#win a commission | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

llamagoddessofficial · 7 months

Text

A commission with Nightmare, Cross and a wonderful OC, for the lovely @sansarae (who for some reason Tumblr won't let me properly @ >:/)

I hope the wait wasn't too annoying- thank you for your patience, I really appreciate it!

---

“Oh. Hello again.” You smiled at the monster before you, with a touch more genuineness than your usual go-to customer service grin. “What can I get for you?”

... The skeleton looked up. His eyelights were a sharp, startling red, bloody and intense in a manner that didn’t seem to fit his otherwise pleasantly monochromatic clothing at all. At your comment, his sockets slightly narrowed.

“You... remember me?” he said, slowly.

Your smile immediately twitched with nervousness. What? You couldn’t pick up on his tone. He was staring at you with an unreadable, near-blank expression. Did you say something wrong? What had you done?

“Of... of course I do,” you replied, voice nearly quivering as your usual awkwardness took over. Why did that give him pause? Did you offend him?

...

You couldn’t make sense of his face. He was just staring at you, like that; did he really look accusatory, or were you just seeing things because you were scared? Your lip wobbled- idiot. This is what you get for attempting anything more than you were comfortable with, anything more than customer service politeness. This exact scenario was why you found people so exhausting... why you were so introverted.

“I mean,” you rushed for proverbial cover. “I work at a cafe. It’s my job to remember people, y’know?”

His face didn’t shift. His voice was monotone.

“... I see.”

...

... Well. That was that, then. You felt sick.

“Erm... so what can I get for you?”

Why was he surprised, anyway? How could you not remember him? He had stumbled into the building, a few days ago, a little before closing. It had just been you left in the cafe. He had looked a mess, as if he’d just escaped a natural disaster- dressed in torn clothing, he approached the counter with faraway empty eyelights and the expression of a man who had seen far too much to care anymore. With a calm voice, he asked for ‘anything that would make him feel awake’.

You’d been too stunned (and intimidated) to try conversation. You had served him a large black coffee, which he’d taken, leaving behind a generous tip. He had seated himself in the far corner of the cafe with his back to a wall... and he drank the whole thing in silence, staring nowhere but at the table.

... Then he left without a word.

You’d had a lot of strange customers come through, in your time behind the counter. That was just part of running a business. You still vaguely remembered the best of them... the woman who had insisted you redo her coffee because the one you’d given her was ‘looking at her’, the man who had been otherwise friendly but always smelled so strongly of cinnamon it almost made you feel sick, the guy who yelled at you for making his strawberry milkshake too pink.

But him? The skeleton? You didn’t know why, but out of everyone, it was him who stuck the most firmly in your mind.

... Eventually, he spoke. You didn’t know if he genuinely looked upset or if you were just so embarrassed by his reaction that you were seeing unpleasantness and irritation in his every move.

“... I’ll get a chamomile tea. Please.”

At least he was polite. Tea- nothing at all like his last order. “Sure. Your name?”

... He hadn’t given it last time. Understandably, considering he had been the only person in the entire cafe. But you had other customers this time and ‘skeleton’ probably wouldn’t go down well when you called it out.

He looked at you.

...

“... Cross.” He said, softly.

You smiled at him. “Thank you, Cross. Cash or card?”

Saying his name seemed to have a weird effect on him. A strange look passed over his face, shaking his silent suspicious air for a second.

... He finally blinked.

“... Cash.”

“Gold or dollars?”

“G.”

The register beeped.

“That’s 12G, please.”

... He handed you the money.

...

His mouth opened, then closed again. You waited politely. But... he said nothing. He just quietly took his tea, and made his way to the same far table he’d sat at earlier.

Though he sat in silence, it didn't escape your notice that every now and then, you'd catch him looking your way.

... You opted to just keep yourself busy with your work. Though you had to admit- for some reason, when the thought of 'What an odd guy' passed through your mind...

... It wasn't entirely negative.

///---///

'Cross' came nearly every day.

You were surprised how much of your thoughts revolved around this stranger. He occupied your mind, as you set our equipment, wiping cups and plates... I wonder how he’s doing.

