Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

First and foremost: these fics all have sfw tickling in them, if you don’t like it you can just leave byebye

I'm writing these mostly just to entertain myself and improve my writing skills, but i thought i’d post because. Why not LOL

sighing because the forsaken fandom is small, and the sfw tkl community is even smaller :( i must feed the people

anyways yeah this is just forsaken tickle fics. all completely sfw, some will be left up to interpretation on whether they are romantic or not (excluding the children) but i'm just testing the waters with tkl fics rn

I didn’t put it in the title but uh.. you can request if you want, if i like it i might do it. don’t be afraid tho i don’t bite. i crosspost on tumblr @overbaked-tkls if you wanna send requests there instead

here are some of my headcannons to make these more clear (currently):

winged/avian shedletsky

she/they 1x

✨the collection✨(so far)

Ler!builderman, lee!shedletsky

Ler!1x1, lee!c00lkidd, lee!bluudud

Ler!guest1337, lee!elliot

Ler!johndoe, lee!1x

Ler!elliot, lee!chance

Ler!guest1337, lee!jason

Ler!builderman, lee!taph

Ler!007n7, lee!guest1337

Ler!iTrapped, lee!chance

Chapter Text

Shedletsky was a few things. Funny. Bold, sometimes others would describe him as too bold . Or foolish, maybe. But definitely not unobservant. He had quick reaction time, something that was a huge aid in his chases. And he could see in the distance when a killer was approaching. But now, his perception made it obvious he was being looked at. Well… maybe not directly at him.

Builder’s eyes hadn’t really made contact with his, rather they were often off to the side, staring right behind him. Unmistakably at his wings, but Shedletsky couldn't see that. Occasionally, the look of concern would flash over the architect's face, before he came back to whatever conversation was going on in the cabin.

Shedletsky tolerated it for about half an hour. Maybe there was just something in his hair– he had tried a few times to dust off whatever imaginary particle was on him, or readjust his position like it would fix the problem. He even tried moving around the room, to see if Builderman was just staring at something behind him. But no, his eyes followed wherever he went. Eventually, it became obvious it wasn’t something temporary, it needed resolving. Did he really have to do this type of thing right now?  

He loudly cleared his throat, and many of the survivors in the room stared at him, before going back to what they were doing. Builderman was a bit slower in doing so, and in the moment he was still looking at Shedletsky, the winged man gave him a look, before gesturing with his head out the door. Builderman got up surprisingly quickly– faster than Shedletsky did. Almost like he was eager, but more in a concerned way.

Once they were outside and the door slowly clicked shut behind them. Shedletsky thought about how the hinges were surprisingly smooth for a cabin that could have been hundreds of years old, given its interior looks. Or maybe Builder had taken it upon himself to fix the doors up…

“Shed?” The person right in front of him questioned, tilting his head.

Oh, right. This. Wait, shouldn’t Builder be doing the talking? He was the one staring, after all…

“SoOoo…” Shedletsky rocked back and forth on his foot. “Am I just that admirable, or is there a more specific reason you’re staring at me? Or… whatever you were looking at in my general direction..”

Builder looked away for a few seconds, his face a mix of slight embarrassment and concern, before his eyes snapped back to Shedletsky’s with intention. His hesitation was always so minimal. 

“Couldn’ help but notice those feathers of yers’, uh… well.”

Builderman didn’t even need to finish the sentence, the tone gave his message away the second he mentioned feathers. Shedletsky almost scoffed. He wanted to feel offended, but he couldn’t bring himself to. 

“They’re not that bad, I’m sure.” When he originally said it, he did mean it. But when he thought about it, toning into the feeling of his additional appendages.. Dry. Somewhat itchy, almost. Uncomfortable.

Builder only crossed his arms. “I would show ya, but Chance is the only one around ere’ with a mirror.”

Shedletsky only waved him off in response. “Whatever. What’s your point, anyway? I take… enough care of them.” Of course, he knew what the point was, but something in him wanted to delay it. Even after knowing Builder for years, he still became distant when it came to something so.. Personal, that he needed help with.

“Doubt it” The hard hat bearing individual replied back, calmly.

Silence.

“You’re not preening them.”

“ Shedletsky .”

. . .

“I can’t believe you made me agree to this.”

The swordfighter had made various complaints to the person behind him as his wings were tended to, ranging from pitiful to just straight up rude. Of course, Builderman didn’t take any of them seriously, nor give the avian the satisfaction of an annoyed response. It would have been almost amusing to him, if it weren’t for the state of his friend’s wings.

Eventually, Shed quieted down, taking in his surroundings. It was about as comfortable as he expected a rickety wooden floor to be, but Builder made it work with some blankets and a pillow or two. He had to admit, it was thoughtful. Builderman’s cabin was always so quiet , like the wind stopped whistling and the soft, but audible noise of the water lapping the shore ceased. It was nice for sure, but that silence was awkward when left unfilled. Fidgeting with his hands, he tried to fill the gap with his voice.

“You know, you didn’t have to… uh. Do this, and all.” Heights . That came out so much less confident than he intended.

By then, Builderman had finished the primary feathers on the outer edge of each wing, and now he was just smoothing them over.

“S’ alright.” His response was short, Shedletsky felt him resume running his fingers through his wings directly after. The avian couldn’t tell why. Maybe he was just focused.

Then there was silence again. The only thing Shed could hear was the occasional shift behind him, and the soft rhythm of breathing from both of them.

The same rhythm that fell out of time, skipping a beat as Shedletsky’s breath hitched in his throat. His posture, which had previously been a relaxed lean, had tightened. His shoulders went slightly back. There was an instant hum of concern behind him.

“Somethin’ wrong?” The architect questioned, stopping for a moment.

“No.” A hurried assurance.

One of Builder’s hands had run down his wing, on one of the more inner groups of feathers. He had forgotten how sensitive his secondaries were. Shit… probably should have thought about that beforehand. Well, not like he had a choice in this anyway. Builder had taken this up without asking. It’s fine. Fine. He can just ignore it.

Well, that’s what he thought at first. After a few minutes, he found it a little harder to focus on anything other than the sensation of hands going through his wings. It was repetitive– he couldn’t tell if that made it easier to deal with or worse. Nonetheless, his tightened, deathly quiet act slowly but surely turned into small huffs and the occasional jolt. And over and over again, he tried to recollect himself. He was not about to fall apart in front of Builderman over this . 

Eventually, the now somewhat annoyed person behind him had to say something. The sudden twitches were making Builder lose his place and his patience . Now, he’d have to redo preening certain parts of the wing.
“ Shedletsky …”

Oh come on, that was the second time today Builder had said his name like that. He was going to respond, when something that had formed at the bottom of his throat almost escaped, trying to pry its way out of his mouth. Despite the swordfighter’s lack of response, Builderman continued.

“What’s with all the squirmin’? You tryin’ to make this difficult? You know this is gonna take longer if you keep jolting like that.”

“Sohorry-” Shedletsky’s voice raised halfway through the sentence, feeling Builderman’s hand running over the boundary right in between his secondary and scapular feathers. He coughed, making a terrible attempt at covering up the unmistakably giggly apology that left his mouth, while raising a hand to his face to hide the expression that had spread across it. He could see one of the two shadows cast across the floor move. 

Hearing the obvious laugh in the avian’s voice, Builderman had changed his position slightly so he could see the side of his friend’s face. Despite the hand over Shed’s mouth, he could still see the slight mirth in his eyes, which had conveniently moved to the opposite side of the room, looking at the wall like it was a work of art. Like Shedletsky, Builderman was also very observant. So it didn’t really take long to put two and two together.

A small, amused smile played itself on Builder’s face. Testing the waters, he reached back over to Shedletsky’s wings, gently dragging a hand down the inner feathers that were closest to his shoulder blades– of course, making sure to follow the natural path down the wing.

It got exactly the response he expected. A choked giggle, barely muffled. Builderman sighed, taking off his hard hat and setting it a bit off to the side, so it wouldn’t be kicked later. Without saying a single thing, Builderman returned behind Shedletsky. Sure, he could entertain this for a bit.

Safe to say, it was killing the swordfighter. All of it. Whether it be the fact the architect didn’t say a single thing, or the now definitely intentional raking of fingers down his wings– it dissolved his previous attempts to hide how much this affected him. He supposed there wasn’t even any point anymore, given Builder had obviously already caught on, so he removed his hand from his mouth, loudly complaining as giggles spilled out of his mouth.

“Buildeher-!” Shedletsky’s hand reached back in some attempt to remove the offending hands on his wings, but was only met by an increase of pace and a quick response.

“ What ? I’m just preenin’ you, it’s not that big of’a deal. No needta shout…” To add to the ridiculousness of his denial of the situation, he continued to scold Shedletsky for moving and making things difficult.

“IhIHIT TIHICKLES–” He finally admitted it, but at that point it fell on deaf ears. Builder didn’t even try to hide an amused chuckle. He kept one hand on Shedletsky’s shoulder to somewhat minimize the squirming, and the other to continue gliding through the poor man’s feathers. “Does it now…”

“YEHEHEHES!”

“Didn’t realize.”

“YOHOU LIAHAR-”

Shedletsky’s accusation was quickly punished by a quick skitter down the very inner part of his wing. It seemed the closer to his shoulder blades, the more sensitive it was. The action earned a snort, which was quickly followed up by a squeal, and then more dorky laughter– meanwhile, his entire back jolted again. Shedletsky tried to turn around to escape the feeling, but no matter where he went, Builderman just followed. Eventually, he stopped writhing and just gave in. It wasn’t that bad, anyway. Despite the sensations being torturous, they were very gentle. Shed liked that about Builder. He always did things with intention, and not with more or less energy than needed. Clearly didn’t stop him from being evil though. He continued the onslaught for what felt like at least ten minutes… which in reality was really only one.

“Oh! Looks like ‘m done ere’.” 

Shedletsky freed himself from the ‘evil’ hands as soon as they released their grip, practically flopping on the ground with his face down. Of course Builder had finished preening his wings while actively wrecking him . Classic.

“ Heights , I hate you.”

“Wow, not even a thanks?” 

Shedletsky sighed, as soon as he caught his breath. He knew Builderman was being sarcastic, but still. A favor is a favor, even if he didn’t ask for it. And even if the person helping him decided to wreck him halfway through. “... Thank you, Builds. It.. helps a lot.”

“... How’d you even do that so fast, anyway?”

Builderman didn’t expect the gratitude, if he was being honest. The amused smile on his face softened into something more genuine.

