#Dragon Sans

[lucyhblack]

Summary: Dream is sick and his lovers take care of him (with the exception of one).

That's not the title I wanted to give... but unfortunately I couldn't think of anything better... T_T

This takes place in the wonderful Dragon Balance AU by @paintedkinzy-88 (if you don't know it I highly recommend reading it now!) and some time later, when everyone has been in a relationship for some time (but before Ccino joins the poly ).

The text between "" in XChara and Cross' conversation is a mental conversation, Dream can't hear them, but he knows that XChara is present at the moment.

XChara doesn't have any romantic feelings for Dream, he's there to support Cross and worried about Dream because he's important to Cross/and a good friend at that point.

Hope you like it!

Killer could hear the sound of the frying pan hitting the stove, as well as the clanking of dishes, the rustling of cutlery, and the small argument that was about to break out, before he even turned the corner. He smiled amusedly, already thinking about how to inflame the small argument into a fight of epic proportions!

Turning the corner he entered the kitchen to the sight of his lovers (his family) preparing for breakfast.

Cross pushed Dust's head, who pushed the monochromatic skeleton's head in return, both holding a glass and a cup respectively in their free hands. Horror had his back turned, ignoring them in favor of the pancakes he was preparing on the stove.

Killer opened his mouth, the words (like liquid fuel about to be thrown onto a fire) already on the tip of his tongue, when he noticed the two empty chairs.

Nightmare had gone to “take care of some business” yesterday, so it was to be expected that he wouldn’t be at the table, but the other empty chair was new.

-Where's Sunshine? – he asked, looking at the second empty seat as if it were going to answer him.

Dream was an early bird, not by choice, but by habit, and since he had moved to the castle, he had ALWAYS arrived before Killer at breakfast.

-His name is Dream. – Cross replied grumpily, moving away from Dust.

Killer (and Dust) made a sound of contempt at Cross' reprimand.

Turning around he raised an eyebrow at the ex-guard who after a little staring contest averted his lights to the empty chair and frowned.

Seeing that Cross was going to take over his role of threatening the chair for answers, he turned to Dust (who honestly wasn't much better at giving answers than a chair). As expected Dust just shrugged his shoulders without revealing anything.

Killer then turned to Horror, his last hope. The big guy was always the first person to enter the kitchen, maybe he knew where Dream was.

Horror flipped the pancake before placing it among the pile of others and poured more batter into the frying pan, only then spoke.

-He hasn't come down yet. – he then turned his skull so that his red eye was fixed on Killer. – I'm almost done. Go call him.

-I can...

-I go...

-Yes sir, captain!

While Cross and Dust glared at each other after having spoken at the same time, Killer quickly turned around and took a shortcut to Dream's room. The two could even try to follow him, but whoever starts first has the advantage.

He opened the door and hummed with all the sadistic joy he possessed in his twisted soul.

-Time to rise and shine!!!

Dream didn't like sleeping with the curtains closed (he didn't like not knowing when the day dawned, he found it disorienting, or so he said. For Killer he was just afraid of the dark) so his curtains were a thin thing that were rarely closed , so the room was quite bright (as much as Nightmare's dark world allowed) and he could see relatively easily.

A startled noise came from the bed, and the lump in the center thrashed like a drowning man trying to find the surface (if he hadn't slept with 2 duvets, a baby blanket, various cushions, pillows, and stuffed animals, maybe it wouldn't have been so difficult to find your way out of bed).

Killer walked over, almost vibrating with delight (so many jokes about early birds and lazy skeletons!), but all the joy was gone when Dream's head finally popped out from under the blanket.

It was always funny to see the guardian without his tiara, it felt like something was missing (like seeing Horror without the hole in his head. It happened once in an alternative AU that only lasted a few hours), but it wasn't the lack of the golden accoutrement that caught his attention.

Dream blinked trying to get his bearings, groaning as he turned towards the windows, only to quickly turn away with a groan and turn back to Killer blinking even more.

-Good morning, Killer.

If the yellowish appearance of Dream's skull wasn't enough (which had nothing to do with blushing, but the coloring of the bone itself), which in itself would be a warning for concern, as Dream had some of the whitest bones Killer had already seen it (which was something, since he had seen hundreds and hundreds of skeletons across the Multiverse), there were still the dark spots under the eye sockets and his voice that sounded absolutely destroyed.

(If it had been anyone other than Dream, he would have made a joke that last night had been "good", but he knew Dream well and knew that he hadn't been drinking or doing “other things” last night)

When the skeleton made to crawl out of the bed (or the plush trap that passed for a bed) Killer stopped him with a hand on his ribcage.

-Hmm? -Dream grumbled. His head bobbed like one of those spring-headed puppies that Farm insisted on putting on his brother's tractor, which would be funny if it weren't so worrying.

-You're not leaving this bed. - He ordered, and if it weren't for his concern for the sick skeleton, even he himself would find his serious and slightly nervous tone strange.

Dream's eyes widened. A golden blush appeared on his cheeks which lightened the yellow tone of his bones making them appear lighter in contrast to the shine.

-Hum... Killer... I'm not really in the mood...

This time Killer was the one who widened his eyes, realizing how his words could be interpreted.

(He would later have a little chat with Horror to find out exactly what expression and tone he was projecting to his lovers that Dream had so badly confused his concern with desire)

In another situation he would have jumped right at Dream's jugular and teased him to death for jumping to hasty conclusions, but worry made him lose his sharp tongue.

(not that he wouldn't save it for later when Dream didn't look like a Halloween skeleton that had been long forgotten in some musty basement)

Dream tried to get out again, but Killer pressed his ribcage again and as proof of how bad the guardian was, he gave in immediately.

-Ah-hã. Very funny, but you won't be leaving this bed and you certainly won't be doing anything more strenuous than breathing!

Dream blinked, seeming not to understand Killer's words.

-What?

Killer snorted.

-You're clearly sick. You're going to stay in bed today.

This time it was Dream who snorted and immediately started coughing. Killer sat next to him holding the other skeleton's shoulders as him was shaken by the coughing fit.

-I'm fine... – Dream croaked and Killer laughed humorlessly.

-I am seeing. You just sound like you swallowed a blender and look like a cross between an old, half-melted candle and a panda. – Letting go of one shoulder, he brought his hand to Dream's cheek, happily noticing that it wasn't much warmer than normal.

(Dream was always warm, almost like fresh blood... or a mug of warm tea on a cold day)

-Killer, I'm....

-I'll sit on you to keep you in bed if I have to! – Killer threatened and this silenced the guardian for a few seconds before he retorted.

-Hum... depending on where, I won't complain...

The smart answer (and clearly double meaning) hit him like a punch and he looked in astonishment (and embarrassment). Dream let out a wheezing laugh and Killer had to hold him again while he was hit by another coughing fit.

Well, at least his mood hadn't been affected.

***

Dream made himself more comfortable on the bed (as much as his aching body would allow) and sighed. He had promised Killer he would stay in bed, and honestly? He thought he couldn't fail to keep his promise, even if he didn't want to.

His whole body hurt, especially his joints. His head felt like it was full of cotton, at the same time very heavy and very light. Even the inside of his eye sockets hurt (how was that possible when there was nothing there?!).

The worst part wasn't the pain, he thought, staring at the ceiling. The pain was something he could bear, the worst was the feeling of exhaustion, the feeling of “something wrong” and mental lethargy. He seemed to be thinking normally, but he knew better. His thoughts were slower...almost in a loop. He was thinking about something and suddenly found himself repeating “I don’t feel well” or “there’s something wrong with me”.

He had woken up feeling that if he breathed a little harder his body would collapse like a jenga tower. He lay there, without opening his eye sockets and trying to figure out why he was feeling so tired and weak.

Something was wrong, he thought hazily. Even so, he made an effort to gather the strength to get up and get ready for the day... but he was so tired... it wouldn't hurt to sleep for another 5 minutes, right? Just 5 more minutes... (or 10... maybe 15... no more than 20!) and then he would get up.

He had fallen asleep again and his 5 minutes had long passed if the fact that Killer came to wake him up meant anything.

Now he regretted it. He should have gotten up. His “5 minutes” not only did nothing for him (he felt even more tired) and also caused concern for others.

Speaking of others...

The door opened with a bang and Dream woke up with a start realizing that she had dozed off. Blinking, he stared at the three skeletons piled up on the floor. Horror growled and walked past the three (who began to curse and fight with each other while rolling around on the floor), being careful with the tray he was holding. The smell hit him almost at the same time as the sight of the still-steaming pancakes.

Clutching the duvet in one fist he forced himself to keep his face neutral. Normally just the thought of pancakes, especially those made by Horror (or anything he cooked) would be enough to make him salivate, and although the sight made his non-existent stomach tighten, it wasn't in a good way.

He sat down (or rather shuffled and rocked until he could lift his upper body) as the tall skeleton placed the tray carefully beside him. There was a plate with a stack of golden pancakes covered in syrup, a glass of milk, and even a small vase with a red flower.

The gesture alone warmed Dream. He smiled genuinely at Horror who returned it. Seeing that the other didn't move and was looking at him expectantly, Dream picked up the glass of milk and held it, but made no move to bring it to his mouth.

To distract himself (and the skeleton that was staring at him like a one-eyed eagle) he looked at the door where the other three had gotten up but were still fighting. He couldn't define his feelings (only feel the discomfort they caused), but he didn't need to be an empath to know they were about to fly at each other's throats. To avoid future fights, Dream cleared his throat (very carefully so as not to fall into another coughing fit) to get the attention of the brawlers.

It worked really well.

Killer jumped up and turned to Dream, completely forgetting about the other two. He approached quickly, calming down when he saw that Dream didn't have an extreme reaction this time. Dust and Cross followed closely behind, heaping next to the bed.

Dream was touched, really, but this reaction only made him feel worse.

-I am fine....

All 3 skeletons, with the exception of Killer, widened their eye sockets.

-You didn't say he sounded like a frog! – Dust accused.

-I said he was sick, what did you expect?

-Do you have a sore throat, Dream? – Cross asked in a tone that mixed sympathy and concern.

-Ginger, garlic, lemon... – muttered Horror.

Dream grimaced. His throat didn't hurt and he honestly didn't understand why his voice sounded so horrible.

(Well, actually he could guess an answer. He didn't have vocal chords or a throat to inflame. As a skeleton his voice was generated by magic, and since his magic was affected by the disease... it was pretty obvious why his voice was sounding like he spent all night in karaoke singing havy mettal)

(a very fun experience, but with unpleasant consequences for those who had no experience, even for people without vocal cords, he knew from his own experience)

-I am fine. – he said, trying to modulate his voice better this time.

-Only if it's the role of a zombie in those series that Killer likes. – Dust mocked.

-Dust! – Cross scolded.

-What? He's terrible! He's the color of those old papers (parchments, whispered Horror helpfully) that Nightmare collects and looks like Killer when he tries to wipe the goo off his face.

Cross opened his mouth to argue, but closed it and Killer just stared at Dust, the said black trails on his cheeks getting a little brighter the more liquid hate leaked out.

Dream thought about saying something to lighten the mood, but what came out was.

-Am I that bad?

The 4 skeletons turned to him with varying degrees of panic.

-No!

-Of course, no!

-You are great! I mean to say...

-Dust is exaggerating....

The 4 tried to argue at the same time.

Dream held back a smile. He hadn't expected to send them into a panic or anything, but their reaction was priceless.

He was sick. He admitted it, but it wasn't the end of the world or anything like that. He certainly wasn't going to die and it didn't justify their concern and especially their time wasted on him.

-Thanks guys. - he said, cutting off the verbiage. – I... I'm not well, – he corrected himself when he saw the 4 of them look at him with ugly faces – but I'll stay, I just need to rest a little.

-Yes!

-Clear!

-Undoubtedly!

And with that Cross started pushing the other two out of the room, promising that he would keep them out of the room so Dream could sleep in peace. Dust left without protest, but Killer continued complaining and acting limp the entire way.

Horror also got up, following Cross's cue, but stopped at the door, and after a moment, he turned back to the bed. Dream looked at him expectantly and Horror leaned over pointing at the pancakes.

-This is making you sick, isn't it?

Dream faced the monster with his mind in a whirl, looking for an excuse. He didn't want to offend Horror by saying that the food (something so precious to him) that he had prepared so carefully was making him sick. He was about to deny it (and even force himself to eat some) when he stared into that red eye and found himself paralyzed.

Without a word he gritted his teeth and just nodded, unable to lie to him. Horror smiled and Dream felt like a weight had been lifted from his ribs.

The skeleton with a split head then gently took the glass from Dream's hands and placed it on the tray, then picked it up with just one hand. He caressed Dream's skull, who marveled once again at the other monster's delicacy, despite its size, strength and savagery that those bones could contain.

-Rest a little. I'll make something lighter for you.

With one last stroke he straightened up and left carrying the untouched tray, muttering about mint and rice.

