Sanscest One Shots || OLD and MOVED

~ Crossmare ~

Warning: Self Harm
Requested by MissMiniNeko
Hhh I never wrote something like this before oopsies-
—-

Cross was, generally speaking, a pretty tough sans. He was pretty strong, serving in the royal guard.

Nightmare couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Cross, though. Everyone he knew had a weakness.

Like Error's Fear of being touched or Ink's reliability on his paintbrush.

He's never discovered what Cross's weakness could be. Nightmare, at this point, was stumped on how to exploit Cross.

Nightmare sighed and sat on the couch lazily. It was a chill day, so Error was spending the day alone while Dust and Horror where bickering.

Cross, though, was no where to be seen. Nightmare couldn't help but be concerned. He tried to deny it, telling himself that Cross was fine.

Now, Nightmare would never accept it, but he may have a small crush on the smaller skeleton. Or maybe he was confused.

Cross was always so unpredictable and interesting. He kept everyone on their toes, and even he was impressed.

One thing that Cross had that no one else did was empathy. After every battle, he would help his teammates who got hurt.

Nightmare was stuck in his own head, zoning out until Killer snapped his fingers in front of his face.

"Hey, Boss. Your boyfriend's here." Killer mumbled. Cross glared at Killer, blushing slightly. Nightmare suppressed the urge to slap him.

"Hey Cross." Nightmare lazily greeted. Cross waved and sat beside him. The air got tense quick, since they where both pretty bad at small talk.

"How have you been taking the break?" Cross asked, breaking the silence. Nightmare sighed and looked back at him.

"I've always got to stay on guard." Nightmare stated. He was enjoying it, but he didn't want Cross to think he was weak.

"You should relax sometimes, Nighty." Cross said. "I know you're immortal and all, but why not relax."

Nightmare hummed. Cross smiled shyly, almost as if he was worried about what Nightmare has to say.

"Maybe I will." Nightmare smiled. He blushed a bit once he realized that he called him Nighty.

"Well, I'll be off." Cross said, sitting up and walking away. Nightmare wanted him to stay, but choked his wants down his throat.

"That was so painfully awkward." Cross muttered to himself. He sighed and rolled up his sleeves. His look changed to an unreadable one.

Scars and cuts danced around his arms. For every mistake he's ever made. Whenever he's sad, he takes his razor from the drawer.

It's almost like a drug to him. The first few times he hated it, but something was just so addicting about the pain.

Grabbing his razor. He pinched the top and drew in a large cut. Fresh blood seeped out as he bit his (lip?) to hold back his pain.