“No problem. Guess that was just the most ‘ effective ’ method. Now ehh… let’s get back to the cabin. Elliot ‘ll be pissed if we miss dinner again.” He put out a hand for Shedletsky, who promptly pushed it away and stood up himself.

Chapter Text

A frustrated growl echoed about the living room of the dull cabin, before falling flat with a soft huff– undoubtedly from the green powerhouse of a killer, who had been searching around nonstop for her domino crown for the last half hour. On top of that, she also clearly refused to ask for help finding it, only becoming more agitated the longer the search went on. John Doe, who was simply idling on the couch, had eventually figured that she had to be looking for something. But it was weird for sure. 1x never misplaced objects. Ever. This especially applied to her belongings.

“Doe, do you know where my crown is?” Eventually, she folded. Her voice was rough, and coated with a tired irritation.

Doe slightly grinned at the question. “I don’t, but ” The grin changed into more of a grimace, “I have an idea on where it could be.”

“Spit it out, then.” 

Wow, how grateful …

John crossed his arms, as his eyes narrowed. Despite the sharpness of the demand, he divulged the information anyway. “I have the right to believe the kids may have it.”

The suggestion elicited a continuous, clicky growl. 1x’s face tilted downwards, and her hair fell in front, casting a small shadow over her eyes. A survivor might just die on the spot if they got that look, but it only got a flat expression from Doe.

“Oh no they didn’t . I told them not to touch my stuff.”

By ‘the kids’, it was obviously just C00l and Bluu. Priincess would always tell 1x about the survivor gossip, somehow. She still questioned how the pink child even got that information… but nonetheless, Priincess wouldn’t be interested in stealing her crown. 

“Oh come on. When was the last time you’ve heard this house so silent?”

They both quieted for a moment, to honor Doe’s question. There was some faint shuffling in another room, and the scraping noise of a blade being sharpened in a different one. The point? It was completely absent of the loud screeching and laughter that usually tainted each crevice of the cabin. Maybe they had just been enjoying the silence so much they didn’t realize why it was so quiet.

1x had a hard time admitting when other people were right, so instead of any acknowledgement of the corrupted killer being correct, she only looked away, walking over to a nearby table. One of her hands, or better described as dull claws, loosely gripped one Daemonshank. She raised it only slightly off the table it had been on, before letting it clatter back down as she heard a disapproving hum behind her.

“1x, please don’t.” John tried to be convincing, “It’s not worth it, and think about it. If you go in there with a sword, the blue one might just make fun of you. You know how they are.”

“ Fine. ” She growled out, shifting a claw through the top of her hair, before dragging it down her face. “Hm. I suppose you’re right about that last part. I do know how they are…”

John Doe scoffed, quietly– somehow missing the slight unserious and playful shift in tone from the other. He swore the only time that glowstick would acknowledge someone else was if it was about them…

“Just… be nice, okay? Don’t hurt them, or anything.”

“I won’t.” It was unspecified, but that answer was to both requests.

Intentionally loud footsteps trailed down a hallway, before stopping in front of a specific door. Of course, she didn’t even bother to knock, simply grasping the doorknob and shoving it open. The loud noise of the door hitting against the wall echoed throughout the cabin. Initially, she ignored the two children in favor of looking around the room for her crown. Maybe, just maybe she could find it without any conflict. It was obvious they hid it– the look on their faces easily gave away the fact they had haphazardly done so directly before 1x opened the door. After not finding her prized object within her first glance, her eyes snapped to C00lkidd and Bluudud. 

“You have exactly one chance to give me my crown back.”

C00lkidd gave the expected childish response, “Crown? What crown?”

And Bluudud went with something more.. Well. “Or what, battery acid ?” Always digging a hole for himself, it seems.

1x narrowed their eyes, reaching back to grab the door handle of the room, before gently dragging it closed in contrast to the harshness of the way she opened it. Trapping people came easy to her, with all the practice she had gotten. She didn’t need actual traps like John Doe to herd survivors right where she wanted them.

She gave them another chance, even though she knew it would have zero outcome. “I was nagged to be merciful. Just hand it over, it’s not that difficult.”

Nothing. Well, nothing except a short giggle from C00lkidd, and a snicker from Bluudud. 1x expected this type of response anyway, it was typical for the two.

“Hm. Well, I did warn you.” 1x takes a step closer. Clearly, the kids weren’t intimidated, because neither moved.

“Pshh, what are you gonna do without a sword?” Bluudud asked, still laughing directly at her face.

1x let her hair fall over her face. “Who says I need a sword?” She raised a hand, rubbing her slightly dull but pointed fingers against each other. 

“You’re not gonna claw us apart” Bluudud stated, like he knew it. Which he did.

“No, I’m not.” She gave a short laugh, cutting it off with a hum. They were making this too simple, just sitting there for her. How foolish– if only the survivors were this easy. “But I am going to do something simila-”

“RUN!” C00lkidd suddenly squealed, right in Bluudud’s ear. The blue teen flinched back from the noise.

Disgruntled, Bluudud complained back. “Dude, what-”

C00lkidd had recognized 1x’s tone and actions from the games he had played with his dad. Multiple times, C00l would hide something, or maybe get found after a game of hide n’ seek... “SHE’S GONNA TICKLE US-”

“... Hm, wow . Looks like the red one is more observant than you are.” 1x noted, the remark obviously directed at Bluu. She took another step.

Bluudud was up in seconds, no further explanation needed. “ ‘Us’? Hahah… no. Bye loser!” He skidded past 1x, before opening the door and promptly ditching C00lkidd.

The ‘cold-hearted’ killer didn’t even bother trying to grab Bluu before he ran out the door, only turning to watch him leave. She would catch him later, anyway– it was funny.  There were so many parallels to the rounds. Someone would have to ditch another, but it was all for nothing; they all got caught in the end. She turned back to C00lkidd, with an amused tone. One could even describe it as ‘evil’.

“Well, isn’t that unfortunate, hm?” 

“Hold on 1x- eheh- we can talk??” C00lkidd suggested, childishly. The answer? Obviously no, that opportunity had passed. Didn’t even need to be said.

1x watched as the red child stumbled back, tripping over and falling. Despite being a killer, the kid still had the average clumsiness of a ten year old when panicked. It was a little endearing. As she knelt down on the floor beside him, a part of her wondered if the survivors would be as entertaining if she tried something like this on them.

“Ohh… where first…” Her eyes narrowed in slight amusement when the kid started giddily tittering, even though she quite literally hadn’t even touched him yet. 

“Waihait! Waiiiit–”

Something about the fact he didn’t try to get up.

“You’re used to this, aren’t you?” She commented, voice monotone as she scribbled a hand up and down C00lkidd’s sides. What she got in return was priceless - a giggle fit, and absolutely futile squirming. Clearly, her claws weren’t only good for ripping people apart. It was pleasing that they were dull enough for this.

Despite being inexperienced with this type of ‘attack’, her methodical personality made it easier to see what worked. She tried a mix of squeezing and skittering in different spots, but to be honest, everything was kind of the same. The kid was just ticklish all over the place. C00lkidd pushed at her arms and writhed, but each time he would shove, she either ignored it, or pushed back.

Through childish squeals, C00l tried offering the crown’s location. “OHOne eHEHex! ThEHE CROHOWN IHIS IHIN THEHE-”

“...Save it.” 1x thought for a moment, still randomly throwing in pokes. The original objective was to get the crown, but… after being taunted like that ? 

“I still need to get the blue one. Speaking of…” 1x let the poor kid go as she stood up. Even afterwards, C00l kept giggling and rolling over.

“I’ll be back. You stay there.” 1x stated, moving towards the door, which had been carelessly thrown open a minute or two ago.

1x left the room, walking out from the hallway. The cabin wasn’t that big– there was a hallway downstairs and upstairs, and a main room. It also didn’t have any loops, so there wasn’t much place for Bluudud to go or run. Such was probably the reason why she saw the older kid in question peeking out from behind the couch, supposedly hiding.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, before the streamer got up and bolted. Unfortunately, he only made it to the stairs before getting snatched. The other killer had caught up faster than he could even react, wrapping an arm around him and pushing him to the floor– not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shock him. Unlike with C00lkidd, 1x didn’t give any time for processing, simply going straight for the kill. Doe wasn’t even in the main room anymore, but 1x was sure he could hear the screech that came out of Bluu right then. Probably Jason as well, even though he’d been basically absent all day aside from the rounds.

She taunted the kid, while running both her claws down either side of him. “No wonder you keep losing your chases. You’re terrible at running.” The insult was exaggerated, but it still baited the other into a response.

“NOHO I’M NO-” He probably would have cursed 1x out, if not for the squeaking that left him without his permission after 1x clawed gently near his underarms.

“Hm, so one of you squeals, and the other squeaks . How silly .” She continued to claw there, seeing as it had an effect.

“I aHAM NOHOT SILLYEHE”

“ Very silly,” 1x insisted. She had to use a hand to pin him down, since Bluu kept trying to get up, while folding in on himself at the same time. “In fact, all of what you just did was silly. Taunting me, thinking you could run from me… thinking you can steal something of mine and get away with it..”

“Or maybe you don’t , who knows. I see way too many foolish things from you to assume you think at all…”

“SAHAYS YOHOu-”

1x scoffed. At this point, the teasing was doing most of the work. 1x found it entertaining how the kid tried to respond back to each insult, only to just laugh. What did Bluu call it? ‘Ragebaiting’?

“So, about my crown…” The ruthless manifestation slowed a bit, just for an answer.

Bluudud paused, indicating just how reluctant the response was. “Ihin the closehet…”

“Oh, perfect . See, that wasn’t that difficult, right?” She let an amused smile rest on her face, standing up. It didn’t come as a surprise when she didn’t receive a response. Leaving the now practically exhausted teen on the floor, she stalked off to the hallway.

. . .

She looked over the domino crown before fitting it back on her head. There were fingerprint smudges in the wrong places now, but. Those could be cleaned off. Maybe she’d force one of her minions to do it.

Chapter Text

1337 was very admirable. Always running into danger for others, helping the team whenever possible. Taking hits, so others could get away. Things that Elliot could never do. He was so weak, compared to him. Three or so hits could take him from being perfectly fine to, well. Back in the cabin, let’s say. Guest? He could tank five or six before getting concerned . As much as Elliot did end up running beside danger just to toss a pizza, he felt it wasn’t anywhere near the courage Guest had. No matter how much people thanked him for a heal, he still felt cowardly every time he had to run from a scene. On top of that, sometimes he missed his throws. His aim was terrible , more often than not. 