Dream snuggled under the covers, feeling warm. Heat that didn't just have to do with the covers, much less with his illness.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face and a feeling of contentment.

***

Of all the things that could come with one of them being sick, he never imagined Cross would freak out.

They let Dream sleep until almost noon. By then, he had already set up two lunches, (sandwiches for them and a light, nutritious broth for Dream), as well as a special pot of tea. (an old recipe from his time underground with some additions of things he had recently learned from Life)

In the meantime they had to deal with Cross standing guard at Dream's bedroom door, breaking into Nightmare's library for medical books, throwing a "tantrum" because none of the books talked about monster illnesses (to which Dust reminded him scathingly that even if he had, it wouldn't be of any use since Dream was a “special case”), so he was looking for dragon diseases, and having another crisis after not finding anything useful despite the amount of books about the so-called giant lizards.

(many of Nightmare's acquisitions in his search for answers about his peculiar dragon nature)

Honestly, he was almost approving of Killer's idea of tying him up in one of the castle's scenic dungeons. It was only the fact that he knew it was worry for Dream that was leaving him like this that he held back, but his patience was wearing thin.

-Here! Do something useful.

Horror placed the tray in Cross's hands and watched the skeleton struggle to balance everything for a moment. As soon as the liquid stopped oscillating inside the containers, Cross turned his mismatched lights on Horror with a silent question.

Raising an eyebrow (and ignoring Killer and Dust who had lifted their skulls from the table like hyenas at the smell of blood) he glared back before shooing him away.

-Let's go! Before it gets cold!

With a start Cross turned and disappeared. Smiling, he turned to finish tidying up the counter and found himself facing the other two skeletons.

-What? –he asked when he saw the twin looks of disbelief..

-Why, Brutus?! - Killer whimpered dramatically.

Horror turned his only light and went to put away the remaining items.

-Did you want to deal with another one of his crises or brilliant ideas? Because I wanted a break.

Furthermore, he imagined that Dream could intuit Cross's mood and would be the only one who could calm him down (since Nightmare wasn't there).

Not that he wasn't worried. He was! Monsters didn't get sick easily. Viruses, worms and bacteria could not affect them. Of course, they were susceptible to poisons and diseases of the soul and mind. Since he was the one preparing everyone's meals and Dream didn't have strange eating habits like the others to blame, he was sure he hadn't been poisoned.

More or less.

He had a good guess as to why Dream was sick, and he knew that the others were thinking the same thing too (except Cross who in his panic hadn't come to the obvious conclusion) and if he was right, worrying or getting angry wouldn't help Dream in nothing to improve.

Dream needed peace, rest and good feelings. With that in mind he left the other two skeletons with their sandwiches (and an express order that they eat everything without whining) and left to visit a specific AU in search of the perfect items for the meal he was planning for later.

***

Cross fumbled as he balanced the tray with one hand and knocked on the door with the other.

“You should just go in! He must be asleep and won’t hear you.” – complained XChara.

Cross ignored him, watching carefully as the liquid in the containers wavered until it stopped before trying again. When no one responded a second time, and XChara had stopped huffing, he turned the handle and entered.

(No one could accuse him of having no manners!)

The room was exactly the same as when he left it that morning only this time he could hear Dream snoring softly. He approached silently and peeked at the sleeping skeleton.

Dream was wrapped in his sea of blankets, with only his face out (the fleeting image of a caterpillar in a cocoon flashed through his mind).

He didn't look much better... In fact, he looked even more yellowish in contrast to the colors around him.

“We should let him sleep.” – suggested XChara, looking over Cross's shoulder.

“But Horror said he should eat....he also needs energy to fight...whatever that is.”

Despite his words, Cross hesitated.

What if he couldn't eat?

What if it was something serious?

Dream let out a soft moan and it brought him out of his paralysis.

Placing the tray on the nightstand (it was lucky that Dream only kept the lamp and a glass of water there) he leaned over Dream to wake him up.

-Dream? Dream?! – he called, but Dream just groaned and turned around, burying himself in the blankets. XChara said nothing, but Cross could almost hear the “lazy skeletons” he thought.

(and if Cross felt amusement oozing from the other soul, he chose not to comment)

Cross then held Dream's shoulder so he wouldn't run away and called him a little louder. Dream woke up blinking disoriented, turning to Cross with a sleepy smile.

-Hi...-he said hoarsely.

-Hey. – Saldou Cross moved away and gave Dream space to get up, but staying close in case he needed help.

Dream managed to position himself sitting on the pillows, although the act took longer than usual. It squeezed something in Cross's soul.

"Wow! That’s a reheated shit face!”

“Shut up!”

Dream winked at Cross and then turned to the nightstand and Cross jumped up to grab the tray.

-Horror prepared lunch.

Dream looked appraisingly at the tray and Cross felt something inside him plummet as he saw the already pale yellow lights become even paler.

-Ah, gosh, thank you! But you could have called me, I would have come down... Where are the others?

Cross felt a pang at the thought that he wasn't enough, being promptly discarded.

“He’s trying to distract us.” – warned XChara.

"I know!"

-Aren't you hungry? It's already past noon...

Dream looked away.

“He didn’t have dinner yesterday either.”

Three skipped meals... not good.

Could he get sick from not eating? Monsters were different from humans when it came to food, but even they needed food to survive.

“Give him the tea.” – ordered XChara.

"There is?" – he thought foolishly.

“The tea, your empty head! It’s with mint, to alleviate discomfort!”

Ignoring XChara, Cross picked up the tea.

(It wasn't his fault that he didn't pay attention to Horror's ramblings when he cooked. He was busy cursing the doctors and healers who never bothered to study dragons!)

-Can you at least have tea? Horror said it was a special recipe...

It was cruel to manipulate Dream like this when he was in such bad shape, but he needed something to eat.

Taking the cup, Dream brought it to his teeth and under the supervision of the other skeleton and the disembodied human, he took a sip. The former guard and the human's soul held their expectations until Dream swallowed. With an expression of relief, Dream took another sip and Cross's shoulders sagged.

-Thanks. – he blurted out and Dream flashed his lights at him.

-Hm, I think I'm the one who should thank you. – Dream smiled – But I must warn you that you are going to make me ill-accustomed... bringing me meals in bed...

-If you let us, we would always bring it.

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Feeling his face heat up, he tried to fix it.

-I mean, it's Horror who prepares it, but he certainly wouldn't mind bringing it, nor would the others... I mean... - he fell silent when Chara's laughter became too loud in his mind.

Dream blinked and a light golden blush bloomed on his cheeks. He looked healthier (and handsome his foolish mind offered) like this. He hid his smile in his cup as he took another sip.

“We need to improve your lines, boy in love. And your time too! The guy dying and you flirting....”

-He's not dying!!!

He only realized he exploded when he saw Dream's shocked expression. He immediately flinched, letting his collar cover his teeth as he felt his skull heat up. Dream placed the empty cup back on the tray and straightened up to face Cross seriously.

-No, I'm definitely not. - Dream spoke very calmly. Although his voice still sounded a little strange, he was a little better than he was when he first visited in the morning.

Cross lowered his face even further, staring at his feet until he felt a pair of hands grab his wrist and force him to face those bright yellow lights.

-Listen... – requested Dream in a tone that would not accept arguments - I'm sick, but I'm not dying. It's just a silly cold or something. It's not the first time I've been sick.

-No? – Cross said excitedly.

-Of course not! I remember a storm once... it soaked me and Nightmare to the bone! – he paused and Cross snorted at the stupid attempt at humor. XChara mumbled something like “skeletons and their bone puns” – I was shaky and feverish the whole next day. Nightmare wrapped me in my cape and made me chew an entire head of garlic!

Cross grimaced and Dream nodded in agreement.

-Yes, he was a sadist from a young age. There was his fellow guardian, delirious with fever and he does what? Urgh, I don't think I ever completely got rid of the taste!

“That explains why he doesn’t like garlic bread.”

Cross ignored XChara's remark in favor to confirm.

-But you got better...

Dream considered.

-Well, yes... but I'm not sure if it was the garlic... so please don't make me repeat the feat.

Cross chuckled at Dream's grimace.

-What I mean is that even guardians, dragons or not, can get sick. So don't worry, I'll get better. – after a considerable pause he continued - Have you never been sick yourself, Cross?

-Oh yes! There were a few times.

-And what did you do?

Cross tried to remember what had made him better when he was sick.

-I... I'm not sure... I think... I think XGaster just... “fixed it”.

The few times he felt bad he remembered being hot and dizzy, but continuing to study, or train until his body gave out and he passed out. He would then wake up in his bed, completely recovered the next morning.

(or maybe it wasn't really illness, but just exhaustion)

He didn't remember if Papyrus or Alphys had ever been sick, but he remembered Frisk catching a cold once. XGaster had forbidden them from visiting him, so he also had no idea how the human had reacted or been treated.

The silence became heavy.

“Toriel would put a cold compress on our foreheads and feed us in our mouths and Asgore would pick us up and rock us until we fell asleep.”

Cross startled, having forgotten about the human. He glanced sideways and saw XChara sitting with his back to them, floating about 10 cm above the mattress. His tone was as always when he spoke of long-rewritten memories. A mixture of nostalgia and longing, seasoned with pain and anger.

-I... I think I could have some soup...

The hesitant tone broke the awkward mood and Cross turned to Dream with renewed hope.

-Serious? – he wanted to confirm and Dream nodded.

Cross hurried to take the bowl, but hesitated when it came to handing it over.

He paused for a moment, revisiting the borrowed memory, realizing that both the former monarchs' care and the young Nightmare's attempted care may have done nothing to cure the illness, but served to soothe and even make them feel better. Filled with determination, he made up his mind. Dream didn't have a fever and he couldn't rock him to sleep (not if he wanted him to eat first), but he could feed him.

-Here!

He dipped the spoon into the broth and offered it to Dream who stared at the spoon in confusion. Dream tried to take the spoon, but Cross refused, taking it away carefully so as not to spill it. The two looked at each other (Cross was in a cold sweat and ready to give up, hand over the spoon and then go bury himself in shame in the gardens) and with a glow of amusement and a very slight blush, only noticeable due to their proximity, Dream opened his mouth.

Cross wasn't doing anything more than a job that Dream could do on his own (even when sick) very well, but this simple silly act filled him with satisfaction. He was doing something for Dream, even if that something did nothing to effectively cure his illness.

“Pftt! You guys are ridiculous!”

It was easy to ignore XChara's comment, mainly because the words were filled with mocking affection, but also because of the renewed glow in the ailing guardian's lights.

***

After Cross left him, carrying the almost empty bowl and a smile that would go from ear to ear (if he had ears) and a blush of satisfaction, Dream lay back on the bed feeling light and full at the same time. Despite it being just liquid (and not having consumed the entire bowl) the meal satisfied him as if he had eaten a banquet and the relief and happiness of the two half souls left him warm and relaxed.

He lay like that, in a state of calm contentment and imagined that he would soon fall asleep (and hopefully be well enough to leave the bed when he woke up). As expected he fell asleep quickly, only this time he didn't sink into a deep sleep like before. Her mind seemed to keep working, even if he couldn't identify what she was working on.

Groaning, he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling of his room.

(Nightmare had asked Ink to paint a clear sky in his room, since the real one could almost never be seen. Ink had outdone himself and painted a blue sky with beautiful, incredibly realistic white clouds. He will even include seagulls and an eagle in each corner - and a small self-portrait in his dragon form in a corner half-hidden by a cloud that brought an amused smile when Dream discovered it)

What time would it be? Normally he could tell the time by the position of the sun (which wasn't an easy thing with the always cloudy skies of Nightmare's world), but at the moment he could only see the light that was filtered through the curtain, and that didn't help him figure it out the hours.

(Looking for his cell phone on his bedside table seemed like a herculean task. He should buy an alarm clock like the boys)

It was still light, so he figured he hadn't gotten that much sleep. He pondered whether he should get up or stay in bed.

On the one hand, he still didn't feel well (better than in the morning, but certainly not 100%) and maybe it would be better to lie down and rest (no, it had nothing to do with Killer's threats to tie him to the bed if he dared to get up). On the other... his room was so silent and empty...

Hugging one of the pillows he turned around burying his face in it, trying to go back to sleep (resting would be the quickest way to recover, he imagined). He tried to count apples, but quickly lost count (his mind began to shuffle the gold from the black and he gave up), but sleep just wouldn't come.

Turning around he faced the ceiling and mumbled

-Booooredom....

As if his muttering was a summoning spell, Dust suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. Dream jumped in fright and Dust imitated him, both looking at each other in fear.

-Um... sorry... I didn't mean to wake you up... – Dust muttered, lowering his head and letting his hood cover his face.

-Everything is fine. I was already awake. – Dream ran to reassure him.

Both were silent.

Of everyone in the castle, Dust was the hardest and easiest to read. His expressionless face most of the time, like now, gave no clue to his thoughts, on the other hand, apart from Cross, he was the one who was least able to hide his feelings, and now there was a somewhat confusing mix of feelings.

