Chapter 1: two time x azure
Notes:
mild warnings: not even bad violence just stabbing
Chapter Text
Two Time twisted the dagger deeper into his stomach, their eyes holding little to no remorse. All he saw in those eyes was pure determination, a maniacal smile curving their lips. Yet, he didn’t see a monster. He saw the most beautiful person in his life.
The grass around them was stained a dark red, a heavy puddle of blood spreading beneath his beloved Azure. Their hands spun the dagger again, cruel and deliberate, Azure barely able to move, the agony entrancing him. Not a cry for help escaped his throat, not even the smallest effort to fight back. Instead, he lay there, each limb spasming from the unbearable pain, his cloak drenched and heavy with blood.
He turned his gaze upward, the burning sky painted by a dying sunset. The nightshade flowers gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight. The scenery, almost as beautiful as Two Time.
𝓘𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓮, Azure thought, unafraid, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘’𝓭 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾.
Though tears streamed loosely down his face, his lips stayed sealed. Each stab shattered bone, each plunge tore through lung and heart. His hands trembled violently, but he used the last scraps of strength he had. He endured every strike— But at what cost?
Despite the burning pain in his heart, he held their hand and smiled.
"𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪."
One more twist.
And the world faded away from his grasp.
Chapter 2: elliot x 007n7 though more platonic
Notes:
mild warnings; slight suicide mentions and that's literally it
Chapter Text
"I do care, I just don't show it," Elliot insisted, back turned away and arms crossed. He didn't dare to look at 007n7. "It's just not my love language."
007n7 had a look of guilt, scratching his arm. "So you do agree."
The atmosphere was silent, neither of them were in the place to say anything. For a fact, Elliot hated talking to this guy—who lives so oblivious that they let their son destroy a workplace? Elliot only stood there, facing away from 007n7. No matter how hard 007n7 would put in effort to reach out to him—he remained silent. He would only keep his calm and attempt to be polite.
"I don't agree with you," Elliot dropped, biting back any harsh words that almost came out, "you don't deserve to be agreed with."
007n7 was caught by surprise—the kind of surprise that hurts. If Elliot really believed that, what good could he even get from this conversation itself?
His hopeless voice wavered. "I only wish for you to forgive me—I'm different now. That was long ago."
He didn't react at all. Elliot's face was only filled with annoyance. "You wish it looked like I cared, don't you?" He turned around, raising his voice. "You wish I could forgive you so easily. You expect me to forgive someone, even if I can't forgive myself for my own actions?! Is that what you want from me?!"
"Well, I believe you have the ability to forgive yourself—!"
"AND I DON'T. I DON'T BELIEVE IN YOU, MYSELF, THE WORLD, OR ANY OTHER POSSIBLE PERSON BREATHING. WHAT ELSE COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT THAT THE WORLD HASN'T TAKEN FROM ME?!"
007n7 took a step back, the only sound was Elliot's heavy breathing. It was quiet for once. Elliot's eyes were narrowed, staring at 007n7 in expectation for a response. 007n7's heart pounded—it also felt like it was breaking from his empathy for Elliot.
"It was too easy to kill myself. I expected to be torn away from my problems, only to be met with new ones." Elliot softened. "The only good I have is knowing the reason why I killed myself is here. That he's . . . somehow still in my life."
Both of them shared something in common—suicide because they lost someone. But Elliot would never know that.
The world felt still. Elliot's gaze remained on the floor. "It's Chance, isn't it?"
He nodded, looking up at 007n7. " . . . My only friend."
"But . . . there's so many people here that—"
"That see me as a support. Elliot, the pizza guy. The weak twink whose only job is to heal players. It's always, 'Elliot, aim better!' 'Elliot, I was lowest!' 'Elliot, where were you?!' and I don't get a single thank you. I just get scolded." His voice broke at the last part, his shoulders relaxing.
007n7 shared sympathy. "I think you do good. You're at least helping others . . . " He pulled out his c00lgui, referencing towards it. "At least you're doing something."
Elliot didn't want his pity. But maybe . . .
"You were talking about the world, right? Well, this is another world, so maybe give it a chance. Maybe it doesn't expect you to help others even if you can't help yourself. God himself only knows what you'll find," 007n7 chuckled, a bit awkwardly, even if he was still a bit startled after Elliot's yelling session. "There's always things to learn. To look after." He closed his gui, looking back at Elliot with a small smile.
Elliot grimaced. "Who are you to tell me to give the world a shot?"
"Yeah, fun fact? I'm absolutely nobody. I doubt anyone cares about me anymore." 007n7 joked, though he was absolutely serious. "None of us deserve the short end of the stick. None of us deserve to be here. After all, we both did good and bad."
Elliot hated the fact he was right. Hated how he was letting 007n7 talk to him, letting him soft-talk him. Hated how he was smiling at him with such kindness, like kindness still existed. 007n7 opened his arms, expecting a hug. Elliot stared at him.
"Now you're expecting me to—"
"C'mon. Just do it. Not for yourself, just for me." 007n7 prompted. "I put effort into cooling you down."
Elliot grumbled, then stepped forwards. He paused for a moment, then reluctantly let 007n7 hug him. He didn't return the hug.
"This doesn't mean we're on good terms, by the way," Elliot warned, a bit muffled. 007n7 nodded. Elliot pulled away. "I still don't believe you."
It didn't sound that harsh like before. "Okay, whatever you say."
Elliot headed back inside the cabin, waiting for the next round.
Chapter 3: scrapped fanfic 😔
Notes:
check this scrapped fanfic of mine out
uhh i scrapped this like 2 months ago because the writing is horrible and i didnt know much about the lore yet
i copied some stuff from it thomild warnings: none
Chapter Text
That’s the feeling.
The sinking feeling.
The feeling that someone is watching your every move–hence, maybe you could call it someone stalking you.
That’s what I was going through.
