#Light Box X Ray Viewing

[wickedzeevyln]

✮ The Appointment ✮

The receptionist’s fingernails caught Dottie’s attention first. Too long for medical work, painted a deep claret that looked almost dusky under the waiting room lights. The woman sprung a grin when Sarah approached the desk, but her heavy-lidded gaze remained stapled on her computer screen. “I’m here for Dr. Kellerman at three,” Dottie said. “Of course.” The receptionist’s fingers ran across…

[deepspacenova]

The Space Between Then and Now

Last year, you brought flowers to the cemetery. This year, you're bringing yourself to him. (Or, you're determined to make up for lost time with Caleb on his birthday)

read on ao3

➻➻ ABOUT | 6000 words. caleb x fem!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | MDNI. friends to lovers. banter. love confessions. angst with a happy ending. unresolved romantic tension. smut. porn with feelings.

NOTE: I Happy birthday to our dearest, most devoted and pathetic simp of a man, Caleb! Please enjoy my take on the first time with MC that he desereves xx

You arrived just after the sky had softened into a warm, muted glow, the sunshine filtering through clouds thick with showers that would likely fall in the afternoon.

It was quiet in the way only midday during a Linkon summer could be. The rustle of trees, distant traffic, and the soft whirr of cicadas rising from somewhere nearby.

The walkway curved gently as you made your way inside, taking notice of the details that had changed since you were last here.

On the surface, your surroundings hadn’t changed much. In fact, you were certain that anyone who passed through wouldn’t look twice at the subtle shifts that stood out to you like night and day.

Like death and life.

Or, maybe it was because the change came from you rather than the world around you. Either way, you slowed as you reached the end, hesitating when the light started to shift and wash rays of sunshine over the view ahead.

You kept your gaze steady. Familiar lines, angles, and planes meeting your eye, sharp edges worn smooth in the places your fingers always landed first.

Your breath caught in your throat, just for a second. Then you exhaled.

“Hi, Caleb,” you said quietly.

All that he was in your mind came to a halt as you read his name carved in stone.

You were pulling the door of your storage unit open when your phone buzzed.

You fumbled for your phone, eyes flicking over the bins and boxes around you, all washed in the harsh white glow of the automatic ceiling lights. The melancholy in your chest lifted the moment you saw the name flash across the screen. 

“Calling me before dinner time?” You started checking the top of each box to scan the labels. “Did you get fired or something?”

“That’s the first thing you say to me?” His voice was warm and light and not nearly as bothered as his words. “Not ‘I’m so happy you called, Caleb.’ ‘I’m so glad to hear your beautiful voice, Caleb.’”

You snorted as you took stock of the most important pieces of your young adulthood, tucked away and labeled with faded marker — Art projects. Boyband phase. School binders. “If you ever heard me say something like that you’d be concerned and you know it.”

“Okay, yeah. I would.” A conceding hum as you wound through a few more boxes and headed to your destination. “Still, the first thing you assume when I call is that I'm in trouble?”

“You’re the one who trained me to be suspicious.”

“Not of me.” His indignant chuckle crackled through the receiver. “I’m the only one you shouldn’t have to be suspicious of in the-“

His voice cut off when an echoing thump reverberated through the unit.

Your elbow had accidentally knocked over one of the boxes. All you could do was wince when his concerned voice asked, “What was that?”

You hesitated for half a second, trying to ignore the throb of pain in your arm as you tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear and did your best to cover. “Nothing I’m just… I’m cooking.”

He sucked in a dramatic hiss. “Yikes. Well how about you quit ‘cooking’ while your kitchen is still intact? I'll order you some take out.”

“Ass,” you laughed, both relieved he fell for your cover and offended he was so averse to your cooking. “Joke’s on you, I’ll make you pay for your favorite and eat it in front of you when we video chat later.”

“That’s just cruel.” His pouting tone crackled through the receiver as you crouched in front of a seperate group of boxes taped with care — no names, no labels. These boxes were too important to ever need identifiers. Too important for you to forget their contents.

“Besides,” he continued. “It’s June first now. You should be cuttin' me some slack.”

Opening the first box to reveal a year’s worth of aviation subscription magazines and an old-style compass, you feigned a confused hum. “What’s so important about June?”

The second box contained a few textbooks, a stack of notebooks, paper airplanes in various states of folding, sketches of aircrafts, and a basketball jersey worn thin at the collar.

“Don’t tease, pip-squeak. You know what June is.”

The third box contained the scattered pieces of an FY-26 model aircraft, a graduation cap, an Aerospace Academy Diploma, and sitting right at the top: a DAA acceptance letter.

“Um, summer?”

Something behind your ribcage squeezed when you took in the pile of frames in the last box. They were carefully stacked, edges cushioned with folded T-shirts you’d probably meant to donate. You peeled one back and picked up the top frame, fingertip ghosting over the glass that protected Caleb’s 19-year-old, wind-tousled face. 

“Um, no. How about-“ his voice shifted to a squeaky, child-like pitch, “June is my favorite month of the year because that’s when Caleb was born.”

“That’s it, no cake for you,” you conceded with a groan.

“So there will be cake?”

Your mouth curled into a reluctant grin at the boyish question as you turned over another frame: your arms wrapped around Caleb, who was decked out in a flight uniform in front the hangar of his first life-sized aircraft. “I’m afraid that’s classified information, Caleb.”

“Uh, that's Colonel Caleb. And nothing is classified when it comes to me," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm not above pullin' rank."

"That's really cute, but I outrank you in ways your little Fleet title could never touch."

A pause as he considered his options, and then, wisely, "Fine, you win. Bossy."

He was quiet for a moment after that, and just as you opened your mouth to ask when he’d be leaving work for the day, his voice cut in, lower now, careful. “I just wanted to see if-“ Another pause. And then, quieter, “You know you don't have to plan anything big for me, right? It’s impossible for me not to love anything we do together.”

You picked up another frame, tracing the bridge of his 17-year-old nose, the ghost of his freckles, the slope of his cheek pressed against yours. Every frame was a timestamp of who he used to be, and who you were with him. Each year a heartbeat, stitched to your chest in a pattern only the two of you could ever decode.

Sometimes it was almost jarring, hearing his voice now. Older, sharper, shaped by years that had carved more out of him than you think you'd ever know. But there was something soft buried beneath it, some fragile remnant of the young man in these photos. That hesitation, his unspoken question that lingered in the air, it bridged the gap between the past in your hands and the present on the other end of the line. It made you hopeful that he wanted this birthday to be different, too. To mean something different.

“Yeah, I know,” you said softly, gently tucking the frames back into place and closing the box. “It’s actually going to be just the two of us.”

The roughened sound of his next words traced over you like velvet. "You're all mine, then?"

“Just you and me.”

"Can't wait." 

By the time you'd both finished growing up, you and Caleb could fill entire notebooks with the number of unspoken rules between you.

Some were born out of necessity, others out of pure accident. But by the time you were both well into being teenagers, it seemed that every year a new rule needed to be scribbled in. 

Age 15: Don’t comment on how deep his voice has gotten or how big his muscles are.

Age 16: Don’t barge into each other’s rooms without knocking first, just in case he's changing or...

Age 17: Don’t press your backside into Caleb in the early morning when you sleep over in his bed.

Age 18: Don’t tell him about any confession notes you receive from guys at school.

Age 19: Don’t break out in goosebumps when he touches you, fixes your hair, adjusts your collar, ties your shoes...

You'd both done so well at playing years of mental chess, it wasn't until he was gone, until every part of your soul had crumbled, that the chessboard tipped over, and you started to put the pieces together. Realized what it all meant. That you'd wanted to bend those rules so many times. That every don't you never dared to break could've so easily been rewritten as a do. 

Ever since your work trip to Skyhaven and your subsequent dealings with the Fleet all those months ago, you and Caleb had reached a new sort of limbo. Both settling back into your old rhythm and... not.

Because when he takes you out to lunch while he has business in Linkon, he doesn't sit across from you at the table anymore, he sits next to you with an arm draped across the back of your chair or booth, the softness of his bicep brushing the nape of your neck. 

Because when you take him out with you and your friends, he doesn't order your drink and stand nearby, he's pressed up against your back and holding your drink for you, chin brushing your temple when he holds a conversation.

Because when he sleeps over on a weekend, he doesn't wake you with the smell of cooking breakfast, he sits on your bed, filling it with the scent of juniper and apple and him, brushes your hair aside, and coos a soft, 'Mornin' pip' until you're awake."

It had been taking you back to all the times he visited from the Aerospace Academy when you were in high school. Those long weekends when no one could pry you away from each other's company. 

It was comforting, it was intimate, and just like back then...

You're all mine, then?

It was getting to you.

Every touch, inside joke, every show of affection made your mind spin further and further until you were left with a tangled web. Wondering if these past months were him picking back up where you left off or...

You're all mine, then?

Trying to break the stalemate between you. 

You hated the Farspace Fleet. What they were up to, how they treated people, everything they stood for. And yet you'd reunited with Caleb because of what they did. You'd discovered that while you'd always known Caleb was there for you, you didn't think he understood that you were there for him too. That the thing suspended between you had always been a window, not a mirror.

And honestly? Caleb had held up that one-way mirror so securely, so expertly, that you never even knew it was there until his rain-drenched body collapsed into your arms on a park bench and the glass finally shattered around you.

It made you realize he needed you, even if he didn't want to. Even if he'd convinced himself he couldn't. 

It made you realize that you wanted to be the one to stand beside him, to support and protect him too.

You're all mine, then?

It made you realize you wanted to be all his. 

The thing about Caleb was that he'd always taken the lead when it came to your safety, your well-being. But with almost every other aspect of your relationship, he took your lead. His own happiness, well-being, and feelings a closed book unless you pried it open when he least expected it.

Which meant you were going to need to think up a strategy. A distraction. A temptation so thorough Caleb would grab the book and help you crack it open himself.

Caleb had long ago appointed himself as your knight.

It was time to show him you'd forged yourself into his sword. 

The sky outside had softened into a warm, muted glow, the moon backlighting the clouds thick with showers that never fell that afternoon.

It was quiet in the way only an evening during a Skyhaven summer could be. The sound of rain hitting glass. The soft whirr of planes flying by.

The walkway curved gently as you made your way inside, taking notice of the details that had changed since you were last here.

On the surface, your surroundings hadn’t changed much. In fact, you were certain that anyone who passed through wouldn’t look twice at the subtle shifts that stood out to you like day and night.

Like life and death.

Or, maybe it was because the change came from you rather than the world around you. Either way, you slowed as you reached the end, hesitating when the light started to shift. Moonlight glimmering over the view ahead.

You kept your gaze steady. Familiar lines, angles, and planes meeting your eye, sharp edges worn smooth in the places your fingers always landed first.

Your breath caught in your throat, just for a second. Then you exhaled.

“Hi, Caleb,” you said quietly.

All that he was in your mind came to a halt as he turned to face you with a smile that your lips instinctively mimicked.

Lopsided, unhurried, the kind that deepened the freckles across his cheeks and lit faint creases at the corners of his eyes. You’d seen him only a dozen minutes ago, but you already missed the way he looked at you. Steady, open, like you were still the only thing in the room worth seeing.

“About time you showed up. Any longer and I would've eaten...."

You'd never say that your birthday plans for Caleb had unfolded the way you'd intended them to — you hadn't anticipated a downpour on the way here, for one; had hoped to be the one waiting for him in the kitchen rather than the other way around, for another — but you'd happily admit that you'd donned this iridescent periwinkle slip of satin and ribbons with the exact goal of leaving Caleb staring at you like this. Eyes huge and hungry. Knuckles tightening by his sides. Like you were a gift he was desperate to unwrap. 

"Would've eaten..."

It was the hour where evening surrendered to night and the world quieted. Dinner had been long eaten. Cake frosting had been swiped along cheeks and noses with laughter. You’d taken Caleb on a tour of an apartment that you'd turned into his apartment: his living room and bedroom scattered with every frame from your box, a stack of aviation magazines he needed to catch up on by his coffee table, paper cranes peeking out from nooks and crannies, the worn navy throw you'd always stolen in high school draped across the couch, and, carefully reassembled from fractured pieces and painted to match its memory, the FY-26 model, his first and his favorite.

You'd caught a sort of lost and dazed look in his eyes every once in a while. As if he wasn't sure he could trust what he was seeing. In fact, it was quite similar to his expression now.

"You..."

Your heart high-jumped to your throat and you almost backed out. Almost ran back to the safety of the bathroom down the hall.

But if there was one thing you could count on, it was how well you knew Caleb. So instead, you squared your shoulders, lifted your chin, and held his gaze.

“I, what?” You tried for something nonchalant, something coquettish and casual, but the blood flooding up to your cheeks was a dead giveaway that you were completely out of your element.

His eyes descended upon your dress. “You… Look blue.” His brows pinched in a wince almost instantly, and he raised a hand to run through his hair. “Your dress, I mean.”

“It reminded me of the summer sky. Of June," you replied smoothly, fingers brushing the hem of the satin where it clung to your thigh. “Someone recently informed me it’s my favorite month.”

A spark of something illuminated his eyes as the initial shock wore off. Amusement? Interest? He scanned you again, slower this time and a greedy sort of lust flickered across across his face

“Pip-squeak,” he rasps, as if his voice is caught on something in the back of his throat. “Are you saying this is for me?”

You parted your lips to respond, but this time, you were the one who couldn’t make a sound. All you could do was nod, slow and shaky, your breath catching as your chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven pulls.

A sound escaped him then, a low and guttural, half-whimper, half-groan as he tilted his head back to face the ceiling, as if the sight of you was something he had to physically wrestle himself against. And for a moment, he looked wrecked. Unsteady in a way you rarely got to see. And it was next to impossible to keep your expression from turning satisfied or smug.

But when his gaze dropped back down to you, there was a tightness in his jaw and his features schooled again into the mask he always wore when things felt too close. When he felt too much.

You weren’t going to let him retreat behind it.

So you took a step forward, close enough to feel the heat between you buzz in the air. And slowly, deliberately, you lowered your left shoulder, letting the satin ribbon of your strap slide over the slope of your shoulder until it fell off.

“It’s just you and me,” you reminded, all but erasing the line you were inviting him to cross.

“Is this...?” he trailed off, the disbelief all over his face. And then he moved, so fast you could've mistaken it for teleportation. In the kitchen one breath, and standing in front of you the next, like gravity had dragged him forward before thought could stop him. His jaw was twitching again. “You alright, pip-squeak?”

The words were an excuse. A reassurance. A lifeline he was giving you the option to grab onto. Begging you to say 'no' so he could slither back into his armor and hide behind the mask of the protector again. 

You nodded. “And… I'm all yours." You watched the way his violet-gold eyes turned molten as he remembered his words from a few weeks ago. "If you want?"

Slowly, his fingertip reached out to graze yours before it traced down the slip's hem, down the sensitive skin of your thigh. The first overtly sexual advance he'd ever made. 

It was your turn for a half-whimper as that thought and sensation swirled together and pooled hotly between your legs.

But that little breath was never finished, never fully exhaled. Instead, it was captured, consumed by Caleb when his arm shot out, cupped the back of your neck, and drew you into a deep, bone-crushing kiss. 

Fueled by his urgency you sealed your arms around his neck, molding your body to the shape of his from top to toe as you kissed him back.

Without breaking contact, he hooked a trembling forearm beneath your leg, the other banding around your back, and lifted you. Wrapping you around him. You barely registered the motion until he lowered you both to the couch, Caleb's thighs appearing beneath you and your legs bracketing his sides.

Not once did he stop taking hard, deep pulls of your upper lip, your tongue, your lower lip into his mouth. 

The sensation was everything. He was everything. His palm guiding the angle of your head, his heart thumping against yours, his belt buckle digging into your stomach, his hardness brushing your- 

“Wait," he gasped, gently prying your faces apart for a split second only sigh and find his way back like a magnet.

"Wait." he stamped another kiss onto your lips. Another. "Hold on.”

He tried again, this time tilting his head so his heavy pants and puffy lips were pressed into your forehead instead. A jagged exhale. “Take it easy on a man,” he mumbled weakly.

You tilted your head up as well, looking at him hungrily. Caleb shook his head in wonder, swiped his thumbs over your jaw and kissed you again. 

“I need to... Let me come once, Pip-squeak,” he rasped against your lips. “And I’ll last longer. Will you- is that alright? I’ll make it good. I promise.”

You were sliding off him and onto your knees before he finished asking the question.

You undid his belt buckle in two sharp jerks. Caleb groaned as you pulled at the buttons of his trousers and dragged his underwear down at the same time. His cock popped out, red and swollen, gleaming at the tip.

He pulled your hair from your eyes, watched your mouth stretch around him, start working him back and forth. The silky length of him bumped the back of your throat and the muscle tightened, forcing you to retreat. 

A deep wrinkle slashed across his forehead as you took him again, ready this time. Exhaling to push deeper when he nudged your throat. His eyes shut, and his mouth parted. You’ve never seen him like this, and you struggled to keep your eyes open, your head tilted back, to watch how his body responded to you. 

“‘If I want’,” he stuttered your words back to you, the guttural quality of his voice curling heat around the throbbing center of you. “Can’t believe you would even ask me that.” 

Caleb caressed your hair, drawing back the flyaway strands clinging to your face. "This isn't real. This has to be a dream..." His eyes closed a sliver, and he studied you with that dazed look again.

You twisted your fingers around the base of him, working the head with your mouth to give yourself a break. Flicking the tip with your tongue, you fucked it gently between your lips, lapping at it almost shyly as you felt the other strap of your dress flick down your shoulder.

With no straps to support it, the thin top of your slip folded right over and your breasts were uncovered.

It took you a little too long to realize both his hands were still tangled in your hair and that only his Evol could've done that, but by then the intensity of his gaze on your puckered nipples had arrested your attention. As well as his Adam's apple, which bobbed on a swallow when his hand slid down to cup your chin and scan your face.

"You've always been in my dreams. It didn't matter if I was awake or asleep," he murmured. "Gorgeous, brilliant, clever. My cunning little bird, always ten steps ahead of me." The sentence ended on a breathy chuckle as he looked at the room you'd made into your own little world, acknowledging the fact that you'd maneuvered him right into your own version of paradise. 

"Everything I do always leads back to you." His hips rocked forward, gaining momentum as he started fucking your mouth again, spelling every word of affection and praise you've ever wanted to hear across your cheek, your chest, your inner thighs. He caught his breath between talking. His face flushed. You could see how it was affecting him. "The only constant in my life. The only thing that never fades."

"No one else exists for me but you. This, pip-squeak?” He forced himself down your throat until you gagged. "It's the center of the damn universe, it's... It's you and me."

You moaned around his cock, heat building between your legs, listening to his unhinged monologue. What else could you get him to admit with just the slow glide of your throat?

His eyes squeezed shut as he came with a rough jerk, his hips lurching as his release spilled down your throat, a drop trickling down to your chin. 

You barely had time to react before the hum of his Evol surrounded you, and you were yanked back onto his lap. It was quick and jerky, the master of gravity, untethered and unsteady.

