#same with Nightmare and the back window for the tentacles

[yandere-toons]

I saw one of the anon ask if your write for underverse.

Do you think you could gives a scenario with yandere nightmar sans? Anything really. Just a small drabble is all I ask:)

WARNING: implied depression, blood, fantasy violence, grief.

WORD COUNT: 3.125

The cloud cover had swallowed the sky in a veil of fog and torrential darkness, but on nights when the crickets sang no more and the frogs kept to the water, it parted under the patchwork of stars waiting to twinkle at the unconscious countryside.

The moon's eye skirted the ribbons of a tattered curtain and fluttered across the wooden frame set atop a bedside table, which bore the crumpled photograph of a family. Those rising curves of joy on their lips, the same assault of happiness his brother oozed like the sun bled heat, drew a low hiss from deep within Nightmare.

The thrashes of a tentacle or two whipping the air overhead punctuated the rumbling crackle rolling between his gritted teeth. Every second he brooded, the shadows of lamps, bedposts, and a chest of drawers thickened and stretched farther. The room grew dank and instinct with pressure until breathing was akin to having a pair of hands wrap around your neck and squeeze.

That facial atrocity had a name; smiles, he recalled, but even the word repulsed him like the acrid stink of vomit. It conjured up visions of two siblings reclining under the shade of a tree swaying with bountiful leaves, of promises made and then broken, of a schism between brother and brother, light and dark.

You played among the joyful souls in the photograph and shared in their touches and sandwiches, looking a far different person than the heap of sweat and nerves turning over in your bed. Nightmare allowed his gaze to linger for a bemused instant before the pull of that bitter edge lurking in his every thought called him back to the happy little fools and their sepia stares.

The willingness with which they shoved at him a sick buoyancy defied his power and mocked his work. The urge to tear that lightsomeness away from them and plunge them into misery began to burn within him, spurring his tentacles to writhe until one whacked the picture frame off the table.

It flew into a spinning collision course with the wall and caromed off it to crack the peace of a fitful sleep. The battered frame thudded against the hardwood floor, lying face down in a pool of glass shards.

You jumped into a scrambled consciousness at the clamour like a cannonade, and your eyes, encrusted with an awkward mix of bleary and vigilant, swept the room in anticipation of some calamity. Motionless and impregnable darkness, perfect camouflage for any terrors, met your search rather than the feared intruder charging through the door or the tremors of an earthquake.

Howling winds raged past your walls and produced a sustained groan approaching something human, a cruel and grotesque imitation of a lost soul calling out. Each gust tapped the windows like the fingers of someone asking to be invited in from the cold.

This shallow comfort allowed you a moment to peel back the sheets, wherein you noticed and floundered with how tangled about you they had become. With a streak of adrenaline pounding as drums in your head, you fumbled out of bed and made a beeline for the light switch protruding from the adjacent wall.

As your next step pressed down upon a sleek and scattered surface, a crunch popped the silence as a needle would a balloon. Sharp pain sliced the sole of your foot, and in the excruciating jolt up your leg, the skin seemed to catch fire.

You clamped your teeth on your lower lip and sucked in a puff of air, withholding the yelp that had leapt to the roof of your mouth. Opening your eyes from a tight squint, you peered down into the shadows and reached out to something by your foot.

The rigid ends and cool, smooth sides of a wooden rectangle slid against your fingertips. The silvery gleaming of crimson droplets on the clear sheen of fragmented glass was reflected in the coarse surface of a wrinkled photograph, its image spotty and worn away around the edges.

Those who helped form some of your happiest memories looked back at you, and this reminder took the pang from your foot and redirected it to an ache in your heart. A wave of dizzying exhaustion and the urge to slump into bed again washed over you, no matter how much you had slept the previous days away.

Time had faded many of their features into obscurity, but the twist of that old contentment they left with you was a wound forever open. You rubbed your thumb across the bumpy, sandpapery face of someone no longer around, and just for a moment, the distant peal of their laughter echoed from a room you had not touched in months.

How sweet to drink from the bottle of grief until you found it had no bottom. The tower of dirty dishes by the kitchen sink rose higher, and each time you chose a third nap over chores, Nightmare got stronger. He fed on your lethargy and silent aches like a flea on a dog's back, every bite taking a little more out of you.

Sleep, once a beloved respite from the agony of an empty house, now plagued you with hair-raising visions of inhuman faces hovering outside your windows, looking in while you had no voice to deter the eyes moving over your body. As you fought against your sheets as if they were a beast at your throat, something insidious whispered for you to fall into that comfortable trap and let the idea of escaping it, the burden of hope, slip away.

In the centre of the bedroom, a sphere of brilliant starlight glimmered in the image of the heavens. Its rays upon you were like the sun on your skin after a bleak and drizzly winter. This beacon promised a better future as it dimmed into the shape of a golden-eyed face, which chased away the darkling tendrils coiling around your bed.

The nips of biting air, once thick enough to drown in, lifted, and you grew weightless, seeming to float between silk sheets instead of your mangy bundle of loose threads, a mattress of clouds rather than your glorified boulder, and a velvet pillow instead of your flat-as-a-board, handmade one.

Dream walked among the dark and the cold and filled it with your fondest smell from childhood. He had no flesh or muscle, a being of pure bone cloaked in the greens of seafoam, the pinks of twilight, and the yellows of gold.

An eternal warmth flowed from him, calming the shakiest voice and stilling the throbs of your pulse to a steady and relaxed rhythm. He glided to your bedside in golden boots and cast one sympathetic look at the draggled sheets before pulling them back to their rightful place, careful not to disturb you as he did so.

Dream hummed a soft melody with the earnest compassion of a parent soothing their child. It was quiet to keep you asleep but distinct enough to spread the snug blanket of security over your thoughts.

The taut lines of veins bulging along your neck and forehead, the ball of pain swelling in your jaw, and the shaky curls of your fingers bunching handfuls of the sheets all started to wane. When you were sinking into your first minute of genuine rest in ages, the mood in the room dove faster than a flightless bird over the side of a cliff.

It was a plunge so steep and abyssal that you cried out at some ghastly vision while Dream staggered as if one wrong footfall away from falling. He recovered in a moment of resigned understanding of what lay behind him, but many more seconds passed before he found the strength to turn and confront the corrupted shell of his brother.

Dream saw the thrill of malice rush onto Nightmare's face as your sounds of distress rang and tilted his head down, hardening his frown. In the privacy of the gloom, Nightmare glowered at Dream with an eye that blazed against the black sludge streaming o'er him.

“Well, always here to spoil my fun, aren't you, brother?” Temptation and menace intertwined in his voice, honeyed and gravelly at once. It snaked through the crisp air and commanded awe with the booming richness of a king, and it burrowed into the back of the mind as whispers beguiling lost souls into letting loose all vices.

The visceral rage with which he spat the word “brother” so contorted his face that all sleeping mortals who looked upon it would have awoken screaming. Around his pupil expanded a vast sea of black, aglow with a fervour that dulled when Dream marched to the end of the bed and stood between him and you.

Nightmare collapsed his exaggerated snarl into a more subdued look of amusement, as though the idea that Dream could block his path was the peak of wishful thinking.

Dream, his eyes never wavering lest a moment's hesitation allowed Nightmare to slink near, swung his hand to the side and swished his lustrous cape. The threat of a golden bow sparked in his open palm, a sight that twisted the corners of Nightmare's mouth like a gulp of sour milk.

“You poisoned their grief, Nightmare. They need to heal.” Dream uttered this sentiment with unflinching certainty and gave to it a sublime voice meant to lighten the spirit of all who heard it; however, to the blackened soul residing in Nightmare, it only starved him.

He fixed a spiteful grin on Dream and widened his eye until it resembled a pit. “They don't want to heal. They're tired.” The venomous spiel rolled from him as it would a demonic salesman, and had you been awake to listen, you would have believed him. “They want to be told it's okay to give up.”

Dream glanced over his shoulder at your tussle with imaginary tormentors, his narrowed eyes pierced with a gleam of pity. He could have implored his brother to make an exception, but asking Nightmare to leave a cry for help untroubled was like the gazelle begging the lion for mercy.

Instead, he was readying another point of argument when an instinctive sweep of his arm deflected the sharp tip of a slender tentacle hurtling towards his skull.

Nightmare retracted the tentacle through a strip of moonlight, allowing it to glisten and weave before disappearing. The faraway ticktock of a clock stressed the passing of each second, baiting an attack from either brother and counting down to the moment when noise so bloodcurdling would rip the air asunder and forever banish peace from the area.

All at once, you sprung to an upright position and wailed as if you might never have the chance again. Your eyes, open wide but seeing nothing, held a glassiness that contrasted with your mindless thrashing at a hidden assailant. You began to hyperventilate between shouts for someone to get out of your house, and the guardian in Dream took hold as he hurried over to stop you from tumbling out of bed.

Before he could land one final step to reach you, a tentacle swooped down and knocked him into the chest of drawers across the room. It clattered and overturned a lamp atop it, which smacked the wood and threatened to roll off the edge. Dream cracked open one eye before the other and unhooked himself from the metallic handles.

Under the wan cover of night, Nightmare appeared to slide over the floorboards like some amorphous blob of black and blue. He eclipsed the moon on your weeping face, his tentacles bobbing on invisible waters and casting writhing shadows upon the wall behind you.

His head snapped towards Dream's weakened but defiant stance, and as flecks of silver silhouetted much of his body, his teeth were distorted into fangs that shone through the ooze cascading down him. A twinge of fear skittered the length of Dream's spine; the creature before him was his brother in name only, having become drunk on your anguish and consumed by a sort of eldritch savagery.

With each shriek rocketing out of you, Nightmare dispersed further into the darkness and outpoured his evil into every crevice. He propelled himself onto a tentacled throne and towered above Dream, who sensed the cold and aching drain of his presence in all directions and scoured for even a fleeting whiff of positive emotion.

The air stood still when Dream glimpsed the needle-like tentacles poised around him in the dark. They awaited a silent order to volley forward and gore him, an order made imminent by the resonant chime of the clock striking a new hour. Against his collarbone sat the round clasp of his cape, which he clutched with one hand overlaying the other.

Dream shut his eyes, tucked his chin into the back of his hand, and visualised a portal to the nearest spark of happiness. A blinding surge of starlight enveloped him, then vanished moments before a tentacle speared the chest of drawers in a shot that would have run through his rib cage.

Nightmare deflated a bit, disappointment gnawing at him that he did not get to see his brother's golden blood splatter the hardwood floor. He yanked his tentacle free of the unlucky drawer, paying no mind to the sizeable hole it had created, and resumed basking in your sorrow like a lizard in the sun.

* * *

A hulking weight sat on your chest, and with every swell of breath you forced down, it sucked half of it back out of your lungs. You might as well have been a pair of eyes without a body, with the absolute numbness coursing through your limbs begging the question of whether they were still attached.

The darkness crept a little closer, bottomless and braver with each sweep of your eye. Waves of black and splotches of silver melded into a gaunt face dripping wet. Malevolence seeped from the monstrous entity pouring out of the unknown depths of that corner, the kind that threw babies into crying fits and ripped frantic barks from every dog in a neighbourhood.

The snowy radiance of a moon free to dominate the sky glinted across teeth whiter than any dentist could hope. They filled out a lipless mouth as the entity, a living nightmare, engulfed the floor and ceiling in an ever-growing current of blackness. His jaw unhinged far beyond the limits of nature to yield a gaping hole lined with vertical strips of muck, each as dark and slippery as a jagged rock hanging in a damp cavern.

A dozen tentacles snaked out his back and pulsated outward, their slender lengths draped in inky slime. He loomed over your paralyzed state and dredged up all memories of fear and pain until your heart thundered with the desire to burst out of you. The sheets tucked in tighter to the point of constriction, and tears brimmed for the silent scream wrenching around your mind.

The place where his right eye should have been was overflowing with tar, and his left eye glowed like the beam of a lighthouse. Turquoise with a tinge of midnight blue watched your struggle and revelled in it with the passion of a vindictive god.

To peer into his eye was to lose yourself down a tunnel that winded through every facet of despair, hatred and horror, to behold a creature who embodied it all and realise you could do nothing but wait. Such a gaze crushed you, and it never even had to touch you.

Periodic buzzes, beginning as a foghorn but then rising to a metallic trill, came and went every few seconds. They invaded the room with an unquenchable urgency that your brain raced to identify, shrilling louder and louder until your body jolted forward in an abrupt return of control.

You inhaled as if having swum from the deep of a lake, but instead of bouncing your forehead off the warped skull, you passed through nothing but clear space. The instant before your eyes began darting, the flicker of a figure dissolved into a patch of darkness in your peripheral vision.

The first rays of dawn shimmered across the hardwood floor and dappled the shadows with all the colours of fire. A clash of pinkish and gilt swirls subsumed much of the dark, delivering you from the trenches of a receding night to the peach-tinted embrace of a day starting anew.

The jarring call of a telephone poked your ears and vibrated on a round table in the corridor.

Following you to the bedroom doorway was the impulse to ignore that plea for your attention and continue languishing beneath the same old sheets. The ease with which you could lay back down and slip away from everything tapped you on the shoulder and beckoned you to sleep.

Dust bunnies wafted after your feet, which you heaved and then slammed down again a mite closer to the ringing as if wading through the reeds of a billabong. A slew of thoughts on the taxing demands of holding a conversation, on the dreadful risk of exposing how badly you were drowning, tugged at you like an impatient child.

When you picked up the cooling metal of that telephone, the voice of a dear friend hit you as a refreshing breeze on a hot day. They talked to you and listened even if you let out a sombre remark or stumbled over familiar words, a nearly forgotten sound, like a song unheard for years. Eventually, they said, “How about lunch at your favourite place today? My treat.”

You hugged the cord with each finger of one hand, and with the other hand, you pressed the cradle to your abdomen. A dab of moisture started to blur your vision, enabling you to take a breath without the air of heartsickness that had milled around the home for so long.

Watching you lean into the handset, into that faint voice daring to help, and allow yourself the ghost of a smile was like acid on Nightmare's eye. The frenzy of hunger stabbed him as the intoxicating taste of misery, a minute ago so bountiful, was evaporating.

What rapture it would be, twining one of his tentacles around that interloper's neck and squeezing until they never spoke another word. The vision of their bulgy eyes reddening as they clawed at the tentacle in vain, forced to look him squarely in the face and give every detail of their agony, to entreat his mercy only to be denied, flashed to him.

It kept him in the shadows and replayed before his mind's eye, each time seeming nearer to reality, to soothe the roaring emptiness in his stomach.

#Yandere #Yandere x You #Yandere x Reader #Yandere Imagines #Yandere Scenarios #Yandere Undertale #Yandere Sans #Undertale x Reader #Sans x Reader #Nightmare Sans x Reader #Nightmare Sans #Nightmare!Sans #Dreamtale Nightmare #Dreamtale #Underverse #UTMV #Undertale AU #Undertale #UTAU #Sans #Sans AU #Imagines #Monster x Reader #Yandere Monster #Cosmic Horror #Reader Insert #Gender Neutral Reader #Fanfiction #X Reader #Yandere Writing

[soapskies]

Hey! I'm after reading your platonic yandere Riddler with a teenager/kid that tried to escape and it got me thinking 🤔.

What would it be like if it was with arkham knight scarecrow?

(Same prompt as riddlers one just with scarecrow)

Please and thank you ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

YANDERE AK SCARECROW CATCHES READER ESCAPING

MALE CHILD READER. PLATONIC HCS.

You couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your fists every time you thought about Scarecrow. Every waking moment you had to spend in his lab was starting to drive you crazy. All the screaming, fighting, fear and helplessness…last time you helped him restrain his victim , you came out of it with deep, ugly scratches on your arms, far worse than previous sessions.

You tried to hide them from Jonathan, god bless anyone who becomes the recipient of his anger, but it’s difficult to keep things from someone who’s worked with all sorts of people in his career, who knew every tell of yours down to the last uneasy twitch. And tears are hard to hide for a child who’s fought to keep their emotions down for so long.

Suffice to say, that test subject never left the session with his face intact. That dose of toxin was far greater than you’d ever seen administered; the poor man writhed and clawed like he was trying to dig it out of his very flesh, and nobody seemed to care that you were standing right there to witness it all…

You tossed and turned all night, wishing your memory could be scrubbed with a sponge. Why did you put up with this? Why would a “father” act so callous? Sure, he may feed you, clothe you, soothe you through your nightmares… but that all must be a front, for a man who enjoyed to watch people suffer.

All you needed was the perfect distraction. Something that would disrupt his routine enough that you would be the last of his concerns.

That’s right. The fear toxin! It would be a real shame if he got a taste of his own medicine.

Scarecrow didn’t mind you exploring all that much, it was only natural for a child, and besides, he was hoping you would start to gain genuine interest in his work eventually.

You knew exactly where he kept his pressurized containers of nightmare fuel. They were sitting in the lab with that macabre exam table, sharing a wall with your bedroom…

So you set up a trap, one that would trigger the room to fill up with toxin when Crane went in for his next experiment…

And while that was going on, you would hopefully be halfway across Gotham

Just as you were about to jump down from the window, you felt your body start to tremble, and suddenly the drop seemed much farther below…

You scrambled back onto your bed, only to be confronted by shadows that ran across your walls and the malicious tentacles of a monster reaching for you from under your bed.

You spent the whole night hiding under the covers, praying for it all to be over, until morning came.

Scarecrow seemed particularly smug the next morning, prodding you about how well you slept.

When you went to check what had gone wrong with your trap, you realized that the containers were purposefully set up so that the toxin would move through the vent connected to your room…

You never tried anything like that again.

Scarecrow wouldn’t be a violent yandere, especially to a child, but he loves to fuck with you.

You always feel like something’s wrong, but you can never prove that Scarecrow had something to do with it. You didn’t dare ask him about the fear toxin incident. You knew it would only confirm to him that you had tried to gas him…

For the most part Jonathan doesn’t punish you for it, only throws your attempts back at you like they were nothing, instilling the fear into you that if you ever tried anything, he is more than capable of hurting you ten times greater.

If you do try to escape again after this, he’ll start to grow worried. Why aren’t you being receptive to his ideas? Hasn’t he been a good father to you? Hasn’t he shown you the power fear holds?

Maybe you wouldn’t mind having your pillowcase laced with his toxins at night… those bedtime monsters sure do keep little boys like you in line, don’t they?

#scarecrow x child reader #jonathan crane x child reader #jonathan crane x male reader #scarecrow x male reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #tw yandere #yandere

[kortacqueen]

Eldritch König Headcanons:

König is chill most of the time, but occasionally he’ll freak everyone out

As Hutch once mentioned ‘it becomes really obvious that he’s here because he wants to be, and only because he wants to be.’

Yes, he eats people and he isn’t afraid to say it

He just eats them whole, tentacles come out and under the veil they go

When he eats, his eyes/face go away. Under the veil becomes a void and pitch black

Looking at him while eating (with the veil on) is dangerous but not deadly. Just don’t look too long because it can be mentally debilitating

The void will stare back, the veil prevents the full force

Yes, he has an actual face. It doesn’t hurt to look at him but it can be a little unnerving so don’t stare too long

This isn’t his real face obviously, but it still makes him uncomfortable when it is showing

With the veil on, he only forms the eyes and shape of the rest

He can spit up whole bodies if he has to, and he can ‘bring them back to life’ after he spits them up

Those who survive are never the same and have horrific nightmares/night terrors, but that’s usually it

It’s when people start to not sleep to avoid them does it become an issue

His body, like his face, is odd and can be unnerving

It doesn’t look unnatural until you start looking at the structure of his body

His wrists turn a little to far and bend a little to much, the bones in his hand don’t shift right especially when he grips something hard

His skin is too pale, eyes to vibrant, his breathe smells like nectar constantly (unless he’s about to spit up someone, then it smells like rotting flesh), his neck turns too much, and his hearing too sharp

He can change how he looks, so sometimes to mess with people he’ll change his eye color.

He can’t change his height, that’s the only size that works

Don’t. Make. Him. Angry.

He’ll tilt his head up and stare down, the lights flicker and windows/glasses will crack. His eyes shift from blue to red and the whites go black or just straight black if he plans on eating you

His tentacles are black, very slimy, and incredibly strong. One is able to lift a 200 pound man easy

If someone escapes his tentacles, König is actually playing with them. It’s a nasty habit and often occurs after he hasn’t let loose in awhile.

Sometimes König will shift in his seat and sometimes it looks like his skin is shifting or something underneath is moving without him doing anything

#headcanons #konig headcanons #konig #König #könig headcanons #cod #mw2 #konig mw2 #kortac #eldritch konig #we love him

[panda-of-the-trash]

Drabble 2: curiosity

It was early in the castle, very early. The halls basically abandoned aside from a few guards patrolling or kitchen staff waking up to make breakfast. The big heavy curtains in the halls were still draped over the windows, making sure no light or cold could seep in. Most doors were still closed and except for some snoring, it was eerily quiet.

Save for the quiet pitter patter of little feet.

Save for the little wobbling of a certain little inhabitant.

Even though the castle halls were nearly pitch black, the only traces of light being found in the dimly lit blue candles, the little princess wasn’t deterred. In fact she made her way around like she could see everything, which she could thanks to her dadda.

She walked wobbly but very determined to a big heavy door, slowly pushed it open and looked at her first challenge, the stairs.

She didn’t like stairs, they were big and she always had to sit down on her butt and go down that way. And it made her diaper so very itchy!

A big frown appeared on her concentrated face and within a flash she was down 6 floors.

Quickly recovering from the sudden teleport, she slowly resumed her journey.

Passing guards smiled as she passed them and gave her a little bow. So very polite they were, she liked that.

After passing some kitchen staff and rounding a few corners she finally arrived to her first destination, the kitchens.

She slowly pushed the swinging kitchen door open and waddled to where her coveted price was. In a rather clumsy way, she started climbing up the kitchen cabinets, putting her hands and feet on the handles.

When it became clear she’d never get on the counter that way, she flexed her little back muscles and out came her small tentacles that helped her climb the rest of the way.

There she finally saw at least one of her targets. The chocolate bars. Happily she waddled over to it and grabbed a milk chocolate one and a dark chocolate one in her tiny hands.

Granted they were the size of her face, she still held on to them tightly and began looking for her second target.

Luckily she didn’t have to look far as it was on the same counter. With love in her eyes she slowly stumbled over to the glass jar filled with golden brown cookies with little pieces of chocolate in them. So big, so ommy nommy!

She slowly grabbed it, but it was so heavy and it caused her to drop the chocolate bars!

With a big pout she sat down on the counter, crossing her little arms.

A big shadow fell over her and she looked up in curiosity. It was uncle Horror!

“Hello princess, yer looking for treats?” He smiled at her. He was always so nice to her.

She nodded, pointing at the bars and the cookie jar. Horror chuckled softly. “Too big eh? I’ll help ya get em upstairs.”

She gave him a big smile, half of her teeth still missing. They were coming though! Papa said she would grow into a big girl and it made his eyes all shiny and wet.

Horror gently picked her up, along with the bars and cookie jar and began walking back upstairs. On their way there they got a lot of curious stares and smiles, cooing at the little princess. 

She gave them all wide eyed looks back, so curious as well about the big big world around her. Annoyingly her hair kept falling in front of her face, making it so she couldn’t see anything! Luckily uncle Horror adjusted the bow that held her hair back for her.

Once upstairs Horror knocked gently at the door which behind her papa and dadda slept. She excitedly kicked her feet.

Still half asleep, Nightmare opened the door and raised a brown, blank stare melting into a gentle smile when he saw exactly who Horror was holding. “Got a package for ya boss.

“Mhh I can certainly see that. Thank you Horror.” Tentacles longer  than her own picked up the cookie jar and chocolate bars while his big hands gently cradled her.

Horror bowed and started walking back to the kitchens. Nightmare closed the door and walked over to the bed where his currently very pregnant husband was waking up.

“Mhh? Whas happening?”

Nightmare smiled, sitting down with their little starling in his arms. “Seems our princess got something for us.”

When Cross woke up a bit more and noticed the chocolate bars and cookie jar he gave a soft chuckle. “Oh Incubux, pumpkin, you got dadda and papa some chocolate?”

Crawling over to him she gave a big happy nod. “Ommy nommy!”

Cross chuckled, kissing her forehead. “Ommy nommy.” He agreed.

#panya writes crossmare #crossmare #crightmoss #nightcross #incubux #this was so selfindulging

[ask-sibverse]

Candy Apple (Lunar (Mythoverse Nightmare))

"Come on Lunar the kid needs to have some fun and the au is safe," Solar rumbled at his brother as he watched the tall Nightmare sew a new outfit for the child they had been raising.

"Well I don't think it is. Cura is having fun here just fine," Lunar replied, looking at his brother. His glasses reflected in the firelight as they sat in the living room of the castle that Lunar claimed back while they had been fighting

"Then you pick a place to take him or Killer will. Come on, our little Ink baby is turning eight. Do something special for him," Solar pointed out. Lunar huffed at that. His brother had a point, the kid had been asking to go somewhere special for his birthday instead of being stuck in the castle again. And his family minions have been asking him for the same thing for the kid.

"Fine, but I have to approve the au," Lunar grumbled. Solar got up and hugged his brother tight, making the other yelp with indignation at his brother daring to show him affection. "Get off me you stupid idiot!" Then Solar was joined by the tall Killer and even taller Horror in hugs. Cross and Dust were laughing at everyone.

"Dust take a picture of this," Killer said.

"Way ahead of you," Dust grinned as he held his camera and started taking photos.

"Get off me all of you! Where is Cura? You were supposed to watch him!" Lunar growled.

"In my arms sleeping, my king," Cross said. "He had fun swimming in the pond with the fish earlier." He brought the tiny Ink over and stuck the sleeping form between everyone to place him on top of Lunar. Dust took more pictures.

"Everyone get off me before Cura wakes up or I will start throwing people out the windows," Lunar growled as he wrapped his tentacles around the small child on his chest.

They gang did with Solar chuckling. "I'll give you a list of aus that have special events going on so you can approve a place."

"Whatever," Lunar grumbled. Almost eight years already and this kid was so much trouble.

