Roll for Love
Chance x Reader
Fandom: Date Everything
Note: Surprise, I now write for Date Everything! I have not played through the entire game yet, so I tried to namedrop people, but there are definitely some missed opportunities here. But yes, welcome to the thing that has been living in my head rent free for the last month or so. Genuinely probably the best $30 I have spent in recent years. Also, I have not played much D&D irl, so my G&G lingo is dubious at best. This is set pre-canon and pre-Dateviators, so just roll with me here (hehe see what I did there). ((Also I skipped Nightmare’s route, so I’m sorry if she’s a little out of character. It’s set before the game, so I figure her relationship with Reader probably isn’t great right now anyway))
Summary: For the last couple years, you've been taking ValdiVitamins brand Melatonin every night to get to sleep, but they have some...weird side effects on your subconscious at night. Before college graduation, before your job at Valdivian, you had Chance, even if your waking mind didn't always know it.
Warnings: Nightmares, panic attack/sleep paralysis symptoms, hurt/comfort, some swearing
Word Count: 14.1k
Reader Is: Human, female, in college
Dealer’s Choice
Since you’d started taking melatonin your sophomore year of college, your dreams had been…weird, to put it lightly. But if your options were sleepless nights and odd slightly-lucid tumbles through your dreamscape every night…the choice was pretty clear.
And therefore, you had been running for…well, you weren’t sure how long, from a giant creature with a horse head and a giant gaping, glowing mouth where its stomach was supposed to be.
Your foot caught on something and you tripped headfirst into a…pillow fort? Or a massive tent of some kind, maybe, fabric stretched across the ceiling and walls, mounted with what appeared to be massive pencils. Gold shapes were etched into the black fabric. It was familiar, in a way, but you didn’t have the wherewithal to put together where you recognized it from.
You’d never been in here before, you were sure. You would certainly have remembered somewhere so cozy and…warm. A few paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, strings of lights filling in the blanks.
Over at a large table, there was a guy hunched, a pencil in his hand, the other deep in a bag of chips. He looked up at you, eyes widening. After a long moment, frozen, he pulled his hand out of the bag, brushing the crumbs onto his pants and scrambling to his feet, over towards where you were collapsed.
“H-Holy crit…Hi…” He stared at you, his eyes gliding over your form, shielded by his square, red-tinted glasses. He had a quaff of dark brown hair, swept up and away from his face. Square jaw, soft, smooth skin. Flushed cheeks, at the moment. He was a big guy, tall and broad, solid, a good bit of heft in his middle. A pair of black sweatpants sat on his hips, a red cutoff hoodie atop a white undershirt adding to his overall very huggable appearance.
“Hi. Um…”
“I never thought you’d come in here. I heard you’d been bopping around, but…”
“You…you know who I am?”
His gaze softened and he knelt down on the rug beside you, assessing you for damage. “Of course I know who you are. You’re (Y/N). Are…are you okay?”
“I…I had a pretty bad nightmare. I get them sometimes. I’m okay now.” You insisted, dusting yourself off. You glanced back towards the entrance of the fort. He did, too, something in him sinking at the thought of you leaving so soon.
“You, uh…you don’t have to go back out there. You can stay.”
“I don’t want to intrude. Really, it’s…it’s fine.”
“No, really. Come on in. Sit down over here. I’ve got a beanbag I know you’ll love and more snacks than you could ever need.” He offered a large hand, helping you up with ease. Unlike some of the other characters you had met in this place, there didn’t seem to be a twist to this one. No tricks, no games, well, aside from the tabletop one he seemed to be planning on his table. He was just a nerd. A friendly one. You could tell you were safe there.
He guided you over to the aforementioned beanbag, tucked into the corner of his cozy little workspace, a big cushy thing. It was red and yellow striped. You settled into it with ease. He dug through the snack cabinet on the wall. “What are you feeling, sweet, salty, dealer’s choice?”
“Surprise me.” You said, crossing your legs and getting comfortable.
He grinned, handing you a bag of chips. “Sugar gives you nightmares. Seems you’ve had your share of those tonight.”
“Thanks.” You tilted your head, studying him. He was…definitely your type, right down to the kind sparkle in his eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Chance. Should have introduced myself earlier, sorry. I just got a little distracted.”
“Chance. Nice to meet you. Thank you for…this.”
“No need to thank me. This place…it’s meant to be a refuge for any weary traveler. You’re the first. Aside from my friend Parker, I guess, but he hardly counts.” He grinned when you laughed, eyes soft as he took in the sight of you. “Stay as long as you need. Come back whenever you want, I’ll be here. I’m always here.”
He tried to make it sound casual, but you could tell it was a big deal that you were there, that…maybe in some corner of his mind, he had been waiting to meet you, wondering if the day would ever come. You didn’t know why. Maybe you never would. But you were glad you’d found your way there, one way or another.
Girl Math
It was like clockwork every week. Try as you might, you could not stay awake in your stats class. And sure enough, glancing down at them, your notes were once again a jumble of nonsense that you’d have to decode later. Girl math be damned.
You shook your head and tucked it into your bag. Well, that was a problem for later. Nothing you could do about it now. Besides, what would a Customer Service major use statistics for anyway? It’d be fiiiiiine.
You slung your bag over your shoulder and walked through the math building out onto campus.
“Boo!”
You gave a playful shriek, bumping shoulders with your friend Valerie as she joined you. “Hey, girl.”
“Hey yourself. How was class?”
“Boring. As always. And the notes I took are basically hieroglyphics, so I’ve gotta translate those.”
“You know, you’re really good at math when there’s dice involved. Maybe you can get a G&G-playing tutor to kindly mansplain it to you.”
You chuckled sardonically. “Oh, I’m sure the G&G club has no shortage of those.”
“Speaking of: session this Friday?” She shot finger guns with her neatly manicured nails.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” You grinned. “We gotta get our guys out of that pinch.”
“Where are you going now?”
“Library. Gotta hunker down and finish some stuff if I wanna drink Friday night and sleep it off Saturday morning.”
She laughed. “Fair enough. Good solid plan there. Mind if I join you after my last class?”
“You know where I’ll be.” You grinned, splitting off once you turned towards the library, while she continued along her own path towards the science building. You took the back entrance, slipping inside the familiar academic building, following the sound of the coffee grinder to the louder, more ambient area of the first floor. Handfuls of students gathered around the tables there, sipping from their caffeinated drinks. You stood in line at the counter for a few minutes and then ordered your own, checking your phone while you waited for the barista to make your iced mocha. Once the top of it had been sprayed with whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate syrup, you carried it back to your usual table, sliding the prongs of your laptop charger into the power outlet with familiarity.
You browsed online for a bit, a break from studying for just a little while before really getting to work, clicking out of pop up ads from Valdivian’s new streaming service. You added a few things to your Shopazon cart, did a quick scroll through Zumblr, and made sure you hadn’t missed any emails from Ao6.
With that out of the way, you locked in, typing up a quick paper and knocking out some discussion posts, crossing each assignment out on your planner once they were done. Next order of business, Stats homework. Ughhhhh. It was only five problems, but at the rate you figured out the equations, it would be the bulk of your work. Maybe Valerie was right about you needing a nerdy man to gently mansplain it to you. Certainly, it couldn’t hurt.
You took a sip of mocha, rolled out your neckbones, and pulled out your dicebag, a decent fidget to have tucked in there for times like these. It was a sizeable bag, big enough to carry three or four sets of dice with ease. Instead, you had your favorite set, a matching one made of clear, deep red resin, with gold flakes and glitter suspended within, matching nicely with the gilded numbers painted into the grooves on the sides. With them, your lucky D20. It matched the rest of them, but it was like thrice the size of a normal one, nice and substantial. It was weighted, fit comfortably in your palm, and always rolled well, especially when you needed it to. So much so that sometimes, your companions demanded to test it out, make sure it was still rolling fair.
It was. Obviously, it was. It just seemed to like you.
You grabbed a pencil, beginning the process of plugging numbers into the problems spread out before you, cradling the lucky die in the other hand, expertly spinning it between your fingers while you worked.
Valerie joined you a few hours later, once the sun had begun to dip beyond the horizon, paint the sky a brilliant orange that glittered in the gold flakes of your dice. She eyed them up with a grin. “You trying to attract that nerd the old fashioned way?”