He looked at you with that wonder in his eyes again, and this time, when he kissed you, it was all sex. His tongue licked from your chin into your mouth, tasting every drop of himself. He squeezed your right breast, pinching your nipple before he let go. You cried out, and he repeated it until you were so sensitive that when his lips and teeth replaced his hand, you arched up and gasped a strangled, “Caleb.”

He smiled, unguarded, all teeth. An real smile. You melted. His thumb traced your lower lip tenderly. “I've always been obsessed with you.”

Your laughter turned to breath at the admission, the most oversimplified definition of the bone-deep, soul-deep strands that connected you. 

“I've always loved you." You weren't sure if it was a correction or an addendum as you felt him trace the curve of your neck, shoulder, down your arm, with a possessive palm. Dragging the slip down further so it pooled at the top of your hips.

Caleb’s eyes flicked down immediately. 

You breathed deeper, putting on a bit of a show as your chest sank and swelled upon each inhale. You’d never felt more beautiful. More connected. More seen. 

His fingers stroked your right nipple and he lowered his head, taking the left between his lips. His tongue swirled around the globe, and he teased you with a drag of his teeth. Only letting go when your breath caught on a whimper. 

"But you already knew that, didn't you?” He said, dragging his fingers down your collarbone, between your breasts, to the bottom, most intimate part of your abdomen. "That I was made for you."

“There's no one else for me," you agreed, orbiting closer and closer to desperation with every word that tumbled from his lips. "You're the only one who- I only know what love is because of you.” You pressed down, seeking friction against his thigh. “I need- Touch me. Do something.”

He bunched up your slip, and air rushed out of his lungs. You widened your legs across his lap, inviting him closer, heart racing. 

His violet-gold eyes locked onto yours. “If I wake up to find this is all a dream, I’m going to be furious."

Your laugh morphed into a moan as his middle finger grazed your wetness, sliding straight down your middle. He leaned forward to guide your back onto the couch, then rose back up to watch your naked, dripping center writhe against his half-clothed thighs.

“Please,” you begged, shivering just from his touch.

“Like this?” he asked, sliding himself back to devour the space between your legs with his mouth. 

You moaned, bracing one foot between his shoulder blades and the other on the rug below, lifting yourself up as Caleb pressed his mouth down.

You built a rhythm, tilting your hips until his tongue touched that point on your clit that made your eyes roll back. You gyrated your hips so he kept teasing it, harder and faster, back and forth, up and down. The perfect point of pressure, over and over, until you were trembling between his hands while he held you.

A pillow dug into your squirming shoulders, your left foot hung awkwardly over the couch, your toes grappled for stability. But you barely registered any of that as the pressure gathering behind your belly intensified.

“Yes, yes,” You pleaded. “I need- I’m so—"

You went silent as your entire body tensed up. 

Caleb sucked harder as you rode your orgasm. And when you started shaking from the sensitivity, he lifted your hips higher, your whole body levitating from the couch as he positioned you mid-air with his Evol, a more comfortable angle for him to spread your ass cheeks apart and drag his tongue between them. 

“Oh,” your gasp pitched into a breathy sort of squeal at the sensation.

“Perfect,” Caleb’s voice had become a permanent, deep rasp as your mind and body continued to fly, free to focus on all your senses without any tethers. Safe to lose all abandon in the space he carved for you between the earth and the heavens. “Every part of you.” 

As your blurred gaze tried to focus on the ceiling above you, you heard movement and the rustle of fabric before you felt a hot, toned chest press into yours, shaky breaths and puffy lips against the side of your neck, and two strong arms band around your back and thigh. One hand curled around the nape of your neck, the other possessively cupping your sex.

He sank with you until the backs of your thighs and elbows rested on the pilled carpet. His knees and forearms bracketing yours in a warm embrace, anchoring you beneath him as the support of his Evol dissipated and he continued to torture you with the rub of his calloused palm concentrated in small, quick movements against your clit.

Your thighs quaked so hard you could barely feel them, legs closing together on instinct.

"What do you think you're doing?" He cooed, prying them apart forcefully. Caleb's lips hovered, bumping against yours with every spoken word. "Let me enjoy this. Let me savor you."

You could only gasp as he drove his fingers into you, stretching you open for him a fraction more with each stroke. He worked your harder, faster, flicking your clit with his thumb every time he penetrated you. 

"Sweet," he whispered, capturing your tongue with his lips and slowly releasing it on a suck.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip before he could pull away, dragging him back to you.

"Sour," he growled as you threw your head back, the sensation between your legs starting to close in on you again.

"Delicious." He fused his lips to yours once more. Kissing you once, twice, three times. You squeezed your eyes shut so hard, spots of light splashed behind your eyelids as he continued to torture you with the steady glide of his fingers.

You were so wet, Caleb’s fingers moved with unfettered access as you approached your peak. You cried out for mercy as he held his fingers inside of you, hooked and pressing on that point that made you see stars.

“Look at you,” he awed, his voice a distant murmur, locked beyond the gates of your internal pleasure. "I've always been able to hold myself back. Every time you looked at me... with those eyes…”

You clenched around him so tightly, your entire body coiled up, as if struck by lightning. 

And then you imploded. 

A rush of liquid released from between your legs as your body trembled through its release. You panted, floating up in the clouds, your mind filled with fog, drifting somewhere above your body. The only semblance of focus you could muster was on the sound of your name and the self-condemning words that tumbled like confessed sins from lips that scattered trails of kisses from your throat to your ribcage.

"I've always been strong enough..."

“Make it too easy to forget who I’m supposed to be... what I’m supposed to do…”

"... don't know if I can protect you anymore...”

His body seemed to be separated from his mind as he continued to stroke and hold you through it, murmuring vulnerable words against your damp skin. Your hands caressed over every part of him you could reach, his hair, the nape of his neck, his biceps, his chest, his lower back, his backside and back up again.

You wondered how long he'd been holding this in, how long it had been since he'd last been able to truly confide in someone, as you waited for your quaking body to calm and your senses to sharpen again. 

"Caleb," you said, quiet but firm. Your palms found their way to his cheeks and brought his eyes to meet your open gaze. "You've never needed to be anything to deserve my love for you."

His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened, like he was shielding himself from your words. Like he couldn't allow himself to believe you.

You decided to give him no other choice. Pressing his hips down with one of your palms, you lined him up against you and guided his cock into you with the other.

"Gods," Caleb groaned in surrender, his face filling with pleasure, forehead falling against yours.

"You don't need to earn a place in my life. You deserve to tell me what you want and how you feel. You deserve to have friends." Tilting your hips up and down as you moved yourself on him, you kept your words steady. As raw and honest as the feeling of him inside you. "You deserve to be home."

"Can't resist you, Pips." His hand hooked beneath your thigh, wrapping it around him and taking over from a different angle. Chanting more confessions with every thrust. "All I ever wanted... was to give you everything. For your life to be safe… and happy."

His eyes were pools of melted gold and amethyst, each jewel an offering to you as he studied you in unwavering worship. He moved back and forth, gliding faster and faster, and when you thought he couldn’t possibly get any closer, he dragged his hips backwards and thrust again.

"Only if you're in it," you whimpered, realizing he was going to make you come again. 

"Tell me you don't want me." Caleb kissed your cheekbone, your eyelid. Pressed his nose to your temple and whispered in your ear, “Tell me to stop.”

When you remained silent, he fucked you harder. Your back arched up into the air and Caleb circled his arms behind you to sit you up, still fully intertwined. He sat back on his knees and dropped you onto his lap, the force of gravity deepening your connection. 

Your thighs landed on either side of Caleb’s, stretched wide to accommodate his muscled thighs. His face was red, his hair stuck up in every direction, beads of sweat gleaming on his arms and chest. 

“Need you... need you..." He sped up, pulsing up into you.

"It's okay," you whispered, basking in the admission.

You held him, your mouths brushing when he finally broke apart, penetrating deeper than you’d ever experienced before. Like all that had held him back was you accepting that dark, desperate thing within him.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, sinking your nails deep so you didn’t fall as you shuddered through one last small release, insides pulsing as Caleb's release trickled down your thigh. 

You both collapsed onto the floor, breathless. 

"I don't know if I can let you go now," he muttered, like a realization. Like an apology. 

Your pulse stuttered in your ears, loud as thunder, and still not louder than the hush between you, the silence of something you'd finally broken open.

You turned your face to him, cheek resting against the carpet where the cool helped anchor the fire still licking under your skin. “Then don’t, dummy,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes with an amused grin.

The shock of the insult did exactly what you'd intended, snapping him right back to that life-long tether between you. 

"Excuse me?" Caleb let out a breathless chuckle, the sound low and disbelieving. "Would a dummy know how to make you come three times?"

"Two and a half," you corrected, shifting to lay your head on his chest. Caleb’s arm immediately curled tightly around you.

“If you're coherent enough to round down, I definitely owe you another,” he muttered, giving your side a playful pinch.

A quiet silence settled between you, comfortable, intimate. Nothing but the soothing sound of the summer's endless rain pattering against the windows. 

“Don’t let me go,” you said again, this time in a soft, sleepy voice as you nestled into his neck. “I don’t want you to.”

[primalsouls]

pretty like a gem

'malipo' kinich x gn! reader

as long as i don't show you what's ruining my head funny thing about you is you read me pretty well

theme: fluff

warning: none, probably ooc

summary: the little beading gemstone twinkled under the ray of sun peeking through their window. can (name) find the courage to give kinich this gift? or would kinich find out himself, again?

notes: made another one lol i just really love kinich right now. so enjoy this fic too~ reblogs, comments and other feedback are appreciated!

the beads of the bracelet twinkled under the heated rays of the sun. the gemstone showed its marble beauty. (name) was happy with the way the bracelet turned out. They requested it from a jeweler in inazuma after finding a pretty gem in one of their shipments. The color of the gem reminded them of a saurian hunter they started to date not too long ago. 

(name) didn’t plan to keep it to themself. they wanted to gift it to kinich but they haven’t found the courage to handle it over to the dendro user. The bracelet rested beside their nightstand in a small present, just waiting to be gifted to the hunter. (name) sighed. their own eyes stared at the wrapped box. a hand reached out and took the bracelet out of its box, admiring it all over again since they first laid eyes on it. would kinich even wear the little jewelry? they were sure ajaw would make fun of kinich for wearing such a silly thing. 

even when the annoying little bastard wasn’t around, (name) could already hear the berating comments thrown towards them. 

The merchant looked up from their sulky position when a few knocks bounced off their wooden door. 

“coming…” they called out, placing the bracelet inside their pocket. opening the door, they were surprised to see the person they were just thinking about. “kinich!” they greeted, smiling widely at the hunter. kinich opened his mouth to speak but a certain entitled digital dragon blocked his view of his partner. 

“you should be addressing the almighty dragonlord k’uhul ajaw first! then kiss our feet the moment we waltz into your messy home!!”

“hell no.” (name) deadpanned, their eyes void of warmth when they looked at the little creature.

“what!? you dared disgrace your dragonlord in such a distasteful manner!? i’ll have you kno—” kinich quickly grabbed the little lizard and threw him over his shoulder, closing the door right away to keep him out. (name) bit back a laugh at the interaction, grinning over at the dark-haired hunter. kinich glanced at the seller, a faint smile on his light tanning face. 

“sorry about him.” kinich began but was interrupted by a pair of lips he had come to enjoy for the past couple of months. his arms wrapped around the merchant’s figure, pulling them closer to deepen the kiss. (name) pulled slightly away from the kiss, their eyes locking in with the dual-colored ones. yep, just like the gemstone. the electro user gave a warm smile, pulling away from the embrace. “i’ve come by to let you know the tribe would be holding a gathering for the traveler’s help with the mountain king.”

ah, (name) had forgotten about the situation regarding the giant beast who rested underground. they remembered how kinich expressed the value the mountain king held for the tribe. they were glad the legendary duo was able to help their boyfriend out. 

“sounds festive.” (name) commented, watching kinich peek out the window. perhaps to check on the dragonlord he dealt a pack with. “i’m glad you guys made it out safe. Well, except for ajaw, i guess.” (name) joked, earning a soft chuckle from their boyfriend. their hand reached into their pocket where the bracelet was hidden away, a debate going on in their mind. kinich turned back to his partner, seeing a look of concentration aimed down at the hand inside their pocket. the saurian walked over, quietly reaching over to take their wrist and pulled the hand out of the pocket. his eyes narrowed a bit to squint at the item in their closed fist. (name) snapped out of their zoned space the moment their hand was held out. kinich nodded at the bracelet in their hand. “oh.. i-i, um…” (name) was at a loss for words. so, wordlessly, they took kinich’s hand and placed the bracelet on his palm. 

“is not yours?” kinich asked, looking over the little jewelry. 

“no... it’s meant for you,” (name) muttered, swallowing their nervousness before continuing. “it matches your eyes…” a faint blush decorated their cheeks, their gaze avoiding the other’s eye, who’s widened at the gift. kinich stared between the jewel and his partner, the corners of his lips curled upwards. 

“thank you… it’s pretty.” the dark-haired hunter said, placing a cherished kiss on their blushing cheek as he placed the bracelet on his other wrist. “c’mon, let’s go celebrate.”

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part6. preview

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you woke up together, Vi is asleep and you are admiring for body. which could lead to anything…

・❥・ genre: smut + grumpy x sunshine

・❥・ word count: 1.5k

✎ warnings: 18+, SMUT, dom!vi, fingering, swearing, teasing

MINORS DNI!

RIDE ON ME masterlist

you woke up early in the morning, the sun just beginning to rise, its rays scattering beautifully across the room. in the morning light, you had a better view of Vi's room. despite the scattered items, the space felt cozy. it seemed to be about the same size as your room. in the corner of the room, you spotted her boxing gloves, and on her desk lay various notes and random things that didn't quite belong there. her wardrobe was slightly open, revealing some messily folded athletic clothes. a box peeking out from under the wardrobe caught your eye. you propped yourself up on your elbow, peeking over Vi. "what could be in there?" - you wondered.

your thoughts drifted back to Vi as she let out a soft, sleepy breath. she was stunning beyond words. her strong body lay on the other side of the bed, facing you. as you admired the muscles in her arms, memories of the previous evening flashed through your mind. smiling to yourself, you bit your lip. "was that really real?"

you looked at Vi’s face, so serene, with her pink hair cascading across it. unable to resist, you gently brushed it aside to get a better look at her while she slept. as soon as your fingers touched her hair, Vi shifted onto her back, revealing her torso. for some reason, your mouth went watery. you carefully traced your fingers down the ridges of her abs, from her chest to the waistband of the boxers that peeked out from under the blanket.

“ready for round two already?” - Vi said in a sleepy voice, eyes still closed.

you chuckled softly, letting your fingers wander over each defined muscle. “maybe,” - you whispered playfully.

your fingers continued to drift lower, nearing the edge of her boxers. just as they reached the danger zone, Vi's hand shot out to grab yours.

“and what are you up to so early, cupcake?” - Vi asked, her eyes now open and focused on you.

“sorry for waking you. I just couldn't resist touching you,” - you admitted, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Vi's smile widened. - “I don't mind waking up like this at all. careful, or I might get used to it.”

“then why did you stop me?” - you asked, biting your lower lip.

with a swift motion, Vi flipped you onto your back beneath her. “because, cupcake, I won't let you touch me below the boxers until I get to touch you first,” - she said, her voice low and teasing.

she repositioned herself, lifting your leg onto her shoulder, giving herself a clear view of your most intimate area. she took in the sight of you, how disheveled and vulnerable you looked: lying on your back, still shirtless, your breasts practically begging for her touch, your legs spread in a way that gave her access to every sweet part of you.

“do you like it?” - you asked, teasing her with your question.

“cupcake, if you knew what I’m imagining in my head right now, you’d definitely be soaking wet,” - Vi said, running her fingers from your shin up to the inside of your thigh, stopping just before your most sensitive area.

you let out a soft moan. “then show me,” - you whispered, your hand moving to your breast.

Vi bit her lip, watching your hand intently. she started to draw a figure-eight pattern, lightly pressing against your clit through your shorts.

“are you always this naughty in the morning?” - Vi asked, her eyes fixed on your nipples as they hardened.

“this is the first time... because you’re here,” - you replied slowly, noting the way Vi's eyes followed your fingers as you teased your nipple. when you squeezed your breast with your hand, Vi's eyes darkened, and your hips instinctively bucked upward, causing her to press harder on your clit, making you let out a silent gasp.

“is my girl really that turned on? what should I do with you?” - Vi teased, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she watched your reaction.

“I think you could start by slipping your hand into my shorts,” - you said, adding your other hand to fondle your breasts completely.

Vi had no reason to resist. she lay down on her side next to you, wanting to see your face.

“like this?” - Vi asked as she slowly slid her hand into your shorts. “are you not wearing any underwear, cupcake?”

you just nodded, biting your lip and watching the way Vi’s expression changed. she looked like she was ready to devour you with her lips and make you come even harder than the night before.

“so, all night long, when you were pressing your naked tits against me, you were without panties?” - Vi looked into your eyes, her gaze a mix of slight annoyance and undeniable lust.

“exactly,” - you replied with a satisfied smile, proud of your little mischief.

“and why am I only finding out about this now?” - Vi asked, her attention turning back to your pussy, her fingers tracing over your sensitive skin under the shorts.

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” - you said, your voice trembling a bit, as her movements were already starting to take their effect.

Vi's fingers slipped onto your clit, causing you to moan louder.

“oh, a surprise, huh?” - she teased, applying a bit more pressure on that sweet spot that made you wetter with each passing second.

her fingers started to move more actively against your clit, making you moan even louder as you squeezed your breasts in response.

“you know, I love surprises,” - Vi admitted, - “especially the kind you don't expect, like when...” - her finger suddenly slipped inside your wet pussy.

a loud moan escaped your lips. “Vi...”

“but you see...” - Vi continued, - “that's the thing about surprises. the only downside is that you always have to be ready because you never know what might happen,” - and with those words, Vi slid another finger inside you.

your back arched at the sudden surge of heat in your lower body, and you let out another loud moan. Vi seemed to enjoy your reaction.

“but how lucky I am that my girl is always ready for me. just look at how well you take me inside,” - she whispered, the dirty talk only encouraging you to move your hips in sync with her fingers.

“yees,” - Vi drawled, - “that's what I'm talking about. lust like that, cupcake, ride my fingers,” - she said in a low, passionate voice. your head was spinning. how could anyone be this sexy?

“Vi, please, don't stop,” - you tried to get the words out.

“never, cupcake,” - Vi murmured before capturing your lips as she curled her fingers inside you, finding that sensitive spot.

if it weren't for her lips, the neighbors would surely have heard how much of a dirty girl you were for her. you kept moving your hips, quickening your rhythm to match her fingers. they twisted and pressed exactly where they needed to, driving you wild with the thought of Vi's fingers inside you. you continued to stimulate your nipples as the familiar rush of pleasure began to build again.

“Vi, I'm so close. please, harder,” - you begged her, thrusting your hips more intensely.

“yes, I can feel your walls tightening around my fingers,” - Vi whispered in your ear. "God, she could just whisper in my ear, and I'd come from that alone."

she sped up the movement of her fingers, and you kept riding them deeper and deeper. you loved being hers. Vi never took her eyes off you, increasing the pace and locking her gaze on your face, eager to catch the moment your expression changed in the throes of your orgasm. she loved watching you so much.

then came the moment - your eyebrows are slightly raised, your mouth slightly open, letting out the sweetest sounds Vi had ever heard, your eyes shut tight, and your head tilted back just a bit.