In the round they just went through, him missing his throw resulted in Guest dying. If he had just been a little more accurate, he would have survived. It was his fault, he should’ve-

“Yooo, Elliot. You gonna get up from the table, orr?” The avian swordsman waved a hand in front of Elliot, a reminder that yes, he did in fact still exist, and yes, he had zoned out at the table. 

Again.

Elliot cleared his throat, standing up. “Oh- yeah.. Whoops.” The delivery boy rubbed the back of his head, adjusting his ponytail.

“Great round by the way. Super close that time, yeah?” Shedletsky suggested, snacking on a fried chicken leg.

“Yeah.. super close ..” Elliot winced, looking away.

Shed raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it. “Well, it should’ve been the last one of the day. Rest up, yeah?” He punched Elliot’s shoulder lightly, before walking off.

Elliot had to apologize to 1337. Guilt gnawed at him like the poison 1x killed Guest with. Elliot was often the first one to die in many rounds– him and Noob. He’d seen how everyone acted when they rematerialized in the cabin- their reactions to dying ranging from overcoming, paralyzing fear, to just disgruntled. The war veteran, as Elliot had seen, would usually either stay in the main room to greet people as they died, or go outside. Given 1337 wasn’t anywhere to be seen inside, Elliot assumed the latter. Passing behind the other survivors which had already settled in various places, the visor-equipped support quietly went out the front door.

1337 was leaning on the porch railing, thankfully unoccupied. Elliot wouldn’t want to bother Guest. Not after all that…

“Ay, Ellie.” Guest had heard him come outside. “How are you? Did the rest of the round go well?”

He was so.. Casual. Well. As casual as a veteran can be, that is. What really confused Elliot is how every time 1337 died, he never seemed to be too bothered.

“Um. I’m alright.” Mediocre. “The round went.. Okay, after you, y’know. It was a little more difficult without you there.” I’m sorry.

“Hey.. doesn’t sound too bad!” Guest commented, smiling.

Elliot always felt a certain way every time he saw Guest’s smile. It inspired him, and made him wonder how someone could be so confident, yet so encouraging.

“Yeah, not too bad.” Elliot echoed, humming. He walked over to be beside the other.

There was silence for a few moments. Guest waited for Elliot to speak, assuming there was a reason he had come out here in the first place.

 “... I’m sorry.” The pizza boy finally stated, putting his face in his hands as he also leaned against the railing.

Guest raised an eyebrow, turning his head towards Elliot. “For?”

“Getting you killed?” Elliot questions, also looking at the other.

“Are you feeling alright, Elliot?” 

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about just to make me feel better.” Elliot stopped leaning on the railing, taking a few steps back to lean on the wall of the cabin. He crossed his arms.

“I missed my pizza throw, you didn’t get the heal, you died. It was my fault.”

There was more silence for a bit, until Guest sighed. “Ellie, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you’re being absolutely ridiculous. You missing your pizza throw does not mean you got me killed. Think about all the times I’ve missed a punch, especially in saving you.”

“Well of course it’s okay if you miss. You already do so much! And I end up failing more often than not. It’s not the same.” Elliot frowns, looking down.

“Like- the round before the one we just did, you stunned John Doe EIGHT times. And you walked through all of the traps so we could escape! I can’t do any of that-” He takes off his visor, hastily carding a hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t change the amount of times you’ve saved my ass and everyone else’s-” The veteran argues, trying to stop Elliot’s very incorrect train of thought.

“Or yesterday, when you stunned 1x right as she almost beheaded me with her projectiles.” I would have died.

“Ellie.”

“Or when you tanked that walk speed override for Builder when he was low-” I wish I could help like that.

“Elliot.”

“Like how do I even -”

“Elliot!”

The pizza boy in question froze, looking back at the soldier. He had to look up a little, for the height difference. It was a little scary for a second.

“How does praising my services come so easy to you, but you can’t take pride in your own!?” Guest hummed, discontentedly.

Elliot fidgeted with his hands, thinking he was just being scolded. Of course Guest was angry– he messed up again. 

The other crossed his arms, expression softening. Fuck, he really didn’t intend to say that so harshly. Instant regret pooled, only increasing as he looked down at Elliot’s rather pitiful expression. Nonetheless, he had to continue. “That’s a question, Ell.”

“I- I don’t know. It’s just…” Elliot made unintelligible hand gestures, before they fell to his sides. “You’re very brave, Guest. I wish I had that quality.”

Guest’s mouth hung open slightly, before he responded. “Are you kidding ? You’re totally brave! What makes you think you’re not?” Elliot ran into the line of fire so often just to deliver a quick slice of pizza. What about that isn’t brave?

“I don’t feel like I am.” He admitted, quietly. He never did. Coward.

“Oh come on … You don’t have to feel brave to be brave, Elliot.”

Elliot was quiet for a moment, before he looked off to the side. His face reddened, slightly. Damn, no wonder Noob saw this guy as their idol. Clearly, ‘Be strong, always be strong’ wasn’t his only example of being well-spoken.

Without response, Guest continued. “Being brave is doing things even when you’re scared, and well. I can always tell from your expression how scared you are during the rounds, heh. But you support others anyway, even if just for a moment.”

“... Really?” Elliot asked, as if 1337 might take it back.

The veteran chuckled. “Yeah.”

Instantly through the silence, the air seemed a little less suffocating to Elliot, like the guilt wafted away. But the self doubt somehow still remained, lingering like a cloud around him.

Guest came up with… something. It was a little stupid, (and admittedly a little cruel), but it would prove his point no matter the outcome. Being ‘nice’ never seemed to work with this one, anyway. “... Elliot.”

“Hm?” Elliot looked back at him, tilting his head.
“I want you to list everyone you healed today in each round.”

“... well, that’s not that many people.” Elliot put his visor back on his head, a little loosely.

1337 laughed, slightly. “If it’s not that many, I’m sure you’ll have no problem .”

“...” Elliot hesitated, knowing the soldier was right.

“Go on, then.”

Elliot complied, starting to list who he could remember. “Well uh. In the round we just played, I healed Chance…”

“Uh-huh.” Guest leaned back against the same wall, and put an arm around the other’s shoulder. Elliot suddenly found it a little hard to concentrate.

“Uhm.” He hesitated some more. “I think I also healed Dusekkar and n7.” After that, he didn’t say anything. There was a burning silence. 

Guest chuckled, filling in the gap. “Elliot, I know you can remember farther than one round.”

Elliot wracked his brain. He really didn’t want to let Guest down here, it was a simple question.

Elliot’s inability to answer was kind of the point, though. 

“Well… If you’re having such a hard time listing them, then you must be doing too much for the team to remember, huh?” Guest teased. Well, it was a half tease, half compliment. That was as mean as 1337 would get. Probably.

Elliot quickly denied the claim without even thinking about what it meant. “N-no, I can list everyone! Just… give me a minute.” He leaned forward, crossing his arms in thought.

“Take your time.” Taking advantage of Elliot’s back being no longer being pressed against the wall, the veteran carefully moved his hand down from the pizza deliverer’s shoulder, resting it at Elliot’s side. Elliot was too focused trying to answer the question that he didn’t think much of the hand placement, and only when Guest ‘accidentally’ squeezed, did he notice. Even then, Elliot assumed it was just that– an accident.

After a few repetitions of the same action, though, Elliot realized two things. One being that he could no longer focus, and two being 1337 was definitely doing that on purpose.

“Guehest, you realize I can’t answeher the question if you do that, rihight?” Elliot grabbed the soldiers hand, catching himself slipping as a wobbly smile messily painted itself across his face– replacing the old frown.

“Do what?” Guest spun his wrist, taking it out of Elliot’s grasp, before repeating what he was doing before at a quicker pace. “Maybe your memory is just failing you… Here, just start from the beginning of today. Who did you heal in the first round? Even I remember.”

Four rounds, in total. Elliot took a small step away from Guest as a half-assed attempt to get away, and Guest advanced a step in return. Now they were facing each other. “Ihi- okay-”

“You, Taph, Builder and- uh..” Elliot jerked a bit, his loosely fitted visor falling over his face as 1337 squeezed one of the spots between his ribs, digging his thumb in just enough to not hurt.  

So unfair , Elliot thought as he pushed his visor up again, just enough to see the person in front of him. He was intentionally making it harder to answer.

“Shehed! I healed Shed–”

Guest smiled. “Mhm, okay. The one after that? This one’s easy. You only healed two people during the second round.”

Elliot couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing considering his current predicament, but thinking about that made him give the wrong answer.

“Chance and-” Cut off by his own muffled wheezy giggles, Elliot slapped a hand over his mouth.

The soldier hummed, shaking his head as he used both his hands to dig into the side of the poor worker’s stomach. “Wasn’t Chance…”

Elliot removed the hand from his mouth only to speak a few words, “Noob ahand Two Tihime?”

“Is that a question? Say it like you mean it, Ellie.” Guest encouraged, amused.

“Duhuhude!” Elliot complained, his hands clearly undecided between shoving at Guest, protecting himself, or making a futile attempt to hide the overall sunniness of his expression.

“ Alriight , fine. One more, since you already told me about the round we just did.”

“Hohow many peheople?” Elliot asked, wanting any type of hint. Because if he was being honest, he had no clue whatsoever who he healed, and he was slowly going cotton-brained.

The veteran makes sure to take his time ‘thinking’, as he drilled both his thumbs into the other’s hips.“Pretty sure it was seven. Oh, wait, no. Six, and you healed someone twice.” He pretended to ignore the two octave increase in the other’s wheezes.

“... Aand you have to tell me who” Guest adds on, grinning.

“You cahan’t be seriohous- Fuhuck you, Guest-!” Elliot wheezed out, stumbling slightly. The curse was completely empty in value– only four minutes ago, Elliot might have just sacrificed himself to the cake monster if he caught himself saying something like that to the person in front of him.

“Totally serious” 1337 assured, even when the opposite message was written all over his face. “Well?”

He only received laughter in response as he stared at the support, who seemed to have decided the floor looked really interesting given the fact Eliiot hadn’t looked up at the sentinel in at least a minute now. Because of this, the support also hadn’t noticed his visor slide off his head, to which Guest had caught with one hand and set on the porch railing.

“I dohon’t remehember–” Elliot finally conceded, tripping over himself as he stepped back. He would have fallen, if Guest didn’t put an arm behind him, and steady his balance.

“Hah. That’s okay, Elliot. That was kind of the entire point.” The veteran said, now taking both hands to make sure the other wouldn’t topple over.