Shedletsky slammed his palms on the table. “We just lost—three times in a row to be exact—and not a single one of us has the bare idea of the killer’s weaknesses. The only weaknesses we know are Chance’s weakness—who is one coin flip away from getting all of us killed, and we aren’t winning the next round until we figure out how to beat 1x . . . uh . . . something, something!”
“You’re not even an admin anymore. You’re just another guy who can’t swing their sword correctly when the killer is in front of them.” 007n7 mumbled, still trying to remember more commands on his GUI, tapping futilely on the screen.
“Ha-ha, very funny, 007n7. You’re the adoptive dad of c00lkidd, now tell me what his weaknesses are.” growled Shedletsky in a defensive manner, leaving an undertone of tension in the room.
007n7 stood up from his chair, his chair scraping against the wood loudly. “Don’t talk about my son like that. He can still be saved.” 007n7 paused, half-contemplating. “I’m sure of it.”
“Are you now?” Shedletsky leaned, fists clenched. “You’re sure you can save a brainwashed, monster of a killer. You’re sure of that, 7n7?” he challenged.
“He’s anything but a monster,” bit back 007n7, “it’s not him who’s doing it.”
“You’ll just stand there? With your GUI and the last few commands you know? While the rest of us basically fight to survive?” he gestured to the rest of us with his hand.
“You don’t speak of Noob in that way!” spoke 007n7 without hesitation.
“Yeah? Well maybe cause he’s not the problem, because he can actually, to the minimum, stay alive–” Noob flinched, backing up in an attempt to not get involved in the situation. “--and maybe, just maybe, if you could comprehend on actually not giving up when you're the last man standing? We could get a win!”
“Oh, so that’s what you care about! Getting a win, am I right?” laughed 007n7 without amusement. Everyone stayed silent, eyes darting left and right from the argument. I leaned back on my chair as I watched. He shoved Shedletsky, although lightly on the shoulder.
Shedletsky simply glared. “You’re such a–”
007n7 rolled his eyes. “You’re a sentinel. With heals. You can stop taking Elliot’s pizzas. You don’t need it–”
Shedletsky drew out his sword from his belt loop. “And you know what you can do? You can keep your mouth shut and stop trying to argue with me.”
Builderman looked at both of them frantically, only to get ignored. “Uhm, guys, we can really . . . ”
I watched as 007n7 stood his ground. Did I care? Yes, but also no.
“Your job is to protect others who can’t protect themselves.” 007n7 defiantly said. “Are you seriously going to hurt me in spite of yourself?”
“You can shut up now.”
007n7 scoffed, his guard never dropping. They had a staredown, none of them backing out. Shedletsky gripped his sword while he fixated his eyes on 007n7.
Elliot stood up. “Can you guys stop?! We both know fighting won’t give us any progress, and we also both know the only thing it will do is separate us from the whole aspect of the game!” he spoke up, even if his voice had a slight tremble to it.
“Yeah, staying quiet won’t get us anywhere either,” I muttered, but Elliot heard me. I nudged him. “Kidding.”
“Sure, Elliot. What’s your ‘aspect’ of the game, exactly?” Dusekkar asked. “To give pizzas with your horrible aim and get all of us killed reactively?"
“I-I don’t have that bad of aim, I really try, you know I–”
“You could try harder.” Builderman snapped quickly, which got Elliot to sit down.
They all turned their heads to a gunshot on the wall nearby Dusekkar. “Would any of you guys volunteer to be a human meat shield on accident—or on purpose, dare say? I’m not picky.” I announced, twirling my flintlock pistol in hand. I looked around expectedly. “No need to lash out on someone that actually puts effort into their work.”
“Chance, it was very unnecessary to half-threaten Dusekkar by almost shooting him.” Guest 1337 sighed. “It’s also very unnecessary for all of you to be dawdling during this critical moment.”
He was right, but what was there to do? Recently, I’ve been missing every single reloaded shot. It takes me forty seconds—almost a minute, mind you—to fully reload my flintlock. You only have one shot. And imagine missing it. Is it bad that I get the instinct to flip my coin and likely stack weaknesses during a chase? No. Is it bad that I’ll still shoot, even with one-hundred weakness? No. And if you disagree, you can leave me alone.
Two Time grinned. “I say–”
“No, Two Time. Shut up. Don’t say anything. I don’t need any more of your psychotic, disturbing ideas.” interrupted Shedletsky. Two Time grunted.
“🍔➕🍗, ⚔️? ✋.” Taph asked.
007n7 let out an exhausted sigh. “No, Taph. We’re not going to fight, and I’m not gonna ask why you said you were invested into us fighting.”
Looking at the timer, the round was about to start in five seconds. Builderman picked up his hammer. “Welcome to Roblox. Where you go through a living hell everyday.”
And just there, the round started.
The killer is . . .
Jason
During this situation, I could only think of two words.
Kill me.
Two possibilities. The killer would be really bad, or they’d be a literal professional and abuse the fact they could reach me within a one mile radius. The map was Horror Hotel, so I kept an eye on every single doorway opening. I took in the familiar scene—the peeling wallpapers, the unnecessarily loud floor boards, the toxic-smelling air. I pulled out my coin from my pocket. 72 health points. Don’t mess up, Chance.
Flip. Weakness. Flip. A charge. Flip. Freaking more weakness, but it’s not that bad. Flip. Another weakness stack, and I was close to throwing myself into the Zombie Arms right at the exit. Flip, repeat, flip, repeat, get Weakness XI, get at least three charges.
Perfect.
I walked down the hall towards the kitchen to find Noob, in all their glory, doing the generator. I joined them, getting a finger coiled in the wires as well.
“So . . . “ I started while I deftly connected the broken wires. “Spotted the killer yet?”
Noob bit their lip and hesitantly spoke, too nervous to look at me. “N-no.”
I turned my head to them. “Hey, man. No worries. No pressure in it. Just wondering.”