“yes, yes, Vi!” - you practically screamed each time as the wave of pleasure finally washed over you completely. at that moment, Vi pushed her fingers as deep as possible inside you, intensifying your orgasm even more.

your eyes slowly fluttered open as you looked at Vi, who gently pulled her fingers out of you, making you let out a small, sad whimper at the emptiness inside. you watched as your pink-haired temptress brought her fingers to her mouth and licked a bit of your juice off them. your eyes widened in surprise.

“what are you doing?” - you asked, shocked.

“it's a preview,” - she winked at you, making you blush.

[adalitas-coffeebreak-corner]

Whispers down the hall

Ghost!Sirius Black x Muggle!Reader

A/n: Hi, this was the popular vote, so here ya go. I'll post the others in the same order, so next we will have some roommate!Remus <3

Warnings: Angst, angst and angst, mentions of death and people dying. Word count: 940

Summery: Sirius realises eternity might not be as bad, now that he got to see you.

It had been rather painless.

He had often thought about it, but maybe he was forgetting something.

Harry’s scream echoing as he felt the world seize to turn, the cold touch of death brought upon him way too soon. He had felt angry, cheated. He had gotten to see James and Lily once more, but only for a few seconds, or it might have been minutes, he wasn’t quite sure, considering his mind still hazy from crossing the veil.

He only hoped Harry was okay.

Remus too.

A vibrant ray of light was shining through the moth-eaten curtains of Sirius’ first apartment. Apparently, that’s where he was doomed to spend the rest of eternity, the place where him and Remus had lived for about a year, in the middle of busy muggle London. After Sirius had been sent to Azkaban, Remus had done very little to upkeep the place, leaving their sofa and a few boxes hidden in the back of the closet.

 And he really couldn’t blame him.

A lot had stayed the same, even some of their old furniture had filled the small space, but the change of flooring, a newly installed kitchen stove had alerted Sirius that others must have occupied the space for the last sixteen years, most likely muggles who were blissfully unaware of the shitshow that had happened there.

But as of now, Sirius roaming down the cramped hallway, it had been empty. No laughter, music or talking and it was driving him off the wall. It wasn’t enough that he was a ghost, no, he had been forced to stay inside an old grey apartment that resembled Grimmauld place in every sense. Totally devoid of any life and happiness.

That was the worst part, Sirius agreed with himself.

So, when he suddenly felt a presence his mind quieted. The door opened and a grey-haired woman, who he made out to be the landlord, walked in with keys and a stack of paper in hand. If his heart was still beating it would’ve skipped a beat when a younger woman trailing behind, carrying a suitcase, came into view.  

She’s beautiful, he thought.

“So here it is, it’s a fucking shithole, but at least it’s cheap” The older woman muttered drawing back the curtains, particles of dust dancing in the sunlight. The younger girl looked a little taken aback, which Sirius thought was adorable, her eyes widening before regaining her composure, obviously not used to the landlords of central London.

The thought made him chuckle.

“Um, yes, I did notice the rent is rather affordable, how come? I mean, this street is right next to Kensing- “

“A couple of years ago some kid who lived here blew up some people right out on the street” The grey-haired woman cut her off with an explanation, her tone matching that of a mother tired of answering questions, Sirius figured the lady must’ve been asked a million times from different tenants. “Oh” was all the young girl could muster, looking a little paler than when she first stepped inside. Sirius felt his chest tighten.

A few months had gone by when Y/n noticed strange things happening. Her bag, that she was notoriously known for misplacing, would lay on her sofa table every morning before work, tea mugs seemed to always magically end up in the sink and weirdest of all? Her record player would keep turning on in the middle of the night, even when she had unplugged it minutes before laying in bed, most commonly when she had been listening to her David Bowie or Mott the hoople LP’s. The first night it had happened, she awoke in a slight panic, dragging her feet quickly towards the sound, where she pulled the needle to rest in the place she had left it.

Weird, but not necessarily any course for alarm.

Sirius felt bad for waking her up, but Godrick, he yearned for any resemblance of nostalgia. It also didn’t help her record collection resembled the one him and Remus had collected over the years. But if he was being honest, she resembled everything he had loved while he was alive, even the tea she made in the morning was his favorite muggle brand.

Nevertheless, he had been terrified when she first discovered the box hidden in the back of the small closet, thinking she might be inclined to throw the contents out, but no.

She just sat there, gently pulling out items with the sweetest intrigued look on her face. First it was his old Gryffindor scarf, then one of Remus’ books and lastly a group picture of all the Marauders and Lily titled First Christmas together at James and Lily’s house.

Sirius sat beside her looking over the picture carefully, emotions erupting inside scorching every fiber of his being. Y/n, as he had learned her name was, started to smile.

When she finally put down the framed polaroid, another one caught her attention, and Sirius swore he heard her gasp, and sure enough, when the photo came into view his hopes were confirmed.

It was a photo of Sirius, shirtless, lying by the black lake on a sunny day, smiling at the camera. Y/n traced her fingers gingerly over the photo, taking in every detail.

He’s beautiful, she whispered.

Sirius couldn’t help the smirk that adorned his lips, as it finally dawned on him. He’d go through everything again just to end up by her side, even if eternity would always keep them apart.  

[imababblekat]

Scatter Brained

Anon request, "Hello! I saw that you had Bayverse TMNT asks up, and I really like your writing. I have a weirdly specific request. Can I get a Donnie X a Female S/O who is an anxious, plus-sized cinnamon roll having a confession and first kiss? If you feel more comfortable writing gender neutral readers I understand. I just happen to be female."

~xXx~

If there was one thing Donatello could clearly process, was that the gal beside him made his brain an absolute mess. A jumbled organ of scrambled thoughts and emotions. The worst part about it? She had not a single clue. Such as now as the two sat on a small, empty hill with a pretty view of one of New York’s parks in the middle of the night. With the still warm air of spring transitioning to summer and the glistening lights of city life backdropping this secret hang out spot, it made for a decently romantic set up. Something Donnie also couldn’t get out of his mind as he fidgeted about on his friends picnic cloth, fiddling with a grape juice box between his fingers.

“See, I told you a night picnic would be nice.”, (y,n) gleamed wiping away some of the sauce from some special sandwiches she made for this occasion.

With a gulp, the purple clad ninja was quick to advert his gaze from the view of her napkin dabbing at the corner of lovely plush lips, a dusting of pink coming to his cheeks.

“I-it is. Thanks for inviting me again.”

“Well, don’t thank me yet. We still have desert!”

Donnie reached out to hold open the lid to (y,n) woven basket, curiously peeking inside as she reached in to pull out the most delicious looking pie he’d ever seen.

“Made it myself with some help from April. Beautiful, no?”, (y,n) winked, holding up the prized possession.

With the way (y,n) sat forward, the light of the park street lamp seemed to create a sort of angelic ray that cascaded around her, making her appear even more impossibly gorgeous in Donnie’s eyes.

“Yeah, beautiful. . .”, Donnie murmured off, his gaze lost in the image of her.

While Donatello was fighting a losing battle with Cupid, (y,n) on the other hand was fighting a battle with her overthinking mind. It wasn’t new to her the feelings she harbored for the mutant terrapin, if she’d truly thought back on it, she’d admit to having had a crush on him from when they first met long ago. However, being the anxious person she naturally was, (y,n) feared that something was amidst their friendly relationship. Lately, Donatello had seemed far off whenever they would hang out. Somedays he’d be awfully quiet, others he’d seem very frantic. It was very worrying to (y,n), and after it became more apparent that Donnie was in fact acting differently around her, it was no surprise that her troubled mind was quick to jump to the worst conclusions.

Cheerful expression faltering, (y,n) lowered the cake into her lap, gaze drifting to the roundness of her folded knees. It was hard, but with a shaky breath, she spoke up.

“Hey, Don . . .can I, uhm, can I ask you something?”

The change in attitude was immediately noticed by said turtle, his brows knitting together in worry.

“Yeah, of course! Is everything alright?”, he cautiously asked.

(Y,N) set the cake aside as she adjusted the way she sat to be more comfortable before finding a plastic utensil to nervously fiddle with.

“I-I’m sure I’m just overthinking things, but did I do something to upset you?”

Her pained inquiry hit the tall terrapin like whiplash, confusion and concern just as evident in his voice as the expression on his face.

“What?”

A lump found it’s way into (y,n) throat as she quickly panicked as his single worded reply.

“It’s just, well, you’ve been acting really off whenever I’m around! You either hardly ever say anything, or you seem distressed. I’m worried that I did something to make you feel that way around me. D-did I say something bad? C-could it be that maybe. . .that maybe you find me. . .”

The saddened girls voice fell off into a quiet tremor, focus shifting to force back the prickling tears at the corners of her eyes as a life time of insecurities brought on by society came tumbling back. (Y,n) didn’t need to finish her sentence, for Donnie already knew what exactly it was her choked voice was alluding to. Knowing her for as long as he did, there were things she’d confided in him about. Things that he found blasphemous that anyone would treat such a lovely person as her in such a way just because her larger body size didn’t fit the manuscript society preached of.

“I-I’m sorry.”, (y,n) quietly sniffled, rubbing furiously at her blurring vision. “I-I don’t mean to be so dramatic.”

Donatello was never so quick then in that moment as he lurched forward from his sitting position to hold her smaller hands in his.

“Hey, hey, look at me.”

With a shaky breath (y,n) all but had to force herself to meet his softened gaze. His hazel eyes that she found so beautifully handsome radiated reassurance, and his tone and words were to match.

“You’ve done nothing to upset me (y,n). If anything, it’s me who should be apologizing to you.”

Now it was her turn to be confused, repeating Donnie’s early, “What?”

With a soft grin, the ninja turtle gently gave her soft hands a squeeze.

“All those times I was acting weird, well it was because of you, but not because I was mad or anything. Gosh, it’s just, you make me feel so nonsensical in the best of ways! I’ve always got my thoughts together, am always able to focus on anything I put my mind to. Yet, when you’re around, I can’t think straight. I either feel like I’m floating on cloud nine or like my heart is about to fly out of my chest. You’re such an incredible, kind, and lovely person. I always heard that true beauty is what’s on the inside, but you’re both. Absolutely beautiful inside and out.”

Heat radiated across (y,n)’s whole face, and just as Donnie had described what she’d do to him, her own heart was about make a great escape. All those nights imaging how this confrontation would turn out, she’d never imagine it going like this. It was always Donnie admitting his annoyance and disgust towards her, not the complete opposite that of which was a deeply heartfelt confession.

Her silence and agape mouth had Donnie feeling suddenly very nervous himself. With the realization of what he had just done wash over him, he let out a short cough, quickly releasing (y,n)’s warm hands and sitting back in his spot.

“I know that was probably a lot, sorry. To be honest, I’m not sure how much longer I could stay sane and not say something.”, Donnie sheepishly chucked.

There was a small moment of silence between the two, Donnie debating whether or not he should just tell (y,n) to forget he said anything and be doomed to a lifetime of an awkward friendship, when barely loud enough to be heard above a breeze, she muttered.

“Do. . .do you really mean all that?”

She had asked so shyly, peeking up from beaneth lovely lashes and even now, after having rubbed her face red to stop the flow of tears, Donatello thought she was the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen. With zero hesitation, Donnie nodded.

“All of it.”

A pause, and then a light giggle that (y,n) couldn’t help, her cheeks now crimson from being flustered as she tried to hide behind her hands but still peaked through spaced fingers.

“Wow, that’s, oh wow. Maybe being upfront isn’t as scary as I thought.”

At that, Donnie couldn’t help but let out a light laugh as well, gratefully taking a slice of pie (y,n) was quick to offer him. Shyness was a personality trait he had known her to be from day one, but it had never deterred him. If anything, it made her all that much more endearing to the tall ninja, especially in the rare times he’d seen her step bravely out of her comfort zone, just as he was about to experience in mere moments after taking a bite from her homemade pie.

Another fit of giggles had Donnie look questionaingly down to (y,n), swallowing the delicious treat with a raised brow.

“You’ve got a little. . .”, she grinned, pointing to a spot of cream on the corner of his lips.

“Oh? Did I get it?”, Donnie asked after unsuccessfully wiping at his cheek, the area he mistakeningly thought she’d pointed towards.

“Nope, not even close.”, (y,n) wistfully replied, slowly leaning up to close the distance between them.

Within agonizingly slow moments, Donatello felt the softness of (y,n) lips connect gingerly with his. It was sweet, slow, and filled him with warm elation. Pie long forgotten on the picnic blanket, Donnie reached forward to gingerly cup (y,n)’s rounded cheek, leaning down to melt further into the shared kiss. Donatello could solve just about anything thrown his way, but never had he calculated coming clean about his adoration for (y,n), and much less receiving a kiss that her normally timid self had initiated. But hey, what could he expect when she made him so scatter brained.

~xXx~

[lunarmoves]

through pixel eyes (chapter two)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness

a/n: i looked at this chapter for too long and it feels like ~garbage~ but! its here! take a shot every time i use the word "window" or "desktop" LMFAOO i'm going insane

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist | part one

ao3 link

You stayed up way too long last night, scrolling on your phone in bed, and now you’re paying the price for it. Namely, with a completely dead phone and a familiar, fatigued itch to your eyes once you manage to pry them open to start your day. It’s nothing you’re unaccustomed to, however, so you power through it knowing you’ll end up taking a nap later. 

Fumbling out of bed, you plug your phone into a nearby outlet to charge and make your way through your morning routine. Cold water from your bathroom sink helps to refresh and wake you up properly so you can proceed with your tasks for the day. You throw open the curtains of your living room and kitchen so you can bask in the honeyed light coming from the sun, sweet and lush as it paints your walls a vibrant gold.

Breakfast is made, evaluations are done, forms are submitted—all before late afternoon. You thank your past self for all the leftovers you made to cruise you through the next few days. It’s always nice not having to cook in the evenings. You lounge around for a bit on your living room couch and indulge in a short nap before you plop yourself down in front of your computer for the long haul. 

Navigating to your email, you pull up the submission form once more and fill out the basic information for now. You can’t even count how many times you’ve done this before for numerous other products. Companies tend to use the same generic questions, though sometimes they’re specific depending on what is being developed. At other times they don’t even require you to fill out a form and instead have you attend weekly meetings or update them via email. Either way, you can do shit like this in your sleep. 

Alright, game time. You minimize the form’s window and double click on the FazPals icon as you fumble for your headphones. Nestling them around your ears, you watch in amusement as Sun pops up by sticking his head down from the top of your monitor like he’s perched upon a ledge just out of view. 

“Friend!!” he cheers and waves both his hands at you zealously. You’re almost tempted to return the gesture. He swings the rest of his body down in a fluid flip and lands in the center of your desktop with a dazzling twirl. Confetti erupts into the air around him, the little digital strips of color disappearing once they float to the “ground” Sun stands on. 

That same small, unlabeled window pops up at his side for you to type in. ‘hi sun.’ 

“Hello, hello! You’re back early!” Sun claps his little hands together and sways side to side rather jovially, bouncing slightly with each bob of his head. You have to raise your volume a little to hear his voice better, though the dialogue box near his head certainly picks up the slack. 

‘yep. how r u doin?’ It’s so easy to slip into a typical conversation with him and push against the limits of his software. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, you’re uncertain. 

Sun’s head twitches to the side, white eyes seemingly looking right at you. “Absolutely fantastic now that you’re here!” He winks at you, grin curling at the tips. “What would you like to do today?” 

The textbox waits for your response. You purse your lips as you contemplate. What have you done with Sun thus far? He told you some fun facts and played games with you. That just left… ‘can u tell me a story?’ 

He pauses—minutely, very minutely—then resumes his swaying like nothing had happened. His rays jerk slightly outwards and he smiles in a mischievous sort of way. “Hmm, why don’t you ask Moon for one later? He is much better at storytelling than I am!” 

You squint at him. Well, alright then. You hadn’t been expecting that sort of response. Shouldn’t they both be equally as good at storytelling if they are made from the same code? Maybe it’s a personality thing. You consider questioning him, but before you can type anything in, Sun forges on. “Is there anything else you would like to do? Remember, input ‘/help’ for available commands!” 

Your fingers tap against the surface of your desk lightly, but in the end, you brush off his response. You shrug to yourself and pick the other option you hadn’t yet done with Sun. ‘then can u tell me a joke?’ 

“Oh boy! I sure can!” He smiles widely and pulls out a pair of large, black glasses from behind him with one hand. With the other hand, he pulls out a small, nondescript book. Is that a… joke book? Putting the glasses delicately on his face—you’re not sure how they stay on when he has no ears, but you chalk it up to technological magic—he clears his artificial voice and cracks the book open. “Why did the star get arrested?”

It seems the celestial theme extends to jokes too. Go figure. ‘i dunno. why?’

“Because it was a shooting star!” He grins, his rays spinning about his head like what he’d just said had been a particularly good one. You snicker more due to his reaction than the joke itself. 

‘that was so bad,’ you type in light jest. And also kind of dark? ‘why did i laugh.’ 

“Because it was clearly good!” Sun replies. The glasses he has on makes his eyes look comically larger than they actually are and it has to be the silliest thing you’ve seen. “Here’s a better one: Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at any jokes?” 

You can see the punchline coming from a mile away, but you still indulge him. ‘idk, why?’

“Because it was Sirius!” 

‘now that one was just predictable.’

“Ho ho, are you challenging me, Friend?” Sun suddenly asks slyly. “Because I am very, very capable.” Uh oh.

You shouldn’t have said anything, because he spends the next half an hour “reading” from that joke book of his and bombarding you with pun after pun. Now I know better than to critique his jokes, you think miserably to yourself as you listen to another one about Jupiter. There can only be so many jokes about the universe and stars, surely. 

You eventually have to draw the line as he reads to you a joke about aliens (“What do you do with a green alien? Wait for it to ripen!”). You’re not here to evaluate the quality of his jokes. ‘okay u win, u win. i won’t doubt ur joke abilities ever again.’ 

Sun harrumphs and closes the little book in his hands with a snap. He takes off his glasses and— well, you’re not sure what he does, but one minute both items are in his hands and the next they’re gone. Like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trick. “Thank you. I accept this win with utmost humility.” The way he smiles makes you doubt this, somehow. 

“Alrighty!” He claps his hands together, his smile twitching slightly when his dialogue box appears a bit too close to his head. “Let’s do something else, shall we? How do you feel about”—he pauses for dramatic effect, then splays his arms out so he can do jazz hands—“Arts ‘n Crafts!”

It’s not like you’re going to refuse. ‘sure, sounds fun.’ 

“Wonderful!” 

Like yesterday, he skips over to the side of your monitor to pull over the window of your Paint app and place it in the center of your screen once again. Seriously, how is he opening that? Then, he jumps up and perches himself on top of the window like he’s sitting upon it. His legs swing down, moving back and forth like they’re dangling off the edge of a precipice. 

“Okay, Friend,” he starts as he reaches behind him and pulls out a little paintbrush. He spins it fluidly along his fingers and joints in a subtle display of dexterity. “For this activity, I will give you a prompt and you will be required to draw it! Simple and easy!” 