"Daddy! Papi! I'm hungry!" Cura cried out as he ran to his parents from his uncle's side. Solar giggled as he picked up the child and nuzzles him.

"Oh you're hungry? What does the birthday boy want?" Solar giggled.

"Candy!" Cura yelled.

Lunar gave a look at Cura. "You haven't even eaten lunch yet. You've just been riding the rides,' he said. "You can have candy after food."

Lunar finally decided on a more modern au that had a theme park. It wasn't an au that knew of the gang and the chaos they caused so it was safe to walk around at the least. Although they still got stares. And this au mostly worshipped the Norse gods and revered "them" as Sköll and Hati. Almost unknown, then.

"But I want candy!" Cura complained. Killer came up beside Solar and poked Cura on the cheek.

"I'll get you something really special if you eat lunch first okay kiddo?" He said with a wide grin. Cura seem to ponder on that and finally nodded. The group went off to get actual food and ate it at once of the park picnic tables. Killer whisked Cura off once he woke up from a short nap and complained about being hungry again. And Lunar was getting nervous.

"Lunar, the kid is fine. Killer is a good uncle," Solar said.

"He lost his favorite knife in a body once," Lunar muttered.

"Well, that's on him for burying it in the chest cavity. Cura is not a knife," Solar said confidently.

Soon the scream of Daddy came out of the crowd as Cura ran to Lunar and raised his one hand for uppies. He was carrying something red in his other hand. Lunar picked up the child and held him close.

Once Cura was in his arms the kid shoved whatever treat he got into Lunar's mouth. The sticky sweetness was almost familiar and he choked a bit as he was forced to take a bite. An apple?

"Daddy it good right? Uncle Killer said its a candy apple!" Cura cheered.

Solar gave a worrying look at Lunar, but Lunar huffed a bit and petted the child. He didn't know. He worked to calm himself as he had flashbacks of that day.

"I think its a bit too sweet for me kiddo," he said at last. "Next time don't shove random food into people's mouths. Its rude and you don't know if they might get sick off it or not." Like his nonexistent stomach.

"Sorry Daddy," Cura said as he ate his treat. "Papi want some?"

"I'm okay sweetie. Your daddies just don't like apples that much that's all honey," Solar explained.

"Oh... I'm sorry Daddy. Won't do again," Cura said giving Lunar a nuzzle.

"All is forgiven Cura. But I have an idea what you should do instead." Lunar grinned a bit and whispered next to the kid's head. Giving him some chocolate he had bought for himself. He placed Cura down to run back off to Killer.

It didn't take long for Cura to get picked up again and Killer screaming in pain from trying the chocolate. It was a very spicy chocolate after all. Cura was handed to Cross as the other ran into the crowd to find a drink to rinse out the spice.

The group laughed at Killer, Lunar joining in one of his rare moments. It looked like Cura's birthday was a success. "Okay boys, once the idiot is back lets head off to the cafe in the fluffy au for his cake and ice cream."

Cura cheered at that. That meant cats. "Daddy is the best!" Lunar couldn't help but give a rare blush on that. It was a good day.

#sibverse #dreamtale dream #nightmare sans #dream sans #dreamtale nightmare #ink sans #nightmarch2024

[zelphin124]

The Error in Aim: Chapter two

This is a continuation! Please see chapter one (by me) and the prologue by @egnidres here!

@zu-is-here, and Egnidres, here's the continuation!

-oOo-

"He did what?!"

The monster appeared inside Dream once more. Shattered lunged for Nightmare.

Killer had little time to grab one of the tentacles and hold him back, but somehow, he managed.

Nightmare stood perfectly still, not even flinching as Shattered's tentacles came centimeters from his face. He held his head high and stared the curse that consumed his brother dead in the eye.

Aim wasn't supposed to be watching. He was told to wait inside as the adults discussed the surprise meeting from Error outside. However, that didn't stop him from watching out an open window as quietly as he could. He felt bad that it caused his father to crack again. He hated seeing Shattered cover Dream in endless black goop. Aim himself had decided to accept the deal... as soon as he could find Error. Despite what his parents said, he wanted to get revenge on the assassin and destroy him, even if the destroyer took his life for it.

He was tired of being babysat. He was tired of being watched. He would no longer stand around and be treated like a child. He wasn't five anymore; he was thirteen. It was time he was treated as such.

"I told you to protect him! And you let Error, out of all people, find him?! How could you?!" Dream cried. Half his face was still Shattered, but both sides were still furious.

Nightmare's gaze contained irritation. He stood with his arms crossed, observing Dream. "I told him I would wait to discuss it with you," he inquired. "He should be back shortly for your decision."

"After my decision?!" Dream hissed, breaking free from Killer's grasp. "My decision is obvious! Absolutely not!"

"Don't write off Error's offer like that just because he's Error!" Nightmare cried. "He would do a much better job defending Aim than Killer ever could!"

Killer rolled his eyes. "Rude."

"He would murder my son!" Dream hissed. "Before or after the deal is done, you can't trust him, you're a fool for even conversing with him!"

Killer watched Nightmare's eyes flash blue. He backed up, pulling out his knives in defense. Usually, Killer would be all for a brawl, but something about Nightmare's blue eye unsettled him.

The blue eye terrified Aim. He had never seen it in his uncle before. Why was Dream so upset at Nightmare? Why was Nightmare getting upset? Was he not hearing everything that was said between the two?

"Dream, Ink is after Aim. Error is the only one who can solely protect him," Killer grimaced, disgusted to admit that he was powerless against the painter. "I... I think we should accept the deal."

Before Dream could retaliate, Nightmare uttered the dreaded words himself. "I agree with Killer. I think we should."

"No," Dream twitched with irritation, trying to fight the curse and shove it back. Shattered fought, wanting to stay in control. It resulted in a half-and-half face on the positive. "I trusted my old friend, and he killed my husband. I will not make the same mistake with your old friend!"

Nightmare seemed just as angry. "Ink will never stop hunting Aim! Error is the only one who can defeat him! I know Error, and if there is anything that he hates more than anomalies, it's Ink! I know he's unreliable, but would you rather put him in Ink's hands or Error's?"

"Neither!" Dream grabbed Nightmare's shoulders and shoved him back, about to spring on him. "I'm going to protect my son-"

But tentacles intervened Shattered.

Aim watched in horror as the negative was also consumed with goop, retaliating at Shattered. Nightmare grabbed Shattered's tentacles with his own, his face melting at the positive. He hissed violently, his presence quenching Dream's as if it had been coupled up in a cage for many years.

When Dream saw the curse on Nightmare, his eyes widened in fright. The curse immediately left him as he stared at his brother. He started to cry. "W-Why didn't you tell me?"

The purple returned to Nightmare's eyes once more. He took a step back and looked at his own hands, terrified. The goop suddenly disappeared, and he was his normal self once more.

"I thought we were done with the secrets," Killer narrowed his eyes. "All of you! Not only did you keep all this from each other, but you kept it from Aim! He has the right to know! He could have the curse, too, for all you know! You guys kept the secret that you were still struggling. It only hurt the family! Look where it's brought us now!"

Aim's uncle glanced down at the ground. "I wanted to tell you that you weren't alone in your fight, brother," he sighed. "Just because you couldn't keep the curse inside didn't mean you had to ignore your son for seven years. But it would have only overwhelmed you. And right now, you seemed overwhelmed. Let me make this choice for Aim. I-"

Aim didn't hear anymore. He closed the window and sat on a nearby chair. Unlike his father, he had thought it over. There was nothing else that Aim wanted more; he wanted to kill Ink. He wanted to make them pay. If that meant teaming up with an evil killer and dying afterward, so be it.

It was reckless, but he removed his fear with his own power. Little did he know how dangerous that was.

Aim wandered over to the front door and stepped outside. Dream, Nightmare, and Killer seemed to have calmed down. They were all sitting down on the lime grass, conversing quietly. Dream perked his head up when he heard Aim's footsteps near. His eyes softened. "Aim, honey, we are almost done. Please go back inside-"

"I'm accepting Error's offer."

The three adults stared at him in shock. Nightmare and Killer looked relieved, but Dream was in denial. "No, you're not. You don't know what you're getting yourself into-"

"I'm not five anymore, Dad!" Aim cried. "I've heard enough to know what Error is capable of, and I don't care. I know Ink wants me for my power, and I know he will attack again. None of you can protect me, but Error can. Not only that, but Error will help me kill him to avenge my dad!"

"Revenge is not the answer," Nightmare commented. "I learned that the hard way."

"But you want him dead too, uncle," Aim interjected.

"Smart kid," Killer added. "He's right. We do want the painter dead." Killer put his knives away. "We don't really have a choice, either."

"Good job being the voice of reason," the negative smirked.

Killer smirked his iconic grin back. "I try."

"I can't allow it!" Dream shook his head, his eyes shaking. "Aim, I can't lose you too..."

"You can't protect me forever," Aim answered. "The best way to protect me is to accept this deal. And I'm going to."

"L-L-Look a-at that, a-a-anamonly #241 is a-already smar-rter than y-you a-all."

Despite only meeting him once, Aim memorized that voice by heart. He-along with the adults-turned around to see the destroyer staring at them. His arms were crossed and his robe blew in the wind. He glitched in and out of code, but his gaze remained steady.

"Leave," Dream hissed, standing up as his tentacles appeared again.,

"Looks l-l-like you d-don't have c-c-control o-over this s-situation any-ymore, Dre-SHattered," Error mocked. "The b-boy has d-decided, has h-he not?"

"No, he-"

"I have," Aim interjected. "I accept your offer, Destroyer-"

"E-E-Error works f-fine," Error rolled his eyes.

Nightmare walked over to where Dream hung his head low as tears streamed down his face. His uncle hugged the positive closely. "This is our only choice," he whispered slowly. "It's going to be okay..."

"I-I'm not k-kidnapping h-him, i-idiots!" Error hissed. "I-I will v-visit f-frequently to t-train h-him here. W-Why is t-t-that an is-ssue, Dream?"

Dream death-stared Error through his grief-stricken eyes. "I don't trust you..."

"Y-Y-You d-don't h-have a c-choice," The smile that appeared on the destroyer's face shook Aim's soul. He stretched his hand out to the boy. "Come, b-boy, we'll make h-h-history."

Aim stared at the hand. This was it. The moment he would start his path to revenge. The moment he would stop being treated like a child. The moment there would no longer be any secrets.

Aim accepted Error's hand, which made the destroyer glitch. Time warped around him as everything appeared white around him. His family faded as well as the setting around him.

It was the choice that marked his destiny.

#undertale #undertale au #sans au #utmv #error sans #error!sans #ink!sans #ink sans #dream!sans #dream sans #nightmare!sans #nightmare sans #killer!sans #killer sans #aim!sans #cross!sans #cross sans #post dark cream #don't expect good writing from me at this hour :3 #writing #original character

[ticklish-touch]

Trapped in the Backrooms - Ch2: Persuasion (*N*S*F*W*)

(Ragaeli x lee!Y/N - Consensual chasing & tickling, erotic tickling, tentacles

CW: Strong language, Liminal spaces, hypnosis, elevatophobia, erotic tickling, tentacle-play) Shenanigans continue while you and Ragaeli continue to search for a means of escaping the world of the Backrooms. The elaborate hotel you’ve found yourself in has a surprisingly relaxing - albeit eerie - atmosphere. But something else here wants you to check in as an esteemed guest… Forever.

( Chapter theme(s): Jazz playing in another room: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go358GrFqa “Trust in Me” - Scarlett Johansson: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEgkBetZY-M “Catgroove” - Parov Stelar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXrdYwG17PE )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          It was a nice change of scenery, going from dingy yellow wallpaper to a fancy vintage 1940’s hotel plaza. The lobby itself was enormous. You got up from the comfy loveseat to take a look around, spotting a reception desk all the way across the room. Heading up to it, there were no signs of any staff; just rows of small lockers on the back wall, and a couple desk lamps. Well… Time to look around and see what other craziness the Backrooms had in store for you and your Nightmare buddy.

          Heading down the hallway to the first floor, you admired the various decor. Fancy floral carpets, cushioned mahogany chairs placed just outside glass doors that led to… Well, nowhere. Peeking in, the hallways stretched on infinitely, leading to pitch blackness. You considered braving one of them, but… Maybe not yet.            It sounded like others were here: there were distinct sounds of whispers, distant conversations, jovial laughter, and… was that smooth Jazz? But any attempts to call out with “Hello? Is someone else here?” fell on deaf ears.

          You eventually came to a stairwell leading up to the next floor, the wood creaking below you while you made your way upstairs. There were no signs anywhere indicating how many stories or rooms there were, but you wanted to at least investigate.           Most doors to the guest rooms were closed, but were almost always unlocked. Peering inside some of them, you noticed the same recurring vintage aesthetic. It almost felt homey. …If not for the layers of dust coating almost every piece of furniture.

          You wandered into one, curiously peeking through some of the dressers and closets. The light leaking in through the windows made you feel… Uncomfortable. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because you couldn’t actually see anything outside of them; just a wall of grey, like a foggy overcast sky. You decided to close some of the curtains; it helped ease your mind a little. You poked around in some of the dresser and closet doors, not finding anything except old, eroding photos of people in 1940′s-era clothing. And missing faces.

          Aside from the isolated halls, it didn’t feel as unsettling here as your previous escapade. Still eerie, but oddly welcoming. You somewhat wanted to try and find the voices that were always just out of reach, seeming to come from nonexistant rooms, to join them in their conversations and dance along to the music. The only thing making you genuinely nervous were the occasional elevators you passed by, lit by a similar sickly yellow light as the first environment. Those old-timey metal cages always seemed like death traps… But otherwise, it was actually quite peaceful here. There seemed to be no sign of any dangerous entities.           Until something caught the corner of your eye, making you freeze up.

          A door to a nearby open room was half-opened, the space filled by a pitch pitch-black wall blocking the entrance, with a pair of eyes and a wide smile peeking out at you. You would’ve assumed it was Rags, but it looked different; the teeth were those of an omnivore, and the eyes were white and reflective, like the eyes of a cat or raccoon at nighttime.          “Uh…Hi..?” You waved over to it. You had a gut feeling that you shouldn’t get too close. So you crept by on tiptoe, not tearing your gaze away from the face until you were safely around another corner.

          “Smart move.” A strange voice whispered, sounding like it was coming from inside the nearest wall and making you jump. What the hell?? It was almost a whisper, a double-voice that was neither feminine nor masculine… Was that the shadow creature speaking?           You didn’t stick around long enough to identify it, quickly making your way to the end of a hall and ducking into a room with an open door.

          Now might be a good chance to take a breather… At least until something stared out at you from the darkness again. Plopping down on one of the beds brought you a sigh of relief; It was actually very comfortable. The musty smell wasn’t too great, but nothing too distracting. You let your eyes droop shut; Not to nap, just to rest. You had a gut feeling that you should not fall asleep here.

          Without the constant flood of adrenaline and anticipation, you had the chance to think a bit more about what Ragdoll had said when you first got here: The only way out of here was a rift in space-time. You didn’t imagine there were many of those to come by. Though you had faith that, if anyone could find one, it’d be the Nightmare. He was beyond powerful enough, practically all-seeing.

          But what if he couldn’t?

          No, you couldn’t fall to doubt just yet. Maybe there was some way you could help your monster buddy. You could keep looking out for clues, or maybe there was someone somewhere in this realm you could try to talk to or reason with.

          The moment of peace was short-lived. The sound of nails dragging across a nearby wall immediately made you open your eyes and jump upright, your eyes darting around to find the source. It crept closer and closer to the open door; you realized it was coming from the outside hallway. “Oh shit oh shit–” You hopped off the bed and backed up. “Ragman..?” No answer. If it was him, he’d at least respond with that gremlin giggle. So you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe you could lure it to the other side of the room…           After a few more moments of silence, you decided to chance it and hurry out of the door, making it out unscathed.

          It must’ve been a good twenty minutes since you arrived. More wandering through guest rooms and around zigzagging corners, more climbing stairs. More silence. Man, Ragioli was sure being quiet. Maybe he was busy doing his own bit of exploring. Every now and then, you could hear unintelligible whispering nearby, sounding like that strange double-voice you’d heard before. At first, you didn’t dare turn around to look in its direction. But curiosity got the better of you, looking over to an open section of the wall…           For a brief moment, you could swear you saw something move near it. Or inside of it. It almost looked like something invisible rippling in the air. A ghost, maybe…? Were there ghosts in this world? Maybe it was one of the ‘guests’ here.

          You were getting real tired of stairs after the fifth floor, pausing in front of one of the elevators to consider your options. Do you dare chance it…?           Something seemed to answer your thoughts; the elevator doors opened on their own. Gee, that wasn’t ominous at all. Totally not a death trap. But you stepped inside anyways; It might be helpful to check out a few higher floors.

          The number panel was almost incomprehensible. They weren’t in any sort of order, some of them were blank, others had Greek and Unicode numbers. “Uhhh… Eeny, meeny, miney…” You pressed one of the Greek symbols at random.           The elevator creaked and clattered on its way up. It was a slow, daunting ascent. You watched each passing floor through the cage; they all looked more or less the same; like that repeating illusion hallway back in the first location. Maybe Rags’ theory about this place being a simulation wasn’t too far off.           You leaned against the back wall of the elevator, sighing and watching the dial climb higher. You bopped along to a song that was stuck in your head. It made up for the lack of elevator music and distracted from the creepy rattling.

          The elevator continued to climb up, and up, and up. It also began to speed up its pace. Jesus, just how far did this thing go? Did you press the button to take you to the top? Was there even a top floor??           You started to get nervous when there just didn’t seem to be any sign of stopping. Or slowing down. The floor dial was acting erratic, like a compass on the fritz. Your heart rate started increasing along with the elevator’s speed. You started pressing other buttons, hoping to make it navigate you to a different floor. “Raaags, I could use your help stopping this thing!!” You shouted up to the ceiling.

          After your comment, the elevator creaked and slowed down, finally coming to a stop. But the door didn’t open. “Ugh, come on!!” You shook the cage doors and tried fiddling with the handle.           Your heart caught in your throat at the loud THUNK of metal just below you. The lights flickered and burnt out. "Oh, no…” There was a jolt and a tremor…

          And the elevator plummeted straight down at breakneck speed.

          You screamed bloody murder, feeling your stomach drop and your legs practically disappear under you. You clung to the railings for dear life and felt your breath sucked right out of you. “FUCKFUCKFUCK!!! RAAAAGS!! HEEEELP!!”

          It screeched to a halt about five seconds later. Thankfully your momentum didn’t send you smacking into the ceiling. You hyperventilated heavily, heart hammering in your chest, your hair and clothes totally disheveled, legs splayed out, your knuckles white from gripping the railing so hard. That. Was. Horrifying.           And you were mad at yourself that your inner adrenaline junkie also found it exhilarating.

          The Nightmare’s wild cackling erupted overhead outside the elevator. “I GOTCHAAHAHAHA!!” He hooted and hollered.           You gasped in utter betrayal. “RAGS!!! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!” You tried to leap up and grab at the ceiling. “GET DOWN HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!!!”           He phased down from the top of the elevator, collapsing in a heap of hysterics, pounding the floor with his fist. “AAAHAHAHAHA YOU SHOHOHOULD’VE SEEHEEHEEN YOUR FAHAHAHACE!!”          “I can’t FUCKING believe you!!” You stomped and paced, exasperated. “Here I am trying find a way OUT of here and you’re trynna give me a heart attack!!”            But the longer you ranted at him, the more he cracked up in hysterics, hints of his grape-colored tears leaking from his eyes.

         “WHY YOU-!!” You could absolutely strangle him. But instead… “Yeah, you wanna laugh at me?? Laugh it up!!” You took the opportunity to lunge down at him and quickly sit on his legs, promptly burying your fingers into his lower midriff and hips, tickling viciously, giving rapid-fire pokes everywhere. “Yeah, VERY funny!!”           His laughter just went up an octave and he flailed around. “YEEEE-HEHEHEHE C-COME OHOHON!! Y-YOHOHOU’RE the one who’s into thrihihihill rihihides~!!!!” He kicked and shimmied his legs under you, making it difficult to stay in place.           “That’s different!!“ You growled, moving up further to  attack his bare midriff, “Save it for when we’re not in a different dimension!!”           He cackled and shrieked, wiggling under you, still pounding his fists on the floor. Not making an effort to push you off. As pissed as you were, you smiled at the sight. Damn he was handsome, squirming and laughing like this. You even slid yourself back a bit, feeling his bulge under you as he continued to buck around...           It was short-lived though; he quickly retaliated, his massive hands clamping onto your sides and spidering their dexterous fingers over your ribs like a piano, giving a shitty smirk the moment you shrieked and recoiled. “Hehehe, you were sayiiing~?” He flipped your positions and shoved you down to the floor.             “WAHH-HAHAH S-Staaahahahap alreheheheadyyy-heehee!!” Your face flushed and you flailed underneath him for a few more moments, trying to defend yourself by pinching under his arm with one hand and attacking his belly with quick scribbles and pokes with the other hand.          “GYEE-HEHEHE!!” He giggled wildly, growling playfully and doubling his efforts, sending ticklish jolts through your torso and hips. “Heheheh, awww, is the little morsel all maaaad at me for pranking ‘em~?” He cooed and taunted. “Come onnn, I know ya can’t stay mad at me~! Just look at that smiiile~!” He sent another jolt of magic, this time all through your groin area, wrapping around to send waves of tickle through your butt and backs of your thighs. “And listen to that moannn~” He snickered meanly.            You kept up the tickle-fight for a good few minutes, holding your own pretty well against the relentless tickle monster; though no matter how strong you were, he’d always manage to wrestle you right back down into a position that left your most ticklish spots vulnerable, locking onto them and barraging them with tickles until you were shrieking and barking out profanities between bouts of laughter and moans. He eventually relented, sitting back on his arms and splaying his long legs out. He took up the whole elevator floor. Whoo, that was a tasty energy boost~” he licked his lips. “There’s all kinds of different screams I can get out of ya~!”          “Y-Yeah, so glad I could be your personal buffet,” you gave him a shove, your face as red as a stoplight. "S-so, did you find any clues or not?”

         He shook his head. “No rifts anywhere. And those hallways out past the glass doors are totally blocked from my sight. Going through them just leads right back out to the main hallways, like a fricken’ Pac-Man maze!” He scratched his chin. “And something else is definitely sneakin’ around in here… I can’t detect it for some reason.” He shrugged and jumped up to his feet. With a snap of his fingers, his outfit poofed from his emo-punk getup to… a Bellboy uniform. A half-buttoned uniform, revealing his chest, and tight-fitting dress pants. It was complete with hat, but he was still barefoot. “Sir Reginald at your service,” he put on a cockney accent and took a bow.          ”Pfff-! Wow, don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something so fancy. Looks like something you’d see at a love hotel.”          He giggled. “Much as I don’t give a shit bout blending in, maybe it’ll help lure that sneaky creeper outta the shadows. It can’t hide from me foreverr~” he snickered and pressed the button to open the elevator door, gesturing to it with a bow. “After you~ I’ll catch up with ya later. I’ll make sure these pesky elevators don’t go haywire on you again, trust me~” he winked.

         “Yeah, they’d better not,” You gave him a shove and stuck your tongue out at him as you headed onto what appeared to be floor 666. Okay, edgelord.

         You considered his comment about heading into the abyss of one of those branching hallways. You made your way toward the nearest set of glass doors, tentatively pushing past it, walking out into the pitch-black hall ahead…              Only to end up coming right back through another set of glass double-doors. Out of curiosity, you tried looking behind yourself as you pushed the glass door open.. From the glass doors on the adjacent wall, you could see yourself. Like a reflection or a Portal illusion. “Whoa.”            “You will not make any progress through those doors.” The double-voice spoke casually, sounding as if it was just a few feet away.               You jumped and spun around to try and find the source. You saw that illusion out of the corner of your eye again: The wallpaper rippling and bowing outward. There was definitely something, or someone, invisible inside of it. You tried to follow it with your eyes, but it was difficult. It was like your eyes didn’t want to comprehend it. it kept fading out of your sight, like one of those bizarre 3D ‘Magic Eye’ images in books. “Hello??” This must’ve been what the Nightmare was talking about, right? How come he couldn’t detect it, but you kept noticing it?

          It only took a few more minutes of following the invisible shape until you got your answer. Tracking it to the wall dead ahead, you gasped: The pattern of the wallpaper was broken up by two glowing, opalescent orbs: A pair of eyes with squiggly horizontal pupils.           You stepped closer. “I can see you, y'know,” you spoke up sternly. “You’ve been following me around, haven’t you?”

          Now that you’d noticed its presence, it made itself visible, phasing into existence in front of you. It had a very tall, masculine human body, dressed in a formal suit, with the head of a… Cuttlefish? For a moment they just stood motionless, arms folded behind their back, staring at you.

           “Uh… Hi,” you gave them a cautious wave. “Is this your hotel?”           The entity nodded.            “Oh, well it’s very nice!”           "Thank you,” they responded. They took a few steps forward, tilting their head. "You seem different than others that have been here.”           You stood your ground. “Really? How so…?”           “You run away, yet you’re curious. You aren’t deterred by what your species may deem 'monstrous’.”

         "Oh, well…” You weren’t sure how to explain that monsters and the like were very much up your alley. "I mean, it doesn’t really do any good being afraid of everything 'different’,“ you shrugged. "Just because something may look monstrous doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s evil. Sure, people should be cautious, but people can’t learn anything about the world if they just decide they’re not going to try to understand it.”

         Their tentacles twitched a bit. “How interesting.” They took a couple steps forward. “There is a point where curiosity becomes naivety. Keeping one’s heart open, keeping one’s mind hungry for knowledge, can inevitably lead them right into the jaws of danger. Monsters care not for the childish optimism of their prey.”            "Well, sure, but…” You wanted to explain that it was, in fact, a monster keeping you safe from the dangers.

          “You should stay here.”