“Right. . . ”
We worked in silence until the generator was halfway through. I nimbly poked around at the wires, testing different paths and techniques to finish each puzzle-like complex. It didn’t take too long until I heard a slash and a yelp, which was coming from right next to me. Noob got slashed across the shoulder by Jason, beginning to limp around when they ran away. They rushed to get a Bloxy Cola open, almost snapping the pull tab. Helping would mean guaranteed death for both me and them, right? So I fled, running away while Noob was probably getting gashed.
When I turned the corner, I was met with Taph. He tapped on my shoulder, making me turn my attention towards him. He gestured as he spoke, trying to make sense of his cryptic words—or, emojis?—though the way he moved felt almost sinister, like something bad was about to happen.
“ 👊💀, 🍗👄🐔!” Taph told me. I almost had a stroke trying to figure out what he said, but I settled to the conclusion that he said: Guest 1337 is dead, and Shedletsky ate all his chicken.
“I’m guessing the killer is a milestone?” I said, scratching my head.
Taph shook his head. “❌.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” I flipped my flintlock pistol, keeping it in my hand in case. “Don’t stay outside. Might be too open.”
Taph nodded, getting a tripwire ready. He went to the halls, and I went to the left halls. I started to flip my coin in a silent prayer for a charge, only to end up with Weakness II. I sighed, testing my luck to the limits and flipping my coin again. Finally, I settled on two charges. It wasn’t the best, but it would do good for the round. I heard a subspace tripmine go off, indicating that Jason was nearby Taph. I peeked around the corner. Inevitably, we’d all die from the range of Jason himself, since there were no other manageable counters that could secure a win. The dim light in the hall made it nearly impossible to see, but I caught a faint view of Taph running out of the hall, heading outside.
Who was, of course, followed by the glowering Jason, eye red and targeting Taph with a raging pace. Taph made an effort to confuse the killer, running in zig-zags and recklessly turning corners, trying to keep at least a wall between him and the killer outside.
It would’ve been the perfect chance to shoot the killer—if Taph wasn’t standing in the way. I couldn’t risk my shot now. I mean, what if it misses, his cooldown is now at zero, and he decides to do that combination combo with that stupid machete of his. That would leave me at 20 health points.
Taph turned around while running in the open area tripmine ready. He backed up and raised his arm to aim at Jason, almost throwing the tripmine too far. I continued to observe from the corner, seeing Taph able to handle everything by himself.
I should just leave, I thought, lifting up my shades. That was, until I saw that machete combo.
Taph was now at 50 health points, clutching his stomach. He would’ve gotten slashed again—but Dusekkar came right in time, casting a plasma beam to slow the killer.
Chapter 4: chance x elliot
Notes:
mild warnings: they kiss(?)
Chapter Text
I felt everyone’s heads turn towards me, expecting me to speak. I cleared my throat.
“Uh . . . maybe the best way to survive Jason’s range is by staying in more . . . maze-like places?” I suggested, shrugging. Dusekar blinked at me like I said the stupidest thing in his entire existence. “What? All of you are expecting me to say something. What am I supposed to say?”
Guest 1337 smirked. “Right, Chance. What are you going to say next, ‘Stamina management is key’?”
The sentinels snickered, I caught Elliot in the corner of my eye almost smiling. I nudged his elbow, feigning annoyance. “Okay, it wasn’t that stupid of an idea.”
It kind of was, Taph signed, drawing a smiley face on the paper. So everyone was amused about my idea. That’s a bit embarrassing.
“We don’t get another round until tomorrow morning,” 007n7 concluded, stacking the folders in a pile, “so we shouldn’t worry as much. It’s best if we get good sleep, wake up early and get a plan.”
Builderman shrugged. “Pretty good idea if you ask me.”
Noob nodded, giving a small thumbs up. Everyone else seemed like they agreed, and Elliot’s hand brushed against mine under the table. I looked at him, but he seemed occupied with watching Taph doodle on paper. Some of the survivors already left for the cabins, meanwhile, I sat there, fixing my flintlock shotgun barrel, which, news flash? It exploded.
Two Time tilted their head, watching me hit my gun onto the edge of the table. I looked up at them. “Stuck,” I told Two Time, putting the shotgun down. They offered out a hand.
“Let me try.” I tossed the gun at them, watching them inspect the flintlock with a mild amount of interest, holding it mid-air to hit the handle of the gun against the table. “In the name of the Spawn.”
Clink.
Two Time smiled, presenting the gun back to me. I pretended I didn’t hear that muttered prayer, and I just took the shotgun. “Oh . . . thanks, Two Time.” I checked the barrel to see it in place, no longer jammed.
After that, they left as well, some more survivors were done speaking to each other and also left. Taph almost fell asleep, still drawing on the paper, so Dusekkar had to remind him to head back to the cabins. I stood up to leave, only to remember Elliot being there.
“You’re not going to . . . you know, leave?” I turned around to ask. Elliot scratched the back of his neck.
“ . . . Not yet.”
“I . . . well . . . “ I shuffled awkwardly, more awkward than I should’ve been. I was usually comfortable and easy-going around Elliot. My heart thumped in my chest. “I admit it, kid—or, er, Elliot. I . . . regret a lot of stuff.”
Elliot looked away, covering half of his face with his hand. “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”
“I didn’t mean to leave you.”
He froze, his foot stopped tapping in that second. “I didn’t do that because of you, Chance, I promise—I didn’t—”
“Woah, woah, what are you talking about?” I cut him off, taking on a more reassuring tone. “Whatever you’re talking about, I’m lost. I just . . . I’m sorry I had to . . . leave first.” I said, feeling my face heat up for no reason. I sat back down next to him, giving him some space.
Elliot looked around, as if he was avoiding me. “Right.”
I could hear him breathing, the night being that quiet. I wanted to see his face, but I was too scared to do anything. “ . . . I wish I had more time,” I exhaled, clutching the hem of my blazer lightly. “I wish you had more time.”
Elliot stayed quiet, his head facing away from me. I hesitantly reached out a hand to his wrist, gently wrapping my fingers around. It caught his attention at least.