A painting session? You can’t say you’re particularly good at drawing on your computer. You eye your mouse and cringe. Then, you hum and decide to tease him a little, just for the hell of it. ‘seems more arts than crafts to me.’ 

Sun waves his free hand as though to brush off your words. “Ah, semantics! We are creating either way, Friend!” He flips the utensil in his hand in the air and catches it smoothly. “Now! First prompt! Draw me something that encompasses happiness.” 

What is this, philosophy? You hum thoughtfully, then use the pen tool to draw the first thing that comes to your mind: a smiley face. It is, admittedly, not your best one with how shaky your mouse is, but it gets your intentions across, you think. 

Sun makes a sound like he’s clicking his tongue against his teeth—which is a bit of an eyebrow raiser given that he likely has no tongue nor teeth, but who are you to question his… features? “Is that all you’ve got, Friend?” he asks incredulously as his head tilts down to indicate he’s looking at your rather meager drawing. 

‘what?’ you type, minutely offended. Is he judging you right now? He is totally judging you right now. ‘it satisfies your prompt, doesn’t it?’ 

“That is not the point!” he squawks out, and you wince at the shooting pitch of his voice. You nudge your volume down a little. “We are making art! Put a little oomf into it! A little personality! Show me your skills, Friend, and do not hold back!” 

You roll your eyes up to your ceiling. So dramatic, but fine, you’ll adhere. You fiddle around with the drawing tool a little, then start drawing around your smiley face. A circle for a head, maybe some sunglasses. A rainbow that you spend way too long on, trying to make the arch of each color even. Some sparkles. A cat playing a saxophone—or your best attempt at one, at least. You’re kind of throwing things together at this point and hoping it’s enough to satisfy Sun—who’s starting to look more and more impatient the longer you take.

Finally, you finish. ‘okay, how about this?’ 

Sun claps his hands together and hops off the top of the window so he can stand before it properly and look at it like he’s a critic in an art museum. He ‘hms’ and ‘hahs’, tapping the bottom of his face with the paintbrush as he scrutinizes your drawing, looking at it every which way. 

“Better, certainly better,” he muses and walks over to the other side of the window. “I can appreciate an effort when I see it.” You make a face at his words. Ouch? He spins back around to face you and gives you a thumbs up, eyes crinkling to crescents. “Wonderful job! A piece befitting a pin up to the refrigerator, I’m sure. On to the next prompt!” He snaps his fingers together, and the Paint application’s canvas clears. What? “Draw me something that encompasses sadness!” 

You know now to be more detailed, at least. You doodle a sad face this time, accompanied by a variety of things you pull out from the top of your head. Sun criticizes your work when you finish, giving it that same appraisal as before. You feel like you’re in some sort of competition. 

“Hm”—he eyes the rainclouds you’d drawn at the top of the canvas—“rather basic depictions, I’m afraid. Friend, have you tried varying the line weight of your pen tool? It might help!”

‘i’ll be sure to for the next one,’ you type in what you intend to be a dry manner, but you don’t think it translates all too well via text. As Sun grins approvingly at you, a sudden thought strikes you that you find yourself typing into that little window. ‘hey, why don’t u draw something since ur so… educated on it.’ Nitpicky, more like, but you don’t want to possibly offend him. ‘u seem like u’d enjoy it.’

“Me?” His eyes widen like he has not considered it. “You want…” His head cocks to the side. There is a moment where he just seems to look at you. Then, his eyes fall into a half-lidded, crinkled gaze that you have difficulty pinning alongside the stretching of his smile. 

Everything is suddenly—quiet. 

“You are,” he begins in a low voice that makes your eyebrows raise, “awfully strange, aren’t you, F-Friend?” A white facsimile of teeth flashes at you sharply that’s accompanied by a staticky glitch. “That’s okay! I like strange!”

And then—before you can truly decipher the depth to his smile or the offset pixels of the glitch—Sun beams at you, his rays spinning slightly. Like nothing had just happened. “I’ll make an artist out of you yet!” He claps his hands again, then wipes the canvas once more. He gestures to it. “Alright, for this next one, we are going to shift gears a little. Draw me a picture of your room!” 

That is… definitely going into the submission form, you think. You hesitate for a moment, eyeing Sun as he sways side to side, but he… seems to be back to normal. It passed quickly—whatever ‘it’ was. No need to linger. You hope. 

Your drawing is definitely a tad more rushed, but you think you do a pretty good job at capturing your room and its vibes—the decorations you have hung up, the comfy rug you impulse bought at a thrift store one day, and your bed swathed in your coziest blankets. You try varying your line weight, but you’re not sure how effective you are with it. Either way, Sun seems pleased with your attempts and praises one or two little details he notices, before he wipes the window clean. 

“For the last drawing,” he says as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I want you to draw a self portrait!” 

You make a face. Drawing inanimate objects is one thing, but an actual portrait? ‘i dunno if i’m skilled enough to draw a good one.’ 

He waves a hand as though to brush off your words. “Nonsense! Give it your best shot. I would love to see how you view yourself!” He smiles up at you. “Show me what makes you you!”

You chew at your bottom lip and adjust your headphones as you ponder. What makes you you, huh? Should be simple enough, right? 

And yet it takes you the longest of them all to draw a self portrait that satisfies you. Sun’s practically vibrating in place as he waits, humming a dainty little tune under his artificial breath that you do not recognize. You finish up with the design of your trusty set of headphones and do a final once over before you tell him you’re done.

“Took you long enough, Friend!” He huffs as he slips over to the Paint window to begin his analysis. He nods his head during his observations, humming in a low manner. “Interesting! Very interesting.” He skips over to the other side of the window to get a different perspective. “Wonderful use of the dotted line tool here! Oh yes, yes, yes! This truly makes me miss Arts ‘n Crafts so dearly.” Sun sighs—forlorn, almost—and presses on before you can really say anything. “I’d say with some more practice you’d be deserving of being hung up on the Wall of Creativity! As they say: Practice makes better!” 

‘thanks?’ You’re not sure you particularly like these sort of backhanded compliments, but well, he’s not wrong, per se. You eye the wobbly lines made by your mouse. 

“No problem! The Wall of Creativity is the most highest of honors, you see.” Sun twirls the paintbrush in one hand and snaps two fingers of his other to clear the canvas for the last time. He points the bristle end of the brush in your general direction. “Now, how about we play some games, hm?” 

You’re kept busy for a while, playing games to Sun’s whims—or at least, the ones you can do with just the Paint tool and two players. He reminds you to take a break at one point, so you stretch and grab some food—all the while summarizing in your head what to jot down in the submission form at the end of today’s session. When you return, it’s nearing seven o’clock, and you brace yourself for the appearance of the moon. 

“Well, Friend, it appears our time together must come to an inevitable end,” Sun bemoans rather dramatically, resting his forearm across the top of his head like he’s about to faint Victorian-style. “Fret not, however!” He perks up and flashes you a grin. “For I will see you later!” 

‘okay, drama queen,’ you type with a silly smile splayed across your lips. Instead of being offended, he seems to fall deeper into the role. 

“Life is a stage,” he says gravely, “and I am but a simple actor upon it.” He sweeps into a low bow, then bounds back up to his feet with a flourish. His eyes widen suddenly—round like two large, white coins—and he gasps. He points at something over your shoulder. “Friend! What’s that behind you?!”

You raise an eyebrow. Right. Like he could even see behind you in the first place. 'nice try but i'm not falling for that lol.'

Sun huffs, his foot stamping against the invisible floor he resides atop of from within your monitor. "Well you're no fun at all! Just turn around for a second, wouldja?"

You can't help the small snort that leaves your mouth. 'alright, fine.' You have a feeling you know what he's trying to do here anyways.

You indulge him and turn around in your chair to look behind you. There is the wide space of your living room, with your rumpled couch and inactive television. From here you can see the door to your bedroom is slightly ajar. You’re pretty sure you didn’t close it properly earlier. You take a moment to ponder your space, stretching out your introspection, then swivel back around to look at Sun.

Only you’re not looking at Sun, of course. You’re looking at Moon.

Moon does not look pleased, standing next to the little window with your textbox. He scowls when you type your usual ‘hi moon’, and doesn’t bother to grace you with a reply this time. There’s something akin to frustration in his expression, but you cannot—for the life of you—decipher why. 

You try again. ‘you don’t look too happy.’

He shoots you what you can only describe as a glowering look from under the band of his nightcap. His hands twitch minutely at his sides. You can almost say he looks… preoccupied with something? You’re not sure what. You’re also not sure how long he’ll elect to stay. Yesterday, you had mere minutes. 

‘can u tell me a story?’ you try, only to deflate when his scowl deepens. ‘oh come on, i’m trying here!’

“Don’t bother,” he eventually grumbles out, the twitching evolving into short flexes of his fingers—clawed like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach. 

It’s your turn to frown, but you don’t push it. ‘sun told me ur better at storytelling.’

His head jerks slightly to the side in a way that’s unnatural—rotating like a vinyl record. His gaze narrows. “He did, did he?” It’s said in a growl, displeasure lining his voice. 

‘yep.’ You hesitate for a second, juggling your options and his irateness in your mind. ‘so… story? please?’

Moon snaps. “Fine! You want a story so badly, I’ll give you one. Listen very closely.” The little window you use to communicate with them closes out. Your eyebrows raise, but you are immediately captured by the low drone of Moon’s voice and the daggered look he somehow manages to give you even through your computer screen.

“Once upon a time,” he begins bitterly, “there was a fox. It lived with another fox friend in a peaceful valley. It was happy, living day by day with those around it. The two had each other and that was enough.

“But one day, the valley shook and trembled with the force of a mudslide. The fox was separated from its friend and injured by a fallen branch that manifested itself in the form of a perpetual limp. It tried, desperately, to find its friend, but it was no use. The friend was gone. It had to move on. 

“The fox traveled for days. It was slow, but it made progress. And eventually, it found itself in a field surrounded by tall, waving grass and giant deciduous trees. It made this field its new home. 

“For a while, things were good. The fox made some new friends. But there was still that ache of loss. The fox wondered if its old friend was still maybe out there, somewhere. It wished on the stars and hoped its friend would find it, in this new home. Someday. Somehow.

“Its wishes were granted. One day, the fox woke up to a familiar sound. The sound belonged to its old friend—that had found it after so long. The fox was happy and bound forth to greet its old friend. But there was something different about the friend that the fox could not place. It did not matter, however, for they were reunited at last. 

“The days went on. The fox had noticed that its friend was not the same as before, but the same could be said about itself. They tried their best to live together once more. It was difficult. There were ups and downs. Fights and quarrels. The friend was controlling and the fox did not like this. They were not as close as they were before and this distance lingered over them like a storm.” 

Moon breaks off for a short moment to glare down at his slippered feet. You are stuck in a trance, breathing bated as you hang on to his every word like they’re a lifeline. He shakes his head slightly, then continues on.

“The seasons cycled by. The auburn vegetation of Fall transformed into the desolate white of Winter, then to the lush verdance of Spring. Before finally, it settled on the yellowed brittleness of Summer. It was a particularly cruel Summer, but the fox and its friend did what they needed to survive while avoiding each other.

“And then… on a particularly arid day… A fire broke out in the field. It spread rapidly. It had not rained in days, and this caused the vegetation to burst into flames faster than the fox and its friend could react. It surrounded both of them. They were trapped. Together, yes, but still trapped. They couldn’t even reconcile in their final moments.” 

Moon looks up at you, his eyes reminiscent of a tenebrous sky pulling you in deeper and deeper and deeper. 

“Do you know,” he whispers with all the gravitas and conquassation of an earthquake barely repressed, “what it feels like to b u r n?”

And then the program closes. 

You are left to stare at your empty desktop, throat lined with cotton and heart racing like it’d been you trapped in that fire.

There is much to dissect, but you haven’t got an inkling of where to even begin. You fall into an uneasy slumber throughout the night and wake up feeling just as clueless. Moon’s expression and voice lingers over your shoulder like a spiteful ghost and you’re left to wonder how a computer program can have such a depth to it. You don’t want to contemplate it, fearing the exacerbation of this… sinking feeling in your stomach. So you don’t. 

A bug, you tell yourself as you shuffle through your daily tasks. Maybe a feature FazCo’s still trying to iron out. 

(You don’t mention anything else other than a ‘weird story’ and more glitching in the nightly submission form. You’re not sure how to even describe what you’d listened through.)

You eye your dormant computer while you prepare a light lunch in the form of a sandwich, your television playing the news in the background. Nothing too major, just the weather at the moment. It’s a good way to fill the room with some noise when you feel like catching up with what’s going on in the world around you. 

You exhale heavily through your nose and set down a dirty knife into the sink to clean later. Something bumps into your ankle, and you glance down to see Dr. Nugget bumbling away from you into the living room, whirring all the while. Those sensors definitely don’t work as they should, poor thing.

No matter how much you want to delay, you have some work you need to get done on your computer. Not only in terms of testing the FazPals program. Your timesheets need to be updated again (much easier to do on your computer than your phone, you admit). There are applications you have to submit to other companies to join their beta testing teams and research you have to do to ensure you don’t completely run out of work anytime soon. One of the more tedious attributes of being a beta tester is the constant cycle of looking and applying for positions. Oftentimes, companies will sign you on to test other products of theirs, though, so it’s not all that bad.

With that in mind, you plop down in front of your computer with your food and power it on. Your headphones go around your neck for the time being. Typing your password with one hand and taking a bite of your sandwich with the other, you get to work pulling up your spreadsheets and the website you use for job hunting. 

It’s menial work. You keep track of what companies you apply to with your spreadsheets. Most of them have the same application process and requirements. It’s easy to lose yourself in the repetitive clicking, reading, and typing. With the addition of your headphones blasting music in your ears, you go on autopilot pretty easily. 

It’s while you’re making updates to your resume that you get startled, suddenly, by Sun. 

“Friend! Hello!” He pops up out of nowhere and makes you promptly choke on the sip of water you’d been taking. What the fuck?! You set aside your water bottle and cough roughly into your fist, eyes tearing up from the abruptness of it all. Your heart gives a harsh, indignant ba-dump.

Once you’ve collected yourself and paused your music, you take a moment to stare confusedly at Sun, swaying happily side to side in front of the window of your resume. He smiles up at you. How the hell—? You hadn’t clicked on the FazPals icon, had you? No, no, you’re sure you didn’t. 

‘hi sun,’ you type slowly into the small window he had automatically opened for you when he appeared. You pause as his smile turns into a beam, then decide to ask him your burning question. ‘how r u active right now??’ 

“I got tired of waiting for you!” he replies, his rays bobbing in and out in a wave around his head. You wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. Okay. Well. You make a note of that for later. 

Sun makes a show of turning around and looking at your resume window. He can’t… read the data on it, right? Wait, no, he probably can if he was able to do it with your computer’s Paint app. You bite the inside of your lip. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but well, it’s not like FazCo doesn’t already have your resume. Just in case, you switch tabs back to your spreadsheet. Better, if marginally.

Sun hums, then turns back to look at you with those blank eyes of his. “What’re you up to, Friend?”

‘just applying to some jobs,’ you reply unsurely. Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it. Upon pressing enter, Sun moves to look at the little window thoughtfully. And perhaps, with some inkling of annoyance? It’s difficult to tell, but it’s the same look he will sometimes give his dialogue box. One of his hands raises to tap at the bottom of his face. Contemplative. He returns his gaze to you and tilts his head.

“Hey, Friend,” he starts, completely bypassing your previous response, “I have an idea.” 

You are wary, but you cannot deny the intrigue. ‘yes?’ 

His smile stretches at your encouragement. He clasps his hands together in front of him. “Just trust me!” 

You squint at him—his blithesome demeanor—but you aren’t able to reply. The textbox window closes, and a different one appears in the center of your screen: 

FazPals.exe is trying to access your microphone. Allow?

All your thoughts stutter to a complete stop. 

Processing text is one thing, but audio input? You suppose it’s not anything innovative in this day and age, but you hadn’t been expecting it particularly for a program like this. You know the animatronics back at the pizzaplex were pretty advanced with this sort of thing, so it’s not… too unusual for FazCo, right? It’s probably something you need to evaluate, you sigh internally. This is fine.

FazCo, you think to yourself wryly. Enough said.  

Apprehension still lining your movements, you click the ‘Allow’ button. The window disappears. Nothing really happens that you can see, but suddenly you are all too aware of the weight of your headphones sitting atop your head. You lick at your lips. 

Sun continues his swaying as he waits—expectant. “Friend?” There is a smidge of hope in his voice. 

“Yeah?” you respond, wincing at the crackle of your voice. That sip of water had really taken you out. You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yes?” 

The beam he gives you is enough to vye against the, well, sun. 

“Oh! Marvelous!” He practically leaps for joy, rays spinning up a storm as he wiggles in place. His eyes upturn into delighted crescents. “Simply marvelous! Friend, it is lovely to hear your voice! It has been so long since I’ve heard another.” Something creeps into his gaze that you… You’re not entirely sure you want to decipher it. 

“Friend,” Sun begins in a low, nonchalant voice. “I have a request! A simple one, really.” 

You raise an eyebrow. You are undoubtedly curious. “What is it?” 

“Can you say my name for me?” 

Oh. Weird, but okay. You comply, voice lifting at the end slightly. You are not nervous right now, thank you very much. “Sun.” 

A glitch rides down the length of his body in a jittering wave—starting from the tips of his rays to the soles of his shoes. His gaze falls into a half-lidded look. “Perfect,” he breathes, so quiet you almost need to strain your ears to hear. “Utterly perfect.” 

You blink at him, befuddled. The moment does not linger. He snaps back to his regular sway and bright-eyed expression. “So! You said you’re applying to jobs? What for?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you say, slightly distracted and disoriented by the whiplash from this guy. Program. Whatever. Your fingers had automatically moved to type your reply in, lingering over your keyboard. This will take some getting used to. You move your hands to rest awkwardly on your lap so you can fiddle with your fingers. “I’m a beta tester so I’ve gotta keep applying for positions in companies.” 

“Beta tester, huh?” Sun muses more to himself than anything. He seems to be deliberating something. “Hm. I see. For how long?” 

You make a thoughtful sound. “Mm, for a while now. I can’t remember the exact timeframe. It’s enough to pay the bills, so I can’t complain.” You are ever so thankful that the ease in interacting with him transferred so neatly from texting to talking.

“Of course, of course!” Sun bows, then slides off to the right of your screen to nestle himself in the corner with the date and time. He tucks his hands behind his back. “Well! Don’t let me distract you! Carry on!” 

“Right…” you trail off, uncertain. You eye him standing just out of the way of your work—enough that you can ignore him if you zone in on what’s directly in front of you. Well, FazCo did say their program is a “virtual desktop friend.” Hanging around your screen when you’re not immediately engaging with it seems like an attribute it should be able to do. You shrug to yourself and go back to editing your resume. 

…It’s very quiet. 

Oh wait, music! You forgot to start it up again. You mess around with the volume mixer on your computer so you can continue to play your music whilst also being able to properly hear Sun should he decide to start talking. That is, without bursting your eardrums. You lose yourself to the tunes, accompanied on occasion by the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard. 

