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craykaycee · 10 days ago

Text

Electric Lullaby

Reader x Moon.exe

Commission Info

The darling @catbeastaisha was so kind to let me dive into my Run Moonware AU with Moon.exe! You're the secretary of Edwin Murray, and really, the last employee of the Costume Manor. After an especially rough night, the program that has taken over your computer sees your sleep-depraved state and must simply do something about it.

———

Walking into Murray’s Costume Manor takes all of the strength left in your body. Last night was a horror, both in your dreams and due to the fact that you did not sleep a wink.

You stop at the restroom to quickly splash your face with cold water, but it comes out luke-warm and has a slightly sour scent, and ultimately, you leave without anything to refresh yourself with. The energy drink you carry in your hand is at least ice-cold and waiting for you to guzzle it down. You didn’t even bother with breakfast in your rush out the door this morning. Funny how you had all the time, lying awake, and you still nearly end up getting to work late.

Clutching the cold drink until the frigid edge bites into your palm, you step into the security office.

The computer whirls to life, the screen humming as it flickers on. The green glow causes your eyes to squint. It’s going to be a long day.

“Hey, Moon,” you mumble your morning greeting before plopping yourself down in the stiff, hard seat. You groan as you roll your shoulders and crank your neck side to side in some semblance of bracing to dig through more documents today.

Inhaling deeply, you squeeze your eyes shut and press your fingers into a steeple along your skull.

Just get through today. Do your work, clock out, and go home. That’s all you have to do. You can manage through the pressure building behind your eyeballs and the looming throb of a headache making its way to your temple.

With your pep talk out of the way, you straighten.

The computer sits at its default page, but in the corner, the pixelated figure of The Moon stares at you. His one eye is unblinking. His pose is the same, unmoving position he often keeps, but now it feels deliberate, focused. A small sound emits from the computer, a robotic decibel that makes you think of a person humming—if the noise went through a program and back out.

You reach for the mouse. A darkness flashes on the monitor before the screen is taken up by The Moon on full display, and his text box below him.

“Moon, I gotta get to work,” you exasperate.

Usually, The Moon’s antics would brighten a boring workload, but you find yourself with a short rope of patience today. You dig the heel of one hand into your eye socket before blinking away the stars that emerge from the pressure. Nope. The foggy mess in your head is still there.

Focusing your eyes takes a moment, but when the screen comes into view, there’s text waiting for you.

You’re sleepy…

You stare, and feel the ache of blood-shot eyes.

“I’m just peachy.” You tap on the mouse once, a sharp click echoing. “Let me get to work.”

The screen remains unmoving. The sprite seems to tilt his head slightly, and the one eye narrows incredulously.

You need a nap.

No, you can’t do this. You don’t have time to argue! If you don’t get yourself into gear, you’re going to be worthless all day long. The last thing you need is Edwin to surprise check your work and see that you have nothing to show for this shift, and then accuse you of trying to ruin him or something of the sort.

You’re not sure what kind of program The Moon is exactly, but he almost seems to balk in his green and black coding when you reach for your energy drink. You pop it open with a loud crack then proceed to drain a huge gulp down. The bubbling bites along your tongue. Your whole system shudders underneath the acidic surge entering your stomach. There, that’ll give you a few hours before you crash.

Setting the can down, you find The Moon staring at you incredulously.

“I don’t need nap time—I’m not a child.” You quickly cover your mouth with a hand to make the tangy burp a little more polite. “Come on, Moon, move. Let me open up some files.”

The whole screen wavers before text jumps up in almost erratic typing.

Naughty, naughty!

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I need it! Edwin would fire me on the spot if he walked in on me sleeping on the job.”

The pixelated Moon stops the erratic waves, and almost in a quiet, delicate hum of the machine, sends a new line of text.

I will wake you before he finds you.

You blink slowly at the words, wondering if it’s an insomnia-induced hallucination. Does he mean that? It’s not a trick, is it? Maybe the program would love to get you fired so he can go back to… whatever he was doing before you downloaded him onto the computer.

You slowly shake your head.

“I’m sorry, Moon. I have to get something done today.”

The program continues to hold your work computer hostage, but his expression glitches for a moment. You wait with baited breath.

If you take a nap at noon, I will let you work.

At noon? You glance at your energy drink and back to the face seemingly peering through the glass directly at you. Maybe he is. You don’t want to ask.

A tired sigh works through your chest and shoulders. Pressing a hand to your face, you gulp down a deep breath before nodding and giving in.

“Fine. I’ll take a nap at noon.” You turn a scrutinizing look upon the monitor. “And you will wake me so I don’t sleep through the rest of my shift?”

