its enclosure in confusion. Quiet guilt tugged at your heartstrings at the sight. Still, you knew that Jax treated their own ‘patients’ as one might their own children, so you knew the creatures were in good hands. 

Your line of sight trailed from the first bird to the second, noting the key difference between the two. For starters, this one was maybe a tenth the size of the first, but just as outwardly mature looking in terms of feather growth. 

What really surprised you, however, was the fact that it was perfectly placed on the back of its larger counterpart.

“Yep!” Jax responded. “And I found them just like that. They haven’t even moved!”

“Is it parasitic?” You asked, watching as the second nipped at the neck of the first. 

“Nope. The relationship is completely symbiotic.” Their erratic grin had started to bleed into their voice. “The bigger one gets cleaned of the tics and the little one gets a snack.”

“Like the Egyptian Plover and crocodiles.”

“Isn’t it amazing? I found them a few miles East of where I released our Question Quails.”

A smile threatened to break out onto your face at the mention of what they had ended up naming your most recent critter study specimen. “What do you need from me?”

“I need you,” Jax grabbed a chair and dragged it behind you, the legs groaning with a screech that made your shoulders pull up in a tense. Hands wrapped around them and pushed you onto the stool before grabbing a notebook, nearly throwing it down with fervor. “To stay right here. Watch and make note of anything they do. I’ve already taken some blood and urine samples, so I’ll just be over by the microscope if anything happens, yeah?”

You had barely nodded before they scrambled back to their own seat, attention once again falling victim to the alluring thrill of bodily fluids. 

As it turned out, half an hour was the allotted amount of time that you had before Bill started to completely forget, or probably ignore, your request from earlier. He had started buzzing around your head four minutes ago after deciding that your silently written responses were not enough for his continuous comments. Regardless, you had attempted to stick it out, smothering a laugh whenever he offered an especially fun piece of commentary. 

The pair of birds had fallen asleep a little while ago, the smaller one, who Jax had dubbed Jason, still perched above the similarly recently labeled Freddy. His eyes were closed, soft breath inflating his tiny body between two-point-four second intervals. Every so often, they would snuggle up against each other, fluffed cheeks molding into the warm tufts. 

You watched as Bill slipped through the empty space between the bars, receiving a complete lack of recognition from the snoozing creatures. It wasn’t until his finger poked into the side of one of them. Each animal gave him a small twitch of acknowledgement before stretching back into their relaxed position. 

However, that definitely didn’t seem to be the case when he buzzed over the second, small feet barely grazing over its back. The birds jumped simultaneously, weary gaze following Bill out of the cage in perfect tandem.

That made you pause.  

For the most part, the creatures had been pretty relaxed, almost as if they understood that the two monstrous giants looking down upon them meant no harm. Freddy had even nestled into your palm during feeding time, hoping for a gentle head scratch. But he had promptly flinched away when your touch 

Obviously, it was a sign of protection.

So why would Jason do the same?

“Will you just come over here for a sec? And bring that magnifying glass next to you, please?”

To the outward eye, it would have rivaled a speck of dust or piece of dirt. But under the enhanced view of the optic instrument, it was easy to see another miniscule bird perched right above the second, pecking away at whatever other microscopic bugs were present on the feathers underneath. 

“You’re amazing.” Jax chuckled, vision glued to the ocular lens and their hand clutching yours in amazement. “Do you think there’s another? We gotta get better equipment.”

“My evolutionary psych professor works with one of the molecular biology instructors. I’m sure if I ask, she’ll put in a good word for us to borrow an electron scope.” You offered, watching as Jax backed away from the device, their animated grin slowly falling. “You okay?”

They didn’t respond, expression continuing to drop in what looked like horror. Slowly beginning to back away, their foot caught on the strap of a wayward bag and they crumpled to the floor.

You followed them down, a careful seriousness coating your tone as you kneeled. “What’s wrong?”

“What the fuck is that?”

Their question had you squinting in confusion until you realized that their fearful gaze was not, in fact, set on you, but right above your head. 

Right where Bill had perched himself, legs tangled within the strands of your hair.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

A Human’s Touch

The ancient Aztec sacrificial rituals.

The creation of the great Egyptian pyramids.

The dollar bill.

“That was all you?”

“Yup!” The triangle was hovering over your left shoulder, watching as you scrolled through an article about the Salem witch trials. Apparently, he had ‘generously gifted’ magical powers to an abused townswoman, leading to the infamous period of fiery pyres and hangings. “I turned into a goat for that one. Did you know those things have rectangular pupils? Those weirdos.”

Horrific drawings splattered across your screen, each hand-illustrated image abstracting into the technological abyss as you exited the tab and turned to Bill. “So, you’re a shapeshifter, obviously. What else can you do?”

“Pyrokinesis, telepathy, illusion manipulation, telekinesis, Ciphervoyance;” Noticing your confusion, he paused counting his fingers. “It's like clairvoyance, but better.”

At this point, you had grabbed a leftover notebook from last semester, scribbling furiously as you attempted to keep up with his rapid responses. “Got it.”

“Teleportation, lasers… hey, you wanna see a trick?” Without waiting for a response, he gestured towards the apple sitting on your desk that you had been saving for lunch. 

You tossed him the piece of produce, watching in astonishment as his eye rolled back into his body, leaving a hollow socket behind. Two rows of sharpened teeth filled the cavernous darkness, an elongated serpentine tongue pushing past the gaping entrance. Its forked end wrapped around the scarlet fruit, bringing it back to the mouth and biting down with a juicy crunch.

After swallowing, the fangs slowly retreated back, eyeball rising up to fill the crevice and repositioning itself with a blink.

“Cool, huh?”

It was undoubtedly cool.

Moderately horrifying, but cool nonetheless.

Looking down at the paper, your hand hovered beneath the word ‘lasers’, quickly etching ‘whatever that was (he can eat; diet unknown, but hopefully not people)’ into the blank space.

That last bit had been a joke.

Kinda.

The notes were rushed and near incomprehensible, your frazzled mind struggling to write as quickly as the information came. Still, you could understand them and that was really all that mattered. 

Still, you took the change to add things or straighten up others, jumping to your feet as a knock sounded behind you. For someone who was fairly independent, it wasn’t very usual when you had visitors. In fact, the notion of someone willing to take time out of their break and see you was more than enough to you completely forgetting your current situation, and new accomplice, as you slid the lock open to greet the unknown. 

You’ve gotta be kidding me

Filling the gap in your doorway was another student, dressed similarly to you in the ‘I’m not gonna see anyone today so I don’t care’ couture of a hoodie and sweatpants. Cropped hair was bleached at the ends, roots of deep scarlet blooming from their scalp. An onyx ring pierced their septum, dark metal matching embellishments sprinkling their attire.

“Hi,” they greeted.

“Hi,” you echoed dumbly, momentarily forgetting how to normally interact with another person after the period of semi-isolation.

Jax eyed you up and down. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… why wouldn’t I be?” Realization hit you, embarrassment and guilt floating in the dusty remnants of the blow. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.”

The upperclassman in front of you had been the exact same one you had been helping with a project, the exact same one you had abandoned after coming down with a case of food poisoning-induced delirium.

And the exact same one that you had been unconsciously ignoring messages from for goodness knows how long.

Apparently, Bill had provided enough of a distraction to keep you from missing any of the human interaction you would otherwise have been in search of during a break in the semester.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jax responded with a polite nod.

Regardless, remorse pulled at the string of your heart. “I just… Well, my phone’s been off and I’ve been working on some stuff.”

“Yeah? I didn’t know you had any projects going on.” They slipped past the frame into your dorm, the scent of pine and lavender filling your senses as they passed.

Lock clicking behind you as the door closed, you slowly turned towards them, heart dropping to your stomach as you noticed the small, golden pyramid hovering over your desk.

Stagnation washed over your surroundings, time seeming to stop in slow motion as you barreled past Jax, practically throwing yourself in front of the table in a wayward attempt to hide Bill from your peer. The wood bit into your lower back with its timbered teeth, the sting barely noticeable as you caught the full length mirror in the corner of your room in the corner of your vision.

You looked at the reflection in horror, watching as he shifted into his human form and completely demolishing your attempts at keeping him secret. He was now perched on the desk with his legs engulfing your body on either side, arms sitting upon your head as he rested his own chin on the back of his hands. A hideously arrogant smirk tugged upward at his lips, the expression making you want to vomit in panic as potential consequences to harboring a supernatural creature in your dorm crashed through your brain like a freight train.

I’m getting expelled. I’m getting expelled from the only damn college I can afford

Is summoning otherworldly beings illegal? It’s gotta be illegal in some countries, right?

Fuck me, I’m going to jail

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You blinked at Jax in confusion. 

Instead of reflecting the terror in your own face, their own was brimming with puzzlement. Glancing back at the mirror, you eyed the, extremely clearly, visible male now playing with a strand of your hair. The bastard noticed your recognition and gave you a wave waved, fingers fluttering as he relished in your frazzled state.

Still, the individual in front of you had absolutely no reaction, neither a cry of fear or gape of awe. 

They can’t see you

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry, it’s, uh,” you cleared your throat, holding back a sigh of relief. “just been a weird couple of days.”

“Stop apologizing. I’m just glad you’re not dead. I was just worried about you.”

“You were?”

The quiet feeling you harbored for Jax rode the fence between attraction and admiration. Within the fairly small population of your small Oregon town, they had been one of the few to truly express themself the way they wished. Your friend never seemed to care, ignoring the harsh whispers of the elderly each time they had experimented with a new hair color, first red, then violet, then neon green.

When they had moved away for university, there had been radio silence, most likely a destructive mix of your own fear of bothering others and their own habit of continuously losing phones. So when you showed up to college a year later, it had been more than a happy surprise when they reached out for help.

Movement drew your gaze leftward, just in time for you to catch the small frown pulling at Bill’s usually haughty features.

“Obviously.” Jax’s voice tugged your attention back. “Besides, I’d hate to be out such a good lab partner. Can I count on you for Thursday? Professor Shaheen is letting me use the lab in Fletcher Hall again.”

With great effort, you managed a wonderfully normal smile. “I’ll be there.”

“Great! See ya then. 5:30 pm, yeah?”

With a nod, you watched them slip out the door, holding the breath of alleviation in your throat until that minute click sounded. “You really couldn’t have told me that you’re invisible earlier?”

“And miss watching you flop around like that? Absolutely not.”

You rolled your eyes, making sure he noticed your annoyance. “You’re an asshole.”

“Watch it, toots.”

⭒⋆△⋆⭒

The nightmares had started again. 

Fire had engulfed you, soft flames nipping at your skin and stinging your eyes. They danced in your vision, bodies of red and oranges surrounding a beating heart of light blues. The world itself seemed to be burning alive, mountains and oceans alike singed into the ash that coated your throat. 

And in the center of it all stood a giant, pink thing. 

Horns crowned its temple, the extra appendages added another yard to what you guessed to be at least seven feet of height. 

Your heart had stopped when it turned around, cyclops-like features trained on you and giant fangs bared.

But that had been the last of it. 

In all honesty, it had been nowhere near your worst one to date. 

However, it was the whole randomness that perplexed you. 

Fun fact: every single face you see in dream, you’ve seen in real life. 

It was a psychological certainty, according to your professors at least.

Features may be skewed by subconscious or details fuzzed over by imperfect memory, but they were real nonetheless. You found it fascinating that every single individual permeating your REM cycle had passed your waking state one way or another. Of course, the conjured visions were almost never a perfect copy. Maybe your mind might mush two characters together. It might just take bits and pieces, like a badly replicated Picasso painting. Fingers would be imperfectly placed or facial features might shift and change as you slowly began drifting towards the conscious world.

Still, you had absolutely never seen anything like that. 

But, then again, you would have said the same thing about Bill a week ago. 

You ruminated on these thoughts while grabbing a pair of boots, crossing the laces over one another until they embraced your ankles just enough to feel comfortable. 

“And where are you going?” The man, or being, of the hour asked.

“To get food.” Metal tinkled as you grabbed your key ring. “I’ll go broke in a week if I keep ordering in.”

Adjusting his bow tie, the golden pyramid made himself comfortable on your shoulder, the weight barely registering in the back of your mind. At first, the contact had surprised you, made you feel almost squeamish. Although you would never dream of saying a thing like that out loud, you had no clue where Bill had been, whether or not his disease carried some sort of deadly sickness that would somehow infect the human population. 

Regardless, you were too far in now and got over the nerves quickly. At this point, the act was almost endearing, a small comfort in knowing that such a creature had found you likable enough to hitch a ride. A part of you believed he might even enjoy it, though you know he would absolutely refuse to admit anything of the sort. “If you let me help, you could be eating at five star restaurants every night. Just saying.”

The thought made you laugh. 

Was your bodily autonomy and mind not worth more than some high quality cuisine?

Remains to be seen. 

Honestly, if you were desperate enough, you might have taken that even if he offered to supply you with a lifetime of the high quality frozen meals.

The Trader Joe’s refrigerated section was unbeat.

But, like it or not, you would have to settle for the regular supermarket a few blocks away. 

The building was huge, with lights bright enough to make you squint. Smells bombarded you on all sides, tickling your salivary gland and making your mouth water. To your left was a stall of beautiful organized bouquets. The blossoms might have been the last ones of the season, pastel petals soon replaced with orange pumpkins and small trees. A sprinkle of decay seemed to infest them even now, the slightest bit of decolorization bleeding into the bright hues, death wilting at their ends and tugging their leaves down. 

To your right was the bakery, housing the delectable scents along with an array of cakes, cookies, and other desserts. 

It was surprisingly nice, especially for a college town that was forced into a for a few months out of the year. Even now, the store seemed to be a wasteland, aisles usually bustling with young adults in search of cheap hangover meals now devoid of life. The isolation brought a sense of peace with the quiet loneliness.

But no matter how nice the entrance was, it dulled in comparison to the radiance of your favorite area.

The clearance carts.

No matter how many times you came, the excitement of stumbling upon the bins after gathering all the essentials never seemed dim. As a college student, you had practically been conditioned to sniff out good deals, and the high of finding one could only be beat by a curved grade. 

Assorted breads seemed to be the star item today, the loaves either miss-shapely baked or a few days past the ‘best buy’ date. You had never been particularly picky, especially with the asymmetrical or imperfect pieces that still made delicious toast, but you rummaged through the bag, checking for expiration information just in case. 