“Ha ha. Very funny. You know I have to keep my hands busy.” You chuckled, setting the die down, 20-side facing up. You took another long sip of coffee, letting the bittersweet taste roll over your tongue as you approached the end of the cup.
“Yeah, whatever, nerd.” She grinned, opening her laptop and stretching out her back on the shitty library chair. “You done with your Stats?”
“Against all odds, yes. You know what that means.”
She laughed. “Adding to your obscene collection of fanfic?”
“Duh. I’ve gotta be over a terabyte at this point.” It was mostly a joke when you said it. Mostly.
“Who are you writing for now?”
“Dunno. But I shall scroll until inspiration strikes. Writing up a oneshot always puts me in a better mood.” You chuckled. “I’m gonna fill up my water bottle. I’ll be right back.”
You took your empty coffee cup to the trash on your way to the water fountain, toting your sticker-covered metal bottle over to the nice, filtered water fountain embedded in the wall. Your eyes wandered to some of the guys from the school’s G&G club. You’d been in there for a few months. They all checked the same boxes: mansplainy, know-it-all, condescending losers. That was why you preferred to play with your own friends, separate from their horde. Cool nerds, you had dubbed your noble party, although that felt like an oxymoron in and of itself.
Grottos and Gargoyles was meant to be fun. You all kept it that way. No rule sticklers or exclusionary assholes allowed.
Yet, looking at them, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to--
Water spilled over the rim of the bottle and you snapped out of your trance, chuckling to yourself as you lifted it to your lips, sipping the water down so you could twist your lid and straw back into place.
You sat back down at the table, trying to lock into your fanfic endeavors, but getting caught almost immediately, eyes glazed over as you stared at the table between your dice. It felt like there was something you were forgetting. Hmm. Funny how that happened.
***
When you got back to your apartment, you went through your night routine. Put on your pajamas, did your skincare, haircare, brushed your teeth, and then stared at the bottle of melatonin in the medicine cabinet. ValdiVitamins. They weren’t the best brand, you were sure, merely from an ethical standpoint, the company making your entertainment and hosting your internet probably shouldn’t also be making vitamins, but they were the cheapest ones and they got the job done.
You popped two, 10mg total, and then retreated to your bedroom for the night, climbing beneath the covers. You had a nice, healthy doomscroll before passing out for the night.
And as you faded from consciousness, the voices rose once more, as they so often did, the nearest one floating smoothly from the phone in your very hand. “Get some rest, baby. We’ll take it from here.”
The Forever GM
The horrors you had just witnessed were enough to make you handwash your dishes for the rest of your life. You crawled backwards, soaking wet, breathing heavy. Eventually, the cold tile gave way to carpet and warm light. A few soft murmurs left your lips, not quite words and not quite calls for help.
“Woah, woah, hey, what…?” A friendly, familiar voice approached from behind you as you stared out of the mouth of the pillow fort, trembling. “What happened out there?”
You were frozen, staring out into the abyss beyond the curtain. Or was it a fabric wall? A sheet? Hard to say. You swore somewhere in the distance, you could still hear its laugh, its grating electronic tone.
“Hey, they can’t get you in here. See?” Chance stepped in front of you, pulling a rope near the entrance, drawing it shut tight. “They'd never fit in here anyway.”
That did make you feel a little better, though it raised a few questions. Or would have, if you weren’t preoccupied with your other thoughts.
“T-T-There was a…well, the dishwasher had…razor sharp teeth and…g-glowing eyes and…and there was water everywhere, like…like a fucking hurricane in the kitchen and…”
He nodded in understanding. “Ahh, Dishy. Yeah, that guy’s a freak.” He took stock of you, hands on his hips. “Come on. Let me get you fixed up.”
You tried to stand, but your legs were jello. A common nightmare symptom, right along with the cotton mouth that prevented you from speaking.
“Here, hold on.” Chance crouched down, scooping you into his arms with ease. You blinked in surprise. He was a lot stronger than he looked. “I’ve gotcha. You’re okay.”
He carried you deeper into the fort, back towards his little corner. He had a bunch of minis spread out on the table, some paint laid out. He set you in the beanbag chair again, a careful hand smoothing some hair out of your face. “Are you hurt?”
You shook your head, taking stock of yourself. Everything seemed to be in place. No head trauma, no blood as far as you could tell. “No, I’m okay.”
“Listen, when I said ‘weary travelers’, I didn’t mean you needed to get tangled up with that guy to come back here. You can just visit, if you want.” He said with a soft chuckle, pulling open the little minifridge against the wall. He ruffled around and then pulled out a juice pouch, handing it to you.
You pulled the little yellow straw off of the front of it, freeing it from the clear plastic it was packaged in and then plunging the pointy end into the pouch. You took a few sips. It helped. Something about the taste grounded you just a little. It felt so real. You knew it wasn’t, though. And neither was he, the kind nerd that was looking at you like you were everything. It was a shame. He really was very your type.
“Why do you have all these snacks and stuff?” You asked softly, staring at the art on the front of the bag, a friendly little juice pitcher with a vintage cartoon-style face. It was a little reminiscent of your new acquaintance, Dishy, but not enough that it set you off.
He walked back over, carrying a thick orange crochet blanket and draping it across your legs. “Come on, GM is always in charge of snacks. Gotta keep my players fed when we’re plunging Grottos.”
You perked up at that. “You play Grottos and Gargoyles?”
Chance blinked a few times, a shocked look on his face for a moment before he masked it with an excited grin. He wasn’t sure what all you knew, having been poking around aimlessly in whatever this place was that his soul and the souls of the rest of your furniture and other inanimates inhabited.
But this confirmed at least one thing for sure. You had no idea he was your D20.
And he decided, in that moment, that he’d like to keep it that way.
You had no idea that he was your favorite and most loyal fidget toy, no idea that he had accompanied you to G&G every Friday night for the last three years since you’d gotten him, no idea that he had felt every little lucky kiss you’d pressed to his 20-side before a big roll.
Your back was to the wall that had his framed paintings of your G&G characters on it. You looked up at him, all sweet and unknowing, sipping from your juice pouch as you awaited his response.
In your eyes, he was just Chance.
He gave a chuckle, honing his words. This was all very fragile. He couldn’t fuck this up. Time to slip into GM mode. “Yeah, of course I play G&G. I’m a nerd. I’m kind of a forever GM, so I never get to make an adventurer, really. Lots of NPCs and BBEGs, though, and I have a lot of fun with those. Tell me about your character, who are you playing right now?”
The words fell out easily, as though he didn’t know every detail about Tobias Sweetwater, your current and longest-running character.
You smiled, happy to level with someone about it. It wasn’t often you met someone like Chance, really. Someone like the friends in your group, a friendly nerd who wouldn’t trample all over your ideas, or tell you that certain things were “technically against the rules and wouldn’t be accepted at a regulated G&G table.” A direct quote from the president of the G&G club, Josh. But if his constant offers of snacks was anything to go off of, Chance didn’t seem like that kind of nerd.
“His name is Tobias. Chaotic good, but he doesn’t really mean to be so chaotic. He’s clumsy, is what it is. An inventor. He writes a lot because he’s forgetful, but he’s constantly losing his blueprints. Worked as a henchman for a little while, but it wasn’t paying enough, so he joined his current adventuring party, the Wandering Walruses. It’s a working title.”
He chuckled at that, recalling the many discussions pertaining to the team name in question. “I like it.”
“It’s really bad.”
“In a charming way, though.” He grinned, sitting down at his table, pushing his glasses up his nose with a practiced finger.
“Yeah, I guess.” You chuckled. “I wish we could play together.”
He sat up a little straighter. “Hmm?”
“I wish you could play G&G with us. My friends. Out…there.” You murmured, mulling over a lot of questions you didn’t want the answer to. Part of you knew this was fleeting. That you weren’t supposed to be here, wherever here was. “I wish you could play with us.”
He nodded at that, letting out a long breath, a wistful look on his face as he gave you a thoughtful smile. He had played with you, more times than he could dream to count. Not that he could tell you that. Instead, he settled for a, “Yeah, me too. That…would be really nice.”
You woke up shortly after that, the blanket dropping down onto the beanbag once you faded from existence, your empty juicepouch fluttering to the rug. He picked it up, dutifully tucking it into the trash can.
Then, to the empty beanbag, he promised, “See you Friday, (Y/N).”
No Pressure
“(Y/N), not to alarm you or anything…but I think this is a job for the big fella.” Your friend Jake advised, running the calculations for how much damage he had just taken. Yeah, his elven Hotshot might be down for the count…
“I agree.” Lance corroborated. His guy was down, too.
