#you get fined if you don't get your ticket at the station

[crazysodomite]

This shit really pisses me off 😐

[suiana]

imagine sitting on a train, expecting a short ride but the ride just never ends. and no, it's not a 'the brakes are broken' scenario.

you were just taking a train to like, a nearby suburb to visit your friends like usual. everything was fine. all things were like what they normally were. ticketing station, the weird old man who tells you that they're watching you, and the cute highschool student who frequently tells you stories about his school life.

you board the train like usual, nothing out of the ordinary. you find an empty seat and put on your earphones. you decide you want a calm and soothing song that day. looking out of the window, you hum softly and anticipate what you and your friends are going to do.

that's when you realize you've seen that sign post two times already.

you nervously look around your surroundings, hoping to find someone else who's also realized what's going on.

but there's no one else in the carriage. oh, wait, actually no. you also have the highschool boy.

"hey kid, um, did you notice anything off? like uh-"

"hm? oh, it's you mx."

the boy's voice is deeper than usual as he continues looking out of the window. you frown at his reaction before trying to get an answer out of him again... only for him to turn and completely scare the shit out of you.

that. that was not the face of a human. not when his eyes were all black and curved into tiny moons. not when his lips were stretched so wide that he resembled the stupid 😄 emoji. not when his mouth looked like a bottomless pit of nothing that could swallow you alive. not when his skin was paper white and his body now elongated to look something like a sexy slenderman if that was even possible. not when he didn't resemble a human anymore.

"darling, what's wrong? you don't like my face? I'm really hurt."

his voice is deep as he continues staring at you from his seat. he makes no sign of movement, merely looking down at you with a tilt of his head before a soft giggle comes out.

what the shit? were you in a horror movie now?

screaming and falling onto the floor behind you, you shiver and try escaping. no, you had to leave. you couldn't die now!

scrambling to the help button, you try to get help. surely the technician could try and get help for you? you desperately press the help button, glancing warily at the high school boy that you were sure was actually a 6009 year old demon that decided to possess a body of a kid for the mere fun of it.

"huh? baby? what's up?"

baby? what? first darling, now baby? what's up with these men? you stare at the help panel before whimpering for help. unfortunately the male voice over the line only fills you with more dread.

"you wanna leave? no can do baby. don't worry, we'll take good care of you."

you don't like the way he said good. what the hell was that supposed to mean? for all you know it could mean imprison you in the train for the rest of your life!

"also I'm in the carriage beside Mr. Driver so if you wanna leave that weird shapeshifter beside you feel free to hop over."

beside... you?

you are suddenly hyperaware of every single thing around you and wait a second, why the hell did you feel a suspicious person breathing down your neck?

"leave my dear alone, you creep."

the air around you seems to loosen up as the weird shapeshifter demon backs up. damn, what good timing. you were just about to thank your saviour when the familiar feeling of dread returns, and even worse this time.

he was a handsome guy. tall, well dressed, and absolutely damn gorgeous. he was wearing all black, a black fedora on his head as he smiles at you with his pearly white teeth. reassurance. yet, you felt as though if you dared to disrespect him, your life would be over before you even knew it.

you stay rooted in your place, your mouth running dry as the male steps closer to you. each step of his felt like a step closer to death and... was it just you or were you feeling light headed now?

"i am afraid i cannot touch you, my dear. for your life will be drained with each fleeting touch. but i must say that it is good to finally meet you physically."

death.

you were so damn sure that the man in front of you right now was the grim reaper or maybe even death himself. your whole body was shaking at this point, his very presence making you feel as though an invisible force was pushing you down into the ground and squeezing you tight. it was hard to even breathe.

"ah, sorry. i forgot living beings are ever so fragile. my sincerest apologies, my dear."

just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, the driver's announcement makes you feel like you're about to throw up.

"welcome aboard the hell train, sweetheart. you are now on the line to ǝɹǝɥʍou. please enjoy the rest of your ride!"

shit, so you really were about to get stuck on this train forever.

[s7toru]

you've waited for gojo plenty.

back when you were alive, you'd wait for him to walk through the door you held open. he'd take his sweet time crossing the threshold just to see your polite smile fade away into an irritated frown and for your arms to tremble, not under the weight of keeping the door open, but from the force of holding back a fist.

you'd wait for him the morning of a scheduled detention, after your argument had grown and grown until the noises of barely supressed loathing slipped into higher frequencies and yaga had spun around to throw his chalk at gojo.

you'd wait for him at the front of your favourite restaurant, checking your phone for any notifications with his face on it, and sourly noting the time.

you'd wait for him to win at the claw machine, and wait for him to hand you the prize with a beaming smile, the one he typically adorns when he's smug and bragging. "see," it seems to say. "i can get it first try, i always do."

you'd wait for him outside his dorm door before heading to a mission together, you'd wait for him to ask for a bite of your crepe before you dig in yourself, you'd wait for the vending machine to spit out a second drink knowing that when he sees you holding one, he'd ask for a sip.

it became a habit.

even when he no longer needed you to wait, you find your hand reaching for another bag of chips, another dangling figure from a keychain, another ticket to see your favourite show.

sometimes it drove you mad. all this time, you've naively assumed that nothing, not even change itself, could affect how gojo was around you. you've let all those moments go for granted, and now that time has pulled up to your stop, you realise he's left you behind whilst all you've done was wait.

you had waited for him on your deathbed, but even then gojo never showed up.

the scent of the train station persists under your nose. you wonder how the afterlife was capable of mimicking such a distinct scent, of train exhaust and someone's split drink. it was truly fascinating.

getou nudges you, drawing your attention to the incoming train. you see its blinking lights off into the distance, having just emerged from the heavy fog. "look, someone's getting off here."

curiosity has you sitting upwards, back straightening.

"who do you think it'll be?" haibara wonders aloud, standing up to greet the train.

nanami puts his arm out to catch the boy before he steps over the line. "careful, the train's coming in fast."

"we should still greet them though." you say. "remember how confusing it was when you died, nanami?"

"greeting is fine and all, just make sure you stand behind the line."

you go to walk up beside haibara, chattering happily away at his best guesses, when you remember the figure seated on your left.

"aren't you coming, nobara?"

nobara sighs, her hand creeping up to itch the skin under her eyepatch. "i just don't want to recognise whoever walks out."

"i know, me too. but don't you think they'd want to see you again?"

she clicks her tongue and begrudgingly stands to follow after you.

the train doesn't seem to slow even as it approaches the platform, and the speed breaks through the still air, blowing hot steam in your face. you press your eyes closed at the sensation and only open them again when you hear the engines trail off into a quieter hum.

the doors slide open and you hold your breath unconsciously. you think you might know who it is before they walk through.

gojo steps off. his eyes sweep the small crowd waiting for him, an lazy grin on his face showing a clear absence of confusion, of anything fearful or disorientated. you think any other expression might have looked uncanny on him.

your blood freezes at the sight of him and it bleeds painful when his eyes settle on yours. something brighter spreads his smile wide and his next breath spells your name.

“you waited for me.”

the next words out of your mouth are easy as he draws you into a deep embrace. into his shoulder, the train smell dissolves into a scent you know all too well, and you smile.

“i always do.”

a/n: i think i've gone through three denial phases where i still believe gojo is alive . hopefully this current phase will be the last, i say as i write about him dying

[storiesforallfandoms]

i need someone older ~ william afton;five nights at freddy's

word count: 3794

request?: no

description: after a bad breakup, she finds herself becoming more and more attracted to her much older boss

pairing: william afton x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (reader is mid 20s, afton is 50s), power imbalance technically (but it's fine), bit of an au (so he doesn't unalive anyone in this one)

masterlist (one, two, three)

I stormed into work, really pushing it for time. I had slept past my alarm and was incredibly reluctant to get out of bed. After the night I had, the last thing I wanted was to work eight hours in a children's restaurant, with screaming kids and the animatronics playing the same three songs all day. But I needed the money, and hopefully a distraction.

"Whoa, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?" my coworker, Adam, asked.

"Fuck off," I muttered. "I gotta go change into my uniform. Can you punch me in so I'm not late?"

"Yeah. Be quick, though. Afton's here."

I rolled my eyes. "He doesn't even know our names. He's not going to know I'm supposed to be on the clock."

I changed as quickly as I could while having limited space in a tiny bathroom stall. I stuffed my clothes into my backpack and did a quick double check in the mirror to make sure I was work appropriate. I wasn't paying enough attention as I stepped out of the bathroom and managed to literally run into someone who was walking past. I cursed under my breath as I looked up and came face to face with the fucking owner of Freddy Fazbear's.

As if this day couldn't get any worse.

"|'m so sorry, Mr. Afton," I said.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Where's the fire, though? You seem like you're in a hurry."

How do I answer this without getting in shit? "I'm just, uh...trying not to be late. I had to change, and bring my bag to my locker."

William looked down at his watch. I felt my heart starting to pound.

"Cutting it a little close there," he commented.

"I know."

My grip on my bag had tightened as I braced for the worst. I had never met William before. Despite owning the restaurant, he was rarely ever around. Whenever he was, he was usually tucked away in his office for most of the day and only ever spoke with our manager. Due to this, I didn't know if he would be a hard ass who was about to write me up for running late. After the events of the previous night, I didn't think I'd be able to take getting reprimanded today.

He took me by surprise when he smiled and said, "Just don't let it happen again, okay?"

I nodded, unable to form any words, and scurried around him to the lockers.

Adam looked at me when I finally returned to the floor. "What took you so long?"

"I ran into Afton," I responded.

His eyes widened. "Did he give you shit?"

"Luckily no. Just told me not to let it happen again."

"I warned you that he was here."

I flipped Adam off when I was sure none of the kids could see me.

As if my day couldn't get any worse, my manager came to tell me that I was stationed on the prize counter for the day. The prize counter was probably the worst part of the restaurant. There was never any downtime at the counter. Either there was rowdy children hopped up on candy and pizza screaming about wanting toys they didn't have enough tickets for, or there were tired parents wanting to buy tokens for the arcade games while their rowdy kids were nearby screaming. Not to mention it was right next to the main stage, so the sound of screaming children was only matched by the sound of pre-recorded music coming from the animatronics' speakers. And to top it all off, the closing duties for the prize counter took longer than any other section of the restaurant.

It was the worst section to work, and I already wanted to leave just knowing that was my station for the day.

The only plus side was that being kept busy made the day fly by. But the usual craziness of Freddy Fazbear's was extra unbearable to a point where I felt myself on the edge of tears numerous times. I knew it was going to be a bad idea for me to be at work, and I was really regretting coming in.

I let out a sigh of relief as the last family finally left and the animatronics finally powered down. Adam laughed at me as I put my head down on the cool glass that held the prizes. "You're giving yourself more work to do."

I looked at the smudge I had left on the glass before glaring up at him. "I don't think my one smudge is making things any worse."

"Okay seriously, what is up with you? You've been grumpy all day."

I sighed and shook my head. "I had a bad night."

"Do you want me to help you close up so you can get out of here sooner?"

I gave him a look. "We both know you don't actually want that."

"But I'd do it to help you."

"I appreciate it, but I'll be fine. My annoyance and desire to leave will make me work faster."

Adam didn't fight me on it anymore. He said goodnight and clocked out. Once I heard the front door close and lock, I immediately got to work with cleaning. That was the easiest part as all I had to do was clean the glass of the prize case and pick up the discarded tickets from the floor. When I finished that, I started counting the cash in order to close it off. That was supposed to be another easy task, but my mind being anywhere but the task at hand made it so much harder.

Restocking the prizes was the hardest part. I had been on my own for nearly an hour, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted, so I was trying to rush out of there but found myself fumbling a little extra. I was trying to dump a box of tiny soldier toys into their respective bin when the box slipped from my hands and landed on its side, the toys scattering all over the floor.