He was very punctual. You liked that. He rarely arrived outside of certain hourly windows, and there was always a pattern to his arrivals. On a good day, he would come in the early morning- depending on the crowds he may even be one of the very first people into the cafe. He'd seem aware, and like he wanted to say something to you... he'd order a tea, and through your shift you'd constantly be glancing up and catching him (sheepishly?) looking at you.

... On a bad day, though... he’d come late. Like the first time you saw him. His eyelights would be distant, his tone brittle, words clipped, someone checked out of their own body. He would just stare at his table like something was playing out in front of his view. Those were the days when he would order a large coffee.

... Today looked like it was shaping out to be one of his ‘bad’ days. It was almost four when he came into the cafe, the last of your usual patrons already shuffling out the door.

Quickly, you started up the coffee machine, and made him his coffee. He had only been standing at the counter for a few moments, when you turned around and placed the drink in front of him.

...

He blinked. His eyelights fractionally widened, growing a little brighter.

“... You knew my order?”

Despite his softer tone, not wanting a repeat of last time, with his strange reaction to you recalling his name... you just nodded.

Another pause, as he just stared at the coffee.

“Nobody else remembers anything about me.”

... Huh. That was a pretty heavy sentence. You tried to keep your tone light, in comparison.

“... Well,” you tapped the coffee lid, “it definitely helps that you only order the same two things. Right?”

...

... His gaze flickered up to you.

... He finally actually smiled at you. His shoulders gently bobbed, like he was briefly restraining a chuckle- the smile looked nice on him, it was handsome and suited his features. And though it quickly fell away to his usual not-quite-a-frown, you were startled by how different he had looked for that brief moment... how pleasant, how warm. Like there was a happier person lurking just beneath the surface.

“Heh... yeah. I guess so.”

His phalanges tapped on the top of the coffee. Over top of where yours had been, moments ago.

Your customer service voice was slowly slipping away. His proximity was... nice. “Do you need anything else?”

"I like your braids."

"... Thank you." One of your hands immediately came up to fiddle with the hair. Was the warmth in your cheeks showing on your face? You really hoped not. "It's easier to work when it's out of the way."

"I wouldn't know."

...

Both of you broke into quiet laughter. Yours, a warm giggle, his a low rusty chuckle.

“... What’s your name?” He asked.

You usually hated when customers asked for your name, pushing the boundary of customer and server. But... not this time, not at all. You couldn't have been happier. “Rin.”

“... Do you mind if I just... sit here?” He motioned to the seat nearest to the counter.

You nearly beamed.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

... You thought you saw something flicker across his cheekbones. Some kind of colour. But it was gone again, as soon as it appeared; perhaps just a trick of the light. Or your eyes finally showing the strain of so many hours of work. Either way, he took his coffee, and settled into the chair at the table right beside the counter.

... It was silent again, in the cafe. But it was a much different silence. You, wiping down the machines and packing away for the day... Cross, taking his time with his drink.

It really felt, to you, like he just needed to sit near to someone.

... You could live with that person being you.

///---///

Cross was good at keeping his cool. After what he’d been through, what he’d done... his nerves of steel had been forged under unimaginable pressure. He didn’t like that it had become genuinely hard for anything to shake him anymore; it was endless proof of his sins, living in his chest and smothering the person he had once been.

That was why, when Nightmare’s terrifying eye turned to him and pinned him under all of its icy power and rage, cold blue flickering against the castle’s glassy obsidian walls... he didn’t flinch.

“you.” Nightmare’s voice, despite having a light intonation, was not happy. “a word.”

... Cross didn’t react to Killer’s cruel snickering. He didn’t even look the other skeletons’ way- he knew Killer would be grinning like a cat, Axe would be cleaning his weapon with his characteristic disinterest, and Dust would be silently enjoying the beginnings of what may eventually become a slow, painful downfall for Cross.

These people were not his friends. They were deeply unpleasant coworkers, at best.

... Cross followed Nightmare, as his ‘employer’ moved into a separate room. The door closed behind them, cutting off Killer’s laughter.

Blue candlelight warped and flashed in the dark.

...

A tentacle lashed out, faster than Cross could react, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him into the wall. He let out a startled gasp as the appendage held him there, tightly, the pressure increasing until it felt like his spine was inches away from fracturing.