          "…Huh?“

          “You should stay here,” they repeated. “With the rest of us.” It wasn’t a question, or a suggestion. It was a command.           "Uhhh I can’t really do that,” you took a step back. “I’m trying to get home.”           “This can be your home.” Another step forward. “It’s peaceful. Free from judgment and ignorance. Free from dangers. As long as you don’t disturb the Smilers.”           You sighed a little. So much for finding someone to reason with. “Look, I appreciate it, but I have friends and family that’ll miss me. I have a whole life back in my world.”            “Friends that abandoned you? Left you to rot away in a world you know nothing about?”            “What?? No!! They had nothing to do with-”

          The entity’s head and tentacles suddenly started to light up in a dazzling, rippling display of colorful stripes, two of their tentacles splaying out to the sides. Their unblinking gaze drilled into you, glowing more vibrantly, their squiggly horizontal pupils shrinking to slits.           "Wha-“

          “You can trust me,” their tone became lighter, and friendlier; quite the contrast from their intense, borderline hostile gaze. “You’ll like it here. You’ll be well provided for. Room service, complimentary meals, comfortable beds. Jazz nights every week.”           Their mesmerizing facial patterns were difficult for you to tear your gaze away from. For a brief moment, you actually considered their offer.           Soon, they were little more than a foot away from you, looming over you, facial patterns still swirling and rippling. You swallowed back the lump in your throat, tried to turn your head or even close your eyes, but it felt like a static washing over your senses.          Maybe I can stay here…

          You didn’t notice the entity slowly raise their arms up, outside of your peripheral vision. You didn’t see their clawed fingers morph into tentacle-like appendages, starting to drip with a narcotic neurotoxin.

          You also barely noticed the lights in the hallway going out, one by one.

          Ragaeli faded in from a dark haze, right behind the entity, arms outstretched, and fingers wiggling, mirroring the actions of the other. Just as the entity sensed him and ceased their attempts to put you in a trance, the Nightmare clamped his hands around their sides, his hands buzzing with his crackling red magic. He wasn’t taking any chances.           But there was no reaction. No laughter or startled yells, no wriggling around. They looked outright offended when they whipped around, their hands morphing back to normal as they folded their arms. “You’ve some nerve, laying a hand on me.”

          Rags blinked hard, before snorting. “Pfff- Damn, nothing, huh? Lame,” He put his hands on his hips. “That’s some pretty clever magic of yours though~! Perception camouflage. Kinda similar to mine, actually!” He poofed out of sight in a puff of smoke, his uniform hat getting left behind and dropping to the floor. “Fool your friends! Fun at parties!!” His voice darted around the air around both of you. With another poof, he reappeared, giggling.           The entity didn’t seem phased, or amused. They tilted their head. “You’re the other presence I felt stalking about. Following this Wanderer, toying with them as if they are your prey.”           Rags scoffed. "Oh, and you’re not doing the same? At least I have something way more fun in mind than trynna drug 'em up and hold them hostage in some hoity-toity, dusty old-”

          In a flash, the entity jutted out an arm to hold their tentacle fingers right up to the Nightmare’s neck; and the other arm out in front of you, their fingers stretching out to splay its tentacles inches away from your face. You inhaled sharply and froze in place, not sure whether you should try to run.           But Rags wasn’t deterred by the threat. “Heh, struck a nerve, did I~?” With a flick of his wrist, he used his magic to tug their hand back away from your face.           As if to answer, the creature’s head started to flash and ripple in angry hues of yellow and orange, its tentacles wrapping around Rags’ throat, seeping with toxins. “You’d do well not to defy me-” they started to growl sternly; But was interrupted by Rags jabbing the sides of their squishy head with his index and middle fingers, giving off a bright red spark. They jolted sharply, before their head and arms slumped over. They remained standing in place, unresponsive.

          "Whoa; what did you just do?? You didn’t kill them…?”           He quickly shook his head. “You’ll seeee~” He cooed.

          The entity stirred. They let out a low, raspy chuckle. “Ohh… I see. That is a fun idea…” Slowly, they lifted their head and peeked over their shoulder at you. For a brief moment, their head and tentacles shifted to black and pale red stripes.

          "R..Rags?? What did you do?“ You repeated.           He gave a giddy little snicker. "Weeelll, they tried to put you in a trance, I just decided to give 'em a taste of their own medicine~”

          You gawked. “You’re mind-controlling them?!”           Ragaeli quickly shook his head. “Not mind control. Subconscious suggestion,” he tapped a finger to his temple. “I just zapped 'em with a few of your memories, that’s all. I suggested a different game to play with us. What they do after that is their decision~”          “I never knew Wanderers could be so weak to touch…” The hotel manager chuckled, taking a step closer to you. “And the way you crave this touch...the sounds you make, the pleas for it not to end...Goodness, you’re really quite shameless, aren’t you...?”

           You swallowed. “H-Hey now-” Without giving you more time to react, they flung their arms and tentacles out to wrap around you, pulling you close. You yelped and instinctively tried pulling away, but were met with the feeling of the slippery appendages writhing and kneading over your armpits and ribs, immediately loosing a shriek of laughter from you. “YIEE-HAHAHA N-NOOHOHOHO!!” Your face flared up, shuddering from the sensations, wriggling back and forth and tried to tug their arms free.

         Rags snapped his fingers, and the entity’s arms were held up by magic, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Both he and the cuttlefish letting out wicked laughter. “How cute…”          “Riiight~?” Rags giggled, patting your head. “Totally worth not knocking them out just yet, right? You wanna hear more of that cute laughter, see more of that helpless desperation, make them moan your name, draw a feeling of glee out of them without havin’ to trance them first~!”              The cuttlefish nodded. “I suppose I’ll humor you for now and play along with this little game…”            And both of them, leaning in on either side of your ears: “You should run~”

           The moment they released their hold, your adrenaline kicked in again and you bolted.

         You could swear you heard the Nightmare and the camouflaged entity snickering evilly at every turn. When you thought you could see the air in front of the wallpaper ripple, you’d turn the other way. When Ragdoll’s stomping or giggling echoed from one of the nearby stairwells, you booked it up or down the next flight. Every now and then, the Nightmare would phase into the room from inside one of the many paintings decorating the walls, sending you booking it in the other direction.          Even taking a moment of reprieve near the elevators wasn’t safe. The metal death cage stopped at your floor and with a ding of a bell, opened to Reggie - still in his Bellboy uniform - flashing you a shitty grin with his arms behind his back. “Next stop, our Diamond Suites~! Comfiest beds in the Backrooms, complete with chains and blindfolds and drawers full of the best lubes, the strongest vibes, the most torturous tickly instruments in this or any dimension, hehehehe~!” He tried to usher you into the elevator. “The more Big Os you can rack up, the more of a room discount we can give ya~!”           You blushed at the thought. “Yeahh nice try, I’m not gonna let you wreck my shit and pull a Tower of Terror on me again,” you stuck your tongue out.          “C’monnn, I know you wannaaa~” His grin became more devilish and he gave you a wink.            Before you could make another snarky comment, you were scooped up from behind, the manager fading into view again, opal eyes glaring at ‘Reginald’. “You will not misuse my elevators again,” they huffed, casually letting their clawed digits scritch and knead over your ribs, sneaking in toward your belly.          “YyYYEE-HEHEH!! Y-Yeheheheah, what thehehey sahahahaid!!” You shook your fist at Rags, feeling your face quickly heat up. You were glad to be on playful terms with this entity now.            Ragdoll rolled his eyes. “Well I’m just doing my job, but fine, I’ll meet up with you again after you give my buddy the answer they need~!” He pressed a button and rode the elevator down out of sight.            The cuttlefish let out a low, clicky purring by your ear. “You seek answers, hmm? Then find your way to the Ballroom, and I may just give you a clue~” They released their hold on you and faded out of sight again. You took a moment to compose yourself before continuing onward. Where the hell were you supposed to find a ballroom in this place??             You kept an eye out for signs; there weren’t many to go off of. Reception, boiler room, outdoor gardens… You were so busy focusing on finding signage that you nearly ran smack-dab into a pitch-black wall with another one of those smiling faces staring out at you. “AGH-!” You gasped and jumped back when you saw it from your peripherals. It hissed through its teeth, just about to strike at you with two shadowy claws…            Then Ragdoll came flying through a nearby painting, jabbing a couple fingers into the dark mass, just above the creature’s eyes, giving off another bright red spark of magic - before promptly launching himself into a painting on the opposite side of the wall, his gremlin giggling still echoing overhead.

           The creature gave off a startled screech, the entire mass trembling. Its eyes briefly flashed yellow, its Cheshire smile spreading even wider.         "Ohh fuck no-“ was all you managed to comment, before two dark limbs lashed out and pulled you inside.              Your body was flooded with the feeling of a hundred gentle pokes, strokes and scritches. In the pitch-blackness, you had no way of knowing where it would come from next, or when it would end. The smiling face now peered down at you from above, snickering wickedly. “AaaAAH-Hehehehe!! D-Dahahammihihit!! N-Not you toohoohoo!!” You wriggled and tugged in its gentle, but surprisingly strong shadowy grip, yelping and whining and feeling goosebumps crawl up your skin from the feather-light touches teasing your hips, navel and ribs. You practically yelled when more of them slipped straight down into your shoes to flurry and vibrate, making you kick your legs around. “GAAH-HAHAHA!!”               It even began to get a little cheeky, slipping dozens of those tickly, wispy tendrils between your legs to caress and creep up your inner thighs, closer and closer to your groin. Others on your backside stroked and tickled the crease under your butt; more finger-like appendages discovered other erogenous zones along your body. “N-Nnhhh-Heheheh A-AHHhhh P-Pleeheheeasee!!” Your laughter was punctuated by moans and delighted whines, your squirming becoming less frantic; you found yourself leaning not their touch more.

         But then… Something in your talisman must’ve sensed a shift in the entity’s intentions. The moment before the creature turned its shadowy hands into daggers and thorns to impale you with, your charm gave off a sudden blinding red spark of magic, making you both shriek from the ticklish shock.          You knew that was a sign that the game was over; you managed to pull away from the dark mass, coming out on the other side and booking it right as the creature let out an angry his... Nearly stumbling over your own feet as the residual tickly pleasure sent shivers through you. A shame that it couldn’t have kept going...

         After continuing to search, you were guided to the hotel Restaurant. Making your way inside, it was just as overly-exuberant as the rest of the place, with smooth Jazz playing from the nearby stage - despite the fact that no-one was playing the instruments that stood stationary.

         You ducked down to hide underneath one of the nearby dining tables, just in time to hear Reggie’s big ol stompers follow behind you. He snickered and started to walk slow, deliberate circles around the table. "Gee, I wonder where they went…” You heard his claws tapping, slowly and repeatedly, on the surface just above you. The sound gave you goosebumps. “They’d better not keep themselves tucked away too long, they’re gonna get found eventually~!” He teased in a singsong voice, giggling wildly. “A shame we can’t stay here for too long, I’d check us into one of the rooms and keep you in there with me to Netflix-and-Giggle! Not sure the TVs here have Netflix though… or if there even are TVEEEEE-HAHA!!“ You took your chance to lunge from under the table and latch onto one of his feet, scritching and prodding over his arches and toes. He yelped with giggles, stumbling and falling back against the chairs for a moment and you started ducking and weaving around the tables in an attempt to shake him off.            As you did, he put on his Bellhop act again, complete with accent. “Come now, this is no way for an esteemed guest to behave! I’m going to have to put you under house arrest at this point!!” He made grabs for you, and you practically climbed over table booths.          “Yeah, well suck it!! This place is three stars at best!!”            A loud hiss answered from a wall just behind you, the manager’s vivid glowing eyes and splayed writhing tentacles appearing in the air.          “AAHH I’m kidding I’m kidding!!” You laughed and scurried out of the restaurant area. Unfortunately your comment seemed to have ticked them off; you could now hear them following very closely behind. You hardly had the chance to try climbing a flight of stairs before you were yanked by an invisible force into a nearby suite, the door slamming behind you.            The cuttlefish glared down at you, arms folded across their chest. They didn’t look angry anymore, just unamused.          “H-hey now, I was just joking earlier, this is a great hotel,” you smiled nervously up at them. “Very homey, great atmosphere…”            They simply walked forward, making you back up further and further, until the backs of your knees pressed against the bed and you stumbled onto the mattress. They leapt forward and straddled either side of you, and as you scrambled back against the pillows, they outstretched their hands; one morphed its fingers into tentacles, the other remained clawed. “I believe you. But a comment like that still deserves to be… reprimanded~” They curled and scrunched their digits, wriggling them closer and closer to you… Until, without warning, they slipped their claws under your top, giving your belly a squeeze.

           “AH! W-Wahahahaitt!!” You yelped all the more when their tentacle-hand also started exploring. They were more gentle with their methods than their initial spring-attack; They took their time scritching, poking, dancing their dexterous claws over your torso. Their tentacle suckers gave little ‘kisses’ over your belly. “MmMMF-Hehehehe!!” You tried, and quickly failed, to hold back your snickering, wriggling back and forth, trying to suck in your gut.             Although they couldn’t smile or change the expression in their glassy opal eyes, you could still see a mischievous twinkle behind them, their squiggly pupils dilated and the patterns on their head flowing in a soft ripple. 

           All the while, the cuttlefish manager tilted their head, observing you closely. "How endearing...You know, those memories of yours told me something interesting… They showed me how easily you are persuaded by verbalization.”            “Wh-what do you mehehean?”            They leaned down closer to your ear, their double-voice speaking in a low whisper. “You’re ever so tiickliiish, aren’t you~?”            You let out a startled yelp, not at all expecting a tease out of an otherworldly entity like this. “AH-!! N-Noohoho!!”            They tilted their head. “No? But clearly you are. Perhaps I will just have to convince you further.” They un-straddled their leg from around you and reached up above you to grab one of the pillows; in just a few swift movements, they pulled the pillowcase off, grabbed your wrists, and tied them above your head. You gasped and felt your blush deepen, knowing your sides and armpits were even more vulnerable now. The entity flurried their claws up and down one armpit, and had their tentacles slip down your sleeve of the other arm, slithering around. “YIEE-HEHEHEHE!!” You whined and shimmied side to side like a fish.            “It’s such a curious thing, this 'ticklishness’…It’s almost cute how easily a Wanderer can succumb to their own nervous systems being turned against them. Becoming helpless, giggling little fools, flooded by sensations their minds and bodies cannot fight against, let alone fully comprehend…”            You whined, feeling the entity’s explanations getting to you all the more. Their sly chuckle told you they were totally doing it on purpose.            After the cuttlefish felt satisfied with their efforts on your upper half, they slid themselves off of the bed; not before grabbing another pillowcase. They casually walked over and took your ankles, ignoring your kicking and fidgeting, tying them together too. “A-Aahhaha, wahahait…” You giggled nervously.            “Ah, yes, this is a particularly sensitive spot of yours, isn’t it?” They wriggled their tentacles and fingers in front of your soles, keeping their eyes locked on you to watch your reactions. Their claws began to scritch, pinch and poke the ball of your foot and between your toes, dragging their nails slooowly down your sole. The tentacles on their other hand slithered over every crevice, between each toe, their suckers sticking and unsticking in rapid succession to cause a sort of ticklish ‘vibration. And it all drove you crazy.            “ShitshiTSHIT-HAAHAHAHA NOOOHOHOHOO!!” Your body twisted, bucked and flailed on the bed, the entity’s skilled hands causing unbearable ticklish jolts coursing through your feet. “NAAHAHAHAHA!! P-PLEHEHEHEASE~!”              Their hands switched places; their tentacles morphed into claws, and their other claws stretched into tentacles, keeping up their cruelly delicate methods for a few more minutes. Only when you were a whining, gasping mess did they relent and pull their hands away, folding them behind their back. They folded their arms behind their back and slowly walked up to the side of the bed to glance down at you, slowly leaning their head closer. “If I may be so.. Brash..." Their tentacle fingers snuck ever closer and closer to your chest; their other hand tugged at the rim of your pants. They eyed you expectantly. You gulped hard and nodded, giving them the okay to keep going.               With that, they undid your pants, tugging them down just enough to expose your groin. They gently scritched their claws over your underwear, releasing a soft gasp from you. They did it again, and again, soon giving gentle, rhythmic strokes and scritches with their claws over every crevice of your clothed flesh. They circled their hand along your inner thighs, on your lower belly over your crotch, dragging their nails up and down and across. “A-Ah..! NNgh-!! AH-Hehehehe!” You wriggled your hips and tried to nudge yourself into their touch more.              While they stroked and tickled your groin with their claws, their other hand morphed into tentacles to splay out and slither over your chest. The feeling of the slick, sucker-covered appendages gliding over your nipples caused you to gasp louder and arch upwards. The feeling of them wrapping around the sides of your chest tissue, just next to your underarms, and just underneath where your chest met your ribs, drove you wild with tickly erogenous sensations. You couldn’t hold back your breathy, delighted giggles and gasps. A hot blush lit up your cheeks and you kept shyly peering into the entity’s curious shimmering eyes.              After a few more minutes, their hands shifted. The one at your chest morphed back to claws, and the claws teasing ever closer to your groin changed into tentacles. They skittered and poked and caressed their claws over your chest, flicking them gently over your nipples; it made you giggle wildly, though it was the feeling of the tentacles starting to slip underneath your underwear and explore every inch of your groin that really made you lose control of your verbal responses. “HaaAAHH~!” You arched back and gripped at the bedsheets, shudders of ticklish pleasure shooting through you. It felt like five tongues: Very long, thin, dexterous tongues all slithering every which way over and around your engorged flesh, between your thighs, over your lower abdomen. They started to ripple and undulate to tickle you even more; the suckers started to give tickly ‘kisses’ along your groin, sticking and unsticking. “AHH-HAHAHA~! OHhh fuhuhuck!!” Your blush burned brighter, your breath became shakier and heavier, you wriggled back and forth and slowly gave into the erotic tickly attention.                The manager tilted their head at you again. “I wonder…”              “W-Wonder what?” You smiled anxiously up at them.             “How mean would it be… if I convinced you that you’re even more ticklish?” Their head and face bloomed into rippling waves and patterns again. “That you’re even more vulnerable to the sensations that drive your senses wild...”                You gasped. “Ohh no, don’t you dare…” But you already felt it taking effect. From head to toe, your body tingled and erupted in goosebumps.                The slightest graze of their claws against your ribs sent an electric ticklish jolt through you. “YYEEHEHEHE NOOOHOHAHAHA!!” You bucked a foot in the air.                The cuttlefish chuckled. “The sensitivity of your nerves continues to climb higher and higher… You’re almost more ticklish than what you can bear…” They idly traced their claws in circles around and around your belly and ribs.                 You yelled. “P-PLEHEHEHEASE!! Thahahahat’s high enohohohough!!” You whined, trying desperately to hide your bright blushing face against your arm. You could feel every brush of fabric from your clothes, you could feel the soft mattress against any bare skin, you continued to be gently, methodically poked and stroked by the entity’s claws. And it tickled like hell. The next few minutes felt twice as long once they went in on you and started swiftly, rapidly tickling over every single weak spot they could find; up and down your torso, squeezing your legs and knees, walking down to slither their tentacles against your soles and toes, and along the sides of your feet, moving back up to tickle your inner thighs and trace the outline of your groin.                “And with this heightened ticklishness, comes unbearable pleasure... Your body yearns for it, more and more... Every flutter of fingers, sending waves of desire coursing through you...”            As they spoke it, it became true; every tickle from their claws and tentacles sent erotic tickly sensations shuddering through you, as if everywhere they tickled was now an erogenous zone. And you could only answer with loud shrieks of laughter and loud, aroused moans, trying desperately to twist your body on the bed - which inadvertently opened up even more ticklish targets on your back. They closer you came to reaching your peak, the more the entity doubled their efforts, focusing on your most erogenous spots.           You weren’t unused to having your ticklishness tampered with like this; you knew damn well how the Nightmare could ramp up your sensations to unbearable degrees… And then drive you into utter madness by wreaking havoc with his hands and tendrils.              Thankfully - or maybe unfortunately - the cuttlefish was a bit more gentle with their methods... This gentleness, combined with their hypnotic inclinations, eventually drove you over the edge, warmth erupting in your lower stomach and your body tingling with pleasure as you cried out. “A-AAHH~HAHAHA YEHEHEHESS!!” The cuttlefish only pulled their hands away again once you were left totally breathless.            “How delightful... I’m pleased that you’ve enjoyed yourself.” They petted your head gently, and helped slide you back into your pants. “You’ve grown very tired. And quite content. My offer still stands, you know… You can stay here." Once again, their head-stripes began to ripple and flare in a kaleidoscopic pattern, leaning in close to you. “I could tickle and toy with you, day in and day out~ You will not know any fear, or weariness… Only laughter, and pleasure~”                The thought send shudders through you. But once again, before you could seriously consider their offer, Ragdoll’s vivid orange eyes phased into view from inside the wallpaper above the bed, followed by his smile; a very irritated smile. "We had a deeeaaal," he growled.            The manager sighed, rolling their eyes - you had no idea a cephalopod could roll their eyes - and ceased their hypnotic attempts again. "Very well. We will meet in the ballroom, then, as I stated. But it will be your last chance to prove your resolve." They untied you, before turning invisible again.            Ragdoll’s gremlin giggling hovered in the air. "Better make a run for it while you can~”            You groaned. For once, you didn’t want to take off. You’d just managed to get settled in and start winding down from the afterglow. "Can it be a casual walk instead? I’ve been running a lot as it is, and this bed is pretty cozy…“            In a red flash, Rags pounced out of the wall and landed above you, crouched on all fours. "We’re on a tight schedule, remember??” His hand lit up in sparks and he placed his large hand to your lower belly, giving off a shockwave through your stomach, hips and inner thighs.            “AAGH-HAHAHA!!” You cried out leapt in place on the bed.            “There, that oughta replenish you for a little while~”            You realized that it wasn’t just ticklish retaliation - your body felt revitalized. Your muscles weren’t sore, your eyelids weren’t droopy; and your body was no longer sensitive to an unbearable degree. “Heh, thanks. Well on that note…” You tuck-and-rolled off of the bed, quickly ducking out of the doorway.              Once Ragman had chased you through a couple more hallways, he stopped, presumably to keep looking around the dimension. You used the chance to walk the halls and more carefully look around for a sign to the Ballroom. Finally, you saw a sign for it just ahead.              Stepping inside, your eyes and mouth went wide. It was huge. And… totally empty. But the sounds of Jazz music, laughter and idle chatter lingered in the air; this place seemed to be the source of all the voices from before. After taking a few more steps forward, you began to see flashes and ripples in the air: Visions of people, dressed in Victorian-era clothing; some looked human, some didn’t. All of them were lacking faces. They looked a lot like some of the photos you had found in the guest rooms’ dresser drawers.              These visions only lasted for a second or two before they faded out of view again. The manager stood in the middle of the dance floor, arms folded behind their back, patiently watching you approach.              “Looks like I made it here,” You grinned smugly at them. “So are you gonna give me a clue or-”                They instead took you by the hands, and started to do a waltz with you. They didn’t seem to mind your awkward steps, making sure to keep pace with you. “It’s nice seeing you enjoying yourself here, you know. So many Wanderers pass through here, frightened, starving, injured, trying so hard to escape… But doing so only brings them more strife.” Despite their unchanging gaze, they sounded disheartened. “I wish only to keep people safe. Once they sleep in one of my guest beds, they will leave their physical shells behind. No more hunger, or pain, or weariness.” They gestured to the flickering hologram-like visions of the other guests. “Only peace, and jovial celebration.”                So… you were right. It would have been a bad idea to fall asleep. You didn’t really want to argue the morality of the entity’s methods, though. Especially since, all things considered, this very well might have been a better outcome for some poor soul that didn’t have a Nightmare god at their aid.           “However,” they spoke up, interrupting your silent contemplation. “If you truly wish to leave, then I will give you a clue… Look for something out-of-place.”

               You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, out of place?”              “Exactly as I said. Something that does not fit into the hotel’s aesthetic. Find it, and you may just escape. It’s not far from here. But find yourself trapped again, and I may just keep you here forever…”                They snapped their fingers. Immediately, some of the specters responded to the sound, hovering over to where you stood, enclosing you as they circled around, giggling. “But perhaps I should make you persuade them as well… Give them a reason as to why I should let you leave~”                  You gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh come on…” The manager was definitely just fucking with you at this point.              “HeeeEEYYY EVERYBODY~!” The air was suddenly booming with the sound of the Nightmare’s voice, and the lights turned dim. The flickering specters gasped and ceased their dancing and efforts to keep you boxed in, looking around for the source.                Poofing into view on top of one of the tables, Ragdoll struck a pose, having switched out his Bellboy outfit for a very handsome old-timey suit and derby hat, his shirt and jacket fully unbuttoned. He flashed the “crowd” a charismatic smile, and with a flick of the wrist, a microphone stand appeared in his hand. “Well now, ladies and gents, quite a lively, lovely bunch we’ve got here tonight! But how ‘bout we really get this place bumping??”                He tossed away his hat and snapped his fingers; the soft Jazz was replaced by louder, energetic Swing. He hopped off and started to dance around the room, able to take the hands of the ‘invisible’ guests and twirl them around, switching between doing the Rumba and the Foxtrot. It didn’t take long for the guests to get riled up and join the party; despite their lack of faces, their excitement could be heard.                  The cuttlefish, on the other hand, was very irritated. “Who does your friend think he is, hosting Swing night a week early and stealing the thunder from my Jazz band??” Their face flared with angry orange hues.                  Better take your chance while you can!! You heard Rags’ voice in your head. You jumped and gasped, and quickly heeded his advice while the entity and their guests were distracted by his antics, slipping past them and sneaking out of the door on the farthest wall.                  You’d made a fair amount of distance before the sound of Swing music finally faded into the background. It was time to wrap up this Scooby-Doo escapade. You examined everything more intently than ever, trying to find anything that looked out of place.