It was my breaking point. Everything finally came crashing down around me and the flood gates finally opened. I lowered myself to the floor, sitting with my back against the counter. I buried my head into my hands and began to sob.

"Seems like a bit of a strong reaction to dropping some toys."

I jumped and looked towards where the voice had come from. I was sure I was the only one left in the restaurant, everyone else having left while I was doing my closing duties. Even my manager had left, giving me the keys and the code to the security system. But, turns out, I was wrong, because there was William Afton leaning over the counter to look down at me.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, wiping the tears from my face. "S-Sorry Mr. Afton. I-I didn't realize - "

"Hey, it's okay," he said, cutting me off and speaking in a soft voice. "What's going on? You seem stressed."

"It's...personal things. I shouldn't have let it interfere with my work."

"Fuck the professional shit for a second here. Forget I'm your boss, forget we're on the clock. If there's anything going on that you want to talk about, I'm all ears."

I leaned against the counter across from him. "It's stupid."

"You're crying, so I don't think it's that stupid."

I sighed. "My boyfriend broke up with me last night, after admitting he's been cheating on me for the last three months."

William whistled in response. "That's tough."

I nodded. "It just...came out of nowhere. We've been together for three years, moved in together last year. There was no signs that anything was wrong. I didn't even suspect that he was cheating. He came home last night and suddenly told me everything. Packed a bag and went to his...I guess...girlfriend's house. Told me he'd be back at some point this week to get his stuff."

Tears were stinging my eyes again. I looked away so William wouldn't see me cry anymore. Upon looking down, I realized my bare arms were on the glass of the prize counter, leaving smudges again. I cursed under my breath and turned to grab the cleaner again.

"Here, let me," William said, reaching for the cleaner. "You pick up the toy soldiers and I'll help restock the prizes once I finish this."

I was a little shocked, but definitely was not about to argue over getting help. We worked much quicker as a team and, finally, I was able to clock out to leave. I stood by as William set the security system and locked the gates.

"Thank you for helping me," I said.

"You don't have to thank me," he said. "It seemed you needed help, and I wasn't about to let one of my employees struggle while I was on the property." I smiled at him and started for my car. "For what it's worth - " I paused and turned back to him. " - your ex-boyfriend is a fucking idiot. You seem like a great woman. Don't beat yourself up over him."