“They use that to make yoga mats.”

“What?” You glanced up at Bill, just now realizing that you almost forgot he was there. A part of your stomach shriveled into itself for a moment, still reeling from the idea that Bill couldn’t be seen by anyone other than you. 

“Azodicarbonamide.” He pointed to the third row on the ingredient list. “One of the prime add-ins for that wellness weirdo equipment.”

“How do you know what that is?” Looking back up in disbelief, you caught that giant eye blinking back at you. His lack of reply fumed with incredulousness. “Okay, dumb question. What about that one?”

Following your finger to the bottom row, he continued. “Thiamine mononitrate. Supposed to be used to treat numbing. You humans have got a serious problem with poisoning yourselves. It’s hilarious!”

The completely callousness of his response failed to shake you, fascination coursing through your mind. Honestly, it should have been a surprise, with his invisibility and teleportation, and the myriad of other supernatural abilities, it might have even been easy to pick up so much knowledge over a few millennia. 

You wanted to know more. 

It slowly turned into a little game, you picking out the most outrageously artificial items in hopes of finding something he would be clueless about. But even through butylated hydroxytoluene and ethyl acrylate, he had you beat. 

“Ya know, you’d be a good health coach. If you’re ever wanting to move on from the whole possessing people thing, I’m sure you could make a pretty penny.”

Your joke earned a laugh, one laced with hubris instead of actual playfulness, but it was still something. “As if I’d ever spend my valuable time helping you morons with something so useless.”

“You helped me.”

“I was just making sure you remember how absolutely idiotic you people can be.” He waved you off, but the notion that your response had annoyed him tapped at your train of thought. “Besides, you still bought it. Trying to kill yourself or something?”

Your eyes traveled to the oversized loaf of white bread in your cart, the giant red ‘$0.99’ sticker proudly proclaiming its worth. “Everyone dies someday. Those three dollars I saved were more than worth it.” 

The cashier greeted you with a smile far too friendly for this time of the day, especially after what you guessed to be hours of standing around. Weariness seeped through his polite expression, apprehension of the next customer painfully obvious. The name 'Santi' was etched into the button attached to his shirt. “This everything?”

“Yep!” You offered him a similarly kind expression, watching his demeanor relax a bit as you began helping bag the groceries. Clearly it had been a long day.

Plus, customer service was not for the weak.

“I like your boots.”

Funnily enough, you’d forgotten what they looked like, having grabbed the first pair of footwear while running out. You looked down, eyes meeting the dark brown faux leather, laces, and small bump of heel. “Thanks! I actually thrifted them.”

The compliment had you distracted and the feeling of something slithering around your neck had you jump. It was like miniscule, black serpents were sliding along your jugular, the scales chilling your skin as you swallowed. Attempting to ignore the tingle running down your spine, you tried to swat Bill’s arms away, playing it off as scratching an itch. A chuckle sounded in ear as he finally realised you, undoubtedly enjoying as you tried, and probably failed, to save face.

“Oh, nice! They look great,” Santi replied, handing you a flimsy receipt and the final package, thankfully ignorant of both the unnatural movements and vexation overlaying your face, most likely from the fatigue burning through his limbs.

“Thanks again. Have a good night!”

He offered a wave as you left, the automatic doors inviting in cold air to clash with the heated interior. 

Bags nestled under your arms, you started to journey back home. The autumn wind slivered under your hair, exposing your collarbone and making your shiver. Leaves crackled under your feet, each crunch reverberating into your ear canal with satisfaction. The sky was painted in bright orange, the finishing touch to a perfectly Fall-esque evening. It was enough to fizzle your prior annoyance away, a melancholy nostalgia of pumpkin carving and Halloween excursions gnawing at you instead.

“Hey, have you been having any nightmares lately?”

That definitely made you pause, the idyllic aesthetic around you suddenly forgotten. 

“Why?”

“Just curious.”

After taking a moment to ponder the question, you ultimately came to the conclusion that it couldn’t possibly be too dangerous to be honest. It wasn’t as if your dream itself was one of the more telling to your innermost being anyway.

Right?

“Nothing too bad. Just a bunch of fire and this big pink thing. Nothing I’m gonna sell my soul over, by the way. I’ve just gotta stop watching so many horror movies. I know you like them but-”

“Oh my, that’s not good at all!”

The sudden alarm coating that usually condescending tone was uncharacteristic enough to get your heart pumping, whether or not it was put on was overshadowed by your own growing unease. “What? Why?”

“We need to get you inside.”

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

A Human's Touch

Bill Cipher/Reader

Word Count: 3k

“A deal?”

The word felt sour in your mouth, coating your tongue in uneasiness and sliding down your throat to turn your stomach into a grumbling ball of nerves.

Bill nodded with a grin. “Deal, bargain, arrangement, whatever you want to call it! All that matters is that I’m offering you a first class ticket into my very own glorious abundance of knowledge.”

“In exchange for…” You continued, a question encompassing the end of your statement.

Breath lodged in your throat, you waited, the silence barely loud enough to conceal the soft thump of your beating heart.

“You.”

That sure as hell wasn't what you were expecting.

“Excuse me?”

“Just the mind and body. You can keep your soul, I don’t need that silly old thing," He chuckled. “Story short is, I've got a chore that needs handling and I need a physical flesh packet to do it. So, whaddaya say?”

With that tone, one would have thought he had just asked a neighbor for a stick of butter. The absolute ludicrousness of the situation had you scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Clicking his tongue in disappointment, Bill slowly reverted back into his original form, human stature shifting and condensing into that golden triangle. “We’ll see.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mea-”

“But I’ll offer you a compromise. And believe me when I say I don’t offer those to just anybody.” It occurred to you that you had just now realized how his form glowed whenever he talked, each syllable pulsing with spectral luminescence. “I’ll stick around and you can study me. And keep that pretty little meat-suit as a bonus.”

“Why would I… I’m a psychology major, not a cryptozoologist student. Or whatever you would be classified under,” you muttered.

“You’re trying to master the mind, doc. And I guarantee you, there’s no mind as interesting as this one! I’m an enigma, a mystery; and I know that’s something you brainiac types just can’t resist!” His eye began to showcase a myriad of different landmarks and time periods, ranging from the Black Plague to Ancient Rome’s gladiatorial fights. Whether or not he had actually seen or experienced any of them, you weren’t sure. “All I need you to do is find something for me.”

“And what would that be?”

With a snap, a short stack of papers fell into your arms. “Just a silly old landmark, really. That’s where I’m trying to go, but I’ll find my puppet in the meantime.”

Every sheet was marked with numerous pictures of what looked like ancient architecture, each matched with a corresponding set of coordinates. Save for the one at the bottom, the structure appearing to be a crude drawing next to a row of question marks.

A puzzle.

“Want a trial run?”

You glanced up at him in question.

“Give me ten seconds inside that head of yours to show you what you’re missing out on. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Curiosity tugged at your chest, the sting strong enough to overshadow the warning bells going off in your brain. “Ten seconds.”

“Cross my heart.” He held up a hand, fingers wrapping around one another to bind the promise between voice and flesh.

Every fiber of your being was begging you to back away from the cliff side, mental voices pleading for a retreat to where it was safe; predictable.

They clamored with one another, a chorus that had been overwhelmed with singers, each vying for your attention to create a symphony of disorder. Their call jerked at your sense of logic, slowly drawing your feet further and further away from the overhang.

Then you jumped.

“Okay.”

The word had barely left your lips before you began regretting it, but the complete and utter feeling of turbulence over washing your perception left no time for remorse. It was like your consciousness had been yanked back through eyes that you couldn't open, the mortal realm as you knew it shadowed in a blanket of pure ebony.

But then, in a single beat, everything changed.

You were falling.

No.

That definitely isn't it.

Warmth prickled at your limbs, now buoyant and hovering weightlessly, like your entire body had been submerged into a pool of water. Liquid air embraced you, floating under your clothes and gently tugging the fabric upward. Loose strands of your hair did the same, the levity tender and benign enough to leave no pain. The peacefulness swimming throughout your form was enough to distract you from the complete lack of somatic bodily sensations, whether it be the fading ache on your thumb from the hangnail that had been picked off yesterday or the beat of your heart.

The woven veil of darkness was lifted from over you, senses freed from its blinding threads and allowing you to look around.

A silken sky encased you from every angle, shades of purples and blues colliding with the black. They welcomed one another happily, hues binding together to form a tapestry of radiance. Clusters of stars, each blooming with its own spectral iridescence, were splattered across the galaxy.

You reached out, tiny celestial bodies caressing your outstretched fingers and tickling at the skin. One drifted closer, quiet glow reflecting on the palm of your hand.

Up close, you noticed that it wasn't just light, but an image was molded in its bright center.

A cabin in the woods, both covered in snow like powdered sugar, flickered within the orb. Firelight could be seen from inside, warm reds and oranges colliding with the stark white flakes still falling around the scene.

The lodge, although you couldn't see, would have been scented like hot chocolate and had a brightly lit Christmas tree in the middle of the living room.

Small waves of memories washed over you as the minuscule sun slowly started to hover away. You could have sworn that you heard laughter, a little girl's, as it escaped from your hold, joining its clustered constellation of a family.

You reached out once more, fingertips gracing another star as you were submerged in the sound singing and the smelled of birthday cake.

Then you blinked.

And it was gone.

"So, whaddya think? Pretty neat, huh?" You jumped at Bill's voice, eyes readjusting to the harsh lighting of your dorm room. The muted thump had returned to your chest, organ beating rapidly from the sudden change.

"What was that?"

"I like to call it the Mindscape." He pressed a small, black finger against your temple. “A metaphysical representation of your mind.

Your bed frame rocked as you flopped down in shock. "And you can just do that whenever you want? With whoever you want?"

"And so much more than that."

"It's..." You raised an arm above your head, imagining those twinkling lights swirling through your fingers once more. "It's incredible."

"So, does that sway you or what?"

You sat up, quiet unease weighing in your chest. "Why me? We both know that there's a lot of people out there who would've taken that deal. So, why stick around?"

Bill raised both of his arms, the closest he might ever get to a shrug in the form lacking shoulders. "Why not? You were the one who shook my hand, so you’re basically stuck with me until I find someone else interesting enough to use. Besides, I enjoy imparting some wisdom to you mortals every few millennia or so."

The response wasn't genuine, at least, not completely, of that you were almost positive. There was the idea of something more that was underlying the pleasant message and honeyed promises, something that you would become trapped in, unable to dig your way out once you actually knew you were being buried alive.

But you had already jumped.

What's the harm in just letting yourself fall a little longer?

"Hand me the papers."

⭒⋆△⋆⭒

It had been two days since you had found Bill.

Two days since you had agreed to aid in his search.

And exactly forty-six hours since you had realized how utterly annoying he could become.

He was like a power hungry toddler, whizzing around your room and rifling through every drawer, shelf, and cubby in interest. He followed you around almost everywhere, whether it be to the nearby vending machine or your school’s computer lounge.

And that definitely wasn't the worst of it.

"Can you... can you maybe leave? Or at least, like, turn around." you had asked yesterday, a set of pajamas hanging over your arm as you attempted to change.

"You really think I can't see under there?" He cackled as a harsh warmth spread over your cheeks. "If you really wanted, I can look all the way down to your nervous system. Pretty cool trick if I do say so myself.”

"Perv."

“Ha! You wish, toots.”

There were random blocks of time, those you cherished near and dear to your heart, where he would randomly just disappear, popping out of existence to somewhere you honestly did not care to know about.

Such as the afternoon the day before, when you had been left to mercifully sleep passed the ‘pm’ to your heart's desire.

This morning, however, you had been plucked from the beautiful darkness with that vexingly flat tone.

“You’re a pretty mumbly sleeper. Get nightmares or something?”

Jumping up with a yelp, your body had slipped from those bewitching silk sheets, plummeting to the floor with a groan.

You had never been more thankful for opting to stay in your dorm over break, the interaction with any other sentient being besides the therapy cat kept in the campus library probably would have sent you straight over the edge.

Still, his presence was the slightest bit comforting, if you harnessed every bit of patience in your being. Especially since you had the more-than-slight inkling that it wasn't exactly his personality, but the enjoyment of tormenting you that brought upon the constant irritant.

If you just ignored him, he would calm down.

And surprisingly, he did.

But not by much.

"I'm just saying, if you're having bad dreams, I could fix that up real quick." Bill flew over to your desk side, papers strewn across the wood grain. "Are you even listen-"

"Done."

"You're finished." The response was less an assured statement than it was a question waiting to be affirmed.

"Yep. The other nine structures make an almost perfect pentagram, so the tenth should be right..." you tapped a finger against the map, brightly highlighted 'x' filling in the gap. "here."

One giant eye blinked back at you, watching as you tossed the notes aside and pushed your chair back.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed." If it wasn't two in the morning, you might have worded the retort more politely, but among the tiny grains of energy left in you, there was hardly enough to care. Still, you offered a small smile of remorse as you slid under the covers, blue light illuminating your dorm room.

Fingers gliding across your keyboard, your eyes flit from cover to cover, accessing your options before confirming your choice with a click. Bill watched you work, silently hovering to your side as you grabbed a pillow to prop your laptop up with. The soft periwinkle coating your features abruptly turned to black before slowly fading to a deep red, title screen showcasing the Paris catacombs loading in.

You picked up your recently formed companion from the corner of your vision. "It's a horror movie. You actually might like it, being, ya know... Which sounds a lot more offensive when I say it out loud."

He didn’t seem to mind or even notice as he floated next to you, oversized sclera and snakelike pupil reflecting the events playing out on the monitor. As the minutes ticked by, he levitated inches closer, finding residence on your left shoulder. At first, you thought of swatting him away, but ultimately paid no attention as the creature settled in next to your collarbone, stamina properly depleted from a day of nonstop work.

It was fascinating to watch, or to listen might be a more accurate term, how Bill reacted to the film, chaotic cackle ringing out anytime a character was injured or met their untimely end. You noted how he particularly enjoyed when suffering, specifically that of which was emotionally traumatic, was involved, such as when one of the individuals got sucked into a burning car and ended up buried alive within the span of two minutes.

It was spine tingling, sure, but interesting to view nonetheless, especially coming from someone who had been oddly engaged in serial killer cases from age fourteen. You found yourself silently analyzing every snarky comment, chuckle, or declaration about how he could have done better rather than actually paying attention.