         Then, you spotted it: A large painting out of the corner of your eye, making you stop in your tracks to take a closer look. It was low to the floor and had a black minimalist frame, with a photograph of what appeared to be the inside of a modern warehouse or massive hardware store. You walked up and placed your hand against it… And gasped when it rippled and let your hand slip right in, like the surface of a pond.          “Well bravo… You’ve found it.” The cuttlefish phased themselves out of the wall next to the painting, slowly applauding you. “I’ll admit, your determination is commendable. You’re certain you don’t wish to stay here?” They tilted their head. This time, the question felt less demanding, and more… Wistful.             You felt a little sorry for them. All of your interactions made you realize that maybe they were just a little lonely. Well-intentioned, with questionable methods. You sighed. “Yes, I’m sure,” you stood firmly in place. “My friend can’t stay here any more than I can. He’s going to disappear if he can’t find a way back to his own world. Well, temporarily, anyways. He always comes back, but he may not be able to find his way back here. It’d break our heart if we couldn’t ever see each other again.”             The entity nodded. “Very well, then… As utterly irritating as this friend of yours may be, it brings peace of mind knowing you have an entity like him keeping watch over you.” They chuckled. “Perhaps putting your trust in some monsters isn’t such a bad idea.            “And… perhaps I could entertain my other guests with the games we’ve played~” They extended their tentacle-digits to slither up against your ribs one last time, before taking a bow and gesturing to the painting. “After you, then. Please, stay safe.”

           You heard the faint echo of Swing music and a guest’s distant “Farewell!” as you stepped into the painting.

——————————————————————————————————-

Chapter One Chapter Two (current) Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five (SFW) Chapter Six

Footnotes: “Terror Hotel”: https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Level_5 Smilers: https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Smilers

#tickling #backrooms #backrooms fic #tickle fic #tentacles #hypnosis #monster #monster boy #STEAMY NAUGHTY KONKY #chasing #tickle monster #tk fic

[starcourt-shenanigans]

Class of ‘86

Eddie Munson x Fem reader Fanfic

Summery: Following the season 4 timeline, you and Eddie find your way back to each other.

Slow start

no mentions of y/n

w/c: 13k

warnings: NO MINORS —18+ only- mentions of throwing up, loosing someone close to you, impaling and sharp objects

a/n: My first ever fanfic, please be kind. English is not my first language.

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Me and Tara followed Mike, El and Max into the hallway behind the mall. We went as quickly as we could with El's injured leg. After we rounded another corner as the lights kept flickering ferociously, we almost walked into a door. It was locked and it wouldn't budge. Me and Tara tried as best as we could to open the door but it would not open. After a loud bang we knew another door had shut. Max went back to the corner to see what was going on. ' Get Max back here I whisper shouted to Tara.' She quickly left to go and find Max. I could hear shouting and before I could see what was happening I felt a sharp pain in my head and everything went black. I don't know how much time had passed but two small hands were shaking me awake. As I slowly adjusted to the throbbing headache taking in the surroundings I asked ' Where are El and Tara.' Mike and Max shared a quick look with one another as they hurried me up to get back into the hall of the mall. When we skidded around the last corner I saw Billy  stooped over El. But I couldn't see Tara anywhere. When I heard gunshots my first instinct was to duck but then I saw who was firing. Tara was standing to the right opposite of us firing at the grotesque beast in front of us. A loud screech answered the bullets. I made eye contact with Tara and in that moment I was so proud of her proud to call her my best friend. But before we knew it the monster shot one of its tentacles towards her enveloping her arm. She screamed in pain and before I could make any movements in her direction to help she was flung across the hall. Landing on another one of it's tentacles that pierced right through her. I heard a terrible scream filled with pain and terror I looked to my right and saw Max but I soon realized the scream I heard wasn't from Max it came from me.

Screaming, bathing in sweat I woke from my nightmare that was more of a memory. A memory from the 4th of July when I lost my best friend to a monster, in the Hawkins Mall.

It had been three months a new year had already begun at Hawkins High. Tara and I had had the grand plan of redoing final year to make the most of it. Before we both went to different colleges. Great plan right? Only now I had to redo the final year without my best friend there and barely any sleep from the nightmares. At least I have Robin since we were now in the same year. She plays in a band. The younger kids are now in their first year, they seem to do fine. Although with Will and El moving and Lucas joining the basketball team. It seemed like they were growing apart. 

I hopped out of bed to take a shower. It was only half past five. I knew I wasn't getting any sleep again, I was used to it by now. As I stood under the cold stream I tried to push the flashbacks away. The cold shower usually helped to wake me up. Not today. After I chose a simple outfit for the day, I climbed out the window and onto the roof. Another part of the scary wake up early morning ritual. I did not want to worry my parents. They did when I started making breakfast at six in the morning right before my father usually did. So to stop the worrying I stayed on the roof till 7 when it was a more normal time to eat breakfast before school.

The morning dew clung to my jeans and a light breeze played with my curls. Closing my eyes I savored the cooling sensation. I watched as the sky turned lavender as the sun slowly started rising. No matter how beautiful the sunrise was, Hawkins still looked bleak. Turning into a sad town with empty houses and empty shops. As more and more citizens decided to leave over the years. In a few years it would look like a ghost town. Hugging my legs I watched as the neighbors cat Lazzo tried chasing a field mouse even though it was far too fat to accomplish much.

A couple of hours later I parked my bike at Hawkins High. I used to really enjoy school, now it was just a constant reminder of all the things I was missing. On top of it all I didn’t know anybody, no one wants to become friends with the weirdo who had to re-do their final year. Except for the one person you already knew. Eddie Munson the other weirdo or as everyone else called him ‘a freak’. You knew he wasn’t a freak. Before the Mall fiasco you used to be friends. You were the first female member of Hellfire. You were good and you had lots of fun. But since the Mall you couldn’t play D&D anymore without having horrible flashbacks. The one time you tried was a certified fiasco. When Eddie had introduced the first monster into the storyline you got sick, running to the bathroom to throw up kind of sick.You told the team you’d quit, they were sad to see you go. But Eddie was furious at first he kept nagging you for over a month all the while you kept using silly excuses as to why. Until one time he had pushed you too far.You had blurted you couldn’t stand to be around him because he was such a freak. He had stammered back that he didn’t want a bitch in hellfire anyway. You hadn’t spoken ever since.

You made your way to your locker keeping your head down to avoid any kind of contact. The day passed by slowly and you were barely able to keep your mind on the different classes. Finally the bell rang and everybody made their way to the cafeteria. ‘ Can I speak to you, Lilly?’ Mrs. Click asked. I stopped with a deep sigh, because I knew what was coming. ‘You know we are very understanding of your situation Lilly. But if you keep on going like this you won’t make it this year and I know you don't want to do your final year again.’ She looks at me with a mix of sympathy and a stern look. ‘ How are your meetings with Ms. Kelly going?’ ‘They are helping.’ I reply, a lie. ‘Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you okay?’ I nod weakly as I quickly make my way to the cafeteria. 

After waiting in line for a while and getting my extra sympathy portion of chicken from the lunch lady I look into the cafeteria deciding between going through the middle to avoid hellfire club or to the right side to avoid the popular kids. I decide on the right. Lost in thought of whether to go for the toilets again or under the bleachers. When I almost drop my tray when a loud ‘.. that’s what’s killing the kids!’ rips me from my thoughts followed by a bush of brown curls invading my view. ‘ Woah, loosy Lilly didn’t mean to make you jump. Please don’t throw up again.’ He chuckled as he picked up the piece of chicken that fell from your tray. Completely invading your space he stuffed the chicken in his mouth. You could feel the heat rising to your ears and cheeks. You rolled your eyes as you quickly made your way out of the cafeteria. As the Metal Head slandered back to his friends who’s laughter still rang in your ears.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson fanfiction

[axe-writes]

Rire’s Plaything

Character belong to @darqx!

TW: torture, demonic hypnosis to engage in sex, blood

“Just know that I am going to kill you,” the man before you stated flatly as if he was delivering the most mundane of news. “Nothing you do or say can change that.” The tentacles around your wrists squeeze tighter making you cry out from the pain.

“Your screams are like the most beautiful music to my ears, give me more,” he practically purrs out. He then uses his tentacles to smack your inner thigh, hard. You let out a scream and start wriggling against your living bindings.

“Let me go Rire! We can both go our separate ways, I won’t tell anyone anything if you just let me go!”

He chuckles darkly, “You humans are all the same, so dreadfully boring.” Rire leans closer, his yellow eyes glowing. He grins letting you see his sharp inhuman teeth. “What part of ‘nothing you do or say can change that’ didn’t you understand? You’re my plaything, I will use you however I please then dispose of you.”

He looks into your eyes, and you feel yourself falling asleep again. The last thing you hear before you pass out, is his deep dark chuckle as he walks you towards the bedroom.

————

You awaken to the sounds of birds chirping outside of your window. Was the man with the yellow eyes and sharp teeth just a nightmare? You remembered meeting Rire at the jazz lounge and inviting him back to your home. He was very charming and even more attractive, you couldn’t resist.

You hear a quiet snore that jerks your from your thoughts. After looking next to you, you see Rire sleeping. He almost looked peaceful. Gently you lift the sheet up and look at his back. No tentacles, it just have just been a nightmare. You sigh and lay back on the bed feeling silly about thinking he’s some kind of evil entity.

———

Once you get out of bed, you make your way to the kitchen and get a glass of water. Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much you thought to yourself. As you sip it, you feel something slither up your legs and force itself inside of you. The sudden feeling of being full almost brings you to your knees.

“I didn’t even hear you get up, such a quiet little human. Well not always as I remember.” The tentacle he forced into you begins pumping roughly, it’s movements are so fast you cling to the counter to stop yourself from falling down as your knees give out. You feel another one force itself inside of you wriggling around as if it’s trying to find something.

You use the last of your strength, to turn and glare at the man behind you. Something in you wanted to show him that you weren’t scared of him. You felt the edges of your vision becoming dark. The scene in front of you quickly faded away as you were consumed by the darkness.

————

Sun was shining on your face when you came to. You were laying on the kitchen floor fully naked. Rire had ripped your clothes off as you slept and you didn’t even want to think about what he did to your body during that time. He nor his disgusting tentacles were anywhere to be seen from where you lay.

Quickly you stood up and looked around dreading seeing that twisted smile or those sickly yellow eyes. “Where are you, you dirty bastard?” You quietly mumble as you begin to slowly and painfully walk towards the living room. There was still no sign of him and if wasn’t from the pain in your body, you could have passed off the events as a weird fever dream of some sort.

Once you get to your bedroom, you get dressed in the first thing you get your hands on then make your way back to the living room. Painfully, you sit on the couch and rest trying to breathe steadily. You’re still on edge jumping at every sound the house made. Knowing it’s only a matter of time before Rire reappears.

Your body finally starts to relax when you feel a tentacle wrap around your throat. “Did you miss me little human?” The tentacle slams you onto the floor at Rire’s feet. All you can see are Rire’s expensive looking shoes. “Time for some fun.” The tentacle brings your head up so your face is leveled with Rire’s crotch.

He reaches down and unzips his pants allowing his hard cock to pop out. Your mouth begins to drool at the sight of it. Rire can smell your arousal and chuckles. You didn’t want to feel this way and you knew it wasn’t your doing.

You feel Rire’s hand on the back of your head guiding it. He slowly works it in before roughly thrusting it, pumping a speed that quickly empties your mind.

You felt yourself dripping with the need to be filled. Rire fulfilles your desire by forcing one of his thick tentacles into you. It moves, pushing itself deeper into you. The feeling is almost painful as it pumps in and out of you swirling around. This causes you to moan loudly and you find yourself grinding against it. The hand on the back of your head tightens its grip as he begins thrusting faster. All you can think about is pleasing him, wanting his cum in you.

You begin bouncing on the tentacle that’s inside of you pushing it further and further into you. All of your internal organs are screaming at you to stop.

“You’re almost done little human, you’ve served your purpose well.” Rire says as a moan escapes his lips. You can feel a rush of heat and pain wash through you at those words. A whimper flies from your mouth as another tentacle enters your body pushing deeper than needed. The pain doesn’t even register, even though you fully know it should.

He reaches his orgasm and suddenly your body is flooded with pain. It’s so intense that you can’t fire the though processes it takes to scream. You feel his tentacles pushing their way out of your body. The pain feels as though it’s lasting for hours when you know only seconds have past. The room steadily grows darker as your blood pools on the floor around you. Rire’s yellow eyes are the last thing you see, as he kneels down next to you, watching the life leave your body.

#story time #boyfriend to death #lucien rire #btd rire

[voidbears-oc-stash]

Xaster: WHY YOU!!! i'll drown your world in darkness! destruction and CHAOS! *he TOSSES Blacky HARD sending them through the front glass window of a clothing store! before turning his attention to Vinnie!* you? a guardian of dreams!? PATHETIC! you couldn't keep coals hot in blast furnace on the BLOODY SON! you've dealt with nightmares!? I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A TRUE NIGHTMARE IS! *he points a massive hand and all its smaller ones at Vinnie firing a constant bolt of blue'n red lighting at'em! and Striking several cars and objects around them! doors tearing open and turning into crude arms! glass shattering and steel tearing becoming rough shapes of core droids! eyes glowing bright with Red'n Blue and letting out feral chaotic screams! same with Mail boxes lampposts and puppets! all moving towards Raider, Vinnie, Expo and Phantom! and Xaster turns his attention back to Sky and fires more of the lighting into the building itself! which starts shaking and beams tear themselves from walls and the floor starts bending as the hole made by Sky being smashed into it starts closing! *

Sky squeezes out. "You think I can be crushed that easily when my scales are already bulletproof?" he says, shaking off like a dog.

Vinnie just casually dodges the lightning. "Did I call myself the guardian of dreams at any moment? No, I'm just from the dream realm. I know I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but that doesn't mean I'm cocky."

Expo glares at the robot shells and summons void tentacles to crush them. (Sorta like this, don't ask for context.)

Raider is now slightly more scared of Expo. "Well... I guess that works...." he says.

Blacky's voice echoes "You really think Darkness would affect void? Void is the purest form of darkness. Go head, make things harder for yourself." he says, launching himself out of the clothing store, now in a comically large dress.

#oc roleplay #jax #expo 'the explorer' #blacky the void demon #raider the shadow beast #vinnie the velociraptor #sky the cloud warrior

[annaraebananawriter]

The Last Letter

Well, hello there! Certainly been a while, even if I did post that big oneshot a couple days ago. Then again, that was for the Dream SMP fandom.

This one is Undertale!

Finally!

Lat time I posted a oneshot for Undertale it was a snippet of a multi-chaptered fic in the works. This is just a regular one.

Happy reading!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Dream and Nightmare (Who belong to Joku)

Warnings: Major Character Death, and I think that’s the only one. Let me know!

Word Count: 2713

~oOo~

Dream sighed as he leaned back. He gazed at the candle, watching the flame flicker. Tilting his head away to gaze at the window, where the night sky peeked through, stars shining, he taped the end of the pen on the desk, clicking it over and over again.

He closed his eyes for a minute.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

He opened them again and looked at the piece of paper in front of him. It was just over a page of writing. There were lots of small smudges and a few tear spots, but it was finally completed. He had been thinking about doing this for…years now. He had thought and thought about every single word written and, while he still had doubts, he felt this was the best it was going to get.

He smiled faintly, reaching for the envelope. Here’s hoping it was good enough to do what he wanted it to do, whether or not he wasn’t there to see it. He sealed the envelope with a wax seal of a sun and turned it over.

He wrote the name of the person the letter was addressed to in big and looping letters: Nightmare.

Just as he lifted the pen from the paper, a chill engulfed him, right on time. Like always, he tensed and gasped a bit, recognizing the negativity spike that meant his dear brother was attacking. Again. Only this time…he frowned. This time it came with a sense of finality, like this was the end. Like one of them would…

He stood up and tucked the letter into his jacket, opening up a portal to Nightmare.

He faintly hoped that it was Nightmare who came out of this alive.

This was it.

Dream panted, barely able to stop for breath as he dodged, over and over, Nightmare’s attacks. They were harsh, harsher than they’d ever been before. They seemed to strike with a sense of finality. He dodged the best he could, stubbornly ignoring what that meant. He didn’t want to give it a chance to happen.

It had been a long time coming.

They had fought before, of course. For countless years that had been all they did—fought each other, trying to hurt and make the other give up. But they had refused. They kept doing it, a sort of pride keeping them from admitting defeat. They continued the same routine, one growing frustrated and one growing tired.

Dream was tired. Anyone would be, if they were in his shoes. Doing the same old dance, helping the same people everyday, fighting the same people everyday…it all got to be so repetitive that sometimes he forgot what day it was, or what month it was. Years had passed doing this and the only day he could give a date to and describe in perfect detail was the start, the Apple Incident. That was the only one. Everything after was all blurred, the same events creating a stream of nothing, a fog of numbness.

I tried to do it.

He hated it—and as the guardian of positivity, he doesn’t hate many things.

But this fog of memories? The numbness of repeating the same damn things? The pain of fighting his brother, his family, trying to get him back but knowing that the other hated him and wanted him dead?

He hated that.

I really did.

Nightmare hated him. He had said so, over and over. It was a common theme in the memories, just like fighting and helping and hiding and pain. It was the feeling behind every one of his words and actions and body movements.

It was everything that existed now.

Nothing else mattered.

Certainly not Dream.

But…

Even now, as Nightmare raised a tentacle, practically being the emotion, it was all that remained of his brother. No matter how hard he tries, Dream wasn’t going to change that, was he?

I’m never going to get him back.

Dream watched the tentacle get closer to his chest.

Yet he didn’t move.

Might as well just…give up now, huh?

He closed his eyes.

Then, pain.

~oOo~

Nightmare laughed loud and hard. A grin was stretched across his face, threatening to cut his face in half. He held a hand over his eye as he continued to laugh, staring at the dust pile in front of him.

He…he had done it.

He had won.

The rush of power was wonderful. It was just what he had been missing. He breathed it in as much as he could. He giggled again, wiping away a few tears of disbelief.

He couldn’t believe it.

After years of trying, he had finally killed Dream.

He gazed at the dust that used to be his brother as he smiled. “Well,” he said, as if Dream could still hear him, “it was fun, wasn’t it? And now…I reign victorious, just as I was meant to be.” He was going to say more, when he noticed something. He paused and frowned, walking towards the dust and crouching beside it. A corner of an envelope stuck out from the jacket. He grabbed it and shook it off, standing back up.

The first this he noticed was the seal. Wax, of course, engraved with a sun. Inside of the sun, was a moon. He frowned further, something tugging at him. This…this was their logo. He remembered it; Dream had drawn it way, way back. He had said that…

“This way,” Dream giggled, rocking back on his heals, “we’ll always be connected. Forever and ever and always.”

Nightmare smiled, a warm feeling in his chest. “Forever and ever and always...I like that.”

Nightmare shook his head, scowling.

Those times were in the past, when he was foolish enough to believe he was happy with just Dream. That he didn’t need to be respected by the people of the village, that he didn’t care, as long as Dream loved him. Ha. It makes him laugh now.

He flipped the letter over as he tried to banish thoughts about the past. He froze, the name in his brother’s familiar handwriting staring him down.

Nightmare.

This letter was for him.

Why would it be for him?

He hated Dream. For the past hundreds of years, he had been hunting Dream, never letting him rest, always trying to kill him. Any sane person would hate the person doing that to them, right? They would want to get away and get away forever. But Dream hadn’t done that. He was always there to stand in his way, always there to meet him halfway. And he never, ever tried to kill Nightmare.

That explained how foolish his brother was, how painfully optimistic he was that he could win. That didn’t explain the letter. Nightmare had left no hints that he wanted to talk. There wasn’t anything that said that he wanted to go back to being weak. Dream knew that, or at least he should’ve.

His hand clenched around the letter. He wanted to take it and rip it into a million pieces, impossible to be put back together. They had nothing left to talk about.

But he was curious. He could never understand how Dream thought. Everything that came out of the guardian’s mouth seemed so funny and naïve to him. It made him wonder if the words written in his hands would do the same. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to entertain his dead brother and read his final words. And he had a right to them. The letter was addressed to him, after all.

Nightmare kept his face blank as he opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Dear Brother Nightmare,

He arrowed his eyes at the crossed-out word.

Dream had always sprouted nonsense about them still being brothers, about still caring and pleading to just talk to him. How pathetic. It just made him weaker because he still believed Nightmare wanted to talk to him.

But still…why did it sting?

Why did the word brother being crossed out make him feel uncomfortable?

…He would have to just keeping reading to find out, he supposed.

If you are reading this, then you have won. I am now dead and positivity is no more in the Multiverse. Congratulations.

He stopped.

Dream knew he was going to die. And he just…accepted that? How? Why didn’t he avoid coming here, fight to stay alive? It didn’t make sense to Nightmare. Why would Dream face him if he expected to die?

He had so many questions.

I’m happy for you. Before you say something about me lying, I promise you that I’m being truthful in my words. Everything you read will be true. I dislike lying to you, Nightmare. I always have. So, I promise to be honest with you. You deserve it. Here’s the truth:

I’m happy for you.

Sure, I may not…agree with it, or like it very much, but if it makes you happy…then who am I to judge? You mean so much to me, more than words can describe. I will always put your feelings and needs above my own, all so I can see you genuinely smile. I always loved your smile…but this is not about that. This is not about the past.

Nightmare paused again.

A strange feeling was gathering in his soul. He felt…confused? Dream was always saying this. He already knew. He found them useless, don’t get him wrong, but his brother had said them too many times for him not to know. Was this letter full of the same stuff like that? In that case, he should just rip it and not waste any more time.

He moved to do just that…but he couldn’t get his hands to move.

Growing frustrated, he willed himself to just move his hands, even slightly, and get it over and done with. Nothing happened. He growled and stopped, righting the letter and glaring at it. He didn’t know why he couldn’t rip it, but now this just meant he had to keep reading to see what made him so hesitant.

This is about you and your victory. My final words are this letter, so that’s why I probably didn’t talk that much during our battle…

Now that Nightmare thought about it, Dream was right. He hadn’t talked that much during the battle. The king had been too focused on finishing things to notice. Huh.

…Only two words are my final words, but the rest of the letter will explain the meaning behind them. They’re words that I’ve said countless times, but I truly mean them.

I’m so sorry.

…an apology.

He had kept reading…for an apology?!

Nightmare screamed in anger and threw the paper away from him. He stomped it into the ground, covering it with dirt. Once all his anger was out, he stepped back and panted. He seethed, pacing around the letter like it was going to attack him.

How dare he—saying sorry doesn’t mean anything! Doesn’t he know that by now? Nightmare’s only said it, oh he doesn’t know, a million times by now?! Why, if he wasn’t already dead, Nightmare would kill him! ‘I’m so sorry’, what a load of crap. He’s said it so many times that the words have lost any meaning.

This was why he hated Dream.

He hated him, hated him, hated him!

If he was truly ‘sorry’, then how come he kept fighting him? How come he kept trying to keep their relationship the way that it was years ago? Time moves forward. People move forward. Nightmare shouldn’t have to keep reminding someone who can’t let go of the past this fact, when they should’ve already learned it.

…He should go. He’s wasted enough time here already. His boys will be waiting for him and he could tell them that they won, finally, after years of trying. They’ll be ecstatic. The other Stars will be in anguish. The whole multiverse will be in turmoil.

It’ll be so delicious.

…

But his feet didn’t move.

The same curiosity that stopped him from ripping the letter to pieces stopped him now from turning his back on the letter. Be it the stubbornness to know what Dream has to say to know how to counter it or, ugh, a genuine need to know what his brother’s last words were, he didn’t know where it stemmed from. It just needed to be filled.

Taking a deep breath to ground himself, Nightmare picked the letter back up. It was dirty, yes, but the words were still readable.

Yay.

But that doesn’t really mean anything, does it? You said it yourself: “An apology won’t solve anything.” I agree. What has happened has happened. What my actions have done, has happened. My mistakes will forever haunt me and force me to think thrice on my next decision.

Three words does not fix this. I know.

And yet, I can’t stop saying it. Why is that? How many times to I have to say it before I’m satisfied? Until someone listens? If I say it too often, nobody will. They’ll react with anger, brush it off and go about their day in a foul mood. All because of me. And then they’ll lash out at someone else, making their day worse, and on and on the train will go. All because of me.

Nightmare snorted. Of course they would. Dream just couldn’t stop making mistakes, could he? He must be too dumb to learn from them, like everyone else.

They’ll become like you.

He stilled.

All because of me.

You see, Nightmare, I cannot reciprocate that hate you feel towards me. No matter how much the multiverse wishes I could, how much you wish I could, I cannot. This is in part to my aura and soul, which cause my negativity to be weaker and last shorter than those of others, and also in part to how, no matter what you do, I cannot stop loving you.

Sorry.

I will not stop loving you.

Nightmare had to stop again.

This was…different to how he thought it was to be. He expected the same talk about the past, the empty apologies about how much Dream has failed, how much he wished things were still like the past, sun shining on a tree over their heads. The first paragraph was about that, yes, but…then it changed.

‘They’ll become like you.’

Why did that line affect him so much? He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. Why? Was it because of the audacity that Nightmare would care if someone Dream helps turns out like him? He would only laugh and then requit the poor soul, always happy for the help. Was it because of guilt over the apple incident? Yawn. They’ve been over this again and again; Nightmare’s never going to feel bad about it.

Neither of those explanations stuck him as the truth.

So…why?

And why was the feeling in his chest getting tighter?

That's why I'm happy for you. You finally got what you wanted, what you always bragged about would happen eventually. Seeing you smile like that, the need to kill me filling your eyes, well…it slowly wore on me that that was the only gift I could give you now. I could let you kill me.

(Don't worry, I don't plan to not give you a fight though, ha-ha.)

I can't think of anything else to say.

You were always the one with the silver tongue, never me.

Love always,

Dream <3

(P.S. –

…there was nothing more written. He must’ve run out of time.

Nightmare stared at the letter, hands loose. He wanted to rip up now, never look at it again because of how much it confused him, but he couldn’t.

Some small part of him, a part he had shoved down over and over again, locked behind walls upon walls of brick in order to never be heard, spoke up now, telling him to pocket the latter. It was the last word of his brother, after all; the least he could do was keep it in tact.

The dust pile started to blow away in the wind.

He felt breathless.

…when had he let himself start feeling this much?

Why did it hurt?

He didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand.

Nightmare just couldn’t understand.