Some he couldn't define, but he could capture a hint of pride and excited expectation. He smiled, waiting for Dust to finally speak.

-Sorry, invading... I just wanted to leave this here... – he raised his hands showing that he was holding something.

-What is it? – Dream asked, filling with curiosity.

Dust approached the bed and opened his hands. Resting in his palms was a sort of compact pyramid of light green sand with tiny blue, purple, and yellow dots. As soon as he exposed it to the air, Dream smelled a soft fragrance of cut grass, ripe apples, Life's fur in the sun and the tea that Horror had prepared for him.

Dream blinked in astonishment.

-What is that?

-An environment bomb.

-One...??? – he looked confused and Dust placed the small pyramid on his nightstand.

-An environment bomb. – he repeated before stopping and pondering – That's what I'm calling her. I made it like a bath bomb, but instead of dissolving in water it dissolves in air.

-Oh! Like an incense?

Dust pondered.

-Yeah, just without the smoke. I thought this wouldn't cause any coughing.

Dust's care not to further irritate his symptoms touched him. He felt his smile widen until his face hurt.

-Thank you, Dust! It's incredible!!

The skeleton nodded and looked away again, but Dream could still see the faint violet glow from within the hood as well as feel the rise of his pride and contentment.

The fragrance changed and he smelled the sea, violets, chalk dust mixed with fresh snow.

-That's very inventive, how did you do it?

Dust shrugged and in an indifferent tone he began to talk about how he prepared the environment bomb. Despite the restrained tone and indifferent expression, Dream could feel the other skeleton's satisfaction and happiness. Dream didn't understand half of the magical explanation and ingredients that the other had used, but that didn't matter.

He would have been content with just Dust's stoic company, so having him talk was a pleasure in itself. Even more so in the excited way (for Dust) he was.

His boredom dissolved immediately and he soon found himself jumping from the environment bomb, onto the next hooded skeleton project. He may not have contributed much to the conversation, but if his “Ah!”, “Hmm” and “Fascinating! Tell me more!" they were enough for Dust, so they were enough for him.

Some time later someone knocked on the door and Dream invited him in. Horror appeared with a tray and a smile. He raised a bony eyebrow at Dust who had fallen silent when he heard the knocks and just stared at the large skeleton in silence. Approaching, Horror placed the tray next to Dream.

On the tray was a plate of biscuits, a peeled and sliced pear, and another mug of tea. Dream's non-existent stomach growled and he realized that not only was he hungry, but that the sight and smell of food didn't make him sick. He took a slice of the fruit and ate it.

Horror purred softly beside him, his eyelids lowering as contentment rolled off him in waves. Dust smirked and stole a cookie from the tray, throwing it into his mouth at the same time as Horror's purr turned into a growl at the flagrant theft.

Dream opened his mouth to say that he didn't mind sharing (there were a lot of cookies and despite his hunger he suspected he wouldn't be able to eat all of them), but Dust choked and started coughing. Dream was alarmed while Horror laughed.

-Ew! Ginger! – Dust complained after controlling his cough.

Placated by the fact that it wasn't anything serious, he also ended up laughing at Dust's grimace, his violet tongue sticking out and his look of profound disgust at the plate of cookies.

-They are for Dream not for you.

Dust looked betrayed at Horror who held the amused look before relenting.

-There's a tray of butter and jelly in the kitchen...

With the mismatched lights shining Dust stood up. He hesitated, teetering on the side of the bed. Like a snake he swooped down and kissed the top of Dream's skull before turning around and disappearing into thin air.

Dream was still staring dazedly at where Dust was, trying to process what had happened. When Horror started laughing again, he snapped out of his surprised paralysis and smiled in amusement.

Picking up a cookie, he turned to the large skeleton he had sat where Dust had been. A warmth spread across his tongue conjured to match what was growing inside him.

He was definitely a lucky monster! Two displays of affection, one direct and one indirect from the stoic monster on the same day... he couldn't be happier.

***

Horror watched as Dream ate. He alternated the pear with some biscuits before drinking tea. He knew it wasn't Dream's preferences, so he didn't even complain that he didn't eat as much as he should have. At least he ate something solid and it didn't look like the meal was going to make a surprise re-appearance.

Dream hadn't eaten much, but more than the last few meals and he was planning something more substantial and to Dream's liking for later. He took a good look at the guardian and was satisfied with what he saw.

His skull was clearer and its lights more vivid. There were still spots under the eye sockets, but these were also softer. His voice had returned to normal, thank the stars.

Apparently Cross and Dust's visits had done him good and the skeletons themselves too.

Horror might not be an empath like Dream or Nightmare, but even he could see how Dust wasn't as tense as he was leaving the room earlier as he was when he left for his “lab” earlier. And Cross certainly wasn't running around in circles like a caged animal anymore.

After Cross had returned with the half-empty bowl and a satisfied smile on his face, Killer had dragged him for a little training so that the other wouldn't have an idle mind and end up thinking about nonsense that would sour his mood. Dust had followed them, talking about not letting Killer end up provoking Cross too much and making the situation worse.

When Horror had returned from Farmtale, he had found the monochromatic skeleton sitting on the stairs to the gardens complaining about which donkey it was. Dust had passed him and just murmured “The penny has finally dropped!” before locking himself in his warehouse/laboratory. Horror had sighed with relief and a little exasperation and dragged Cross to the kitchen, where he had put the other's frustration to good use, forcing him to help him prepare the cookies.

(He had no sign of Killer, until the oven timer went off!)

Good very good.

If everything continued to progress well, the guardian would be well enough to get out of bed and have dinner with everyone. Just looking at him you could tell he was much better.

Dream asked how Farm was doing (“Quick-witted bastard!” Horror thought fondly) and Horror regaled him with the latest news about the farmer and his universe. They talked for a while, Horror internally calculating when the other would make his entrance.

He knew that Killer had stolen Dream's cell phone earlier (when and how he had no idea. He had long since stopped trying to figure out how Killer did these things) and was installing various silly games for the other skeleton.

(Dream certainly wouldn't mind. He, like Nightmare, wasn't very fond of technology – although he greatly appreciated some –, often using it only for communication, and most of the time in calls and not in messages. He didn't care about others messing with his cell phone)

Killer would soon show up and spend the rest of the afternoon showing them off and trying to teach Dream how to play them (with varying degrees of success) until the other ended up getting mentally tired or the repetitive movements made him drowsy.

As soon as he thought about it, the door opened and Killer walked in humming one of the silly nicknames he had given to his golden lover. Horror stood up, allowing Killer to throw himself into the newly freed space, leaving Killer to have his moment alone with Dream.

***

-Having fun?

(Nightmare didn't scream, no matter what Killer or Ccino said later)

He turned around and faced the skeleton without lights.

Nightmare wasn't used to being surprised. Being a powerful empath as he was, no matter how much they tried to disguise his presence or mask his feelings, Nightmare could feel them from miles away. The exceptions used to be Ink, Reaper, Fresh and Killer.

(Ink because he didn't have a soul. Reaper because of his “work” that allowed him to mask his existence. Fresh because the parasite didn't feel like other monsters and Killer because of his dissociation with his soul)

It had been a long, long time since Killer had managed to surprise him. As his relationship with him (and others) deepened, he became more connected to his soul and as a consequence, his feelings became stronger and more apparent.

Only now Nightmare didn't feel anything coming from the other monster. One look into his soul calmed and alarmed him in equal measure.

For one thing, his soul wasn't wavering like it did when he was dissociating, but it was in a perfect circle, a rare sight in recent months. He had gotten used to seeing Killer's soul in the traditional inverted heart shape and the sight of it back in the target shape made something inside Nightmare tighten.

-Hi, Killer. – Said Ccino in a probing tone.

-Good evening, Ccino.

Hmm... the voice was perfectly calm and even had the usual playful tone, but the words, too polite and the fact that he continued to stare at Nightmare, ignoring the barista, said that there was something wrong.

-Something happened? – he asked directly. The thought that something could have happened in his absence made his tentacles stir.

His boys were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves and he trusted that he would know if something happened (as had happened other times). Besides Dream being with them. But he still couldn't help but think the worst.

(you could say it was inevitable for him to think negatively)

-Oh yeah! It turned out that our powerful and dark “boss” decided to run away with his tail between his legs like a coward.

The tentacles on his back flailed and became sharp spears. His irritation was so great that he felt himself growing, his teeth sharpening and his claws emerging. Ccino took a step back into the cafe and Nightmare took a deep breath, controlling himself and reining in the transformation.

-Killer... - he growled in warning. He loved the sharp-tongued idiot, but he wouldn't tolerate such lack of respect and flagrant defiance.

Killer just smiled more and Nightmare cursed himself for falling for the other's provocations, realizing that irritating him was exactly what the other wanted.

-What? I am lying? Instead of going home, you've been holed up here all day, avoiding having to face Dream.

Killer almost hummed which made Nightmare's mood flare up again.

-I was just paying a visit... -Nightmare almost growled, trying to control his mood and keep the conversation civil.

-And I was going to go home now, I suppose.

Killer cut him off and Nighmare felt his temper immediately cool at the thought of returning to the castle and facing Dream and the others. He quickly tried to escape the conversation.

-I have some things to resolve...

In an instant Killer was on him. Nightmare took a step back and only vaguely registered Ccino's surprised gasp behind him as he stared into the empty, shadowy depths of Killer's orbs.

-You go home right now, even if I have to drag your sticky ass back to the castle.

The threat shook Nightmare out of his shock. The complete outrage he felt was mixed with astonishment. Killer had never been so fragrantly disrespectful towards him, at least not without the teasing or facetious tone to soften his words (and especially not in front of anyone other than one of his other declared companions). He opened his mouth, but Killer cut him off.

-Dream is sick.

The low-voiced sentence cut through the anger, as well as Nightmare's entire mental process.

Dream was sick.

Sick.

For his cause.

Nightmare backed away and slammed his back against the doorframe. Killer took a step back, no longer looming over Nightmare, but still close in case the sticky skeleton decided to teleport. Not that Nightmare was in a position to do so, as at the moment he was immersed in memories of the previous day.

It had been a quiet day...a quiet week. Maybe that was why the boys were so restless. At the end of the day, Cross and Killer had cornered him and, through pleading and provocation, dragged him outside the castle where the transformed Dream was waiting for him.

Dream had only given him time to also transform before launching himself at him. They bumped and squirmed (more play fighting than actually fighting), while the boys booed and cheered in equal measure.

Despite being smaller (and with fewer limbs), Dream had managed to wrap himself around the other dragon and immobilize it. It would all have been nothing more than a playful joke, a “noodle fight” as Killer had shouted when he convinced him to leave the castle, if his competitiveness hadn't reared its ugly head.

Seeing himself immobilized and hearing the cry of victory and the boos of the “fans”, the feeling of anger and wounded pride clouded his mind and without thinking he turned his neck and launched a puff of his toxic cloud of negativity straight into Dream's face.

The yellow dragon released him immediately. Coughing and choking and Nightmare rose triumphantly only to freeze when he noticed the silence around him. Turning to the other dragon he froze.

Dream was curled up, his scales so pale they looked almost white. His eye sockets were wide open and his lights were tiny colorless dots. As he watched he gasped once, twice, and began to shrink.

There was commotion and footsteps running across the grass. Cross and Horror stood next to Dream and waited for him to shrink enough to throw Horror's coat over Dream's changing form.

Nightmare caught a brief glimpse of a gray skull before being covered by Horror's faded blue coat. As the two tended to Dream, Nightmare heard his name being called. With great effort he detached his light from his fellow guardian and turned to Killer and Dust. The skeleton with two-colored eyes had a scolding face and Killer looked at him with concern.

(and fear, no matter how much Killer was trying to control him)

Nightmare shook himself. He turned and disappeared into the shadow of a nearby tree. He spent the next few hours hiding in his quarters martyring himself.

He replayed the events in his mind, angered by his lack of control, terrified by what he had done and the consequences of his thoughtless act.

He monitored Dream and his boys from afar. There was more worry than any other feeling, but he could feel small sparks of irritation and anger, as well as disappointment and a lingering spark of fear.

When it was close to dinner time he heard a knock on the door. He thought about ignoring it, but he knew that Horror wouldn't go away (stubbornness, persistence and resilience, he thought with fondness and exasperation at the time). He invited him in and the skeleton with the head wound did so. Before the monster spoke he asked about Dream and Horror informed him that he was fine. He had retired to his room and was sleeping.

The relief he felt was overwhelming.

(he had spent hours reliving that last vision of his fellow guardian, trying in vain to convince himself that the other was just pale and not turning to stone again because of him)

He opened his mouth to say he was sorry, that it wasn't his intention, it was an accident! Instead he found himself saying he was going to leave. He needed to resolve some pending matters that could no longer wait. Before Horror could protest he melted into the thick shadows of his room and was gone.