“I feel like you hate me,” I chuckled bitterly, which hurt my stomach. “After everything that has happened between the survivors. I don’t feel like I get to be your friend, huh?”
He turned his head towards me. “No, no, that’s not it—I’m just . . . feeling . . . ”
I waited for him to finish his sentence, not saying anything. While I waited, I was able to stare at his eyes, just like how I remembered them from last time. Bright yellow, reflecting every light source. Almost a golden-yellow color.
“Feeling empty.” he ended off with. I intertwined my hand with his, bringing his hand down. Luckily, he didn’t seem too bothered by this, nor did he flinch like how he usually does around people.
He was right. Everything has been empty since forever. Even before the Spectre itself. It was the stubborn truth. “I know.”
Almost every light seemed to cooperate with his features, his hair, his eyelashes, his eyes, perhaps even his lips. I didn’t have any right to get any closer to him.
It was just then I remembered how I felt about him the first time he visited me. After I gave him his so-called first shot, the way he looked at me was . . . mesmerizing, almost. It was so easy to remember, the way he hugged my blazer tighter, the way his eyelashes reflected light when he would blink.
Time, of course, consumes everything. Never ending, almost impossible to estimate. Who knows if this might be my last moment again with him?
I brought up my hand to his face lightly, almost barely touching him. I always thought about how pretty he looked, how he seemed to change me so—maybe even too—easily. I could see his face, like so many times, become flustered. I took my hand away, not wanting to trigger him.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized to him, keeping my hands to myself. “I didn’t mean to—”
Elliot took my hand back, holding it in his again. I had some sort of fluttery feeling. Sickening, to describe it more. I wanted to lean in like how I almost did that one night, I wanted to fix myself at the same time—I wanted to hear his own words, his own thoughts. The fear of being selfish overwhelmed me.
I brought a hand to his chin, not touching him so I wouldn’t startle him so easily. What if I did lean in like that one night, what if I did do something that wasn’t a hug for a thank you. What if he let me.
The feeling of my heart thumping loudly almost cursed my ears, almost building the illusion he could probably hear that too. It was just now I noticed how close I was to him. Sure, I’ve been closer, but not for this long, not with this feeling of mine.
I held his chin in my hand, tilting his head more upwards. I cupped his face in my hands—just like what I did on that one round.
Except, this time, I was more careful.
It felt like I was aware of everything around me, but at the same time, I was hyper fixated on one important person.
Elliot.
I swallowed, looking at his eyes again. I’ve always had trouble looking at people in the eyes. Not him. He was different. He had that effect, and gosh, I hated it. His fingers slid off my shades, letting me see his eyes better. He looked so much more beautiful when he was not desaturated looking and monochromatic. His lashes still sparkled in the light, like always.
My hand trailed to touch his hair that was currently in his usual ponytail. He seemed to be following every movement my hand would make or go to. How did I even end up here? My chest ached in a comfortable, warm way. His eyes, though. His eyes were so beautiful. His eyes were like droplets of the sun itself. My eyes followed down his face slowly to his lips.
I looked back at him, though.
I didn’t want him for his looks. He was just perfect in his own way to me. In reality, I don’t care what his body looks like, what his eyes could be shaped like, his eye color, his lips, his hair. I couldn’t care less. I wanted him for how he affected me, how he speaks to me, how he listens to me.
I couldn’t care less if he was rich or poor, a pizza worker or not. I didn’t care if he wasn’t perfect. I didn’t care if he doesn’t have that many friends.
I could feel his breath against my face, my nose almost touching with his.
I left it all to his control. It would be his choice.
He leaned in closer, so did I. I gently met his lips, watching his eyes flutter shut. I smiled to myself, a thought running across my head.
Strawberries.
Elliot tasted like strawberries.
It was weird—being in the middle of a kiss and wanting to laugh at the same time. I rested my hands on his waist, feeling his arms wrap around my neck. The fuzzy, warm, soft feeling came back.
I always hear people say how they wish moments like these could last forever.
I didn’t.
I just wished that he wouldn’t leave me.
I ran my hands up and down his waist barely, wanting to show him I did care in at least some way. I parted from him for a second, letting him breathe. After all, I didn’t want to suffocate him.
Elliot’s forehead rested against mine, his eyes still closed. It was hard to tell if he was tired or just closing his eyes.
"You should go to sleep." I told him quietly, brushing his cheek with my thumb.
He took a shaky breath, then looked up at me. "I . . . sure."
I gave him a slight smile, giving more distance between us. He stood up, looking nervous, looked flushed.
I held his hand. "Please, Elliot. Don't be scared to ask for help."
"I . . . I'll try." he agreed, which satisfied me enough.
I gave him a kiss on his hand, then he left. It was quiet in the lobby cabin. Unlike anything I've heard before.
Chapter 5: itrapped one shots LESS SFW THAN USUAL DONT READ IF YOU'RE TOO SENSITIVE
Notes:
mild warnings: this is what i mean by the 🔸 part in my rules, innuendos, lots of kissing, stabby stab, non explicit stated actions
i wrote this at 2AM a few weeks ago . . . so yea
Chapter Text
“If I wanted Chance dead, I would’ve done that ages ago,” Mafioso held iTrapped’s wrist tightly, not planning to let him go anytime soon. “If he’s dead, I don’t get anything from him. Got that?”
iTrapped backed away. “It was just a plan,” he defended, trying to get his hand free, “I never meant for you to get so defensive,”
“He owes me, you know. And I’m making sure I get paid back.” Mafioso threw iTrapped wrist downwards, making him stumble to the floor. He kneeled down in front of iTrapped, tilting his chin upwards. “You’re not planning to interfere with that. Do you understand?”
iTrapped scoffed, swatting Mafioso’s hand off, but he wouldn’t budge. “You seem to care so much about him. For someone who claims they hate him until they die?” He turned his head in attempt to get his hand off. “Just so you know, Chance is my little plaything, which is why you’re not getting anything from him.”