You were low on hitpoints, but you had a few tricks left up your sleeve. Namely, the spell marble you’d been holding onto since the first village. It had been a gift from a little girl, the daughter of a powerful witch. And with your slingshot, you might just be able to…
“I still have that spell marble in my pouch. The one from the little girl in Stonesthrow. I’d like to use it now.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” Delaney, your resident GM asked, pressing the tips of her fingers together menacingly.
“With my slingshot.”
“It’s seen better days. You sure you want to risk that?” She asked, voice edging on evil.
You looked around the table, into the hopeful eyes of your weary companions. These Walruses needed you. “I think I have to.”
“Okay. Roll for attack.” She goaded, her eyes falling on the big guy. Your infamous lucky die.
You picked it up with a familiar movement, clutching it in your fingers comfortably. You rubbed your thumb over the 20 on its side, holding your hand to your lips and murmuring very softly, “No pressure or anything.” And then you let it fly, dropping into the middle of the map, right beside your mini of Tobias.
Nat 20.
Delaney looked down at her notes, pencil scratching against her notebook. She made a thoughtful face, considering. Then, she uttered those fateful words. “Alright. How do you want to do this?”
The table erupted in cheers and you smiled, lining up the attack in your mind’s eye.
“Tobias, with a shaking hand, draws his slingshot from the pouch in his bag. He holds it up towards the sky, a desperate plea to any of the gods that are listening, and then loads the spell marble into the pouch, drawing it back and aiming for Malthor’s good eye. He lets it fly, ducking to safety in the bushes, where Derevin is hiding.”
She chuckled, nodding. “The orb melts straight into his glowing eye. Immediately, a giant hand slaps over the spot as he stumbles back. ‘OOOOOWWWW! OW! MY EYE!’ He groans and gurgles and eventually falls back with an impossibly loud thud, crushing the shack at the edge of the village. Luckily, no one was inside, as Serah evacuated them all in time. The villagers cheer, rushing the giant’s body, kicking him and hitting him with their improvised weapons, glad that their overbearing evil overlord, Geoff Behsohz, has finally been overthrown.”
Your group celebrated. You finished your glass of wine, retrieving your lucky die from the center of the table, where it still sat. You set it upright on your coaster, head tilting as you looked it over. Every time, without fail. Every saving throw, every final battle, it had been there through it all, making sure your characters never died at the hands of Delaney and her twisted campaigns.
You gave it a few rolls just for posterity. 12. 18. 5. 7. 12 again. Yep, still as fair as ever, just also still as lucky as it had ever been.
You’d bought it from a man dressed as a wizard at the Renaissance Festival. Maybe the beard and the pointy hat had been more than a costume after all.
The celebration was interrupted by your growling stomach. Unlike another GM you knew, Delaney didn’t often bring snacks. But…Delaney was the only GM you’d ever had, so…where had that thought come from, you wondered? Strange.
“Can we order something? I’m starving too.” Lance raised a hand.
“I am one step ahead of you. What kind of sushi do you want?” Jake said, looking up from his phone.
You chuckled and told him your order, CashSend-ing him right after to cover the difference. Delaney wound down the campaign, reading you all your happily ever afters, and once the sushi arrived, you discussed the future of the campaign, which you would pick up after winter break. One last campaign for one last semester of college.
But yeah, no pressure or anything, right?
“I was thinking we could do something about legacy? Like…the kids of these characters, since we’ve done so many adventures with them already. I think it’s about time we move onto whatever comes next.”
“In real life or…?” Valerie asked, her questions met with a round of nervous chuckles.
You didn’t like to think about it often, but graduation was looming ever nearer over all of your heads. After that, the unending expanse of adulthood. Wooooo, so fun and not at all nervewracking.
But that word…Legacy. It felt so big. You’d have to give some thought to what a child of Tobias would look like. Who they would be and…who he would have them with. What the rest of his life looked like. It was a lot easier to map out than yours would be…
***
Back at your apartment, you unloaded your G&G bag, making sure everything was accounted for.
You pulled out your lucky die, turning it over to admire the way the letters gleamed in the dim light. Grinned, chuckled, let out a soft, “Thanks for that. You never let me down.” And then shook your head, feeling silly for talking to a hunk of resin.
You tucked him--it…tucked it back into your dice bag and started getting ready for the night.
But now that you looked at it…Hmm…you swore you’d seen that pattern somewhere else before. And not just at the fabric store where you’d gotten it…
***
For the first time, you found yourself in the pillow fort without horrible circumstances driving you there. This time you didn’t stumble, you didn’t crawl, you just…walked inside, looking around.
“Chance? You here?”
It was a rhetorical question. He was barely anywhere else.
He gasped. “Hey, you! I…I was hoping you’d come. It’s been a while.”
“I think I’m getting better at this dream-navigating thing.” You chuckled, stepping further into his den.
“It would seem so.” He looked you over for the typical signs the others had put you through the ringer, but you weren’t trembling or crying this time. He gave a lovesick smile, tilting his head.
“What are you up to tonight?”
“Celebrating, actually.” He admitted.
“Celebrating?”
“Yeah, my, uh…” He hesitated. Uh-oh. Careful now, Chance. “My G&G group won our campaign tonight. We’ve been playing this one for a while. Kind of a big deal.”
It was kind of sad when he thought about it, celebrating a campaign he hadn’t even played, not really. But it was the little things. You’d kissed him, even if you didn’t know that. His cheeks flushed just thinking about it. How embarrassing.
“That’s worth celebrating, I think. Do you mind if I join you? I would have brought champagne, if I knew…”
“Come, sit.” He pointed to the chair next to him, brushing himself off. He glanced up in time to see a few figures in the doorway, peering in curiously. He held up a hand, motioning for you to stay at the table. “One sec.”
Daisuke and Beverly were lingering in the doorway, talking quietly between themselves.
“That’s the human? She’s cute.” Beverly mused, looking you over from the distance. She handed Chance the bottle of champagne he’d asked for.
“Yeah, she is. Thank you for this. And this, Daisuke.” He said, turning to the other inanimate. You and your friends having sushi had given him a serious hankering for it. Luckily, Daisuke had been dabbling with some new recipes and was eager to get some opinions on it. And Chance had asked for enough for two. Wishful thinking on his part, surely, but it had paid off.
“Has she told you what she is doing here?” Daisuke asked. “Why she wanders our plane?”
“She doesn’t know. I don’t either. I can’t figure it out. But I’ll keep you posted if I do.” Chance promised, gazing down at the sushi container with a soft smile.
“Go. Enjoy it. She’s never down here for long.” Beverly encouraged with a grin, giving Chance a push back inside.
He turned, heading back towards the table where you were sitting, looking around his space again. You eyed the pair of plates at the table, the fact that there were two. Two glasses, two napkins, two sets of chopsticks.
“Are you expecting someone?”
Chance chuckled, giving a shrug as he unpacked the food onto the plates, setting down each platter with care. “You, admittedly. I…I mean, like I said, I was hoping you’d show up.”
“I love sushi.”
I know. Chance thought, but his wit was quick enough to catch it before it slipped out. “Who doesn’t? And, as the lady requested…champagne.”
“You read my mind.” You chuckled, watching as he popped the bottle open, his big hands surprisingly dextrous and unsurprisingly strong. “Who were, um…those people over there?”
“Ah. Uh…some of the…other people from this place. Daisuke is trying to open a sushi place. Beverly handles the, well, the beverages around here.” Chance shrugged. “They’re nice. I don’t see them often, but they were curious.”
“About me.”
He hesitated. Nodded. “Yeah, about you.”
Thankfully, you didn’t prod. “Mmm.” You picked up your chopsticks, freeing them from the paper they were in and then rubbing them together out of habit, trying to get the stray splinters of bamboo off the ends of them. “My group won our campaign tonight too.”
“Yeah?” He grinned, sounding as casual as he could, weaving surprise into his tone. “Did Tobias save the day?”
“You know it. Rolled a Nat 20 right when I needed it.” You said, proud, unaware of the way Chance’s heart was absolutely racing. “Slingshotted that bitch in the eye.”
He stammered, staring at the edge of his plate for a moment before giving a sheepish chuckle and meeting your gaze. He’d definitely…adjusted your odds a bit. He always did. He couldn’t help himself. “L-Lucky shot, it sounds like.”