He smiled and turned to walk towards his own car. I watched him go, surprised by what he said. Even through the cold night air, I could feel my face burning.

~~~~~~

William was around more after that. Not just in his office, but he was actually out on the floor. Everyone was noticing his increased presence, but I found myself noticing it in a different way. Whenever William was near, my eyes were practically glued to him. I found it difficult to concentrate whenever he was around. Luckily, everyone else was so distracted by his presence that they didn't notice how useless I had become.

It was wrong. I knew that. Having a crush on a coworker was bad enough, but a crush on your boss was a whole other level of bad. Especially when your boss is so much older. I had no idea whether or not he was even married or had kids for God's sake!

But every time I saw him, I couldn't stop my heart from racing. I wanted him in a way I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't stop myself.

During one of my shifts, I was put on the serving section. Serving was easy enough - take orders, bring food, check on tables. The hardest part was trying not to trip over a child running past while carrying a whole pizza on a hot tray. Most of us had learned the art of scanning the area before we walked, but sometimes you just don't notice quick enough and end up surprised by one of those little fuckers.

One of the cooks passed a pizza through the pass to me and told me the table number. I took the tray and balanced it against my shoulder, something I found was the easiest way to balance the bigger trays. The restaurant wasn't too busy, but there were still enough kids running around that I took in my surroundings before I started to walk. I was making a mental note about two kids who were stood by the stage, dancing to the song that Freddy was "singing", and didn't notice another kid who was racing from one of the playrooms in front of me. I stopped suddenly, just short of running into him, but found myself losing my balance after he ran past.

I felt two hands grab hold of my waist, holding me upright and saving me from a very embarrassing scene. When I turned to thank my savior, I came to face the blue eyes I had been trying to desperately to avoid today.

"That could've been a disaster," William said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Th-thank you," I managed to stutter out. I could still feel the heat of his hands against my waist, like they were burning through the clothes and searing my skin. I almost forgot the heavy tray of pizza I was carrying in that moment.

When he let me go, his eyes still trained on me, I quickly turned and hurried to my table. I tried not to seem so flustered, but I knew I had failed. I stuttered through every sentence before finally dismissing myself to the prize counter where one of my other coworkers, Beth, was snickering to herself.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Don't ask," I responded.

"Oh, I'm asking. Are you all hot and bothered for Afton?!"

"Shh!" I snapped, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one had heard. Not like anyone would over the usual noise of the restaurant.

"Oh, you so are!" she said. "Holy shit, (Y/N), you know that's bad news right? He's literally our boss."

"I know he is. I'm not stupid. But...I can't help it!"

"At least he would be more of a gentleman than that small dick asshole you call your ex." She looked over her shoulder as the front door to the pizzeria opened. When she looked back, her eyes were wide. "Speak of the devil."

I looked over to see none other than the small dick asshole himself, Josh, walking in. I wished I could disappear into the floor and never be seen again. I tried to turn and walk away before he spotted me, but no luck.

"(Y/N)!"

I groaned and turned back to him. "What do you want, Josh?"

"I was just over getting the last of my stuff - "

"Awesome, I do not care. If you've come to give me your key back, you could've just left it on the dining room table."

"No, I came to say that I couldn't find my Springsteen album."

I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms. "So you came all this way to...what? Ask me what I did with it? I have no idea, Josh, I threw everything that was yours into boxes and garbage bags. If it's not in there, you might've left it in your car or at your new girlfriend's house."

"It's not any of those places." I wasn't sure if I should've been hurt about the fact that he wasn't addressing my last comment directly, but I definitely was a little bit.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I wanted to see when you were going to be off work and maybe I could come by to look for it with you."

I scoffed. "Are you serious right now? Josh, I don't know what the fuck happened to your album, but you're sure as hell not coming over to the house. That is not your place anymore, and you're very much not welcome there."

"Why can't we be adults about this?"

"You lost the right to being adult about this the second you decided to cheat on me! And how dare you say that shit, but then come down to my place of work to try and, what, harass me into letting you back into my home? We're over, Josh. I don't ever want to see you again. If I find any of your shit left at the house, I'll drop it in the trash."

"What seems to be the problem here?"

I suppressed the urge to groan again. As if things couldn't get any more complicated.

"No problem, Mr. Afton," I said, turning to face William with the best, innocent smile I could muster. "Just an...unwelcome guest."

William looked at me for a moment before letting his eyes wander to Josh. I didn't have to say much else for him to recognize who the "unwelcome guest" was and I could see anger in his eyes.

"Well, time to get back to work, (Y/N)," he said to me. "Your customers are waiting."

I nodded and ducked away from the situation. As I walked away, Josh called after me, "That's fine, I'll be waiting for you to get off! We can talk more then!"

"Like hell you will."

A collective gasp from the parents and Beth cause me to spin around to see William had grabbed hold of the collar of Josh's shirt. William was easily a head taller than Josh, so even if the act wasn't meant to be intimidating, he definitely looked intimidating. I don't think I've ever seen such fear on Josh's face. William turned Josh around and basically dragged him towards the front door.

"If I see you back here, I will have your ass arrested," he said as he threw Josh out of the restaurant. "Are we clear, punk?"

He didn't wait for a response as he pulled the door shut. I could see Josh standing there, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face. William re-entered the main area, still looking angry, but tried to put on his best customer service smile as he addressed his new crowd. "Sorry everyone. Just an unruly customer. Sorry for any trouble."

To me he added, "Come see me in my office, please."

Beth and I exchanged a look before I followed William towards his office. I was so sure he was going to get upset with me. Not only had I brought my personal shit to the restaurant (even though that wasn't my fault), but it had also resulted in a not so great scene in front of the customers. People get to talking, and I was sure that this story was going to be spread through town before the night was out.

The moment I stepped into his office, I set in on the apologies. "Mr. Afton, I'm so sorry about that. I had no idea he was coming. I've been trying to avoid him while he's moving his stuff out and I guess he was getting tired of that or wanted to poke me one last time or something - "

"Did he hurt you?"

I paused my rambling to look up at him. All anger was gone from his face and had instead been replaced by concern.

"What?" I asked.

"Did he do anything to you just then?"

I shrugged. "Not physically. He was definitely still trying to mess with me mentally, though."

William nodded. "Well, he's not welcome on the property anymore. If you see him, you have my full permission to contact the police immediately."

"I...I don't think that's entirely necessary."

"I don't mean to sound like an old man or anything, but I've met plenty of assholes like your ex, (Y/N). You give them an inch and they take a mile. If you don't deal with this now, he will continue to come back and harass you. I don't want that for you. You don't deserve that."

I opened my mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. I was realizing how close we were now. We were mere inches away from one another. If I wanted to, I could just reach out and touch him right now; grab him. I could've kissed him right then and there if I really wanted to. Who would've known?

As if reading my mind, William suddenly reached out and cupped my face. Before I could comprehend what was happening, his lips were on mine. It was kind of ironic, the fact that I had just been thinking about doing this exact thing, but now that it was happening it was like my brain wasn't sure how to comprehend the situation.

William pulled away just as quickly as he had initiated the kiss. He backed away from me, suddenly worried. "I'm so sorry. I...I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have done that."

In response, I pretty well threw myself at him. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him with such force that it pushed him back into his desk. He positioned himself so that he was sat on his desk and basically pulled me into his lap. It was risky, anyone could've come by and caught us, but something about that just made the experience so much better; so much hotter.

William pulled away first again. I tried to chase his lips with mine, but he pushed me back, chuckling at my eagerness.

"Hold on," he said. "There's some things we have to discuss before this goes any further."

"Please don't tell me you're married," I said.

He laughed. "No, I'm not married. Divorced with a 10 year old daughter. That was the first thing I wanted to discuss, in case single dad is a dealbreaker."

"Very much not a dealbreaker."

"So...the age thing is also not a dealbreaker then?"

I shook my head. "If anything, I think that makes it kinda hotter."

A grin spread on his face. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind. But there is the big issue of the fact that I'm your boss."

It felt like I had been shoved off of cloud nine and come crashing down to earth. For a moment, I had forgotten that part. He was right, that was the biggest issue here. Kind of hard to get around it unless I ended up quitting, which I really did not want to do. It was nearly impossible to find a good paying job these days, and I needed this now more than ever since Josh wasn't going to be splitting rent with me anymore.

I climbed off of William's lap and stood across from him. "I guess...that is a big issue, huh?"

"I just don't want you to feel pressured into anything, and I don't want anyone to look at you any different because you're dating the boss."

I raised a playful eyebrow at him. "You jumped to dating pretty quickly there."

His smile was a little more bashful. "What can I say? I'm old school. I don't believe in hooking up or anything like that. If there's anything going on here, I want you to be able to classify it as a relationship."

In that moment, I found myself wondering why I hadn't always dated older men. I had wasted so much of my time on guys my age when I could've been dating someone who was actually a gentleman and cared about me and my feelings.

"Why don't we see where things go with this, and then we can tackle that big elephant in the room?" I asked.

"I think I can agree to that."

I took a step closer and said, "I really want to kiss you again, though."

He laughed and met me halfway, standing from his desk and taking my face in his hands again. When he kissed me, I felt like I was flying right back on to cloud nine.

[moonsaver]

Iris family!reader back at it again! Here's part 2 of this, which was VERY incomplete because tumblr decided to bust on me and upload it while i was still drafting!! I think this part might be more confusing, so feel free to ask about it right away!

Taglist is at the end of the fic hehe

-

Aventurine has an eye for craftsmanship. And very good ears.

You recall vividly. That's the first thing he mentioned about himself when he first introduced himself to you.

You know it's not a coincidence he's reaching out to you. Especially after a meeting with Mr. Sunday, which is his direct, formal contact with the Oak Family. You, on the other hand, were a direct, informal contact. The fact you were barely a notable singer in the plethora of talents Penacony held wasn't what mattered to Aventurine. Neither did it matter that you were from the Iris Family. Because to him, you were a one-way ticket to Sunday's mind. 

It's also no coincidence he's decided to drop by after he sees the wide open door of your room.

“I've heard well about your station, friend.”

He makes himself comfortable on the stiff couch of the hotel room, the fabric wrinkling and the frame creaking from the shift in weight.

“I.. don't need your help. I’m fine.”

“Can't hurt to always have connections, keeps you afloat, birdie.”

“Don't tell me that. I don't need any more. I've had enough.”

Aventurine smiles, and leans back into the couch, one of his arms lazily resting on the couch's and the finger of his hand tapping the top of his knee.

“Your earrings are the talk of the town, y'know?”

Your hand instinctively shoots up, and your fingers ghost the lobe of your ear. You're not wearing any at the moment.

“Is that so..?”

Your body language is jittery. Your hands keep fidgeting. Your lips hurt from the constant chewing, your finger rubs your earlobe.

Aventurine fiddles with his own, and gets up. He walks over to you with slow, easing steps.

“There's a cute little section in a few tabloids about those earrings. There's also a little fact that your ears burn red when you lie.”

Aventurine stands in front of you.

“That can't be right. It's totally bullshit.”

He chuckles at your response. He leans in, slowly, his breath ghosts the shell of your ears. The oddly sweet scent of expensive, exotic wine line his cool breath over your skin.

“There's also been that whole buzz about The Watchmaker's Legacy.”

The close proximity renders you paralyzed – many thoughts run through your head; should you push him away? Should you step away instead? Snap back at him?

You feel his gloved finger busy itself with your ear. A snap resounds loudly through your ear, and his hand retracts. So does he.

Your agitated gaze lingers on his smug face, and wanders over to his ears. They're red.

“I'll give you some advice – you should try and take advantage of chaos.”

His hand raises slightly, and his fingers barely kiss the skin of your elbows. It snaps something in you, and you immediately move to step back.

His other hand shoots up and grabs your arm in response.

“We can help each other, can't we, little sparrow? A glimpse of that man's mind is enough for me. I'll help you keep your family all safe and sound.”

“I– don't care what you have to offer. I am not taking that risk! This crap about The Watchmaker, I'm not having it! Find someone else to bother!”

Aventurine's smile widens, his eyes stare down at you. The concentric colours are almost hypnotising.

“Relax. The game's only started, I'm sure there's enough time for you to analyse the situation and pick a side. And things will fall into place all in due time.”

A knock.

Both you and Aventurine snap your heads to the source. The door creaks open.

Sunday stands, composed. His knuckles linger on the polished wood of the door for a few more seconds, before his hand falls to his side. His other hand holds a black, velvet bag.

You forgot to take that back.

“It seems we meet again.”

Aventurine hums.

‐

“Are you perhaps.. unhappy with your current circumstances?”

“No, I'm.. quite pleased with it. Please, don't take anything to heart. I was fervently denying all of his offers.”

Sunday chuckles softly.

“I understand. Please, be at ease.”

-

Sunday knew what lied in store for him when he became a part of the Family.