There was silence, of course tainted by leftover quiet titters.

“Oh, was it nohow?” Elliot asked, only half sarcastically. He tried clearing his throat, like it would somehow get rid of the leftover feeling in his nerves. “I couldn’t tell since you made it so hard to focus…”

Guest laughed. Real, genuine. He didn’t really fake anything that often. “I make it hard for you to focus? Good to know, I’ll make sure to avoid you during rounds.” 

Elliot gasped, half offended, half embarrassed. “Wh- no, you– ugh…” He sighed, as he felt his visor being put back on his head by the soldier.

1337 hummed. “You should really try remembering what you do for the team, you know. You do help, a lot.” 

“Do I?” 

“Do y- Do I need to make you list everything again?”

Nervous laughter. “NOpe! No sir.”

Chapter Text

John Doe knew it wasn’t completely out of the question for 1x to have won a round in such a short amount of time. Sometimes the survivors had bad days, whether it was a result of bad communication or just a few unlucky misses. And any day, a killer could do exceedingly well– which 1x did, more often than not. The manifestation was often unyielding in her efforts for any form of victory. Naturally competitive.

Yet, her expression as she leaned against one of the walls in the main room of the cabin was nothing but poisonous and bitter, a stark contrast to her usual ‘winning face’. A few seconds ago should have cued the detailed description of how she had achieved victory or at least gotten extremely close, but nothing came. Not even a word out of her.

It amused Doe. This was new.
“Something happen, 1x?” Other than to glance once at the crown-bearing killer, he kept his attention on what he had been doing before: reorganizing the few books the cabin had. He was the only one who cared about them, anyway.

“No.” She snapped at him, crossing her arms. One of her hands still tightly gripped both of her swords. She already knew her denial was pointless, but chose to follow through with it anyway.

John Doe made eye contact with her, tilting his head slightly. She looked away almost immediately. Despite being a calculated killer, she was terrible at lying, or hiding anything for that matter. That’s when it ticked– her lack of usual post-round commentary was an obvious indicator she had not, in fact, won the round. Given that and the timeframe of her turn, she most likely hadn’t been able to kill anyone at all. Doe simply chuckled, eyes following hers even when she didn’t look back. How long had it been since she’d lost like that? Weeks? Months?

“Be quiet.” It was almost more of a whiny plea than a growly demand, her entire body turning like it would shield her from the corrupted killer’s doubtful, amused gaze.
“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You’re laughing at me, idiot. It’s not funny.”
“It’s not my fault you lost, 1x.” The corrupted killer said dismissively, returning his attention to the bookshelf.

“No clue what you’re on about, Doe.” She hissed out, trying to backtrack the conversation from scolding the other to denying she had even lost in the first place.
“Can’t decide how to defend yourself, hm?” Despite having most of his attention on something else, Doe still managed to catch on to every little tactic the crown-bearing killer used. Maybe it was because they were so used to each other, probably being the most intelligent ones in this hellhole.

Just as Doe predicted, she became defensive. “Oh, you can’t be talking, Doe. You lose significantly more than I do, it’s not even a debate–”
“Trying to deflect the conversation to me?” He resisted the urge to say ‘again’, knowing it would just stray the ‘argument’ away from the original topic. Her lack of responsibility for her own habits was just a little concerning, but he could address it later.
“Are you really that embarrassed over losing once?”

Her breathing audibly hitched with a snarl as she stopped leaning on the wall. There was brief silence before the loud clattering of two swords tumbling across the table 1x had briskly thrown them on reverberated throughout the cabin. The sounds of rattling metal were followed by loud footsteps, creating an angry discord of noise. Might have struck a nerve.

“I know you are not teasing me right now.” That’s my job…
John Doe didn’t even look up at the other, not giving her the satisfaction of his attention. He was clearly unintimidated. “I’m not. Just saying you could use a little humility, Ms. Salty…”
She tried to ignore the nickname. “Me? Needing humility? That’s foolish, Doe. Sounds like something a coward would say…” She yanked the book Doe was holding out of his hand, harshly. It was almost like she had forgotten the other was also a killer, perfectly capable of ripping apart just as many people as she did on average.
The corrupted killer scoffed as he closed his hand around empty air, reaching for the book in the manifestation’s hand. “... Don’t push it, 1x”
“Or what?” She let him take it and set it to the side, taking a step closer like it would have any more effect than it had before.
And then she shoved. Maybe losing the round was clouding her judgment on what was a good idea, because that definitely wasn’t. Doe caught her hands, shoving back as much as she did so they pushed at each other with a somewhat equal force. Like a two-handed arm wrestle.
“You should stop, you know. It would suck for you to lose something twice in a row, wouldn’t it?”

She sneered, sharp teeth showing. “Are you implying I can’t win in a squabble against you? Not going to happen.” Despite the confidence, her eyes narrowed with… something, as her hands uncomfortably shifted against Doe’s. Every time they had a physical quarrel, playful or not, the slight buzz of his corrupted hands bothered her. It was hard to describe, but it was distracting, for one thing.

Doe hummed. “You just got done with a round. And if you killed absolutely nobody, even with your all put into it. You must be at least a little fatigued, yes?”

“Just because I put effort into rounds doesn’t mean I get tired after them. Don’t think I’ve ever gotten tired after one, actually.” She took the opportunity to brag, continuing to push against him.

… Hah. That wasn’t even close to believable.
He scoffed. “You are such a liar, 1x. Are you always going to pretend you have no weaknesses whatsoever?”

“ ‘Pretend’? Don’t make me laugh, idiot.”

The ‘idiot’ in question raised his eyebrows. On second thought, maybe it was a good thing she picked a fight with him. Someone needed to be knocked down a bit. It was true there was a sort of loose hierarchy between the killers, but this was just getting a little out of hand. Speaking of getting out of hand..

The crown-bearing killer pushed just a little harder than she meant to, accidentally leaning too far forward and putting them both out of balance. If it had been anyone other than 1x, John Doe would have probably just brick-walled it. But she was almost as heavy as he was, and even more fierce. Consequently, Doe tumbled to the floor, taking 1x with him. Neither were startled by the sudden elevation change; only a slight hiss from 1x was audible when they hit the floor. The corrupted killer still wasn’t super used to fighting someone so equally matched, but this wasn’t the first time the green-themed killer had gotten into a scuffle with him.

They both managed to get half off the floor when Doe shoved 1x back down, seeing an opportunity. “What are you even trying to prove with this?”

She stopped trying to push herself back up with her arms, instead rolling over to throw the other off her. It was only somewhat successful, because each time she tried to get up, she was forced back onto the floor. The thought that picking a fight with Doe might have been a bad choice only ghosted across her mind. “That you don’t get to ridicule me, fool.”

“That’s unfortunate, because I do. You are not above everything, 1x. Especially not here.”

1x only glared, reaching up to swipe at his face. She made contact with a reasonable amount of force, making Doe’s expression scrunch in annoyance, and like clockwork, Doe smacked her face back directly after. The interaction would have looked so incredibly stupid to an outsider, with how pointlessly petty it was. It had no effect on either of them, anyway.

At least it wouldn’t have had, if Doe’s hand hadn’t left the annoying buzzing feeling on 1x’s face from the corruption. She growled, quickly taking her hands from pushing and shoving at the other and raising them to her head to quickly try and rub off the pesky sensation.

Doe tilted his head to the side, confused about how being smacked once distracted her so much that she temporarily yielded. However, the confusion was short-lived as it was quickly replaced by focus, taking advantage of the moment to think. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she would just burn him and herself out roughhousing until she either ‘won’ or got completely spent, one way or another.

One way or another…

“a-AgH–” 1x yelped, her arms crashing back down to grasp at Doe’s, trying to pry them away from her. Embarrassingly, she missed the first time she tried.

John Doe’s hands barely moved against the force, staying in their position. Halfway dug into the sides of her torso. Interesting. “Hhuh... Quick question, 1x–”

She didn’t even allow him to speak. She already knew what the question was, and Doe already knew the answer. “I will rip your heart out.” The threat was sharp, yet panic seeped through the rough cracks of her voice. Subtle, but noticeable. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Doe held onto her alarmed state, fully planning to use every bit of it. Just for a moment, he let her push his hands away. “Ohoho… Will you now? You sound awfully unsure for someone willing to carry out such a threat…”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, too focused on how her arms suddenly got… weaker, after the comment. Eugh, why did they feel like that? “... Stop that.” She demanded, as if it were his fault that nervousness was plaguing her usual strength.
He smiled as he felt the force on his hands become weaker. “Hey, you’re the one who brought this upon yourself, not me.”

She gritted her sharp teeth against each other, trying to backtrack again even though it was far too late for it. “Well then, I… changed my mind. You can go back to your stupid books–”

“... No, I don’t think so.” Doe deadpanned, trying to move his hands back to where they were before. He knew 1x wouldn’t make it easy, but the nerve she had to ask him to stop and insult one of his interests at the same time was… incredible, for the lack of a better word.
“If I’m being honest, I've become a bit sick of your entire demeanor lately. Like I said, you’re not above everything, even though you act like you are.” He paused just for a moment to study the other’s expression. Nervousness, barely masked by a glare.
“And you’re certainly not above this.” He yanked his hands out of her grasp, before bringing them to her sides again and roughly digging. If she were a survivor, it might have hurt. And for a second, it almost looked like it did, from the immediate reaction of writhing. However, the assuring audible response came only a few seconds after.

“I sWEHear I’ll-” The threat died in her throat, but her uneven, panicked laughter certainly didn’t.
John Doe chuckled. “You swear you’ll what?” He repeated the question when 1x didn’t respond, momentarily slowing to just grazing the area around her ribs. “You’ll what, 1x?”
Refusing to speak in such a ‘pathetic’ manner, 1x tried to stabilize her voice. She didn’t even bother finishing her previous threat. “Don’t- Do NOT laugh at mehe.” She smacked his hand away, like it had done anything before. She could feel the slight tremor of the other’s corruption being left in circular paths over her torso. The buzzing was a little bit more than just distracting now.
Doe chortled at the demand. “Why not? You’re laughing. Why can’t I do the same?”
She huffed. “No I’m nohot.”
The denial was met with a scoff. “Yeah, okay 1x. Whatever you say…” His voice trailed off, and his hands paused for a second.
1x saw it as him zoning out, attempting to get up by scrambling backwards while he was ‘distracted’. Only to collapse and start loudly cackling as Doe jabbed at the space in between her ribs with one hand, and scribbled over her sides with the other. She’d only made it to the wall next to the bookshelf, but at least now she was sitting up against something.
“Really? Trying to run away? Seems like something a coward would do…” Doe emphasized the word ‘coward’, lightheartedly indicating his discontentment with how she had name-called him earlier.