#my writing #my fanfiction #oneshot #undertale #utmv #dreamtale #dream sans #nightmare sans #mentioned nightmare's gang #tw death #tw major character death

[luvnami]

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 (here) | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This is my entry for @jjkmag​ Summer Collab! It’s my first long fic in a while but I had a lot of fun writing this (that isn’t to say I think it’s very good. I hope the plot/finality was pulled off decently ok lol). I hope you enjoy it! I chose the prompt 'coming of age', though there are definitely scenes where the other prompts were present as well. Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife​ @amjustagirl​ @aliteama​

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Bullying, Mild Racism (only in the first part), Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6.4k

The first memory Nanami has of you sits in a blurry haze at the back of his mind.

You’re probably four or five years old at best, squatting by a puddle in the empty kindergarten playground. Nanami wonders what made him waddle over to you that warm afternoon.

His shoes, scribbled with ugly caricatures in marker, carry him to the other side of the puddle. A shadow cast by a plastic slide slices your features neatly in half like a Greek theatre mask. Nanami doesn’t speak a word to you as he stares at your chubby fingers that push a fallen leaf around in the water as the surface ripples silently.

You look up at Nanami. He’s an odd child, excluded by the other kindergarteners because of how quiet and strange he is. Nanami’s blond hair is abnormal to the immature local Japanese children. They knee the back of his legs while calling him names like ‘banana-gaijin!’ and making fun of his fancy leather shoes.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Nanami wonders if the words you speak to him are from your heart or something constructed from a plan to bully him again.

“My mama taught me how to make boats with leaves. See?” You point to the puddle. “We can race them.”

Nanami carefully selects a leaf off of the playground’s floor. It’s still green, freshly fallen from its branch. You grin toothily, your eyes sparkling.

“That’s a perfect leaf!” you declare.

Nanami thinks he wants to play with you forever.

He follows you around in school like a lost puppy after that, clutching his hands nervously when you stand up to the children who bully him. Nanami wonders if you’ll ever turn your back on him. He arrives earlier than you every morning and hurriedly scrubs at your table with his handkerchief to get rid of nasty words and obscene drawings, heart thumping against his cotton polo. When his mother asks him why his new handkerchief is so dirty, he remains silent and grips the hem of his shirt tightly.

Children are children; Nanami learns. Afraid of abnormalities, they defend their right to innocence and ego with harsh words and various schemes. He learns to ignore the whispers behind his back. What he can’t disregard, though, is when they lash out at you.

They jeer when you trip during P.E. classes and bump into you on purpose when you carry your lunch tray. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Nanami holds your hand gently and leads you to the nurse’s office with scraped knees, hiccuping and swiping at your eyes roughly.

He wonders why you don’t take the easy way out and just stop being friends with him. What’s wrong with you? You hold him tightly, a bundle of thorns, in your soft hands and pretend that you’re not bleeding.

“Ken-chan?” you sniffle.

He turns.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Nanami gulps. He doesn’t question why you cry on graduation day, bidding your final farewell to him with vague promises of meeting in the same elementary school. Something in his chest doesn’t sit right; the kind of feeling when his mother threw out his old stuffed toys after she deemed him too old for them anymore.

He watches you grow smaller and smaller in the rear window of his family car till you’re the size of an ant, his knees digging into the leather seats.

“Sit down, Kento,” his father chides.

Nanami ignores him. He watches you wave your hand in the air as the car turns around the corner and lurches into the seat.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s genuinely surprised when he finds out that his assigned seat is right next to you on the first day of elementary school. You’re no different, mouth wide open in an ‘o’ as you stare at him.“Ken-chan!”

You almost yell, and Nanami shushes you as his face heats up. He finds out that your mothers had conspired to put the both of you into the same school. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet, but peace settles into his chest the same way the wings of a bird return to its sides after flight when you giggle at his flustered expression.

Through nine years of elementary and junior high school together, Nanami learns that you always arrange the tips of your pencils to face the right side of your pencil box, and you keep the torn bits of movie tickets shoved into your bedside drawer. You find that Nanami has a knack for dry humour — he’s blunt at every moment possible (which caused much distress after he talked back to a teacher that one time) and can usually be bribed for any favour as long as you pay him in food.

What the both of you find oddly shocking, though, is that no one else can see the creatures that swim through walls and perch in dark corners of the school.

They make you sweat whenever they get too close, bulbous eyes and strange bodies twisting in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible. Sometimes they make noises, whispering or coaxing or shrieking or crying in broken sentences.

Nanami learns to treat them as background noise. You, on the other hand, find that a little more complicated. Sometimes you latch onto him when one brushes against your arm, squeaking and swatting at them in an attempt to chase them away.

“They’re so gross!” you’d whine, pressing yourself even closer to Nanami. “Did you see that one in the gym yesterday? It had tentacles!”

In cases like this, the blond clears his throat and ignores you, averting his gaze. He doesn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that the warmth of your skin through your uniform makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve grown so close to him that you even know that Nanami sleeps with Doraemon pajamas (absolutely, abhorrently embarrassing. He made his mother throw them out the night after you came over for a sleepover). It was inevitable for him to develop feelings.

Nanami shoves his feelings below a lid and sits on top of it, keeping them under lock and key. He’s sure this is just something to do with puppy love or ‘infatuations’ that are underlined in the puberty print-outs the school distributed, alongside scientific diagrams of genitals that the boys in his class giggle at.

Being friends is enough. Or so he thinks, anyway.

☆*: .｡.

It’s a Friday evening when the sky is dark, and street lights flicker in the distance. Nanami munches away on melon bread from a convenience store while you sip on a carton of juice. Your clubs had ended late today, so the sun was down by the time you left school.

“How’s the bread?” you ask, slurping up the last drops of your drink.

Nanami chews and swallows while you dab at your mouth with a yellow cotton handkerchief.

“It’s okay. Not as good as a bakery’s, though. Kinda stale.”

He crumples the plastic packaging in his hand and sticks it into his pocket, planning to dispose of it later. The both of you round the corner to the bus stop, and your feet fall still. A large curse sits in the middle of the road.

Numerous cars are crumpled like drink cans, smoke, and gasoline leaking onto the streets. There’s blood. Too much blood, in fact, that they seem like puddles of rain on the dark tarmac. Your juice box drops from your hand.

The curse turns to you, its teeth split vertically down the centre of what constitutes a face. Multiple eyes run down the length of its engorged body where various hands and feet stick out at random parts.

“Blood… Blood…” it moans in a cryptic voice.

Nanami stands with his feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide in horror. His knuckles turn white as he grips his school bag. Run, run, run! He screams internally, but his limbs don’t listen to him. The curse slides over the road towards him, slipping through the blood easily.

“Give me… Your blood…”

A part of the curse’s body bubbles up into a large hand. It swings itself back before throwing its newly created appendage towards Nanami. RUN RUN RUN! His legs don’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the impact. Except that it doesn’t hit him. Nothing hurts, except the shrill scream that pierces his ears. Nanami’s eyes snap open in horror. 

“Kento!” you yell, dangling upside down as the curse pulls you towards its mouth.

Your school bag lays on the ground below, books scattered as their pages turn red.  

“Run!”

Nanami drops everything as he scrambles towards you, tripping over his own two feet and landing face-first in the blood. His hands and knees sting. He shoves himself and gets up with his teeth clenched. You kick your feet in the air in a poor attempt to escape the curse’s grip but to no avail. Another groan is squeezed out of you as the curse opens its mouth, the foul stench of rotting bodies engulfing you.

“Run, Kento!” you plead.

How can he turn his back on you? Sweat drips down his forehead as Nanami pulls his hand back. The adrenaline that rushes through his blood clears in a split-second moment of raw emotion; anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness. A tingling sort of energy floods his body, and Nanami takes a sharp breath of air. He sees something like a ruler — a line divided equally with ten markings, the seventh one crossed out. His fist connects with it.

The curse lets out a weak moan of pain, shaking you around as it recoils from Nanami’s hit. It’s not much, just a surface injury at most. Nanami’s limbs tremble with exertion. One more time, again and again, until you’re safe-

A thick, gross liquid engulfs Nanami as the curse explodes in front of his very eyes. He coughs, running a slimy hand over his face. It smells like death.

“Woah! You put too much into that again, Satoru.” 

“Shut up!”

Nanami looks up as he hears footsteps move towards him, the quiet splashing of blood beneath shoes.

“Ugh, this place is so gross.”

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Nanami looks up to find a male with his hair pulled back into a bun staring at him. Behind him is a white-haired teenager with sunglasses (strange, hasn’t the sun already gone down?) and an imposing-looking man.

Where are you?

Nanami glances around frantically amidst the dead bodies that lie on the ground. Not you, not you, not- A tiny sliver of hope slips into his heart when he spots your uniform, and he stumbles over.

“Woah! Slow down!”

He calls out your name, slipping and collapsing onto his knees. Your eyes are closed, and a wound on your head oozes blood. A young girl with short hair reaches out to touch you, but Nanami pulls you into his chest, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

His head spins. Are these good people? How did they just destroy that big monster? He hadn’t even seen them coming. Were they going to hurt you?

“Calm down, man! We’re good guys.”

“No one’s going to trust you when you say that, Satoru.”

The girl stares at Nanami.

“I’ll take care of your injuries. Can you let me see them, please?”

He relaxes. His grip on you loosens, and the girl feels for your pulse, nodding in affirmation.

“Alive.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief. At this realisation, his body begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He digs his nails into his palms but still they quiver. His heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to take a deep breath, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Hey, you okay?”

His eyes fall shut. 

☆*: .｡.

Nanami finds out over a hot cup of tea that those monsters are called curses, and not everyone can see them.

“Lucky you!” Gojo chimes in.

Lucky? His face wrinkles in despair and Getou laughs so loud at his reaction that he has to step out of the room.

Nanami had sustained minor injuries — nothing beyond a few scrapes and some trauma. You were fine for the most part. After hitting your head on the ground, you remained unconscious for a few more days after Nanami had woken up. You were covered in a few bruises, but otherwise alright. 

Nanami was infinitely thankful for that

Yaga tells him that he has enough aptitude to become a full-fledged sorcerer. The school he teaches at is called Jujutsu High and is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Since he’s in his final year of junior high, why not give it a thought if he wants to join them? Nanami holds Yaga’s name card numbly.

He looks up at Yaga, only one objective clear in his mind. He doesn’t want to see you hurt any longer.

“Will you teach me how to exorcise curses?” he asks.

Gojo laughs outrightly and Geto snorts. Yaga gives him a confident smile, clapping Nanami on the shoulder (he doesn’t quite like that, but he overlooks it for now).

“You can count on that.”

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s a little apprehensive about entering Jujutsu High, especially when you decide to enrol as well. Given the ability to see curses, you were adamant about learning to help others with this ability you were gifted with. He relented and sulked for the rest of the day until you gave him a cup of pudding.

The first day Nanami and you enter Jujutsu Tech, you meet a wide-eyed boy named Haibara Yu. He’s overly optimistic and passionate — precisely the kind of person that Nanami tires of interacting with. In fact, the very first thing Haibara says upon meeting the both of you irritates him.

“Woah! Blondie, are you from an emo band or something? Your hair really matches the vibe!” Haibara had gasped.

You struggled to suppress your giggles, biting on your lower lip as you turned to the side. Nanami, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“No, I’m not. Nice to meet you too,” he replied monotonously.

It takes all of the following month for Nanami to get used to Haibara’s eccentricities. He always does his best during training, mingles enthusiastically with the upperclassmen and chows down on at least two bowls of rice during break time. The most annoying part about him is how Haibara seems to get along so well with you.

You laugh too loudly for Nanami’s liking at his jokes, squeeze in between Haibara and him (brushing shoulders with the both of them! Seriously!) when they’re standing together just to listen in on Haibara’s monologuing, and sometimes even end up sparring with him instead of Nanami.

The blond curses that there is an odd number of first years and peers in the mirror after his shower as he wonders what he would look like with a black bowl cut. He even tries to finish more than one serving of ginger pork on one particular day and gets sent to the school nurse for a tummy ache.

Though, the three of you have chemistry that works out when fighting curses. Nanami is the primary damage dealer of the group, while you learn how to provide support with Haibara and create openings for Nanami to attack. So on your first ‘real group mission’ assigned to you by Yaga, you can’t help but set off with overflowing excitement.

It isn’t often that you have the opportunity to step outside of Jujutsu High on your own without supervision. Even on weekends, you’re usually expected to train or study. The sun shines warmly down upon the streets of Asakusa, and tourists and locals alike swarm the city area.

“Hey! We should totally give Sensou-ji Temple a visit later!” Haibara suggests, pumping his fist in the air.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Nanami sighs.

“That’s what you said the last time we went to Okinawa, and guess what, Nanamin! We didn’t even get to try their sushi!”

“Yeah, and you forgot to bring back souvenirs for me, Ken-chan,” you chime in.

“I told you to stop adding -chan to my name.” 

“Why not? Doesn’t it sound cute?” 

“Mhm!”

Haibara nods furiously. Nanami ignores the both of you with a sigh. He slings a bag containing his sword over his shoulder once more as the crowd barely makes space for you to move through.

“We can’t take too long,” he relents.

The cheers and high-fives that you and Haibara give each other make a vein bulge on Nanami’s temple. He tries not to read too much into the way you immediately begin discussing what places to visit and eat at with Haibara — didn’t you care for his opinion? He shakes his head and increases his pace, leaving the both of you behind.

Nanami ignores the cries of ‘Ken-chan!’ and ‘Nanamin!’ that ring out through the crowd. Whatever. If you want to be with Haibara, then Nanami will gladly get out of the way for you. He drags his feet on the pavement and settles for a cup of iced tea in a nearby cafe gloomily.

What Nanami is doing is… childish. He knows, at the very least, that he should be happy the both of you have met a nice new friend. But he can’t help the jealousy that rises in his chest like smoke in a chimney when he sees you cling onto Haibara the same way you used to do to him.

Was Haibara nicer, more good-looking, stronger, funnier, gentler, better than every single trait in Nanami combined? You no longer ask Nanami how he slept the previous night, instead running over to Haibara and greeting him cheerily. Forget about how you used to come over to Nanami’s house to study after school — you and Haibara disappear to who knows where after training everyday.

He bites down on his straw. The bitter taste of a lemon seed fills his mouth and Nanami spits it out onto a napkin with more force than necessary. He takes a deep breath. He should make things clear to you, then, and let you know how he feels about you. To him, it sounds a little like love.

Nanami’s face flushes with embarrassment. Love is… Love isn’t this. It definitely isn’t getting jealous over your relationships with other people, nor is it forcing you to accept his feelings out of spite. He finishes the last bit of his iced tea, the straw making a gurgling noise as it fails to suck up any more liquid. He leaves his money by the counter and walks back outside, returning his heart back to its safe, clicking the lock shut once more. His shoulders sag as he lets out a pent-up sigh.

Nanami squints at his phone. The golden sunlight makes it difficult to read his messages, but he manages to pick out four missed calls from you and a hundred text messages from Haibara. His blood runs cold when he scrolls to the last text that he received.

Haibara Yu, 4.25p.m.:  curse help 6 cho

It’s currently 4.35p.m. 6-chome is a 15 minutes walk away, five minutes if he sprints fast enough. Nanami hopes that you’re okay, that Haibara has enough sense to call for other back-up or avoid the curse.

Nanami’s feet pound under him as he shoves his way through the crowds, earning distasteful looks and swears. He doesn’t care. Not when you and Haibara are facing a possible grade 2 curse alone, and not when it’s because of Nanami’s irresponsibility and useless emotions that had caused the three of you to be separated.

His breath comes quick and hard and his thighs burn, screaming for relief. He makes a sharp turn and almost crashes into a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angry housewife yells, but her words fall on deaf ears.

Just a little more, he begs.

Nanami hears the fighting before he sees it. The sound of metal meeting metal and the roar of the curse sound uncharacteristically comforting to him as he draws his sword, racing to bear a fighting stance.

But he’s too late.

“Yu!” you cry out as Haibara crumples onto the ground.

His eyes meet Nanami’s. His uniform is tattered, face bearing wounds and his right arm is bent at an unnatural shape, almost like a knotted tree branch. You seem relatively unhurt, although your breathing is laboured.

“Kento,” Haibara wheezes.

Nanami’s feet don’t move. His chest heaves, perspiration pouring down his face and drenching his uniform. The grip on his sword slips ever so slightly. The curse stands at the end of a ruined district. You aren’t trained to fight in such close quarters, or reduce the number of casualties to a bare minimum. 

And Nanami hadn’t been here to provide damage to exorcise it.

“Who are you? Another small fry?” the curse scoffs.

It takes the body of a geisha, dressed in luxurious robes that whip about in the air. Consciousness? This isn’t a grade 2 by any means — it’s a special grade curse. The will to fight slips out of Nanami like water from a cup, trickling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

“Haibara!” Nanami shouts.

The male gives Nanami one last smile from where he is.

“You’ve got it from here,” he whispers, lips barely moving.

The geisha stretches out its hand, a portion of its obi moving along with it. You and Nanami watch in horror as Haibara’s head is neatly decapitated from his body. His blood drips off of the ends of the robes as the curse cackles, his head rolling to a stop as his half-closed eyes stare up at Nanami like a dead fish’s.

“You think you can beat me? Look at your little friend!”

Fury rushes into Nanami like a wave meeting the shore.

“You’ll die here by my hands!” the curse roars.

You take a step back as the geisha prepares to launch another attack, silk sashes drawn back into the sky before they plunge back at you two in an aerial attack. Nanami leaps through the attacks as his body moves faster than he can process it.

You, on the other hand, create a shield out of cursed energy to try and deflect the attacks. At the very least, Haibara deserves a proper burial. There isn’t time for mourning now, and you have to wipe away the tears that pool in your eyes. You try to ignore the way his head rolls closer to your foot and bumps against it gently.

Nanami lets out a yell of anger. His cursed energy swells as he cuts his way through the sashes, movement based on momentum than anything else at this point. His mind is clouded with regret and frustration. Nanami channels his anger into his sword, the ten destined lines appearing before his eyes once more.

The curse lets out a cry of pain as it stumbles back, sashes redrawn as it tries to gauge its wounds. Blood gushes from a slash on its side and Nanami darts forward again — again, again, again, until its dead. His legs, however, are weaker than what he thinks they can bear. Nanami stumbles in his step.

“Ken!” you shout.

The curse grins. It takes little to no time to regenerate, skin overlapping raw flesh as it gets back onto its feet.

“You’re weak,” it taunts. “First your friend, now you. I’ll be sure to savour the last one as well!”

Nanami struggles to get back onto his feet. He gasps, heart ripping a hole through his chest. He’s so exhausted; so worn out, that his arms refuse to raise his sword above chest height. He curses.

You run over to Nanami, grabbing his uniform and dragging him back. The curse starts to chant ominously. Its face turns dark, taking steps that sway its body with thick, lacquered geta. You shove Nanami back as you’re engulfed by its domain, swallowed up by darkness and spit into a tatami room. He barely has time to call your name before you disappear.

“Shit!”

Nanami stumbles back onto his feet, but sinks down onto his knees again. His shoulders quake as he tries to suck in breaths of air, but his throat is too dry. He coughs and adjusts his grip on his sword. Shit, shit, shit. All of his partners tossed themselves at death as if it was an idle thing just to protect him. What was Nanami doing? He would never become a sorcerer like this, never be able to protect you.

He grits his teeth. He’ll never be enough.

Nanami picks up his sword, wrapping his fingers around its hilt one more time. He dashes towards the domain, tasting iron as he hacks and slashes at it. Again, again, and again. His hands turn numb and his cursed energy flickers like a candle’s flame, but there’s one thing Nanami’s insistent on — getting you out of there.

The domain finally collapses as Nanami finally steadies himself on his feet. You roll to the ground, breath shallow. Your uniform is sliced up in different areas and a pool of blood begins to spread where your head meets the floor.

“Ken…?” you whisper.

Nanami smells it — the scent of death. Why did he ever choose to become a sorcerer over an ordinary high school life? He wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess, caused you to be hurt time and time again. Nanami calls out your name tentatively. You don’t respond.

The curse roars with laughter as your eyes fall shut, “Don’t you see how I’m so strong? You’re nothing compared to me-”

Nanami sees red. He launches himself forward, brandishing his sword even if it’s for the last time.

He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards.

Nanami sinks into a pool of blood, head spinning with exertion. Your body lays to his left, Haibara’s head to his right. He collapses to the ground.

☆*: .｡.

When he comes to, Nanami’s eyes struggle to adjust to the white light that floods the room. It smells vaguely like antiseptic. He slowly sits up, body aching with exhaustion with telltale bandages wrapped around most of his exposed limbs.

A drawn curtain separates his bed from the rest of the room, which he assumes to be Jujutsu Tech’s sickbay. He runs a hand over his face and lies back down, letting sleep take him by the hand and lead him a step further from reality.

Nanami wakes up a second time when Shouko returns to the room. He stares at her, blinking once, then twice.

“Nanami?” she asks softly. “Can you hear me?”

He tries to reply, but his throat is parched. He ends up coughing, wrinkling his face as pain spreads through his ribs. Shouko rushes to get him a glass of water and calls the rest (namely Yaga and Gojo) over. Nanami nurses the glass as Yaga takes a seat by his bed.

There are no questions, only condolences and murmured explanations of what had happened. The only thing Nanami picks up is that you’re alive. That’s more than enough for him to relax, nodding dumbly along to Yaga’s words.

The curse had been on the brink of death when Nanami collapsed. However, he had put up enough of a fight for nearby sorcerers to come to his aid and finish it off. There was no doubt about it — it was a special grade curse. Yaga apologises for the miscommunication and loss of Haibara’s life. Nanami doesn’t reply.

No amount of apologies could turn back time and bring Haibara back.

It takes him a few more days before Nanami’s able to hobble around the school, aided by crutches. Gojo pokes fun at how he seems like a grandpa but even his jokes don’t bear the mean edge they usually do. Getou leaves a can of vending machine coffee by his bedside table and Shouko brings him some wildflowers. Nanami leaves the plush cat Yaga had made for him untouched.

Nanami struggles against the nightmares that plague him. In one Haibara cradles his decapitated head in his own arms, asking Nanami why he hadn’t saved his life; in another you die, guts spilling onto the streets with your eyes bulging from your skull. Nanami wakes up in cold sweat. He calms his breathing alone and doesn’t sleep a single wink.

It’s a rainy day when Shouko lets him enter the morgue. Haibara’s body is laid in a shroud of white, his head positioned to appear attached. Had he ever been so pale? Nanami’s fingers grip his crutches, gritting his teeth.

How long his eyelashes had been! A small scar runs down his left temple (“After my sister shoved me in the playground!” Haibara had chirped), and his bangs remain as perfectly cut as they had been when he died. Nanami half expects him to sit up, to grin and laugh at his twisted face.

“Why’re you so stiff, Nanami? It’s just a joke!” 

Justajokejustajokejustajoke.

A chasm opens up in Nanami’s stomach. His crutches clatter to the floor as he races out of the morgue, stumbling when pain shoots up his right leg. He retches dryly and tears pool in his eyes. Shouko silently covers Haibara and closes the door, Nanami’s tears falling alongside the pouring rain.

That night in his dreams, Haibara slices Nanami’s head off. He wakes up with his heart racing and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Nanami visits you the next day. He had been reluctant to do so — what if you blamed him for everything, for Haibara’s death and your injuries? He wouldn’t be able to bear it, to be hated by you. His hand hovers over your dorm doorknob, hesitating. Nanami takes a deep breath as he swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

You sit on your bed, neatly tucked under the covers with a book sitting on your lap. Warm sunshine pours through the open windows and the penguin plush Nanami had won for you at a festival still sits by your desk. You look up when he walks in.

Nanami calls out your name. You stare at him.

“Sorry, but… Who are you?” you ask quietly, a sense of confusion lacing your words.

He stops by the door and Nanami’s heart sinks to his feet.

“I’m Kento. Nanami Kento,” he repeats, words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Checkered curtains flutter in the wind and the pages of your book butterfly open to an unread chapter. You keep your eyes focused on Nanami, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you reply.

☆*: .｡.

A toxic mix of trauma and a severe head injury had caused your amnesia. Nanami lays in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. If only he hadn’t let his emotions overtake him, if only he had been there a minute earlier, if only if only if only. Regret dulls his sense of taste and emotions. He no longer takes joy in eating anything (even those croissants Getou had bought while out on a mission), nor does he even crack a smile at Gojo’s antics.

Nanami returns to training once he is physically well again. He becomes the only first-year to attend Yaga’s classes, sparring practice conducted with the second years. He goes out on missions alone and learns to provide both defense and offense for himself. Nanami trains, he exercises curses, he returns to school. He repeats this same cycle mindlessly over and over again. 

Time heals, they say. Nanami wonders how much time it must take for him to let go of everything.

Nanami learns to hide his disappointment. His face becomes a strong facade for whatever his weak heart truly feels. The quiet sigh he lets out when no one’s around, the stretching of his neck after yet another fruitless day of training — Nanami decides that he’ll leave the world of sorcery once he’s graduated.

Seasons change and Nanami becomes a second year, then a third year. Getou falls away. The seniors graduate and new freshmen enter the school. Nanami keeps these things in the back of his mind as he raises his sword for a countless time, striking the training doll with ease.

You work with Shouko in the infirmary, occasionally helping out with office work. The school had deemed it better to keep you under their care than to release you outside. Like a rehabilitated animal, Nanami thinks.

You still remember no memories of him. Nanami brings you sweets and souvenirs from his missions, letting you trace your fingers over the fancy packaging with a sparkle in your eye. At this, Nanami swallows back his confession of love once more. He can’t bear to burden you with his feelings.

You form new impressions of him. Nanami turns into the stone-faced and adorable boy who treats you like fine China, always sticking his hands out awkwardly when he tries to give you something. The tips of his ears burn red when he lies — especially when you ask him, “Nanami, did you buy this for me?” and he shakes his head furiously.

You think he’s kind. He comforts you when you cry over lost memories, unable to remember the faces in photographs that had once been so familiar. The first thing Nanami does after returning from a mission is to rush to you. Were you okay? Did you have your meals? One time, he came over without getting his injuries checked and collapsed by your feet. You scolded him after that, tenderly dressing his wounds.

“Nanami!” you said crossly, a pout on your face.

He tries to forget how he had asked you to stop calling him ‘Ken-chan’. He ducks his head, hissing when you douse his skin in antiseptic.