You can trust me…

The ellipsis does not inspire confidence, but the flashing grin that The Moon gives tells you it’s another coy joke to make you squirm. He likes finding your buttons to press. More often than not, you return the favor.

Not this time, however, as the screen finally gives way to the desktop and The Moon’s sprite hangs quietly in the corner, flashing you one more grin before disappearing entirely.

A strange gift. He rarely leaves you be.

Taking the opportunity for what it is, you gulp down more of the energy drink and throw yourself to the tasks at hand. The morning passes by in a blurr. You hardly give yourself a moment to register the growing pulse of pain in your head nor the blurriness of your vision while staring at the screen for hours.

You just finish typing up another report on a round of documents—no sign of foul play—when exactly at the mark of 12:00, the computer screen is once more consumed by the pixelated version of The Moon.

Nap time.

With no strength nor caffeine left within you, there is little you can do but say, “Okay.”

You’re not quite sure how to do this. You push your chair back slightly as you gaze around the security office space. It’s seen better days. Dust collects on a small table shoved against the side wall and the floor hasn’t been vacuumed, littered with bits and crumbs, as well as various papers that should have been filed away.

You glance back to the screen. “I’ll just, uh, take that nap then.”

The face of the crescent moon watches you silently as you roll the chair back towards the door. Underneath the computer desk, there’s shadows and a dust-mote smell, but you find your jacket, and stuff it underneath your head in a makeshift pillow.

You tilt your head just enough to see the screen at a sharp angle, but enough to feel as if the program still has eyes on you.

The text box narrowly delivers a new message.

Why didn’t you sleep last night?

You look away. It sounds stupid now, when it’s daylight and you’re not half-crazed from your failed attempts to get your rest.

“It was nothing,” you say quietly. The zipper of your jacket presses into your skull, and you shift to get it out of the way.

When you return your gaze to the screen, you scoff.

Liar.

You try to conjure up a comeback, something that will sizzle upon delivery, but your tongue is wrapped up and your head is filled with cotton and painful throbs.

“It’s stupid,” you rephrase. “It was just nightmares.”

You stare anywhere but at the computer. Softer still, you breathe out. Your heart is heavy in your chest.

“It’s those stupid costumes. I hate them,” you bare your teeth. “They look horrendous and they chase me in my dreams. They always find me. I try to hide, and sometimes, I’m running towards the security office and every time I try to open the door, it locks, and I’m crying and then they get me.”

You omit that you’re crying for The Moon in those nightmares.

“I woke up. I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

You sigh.

“Stupid, right?”

The silence lays heavy. You don’t bother looking up at the monitor. You don’t want to see how he’s making fun of you for acting like a child—even worse than a child, being afraid of costumes built to entertain children.

You curl up tightly, and let your heavy head rest. Your eyelids immediately slide closed. In the dusty air and the press of your pulse against your temple, you hear a soft, robotic droning, playing a few notes. Like a hum.

You drift to sleep with the electronic lullaby.

#Raaahhhh I love this!!!!#My mind buzzes with how it reacted to Reader admitting to nightmares. If anything at all #It prolly didn't have much to say ;w;#Imagining it buzzed the lullaby that is Sleepy Moon's voicelines :]#lovely fren art <33 #other's cool shtuff

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craykaycee · 13 days ago

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Minnow Pt. 2

Reader x Shark!Eclipse

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

Pt. 1

———

You would think that miraculously removing a 40 ton dead whale from the beach overnight without the use of heavy equipment or even a dumping ground for the gigantic carcass would earn you a raise or even a superficial pizza party. Perhaps a simple thank you.

But no. You, as a member of the council, who is often sent to fetch coffee drinks, are rewarded with a new problem.

Walking the shoreline, you bask in the orange light of the setting sun as the horizon begins to engulf the day within an endless maw. The tourists have mostly migrated back to their condos and hotels and rented beach houses. A few stranglers shout at their children to finish packing away plastic sand toys while loading up little carts that struggle too much in the pale sand before slipping away to the packed and baking parking lots.

Left behind is a slew of trash. Soda cans, cigarette butts, food wrappers. Beginning to touch the shores along the foamy push of the tide reveal a few floating articles left carelessly by beach goers. The greatest offender are plastic bottles. Green, yellow, blue, and white containers lying ending and discarded upon the shoreline.

The council cannot have tourism dying down due to filth, regardless of who is the cause of such a mess.

That’s your reward for such an endeavor.

You must admit that you didn’t do it yourself. You bargained with a fish-man, and the magic he spoke of was as potent as he promised. He’s kept his end of the deal. Now, you’re suppose to reward him with seven kisses. You’re down to six which you must still give the creature with a shark-like tail and wicked teeth to match.