“I’M NOHOT A- UGHUHHG, I HAHATE YOHOU–!”
Doe flinched, a little surprised at how noisy the response was. He adjusted to it pretty quickly, though. The claim was a complete lie anyway. “You hate me just about as much as you hate dehydrated limes. Might be your obvious natural abhorrence to things not going your way that’s talking…”

1x complained, once more. “I’M NOHOT THAT SOUR, DOE.”

Doe was very thorough in lightly scratching around every single one of the others’ ribs, the task made significantly easier by the fact her torso was partially transparent. Safe to say, the action was maddening, especially with the feel of the corruption. It was also completely foreign to the domino-crowned killer, how she could feel so powerless yet so… giddy. Not having control over a situation meant danger, not whatever this was.

“1x, you started an entire fight with me because you lost a round. I genuinely don’t wanna hear it.”

She had nothing more to say as she continued to shove and pry at his persistent hands, although her efforts became increasingly more desperate and less effective. Plus, Doe just laughed at her attempts to free herself.
“And to think you were so overly confrontational, for what? This?” He sighed in between sentences, half disappointed, half amused. “I told you it would suck to lose twice.”

Clearly, 1x was too unfocused to form any more verbal response to everything the corrupted killer said to her, because if she weren’t hindered like this, she most certainly wouldn’t have tolerated that type of mocking. From whatever she had left in terms of retaliation, she attempted to kick at him before bringing her legs closer to her. Like most of the other shoves, it made contact with him, but was too weak to have a significant effect. Doe rolled his eyes, removing a hand from her side to gently skitter it on the back of one of her knees. It was originally just a silly way to ‘punish’ the kick, but Doe was rewarded when she threw her head back and wheezed in reaction. It was all a little… unexpected, from the literal manifestation of hatred. But very welcome.

Doe leaned back slightly, removing his hands. 1x couldn’t get up, even after a break. “Oh, so your knees, too?”
She growled out a response as soon as her voice steadied, but it was huffy. Unserious. “No.”
The corrupted killer scoffed. Well, at least she looked a little defeated.

“Next time you lose a round, don’t pick a fight you can’t finish.”
“Yeah? Well next time, I’ll win.”

Chapter Text

After a rather difficult round, almost everyone who had survived got up from the table to get some rest during the intermission. Except for two, who stayed seated. One glared across the table with the intensity of a minimum wage employee, while the other sheepishly grinned back, eyes covered by their shades.

“... So you stopped running from Doe while you were one hit from death, last second… to shoot him? When you could have just kept running?”

“... It was a good idea in foresight.”

Elliot’s glare intensified. “No, no it wasn’t Chance. Not even a little bit.”

He tried another excuse. “Heheh, uh… It looked cool, though?”

“It looked like me having a heart attack, idiot. If I hadn’t had a pizza ready right then, you would have died.”

The sentinel shrugged, and the support facepalmed. “But we still won, didn’t we?” 

Elliot made desperate hand gestures, like it would get the message across any better. “You’re missing the point.”

“C’monn… Healing is your job, anyway.” The comment wasn’t meant as demeaning, but rather as a lame justification for a terrible decision.

Elliot’s mouth hung open. “Excuse me?” He laughed, incredulously. “Well, stunning the killer is your job. So why’d you miss?”

Chance laughed, waving a hand. “Pfft, ‘miss’. I didn’t miss, Elliot. My gun just didn’t go off.”

Elliot groaned, taking off his visor and throwing it at Chance as a makeshift projectile. “Same difference.”

They caught it. “Well- I don’t choose whether it does or not, y’know? It’s all up to Lady Luck.”

“And I don’t ‘choose’ to run around all day healing a gambler that puts their life in the hands of a coin flip.”

“Look, I’ll be more careful next time, I promise. Just for you, Ells.” Chance put the visor on top of his fedora. It looked stupid, but it was enough to get Elliot to look away and amusedly huff.

“You say that every time. How do I know you’ll actually honor it?”

Chance thought for a second before speaking. “I just will. Last round of the day is in twenty minutes, anyway.”

Elliot didn’t look convinced, unsurprisingly. 

“Do you really not trust me at all?” Chance flashed a confident smile, making the support roll his eyes.

“Whatever. Just… do better, Chance.”

“You got it!” 

. . .

Tails. Tails. Tails. Tails.

Chance tried to ignore the weakness that weighed his entire body down while fumbling with his coin. Of course he was down on his luck when someone actually needed assistance. More specifically, Elliot, who had gotten quite low on health. He subtly stalked the chase, peeking around the corners of Pirate Bay while avoiding the small patches of piranha-infested water. Which was… strangely murky to be a habitat for that type of fish.

Chance watched as the chase slowly turned desperate, Elliot pushing past his limit just to run a little longer from C00lkidd. There wasn’t any more time for waiting. Elliot did say to be careful, but… This had to be an exception, right? Even though it wasn’t ideal, he just needed one charge to fire his flintlock. And a prayer that it would work.

Tails… tails… Heads.

After getting a good angle to fire at, a sharp click pierced through the air, followed by a split second of silence. And then a very loud bang, that got both the killer’s attention and Elliot’s. 

The shot had backfired right in his face. Chance fell to the ground, trying to get his bearings through the searing pain. Unfortunate. It wouldn’t have been so critical if he didn't have the six weakness stacks, but he couldn’t even think about that as he heard approaching footsteps. Well, at least C00lkidd stopped chasing Elliot. The support must’ve slipped away.

It was quick. “Oh no! That looked like it hurt… You should take a break from playing for a bit.” The red child picked him up by the neck, giggling like it was merely a game of tag interrupted by someone calling a timeout. Chance kicked at him once, fruitlessly. “Hope you feel better soon!” C00l tilted his head and smiled, before snapping the sentinel’s neck.

Chance tensed as he opened his eyes, standing in the cabin. Fffuck . Not their best play, that’s for sure. It was okay, though. Just.. how it goes, sometimes. Seeing as there was nobody else in the cabin, he let his poker face fall. Must have been the first to die.

Without taking his shades off, he rubbed at his eyes– no matter how many times their gun blew up on them, they could never get used to the feeling. Even with the adjustment to how much damage it caused it was still painful, like being smacked in the face with hundreds of needles, all at once, and then being burned. Plus, whenever it happened and he somehow survived, he couldn’t feel anything above his chest for the rest of the round.

It hurt even more knowing his failure to stun the killer could be detrimental to some chases. Chance sighed. Poor Elliot…

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a jab into his lower back, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to startle him. It could’ve been anyone– the other survivors just ‘loved’ poking at him for his attention. But maybe that was his fault for zoning out while wearing headphones and shades. Throwing on his signature grin, he turned around. Speak of the devil . “O-oh.” Seeing who it was, Chance laughed nervously.

“... Heyyy Elliot.”

He was met with a deadpanned expression. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Okay, hear me ou–”

Elliot interrupted him, getting straight to the point. “Did you, or did you not promise you would be careful?”

“Well I had to do something ! You were practically on your last breath.”

“Dude, I was doomed either way! It would have been better if you had saved yourself instead of adding another kill to the list.”

Huh. Yeah, maybe it would have been better. Oh well. “Okay fine, I admit I wasn’t thinking clearly. I apologize. Now lay off, will ya?” That was the last round of the day, so he wouldn’t have to worry about being in the sentinel mindset anymore. Gave him the slack to be at his normal seriousness; none.

“L– wh– LAY OFF?”

Chance chuckled, walking away from the other to get a little space before pulling out a coin. It wasn’t the same one he got in the rounds, but practically identical. Worked as a good fidget, when things got too noisy. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Elliot let the gambler walk away, but still scolded him. “Do you ever think about what the consequences of your actions are?”

Chance did. A lot. Just… almost never in the moment. Only in regret afterwards. 

He readjusted his fedora with one hand, flipping the coin in the other as he spoke. “Hmm… Nope! We all just respawn, anyway. Why trouble myself by overthinking if I can get away with everything most of the time?”

Honestly, Elliot didn’t know what he expected. He didn’t know enough about Chance’s backstory to understand why they were so careless all the time, but being around them was enough to get a slice of how little they thought before doing. Maybe he wasn’t worth arguing with– some things you just can’t change. “... Figured.” Elliot took a few steps closer, curiously. “Did you think like that before…” The support gestured vaguely around the cabin, despite Chance not being able to see it. “All this?”

The sentinel suddenly became quiet, keeping his back turned to hide any possible hint he was less than fully confident. Deep down, he knew that being so risky was what got him here in the first place– if he hadn’t been so desperate for thrill, none of this would have happened to him. Maybe it was all a reasonable punishment.

“Yes, but. I’d say it’s more of a lifestyle than a thought process. I mean… Obviously, I didn’t play with my literal life back home, like I do here. That would be, heh. Insane.” Chance hated how even that was a lie. Metal, pressed against the side of his head. The sound of a blank. Sliding it across the table.

He quickly shook his head out of that thought. Not right now, focus on the coin. “But I like takin’ risks, y’know? Where’s the thrill in knowing the outcome?”

Elliot became a little worried from the response, even with how predictable it was. “... So essentially, you don’t care what happens to yourself in the slightest?”

“Not enough.” They said it boldly, only faltering when they realized how concerning that sounded. “–In the sense that the effects are minimal when something does happen, of course. Not that I don’t care about myself at all.” He quickly added on.

“Plus, I’m just too lucky for misfortune, what can I say?”

“ ... Sureeeee… ” That last remark would have made Elliot laugh if it wasn’t so stupid. “Strange, coming from the person who died from their gun blowing up on them around ten minutes ago.”

“Well, I guess you should’ve healed me before running away.” Chance commented, cheekily. He didn’t mean it at all, knowing Elliot’s circumstances during the round, but it was still funny. To him, at least.

Damn, this guy was impossible. Elliot muttered a weak expletive. Instead of pointing out the obvious counterargument to the comment, he went directly behind Chance to jab him in the back again since it always seemed to bother him. The audible shift in posture Elliot heard as he walked away was enough, anyway. 

Though, he whipped his head around again as the sound of a coin clinking against the floor caught his attention. Evidently, Chance had dropped it. Despite the support causing the inconvenience, the gambler only softly grumbled without any actual worded response, quickly kneeling down to pick up the object. As Elliot watched him pick it up, he couldn’t help but think how strange it was. With so much practice catching his coin while running and the likes, Chance shouldn’t have dropped it. Was he that easily startled, or..? 