Nightmare’s glare pierced straight into Cross’ Soul.

“you think i’m an idiot?”

Cross couldn’t reply, the pressure on his spine too great. But he reckoned Nightmare wasn’t looking for a response.

“you’re getting soft. you’re hesitating.” Nightmare’s head cocked. “did you think i wouldn’t notice?”

Nightmare’s grip fractionally increased, and he clearly spent a few seconds savouring watching Cross struggle in vain. The twitch in his smile, the bend to his claws, he looked to be taking out as much rage as he could in those short moments.

But apparently, he wasn’t yet willing to kill- despite clearly desiring to press until the spine shattered, Nightmare instead clenched his jaw and let go.

Cross nearly collapsed onto his knees. The quick display of Nightmare’s overwhelming power had staggered him. But he still managed to catch himself, at the last moment, and remain standing.

Perhaps it would’ve been better to fall. The silent defiance in that move seemed to aggravate Nightmare even more.

“you aren’t subtle.” Nightmare hissed. “you move through the multiverse with the grace of a dog in wet concrete. i know you like to slink off to other places. what are you doing? crawling away to go build a new family?”

Cross kept his line of sight down. Nightmare had the powers of a God, but he had the temper of a petulant child, and in these kinds of moods the smallest slips from his minions could push him into a fit of violent rage that sent all of them scurrying for cover.

“No.” Cross responded, as simply as possible, voice strained from the attack to his neck. Now wasn’t the time for flowery words; Nightmare still wasn’t looking for a real reply.

A cruel snicker. “trying to escape? settle down somewhere i can’t find you?”

Your face flickered in Cross’ mind’s eye.

Not right now.

“No.”

“... i like to think you have forgotten i taste lies. because i resent the thought that one of my underlings is so stupid as to know that, but still lie to me.”

Cross steeled himself. “I have nothing to hide.”

“not even that little human woman?”

...

... It took all of his mental control. Every ounce. Another skeleton would’ve cried aloud, perhaps, or frozen as the terror spread through them. Someone they cared about had been noticed by Nightmare... singled out, almost by name.

... You had no idea how much you meant to Cross. No idea that you were often the only thing that could soothe his disturbed Soul when it all felt too much. Your warmth, your kind eyes, how you remembered little details about him... and said his name so gently.

Hearing someone say his name with kindness had been like, for just a moment, being home again.

You didn't know how protective he was of you. What he’d do to keep you safe. And he couldn’t, at any cost, allow Nightmare to think you were someone to him.

He kept his gaze on the glassy black floor. He kept his emotions still.

... He had stifled truly monumental loss and terror, before. This was nothing new.

"... She's a barista." Cross said.

"so that's it?” an incredulous scoff. “you're hopping multiverses to go drink coffee at the same shitty coffee shop in the middle of nowhere?"

"Yes, sir."

"you could go anywhere for your coffee. you could go to italy. indonesia. brazil. anywhere at all- and you go there?"

"Yes." Because you’re there.

...

... Nightmare seemed to be quietly fuming. Though whether it was because he couldn't pin any particular 'crime' onto Cross, or because his snobbery with coffee was coming through, he had no idea.

They both knew that Cross was too valuable of a pawn to die for no solid reason.

... Eventually, Nightmare's rage eased enough for him to speak again.

"i don’t care what games you play in your free time, worm.” His voice was significantly lower. “but you know what will happen, if you don’t do your fucking job. hesitate again, and i certainly won't."

“... It won’t happen again.” Cross replied, not yet allowing himself to feel relief.

The cyan eye flashed. “it won’t happen again, what.”

“... It won’t happen again, sir.”

...

"fine. you may go."

Cross rose to his feet, but kept his eyelights down. He exited the room as swiftly as he could, without appearing desperate to leave.

Don’t feel yet.

Killer was there, of course, waiting just outside the door. Grin as smug and cruel as ever.

"oh, so you're still alive?" The murderer crooned. "for how long, though...?"

Cross gave Killer a witheringly unimpressed look. He had no need to engage in one of his games- he just needed to get as far away from Nightmare as possible, so he could allow himself to process the fears that were itching at the corners of his Soul, threatening to give everything he was hiding away.