“I have every opportunity to kill you, here and now. But I’m not, so don’t take it for granted, pretty boy.” Mafioso gripped his chin tighter, standing up. “Do something to him, you’ll suffer something worse than your typical consequence.”
“No need to be so protective.” iTrapped bit back sharply, every word accented. “Your darling Chance isn’t going anywhere.”
He tilted his chin higher. “If you expect to work with me, don’t expect me to turn down killing people I know,” he warned, his voice having a slight growl to it. “My profession is not based off your entertainment or your own wants. It’s based off what I get off of it, what I earn from it.” He clenched his jaw, looking at iTrapped sharply. iTrapped wasn’t feeling scared, at least not that much. He would’ve gotten up if it wasn’t for the amount of pressure Mafioso was putting on him. So, he remained on his knees, willing to fight him if he had to.
iTrapped smirked sarcastically. “I bet you like what you see, huh? Masochist much?”
Mafioso furrowed his eyebrows. “What I see?”
“If you want to see me on my knees, just say it,” he shrugged, tugging at his own collar. “It’s never rude to ask, darling.”
“If you’re saying that to get out of this situation, I’ve experienced this exact scenario over a hundred times in my lifetime. Don’t try me.”
“I want to try you.”
Mafioso rolled his eyes. “People like you disgust me.”
iTrapped smiled, raising one of his eyebrows. “It’s okay, you look fun. I’d definitely—“
“You’re free to go, iTrapped.” Mafioso let go of him, shaking his head. “I hope you get help, and know your strategy did do efforts.”
iTrapped’s smile widened, getting up and brushing himself off. “Without making out with you—?”
“Leave."
“Fine.” He began to walk away, then stopped. “Just know, I’m getting closer to what I want from Chance.”
iTrapped left, walking down the alleyway like nothing happened.
THIS ONE IS NOT LIKE STUFF I USUALLY WRITE. IT IS LESS SFW SO IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. IT IS BASICALLY SA. SOME MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE TOO.
He pinned me to the wall, sword ready to slice my throat open. I kept my shotgun facing under his chin, him looking skeptical.
“Come on, Chance. Do it.” iTrapped leaned closer to me, prompting my gun with his hand by lifting it closer to his chin. My hand was shaking, my mind rushing with too many thoughts at once. iTrapped stroked my hand, waiting for me to do something—anything. I dropped the gun, letting it slip from my hand.
“I can’t,”
“YOU IDIOT!” iTrapped yelled, pushing me to the ground by pulling my headphone, making me slide across the gravel floor. His sword grazed above my cheekbone, forming a deep cut. Blood seeped from the top of my head, the burning sensation I haven’t felt in so long. “When people like you don’t help themselves when they need it the most. When loyalty is that important to them.” His voice shook in a held-in laughter, his fist twitching as he held his sword tightly.
I felt the drop of blood run down my forehead, staining my finger with red after wiping. I maintained to breathe, almost all of my limbs aching from the push. iTrapped had a grin on his face.
He took the front of my hair, lifting my head up. “Comply, comply, obey. That’s all people like you do.” he said, face full of disgust. “Never realizing how truly useless you are. Just trying to make good use.”
My voice shook, my throat feeling cut though he didn’t even touch my throat. “What . . . what did I do?”
“You might as well die in curiosity,” iTrapped chuckled, shoulders shaking. He tugged at my hair upwards. "Stand up.”
My head hurt from all the pulling and throwing, my eyes blurry and almost dazed. iTrapped smiled, spinning me around to catch me in a gentle headlock. I couldn’t do anything. It was one of the few times in my life I felt Lady Luck wouldn’t be on my side, one of the few times I felt weak.
His head was right above my shoulder, his mouth close to my ear. “I wish you were dead. You useless, helpless imbecile.” iTrapped leaned in to kiss my jaw, tracing my collarbones underneath my collar. “I want you dead. I wish you were never alive. A mistake in the making.”
iTrapped stroked my stomach, leaning his head on my shoulder. I stood still, too confused and scared to move. His words hurt, but I felt confused. I was going to speak, but then I felt him sucking on my neck once before moving back, wiping his mouth with his hand. I coughed, feeling where he bit me with my hand. I limped, turning around to face him.
“I hate you. I did love your money, though.” He pulled out his sword once more, leaning closer to me. iTrapped forced me to meet with his lips, gently biting my bottom lip. He was making these small ‘ugh’ sounds, like he was actually engaged into doing what he was doing to me—then pushed his sword into my shoulder. I would’ve screamed—I couldn’t, though. He pulled me closer to him, only muffling my scream. I tried to push him away from me, wanting to help my bloodied arm.
The pain. My breathing felt labored, my arm oozing with blood. Tears automatically formed in my eyes, my eyes wide, but I was unable to do anything. My vision was a bit blurry from the tears, I could feel myself internally sobbing. He forced my mouth to move with his, running a finger down my chest, then leading his finger back up to my chin. He finally broke apart with me, and I took a deep breath, my heart beating fast in my chest.
“Why,” I trembled, tears streaming down my face, “why, why, why,” I wanted to repeat again and again, closing my eyes so I didn’t have to look at him. “Why, iTrapped, WHY WOULD YO—“
I gagged, feeling a sharp pain in my throat mid-sentence.
My breath hitched, it felt like I couldn’t speak anymore, what I was saying was cut off for no reason. I felt the same feeling that I felt on when he stabbed my arm, just on my throat.
I opened my eyes, my vision doubling and going side-to-side.
My throat.
A large, deep cut, dripping with blood that went down to my chest.
I can’t speak.
Help me.
SOMEBODY HELP ME?!
iTrapped started laughing, licking his gloved thumb that had my blood on it. My knees felt weak, but he grabbed me, his hand clutching on my waist. “It’s best when you don’t talk, darling.” He kissed my cheek, and I was unable to call for help. "I want less of you. I want nothing of you." I coughed without noise, tasting my own bitter blood in my mouth, gagging it out. Maybe I’d die from the blood loss itself. I was crying uncontrollably, my face covered in blood and tears.
