One-shots [Reqs: 5]

Can U Get Pregante?

cross but he's panicking

POSTED LATE BECAUSE I'M DUMB WHOOPS

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Cross stared at his soul, a broken, disgusting thing, and could feel nothing but numb shock. No matter how he raked his memories, he couldn't figure out how it happened. It had to have been recent.

The tiny ball of fragile light that swirled in the center of his soul pulsed softly. Looking for magic to attach to. It wouldn't be long before it hooked onto his magic and drained him of it. Like a parasite.

When did this happen? It was young, incredibly young, so much that it hadn't even formed a proper bond. This thing had only recently spawned. And the worst part was that he didn't know who's it was. The only possible choices were all unsuitable, and anything else felt ridiculous to consider.

Cross hadn't slept with anyone at this place. He kept his distance, as did the rest. There was no way this thing had been born of traditional sex. He hated to even be in the same room as some of his teammates. The only other option was soul sex, which was even more ridiculous, because his soul never left its cavity. It stayed where it belonged.

Yet, even as he thought that, images flitted through his mind of every instance where his soul had been exposed to another's magic. Killer's tears dripping onto it multiple times, Horror's blood seeping through his shirt after some battles, Nightmare's tentacles curling maliciously around his soul after one too many slip-ups, Dust's bone constructs breaking off and lingering in his ribs. Too many factors, too many probabilities, and none of them added up into the creation of a souling.

Cross swallowed dryly. He couldn't be pregnant. It just wasn't something that could happen. Not here, not now. Not with these lunatics and murderers lurking around. The castle was no place for babybones. No children would survive. It didn't matter how much he might want it, having kids wasn't an option.

He wanted to consider it. The thought of having someone to call his own, someone to hold, to talk to, it made his marrow boil with longing. He wanted to have it. A child to love, that would love him back, that would need him. He ached for it. It was within his grasp, it was in his grasp. It was right there, hovering in the cocoon of his mangled soul.

But, with every warm fuzzy thought of a bundle to nurture, a burst of unsettling images came with it. Dust's blaster decimating a small child in seconds, of Horror hacking down a sobbing baby, of Killer's blade ripping into the throat of Monster Kid, of Nightmare dusting a young Asriel. The baby in his mind's eye was lost under the reality of Nightmare's ruthlessness and his teammates' bloodlust.

The castle was no place for a babybones. Horror would tear into it like he did to Killer's first and only pet cat. Nightmare would torture it for the negativity it could offer. Dust would skewer it in one of his LV-fueled rages. Killer would break it in half over his knee just for shits and giggles. The little crib Cross kept picturing flickered from clean and safe to bloody and dusty.

A shudder rippled up his spine, revulsion  ̷a̷n̷d̷ ̷f̷e̷a̷r curling low in his nonexistent gut. The small soul, not quite soul-shaped, gave a weak pulse. It was struggling. His indecision wasn't providing it with the magic it needed to live. Cross stared at the tiny thing and, for a brief, frightening second, he felt a fierce affection overcome him. It left him just as quickly, and the weak bond that had formed snapped. All at once, his senses rushed back to him.

Cross shoved his soul back where it belonged. He needed to get rid of it, and soon.

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It only took a moment to get mostly dressed. His door slammed against the wall as he left his room, fighting to wrangle his emotions and lock them away. He almost couldn't be bothered to put on his usual silent gait, his first few steps loud and abrasive before he smoothed himself out. He grappled with his magic as he walked, keeping a firm hold on it. He would be damned if he let that little ̷b̷a̷b̷y̷ parasite latch onto his magic.