According to him, falling down a well and breaking your neck was ‘boring’ and getting beaten with a rock to death was ‘uninspired.’ Both statements were extremely concerning, but clearly not alarming enough to keep your eyes open for long. Mental fatigue plagued your mind, infesting your questions with a soothing fog until sleep finally claimed you.

Your spector was gone by morning.

Sunlight streamed through your blinds, bright gleam marking your room with its fractured motif. You slipped from the comforting warmth of your sheets with a yawn, rolling your neck around and ushering away those tiny pops from hours of unuse. Despite the moderate sluggishness weighing down your limbs, you were quite surprised at how good you felt.

Nightmares had always been fairly regular for you, whether it be something as mildly mundane as being late to class or as distressing as being chased by an axe wielding maniac. 

Like it or not, Bill had been right; you were a stressful sleeper.

Over the years, you had slowly habituated to the dreams, not allowing those ghosts of visions to haunt you too much through waking hours. Regardless, it was hard to shake the ickiness brought upon by those particularly stirring visions, especially when the rest of the world was dead, that dreadfully lonely feeling only empowered by the darkness and silence surrounding you. Every once in a while, you would jolt awake, sweat coating the edge of your brow as you willed your heart to slow, forcing uplifting scenarios into the forefront of your train of thought.

Even when it wasn't a nightmare, there was almost always something. Maybe a sporadically flash of colored light or recollection of something weeks ago. In fact, a dreamless evening almost always meant a lack of sleep.

However, this seemed to be the complete opposite. 

But you definitely weren’t complaining. 

Rifling through the minifridge beside your bed, you flipped through various breakfast options, determined to start a morning off on the right foot for once. You had just settled on a plastic box of leftovers as a sharp snap sounded right next to your ear, causing you to jump and smack your head on the microwave above. 

A string of curses shot out as you waited for the throbbing to subside. You caught a glance at your triangular shaped companion, who seemed less than apologetic at the frightening entrance as he made himself at home on your bed. The suspicions were deemed correct as he shifted into a human seconds later, if the haughty grin gracing his features was any indication.

“I thought you left,” you sighed.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” he replied, watching while you worked to heat up your food. “I was just checking in with some friends nearby.”

‘You’re basically stuck with me until I find someone else interesting enough to use’

Well, dammit.

“I guess we can get started then.” Moving to take a seat by your desk, you noticed the slight twinge of surprise tugging at his brow. “You said you’d let me study you. I don’t have anything to do for the next two weeks anyhow.”

“Ask away. I’m an open book.”

I doubt that

“So, what were you doing again?”

Your new patient rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed at having to repeat himself. “Visiting old friends, just to let them know of my fabulous return to society.”

Very vague; great

“Were they human?”

“Ha! As if I would ever consider one of you pea-brained meat sacks a friend! Besides, you guys die way too quickly to make a difference anyway. Do you know how many puppets I’ve had to replace because they keep kicking the bucket?”

“Oh… I’m sorry about that.”

Incredulousness soaking his tone, he scoffed. “I don’t need your sympathy. Those geezers were basically getting ready for the grave by the time they were in a cradle.”

Honestly, the statement made sense. If you really thought about it, people had begun the slow process of expiration the moment they had their first breath. Still, the way Bill phrased it gave you the idea that he thought about his own mortality, or immortality, as completely different from someone of your own species.

“So, uh, how old are you then?”

“Older than you could count, doc,” he replied, getting comfortable with his arms propped behind his head.

“And how does that make you feel?” You pried. “Knowing that most of the allies you make will die before you even really notice they’re there.”

He cracked open what you believed to be his good eye, though you weren’t exactly sure whether or not he could see out of the black one. “Perfect, obviously. I couldn’t care for you guys if I even tried. Let’s move on to the less stupid questions.”

You frowned. “Fine. Is your name actually Bill? I mean, no offense, but it seems just a tad bit anticlimactic for a supernatural entity like you.”

“Nope. But you wouldn’t be able to pronounce the real one.”

“Where were you born? Did you have a family or-”

“Oh, come on. I thought this was going to be interesting.” He jumped up, moving over to where you were sitting and motioning to the laptop still on your bed. “Let’s get down and dirty, into the fun stuff.”

A patience-capturing breath raddled through your lungs. You slipped around him to grab the computer, trying to ignore the way your pulse sped up in nervousness at the close proximity. “Alright. What would you like to talk about then?”

Excitement flashed in his eyes. “Let me show you.”

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

The bill cipher fic was so good I am actually shook like you’re so talented

This comment lowkey motivating me to write the whole fic you’ll have the next chapter by Monday 🫶🫶

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

This is actually the first rough draft teaser chapter for a Bill Cipher/reader fic I’m possibly thinking of making, but I’m just gonna post this to see if it’s smth people would be interested in!

A Human’s Touch

Pairing: Bill Cipher/Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Colors.

The world was a flurry of colors.

Blues and browns and a flurry of greens collided with one another, meshing the woods behind your campus into a collage of different hues. It was funny how a place fuming with boredom could become such a mix of beauty and chaos under the right circumstances.

Before this, you would’ve said that your stomach was fairly durable. It had survived skirmishes against clearance section frozen meals and a hoard of cup noodles. However, it seemed to be no match for end-of-semester party frat food.

If only you had stayed where you had for most of the other parties this year, on the bed with a bag of Smartfood popcorn, but the FOMO of letting your final bash as a junior slip through your fingers was much too strong. So whether it had been the homemade potato salad or the peppermint fudge brownies you were ninety percent sure had been cooked in a microwave, you had left the dorm with an unfortunate case of food poisoning.

Of course, the symptoms hadn’t begun to show up until hours later, deceptively lying in wait until you were helping your upperclassman with a personal research project.

You had stumbled out of the building, the embarrassment only slightly overcome by the absolute battle rumbling in your stomach, and tried your best to run toward the nearest secluded area.

It was surprising that even after two years at Pineridge University, you had completely forgotten about the extensive forest fencing the Northern side of campus.

This little factoid, along with the dizzying headache that made your vision spin, left you far enough in the forest to obscure any view of the civilization left behind.

Thankfully, you couldn’t have gone that far and if you could just walk back the way you came, it would’ve been just fine.

That is not what happened.

Apparently, aimlessly wandering around in a haze for a place to suffer in peace left you horribly turned around. It had been at least thirty five minutes since your last ‘I’m almost there’ thought, and a good ten since the ‘if I just keep walking straight I’ll find something.’

At this point, a pit of nerves had replaced the ache in your stomach and the sun had passed its peak in the sky, painting the horizon with blues, purples, and pinks. An army of trees surrounded you, an endless array of different greens creating your prison.

You had tried calling someone half an hour ago, but the internet at your campus had been atrocious, so it wasn’t at all surprising that the connection out here was basically nonexistent. It would’ve felt more productive to just walk around with your phone in the air until a bar showed up, but with the battery under ten percent the last time you checked, you had made the decision to leave it off until there was an actual emergency.

What constituted an actual emergency, however, you weren’t exactly sure.

Being stuck out in the woods with nothing but books and some leftover papers seemed to at least come close. Regardless, thinking of it like that made you feel sick, again, so you tried your best to stay positive.

But no matter how many uplifting thoughts you forced into your mind, the impending doom and anxiety somehow wormed its way back in. Those worst case scenarios, bear attacks, ticks, or serial killers posing as hikers, began to cloud over any positive ray you attempted to bring in.

Dryness tickled your throat and an emptiness rumbled through your stomach. The evening only grew colder, wind grasping at your thin lab coat with its invisible fingers.

So it only made sense that when your eyes finally fell upon the clearing of space that spilled from the ocean of endless trees, you heaved a sigh of relief and ran forward, the throbbing in your legs momentarily forgotten as you trudged toward the promise land.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

It was turning out to be a particularly shitty day.

The clearing was almost completely empty and surrounded by foliage, save for a small stream and dilapidated statue in the middle of the area.

Tears of anger and exhaustion nipped your eyes as you let out a whine of frustration, tossing your bag to the ground.

Aching shoulders free, you forced in a deep breath, after one more mandatory string of curses, and moved to sit down in front of a nearby tree. Unfortunately, the adrenaline had leaked from your limbs, leaving them sore and sloppy. A tiny divet in the forest floor had your ankle tipping to the side, gravity yanking you down to the floor with a groan.

With your back on the grass, you took a moment to let the pain subside and wallow in your misery, vision fixed on the sky above. The moon was almost visible now, its luminous beauty your only distraction from the sting. It hung in the sky, lonesome allure offering soft comfort as you gathered your courage and looked down at your leg.

It definitely wasn’t sprained, but dammit, that hurt.

Alternatively, it was also been a reminder of how absolutely abysmal it would be to walk all the way back with a broken ankle.

Surprisingly, the thought was able to simultaneously bring you some hope and piss you off.

The “it could always be worse” strategy never was very helpful.

You would know.

On the other hand, the fall had actually given you a chance to really take in your surroundings without a vail of emotions covering your senses.

It was peaceful.

That seemed to be the only kind way to describe it.

The wind seemed to subside slightly here, the only sound coming from your own haggard breathing and the small stream to your right. Come to think of it, you hadn’t heard any animals here either.

It was almost like the life had been sucked out of the picturesque clearing, leaving only the traces of whatever existence had once thrived here behind.

So, yes, it was peacefully unsettling, but peaceful nonetheless.

Sunlight filtered through the ever-moving leaves, shadows whirling around the forgotten thicket in their sorrowful dance, mourning whatever audience they may have once had.

You craned your neck over your shoulder, eyes catching on the statue that you had nearly cracked your occipital lobe on. You had yet to really take in its presence, much less take in how odd it was.

The statue might’ve once been gray, but was now overrun by the nature surrounding it. Moss snuck up its sides like an infection, grass sprouting from the cracks and crevices.

But that was the least of your confusion.

It was the statue itself, or the shape in particular, that was surprising. It was a simple triangle, with a large, reptilian-like eye right in its middle. The thin arm outstretched from the shape and small top hat above it made your eyebrows furrow.

Then again, there were quite a few pieces of modern art that you were unable to understand the appeal of.

Actually, the more you looked at it, the more interesting it seemed. You wondered if whoever made it knew where it was, knew that their creation was lost to the hands of nature and time.

You’d heard people say that life is short but art lives forever.

Apparently not.

Did it die if there was no one there to see it? No one to understand whatever philosophical message the sculptor had been trying to portray, words written with precise brushstrokes and chisels upon stone.

“Stuck here too?” You sighed, cradling your face in an open palm. “Yeah, I thought so.”

The rhythmic lull of the rolling brook tugged at your eyelids, the lethargy in your body slowly trailing up to infest your mind. You shook the fatigue off, quickly stretching your neck before reaching toward the statue.

“Well, wish me luck, I suppose,” your hand curled around its own, cragged rock scraping against your fingers as you used the leverage to pull yourself up. Pain shot through your legs as you stood, but it slowly ebbed away after a few seconds. You steadied yourself, brushing your dirty palms off on your jeans before turning to grab your bag.

It was just as you grasped the strap that you noticed how completely and utterly silent it was.

The stream, once bubbling and lively had come to a dull stop, the wind that once nipped at your skin wholly still.

That’s when you heard a crack.

Your first thought was that an animal had come for you, giant paws crushing a nearby stick. However, as you spun on your heels, you noticed that it was not a branch, but the statue.

It had cracked right down the middle, a soft yellow glow emanating from the decaying stone. If you held your breath, you could almost imagine a soft hum coming from inside.

The ground almost seemed to shake from underneath you, a presence somewhere below digging its way out. Your bag slipped from your fingers as the statue cracked once more, the golden rays glowing brighter with each second. Time came to a slow as you watch in horror as the sculpture continued to fracture, small pieces beginning to fall off entirely.

That’s when it exploded.

The first, panicked thought that entered your head was that you had somehow stepped onto a land mine while trying to run away, its incessant ring bringing you to your knees.

It wasn’t until moments later that you realized that you hadn’t been hurt, much less killed, in the initial detonation of light and sound.

You must have gone mad, though, because the first noise that ripped through the silence was-

“Boy, oh, boy, is it good to be back!”

The voice was grating and loud, and most definitely not your own.

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open, pupils dilating in surprise as you took in the sight before you.

The statue was now completely gone, small pebbles and broken blades of grass the only whispers of its presence left.

Instead, a life sized replica was floating above it.

A soft golden glow emanated from the triangle, or, you supposed it looked more like a pyramid now that it was colored in a bright yellow. A once stationary eye was now shifting constantly, taking in its surroundings before stopping.

On you.

“Heya, toots!” The thing flew closer, its immediate proximity enough to shock you into falling back. “I’m guessing you’re the one who let me out?”

The only noise that came out of your throat seemed to be a gargled line of stupor, the pyramid rolling its eye in exasperation before sticking out a hand. “Name’s Bill Cipher! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

You blinked at the greeting, throat closing up as you awkwardly shuffled backward. The creature didn’t seem to mind, though, it buzzing around you in hurried interest.

“Wow, times have changed! Definitely don’t remember you guys having technology this advanced the last time I was here.” It nudged your phone with a foot, the device apparently having fallen out of your backpack in the commotion.

You watched in awe while it shuffled through your things, breaking out of that stuporous enchant as the thing, Bill, flit over to you and took a strand of hair between his fingers.

With a gasp, you smacked his hand away, blinking in surprise as you actually made contact.

“I’m…” you swallowed “I’m not really sure what’s going on. I-uh, what are you?”

I’m gonna puke again

Am I hallucinating?

Am I dead?

The creature floated in a lazed position, hand poised outward as he inspected nonexistent nails. “Take your time, doc, it’ll wear off.”

“Wha-“ you looked down, realization dawning in your eyes as you remembered the lab coat you were still wearing. “Oh, I’m not a doctor. I mean, I’m trying to be one someday, but I was just helping a friend and I’m just a student right-“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you feel better.” Bill rolled his eyes once more. “But to answer your question, I’m a dream demon! And a pretty great one too, if I do say so myself.”

A gaped expression tugged as your jaw as he adjusted a small black bow tie. “Excuse me?”

“Exactly!” Although you couldn’t see any expression, the smile lacing his tone was evident. “So whatever your little heart desires, I can have done! Any more questions, toots?”

Like, a million.