At one point you notice Sun changes the pacing of his swaying. And upon closer look, you realize he’s moving to the beat of the song booming through your headphones. His rays move like a volume meter, raising and lowering around his head in a circular formation depending on the strength of the audio.

“I like this song!” he says like he can sense your eyes on his pixelated form. “Never heard something like this before!” 

“Really?” You adjust the volume mixer a little. Better. 

“Yep! My music repertoire is rather lacking, I’m afraid.” 

“You’re in luck, then,” you say eagerly as you pull up your music player and shuffle through a playlist you think he might like. “This is what I call The Greatest Hits of All Time.” You press play and grin when Sun does a little wiggle in excitement. 

He’s content to sway in time with whichever song’s playing as you slowly finish up with your work for the day. You’re a bit surprised at how long he goes without really saying anything. But, of course, he eventually gets bored. Patience, you think, is not one of his core features. Or, well, he is patient to an extent. Something tells you he was not programmed to stay quiet for long periods of time.

In the corner of your eye, you notice he starts juggling. It’s small, at first. Just two red balls that he throws up and down and up and down, shuffling them to opposite hands all the while. Then it becomes three balls. Then four. Your gaze flicks to him from time to time, but you’re determined to get through just a couple more applications and then your timesheets before you call it quits. 

You break when he hits eleven balls, his grin curling enticingly at the edges concomitantly. “Bored, are you?” 

“Oh, immensely!” He throws up his hands in feigned distress and the plethora of balls come raining down upon him in a move befitting of a cartoon. They bonk him repeatedly on the head and bounce away on the top of your taskbar. You watch in amusement as one rolls across your screen and disappears past the left border. Sun is unperturbed. “Are ya done yet?” 

“Not quite,” you say and he groans, tossing his head back. You roll your eyes in good nature. 

“You can multitask, can’t you?” he presses, clasping his hands together in a plea. “Let’s chat!” 

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce. You’re sure he would keep pestering you otherwise. He cheers and immediately hops right into it. 

“What do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite food? Do you have any other friends? What about your family? Do you like g-glitter glue? What’s the highest education level you have? Do you have a favorite piece of media? What’s your deepest, darkest secret? What’s your opinion on Fizzy Faz? What’s your favorite animal—”

“Whoa, Sun! Slow down!” you yelp, mind spinning with all the rapidfire questions. The text in his dialogue box had been moving so quickly you hadn’t been able to make out a single word. 

“Sorry!” he says, though he doesn’t quite sound all too apologetic. His eyes upturn. “I want to know aaalllll about you! How else will we be best friends?”

“By taking it easy,” you reply in what you hope is a meaningful manner. He at least has the decency to look abashed. You huff out a laugh, then do your best to remember what questions he’d asked. You’re already blanking on some. “Okay, well, uhh. I like to read and watch videos. I do have other friends and family, but I don’t live with them. Glitter glue is okay when it’s not literally everywhere. I don’t have any deepest, darkest secrets, sorry. Uhh—”

“Don’t forget about your favorite food!” Sun cuts across you, trying to be helpful, most likely. “And education level! And your favorite media!” 

“Right, right…” 

You’re not sure how long you spend answering his many, many questions (of which you’re sure he has an infinite amount), but it feels like ages. You have been thoroughly distracted, and you can’t even be incensed about it. 

As the evening settles in with a hush and it gets closer and closer to seven o’clock, you find yourself thinking about Moon. 

“Do you know what it feels like to b u r n?”

You suppress a shiver. 

You take a moment to deliberate in your mind, then eye Sun. He’s busy prattling off his excitement over wanting to watch a movie with you. Gently, you interrupt him. “Hey, is it cool if I ask you a question?” 

“Oh!” Sun looks at you wide-eyed, momentarily taken aback before he smiles encouragingly. “Of course, Friend! Ask away!” 

“What’s the deal with Moon?” 

If you hadn’t been already watching him, you wouldn’t have noticed. He freezes in place for a split second, then resumes his swaying so suddenly it’s almost like he’d forced himself to. Ever so minutely, the corner of his smile twitches. “Why ever would you ask me?”

“Well…” Your fingers tap idly along the surface of your desk. Shouldn’t he know since they’re part of the same software? You resist questioning him further. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to engage with me.” 

Sun waves a hand in dismissal. “Ah! He’s being dramatic, probably! Moon is… Well! I will say he is rather….” His grin turns taut, like a wire about to snap. “...Difficult to get along with.” That tautness disappears with a bob of his rays, as though it had never been there in the first place. “Worry not, Friend! You still have little old me to talk to!” 

“Yeah…” You’re confused. You thought dual programming with personalities such as Sun and Moon would make them mesh together pretty well. It’s difficult to tell with Sun. He’d made it seem like they both were on decent terms with previous transitions. You suppose not. Is it even possible for their A.I.s to interact with one another? You’re not sure how it works.

“Speaking of which,” Sun says as he makes a show of looking down at an invisible watch on his wrist. “It is time for me to go!” He sighs, faux sadness making him droop down like he’s a melting popsicle. “And after we’ve been having such a good time together.” 

“Mmhm,” you agree, something akin to nerves crawling just under your skin with every second that ticks by. Why are you nervous? “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.” 

He grins at you, flicking a hand in farewell. “I bid you”—a dark hole appears near his feet, and you watch as he steps over it with a wink—“adieeuuuuuuu!” He disappears, dropping into the hole with his voice getting fainter and fainter until it’s cut off by the hole popping to a close. Silly. 

You let out a breath and look at the time. 7:00 P.M. Right on the dot. You shift in your seat and wait for Moon. You’re not sure what crawled up his digital ass and died, but you’re determined to at least get him to have a proper conversation with you. Not only for your job, you think, as you navigate to your email to open the submission form, but for camaraderie’s sake, as well. 

“Camaraderie” with a program, you think to yourself dryly. What a world we live in.

7:03 P.M. and still no sign of Moon. This is fine. You can wait. You try not to waver.

…You call it quits when he doesn’t appear after another ten minutes. Disappointing, yet unsurprising. You should have expected it, really. You sigh and take off your headphones, leaning back in your chair. You rub at the side of your head. Your television drones on in the background with the news, still on after all this time. 

Honestly, how are you supposed to evaluate him when he shows up and disappears in unpredictable intervals? It’s a conundrum, truly. Does that not go against his entire code? His purpose? You don’t know anymore. You roll your shoulders and decide to finish up your work from earlier.  

Tomorrow, you think resolutely. Tomorrow you’ll try again.

part three

[mihii-i]

Helloooooo I'm not the Acheron anon but I'm probably just as down bad as the both of you she's literally everything to me and I absolutely love the way you've been writing her so I'm dragging my down-bad self to your box to ask for more crumbs 🥺

If it's not too much trouble can I request a one-shot with vampire Acheron? I've had thoughts about her white-haired emanator form (I mean have u seen her stance in the character info menu when in the ult IT'S SO GOOD AHHHHH) and I just feel like she'd be a very convincing vampire in that form. Can be sfw or nsfw I'll leave the decision up to the chef ;)

Sorry this isn't super concrete or anything it's my first time sending an ask but I couldn't help myself... Next time I crawl back into your ask box I'll try and give u more to work with I promise 😅

trepidation.

Pairings: acheron x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, vampire au, vamp acheron my beloved, suggestive, blood, yummy, slight horror scary oooooo, it’s ok yall will be fine it’s just acheron being weird, I WROTE THIS AT 2 AM and I’m too eepy rn, I’m scared it didn’t turn out good, fluffy yay, not proofread.

A/N: i love all the other acheron lovers here yall are amazing ALSO I AGREE ON THE WHITE HAIR FORM PART IT LEGIT REMINDED ME OF A VAMPIRE and off topic but yall should’ve seen me when I was first pulling for her when she came out back then I was PRAYING like someone pull me off the fucking ceiling atp 🕯️

Blurry sights of the dim candlelight filled your vision as you blinked opened your eyes, your entire body limp and splayed out on the mattress. Each deep breath made your chest rise and fall rhythmically, scanning the room for any oddities present. A sudden sense of uneasiness washed over you upon remembering where you were, hands scrambling to your throat and brushing your fingers along your skin to find any traces of a bite.

A relived sigh blew from your lips upon failing to find any sign of the woman you were currently living with potentially sipping your throat as if it was a hearty snack. Acheron never drank any blood from you, nor had she even attempted. She’d usually cocoon herself in a random spot within the manor whenever hunger overtook her, attempting to control herself as shivers racked her body each time. It wasn’t the most pleasant sight to say the least. You found yourself engulfed with a sense of alarm each time you saw one of Acheron’s unnerving reactions.

The way her blood red eyes drilled into you made your pulse nearly cease from pure terror, stomach nearly dropping as your chest tightened in those moments. However, Acheron never mauled you like your internal self told you she would. Your thoughts exaggerated a bit, sure. But a vampire allowing you to live with her without anything in return couldn’t help but raise a few suspicions within you, she surely wanted your blood, right?

You were still a bit wobbly in your movements when you rose to your feet, heavy lidded eyes blinking groggily as you shouldered the heavy red curtains to the side. Faint rays of the orange light diffused into your room, giving view to the small cemetery garden located right below the large mansion. The solid stone tombs stuck out of the ground firmly, piles of soil scattered at the foot of the gravestones. You couldn’t help but think to yourself at the halfwitted thought process that could’ve gone into placing a cemetery garden right next to a vampire’s residence, also striking in the possibility that Acheron could’ve been the reason for half of the tombs in there.

The thick crimson curtains barely allowed any light to pass through, their deepened color bearing an uncanny resemblance to blood. Still a bit uncoordinated, you decided to pace around your room in circles to recollect yourself, bare feet thudding against the spruce flooring.

“You’re awake.”

The sudden low voice struck your body upright, slowly turning around to be met with Acheron’s piercing eyes. You rubbed your elbow bashfully as your chest tightened once more, feeling a sense of clawing fear once more within you. You couldn’t help it, she was terrifying. Every time she’d walk up behind you or toward you, even with good intentions, your heart felt like threads had wrapped around the beating muscle, and tugged outward to bury the threads within it.

“Sorry if I startled you.” Acheron replied coldly, seemingly being able to sense your fear. You let out a pathetic cough in response, attempting to cover up your initial trepidation. “Right- ah..don’t worry about it, Acheron. I’m just a little tired.”

Nodding, Acheron rolled her shoulders back as a stretch before turning away from you. You tilted your head at her avoidant behavior, the evident ominous feeling lingering in the air. She had always been the quiet type, yet something seemed…off. Shrugging, you shouldered past Acheron silently, keeping your gaze locked onto the ground or the ceiling—anything but her.

Your muscles tensed upon feeling her skin graze yours, puzzled at the odd feeling. It was warm, yet cold at the same time. The specks of vermillion cracking up her arms and seeping down the collar of her neck felt different from her bare skin. Yet the strangest thing was, she had tensed up as well as you brushed your shoulder against hers, as if she feared you just as much as you feared her. However, that couldn’t be the case.

After heading to the first floor of the manor, you couldn’t help but pick up on the thick ominous atmosphere clouding the entire place. The housekeepers themselves were shaken up too, all disheveled as if they hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the previous night. A heavy feeling seemed to weigh down your body, as a sense of caution rang within your head. It was as if gravity had tripled, yet the day didn’t seem off, just normal like usual.

You mulled over all the possibilities as to why such an unsettling tension plagued the entire space, not being able to think of even one. That was until the faint sound of ragged breaths grew louder and louder, each breath increasing in volume than the last. The noises formed a disturbing bitterness piling up inside your throat, making you recoil physically as you heard how strained and guttural each cycle of inhales and exhales were. No doubt, it was probably Acheron.

Swallowing back your fear, you headed up the stairs slowly, time nearly stopping as your breath hitched with each anticipated step. You felt like a large, heavy stone was resting within your stomach as you stood before the door, a sliver of dim light peeking through the slight opening. Acheron’s huddled form made you feel all the more worried, brows furrowing and wrinkling up your face as you saw her body twitch occasionally.

Her white hair draped down her back and over her shoulders as her back hunched over, nails digging into her own arms as she hissed in pained intake of air through her fangs. You gently creaked the door open, making her jerk in response, but still facing away from you. Although you were afraid of Acheron, it hurt to see her like this, in pain and keeping to herself.

“Acheron..?”

You began in a hushed voice as to not startle her, reaching a hand out carefully. She was quick to snap her head around, fingers nearly bruising her hugged arms. You drew your hand back to your chest as it seemed to instinctively repel from Acheron’s bloodthirsty gaze. Her hand was pressed against her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut. It almost seemed like…she was in pain? Surges of pity for this poor woman’s famished state began to race through your mind.

“Sorry.” She croaked out hoarsely, trying to keep her voice indifferent yet evidently failing. You felt your heart almost burn at the sting of guilt you felt when she apologized, wanting to take her in your arms and hold her tight. You felt like you were in love with her all over again-

Wait, love?

You feared her, why was your brain suddenly spewing nonsense claiming to be in love with her?

No. That wasn’t it.

The reason you’d avoided Acheron was due to the way you couldn’t properly articulate your feelings to her. How you wanted to grow closer to this alluring woman and caress her cheek, whispering into her ear tenderly. How you wanted her fangs to dig into your throat and swallow each drop of your blood carefully like a divine meal she’d be honored to consume. Fear was just a mask used to avoid the fact that you’d fallen in love with someone your kind would’ve killed in an instant. Someone who your parents had always told you to beware of.

You quickly circled your arms around Acheron, squeezing her as you leaned into her back. Her expression softened, her breathing still heavy, yet seemingly calming down at your touch.

“(Name)…?”

“Hungry?”

She nodded at your upfront question visibly ashamed and embarrassed. You only pulled her to your chest, pale strands tickling your face as you buried your face into her silky hair. Acheron rested her hand atop yours which was encircled around her stomach, shaky sighs pushing past her parted lips periodically. Your thumb massaged soothing circles against her skin, eyes gently closed as you pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“It’s alright. I’m here.”

Her eyelids drooped in comfort as she felt warmth course through her veins, her breathing still echoed throughout the manor, yet it seemed to calmed down quite a bit. Acheron slowly began to regain some semblance of calmness, her heavy lidded eyes locking up onto you from below. You simply flashed her a soft smile, finding it useless to hide any longer as you pulled her to your chest.

And it didn’t take long for you to unbutton your collar, tilting your neck to the side.

A/N: IM SORRY IF THE PLOT WAS TOO SUDDEN I NEED HER SO BADLY RN IM GONNA GO BUY AN ACHERON PLUSHIE ATP AND ITS SUPER LAYE SND IM SLEEPY IM SORRY 💔

I promise my next work will be better

I hate how this turned out

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

The first anniversary

Character: Oh young il X fem!readerr

It’s your first anniversary together, and Young-Il surprises the reader with a picnic at a park near the beach.

Warnings: none🦑🦑

The wind whipped through the trees as you and Young-Il struggled to keep the picnic blanket from flying away. Laughing, you both crouched down to grab the corners, trying to anchor it with your weight as the gusts picked up. The beach stretched out before you, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing backdrop to your efforts.

“You sure picked a windy spot,” you teased, breathless from the chase after the blanket.Young-Il, grinning from ear to ear, pushed his hair back from his face. “I thought it would be perfect. Besides, we’re celebrating our first anniversary. We can make it work.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, finally managing to stretch the blanket out and secure it with the basket and a few rocks. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, painting the horizon with hues of pink, orange, and gold. It was peaceful, beautiful, and everything you had hoped for when he had insisted on planning something special.

“Perfect,” you said, sitting down and looking at the view. “This is amazing.”

Young-Il joined you, settling beside you on the blanket. He reached for the basket, pulling out a couple of sandwiches, some fruit, and a bottle of wine. It was simple, but everything felt right. You both settled into a comfortable silence, the sound of the wind and the waves filling the gaps in conversation.

After a while, as the last light of the day started to fade, Young-Il turned to you with a soft smile. “I have something for you,” he said, his voice low and tender.

You looked at him curiously, surprised by the shift in his tone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. Inside was a delicate bracelet, carved from wood and polished to a soft shine. It was simple—a few intricate knots and patterns, but there was something about it that made your heart swell. You could tell it had been made with care. Young-Il’s hands, the same hands that had once gripped tightly onto his past, had molded this with a steady, patient determination. It was a piece of him, something he had created just for you.

“I… I made this,” he said quietly, looking slightly embarrassed. “It’s not much, but I wanted to give you something meaningful.”

Your heart fluttered as you took the bracelet in your hands, your fingers tracing the smooth surface. “It’s perfect,” you whispered. “I love it. I love you.”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he took your hand, guiding it to your wrist and fastening the bracelet. “Happy anniversary,” he said softly.

The moment hung between you, quiet and filled with the kind of peace that only the two of you could share. The wind calmed for a moment, and the last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow over everything. You leaned your head on his shoulder, content and happy, knowing that this was the beginning of many more anniversaries to come.Young-Il kissed the top of your head.

“I’m so glad you’re with me,” he murmured.

And you, with your heart full and your love deeper than ever, couldn’t agree more.

🦑🦑🦑

[otterloreart]

Blender: Which Buttons Do I press? (Part 1)

There are a lot of tutorials where you already need to know how to "do the basics" like "maneuver the camera." So this tutorial is focusing on the Buttons- not on the sculpt or the object, just on the buttons and shortcuts that I personally use in Blender.

Note: You will need a mouse with 3 buttons / scroll wheel for this.

Before we start, I'm going to explain which shortcuts I use in this, but, not to make myself redundant, there's a shortcut for seeing shortcuts: Press Spacebar + Shift to see all available shortcuts in each mode.

I'm using Blender 3.6 for this tutorial. I recommend you use the same. It's completely free and has a lot of great features! For this tutorial though, 3.4 will likely work as well.

Click "General" under New File.

Your screen should look like this. There are 3 default objects in the file: Camera, Cube, and Light source.

3. This bar indicates that you are in Object mode. This menu will allow you to go into other modes depending on the object you have selected.

4. Lets talk about shortcuts. You can zoom, rotate, and move the screen using buttons at the top right, but I haven't marked those because I will teach you a better way. Feel free to click them all and see what they do, but I assume you're here because you don't want to explore every button in this godforsaken program the hard way.

Below, the Left and Right buttons are marked as a reminder as well as the Middle button which is also the scroll wheel (press down to click it)

Left click: Select an Object Left click and drag: Selects multiple objects Scroll Wheel: Zoom in and out Middle Click and drag: Rotate your view Shift + Middle Click and drag: Move your view Right click: Brings up a menu that won't be relevant here. Shift + Right Click: Moves the 3D cursor. Not important for this tutorial, but I do it on accident a lot. Hit Shift + C to reset the cursor and also to reset the viewer position to see all objects at once.

Move the viewer around as practice! You're gonna need to do it a lot while modeling. If you have a keyboard with a Numpad (the calculator-looking thing on the right side, says Num at the top) you can use Numpad 1-9 to automatically adjust the view to front, left, right, backwards, and different angles. If not, test out the rotate tool at the top right which does something similar.

There's a helpful menu I use to switch between Modes (if you hit the dropdown menu where it says "Object Mode" you can do this without the shortcut); click Preferences to enable it.

