Games We Play [Uta x Reader]

Some Assembly May Be Required

His curious eyes are as enticing as they are unnerving, but you have lived your life staring down mortality and so do not flinch under his inhuman gaze. Death is your constant companion, you've felt its touch and been its instrument, you do not fear his wide-eyed stare nor his curiosity: He is simply a man who's tasted death a bit more than most.

"Interesting. Most humans scream when they see a ghoul. Are you not afraid?" The ghoul asks softly, head tilted inquisitively though his grip on your wrist is firm.

"No. Death is an inevitability. To fear it would be pointless." You reply back placidly, giving nothing away in your tone or your body language. It's not intentional, but life has a way of twisting people in unexpected ways. Hiding your thoughts has become second nature.

The ghoul's lips flicker, soft, amused and deadly. "You won't mind if I eat you then?" The way he says it makes it seem like a question, but the intent in his eyes say otherwise. He wants to see you squirm: You haven't squirmed since you were 9 years old.

You don't answer verbally, merely tilt your head and flicker your eyes to the alley to your right. The wind is not in his favor, so it's not entirely surprising Uta missed the scent of several Doves closing in on him. He understands your intention though, and can't help but ponder aloud.

"You've alerted the Doves but warn me we're being surrounded. Does that make me special?" The ghoul inquiries with an amused lilt in his tone, intrigued by the sudden turn this simple outing has taken without his knowing.

You blink back dispassionately, answering tonelessly. "As you are, you're just another ghoul." At the raised brow you receive, you make an inquiry of your own. "Which mask will you wear today, Uta-san?"

His eyes widen briefly, before his face settles once more to blank serenity. His lips though, the twist of his lips give him away. "What a pleasant surprise you've turned out to be. I'd ask your name, but I have a feeling you're going to play hard to get."

"I don't play."

Uta pulls you by the wrist abruptly, and the sudden loss of balance forces you into his embrace, flushed tight against the warmth of his chest. He inhales your scent, other hand tangled in your hair as he breathes against you neck. "I do." And then he's gone, the only proof of his presence the lingering warmth on your skin as the Doves finally break into the street with weapons drawn.

Three gray-coated Investiagators immediately give chase, perhaps having seen a glimpse of their target in the distance. Two others appear from another street intersection and follow after, though one looks over and sees you.

"Are you injured?" The man pauses briefly and calls out to you, having noticed you standing motionlessly at the entrance of an alley.

"No." You say quietly, keeping your body and face hidden partially in the shadow of the alleyway. "You arrived before anything could happen."

The investigator nods and races to catch his fellow Investigators, too caught up in the need to give chase to think too deeply about your unnatural calm. He is young and lives in an environment ripe with trauma. It hadn't immediately accured to him that civilians are not like his brethren in life or death situations.

When he is gone, you put a hand to your neck and release a shuttering breath, the most emotion you've shown in years. For just a moment, your were 9 again and large, gentle hands were soothing through your hair. A whisper in your ear-

"I will teach you how to play, but know there are no winners. Only broken pieces."

A shiver runs the length of your spine, your insides quake and burn. The skin that once was warm now seeps ice into your veins.

'I hate clowns.'

--

((Most of this is left up to Reader-san's interpretation. Mainly because it amuses me. However, if anyone would like to adopt this and introduce their own spin on the story, be my guest.))