“Yeah… and my name is-“

“I know what your name is,” he waved you off. “So what’ll it be? Riches? Power? Universal knowledge?”

“I’m, umm…” you swallowed, slowly getting to your feet. “I’m not really… interested in all of this if it makes sense? I’m sorry to disturb your…” pondering the correct term for a moment, you took a breath in before grabbing your belongings and continuing. “land, or whatever, but I really should be going.”

And with that, you quickly began walking away as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of a giant eye on your figure and the pit of fear in your stomach.

You had only made it a few feet before Bill zoomed in front of your vision, fingers perched upon would you would’ve guessed was a temple equivalent if he had a face. “You’re serious? You don’t want anything?”

“Not really?” You dipped around him, holding in a sigh of displeasure as he followed. “And I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but this whole thing is creeping me out and I would rather just go home honestly.”

And I’ve seen more than enough horror movies to know that this is an absolutely awful idea.

Still, outrightly running away felt like an unnecessary evil, almost like it might anger whatever figment your delirium-soaked mind had conjured up. The being didn’t seem to particularly mind, however, hovering next to your shoulder as he blabbered on about things you honestly didn’t have the mental capacity to wholeheartedly pay attention to.

Regardless, the constant blabber wormed its way into your mind, that grating voice bouncing around your skull like a jumping bean.

It was a wonder you lasted over ten minutes before cracking.

“Look,” you started, taking a breath and hoping it would soften the vexation coating your inner monologue. “I’ve been wandering around out here, lost, for what feels like hours, I just got through a sick case of food poisoning, my legs hurt, my head is killing me, and I’m 90% sure that I’m hallucinating right now, so if you could please just leave me alone with a few minutes that would be great.”

The silence that followed weighed your heart down in your chest, a boulder of nerves tethered to the organ as you pondered if the, completely acceptable, outburst had angered the creature.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so!”

“Wait, what?”

An arm slung around your shoulder and the world collapsed for the second time today.

The forest, once your solemn captor, melted in on itself for a split second before changing completely. Trees and grass fazed into one another, emerald greens quickly melding into the sky blues and concrete gray of a cityscape.

You fell to your knees, surroundings still spinning. Whatever had just happened left you reeling as well, mental state sucked into the world your senses still perceived to be twisting and turning.

“What the fuck…” you coughed, breath sucked out of your lungs and sticking to the edges of your esophagus. “what the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?”

“Oops! I forgot you humans are sensitive to that sort of thing. Oh, well.” He shrugged, watching you slowly gain your footing before making a dash for your building.

Final bouts of energy leaking away onto the pavement with each step, you heaved open the door, thankful, for once that you lived on the first floor. You nearly rammed into your apartment, slamming the door behind you. Shock and fatigue shivered through your hands, the lock slipping from your fingers before you finally got it shut, slumping back onto the wood and crumpling to a seated position with a sigh.

“Wow, not even a thank you?”

A shriek echoed off your dorm room walls as you scuttled backwards, away from the entity that had somehow wormed his way past your walls. Back hitting a coffee table, your hand blindly wandered upward for a weapon, finding home around a Bath and Body Works candle. You brandished the, thankfully oversized and quite substantial, object and vaulted to your feet.

“What the hell are you?”

“Pretty disappointed, that’s what I am,” Bill huffed, hands crossed over one another. “I take you home out of goodness of my heart and that’s what I get? I’ll let it slide just this once, but don’t get me wrong, do it again and we’re gonna have a probably. Got it, toots?”

He watched as you shifted your feet, the offensive position a disgustingly pathetic attempt to hide your fear. Actually, he could practically smell it.

Not that he was complaining.

“I feel like we got off to a bad start.” His form shifted, melting into something akin to a human.

Still, there was something completely not.

One of his eyes was completely black, the other a bright yellow with a slitted pupil, strikingly similar to that of his original form. Sharp canines poked out from a devilishly charming grin, the tie and top hat still present, but now sporting a matching golden suit. He stick out a gloved hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The pleasure was obviously unreciprocated.

“Ah, come on! I figured the new look would help. Almost always does… you guys are so jumpy,” he huffed.

“What-“ you swallowed the fear lacing your voice. “What do you want from me?”

“From you?” Bill snapped a finger and you felt the weight in your hand disappear, cookie-scented candle morphing into a house finch. The pure shock written across your features had him snickering as the small bird flit around the room, searching for escape. “You should be asking what I can do for you.”

You paused.

“For me?”

“Sure! But everything has a price! Probably isn’t worth it if you didn’t give something up in the first place, am I right?”

Tossing you a wink, he drew closer, the close proximity forcing you backward until your back hit the wall. From the corner of your eye you spotted the small finch tapping against your closed window with its beak.

“So,” With another snap of his fingers, the bird morphed back into the festive candle with a heart wrenching squeak, smashing against your floor. “Wanna make a deal?”

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Summary: a fic for this blurp;

Warnings: slightttt smut/mentions of smut; language; teasing;

Word Count: 3.5k

(I kinda want to write a full multi-chapter fic for this so let me know if anyone here would enjoy that!!)

You felt sick.

The bubbling cloud in front of you matched the contents of your stomach, the writhing horde of violet and ebony swirling in turmoil. A soft rumbling seemed to emit from the portal, a warning to surrender and run.

Giran, the League's silver haired broker, raised an arm, ushering you into the mass. A cigarette hung between his lips, the smoke leaving an unsavory odor in his wake. He offered you a sickly saccharine grin, the cigarette falling into the empty slot in his piano-like smile.

The man did nothing to settle your nerves. Still, your expression remained complacent; a mask that easily covered the anxiety bubbling underneath. 

Thoughts of caution gnawing at your train of thought definitely didn’t do anything to help, little reminders that whatever was on the other side of that shimmering gateway was ten times worse than the broker and his creepy persona. 

You had gotten the mission last week. It wasn’t particularly surprising, your status as one of the more covert pros amongst hero society meant that you were no stranger to undercover work.

Still, the word coming from your superiors that you would be infiltrating the League of Villains definitely didn’t fail to leave you shaken.

Their preferred strategy left you feeling even worse. 

Most female heroes were no stranger to using emotional manipulation, such as flirting, a tactic that you had used multiple times and had no issue with. 

Usually. 

Doing so with Dabi was well above your pay grade.

According to your higher-ups, the infamous fire wielding criminal had been spotted crawling around a bar in the northern side of the city, one that you had coincidentally utilized in the past for other missions. According to them, this made him vital to your mission for information on the League. 

He was your way in. 

Whether you wanted him to be or not. 

So you had taken a day or two to prepare, allowing the ambush of whisky and smoke to wash over your senses as you entered the bistro. The bartender, an undercover cop working to take down a drug ring leader, was someone you were well acquainted with, making the arrangement of your temporary employment go by without a hitch. 

It was a few days before he actually showed up.

The room had been bustling with noise, whether it be the shouts of remaining drunken patrons or the soft crackle of the fireplace in the corner, the glowing embers crying out with their final bouts of life. 

And then everything fell quiet. 

You turned from the wall of liquor you had been organizing, gaze falling over the figure dressed in black.

Locks the same shade of ebony as his jacket and skin pale enough to provide a sharp contrast to the scars painting his body, the man seemed to emit some sort of repellent, the customers slouching away in fear, gazes locked on the wooden flooring.

Smoke wafted through his fingers, dancing among the digits before fading into the night air, already infected with the scent of harsh liquor and cigarettes.

Unfortunately, you had met before, although he wouldn’t have any way of knowing that. He had been leading an unsuspected attack near Endeavor’s agency. Being one of the nearest heroes on the scene, you had been in charge of getting any civilians caught in the crossfire to safety.

Not all of them made it. 

The memories of those lost had kept you awake for days, nightmares plagued by their cries of pain and misery that seemed to haunt your every step.

In all honesty, the thought of looking at Dabi made your blood boil, the concept of even pretending to like him so much more horrific, a feeling you had spent the past few days attempting to push away.

Still, remnants of anger and displeasure left a sour taste in your mouth and a snarl that begged to tear at your lip, both you which was forced away with a swallow before continuing to work. A minute or two passed before you faced him, forcing a polite smile and picking up a few napkins. 

“Hi there, can I get you something to drink?”

When he turned your way, the look of pure irritation gracing his features made you almost positive he was going to tell you to fuck off. When he took you in, though, he paused, expressionless for a moment before allowing a grin to wash over his face. “Whiskey. Neat.”

The smile sent a shudder up your spine, but you nodded and grabbed the bottle.

Dabi watched you work, those turquoise eyes scanning your every move. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“I’m covering for my friend this week.” You handed him the drink with a small laugh. “This place doesn’t make enough money to be a stickler for employee regulations and I owed her a favor.”

Leaning forward, he casually cradled his face in his hand. “Is that so?”

You had gotten closer throughout the later hours of that night, telling him some sob story about hating hero society and the ideals they stood for. 

And when you felt him just dangling in the palm of your hand, you had asked about the League.

What you failed to notice, however, was that he did recognize you.

You had been a surprisingly annoying pain in his ass, rescuing the office workers with surprising vigilance.

He hadn’t seen your face, sure, but he had heard your voice, sure and steady as you led those around you to safety. Additionally, he had managed to spot a bit of your eyes through the rip in your mask, broken in the fray of the fight. And it was that mannered tone and stare that gave you away tonight. 

In complete honesty, he thought about turning you to ash right there. It wouldn’t be something new, especially for this establishment. 

Yet, despite the fact that he was practically positive this was some scheme, the way you approached him, eyelids fluttering and that amorous lilt to your tone, sparked a curiosity that he didn’t think he would mind fixing. It also definitely didn’t hurt to have a hero, especially one as pretty as you, wrapped around his arm for a while. 

It would be all the more exciting to watch you crack.

So he called Giran the next day, dropping your name along with the time and place to meet up.

And so here you were.

Taking a breath, almost like the indigo fumes would suffocate you with their potency, you stepped forward, trying not to gasp as a weightless feeling overtook your body, prickling at your limbs and fingers for far too long. It couldn’t have come soon enough when your foot hit solid ground, that nauseous feeling dissipating with the writhing mass around you. 

Body still undergoing the effects of such an odd journey, you tried desperately not to fall over, fingers shaking just slightly as you took in the room around you.

Darkness filled most of the space, dim lamps and ceiling lights filling in the gaps. You recognized most of the faces in front of you, whether it be from mission overviews or wanted posters.

The one sitting at the bar was the only one you'd had the displeasure of meeting personally.

Posture screaming indifference, Dabi rested his scarred face in the palm of his hand, a lazy grin sinking over his features.

“Hey there, doll.”

Disgust jumped in your stomach, a sensation that you quickly wiped away with a smile of your own. "Hi."

Most of the group met you with an excited sense of immediate camaraderie. You didn't fail to notice, however, the glare Shigaraki kept giving you, knotted with distrust.

Thankfully, he seemed desperate for allies.

With one of the League's top players by your side, and your own personal skills, made the initiation process fairly quick and easy.

The next few days?

Absolutely not.

Time didn't seem to make your mission any less bearable, the flirting just as nausea inducing a week later as it was on day one.

You spent half of your time pretending that you liked the League and the other half hating yourself for doing so.

Giran had made sure you didn't have any form of communication upon entry, whether it be a phone or a tapped wire, effectively cutting you off from the rest of the world.

It wasn't just lonely, but completely humiliating.

Your target had been surprisingly responsive to your courting, regardless of the usually solitary persona talked about in the tabloids, making it increasingly difficult to make sure nothing actually happened.

Dabi, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely.

He would let you do away with those sweet smiles and fluttering eyelashes, watching in amusement as you attempted to break through his walls. It was easy to ignore how easily you might've done so if he hadn't known your true identity, that sure sense of control he held over you made sure of that.

Contrary to what he had planned when you first arrived, he had come to the resolution that you would not be killed when this shit all blew over.

Oh, no. He found himself increasingly content with the idea of keeping you for his own instead, making sure that you kept faithful to all those untruthful promises made with honeyed words.

The way you always seemed to dodge his advances before going too far was annoyingly impressive, sure, but he'd let you believe that you had the power here.

It wasn't like it would be that way for much longer.

At first, you might find it difficult to live under his command, a future Dabi was excited to see. The soft obsession brewing for you did nothing to quell the masochistic desire to see you struggle under his hand, it seemed. Regardless, he could easily imagine a future where you grew to follow his lead, a little toy to play with at his beck and call.

Just like you were now, rifling through bottles of alcohol at his request. You plucked out a bottle of whiskey, pouring the caramel-colored liquor before sliding over the drink and moving to occupy the seat next to him.

"Driving somewhere tonight?" he asked, taking note of the lack of alcohol in your own cup, the dusty glass filled with tap water.

“Can’t make it that easy on you, right?” You tossed a wink in his direction. “Or are you one to back down from a challenge?”

“Definitely not.”

The response had you suppressing a shiver. It didn’t feel so much a response as it did a promise, a vow that coupled with that ardent blue stare to make a terrifying duo.

You had never been more thankful for Shigaraki’s presence as you were now, him slamming the door open and easily harnessing the attention in the room.

"Get over here. We're discussing tomorrow's mission." he motioned to Dabi, gaze swiveling in your direction. "You, out."

"She won't be a problem?" The man next to you threw an arm over your shoulder, hopefully missing the slight flinch running up your body as his did so. "Will you, doll?"

You were ready to shake your head in agreeance, but the sneer Shigaraki sent you had you rethinking. "It's okay, I'll just see you guys tomorrow."

Their leader's dismissal didn't have you worried. As long as you asked nicely with faux thoughtlessness, Dabi had been surprisingly satisfied to give you any information that you missed out on after meetings and you were certain this one wouldn't be any different. The fruits of your labor had definitely been helping you in cases like this.

The prospect of taking a moment alone to shake off Dabi's words was also tempting.

He gave you a nod as you gave a small 'see you later' and walked off to your room, trying your best to ignore the scarlet glare piercing your skin.

Shigaraki was suspicious of you, and for good reason. You could only imagine how pissed he would be when he figured out who, or what, he had let into his precious hideout.

Oh, well.

You’d be gone by then.

Night fell over the city, a blanket of angry clouds covering the navy sky, bullets of rain threatening to drop from their ashen, puffed confinements. An hour, maybe two, had passed before your door creaked open.