Hop over to the Keymap section and check "Tab for Pie Menu"

And then close the window. No "Save" button is needed.

Now that you have the shortcut enabled, select your box with Left Click, hit Tab and Left click "Edit Mode"

And yes, this is just like the Animal Crossing tool ring:

Now that you're in Edit Mode (You can swap back anytime by hitting Tab -> Object Mode), click arrow at the top right to open a menu where you can check the "X-ray" box. You'll be able to see through your cube. As a reminder, Spacebar + Shift will show you the available shortcuts in this mode, but I'll go over the important once momentarily.

What is a 3D object made out of?

This box is made out of vertices, and each face of the cube has four vertices at each corner- a triangle with three vertices also works, but we'll stick with squares for this tutorial. Moving the vertices will change the shape of the box, like a piece of stretchy fabric over a wire frame.

From now on, I'll be calling the vertices dots, because I hate reading and typing the word vertices over and over again.

5. By all means you can fiddle with the buttons over here but I'm gonna show you the shortcuts I use and the buttons you'll actually need. Don't get intimidated by the amount of buttons. Also press the T key and the toolbar will go away!

(Seriously, though, feel free to play around in this section as much as you want to, but we'll go over the shortcuts a few at a time with examples. at the end of this section will be a summarized list.)

6. Left Click one of the dots and press the G key. You'll see below a whole bunch of additional shortcuts show up at the button. Here are the ones I use:

G key: Grab and move around the dots

R key: Rotate two or more dots*

S key: Size two or more dots*; if two dots are selected, the distance between the dots will change but the angle between them will stay the same.

*Left Click and drag to select multiple dots!

CTRL + Z to Undo edits.

When you move a dot with the G key, imagine that the dot is against a piece of glass at a fixed point ahead of your viewer. The dot will not move farther or nearer to you, but will instead move parallel to your view.

As an example, if you press Numpad 1 and view the object from the front (The -Y green circle will be at front and center in the rotate tool), the dot will only move left and right (X axis) and up and down (Z axis). It will not move farther or nearer on the Y axis by default.

Play around with the G, R, and S tools before moving on.

This little X button at the top right will turn on symmetry. You don't need to use this, but it can be useful.

Left Click and drag so that an entire face (flat square) is highlighted and then press the E key to extrude. Extruding will add another set of dots that are automatically connected to the first set.

Ctrl + R adds a loop cut. This will divide the existing faces into two and add more dots. You can also drag loops to slide them to different positions.

The 3 key (not on the Numpad) will switch your Select Mode to Face Select. This is useful for extruding. Essentially it is simply selecting all the dots at the corners of the squares.

The 1 key will switch back to Vertex Select (or Dot Select) mode and the 2 key will switch to Edge Select (the least useful of the three, to me)

Before we go wild, there are a couple of additional things to know. For the tutorial, focus on working with faces, not vertices. If you accidentally pull a single vertex, select it and press the X key to delete it.

If you want to add shapes, I recommend sticking to cubes for now. Ctrl + A will open the Add Mesh menu and you can add a cube. Feel free to have complete cubes overlap for this tutorial.

Double Left Click will select a series of dots connected in a loop, and can be helpful for selecting areas all at once.

Ctrl + B is the bevel tool, and when a loop is selected it can turn it into two.

Here is a summary of all of the Edit Mode shortcuts:

G key: Grab and move around the dots R key: Rotate two or more dots* S key: Size two or more dots* *Left Click and drag to select multiple dots Double Left Click will select a series of dots CTRL + Z to Undo E key to extrude faces Ctrl + R adds a loop of dots Ctrl + B splits one loop into two X key -> Vertices to delete dots (vertices) 1, 2, 3 keys to switch Select mode Numpad 1-9 to move viewer automatically Ctrl + A to add a shape

Go play with them. See you back here in a while.

7. I used a single cube to make this figure. It's still very blocky, but that's fine. Loop cuts created additional faces which were extruded to create arms, legs, and a neck. Definition to the face was added by selecting individual dots. Remember, Ctrl + Z (undo) is your friend!

Once satisfied with the shape you made - a boxy figure or object is fine- continue on.

8. Press Tab -> Object Mode. Turn your attention to the right hand bar and make sure the Wrench button is selected. Note the Add Modifier Button.

There are a heck of a lot of buttons here that you don't have to worry about- just select Remesh.

Change the number under Voxel Size to .05m by Left Clicking and typing it (there is a slider, but I find this causes lag). Then, apply the remesh by clicking the down arrow and selecting Apply.

Your figure should be shaped similar to before, but have a slight "graininess". If you have added multiple cubes, it will seamlessly merge them into one. The smaller the Voxel Size you put, the more dots will make up your object. However, I suggest starting with something in the .03-.06 range. We will refine this later.

Press Tab and select Sculpt Mode.

This is a mode where I actually use the tool bar for modifying my sculpt, as there are a lot of brushes . The icons show roughly what the brushes do using small icons (note on adjusting this below)

9. Observe the Radius and Strength bars, which will adjust the... well, the size and radius. Note that although the "brush" looks like a flat circle, the affected area is actually a sphere. Select a brush with Left Click and Left Click and drag on the sculpture.

10. This is the smooth tool. I have smoothed out the right side of this figure. Note that I turned off symmetry to do this, but i usually have X-axis symmetry selected.

Although I am used to the small buttons, there is a way to change them. Hover near the toolbar to Left Click + Drag so you can see the names. Hold Ctrl + Middle Mouse button and drag to resize. You will be able to make the size of the menu much larger. This goes for many of the menus in Blender.

The above arrows point to the symmetry button (Top right) and Grab brush (bottom left). The Grab brush uses the shortcut G Key.

The lines point to which tools were used for each part of the sculpt. The Draw Sharp tool was used to mark out eyes. Clay strips made the hair texture. Round cheeks were added using the Inflate tool and a nose (and buns) were added using the Blob tool. The aforementioned Smooth and Flatten tools were used judiciously to remove sharp edges.

I don't have a shortcut list for you here, but here are all the tools I use the most:

You can hold the Ctrl key while using the brush to reverse its effects. For example, if you hold the Ctrl key while using the Inflate brush, it will deflate the shape instead, creating a concave shape.

As you can see, my figure is getting a little grainy. So, we're going to remesh this model again and add more dots and therefore detail.

This time, we're putting the Voxel Size to .01m. Apply the remesh as before. Now we have more dots to work with and we're just repeating the process, smoothing, and sharpening the lines.

I was going to add a bit about how to take a photo of your sculpt, but I ran out of photo space. I will add a reblog with this information.

I came up with this little lamb character on the spot because the clay strips created a nice texture. She's by no means perfect, but she did turn out pretty cute so i might make a cleaner version later on.

[mreowsu]

eng not my main language so I shall come forth and apologize if there were terms that I used in all the wrong ways that caused u english speakers cringe 😔 or am I.. anyway and I quote "he's a 10 but he's batshit insane (so an 11)" -milksuu, in that one phel fic that shall not be named

OPERA SERIA‎ / kinda yandere!aphelios x semi-oblivious!fem!reader

Watch your back, be smart. It does not care about wealth or status. Once it creeps in, unnoticed, it's too late.

cw modern au. established relationship. possessive/obsessive behavior. imprisonment. unbalanced power dynamic. brief mention of blood. alune is still a spiritual presence, supernatural powers still exist for plot rzns wc 5.2k

Leaning on the balcony, the cool pavement of marbled railing pressed against your elbows. The night was as dark as it could get; a mosaic of glittering white dots with the moon hung high in its rightful place. The air was crisp, and a little too cold for your liking, but you stayed put, clutching your half finished wine glass like a lifeline.

Your eyes drifted over the city ahead, it was a few kilometers from your home, give or take. Though far enough for the lights to look like distant little twinkling stars.

It was absurdly quiet, save for the distant sounds of occasional honking from cars and the shallow waters hitting the rocks below your home.

Your home. Perched high and above, far from the noise. It was a 'sanctuary', a place to keep you soundly safe, to make you feel safe. Yet tonight, you felt no better than a bird with lost feathers, nor a cat derived of its claws. It felt like a cage.

Your gaze wandered up the sky, where the moon's light engulfed you and eveything it could like an overly ambitious disco ball. "Gosh," you muttered, eyes squinting against the rays of light shooting down on you. "The moon is so extra tonight." You sighed, taking a swig of your wine.

You had everything you could ever dream of—and here you we're, in a ridiculously expensive penthouse, surrounded by more luxuries than a palace and still, you feel like.. like a gilded.. Potato.

You swirled the wine in the glass, watching it catch light.

"I've got a fridge stocked with gourmet cheese and artisanal crackers, but what's the point if there's rarely someone to argue with over the last slice of brie?" You mumbled into your palm, recalling the time you've ordered the refreshments with the intent of sharing them with your boyfriend—only to constantly be met with silence and an empty chair. It'd be far better suited to call him your roommate when you could count the times the both of you have been in the same room on one hand. Hell, even that might be too much.

You let a sigh escape and took a sip of your wine, savoring the irony. You had a view that could grace the cover of Architectural Digest, yet all you could think about was how dreadfully quiet and rigid it was.

Tapping your perfectly manicured nails on the pavement, you thought; you used to be fun. Remember fun? Parties, friends, laughter... Wait, did you even have friends or were they just really well-dressed placeholders?

You chuckled to yourself, picturing your so-called social circle. The faces blurred in your mind, all blending into a montage of selfies and Instagram stories. "Wow, I really hit the jackpot with that one," you snorted. "A thousand followers and not a single real conversation. Perfect." Another sigh.

You glanced over your shoulder to see the interior of your bedroom. Everything in there was either velvet, gold, or an unnecessary combination of both. It was like living inside a jewelry box, one that was perpetually too shiny.

You sighed again, this time louder just for good measure, in case the universe hadn't caught on your mood yet—or maybe it has, that would explain the overwhelmingly bright moonbeams sinking you. Perhaps, in a futile attempt in getting your soul to match it's radiance.

Your fingers tightened around your glass of wine. It was strange, really. To be surrounded with all these bling and shine, you felt oddly empty.

Is this how Batman feels? All moody and brooding in his high-tech lair, except, you don't have a Batmobile—you really wished you did though. Instead, what you had was just a ridiculous amount of shoes.

You eyes trailed over your walk-in closet, a shrine to retail therapy that had done little to stave off the creeping loneliness. But hey, you still we're real thankful for the red bottoms stashed in there.

"What kind of first-world problem is this?" You mused, you had always scoffed at the thought. You used to wonder if you'd really be happy accepting this lifestyle, liking this little life. But now, standing alone in your penthouse, you got it. You've totally got it.

Your eyes drifted back to the moon, and a bittersweet smile crept onto your lips.

"I wonder what Aphelios would say if he could see this."

Ah.. You chuckled at the thought of your boyfriend. Aphelios.

He was the source of all your luxuries, the reason you lived in this penthouse, dripping in designer everything. After all, his wealth and status as a lunari mercenary meant he had showered you with gifts that could give even the Kardashians a run for their money. Yet here you still we're, leaning on a fancy railing, feeling as empty as a busted piñata after a kids' party.

It wasn't that you didn't appreciate him—you did. In fact, your adoration for him could almost be considered too much. That was all you could do anyway. Give love, and be loved. You had poured so much of yourself to him, but there was a clear line between love and dependency, and somewhere along the way, that line had blurred. You wouldn't be obediently holed up in this penthouse in the first place if it hadn’t.

You cherished every part of him—well, as much as you could love someone who communicated mainly through occasional head nods. And when he did, it would be manipulative curt and controlling firm.

But despite the lifestyle, that by the way, you found out from Aphelios in his rare moments of sharings, that you could consider the nightly moonbeams as Alune watching over the two of you—still, you couldn't shake the feeling of being utterly and completely alone.

'Well, there's Alune and there's Aphelios,' you thought with a blue, lopsided smile. You imagined him standing next to you, all stoic and silent. Probably trying to communicate something profound with just a look.

Because that was all you could do, after all. Think and imagine.

"Hey, Aphelios," you weakly said towards the sky, "the moon's keeping an eye on me all too well. You should tell your sister to chill." That made you giggle.

What a strange life you led—wealthy, lonely, and dating a guy who had a direct line to the moon, who was also rarely home. If someone had told you this years ago, you would have laughed in their face. But now that you we're actually here, living this reality, you wondered who'd be laughing instead.

You thought about how much you had underestimated seclusion. 'You'd feel a tiny bit alone is all' my ass. You mocked. Is this how Alune feels? Seriously, you used to think that being rich would make you immune to it, like a fancy vaccine. But instead, it feels like you're the lonely princess in a tower, compensated with luxurious bags and platinum credit cards. A Rapunzel rip-off.

You could find a hobby, just something to pass time, since the last time you had tried to apply for a job, let's just say.. it ended with a few misguided conceptions.

‎

You sat at the dinner table, fidgeting with your fork, barely noticing the beautifully plated meal in front of you. Aphelios as usual, was quiet, his gaze focused on his food. Not even a blink sent your way. The moonlight streamed through the windows, a silent greeting from Alune. It casted a glow that seemed to make the guy sat across you even more ethereal, highlighting his angular features. If that was possible.

"So," Aphelios began lowly, he glanced up at you through dark lashes, breaking the silence. His voice had a slight rasp to it, you guessed it was from the noctum intake beforehand, though its effects had already worn off long ago. "I heard you were looking for a job."

Your fork clattered onto the table. You hadn't expected him to find out about your little secret application spree so soon. You had only applied for a few jobs—nothing major, just a couple of boutique shops and an art gallery. It wasn't about money; it was just about having something to do while he was off being the government's top asset all day.

You forced a casual smile, hoping to defuse the situation. "Oh, that." You picked your fork back up, "It was nothing serious, just something to pass the time, you know?"

Aphelios was silent for a moment, you figured he was chewing with the way his jaw suddenly tightened and flexed profusely, then set down his utensils, expression unreadable.

"I thought..." he blinked, "I thought we had everything we needed." He lifted his head, and you finally had a good look at him in a while; dark cascading hair, somehow a little longer than the last you've seen it, pale, even skin, high cheekbones and an angled jawline.

Eventually your eyes drifted towards the one thing you've been avoiding the whole meal; his eyes.

Because the moment you do; meant to chain and lock you in place. Imprisoned, just like a statue of a museum's hollowed halls, and the only means of serendipity is being fortunate enough to be frozen cold by the embrace of stone. His vision was already piercing right through you, as if waiting for you to meet his gaze the whole time you've been drinking him in with your own.

He stared at you with question, holding a look to his face—impassive and deathly cold. His lips were set in a natural line, neither smiling nor frowning, yet intense all the same. A mere feature that showed little of his displease, like a porcelain doll—perfectly unmoving, perfectly controlled. It was the face he wore during every argument, a reminder of the power he held over you, and a silent warning of the consequences if you dared to defy him. It's definitely an expression you'd need not be showing to a significant other in the moment of a brewing argument.

But, still, you held his eyes, despite the growing dread coiling in your stomach, as if obeying an unspoken royal’s decree. An absolute command—one that meant a grim fate if transgressed.

And his eyes said just that. Deep, dark voids of pure nothingness that seemed to lure you, pulling you deeper the longer you locked gazes. To break eye contact would be to admit defeat, to acknowledge his control. But the longer you stared, the more you felt yourself unraveling, falling deeper into the void that was him.

Aphelios must have sensed your weakening resolve, because his expression softened, just barely. It was enough to draw you in further, to make you believe, even if only for a moment, that he might actually care. But you knew better. Or at least, you should have.

Once Aphelios realized he's got you ensnared once again, wrapped in his cold, pale hands, he continued, "You have everything you need." a soft murmur—the sound was delicate, almost tender, almost imperceptible that had you straining to hear, desparate for each word, his utterance, the sound of his voice.

He had stated it in a matter-of-fact manner, but his eyes, however, told you a different story—black, glass of orbs, and you, foolishly reflecting in them. As if they had taken hold of your very soul, and no matter, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look away.

This was a man who have brought you the moon and stars—literally. Alune had probably blessed every piece of furniture in this penthouse.

If you knew any better, you’d have turned a deaf ear to the sly confusion and the hint of connivance hurt woven into his words.

Except, you didn’t, and you wouldn’t.

Senselessly, you’ll continue to fall for it. You always did.

His manipulation was a drug, one you couldn’t quit, no matter how much it distorted your mind, corrupted your soul. You believed each lie, clung to every promise, and followed his words like a moth to a flame.

And so, you continued to fall, right into his arms, where you were always meant to be. The hands that had you wrapped in their tightened their grip, pulling you closer, until you were wrapped up in him completely. This was where you belonged, where he wanted you, and despite everything, you wouldn't be able to resist. You couldn’t. Naively, because you love him.

Yet, how could you explain that you just wanted something of your own, something that wasn't tied to him? Why was it so hard to unpack baggage? What you really felt? To Aphelios?

Accompanied with the moonbeam's brilliance the seemed to reach greater heights, his statement from before seemed to flutter through the air like a caress, his whisper. It brushed against your ears, fleeting, and in response sent a shiver tracing its way down your spine like frost. As if it was your lover's wordless encouragement of getting you to talk.

With a deep breath, you complied. "It's not about needing anything," you gulped, trying to find the right words. "I just thought it would be nice to do something, to keep myself busy."

His face remained motionless, a sheet of ice. Though his gaze hardened, intensifying the dark pools within. You felt a pang of guilt stab through you, retract, then sheathing again, over and over. A relentless dagger.

It left your insides disarray. A gutted despair. This would explain how your insides are red; from the savage guilt that viciously attacked you for daring to go against Aphelios' wishes, when he only desired for you to be in a place he deemed safe.

"Then, were you going to do this without telling me?" Aphelios asked, his voice calm but with an edge that sliced through your defenses. Pathetic. Who were you kidding? One look, and they’d be down like they were never there in the first place. "Were you planning on keeping secrets from me?"

You swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise up your throat, shifting uncomfortably in your chair, feeling suddenly very small under his scrutinizing gaze, you could feel him burning holes into you. He was waiting, expecting, your reassurance. You knew what he wanted to hear, and a part of you longed to give it to him, to say the words that would ease his possessive grip, at least for a moment. But the other, wiser part of you, the part that had secretly sought a way out, screamed at you otherwise.

"I wasn't trying to keep a secret. I just... didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"No?" Aphelios leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Not a big deal?"

You notice him shift between your eyes, searching your face for expressions—any kind of reaction, to unearth one more wrong move of yours, something to tick a mark off his painstaking list of reasons to justify his own demands of you. When you didn't humor him, his lips moved.

"You're applying for jobs as if our life together isn't enough."

'As if what I'm providing you isn't enough.' is what he meant to say, you knew.

The porcelain mask of his face threatened to crack, with the way he's trying to hold back a frown. His lips twitched while the dark of his eyes swirled in malaise. "What else are you hiding?"

You let your brows furrow, and the room seemed to grow colder, a cold breeze brushing against your skin. The sudden chill made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. Goosebumps, like tiny diamonds of frost, began to adorn your skin. They spread gently, like the touch of moonlight across a quiet lake. Your arms, once warm, now bore the delicate, cold tracery of Aphelios’ voice. Timbres of his seemed to quiet even the whistling of wind outside the windows. Yet your insides screamed impending doom, a contrary to the stillness of the room.