Some things don’t change, though. You still keep your pencil box immaculately neat — the tips of your stationery always pointing to the right side. Though you don’t have any more movie ticket stubs, you carefully clip the pictures of your childhood Nanami had given to you together and keep them under your pillow. 

One day, you munch on a yummy biscuit Nanami brought back for you. He sits on the floor and polishes his sword, peering at it from every angle to make sure it’s evenly oiled.

“Nanami?” 

He hums.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re from an emo boy band? Your hair matches it.” 

Your shy laugh rings out in the room as bile rises in Nanami’s throat. He sheathes his sword and lays it on the ground.  

“Yes, they have.”

He struggles to smile, his gut twisting.

☆*: .｡.

On graduation day, no one else but Nanami receives his certificate with a flower corsage pinned to his chest. The room is empty save for him and Yaga, the chirping of spring birds breaking the silence.

“I’m glad to have been able to teach you, Nanami,” Yaga broods. “You’ve grown a lot.”

Nanami does not reply. He bows deeply and strides out of the main building. All of a sudden, the traditional architecture and nature that surround Jujutsu High seems stifling. His skin crawls with the urge to leave as soon as possible. 

“Nanamin!”

He jumps. Turning around, he finds you grinning happily with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” you chirp.

Nanami accepts the flowers awkwardly and rests them in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching his certificate. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees and a wave of sakura petals descend from their branches like rain.

“Nanamin,” your voice grows softer. “Are you leaving forever?”

He swallows, then nods wordlessly.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I wanna be with you forever, Ken-chan!” you wailed.

“Forever’s a long time,” Nanami replied.  

He handed you his yellow cotton handkerchief, face wrinkling when you honked your nose into it. Gross. His neck hurt from sticking it out of the car window. He can hear his father tapping a finger onto the wheel impatiently, his mother silent as she stares out the front.

“B-but!” 

Your bottom lip quivered and Nanami let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Really, Ken-chan? Forever?”

“Yeah, really. Forever.”

You grinned in the waning sunlight as your mother tugged you away.

“I’ll never forget you, Ken-chan!” you shouted.

The car window rolled up and he watched you disappear into the horizon, turning as tiny as an ant.  

Nanami swallows his heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Probably.” 

“That’s not a definitive answer, Nanamin.”

“What do you want me to tell you, then?”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice. The plastic wrapping of the flowers crinkle under his grip and waves of emotions rush over him; the biggest out of all of them regret. He struggles to breathe underwater, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and nose plugged up. A sakura petal lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t bother brushing it away. 

“Say,” you whisper, taking a step to close the distance between Nanami and you.

He gulps as you place a hand upon his chest. He can feel the heat of your skin through his uniform and Nanami’s too dumbstruck to respond.

“Why don’t you give me your second button?”

Your eyes meet his. A smile toys with the corners of his lips and suddenly Nanami blurts out a nervous “Okay.”. His mind flickers back to Haibara momentarily; how you had appeared to like him so much back then. But he chooses to shove those memories into the back of his mind once more as you produce a small pair of scissors and snip the thread.

“You always take care of me, Nanamin. It was natural of me to fall in love with you,” you breathe, cradling the swirl patterned button in your hands.

A gust of cool air slips into his unbuttoned shirt and Nanami’s breath hitches.  

“Do you like me too?”

Your question is innocent. With the way you peer up at him, there’s no way that Nanami can lie. Your glittery eyes were the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He wonders if he still loves you in the same way as he did then; as faultless and innocent it had been. His heart sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you smile, an evident sigh of relief escaping your lips. You slip the button into your pocket before tugging Nanami even closer towards you. He yelps as your chest presses against his and the tips of his ears turn red.

You plant your lips by the side of his.

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[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 12

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: kidnapping, violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“They couldn’t take that from me. They could never take you.”

“I never want to bring you pain or worry, okay? That shouldn’t be what… we do.”

Bucky’s words rang in your head as you sat in the lonesome cell, fighting for release any way you thought to try. But naturally, these attempts of wrangling yourself out of this had fallen flat and you weren’t trying anymore, that’s for certain. It only made the restraints dig into your wrists more. Not to mention you were beyond tired hitting a point of exhaustion that you didn't know was possible. You weren’t given a chance to relax as you sat on edge, waiting. Waiting for what - or really who - you didn’t quite know. 

Sure, you had an Avenger for a soulmate (at least, that was what you considered Bucky, despite his humbleness) but you weren’t exactly up to date on their enemies. From your understanding, between the looks of the facility and your soulmate’s history, this was seeming like the work of Hydra. But they had been abolished...right? Apparently, you didn’t know anymore and doubts rang in your head as you feared you weren’t some random victim.

The first signs of daylight were just beginning to peek into your cell from a very tiny, thin window located near the top of the wall beside you.

Suddenly, a grumbling voice called from outside the cell. “She’s up.” You whipped your head towards the sound, just barely able to make out a figure illuminated by the early morning glow. There was probably some comment to make to whoever this was about how you hadn’t really slept but you couldn’t find your voice at the moment.

“Excellent.” A deeper, possibly older, voice called from down the hall. The man sounded way too excited for your liking. Your stomach threatened to empty its contents as heavy footsteps began making their way towards your cell.

When the steps stopped, you tried squinting through the minimal light but still couldn’t make out much of either man. If you had to guess, they looked like some doctors of sorts in long lab coats with notebooks in hand. One thing you definitely could tell was that they didn’t hesitate to stare back. You could feel their eyes taking you in over and over again making your heart pound in a weirdly familiar way.

“Does she speak?” The first man asked with a humorless scoff. You twisted in your wrist restraints wishing for some courage to get up and maybe put space between you. 

Mustering a scrap of energy, you turned away from the men, hoping maybe your matted hair falling in your face could block them out forever. Because really, couldn’t this be forever? How would anyone know what happened? Your best bet was your coworker noticing your absence but then you thought of Bucky… He was away for now and by the time he caught wind who knows what would be of you. Tears began welling in your eyes at the thought of this being it for you -- whatever this was. You still weren’t sure what about you compelled these men to kidnap you in the middle of the night.

“Hey,” the same voice called out to you this time, pulling you from your troubling thoughts. Slowly, you turned back to him, taking in more of the doctor (fake, you guessed) persona now. “I asked if you speak.”

“No,” you grumbled. You didn’t know where this smart response came from but it made you feel a bit better like you were coming back to yourself. Really, though, you were in no position to start getting smart with anyone.

He let out a joyous laugh that sent far more fear through you. “The Soldier’s soulmate has an attitude, huh?”

Soldier? Bucky. Your heart panged at another thought of him. If that’s who they were referring to, this was to be about Bucky, you realized. These men knew him and whatever connection was festered there, it hadn't fizzled and you were caught in the crossfire. This actually couldn’t be them… But it looked like it.

Suddenly, the cell door opened with a loud screech, and the two men walked into the full glory of the morning sunrise. There, on their white coats, you saw an emblem of what appeared to be some tentacle-bearing creature. Your suspicions were regrettably confirmed. 

They walked towards you, their eyes looking over you as if you were an experiment and they were memorizing you. With fear racing through you, you slowly began scooting backward trying to get as far away as you could. Your back eventually hit a wall and they just kept coming. 

“Quite the squeamish one for being chained to The Soldier,” the second man observed, writing something down in his notebook. You could see now that he was much older, having that wiser look in his older years. You guessed he was a leader of sorts (at least, that was how you were going to file him in your head) and the other man, the one who was so kind to comment on your attitude, was some kind of assistant. You couldn’t take your eyes off the logo on their coats as it was practically screaming in your face. It all felt impossible and yet here you were, in the belly of the beast.

“W-What am I doing here?” You asked, your voice scratchy and nervous. Honestly, you were just glad you had the guts to make any noise. The assistant looked a bit humored at your question.

“Wow, she speaks full sentences,” he commented with an unsettling smirk. 

The “leader” of the pair shot him a look before turning back to speak to you. “We have some observing to do, my dear,” he briefly explained.

The vagueness of it all was certainly not helping you - like anything realistically could in this moment. Still, you pursued it. “Observing?”

He hummed in response, turning back for a moment to write a few more lines in the notebook. Truthfully, you wanted to just kick it out of his fucking hand. Your eyes flicked quickly to the assistant but he wasn’t handing out any hints, just looking at you like you were something to be conquered. Oh, how you wanted to vomit on their shiny dress shoes.

“I will explain our intentions to ease your mind,” he snapped his notebook shut, “but first, you are to be moved.”

And just like, as if his words were keys, a hoard of men entered the cell and hoisted you to your feet. You tried kicking and screaming but they were strong. Maybe too strong. A strength you possibly could only recall in two other men you knew. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it as they corralled you easily and forced you down the hall. 

Everything was dark again. There was no light from the windows in the hall, just some musty glows of lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. You didn’t know where to look so you just stared downward, taking in the metal flooring that made you chilled.

After turning a few corners, you were brought to a much larger cell. This one at least had a chair, but you didn’t think it was exactly a nice grand gesture as your eyes landed on the restraints attached to it. The second thing you noticed was some sort of computer-like machine and rolling tables which lined the side. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought this was just another medical office. 

You yelped as one of the large men threw you on the chair, not giving you a second to even adjust before your hands were unbound only to be rebound by the chair’s restraints.  You tugged a bit at them out of reflex, finding them as sturdy as expected. Your legs were free, though, maybe offering some tactic but exhaustion and fear overtook you.

Once they deemed you settled in, the army of men left, walking in line as commandingly as they had entered. The leader and his assistant stayed, waiting for you three to finally be alone once more. The door shut with a disturbing bang, really sealing your fate. The assistant stayed off to the side, leaning against a wall adjacent to the chair. The leader walked over to you, taking a seat on some rolling stool. Wow, these guys really thought they were serious professionals or something.

“I hope the trip here was okay,” the leader said with a chuckle. “Comfortable?” He motioned towards your lounging state. You blinked. “I see we are losing that attitude. What a shame, really. I’m sure your soulmate loves a firecracker.” Your body visibly tensed at the mention of Bucky. The elderly man didn’t miss it. In fact, it seemed like you unintentionally gave him the perfect segue into his whole evil spiel.

“Ah, yes, your soulmate.” The leader nodded as if he had just forgotten all about it. “Well, you see, the fact he even has one was news to us,” he shrugged and glanced at his assistant who nodded in confirmation. “We were sure when we wiped him we were wiping everything, so imagine our surprise when we find out he’s out and about dancing - with you on his arm.” 

Your throat tightened as the memories of you and Bucky at the dance hall flooded your mind. It had been so busy that night you never would’ve thought you’d have to worry about someone… It sounded so ludicrous to you. You almost wish he hadn’t said it as the thoughts of that night were suddenly a bit darker. The carelessness you two had held seemed foolish now. 

The leader watched you carefully. When you didn’t say anything in response, just blinked away more tears, he continued, “At first, we were quite angry we had missed something so big. We could’ve sworn we broke every attachment time after time but, as I said, you just swept The Soldier right off his feet. So, naturally, our sights were set on eliminating you.” He let out a ridiculous hearty laugh. “But then my assistant here,” the man in the corner waved in response, “realized that that would be a waste. There could be potential here for you. For you and your soulmate. Potential rooted in a team. Two unbreakable soldiers, both in bond and skills. What more could Hydra want?” 

You gasped, your eyes growing wide, at the explanation. You didn’t know what to do now, your body had a mind of its own as it began shaking your head furiously as your wrists tugged and tugged at the restraints. This wasn’t realistic. They were absolutely mad. What kind of foolishness was this? They couldn’t possibly -

“Now, now,” the leader chuckled and turned to his notebook. He began checking referencing stuff from the monitor to the paper. “Don’t get too excited. We’re still brainstorming the whole concept and while it’s not near execution, it is on the promising side. There is, though, a vital component we seem to be lacking: your soulmate.”

Bucky… Your heart felt like it was going to rip itself out of your chest. Was he walking into a trap? Assuming he was walking in at all? Who was to say he had any idea of what was going on with you? How long could this all be for… You let out a surprising sob.

The leader responded to your outburst with an annoyed scoff. “There’s no reason to cry, dear. He’s sure to be here soon thanks to that little bond you have. If he hasn’t already recognized your distress by now, well, he’s not as smart as we thought.” He shrugged and began typing away on the monitor’s keyboard. “The whole attachment may all work out in our favor after all. Eventually, you two will be reunited, and won’t that be just lovely?”

Truthfully, you didn’t know anymore. You had no doubt in Bucky’s fighting abilities but these guys were… Well, they were pretty much responsible for him and everything you had seen him be put through. Who knows what they could do if (and when) he walked through those doors. You were lucky you hadn’t passed out yet from this anxiety alone.

“Besides, as I said, it’s all later down the line anyway,” the leader said. It had suddenly occurred to you at that moment that you were very glad he hadn’t given out his name. You couldn’t imagine humanizing these monsters. “For now, though, we are interested in learning more about you. I’ll be honest, on paper you are quite boring. Barely finished high school, left college for a coffee shop job… The pairing is almost comical. We just can’t figure out what you offer him and while, really, who are we to question Fate? But I still think in time we can figure out...well, whatever it is about you.”

You shook your head slowly, your eyes barely even able to focus on him anymore. Everything in you felt so heavy. “I’m not special.” 

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” the leader chuckled. “He makes you special.”

As if on cue, a chorus of screams erupted from the hallway. You all jumped and turned towards the door. There was a little window on it but all you three could see were the bodies of the army of men from earlier flying about. 

“Sooner than we expected,” the leader mumbled and began furiously typing something into the computer.

You didn’t know what to do besides sit there and wait for whatever was coming. Deep in you, you knew it was Bucky, you could feel it. You could feel him. But there was also a part of you that could also sense… rage. A very familiar, unsettling rage burned within him. It made you wonder if you actually wanted to see him in such a state. Some sick piece of you wished they had just knocked you out. 

There wasn’t much more time to consider what you were going to do as the door to the cell was ripped off. Literally, fully, ripped away at the hinges to reveal a very determined, very angry, Bucky. He had an expression you didn’t recall seeing before, even in the nightmares. He looked ready to murder everything in its path but there was no calculated strategy to the madness. It seemed to be just him and his pure desire to eliminate anything and everything. His eyes were locked deadly on the older man, seemingly opting to ignore you. The assistant had begun shifting further away into the corner of the space.

“So nice of you to join us,” the leader said with an unsettling laugh. “I’ll admit, we weren’t expecting you so soon. I barely got a chance to get to know your little darling here.” He motioned towards you. 

“I’m only going to ask this once,” Bucky finally spoke, his voice strained, “let her go.”

The leader smiled, “I’m not sure you’ll be asking for anything in a moment, anyways.” He motioned towards the computer. You and Bucky followed his motion with matching bewildered expressions. “In fact, I think you’ll be the one doing what I ask.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “No-,” 

But it was already set in motion. With a simple press of a button, the room filled with an electronic voice repeating a series of words in a foreign language. You looked around, unsure of where this could even be coming from and what the hell was being said, Your eyes eventually settled on Bucky who looked completely… lost. You gripped the sides of the chair, begging for this to just be over, as you watched that was so familiar. You could feel the memories rising from the depths of your brain. Hidden away, nearly suppressed... You gasped. The nightmares. That’s what all this was. They had pulled the trigger. 

As much as you loved and trusted Bucky, you couldn’t say the same for the other guy. If in that state, could he even recognize you? Like, fully understand your role? You didn’t want to find out, truly. The panic that was settling in now was unlike anything you had experienced that day. Not even the idea of Hydra goons kidnapping you had sparked this much within. 

You were preparing yourself for the worst as you watched Bucky try to shake it off. The leader wore a proud expression while the assistant kept his lonely distance, watching everything unfold. Suddenly, Bucky began mumbling to himself as his hands made hard fists. You thought the blow was finally coming and he was going to be gone. Just like that.

But then Bucky lunged. In one swift move, he pounced on the leader, taking everyone in the room off-guard, especially the target of the aggression. The older man hadn’t even had a chance to put his arms up before your soulmate was punching him relentlessly. Bucky’s yelling in the process was of pure, expressive anger, completely drowning out the screams of pain from the leader. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to look away so badly but you were also hypnotized. Bucky was so determined and unwavering in whatever goal was planted in his head. A bit thankful someone would go to such lengths for you, you had had enough of such danger in your sleep - you didn’t want it in your reality. 

Bucky switched suddenly to strangling the man and that seemed to be the final straw for the leader’s life. The older man was soon just a lifeless, limp body on the floor. Bucky was still knelt above him, watching the soul drain from his victim. Your jaw went slack. You couldn’t turn this off.

The assistant didn’t help it as he made some foolish break for the exit but Bucky was just as fast. In a couple of determined strides, Bucky yanked the younger man back by the neck and threw him into the wall creating an artistic indentation. The assistant fell to the floor with a chilling thud. 

There was no one left for his sights to land on except for you. Slowly, Bucky turned around. A shiver ran up your spine when your eyes finally met. You didn’t know who was standing before you. Whatever or whoever this was quickly began stomping their way towards you. You shut your eyes and flinched away, waiting for a painful, finishing blow from the Soldier. 

But it never came. 

Instead, all Bucky did was lean over to turn off the speakers and then began untying your wrists. Hesitantly, you turned to look at him but found he wouldn’t look at you, just was intensely concentrated on the restraints. 

“B-Bucky?” Your voice was scratchy as you fumbled over his name. 

“It’s me, doll,” Bucky responded with an exhausted sigh. He sounded normal to you, his demeanor not even looking close to what you remembered from the nightmares. He… He was okay. Bucky still wasn’t looking at you as he finished one restraint then went on the next.

“You’re not…”

Bucky shook his head. “Everything’s okay,” he mumbled. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“We?”

“The team is outside handling the other men.”

“You all came for me?”

Bucky finally looked up at you. For the first time, you could see just how tired he looked. A man nearly on the brink of defeat and enduring the fight. Your heart ached as all you wanted to do was crawl into his arms and take the longest naps of your lives. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bucky nodded. Gently, after the last restraint was undone, he picked you up bridal style. You threw your arms around his neck and buried your face in his shoulder, letting yourself relax and the tears flow. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled but Bucky didn’t respond as he carried you out of the facility

***

You must’ve fallen asleep because a few hours later you awoke at some sort of compound. You were lying in what appeared to be a hospital bed but nothing about this place looked like a typical hospital. The technology was too advanced and everything just seemed too quiet. You looked around, letting your eyes adjust to the bright light of the sun shining in from the large room windows. In the corner, you were greeted by the sight of Bucky sleeping awkwardly in a chair.

You twisted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable under the blanket. The super-soldier hearing must’ve kicked in because one ruffle of the blanket made Bucky’s eyes shoot open. He looked at you, panic shifting to relief when he saw you were awake. Quickly, in a few steps, he was out of the chair and at your bedside. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly. His hand went to touch your cheek but he must've thought better of it and instead lowered it. Your heart broke a bit wondering what self-deprecating thoughts were running through his brain after everything he had to do. 

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore,” you shrugged but boy was it the hard truth. You hadn't been in a comfortable position in hours and endured being thrown around like some rag doll. 

“Do you need any medicine?” Bucky asked, his voice suddenly having an air of panic to it. “I can call for help if you need it. Are you hungry? Do you need water? Or -  Or just anything to drink? I can get you-,”

“Bucky…” You placed your hand on his to calm down. He flinched at your touch. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

He shook his head. “Nothing is fine, sweetheart. You were taken from me-,” Bucky cut himself off as his eyes began welling with tears. He looked wrecked as he stared down at you, taking in your current state. You felt the pain, wanting nothing more than to make all these torturing thoughts vanish. “You… You saw things that I just… I never wanted you to deal with-,”

“It’s over.” You took a deep breath. “I’m here, I’m safe, and you’re with me.”

Bucky closed his eyes as if preparing for something. “After what happened back there, do you even want me around anymore?”

Your jaw went slack at his question. Sure, there was absolutely no denying that the events of today scared you, most likely more than you realized. You had only seen Bucky that determined and violent in your nightmares so to see it just steps away was jarring. But you also knew nothing changed within him. He wasn’t a robot or anything. He wasn’t someone just taking commands. He had remorse. You certainly couldn’t say the same for who greeted you in your sleep. It may take you some time to adjust, sure, but you weren’t turning away. At least, you were going to try not to. Healing was just beginning.

“Of course, I do,” you said, raising your other hand to Bucky’s cheek. At first, he flinched but slowly he leaned into the touch, sighing like he was letting go of something. “Bucky, what happened back there… You had no choice. I don’t have to tell you that those were some very, very bad people. They had it coming and the fact you went to those lengths to save me is unbelievable.”

“I’d go to the ends of the Earth for my girl,” Bucky admitted. 

You let out a weak giggle. “Thank you.” A pause. “May I ask how you figured out I was in trouble?”

Bucky smirked. “I had a nightmare.”

You raised your brows in surprise. “A nightmare?”

He nodded, “I started to feel weird after leaving for the mission like there was something I was missing. A little later on, I was taking a nap and you of course appeared but it was unlike any other dream I had ever had about you. It was… You were scared, deathly afraid of something, and then I saw what was going on. I practically watched it all play out from your apartment and on. It didn’t take too long to put everything together.”

You hmm’d. “Thank God for nightmares.”

Bucky chuckled and placed a light kiss on your forehead. “Thank God for nightmares,” he repeated in agreement.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #mcu fic #mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #soulmate au #writing* #fluff #angst #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky barnes one shot

[hoodoo12]

Play and Funtime

I’ve seen lots of screenshots and fanart, but where is the written Robofizz smut?  sigh  Just have to do it myself jk jk

Although writing your first fic in a new fandom is nerve-wracking, I’m excited to do it and I hope you guys like it.

NSFW; Robofizz/imp!reader, TENTACLES YOU THIRSTY PEOPLE

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy! `

It wasn’t your choice. You were clear on that.

But coerced by so-called ‘friends’ you found yourself in the very front row in front of the stage, with excited, chattering implings around you and excited, chattering friends on either side, all eagerly waiting for the show to start. You’d even been forced to enter the big top early, “to get the best seats!”, so now you were a combination of both bored and a wee bit anxious.

That clown always unnerved you.

The sparks, the glitches, the unnatural movements that were much more fluid than you thought should be possible--if anything was impossible here, with enough imagination or lacking that, determination and money--the AI that seemed a little bit too good . . . the Robotic Fizzarolli was not your idea of family entertainment. 

But here you were. You vowed to keep your head down during the show, to avoid seeing the robot and his animatronic backup band, then when it was over you could all leave and go do something actually fun.

When the lights went down you dropped your chin. Everyone else was cheering, so no one would notice you were not. 

Just as you remembered from your early imphood, the spotlight lit up and the Robotic Fizzarolli burst onto the stage in full song. The rest of the audience clapped and sang along. You remained steadfast in your resolve to just wait this out, your eyes locked on your clasped hands in your lap. 

Which meant you were completely taken off guard when a hand slipped under your chin and lifted your head. 

You found yourself face to face with the robot, who was focused solely on you, grinning widely, showing a large number of sharp teeth. 

“N-n-not having f-fun?” it asked.

“Wha-what? N-no--I mean yes,” you stuttered in surprised response, inadvertently sounding like you had a glitch as well. 

The robot cocked its head a bit too far to be natural, its optic sensors giving nothing away while it studied you. The crowd in the stands, including your friends, were watching with breathless anticipation. 

“I th-think you could be having a better t-t-time,” the Robotic Fizzarolli concluded, but to your immense relief, it released your chin and returned to the stage to finish its number, to the return of screams and cheers of delight. 

Soon after, the curtain closed and you sighed in relief. Loudly, you told your group, “You got your show. Now let’s get out of here.” “No, look, look!” the imp next to you exclaimed. “You got a token!”

Confused, you wrinkled your brow. “A token?” “She got a token!” “She got a token!” The imps you’d come in with crowded around, more excited than during the show. You even saw some of the imps who’d been leaving the tent turn and give you what looked like envious glances. You had no idea what any of this meant. “Look look look!” Finally you had the wherewithal to realize they were talking about something in your hand. It was exactly what they said--a flat, oval token etched on both sides with the jester’s face, and what looked like circuitry embedded in it. Very tiny letters around the edge spelled out, “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!” You had to squint to read them. You had no idea where it came from. Your friends continued to talk over each other in their excitement.

“Robofizz gave it to you! When he came down and talked to you!” “Oh my gosh--yes! That must have been it!”

“You’re so fucking lucky! I’d kill to get one of those!” All the chatter didn’t make you less confused. The Robotic Fizzarolli must have given it to you somehow? You’d been so startled when it touched you and addressed you directly you had no clue it’d slipped something to you. Your hands had been clasped so tightly you hadn’t noticed the small token. Feeling overwhelmed, you offered it to them. “Then you can have it! Take it!” But as excited as your friends were, they all declined with explanations that it only worked for the imp it was given to, that there was some technology that imprinted on the imp who touched it first, so as jealous as they were, it was useless to them. You had never heard about anything like this before, but then again, you always bolted out the exit when the show was barely over.

Still feeling overwhelmed and now lost and stupid, you asked, “What do I do with it?”

“You get to go backstage and meet Robofizz!” 

That was something you did not want to do, but your friends would have none of that loser talk. They insisted you were selected, it was a rare treat, you were not letting them down by pussing out on having a private meet-and-greet with the star of the show! Despite your weak protests, you were herded along to a discreet door hear the stage. They--not you--knocked, and when a small window opened and suspicious eyes appeared, they--not you--told whoever was there that you had a token.

“Show me,” a low voice ordered, though the door. Resigned, you held up the disk.

There was a grunt, and the sounds of multiple locks disengaging. In another moment, the door creaked open. There was no one in the hallway beyond. “Come on, let’s go!” the same voice ordered. Your friends pushed you through the doorway, shouting good luck and have fun! The door slammed shut on them and it same clanking of the locks came again to secure it. It was much more ominous on this side. The hallway was dimly lit with flickering bulbs that seemed ready to die, but there was no where else to go, so you carefully made your way down it. 