You stand in your dark wetsuit, intending to swim off the work you’re about to accomplish. Trash bag in hand as the beach becomes a quiet solitude in the falling sunlight, you begin to pick up pieces one by one. Your bag fills to the brim, and you must tie it off and fetch another one before continuing down the small stretch of the coast.

It is only when you finish with your task, and straighten your back to relieve the ach beginning in your spine that you hear it. A sound of the ocean, like seaspray, but haunting and beautiful. It carries in the salty tange of the air.

A song calling for you.

You leave the bags of trash tied and secure. A twilight blooms into the soft blue wake of the sun. Stepping into the surf, your skin prickles at its cool sensation. You stride deeper into the brine until your feet leave sand and you begin a gentle stroke through the calm waves. Weightless, you swim.

Briefly, while you peer over the surface and attempt to keep the salt from stinging your eyes, you spy a sharp dorsal fin cutting through the waves. It follows you. The sight might have terrified you with the promise of bull sharks lurking close by, but the dark color and the flash of red barring down the side of the sleek body reveals the one who joins you.

You kick calmly. A tail, long and sleek and gray, flicks up briefly before disappearing down below. A slight apprehension brews in your middle.

What if he decided that seven kisses isn’t enough? Maybe he could simply attack now where no one would hear your screams.

Something moves below. You blanch. The shadow underneath you is much larger than anything your body could cast. Under the warbling blue water is a face staring up at you. Round and disk-like, Eclipse’s mouth splits into a hungry grin. His impressive array of cartilaginous fins crowning his head in red and black rays are barely visible in the deepening darkness.

He takes you by the hips. Your breath catches when he emerges, his body rising to cradle yours upon his gray and rough flesh. Left to float upon him, you tuck your arms in close while resting against his chest. Water spills off of him in thin sheets.

His eyes, a brilliant and burning orange, upturn in delight.

“Hello, minnow.”

You don’t understand the bashful reflex which takes hold and causes you to glance away from the intensity of his gaze. It is so bright.

“Hi,” you say, then take a deep breath. “Do you want another kiss?”

“I do,” he purrs. He, however, continues to swim. His tail undulates and carries you towards the line where sky meets the sea. The beginning of stars speckle the navy blue darkness above before it turns void-like.

You aren’t sure what he’s waiting for. You figure he would grab you, as he did before and as he has done now, and plant one on you. Maybe slip in his tongue again. You pretend to not turn rosy pink at the memory.

Instead, he begins a gentle rumble. A deep purr fills his chest where you lie upon it. It soothes the aching of your body from a long day running from the community building to deliver messages to people that should have read their emails.

“Eclipse?”

“Yes?” The rumbling stops. You miss it.

“How did you get rid of the dead whale?” You turn your head to hold his gaze.

His hands rub softly along your hips, as if wishing the wetsuit wasn’t in the way. A sharp, gleaming smile takes hold of his jaws.

“I told you before, minnow. My magic makes much possible.” He lifts a hand to tuck a stray, half-wet hair from your face. His claws are careful along the skin of your temple.

You furrow your brow. Biting your tongue, you must resist the urge to ask if seven kisses are really worth it and instead square your shoulders and press slightly on his chest to present yourself.

“Okay, let’s do this.” You close your eyes. You don’t pucker your lips, but you do wait, hoping you’re not too braced—as if anticipating a pirahan to bite you rather than a kiss from a mythical fish-man.

“Why must we rush our time together?” he chuckles deeply. “You look exhausted, minnow.”

You open your eyes, half squinted, disgruntled at the insult. Yeah, maybe you are, but that’s nothing new.

“I’m not too exhausted to give you a kiss.” You’re not certain what angle he’s going for. He already has you, and you’re ready and willing. So, what gives?

“No, I can see that.” His fingertip draws down your face. Carefully, you hold yourself still while he circles the dark stains underneath your eyes. The sensation is slick with sea salt and soft. Terribly, wonderfully soft. Your eyelids flutter under his caressing. “Relax. You feel as tense as a clam about to be cracked open.”

You have no counter argument, and what would really be an argument when you’re floating on a fish-man in the wide open sea? He could grow impatient. He could realize that it’s much easier to not take kisses from a human.

“You’re not going to drown me, right?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

He meets you with an amused expression, his eyes glittering.

“Do you think I'm so foolish to forsake your payments?”

You open your mouth for a false start, then stop, and try again. “I don’t know.”

He rumbles, a deep, pleasing sound that shakes the tautness of your body free.

