NateWantsToBattle Oneshots [REQUESTS OPEN]

2) Drowning (Natemare x Female Reader- Fluff)

A/N: Here is the second oneshot for the Writetober prompts. I apologise this isn't a traditional reader insert. Your name is pre-determined, but it will make sense why. It wouldn't work if it was just Y/N. I hope you enjoy. :)

Drowning.

That's a word people don't want to hear. They fear it. They do everything they can to avoid it.

Some people never go near large bodies of water like the sea because they're afraid of drowning. Some people won't even go swimming at the local pool in case today is the day they drown in the deep end. Others are so afraid that they won't even take a bath. Showers only.

And then there are others who don't care. There are some people who have no choice but to face the fact that they're going to drown at some point. Some are so far in that they're already drowning, struggling for an escape from the water's cold grasp.

That was true of one such man who had been drowning since his very creation. The water poured and poured, never slowing down. It fell in great waterfalls and left patches of wetness on everything it touched.

It was salty and it was full of emotion – sadness, anger, distress and a want to feel something.

The man, or demon's name, was Natemare.

Natemare was now almost thirty thousand years old and his heart had been aching for the longest time.

He spent whole nights just weeping and remembering his long lost love that never was.

He was drowning in his own tears.

Natemare was someone who didn't like to show his emotions very much, but when it came to this one person, he couldn't help but let everything spill out.

Usually he sat in bed at night, holding the bracelet that was slinked around his wrist close to his heart and cried until he eventually slept from exhaustion. He wanted her back. He didn't want her to die like that, and what was more, he couldn't have saved her.

By day Natemare was a different creature. His eyes were pretty much lifeless voids, almost no emotion in them. Anybody could be forgiven for thinking he was a different person altogether to the one who sobbed nightly. He wouldn't have let onto most that he encountered about his aching heart or his cold bed. He was a private person.

Not many who came into contact with him stayed in contact with him. He was a hard man to read. He was a hard man to get along with. He was just a hard man.

Most of the people he met thought he was odd. How could anyone like him not have any friends? How could anyone like that not have a significant other? Why didn't he speak to people?

One thing was for sure – it would take a miracle for someone to work their way into his life and stay there, and an even bigger miracle for a woman to become the centre of his world.

No one can replace her...

Imagine his surprise when he was in Starbucks, minding his own business and drinking his pumpkin spice latte, and a woman walked in.

What's so surprising about that, you might ask?

Well, nothing, at least not on the surface. Onlookers wouldn't bat so much as an eyelid at the fact that she had entered the relatively bustling coffee house, but Natemare's eyes were wide and they wouldn't leave her.

How can it be? How? It's not possible...

The woman had raven black hair with golden streaks, her features soft, but determined. She had a black and green hoodie on and her hair was scraped up into a messy bun. She was beautiful, but she was so scary at the same time. She had a presence.