⁂

You had no idea where you were supposed to go or what you were supposed to be doing. Keeping hold of the token so tightly your fist hurt, you figured it had gotten you past the door so it would get you past anyone or anything else that may ask what the hell you were doing here. But there was no one to be found. In the wavering overhead lights you wandered up some stairs and found yourself on stage, behind the curtain. The animatronic band was silent on their stands, creepier when immobile and staring than when they were booted up to perform, which you had never imagined could be the case. 

The Robotic Fizzarolli was not with them. That surprised you. If these robots were here, where was the star of the show? Chills went down your spine and with a horrible thought, you glanced up into the catwalks above the stage, as if expecting to see it there like a spider waiting to drop onto its prey. 

Nothing. 

“Hello?” you finally called. 

Nothing. 

You started back towards the hallway, thinking this was a mistake. Your soft footsteps echoed oddly in the silence. You would leave and tell your friends there was nothing, that you knew it was all a waste of time. 

“H-hello there. Wel-wel-welcome!” 

Startled, you spun fast enough to trip, and were caught by the robot that haunted your nightmares. 

It leered as it groped you into standing stead on your feet again. “You were the-the one who wasn’t having fun at my sh-show! I’m so-so-so glad you decided to join me!” Your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth but you managed to babble, “I wasn’t--I mean, your show was fine, it was good--” A glitchy, mechanical tsk cut you off. “No, no, no--I c-can tell. And th-that’s no good, not having fun. You seemed like you needed a little ex-extra convincing, and I’m pro-pro-programed to accommodate.”

You were sure your friends would know exactly what that might mean, but the leer had not left the robot’s face and it sounded more sinister than anything. You had seen the signage about “Peronal Companion”, but never spent too much time thinking about it--

It seemed to be waiting for a response. “I, uh . . .” You cleared your throat. “I have . . . a token?”

If it was even possible, the light of its eyes shone even brighter at the sight of you holding the disk. “Now those are fun,” it exclaimed, “for both of us. Let’s g-go.” Without another word and without warning, you were dragged deeper into the gloom further backstage. You stumbled to keep up, but that didn’t slow the robot down. There were turns down hallways that seemed to go on longer than should be possible for an amusement part theater, but finally, when you were out of breath and completely turned around, you were hauled to a stop outside another door. 

“Before w-we go in, g-g-giving or re-receiving?”

The glitches in its voice made it even more difficult to understand what the hell it was saying. Several moments passed while you untangled the question in your head. The Robotic Fizzarolli waited with mechanical patience and an unsettling stillness, although its eyes never left yours. “Uhmm . . .” The token had been given to you, like a gift, so would it be odd to ask for more? But you were the guest here. “ . . . receiving? I guess?” That leer returned to its face. There was a faint clicking noise, as if something was shifting inside the robot’s body, and it said, “Excel-excellent choice.”

It opened the door and ushered you inside. 

The room was designed for imps in mind. Well, imps of a certain predilection. Whips, handcuffs, ankle cuffs, ball gags, harnesses, various sizes of dildos--also in various shapes--hung neatly on the walls. Some wooden contraption with shackles at various points stood in a corner. There was a bench that looked as though it could be raised to various heights with the same shackles, but also a split for a tail to fit through if the imp secured on it was on their back. There were other instruments and adornments you had no name for, as your eyes swept the room.

“D-don’t l-look so worried,” the robot assured you, although you weren’t reassured in the least. “All that is only if-if it’s chosen. The selection is com-completely randomized.” You tore your eyes away from the implements in the room. “What do you mean?” “The-the-the token. Put it in the slot, and we’ll see wh-what prize you get.” That made little to no sense, till you realized Robofizz indicated a small slot on its side. Carefully, you raised your hand and pushed the token into it, which made the robot give a full body twitch like an extra jolt of electricity ran through it. You jerked your hand back; the sparks that flew from it haphazardly were one of the things you disliked most about it. 

There was a clanking noise, like the token was hitting and bouncing off things inside its body, plus a odd, whirring noise. You realized a panel on its chest was actually a screen, and something was spinning inside it. It was a blur, but gradually began to slow enough that you could see whatever it was had words etched on it. Now it was slow enough you could read them as they moved into and out of the screen. bdsm tentacles

vibration

Round and round they went. The words continued to flick past, gradually becoming slower and slower.

With a dawning that took you way too long, it became apparent whatever the last word was going to be was the decision. Maybe other imps or demons would use the Robotic Fizzarolli as personal companion and know exactly what they wanted, but there was also a randomizer feature to keep things lively!

The robot continued to stand eerily still as this continued. It was like both of you were holding your breath in anticipation.

The roller slowed enough to halt. The final outcome that you weren’t even sure you were prepared for blinked on and off in tiny white lights on his chest--

“Tentacles,” Robofizz announced.

⁂

“Tentacles?!” you squeaked. 

You got a nod in response. “A very pop-pop-popular feature. Would you like to remove your clothing, or simply re-relax and let me do all the w-work?” “But-but . . . there’s no bed or--” you cast your eyes around the room again, looking for anything that would lend weight to your argument that maybe just a simple handshake and an autograph would suffice. “No bed n-n-needed,” Robofizz countered. “I am designed to not need to sit or lay down, and-and I am pro-programmed to support you in m-multiple positions.” He was between you and the door, and now the aforementioned tentacles made their appearance, slipping out from some unknown port in his back. They were striped and limber, flexing as though they’d been kept in too small an area for too long and needed to work out the kinks. That couldn’t be the case, being a machine, so all you could figure was that it was designed to imitate life. The first of them--you weren’t even sure of their number--moved through the space between you and the robot. “Fizzarolli--” “Oh, such f-formality! No n-n-need for that either, baby.” That was the first time it’d used a pet name, again probably designed to make this all more personable. “Call me Fizz,” he cooed, all the while still showing too many teeth, invading your personal space, and managing to wrap you up with two tentacles. They pulled you into his torso, which wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be. Neither were the tentacles, now that you thought about it. More of them began to nose around you. “Some rules, baby. This can go as hard as you want. J-just say the word. N-n-nothing’s off limits. My-my-my next show is this evening, so you have me-me-me till then . . . you want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it. “Q-Questions?” Dumbly, you shook your head. “Then let’s b-begin.”

⁂

You’d never be able to give enough detail about the encounter. You’d been asked, multiple times, and simply couldn’t put it into words. How could you describe the unusual sensuality of tentacles sliding under your clothing and removing it from you? How could you impress how strong but delicate they were, wrapping around your limbs with the perfect amount of pressure, raising you off your feet so you felt like you were floating? How you could possibly tell them that other tentacles roamed your skin, tickling you, exploring, awakening new erogenous zones you were unware exisited? How could you admit that all of that lasted an indeterminate amount of time, until you were writhing against the restraint, not to get away, now, but to try and pull him--the Robotic Fizzarolli was no longer an genderless it in your mind, but a him--closer while begging for more? When tears filled your eyes at the force of your pleas, he moved in closer to you, almost close enough to kiss. He seemed fascinated by your tears, and from between his sharp teeth came what must be the robot equivalent of a tongue. It lapped at your cheek, collecting the wet. You had no idea what that was all about, but in the next moment couldn’t devote any time to wondering. As promised, Robofizz accommodated. You’d asked, and another tentacle from Robofizz filled you in smooth, firm motion. You arched your back at the pleasurable friction it created inside you.  

How could you continue to admit that your begging didn’t stop, but increased, wanting, no needing more while being fucked suspended in mid-air by an amusement park clown? That the random showers of sparks that you hated before became something you craved, each little spark leaving a mild burn on your skin that didn’t hurt, but only served to make your nerve endings sing out? Or that during it all he’d talked, the rasp and glitching words of dirty encouragement to, “take it deeper” and “you’re soaking w-w-wet” and “gr-greedy little slut”, which only added to the debauchery, that although it was obvious he could and would be rough and aggressive he gave you just what you needed, and all you wanted was more and more and more-- Even after all that, the finale that would be hard for anyone to believe, including yourself if you didn’t experience it: Robofizz telling you, after you’d been wrung dry from countless orgasms, that the tips of his tentacles--and other, specific, parts of his body--were laced with nano-circuitry to simulate nerves, and he could feel every single internal clutch around his tentacle--

The session ended with you sucking on the tips of multiple tentacles, like an assortment of cocks, while still being fucked to a few more orgasms. When you were finally released, your legs were weak and you were drenched between your legs. You’d drooled so much you were laved with spit. It took you a bit of time to collect yourself and get your clothes back on; your hands trembled with residual bliss for long moments. Robofizz, whose tentacles disappeared again, walked you back to the corridor you’d come in. “Five m-m-minutes till showtime,” he told you.

You had no idea if robots had a sense of humor, but you tried anyway. “That was a pretty good show you just put on.” You got that unnatural head cock again, but he grinned and reminded you, 

“You want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it.” “I know,” you replied, already trying to calculate how you could afford to return and book another private “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!”. You were eager to try out different features. “How do I . . .?” “The-the d-door will remember you. It’s h-his job,” the robot answered your unfinished question, as if it was one he got frequently. You nodded as if you understood, then impulsively stretched upward to kiss him. He wasn’t startled--he was a robot, after all--but you gave him a smile and slipped back through the door to the front of the theater. You had to find your friends. It wasn’t your choice, sitting in the audience to watch a robotic jester entertain a crowd of imps. 

But next time, it would be. 

fin!

#writing #fanfiction #Robofizz #the Robotic Fizzarolli #helluva boss #tentacles #robo fizz #robofizz x reader #robo fizz x reader #Loo Loo Land

[ladyorlandodream]

Lady Dimitrescu-tag FanFiction List PART 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

1101) Bittersweet Scars (Chapters in progress)

1102) not in my good satantic cul de sac (short story)

1103) How Did You Love? (Chapters in progress)

1104) Sea of Emotions (Chapters in progress)

1105) "and always, there is hunger / i will admit that i do not know if i should hold you or eat you." (Chapters in progress)

1106) The Gifts of Desecration (Chapters in progress)

1107) Vampiric Love (Chapters in progress)

1108) Lady Dimitrescu spanks Jean-Jacques Rousseau (short story)

1109) Some People Say A Man Is Made Outta Mud (Chapters in progress)

1110) Irreplaceable (Chapters in progress)

1111) Give In- A Lady D x Fem Reader Story (Chapters in progress)

1112) We're Going Home (short story)

1113) Look Out the Window (short story)

1114) A Hope in Hell (Chapters in progress)

1115) Shared Depths (Chapters in progress)

1116) 睡美人 (Chapters Completed)

1117) Everything You Never Wanted (Chapters in progress)

1118) Part Two: The Chase (short story)

1119) In Your Light (short story)

1120) the lady's hound (Chapters in progress)

1121) My crazy family (Chapters Completed)

1122) Within these walls our fates shall intertwine (Chapters in progress)

1123) I Dreamt of Yellow Flowers (Chapters in progress)

1124) white scars (Chapters in progress)

1125) Craving (Chapters in progress)

1126) Your walls are blizzards, but your center is a garden. (Chapters in progress)

1127) I'll take you anywhere you need to go (short story)

1128) Welcome to the Family, Boy (short story)

1129) Red Tainted Thorns (Chapters in progress)

1130) Ain’t So Tough (short story)

1131) You Pushed Yourself Too Far, Cassandra (short story)

1132) Tentalinigus (short story)

1133) A Pretentious Journey (Chapters in progress)

1134) Ask me to leave (Chapters in progress)

1135) Sanguis Virginis (Chapters in progress)

1136) Through fated stars (Chapters in progress)

1137) Bela and the maiden (Chapters Completed)

1138) maiden's virtue (Chapters in progress)

1139) The Tragedy of Salvatore Moreau (Chapters in progress)

1140) Looking Through (short story)

1141) Part of the Family (Chapters in progress)

1142) Behind Porcelain Eyes (Chapters in progress)

1143) something wretched & oh so beautiful (Chapters in progress)

1144) A Promise of a Lifetime of Love even after death (short story)

1145) Rough Day (short story)

1146) A Sacrifice To The Goddess...es (short story)

1147) Little Fawn (Chapters in progress)

1148) Дневник Моро (short story)

1149) The Adventures of Ethan Winters and His Friend (Chapters in progress)

1150) I'm all hers (Chapters in progress)

1151) Ethan's Romp in The Village (Chapters in progress)

1152) Famished Follies and a Flower (short story)

1153) Suck the Blood from My Wound (short story)

1154) Ophelia (Chapters in progress)

1155) Everything Right, Still Not Enough (Chapters in progress)

1156) The enemy of my enemy is my friend? (Chapters in progress)

1157) The Horse Lord's Morning Glory (Chapters in progress)

1158) What Lies Beneath (Chapters in progress)

1159) Won't Bite (Chapters Completed)

1160) Into The Realm Of Supernaturals (Chapters in progress)

1161) little sister. (Chapters in progress)

1162) We Lay in Our Graves (short story)

1163) meet me in the pale moonlight (short story)

1164) A Dinner? (short story)

1165) Divine Taste (short story)

1166) Thorn In Her Side (short story)

1167) Resident Evil Village: An Alternate Path.

1168) Our Dear Hunter (Chapters in progress)

1169) Lady in Black (Creative, I know) (Chapters in progress)

1170) Yes, my Lady. I see you. (Chapters in progress)

1171) Bite Me, Asshole (Chapters in progress)

1172) Finding One's self (Chapters in progress)

1173) The Maid's Diary (Chapters in progress)

1174) Die Schöne und das Biest (Chapters in progress)

1175) Death's Angel (Chapters in progress)

1176) Sit on me, Lady (short story)

1177) Risking Just Enough (Chapters in progress)

1178) Ceasefire (short story)

1179) drunk on you (Chapters Completed)

1180) Pawns in Red (short story)

1181) Bound by Sins of the Past (Chapters in progress)

1182) Just Like You (short story)

1183) A Maiden for a Day (short story)

1184) Worried (short story)

1185) Diamonds and Rust (Chapters in progress)

1186) Partners (Chapters in progress)

1187) I'll Have The Usual (Chapters in progress)

1188) entomopathogenic (short story)

1189) Deflower me, my lady (short story)

1190) Desflórame, dama mía (short story)

1191) My Little Bugs (short story)

1192) Doncella depravada (short story)

1193) A Modest Proposal (short story)

1194) dragon's maiden (Chapters in progress)

1195) Blood Hell Night (Chapters in progress)

1196) A Peculiar Servant (Chapters in progress)

1197) The Pet of House Dimitrescu (short story)

1198) Sleepy Cuddles (short story)

1199) Happy Family (Chapters in progress)

1200) Lady Dimitrescu (short story)

1201) Anything and Everything (All of the time) (Chapters in progress)

1202) You Feel Pure (short story)

1203) In the Dragon's Claws (Chapters in progress)

1204) Tales of the side of the road. (Chapters in progress)

1205) The Son of Dimitrescu (Chapters Completed)

1206) Can We Try? (Chapters Completed)

1207) Paying Your Respects (Chapters Completed)

1208) Tentacle Entanglement (short story)

1209) The Final Waltz (short story)

1210) Little Red Dress (short story)

1211) a new home, a new family (Chapters in progress)

1212) Adventures in the Village (Chapters in progress)

1213) Lady Dimitrescu's New Vintage (Chapters in progress)

1214) Feed the Machine (Chapters in progress)

1215) A lifetime and an eternity after (short story)

1216) ses terribles jeux (short story)

1217) The Metal Doll (Chapters in progress)

1218) olly olly oxenfree (Chapters in progress)

1219) Till Death Do Us Part, or Not. (Chapters in progress)

1220) The Maid's Observation Notes - Short Stories (Chapters in progress)

1221) Mandatory High School AU That No One (Except Daniela Dimitrescu) Asked For (Chapters in progress)

1222) Daughter of Dione: Is Thirty Seconds All I Have? (Chapters in progress)

1223) Book of Pyroclasm (Chapters in progress)

1224) Don't Want Your Heart (Between My Teeth) (Chapters in progress)

1225) The Book of Blood and Bedlam (Chapters in progress)

1226) Metal and Blood (Chapters in progress)

1227) A Sentimental Noose (Chapters Completed)

1228) How could I refuse? (Chapters in progress)

1229) Village of Gods and Angels (Chapters in progress)

1230) Dream (short story)

1231) Heavy (short story)

1232) How an immortal dies (short story)

1233) Wir werden sehen (short story)

1234) What's that coming over the hill? (Is it a monster?) (Chapters in progress)

1235) Sorrow, Joy, Rage, and Pleasure (Chapters in progress)

1236) Built on a Lie (Chapters in progress)

1237) “ Dress Up ” (short story)

1238) Mother Mia (Chapters in progress)

1239) Măr de Sânge (Chapters in progress)

1240) Hard-wired tragedys (Chapters in progress)

1241) Are you Single? (Chapters in progress)

1242) butterflies in your stomach (short story)

1243) A Cold Village (Chapters in progress)

1244) all i want is to be your harbor (Chapters in progress)

1245) Comfort (short story)

1246) Ichor & Steel (Chapters Completed)

1247) A Missing Link (short story)

1248) Can't Get No (short story)

1249) The Daughters, The Lady and You (short story)

1250) My Darling (Chapters in progress)

1251) Something Wicked (Chapters in progress)

1252) Screws (Chapters Completed)

1253) Mother is God, in the eyes of her children (Chapters in progress)

1254) Resident Evil | Family (Chapters in progress)

1255) The Turn of the Screw (Chapters in progress)

1256) Absolution (Chapters in progress)

1257) Before Winter starts (Chapters in progress)

1258) Beauty Is In The Eye of The Beholder (short story)

1259) 𝕹𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊: 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖌 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (Chapters in progress)

1260) Greater Innocence (Chapters in progress)

1261) Lady's Pet (short story)

1262) we'll both make it out alive, i promise (Chapters in progress)

1263) If I Catch Fire (Chapters in progress)

1264) Wenn Ich Weiß, Was Liebe Ist, Dann Wegen Dir || If I Know What Love Is, It Is Because Of You (Chapters in progress)

1265) Her Maiden (Chapters in progress)

1266) What's A Mother To Do? (Chapters in progress)

1267) The Huntress of Dimitrescu (Chapters in progress)

1268) I'm Begging for Mercy on my Mind (Chapters Completed)

1269) Tough as Thorns (Chapters Completed)

1270) Broken Telephone (short story)

1271) Re and dsmp crossover prompt (short story)

1272) Lady Dimitrescu/fem reader birthday special (short story)

1273) Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave (short story)

1274) Mystery of the blackwood family (Chapters in progress)

1275) Romantic Machinations (Chapters in progress)

1276) What We May Be (Chapters in progress)

1277) Best 10/10 (short story)

1278) Foggy Nightmares (Chapters in progress)

1279) Some Things Stay The Same And Some Times They Change (Chapters in progress)

1280) Bend and Break (Chapters in progress)

1281) Verbena (TRIGGER WARNING) (Chapters in progress)

1282) home (am i home?) (short story) (Chapters in progress)

1283) REtirement (Chapters in progress)

1284) Not-So-Rude Awakening (Chapters Completed)

1285) Mother is the Name for God (Chapters Completed)

1286) The Four Lord's Grace After Stories (Chapters in progress)

1287) Funny Things (Chapters in progress)

1288) The Carriage Ride Home (short story)

1289) The Dragon's Favorite Treasure (short story)

1290) the lightning says something, and the thunder answers back (short story)

1291) let's walk into the woods; (Chapters in progress)

1292) Drawn (Chapters in progress)

1293) Not All That Glitters is Gold (Chapters in progress)

1294) go back (short story)

1295) Instincts (Chapters in progress)

1296) what you're made of (Chapters Completed)

1297) Misery Loves Company (Chapters in progress)

1298) Your Dagger Upon My Sword (Chapters in progress)

1299) When Night Comes (Chapters in progress)

1300) Heimarmene (Chapters in progress)

1301) Till I breathe my last breath. (Chapters in progress)

1302) The shy dollmaker (Chapters in progress)

1303) Even The Scraps He Keeps (Chapters in progress)

1304) Period Piece (short story)

1305) Gender Euphoria (short story)

1306) Obsession of a Metal Man (Chapters in progress)

1307) Day of Rites (Chapters in progress)

1308) Moonlit Masters (Chapters in progress)

1309) Blood bag (Chapters in progress)

1310) Unfathomable Violence (Chapters in progress)

1311) Nightmare: A Karl Heisenberg story (Chapters in progress)

1312) Mercy for a Maiden (Chapters in progress)

1313) The Heir of the House of Beneviento (Chapters in progress)

1314) Adjustments (Chapters in progress)

1315) Plaything (short story) (Chapters in progress)

1316) Obsessed ➰ (Chapters in progress)

1317) Your Lord and Master (Chapters in progress)

1318) Hunted (Chapters in progress)

1319) The fifth lord (Chapters in progress)

1320) Phoenix Feeding (short story)

1321) Salvatore Moreau: Matchmaker Extraordinare! (Chapters in progress)

1322) The no.1 reaper apprentice finds out why Lady D is nicknamed as such (short story)

1323) Ethan the Pacifist (Chapters in progress)

1324) The Visit (Chapters in progress)

1325) Her Addiction (Chapters in progress)

1326) Will I Find My Home In You? (short story)

1327) Assistant To Aristocracy (Chapters in progress)

1328) The Lycan Queen (Chapters in progress)

1329) The Taste of Decay (Chapters in progress)

1330) A second chance (Chapters in progress)

1331) The Cellar (short story)

1332) Pretty Man-Thing (short story)

1333) I’d do anything for you (Chapters Completed)

1334) Little Dragon (Chapters in progress)

1335) Carnivore (Chapters in progress)

1336) Serendipity (Chapters in progress)

1337) Lady Dimitrescu x Maiden - Sanguis Virginis (Chapters in progress)

1338) The New Bela (Chapters Completed)

1339) Any Means Necessary (Chapters in progress)

1340) Make Me Worse, Make Me Better (Chapters in progress)

#LADY DIMITRESCU #ALCINA DIMITRESCU #LADY DIMITRESCU FANFICTIONS #LADY ALCINA DIMITRESCU #HOUSE DIMITRESCU #COUNTESS ALCINA DIMITRESCU #TALL VAMPIRE LADY #NOT ONLY AO3

[skelanonymous]

Killermare/Nightkiller - Soul Mates

Hey! I finished the prompt person who made a request like a month ago! I literally do not want to even look at this anymore. I’ve been picking away at it all month between shifts and breaks and I’m beginning to hate it by virtue of seeing it too much. 

The beginning has been edited and now has some nsfw soul-mating and some after effect scenes!

Words: 6.1K

-

“Are you sure you want this? With me?” Nightmare wouldn’t meet Killer’s eyes. He stood in front of one of his room’s many arched windows, moonlight shimmering over his blackened form. His tentacles had curled in on him, arms crossed, an uncharacteristic sign of vulnerability that Killer had only seen inside of this room.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Killer, too, let his eternally present grin fall. This matter meant too much, and Nightmare’s insecurity fell heavily on him, on them. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I have an idea, but I want to hear the specifics. ‘s important.” Killer crossed his own arms to match, to hold back the urge to touch his moon until he finished his thoughts.

“Soul mating is to share all that you are with another.” Nightmare turned to face out over the darkened wilds his castle oversaw. “It’s to be unified on every level and live as one until we cease to be. I am not afraid of being unified with you myself; I have centuries of existence and a power to shake the multiverse, and while I’m certain that I will be affected by you, as I am even now when we’re separate, I am also sure of my ability to handle it as I have everything else.”

“It’s me you don’t trust to deal.” Killer sighed, frown downturning further. Nightmare whirled around in an instant.

“I trust you with my life Killer.” He hurried across the room to hold his beloved’s face, a concerned eye looking into Killer’s, begging him to understand. “I would not humor this for anyone else, I would not want this with anyone else. To be joined with you is a dream I wish for. But…” His thumbs wiped away the streaks of liquid hate on Killer’s face. “To be joined to me is my namesake. You will know misery on a level you have never known.”

Killer reached up to hold Nightmare’s hands. He smiled with a short laugh.

“I think I’ve known some pretty deep fucking misery Night.” Killer let go to reach out for Nightmare’s jacket, pulling him closer. “I’m not fragile. You worry too much. ‘Sleeping near me might give you nightmares’ and ‘if I lose control during sex, I could hurt you’ and, my favorite, ‘I am the guardian of negativity, I cannot love you back.’ Yet we’re here.” He took a nice deep breath, sinking into the comfort that was Nightmare pressed to his chest. Nightmare’s fingers clutched at his back.

“Not like this Killer, never like this.” Cyan tears welled up, hands vice gripped onto his hoodie. “I am not minimizing your suffering, I have felt it firsthand, but mine is long and continuous. It bores into your soul and lives there. You mention that I have always worried and you have overcome, but yet, I still worry. Negativity is at the root of me.”

His tentacles reached out like more arms. The fear was palpable, flavoring the air and thick on their tongues. Nightmare could never forsake what he was. He could not undo what had been done.

“And to join you with that? I’m afraid of what this could do to you. Will you gain my corruption? Will I lose you like I lost myself for all those years? How much of you must be traded for us to experience this pinnacle of connection?” Night’s words flooded from his mouth, crying bitterly at the thought of turning Killer away, all for his sake. “Every single thing others can have, I must first pay a cost. To just exist without punishment cost my life, my home, my family. And even then, I did not escape punishment, I merely gained the ability to fight back!”

“Nightlight…look at me.” And he listened. Killer tapped his teeth to his.

“Killer…” Nightmare tapped back, kissing him deeply with wet cheeks. The tension of the room could be cut with a knife, Killer could feel it in the line of Night’s back, and he knew how to work that out. When they broke apart, Killer didn’t move back an inch.

“Remember when you confessed?” His voice rough and heavy against Night’s teeth, Killer’s eyes went half lidded. “You looked so shocked, like you couldn’t believe it.”

“I still don’t.” Nightmare’s voice dropped low, shaky but wanting.

“Moon, are you happy, being with me?” Night’s tentacles clutched him tight, Nightmare pressing up tight to him with another kiss, their faces still millimeters apart.

“Of course. Idiot...” His eye glanced wistfully at the bookshelves on the wall, expression serious and hesitant. Killer chuckled softly at the worry. He wiped his god’s tears away.