“Super lucky.” You agreed, picking up a piece of sushi and popping it in your mouth. It was good stuff, the kind you’d just had in the waking world, flavors melting against your tongue just as real as they had mere hours before. “This is good stuff.”
“It is.” He agreed, tongue darting out to get the stray piece of rice in the corner of his mouth.
“What was your campaign like?” You asked.
“Hmm?”
“Your G&G campaign tonight? You’re GM, right? So…how’d that go?”
“Ah, yeah, they beat up my BBEG pretty good. One of the party members sacrificed himself. It was really brave. They were fighting a djinn that got loose on their university campus. It was kind of their fault, but then one of their mentors joined up with him and it got really bad. But they won in the end.”
It was an old campaign. He hoped you didn’t recognize it, given how vague he’d left the details. But it was one he’d been wanting to repurpose anyway for a campaign of his own, if he ever got the chance. Ha. Pun intended.
He’d been wanting to get a group together, but it was hard. Parker had some interest in playing a chaotic neutral Troubadour. Mac might play. Dasha and Jerry if he asked nicely. And Lux, but…he didn’t really think they were cut out for it, to be quite honest. Still, he’d give them a shot, see how it went.
“Sounds like a hell of a time. I bet you’re a real good storyteller.”
Chance nodded, eyes soft. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I like to think so. My players, too. My last campaign, I put them all in this giant library in a tower, and each level of it represented one of the stages of grief, which corresponded with one of their characters’ backstories in a twisted and beautiful way. And to get to the next level, they had to solve a puzzle and then beat up a monster based on their trauma.”
You stared at him for a long moment, awestruck. “You…you’re the real deal.”
At this point, he didn’t think he could stop smiling if he wanted to. You were just…perfect. But he’d known that all along. “You think so?”
“Yeah, absolutely. I…I’d love to play with you sometime. If…if that’s how this works. I can’t promise I’ll be on schedule, since…you know…my time down here is always so fickle, so…no pressure or anything, but…”
“No, I get it. Whenever you can. It’s…it’s a date.”
The Girl Made of Letters
Your teddy bear gazed up at you lovingly as you sat on your bed in your childhood bedroom over winter break. You’d found him in your mom’s closet, just sitting there. How he’d gotten in there, you weren’t sure, but he didn’t belong in there collecting dust.
Without classes for the month, your homework had instead been rolling up your new character. You’d been stuck for a while, but you’d finally had a spark of inspiration that involved a call with Delaney to make sure the lore allowed it. And somehow, against all odds, she’d given you the okay.
One last time and all that.
Using your lucky die, you rolled up a few stats, letting it land on your binder, as flat as you could get it on your bed.
You laid down for a moment on your side. It was late, but you still had the lights on, working diligently to finish so you could use the rest of your very limited winter break brain power to finish the fanfic that had been burning a hole through your brain. You really just…needed to rest your eyes for a bit. Yeah, that was it.
Obviously you dozed off immediately.
The next time you opened your eyes, you were not back in that familiar pillow fort, as you’d expected. Instead, you were still in your room, on your bed, but a weird, dreamy glaze had settled over the place, like there was a fog machine somewhere, pumping the faintest bit of haze into the room.
“Ohhh, Betty is gonna have a field day with this…Hey, Teddy.” The voice was right behind you. You stirred a little, pivoting. “Oh. Um, hi.”
You turned to find Chance, sitting on the bed, looking down at himself in barely-corked awe. He’d never been this big before. Granted, he didn’t leave the dice bag much. But part of him had expected to remain that size, his usual stature, small enough to sit comfortably in your palm. He was glad that wasn’t the case, though, or you really would have had some questions for him.
He was sitting on top of your binder, though, right where your lucky die had been resting before you’d shifted onto this slightly parallel plane of existence. Chance chuckled and slid off of it, onto your comforter instead, and, more or less unintentionally, closer to you.
“Hey, you. Who’s…Betty?”
“A friend of mine. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled softly, eyes glittering as you sat up, adjusting your hair. Clearly you were asleep. This was a dream. And yet, like the others, it felt so…vivid. The mattress seemed to dip beneath his weight, the lights seemed to hum. “Hey yourself. Got a project going, huh?”
You motioned to the character sheets spread across the bed. “Rolling up a new character for my last college campaign. It’s taking longer than I thought it would. I’ve made good progress, though. Aside from…well, literally falling asleep in the middle of it, I guess.”
He grinned, all too excited by the prospect. Now, you were speaking his language. He always loved the characters you came up with. “Hit me with it.”
“Her name is Elodie Sweetwater.”
“Elodie…pretty name. Mmm, Sweetwater sounds familiar.” He mused, playing dumb perfectly, reaching for another piece of your dice set to fiddle with idly, expertly rolling it in his wide palm. Notably, your lucky die was missing, but you hadn’t seemed to notice. After all…he was sitting right in front of you.
“She’s Tobias’ daughter.”
“Who’s the mom?”
“No mom.” You replied, chuckling. “It’s a little out there, but…she’s made of love letters.”
Chance raised an eyebrow. You could tell he was hooked. “Elaborate on that.”
“Tobias wrote a bunch of love letters to his…well, his husband, Merlinus--”
“MERLINUS?! MERLINUS DEVAIN?!” Chance exclaimed, jaw slack, eyes wide. Merlinus had been the BBEG in the first campaign your college friends had done. He wasn’t…super evil, but he had in fact been evil. And now he was married and would apparently be celebrating Father’s Day.
You laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I know, I know, but I got permission from my GM. We decided that he’s in magic rehab and he’s been doing therapy, so it’s fine. Besides, the theme of our campaign is legacy, so I thought that was a good way to tie it all back together.”
“Right. I mean…it’s certainly a little unpredictable, but very creative. Anyway, tell me how this works. The love letter thing.” He said, hoping to distract you from the fact that…he very much wasn’t supposed to know about Merlinus. The two of you hadn’t talked about him. But of course, Chance had been there for that campaign, picking up every roll. Of course he remembered the first BBEG you faced together.
“Right, so she’s made from love letters that Tobias wrote to Merlinus. They were sitting on the desk in his workshop and one of his potions of Enlightenment accidentally spilled onto it and turned it into a little baby girl. It’s been about twenty-two years since then, and now Elodie is ready to embark on her first real adventure.”
It was really sweet, creative in your unique flavor that he loved so dearly. And Chance couldn’t help but latch onto the fact that…even if you didn’t understand the weight of it…you were writing about an inanimate. Someone like him. It made his heart go fuzzy.
You shrugged, letting your eyes wander along the edge of the bedspread. “I know it’s kinda…I know it needs work, but…”
He’d been thinking too long, quiet. Chance took one of your hands, touch warm and delicate, but reassuring in a way that chased those insecure thoughts right out. “No, no, it…she sounds great! The love letter thing is so fresh and sweet. What class is she?”
“She’s a Troubadour. I haven’t played one before. I thought it would be a good opportunity. Seemed to suit her. She’s a bit of a dreamer. Head-in-the-clouds type of girl.”
“Sounds like you.” He couldn’t stop himself from saying it, the words slipping right out. They seemed to land okay, though, judging by the look on your face. Maybe not a Nat 20, but certainly a seventeen or eighteen.
You gave his hand a squeeze, searching his eyes as best as you could through his ruby-tinted lenses. “Do we…know each other? Out there?”
Hope crested at the edge of your voice, like you wanted him to be someone you knew, someone tangible. Someone you could find. Chance shook his head, nipping that in the bud before you got the wrong idea. “No, that’s not how this works, unfortunately.”
“Hmm, figured.” You nodded, pondering for a moment before asking, “Then you’re, what, my conscience? My muse?”
Chance’s heart fluttered at the accusation, specifically the second one. He laughed, the tips of his ears tinted red. “I’m honored you’d think I could be either of those.”
“Then…what is this? Why do we keep…?” You exhaled a breath, head shaking ever so slightly. “Finding each other?”
“I don’t know why. I wish I did. But I’m glad we…keep meeting like this. As for what I am…I’m Chance. Just Chance.” He faltered a little, thumb brushing over your knuckles as though that action alone could steady his shaking soul. “Is…is that okay?”
You nodded, a wave of something warm sweeping down your chest. Your fingers curled a little tighter around his. The flush you felt spread across your cheeks meant you were probably looking pretty rosy. You hoped he didn’t mind. Maybe he couldn’t even tell, the way his glasses were tinted like Cyclops’ visor. “That’s okay. I…well, I think I like Chance, to be honest with you. A lot. Probably more than I should, considering he’s relegated to my dreams.”