You hadn't thought it would come to this. It was just a few applications, just a whim. You didn’t realize it would strike such a chord with him.

"I'm not hiding anything," you said softly, "I just thought I could find something to do, something that makes me feel useful." A reason to leave this place.

Each time you opened your mouth, you feared you'd be saying the wrong things, adding fuel to fire, and worse, having your boyfriend tighten his clutches around you. And unfortunately, much to your obliviousness, is already happening.

He was quiet once more, only peering at you with lidded eyes, yet somehow, his silence was far more alarmingly menacing, pressing down heavily on your shoulders. You struggled to breathe.

The goosebumps trailing your skin increased, and you found yourself immobilized once more.

It hurt.

Like two glinting fangs, its sharpness promising allurance and pain. They pierced through your tender skin, slowly and with deliberate grace. They held your limbs in place. Blood welled up, like crimson flowers blooming under its pale moon.

Your pale moon.

It was a silent devotion, a willing offer for drinking and feeding. They continue to sink words into your flesh, through your veins, seeping through each fibre of your body, to ultimately snaking in your head, it left your mind ahaze of any rationale thinking and with only one thing; to never leave.

And it hurt.

You heard red, loud sirens wailing in your head. Constantly blinking in your mind like a strobe light and flashing the words: danger, danger, danger.

The sound thrummed your very limbs, threatening to replace order of the first that's currently flowing through your veins. Urgency throbbed beneath your skin.

Something was wrong.

As you stared back at your lover's eyes, deep and unreadable, you were suddenly reminded that he is, in fact, a mercenary of the government. A warrior for hire. A private military contractor. Hell, he's their top fucking asset.

You haven't given it much thought before, but as that fact sunk deeper into the crevices of your head, your instincts sharpened and your senses heightened. The blaring got increasingly louder, each wail a desperate plea, a cry, warning you of the man before you was very, very much dangerous.

He could do whatever to you, and you'd be defenseless.

Your vision blurred and the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes poised to slip at your revelation.

Aphelios noticed your tears, and took the liberty to talk himself.

"You don't think your presence here is enough? You don't think being with me is enough?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, almost calculated, but each word hit you like a blow. It felt hostile, he felt hostile and you wished he had stayed silent instead.

Your face twisted and burned with hot tears, no matter how tight you clasped your hands on your lap, tears hovered on the brink and wet your lashes.

Your breathe came in shallow, uneven gasps as the first escaped from the corner of your eye, tracing a glistening, burning path down the delicate crevice of your cheek. It was followed by another, then another, and another, until your fingers left your lap to desperately wipe at your face in hopes to still the steady streaming.

You wondered how he could have said such a thing. How had a simple desire to pass the time turned into this? You had always thought the both of you had a mutual understanding, that your lives together, while unconventional, were fulfilling. But, now you saw the cracks, the things left unsaid that had festered until this moment.

"I didn't mean it that way," you pleaded. "I just... I just wanted something for myself."

Aphelios stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. The action caught you off guard, and you let a quiet sob escape you, shoulders trembling.

He tapped a finger on the table, and your eyes followed it—avoiding his eyes. "If my opinions in this relationship don't matter, then maybe we need to rethink everything."

The words slipped out, cold and calculated, but Aphelios didn’t mean them—not really. He just needed to hear you say it, to contradict the words. To deny the possibility of a world without him in it. He needed to know that you were still his, as much as he was yours.

Aphelios wouldn’t hurt you, not physically, anyway. That much was true. But the idea of you straying, of seeking solace or purpose outside of the relationship, was unbearable. He couldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t. You were important to him. So sweet to him. So dutiful. So compliant.

You felt the weight of the words press tenfold down on you, his presence almost oppresive. Leaving you no room for indulgence. After all, his words were absolute. Still, you wanted to look at him, to see the emotion in his eyes, if he really meant what he said. But something held you back—fear, perhaps, or maybe the unsettling knowledge that you were standing on the edge of something far more dangerous.

You didn’t respond right away, and the silence gnawed at him, a bitter, growing void that threatened to consume him whole. He kept his face impassive, but inside, he was shitting his pants.

Maybe now would be a definite time to drink the poison and forever hold his tongue. Perhaps, even Alune could help, but he didn't like the thought of his sister lecturing him with the way he handles his relationships, what did she know? She could never understand. You and him—your love exclusively festered for him, and your bond was something only for the both of you to understand.

Speaking of which—you, your silence was starting to bother him, and he could feel the unease creeping in, a gnawing sense of discomfort, unfamiliar as it was unwelcome. Could you be thinking of leaving? Had you found something or someone else that filled the space he once occupied in your heart? Was that why you were applying for jobs?

No. That couldn’t be.

But you won't even look at him. Your eyes, usually so full of warmth and light, were now trained on his finger tapping the table, avoiding his gaze. It stung, more than he would ever admit, but he couldn’t let that show. Not now.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, and Aphelios fought the urge to break it himself. He needed you to speak, to reassure him, to remind him that you were still his, that you hadn’t changed your mind. But the longer you remained quiet, the more his composure began to fray at the edges.

Why weren't you saying anything? Were you challenging him, testing his patience? Or were you afraid, too afraid to speak? He likes to think it was the latter—fear was easier to control, easier to mold. But what if it wasn’t fear at all? What if you were growing distant, slipping away from him little by little?

He absolutely could not allow that.

He tapped his finger on the table again, and the silverware on the table jumped and clinked from the sheer insistence, hoping to draw you out, to force you to meet his eyes. But you just stared at the spot where his finger touched the wood, refusing to look up, refusing to acknowledge the tension that was building inbetween.

His mind raced, cycling through possibilities, searching for the right words, the right approach to pull you back. He needed to act quickly before the silence turned into something worse, something he couldn’t control.

“Talk to me,” Aphelios finally said, his voice softer now, though still laced with the dangerous edge from before, a countermeasure to your reaction, a brace for impact. “Don’t shut me out.”

You finally peered up at him with trembling eyes, "Sit down, please." you whispered, looking up at him through tear-filled vision. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you don't matter. I won't apply for any more jobs. I promise."

Aphelios' shoulders sagged slightly, but there was obviously still tension in his body. Usually, you were so predictable, thoughts and feelings an open book that he could read at a glance. But now, you were starting to shut him out, keeping things from him, and it was driving him mad. 

Wordlessly, he sat back down, picking up his fork again, though his appetite seemed as absent as yours.

The room was silent, save for the soft, stifled sounds of your sobbing. The tears continued to fall, dropping on the marbled plate before you. Aphelios only continued to eat in silence, eyes focused on his food, as if choosing to shut out the sounds of your sobs for his betterment. How hypocritical of him, now he was the one shutting you out. He even had the audacity to act as if the sight of you hurt him more.

The clink of cutlery resounded in the room, mingling with your cries.

You know, this could've been a sick beat. You'd most definitely sample this if you worked as a musician. But due to circumstances, that seemed like a distant dream. Very out of reach, if you will.

As the minutes wore on, the tears began to slow, leaving a damp trail on your cheeks, you sat there exhausted. The fight drained out of you, and the remnants of Aphelios' oppression drying on your skin.

For now, you kept your head down, eating your meal in silence, resigned to a life where your every move would be watched, where every desire would have to be weighed against Aphelios' better judgment.

Because you were his. From the moment you met, he had known it—had felt the pull of fate wrapping like an unbreakable chain. You were his only means of salvation in this barren wasteland. He loved you, adored you, but that love came with a price. It meant that you had to be his and his alone. No one else could have you. No one else could even think of touching you, of taking you away from him.

Aphelios peered up from his plate of food, watching you closely, eyes narrowing as he tried to read your expressions, to understand what was going on in that beautiful head of yours. You were thinking—probably—debating, weighing options. And he needed to be sure that, in the end, there would be only one option left for you..

Him.

A cage, yes, that’s what it was, and you, the willing prisoner. Not one you could see or touch, but a cage all the same. It would be of his making, crafted carefully and patiently, with just enough room for you to breathe, but never enough to leave. You wouldn’t even know you were in it until it was too late.

‎You would walk right into it willingly, he was sure of that. He just needed to dangle the right treat, say the right words, and you would follow. And once you were inside, he would close the door and lock it, forever.

He smiled, just a little, as he watched you struggle with your thoughts. You were precious to him, so very precious. And he would do whatever it takes to keep you, to make sure you stayed right where you belonged.

In the palm of his hand.

And since then, you would never do anything without Aphelios knowing. It wasn't worth the arguments, the hurt. But never, ever would you bite down your own tongue, you'd rather much choose to die.

Welp, there goes your social life.

So.. knitting, pottery, talking to houseplants—or rather, yourself... something to fill the silence, to distract yourself of the unshaking feeling of loneliness that just seemed to follow you wherever like a loyal dog.

You pondered, picturing yourself hunched over a potter's wheel, clay smeared on your face.

"Yeah, that's not happening."

You sighed, taking a last swig of your wine. A gust of wind blew against you, and you pulled your robe tighter. You wrapped an arm around yourself, though not for warmth but, perhaps to hold yourself together.

"If only I'd known." You mused aloud, glancing at the moon. You could almost imagine Alune winking, as if to say, 'Yeah, girl, get used to it.'

You guessed that was one of the things Aphelios liked about you, and one of the things you hated about you. Your heart, so expansive and eager to love. The way you'd embrace every nuance of his affection and all the things not. Even at the cost of your own, in exchange for his struggles, his pain. You loved too hard, too deeply, and sometimes it felt more like a burden rather a gift.

The intensity of your own feelings oftentimes led you overwhelmed, open, and exposed. And that was exactly just what Aphelios needed. Ensuring you in the curl of his cold fingers.

If you loved, the type to pour your heart out into every gesture and word, he'd match your fervor with a devotion that bordered on the obsessive.

It wasn't enough for him to love you just as much as you loved him; he needed to surpass it, to ensure that his affection enveloped you entirely, as much as he'd see fit. So your heart would only react to him, your mind respond to him, until the only name branded into your mind was his, and only his. Aphelios.

His love was a force as captivating as it was consuming. And when he loved, it was all-encompassing. Surging with every heartbeat, a tempest that sought to claim every corner of your entire being.

He needed to be the center of your world, and in return, he made sure his revolved around you.

The whole thing manifested in small ways, a devotion that demanded your full submission, your surrender. So, it'd be safe to say that with the intensity of your own feelings, he'd just be mirorring and magnifying with his own.

You're just as insane as him.

You glanced back inside, a palace of pristine luxury. Every piece of furniture, every glittering surface, screamed extravagance. And it was all a gift from Aphelios but, his constant absence turned it into a feeling of living in a golden-velveted birdcage.

It was ironic, really. He's out fighting who-knows-what, while you were left to rattle around in his absence.

You leaned further over the balcony, dramatically slinging an arm out and clenching the wine glass tighter in your other hand.

"What's the point of having a boyfriend if he's never around to eat food I ordered? Or, you know, just be here?"

A truck honked from afar, loud enough to catch you off guard. To stir you from nonsense. You stood up straight, shook your head and let out a wistful laugh.

You could wait for Aphelios, though he'd most likely be back at the wee hours of midnight, or tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that, or next week—still, you find his silence more comforting than any words could ever be. Well, the type of silence where he's not pissed. 

Anyhow, he'd always come back home to you. You're sure, because if he went and stayed the night at another's—you'd be damn sure to return the favor and snap his neck.

Tonight, you're content to just stand here and let the moon's ridiculous glow remind you of him. Light engulfing you whole.

"Okay, Alune," you said, shaking your head with a smile, "you win this round, you crazy celestial diva."

With that, you would retreat back inside, to where your luxurious prison awaited.

Maybe you'd light some candles, pour another glass of wine, and pretend that the moon's glow was just the world's most elaborate nightlight, instead of a reminder of your lover's semi-present life.

As you stepped back into the penthouse, you glanced one last time at the moon. "My love," you whispered to the sky.

"Hope you're out there being all heroic and broody. And maybe, just maybe, thinking of me too."

© 2024 mreowsu

[jellyfishcake]

Mae x F°reader

Mae wanted to show you something she found well looking for food. As she helps you get on her horse "Your going to love what I found [Y/n]" as she starts to talk about how amazing it was when she found this but she was taking you at night time.

After she was done talking silence took over a soft silence all you can hear is the horse feet "clip-clop" it was satisfying to hear.

After a while you hear more "clip-clop" behind you guys. You turn around to see Noa, Soona, and Anaya on their horses Mae stops the horse and turns it around to them. "What are you doing?" Mae asks "We wanted to see what you found out their" Noa says back as he stops his horse making a gap between you guys. "Anaya wants to see too" as he talks while signing Soona didn't have to speak because she wanted to do the exact same thing as them.

Mae looks at you for your permission you nod.

"You can come" as she turns the horse around to continue on to their destination. Many buildings come in view some tall, big, small, and short they were all taken over by mother nature over the years as apes take over the world and humans become less seen.

"Their it is [Y/n]" she points to a building with a sign saying 'Music store' you knew what music was your dad would sing to you some small lyrics when you were feeling down. It was a beautiful thing humans made when they were dominant in the world. Mae gets off the horse as she does her hand was out for you to take when you got down so you took it. She pulls your hand gently towards her when walking soon after the trio behind you starts to follow closely. As you guys walk through the building you see vinyl on the floor some still on the shelf they look to be in good condition still.

"Stay here let me get it" as she walks away to go in another room.

Noa picks up a vinyl off the floor and inspect it with Soona on his side while Anaya looks around the room. You on the other hand look in front of you to see the middle has a widow on top the floor looks empty with nothing on it except dirt and leaves.

You jump when the lights turns on "[Y/n] you ready" as Mae comes back with a record player and plugs it in an outlet. Her left arms holds a vinyl she takes out the vinyl and puts it in the slot she places the tone arm on the spinning vinyl.

Music comes out you look her with wide eye's she has a soft smile on her face.

"Take my hand [Y/n]"

You take it and she pulls you in.

"Come on Eileen"

Her left hand goes on your waist as your hand goes on her shoulder and your extra hands intertwine together.

"Poor old Johnnie Ray"

You guys spin as she takes a step back two times well you follow her step towards her.

"Sounded sad upon the radio moved a million hearts in Mono"

You take a step backwards Mae pulls you out and pulls you right back in as she spins you around her hand.

"Our mothers cried"

Your back was to her as your left arm was stretched out with hers. Mae right arm was around your waist spinning while taking small steps as you guys go.

☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

Noa was confused of what you guys were doing plus he had some many questions to asks.

"What do you think their doing" Soona said looking at Noa "I don't know" Noa said back. "Anaya is confused" He talked while signing "Plus what's that sound coming from" Soona looked at it with curiosity from a far Noa walked slowly towards it "They have a pretty voice" Noa heard Anaya said behind him.

All three of them surrounded the box.

Their was something spinning inside of it they hear the voice but doesn't know where it's coming from.

Umm I'll finish this tomorrow. But I'm working on some requests 😈 writing this because it been on my mind for awhile. But I'm working on requests right now I'm locked in writing them.

[mags-writes]

Sunlight || Part VII

Summary: frank gets some insight

Series Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

Authors Note: a short one so I can properly finish the last chapter

PROLOGUE/MASTERLIST || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII

You blankly stared out at the fatherly love pouring from John Pilgrim as he held his sons to him in a hug that you knew was the most comforting thing those boys would ever feel.

The phantom itch of your own father's arms wrapping around you made your skin crawl knowing that it wasn't real and that you'd never feel that again. And not because of the John Pilgrim that was hugging his children in front of you, but a different, more deranged John Pilgrim that was still running around back in your dimension. A man with the same face and same voice.

"She refused any pain meds that would actually get rid of the pain so she's got a little relief and she's a bit loose-lipped." You heard distantly.

Amy sat down in front of you, blocking your view of John and you smiled warmly at her.

"Hey, baby." You said.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Better, now that I've got some more fluids in me." You look at the IV and blood bag sitting next to one another that was hooked up to you. "How about you? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." You knew she was rattled but you also knew that she was a tough kid and that she needed a few night's sleep before she felt more at ease. "Frank's worried about you though. He's like a kicked puppy-"

"Hey." Frank interrupted, sitting down next to you and kicking Amy's legs. "It's rude to lie."

"Yeah, sure thing Pete." She retorted with a smirk.

She got up leaning down to give your arm a squeeze before walking away again.

"Are you saying you're not worried for me?" You teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

"As if you'd want me to be." He replied, nudging you back. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You saw me shove a knife into a man's throat, Frankie," You laugh, looking at him with that sweet smile. "You don't have to ask that anymore."

"Okay, fair enough." He chuckles before setting you with his own smile. "That thing you did. The Mississippi countin'. What was that?"

"Oh, that." You teeter back a little before settling with a small smile. "Jack Murdock, Matt's dad, taught me how to throw a proper punch when I was six when he saw what my older brothers were like. It wasn't his fault but it just encouraged me to get angry. Then when the accident with Matt happened, and I started having to look out for my younger brothers as well as my older brothers, I just got so goddamn angry." You paused, going to show him your right hand but forgetting about the bandages. "You can't see it but there's a small scar from where I knocked out the two front teeth of this kid that was picking on Matt. I was sick of being the one keeping my brothers safe for their sake and then getting in trouble, being told I should mind my own business."

"Yeah, that's bullshit." Frank said, bringing his arm to rest across your shoulders and bringing you into his side.

"Jack talked to my parents and convinced them to let him train me in boxing." You laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes.

"That's where those light feet come from." Frank joked, making you smile bashfully and turn your face into his neck briefly.

"Yeah. Before he died, he taught me to put a pin in my anger." You open your eyes again, looking down at the bandages on your hands. "Take as long as I need to count to three but I better have a lid on it by three Mississippi's or I'd get my head rung in."

"Was he ever wrong?"

"Nope."

"Hey." You jumped at Dinah sneaking up on you again. "Sorry."

"Nope, gotta get used to it." You said and she took the seat across from you that Amy had. "You good?"

"I should be asking you that." She replied, nodding down to your hands. "They say it's gonna be a few weeks before you can actually use your hands."

"Yeah, don't know how I'm gonna cook anything." You brought your bandaged hands up in front of your face, frowning at them and wincing when you tried to move them.

"Karen and I have been talking," She leaned forward on her elbows on her thighs, giving you a serious look. "We're all going to help you move in with me."

You drop your hands, eyes widening a fraction. "Dinah, no, you don't have to do that for me."

"You're not going to be able to take care of yourself during the day with Frank and Matt off at their jobs." She said, reaching out and taking a hold of your wrist.

"What, and you can?"

"I got a promotion recently so I can take some time and transfer it all to work from home and maybe have an odd office day." She squeezed your wrist slightly. "That way I can help you recover."

"Dinah, you don't know me."

"I know that those boys would still be in danger if it weren't for you." She said earnestly. "I'm not going to let you sleep on a couch while you're in recovery."

"But..." You stuttered, looking at Frank for a second before looking back at her. "I make them lunches. And Dinners."

Dinah pauses, giving you a look like she can't believe what just came out of your mouth.

"Why the hell are you making lunch and dinner for two grown men?"

"I'm Italian!" You whined, bringing your hands up. "It's what I do!"