He wordlessly walked past Killer. As always, the only thing that seemed to make Killer's constant grin drop was Cross refusing to engage.

///---///

Moving between universes was second nature, by this point in Nightmare’s existence. So much so that he wasn’t at all exaggerating when he said he could see how Cross had moved from one place to the other. The fabric between realities looked disturbed and jagged, in the wake of someone moving clumsily; a rippled pond surface, traces of the offender’s Soul saturating the threads.

It wasn’t difficult to track down where his subordinate had been going. And who he’d been going to.

...

... You turned over, in your bed. There was a soft kind of pain written across your face, something happening within your dream. pathetic. Nightmare tilted his head, as he observed... even if you had been awake, he was indistinguishable from the shadows at the foot of your bed.

Cross' scent was all over you- embarrassing, mushy soft feelings that the 'soldier' clearly couldn't help, they had spilled out of his Soul and stained all over you like a foul hotel blanket under a blacklight. Nightmare almost couldn't stand to be near it.

And yet. Under it all- in your chest, he could see a glittering, jewel-like purple Soul.

Nightmare’s gaze zeroed in. she’s a perseverance mage.

... His smile curled. A little more interesting. Did Cross know? Did you know? There was a significant degree of power, flowing through those veins, magic just waiting to be harnessed. Even Nightmare couldn’t deny it was pretty to observe- he was always partial to royal purple.

... You made a sound, in your sleep. A crease formed between your brows.

...

Well. He was curious, now. And he hadn’t tormented a human in a long time.

He slipped, completely undetected by your Soul and mind, into your dream. Before he began to terrify you it was probably a good idea to observe your thoughts, get a sense of any treachery Cross may have committed... any details his underling may have spilled, that could justify erasing another human pest from the multiverse.

... A myriad of pleasant tastes. Melancholy, loss, a hint of misplaced and directionless anger. Overall, a delicate combination of flavours, but sweet nonetheless.

He could see the dream’s scene, emerging before him. how delightful.

... Dreams were, by no means, easy places to be. Though Nightmare was powerful he was also an interloper and there was a real danger that a strong human Soul like yours could cast him out. The dreams of mages were often like rocking boats on a great ocean- until he took the reins, the residual waves made him feel sick, tossed about. It was important to get his bearings.

The backdrop was a sea of blurry images, nearly-forgotten places melting together in your mind. A park, a bedroom, a dark street. And... there was two of you.

...

... No. He could smell the emotions rolling off of you, as you stared at this mirror image of yourself. The mirror image... she wore different clothes. Frilly and sweet ones. The adult features of her face were exaggerated, imagined- unlike your messily self-braided locks, her hair was sweetly ringlet curled, as if done lovingly by another's skilled hands.

And her eyes, though so similar to yours, were someone else’s eyes.

Melancholy. Regret. Anger.

...

Nightmare suddenly... felt his chest tighten.

that's... her sister.

a twin.

... His thoughts were getting quieter and quieter. Static, faintly ringing in his skull... he couldn't taste the emotions anymore.

“... I wonder if you would’ve cared.” You said, quietly, to the blank and silent sister before you. “I guess I’ll never know.”

The reflection didn't smile.

His brother's face flickered in his mind's eye.

...

Nightmare drew in a sharp breath- suddenly staggered, he immediately withdrew from the dream. He moved back from the bed like a live snake was laying within it.

He gripped his shirt. His chest... it was so heavy. Why did it feel so heavy? He took another step away.

i didn't think anyone could comprehend how i felt.

let alone...

... He didn't like how, when he looked at you, for a moment he didn't immediately see prey.

Just a sleeping person.

...

In an instant, he was back in his room. Back in his castle, where he was safe, and alone.

...

Nightmare let out a slow, dark breath. And though he hadn't yet fully re-centred himself, his grin regardless began to return.

As much as he was aggravated by Cross... he almost had to thank him.

His ‘soldier’ had bought such a fascinating creature to his full attention, after all.

#commissions #its a total accident that i post a commission abt cross after he wins the sexyman contest #ig the universe had to will it

295 notes · View notes