“You are honest,” he muses, and begins to card his slick, dark fingers down your scalp, softly digging in between strands of your hair. “Let me enlighten you.”

While his tail sways back and forth in rhythmic motions, he begins a deeper growth within his chest. It thrums against your body. You steady yourself, folding your arms over his chest while you soak in the tender caresses of his claws along your hair.

First, your eyelids begin to droop. Is it wrong to want to take a nap on a creature that could easily kill you? The quivering of your muscles begin to grow lax, and your legs drape down the sides of his powerful and dark and gray tail, and are swept into the cool wake of his swim. Barrs of red decorate him in bold, striking patterns, like the tiger sharks known to roam these waters. Your fingertips softly brush against his ribcage before catching yourself.

Next, your head begins to sink. The weight of the fish-man’s gaze never lessens, even as he now peers at you, eyes half-lidded in reflecting ease. He continues to pet you, slowly pushing you closer until your cheek rests on his wet and slippery flesh. You stiffen slightly, unsure if this is too far.

Then, you hear a heartbeat. A strong, confident drum underneath the sternum acting as your pillow. You marvel for a moment.

He seems so real.

The water softly splashes your sides as you begin to doze, caught under a spell so profound, you truly don’t see a reason to escape it. Drowning right now would be a small price to pay for this mere moment of peace.

Eclipse holds his hum, and it begins to grow in cadence and pitches. A lullaby you have no name for. Perhaps there are words to it, but he remains content to soothe you deeper into his embrace. At last, his hands rest upon your back and secure you against him. He continues to drift, and the world darkens until a twinkling night.

You have fallen asleep on the beach after a day of swimming. You’ve fallen asleep on your couch after telling yourself just one more episode of your favorite TV show. Falling asleep on a creature who cradles you so carefully while he sings you to sleep is new.

But when you open your eyes, it is still that perfect blue in between night and day, and you think you must have only drifted for a moment.

A purr grows, until Eclipse murmurs, “You must return to shore, I assume.”

You slowly push yourself up, supported by his body, as you gaze around yourself. The water is calm as it so often is early in the day, and your legs are soaked with brine. The stars overhead are beginning to fade. You ponder a moment, before regarding the fish-man.

“Is it morning?”

“It is.” He turns his burning orange eyes skyward. Then, holding your gaze, he asks, “Did you sleep well?”

You did. You hate to admit it, but your body is light and the weight that usually gathers upon your shoulders when you spend a night tossing and turning over tomorrow’s tasks are simply gone.

“Yes,” you whisper in astonishment.

“That is good to hear, my minnow.” He purrs again, and flicks his sharp tailfins. The powerful surge carries you to shore, right before the sand gets too high.

He stops there. You still lean against his chest, almost avoiding his gaze but not out of fright. You feel his heartbeat pick up in tempo in what you imagine is anticipation of something exciting or wonderful.

“May I have a kiss?” he asks, hungry but tender.

You swipe your tongue over your teeth. Before you can grow afraid of morning breath, you nod.

His wet hand lifts from the surf to cradle the back of your skull. He rises to meet your mouth. You close your eyes, and captured in his embrace, you taste the rich and salty wash of the waves upon his lips.

For several heartbeats, he simply holds you there against him. His mouth is wide, and the press of teeth is behind it, but he does not bite, and he does not force more than just the chasteness of two lips interlocking. He seems to savor you. He seems to inhale your scent before he gradually, reluctantly, releases you.

“Thank you for the kiss,” he rasps.

"Yeah," you utter in a stupor, feeling as scattered as the seafoam upon the beach with the taste of him still on your lips, "No problem."

You open your eyes. He stares back, softened with adoration, before he slips you gingerly off of his tail and back into the water that rushes your skin in a harsh ‘good morning’.

“I will call upon you again soon,” he says, swiping his tongue over his teeth, “Goodbye, minnow.”

You stand in the shallows as he twists upon his tail, and dives back into the sea. His dorsal fin remains above the surface, cutting through the blue like a knife before the glare of the rising sun upon the ocean hides him away in the waves.

Two down. Five more to go.

You stand and watch the ocean for a while. You’re going to be late to a council meeting. With great reluctance, you climb the sandy coast to retrieve the trash bags you filled last night.

There is still a problem on your hands. It does not feel like one anymore.

#oh dear o////o need.... need very much.... raaahhhhh #dear--- poor reader- no matter how they rid of the whale carcass; they definitely deserved *something* as appreciation #Grrr man #I do like how Eclipse's kisses are different o_o #Waahhhh so sweet so tender aaA #lovely fren art <33 #other's cool shtuff

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