He went to Ccino's universe and spent the night in the shadows of the barista's roof until the cafe opened. He had then spent the day haunting a dark corner of the café, being tormented by Ccino's long stares and a sunny yellow cat who had taken to sleeping on his lap and an irritating white and black and gray brindle cat who had spent much of the day playing with his tentacles limp on the ground.

Ccino wasn't able to fully tease out what was bothering him (but he managed enough to conclude that he had done something he regretted and didn't want to face the consequences), but he managed to alleviate some of his bad mood.

When the day was over, and Ccino closed the cafe and finished cleaning, Nightmare got up (picking up the yellow cat and placing it on the sofa next to a black who stared at him evilly with his one turquoise blue eye) ready to leave, but he still did not intend to return to the castle.

He was thinking about going to Mafiatale, getting something personalized for Dream as an apology (the Egyptian cotton robe with gold filigree embroidered on the chest that he had given Dream for Christmas was much appreciated. Both by Dream, for its luxurious softness, and by everyone else since the golden guardian loved to use it (and nothing else) after a shower, when Killer had surprised him.

Now he knew that his act of wounded pride had caused as much harm as he had initially imagined.

A hand landed on his shoulder and it was only out of some kind of instinct that he didn't attack Ccino. Turning his face slightly he faced the barista with his only working light. He didn't know what kind of expression he was making, but when he saw him, the barista smiled his patented “Everything will be fine after a good cup of coffee” smile. Squeezing his shoulder once again, he told him to wait and disappeared into his Coffe shop.

Nightmare remained rooted to the spot, staring into the darkness which was the coffee shop seen from outside. He would have stayed there for who knows how long if the sound of Killer pulling out a knife and throwing it up and spinning it before catching it back by the hilt without even looking at it hadn't caught her attention.

-Save this! – he demanded. Killer smiled and put away the knife.

Swallowing hard and turning his face away to look at the cement between his feet, he finally asked what was tormenting him.

-How is he? – He asked his feet. There was a crack in the cement and some kind of weed was growing out of it.

(Nightmare absently made a mental note to get someone to repair the sidewalk. Keeping the facade well-maintained was essential to the success of the Coffe Shop)

-Who? – Killer asked the question mockingly and Nightmare growled.

-Dream, of course!

-Oh! Now do you care about him?

This time it was Nightmare who advanced on the other skeleton holding his coat and growling in his face.

How dare he?!

He hadn't done anything all day (his entire life) to worry about. With Killer, with Cross, Horror, Dust and especially Dream.

(Hell! He cared about Error, Ink and Reaper and even Geno who he barely knew and had only seen a few times)

Killer's eye sockets softened and his smile lost its sharp edge.

-Ah! Here it is. – Indifferent to the growl that still came from the back of Nightmare's throat, Killer tilted his head and placed his forehead against that of the guardian of negativity. – You worried me.

The words cut through the growl and the contact made his tentacles relax. He hadn't even realized he had them ready to attack. (This alarmed him a bit. He wasn't normally a hothead, why was he acting so viscerally?)

-Worried? – He asked confusedly. Killer scoffed.

-When we get back we're going to have a long talk. You can't just run away every time you make a mistake. – Nightmare opened his mouth to protest, but Killer continued. – You shouldn't leave your feelings in the dark to rot your thoughts and sour your perception, Nighty.

The truth of the words (an echo of what he and Dream kept hammering into them) as well as their affection made Nightmare remain silent and, after a pause, nod his head. Killer suddenly straightened up and Nightmare swayed before steadying himself. Ccino appeared with a cardboard bag in his hand and a cat at his ankles.

(he wondered “who” the tricolor cat was)

-Is he really bad? – Ccino asked, handing the bag to Killer, who dismissed the other's concerns with his hand.

-Nah! He is fine! We made him spend the day in bed, but he came down to have dinner with us. It was just a vegetable and cereal soup, and Cross insisted on carrying him to the kitchen. How much Dreambot complained you couldn't even suspect that he was feeling bad a few hours before.

The words calmed Nightmare's internal turmoil a little more (it would only completely calm down when he personally verified Dream's well-being).

With a last thank you to Ccino and a promise to give news, the two returned to the castle.

***

After dinner was over (and Killer was gone), Dream managed to stop the other three from immediately taking him to his room (he had slept most of the day and now he wasn't sleepy at all). After a short discussion, the three agreed to watch a video together.

They moved to the TV room and Dream found himself wrapped in one of the blankets (strategically left on the back of the couch for him) sandwiched between Horror and Cross with Dust sitting on the floor leaning against his leg, while Horror and Cross made fun of antics main characters of the comedy that Horror had chosen for the night.

Despite what he had said, he soon fell asleep, lulled by the laughter of his three companions and the pleasure that their happiness gave him.

(and if the void left by the other 2 stung a little, he tried not to notice, focusing on Horror's low chuckle or Cross/XChara's biting comments and Dust's constant presence)

When he woke up again he was back in his bed. The light from his lamp illuminated the room enough for him to make out the dark figure of Nightmare sitting in an armchair next to the bed.

-Nighty! – he shook happily, struggling to sit up (not because of the pain in his joints that had almost disappeared, but because he was tightly wrapped in the blanket). The sight of the other guardian caused the knot he had been ignoring since he woke up and hadn't felt it in the castle to loosen.

Nightmare got up quickly and went to him with the intention of forcing him to lie down, but Dream wasn't going to lose this battle this time. Enforcing his will, he sat down and held both cuffs of the dark monster's coat, afraid that it would disappear like a fever dream.

Nightmare didn't disappear nor did he make any move to let go or move away. In fact, he sat on the edge of the mattress. The two stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Dream wanted to erase that worry line on his partner's sticky forehead.

-I'm sorry, Dream. – Nightmare asked, looking at him.

-Hmm? Whereby? – he blinked in confusion.

-For attacking him with my fog of negativity (Killer called him Dark Breath, and despite the name being consistent with what he was, Nightmare refused to call him that) and not even having the decency to have come to see how was.

Sliding his hands through the hilts and into the former guardian's hands, he intertwined their fingers and squeezed them.

-I know it wasn't intentional, Nighty. It was an accident.

-No! I... – Dream pressed his fingers once again and Nightmare fell silent.

-It's okay, Nighty. I accept your apology. – Dream cut him off with a big smile.

He was being sincere. He had felt when the triumph of victory had died away, giving way to dark feelings that he could not define (but which only made the pain he felt at the time more intense).

Dream had forgiven him immediately, knowing it wasn't intentional and that Nightmare hadn't meant to hurt him. Despite having mastered their draconian forms for some time now, sometimes both would forget something obvious and essential about their reptilian forms.

Nightmare's shoulders sagged and his tentacles hung lifelessly around him.

-Damn, Dream! Don't be so forgiving. – Nightmare scolded, although his light and posture showed his relief.

-I can't help being the way I am. – Dream joked, shrugging.

Nightmare snorted and Dream smiled and after a minute he smiled too.

-You are impossible! – The sticky skeleton's tone was exasperated, but his light was affectionate.

-I am, and you love me for it. – Dream hummed.

-Yes I love.

The confession caught Dream by surprise, his eyes widening before his smile widened and a golden glow colored his cheek.

-I love you too, Nighty.

-I know.

-Pfft! You could sound a little less smug!

Nightmare released one hand and brought it to Dream's forehead.

-I am fine! – Dream groaned, running away from the hand. Nightmare studied him for a moment and then nodded, lowering his arm and accepting his words.

-You should still rest. Ccino sends "get well" and one of those buttercream cupcakes you like. If you want, I can get it for you. – he added, amused when he saw the yellow lights become stars.

-No!

Dream's denial made Nightmare flinch and Dream himself shrinking at his intensity. Blushing harder he squeezed her still captive hand and asked shyly.

-No, thank you, leave it for tomorrow... I... I would prefer you to stay a little longer... If you can, of course!

-Okay, then get there. I spent the whole day in a chair, I need to stretch my legs.

Moving to make room, Dream felt himself vibrate as Nightmare crawled up beside him. It took a long time for Dream to get used to (create antibodies, as Cross said) with the liquid negativity that surrounded Nightmare and this being more open with physical contact, afraid that it would somehow harm him. After yesterday's incident, Dream had feared that he would go back to his old habits of trying to avoid him.

-Are you sleepy?

Dream denied it despite the yawn he had just made. With a playful sound Nightmare slid a tentacle under Dream's bed before picking him up, bringing with him a book.

(Dream wondered if he had used the shadows to catch him in his study or if there had actually been a book under his bed this whole time)

Adjusting himself better on the pillows (having a handful of tentacles on his back sometimes made getting comfortable a laborious feat) he leaned back and supporting the book on a tentacle, he leafed through it looking for something. After a few pages he stopped and then began reading aloud.

Dream settled down next to him, placing his skull on the arm of the other guardian, who wrapped one of the tentacles around him in a loose hug. His voice was somewhat different from his youth, but the cadence was the same and just like so many times in his youth, his voice lulled him to sleep.

His companion might be called Nightmare, but by his side, he was sure that his sleep would only be disturbed by the most beautiful and peaceful dreams.

And tomorrow would be a new day, one, hopefully, without illness and mishaps, with just the presence of her sweet, warm lovers (and a cupcake or two with buttercream).

#undertale #nightmare sans #dream sans #cross sans #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #ht!sans #ccino sans #bad sans poly #bad sans+dream #dragon balance au #dragon sans #sancest #nothing graphic #just a little dream joke #X!Chara #I almost forgot about him! #fanfic #my fanfic #Sick Dragon #thanks for reading #I'm sorry any language or pronoun errors #paintedkinzy-88

[wrongfourtytwo]

sobbing and screaming am

#undertale #undertale art #undertale au #undertale fanart #sans art #sans fanart #undertale sans #undertale papyrus #papyrus fanart #gaster blaster sans #dragon sans

[magm4kyy]

Baby dragon- Lust

#DRAGONLust #lust sans #4kkylust #4kkyviolet #dragon sans #dragon lust sans #my little pony V #chibi #furry #dragon furry #chibi lust sans #lust sans au

[bex-inxo]

Favourite cinnamon and vanilla rolls :>

.

Dragon / Dragontale by @samiau_1050 in Instagram

Cloud by @lemon_tree_9005 in Instagram

.

#undertale au #au #au sans #undertaleau #dragon sans #dragontale #cloud sans #undertale oc

[nero-draco]

#foghorn leghorn #meme #boku no hero academia #jujutsu kaisen #yu yu hakusho #gundam #chainsaw man #sousou no frieren #vinland saga #urusei yatsura #dragon ball #ijiranaide nagatoro san

[a-titty-ninja]

#kobayashi san chi no maid dragon s #kobayashi san chi no maid dragon #miss kobayashis dragon maid s #miss kobayashis dragon maid #小林さんちのメイドラゴン #elma jouii #anime #mygif #mygif:dragon maid

[justarandomart]

I have never watched dragon ball z, this just appeared in my abandoned sketch folder one day

#the owl house #toh #undertale #dragon ball z #sans #asgore #the titan toh #crossover #? #this is so bad im sorry #i guess this was my first thought when i saw the titan? #sans undertale #ut #dbz #NRart

[cocoacake]

our beloved peepaw ❤️🫶🌺

#yakuza 8 #like a dragon infinite wealth #like a dragon 8 #kiryu kazuma #kazuma kiryu #ryu ga gotoku #rgg #yakuza #i started this first when the only two jobs i seen were aquanaut and desperado lmao #cheeb kiryu about to throw hands #i finished this while listening to the full ver of baka darou and GOD DAMN kuroda-san really put out his whole kurodussy for that one #absolutely a new fave for me hearing it for the first time in game made me so emo LOL #cocoart

[starmonsterrr]

[ * DRAGON INK DRAGON INK DRAGON INK i am so very normal about him (wrong) ]

[ * OOAAAUUUUGHGHHHH I FINALLY FINISHED HIM. YAYYY ]

[ * I love dragons, i love Ink, and i decided to smush them together into one perfect creature (ooouuuughhh he's so EHJFHKEHAIOWEDHJI) ]

[ * this was super fun to do, may make some doodles of him later ]

#corv draws #corv's draconink #dragon ink sans #ink sans #inksans #ink sans au #ink sans fanart #ink sans variant #sans au #utmv #undertale au #undertale multiverse #utmv fanart #undertale au fanart #undertale multiverse fanart #inktale #inktale sans

[tsevile]

2004 in video games

#the sims 2 #gta san andreas #half life 2 #dragon quest viii #halo 2 #prince of persia #warrior within #vampire the masquerade #silent hill 4 #fable #metal gear solid 3 #video games #gif #// year in video games

[ryuko]

Darkmoney1

#miss kobayashi's dragon maid #kobayashi san chi no maid dragon #lucoa #cheerleader #crop top #kimono #skirt #Darkmoney14

[kpopnstarwars]

Warriors: Choi San x Reader

A/N: ohh boyyy after the kpop fanfic drought im back and it's with warriors au choi san

Summary: San and Reader are mages, which means they are made to serve. They are lowborn, destined to obey humans - the nobles and the highborn - with their every breaths. What if they don't want that?

tw: 18+, smut (p in v, fingering, cockwarming sort of), swearing, violence, death, blood, minimally gory at one point, war, child soldiers (14 yo), society is a shit place to be if you're a mage, tons of worldbuilding, assassins, freaking bath sex, hint at sa at one point from some dude we hate, san is kind of a brat tamer, seonghwa cameo but sad, idk if you can tell but i suck at summaries, mention of a harem, mention of slavery

wc: 4.8k

As a child, you watched from afar, waiting for things you could not grasp.

