((Still WIP, might fix it later))

You still weren't entirely sure why Nightmare had picked you. Maybe he just liked that you weren't an idiot like the rest of the gang, or maybe it was something else he wasn't saying. Either way, you’d ended up as his favorite—the one person he actually tolerated. He was cold to everyone else, but with you, that sharp, dangerous edge of his seemed to soften, if only by a fraction.

The castle was finally quiet. The others had cleared out, leaving you alone in the living room. You were just minding your own business, finally catching a break, when the air in the room suddenly turned heavy.

The temperature dropped, and you didn't even have to look up to know he was there.

Nightmare didn’t say anything at first. He just moved into your space, his shadow looming over you before a thick, slick tentacle reached out and curled around your arm. The grip was firm and cool, not hurting you, but definitely making it clear you weren't supposed to move.

He leaned down, his presence a dark, freezing weight against your back as he hovered just over your shoulder.

"Don't get up," he muttered, his voice just a low, quiet rumble near your ear. It wasn't an order, more like he was just tired and didn't want to be alone. He stayed like that for a beat, his grip on your arm lingering while he watched the rest of the empty room.

"The others were getting on my nerves," he said, his voice dropping even lower. "I'd rather just be here."