As their long-burdened history, all of them were to join and form an impenetrable force, decorating the Dreamscape lavishly for those who had the privilege to deny reality. 

Which was ironic.

It was comically ironic.

Such was their torment.

As eagles rip and gnaw the liver of human emotion, such was the painful symbolization of human strive. And this was a neverending story. A neverending performance of a traitor, prisoners and a false dream. A Death that surely extracts the price for all that has been done. A price that grows thick over the bones of each generation, for daring to dream together, for daring to yearn for freedom.

Some knew of this history. Most were not privy to it.

Sunday tells you in passing, as his gloved fingers gently drop the velvet bag in your hand. You suppose it was simple small talk.

A beat of silence passes.

“Ah, I may have fed a false fact to that Tabloid.”

You look up at Sunday.

“Im sorry?”

“I wasn't aware of whether or not your ears turn red. They were eager for a harmless fact, and I conjured up something on the spot.”

“Oh, they.. approached you directly?”

“They first approached Robin, to be exact. I arrived just in time to answer a small question. My apologies for making a hasty decision at a presented opportunity.”

You blink a few times.

“Ah, well.. not like it can be helped now but.. please be careful. One thing tends to lead to another.”

“I've taken note of that.” his eyes focus on the lobe of your ear.

What's he looking at..?

Your hand cautiously reaches up to your ear. Aventurine's earring?

“Oh, um.”

You break out in a sweat, and your shaky hands immediately remove it. You look at the flashy, teal accessory. Then you look at Sunday, gauging his reaction.

He smiles. Perhaps that fact wasn't false.

“I suggest not striking a deal with Aventurine. I can assure your family's security.”

“Oh, I know I just–”

“The Family does not take dealings with the IPC lightly.”

You stay silent.

He sighs, and his gaze seems to soften for a moment. His gloved hand reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Apologies. The Charmony festival is coming soon. Extra measures have been established. Please, approach me instead.”

His voice softens at the end.

“I.. understand.”

‐

Sunday thinks a change of your career is in order.

A brand new start, a better title, a better colleague.

Somewhere along the way, most of Penacony's more enthusiastic visitors were in the know about you. Your popularity settled comfortably on event lists, and Sunday was steadfast in his promise.

However, there's now an increase in work. Particularly, working late at night with Sunday.

Your job now had strict parameters you didn't have in your former station. Deadlines, reports, even hearsay playing an important role. Although, for once your rusty luck has come into play, and Sunday is much more fair to you than any other manager that you could have been working under, if it weren't for your decision to become a singer.

That being said, the public now saw less of you, which instead soared rumours about you and increased your popularity more. You aren't sure how to thank Sunday – he only gives you a closed eye smile whenever you decide to at least verbalise your gratitude.

‐

“Ah, you should take a look at this.”

Sunday beckons you to come closer, pointing and curling his index finger towards you. You oblige wordlessly, and with a few swift clicks of your shoes, you stand right beside Sunday, leaning a bit to take a better look.

His finger points to several figures in the document, and you hum, eyes scanning through the neatly organised words.

“Does this mean I'll get significantly busier?”

“You best prepare, as per my suggestion.”

You sigh, a bit dramatically, and Sunday chuckles.

“My apologies. I know I've already asked for a lot from your end. I shall support you equally.”

“That's.. well, alright. I was just worried about something else.”

You avoid his eyes, discomfort creeping up on you, as those rumours swirl in your head. 

“Be at ease, tell me.”

“It's.. the rumours surrounding me. They're not serious but, recently they've taken a strange turn of events.”

Sunday hums. He gets up, and walks towards a bookshelf, his fingers slide over their spines, and stop at a specific book. You continue,

“It's– um.. quite strange.”

Sunday pulls out the book, and opens it, sifting through the pages with familiarity.

“It was just about the earrings at first but they took a bit of a bizarre turn.. they–”

Sunday snaps the book shut,

“About us. Yes. I've heard.”

You blink a few times.

“They're..”

His fingers trace over the book's cover, before sliding it back into its place.

“Rumoured relationships between us, the debate about work ethics, and the whole lot. Yes, I'm well-informed.”

He turns to you. His all too familiar smile still on his face. His golden eyes seem much more intimidating than they used to.

“They'll die down. I can assure you they are of no importance. However, it helps with your exposure doesn't it?”

He turns his back to you, continuing to look at you over his shoulder.

“They will fizzle out in due time.”

You suppose Sunday is familiar with rumours. But this time, it is only particularly because he created them.

‐

The robin chirps and twits inside its golden cage.

“What's this?”

You smile, a finger gently tapping a bar of the delicate cage,

“It's a robin. I hoped it would guide you during practice.”

You chuckle, and Sunday smiles, both of your eyes fixated on the bird that's chirping and curiously tilting its head at you.

Sunday's encouraged you to practice singing more often inside the office. You've gotten off of your formal duties very late, and as of recent you've scarcely had time to practice. Sunday's insistence led to you often humming and practicing in front of your dressing table. It took a while, but you eased into it fairly well. 

Sunday, on the other hand, enjoys your singing more than he lets on. He finds himself humming to your tune every so often, once you've left and no other ambience fills the room. Perhaps that's also one of the reasons he's brought a robin bird to you.

You sing a simple tune, and the robin follows. It chirps happily, and you giggle at its strange antics. And thus, whenever you aren't present, the bird sings in your stead.

It's not soon before the robin loses its vitality, however. A gilded cage is a cage nonetheless.

Your voice was dampened that day. But Sunday had a plethora of ideas rush to his head.

‐

Something's been wrong with your voice as of recent.

You've avoided any strange drinks, even foregoing any kinds of juices, only opting for water. You avoid even spicy foods, settling for blander dishes. Sunday assures you it's nothing to worry about – even Robin faces challenges with her voice sometimes.

You're at your best, only in Sunday's office.

Everytime you sing, your voice flows smoothly, and you hit every note perfectly. It's wonderful, if it weren't for the fact your voice didn't seem to hold this effect outside of his office. You came to this realisation late at night when you tried singing in the bathroom to yourself, your voice kept tapering, and even stopped at some points. The doctors all assured you things were fine, and at best only prescribed some throat medicine. You wonder what's been going wrong.

Sunday isn't ignorant of your recent concerns, either. He seems to be taking it in stride.

The golden cage is on your dressing table, empty. You stare at it, thoughts swirling in your head. What went wrong? Where? Why? What did you do? 

Sunday's familiar gloved hands place themselves upon your shoulders again. It's a shame. He says. What is a robin without its voice? He says. It echoes in your mind for days. 

“Take a break.” one of his gloved hands make it's way to yours, folded in your lap. He brings your knuckles up to his lips, whispering assurances into it.

“It'll be fine. I'll take care of it.” He kisses between the valley of your knuckles,

“Don't worry. Help me out with the rest of the documents, and we can take a look at your voice after.”

You don't say anything. Maybe because you can't.

-

“Hmm.. your voice tapers too much at the chorus.”

You sigh. You've lost count of how many times you've had to repeat this song, your voice simply cannot seem to hold true to the chorus that's planned. Sunday flips another page of a long-winded document, and sets it down gently on the table, looking up at you when you sigh and only hold onto the mic with disappointment glazing your eyes.

“Have a seat. Perhaps a break may help you.”

You hesitantly oblige, but sigh again, deeply, as the muscles of your throat ache with the strain and relaxation. You sit down at the makeshift dressing table Sunday managed to prepare for you. His courtesy, of course.

You shuffle around it – your dressing table isn't actually much different than Sunday's office desk. It's littered with event planners, schedules, and all sorts of graphs and figures. Your hands lazily pick up a sheet and scan over it, choosing to at least distract yourself while you give your raw throat a rest.

You hear a muffled creak behind you, followed by a few, small footsteps. Sunday stands behind you in the reflection. His hands gently come up to your hair, fingers running through it and fixing it.

“Some members of the Family – particularly the Nightingale Family, wanted to extend their gratitude to you. You've been arduously managing the crowd and shifting their gazes away from the construction work.”

You hum slightly, your eyes unfocused on the words. Sunday's touch seems to leave you dazed, or rather conflicted, these days. 

His fingers leave your hair, and rest on your shoulders. He leans down, his lips graze the shell of your ear. His soft breath tickles your skin, and forms goosebumps.

“And I am.. personally grateful to have you working alongside me.”

Your eyes wander on your table. They avoid his gaze through the mirror's reflection.

“I also.. intend to help you, further than before.”

His voice grows softer and lower, descending into a whisper. One of his hands move from your should to the middle of your collarbone, a lone finger drags up to the middle of your neck. Your breath hitches.

“Mr. Sunday..?”

“It's alright. We needn't be so formal.”

Suddenly, a splotch of colours blur your vision from the corners. You hiss, and groan, immediately burying your head into your hands, striking pain pulses through your head. You close your eyes in efforts to relieve yourself, but it doesn't cease.

“Perfect Harmony.. Order.. it doesn't come easily. Allow me to assist you in reaching that.”

You breathe heavily, the pulsing ache in your head slowly subsides, but the colours remain persistent.

“Sunday..?”

“My dear, let us rejoice. A new chapter of your life has begun. Your family can find ease. We- no, I, can take care of them. Of you.”

You swallow thickly, dread pooling in your stomach. The finger on your neck trails up your neck and pushes your chin upwards, forcing you to face your reflection. The side of Sunday's face is pressed to yours, your eyes are dazed, but his have never been so clear, and bright.

“Just do as you've always done. This is simply to bolt your loyalty, my dear.”

Sunday kisses your cheek, his wings gently flutter on the other side of your face. You close your eyes. The pain subsides into something more blissful, calming. Your body relaxes almost against your will.

‐

Your voice has been perfect as of late. As long as you don't sing for anyone.

Which is to say – you're rendered useless in the grand scheme of Penacony. This terrifies you.

Your family has never been more vulnerable.

What is a robin without her voice? It echoes irrevocably in your mind, the question awaiting an answer. Nothing responds. Nothing, responds.

Empty ballads accompany the marble walls of the hallway leading to Sunday's office. His back is turned to you, his fingers sifting through the spines of familiar books on his shelf. His wings slightly flutter every time your voice hits a high note. Your voice was pitch perfect whenever you sang in his office. Anywhere else? It was a bust. Robin also tried her hand at comforting you, but the tapering edge of her voice only concerned you. An emanator of harmony relied completely on just that to sustain her voice. She'd lost it completely otherwise.

Your lips are raw from the constant biting. Your family tries assuring you they can also pull together scraps and bits to keep themselves afloat; that you've worked hard enough, and you need your rest. Sunday assures their security as always. He's stopped commenting on your concerns with your voice.

“Sunday, my voice..”

“Perfect, my dear.”

He's grown more familiar with using pet names instead of your name. You don't remember exactly when the transition took place.

“No, it's.. I can't sing anymore. I can't perform.”

“Ah, is that so?”

Sunday's deft fingers write something down on a scrap of paper, holding the book open in another hand.

“Not to fret, darling. The public awaits your performance in due time. Take a break for now, and focus on paperwork.”

It does more to discourage you, really.

“I don't know.”

“I know.”

Sunday places the book down gently on his table. He looks at your seated figure, illuminated by the warm light of his office.

Sunday wanted the best for Penacony. But when it came to you, he couldn't help but be greedy. Your voice was beautiful to him. He feels bad, raining on your parade like this. But there's endless amounts of performers who can take your place. There's only one of you who can catch his eye, however.

An empty cage is reminiscent of a happy bird. But a chirping robin is reminiscent of a happy man. Your lost voice still echoes well through the halls, resounding through the marble structures.

A gilded cage is a cage nonetheless. A happier bird is one that does not realise its cage. Sing to your heart's desire in it, he thinks. 

Your head falls to your hands again, blurring splotches of colour blaze through your vision and head again – a familiar, aching pulse resonates in your head. Your voice feels trapped. Sunday walks to you, and places a hand on your back, rubbing gently to soothe you. The colours disappear, leaving you in a daze. Sunday leans down to kiss your forehead, relaxing your furrowed brows.

It's true. You've proven it. A bird that does not realise it's true confines. You may be unhappy, but you sing your throat raw, and Sunday is your only audience. Parameters will only get stricter, but it's for your own good. He assures you endlessly, leaving out that one piece of information.

A robin without a voice is nothing but a dull bird. You, without yours, are just his.

-

Taglist: @sharkiethrts @sarcastic-cookie

[woso-dreamzzz]

Jessie's Girl

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Jessie Fleming x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The Natural History Museum

The day that Magda and Pernille need to go to some fancy dinner to represent the club, is the same day they take you to the Natural History Museum in London.

Jessie told you about how she went weeks ago and it's all you've been talking about since.

You manage to wear Magda and Pernille down with all your talking until they finally relent and book tickets. You insist on Jessie coming too and, soon enough, you're all crammed on the Tube on your way to the museum.

You're sitting in Jessie's arms, squished like a sardine amongst all the other people. You insisted to your Morsa about booking the tickets at opening time so you could see absolutely everything which is why the Tube is packed right now and Jessie's holding you so you don't get swept away with the crowd.

Morsa's got one hand on the pole and the other on Momma's hip to keep her close as the doors open and more people pile off.

The Tube is loud. Very loud and it grates on your ears slightly so you duck yourself under the collar of Jessie's open jacket to try and block it out. You squeeze your eyes shut super tight too before it's finally your stop and the four of you pile off.

Jessie carries you all the way through the station before setting you on your feet again and letting you hold Momma's hand as you walk the rest of the way.

You're vibrating with excitement as Morsa gets the tickets scanned and then you're in.