"Hey," Frank squeezed you to his side and brought his mouth to your ear making you shiver. "Quit bein' so stubborn."

You sigh, finally relenting. "Fine."

"I'm also hiring you." She adds, standing up and smirking.

"Pardon?"

\\\\

Tagged: @danzer8705 (sorry for forgetting to tag you in the last chapter!)

[half-baked-stories]

Trading Spaces (1,880 words)

Muriel didn’t check the driveway for cars, because there were always cars.  The lights went on at dusk and were off by the time she walked past on her way to school.  It was mechanical, structured, as perfectly timed and automated as the daisy-head sprinklers that popped up every morning, watering the vast expanse of the front lawn.

There was probably an alarm system, too, but it wasn’t set.  Or, if it was, no one showed up the first time she opened the front door and left it ajar.

Or the time after.

Or when she raced into the foyer and did a wild, flailing little dance, just to be sure.

Then she knew she could explore.

She usually came in by the side entrance, into some kind of mud room or scullery, tennis shoes squeaking softly on linoleum.  It led out into a little hall alongside the main staircase, past the door to the coat room that never had any coats in it.  The foyer stretched two stories, crowned with a coffered dome and illuminated by an elaborate iron chandelier big enough to be seen from the street.  She never came at night, but even in the filtered afternoon light it was sepulchral and sterile.

Muriel went up the curving stairs, trailing her fingertips down the polished bannister, bumbling them over wainscotting and past door after door, to the far wing of the house.  The room that overlooked the pool, the guest house, the canopied cabana.  There was a green Amazon parrot in a massive black cage, entertained only by the view from the window and an old tube TV left playing on a rolling cart.  It screeched when it saw her, climbing the bars with clicks of claws and beak, and she offered it whole walnuts from her pockets as a bribe.

There were never any footsteps on the stairs. No one ever came to investigate the bird’s screaming.  It was forgotten, too.

Muriel knelt down to sort through the box of VHS tapes stashed on the TV cart’s bottom shelf, slipping them in and out of their cardboard sleeves.  Music videos recorded off MTV, baseball games, a recital.  She was only interested in the cartoons.  The parrot cracked and worried the walnuts in one foot, watching her and occasionally mimicking the sounds the VCR made as she put in a tape.

Each cartoon was roughy seven minutes long, and there were seven or eight per tape.  She lost her nerve the first time she played one, startled when the parrot took up screaming, and she only made it halfway through a single short where Bugs Bunny was some kind of braided Valkyrie.  The second time she brought walnuts, and a giant white dog with a mop top of red hair had it out for Foghorn Leghorn.  Then Muriel had the rhythm down perfectly, from a second round of walnuts to the hasty reset of the room’s tableau before she left: adjusting the cart’s wheels back into their divots on the carpet, pushing the cardboard box of tapes back into place.

When the lamp on the writing desk clicked on after the third cartoon, it was time to go.  She was so slick.

Until she wasn’t.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Muriel’s head whipped around just as Daffy Duck jammed his finger into a light socket, and they both bristled with sizzling shock.  She imagined her bones projecting through her skin like an X-ray.

She scrambled to her feet, kicking the box out of the way, and the parrot screeched  and flared its pinioned wings.  The man in the doorway flailed backwards as she snatched her bookbag and barreled past him.  Her Chucks pounding carpet as she pelted past door after door, back down the stairs.

“Wait!  …Wait!”

He couldn’t keep up with her, but he tried.  Stopped at the top of the stairs, huffing, and jogged down double-time in the hopes of catching her at the bottom.

“Look—will you wait!”

He didn’t need to hurry.  He’d locked the front door before he ever went upstairs, and Muriel rattled and pulled and fought breathlessly with knob and deadbolt as he closed the distance behind her.  She finally got it open, blinding herself with a blaze of daylight just as he reached the bottom of the steps.

“Bloody hell, just wait a moment, would you!?  You’re not in any trouble!”

Muriel froze in the door gap, one hand on the knob and the other on the jamb.  The fevered whites of her eyes reeled at him as she looked back, ready to bolt.

But he didn’t chase her, either to arrest her or drive her out the door.  At the bottom step he leaned hard on the curling volute, a fist at his hip, and tried to catch his breath.

“I’m too old for this nonsense, just…”  he wagged a hand at her tiredly, a bid for mercy. “Just give me a moment, would you?  I’m not going to do anything to you.  I just want to talk.”

She believed him.  Not only for the breathless earnestness of the appeal, but for his slight, almost fragile build.  His full-front apron.  His accent.  He wasn’t a man built for cardiovascular extremes.

As if to drive this home, he lowered to the bottom step, knees cocked outward so he could lean his elbows onto them. Sprinting was the last thing he felt like doing today, and he resented her more for that than for simply being in the house at all.

“I locked the door,” he said.

She checked the door, sunlight and freedom still tantalizingly close.  Looked back at him as her breathing slowly eased.

“I noticed.”

He circled a hand at the air—yeah yeah yeah.  “What I mean to say is, if I had any intention of capturing you, I would have simply called the constabulatory while you were preoccupied watching cartoons.”

Muriel squinted.

“The what now?”

“The…” Damn it. The word escaped him.  He pinched his apron front where a badge should have been, pinching it outward.  “The…”

“Police,” she said, just as he remembered it and chimed it at the same time.  He circled his hand again, laboriously getting to his feet.  He had forty-odd years on Muriel, but only five or inches and sixty pounds, soaking wet.  She actually felt a little bad for making him run.

She checked the door one last time, hand falling away from the knob.

“You know about the cartoons?”

“Well, I didn’t think the bird learned to say ‘Sufferin’ Succotash’ on his own.”  Revulsion passed briefly across his face as he tightened his apron strings.  “...and I have a brother who stuttered terribly as a boy, I don’t find that nonsense pig funny at all.”

He cast her a more chastising eye as he straightened, arms folding.

“Also, you left walnut shells all over the floor.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, but your feathered accomplice did, and I’m the one who had to clean them up.  He tries to bite me through the bars, and I don’t like it.”

Muriel looked cautiously chagrinned.  “Sorry.”

“It isn’t important,” he dismissed.  “Listen, if you want the cartoons so badly, why don’t you just take them.  No one here watches them, they’re just going to end up donated to Goodwill.  You might as well take them home.”

Her posture shifted again, stiffened in defense.  He thought she might bolt again, but something held her rooted to the spot.

“Can’t.  Don’t have a VCR.”

A sigh, a gesture upstairs.

“You can have that too, if it means you stop breaking in.”

“There’s no TV,” Muriel explained, frustrated.  “I mean… there is, but…”

But they tended not to work without electricity.  She didn’t say it outright, and the intimation felt vague enough that he wouldn’t put two and two together, but of course he did.  His lips parted in that silent, inspired ah of sympathy and understanding, chased quickly by a look of pained dismay.  Such things didn’t occur in a vacuum.  A person didn’t lack for one thing without lacking for others.

Muriel readied to bolt again.

“Don’t call the cops,” she said. “Or the… the const…tipation—”

“I won’t,” he said, but hesitantly.  Muriel doubled down.

“Or social services.  CPS, or DFS, or… whatever they call it here, no loopholes.  No cops means no anybody.”

Not that he couldn’t appreciate her need for discretion, but he was hardly in a position to negotiate.  He patted the air as if to cool the rising mercury of her fear.

“Look, I’m a housekeeper, not a genie.  I’m not going to look for a roundabout way to rat you out to the authorities.  I promise.”

It took her the space of several pounding heartbeats, but slowly she relaxed.  Her thin shoulders eased, her fingers twitched at her sides as feeling came back into them.  He tilted his chin down and looked up at hear, questioning.

“Alright?”

“Alright.”  Cautiously.

Relieved at last, he swept both hands down his apron front.

“Right.  Now that that’s sorted, I trust you could use something to eat.”  He thumbed down the hall, through the dim formal dining room, a direction she’d never dared to explore.  “I can fix you something, if you’d like?”

Muriel’s whole body rose and fell delicately as she breathed.  She checked the dining room as she’d previously checked the promise of daylight and freedom, then quietly closed the front door.

“Okay.  But.  I don’t think I like British food.”

“Well, we have that in common, at least.”  He gestured her to follow.  “Come along.  You can clean up the walnut shells when you’re done.”

*******

His name was Malcolm, and he was delighted to hear that her name was Muriel.

“It’s a terrible name,” she argued, watching from a little bistro table as he navigated the kitchen with practiced ease.  He mixed a burger patty by hand, slicing fries into a steak cut while a small pot of oil heated on the stove.  The thoughtless efficiency of it all held her captivated.

“It’s a lovely name,” he shot back.  “You don’t like it because it’s a bit old fashioned.”

“Yeah, it was my grandmother’s.”

“Hm.”

“Hey, don’t you guys call french fries chips?”

“You guys,” he echoed quietly, shaking his head.  “Yes, we do.”

“Then what do you call potato chips?”

He looked at her coolly from the chopping board.

“Colonial Potato Slivers.”

Muriel dissolved into ugly, snorting, laughter that bent her head to her arms.  Malcolm smiled faintly, scraping the potato wedges into the oil with the side of his knife.s

The burger patty browned and the potatoes crackled in the oil.  He minded them with a few careful touches from a spatula, a wire strainer, pairing one with a slice of cheese and the other with a toss of coarse salt.  When all was plated he carried them to the table, setting it down as he took his seat.

Muriel reached for it, hesitating, but he nodded her on.  She dove into it with a voraciousness she knew was unbecoming, but couldn’t quite help.  She expected to find him disgusted, when she finally picked up her head, but instead he just looked sad.

“Th’orry,” she mumbled around a mouthful.  He blinked tiredly.

“Eat.”

The burger was more than halfway gone before he spoke again.

Continued here.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

I Said It First!

Ship: Egon Spengler x Ferris Hutch x Peter Venkman

Word Count: 994

Summary: THE PROPOSAL FIC. IT'S HERE. After having Egon and Peter listed as my fiancés for a few months now. The boys didn't coordinate this beforehand. 😅 CWs for brief alcohol mention.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @rexscanonwife @dudefrommywesterns

Ferris had been enjoying a wonderful evening with his boys. It was like something out of a movie, from tickets to a ballet performance to dinner to a walk through a light art exhibit. He expected this sort of thing from Egon from time to time, taking a breather from all of the ghost work to appreciate their non-professional relationship, but Peter... well, his date ideas could range from a nice dinner to making out during a movie. He put in the effort when he felt like it and Ferris had accepted that.

“I’ve never seen you two act like this,” Ferris couldn’t help but comment when they were in the back of a limousine, heading who knows where. “How did we afford all this?”

Peter put a finger on their lips. “Shh. You don’t need to worry about that, babe. Venkman’s—”

“And Spengler,” Egon interrupted with a look. Peter cleared his throat.

“Yes, of course, Venkman and Spengler have got it covered. All you need to do is relax and enjoy the evening. Right?”

“Right.”

Ferris sighed and shook their head, sinking further into the vehicle’s cushy seats. “I hope Ray and Winston don’t miss us too much.”

“Whaat? Psh, they’ll be fine, why’re you bringing them into this??” Peter asked jokingly. Ferris put its hands up defensively.

“Alright, alright, I’ll shut my trap.”

Egon’s hand rested on top of its. “Just until we get where we’re going.” He smiled at it and it smiled back. It was just a bit longer until the limousine came to a stop. Ferris had felt it climbing a hill and gave their boys a questioning look as they got out of the car. They gasped when they looked around. A beautiful lookout point rising over the lights of New York City.

“Isn’t she glorious from here? Our own Big Apple,” Peter announced as they walked toward the railing for the best view.

“Hey, what’re you complimenting her for?” Ferris joked.

“Well, I—”

“New York’s mere glitter can’t compare to your constant shine, Hutch,” Egon complimented smoothly, wrapping his arms around them from behind. Ferris looked up at him from under his chin, surprised.

“That was beautiful, Egon,” He praised breathlessly. He shook his head again. “What’s gotten into you two, did they put something in the water supply at the firehouse this morning??”

“Not in the water supply, my dear, but in our hearts… God that was cheesy,” Peter placed an extra dramatic hand on his chest to emphasise his point. “Ferris, we’ve known you and loved you for some time now… one might say you’re the greatest thing to happen to us. After the fame and fortune of becoming Ghostbusters, of course.” Peter knelt in front of them as Egon’s arms loosened from their middle. Behind them, his expression was one of confusion. “But even then, if you wanted us to give it all up… not that I think you would… I would. I would do it for your happiness in a heartbeat.” He retrieved a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it, presenting a glittering ring. “Ferris Hutch, will you m—”

“Hold on a second,” Egon interrupted, much to Peter’s annoyance. Completely shocked and pink-faced, Ferris turned to face him. Egon knelt… and presented his own ring in embarrassed silence. Now it was Peter’s turn to be shocked.

“You were going to--? Wait, what???”

Ferris covered his mouth. For a second, only the chirping of crickets could be heard. Then Ferris snorted before all of his giggles escaped him at once. “Oh my-- Oh my gosh-- You didn’t-- You didn’t coordinate with each other??? Beforehand???” He gasped between laughs.

“What? No, I had no idea he was also going to propose! I would’ve let him go first!” Peter was still staring at his friend and coworker.

“That’s very generous of you, Venkman,” Egon slowly stood and Peter followed suit. Ferris waved his hands up and down.

“Wait, wait, Egon, what were you going to say? Please, propose to me,” He insisted. Egon’s ears were pink. He shook his head.

“Forget it, the moment’s over.”

Ferris took a few breaths, then held Egon’s free hand, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “Please?”

Egon considered it for a moment. “Only if Venkman gives us some space.”

“I’ll be at the limo if anyone needs me,” Peter quipped as he retreated. Once he was a smart distance away, Egon spoke.

“Hutch, you are… an incredible man. Before you, I wasn’t sure if romantic attachment was something I was capable of feeling. I was content to accept that dating wasn’t in my nature and that I’d be married to my work. But you came along, and something… clicked. These feelings aren’t just some scrawlings of letters, numbers, and lines on a chalkboard to me anymore. They’re as real as my mind can permit them to be.” Egon knelt a second time, opening his ring box once more. “I love you, Hutch. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. The most significant way I can symbolise that is by proposing, so… will you marry me, Ferris?”

“Yes,” Ferris whispered, taking Egon’s face in their hands. They kissed him softly before calling over his shoulder to Peter, “Yes! I’ll marry you both!”

Egon stood and Peter rushed over.

“Hey, that’s great!” Peter clapped his hands enthusiastically and kissed Ferris’ cheek.

“But how??” Egon asked, brow furrowed. “Polygamy isn’t exactly legal here in the States…”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be legally documented… or at least, I don’t care if it is. I’ll call you my husbands anyway.” Ferris happily kissed them both. “Unless one of you wants to have a proper wedding…?”

“We can talk about it more later. Let’s buy some champagne and tell Stantz and Zeddemore the good news!” Peter cheered, leading them back to the limousine. Ferris kept them glued to his sides for the rest of the night.

[thanksforthedinosaur]

girlpuppy - since april

housewife - i lied

miynt - blu-ray land

kristiane - good & ready

wylie hopkins - sport

sydney sprague - fair field

lighthearted - borrowed

japanese breakfast - honey water

lunar vacation - lights off

annie dirusso - i am the deer

sophia stel - no pressure

ggwendolyn - mango sticky rice

g luné - tired

esme emerson - too far gone

rachel prancer - don't forget about me

mitaya - slip up

lucy dacus - big deal

hannah cohen - earthstar

great grandpa - never rest

steady holiday - seasonal optimism

ruby haunt - sunfish

kevin atwater - jamie's daydreams

adult mom - door is your hand

tamino - sanctuary

okay alright - redwoods

florist - this was a gift

ryann - shark

men i trust - purple box

john galm - lmlu

a. wesley chung - portents - acoustic

neanderthal - jet pack

pup - hallways

superchunk - bruised lung

yawners - merienda-cena

dowsing - get grounded

soot sprite - days after days

orchards - bicker

saetia - corkscrew spine

feeble little horse - this is real

yeule - skullcrusher

wisp - sword

lucy loone - with a guillotine!

jasmine sokko - black lotus

ellise - leech

kate the dreamer - sagittarius (the view)

dizzy fae - my baby loves me

royal & the serpent - death do us part

salvia - window

xowie jones - horror scene (feat. aldn)

moony - (filthiest)

litany - jelly tot

lyn lapid - death wish

ko aka koala - kick rox

klurax - numb, but i still feel it

chloe moriondo - raw

jessie reyez - nyb

rou x - hollow bones

meija - possum

cavetown - i'm low on gas and you need a jacket

holly hebe - don't come crying

kelsea ballerini - nothing really matters

jack van cleaf - teenage vampire (feat. gatlin)

alix page - bug

dacelynn - russian doll - smaller

zoe ko - dirt

atura - whenyousayit

ellie dixon - guts featuring piri

zebby - vindictive

rebecca black - trust!

jax jones - bad boys

veggi - all at once

dj zinc - mwah! (i'm that bitch)

notd - lover online

toymatz - true colors

vi0let - shy

will sass - deep theory (feat. catching cairo)

lowkeybaitss - high heels on

dayyani - ask if you're okay (with crate classics)

cr1tter - nerd neckin'

catching cairo - velour

emeline - new york

eljé - i dunno

yonyon - u (prod. chaki zulu)

tsu nami - eye2eye - jukaa remix

yama - torihada

avyss - re:re:

kruu - nothing left to prove

bodyimage - angels in the tv

u-pistol - poppy-talk 2 u-

empty blue - let's go online

757shai - flying away - sped up

gurldoll - pesticides

elxnce - command

echo - no scars

vai5000 - shibuya

lavera - online

coldspades - last one

sailorboy - parasite

creepybuggirl - overrr

nxxxxxs - internal reset

joey pecoraro - solstice

haruhisa tanaka - fountain

sizmara - slow stream

kenji kihara - izu ambient 013

cloudcrush - gardening again

takuro okada - following morning

memory pearl - postlude

markus artved - mørkeblå ii - drone version

nude - the tree at the bottom of my grandparents' garden

little simz - free

6ix - wmd

sirrealist - michaelangelo's idea

soma79 - doomsday for a man of steel

tokimonsta - sci fi

sol - layers

kinrose - too far

lifeofthom - northside

gat$ - white bronco

joy crookes - pass the salt (feat. vince staples)

joose - disgusted

k4torian - my eyes deceive

mabanua - so real feat. nicholas ryan gant & suede jury

the burning deadwoods - jellyfishes

peptalk - blind (feat. keiynan lonsdale)

jennie - filter

iiso - bad trip

galchanie - baby tee

saranghae - i just want to be online

yajico girl - missu

hoshimachi suisei - ビビデバ

synthion - mizuiro

q'yul - sonaria

motto music - moonlit

nozomi kitay - moshi moshi - sped up

hearts2hearts - the chase

yungflx - 3am

f5ve - magic clock

ten - stunner - english version

xiumin - whee!

xg - is this love

aespa - whiplash (english version)

nmixx - high horse

ayane - woohoo!

moon tang - all i need is just someone to love

wisue - phone

capo2 - let go

kinoue64 - white brain

galileo galilei - あおにもどる

nano.ripe - 光のない街