His eyes widened, sparkling like you’d just handed him three new G&G manuals. “I…I like you too! Obviously. I…yeah. You’re…you’re perfect. I never thought I’d get to meet you like this. It’s been a dream come true. Pun intended.”
You chuckled and shook your head. “I’m not perfect.”
He scoffed, grinning. “Alright, well, agree to disagree.”
You rolled your eyes, unable to wipe the smile off of your face. “Dork.”
“Yeah, well, you’re kind of into it, though. Unless I’m reading this wrong, but…I rolled a Nat 20 on my insight check of you, so…I’m pretty sure you’re perfect. Argue with Walla--ahem with the wall.”
You squeezed his hand, leaning in to press a kiss to his steadily reddening cheek. He caught your eyes as you pulled away, the self-consciousness that had been cradled in his gaze huffed out immediately, replaced only with love. Just love.
Chance knew this was reckless. It was selfish and dangerous to string this lie out any further. To not tell you what he truly was stripped you of your choice in the matter of whether or not you actually wanted to foster anything with him. When you found out, surely you’d be mad at him. Maybe not for what he was, but certainly for not telling you sooner.
And yet, as he met your gaze, brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face, leaning ever so closer…telling you…losing this…it just wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.
Other Nights
Winter break made its graceful exit and you moved back to school. Same apartment as last semester. Same roommate, who was so quiet sometimes you forgot she was there. Same friend group, although another one of your friends had climbed on board for your last G&G campaign all together. She’d always talked about joining the rest of you, but had never made the time. Senior year was a good time for pushing people into finally doing things, it seemed.
Sam slipped right in, surprisingly. She was good at G&G. Her character was a punk rock Hotshot who was on the lookout for their dad, a famed evil sorcerer, who had all but dropped off the planet a few years after she was born. Obviously this sorcerer was Merlinus, though Sam’s character, Ruby, had not yet divulged this information. And no, your characters had no idea that they were, in a sense, sisters. But you couldn’t wait for them to find out.
Your third week back, you had a few tests looming nearer and one decently long paper that your professor had assigned on the fly. He was well-meaning, if not a little scatterbrained, which was why, somehow, he had neglected to mention you had a five-page term paper due by midnight on Sunday. It was in the syllabus, but you hadn’t looked at that since, well, syllabus day. Who the hell did that anyway?
And so, Sunday evening, you were camped at the very empty library, making poor decisions left and right. Not least of which was the tall can of Zinger sitting on the table beside you. 100mg of caffeine this late at night was surely a bad idea, but given the work cut out for you, you had no choice. The clock was ticking, and this paper wasn’t going to write itself.
So, you tipped the can back, letting the sweet Raspberry-and-battery-acid flavor rush down your throat and into your waiting organs, who surely would not let you forget this decision.
***
You tossed and turned a lot that night. And when you finally did fall asleep, you had something akin to the worst sleep paralysis you’d ever experienced, flat on your back in the pitch black room. It felt as though your jaw was wired shut, your eyes strung open. And that whispery, familiar voice rolled through your ears like smoke. Thick and heady. Liquid nitrogen poured down your spine and you felt her arms coil around you.
Nightmare.
“Oh, darling…you couldn’t scream if you wanted to. You’re mine, tonight. May as well get comfortable.”
You tried to move, but didn’t budge an inch, quite literally held in place by her inky tendrils. You steeled yourself, trying to calm your breathing, trying to do anything, really. The feeling of entrapment unsettled you to your bones, and the weight on your chest felt as though it really could crush you.
“All that caffeine is bad for a sleeping mind. You should know better than that. We’ve got quite the night ahead of us…buckle up.”
***
It was hours later that you finally managed to rip yourself free, literally crashlanding into Chance’s fort, but it felt like you had been shivering there for centuries, bound and helpless as hallucinations clawed at the edge of your vision. Whispers, screams, you weren’t sure what was worse, but both filled your ears for the hours Nightmare held you, both gentle and vicelike simultaneously. It was enough to make your head spin. And it was, ragged breaths tearing themselves from your lungs, ears ringing, muscles reduced to jelly.
By the time you came to, you weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been laying there on the patterned rug, staring up at one of the twinkle lights as it blinked on and off. Chance stood over you, frowning down at your trembling, collapsed form.
“Are you okay?” He hesitated, unsure whether or not he could touch you, or if he should try in your state. Sometimes rousing someone from sleep paralysis was worse. He didn’t want to send you into shock or something.
You tried to speak, you really did, but it was like your jaw was still wired shut, an icy ribbon threaded through your lips, preventing you from doing anything aside from moaning pathetically and reaching out for him.
He knelt to the ground immediately, scooping you into his arms and brushing your hair back, shushing you. Chance made an effort to soothe you, strong hands smoothing down your arms, chasing away the sensation of the frigid tendrils that still lingered along the edges of your skin.
“I’m gonna move you, okay?”
You whimpered, nodding. As he’d done before, Chance scooped you up with ease, carrying you back to the warmer, safer corner of the fort, but when he went to set you down, you latched onto his arm, shivering still.
“Do you want me to get you a blanket? Or…or juice or…?”
Tears welled in your eyes and you shook your head, the muscles in your neck burning, eyes aching and red. God, it always hurt to cry in your dreams, and this was no different. You gave his arm a weak little tug, trying to get him to stay with you, unsure how else to convey it other than the silent pleading you were doing.
He melted immediately, understanding in his eyes. You’d had a lot of nightmares, but…he’d never seen you like this before, shaking and nonverbal. Whatever that horse had done to you…it made him want to go and give her a piece of his mind. If she didn’t vanish the moment you were awake again, that was. “Okay, okay, here, let’s…” He picked you up again, getting you to your feet so he could sit down first, gently coaxing you down on top of his large, welcoming frame.
His warmth helped. It helped a lot. You closed your eyes, resting your head on his chest for a long moment. A gentle hand pet your head, goading you back down to earth slowly, bit by bit. Feeling trickled back into your fingers, your toes. You tested your voice, but it was still hard, inaudible and crackling like a radio without signal.
“Don’t push yourself. I understand.” Chance assured, resting his chin on top of your head. “Nightmare?”’
You nodded.
“Bad one?”
You nodded harder, letting out a shaking breath. You managed to croak out a, “Sleep…’Ralysis”
“Sleep paralysis?” He asked softly, voice as tender as his touch. He pressed his lips to your forehead, reaching for one of your hands, fingers lacing with your own. “No wonder you’re shaken up so bad. That’s some serious stuff. You’re so brave.”
All you could manage was a scoff.
“I mean it. I’ve never met Nightmare, but…I think I’d be a lot worse off than you right now if I had. Have you been with her all night?”
You winced. Nodded.
“We don’t have to talk about her. I’m sorry.” He hooked a warm finger under your chin, tilting your face up so he could meet your eyes, make sure you were still with him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? You’re safe here.”
You could feel yourself thawing, both physically and emotionally. Breathing got easier. Not right away, but little by little. You tilted your head forward, resting your forehead against his cheek, eyes fluttering closed.
“You’re so warm…”
He smiled against you, a large hand rubbing soothing circles in your back. “You think so?”
You nodded, an arm looping tighter around his soft middle. A long breath floated from your lips, heartrate finally beginning to slow to something that could be considered normal. “It’s helping. A lot. Thank you.”
“She really has it out for you, huh?”
You rasped a bitter chuckle. “Yeah, it’s…my fault this time. Chugged a Zinger before bed. I had to churn out a term paper.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? And how’d that work out for you?”
“Fine. Until it wasn’t. Thank you. For this. You uh…you really know how to handle a panic attack. I think that was record cooldown for me.”
“My buddy Parker…gets them. I’m usually the one who has to talk him down. We don’t usually end up, well, like this, though.” He chuckled, motioning to your position, sprawled atop him. “Not that I mind. You make a great weighted blanket.”
You laughed at that, pulling away to look at him, at the soft, reassuring smile on his face, the way his eyes kept searching your expression, just to make sure you were still alright. One of your careful hands reached up towards his face, still trembling ever so slightly, but not enough to hinder you from this.
He leaned into the touch, voice impossibly soft as he whispered, “You okay?”
“I’m okay now, yeah. Thank you.” You looked around the pillow fort, taking stock of everything.