They told you that you were made to serve. They recounted age-old tales, about gods that crafted humans in their divine hands, moulding the mages afterwards to be commanded by their beloved creations. They filled your mind with legends of faithful individuals of your kind who proved their worth with obedience until you wished to be like your forebears.

Back when you were but an infant, you believed it. You knew the two powers that were bestowed upon you by the gods, varying in every mage, were gifts made solely to assist the highborns. In your naivety, you thought the rosy flame cupped in your small, childish palms would be used to warm the nobles in the icy winter, and that you would fulfil your purpose through that, through being of use to them. They had no shame as they informed you you were just a tool forged for following their orders, and you were convinced it was all true - until you met San.

Although you were the one with the ability to summon an inferno, he was always the one with a burning fire in his eyes. Like all mages, he’d been taken from his parents the moment he didn’t need his mother’s milk - he was given as a peace offering from the Hwangso warlord for his control of water: helpful for the upkeep of the crops.

This occurred in the small period of time in which Hwangso, the neighbouring province, was attempting to forge alliances with your province, Neugdae. Soon after, your warlord breached their territory, claiming it as his - you often wondered if the news filtering back from the front lines of a new settlement captured ever affected San.

You met him when he was an eight year old filled with bottled fury too old for his years, and you were a quiet, invisible seven year old. At those tender ages, neither of you had developed your second ability yet, nor had you gotten a taste of the power at your fingertips, but San still held his head high; you remember marvelling at the way he’d make a point of meeting every single noble’s gaze and holding it. He was just a scrawny, sun browned kid back then - nothing like the elegant lethality of the man that he is now.

Every day until you turned fourteen, you toiled beside him. The work was cruel, your supervisors crueller; the sun would beat down on your back as you laboured in the fields, side by side with San as barely a quarter of the way across the settlement, the nobles sheltered beneath their silky parasols, boasting their pale, porcelain skin. Back then, San never spoke of the injustice of it all out loud, but something about the look in his eyes when he saw them swanning past stirred something inside you. He made you realise that you were not the soulless, mindless puppet that you’d been told you were, but a person.

It wasn’t simply the rage inside him that drew you to him, though. It was the way he remained sweet, kind, despite it all, making sure to send licks of cool mist down your neck when your supervisors weren’t looking, nicking extra crumbs of food for you and remaining beside you, a beacon of light that anchored you to sanity even in the dark.

Even when, you at fourteen, him fifteen, were sent out into battle.

There were always skirmishes between neighbouring warlords: a constant push and pull for more land, more resources, more power. They would attack on a whim - mages were expendable, nothing more than canon fodder; behind each squadron was a noble who would hang back behind the lines, commanding, unbothered by the bloodshed because it was the blood of mere tools.

By then, both you and San had developed your second abilities. San’s was the ability to manipulate shadows, turning them into almost solid shapes that could physically hinder attacks by forming daggers or clutching hands, or could temporarily block the world out in a shroud of rolling black fog. Yours was the art of shapeshifting; you let the outline of your body flicker between forms, changing into powerful, deadly creatures whose substance was inhabited by the soul of a wavering teenager.

You’d known that you’d be forced to fight since you were young, but you never could have imagined the brutality of war.

It was there, in the midst of the battlefield, that any lingering innocence was burned from your soul. You learned that San’s water did not just bring life, but could also fill up someone’s lungs until they drowned upon dry ground, that your fire was not just a source of warmth or light, but could also combust a man’s heart within his chest, that the animals you were teaching yourself to shapeshift into could maul and break bones.

Many nights, you would fall asleep, curled against San, your face buried in his side with his arm wrapped around you, the taste of blood still in your mouth from where you’d torn your enemies’ throat out with the vicious canines of a tiger or the needle sharp fangs of a lynx. You would leave the front lines soaked with crimson, the essence of other people in your hair, smeared on your face, caked and drying under your nails.

It terrified you, how easily you could slice their flesh open with your claws. Armour was not wasted on mages, only generals, so just like you, all they wore were roughly woven tunics tied at the waist and trousers - you met no resistance when you killed your own kind, silent apologies on your lips.

Within the squadrons were also humans that had fallen from grace - criminals who still felt entitled enough by their birthright to think they could have a fourteen year old mage’s body; San protected you until you could protect yourself. In the first few weeks, when the punches he threw were too weak to deter them, he would let them beat him, giving you time to escape before returning to you, limping, lip split and nose bloody but the fire in his eyes never faltering.

On those nights, tears of frustration would leak from the corners of your eyes as you cleaned him up. He could so easily stop them if he used his abilities, but by then doing that without being instructed to do so by a highborn would lead to a flogging or a beating - fairytales no longer worked on you at that age, so your commanders and generals utilised fear mongering instead. You remember the hate and helplessness burning inside you when you looked at them: if all the mages rebelled at once, the nobles would have no chance, but everyone was too scared. Using your abilities on humans only led to execution.

You remember Seonghwa: he was a mage a few years older who cared for you and San as if you were his blood. He got too strong - you can’t recall his second ability but his first meant he could push a man over the brink of insanity, until he frothed at the mouth and his brain boiled within his skull. When you first witnessed the depth of his power, you were originally struck by the pain in Seonghwa’s eyes, and then by the fear in your commander’s.

The next day, Seonghwa was gone.

Often, you wonder if he fought back, or if he just let them kill him.

After, you made San promise that he wouldn’t show them if his powers developed further. He made you promise the same, and when you fought beside him, he was a constant reminder to reign yourself in, to survive. You were more careful with your powers from then on.

Some nights, though, when the frost ridden night air cut right through the ragged material of your blanket, you huddled next to San and lit a small fire in your hands. He’d tell you to stop, and you’d point out that he was shivering; he’d reply that he’d rather that than get you caught, and you would ignore him, not missing the way he tucked himself closer to the flame.

You didn’t tell him, but sometimes you would shift into a small animal, like a raccoon, and steal food for him in the dead of night. You didn’t answer when he asked you where you got it from, just shrugging and thrusting the rolls of bread and strips of dried meat into his hands, telling him he should eat.

When you were sixteen, San discovered he could animate his shadows. He could mould them like clay in his hands, breathing purpose into them - they would disintegrate within about a week or so, their outlines fading until they dissolved into nothing. San shaped a little dragon for you, the length of your forearm and the width of one of your thumbs; he came to you with it cupped in his hands, awe limning his face as the two of you watched it wriggle through the air between you and coil itself around your wrist.

You have many memories of those times, but one remains crystal clear, even to this day. A year onwards from San’s dragon, you found yourself hemmed in by enemy forces, your body tired from the fight - victory was so close for your side, and because of it, the Hwangso fought even harder, like cornered animals. If you broke through them, you would have been able to easily end their commander, but they had you, six to one. Hands closed around your throat, choking, and as the consciousness bled from you, you heard San’s cry, smelt the fear in the air as he tore through them to get to you: that in itself would have been insignificant - you had saved each other countless times through the years - but he had disobeyed a direct command.

He’d been told to kill the commander. He’d had a clear shot, and even still, he’d ignored orders, choosing to save you instead.

Both of you were beaten for it, and even as you heard the sound of San’s ribs cracking, he held your eyes, silently telling you that he’d do it over and over again, if only to keep you with him.

You think that was the moment when the two of you truly got a taste for rebellion. It was the point in the long, winding thread of your life that made you realise that whatever they told you, you would disregard it if it were for San. Their words no longer had as much power over you, because you knew your bond with him was infinitely stronger than any fear they attempted to instil within you.

Soon after that incident, your commander retired, and he was replaced by a man who was more of a fool than him. You began to lose land to Hwangso’s troops, far enough that the settlement where you grew up in was ravaged, razed to the ground. Your commander informed you that you’d evacuate the highborns, leaving the child mages and the servants behind because they would only slow you down - that was the moment you decided to stop listening to him.

The last mage rebellion had been decades ago - they were not ready. It was pathetic how easy it was to overthrow them; together with the rest of the troops and the mages from the settlement, you rebuilt the town and fortified it. San treated his soldiers with respect, with loyalty, and they loved him for it, for the way he would march into battle with them instead of cowering at the rear, for the way he could often be seen in the newly restored fields, watering the crops, for the way he recognised them for who they were.

To this day, you’re in awe of it. Never in your whole life have you come close to anything but fear for a leader, and yet you see it clear in their eyes that they love San, and that he loves them. He is everything that the highborns fear - a powerful, confident mage, wreathed in righteous shadows, fiercely intelligent, a master of strategy.

One of his first moves was to ally himself with the Hwangso warlord, the very man who had given him as a gift to your province. Deep in the highborn’s eyes was the presumption that he could break San and make him yield, followed a month later by pure terror when you held a knife to his neck, hissing to never speak of San like that again. The two of you brought his head in a sack to Hwangso and claimed your rule over the province.

That didn’t mean it was easy, though. There were the nights when San would tremble in your arms, baring his fears to you, his doubts - that it was getting too much too fast: that maybe he really was just made to follow orders. You scoffed at that - you’d seen him grow up, watched his shoulders broaden and his figure fill out with muscle, you’d seen the fire in his eyes blazing with passion; you knew he’d always be more than enough.

You’re not sure when the love blossomed between the two of you. Maybe it was always there, first shown as fierce protectiveness, later as searing kisses where no one could see, of fingers laced with yours in the dark of night. He married you shortly after he began to be recognised as an actual warlord, not a rogue mage; it was a quiet ceremony, but the celebrations of your people were far from that - rumours of the Neugdae province’s mage warlord and his wife rippled like wildfire through the regions, stirring fear and hope alike.

Some wonder why San does not take more wives - he has control over the Baem province as well Neugdae and Hwangso now, and any warlord with that much power would take on a harem without blinking. Not San, though - he’s different from them, he is a mage, a lowborn, his bronzed skin a sign to them of his childhood in the fields, and they find he is an enigma, as is his mystery shrouded right hand man.

But not to you - you understand him as if you share a soul.

On the surface, you are his only wife, aloof and coldly beautiful. In the shadows, you are his sword, his hand. There are myths of you, of the fire wielding ghost that robes itself in a black cowl and changes its skin into a man’s worst nightmare; stories of how you will twist your victim’s thoughts around until he finds the tip of a blade poking out of his chest, speared right through his back. It’s how you prefer to operate - they fear the unknown, and you are the unknown.

The fabric of the bag held in your fingers is soaked with blood. Within it is the head of the Yong province’s advisor. He was an awful man who deserved what you gave him - in a locked room at the back of his house, you found several young mages, half starved and chained by wrist and ankle to each other and a hook set in the wall. Bile bites at the back of your throat at the thought: you’re lucky you never experienced the uglier side of mage slavery.

Night is falling, the sun casting long shadows down the road. You always find the darkness comforting - it feels as if San is near. Today he is; you raise your fist and knock thrice on the solid wood of the gates, lifting your hand in recognition of the guards who peek over the turrets.

Slowly, they ease open the doors, and you stride into the courtyard, your boots clicking against the roughly hewn pavings. A squadron of your soldiers are sparring, but they halt their training when you enter, snapping to attention as you stop at the centre of the space, the dying rays of the sun streaming down the steps towards you, the air still as you wait.

He appears, his gilded silhouette glorious at the top of the stairs. His shadow guards spill down the steps towards you as he descends; their bodies contort and bend, the swirling mass of them parting around you, liquid night, jaws snapping, circling you until you’re surrounded.

A smirk pulls at your lips, and you throw the bag at his feet. You do not bow low, simply dipping your chin as he extracts the head from the sack, inspecting it and nodding before returning it to its roughly woven grave and handing it to one of his shadows to take away. Meeting your eyes, his own filled with amusement, the hint of a smile flashes over his face.

‘Welcome home, my love.’

San’s words are soft, voice quiet enough for only you to hear. You suppress the urge to pull down your mask and kiss him, instead letting your fingers brush against his as you walk with him up the steps and into the hanok; his shadows close the door behind you and the moment they do, he hooks an arm around your waist and hugs you tight, his embrace warm and sweet as always.

You laugh. ‘I was only gone four days, Sannie.’

‘Four days too long for me to be separated from my wife,’ he replies, pushing your cowl back so he can kiss your forehead.