It's your first time at a museum and, for a moment, you look like you're going to bolt so Pernille tightens her grip on your hand to make sure you can't escape.

The Natural History Museum is massive and Pernille knows just how easy it is to lose a little kid like you. You haven't hit your growth spurt yet so you're still on the shorter side and you would disappear amongst a big crowd like this too easily for her to be comfortable in letting go of your hand.

"What are you most looking forward to seeing, princesse?" Magda asks as you all stop in the middle of the hall to stare up in awe at the blue whale skeleton suspended from the ceiling.

"Er..." You think for a moment. "Dinosaurs! 'Cause Jessie says they're so cool!"

"Alright." Magda grabs a map from a pile nearby, unfolding it and studying it like Pernille hadn't caught her looking at the online version just last night. "I think we hit zone red first and go through all the stuff about volcanoes and rocks. Then we'll go to green zone and look at bugs and minerals. Then lunch and after that it should be about time for those tickets we booked for the spirit collection and then we'll round it off with mammals and dinosaurs and the gift shop. Sound good?"

Pernille laughs. "It's sweet that you've got everything planned out but I think our kids are already trying to plan out their own route." She tilts her head over to where you and Jessie (who has crouched down to be at your level) are discussing your own plans.

Magda sighs, lifting you up easily so you can't plan a mutiny on her and starts off towards the red zone.

"Morsa," You grunt," Wrong way! Dinosaurs!"

"Dinosaurs are last," Magda insists," Save the best until last."

You frown. "Like best bite last at dinner?"

"Exactly that," Magda says," We'll go look at rocks and volcanoes first and we'll work our way back to the dinosaurs. Sound good?"

You huff. "Fine."

Despite your original annoyance, you do find yourself enjoying the red zone and then the following green zone. Both you and Jessie are kept occupied for nearly fifteen minutes looking at the fossils of old ocean reptiles and Magda and Pernille rest their feet on a bench nearby.

At lunch, you and Jessie share a big bowl of mac and cheese and Pernille nearly laughs at how excited you both seem to explore the museum - even though Jessie went only a few weeks ago.

"Those are animals in jars," Pernille hisses to Magda during the spirit collection tour," We could be mentally scarring her right now."

"She loves it," Magda whispers back as you (and Jessie) listen, enamoured by what the guide is saying," Who knows? Maybe this is going to solve the problem of her wanting a pet. Nothing like a dead animal to put someone off of wanting a live one."

Pernille rolls her eyes. "You're evil. A pet wouldn't kill us."

"She's enough for us right now," Magda laughs.

By the time the mammal section rolls around, you're complaining of tired feet and Pernille swings you up onto her hip so you can rest and reads out the plaques to you.

Or, she tries to, because you keep interrupting to read them for yourself. You've gotten good at reading even though you're yet to go to school.

Magda insisted on starting you early, teaching you the basic principles of sounding out letters and phonetics to help you along.

Frankly, Pernille thinks it's frightening how intelligent you are at such a young age. You're Swedish and Danish bedtime storybooks are getting scarily easy for you to sound out and she shouldn't be surprised that you're applying the same rules to your English.

"What's that mean?" You ask, pointing at the italicised scientific name of the animal you're reading about.

"It's Latin," Pernille replies," Scientists use it to give a fancy name to different species."

"What's Latin?"

"It's a dead language," Jessie jumps in," No one speaks it anymore. It's just used to make scientists look smart."

You think for a moment. "Morsa calls me smart! Can I learn Latin, Momma?"

"Maybe when you're older," Pernille replies indulgently, not at all taking it seriously.

(She'll remember this conversation randomly when a letter comes home when you're sixteen asking if you could pretty please stop signing up for advanced Latin class because the teachers have nothing more to teach you).

Your feet have miraculously recovered from their aches and pains when you get to the dinosaur exhibit and Magda intervenes quickly when it looks like both you and Jessie are going to bolt.

She grabs you both by the hand and makes you fall into step with her.

"You stay where I can see you," She tells both of you equally," You hold each other's hands. You don't run ahead. If you can't hear me talking at a normal volume then you have gone too far ahead. You turn around and come straight back until you can hear me again."

"Yes, Magda."

"Yes, Morsa."

"Good. Remember your rules. Go and have fun."

Jessie shows you all of the dinosaurs, even down to the very little ones and you listen with rapt attention.

It's the slowest Magda and Pernille have seen you move all day, just taking everything in and hanging off Jessie's every word.

You almost don't want to leave and only the promise of a dinosaur at the giftshop gets you to move your legs again.

You browse for a while and so does Jessie, piling her arms up high with dinosaur merch. Magda, admittedly, knew that Jessie was a nerd in the best way possible but this only solidified it.

"No, princesse," Pernille says firmly when she sees you jumping to reach a jumbo triceratops plushie that said it cost sixty pounds," That's too expensive."

"Momma," You whine," Please?"

"I'm sorry," She says," But you know there's a budget on gift shop toys. What does your Morsa say about gift shops?"

"That they're stupidly overpriced and tourist traps for idiots," You repeat dutifully, sounding more and more like Magda that Pernille has to laugh.

"That's right," She says," So pick out something smaller so your Morsa doesn't complain about being conned out of money for the entire train ride home."

You huff in annoyance but ultimately choose an arctic wolf plushie because it's got super soft fur.

It's only twenty pounds but Magda still grumbles under her breath about gift shops being stupidly overpriced.

"Jessie," Magda says as you and her step out of the giftshop," What the hell is that?"

Jessie, at least, is feeling enough guilt to look down bashfully. "It's for y/n."

"Jessie," Magda says again," That's massive."

It's the triceratops you were eyeing up earlier and you nearly take Jessie to the ground from the force of the hug you give her.

You sit in Jessie's lap during the (much emptier) train ride home and you crash out asleep for your very delayed midday nap.

You stay asleep when you change trains. You stay asleep during the car ride and you stay asleep as Magda and Pernille get ready for their dinner tonight.

Jessie's your babysitter for the hours that they're gone for and you wake up as Magda and Pernille are a few minutes away from leaving.

"Momma," You whine," Don't go."

While your separation anxiety isn't as bad when you've been told in advance about things, it's still present and you still sniffle a little as your mothers gives you goodnight hugs and kisses because you'll be tucked up in bed by the time they get back.

You still sitting in front of the front door with Momma's Linköping jumper and Morsa's blanket.

For half an hour, Jessie doesn't understand how to help you. She's been warned about this explicitly, about how much you miss Magda and Pernille when they're gone.

She thought she would be fine but it's clear that this isn't something she can fully pull you out of.

So, Jessie turns on the tv, playing a random animated movie and just sits with you for support.

Somewhere along the way, you wiggle into her lap, leaning your back against her front and holding her hands around your belly for security.

"Do you want a drink?" Jessie asks quietly.

It takes hours for her to coax you into being a bit more like yourself, gradually shifting further and further away from the door until you're both sitting on the sofa again.

You're lying on Jessie's front, head lying pillowed on her chest as you stare longingly at the door.

One of Jessie's hands is under your top, gently drawing patterns on your back while the other plays with the little baby hairs you have at the base of your scalp.

It's nice. Not quite like how Morsa and Momma do it but enough for it to make you go all limp and boneless in her arms.

It's dark when Magda and Pernille come in from their dinner. Magda drove so Pernille was able to get a little tipsy on just one too many wines.

It's dark. The moon and stars are out but the light in the front room is open and the tv is still blaring some random show that's being shown gone one in the morning.

Jessie's asleep on the sofa, still in the clothes she worse to the museum. One of her hands is dangling on the floor, her knuckles skimming the carpet while the other is wrapped around your back.

You're still in your museum clothes too but you look perfectly content and happy, fast asleep on Jessie's chest.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part V

Thank you as always to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading for me, you're the best bb!! ❤️❤️

Hello everyone!! This chapter is going to be a little more plot/lore heavy. But, we still get some sweet and flirty boys. IV brings Reader dinner and II is becoming more comfortable in his flirting. Thank you so much for reading, if you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!

WARNINGS: None

Part IV - Part VI

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was one of those times where your store was absolutely slammed. "I'll be right with you Jay, just give me one second." You clap the older man on the shoulder as you round the counter.

"No worries darlin', I got all day." He smiles cheerfully at you." You hurriedly set a fresh batch of coffee to brew, quickly cleaning up the station.

"Next batch will be done in about ten minutes guys." You smile as you pass by a tow of your usuals, a group of old timers that would set up shop at the shelf along one of the windows and spend their day drinking cups of coffee and playing scratch tickets.

"Now Miss (Y/N), don't you go running off, I got a vibe to pick with you young lady." You skidded to a halt, turning in your heels to face the myriad of curious stares.

"You better make this quick Randy, I got a line out the door." You huff with a sarcastic smile.

"I just want to know what you're doing hanging around with those cultists." Your eye involuntarily twitched as he spit out the word. "I'd just hate to see you get mixed up in that crowd."

"They're nice boys Randy." You hurry up to the counter as you continue to call over your shoulder. "It might do you some good to actually get to know them before you try to crucify them over nothing.

"Why don't you try inviting them to the Fall Festival?" Jay asks gently.

"Unfortunately I don't think they'd go. I know it's hard to believe but they're just as nervous about you as you are about them." You explain with a huff.

"I think it's worth a shot at least." He leans in a bit to whisper to you. "Now I can't speak for everyone obviously, but I think if the townsfolk actually got to meet them and see that they're not some big ol' scary monster in the woods… well, they might just come around." He offers his advice with a patient smile. "If you're saying they're a good group of guys I trust your judgment. Your word means a lot more to me than some blood thirsty reporter after a story."

"Thanks Jay, I'll ask them. Who knows, maybe they'll show up." He bids you farewell before leaving you to tend to the rest of your sea of customers. After what felt like an eternity your store was finally empty. You groaned, slumping over the counter. The cool linoleum felt nice against your sticky skin. You jolted up at the sound of the bell ringing above the door, eyes flashing over to reveal II and IV looking at you curiously. "Hey guys." You give them a tired smile.

"Everything alright, love? You look exhausted." II approaches the counter, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, just a long day." You explain. You sit down in your chair, resting your elbows on the counter. II copies your motions, his eyes searching yours, his nose just barely out of reach from bumping into you.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You shake your head in response.

"You boys are already too good to me as it is." You giggle as II playfully rolls his eyes. "I'll be alright, just gotta do some quick cleaning before I go upstairs. Then it's a cup of ramen cause I'm too lazy to cook and shitty movie re-runs until I pass out on my couch."

"A cup of ramen isn't a meal, doll." He tuts.

"I know that, doctor." He chuckles at your sarcastic tone. "I'll be alright, one night without a proper dinner isn't going to kill me."

"I wish we could come help more around here, I hate seeing you so tired." IV chimes in, dropping an armful of snacks on the counter.

"I appreciate all your help, but I promise you, I'll be just fine." You respond with a reassuring smile. Neither of them seemed satisfied with your answer but they could tell you weren't in the mood to argue.

II sighs, "just promise me after you finish up here you'll go get some rest."

"You have my word." You chuckle. The two of them finish their shopping, idly chatting with you as you do some cleaning up. "Goodnight guys, get home safely." You wave as they head out.

"I better not come back here and see you exhausted tomorrow." II warns playfully.

"I'll try my best." He winks at you before pushing out the door. IV wishes you goodnight before joining his companion.

You collapsed on your couch with a groan once you finally made it upstairs. Despite how much you were trying to convince yourself you weren't hungry your growling stomach said otherwise. You lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, when suddenly the familiar rumble of a pick up truck pulls into the lot. You stood, walking over to the window and pushing the curtain aside. You saw IV fumbling with something in his passenger seat before kicking the door open. You met him at the back door, he froze when he saw you standing at the top of the landing with a smirk spread across your features. "I, uh, I brought some food." He offers bashfully.

"Come on up IV." You chuckle before heading back inside. IV steps into your apartment, eyeing you curiously.

"I'm sorry I showed up without an invitation." He apologizes. You smile, taking a couple steps closer to him.

"You're welcome here anytime." He breathes out a laugh as his eyes dart to the floor. You offer to take the food for him, setting up a spot for the both of you on your couch. "I am curious, how did you manage to get fast food without raising any suspicion?" You ask as you pop a fry in your mouth. IV chuckles in response, adjusting to sit more comfortably.

"It's a funny story actually, I pulled up at the drive through and the kid working there told me he liked my costume." You laugh.

"Really?" He nods. The thought of the Fall Festival popped into your mind; how you would love to bring the four of them because you know they would have a great time, how it would give them a chance to see the town for what it really was, and of course your little crush on the charming masked men didn't help either. "IV, do you think Vessel plans on ever going into town? You know, aside from you guys making supply runs under the cover of darkness." You joke.

"If I'm being completely honest, I don't know." He pulls his mask away from his face to take a sip of his drink. "I'm the newest of our little group so I can't give you the whole story, but from what I understand up until we reached here things weren't too great. There's a lot of people out there who want to get rid of us before they even have a chance to get to know us. We've been run out of town after town, sometimes through more… humane means… other times not so much. But, we have something good here, with the camp in the woods, with you." He pauses for a moment to smile at you. "That's something I want to try and hold onto for as long as I can."