It didn't matter that Dabi lacked the basic decency to knock; you refused to allow yourself to let your guard down at any moment here anyway.

"I hope the meeting went okay. Shigaraki seemed bitchy-er than usual."

You didn’t miss the small smirk earned at your comment. "Fine. He's stressing about attacking those U.A. brats again."

Blinking in surprised, you watched Dabi lean against your doorframe in a seemingly unbothered daze. "No offense, but isn't their security... really good? I'd doubt they'd let someone slip after what happened a few months ago."

The attack on USJ had been all over the news for weeks. Apparently, half the class had barely survived it. The idea of another ambush had your chest hurting for the children.

But there’s no way the teachers would let anything like that again.

Right?

"They're at some stupid summer camp thing or some shit,” he replied, taking note of the skepticism still overtaking your features and cracking a mock grin. “Aww, is someone worried for me?”

“You wish.”

Worried about you?

Sure.

Worried for you?

Different story.

“Don’t know if I believe that, princess,” he chuckled, walking over to your side. “You’ll be happy to hear that it should be easy. Especially with one of those dumbasses telling us where the kids will be and when.”

At this point, it was obvious that you were quite the actress. He barely even noticed the surprise and horror glazing over your features when he revealed that the League had a spy. If he didn't know better, he might have thought you didn't care.

Now, he could basically see the gears in your mind turning, the veins running up and down your arms practically quickening with the beat of your heart.

You had what you needed, but he wasn't worried.

There wasn't anything that he could tell you that would actually be consequential.

It wasn't like you were actually leaving with any of this information anyway.

"Anyway, see you tomorrow, doll."

A small goodbye was all you offered, the meager farewell leaving Dabi nothing if not amused. He had no doubt that you were stewing in your own shock right now, a theory that was evidently true.

The room was quickly closing in on you now, the space far too confined for the magnitude of the secret you just discovered. At this point, you had what you needed, but the direct orders you had been given at the prospect of a certain attack rang through your mind as well.

Take down as many as possible.

No matter how much abhorrence you felt for these people and the things they did, you had never killed anyone, quietly living under the belief of redemption for all, one way or another. Your heart felt like stone, heavy with responsibility and cold with hatred.

Still, you knew what you had to do.

You could get Dabi, then maybe take care of one or two of the more trusting members before slipping away and into the night.

“Actually,” you cleared the fear from your voice, attempting to play it off as shyness. “Would you want to stay?”

He paused, hand motionless on the doorknob. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had heard you correctly.

Then he turned, eyes glimmering in the darkness. “How could I say no to that?”

And he couldn’t have.

With upmost certainty, he knew what you were planning.

Still.

The simple look you gave him would’ve been enough, a delicious blend of lust and innocence concealed by a lidded gaze.

But your position may have been what did it, knees folded underneath you in submission and the neckline of your silk top falling slightly askew to reveal your shoulder.

So, no, Dabi would not have been able to deny you.

Which is precisely why he came prepared for the occasion.

You were quick, sure, but he knew about the kitchen knife you had hidden under your mattress, the one you had weighted in your hand to figure out how much force it would take to jab it through his throat without hurting yourself.

You, on the other hand, had absolutely no clue about the chloroform-soaked napkin in his back pocket.

And that ignorance, which he found oh-so adorable, was what ultimately led to your downfall. He watched in sick glee as the emotions washed over your face, first surprise, then fear, then soft acceptance as the world grew dark.

~

It could have been hours.

It could have been days.

However long you had been asleep, you weren’t sure.

The only thing you could really focus on was the blinding headache ripping through your skull.

Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any windows in whatever room you were in, but the soft lightbulb flickering above you was enough to make you squint in irritation.

A few minutes passed before the stinging subsided, allowing you to slowly take in your area.

Concrete surrounded you on all sides, the dark grey patterned with cracks and stains that made your stomach lurch at the thought of.

Hand cuffs entrapped your wrists, each bracelet connected to a large chain. Your eyes followed their lead up to the ceiling, where the links conjoined into what looked like a pulling system, connecting into one and falling onto the ground on the other side of the room.

The device would allow your captors to haul you up or down at will.

You were resting pretty on the floor now, sure, but they could leave you hanging here for days if they wanted to, arms crying out in exhaustion before ultimately giving out, tearing apart at the joints.

You tried to harness your quirk but the soft hum of power singing through your veins fell quiet, silenced by whatever materials they put into these cuffs.

A few minutes of trying to remove them passed before the door opened.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tone laced with feigned confusion and tangible fear.

Dabi cocked an eyebrow, fingers curling around the chain before giving it a hard pull. The tug had your body launching upward until you were eye level with him, shoulders throbbing in pain at the sudden jerk. “Still playing dumb, huh, little hero?”

Your heart plummeted, the emotion clearly showing on your face if the immediate grin on his was any indication. “I don’t-“

“Ah, come on, doll. Give me something to work with.” He grabbed your chin with a free hand, watching in delight as you struggled to remove yourself from his hold. With your body suspended in air, toes barely grazing the floor to keep the burden off your arms, it was a lost cause. “What? You were practically begging me to touch you like this yesterday. Done playing whore? But you do it so well.”

“Fuck you.”

He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment.“What a pretty girl for such a dirty mouth. Wonder what else it does.”

“They’ll come for me.” The threat sounded disgustingly pathetic.

“Who? The same people who sent you into this hellhole?” The malice in his cackle made you want to vomit. “They don’t give a shit about you, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere. Besides I think I might just wanna keep you.” The words sent ice shooting down your veins.

Slowly releasing your face and backing away, Dabi let go of the chain, sending you hurdling to the floor, knees now bloodied and bruised from landing on the concrete.

Still, you lunged forward, bindings catching your wrists and forcing you in place, just inches away from being able to claw out those glowing cerulean eyes.

Dabi watched you struggled, arrogance lacing those sharp features in a way that made you want to scream.

“I’ll tell the pros you say hi when I see them later,” he turned, waving a mindless hand in your direction as he opened the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t miss me too much.”

Your muffled screams of frustration followed him down the hall, nestling into his brain to be savored later, preferably in his room or with a hand wrapped around your throat.

Either way, he didn’t really mind.

As long as he had you.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Regrets

Chapter 8

Next chapter

Warnings/index

Maybe Chrollo talked some manners into him, or maybe he just discovered a dormant shred or human decency, but Nobunaga made no snide comments about your red eyes or puffy nose. At least, none that you remember. At this point in time, you still were highly against allowing yourself the vulnerable practice of falling asleep in front of these people. However, despite still technically being conscious, the rest of the car ride was a blurry mess in your mind. You didn't even remember stopping, much less getting out and going anywhere.

Hence your confusion at waking up in an unknown room in an unknown bed.

Your clothes were still the same, but they didn't detract from how comfortable it was. The blankets were soft and felt expensive, along with the silken pillows that were cool to the touch. The rest of the room was dark, save for the small slivers of light peaking through curtains. You got up and pushed them aside, revealing the expanse of city below. It was surprising how high up it seemed you were. Now the rest of the room was easy to see as well. It looked like an expensive hotel setting; nice and spacious, but devoid of any personal touch. There was a bedside table and chest of drawers supporting a television, along with two doors that what you assumed led to the main area or a bathroom.

These suspicions were proved correct when you opened the one closest to you, following through it into an extensive living space.

Wall length windows showcased the same view as before. A black leather couch sat behind a low-standing walnut table, which was a few meters away from another flat-screen. A large stone fireplace lay inactive underneath it. There were a few more pieces of furniture, all of which looked quite expensive, and from what you could tell, the living room seemed to link into a full length kitchen. The space was surprisingly large, leading you to see it more of a apartment lacking character rather than a hotel.

However, the factor that held your curiosity at the moment was the long, dark oak bookshelf lining the wall between the two areas. It extended from the floor to the high ceiling, making the corner more like a miniature library. You definitely couldn't reach the top, but the various novels in front of you ranged from multiple categories and genres.

"I see you're awake."

You jumped at the voice behind you, spinning around to be met with Chrollo. Instead of the usual dark coat, he wore a simple pair of trousers and a gray t-shirt. He closed the door he came from and walked into the kitchen.

"Where am I?" You immediately inquired.

"One of my apartments in York New."

Hesitating, you quickly took in every possible exit, gauging your options in case of a needed escape. "And, uh, why am I here?"

He stepped back into the room, carrying a small plate. "I wasn't sure where else to take you."

Hurt and embarrassment flooded through your veins as you allowed yourself to remember the events of before. You had completely broken down. Honestly, you doubted anyone would blame you if they knew why. However, Chrollo had seen it. He watched your life fall apart and you along with it, leaving you at your weakest point in front of your worst enemy. Not only that, but he had actually helped you.

Even worse, you had accepted it.

The notion made you feel open and weak, not to mention guilty to no end.

'As far as I'm concerned, you're one of them now.'

Am I?

There wasn't anything you were sure of anymore.

Well, there was one exception: Kurapika hated you. There was no denying that, but it didn't lessen the heaviness of your heart or cool the heat building behind your eyes. So, you did what you do best when it comes to emotional turmoil.

Ignore it, at least until you had time alone, and just hope the man in front of you doesn't mention the shameful incident of yesterday.

"So, I'm guessing your nen is back?"

He nodded slightly, opening his hand. You were about to question what he was doing when a book formed in his palm out of thin air. The medium-sized volume was a shade of garnet with a human hand print on the front. Up close you noticed it seemed to have a slight glow emanating from it, trailing up into Chrollo. Or maybe it was the other way around, coming from him instead.

"Is that your power? Stopping other people's nen I mean." You asked, recalling how easily he has halted your own back at the hideout.

"One of them." He put the plate, which you could see was topped with an assortment of fruit, on the table and sat down on the couch. The gesture was small, and you couldn't even be positive it was on purpose, but with him sitting down you were much calmer. "I'm actually a specialist."

That didn't help.

"I'm able to trap others' abilities in this book." Chrollo gestured to his hand. "Then I can replicate them myself whenever I want. Nullification is just one that I've recently picked up."

Oh, how wonderfully overpowered.

"And yours?"

"Huh?" Chrollo's question turned you away from the endless possibilities you were imagining based on his explanation. "My what?"

"Your ability, will you explain it to me?" He asked.

"Oh."

Is that really the best idea?

It's not like any secret or weakness I have will give me an edge up if we fight. I'll die if that's what he wishes, learning about his insane power just reinstates that.

Still, if it's something he wants.

"I have a question first." You crossed your arms and sat down on the couch. The short distance from him was unsettling, but an equal playing field might be the best way to get the answer you wanted. "When I'm not of use to you anymore, what are you gonna do to me? Like my eyes. Are you gonna... ya know."

"Steal them?" He answered. "No. I think they look much better in you than whatever mason jar they'd end up in. As for your previous question, you're free to leave at any time. No harm will come to you from us as long as you're not the one to strike first. However, I doubt that'll happen."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You snapped.

"You just don't seem like type." His smile wasn't like the polite, detached ones you had previously been receiving. This one was odd, almost playful. "I also doubt you'll run out of use to me unless you decide it so. You're extremely capable, not to mention what I know so far about your abilities."

The warm feeling of being valuable, of being wanted, was much too nice to ignore. So, you told him. You told him about the basics of your emotional sensing and control, along with the powers that were linked to it, such as the reason why you were able to evade Pakunoda's interrogation. He just sat silently, listening to you until you were finished. And when you did, he looked up.

"Any weaknesses?"

You considered them before answering. "I'm not very strong and control doesn't last very long, especially when the subject is someone else who specializes in nen. And when it is, I usually have to let some sort of sound to keep myself in control and stabilized. Nothing big, just usually a hum or verbal commands, but again, that's just for the more powerful people."

He nodded. "Anything else?"

"Um," You hesitated. "I have this, this weird thing where, uh, people can feel what I'm feeling if I touch them. That's why I wear all my layers." You gave a nervous chuckle and raised your hand, which was still covered by the glove.

Chrollo hummed. You could see the gears in his head were turning. With what you weren't sure until he raised his own hand to you. "May I see?"

The breath going down your throat hitched. His outstretched palm remained in front of you, still against the untouchable glass that enclosed your domain, patiently waiting, anticipating what you were going to do next.

Biting back a sigh, you tentatively raised your arm, lightly prying at the tips of your gloved fingers before pulling it off fully and letting the black satin fall to your lap. You slowly connected your hand with his, ready for whatever sickly feeling would come over you.

But it never did. Nothing else had arisen besides the ever present poke of your own self-inflected guilt. However, the odd yet pleasant feel of human contact managed to overcome it. His hand was cold, slightly rough and larger than yours. Its owner gazed down, a thoughtful expression overcoming his face.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them before allowing a pleased grin to arrange itself upon his features. "There it is."

"What?" You inquired, confused by the look.

"I seem to have reached the point in nen mastery where my Ten and other defensive abilities are present at all times, even unconsciously. I can see what you're talking about, but I had to momentarily disable those shields to do it." He finished.

"Wow." That level of concentration was truly impressive. A foggy memory of him touching your face reeled through your mind. Did he really not experience any of your emotions then? "So you can feel it?"

"How nervous you are? Yes." That slight, playful smile was back.

Your eyes flit from his own back to your fingers. You released they were still touching and quickly withdrew, pretending to immerse yourself in the brightly colored fruit plate sitting on the table.

"That's for you, by the way." Chrollo offered, following your line of sight.

"Hm? Oh, I'm fine."

"It wasn't a request." He stood up. "I'm supposed to keep you alive, remember? I do believe it would be a failure on my end if you happened to kneel over from starvation during your stay."

You narrowed your eyes, but took an orange slice nonetheless. The mandarin was plump and juicy, exploding in your mouth as you pondered his words. "So, does that mean I'm still working for you?"

"If that's what you want."

"What would it mean? Like I said, I'm not gonna-"

"Kill anyone, yes, I remember." He said. "I'm just interested in using your abilities to their fullest potential. Besides, according to our deal I'm not really allowed to kill anyone unless you give me your permission."

That's right, he did say that. I'm not sure why. For someone like him that's a pretty hefty thing to promise. If I stay, I might even get to help people, especially if he honors our deal.

My situation isn't looking too bright either way.

"So?"

Fuck it.

XxXxX

The 'go with the flow' type attitude you had recently attempted to adopt was oddly freeing.