Most of it was unchanged since the last time you’d seen it, although, instead of two frames on the wall, there were three. From that angle, you still couldn’t see what, or who was on them, but it wasn’t your main concern. Instead, your gaze fell on the game pieces Chance had set up, his GM divider standing upright on one side of the table, a few minis planted on his gridded map. It was clear he was ready to play a game with you, whenever you stopped by next, which was now. And instead, you were…
You frowned a little, guilt welling in your chest. “Aww, Chance…”
“Don’t you dare apologize for getting sleep-kidnapped and having a panic attack,” he said, voice mock-stern.
“But you got everything ready, and--”
“There’ll be other nights.” The way the words sat between the two of you, you could tell he didn’t fully believe them.
Every time you closed your eyes, it was a gamble of where you’d end up, who you’d end up with. There was no guarantee this wasn’t your last time there with him, in his dice bag. No promise that these weird dreams wouldn’t cease as quickly as they’d begun, leaving you both with the increasingly heavy question of what could have been. You might never get to play that game he’d spent so long crafting just for you. He might never tell you that he was your lucky and faithful D20. Maybe someday you’d downsize your dice hoard and get rid of him by mistake. That outcome…wasn’t so likely, admittedly. You were a pack rat and he held a lot of emotional value to you even in his resin form. But still, it was something he’d thought about on lonesome nights when you were elsewhere, one of the points his own anxiety liked to kick around his head just to make him sad.
“Chance…”
“Listen, there are worse ways to spend my night than cradling the woman I…” It almost slipped out then. You could feel it. And the way your heart caught, it was almost as though it had. “Than, you know…cuddling with…with someone I care about, alright? I’m perfectly content right here. This is good for me.”
“We could…try to…”
“There’s no time. Sun’s came up a little while ago. Your alarm goes off a few hours after that.” Chance recited. That’s all it was. Patterns and routines. Simple facts. Nightmare had stolen most of your sleeping hours tonight, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of what he had left.
You frowned, gazing up at him.
He chuckled. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s fine. This is fine. I could never blame you for anything, let alone this. My…my realm, this place, is beyond your control.”
He didn’t say it, but you could see it in his eyes. Chance was willing to take anything he could get when it came to you. That made you feel worse. He deserved…everything. Right now, the way your little arrangement worked, you didn’t feel like you could give it to him.
Before you could protest, Chance gathered your hands together, cupping them before pouring a little pouch of dice into your palms. His own personal set. They were gemstones with gold lining around the edges, cool to the touch and smooth against your skin. An emerald D6, an amethyst D4, a topaz D12, and of course, the showstopper, his ruby D20.
“I have a red one, too.” You murmured, turning it over carefully. “It’s like three times the size of this one, though. My lucky one.”
He took stock of himself as you unknowingly spoke about him, chuckling as he thought it over. “A big guy, huh?”
“Yeah. My big fella. Weighted. Rolls really nice.”
“That’s your favorite one?” He felt a little guilty, fishing like that, but he did genuinely want to know, and this might be the only time he could get an objective answer.
“Oh, definitely. There’s not a single session I’ve played without it. I misplaced it once between moves, when I was moving back to college from home. A full forty-eight hours where it was unaccounted for. I had the crashout of the century.”
He chuckled at the mention. Chance definitely remembered that, being tucked in the crate where you kept your blankets due to a packing mishap. He hadn’t minded spending some time with Mateo, of course, but he could hear snippets of your crashout from within the cozy depths and…it didn’t sound so great… “But you found it, I take it.”
“Oh yeah. I found it.” You reassured. “We’re on good terms. A few weeks into our last campaign now. Always rolls exactly what I need, exactly when I need it.”
Chance found himself blushing at that, unable to convey exactly what the praise meant to him aside from holding you a little tighter, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Not that he wasn’t already blushing from hearing you call him ‘your big fella.’ But he was steadily taking on his familiar red hue.
He should tell you. This was the perfect moment. You seemed to be putting the pieces together a little bit, at least so far as Nightmare went, that she was the personification of night terror itself, which meant that he…must be something similar. That was it. His mind was made up. He was going to tell you.
“Uh, I…so actually…” He opened his mouth to say something, but that train of thought was derailed when you sat a little straighter in his hold, carefully smooshing his dice into one of his large, soft hands, curling his fingers around them for safekeeping.
“Ooooh, there it is. I’m slipping.” You crooned, turning towards him. Your eyes scanned his face. Even as you became less solid in his lap, you were still so worried about him, his feelings. One semi-transparent hand cupped his cheek as you leaned closer, pressing a long, deliberate kiss to the corner of his lips, so tantalizingly close to his own. So close, in fact, that his lips moved of their own accord, puckering ever so slightly in response, chasing the whisper of yours as you faded from his grasp, surrendered to the sunlight. “See you later, Chance.”
“Y-yeah, later…” he murmured to the empty room.
Crit Fail
“I want to seduce the door.”
The table devolved into chuckles and Delaney shook her head. “You can’t seduce the door.”
Sam retorted, indignant. “Why not?!”
“Because it’s a door. Made of wood. Next question.”
“Right, but do we know the door can’t feel? Maybe the door has dreams. Maybe the door is lonely.”
“Roll for insight.”
She did. “Nat 20.”
“The door doesn’t have feelings, or dreams. You’re not seducing the door.”
“Dammit.” Sam huffed.
“I would like to try to pick the lock.” You announced. “That Swashbuckler I met in the pub in Bloomsbury gave me a metal hair stick.”
Delaney grinned. “Quick thinking. Give me a roll for that.”
You rolled your regular D20, playing with the other one in your other hand, letting it tumble against the table beneath your palm. “15, with a +2 modifier.”
“Alright, yeah, you work on the lock for a few minutes and the door drifts open. From within, you hear a whisper of a voice. A feminine one. She beckons and…something in you wants to follow. You could close the door again…walk away…or you could follow it. What would you like to do?”
The group deliberated before deciding to very cautiously venture inside. You rolled a Crit Fail and tripped head first into a pile of haunted portraits, freeing their very angry residents into the room for all of you to fight. After that, your little D20 was relegated to timeout and your lucky one finally got its chance (hah) to shine.
The battle was long. It was a rough one. You all had some pretty bad scrapes, so you took a long rest after to recoup and rethink your approach to the manor you’d stumbled into, which seemed to be the key to finding the Legacy Stone.
Elodie sat at camp, writing letters to her dads back home and was joined by Ruby, who asked about her parents and, as the party watched on in glee, the two finally discovered they were sisters, in a strange sort of way. Some of your friends hadn’t figured it out yet, so it led to a lot of shock and elation as the two of you made plans to get in contact with Merlinus as soon as you could, since Elodie had been raised by him and was on good terms with the guy.
When the other members got their moments, your mind wandered a bit. You rested your cheek on your fist, elbow on the table. In your other hand, your lucky die, two of its points pinched between your thumb and middle, spinning it idly with your ring finger. You watched the numbers go around and around. Something about it…
You adjusted your hold, looking deeper. Your memory tickled with the sensation of a cold set of dice in your hands. Gemstone dice. A ruby D20, much smaller than this one. Had you…seen them at the mall maybe? In that card shop? In the metaphysical store? No…no, you’d held them. You’d handed them back to someone, curled his fingers around them. His big, warm fingers.
Chance.
Somehow, in all of it, you’d forgotten about Chance.
Chance and his careful, comforting touches. Chance and his reassuring voice that carried you through the worst of the worst. Chance, who gave you snacks and juice pouches and kisses on the forehead. Chance, who played G&G, who listened with rapt awe to your new character as you laid her out for him. Chance who…
Chance who…knew who Merlinus Devain was…somehow…
You took a sip of your smoothie, eyes narrowing in thought. You pretended to be strategizing, pencil hovering over your notes.
You hadn’t told Chance about Merlinus. How had he known who Merlinus was…? He was from a campaign so long ago, he was barely relevant anymore, aside from his connections to Elodie and Ruby in this campaign.
“I never thought you’d come in here. I heard you’d been bopping around, but…Of course I know who you are. You’re (Y/N). Are…are you okay?”
Of course I know who you are, he’d said. If this worked like…Nightmare being your nightmares, Dishy being…your dishwasher…Then that stood to reason…
The session ended quietly and you reached for your dicebag, stopping when you had both in hand, your lucky D20 and your dicebag, and you froze, staring at both. The walls of Chance’s fort looked…looked just like the fabric your bag was made of. Which meant that…if Chance was always in there…well…
You stared at your D20, realization cutting through your chest as your thumb gently grazed its--his…side.