You study him for a moment, "what if I tried to help?" You offer. "I could be the middleman for you. People in town know me, I grew up here, that has to mean something. I just… I don't want you to have to constantly be worried about someone being out to get you. I know that if they met you, if they got to know the people I know you are, they wouldn't be afraid anymore."

"I'm sure Vessel would be interested in hearing you out. Who knows, maybe you'll actually convince him." He chuckles. "Between you and me, if you bat those pretty little eyes at him, I'm sure you could convince him to do just about anything." He jokes as he shoots you a wink.

"I bet that line works on all the girls, huh?" You giggle, trying to shake off the heat that had settled in your cheeks.

"As long as it works on you I'm set." You playfully smack his arm. He nestles back into the couch cushions, letting out a soft groan as he stretches an arm over the back, the back of your neck buzzing as you feel his warmth seep into your skin.

"You're all a bunch of flirts." You smile at him.

"A bunch of flirts?" You roll your eyes at his mock annoyance. "It's not my fault that you're so captivatingly beautiful." You noticed that growing familiarity in your chest. The steady thrum of your heartbeat as you tried to hide your flustered state. IV leans in closer to you, his side pressed flush against your body. "Once I met you I understood what they were all fussing over." He chuckles before muttering, "the perfect being brought to us by Sleep." You turn to look at him, his hazy blue eyes coaxing you in deeper with every passing second.

"Who's… who's Sleep?" You whisper. IV tilts his head, a curious expression matching yours. The pieces must have clicked together because he returned to his usual smiling self a moment later.

"You'll find out soon, Vessel's probably waiting for the right time to explain." You accepted his explanation without a fuss. You trusted that if it was something you needed to know they would tell you. He glanced up at the clock, "I'm sorry to cut things short, love, but I should head back." You nod, standing and walking him over to the door.

"Thank you for bringing some food." You smile.

"Anytime." He responds with a wink. "Get some rest, alright? II will throw a fit." You both shared a laugh before IV reached out and pulled you into his arms. You froze at first, not fully comprehending that he had wrapped you in a hug. But, the moment realization set in your arms slipped around his torso. Neither of you were in a rush to let go, the two of you standing in a comfortable silence as IV held you close, gently swaying you from side to side.

"Goodnight, doll." His hand lingers in your hip, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before slipping out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[the-kr8tor]

On These Metal Tracks I Lay Myself Bare

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, CW guns, TW violence, CW injury, Cowboy AU, wild west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 5 >>> CHAPTER 6

The train station is packed with people, all finely dressed, waiting along the tracks, their luggages weighing heavy in their hands. The place smells of iron and steel, sweat soaked wood and rough leather. Your eyes wander around the station, domed ceilings loom above, carvings of horses and birds decorate the chestnut wood. Sunlight filters through the cracks, rays of light acting as a spotlight to the ornate building. It's a busier train station than the town you were in, the city you've stopped in is huge in comparison to the little towns you've passed by. The station is full of ticketing booths, lines stretching a few feet away that are full of impatient passengers. You look across the train tracks, seeing parents chastising their children, hearing hurried murmurs from husbands, holding their wives’ hands even though the luggage in their hand slows them down. You look at Hobie's gloved hand that's resting upon the ticket booth, you stare at it longingly, eyes getting glossy by the minute.

He's taking you home, and just like back home, you have no say in it.

A train whistle echoes, a signal of its metallic arrival. Its steel body creaks as it stops, its copper inlay is slowly turning green, and there's rust around the wheels. Soon, the station fills with smoke, dark tar belching smoke that sticks to your lungs as you cough. You feel a warm hand on your back, in a second you look back, the warmth is gone.

“You alright?” Hobie asks, lighting up a cigarette in-between his lips.

“It's the smoke,” you say, scratching at your throat that he cannot keep looking at for the scar in his neck throbs at the memory from the mundane act.

“Alright,” without a second thought, he takes his freshly lit cigarette from his mouth and then flicks it away from you, embers fly off in the distance just before it lands on the dirt outside.

You feel like the golden light in the summer. “I was talking about the coal smoke from the train. But that works too, thank you.”

He scoffs, a small smile ghosting over his lips. “Right, didn't do it for you, I did it for myself. Heard it kills people y'know.” Nudging you, he doesn't expect for you to shuffle away. Blinking, he avoids your eyes, “that's our train, it's an overnight one so we can rest in our cabin.” He tugs you in by the sleeve of your coat that's tucked in between his middle and forefinger, guiding you towards the waiting doors.

“That's good.” You follow, eyes trained on his back lest you get lost.

As much as you don't want to go home, you still don't want to leave him despite your mind telling you to forget about him and just leave on Cherry and wander around the west like a tumbleweed caught in the wind. You'd probably last a week.

Hobie stops by the doors, waiting in line with the other passengers. You flick your eyes downwards, his fingers wrapped around your sleeve, not taut, just holding you close to him as the crowd grows. So close to your own hands, yet so far from your heart.

“Tickets?” The man clad in a blue uniform asks, Hobie shows the pink papers and the man nods.

You enter the train car, it's a cute little thing filled with blue velvet curtains with golden tassels, and carpeted floors that run towards the end of the car. On your left are filled with little cabins, with clear windows that you can see through inside. It's big enough for at least four people, five if possible, though it would be a tight fit. The hallway is already small enough that only two people could walk side by side, you'd like to walk side by side with him, unlike now that you walk behind him, behind his shadow that gathers around you like dandelions in the spring.

“This is us,” he stops at cabin number three, opening the door with a creak, he leans away to let you enter first. Closing the door behind him, he pulls down all the curtains so that wandering eyes can't watch your every move. It's bad enough that there's a bounty on both of your heads, you don't want gossiping passengers peering inside.

There are four collapsible beds on each wall, all held by golden ropes, bed sheets in rich red cloth, pillows fluffed to perfection and blankets neatly folded. Hobie scooches in between you and the beds to close the top bunks so that there's more space for his tall frame. He has taken his hat off not for politeness but if he wore it inside it'll be squished by the low ceiling. Then there's the large window that sits across the door, before you could take note of the people outside, Hobie shuts the curtains close.

“What do you think?” He asks, taking his jacket off with a flourish. “It's not even close to the ones back home but it'll do for now. We'll be train hopping to get our scents off the lawmen.”

“It's nice— wait, train hopping?” You sit down on one of the beds, the mattress is surprisingly soft under you. “Please don't tell me we'll be jumping from train roof to train roof.”

Hobie chuckles, copying your actions, sitting across from you. Back resting against the wall, comfortably slouching. “Think you can handle it?”

“God, no.” You can't help but rest your tired head upon the goose feather pillow.

“Good, because we're not doin' that, love.” Again, he copies you. Arms tucked under his head, eyes above the ornate ceiling. “We’re not gettin' off at the last station, so we'll be ridin’ with Buck and Cherry for a bit and then to another train station. Confuse the wankers with our brilliant wiles.”

You lift your head off the pillow, and in turn, Hobie turns his head to look at you. “Wait, what about the horses?”

“They'll follow the train.” He smiles.

“Follow? Like they have our scents?” Hobie laughs, not teasingly, no, it's full of endearment, chuckling softly, but it flies over your head.

“Don't laugh. It's a genuine question.” You roll your eyes with slight amusement.

“They're in the back carriage,” he tamps down his laugh but his smile stays.

After that silence prevails in your cabin as the train slowly chugs on, sharp whistles piercing your eardrums, and the hum of machinery bringing you back home. You want to speak to him, to finally tell him of all your concerns about going home, going back to them. But most of all, you want him to speak to you about everything, to tell you how he was faring for the last five years, and how he became such a terrifying figure to outlaws. You want him to just…talk, and make up for lost time. You gather the courage, but just as you were about to speak, he no longer lies across from you. Hobie is sitting on the bed, body facing the door, hands busy with oiling his guns.

“Hobie…I—”

“What is it?” He flicks his eyes briefly to you, his tone was sharp, but he didn't mean it, blaming it for his own worries and fatigue. He'd say something about it but you're already facing away from him. Back turned, blanket shielding you from him.

“Nevermind,” you mumble into the covers, falling into a deep slumber where the conversation happened in your dreams.

This goes on for three days, hopping from train to train, from busy cities to dead empty towns. You barely speak, talking only when Hobie asks you something. It's like you're back at that empty mansion, with only the plants to talk to.

Hobie silently hates it, he doesn't know what to make out any of it. You seem hungry so he gives you a can of strawberries, you look tired so he lets you sleep without him saying a word. When goosebumps appear on your arms he gives you a blanket, when you're nervous, lips bitten until it's bleeding, he leaves you alone to calm yourself down. None of it works, he misses your chatter that has kept him sane the entire journey. The silence gives him time to think though, a situation that he despises since nothing good has come out of all the thinking.

—

The rest of the journey goes without a hitch, except for that one bit where Bucky was stolen by an outlaw while you and Hobie were buying train tickets. You panic while he sits and waits. People look at you like you were a mad woman pacing back and forth, hand petting Cherry, voice whispering your thoughts to the poor hitched horse. And Hobie just…stares. After what seemed like forever, or fifteen minutes, Bucky returns, riderless, still has his saddle on his back, and seemingly chipper. Turns out, Hobie trained Buckeye to throw off would-be thieves, and this time, Bucky found a convenient ledge to throw this particular man off. You and Hobie quickly ushered both horses into the back just in case a sheriff comes looking for a murderous horse.

You've been seeing a few familiar faces in the crowd of travelers, the same children that's tugging at their father's coat, the same old couple that helps each other up on the platforms. Some have taken notice of you too, to which you smile politely at them while they wave kindly at you.

—

It's another warm humid day, another train to ride in. You don't bother to look at the interior this time, only deciding to sit on the cushy seat you were assigned to, sliding inside the booth, eyes already staring longingly at the outside world. Hobie once again tries to speak about something— anything to try to get you to finally speak your mind, but his rapid pulse tells him otherwise. So he clamps his mouth shut, deciding to sit across from you instead of sitting next to you like he wanted to.

He feels eyes on his form as he picks mud off his spurs, raising his head, he comes face to face with a freckled child staring at him curiously with her big blue eyes. Her tiny hands are curled around a teddy bear, her fiery red hair is tied into a neat ponytail. You notice her a second later, smiling softly at the child.

“Hello,” you greet kindly, and the girl scampers back to her family's seat, hiding her blushing face behind her mother's skirt.

“Sorry about that.” Her mother apologizes, round pregnant belly prominent as she tries to coax her daughter out. “This is Clementine, she's a bit shy.”

“That's alright,” you speak on behalf of Hobie. “Hi, Clementine, my name's Y/N, and this is my companion, Hobie.” The second your eyes meet his own, Hobie's breath gets stuck in his throat.

“Say hello, Clem, be polite.” The girl's father playfully pokes her side. Blue eyes hidden behind rounded glasses.

“Hi,” she says in a small voice, giggling when she looks back at Hobie.

“I think she has a crush on your husband.” Clementine's mother chuckles, patting her daughter's back for a job well done.

“My husband?” Panic sets in your chest until you see her gesturing towards Hobie. “Oh,” you chuckle shakily, fists bunched around your trousers.

Hobie notices, he doesn't say anything about it. He takes your reaction as something else, so to keep your embarrassment at bay, he tells the couple otherwise. “Not her husband. Just escortin’ her.”

The air becomes awkward. “Oh,” the mother rubs her belly, smiling gently. “Sorry, you two just look like a good pair.”

Her husband taps her shoe with his. “Just like us, eh, sweetheart?” The wife shakes her head with a bashful smile, bringing a grin to the man's lips. You start to think that this is what marriage is supposed to be. Caring, loving, clinging onto each other in the best way that doesn't stifle or choke, just love in its most natural form. It's unlike any marriages you've seen and experienced back home. “So where are you folks off to? I'm guessing south? We've been seeing you two around since Valentine, it's nice to have some company during the journey don't you think?”

Hobie doesn't sense malicious intent from the parents. “Sure, whatever you say, mate.”

“You're not from around here aren't you?” The little girl listens to the conversation, head moving from side to side whenever someone speaks. “That's alright,” she laughs softly, rummaging for something in her bag. Hobie has his thumb pressed along the side of his gun. “I can tell you'll be good neighbors,” she hands you a small jar of honey, it's bright yellow and clear, you wish you had some tea to go with it. Hobie breathes a sigh of relief. “Here you go!”

“Oh no thank you, we can't possibly take it.”

“Please do.” The husband says, “we used to have a colony of bees, but we had to sell them all before we moved.”

“We have dozens of unsold honey, we're honestly just looking to get rid of it before we get to our destination. They're heavy, y'know.” His wife finishes for him. “Clem, can you give it to sweet Y/N for me?”

“That's so kind of you.” You smile, nodding. “You're moving to the south?”

“Okay.” She happily takes it, walking across the aisle to you and Hobie. Unsurprisingly, she gives it to Hobie instead of you. “Here you go.” She copies her mother.

Hobie takes the jar with trepidation. “Thank you?”

You quiet down a laugh while Clementine’s parents guffaw across you.

“Oh she's in love.” The mother says, arms raised to embrace her daughter who welcomes her touch. You can't help but feel a pang in your heart at her love for her child. “And yes we're going to be living there with my in-laws. Rent has gone too high in the west, y'know.” You nod along, making friendly conversation.

“Wish I had tea,” you hear Hobie mumble. You smile softly at his words.

—