While the concept was depressing, without Kurapika there wasn't much left you wanted to live for. Nevertheless, that small detail also meant that death wasn't exactly something you needed to spend time worrying about. Your time would come at some point and you had accepted that. More so, you had accepted the notion that when your time did come, you'd leave this world alone, without anyone to miss.

This fraction of silver lining was rusty, but it was keeping you together and that's what mattered.

However, this laid-back frame of mind brought some unexpected results, especially to you. While you had grown less anxious in your everyday life, you would have never predicted you would become more used to the Phantom Troupe's leader in the process.

Chrollo Lucilfer was a man of many talents, one of them being the charming persona he effortlessly was able to assume. Yet, you knew better and had spent the last few years with him starring in your nightmares. Despite this, he was still extremely agreeable. At least, when he wasn't trying to kill you.

In the past forty-eight hours, he hadn't bothered you. On the contrary, he had supplied you with your own room during your stay and had done a wonderful job of respecting your boundaries, leaving you alone most of the time. Save for a few instances, of course. Sometimes he would open your door to ask you what you wanted to eat for dinner, making sure to knock every time. And when the two of you did interact, he was always well-mannered, almost friendly and you found yourself feeling less and less weary of his presence.

This fact not only flared the steaming pile of guilt within your stomach, but was also a small reminder of how incredibly naive you could be. Hence another benefit of God's-plan-I'll-die-when-I-die perspective. But the remorse was still ever present.

You, against probably everyone on the planet's better judgement, had agreed to continue working for the Phantom Troupe. A small part of you wanted to say you didn't know why. A bigger one found security in the fact that your staying limited the amount of people Chrollo was allowed to kill. That final piece, the one you hated the most, had other reasons hidden in the cracks.

You were wanted, needed. Even if it was by the group of people you hated most, that idea of being valued made your heart light. It filtered the large chunks of guilt through the hope of finally not being a burden. You knew if everything hadn't happened you would've refused without a second thought, but a part of you was broken, still left in fragments by the hammer of your friend's words. And the thing was, Chrollo had been there. He had seen you at your most vulnerable and offered a way out. That small, broken part of you hoped that because of this, the results of your rationality-neglected agreement wouldn't be that bad.

This did absolutely nothing to calm your apprehension in the slightest, especially as you neared the presently appointed Phantom Troupe hideout.

The last time you had been taken there, you happened to be totally unconscious. You had thought some sort of precaution would be used to make sure you didn't know exactly where it was, but nothing of the sort was enacted. The drive was moderately normal. You just sat and waited, nervously fiddling with your gloves to try and distract yourself from the anxiety regarding the impending situation.

Your temporary home and the city surrounding it melted away, transitioning into a terrain ruled only by nature. Being a few hours out, it was a wonder there were no human-made interruptions. Naturally, this also meant the area was a perfect place for those who wished to remain unseen.

The actual location looked like a regular mountain, but the inside was the recognizable, cavernous space that you remembered waking up in days ago. The only light source came from small cracks within the stone that allowed moonlight to bloom through. At least, until you noticed the small candles standing in the corners of the room like little white soldiers waiting to be lit.

Chrollo did. They burned against the cold stone, tiny suns captured within the essence of wick and wax. Their tiny flame flickered in his steel eyes for a moment before he turned around.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." You automatically answered, a meager attempt at saving face.

He may have seen through the facade, but said nothing. Instead, he remained under one of his own; calm and polite as usual. "Of course. My apologies."

You two were alone as of now, which made sense as he was their boss and therefore most likely expected to arrive first. This did help a bit with your anxiety, but you slipped away to an isolated corner anyhow, content with watching from afar. Maybe that would hinder the amount of scrutiny you received, at least a bit.

It didn't.

Pakunoda was the first one to arrive. You remembered the memory reader well. She walked into the center of the room, regarding you with no ill intent, rather of serenity and contemplation. A similar aura seemed to follow the woman wherever she went and made her one of the least panic-inducing members.

Next was Machi, which was true to form, at least with what you've learned about her so far. She respect for her leader and the Troupe itself was overwhelming and you guessed she'd be quite punctual for meetings. Her eyes followed you in a similar form as the blonde's.

More members began to trickle in, each giving you unwanted attention that you squirm internally. Thankfully, you were able to remain outwardly calm, leaning on a stalagmite with what you hoped was a passive expression. However, there was one gaze in particular that did surprise you.

I thought he left the Troupe?

The golden eyed clown and the one that followed, whom you had never seen before, were the last to arrive. While the rest of the group were looking up at their leader, his stare caught yours like a rat-trap. Whatever Chrollo was saying was buried under the discomfort of Hisoka's leer. His associate didn't help either.

The individual was about the same height, but that was where similarities ended. Long, glossy hair the shade of obsidian fell down his back, contrasting with the fair tone of his skin. Based on his physical makeup, you could discern that he was male, but the soft details of his face may have been confusing to some. These details did absolutely nothing to allude towards any sort of inner workings or thoughts. The worst part was his eyes. They were endless circles of pure ebony, reflecting everything but the life many possessed within this feature.

If eyes truly were the windows to the soul, then this man had none.

Although they were indeed a discomfort, there was a type of terrifying beauty that they brought as well. They were almost like the eyes of a doll, lifeless, but also pristine, with a mysterious quality about them. You could get lost in those eyes forever if you weren't careful, and you were making that mistake right now.

"And I'm sure you remember her as well."

You snapped away from the man's eyes to meet Chrollo's gaze. Clearly you hadn't been paying attention to what was happening, so you opted to remain quiet.

"Is she joining too?" That was Shizuku, the forgetful young woman with glasses.

He turned to face you, taking a moment to think before deciding on an answer. "No, not yet."

You held back scoff.

'Yet'

I'm not joining

Ever

This is different

I think

"However, she'll be working with us for the time being. I believe her abilities will be useful here."

Some of them were apprehensive, at least with what you could see regarding those who you could actually read. Despite this, no one said anything, the confidence in their leader overshadowing any traces of hesitance. They had no reason to worry, you weren't dumb enough to try anything. Still, the trust they held in Chrollo was something to be admired.

Having been spaced out in thought about Hisoka's new friend, the meeting seemed to be almost over. You would just have to hope that the details would be relayed once more later. With some final words, the Troupe split off into a few separate groups, those who hadn't volunteered or been selected for the mission leaving entirely. On the other hand, you stayed in your corner, reluctant on speaking to anyone.

Life sucks sometimes.

"Hey, you're the chain user's friend, yeah?"

It was the blond, lilac covered boy. His over-cheery demeanor hadn't dimmed since the last time you'd met. You, unfortunately, did not share the same attitude and stifled a grimace at the mention of Kurapika.

"You could say that."

"I'm Shalnark, in case you don't remember!" He beamed.

"Tone it down. You'll scare her off." A stern voice interjected. It belonged to Machi. The pink haired woman was sitting down on a rock, observing your conversation.

"She can handle it." He waved her off, turning back in your direction. "Your nen's kinda like Pakunoda's, right?"

"Uh, I mean, I think?"

"But I guess you took down Nobunaga pretty fast," Cue the irritated scoff a few feet away. "so I guess it's a bit more offensive."

"I don't..."

You subtly glanced over at Chrollo, hoping that something he would do could excuse you from the situation. Of course, you hated to rely on him, but you were still weary to exhibit any behavior that might be considered rude in front of these people.

"So maybe it's a bit more like mine. At least based on how he looked afterward and everything."

"It won't happen again." Nobunaga, who had apparently had enough, pushed the golden haired boy back. "And listen to Machi. If the boss says she's important, we can't have you being such a dumbass."

What?

The man must have taken notice of your confused expression based on the dramatic sigh and harsh eye roll he gave. "I know you didn't kill Uvo. Even if you did, if the boss says you're joining then I'm not gonna say anything against it. I respect your abilities, but I still don't like you."

"The feeling's mutual." You blurted without thinking. Immediately, you tensed in fear of what your anxiously induced mindlessness had produced.

Thankfully, he let out a deep, hearty chuckle. "Maybe you won't be terrible to work with. But like I said, you won't beat me again."

"Just stop being annoying, both of you." Machi stood up, walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Her grasp wasn't painful, but firm as she pulled you away from the small group. Her touch was surprising and still a bit scary to you. But, if you thought about it, you were probably the least uncomfortable with her. "You can ignore them. Men are idiots anyway."

She got to the middle of the room before releasing your arm and seeing herself out without another word. Still, you could feel the rest of your gaze falling over you for a split second before exiting the cavern. You wondered if it was purely out of inspection, or maybe something more. Your pondering was cut short when yet another member cleared their throat from behind you. This wasn't surprising. Being new was usually a cause of inspection, but that didn't lessen your dislike of being constantly tossed back and forth for a questioning.

It was the woman in purple, Pakunoda. Her expression was stern, which seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary for her, but she was less intimidating than most of the others. For reasons why, you weren't sure, but you were thankful nonetheless.

"I'm guessing you remember me?"

You nodded.

"Shalnark said your nen was similar to mine. Can I see?"

She reached out a hand and you immediately realized what she was asking. A memory reading would indeed be quicker than whatever explanation you could come up with. Giving away your information to once more so soon made you hesitant, but her straightforward way of asking was refreshing.

"I usually like to know who I'm working with. Unless you were actually telling the truth about the whole mind block thing."

"Yeah, sure."

Her touch was warm and gentle, as if she was expecting you to run away at the slightest prick of contact, like a doe dashing into the bush at a mere human glance. You didn't.

"Show me what you can do."

It only took a few moments and if you didn't know what powers she possessed, you would have simply thought her strange for pressing a hand onto your forehead. You weren't sure what she was able to see, but after a few moments she backed off, seeming to contemplate whatever vision your memories had provided.

"Shalnark was wrong."

"Hmm?"

"Your abilities aren't like mine. His second guess was more accurate. However, the boss, on the other hand, is right."

"What do you mean?"

Her face fell into a slight smile. "You'll do well here."

"Oh, uh, thanks."

She nodded in recognition then moved to begin her walk towards the exit. Before she made it too far though, she stopped without turning around, primed to give one final piece of advice.

"He was an asshole, you should've let him die. Don't like empathy get in the way of your best interests."

At first, you had no clue what she was talking about. You rifled through your memories, seeking through anything that would've connected to her last minute statement. That's when it hit you: your run in all those months ago. The one where you had nearly killed a man under the influence of your own nen-powered drug. Clearly her open ended question brought up more secrets than you would've thought, but it made sense.

She wanted to know about your abilities and the Switch was technically a part of that. You realized that she was the only other one who knew, having forgotten to mention it to Chrollo in your previous discussion. Of course, you had no intention of ever activating it again so, hopefully, it wouldn't be of any harm. You did however feel a bit infringed upon, betrayed by your own mind to reveal personal information. But maybe it was for the best, another reminder of how dangerous that aspect of your nen was, despite how hard you tried to forget.

And it was quite nice just to forget sometimes.

To your relief, her greeting, or whatever you would call it, was the last. Everyone else was either gone or disinterested in conversing.

"Ready?"

You swiveled to face Chrollo, giving a small nod. He returned the gesture before flicking his hand. Why, you weren't sure, until the candle-captured flames dissipated, plunging you into a moon-lit gloom. It was actually pretty cool, even if you refused to admit it.

The ride home was much less tense. Even though you knew a simple assembly would most likely be nothing compared to actual missions, you were still glad to get it out of the way. Meeting people was difficult. You were still quite nervous in the presence of these people and glad to have it done with.

It was silent, the good silent. The kind which allowed you to sit back and breathe instead of force you into wordlessly worrying about whatever task was in your path. It was the type where the imaginative reins were loosened, allowing you to travel to any galaxy you wanted, limited only by the boundless landscape of your own creativity. You did this for a while, mindlessly floating along with the car and not even noticing. At least until the ropes of your mind were forced to pull once more at the sound of your name.

You recognized Chrollo's voice, but didn't hear what was said before. You turned in his direction, waiting for him to continue or repeat whatever was missed. He did.

"Why did you agree to this?"

"Hmm?"

It took you a moment to register what he was asking, the windows to your mind still foggy. When you did, you gave yourself a few moments to ponder your answer before offering a response.

"As long as I'm, here you can't kill people. At least unless I say so, or something like that."

And that was true. Or at least, partly true. The fine print of your agreement had indeed played a role in your decision, a decision the you from a year ago would've positively flabbergasted at. However, there were some things that had happened in the last year that might've also been of influence, things you did not want to acknowledge, much less talk about with Chrollo Lucilfer of all people.

The man himself also seemed to notice that there were more details laying beneath your shallow reply, but he didn't say anything. You were glad he wasn't going to push for more details, but the quietness his lack of response left was not as nice as the one before.

"So, do I need anything for whatever we're doing?" You asked, wanting to fill the silence, but also hoping that he would somehow mention something about the mission itself. You had been horribly distracted during the initial debrief after all.

"No." dammit. "I did order you some clothes, seeing as most of your possessions were left behind."

Asshole clown.

Wait.

"You got me clothes?"

He nodded. "They should be at my apartment by the time we arrive. Of course, if you'd like to change living situations, I'll find some way to transport them and any other necessities."

"No, it's fine. Saves money and everything."

Your answer was much too quick to be believable and you mentally cringed. Living alone had never been enjoyable for you. It was much too quiet, too empty to feel comfortable. Moving around constantly as your previous lifestyle required made it tolerable, but seeing as you may have to stay in the same spot for a while, a roommate wouldn't be minded.

Not to mention, and you absolutely despised yourself for it, you had gotten used to the raven-haired man in the past few days. You'd definitely had worse living situations.

Stop that.

"Understood." His smile was a hint to how easily your bullshit could be seen through.

"How'd you know my size?"

He shrugged. "Lucky guess."

"And how much do I owe you?" You asked, internally frowning.

"Nothing."

Huh.

You didn't enjoy the idea of being in debt to him, but seeing as your monetary funds were currently at zero, you let it slide for the time being. You did need clothes anyway.

And for the next pressing issue.

"So..." You began. "Could you just, like, rerun what we're doing?"

A grin, small, but smug, grew on Chrollo's face at your question. "So, you weren't paying attention then."

"Yes, I was." No, no I was not. "I just wanna double check. For safety measures."

"It's fine. Although I'm quite jealous someone was able to steal your attention so easily. At such an important meeting no less."

The sarcasm was unexpected coming from him, but welcome. You rolled your eyes and waited for him to continue, thankful that you weren't in trouble for getting distracted.