“Aww, shit.”
***
After a long, riveting conversation with Sam about her job lined up at Valdivian and her offer to try to get you in there, too, you headed back to your apartment.
You filled up the water filter in the fridge before getting ready for bed. Put on your cutest pajamas, did your skincare, took your ValdiVitamins, brushed your teeth extra good, and then returned to your bedroom.
You hesitated for a moment, but took your dicebag out of your tote bag, fishing your lucky die from inside and setting it, ever so carefully, on the surface of your desk. You gave it one long look before tucking into bed to see if you’d managed to crack the case after all…
And if not, maybe you were finally losing it.
Here and Now
You didn’t sit up for a long while, laying still as you felt everything shift around you, slipping into that other place, that ephemeral place that always seemed to slipped from your waking self’s memories. But not this time. No, this time you were determined to hold on.
You opened your eyes slowly, overly cautious after the Nightmare incident. But when you finally dared to peek, all you saw was Chance sitting at your desk, fidgeting with the rest of your dice set, head hung in something between nervousness and shame.
The D20 was gone. Your lucky die. Well…not gone, exactly. You gave a soft, sad little smile.
“You’ve always been pretty clever. I really didn’t expect you to figure it out, though.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring at the edge of the desk, then the little dice in his hands again.
You…well, you didn’t really know what to say to that. You took a long moment to look him over, with the new knowledge in mind. His broad shoulders, his strong arms, the bit of pudge that clung to his middle. He was a weighted die, it…well, it made sense he was built the way he was. Your big guy.
Your soft chuckle broke the otherwise very cold silence that had settled between the two of you.
“Are you mad?” He asked softly, voice pulled taut like he was bracing for a punch.
“No, I am not mad. Why would I be mad?”
“I…I’m made of resin. I fit in the palm of your hand, I…” He was getting choked up, face flushed red. He set the dice back down on the desk, huffing a breath. “I would be mad at me. I…I am mad at me. But…I mean, how was I supposed to explain all of this to you? That we’re all…here.”
You let his words sink in, the confirmation of your wild, half-baked theory, that the kind nerd with the big, big heart was your lucky die…It was almost too much to comprehend. But the look in his eyes, the guilt, the shame…it was real.
“Dishy is the dishwasher. Nightmare is…as the name suggests, I guess.” You said quietly. “So, the others?”
“Betty is your bed. Daisuke is the dishes, Beverly’s your wine cabinet.” He confirmed. “And my friend Parker is the pile of board games in your parents’ attic. But he sometimes hitches a ride on your Uno deck if he wants to spend a semester here. That’s…why he gets panic attacks. There’s not a lot going on up in the attic. He never has anyone to play with.”
You were quiet, thinking. You didn’t know what to say. You had a million questions, yes, but none that seemed okay to ask. You had gotten Chance at the Renaissance Festival your freshman year of college. Had he been conscious before that? Had he gained consciousness when you chose him? And by that measure, how long had the others been awake?
“No…human has ever been on our plane before. Whatever this is, it’s an anomaly.” Chance said, solemn and sure. “It shouldn’t be happening.”
“It is, though.” You murmured, voice steady, despite your racing heart.
“Right. It is.” He nodded, lips pulled aside in concentration. He still wouldn’t look at you. Maybe he couldn’t. Couldn’t face whatever it was in your eyes now that you knew the truth. “But we were not supposed to meet, ever. Definitely not like this.”
“Why not?”
“Because! It’s not--!” He huffed, cheeks even redder than before. He shook his head, letting out a slower breath in an attempt to keep a lid on it.
You shifted in the bed, letting your legs hang down, bare feet dangling above the carpet as you faced him. “Chance.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
He finally turned to look at you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, giving you a good look at the shape he was in. He pushed them up again, like a shield, a thin red film to hide behind, just like his GM divider.
Chance studied your face, searching for some telltale sign of rejection. Of disgust. There wasn’t one. He softened a little, a bitter chuckle floating between you. “Listen, I…I’m used to getting thrown around, okay? It’s what I do. I roll with it. B-But…I…I don’t think I’d recover this time.”
You stood, letting him accept that movement before making another, taking slow, careful steps closer to him. He just watched, preparing himself to field whatever words came out of your mouth. He didn’t expect you to plop right down in his lap, though.
And yet, that didn’t stop his arms from wrapping around you, his forehead tilted forward, resting against your jaw. He let out a long breath, face falling into the crook of your neck, seeking warmth and comfort. You wrapped an arm around him, the other venturing up to comb through his dark hair.
“This isn’t a game to me.” You murmured softly. His slow, deliberate inhales meant, you hoped, that your words were sinking in. “I am not playing with your heart.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s kind of what I’m afraid of. That…this, these feelings, these dreams…they’re real to both of us in the way they’re real to me and…and it doesn’t matter anyway. That you’ll wake up one day and all of this will be gone. You’ll go about your life, get a normal partner, a house, a car, some kids and…and I’ll get to sit on your shelf for all of eternity, collecting dust in my own front row seat to your happily ever after.”
It sounded like torture. You were sure to him, it was. He’d seen you go on a handful of dates in the years you’d had him, you were sure. But you couldn’t imagine what it was like to fall in love with someone who couldn’t see you. Someone who you couldn’t communicate with unless she was asleep.
And then the possibility that it would all evaporate, the connection you’d painstakingly built piece by piece, gone in an instant…that he’d be trapped, doomed to be…nothing. That he’d have to watch. It all but shattered you.
“And…and I want you to. I want you…to…have something nice and normal. I can’t give you anything real aside from a good roll here and there when you really need it.” He said, voice edging into mischievous territory at the end there, though his eyes remained serious.
“You’ve been fudging my rolls?”
“Yeah, a little. Not the point. You deserve so much. Certainly more than me.”
You stared at him for a long moment, guiding his face out of the crook of your neck so you could get a better look at him. He met your eyes reluctantly, letting you look him over for a good, long moment. He still looked like forever to you.
God, this all sucked so bad.
“I can’t promise you that won’t happen. My memory of all this is a little fuzzy out there. I…I don’t know how any of this works. Why the dreams started, what’s causing them, if they’ll ever stop someday.” Your thumb soothed a circle into his cheekbone, palm anchored against his soft skin, just below the rim of his glasses. “But I know I’m in love with you. Here and now. And it’s real to me. You are real to me.”
You could have gone on. Could have given a monologue so good it would put any BBEG’s to shame. But you didn’t have the chance.
He was already kissing you.
It was a hungry kind of kiss. An experienced one. You didn’t know who (or what? You weren’t sure the semantics) had been kissing your D20, but whoever they were, you thanked your lucky stars for them.
One of his large hands slipped lower, giving your thigh a squeeze, while the other anchored itself on your face, keeping you right where he wanted you. And you all but melted into him, caught up in the motions, crossing the line in one swift movement into something decidedly more.
“I love you, too.” He murmured, catching your lips between words, punctuating it with another long one. You parted just an inch, his forehead hovering just in front of yours, warmth melding together until you weren’t sure where yours ended and his began. He met your eyes, smiling a little. “But you knew that.”
You nodded, letting the clipshow of your moments together play in your mind while they were all accessible to you. Your nights spent curled together, your shared meals, aimless nights where you talked about everything and nothing and laid on the rug inside what you now knew was your dicebag. You’d had so much time together, and yet, it didn’t feel like enough. It never could be.
You wanted a life together, and you couldn’t even have a waking day.
Still, you spent the whole night there, tucked in his lap, kissing him, murmuring promises you couldn’t keep. And when you woke up the next morning, his warmth still lingered on your lips, your faithful D20 sitting on the desk.
Everything Leads to Love
It was a weird little thing when it happened. You ran out of melatonin gummies. Went to the store to replace them, and the entire shelf of ValdiVitamins was cleared out. There was a recall. Apparently people taking them had reported…weird side effects, including but not limited to auditory and visual hallucinations and incredibly vivid dreams.
That explained that little thread.
For a while, you held onto Chance. Looked for him when you were lucid, which wasn’t often anymore. Never found him. Never even found his fort or any of his friends. Your dreams were normal. Your nightmares were, too, returned to awkward memories from work, bad days in high school, and public speaking and realizing you weren’t wearing pants. That whole world was cut off and, as far as you knew, you had no way to get back.