Stop it.
Make it stop.
He caressed my hip-line, holding me tightly to stand up. I could feel myself having to carry my own weight, my eyes feeling like they were trying to roll back to my head and just die right there. He brought his hand lower, and I brought up my weak hand to pull him away.
“Idiot.”
iTrapped kneed me to the floor, and I could feel myself resting in some way on the ground. My arm stung, my throat wasn’t any better. The taste of his saliva was stuck in my mouth, I could even taste some of my own blood. How did I feel so numb still? Was it the thought of being betrayed by my own friend?
He thrusted his sword into my stomach, making me stay still.
I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore in my body. My eyes were half-lidded, blood below my head. He smiled.
“What’s wrong, Chance? Too tired already?” iTrapped teased, taking the sword out of me, the blade of the sword now a deep red. He wiped the blood of with the back of his hand. “Come on, Chance. Get back up. Show me the winner you are.” he laughed, combing his hair backwards. His voice had a sort of glitch to it, these effects around him. Almost like he had two voices.
I felt my eyes slowly closing out of my control, hearing his laugh. It started almost quiet, then only got louder.
I blacked out.
Was I alone?
Chapter 6: doublefedora REQ
Notes:
HELLOOO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST !!! i shall start writing now :>
also tell me if this is ok if you were talking about my first one shot scene that was a forced style i made myself do, if you want that style it may take longer but just tell me :))
IT SHOULD BE DONE TMR OR TODAY!
Chapter Text
Imagine this (or don't, save yourself sanity); the same person that acts like they want to kill you asks you out on a date.
No, I bet you can't imagine that. No one would ask you on a date.
. . .
I'm joking, please don't come after me.
The drive to the pizza place was horrible, traffic at every light, almost crashing into several cars. Horns blared, people rolled down their windows to yell, and I could practically feel their judgment piercing through my windshield. Not that I'm a bad driver, I'm just a bit . . . different from others at driving. My version of ‘switching lanes’ probably looks like a road rage request to most people.
Normally, my mom would call someone to drive me wherever, but she was out of town, and my step-dad would definitely not appreciate my . . . choices. I sat in the car, not daring, not even considering stepping outside until I received any text message or something. My phone screen lit up with random notifications—emails, spam, some dumb game app begging me to come back—but not his name.
What if he calls up his mafia group and just decides to jump me? Because who on earth with money like him would decide to go to a pizza place—a pizza place for a date, out of all places. Like, come on, there are fancy gourmet restaurants and five-star steakhouses, but no, we’re talking about greasy, unkept tables and the maximum of two, minimum wage workers. Not that I'm complaining about it, it's just kind of strange to me.
I tapped my foot impatiently, eyes darting around every corner. Every car that slowed down made my heart beat faster because it could be him—or worse, not him. I mean, I could just leave. Right now. But I'm feeling generous.
Why did I even accept to go on a date with him? I don't even talk to him that much—do I? Yes? No? Maybe? Shut up, I don't care about your opinion. Maybe I could cancel the date, say I got sick last second. Tell him I'm lactose intolerant, even. No, I could tell him I got into a car accident. All of them are great options! Each excuse sounded more believable in my head than the last.
Or, I could just get out of the car . . . and . . .
I turned the handle to step out of my car, instantly hit with the scorching hot morning sun. The gravel beneath my feet crunched, which was a terrible sound to my ears, by the way. While adjusting my headphones, I walked towards the pizzeria.
I opened the glass doors, the building smelling of cheese and smoke. I was met with a familiar face. Which, no, gladly wasn't Mafioso. It was Elliot, one of my few friends.
Frick, I thought, scratching the back of my head, He's gonna find out I'm on a date with that guy . . .
"Hey, Chance! How are you doing?" he smiled, waving. I came closer to the register.
I had somewhat of a smile, but it probably looked more sheepish than anticipated, my lips quivering like I couldn’t decide what expression to use. "Good. Uh, er—Elliot. I'm—I'm waiting for someone today," I tried to explain, silently praying he wouldn't ask further.
He paused for a second, looking away in thought, then back at me with a smirk, leaning in. "Really? Who?"
I hope you die in a fire, Elliot.
"No one."
Though, he still looked skeptical and expectant. "You sure?"
The wall seemed more interesting than him, so I looked outside the window. "Someone."
He hummed in thought, then straightened up, the sharpness in his smirk softening. "Fine, I won't push it. Just order when that person of yours comes." He winked, dismissing me like it was nothing, like I wasn’t completely disintegrating inside. I sat down at a nearby table, watching my hands tremble. To be honest, I've never been on a date ever. What do people even do on dates?
I tapped my finger on my phone, holding it in my hand idly.
Ring!
I immediately tensed, biting my tongue. I slowly turned my head to where the entrance door was to see—some geeky-looking guy with a black shirt?
He passed by, his phone pressed up to his ear. "No, like, he's weird. I'm not even joking. Sure, he pays the taxes more than I can manage, but he's still weird."
It wasn't my job to be nosy, anyways. Every passing second felt dreadful, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a red to yellow hue throughout the sky. I looked back down at my phone.
Where are you? I typed, sounding a bit more desperate than I intended. You know, I've been waiting for a good—
Ring!
I stopped typing mid-way, peeking over the seats to get a glimpse of who came in. For some reason, I was kind of hoping it was him.
Yeah, no doubt that was him. His shadow is way too distinguishable—fedora, cloak, and suit. He had some sort of reeking aura, the kind that makes you want to freeze. I know that because that was the exact state I was in—not moving a singular limb, only staring.