"His name is Illumi." You quirked an eyebrow at the odd response. "The man you were looking at. He's a partner of Hisoka's and will be taking Uvogin's spot as number eleven at his request."

"Oh."

It was surprising someone as seemingly emotionless as Illumi was able to work with a theatrical individual like Hisoka Morow. Perhaps opposites do attract after all.

"As for the mission, I doubt there's anything you'll have to worry about. The rest of the troupe will not be present, but I'm sure we can handle it."

"Really? Any reason why?"

"I figured it would be odd to have anyone else there. Especially seeing as we'll be posing as a couple."

If you were drinking water, you would have spat it out and choked.

"We're what? I-I thought the Phantom Troupe was a gang of thieves. What are we gonna achieve with me pretending to be your girlfriend?"

"Wife, actually." He corrected. "Unless, of course, you can't handle it."

What do I do?

"That's not-"

Wait.

Is his asshole serious?

Alright, fine.

There was no damn way he was going to offer a challenge and not have it be met. If he actually thought you couldn't do it, then proving him wrong was going to be the first enjoyable activity you had partook in in a while. Besides, if you couldn't physically harm someone you disliked, seeing them eat their words could be just as gratifying.

Naturally, you disliked the idea, but you absolutely refused to be bested by Chrollo. The agreement would be the second one this week made with split-second debate, but you wouldn't regret it.

"Nope, I'll be perfectly fine." You retorted.

"Perfect." He replied, polite smile ever present, matched with something more lurking underneath. "I'm counting on it."

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Regrets

Chapter 7

Next Chapter

Index/Warnings

After the day you had, you were a bit worried about the nightmares that would follow. Fortunately, you were way too tired. Sleep was just long and dark, just the way a good sleep should be.

Unfortunately, good things don't last long.

The mattress you were on was thin and flimsy, allowing the jagged rock from beneath to poke out slightly. It was probably just in case of emergencies since you guessed the Troupe didn't actually sleep here like some demented murder-school dorm situation. The tiny knot of pain flared in your brain when you sat up, a match pushed against the stiff paper of your skull to ignite it.

You jumped a little when you noticed you weren't alone, which also didn't help the headache.

Chrollo was sitting in a chair with one hand propping up his face, the arm supported by the seats handle. His legs were crossed and he was leaning back in a comfortable position. He was reading a book.

"Good morning." He acknowledged without looking up.

Your eyes trailed around the room, searching for any sort of window to hint as to what time of day it was. When you didn't find one, you reluctantly turned back to him.

"How long was I out?"

"Fourteen hours."

Shit.

"What do you want?"

"I figured you had questions." He snapped the book shut and placed it on the ground before standing up. "Am I correct?"

Yes.

You left out an annoyed huff.

He chuckled a bit at that, but continued moving closer to you. Thankfully, he stopped at a respectable distance, seeing that you weren't keen on being all that close to him. He got lucky yesterday since you were too tired to care. When you realized he was waiting for you to continue the mainly one-sided conversation, you looked up and began with the most important issue.

"What do you want with me?"

"In short, we're looking for the chain user."

"I won't be of any help with finding him or anything." You retorted, hoping to keep the conversation swift.

"That's alright, we know where he is."

They've already found him?

"Or, at least we know where he'll be." Chrollo took your confused expression as an indicator to continue. "In two days, he'll be in a small town in the Roto mountains. I'm sure you know what he's doing."

Your expression darkened slightly. "Then what do you need me for? I'll die before being used as some homing beacon so you can get to my friend."

"After that little show you put on yesterday I don't doubt you would. However, that's not why you're here. I assume you've been filled in on the consequence's of the judgement chain inside me?"

You nodded. "And I assume you've managed to find an exorcist?"

"With everyone still lingering from the auction, we were able to find someone to defuse your friends power enough for me to reunite with my colleagues. However, it was only sufficient to allow me use of my own abilities for a limited time. This particular exorcist requires the original castor to exterminate more powerful abilities, meaning I'd need to get in contact with the chain user again."

So that's why.

"Although we've been able to trace him, your friend doesn't stay very long in the same place." He continued. "However, I trust that with you there, we'll have enough time to allow the exorcist the remove the remaining nen."

"So, you need me to lie and distract my friend for your personal ability renewal?"

"Precisely."

You scoffed, a bit dumbfound, and folded your arms. "So you get your powers back. Then what, you kill him? Why would I ever help you?"

"For starters, I'll make sure no one from the Troupe interferes with either of you again, unless of course, your friend does someone else radical and decides to strike first. "

Although you remained steady, shock fazed through your previously spiteful tone as you carried on with questions of your own. "So, we really wouldn't have to worry about any of you? Even after the judgement chain is released?"

"No harm will come to you from anyone in this hideout, I give you my word. And as long as you're working for me, then I will also be able to guarantee your personal protection."

His words confused you. When you inquired why you would ever want to comply, the expected answer was something along the lines of 'we won't kill you.' Of course, the Phantom Troupe's amnesty was an insane benefit, especially after Kurapika succeeded in killing one of their members, whether it had been directly or not. However, would this be worth whatever he needed of you?

"I'm not gonna kill anyone. Or have anyone get hurt because of me."

The look he gave you was odd; it was calculating, yet interested. He took a moment to ponder it before giving you a response.

"Fine. I'll add onto our clause. As long as you're taking my orders, I won't kill anyone, unless they pose an immediate threat or you give me your permission."

This time, surprise actually did overtake you to the point where composure faltered; you blinked back, running his words over in your head to make sure they were heard correctly.

Of course, they could be just that: words.

It was pretty obvious he was a talented liar that hid behind the mask of a charming persona, but something told you that it wasn't a deception.

'I give you my word.'

Did you trust him? No, obviously not. However, something was off.

You still couldn't read his emotions at all, but your abilities weren't what were pushing you. This time, it was just plain intuition, nagging at you like a small child to make a bad decision. And it was probably a bad decision, an immensely stupid decision.

But you've made a lot of stupid decisions already.

"Alright, fine. Deal."

XxXxX

The next day and a half were tense.

A few of the Troupe members rotated the watch over you in order to prevent any attempts of escape. The act wasn't a surprise, but still unpleasant. You were already uncomfortable with them and having their eyes on you made it that much more awful, forcing a constant exhale of control over your own emotions. Some would try to make conversation or just plain snide remarks, but you didn't give them the time of day, refusing to even look in the direction of any of them.

Although you hated to say that you had one at all, your favorite member as of now was Machi, who didn't attempt to bother you very much. Instead, she would sit, gracefully balancing that iridescent silk between slim fingers. Neither of you were stupid and both knew she was quicker and much stronger than you, at least to the point where she could capture you without much fuss. So she kept her eyes on her hatsu, which was a refreshing change from the undignified feeling of being constantly babysat. Some might've even described it as a comfortable silence between the both of you.

It definitely wasn't friendliness, but rather a mutual agreement of respect between the two of you; you wouldn't try to run and she wouldn't bother herself with antagonizing you.

She was actually the one watching you when Franklin knocked on the door, letting you know that it was time to leave for the Roto Mountains. They were only a little over two hours away, so you went by car. Unfortunately, that also meant two hours in the car with the man you had come to know as Chrollo.

If you thought being constantly monitored within the hideout was bad, which you did, this was so much worse.

Troublesome emotions permeated the air like a poisonous gas, suffocating and heavy, much too overpowering for the confines of the vehicle.

His charming yet detached semblance made you squirm. It made it even harder that you couldn't begin to understand what lied beneath it. Knowing what others were thinking was like a safety net that allowed you to feel in control, or at least provided a heads up for when it was time to run. He had yet to seem hostile to you, but that made the apprehensive state of being in the dark more daunting.

On most long car rides, you took to the usual practice of napping, but you just couldn't with him.

Ignore, yes. Fully letting your guard down for an unprecedented amount of time? No way.

Instead, you did your best to disregard him, just focusing on the trailing foliage outside your window and letting your mind wander as far as it could without becoming overly careless. Still, you could never seem to escape the unnerving feeling of being so close to the Troupe's leader.

Thankfully, you at least had the barrior of a chair, with him being in the passenger and Nobunaga driving, yet another form of mental turmoil within the automobile. On the other hand, you sat next to the nen exorcist, a young man that went by the name of Abengane.

After what seemed like much longer than two hours, the small group finally managed to pull into a parking lot.

You surveyed the location, raising a tentative eyebrow. "A bar?"

"The chain user is giving payment to the man who tipped him off on the Kurta eyes location."

Your neck swiveled in the direction of the man in front of you, heart breaking just a bit at the unbothered way he mentioned the stolen body parts of your fallen kin. Of course, it was always easier to hide behind anger, so you answered with a curt,

"Fuck you."

And with that, you stepped outside of the car and made your way to the pub, slamming the door on your way out.

'The chain user is giving payment to the man who tipped him off on the Kurta eyes location.'

Yeah, I wonder why the fuck he had to do that in the first place.

Whatever, just get this over with.

An intense aroma of liquor and cigar smoke was the first thing that you noticed as you entered the bar, which now seemed more like a modern day speakeasy. Your nose unconsciously wrinkled at the fragrant assault. The room was dark and cold, despite the warmth of the many bodies inhabiting it or the fire blazing in the far corner. Although it certainly was loud, there was one voice you could make out over anyone else's.

"What are you doing here?"

XxXxX

You hadn't really been fond on letting Kurapika go after violently tackling him with an embrace. Of course, he had been momentarily stunned, and a bit apprehensive at the prospect of a possible assault, but after a few seconds he flung his arms around your back. Even though you weren't really known for hugs, it honestly seemed like the only thing you could do at the moment, and you allowed yourself to stay like this for a small while. Of course, Kurapika wasn't a very physical person in general either, so the fact that he himself indulged in it spoke to how much he missed you.

Now, however, you were both behind the bar, perched on a wooden picnic table Kurapika had led you too. The air was so much fresher than inside, giving you the chance to breath before jumping into dreaded conversation.

As you looked at the man in front of you, the pangs of ache and guilt were increasingly evident within his emotional aura, like little flecks of sorrow among the usual sheet of indifference. You weren't exactly keen on starting the discussion, but it was plainly obvious your friend was in the same boat.

"Why did you leave?"

He kept his head down, hands gripping one another a bit too harshly.

"Hey." You snuck a gloved palm over, entwining your fingers with his. "I'm not mad. I just... I just wanna know what I did."

"You didn't do anything. You've never done anything wrong." His eyes remained downward. "I just can't let you die."

"So, you left without telling me?"

"I didn't want to, but after everything with the Phantom Troupe... We have targets painted on our backs now, even with their leader out of commission."

"I'm sorry."

Regret swarmed through your body. Your leg began to bounce up and down like a jumping bean.

"It's not your fault. If you and Gon hadn't stepped in back then, I could be dead right now."

He's lying, just trying to make you feel better.

"No, not just for..." You let out a huff of frustration, not knowing what to say, or at least, whether to say it. Thankfully, he did.

"How did you even find me?"

"I heard about the movement of Kurta eyes a few cities away from here and managed to connect it to where you would come next." It was shameful how easily the lie slipped past your lips, but you still tried hard to make it believable. Despite your natural talent at improvising, Kurapika was always good at telling your fibs. "I'd been looking for a while."

He gave a lighthearted hum. "You never were very good at giving up, even when I was being foolish."

"Which is pretty often." You replied, happy that your prepared script was flowing into a more cheerful territory. "But you're still my best friend. I don't... I can't just sit and wonder if you're dead. And I know I'm not strong or smart or anything, but I want to help you, even if that means from the sidelines."

The offer made Kurapika him look up. But as you watched his hopeful expression pale into one of dread, it wasn't hard to understand something was wrong.

"What?" Then it hit you. "Shit!"

You had been so invested in the heartfelt conversation that you had somehow managed to ignore the tingly warmth of your eyes turning bright red.

Jolting upward, you smashed your hands against your face in a meager attempt to hide the abnormality. When they changed the usual feeling was that of fear, fear of any outsider noticing and somehow making a connection. Now, the only one you were worried about shared the same peculiar feature.

Said individual harshly grabbed your wrists before you could trip yourself over the bench. "Just try and calm down quickly. Did you forget to put in contacts today? Have you forgotten before?"

"No, I-I was-" forced to take them out by our worst enemy who I'm apparently in cahoots with. "Fuck!"

You had created the grand plan of giving however much time the exorcist needed and then hightailing it as far away from here as possible, but that was thrown out the window because of one stupid mistake and your uncontrollable emotions.

Fucking idiot.

He's gonna find out. He already knows something's up; maybe if you're honest it'll soften the blow.

I can't.

I need to think.

"Hey, stop."

What do I do?

Just calm down.

But you couldn't. Your hands were stilled by his, but at this point you couldn't stop panicking, anxiety you hadn't felt since his leave over half a year ago growing worse with every moment spent trying to decide what to say next.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"What's going on?"

Mouth watering with verbal nausea, your brain cut to the nearest option.

"'Made a deal."

"A deal? Wait, with who?"

Guilty conscious is a self-accuser.

"Phantom Troupe."

He went silent, a cold and dark quiet that made your insides hollow as you waited for a response.

"You... you what?"

You can't stop now.

"They kidnapped me and said that they needed you to try and fix the nen dagger."

His hands dropped from yours and he backed away. "You're serious?"

You watched in despair as his expression turned sour, your heart becoming heavy as you realized how grave of a mistake you had let out into the open. The already-present panic began to grow bigger as remorse and worry hit you like a train. "They said... they said that they would leave us alone. And that they wouldn't kill anyone as long as I-"

"And you believed them?!" Shame washed over you, lowering your head as he scoffed.

"I... I know it sounds bad, but I just knew I could."

"How could you be so stupid?"

You tried advancing forward, but he backed away in disgust, like you were some contagious disease. Coherent thoughts transformed into slurred phrases as your downward slope of hysteria continued.

"I thought... I thought maybe we wouldn't have to worry anymore."

"What would Pairo think? And your mom? Huh?"

That was the breaking point.

Your heart shattered into pieces, carved out by the blade of his words. The dam cracks and tears begin to flow down your face when you look up at him. No matter how hard you tried to plug it back up, it just won't stop.

"No, no, no, Kurapika, please don't say that." You cried.