It's been a couple of more trains, and more smoke in your lungs, you start to feel like your hands are starting to smell like the steel that you now know as your temporary home. The scenery outside your window has changed. From grassy dusty plains of tumbleweeds and windmills to rolling mountains that rise up high with large looming trees that shield you from the sun. Soon your view will be full of the southern charm, but you don't look forward to it, being there means that you're closer to getting back to the place you dread.

You've grown quite close to Clementine and her little family, even the other familiar passengers that are heading the same way as you are quite fond of you as well. You eat breakfast with them, have afternoon tea, and have even introduced Cherry and Bucky to the children. They've lovingly named them both ‘horsies,’ to which you'd always giggle at.

Clementine has latched onto you, you teach her about plants and flowers, and have her draw them for you just like you've sweetly described it to her. But when Hobie's near, she opts to be his shadow for the time being, following him everywhere until her mother calls her back. Hobie is half annoyed that he can't find the time to speak to you, but he's glad that there's someone as a mediator between the two of you or he'll start vomiting out words that may or may not make the situation worse.

Your back aches at the lumpy mattress that you've unfortunately landed into. You can't help but give up the assigned cabin for you and Hobie to Clementine and her family since the beds are much more comfortable in that cabin. So you offered to exchange it, citing that the mother, Florence, you've come to know, needs it more because of the growing baby in her. She gratefully gave you another jar of honey for your sacrifice.

Hobie enters the booth, heavy boots thumping against darkened wood, spurs clicking, footsteps rolling along like a thick heavy fog of loneliness.

“Where were you?” He asks even though he's afraid that he'd be overbearing. His worries win over him.

You grip the spine of the borrowed book, knuckles tightening, eyes drawn downwards to the written word that spells out ‘grief.’ “I visited Cherry, I don't want her to be lonely.” You barely look at him.

Hobie flexes his hands not out of anger, no, out of fear of losing you, this time, just like the last time he did, he doesn't know why or how he could even lose you. He sits down across from you, bed creaking from his weight. He tries to play as the nonchalant cowboy like he always had for the past five years.

“Clementine was lookin' for you.” *I was looking for you. “Cherry won't be lonely, she has Bucky with her.”

“Bucky hasn't been much help when all he does is look at her. Not much of a conversationalist.” You flick your eyes over to him, flashes of anger and hopelessness are melted into your irises.

“Maybe Bucky just doesn't have the words.”

“And maybe Cherry just wants to talk to him.”

“That fuckin’ horse,” he laughs, you don't find the humour in his words. But he clearly does. Your anger flies over his head. “that horse is already worth half of your bounty.” His words are a sharp sting in your arteries. “If she actually speaks she'll be worth it.”

“And what if she doesn't? That she's not worth your damned money?” You toss the book aside. Anger seeping out of your pores. “You'll sell her after you bring me in to my aunt?” Your voice breaks, and you hate yourself for it. “Am I just that to you? A bounty?” The dam breaks, and everything you've kept to yourself bursts open.

“That's not—” The heart that he has sewn together breaks at the seams.

You abruptly stand up, tears pricking your eyes. Inhaling, you stare down the man you love. The only man you've ever loved. “You are not what I hoped to find when I escaped on that ship.”

Before he could say something, anything, you disappeared into another train car, and amidst the metallic halls.

—

Another grueling day, another steel cage to get into. The train whistles as it comes to a stop, you've grown acclimated to the smell of burning coal, you let it coat your lungs as you enter the train with Hobie silently trailing after you.

Your eyes are glossed over, red and swollen from the sobs you've let out over the course of the last sixteen hours. Hobie hasn't talked to you since then, always looking at your back, face unreadable. You pass by familiar faces, you don't acknowledge them. You're tired, bones aching, muscles twitching from lack of sleep and water. Head thrumming, you enter your designated cabin like a doe who has lost its way.

There's a sinkhole underneath your feet, slowly it eats at you, up to your shins and up your thighs, coating your flesh in mud and dirt. You don't tug at him anymore, the small ember of hope in your chest has diminished, instead, you let the ground swallow you whole— letting it suffocate you, letting it drown your lungs in soil.

Just like he did on the first train ride, there's four beds on each wall, but instead of an empty space in the middle, there's a little foldable table. You close the top bunks and lay down on one of the bottom ones, head heavy against the soft pillow. You feel his presence behind you, and then a cool steel atop your bicep. You flinch away, thinking it was a barrel of a gun.

“I figured you're thirsty.” He says, hand hovering above your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down. The train whistle rings out, and the engine whirrs and starts up as more smoke bellows outside your window.

You take the flask, sitting up to take a drink. He sits across from you, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

Hobie sees the glow of your ring, he instinctively brings his hand up to his own that has made its home around his neck; hidden behind his clothes, finding comfort in its gilded form, the closest thing he can get to you.

“Why do you still hold on to me? After all these years?” He asks, eyes swirling with unknown emotion.

“Why did you let me go?” You answer, and that was the end of the conversation. Then it hits you, he truly doesn't love you anymore.

—

Night comes, and with it your sadness comes flooding through you, getting in the corners, slithering around every crevice— it has memorized your form and made it its home.

Weirdly enough, Hobie hasn't left the cabin, his lingering presence doesn't stifle you, unlike the man back at home who watches you with piercing glares. Even with your fury, your mind still finds comfort in Hobie.

He hears your almost silent cry, he wants to hold on to you, to brush his palms on your cheeks, to wipe away the tears and press his lips against your own. But he can't, or you'll think that he didn't mean it, that he only did it to make you calm down. It would be a cheap satisfaction for the both of you.

“I didn't let you go, I had to go.” He suddenly says above the quiet cutting of an apple in his hand, leaving pieces of it on your side just in case you want it. His voice doesn't waver, perhaps he has been saying the exact words to you in his mind for the past five years. You still have your back turned facing him as the deep rumble of the train goes on. “I was young and stupid. I was forced—”

You suddenly turn towards him, sitting up on the lumpy mattress. “And I was young and stupid too, yet I knew in my heart that running away with you wasn't foolish. Was it stupid to you? Escaping with me? That you'd rather run away, alone, to another country than be with me?” The memory of a young you waiting for him with your luggage in your grip has you seething.

Hobie matches your anger, hunting knife pausing on the red apple. “Did you hear what I said?” He angrily skins the fruit, slicing and dicing at its flesh. “You have no idea what I've done to survive. I have endured a lot to be where I am now—”

“And what of what I endured?!” You stand up, taking your bag, rummaging through it. “I'm truly sorry for whatever happened to you— but how could I apologize for something that I don't even know?” You toss the letters on the desk after struggling to take it out of the bag. “There! The letters that were sent back to me because I had no idea where you would be! Read them, and you'll know of the things I've endured. Unlike you who would rather look at me with contempt than tell me why I deserve that horrid gaze.” You gasp for air, he lets you speak, his own anger dissipating, fear once again encompasses him. “I thought you were dead, everyone kept telling me you were, but I didn't believe them. It's been years, my hands are raw from— I mourned you.” You pause, watching your golden ring glow in the lampshade. “Do you know how much that hurt? To start to believe their words? To lose hope? I didn't know where you were but you knew where I was and yet, not a single fucking letter went my way.”

Hobie stares at the letters spilled all over the table, apple juice seeping into the yellowed paper. He takes one, the oldest looking one that has its edges burned. Breaking the wax seal, he reads as he listens to your words coated in venom and grief.

“One letter, Hobie, and I would've understood. Then I wouldn't have come after you if you just told me you didn't want to be with me anymore.” You nod, “and now you're bringing me home, to the same people who would rather keep me locked up and tell me lies. I don't know how your letter got in my possession, but now I know that you didn't mean anything you wrote in it.” For five years you've asked yourself, ‘was it me?’ ‘Was I the reason you left?’ you never got the answer to your question, so now you ask him finally. “Was it me?”

Hobie raises his head to look upon your sorrow, his hand shakes at the act they've done to you the second he escaped. He had thought they'd leave you alone, that they'd finally let you go once he was gone and forgotten; but he never thought it would get worse, the hurtful words and slaps on the wrists were nothing compared to what they've done after that night he was almost buried alive— the night you tried to escape with him. His mind draws the scene, blood coating your knees, your pained cry as your aunt jabs your hands with the tip of a fountain pen. And then her words of hollow apologies as she heals your wounds so that it wouldn't scar. You're filled with them, invisible to the eye, but not to you, the only person who has felt every single torturous wound.

‘It's terrible,’ you wrote, ‘not ever seeing you again.’ And he agonizingly read it. No, it wasn't you, it was them, them who would rather commit murder just to mimic what he had. Hobie can't form coherent words at what he just read, anger and sadness piercing his veins like a poisoned arrow of guilt.

You sniff, wiping the tears in your eyes as he just stares back at you. His hands shakes, paper crumpling under his tight grip, he needs to bring you home. But not there, not at the gilded cage he left you in.

The cruelty of memory has plagued you, you try to remember, you reminisce, but did it actually happen? Did all his love for you even happen?

“You don't have to keep reading,” you say solemnly, “it doesn't matter now, we're nearly there.” With a slide of the door, you leave.

—

After the twelfth tear stained letter, with his own tears flowing down and leaving moistened webs on the paper, he has had enough. His eyes always seem to see the same words now, ‘was it me?’ ‘Are you alive?’ and ‘When will you come back?’ Hobie hasn't even made a dent on the letters, barely reading half of the pile of longing you've left. Hobie's mind swirls into different emotions, going through every scenario where he didn't run away, where he came back for you while clutching his still bleeding throat and body covered in moist soil.

He was foolish to try and push you away, to hold you at arm's length, to only look at you like he has let the poisonous words thrown at him by the very same man that gave him the scar curl around him like blackened smoke that stains his clothes. He thought that wanting you back would bring nothing but hurt, especially that he thought that he didn't deserve it. To want is his demise, to have you again in his arms is his folly, but what a wonderful folly it would be.

How could he do all of that to you when his scarred flesh is in the shape of your name.

He pockets the letters, tucking it inside his waist coat, right above his heart just to feel your words through them. The door opens with a click, and he walks towards your direction like a compass built inside him that always points towards you. His fingers glide along the scar on his neck, raised skin felt through his gloves as he walks from carriage to carriage. Where there's open air in between, cool breeze stinging his moistened cheeks. Then he stops at the edge of a crowd, a jaunty tune plays from a traveling musician, playing for a scrap of coins in the corner. People gather around the brightly lit bar, alive and happy, and there you are standing as if you're frozen in time. As if he's seeing you just how he left you.

Amidst the familiar faces within the crowd that gathers in the small bar to converse, he stares at you, and by some miracle, you stare back at him, meeting his jade eyes that are surrounded by a sickened red. There's a soft, ghost of a smile on your lips, even after what you've told him— eyes full of love for the same man who has your heart in the palm of his hands; gentle, caring and yet unknowingly the only person that could truly hurt you the most without the painful slap of a wooden board against your back. It brings him back in time, under the cloudy gas light and the whir of the metal machines whose maw opens and closes to reveal heated metal— His mouth opens and he says the exact same thing that he has been saying every single time his eyes meet yours in secret— ‘meet you back at home.’ He utters, a promise kept under the smell of unlit gunpowder and cheap champagne that your aunt always buys to placate the workers. And you say the same words back without a bated breath— ‘wait for me.’ You almost cry out into the crowd, you'd scream it if it weren't for the forbidden relationship. It has been like that through every cheap congratulatory milestone the factory and your aunt has thrown. You don't speak to him, but your longing eyes do. He doesn't come near you, but his hand would always gravitate towards your velvet clad hand. ‘No one else knows.’ ‘No one else knows,’ those words echo in your mind like a root taking its place. Yet, someone saw, it only takes one good pair of eyes to see the growing love between you— ‘no one knows,’ he mirrors, but one does. It only takes one to set off a domino effect, an effect that would lead to his attempted murder, and to your demise that he isn't fully privy to. ‘No one knows,’ ‘no one knows,’ you whisper to yourself as you pack your bags to escape the life you haven't got a say in. No one knows, and yet, one did, and that one got your love's neck slashed and buried alive in the same soil you once kissed above on, under the same tree that you were supposed to meet in.

He wondered why you didn't show up, but the one that knew did. No one knows, and the one that did lived in your house, ate your food, shared a bed with your aunt— a story told through a letter from a man he once worked with, a man who now has one eye, a man that helped dig him out of the shallow grave they've put him in, waiting to bleed out in the earthbound soil. A dangerous letter that he had burned in the fire from anger. He wanted revenge, but you would be the cost. So he survived and killed, and survived again, always seeing you in the corner of his eye, always hearing your almost forgotten voice when he's on the edge of sleep. He survived and now he's here, meeting with your eyes amidst the crowd once again— with the evidence of his survival curling around him like a heavy rope, and your own hovering above you like a grey cloud that threatens to spill, yet he still utters the same words above the murmuring happier crowd, “meet you back at home.” His throat closes in around the words, almost screaming it to the crowd.

A tear slips from your eyes that are full of woe, and you say the words back, quieter, unsure, yet, the love is still there— “wait for me.”

Hobie breathes for the first time, his feet carrying him around the crowd, weaving through bodies to get to you while you stand still, waiting for him, watching as he desperately trudges to get to you.