I wanted to melt into my seat and dissolve into ashes. I felt like I was shrinking into my own seat, nervously stomping on my foot compulsively. I mean, it was kind of a good thing he didn’t decide to wear anything fancy? He was wearing his regular outfit was . . . quite refreshing. He looked good in his outfit. I didn’t mean that in a romantic way, obviously.
Mafioso noticed me right after taking a step inside the pizzeria, almost expressionless, not exactly a frown, just stern overall. It was too awkward to hold eye-contact with him or even look away. He slid into the seat across from me, arms crossed, head tilted slightly, like he was analyzing me. Thankfully, my shades were on, so I doubt he could see my eyes.
Still looks like he’s going to kill me.
“So . . . uh . . . you like pizza?” I managed to squeak out, trying to make myself not sound like I was panicking.
“I eat it.”
That’s when I should leave! But no, I decide to stay like the idiot I am. “Why’d you ask me on a date?” I asked quickly, wanting to get the question out fast.
Mafioso raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “You seem like an interesting person, I suppose.” He paused, then spoke up again, “Why’d you go on ‘the date’?”
Yeah, Chance, why’d you go on the freaking date, huh? I told myself, grabbing onto the hem of my blazer.
“Because . . . I wanted to be here with you?” I cringed, stomach churning progressively.
He looked me up and down disdainfully. “That’s so corny.” Mafioso said flatly. “What do you want to order?”
“Sausage pizza,”—though I don’t even eat sausage pizza, it’s to get this over with—”that’s all.” Without a word, he stood up, walking over to the counter.
This was going to be one heck of a date.
From the window next to me, I heard whispers and muffled laughter from what sounded like multiple, or more, people. I scooted closer to the window to look outside, but saw nothing. Just the sun setting still, faint light against the water and clouds drifting softly in the sky.
Once he finished ordering, he sat back down, staring at me intensely. “You’re more quiet than I thought you would be.”
“Well—well—I—“
“Save it. I don’t want you to combust.” Mafioso rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You should do something I’d like.”
I let myself take a deep breath, preparing to respond. “Like what?”
“Amuse me.” Thankfully, he sounded like he was being sarcastic.
I winced. “That’s not funny.”
Elliot walked over to our table, dropping off a pizza box, nothing more. He looked at me smugly, looking back at me and Mafioso.
I still hope he dies in a fire.
“Medium sausage pizza,” he gestured, looking straight at me, “for you and your . . . ‘someone’.”
I glared at him because he knew what he was doing. Mafioso gave a small nod, almost like a bow, and even a small smile. “Thank you, Elliot.”
No way. No way he gives Elliot a small smile while I’m here in front of him and sweating in my seat. He likes people with minimum effort and minimum wage? Obviously he does. Not like I care, why would I? I don’t care about what he likes and what he doesn’t like. Not at all. In fact, I hate him. For putting me in debt, yes. For putting me in debt.
“Chance, are you okay?” he asked with a terrible amount of empathy.
“Yes! Yes, I am.” I said, hating how I reacted to him saying my name without the intention to kill me.
More mumbles and giggles came from outside, rustling of the grass and thuds against the wall.
No, let me see!
You’re so fat, Soldier, move out of the way!
I’m not even that fat? Might as well call Eunoia fat,
I can’t get a good view! Stop!
I wasn’t going crazy because Mafioso’s eyes also trailed towards the window, meaning I wasn’t turning insane. He looked back at me as if he was waiting for me to say something.
“Ignore them. They’re mine.” he sighed, shaking his head.
“What—you brought them here?!” I blurted, trying not to freak out. He only smirked.
“I didn’t bring them here.” Mafioso leaned in, as if he knew they could hear, “they brought themselves here.”
I blinked rapidly, fidgeting with my sleeves. “Well, tell them to . . . go away, or something.”
“Yeah, they’re not doing that so easily.”
What did he mean ‘not doing that so easily’? Can’t he just tell them to leave? He caught them, anyway. Just tell them to go! I didn’t need more eyes on me or him!
“Come here,” he waved his hand for me to lean forward. My throat closed as I obeyed, and before I could think, he reached his hand out to my hair, sliding off my hat. Heck no, I have breathing rights, and my lungs won’t agree with me. “Keep still,” he murmured, covering the side of our faces with my own hat, his nose brushing against mine. Maybe from the side it would look like a kiss.
I wanted to pull back. I didn’t even get time to react to what was happening, and he’s getting close to me like he knows me well. But I couldn’t move. Not when he was looking at me like that. It was like I couldn’t see or hear anything else, the squeals from outside of the window muffled. Did I want him this close? No, I barely know him. But he was so close to me, I could just . . .
Mafioso pushed me away, throwing my hat back onto my head with a shove. I blinked, relieved, but also not very relieved. The whole world came back to my view, suddenly existing again. I could hear shuffling and laughter from the distance, meaning those little guys ran off already.
But my heart felt tight. I kind of wished he did get even a bit closer to me.
No, scrap that. I absolutely did wish that.
And I was going to get that, one way or another.
I rested my chin on my hand, looking up at him with sudden confidence. “You didn’t have to fake it, you know. Could’ve just asked.”
Mafioso grit his teeth. “Like you’re worth any kind of affection.”
“No, no, seriously. There’s no harm in doing so,” I smiled, placing a finger on his hand. Oh, come on, Mafioso. Do something. Anything.
If he seriously thought I’d just sulk there and let him make quick assumptions of me, two can play one game.
He clicked his tongue, yanking his hand away from the table, bringing it to flip open the untouched pizza box. “Don’t play games you can’t win.”
I grinned, slamming a hand to shut the pizza box, eyes fixated on him. “Thing is, Mickey. I always win. Like how I won that rigged—“
“I will and can add to your debt. Would you like that, Chance?” Mafioso glared at me, swiping the pizza box away from my hand. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, stopping him from moving, even if he could easily move away.
He held onto my own wrist, barely pulling me over the table, making me lean all the way across. “You’re forgetting what you owe us.” Mafioso let go, allowing me to sit back down. “I’m only warning you this once.”