Gripping his shoulders, you tug him down so you can peck his lips before sending him out to the courtyard again - you’re the last person expected through the gates tonight, so he should go out and dismiss the mages training in the courtyard so they can go home to their families and lock up. A happy sigh leaves you as you toe off your shoes, walking through your home and stripping off your bloody clothes before submerging yourself in the pool sunken in the floor. San has already filled it with fresh water, and it takes you mere seconds to heat it up with your fire.

Leaning with your head against the wooden ledge of the pool, you let your muscles loosen, half closing your eyes. The silence doesn’t last long, though - there’s a soft, steady noise coming from the screen behind you, almost like… breathing.

‘Show yourself,’ you command into the still air.

A man steps into view - a human, eyes crazed, knife clutched in his fingers. You realise he does not know who you really are; he just assumes you are the mage warlord San’s wife, delicate and helpless, and you let that role engulf you, backing away to the other edge of the pool with your eyes wide, luring him closer.

‘Your man took everything from me,’ he spits, blade pointed at you as he stalks forward. ‘He took my power, my wealth, my squadron of soldiers. And now I will take his wife.’

Surging out of the pool, you dodge the swipe he aims at you, sending fire surging down the knife’s handle so he drops it with a cry and twisting his arm behind his back in the most painful way possible, wrenching him down to his knees with his face an inch above the water.

‘How did you get in?’ You ask coolly.

‘I’ll never tell y - ’

You send tongues of flame licking down his ribs. ‘Answer the question or suffer.’

The door eases open, revealing San. His eyes land on you, water dripping down your body as you pin the man to the floor, then the distorted reflection from the blade of the knife that’s fallen into the pool, and something dangerous flashes inside his gaze. You let him grab your attacker by the front of his shirt, lifting him off his feet as he brings him face to face with him; you see San’s jaw clench, his hands balling into fists.

‘How fucking dare you try to come anywhere near my wife,’ he growls, shadows coalescing behind him.

You can tell he’s about to say something else, but he stops as the man, trembling and fruitlessly clawing at San’s fingers, wets himself. Your husband’s lip curls in disgust, and he drops him at your feet, pressing him down onto his knees and yanking his head up so he is forced to look up at you. Bending down, you breathe in the sheer fear permeating the air, a soft smile on your face.

‘Now, answer the question.’

‘You’re not his wife,’ he whispers, pale.

‘Oh, but I am,’ you sneer. ‘But that’s not the only role I occupy.’

Slowly, his face drains of colour, horror rippling across it as it slowly dawns on him. He recoils in San’s grasp, scrabbling at the floor in a sorry attempt to put distance between you; he has finally realised who you are and he acts like fucking coward, his mouth gaping wide in a silent plea. Unhurried, you fish the knife out from the pool, twirling it around your thumb before gliding it gently over the skin of his throat.

‘I’m getting impatient.’

‘I - I - the guards, they were distracted upon your arrival, I snuck in at the southern perimeter, please don’t - ’

His words dissolve into a weak gurgle when you slice open his throat. Blood gushes from the seams of the wound, dribbling from his lips, and you step back as he tips forward, landing with a wet thump face first on the wooden floor. Glancing up at San, you sigh before getting back in the pool. One of his shadows carries the body away and your husband tugs his clothes off and slides into the water beside you, pulling you into his chest.

‘He did not hurt you, I presume?’

You snort. ‘He tried.’

San’s fingers run thoughtfully up and down your arm. ‘I’ll talk to the guards. I probably shouldn’t have put Jisung on dusk duty while he was recovering from that fever.’

You nod but don’t answer, instead pressing a kiss to his collarbone. He hums, tipping his head back to give you more access as you mouth at his skin, letting your palms wander over his shapely chest, grip his broad shoulders, skim his waist; you trace the many scars all over his body, and he allows you to, his strong hands gripping your hips when you settle in his lap.

He curses low at the feel of your teeth sinking into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, his hips jerking upwards, and you both groan at the sensation of the underside of his cock grazing your clit. Smirking, you let your tongue lave over the spot where you bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw and pulling back as his hands tighten their grip on your ass.

‘Missed you too, Sannie. Good to know how much you missed me.’

‘So fucking bratty,’ he hisses.

A thrill shoots through you as he stands, the water sluicing in rivulets down the planes of his chest, lifting you and laying you on the edge of the pool, pinning your knees to the wood and spreading you open. The crude way he looks at you is all consuming, his eyes surveying you from where he stands with the water to his mid thigh, watching as you pussy clenches at the sight of him towering over you.

San remains there, just looking at you, and you curve your spine, almost whining in attempt to make him touch you without you asking for it. His lips quirk to the side as you squirm, trying to inch your hips down so you can grind against him, but his fingers tighten on you, refusing you.

‘What is it you require of me, love?’

Finding your attempts unsuccessful, you huff, glaring at him. He loves to do this, make you articulate exactly what you want from him - he likes the flush that heats your cheeks, your body still shy even after all your years with him, he likes the breathy noises you make when he forces you to tell him just what you desire when all you can think of is his dick, he likes it when you can’t  help but beg him.

‘Y - your fingers,’ you mumble. ‘And your cock.’

‘Say that louder for me, sweetheart, I didn’t catch the last bit.’

‘Your fingers and your fucking cock,’ you snap - a sorry endeavour at trying to hide how much you love when he inflicts this upon you.

San raises an eyebrow, not moving to touch you. Waiting.

‘Please,’ you add.

He smiles. ‘There we go. Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Your mouth opens to retort, but he slips his fingers inside you, and your back bows, a soft moan leaving your lips as he sweeps his thumb over your clit, his other hand palming your breasts, his tongue dragging over your skin. Burying your hands in his hair, you tug, making him groan low and deep as you pull him closer.

Delectably, his fingers curl, and you ache for him. San has ruined you for anyone else, he is branded onto your soul and also your body, fading marks from your last time together still slightly visible on your throat - a necklace of love bites, laying claim to you. He catches your chin as he brings you closer to the edge, tasting your moans on his tongue, grinding his palm against your clit.

You keen, coming hard around him, chest heaving, and he smirks, holding your waist as shudders wrack your legs from the aftershocks. The fire in his eyes burns ever brighter, so hot you feel your stomach go molten - your hands tighten on his shoulders, nails raking over his back, your tongue unable to form anything other than his name.

‘You’re always so willing to behave once your pussy’s full, hm?’

‘No, I,’ you start, but cry out when he pinches your clit in warning, the muscles of your thighs jumping as it lances through you, white hot. ‘Y - yes, yes, I am, please - ’

In one fluid movement, San buries himself inside you, sheathing himself until his hips kiss yours. Catching you wrists in his hand, he pins them above your head, and your back arches as he pulls out, agonisingly slowly, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging on your walls before slamming back in, tearing a cry of his name from your chest. Tugging your legs up from where they were wrapped around his waist, he hooks your knees over his shoulders - the new angle makes you sob, writhing beneath him as his cock head drives into perfection, drives you to euphoria.

Sometimes, San makes love to you, but not tonight: tonight he fucks into you mercilessly, traces of possessiveness lacing his actions as he litters your skin with bites, his hands leaving exquisite bruises on your hips. Pleasure tears through you like an arrow through your heart, white hot and maddening, ravenous.

‘You fit around my cock so well,’ he pants. ‘Like you were made for me, sweetheart.’

Something snaps inside you at his words, and as if he senses it, San presses his thumb down hard on your clit, speeding up his thrusts until the air is punched from your lungs. Stars flash before your eyes, and your mouth falls open, toes curling as you come on his cock, your cunt convulsing around him, thighs twitching; he doesn’t stop, just continues ploughing into you, and you tremble, tears slipping down your cheeks at the relentless pound of his hips into yours.

With a gasp, he pulls out and comes over your stomach, his wide shoulders rising and falling with heaving breaths, and you groan as he eases you back into the warm water, a hand cupping the back of your neck as he tucks your head under his chin, sliding his softening cock into you again. Wrapping your arms around him, you press a kiss to his jaw and rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

‘How do you feel, my love?’

You nuzzle your face into his shoulder. ‘Good. Really fucking good.’

He laughs, and you bask in the sound of his happiness and the comfort of his warm skin against yours. San’s hands run up and down your spine, soothing, and you smile sleepily; you are home, reunited with your other half, the missing part of your soul.

With San, you are complete.

#choi san #san #ateez #san smut #san fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #san x y/n #san x reader #san x you #ateez x you #warriors san #san warriors #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #atz #choi san x reader #imagine dragons #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #warriors

[king-k-ripple]

#blue #gender #dragon tales #bluey #the ant and the aardvark #pink panther #the backyardigans #lelo and stitch #foster's home for imaginary friends #megamind #regular show #sans undertale #rio #aladin #pac man #pac-man #sonic #mega man #care bears #alvin and the chipmunks #thomas the tank engine #the smurfs #yo gabba gabba #the yellow submarine #the beetles #cars #doc hudson #kirby #monsters inc #angry birds

[magm4kyy]

I was going to draw his butt but decided cover it up🙏 - DRAGONLust

The purpose of the drawing was show his butt but I changed idea

#DRAGONLust #Lust sans au #lust sans #4kkylust #4kkyviolet #dragon sans #dragon lust sans #my little pony V

[redpanther23]

A very important meeting of cats (and one dragon) on Haight Street. This features my friends Mama Jude (and her cats) and Fang, with his kitty Storm. The only people allowed to compliment my tits publicly are hippie ladies in crust jackets who own multiple cats. Everyone else can eat my nuts

#furry art #furry #retro #grunge #fursona #punk #comic art #trippy #nostalgiacore #cat #hippie #haight ashbury #san francisco #dragon #panther

[starlitmark]

𝕽𝖊𝖉 𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝕻𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 (𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘)

Summary: Being in a polyamorous relationship can take a toll on a person; Jongho just happened to be the one to uncork the bottle. Pairing: Seonghwa x San x fem!reader x Yeosang x Jongho Tropes: hybrid au, poly au, established relationship au Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive Rating: PG 13 Warnings: language, anxiety, stress, mentions of unhealthy self-care habits, reader described as smaller than all members and has blue eyes (bunny quality), minor injury, mentions of sex, kissing Word Count: 6,164 Note: your favorite Thunder is back! <3 thank you to @mejuii and @downtoamagicalland for beta reading as always <3

Listen to: Put It Straight by (G)-Idle ♡ As I Am (feat. Khalid) by Justin Bieber ♡ I GUESS I’M IN LOVE by Clinton Kane

Series Masterlist

You’ve been holed up in your workspace almost all day. You have been for a few days now. The only times you ever emerge are to shower and get some form of nourishment in your body. The influx of orders you had for your shop came out of nowhere, and you’re struggling to keep up with what needs to be done. All three of your boyfriends are worried about you, to say the least. San hasn’t been around much due to a merger he’s been working on, and Yeosang has been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, trying to get everything arranged for a new project that could make or break a lot of things for him. Seonghwa has been around, though. Just yesterday, he decided to stay home from the shop and sketch while you worked on crafting a rather detailed necklace. 

You’re so lost in what you’re creating that you hardly register the knock on your door. So when it pops open, you drop your half-done chain making the individual links scatter across the desk. Despite the urge to break down right then and there, you take a deep breath and recollect yourself. When you look up, you’re met with a very concerned-looking purple dragon.

“Treasure, you’ve been in here all day… have you eaten anything?” San asks with a worried tone.

“I’m fine.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, “I need to finish this bracelet by tomorrow and get it shipped out.”

San steps closer and squats down beside you. Even with him squatting, he’s barely below your eye level. It only serves to remind you how much smaller you are than them. Your silver-eyed boyfriend reaches to take your hands in his. At first, he doesn’t think anything of the tension rings along your fingers. He knows it helps you from cramping up too quickly. Then he takes in the small pinches and cuts on your fingertips and palms.

“Treasure, you should take a break. I’m worried about you. We all are.” He tries to reason with you.

“I’ll come to eat after this project is done, promise.” You offer, taking your hand to run over some of his scales along his cheekbone.

“You better have eaten a well-balanced meal and drank at least three glasses of water by the time I get back from my meeting,” He bluntly reminds you.

“I’ll do my best to do that.” You chuckle while playfully saluting him.

He stands back up to his full height, “I love you, and I hate to see you so overworked.” He sighs, placing a kiss against the base of one of your bunny ears.

“I love you too. I promise I’ll leave this room at some point.”

Some point becomes hours later when Seonghwa forces you out of the room even though the bracelet is still incomplete. San walks back in the door, Yeosang beside him, as you’re nibbling on a veggie wrap. Seonghwa is sitting beside you eating as well to make you feel less alone in your activity. San has a small bit of smoke curling out of his lip that he tries to stop you from seeing. It doesn’t work, though. Yeosang whispers something that seems to soothe the purple dragon before they both walk over to you. 

“How’s your project coming?” Yeosang asks innocently.

“Still not done….” You sigh, bunny ears falling back against your hair, “It was supposed to be done today so I could ship it out tomorrow….”