“Then why couldn’t I be happy joined with you?” Night’s body sparked with magic underneath his fingertips. “If even the god of negativity can be happy with the one he loves, why couldn’t I do the same with a piece of him living in my soul?” Killer licked his teeth, tongue touching his moon’s at this distance, groaning at the catch in Nightmare’s breath.

“You could.”

Killer crushed Night up against him, the smaller hands fisting in the loose blue hoodie in their passion. Kissing Nightmare always got his motor running. His dark tentacles sought out every surface to lavish attention on Killer’s body, three times the stimulation of any other partner and a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Let me have ya then.” His pointer finger slid down the black cheek, catching softly on his jaw, over his sensitive throat, and leaving a hot trail of need down his sternum before halting. Right over Night’s soul. “Mate with me Moon.”

Night reached out slowly for Killer’s soul, always within reach but rarely so bright, tapping the surface with a fond smile. Killer felt the weight of his words resonate across his being.

“Promise I won’t lose you?” Killer grinned widely.

“Promise.” The tenseness dropped from Night’s back, arms slung around Killer’s shoulders with a more confident look.

“Then take me Killer.”

Killer had a slight height advantage, but Night made up for it with vigor. The black fingers pulled at the hoodie, growling when Killer laughed at him for its slow removal.

“My soul’s not inside my ribcage Moonlight. Did ya forget?” He chuckled until Nightmare pulled their faces together again, groaning into Night’s mouth, tasting and teasing the cyan tongue until he felt Night’s fingers loosen. He took the opportunity to run a phalange up from Night’s back to his sternum, tracing a rib. Night broke off to shiver.

“Are you trying to rush?” Nightmare traced the outer edge of the target shaped soul. It snapped into a heart shape for the second go around. “There you are.”

“I just like when ya touch me.” Killer winked, grinding up against Night’s pelvis. Night bucked against the bulge in front of him. He kept rubbing the tiny heart in his hands while Killer nuzzled into his throat to nip and lick at the sensitive vertebrae there. “Fucking delicious. Can’t wait to have ya.” Killer took a deep breath in, lost in the scent of Nightmare. 

Night didn’t respond, only kissed the soul in his hands, trying to impart what he couldn’t say. I’m the lucky one. That you want me, it matters more than anything else. 

Killer’s mouth licked haphazardly. The warm buzz of emotion from Night seeped into his body, unfurling the little anxieties building in the peripheral of their relationship. Killer put on a grandiose show, playing the part of the cocky bastard to his moon’s calm stoic, but Nightmare very rarely opened up this far. His moon cried less than Killer had fingers on one hand. He spoke seldomly about the past in anything but factual recounts. The fact he’d been so honest, that he could feel that pure emotion through the contact, put him in a drunken euphoria. 

“Moooooon, you’re wearing too many clothes.” He pushed the hoodie off Night’s shoulders, caught on his elbows. “Come to the bed.” Killer slid his hands up to hold Night’s hands, soul dropped and returned to its place.

Killer led him towards the bed, but let him go with a sly grin. He stripped off his shirt with a twirl, revealing his ribs with hungry eyes, dropping his shorts in the next moment to persuade his love to do the same.

“Eager, are you?” Nightmare’s voice betrayed nothing, but the slow shrug off of his sweater spoke volumes.

“Already missing that touch of yours.” He gestured to his soul. “I could get off from just that.”

A peace offering, a way to back out, to build to this piece by piece. Night stepped closer to his love leaned back on the bed.

With a determined eye, he skimmed over the bulge of Killer’s cock, meeting Killer’s captivated gaze with ferocity. He only broke it to remove his suffocating shirt.

“Ignoring my needs? What type of mate do you plan to be?” Killer’s eyelights popped into existence while Nightmare seated himself on his lap. “I thought you said you’d never disappoint me…” He almost fell off when Killer sat up to meet him, smashing their teeth together.

Killer dove in, not leaving room for Nightmare to fight back, overwhelming his small lover with how much he could explore with his eyes closed. They were both pantless by the time Nightmare’s senses returned, breathless but alive with energy.

“If you’re feeling needy, we’ll focus on you then.” Nightmare had no ecto formed yet, Killer instead reaching up into his chest for the dark apple soul he’d never been allowed to touch. His hand hesitated before tapping the blackened surface. “Last chance Nightmare.” And when all he got was silence, he took it out and held it up to his face.

Unlike his own soul, the black apple sat calmly in his hand. It had little give, the dark peel a thin barrier to protect it from the outside world, everlasting and unbroken until this very moment.

“Didn’t expect that.” Killer ran his thumbs over the surface, testing the limits of the shell and Night in one swoop. His moon sat unaffected except by a blush.

“I’m sorry it’s not what you expected.” He could read Night’s hesitation in his body language, but not from the soul seated in his hands, its aura as calm on the exterior as its owner. He wanted in. Killer gently bit down on the apple, not wanting to go clean through, but maybe create a little breach. When Night didn’t react, he bit down harder. His ectobody formed instantly, boosting him up on Killer’s lap.

“OooooooH!” He broke the skin, a small cut through the outer barrier. Night hadn’t ripped it away yet, so Killer turned it over until he could work his tongue into the hole.

“KiLLeR.” Night’s thighs tightened on his legs, hips bucking down wantonly while his cyan tongue lolled out of his mouth. Killer kept working and tasting, getting deeper and deeper into the soul. “STARS, Killer, please. Fuck me!”

Tentacles curled up every limb stroking and teasing. They sought out Killer like a moth to the flame, knowing who was pleasing their master, eager to return the favor. Killer appreciated their caress, but focused in on the torrent of emotion pouring into his mouth from the apple. Night’s composure seldom broke outside of the bedroom, and even here, he was not driven to utmost debauchery, often just more openly honest about his desires. Licking directly into his core, Killer could taste how much Night was holding back. He sucked out some of the wet flavor with a slurp.

“God ya want this so bad. Good, me too.” Killer worked two fingers into the break to Night’s wrecked gasps. “My soul can’t fit in here love. Gunna have to make room for me inside ya.” 

“I need you inside me, right now.” Night’s tentacles readjusted them quickly for his red cock to slide up and down Night’s already wet folds. “I love you, connect with me, I’ve got so much room for you…” Killer heard the wet squelch of Night stretching himself open with a tentacle in preparation, making his cock twitch in anticipation. He forced his tongue in around the three fingers he’d worked into Night’s soul. His reward was instantaneous. 

“AAH!” Night’s knees knocked on his waist, his eye wide and hazy, which Killer took advantage of by pulling Night further onto him and starting to sink into his soaked pussy along with the slicked tentacle still stuffed inside. 

“Oh FUCK!” Night’s cyan eye rolled into his skull, trembling apart at the seams. “T-they fit?”

“They sure do.” Killer pulled his soul up to the opening in Night’s. “You ready for the second squeeze?” He flexed his hips making Nightmare scream.

“Stuff me full Killer, hah, please!” 

With a gentle push, his soul tapped against the inside of Night’s, the opening worked large enough for the entire thing to fit along it on one side. He watched fascinated. Normal soulmating, you could hold two souls together and they’d combine, no work required but the desire to do so, but he had to try at getting his moon open enough to reach the savory core. They sat against each other for an instant, Killer anxious if he’d gone about it wrong and Night if he could even do this at all, before Killer’s entire soul slid directly inside, combining them in a flash of color.

The red apple hung between them pleasantly. Killer’s eyelights glowed bright as Night’s went deep purple.

“Moon?” The words echoed in his mind, though it felt like he spoke them. He didn’t need to say anything, Night was him and he was Night, but his sudden desire to hear Nightmare overrode logic.

“My darling soul.” Hands rested on his face. Night’s locked eyes with his, faces moving closer, but even an inch felt too far. It was slow deliberate love, that first kiss, the taste of their soulmate for the very first time.

But then Night shifted to get a little closer and the thickness inside him sparked the desire.

That spark quickly caught, burning through both of them with the intensity of sun, each thought echoing between their souls, escalating to a constant hum that drowned out the rest. Night slid forward to take Killer and his own appendage to the hilt. Killer moaned loudly before pulling Night up to his chest with a desperate kiss. He could barely get out any words.

“I love you.” It slurred from his teeth, feeling the tentacle inside of Night curl around his cock to make it stretch out Night wider. “You’ve got my soul inside yours, ya shouldn’t mind if I fill ya with my cum right?” He thrusted experimentally; Night wailed and slid down to meet his hips. His purple blush complimented the wrecked expression, staring into Killer’s eyes like a lifeline, before nodding with a broken moan. “Fuck you’re perfect.”

He started slow. Night winced at the end of the thrusts and Killer wasn’t so far gone as to not notice; to the contrary, he had never been more aware of his moon. The sound of his voice breaking on Killer’s name a symphony, the taste of his love’s tongue a banquet, all his senses awakened at the sight of his gorgeous soulmate. And through the bond, he could feel Night’s agreement.

“Please, please, please!” Oversensitive and at the emotional limit, Killer could feel his peak rapidly approaching, speeding up to slam into Night, clapping their ecto together between lewd pants and groans. He dropped his sweaty head against Night’s shoulder.

“God Night, come for me!” Night’s pussy clamped down tight with his orgasm. Killer rode it to his own finish.

“Fuck!” 

He slow thrusted through it, filling up Night with his red magic, sliding against each other with pleasant bonelessness. They fell back onto the bed in their embrace.

“Killer…”Night’s head rested on his chest, one hand rubbing over where he could see Killer’s cum inside himself. Killer felt tears drip onto his ribcage.

“Nightlight?” He cradled Night’s head. He held him tight, Night nuzzling his chest with the rarest of expressions.

“Thank you.” The genuine smile, soft and sweet, hit Killer right in their combined souls, overcome with their combined joy. He had it so bad. They readjusted to separate, sharing soft continuous kisses, settling into the blankets with unmatched contentment.

“We look pretty good together.” He stroked a finger over the red apple, both trembling with a soft sigh. “Can’t get rid of me now. No take-backs.”

“I can think of no better partner for eternity.” And that deep honesty flustered Killer. He hoped he’d get to see more of this side of his beloved moon now that they were one. Being one in all forms had unlocked more of himself than had existed before, parts he would adopt from Night starting to click in as extensions of his soul. Something dark ate at the back of Killer’s mind, but combined like this, it was held at bay effortlessly by Night’s calm thoughts and breathing.

“Let’s get some rest Nightlight. We have the rest of our lives tomorrow.” He pulled up a sheet to cover them, and placed one last kiss on Night’s teeth. 

“That we do.” With their combined souls hanging between them, they slipped in restful sleep. 

-

Killer woke up late. Looking around, he realized he’d been moved from Night’s bedroom to the study. He sat up (appropriately though not fully dressed) on the lounge that Nightmare had scooted closer to his desk.

“Good afternoon. How are you feeling?” Killer felt strangely apprehensive before realizing that the feeling wasn’t centered in his body. The immediacy lessoned the longer he thought about it, though the intensity of that wariness kept ratcheting up while he tried to speak.

“Is that you?” The sudden break in relief caused emotional whiplash and a spike of discomfort.

“Yes. My apologies, I wasn’t reigning in my reactions.” The normal calm came back, with a background fluttering of too many emotions to name. “It should be more manageable now.”

“Wow, I must be bothering the fuck outta you.” He laughed at the tinges of worry, indignation, and relief in turn. A glance at his own chest revealed only his own soul. They’d separated when sleeping it appeared.

“Always.” 

“Wow, this is what you’re actually feeling?” Each emotion felt so distinct and different, the deep fondness manifesting as a touch to the cheek and a soft smile, the yearning a waltz across a marble floor, remaining a respectable distance but waiting for a moment alone to close the distance. So caught in this tide, he didn’t notice the tentacle resting along his back.

“Yes. I hope you could see through the sarcasm beforehand. But focus for a moment.” The appendage slid up his spine, Killer shivering. “I’m syphoning my power out of you by force, but once I break contact, you will be hit with whatever my corruption has done to you.”

“Still worried?” Killer grinned with a tilt of his head, shit eating smile not calming Night in the slightest.

“I didn’t want you to wake up in whatever state this will put you in. There’s a difference from knowing it’s coming to waking up overwhelmed.” Killer rolled his shoulders to ready up, taking a few breaths before nodding confidently. 

“Hit me with it Nightlight.” 

The instant the words left his mouth, the weight of the corruption fell on his back. He gasped, choking on the weight of the atmosphere, hate spilling out of his eyes. His soul pulsed heavily, weighted and overwhelming, drowning in a pit of self-loathing and anger that he almost couldn’t see through. 

He fell off something. His hands scrambled along the floor, colliding with something that Killer clawed at until he was sat up again.

He trembled violently, bones clattering against his leverage. Sounded familiar though. Where had he heard it before? He focused on the sound to anchor himself in the moment, reflecting on it until the answer came to him suddenly. Nightmare’s desk, he’d had sex on enough times to remember the way wood sounded banging against bone.

Nightmare! He’d been with him before this.

Killer heaved in a few gulps of air. If he reached out with his magic, he could feel him, dark and powerful not too far away, and that helped get through the worst of the panic. The calm washed over him like soothing rain. It soaked into his joints until he laid back against the wood, completely still.

Amidst the black came a single bright ping of light. Hope lit in his chest like a lamp, illuminating his eyelights, finally able to see.

Feelings were too overwhelming to speak, but his staticky pupils stared at his moon’s face.

Nightmare forwent his usual propriety, his normally impassive face scrunched up in unease. His cyan pupil took in every movement, any motion or emotion he could see. Every tentacle hovered around him worriedly, barely restrained from touching Killer to sap the feeling away. He felt Night’s palms on his. He gripped them back with a tired grin.

He could see Nightmare trying to speak, but his ears hadn’t caught up to him yet, still roaring with the stress his body had gone through. He tugged on Nightmare’s arms, toppling the king to the ground into him. Pressed against his chest, he felt better already.

Oh look at his cute soulmate. God he loved him.

Night had been knocked down to kneeling over Killer’s collapsed form, sitting in his lap with flushed cyan cheeks, all right in reach of Killer. Night really should know who he was dealing with by now.

Killer kissed him fully, hands trailing to his shoulder joints to get his moon to huff and let him in. It felt incredible, their magic tongues sparking up pure passion between them through the bond. The fog from the shock of Night’s power was clearing, getting further and further away the more he touched his precious mate, measured in the volume of sounds finally reaching him. By the time they broke apart, Killer had his mind back enough to speak.

“I told you. You worry too much.” Killer grinned, eyes closed and amused. He nuzzled Night’s cheeks with his own. “If you think I was handsy before, you won’t be able to handle how much I want ya now.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Nightmare surged up into another kiss. The magical connection pulsed alive in their souls, swept away in the insatiable urge to be closer to each other. So enraptured that they only halted when they heard mumbling to the side.

“I’m not interrupting them Papyrus, they’ll take a break eventually…” Dust didn’t even flinch when their eyes snapped over to him.

“Didn’t take ya as a voyeur Dusty!” Killer laughed. Nightmare stood quickly, but didn’t move to take his place behind his desk.

“I suppose you’re reporting in on your latest assignment in Fellswap.” Night could compartmentalize like a pro, his face blank and unaffected in moments while Dust relayed his findings calmly. Killer had envied Night’s ability to sort away emotions and reject them, choosing to feel them instead of being overcome, but now that he had a direct link behind the facade, he found himself awed at his moon’s composure under enormous influence.

Calmed by the impromptu make out session, Killer searched inside himself for what was new.

The parts of the bond that came from Nightmare felt shiny, not like the pieces that had always been there. He could feel those rotting things from his own past had been broken in, worn to match the rest of him, unlike that which was added. Killer visualized Nightmare’s power like a tiny galaxy living in him. Dark and expansive, powerful and captivating, it crooked a finger at him to indulge in the negative in himself and in others around him. He could pull on it, indulge in the poisonous vapors, become more powerful in an instant. 

Tentacles slithered over his arms, lifting him carefully but pulling his back flush against Nightmare’s chest.

“Now where were we?” Night’s voice rumbled through the both of them. Killer stroked each appendage and licked the corner of Nightmare’s mouth.

“Almost to the good part.”

He was level 20. Right hand of the terror of the multiverse. Mated to the god of negativity. He’d killed plenty and taken what he wanted his entire life. 

Killer shut the power out of his mind. He’d take it in stride and learn to tame the damn thing. No need to throw away his sanity for more power than he already had, especially not at the cost of his moon. 

One stray hand to his pelvis and the thought was gone.

-

“How do ya deal with the cravings?” Killer’s hand clenched around his knife, breathing through his nose in metered breaths. Blood red magic ran from his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue at the last second.

“I indulge when it is safe to do so.” Night watched cautiously from the door to the training room.

“And when’s that?” Killer curled in on himself.

“Moments like right now.” 

He and Horror had been sparring, just like normal, taunting back and forth, when the corruption had reared its ugly head mid-sentence. 

“Can’t keep up? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t feed Pap-” Killer instantly ate his own words, teeth cutting clean through his tongue before Horror could do anything in retaliation. He didn’t even block the attack Horror had started. They weren’t fragile, god knows that they had tougher skin than most, but there were lines you did not cross, and Killer had sprinted straight past them without looking back. He hadn’t moved since.

“So you’re feeding off my fuckup? At least that’s something.” His shirt was wet against his sternum, stuck and soaked in the front, sticky and thick on his fingers tearing into the fabric.

Nightmare pulled down, sitting beside him on the floor. Every limb hovered over Killer’s form. Times like this, he almost detested Nightmare’s superior control, unable to see beyond that carefully neutral face and the wall Nightmare could pull between their bond with ease.

“I cannot help my nature. That doesn’t mean I wished for this.” Nightmare folded his hands in his lap, a picture of patience. “He has already forgiven you.”

“He fucking shouldn’t. I knew what the fuck saying that would do.” Killer sneered at the floor. Black dripped down to mix with the crimson staining his clothes. He was such a piece of shit, giving in like this was his first damn rodeo, like he’d never had to exert ANY fucking self control! He fell forward until his face met the floor.

“You’ve only had this power for a few weeks. It takes time.” Killer could feel his tentacles tentatively soothe him at the edges, pokes and pats soft enough to be shaken off should he decide to run. “I’m sorry.”

Killer’s eyelights flicked on at the tiny pulse of sadness. Night could hide a lot, but powerful swings couldn’t be hidden from your soulmate.

He turned over to stare at his moon. His face looked steady as always, but knowing the emotion beneath gave it away. Night met his gaze evenly, but his eye had gotten soft, rounded on the edges. If he looked closely, tension pulled Night’s arms taut, elbows pressed too hard into his lap, tiny tremors in the forearms from pushing his stress to a hidden place most wouldn’t notice. Really seeing it had Killer shuffling up to sit again.

“Moon, I don’t regret anything. I’m mad at myself but not at this.” He sought out Night’s folded hands, grasping them with his dirtied ones. “The only thing directed at you is that you still keep hiding from me.”

“It’s...a lot to handle. You already feel overwhelmed, so I…”

“I get to decide when it’s too much Nightlight. Tell me how ya really feel.” The revulsion from his actions faded away, patiently waiting for Night to let down the wall.

It dropped all at once, a dam cracked open over his psyche, Killer awash in a million emotions, many that didn’t have names but ate at him sharply. Another piece of him soaked it in, eating up all Night’s doubts and self-loathing with glee. Killer flinched.

“It feels weird as fuck to like when you’re upset.” Killer scrunched up his face. “I prefer you smilin’. Or moaning.” He gave Night a saucy wink. His reward, a light peal of laughter, lit his soul up like a glowstick. Night cupped his wet face with a soft smile.

“I’d like that too.” A chaste kiss melted the dark atmosphere away, Killer left besotted in the wave of fondness from his lovely moon. “I will always feed on the negative, but in this, I gain strength from our love too.” He hummed softly at Killer’s enamoured look. “In sickness and health, my soul.”

The kiss was warm, but not drawn out. They were still in the training room after all.

“I guess I should clean up and apologize to Horror. Even if he forgives me, don’t mean I don’t have to apologize.” Killer stretched back. With a swing of his torso, he landed on his feet. Night stood to join him, resisting the urge to take him elsewhere for soft reassurances. “See ya tonight light?” Killer stuck his tongue out.

“It isn’t optional.” Night pulled him forward with a single hand by the collar of his hoodie. “I’d hunt you down if you tried to stay away.” His seductive smile made Killer purr.

“Hunt me down then Moonbeam. I look forward to it.” The pleasant shimmer of emotion under it all warmed his bones as he walked to his room for a change of clothes. Killer caught a glimpse of the hall mirror, taking in his wrecked appearance with little concern. With each day, he owned more and more of this new darkness, and one day soon, he’d have eternity left with Night. He flexed his arms to rest them behind his head.

“Now where is Horror?”

-

“Take Horror and get the fuck out of here.” Killer swung his blade through an ink stream. It deflected off to the side, narrowly missing Dust, who had Horror up over his shoulder.

“You can’t take Ink and Cross alone idiot.” Dust had started to back towards the exit anyway. He’d save two skins over one any day.

“Don’t need to take ‘em. Boss’s on his way, just gotta run out the clock.” His grin widened as he turned back to his opponents. The liquid hate began to pour from his sockets, dripping onto the floor, starting to puddle into pitch black pools. He slid his knife under the waterfall to coat it in the black sludge. “And I’ve gotten better at taking my time.” When he stepped forward, Cross stepped back.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re afraid.” 

“Not a bit.” Cross’s stance shifted to put his blade between them. He kept readjusting his grip on his weapon, anxiously preparing for whatever new tricks Killer had up his sleeve. “I’m not so easily shaken.” His white eye went gold.

“I don’t think that’ll make that much of a difference.” Killer flipped his knife with ease, taunting his favorite punching bag of the Stars. Internally, he checked his balance to dodge positivity arrows. “Whatcha gunna do? Stare at me?”

Cross swung confidently in a forward dash. Killer jumped out of the way.

“I’ve got positivity on my side.” Killer almost laughed, but a shot of ink missed his face by an inch. 

“And a little help!” Ink chuckled, setting himself up around the edges of Cross and Killer’s spar as inconvenient back up. Killer blocked a direct attack, focusing his energy to spread the corruption over to Cross’s blade at point of contact. The gold eyelight flickered until Cross whipped back.

“What the hell did he do to you?” Cross curved the sword to smash into the ground with a grimace. The sludge cracked and crumbled off.

“It’s better than the nothing Dream gave you.” Killer stuck out his tongue, enraging Cross into re-engaging. 

Cross hadn’t gotten much better. His stamina had increased, drastically so, but so had Killer’s, that wasn’t making the difference. Cross stepped into the sludge pool, sliding off balance. Killer pounced on the opening. The back up ink stream caught his shoulder. He growled at the shot of pain but poured that feeling into his spark, bouncing back before Cross could even react.

Even the help wasn’t making that much of a difference. Cross just wasn’t messing up as much as usual.

Cross had always left openings in his attacks, and Killer exploited them, which upset Cross, which made him fuck up more, which made him an easier target, ad naseum until he kicked his angry, self loathing ass. Looks like he’d gone and gotten with Dream to get over himself. Well mostly, because he was still fucking up, but each success powered the positivity and that weakened Killer now, even as his own worries ate at him. It was the world’s worst snowball effect. Too absorbed in his own head; he found himself backed into a wall.

“Look who’s cornered now?” Killer hated that smile on Cross. Well, he’d either have to take a scalding or a slice to get out of this. He leaned back to push out of the corner after the swing.

“Try not to get my face. Boss’ll have no eye candy at the castle.” 

“Well we can’t have that.” The sight of the tentacle gripping Cross’s knife made him swoon.

“W-what?” Cross’s eyesight dimmed back to white with Night’s touch. “How’d you get here so fast?!” Nightmare tilted his back towards Ink.

“Killer.”

“Yes Boss.” He took off towards the painter like a bolt, powered by the Night’s aura and the dread Cross eeked over the battlefield. He listened to Nightmare’s talk while easily keeping Ink busy.

“The better question, Cross, is why Dream has not come to save you. Are you just not worth saving?” He’d wrapped Cross in his tentacles, the spark of positivity being drowned out by the overwhelming panic, much tastier than normal loathing. “Did you think you could take him alone? Did you doubt that I’d come to defend what’s mine? Or is it...you can’t call him?”

“I can call him!” But no one came.

“Don’t forget who I am. I am not easily deceived.” Night’s satisfied smile drilled into Cross’s mind. “Such a pity. He mates with you but doesn’t tend to your spark. What a waste.” He tightened his hold on Cross, wincing at the tightening pressure. “Killer can call me from any corner of the world if he chooses. He can wield my gift. You were left with nothing but the promise of feeling better, while I raised my mate higher.” Night manipulated Cross to stare at him in the eyes. “Dream truly does not understand his own power, and, by extension, you.” Condescending and conceited in turns, though Killer could feel the pride beneath.

“You and Killer?” He’d barely gotten it out before his eyelights blanked.

“Not your concern.” He’d seeped most of Cross’s strength away before throwing him towards Ink disdainfully. He broke off his fight with Killer to look over at the limp offering. “I suggest you get him out of my sight. I will not spare him a second time.” Night turned away from the crumpled heap, wrecked traitor gone as soon as Ink grabbed him.

“If I said I wanted your body now, would ya hold it against me?” Killer held his arms wide open. Nightmare walked directly into them, not even waiting until Ink had fully portaled, kissing his mate fondly.

“Have I told you that you can be insufferable at times?” Killer laughed so hard he could hardly stand up straight.

“I know I’m your favorite. No need to say anything.” With a hand to guide Night on his chin, Killer angled into another kiss, soaking in the love and affection from his moon as easily as he had his worries and troubles. Nightmare rested easily between his arms, happier than Killer had ever seen and proud beyond measure of HIS soulmate.

“I love you. You are, indeed, my favorite.” He leaned into Killer’s chest. “Now, how about we go home for some preferential treatment?”

“Moon, you just read my mind.” Killer wrapped an arm around Night’s waist, sliding the other hand along his arm until he had Night’s clasped off to the side. A perfect dance pose, Night shaking his head with fake exasperation, straightening to press against him. The portal whirled open somewhere behind them. “Let’s waltz on outta here.” Night laughed.

“Lead the way Killer.”

He grinned and waltzed them right through the portal, to home.

-

Thank god, it POSTED.

#killermare #nightkiller #story time #soulmate AU