"Well, it's true! Isn't it?" He grabbed your wrist in an iron-clad grip. "They're dead because of the Phantom Troupe and you go off and make deals with them? Are you really that callous or just a fucking idiot?"

You tried to wriggle out of his painful clasp, but he held firm, eyes blazing so hard beneath his contacts that you thought they might melt away.

"This isn't her fault, you know."

Kurapika didn't turn around to meet Chrollo's eyes, but his grip somehow grew impossibly stronger. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I have no reason to lie. We did kidnap her and I have no intent on forgoing our deal."

His expression remained unchanged, either still in disbelief or at the point where the words didn't make a difference.

"Kurapika, p-please! I'm s-so sor-"

"I'll find you again someday." He grunted, ignoring you. "And when I do, I'll make sure to slit each of your throats individually."

He finally dropped your wrist, turning around to leave. You made a move to grab onto him and make him stop, but he slapped your arm away without enough force to make you stumble and fall onto the floor.

"Don't touch me."

"Kurapika-"

"As far as I'm concerned, you're one of them now."

You tried pleading with him to come back, to not leave you again, but he didn't hesitate, leaving you to sob on the concrete flooring of the patio. The pavement scraped against your hands as you drew them into fists.

He's not coming back

He hates you

The world melted away through a veil of unseen voices as you drowned in turmoil, letting out a cry of what one could only describe as pure despair.

And here you are, blubbering like an idiot

You're nothing but a pathetic bitch

it's no wonder he doesn't want you anymore

Who in the world would?

Your head was beginning to hurt as you continued to weep, but it was nothing compared to the agonizing pain in your chest. Breathing became almost impossible, just becoming wet heaves between sobs that were enough to drown out the light footsteps coming closer.

They stopped right in front of you, causing you to glance up and see Chrollo. His tall stature was enough to block out the sun, casting a dark shadow over you that made you grimace.

"Fuck. Off." You spat.

But he merely tilted his head, like an animal wordlessly expressing their confusion, then knelt down, taking away the shade with him. The sun pierced through your still-crimson eyes and you glanced away, already missing his cool shadow and cursing yourself for it.

"What do you want?"

"Would you like me to wait in the car instead?"

You stilled at his words for a moment.

"What?"

"Do you expect us to leave you here?"

This made you look up, surprised, only to be met with his outstretched hand. The scene from a few nights ago, one where physical exhaustion weighed you down rather than emotional, replayed in your head. You were certain this was worse, though.

Regardless, he still held his palm out expectantly, every broken part of you begging to take it, to take some form of comfort in any shape.

"I don't need your pity."

"I wasn't offering it." But his stance remained firm.

You eyed his hand, looking for any sign of a trick, even though you weren't really sure you would care if that was the case. He gave you the time, waiting patiently for you to push him away. But some part of you just couldn't, at least, not now.

Where else do I have to go?

So, you stood up, fueled only by the hopeless weight flaming in your stomach. You ignored his hand, but followed back to the car nonetheless, not giving much attention to whether the decision would end up with you dead.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

I am Moatasem Ahmed from the Gaza Strip, the area that was destroyed by the last war and in which I lost members of my family. We appeal to sympathetic individuals and institutions around the world to extend a helping hand. Your contributions will not only help us in restoring our homes but also in restoring our livelihoods, which is embodied in rebuilding our home. Please enter and participate in my page 🌹🇵🇸🇵🇸😭😭😭

https://www.gofundme.com/f/gaza-familys-journey-to-hope?modal=share&source=fundraiser+story

Finally getting to my requests and decided to share this! I should be getting back to writing a few things after my finals week ends on the 13th! Thank you all for your patience im so sorry 😭 school has been kicking my ass but I can’t wait to write again as soon as Christmas break hits!

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Also I’m gonna get to my requests I swear I just lowkey bombed one of my tests and need to study 😭😭

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Lowkey want to come back from my writing coma to do Bill Cipher x Reader shenanigans (I don’t have a thing for triangles yall just fucked up power dynamics between manipulative deities and their human pets) please send requests 🫶😔

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Hey guys!! Sorry I’ve been MiA the past few weeks college has just been taking me OUTTTT

For everyone who’s sent in requests I will get those done as soon as possible!! I really enjoy getting them and hearing your ideas so keep em coming 🫶🫶

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Hi! I thoroughly enjoyed reading 30% Off and love your writing! I was hoping if we could please get a part 2 to it with some tension and teasing between hawks and reader + possible smut and fluff? Only if you’re comfortable writing this though!

Hope you have a great week ^_^

Hi!! I’m currently in the process of starting this is just taking FOREVER since my brain can’t seem to come up with anything interesting but it’ll get done eventually!! Thank you for your patience 😭 🫶

Also thank you so much!!!

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Honest?

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Summary: Lying always seemed to be the best way to navigate your attraction to Dabi. This definitely didn’t aid you after getting hit with a truth quirk

Warnings: slight smut/mentions of smut; a tiny bit of blood at the start; language; teasing;

Word Count: 2k

Your foot slid across the pavement, damp concrete aiding your narrow escape from your opponent's axe.

The weapon slammed into the wall behind you, making a small dent in the stone that had been a few centimeters behind your head moments before.

Glancing up, you watched them grasping the hatchet, the heel stuck within the wreckage. The struggle gave you a chance to sweep your leg under theirs, bringing them to their knees as you jumped up.

However, the force of their weight effectively pried the axe from the wall, it’s edge cutting through the fabric of your shirt and piercing the skin underneath.

“Shit!” You groaned, watching red bloom through the cloth, dripping past your elbow and onto the chest of your fallen combatant.

A bang sounded off from your left and your spun on your heels, watching Twice incapacitate some enemy that had sticks of dynamite for hair.

Maybe the quirkless didn’t actually turn out to be the least fortunate group that society made them out to be.

The distraction was just enough for you to almost miss the haywire explosive shooting straight for another one of your comrades.

“Toga!” Your shout echoed through the alleyway, making the blonde turn her head in question, giving her just enough time to sidestep away from the projectile. She giggled, turning back around to stab her own opponent in the shoulder. He let out a cry of pain as she waved in appreciation for your warning.

Fear shot through your chest as a hand slithered around your ankle, a final attempt to overcome you that was easily squandered with a kick to the nose.

Still, the sensation of your opponent's skin against yours left an icky feeling that trickled up your spine, almost like the area below your knee was tingling with infection. You tried to ignore it, glancing up in relief to see the rest of your team similarly victorious in this fight.

A rigid breath left your lungs, beating heart still hammering away.

The stroke of adrenaline slowly drained from your limbs, leaving a comfortably sound mind that pushed you to remember the scratch just above your elbow.

“Ouch! What happened?” You looked up, quickly shielding your bloodied limb from Toga's view. Her tone seemed falsely sincere, but it greatly clashed against the carnal excitement gleaming in those golden irises.

I’m fine.

“My arm got cut and my ankle feels kinda gross."

You blinked.

That wasn't what you wanted to say.

While this was hardly the worst injury that you had gotten over your time working with the League of Villains, you were never exactly one mention any of your personal problems regardless.

It was just easier to patch yourself up unaccompanied, not to mention your underlying anxiety regarding making yourself seem weak in front of your cohorts.

Of course, most of them weren’t the type to notice, with the minor exception of-

"What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dabi, despite his usually disinterested nature, was quite the perceptive individual.

Actually, it probably would've taken someone with the observation skills of an ice cube to not notice the confusion overtaking your expression.

Nothing, I’m fine.

The lie got caught in your throat, an unwanted truth quickly taking its place and pounding against your vocal cords. “I can’t stop talking."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"I can't stop talking. My mouth isn't doing what my brain is telling is to," you sputtered.

Now you were starting to panic, mind racing in sync to the pounding of the muscle in your chest.

Dabi, however, took a moment to ponder your words before striding over to your previous combatant. He nudged their crumpled form with the toe of his boot, getting nothing but a fractured groan in response.

Sighing, almost like the lack of answers pertaining to your well-being was of common inconvenience, he moved back to you, cerulean irises boring into yours. "What are you scared of?"

The words were almost immediate. "Abandonment and letting people down. But clowns are also pretty-"

Eyes widening, you slapped a palm over your mouth, an amused grin overtaking his. "Truth quirk. You'll probably be fine in a few days."

You exhaled in relief.

Honesty quirks were annoying, sure, but you weren't going to die and your brain wasn't going to melt or anything like that.

Wait...

"Days?" You jogged to catch up with him, Toga and Twice following closely behind.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Hiding something?"

No.

"Yes."

Fuck.

He clicked his tongue, feigned hurt lacing his tone. "Ouch, and here I thought that we were friends."

You were.

Kind of.

At least, in the way that villains could be friends.

He would bug you with teasing comments that border lined flirting on several occasions. In response, you would ignore him, sending a comparable quip back in his direction when you felt like it.

But for the most part, you tried to keep your distance.

Despite your current ally-ship, you would've been stupid not to recognize how dangerous he was.

The fact that you had found yourself vastly attracted to the man for quite some time definitely didn't help.

It was safe to say that you spent the rest of the walk back with your hands over your mouth.

While Dabi had become uncharacteristically quiet, much to your growing concern, your other companions had only seemed to become more talkative.

"Who's your favorite person in the league? It's me, right? It's pretty obvious." A strangled cry came from Twice's direction. "Why do you hate me?"

Toga tugged on the cuff of your jacket. "When we first met and I asked if we could be best friends and you said yes, was that just because I was covered in blood or did you mean it?”

All of those answers were muffled beneath your palms.

It seemed like an eternity before the league's hideout finally came into view.

But just as you were ready to slip past the door and book it upstairs, somebody grabbed your elbow, pulling you towards the bar.

"Come on."

Almost having to jog to keep up with his long stride, you looked up at Dabi in surprise. "Where are we going?"

"To make sure that arm doesn't get infected."

You stopped in your tracks, heels skidding against the worn floor panels as you tried to yank your wrist out of his grip.

Of course, he was stronger than you, annoyingly so, but stronger nonetheless.

He dragged you to a bar stool, forcing you into the seat by your shoulders with a scoff. You watched him trudge behind the counter towards the smart cabinet of medical supplies the League kept around before emerging with a small container of rubbing alcohol and some bandages.

“I’m…” I’m fine, it’s not that big of a deal, is what you wanted to say, but the words stuck to your tongue like peanut butter. You took a minute, attempting to find a happy medium between what you wanted and what was the truth. “I can take care of it.”

You reached for the bottle, fingers grazing the glass as he yanked it out of your grip, completely ignoring your statement. With his free hand, he grabbed your wrist once more with a quick roll of his eyes.

Even as you tried to squirm away, he let a steady stream of the liquid fall onto your arm. He looked almost bored doing so, eyes only flicking up as you hissed through your teeth at the burn.

Dabi let out a mockingly kind pout. "Oh, I'm sorry, princess. Did that hurt?"

Your answer, an undoubted 'yes', was muffled beneath a palm, the action making him grin as he picked up the gauze.

“I can finish.” You muttered quickly, almost like if you spoke less, you may be spared from saying something embarrassing. “Thanks.”

Surprisingly, he relented, but not without another eye roll, and let you fidget with the bandages.

"So quick to get rid of me, doll? Won't you miss this pretty face?" Dabi let out a humorless chuckle before moving to put the bottle back.

The comment was just for show. He was one of the cockiest individuals you’d ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on. He was arrogant and awfully flirtatious when it came to you, but it wasn’t very difficult for anyone who looked hard enough to understand that he was internally pessimistic concerning his own appearance.

Those scars littering his skin were clearly a sore spot for him, although he didn’t seem to give a damn about giving anyone who would make a snide comment the satisfaction of a reaction.

Usually, they would just end up as a pile of ash.

Of course, his own secretly insecure views made it quite easy for you to keep up the image of your general dislike of the individual.

Which made it all the more terrible when you immediately responded with-

"Yes."

If it was anatomically possible, you could’ve sworn your stomach turned inside out as you watched him freeze, cerulean eyes lighting up as he slowly turned around to face you.

"Excuse me?"

"I said that I'd miss your pretty face."

He blinked. “You think my face is pretty?"

Run me over

"Yes."

with a freight train

The horrid grin crawling over his features made you queasy.

You leapt off the chair, shoes slipping on the wooden floor as you dashed to the stairs, the sting of embarrassment nipping at your heels.

But he was quicker.

Dabi's hand slipped around yours, yanking your body back and pushing it against the wall. "And where are you going?"

Almost instinctively, your arm shot upward, your palm aching to cover your mouth. The attempt was one that was easily squandered, his fingers wrapping around your wrist and tugging it upward before grasping both of your hands between one of his own. "My room."

"Why?" The smirk gracing his lips seemed to combat with the tension blazing in his eyes, quiet anxiety brewing for your answer, the one you would be forced to give.

"Because I like you and don't want you to know."

The silence that followed made you want to vomit, eyes burning with tears that you willed not to fall.

And then he was kissing you.

Fingers strewn through your hair, he pressed his mouth against yours, swallowing the gasp that followed his actions.

Your eyes flit to a close as you let Dabi take you, his hands slipping from yours to snake around your waist and push your hips together. Warmth sparks between your legs as his touch dipped dangerously beneath your pelvis.

A groan was forced passed your lips as he gave your left thigh a squeeze, smirking as he pulled away, palm still cradling your chin. "If you told me, we could've done this a lot sooner, ya know."

"Bullshit," You scoffed. "If you didn't feel the same, you would've been an asshole. You're always an asshole, actually."

Leaning forward, his breath tickled the side of your neck. You felt him grin, teeth nipping at the top of your ear. "Maybe, but I don't seem to have any issues turning you on. Isn't that right?"

"Yes." You looked down with a huff, shuffling your feet. "Whatever..."

He intertwined his fingers with your own. "Oh, come on, doll. No need to be embarrassed." With a small tug, he dragged you towards the hallway, barely missing the blue haired individual holding a glass of whiskey walking past.

Shigaraki raised his cup. "Where the hell are you two going?"

Dabi glanced down at you, a smile gracing his lips. "I don't know, princess. Where do you think we’re going?"

You were smart enough to know, but you sure as hell didn't want to say it.

Unfortunately, the man standing next to you didn't seem to care in the slightest.

"To fuck, probably."

The sound of your fearless leader choking followed you both up the stairs, your curses of annoyance bouncing off the decrepit walls and into his room, the door slamming shut with a bang.