“And it’s okay that you didn’t finish it today.” Seonghwa offers, “You own your own business, and sometimes you need to know your limits on what can be done.”

“But-”

“No buts,” San adds, “you did what you could today. That’s all that matters.”

You nod silently and take another small bite out of your wrap before placing it down on the plate again. When you get stressed like this, you hardly want to eat anything. You know it’s an unhealthy habit, but it’s just how you function. Despite your quiet state, your three boyfriends seem to easily flow through conversation. Some sort of ugly jealousy curls through your stomach. The way they seem to fit together easily without any seams makes you feel almost out of place in a way. You’re not willing to address that with your current state of mind, though.

“Hops,” Yeosang calls quietly; you look up at him, “You didn’t hear me, did you?” He chuckles sweetly, “Who do you want to crash with tonight?”

You nibble at your lower lip, “I think I’ll stay in my nest tonight.”

“Do you want one or more of us to–” You cut Seonghwa off before he can finish his question.

“No!” You blurt out, “I want to sketch out some more projects, and I’d hate to keep you up.”

“You know that won’t bother us, treasure.” San reminds you, “I’d much rather you get some good rest than workshop more projects.”

“I’ll be fine, San, I promise.” You stand up abruptly, ignoring the (barely) half-eaten wrap. “Good night boys. Love you!”

You bolt to the room your nest and work area are in. The moment you firmly shut the door, you sit down at your desk and hunch over the same bracelet you’ve been working on all day.

Even after slaving over projects for the next two days, it feels like you’ve made no progress. You’re pacing back and forth in your studio and nest space, hoping that inspiration strikes you to at least finish one project. A soft knock sounds on your door again. This time Yeosang is the one who pops his head through the doorway. You’re worrying on the edge of your ear and continue pacing even though you feel your boyfriend’s worried eyes on you. 

“Hops,” His low voice sounds through the space, “Sannie and Hwa already headed out for the day. They thought you were still sleeping when they were leaving.” He explains.

“I’ve been up for a while.” You respond flatly, “I need to get this shit done.”

Yeosang is slightly taken aback. You’ve never been one to curse. So to hear you say such a word was not what he was expecting to come from your mouth. He steps closer and grabs you gently to stop you from pacing anymore. You look up at him and see the worry swirling in his green eyes. He pulls you into a hug. You’ve come to learn that he’s not very physically affectionate outside your heat. So the fact that he has you wrapped in a hug, your face buried in his chest, means a lot. His minty scent invades your senses, giving you a momentary feeling of peace. That lingering panic and fear creeps back into you when he pulls away.

“Take a break from your projects, Hops.” He reminds you, “Stepping away from a project can do wonders sometimes.”

You nod, “I will.”

It may be a half-truth, but you don’t want to worry him if you don’t need to. He places a soft kiss against the top of your head and takes another step back.

“I have to go meet a client. Unfortunately, all three of us are out of the house for the rest of the day.” He sighs, “I should be back around dinner time. San said he has a business dinner tonight, and Seonghwa is closing the shop today since Yun is off.”

“I’m a big bunny,” You try to joke, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know, little one,” He smiles softly, “Just giving you the rundown for the day. I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, your snow-white ears twitching slightly when he gently scratches the base of them.

Yeosang is out the door, and a few moments later, you hear the front door of the penthouse close too. You debate your options for a few moments before deciding to get a drink before returning to work. You aren’t fully sure who’s home right now. At least you know Yunho is home. You’re about ninety percent sure Mingi is at his university lecturing right now. It’s likely that Wooyoung is at his dance studio, and you haven’t seen Hongjoong in about three days. When you get to the kitchen, you find that Jongho is home too. He’s sitting at the small breakfast bar sipping on a mug of tea. You shuffle behind him, being sure not to knock into his deep blue tail. You reach up into the cabinet to get a glass when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You nearly jump out of your skin and end up dropping the glass, causing it to shatter on the counter. Immediately, Yunho moves to make sure you’re okay and explains he wasn’t trying to scare you. Your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and you’re already down the hall and back in your nest. The first thing you can think to do is grab the duffle bag and start stuffing clothing into it. Tears are threatening to fall from your eyes, but you hold them back for now. You can smell the two men that are home. They’re still down the hallway. However, your senses are out of sorts due to your panicked state. 

Again, a knocking sounds on the door frame. You whip your head around, and your ears twitch around, trying to find one sound to focus on. Your nose twitches even more as you take in the dark blue dragon standing in the doorway. Jongho steps into the space when you don’t speak, knowing you need someone to calm you down. He would have never breached your space without your permission had you been more stable mentally. 

“Where are you off to?” He asks gently.

That’s when your tears burst through fully. You start sobbing and find yourself face-first in Jongho’s sweater before you can stop yourself. He awkwardly wraps his arms around you and tries to soothe you. The room is only filled with sniffles and loud sobs as you stand there in the golden-eyed dragon’s arms. You’re completely unaware of how long you cry in his arms, but when you finally slow to a sniffle, you pull your face away from his sweater. There’s a large wet spot from the amount of crying you just did. There’s a bit of snot, too, which you cringe at and immediately try to wipe off with your own sweater. You can feel his strong chest beneath the fluffy material, but your mental state is hardly focused on the dragon’s physique. Your head is pounding from crying, which doesn’t help the situation at all. Jongho still has his arms wrapped around you, securing you in your spot.

“You need to talk about anything?” He offers quietly.

“Are you sure you want to hear all of that?” You chuckle, trying to downplay your emotions.

“You need it. We both know that.” He sighs, not letting you divert anything.

Suddenly you’re very aware of his arms wrapped around you and how comforting it feels. You find yourself nodding at him.

“Do you want to go to a neutral space, or are you comfortable right here?” He searches your pale blue eyes for any discomfort as he asks.

You appreciate how respectful of your boundaries he’s being. You know you need this, and he does too. Damn him and his phenomenal therapist skills. 

“We can stay here…” You bite your lip, debating whether or not you want to ask him a specific question or not. You decide to throw caution to the wind and ask. “Do- do you um… could we-”

“What’s up Hops?”

“Well… I’m kind of all over the place, and… do you care if we cuddle while I vent?”

“Would that make you feel more comfortable?” he asked again.

You nod, “It would…”

“In your nest?”

“Yeah… if that’s okay.”

“Lead the way.”

Jongho releases you from his hold and allows you to get comfortable in bed where your nest is before he approaches it. You shift a little bit allowing Jongho to climb in beside you. The dragon is slightly stiff as he gets semi-comfortable. You snuggle close to him, which makes him melt beneath you. He wraps an arm around you and sighs with a small smile on his face.

“What’s on that mind of yours, Hops?” He asks once you’re both comfortable. 

“A lot of things… where should I start?”

“Wherever you want to.” He offers, small vines wrapping around his fingers as you get more comfortable.

“I feel like an outsider.” You admit, “And like a failure…”

“What makes you say that? You have your fluffle, and you’re part of the Thunder now. You have a successful business making jewelry.”

“I haven’t been able to finish a single project for days now, and I feel horrible. These people are waiting for me to finish these pieces for them and-” You start crying again. 

“Take your time.” He reminds you, “Do you wanna hear my two cents on this, or do you want to continue what you were saying.”

“You can talk.” You sniffle, burying your face against his sweater.

He wraps his arm around you tighter. The small vines tickle against your jaw lightly as his fingers hold your shoulder. You find yourself sinking further into his touch subconsciously.

“Here’s what I think.” He starts, “Everyone has their own threshold. When you reach that threshold, you can’t do it anymore. You need a break. Your limit is different from mine and different from the others in the Thunder. You need to give yourself breaks, Hops.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts, bunny.”

“But, Jongho…” You pout, “You’re super successful in your career, San owns a whole monopoly, Seonghwa and Yunho own a tattoo shop-”

“And you have a very successful jewelry business.” He stops you mid-sentence, “Just cause we have more income doesn’t mean that you’re unsuccessful.”

You nod and nibble at your lip. You feel a thumb against your lip, gently pulling it from between your teeth. When you look up at Jongho, you see him giving you a gentle, borderline endearing look. It steals your breath away for a moment. Your ears go lax as you maintain eye contact with the navy dragon. You take note of how his navy scales frame his face perfectly and how they contrast against his bright red hair. Suddenly, you snap back to reality and shake your head slightly to ground yourself.

“I know that but still…”

“Still what?” He prods lightly.

“You guys seem actually to get work done, and I’m still fighting with this same necklace that I’ve been working on all week. I have a damn sketch of the thing, and I can’t even do it.” You groan.

“What’s on paper doesn’t always convey in practice. Have you tried looking at it or approaching it a new way?” He asks, his thumb gently caressing your arm as he speaks.

“... No…” You admit, gaze dropping down to your fingers,  “I’ve been very set on the style, and my customer really likes the design I sketched…”

“And it’s your business.” He reminds you, “If you need to rework things because it’s impossible to do in practice, they need to understand that or lose their deposit on the art.”

You nod silently. Jongho notices you remain quiet after providing his two cents on your situation. There’s far more to your issue, and he knows it. He moves his navy blue tail to be draped over his thigh and, by proxy, wrap around yours. The tip of it rests against your lower back. And while you’re used to dragon tails resting against you, Jongho’s tail feels almost foreign to you but absolutely not unwelcomed. 

“I know that’s not all, bun.” He sighs, letting the arm wrapped around you hold you just a bit tighter, “What else is going through that mind of yours?”

You look up at him and see his golden eyes fixated on you, “I don’t think you want to hear about my relationship right now.”

“I want you to feel better.” He assures, “Tell me what’s going on.”

You find yourself curling closer to the dragon and tucking your head just below his chin. You feel a few scales along his jaw, but it’s nothing that bothers you. After all, you live here with them almost all the time now; you’re no stranger to scales touching you. Your ears are pushed back and lying flat against your hair overtop Jongho’s arm. You feel him relax further after his initial tensing. 

“Well… about a week ago, we were, um…” You didn’t know how to phrase it to him.

“You were having sex, okay. What went wrong to make you feel so uncomfortable and try to run away today?”

“How did you know I was gonna say that?” You try to deflect.

Jongho chuckles airily, “You're going to tell me I’m wrong?” You don’t answer, “So, what happened that got you to this point.”

You sigh and debate whether you want to let it all out or tell him just to forget about it. It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Jealously happens in relationships. Jealousy looks different in yours because instead of two people, there are five. 

“Smells like burnt cookies.” Jongho points out, “Just say it before you end up smelling like a burnt kitchen rather than overbaked cookies.” He teases lightly.

“I feel like an outsider in my own relationship.”

“Okay, why do you feel like that? You know San, Seonghwa, and Yeosang would burn the world to the ground if you asked them.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes again. One escapes and lands on Jongho’s barely damp sweater. Though you know, Jongho can’t see your eyes with your face tucked under his chin. He does seem to know you’re having an emotional hurricane internally. You feel his tail press a bit harder against your body as if to mock some weighted blanket to help you relax.

“They just seem so happy together. I felt like after that very awkward sex that I was just a hookup again.”

“That bad?” He sighs, “I know you know how the Thunder functioned before San and Seonghwa brought you home. Hell, Yunho, and Mingi are worse than you’re polycule sometimes.” He lightens the air, “Remember, you’re the glue that holds those boys together. Yes, they would casually hook up with each other before you were introduced to us, but the dates, talking about how they feel, regulating their schedules… Hops, that’s all thanks to your influence on this Thunder. It feels like I’ve tried to have interventions more often with them than with my clients. Something about you made it click, though.”

“Jongho?”

“Yeah?”

You don’t know what overtakes you, but you untuck your face from his chest and kiss his cheek. You realize what you’ve done after you see Jongho’s slightly shocked expression. Your nose starts to twitch as panic rises in your throat again. Jongho’s strong hold keeps you in your place, along with his tail still lying across your legs and along your back. 

“It’s okay, bun.” He assures, “You just surprised me. If you want to ask something when you’re in the right headspace, you can do so. You’re not in a completely clear or stable mental place right now, though.”

You nod, “Sorry,”

“Nothing to apologize for. Come back here and get comfy again.” He offers, “You rant, and I’ll listen.”

You tuck yourself back against the dark blue dragon and almost feel like you’re at home in his arms. A tug in your heart makes itself known. Of course, it would now, when you’re in the midst of emotional and relational turmoil. Jongho smooths a hand over your hair and ears as you start rambling about everything that’s been bothering you. From missing your fluffle to work to your boyfriends’ dynamic. You feel small amounts of weight press against your hair.

“What’s in my hair?” You ask, “I feel something.”

“I’m weaving flowers in.” He says casually, “Do you want me to take them out?” 

“N-no,” You feel the heat of a blush rush to your face, “Tell me about the flowers.”

“There’s a few red carnations, that’s all. Some are full blooms, others are half-blooms. They look nice against your hair. I like the contrast from how pure white your ears are too.”