Elliot backpedaled a bit, curiously repeating the action while the other was kneeling, except slightly dragging his thumbs down Chance’s back before removing his hands.

Not only did the coin fall to the floor again as it fumbled out of Chance’s twitchy hands, but the sentinel noticeably flinched, his entire figure tensing. Reluctantly, Chance left the coin on the ground as he stood up to face the person behind him. “Elliot?”

After a second of staring at Chance, the support smiled, crossing his arms as he mimicked the other. “Chance?”

Chance scoffed, putting a hand on his hip. “Was that necessary?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just don’t think I’ve ever seen you drop that coin before– wondering why you did just now.”

Chance’s expression froze, although still in his natural poker face. So he wasn’t just messing with him for no reason. Now he had to talk himself out of this. Or not, he was too glad Elliot had moved on from the concern to care. “I’m uh. Not as focused outside of rounds.” In his defense, it was half true. But not the main reason.

Elliot’s eyes narrowed in playful skepticism. Finally , something to go off of. “Focused enough to catch it every other time I’ve seen you fidgeting with it here, though.”

Chance yawned, like he wasn’t actively failing to fight how the conversation progressed. “Well, I can’t say you poking me isn’t distracting at all.”

“Why?” The visor-equipped survivor already knew he hadn’t dug his fingers in hard enough to hurt, so it was definitely something else. And he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew what. 

“... Elliot.” He was not about to answer that question.

Luckily for the gambler, Elliot would answer it for him. How generous. “Heh. Is it because your back’s ticklish, Chance?”

“Uhhh…” 

Huh. They didn’t exactly anticipate being called out like that. He wasn’t nervous enough to stutter, but also not confident enough to come up with a proper response. “Whaaaat? Nooo… ” So much for being suave. He blew it, completely. 

It was surprising to Elliot– the other sentinels had tried tickling them before, only for little to no response. Well, other than an amused smirk, followed by Chance reciprocating with a LOT more success. Though it honestly made sense that only his back was sensitive. Chance’s entire front was probably octuple-fried by now from all those explosions, even with the magic patch-ups after every round. 

Of course, the gambler wasn’t just going to turn around for him, so after taking a second to study Chance's body expression to make sure he wasn’t uncomfortable, the support took a step forward and wrapped his arms around the other.

To say the least, it wasn’t exactly what Chance expected. Well, he didn’t expect any of this. Not to die so soon into a round, not to get questioned about his lifestyle, and not whatever this conversation led to. But that’s part of the thrill, he supposed– again, how would anything be fun if he already knew the outcome? Still, about two seconds after Elliot embraced him in what a normal context would be a hug, he suddenly found himself trying to squirm his way out of it. 

“Elliot plehease–” He protested, shifting slightly in the other’s arms. To an extent, Chance was kind of stuck– Elliot was being gentle enough that it would have been rude if they shoved him off, but also holding them in place enough that they couldn’t just step out. And he couldn’t decide whether he actually wanted this to stop or was just unused to this.

The support hummed, slowly running a hand down the middle of their back. “Huh?”

“Dohohon’t.”

Elliot snickered. “Please don’t what?”

Chance scoffed, but it turned into a wheezy laugh. “Not falling for thahat.” He instinctively tried removing Elliot’s hands with his own, but the positioning was too awkward. His arms undecidedly switched between being pressed a bit behind his sides and being slightly raised in front of him. If he had been thinking straight, he could have just gotten Elliot back, but. He wasn’t exactly used to being on the receiving end.

“Darn.” The pizza deliverer faked disappointment, tracing out a path underneath the sentinel’s shoulder blades. “Well, if you’re not finishing the request, I guess that means I can continue.”

“Nononohoho–” Chance objected again, his shoulders raising as he felt Elliot’s fingers glide downwards. Maybe having to endure frigid round weather wasn't the only downside of having such a suit with such thin fabric– this was a little embarrassing.

“Didn’t you say, like. Seven minutes ago, that you don’t care enough about what happens to you?”

“I wahas tahalking abouhout the rohounds!”

“This is about the rounds.” Elliot sighed, annoyed.

“Whahat?”

Did he forget ? “Pfft- obviously I’m still mad at you for what happened, asshole!” Elliot slightly tightened his grip on the other, and slipped his fingers underneath where Chance had his arms pressed against the sides of his back. He didn’t do anything at first, just to make sure Chance wouldn’t writhe away from him, but then he started raking them up and down and occasionally alternating which side he did it on. 

“It’s just that now, you’ve given me an opportunity to get you back for it. Kind of you, by the w–”

Chance practically barked out a few laughs, before covering his mouth and pressing his face into Elliot’s shoulder. He grabbed the support’s other shoulder, pushing a bit before stopping himself.

Elliot tilted his head to the side a bit to accommodate the movement, chuckling a little. “You realize that does absolutely nothing, right? You’re laughing, like, directly into my ear. Quite loud, by the way.” 

Mistaking the remark for a genuine complaint, Chance turned his head slightly away from Elliot’s in response.

Elliot noticed the attempt, glancing at the gambler in his peripheral vision as he continued to lightly scribble around. “Oh, I don’t mind. I was just saying.” 

The sentinel let his arms fall from his mouth and the support’s shoulder respectively, leaning over so he was almost falling in the support’s hold. “EllihiOT IhIM soHoRRY–”

That was… a little hard to believe, for obvious reasons. “ Areee you now? Or are you just saying that to get out of this?” Noticing how Chance seemed to stop pushing at him and pulling away, Elliot figured he could probably use both hands. Though, he held off from it temporarily.

Seeing as they only responded with breathy, loud chuckles, the support assumed he was right, and the sentinel wasn’t going to admit it. “Yeah, that’s what I th–”

“BOHOTH” … Spoke too soon.

Elliot stuttered in disbelief, both at the nature of the response and what he said. “D- Did you just interrupt me? Again?” He brought both his hands to do what seemed most effective before, gently but quickly dragging his fingertips right against where Chance’s back met his sides.

Chance hiccuped in between helpless fits of loud cackles, keeping his face pressed into the support's shoulder. The bit of hair in front of his face would probably be messed up after this. “I wAHAS JuHUST ANSWEHERING ThEHE QUEHESTION!”

Elliot tsked, slightly increasing his pace every time the other spoke. “Exactly, you weren’t supposed to.”

“UNFAHAIR.”

“Uh, no. Watching you die earlier was unfair.” Elliot paused his hands in between sentences, just to hear Chance’s voice rise and fall in volume.

“CaHAN’T wehe coMPROHOMIHISE?”

Ah, yes. Compromise, like that had gotten either of them anywhere.“Yeah, the compromise was that you would be careful.”

“OkAHAY! I sWEHEAR NEHEXT TIME IHILL DO BEHETTER–”

“... Somehow, I doubt that.”

Elliot’s hands stopped again as he felt Chance clutching his work uniform. Was he… hugging him back? Ehh, maybe he was just fidgety. Who knows.

He resumed, continuing to try and find any place Chance’s gun had spared the nerves of, until the sound of chatter from the next room spilled into the main one. The round had ended, and it was honestly surprising that nobody else had died other than them. Maybe it was just good fortune.

“Heheh, lucky you.” Elliot stopped, quickly rubbing Chance’s back a little before gently pushing him away. As soon as he did, Chance quickly leaned over himself and quieted as best he could, putting his hands on his knees. 

Eventually, some of the survivors walked into the main room, a few of them giving concerned glances over but nothing more. 1337 walked over.

“Is Chance alright?” The question was directed to Elliot, even though Chance ended up answering it.

“ Ahall good, soldier! Just a… little tired from the round.”

Elliot and Guest both gave him a look (although of different sentiments), but neither said anything.

“Played too risky.” Chance added, smiling as he picked up his coin off the floor.

Chapter Text

The hum of various appliances and LED lights in the extensive horror hotel map droned on, as quick footsteps thumped against the floor. The tapping against kitchen tile, the slight creak on wooden floors, and the soft padding against brightly patterned carpet were just natural for any chase. Even more so for Jason, who was used to hunting people down to the last of their stamina, given the absence of ranged attacks in his arsenal.

His first target, Noob, hadn’t really gotten much of a head start as they were taken by surprise while doing a generator. As a result, the masked killer had made quick work of the poor survivalist. Just one more hit, and they were done for. 

He was about to finish them off, lunging to swing through one of the doorways, when someone from the side of his vision quickly invaded his space. An armored hand reeled back, before throwing itself forward. Guest 1337 had caught him halfway through a machete swing with a powerful strike, effectively stunning the killer. Noob looked back slightly to give a desperate thankful look, before booking it away. Hopefully, to get a medkit.

However, Guest’s hand hadn’t only collided with Jason’s head, but it also smashed against his machete on the way. Notable for a couple reasons, one being it was a complete accident, something that would be pretty hard to replicate on purpose. Two being that despite the death grip on the weapon, the action violently ripped the blade out of the killer’s hand, sending it flying straight into Jason’s face. The machete ended up ricocheting off the top of his plastic mask, flinging surprisingly far away from the two of them up into the air.

Unrealistically far. 

Strangely.. Far?

… Is it going to come back down??

Even Guest paused for a moment to watch the weapon disappear over one of the tall rock walls while Jason was stunned. “What the hell..?” Certainly not the strangest thing that’s happened here, though. He quickly recovered as an active chainsaw was swung at him, to which he dodged and promptly ditched the scene.

It took a bit for Guest to lose chase, but a lot less than normal for some reason– Jason seemed much less confident without his main blade. However, when the killer left to go find a different victim, 1337 returned to stalk a bit behind. He did that on the norm, because it made it simpler to assist others when they started getting chased. Now though, the soldier was thinking a bit ahead. The chainsaw was all the mute killer had left as a weapon… aside from their hands, theoretically. But still, it would be a lot easier for the other survivors to, well… survive, if Jason was completely disarmed. And he was carrying the chainsaw on his back, so he could probably just… take it? 

1337 wasn’t the type to act on impulse, but once he committed to something, he didn’t back out. So after constructing a rather simple plan, he crept up behind the killer and yanked at the weapon. Jason quickly swiveled around, swinging an empty hand on instinct. Without the blade in it though, Guest just caught it and finished the job of taking the chainsaw off, tossing it to the side before harshly shoving Jason forward.