“A threat? That’s cute of you.” I let go of his wrist hesitantly. “There’s other ways to get me to shut up than threats.”
Mafioso smiled, something I kind of liked seeing. “Try it. I dare you.”
I swiftly grabbed his tie, bending over to at least get closer to him and then—
Click.
Right next to my head was my own shotgun, his finger wrapped around the trigger, placed flat against my own head.
I patted my pockets, only to find it empty. I couldn’t move. I just couldn’t. “W—what—“ I could hear my own pulse drumming in my ears, but I didn’t want to pull back still. The thought of leaning closer made my heart feel both heavy and light. “Y-you’re insane,”
“And you came to the date anyways,” Mafioso put the gun down, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t have a reason to hurt you. Yet. Now sit back down before I change my mind.”
I sank back into my chair disappointedly, mumbling random stuff. I could still clearly think back to how close I actually got to him earlier. I wanted that to happen again. I took my shotgun he threw onto the table, securing back into my pocket.
“Surprisingly, for someone who I want to kill so badly . . . you’re . . . “ he stopped, like he was trying to find the correct term. “Pretty. Don’t take that as an advantage.”
“I thought I was the one being called corny,” Even if I secretly enjoyed the compliment, I wanted to push him a bit more. “Is ‘pretty’ all you can really think of?”
His arched glare lingered on me for a second longer. “You’re milking this.” Mafioso opened the pizza box, turning it around towards me. “Grab one.”
By the time we were outside the restaurant, the sky was a dark blue, the moonlight making the water shimmer.
The date, overall, or whatever I could call it at this point, was not as bad as I believed it would end up. I actually got him to laugh. He didn’t really laugh, more like chuckled, but I deserve credit for that still.
He basically blended into the night shadows, like he belonged there. I squinted at him, then glanced up at the dozens of stars, scattered and bright, and back at him again.
“Shooting star. Make a wish.”
“I wish I get to stab you in the stomach and get the debt you owe my family.”
“Kill yourself.”
Mafioso sat against the tree, picking at the grass. I sat down next to him, looking at him. Throughout the day, his gaze has grown softer. Perhaps he was getting tired. But I liked how soft he was. Made him feel more . . . human. He tilted his fedora to his side, hiding his face.
But I wanted to see his face.
I tilted his fedora back upwards, a bit too high, to the point I could see his eyes.
I’m not saying some corny stuff like ‘I could get lost in them forever’, ‘The world felt like it was revolving around him’—
The world seemed to revolve around him and only him, his eyes nothing like I’ve seen before—
Okay, okay, I’ll stop.
“Before my parents, my great, great grandparents had this urge to run a casino.” he said while looking at the vast ocean, deep in thought. “The other side of my family wanted to run something that would give them money fair and square.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re trying to small-talk me?”
“I’m telling you a story.”
“Same thing.”
“So, the other side of my family trained to become hitmen. Didn’t last long. Family lost the legacy. Insane taxes spiked.” he continued, exhaling. “Those little boys tried to rob us. I only saw potential in them. And I was right.”
I leaned to my side, yawning. “So, you saw some minors doing a crime and your first thought was, ‘Damn, I can exploit this,’ and did?”
He huffed. “That’s different.” I saw him smile faintly, however. “It started when they showed a singular robot piece to me. Some fancy android piece. Something they claimed they ‘found from the dumps.’”
Mafioso paused, looking back at me.
“You seem tired.”
I closed my eyes, trying not to doze off. “Thanks, Sherlock. Glad you can help.”
“Lean on me.”
“Over my dead body—“
“I know you want to.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe I did want to get just a bit closer to him. I leaned my head on his shoulder, taking off my headphones. The night seemed so quiet. The sounds of frogs croaking, crickets chirping. Birds from above the tree perched, their eyes closed peacefully and resting.
Mafioso wrapped both his arms around me, not on his lap because ew, cooties. He felt warm, contrary to how cold this night felt. He turned my head around to look at him.
“Are you allowing me to kiss you now?” I grinned, glad how close I was to him.
Mafioso groaned, looking away. “Go ahead.”
I grabbed the side of his face, thumb below his jaw. I saw him look down at me for a split second before slowly closing. I didn’t know how I got this far from one date. Someone who wants to kill me, I was going to kiss, right then and there. I fell for him too quickly—more than I’d even expect out of myself. I felt a lump in my throat, the type of nervousness that makes you excited.
The best part? He didn’t move away. I took that as a yes.
I felt myself press against him, the night sky gaining more color than before. Something shifted inside of me, I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. I couldn’t question myself if I actually wanted this or not, because all I saw was him, all I knew was him, all I felt was him. I didn’t need to question myself. All I needed was him.
I couldn’t want more in this world. I felt like my whole perspective of the world would change after this—like everything would be different now, in such a good, sweet way. I was regretting things I would’ve never regretted before—how I didn’t do this sooner, how I should’ve done this sooner.
He pulled back, a hand on my mouth. “That’s all you’re getting. You’re lucky I’m even letting you do this.” he murmured teasingly. “I’ll let you do this again if you go on a second date.”
I almost choked, pulling his hand away from me. “What—? You—“
“Second date. Same place, same time.”
“But—“
“Offer’s over soon,”
I sighed, also smiling.
“I’ll go on a second date with you.”
the end :) ♡
Chapter 7: da noli roomate (req!)
Chapter Text
By ‘moving across Robloxia,' I was surprised that it meant literally.
I sat in the back of the taxi, the highway exhaustive and the sun already half-way up in the sky. I had just come back from the airport, which . . . wasn’t how I wanted it to go. The conversations basically went—
GOD, THE PLANE’S GOING TO CRASH!
WE’RE GOING TO DIE!
Yeah, no. I just gave the plane some slight turbulence. Just slight. Believe it or not.
Slight turbulence means: setting a fire in the aft, making the first-class seats detach from the floor, and forcing the plane to go through two emergency landings.
Slight turbulence, I know.