You pull your body to be sitting up. Jongho is still lying down, and his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“You can put them and more flowers in my hair all you want. I’m giving you more space to work with while I talk.” You explain, “I like that you’re playing with my hair.”

A smile graces his lips, and you barely see his fangs peek out. He conjures a small bouquet of little dainty pink and white flowers. One moment there was nothing there, and the next, the flowers were in his hand.

“So, as I was saying, I love my boyfriends, but it’s hard not to feel excluded when they know each other like their favorite things in the world. It really hurt me when I saw San and Yeosang cuddling while Seonghwa tossed the wet wipes at me. I know I’m newest to whatever dynamics were happening here before, but…” You interrupt yourself with a sigh, “I’m still their girlfriend, and it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

Jongho accidentally tugs at your hair while braiding a flower into it, making you yelp slightly.

“Sorry,” He quickly apologizes, “I know it hurts to just feel like a side piece in your relationship. You also need to communicate how you’re feeling, though. I know, ironic when you have three emotionally constipated dragon boyfriends, but it’s true.”

“I just don’t want to make them mad at me…”

“If they get mad at you for having normal emotions, then I’ll personally make them each a batch of poison ivy tea when I refill the tea satchels.”

You giggle lightly and feel Jongho move your hair over your shoulder, signifying that he’s done meticulously intertwining each flower with your hair. You turn around and face him. He’s sitting criss-cross in your nest still. His golden eyes practically melt you as he gives you an affectionate look. Those tugs at your heart return, this time accompanied by a tornado of butterflies in your stomach.

“You feel better now?” He asks softly.

You nod, “I needed that a lot more than I realized.”

He opens his arms, “You still look like you need some comforting before you talk to your boys.”

You climb into his lap, slotting your legs around his hips, and feel his strong arms wrap around your waist in a tight hug. You bury your face in the crook of his neck. Your nose fills with his book scent, and it instantly relaxes you. You don’t break away even when you hear the penthouse door open and click shut again. You’re so engulfed in his scent you don’t even know who’s returning to the lair. Jongho’s arms tighten around you even more. Then, you process the sniffles you’re letting out. You’re not even sure if you’re feeling the emotional aftermath of the day or if you’re nervous about the confrontation later, but you’re sniffling back tears again. Your tears slide down Jongho’s neck and along the snake tattoo that looks as if it’s curling around his collarbone. He doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t question why you’re crying or make any comment to stop you from feeling what you do. He lets you feel. It’s just what you need right now. 

“What’s this?” You hear San snarl.

You tense in Jongho’s hold. Fight or flight instincts beg you to bolt for the door, even if San grabs you in the process. The only thing stopping you is Jongho’s arms holding you in place. Suddenly, Jongho rips a flower out of your hair. You yelp at the sudden movement and then see the navy dragon shaking out a singed red carnation. You know San didn’t mean any harm to you. When he was pissed, he tended to lose complete control of what he did with his magic.

“Hops.” He snarls, “I need to talk to you. Alone. Now.”

He hasn’t called you that since you officially started dating him. Hearing the neutral nickname sounds foreign to your ears in the worst way possible. You’ve never seen him direct his anger at you, either. Your heart rate spikes again, and your nose twitches at the speed of light. Subconsciously you grip onto Jongho, maybe to try to soothe yourself. You don’t want to think too hard about why it was comforting to you.

“Talk to him. It’ll be okay. If not, remember what I told you.” He ends his sentence with a slight chuckle.

You nod and climb out of Jongho’s lap. Your eyes linger on his golden eyes, noticing how his pupils dilate as he looks back at you. While you’d love to think it’s out of affection toward you, you decide to believe it’s simply to help calm you further. Jongho gets out of your nest and dismisses himself from the space. You watch as a vine curls around the door nob and pulls the white wood door shut. The tension is tangible enough as it is, but when the therapist dragon leaves, it becomes almost suffocating. San’s silver eyes are slit so thinly you can hardly see his pupils at all. It’s as if they don’t exist at all. 

“I-it wasn’t what it looked like…” You say, trying to ease a bit of the tension.

“Are you sure, Hops?” He practically growls, “It sure looked like you were getting too cozy with someone who isn’t one of your boyfriends. We said you could cuddle with the others if you needed it. That was crossing a line, though.”

Normally seeing your deep purple scaled boyfriend dressed for the office sends you into a mood that you would put in a similar category to your heat. Now, though, it only strikes fear in you. You so desperately wish to crumble under his stare and submit to your prey tendencies. You swallow that urge and hold your head high, remembering Jongho’s words. 

I know it hurts to just feel like a side piece in your relationship. You also need to communicate how you’re feeling, though.

“Would you have rather me run away back to my fluffle without a word to any of you?” You bite back, throwing your arm in the direction of your half-packed duffle bag, “You, Seonghwa, and Yeosang have been making me feel like I’m not even part of our relationship anymore. Had Jongho not stopped me, I would’ve been gone for hours by now. Yes, the cuddling could be seen as crossing a line, but he’s the reason I didn’t go running out mere moments after Yeosang left.”

“Treasure…” San starts, trying to step closer to you.

You put your hand up, and it’s as if you put up an invisible block in front of him.

“Let me speak.” You sigh, “You three communicate without words. You’ve been involved with each other in many different ways long before I was brought to the Thunder. After last week’s events… seeing how easily you knew how to take care of Yeosang while you three practically ignored me and let me handle myself hurt. I’m your girlfriend, but the longer I’m here, the more I feel like just a hookup you brought in with your two boyfriends for some extra fun.”

You let out a shaky breath. You don’t want to cry telling him all of that, but you feel your eyes fill with tears. There’s no way you’ll be able to stop them from falling. You sniffle and let your gaze fall down to your feet rather than looking at your boyfriend. He doesn’t move. That invisible block is still fixated in front of him.

As if the timing couldn’t be worse, you smell Seonghwa’s sweet strawberry jam scent enter the home accompanied by Yeosang’s peppermint tea. It’s as if he knows there’s tension, too. You know your scent is burnt, and San’s is far stormier than his typical calm sea breeze scent. Your eldest boyfriend doesn’t even knock. He invites himself and Yeosang into your bedroom and is greeted by your crying figure and San a few steps away with tendrils of smoke escaping the corners of his lips. Yeosang is the first to step closer, placing a kiss on San’s cheek, only solidifying your emotions. Comforting San before stepping closer to you.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Yeosang asks quietly, wrapping his arms around your frame.

You try to break out of his hold, but you’re no match for his strength. Angry tears keep rolling down your cheeks as you stay trapped in his hold.

“Look at me.” Authority rings in his tone. 

This time, you look at him.

“Am I that unloveable?” You snap.

“Treasure, please.” San says weakly. 

“Yeosang.” You say flatly, “Let me go.”

Your bronze boyfriend backs off. All three of them are clearly concerned about you and trying to figure out why you just asked the question you did. Your nose is still twitching, and tears are still staining your cheeks.

“We need to have a long talk. All four of us.” You huff.

You settle in your nest, wrapping yourself in a throw blanket that smells much more like Jongho than any of your boyfriends. You see the jealousy in San’s eyes as you do so. Yeosang is on your work stool, Seonghwa is sitting in your reading chair, and San is still brooding, leaning against your closed bedroom door. You can’t escape. It’s probably for the best; you need to say this.

“I kinda yelled this at San already, but… you three have been neglecting me.”

You watch as the confusion etches in Seonghwa’s face. He had been spending the most time with you compared to your other two boyfriends. Yeosang’s reaction isn’t as visible, but you know he’s just as confused. San knows, though. He hates that you’re saying it again. 

“I feel like a hookup again. You three are so seamless with each other and don’t seem to give me any care. Last week, Seonghwa… you just threw the wet wipes at me while San took care of Yeosang with so much care… that fucking hurt. I almost ran away today. Jongho stopped me.”

“Treasure… we love you so much. I’m sorry I did that. I wasn’t even thinking about it-” Seonghwa tries to explain.

“I know… it doesn’t change that it hurt… still hurts worse than hell. San came home and found me cuddling with Jongho in a way that was a bit compromising. There was nothing inappropriate happening. I promise. And–” You stop yourself.

“What is it, Hops?” Yeosang asks quietly, “We need to know everything.”

“I kissed him.” You admit, “I was on such an emotional rollercoaster, and he made me feel safe and loved… I didn’t think about what I did until after it happened.”

None of them speak. It scares the hell out of you. Your pale blue eyes flit between all three of them. Their expressions are unreadable. Well, San’s isn’t. A fresh curl of smoke escapes his nose as he wills his flames back down his throat.

“Did you like it?” Yeosang asks again.

You hadn’t thought about that. Did you? It was so spur of the moment you didn’t actually think about how it made you feel. Your heart feels like it’s on fire. It aches. 

“I did.” You admit.

“What do you want that to mean for us?” Seonghwa adds.

“I know we’re on delicate grounds right now…” You sigh, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself, “I feel the same pull toward him that I do towards you three.”

“Transparency, right?” San finally speaks, “I’m so fucking jealous, but you’re right… we haven’t been caring for you the way we’ve been caring for each other. We should all make an effort to meet each other where we are. All four of us. And–” he stops himself, “If you want Jongho, we can invite him.”

“Seonghwa? Yeosang?” You ask, ears shifting towards them.

“Honestly…” Yeosang sighs, “I miss being with Jongho. We also knew in this Thunder we have a tendency to share, even with San’s jealous streak.” He pokes fun at his purple boyfriend.

“I’m always happy to do anything that helps our relationship and ultimately you, Treasure. I love all my Thunder, and I love you.”

A smile breaks out on your lips, and tears start streaming again. San is the first to approach you. He wraps his arms around you, tail curling protectively around your waist. You feel both of your other boyfriends join moments later.

“I love you, Treasure.” San whispers against your bunny ear.

“I love you.” You sniffle back.

“We all love you.” Yeosang kisses your other ear.

After a long discussion about what each of you needed from each other, you begin discussing who should approach Jongho about joining. It’s out of the question for San to do so. The last time San and Jongho interacted was when he walked in on you, cuddling with the dark blue dragon. Ultimately, Yeosang is chosen. He’s the closest to him, and they think the same way. Their history together before Yeosang started dating you just adds to why he should be the one to ask. Yeosang is also the newest boyfriend. Having Seonghwa go to the youngest dragon could end badly, given that Seonghwa has been dating you longer than Yeosang has.

You go with Yeosang down the hall toward Jongho’s bedroom. You stay outside the door as Yeosang gets permission to enter the space. Instantly, you hear laughter and feel how light the atmosphere is in the room. You see a few hanging plants through the small crack in the door. You haven’t seen many of their bedrooms in great detail, but seeing greenery in Jongho’s room makes warmth spread in your chest.

“Treasure,”

You’re taken aback when you hear the pet name. It’s not Yeosang’s voice. It’s Jongho’s. You step closer to the door. Popping your head through the door, white ears tall on your head, you see Jongho’s golden eyes giving you that same adoring look he had earlier. Yeosang has a soft, comfortable smile on his lips. His hand is outstretched, and you find yourself curling into his side.

Jongho’s room is exactly how you expected it to be. Plants are everywhere, not so much that it’s crowded, but it adds a comforting and homey touch to the space. He has a desk against the far wall, framed by bookshelves. His bed has a wall of vines behind it with purple flowers randomly throughout them. There’s something about the space that is so shamelessly Jongho.

“Is there something you wanted to ask me, Treasure?” Jongho asks with a soft smirk on his lips.

You nod, and your eyes shift up to your green-eyed boyfriend. He just nods slightly at you and gives you a comforting smile.

“Jongho… would you like to be my boyfriend?” You ask.

Yeosang removes his arm from around you as Jongho steps closer to you. The gold-eyed dragon hybrid takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, making you look up at him. You want so desperately to melt at the touch but you hold your ground somehow. Your ears instantly fall back against your head as your chin tilts up. The flowers are still woven into your hair and tickle against your ears, making them twitch slightly. Jongho takes his other hand to pluck some flowers from your hair.

“Red carnations: admiration, devotion,” he states, twirling it in between his fingers. He shifts his hold on the flowers to show the small white and pink flowers. “Aster: faith, love. Does that answer your question, Treasure?”

“Jongho?” You ask, dazed by his words.

“Yes, Treasure. I’d love to date you.” He smiles a bright, gummy smile, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You practically breathe out.

His lips are on yours a moment later, and you feel an explosion of emotion. The hand that was previously holding the flowers wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to his body. It’s almost as if you’re the only two in the world. When he pulls away, you see his heavily dilated gold eyes. Your hand reaches up to brush against a few scales by his hairline before carding into his hair behind his ear. Before you can get lost in the moment again, Yeosang swoops in and kisses your cheek before leaning over to Jongho and kissing his cheek as well. He wraps his arms around both of you. You turn your head to see your two other boyfriends in the doorway with sweet smiles on their faces. They come into the room and join the hug. Yeah, everything felt better now. They felt like home, and your heart aches out of pure love for your four boyfriends.

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