The veteran didn’t pay attention to the way the killer stumbled back into a wall, slightly cowering for a second. Guest didn’t really know anything about chainsaws, but he figured if he stomped on the chain and landed a good kick on the entire handle area, it would do something. So he did, and… somehow, it actually worked? The chain came off around where he struck, rendering the weapon practically useless. If Guest had been given any more time, he might have considered how strange that was. But he only looked back at Jason to see what the next move was. The killer showed clear hesitation, before stepping forward and trying to attack with his bare hands. Guest swore he could see fear, even with the mask covering Jason’s entire face. Nonetheless, he struck back significantly harder, throwing Jason onto the floor. 

The killer didn’t get up.

Were sentinels.. always this scary? Not having a weapon in his hand gave Jason a strange, unnerving sense of clarity, like Guest’s expression actually registered in his head. It was a determined, yet apprehensive look that made him feel uneasy. Something tugged at the back of his mind to get up and fight again, but every time the killer shifted on the floor, the sentinel tensed and his fists rose. It frightened him, enough so that he moved back, away from the sentinel. 

Looking down upon the unusual sight, Guest was torn between running away again, and staying to reason. He didn’t even feel like he was looking at a killer anymore. Though, it could be a trick to get him to come closer. Maybe the killer had a spare blade somewhere in that coat. Then again, if he did get stabbed once or twice, he could probably take it.

He wasn’t even sure yet what the whole deal with the killers was, even less about Jason himself, but as far as he knew they were probably experiencing a similar situation. Most of them gave ‘free rounds’ every once in a while, or seemed awfully disconnected from reality for actively participating in murder. Like the killers weren’t willingly there half the time– with some exceptions, of course. 

Being forced to kill people when you didn’t really want to was something Guest hadn’t quite come to experience himself, but he certainly wasn’t foreign to the idea, and couldn’t help but feel a little bad. But his mind was mostly on helping the team. If he could convince Jason to stop completely, that would be the best for the survivors…

“H-hey. Just…” 1337 exhaled, taking a step closer. “Calm it, would you? You know, we… Don’t have to fight, since you don’t have a weapon. And I won’t punch you anymore, if you stop. I mean… wouldn’t a break be nice?”

Silence. It was expected, obviously. Although, Jason did look up at the soldier hearing the offer. Was that.. always a choice? The majority of his decisions during rounds– well, he thought they were his, but still– they were more about ‘go this way’ or ‘cut them off there’. But now he saw himself thinking a lot farther than he was used to. Clearer.

Just as the veteran was coming to terms with how hard a one-sided negotiation was going to be, Jason slightly nodded.

“.. Oh. Really?” The simplicity of the bargain caught Guest slightly off-guard. If only the people in his past had surrendered like that– or maybe even the other killers. But that was just plain unlikely– this probably only happened because he managed to disarm the other. Well, hopefully disarmed, anyway. He’d have to check. “Okay then. You… are just going to stay here. And we’re going to wait out the timer.” Guest hesitated for another second, before fully approaching and going on one knee in front of the killer. “Hold still for a second.”

The masked killer moved back again at the sudden movement, ignoring the request.

“Hey, hey. Just need to frisk you real quick. Gotta make sure you’re not going to pull another blade on me while I’m not paying attention. Oh, and keep your hands up where I can see them?” Although Guest was a soldier, not a police officer, he wasn’t foolish enough to take easily avoidable risks. So he waited for Jason to do what he asked.

Again in the back of Jason’s head, something angrily yelled at him to not do it, to not listen to a ‘pathetic’ survivor's request. Something other than the normal encouraging voice that normally followed him around anytime he was in a round.

… But he complied with Guest anyway, and after that, the nagging disappeared. Like ‘it’ gave up, or something. Talk about pathetic.

1337 hummed in approval, before beginning to move his hands along the killer's jacket. He was quick to realize it was pretty thick, and by extension heavy. Even though he knew he wouldn’t receive a response, Guest still remarked his thoughts out loud. 

“How you carry a chainsaw and a heavy jacket around while still managing to be so fast is beyond me.. It’s impressive, to say the least.”

Both the number of pockets Jason had and the thickness of the jacket made it inconvenient to search the killer, especially since Guest hadn’t ever searched someone before. He ended up having to roughly double-check a few of the outside pockets because he wasn't sure of his work, although that didn’t end up being the main problem. The entire process wouldn't have taken more than twenty seconds if Jason hadn't shifted away every five, bringing his hands to where Guest was searching and making the soldier flinch back. 

The veteran’s hands were invasive, although not necessarily unwelcome. Jason wasn’t trying to interrupt him on purpose, but it just felt strange– familiar in a way, yet completely foreign to how he was used to being touched nowadays. Without the intent to hurt, but with enough roughness to earn something other than the knowledge his pockets were empty; he felt himself smile slightly underneath the plastic mask. And then immediately fought to remove it, wondering why it was there.

After giving a prolonged glare, 1337 moved the killer’s hands away to resume his search, completely unaware of what he had just caused. “.. Don’t really appreciate you spooking me like that. So if you could just. Not do that…”

Jason ended up repeating the same action only ten seconds later, but this time Guest didn't jolt away. Instead, he instinctively closed his fists like he would to prepare for a punch, significantly tightening his grip around Jason’s waist pockets.. and also his torso. Guest removed himself from Jason’s side right after, standing up and grunting out an annoyed response. 

“acK- Can you no -” The soldier was going to complain again, but quieted right after looking at the killer. His eyebrows raised at the sight.

Jason had brought his knees slightly closer to his chest, and held the area around where Guest had been frisking him. Confusedly rubbing at the spot.

Ah.

By then, he had finally figured Jason’s pockets were empty, but another question– well, more of a rhetorical excuse– had made itself clear. This was quite the opportunity, one even 1337 knew not to pass up. He wasn't really a boastful person, but the other sentinels would definitely be jealous if he pulled something like this off without getting stabbed. Well.. most of them, anyway.

Looking off to the side for a second, Guest briefly smiled before dropping the look and facing Jason once more. He kneeled back down, reaching out his arms and leaning over a bit. “... Move, I’m not done.” It was a lie, and despite requesting it, he didn’t wait for Jason to move his hands before running his own around the killer’s waist. And this time, he kneaded into his sides a lot more intentionally so it would still have the desired effect despite the jacket. “You know, this is taking a lot longer than it needs to, since you seem so insistent on squirming away from me.”

Only then did Jason finally recognize what that feeling was. However, he was a step behind, just a little too late to stop the soldier before he started. 

Most of the noise in the killer’s response was the shifting sound of coarse fabric, because once he was aware the sentinel was no longer just searching him, he didn’t stop himself from writhing. While only evident from his shoulders, Jason was definitely laughing, and although practically silent, it occasionally caught in his mouth and turned into a quiet snicker. The sensation didn’t feel natural whatsoever, but somehow reminded him of something that was. Or used to be. At least this was different– better , than the last time he remembered being handled so roughly. Anyways, what was he even supposed to do? Fight back?

Jason tried. Emphasis on tried, because Guest just took one of his hands and pinned it to the ground.

The veteran couldn’t help but smile again, strategically squeezing around the other’s midriff with his free hand. Score. “I’m just searching your pockets. What, got something to hide?”

Jason shook his head as his other arm waved around. The ‘no’ gesture was to both discredit Guest’s claim and deny the question, but it didn’t really matter. One thing he had learned about the sentinels is that they were extremely stubborn, even in death.

“No? Hm.. not sure I believe that.” Guest thought for a second, searching for an excuse. “Oh! Maybe you've got something underneath the coat.” 1337 brought his hands back around to the killer’s front, dipping them into where Jason’s jacket was open and repeating the same kneading motion directly on his shirt, just a bit gentler. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that the only thing he was ‘searching for’ at this point was a reaction. Guest didn’t even consider that revenge was an option, but it honestly serves Jason right. Always using heavy attacks whenever he missed his block…

The masked killer froze up for a split second, before practically losing it. He wasn't used to this at all . He tilted his head back, but still no real noise came out. His breathing was a little more obvious, though.

The sentinel chuckled, casually speaking as he unpredictably alternated between soft and rough prodding. “... Alright, let’s be ‘serious’. You are… a little ticklish, for a ruthless murderer.” He was interrupted as Jason unsuccessfully tried to throw him off. “And squirmy.” 1337 took Jason’s other hand, and without being able to use it to balance himself upright, the killer fell on his back. It made Guest let go, but the veteran just quietly sighed and adjusted forward a bit.

Jason’s chest heaved. “Hey, look at me.” Guest brought his hands near the killer’s stomach to catch Jason’s attention, who looked at his hands instead. He didn’t even try to push at the veteran, in ‘fear’ he would be pinned again. “Actually, that works even better.” 1337 suddenly poised his hands, making the other jump, and then did nothing.

“This is how I feel trying to predict your attacks, by the way.” Halfway through the sentence, the soldier resumed poking and scribbling somewhere around the killer’s lower stomach and hips. He wasn’t paying attention exactly where, his eyes too busy attempting to glimpse at Jason’s through the small eye holes in his mask.

Jason did not think it would get worse, to say the least. The survivor kept stopping at random intervals and faking him out, both annoying him and making him jump every time 1337 actually resumed. So the screeching and laughter he heard the other day in limbo wasn’t over exaggerated...

“Difficult, right?” To the sentinel’s surprise, Jason nodded on top of his wriggling. Guest’s smile widened– he was actually listening . This would be quite the story, and he was thankful it would be him telling it. Anyone else in the cabin wouldn’t have a chance to be believed for this type of thing.

But of course, good things don't typically last forever. 1337 was almost too focused on the moment to notice the glint of metal that suddenly appeared in his vision. He quickly withdrew his hands, and then moved back– the machete had reappeared, resting on the killer like a twisted invitation. Jason’s hand instinctively twitched, feeling the metal against him, and he sat up. Since Guest had stopped, he picked the weapon up even though his hands were a bit shaky.

And then he realized he didn’t actually want to do anything with it. His mind finally felt clear for once, and he didn’t feel like losing that, as temporary as it probably was. Unsure of what to do with the blade, he carefully turned it in his hand and handed it to the survivor on the handle side. 

That was single-handedly the most surprising thing that had happened to Guest ever since he got put into this realm. But while he still had the chance, he quickly snatched the blade. Jason regretted it halfway through the motion, because he realized he just handed a weapon to someone he’d been stabbing in rounds for months. Nothing bad happened though, and he tilted his head curiously as 1337 turned and stood up, walking to an entryway to one of the more open spaces.

“Thanks.” Guest said simply, before chucking the weapon. Whatever caused the blade to spawn back would probably be a little mad about that one. “Sooo.” He did a 180, walking back. Jason had gotten up during that time, but didn’t run away. He crumbled slightly just looking at the sentinel. Still intimidating.

