Sans AU One-Shots

Nightmare || writer.

Pairing: Nightmare x Female Reader
Prompt: What if the (Y/n) in my book His Summoner was the author? Aka you take the POV of me and interact with the real, canon Nightmare.
Type: ranty, realistic, toxic (canon Noche is a villain after all)
Length: 6k words
Background: It'll be useful to have read His Summoner, otherwise you can just enjoy the rants of an author.
Notes: If you wanted a glimpse into my mind plus the chance to hang out with Noche, then this is for you. Life's stressors can be draining, so make sure to take care of yourself, kiddo. Because somebody really cares about you <3

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I sighed heavily, shaking my hands in my (h/c) hair so the strands bounced on my head. I would've found playing with my hair a lot more amusing if I wasn't currently stressed out of my mind and only doing it as a way to release that stress—even if it was a piss poor way of doing it. Heaving a sigh, I rubbed my hands over my face and stared through my screen. How long had it been since I did anything other than work, school, and all the little mandatory tasks in between? Even the weekend was filled with studying and homework and going to the doctor and shopping and all the other basic living necessities I needed to do since I had no weekday time to do it.

I rested my head in my hands. It had been way too long since I could remember what freetime was. The thing was: I didn't even know what I'd do with it if I ever found the time to enjoy it. My life had been nothing but go go go for too long now, and as tiring as it was, it provided a structure to my days that was reliable and almost comforting - in a weird way. It gave me something to complain about, but even complaining had turned tiring. It was tiring being tired, and since sleep was evading me like a demon evaded lying, I knew that better than most.

"Are you quite done wallowing in self pity?" The voice made me snap my head up, and I smiled over at Nightmare. My room was dark, and I hadn't even noticed him shortcut inside. My smile clearly irritated him based on the fact that his teeth pulled back in a snarl (or as well as a skeleton could), but that didn't stop something smart from flying past my lips.

"I was actually gonna do this until I went to sleep since I have nothing better to do. Why? Too much negativity, my King?" His eyesocket twitched. While 'my King' was initially a term of endearment, I'd learned quite quickly how well it got on his nerves—of which there were a lot to get on—so I'd taken to calling him that with all the theatrics I could muster just to get a rise out of him. He made it way too easy. And this time was no different, as a tentacle on his back flicked irritably.

"It is becoming tiresome. Stop it." It was a clear order. I spun in my chair to face him, happy for any kind of distraction I could get.

"I thought you kept me around for my constant negativity," I mused, tilting my head to the side curiously. Goodness knows I had more than enough negativity to keep him sated for years, even if I liked to pretend it didn't exist. Stress was a beautiful force of negativity—or so he'd told me—and my constant sleep deprivation, lack of freetime, and general life troubles gave him enough reason to keep me around. That and, well, I was writing him into a story.

The story was, in a word, ambitious. It had taken a lot of time and effort, and since I'd already cracked 500 pages, it was nothing short of lengthy. I wasn't done, and I worked hard on it whenever I was able to, but there was only so much inspiration left in me or motivation to write, and I'd started to run dry on ideas. Don't get me wrong, the story was nearly complete, all I had was the final stretch, but that final stretch went on for miles when I lacked any and all freetime to write in the first place and the right way to end the story so it was satisfying. If the 500+ pages I wrote already went to waste cuz the ending sucked, I'd off myself (kidding. maybe.).