It got easier when you started to forget, as awful as it sounded. You knew there was something special about your lucky D20, aside from its luck. But his features blurred in your mind. His voice had gone first, followed by his name, and pretty soon, all you had was the feeling of his hands around yours. A year later, and that was gone, too. You figured he must have been one of the guys from the G&G club at your college, a member of the nerd herd, whatever vague memory of him was left got neatly sorted away with those.
You moved back into your childhood home. Your parents moved out, headed for warmer weather down south. Your Dad had turned the other upstairs bedroom into a gym, though you barely used it. The attic door was locked, and you weren’t sure where the key was, but…there wasn’t much up there anyway, just some holiday decorations and some board games, you were sure.
Surprisingly, there weren’t a ton of jobs readily lined up for someone with a Customer Service degree. But thanks to your friend Sam, you had gotten a foot in the door at Valdivian. They were one of the biggest companies in the world. It was a big deal.
Your first day was going relatively smoothly until you got more or less fired on the spot, replaced by VAL 9000, an AI assistant. Well, technically not fired, just…put in “labor limbo” until they could figure out what to do with you.
You sat at the desk, shell-shocked. “Huh. Great.”
Your eyes wandered to the D20 you kept sitting on your desk. The red one from college, your lucky die. You didn’t have much time to play anymore, with all of your friends scattered to the winds, but it still made a good fidget when you were knee deep in paperwork, job applications, and fanfic. You reached for it, but were interrupted by a ping on your phone, a Thiscord message from…some rando.
And to make a long story short, a drone floated past your windows, carrying a neatly wrapped blue and yellow box. You opened it, watching in awe as a pair of pinkish-orange glasses floated right out of it and…onto your face.
Yep, you were doing this.
***
You laid in bed the next morning, staring at the ceiling. Maybe it had been a dream. The glasses. The phone lady, the bed lady, the handsome door guy, the magnifying glass. Maybe you had a gas leak or something. Black mold?
You turned to look at the glasses sitting on your nightstand, however, and realized that it was very much real. Your house was alive.
Your…your house was alive. Why was that so familiar? You reached for the Dateviators, putting them back on and getting out of bed. Well, there was only one way to find out.
You poked around the house a bit, using three charges to meet a cluster of himbos in your closet, an Elvis impersonator in your shower, and a bubbly ginger running your mom’s minibar. When you woke up the table, however, a big, kind cowboy named Abel, he had some advice you weren’t expecting.
“Well hey there, (Y/N), wasn’t expectin’ to see you so soon. I thought you’d be tucked away in the office by now.”
“The office?” You asked.
He gave a knowing chuckle. “Why don’t you go take a look in there? I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you, Abel. I’ll…I guess I’ll go take a look.”
You walked up the hallway to the office, each step slowed by your thoughts, mulling over exactly what, or who could possibly be waiting for you in there, when it hit you all at once.
Those nights in the dice bag came flooding back.
His silly little laugh that curled into a snort more often than not, those kind red eyes he always sheltered behind his redder glasses. The way his cheeks would flush any time you complimented him, the way his big, warm hands would cup your face when he was reassuring you, making sure you absorbed every bit of his words, that you breathed until you calmed down after particularly bad nightmares. The way he so easily scooped you into his arms, holding you until you woke up back in bed. The way his lips so perfectly chased yours, smooth and soft and passionate and hungry all at once, sending flutters of pleasure and warmth through your middle.
Chance, you remembered. His name was Chance. A fitting name for a D20.
In all meanings of the word, he had been your boyfriend, and…
You’d forgotten him. God, you’d really forgotten him! All of his fears had come true. You’d gone about your life, you’d had a handful of shitty dates, hell, you didn’t even play G&G anymore! He…he’d been sitting there for so long, collecting dust, aside from the few times a week when you’d fiddle with him while working on things.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, parsing through the guilt that was threatening to spill over. What if it wasn’t him anyway? What if all of that, all of these memories you hadn’t touched in ages were just…dreams after all? And you woke up your D20 and it was just some other nerd?
You took a shaking breath. You had to try, though. You owed him that.
So, mustering what courage you could, you opened the office door, slipping inside. It was dark, night had fallen and you’d spent your whole day conversing with the furniture. God, Sam was going to think you were losing it.
You picked up the die with both hands, Dateviators locked on, and woke it up.
Standing in front of you was a man in a cloak, face shrouded in shadow, a gridded tabletop map hanging from his shoulders, character sheets wrapped around his collar, a rulebook shielding his front, and tucked into a pair of baggy trousers that looked like your dice bag.
Your heart sank to your toes, staring up at him. He…this wasn’t him. Chance. He really had been a figment of your imagination after all.
“Ho there, traveler!” He greeted, voice warbled a little as he presented himself to you. He was in good spirits, whoever he was, but you couldn’t fight the tears that were welling in your eyes, the disappointment swelling in your chest.
“H-hey there. Sorry.” You murmured, voice caught in your throat as you wiped away a stray tear. You were trying to be polite. No reason to get off on the wrong foot with this guy, despite the heartbreak ripping itself through your sternum. “I-I just…thought you would be…”
“Woah, woah, hey, it’s okay.” He faltered, hastily taking off his cloak and revealing his true self beneath the facade. His voice slipped into a more natural tone. “This thing is kinda scary, I know. I come in peace. I…I’m Chance. I’m your D20.” He brushed himself off, straightening up again.
There he was. That upswept dark hair, those kind, vulnerable eyes that were searching every facet of you for some glimmer of…something.
Your voice was caught in your throat for different reasons now, just staring, unsure of what to say or…or how to say it. Total deer in headlights. Your heart raced, lip wobbling.
“...but I take it you…already knew that.” He said softly, sounding hopeful more than anything. But that little bit of hope went undetected in your emotional state.
You scooped up the pieces of your broken heart and blurted out the thing at the very forefront of your mind. “You don’t remember.”
“No, hey, of…of course I do. I…I didn’t think you would, since, well, since it’s been so long. Two years is a long time to be hung up on a chunk of resin, you know.”
You crossed the distance, arms wrapping around him immediately, his guidebook, well, corset acting as a barrier between the two of you. Yet, he pulled you close, a large hand cradling your head, the other wound tight around your back.
He let out a long breath, cheek smushed against your forehead, eyes closed. It felt…real. Not real real. There was still some level of fuzz there, given the nature of the Dateviators. This wasn’t a physical Chance, just a projection of him that your conscious could interact with. But to your nervous system and eyeballs…it felt pretty convincing.
“I’m sorry I forgot.”
He shook his head, voice soft. “It’s not your fault.”
“I remember now.” You reassured, looking up at him, meeting those gentle eyes through the red-tinted glass.
He pushed some stray hair out of your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I…I still can’t quite believe this is happening. I’m gonna wake up any second now.”
“No, we…we’re wide awake now. Both of us this time.” You said, voice certain.
“So what are these things?” He poked the bridge of your glasses with a careful finger.
“Dateviators, apparently. And they let me…interact with your plane again, the way I used to when I was asleep.” You told him. “I think they’re very stylish. And we match now.”
He grinned. “We do, don’t we?”
You explained the rules Skylar had laid out for you. Five charges a day, one charge per object each day, which meant that you wouldn’t be able to spend a whole day with Chance, but it meant you could come back and see him tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. It wasn’t perfect, but you’d take it.
“Holy crit. Well, that…yeah, that works. Do you have any plans tomorrow? I’ve been working on a G&G campaign for the last, say, two years that I think Elodie would be perfect for. If you’re still playing her, that is.” He cupped your face in his hands, nose dangerously close to yours.
“I could bust out those old character sheets.”
Chance grinned, eyes taking in your features, memorizing each crease and freckle like it was the first time. “I’ve been dying to play with you.”
“Like old times.” You murmured. “But better.”
“So much better. I think a few of the others are interested, too. But, uh…I wouldn’t mind having a one-on-one Session Zero. Make sure I know all of…you know, Elodie’s stats and stuff. It’s been a while.” His cheeks flushed red at the suggestion.
“It’s a date.” You promised, a hand smoothing up the spine of the book on his chest. You wondered if he still looked the same underneath. You hoped he did. “Well, what do you wanna do with the rest of this charge? We probably have an hour or two left.”
He grinned, glasses flashing in the light, making his eyes nearly unreadable. “Oh, I’ve got a couple ideas.”