“Let’s wrap this up, yeah? We’ve got about… three minutes, I think.” Advancing quicker than the killer was ready for, the soldier quickly found where he’d left off. Although, he didn’t do any more squeezing, just soft, erratic little scribbles wherever he felt like. Each twist Jason did in attempts to get away made him feel just a little bit better about getting slashed at so many times.

After another minute or two, he stopped. “Not even sure if you understand how much this matters, by the way.”

And even through the aftermath, Jason most certainly did understand. Unfortunately.

. . .

It took a while to coax an answer out of Jason, but the two who noticed the strange nature of his return got it eventually. Neither made fun of him.

“Hah. Really hope they don’t attempt something like that on me. Would not end well.” Doe remarked, before jokingly nudging 1x.

All he got in return? Thousand yard stare.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“Someone’s grumpy today…”

“Busy, Chance. Busy.” iTrapped repeated, for what felt like the third time just that hour. Lord save him the day Chance would ever give up on something like this– he quickly came to realize it was a stupid mistake letting Chance come back into his home with him that day. If only he hadn’t forgotten that he had calls scheduled for then. 

He should have said no. 

And yet, his voice persisted. “What type of phone calls do you even have that take up this much time?” 

He really should have said no. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” iTrapped looked back at him, eyes narrowing at the careless way Chance laid on one of his couches. “And get your feet off my sofa.”

“I would!”

“...” Of course he would. iTrapped looked away, not even bothering to make sure Chance fulfilled his request.

“Aww, not even gonna respond to me?” They put on a stupid voice, because being annoying usually worked. “Pretty please, ‘Trapped?”

After still receiving no response, Chance stood up to come behind iTrapped and throw an arm around him, resting his chin on the other’s shoulder and humming. Which despite being an obvious attempt to get his attention, only received an eyeroll and a scoff as iTrapped returned to doing… seemingly mundane things on his phone, for how ‘busy’ he claimed to be. Almost like he was concerned about Chance watching.

The gambler couldn’t care less though, he was completely caught up in deciding what the best way to get that phone was. When they finally came up with something, it was intended to be a surprise, but their fingers had habitually curled around the fabric of the sweater iTrapped was wearing as a subtle signal to the keen hacker that they were thinking about something.

So when Chance suddenly reached up, wrapping a hand around the device and tugging, iTrapped’s grip was unfairly firm, not allowing any pull whatsoever. He quickly held the phone out of reach with one hand, before using the other to firmly push Chance away by the forehead. Followed by a sharp glare. “You are so childish.”

“Oh c’mon, iTrapped! If you’re gonna be so mean to me, could you at least let me know what you’re doing?” Chance whined, still eyeing the phone.

“No. Now, I have my next call in fifteen minutes, so if you could just… occupy yourself.. for a bit?” Or go home. But something didn’t let that part come out. iTrapped’s voice trailed off into a question as he seemingly saw something especially interesting on his phone, although the screen was tilted just enough so the gambler couldn’t see.

Damn, a little transparency wouldn’t hurt once in a while.

Chance groaned, before stepping right up close to the hacker again and peering over his shoulder. iTrapped tilted the screen downwards, defensively holding it away once more as Chance reached for it. “Chance. Stop.” This time, his tone sounded more like a warning, but it went unnoticed.

Completely unnoticed, because in a moment of bad decisions and impulse, the gambler in question decided it would be a good idea to use unconventional methods for what he wanted.

Aka digging his fingers into iTrapped’s side, hoping it would get him to bring the phone closer, or at the very least drop it. Give some sort of reaction. The phone probably would have been fine anyway; the entire place was covered in thick, plush rugs. But no, he didn’t get any of the above. In fact, he got a whole lot of nothing. 

A really judgemental nothing, if you ask me.

iTrapped paused. “.. Did. Did you just try to..?” This time, he fully turned his body to Chance, and what he saw was comparable to absolute terror. Silently, he pocketed his phone and gave them a look a little too disbelieving to be a glare while waiting for a response.

“u-Uh… shoot.” Damn, he’d really expected that to work. “Sorryy?” Chance stepped back with a sheepish smile, already anticipating the next thirty seconds. The two stared at each other, before iTrapped exhaled a long, disappointed sigh. 

Putting on a strained voice, he talked at a quickened pace that made it easily clear how fed up he was. “No, don’t apologize. You wanted my attention, fine. Fine, you can have it. Allow me to reciprocate.” Almost immediately after the gambler backstepped, he matched it with a stride forward, planting his foot so firmly it was like a threat.

Chance sharply inhaled, having initially not expected him to follow through. “Shit, uh, t-Trapped’, It’s nohot worth it, I’ll leave you alone–” They weakly raised their arms in surrender just as iTrapped raised his with a bewildered scoff. “Woahwoahwoahoah, hold on.” iTrapped was scary. And not in the monster way, but in the ‘you really don’t want to mess with this guy’ scary. Which Chance had learned by doing just that, and was clearly about to get a recap.

“Oh? I don’t think you will.” iTrapped’s voice lifted slightly above the normal monotone, and his eyebrows raised. Well, if it would get the gambler to leave him alone afterward, it certainly was worth it. “Unless I show you why you should.”

Finally, Chance turned on his heel. But it was wayy too late now. Taking a quick second stride forward, iTrapped hooked his arms under Chance’s. It took an almost pathetically small amount of work to re-adjust, and soon enough the hacker had one hand holding both of his ‘partner’s’ above his head, and the other wasting zero time in clawing and squeezing around the circumference of Chance’s midriff. Super roughly, but with calculated precision; down, up, and back again.

“I’m unsure where you even planned to run to, most of the doors in this place are locked.”

Initially, Chance struggled in his firm hold– arching his back, tugging at his arms, and clumsily stepping back into the other. “Hohow wAHAs IHI suppohosed toho knohohoW thAhAT?”

iTrapped flinched at how loud he was. Those stupid breathy cackles that had left Chance right after he started were already obnoxious enough, but he supposed he could tolerate it. That, and the annoying twisting they were doing to get away. “I told you fourty minutes ago, when you tried snooping through my room.”

“Speaking of which,” Chance got a hand free, only to be re-’imprisoned’ five seconds later and punished with a thumb drilling into the back of his ribs. “I think we need to have a small talk about privacy.” iTrapped remarked casually. Although, he planned it to be less of a ‘talk’ and more of a one-sided scolding, with a side of rough consequences. But somehow, Chance managed.

“IT’S NOhot my fahault you invihited mEHE HERE,”

“Didn’t invite you, but go on.”

“–and bohored me toho deheath! I wahas juhust—” He didn’t speak after, only giving up wheezy chuckles because he didn’t exactly have a good excuse. But clearly that was annoying one of them.

“Just what, Chance?” iTrapped snapped impatiently, his fingers digging in with a little extra force. Not enough to hurt, but just the right amount to make Chance attempt to tug their arms back and jerk away every time he squeezed by the seams of their dress shirt.

“iTRAhAhaHaPPED pLehease!”

The hacker groaned, reluctantly taking on a slightly softer tone of voice while repeating his question. “Just what, Chance?” 

“Ehentertainihing mysehelf??”

“By trying to look at my phone and through my house?” iTrapped scoffed, moving his hand back up and digging his thumb into the muscle behind the other’s shoulder blade, causing the gambler’s posture to instantly snap straight. The audacity. Although he couldn’t help but feel slight amusement at the whole ordeal. Amusement, that strangely twisted into something a little more… fond?

No, of course not. That feeling was from watching Chance suffer. Although, he had a sneaking suspicion that Chance wasn’t even suffering in the first place.

Chance threw his head back into iTrapped’s chest, meeting unfortunate eye contact– those collected, calm eyes were always so stupidly flustering to look into in a less-than-calm situation like this, if flustering was even the right word. Especially since his shades had fallen half off. And damn, if iTrapped wasn’t already intimidating enough, the extra inches from the platforms he was wearing certainly did it for them. “YEhEs, okaHAy? YeheHEs, aHand Ihi’m soHOrry.”

“Sorry? Maybe you should have thought about that before provoking me.” iTrapped suggested, sounding out ‘provoking’ while harshly jabbing into Chance’s lower back with each syllable.

“OkaHAy, well— MAYBEHE yohou shoHOULD haHAvE thOHOught abohout me befohore invIHITing meHE to yohour BLahaND ahahass hAHaHOuSe.”

“Uh-huh.” iTrapped hadn’t really been completely listening (because why should he?), only paying attention to bathe in the occasional pleads. So the insult, which was barely disguised as a complaint, took a good five seconds to fully sink in. But when it did… “What.” Okay, now it wasn’t just about getting Chance to leave him alone. That was personal. He let both of his arms fall to his sides for a few seconds, almost like he was going to do something else. To raise his voice, to get heated over it. But watching Chance sink to the floor- they didn’t seem too serious about it. Maybe he didn’t need to be either. Although, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be. Just.. rather unconventionally.

“ahAiIIEEIEEEITRAPPEDNAHAhaHAhao—” So when iTrapped followed him down soon after and practically tazed him, he absolutely short-circuited. It was ruthless, greedy squeezes wherever he could reach with both hands, and wherever Chance was covering he’d just shove his fingers in. Their increasingly wheezy laugh dipped down into silence, went up into loud cackles, and then back again. He didn’t even feel able to fight back, just scrunching in on himself even when it did nothing.

“Good lord, you are noisy.” iTrapped muttered, still going at it despite his own complaint. Maybe he didn’t actually care about that. After all, he didn’t stop until Chance was done, and even a bit after that. Not until tears nearly spilled from his eyes, and he was collapsed and curling up on the floor.

Eventually, iTrapped stood up to admire his work, all while giving Chance the ‘now look where this got you’ look. Even if they couldn’t see it, because they were a mess. When iTrapped caught himself smiling, he immediately rubbed it off his face.

Well, safe to say, that was not a success for the gambler. Although, there was still a question on his now mushy mind. “Whehen will Ihi ever gehet to lehearn any more abohout yohou? So secrehetive..”

iTrapped sighed and cracked his knuckles. “... Over your dead body, Chance.”

“Dohoesn’t the saying go ‘over my dead body’?”

Completely ignoring what Chance said and taking his phone back out of his pocket, iTrapped thought to himself how that was… actually kind of good stress relief. “I’ll be twenty minutes. It’s my last call today. 

… Go get water from my kitchen, or something.” And then he turned and left to another room, leaving Chance on the floor.

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