You look just like how he remembered, standing by the oak tree, waiting for him even if his hands are stained black from grease— you'd still hold his hand. Now his hands are soiled in crimson that drips onto the floorboards, and yet you still hold your hand out towards him. He would atone for his sins if that's what you'd ask of him, but no one would grant him his penance, he has accepted that fact long ago. Only your touch could mimic it.

Hobie finally makes it to you, now he stands in front of your form, now he notices your hand grasping his own. Featherlight, unsure, if he'd reciprocate, giving him enough time to shake you off. But he doesn't, instead, he holds on to you tighter as he leads you outside of the noisy carriage and away from prying eyes, what he should've done all those years ago.

Hobie tugs you out of the hole that has consumed you.

Silently, you follow him, squeezing his hand twice to let him know that you're right behind him without him looking over his shoulder to inspect. You feel his fingers run along the ring on your finger.

The sound of the metal wheels are loud in your ears, steam rolling off in waves as it warms your back. It's dark out, the moon above guiding his path while he opens the other door leading towards the last carriage that carries horses and baggage.

The moon has always been a comfort to you. You thought in those years without him that he'd be staring at the same moon as you, that at least you've still got a connection with him. Even if you weren't sure he'd be alive to look up at the sky. Arms suddenly envelopes you, hands cradling the back of your head to keep you close to him, face hidden in the crook of your neck.

You're the first one to speak while you tentatively raise your arms to embrace him back. He's warm, warmer than you remember. “Do you mean it?”

Hobie sniffs, diamonds rolling off his cheeks, a promise falling from his lips, “yes, I'll bring you home, my home.” He molds himself to the shape of you once again. An act that you've been trying to attain since the beginning of the journey, now you're both perfectly aligned with each other, heartbeats synching and full. “I'll tell you everything, everything you need to know.”

“Just the ones you're willing to tell, Hobie. I'm so sorry for yelling those words at you.” You hold his head in your hands, gentle, caring, cradling him like you're holding the moon. Guiding it upwards so you could stare at his viridescent eyes that's full of hope for the first time in years. But the gnawing in your mind draws too close to you. “They'll never stop, they will keep hunting us down.” A sob breaks through your throat, “You have to bring me to them.” Tears flow out of you, “or we'll never be at peace. You'll never be at peace.”

The horses neigh behind you, Cherry huffs while Buckeye just stares at the scene. The carriage rattles for a moment before Hobie leans, laying his forehead atop yours, squeezing the soft skin on your nape. He closes his eyes, inhaling you in, you almost crumble in his arms. You've dreamt of this day, dreamt of holding him like this once again.

“You're my peace.” he whispers, “They can try to ruin that peace, but I'll stop them. I'll kill them if I had to.”

“Okay,” you close your eyes, just as he opens his own. “Take me home.”

“‘m sorry,” he kisses your forehead, lips lingering, a heavy kiss that brings you back to life, mending all your doubts. “Let's go home, yeah?” Leaning away, his eyes dart over to a man coming your way, he doesn't find it suspicious, but then the stranger brandishes a gun, raising it over your head. “Y/N—!”

Your body flings off to the side, hip hitting harshly on the corner of a crate. Then a loud cackle of a gun goes off, the sound bouncing off the walls, gunpowder flying over head, hiding Hobie from your vision. You yell his name, but you can't hear your own voice from the ringing in your ears.

Everything happens slowly in your eyes. Smoke spreads as you see Hobie still standing and unscathed, gun raised, barrel aimed at the man's head. Said man runs towards him like a bull, making Hobie miss his shots. Yet the man still shoots at him, slower than Hobie but just as deadly. Hobie leans his head slightly to the side, effectively dodging a bullet. You scamper towards Cherry, lifting yourself up, waiting for the right moment. And then you slap your precious horse, making her kick before he could reach Hobie. Cherry's deadly kick hits the perpetrator right on his back, where a sickening crunch can be heard. The sheer force of the kick has dust flying off his body, and now he lays motionless on the wooden floor.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie gawps at you, smile spreading across his lips. “You alright?” He walks over to you, or tries to while Cherry gives one last kick towards the dead man.

“Yeah,” you nod, patting Cherry, Keeping her calm. “It's okay, girl. I'm so sorry.” You coo at her, Hobie goes around the horse to hold you. “Are you—?”

His arms wrap around your waist, lips smashing on yours. You inhale and it's already over. Even if it was quick, it wasn't a cheap satisfaction, it's everything. He pats your cheek affectionately, beaming at you, holding you close. “You're brilliant.” His thumb rubs softly where you hit your hip on the crate, a silent apology.

You smile, heart thumping loudly like an engine. “It was all Cherry.”

“Should I snog the horse now too?” Hobie says smugly, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“No, preferably just me, for now at least.” You tap his chest, bashfulness encompassing you.

“Nah, it's you until the end, love.” He clicks his forehead against yours, making you chuckle.

A scream rings out from the other carriage, hurried footsteps bounding away. “Do you think—?”

Hobie reloads his gun effortlessly, giving the spare one to you. “You're a better shot than me anyway.” He takes one last look at you, as if this is the last time he'd ever set his eyes on you. “Whoever they are, I'll cut through them. Cover my back?”

“Always,” You nod, taking the silver six-shooter, “then we'll go home after this.”

He grins, hope in his eyes. “Home, you'll love it there.”

“Let's cut through all of them then.”

[wolven91]

The Bigot

"They offer nothing to us that we haven't already!" Snapped the well dressed vulptanis, Xingta. Dismissing the preposterous suggestion of submitting yet another human study, although this one was more invasive.

"But we could still learn from their culture, their history. They are not clones or copies from something else." Retorted the vulptanis in green, Xingta's rival in academics. Xingta rolled his eyes before gripping the podium in front of him and pointing a blunt claw back at the idiot. How they had gotten their doctorate he had no idea.

"Nonsense! Our histories are longer than theirs!" Xingta swept a hand at the anatomy pictures of the crit'yun behind him. "The crit'yun have histories that span back to before human ancestors had gills! Why would we not devote these resources to a worthier cause? Such as a crit'yun study?"

The debate was on the final distribution of an approval ticket for a study. It was down to Xingta's crit'yun study or Xupa's study on humans. Whoever won this ticket would be set for the foreseeable future, while the other would risk falling into obscurity.

Whatever the vote, Xingta's final comment hit a nerve and Xupa cracked first, their hands gripping their own podium so tightly the wood cracked as they hissed over it at Xingta.

"Your theories are the result of a drug addled mind, and your citations are spelt wrong!"

That hurt, the small gasp in the auditorium along with a ripple of concerned murmuring confirmed Xingta's expectation that this would not win Xupa the popular votes.

But that didn't mean he couldn't strike back. Effects of 'raised blood' and all that.

"Your thesis would owe my rear an apology if I used it as a wipe!" He snarled, which gained him a series of 'oohs'. Unfortunately, the sniping match was entered with the sticking of a gavel.

"Silence! The speakers will render onto themselves and maintain civility in in this hall! We have heard your arguments and will confer. You are all dismissed. The doctors will not engage with one another for the rest of the day by our order. You will do well as to go home." Ordered the eldest vulptanis and inventor of the Hycene Inverse Halso system. His invention had catapulted him into the prestigious position he now occupied as per vulptanis culture. It was just lucky that he was a fine judge of educational merit, if that was all he was good for.

Xingta gathered his things and swept from the hall. He was offered best wishes from many of the gallery occupants who saw him in the hallways as he made his way home until he all but crashed into Xupa.

Their face was a snarl as they spat and spoke at Xingta who maintained a more stoic appearance.

"Your prejudice against the humans has gone too far! By the time we have a consensus to investigate these creatures, what unique information we could gleam from them will be diluted by other cultures!"

Xinga rolled his eyes, infuriating the vulptanis further.

"And? Why should I care for their culture? It is not in my interest to waste my time on a species that had yet to break free from their own atmosphere!"

Xinga's distain for humans was the talk of the university. Where everyone else was trying to find an angle, to find something they could turn into a new discovery they could use to increase their standing, Xingta was famous for telling all those who would listen to ignore this foolish line of discovery and focus on more useful endeavours.

"They had broken free from their atmosphere! They had a space station! They even had the beginnings of space tourism! Isn't that-"

"No. No it's not. I can name you three types of krad who have been capable of escaping their own world's gravity. Do you want to form a study on these krad's cultures?" Xingta interrupted with a bored tone. The krads in question were non-sentient crustations, crustations found on every life supporting planet that had any amount of moisture.

"Xupa, I don't care about humans. They bore me and should bore everyone else. Now get out of my way."

Xingta shouldered past Xupa as she screamed 'bigot' at his back. He allowed that title to sit on his shoulders.

== 0 ==

As Xingta got home he smiled softly as he got the feeling that he was about to be given his grant. By applying pressure to his opponent, he showed their weakness of mind and desperation. Two things that did not bode well for a council voting for who they wished to support with their final ticket of the year.

"Xing?" Came a soft voice.

"It's me, where are you?"

"Bedroom!"

The vulptanis stripped as he walked, folding the academic clothes over his arm until all that was left were his glasses as he entered the bedroom. On the bed, was a human. She lowered the data slate she had in her hand as Xingta lay back on the bed until he was laying by her ankles.

She smiled at him in her odd way of showing teeth.

"Remind me again why you do it that way." He asked softly.

"It's a throw back to our animalistic ancestors. We show teeth as a sign of happiness or submission. 'I'm friendly'." She explained calmly. Xingta knew this, he listened very careful every time Rachael spoke, he just enjoyed her explanations and her voice.

He reached up and grasped the data slate, tapping it with a claw to bring up the current screen.

"You're reading 'Xaxwell's brief explanation on ion drives and excitable materials and its effects of near-space physics'. This is a two thousand page sleeping pill. How do you gain enjoyment from this?" Xingta asked. He was a biological researcher, physics always illuded him. His human guest merely shrugged, the massively oversized t-shirt that bore his former university's logo on the front drowning her in material.

"It's interesting to see what we got right and what we got wrong."

"You people were on the right track?"

"Definitely. I compared it to my book." She reached to the bedside table and grabbed a thick paper textbook before gently placing it on the bed in front of her. It was so heavy, Xingta felt the bed sag beside his head.

"I suspect that if we had a bit more time, more money into pure research, we could have figured out some of this stuff within a year or two. Just a shame we didn't have science for science's sake back on Earth."

"Mm, well... speaking of funding research, I think they're going to go for my project over Xupas. Fucking human 'lover'."

"Good. Did she really...?"

"Yeah. If they go for her project a human will be needed for experiments. They'll either 'get' one from somewhere or vat grow one. Xupa will want a 'real' human though."

Racheal tucked her knees under her chin and hugged them to herself as she considered Xingta's words. He reached out a hand and lightly gripped her leg.

"It won't be you. If it all goes wrong, I already have plans to send you away via a friend."

"Who?"

"He was my study buddy. Smarter than me by a long way, then one day he gets offered a 'government adjacent job'."

"What does that mean?"

"Secret police. He'll want to do right. His moral compass was already better aligned than mine."

"What about your human study?"

Xingta snorted.

"That's a 'side hustle' as you say. My crit'yun study is where I'm focusing, if I can learn more of your people in the meantime I will. You remember how to access the file I have on you, right?"

"Yeah, but I deleted the bit about the other night."

"Mating habits are just as-"

"Not my quote; 'squeals', unquote, you asshole." Rachael snapped, grinning as her hair partially covered her face. Xingta grinned up at the ceiling.

"Very well..."

His eyes closed as her fingers reached over to scratch at the fur right between his eyes. She always enjoyed watching the tip of his tongue peek out from between his front teeth when she did this.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[raichoose]

Platonic Starters!

Feel free to revise as necessary to fit your muse's speech, change pronouns, etc.

"Aren't you bored? Let's go to the [arcade/farmer's market/movies/mall/etc.] or something."

"I'm bored."

"Are you ready for game night?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Aw man, I forgot it was your birthday! Oh no! - Ha, kidding. Here's your present."

"All I'm saying is, I knew as soon as I looked at you that you and I were going to be friends."

"I think we just became best friends."

"Come on, man, I thought we were friends."

"I need you to join my [baseball team/bowling league/etc]. Don't ask. It's what friends do."

"That's what friends are for."

"That's what friends do."

"Come on, bestie, what's the worst that could happen?"

"You're my friend, and I care about you. So, no, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."

"Bro. Bestie. Friend. Buddy. Pal. Broski. Look at me. Come ooon, I know you're not mad - "

"Are you mad at me?"

"I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?"

"If I'm not the best man/maid of honor at your wedding, I'll die."

"I'm glad we became friends."

"Come over and play video games with me."

"Horror movie marathon, buddy. Let's go."

"I'm worried about you. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Everything's going to be fine. You got me, right?"

"You're more family to me than my actual family."

"How are you feeling?"

"Do you need help with that?"

"Can I get a ride to the [airport/train station/etc]?"

"You need to live a little. Come on, let's go on an adventure."

"Want to go downtown and see if there's anything going on?"

"That [Thai/Japanese/Italian/Mexican/seafood/comfort food/etc.] place you were talking about finally opened! Let's go!"

"Want to go to the farmer's market with me?"

"If I die of boredom, it's your fault."

"I got an extra ticket to the [KISS/Gorillaz/Elton John/etc.] concert because I won a radio contest. Wanna come with?"

"Let's go to the [baseball/soccor/football/etc.] game."

"Karaoke night, let's go!"

"I'm going to every thrift store I can find today, and you're coming with me."

"So, what have you been up to?"

"What's new?"

"Tell me everything you've been up to!"

"I can't wait to meet in person!"

"Can we stop at the pet store?"

"I heard the house on the end of the street is haunted. You're breaking in with me tonight, okay?"

"If I ever don't say yes to hanging out, assume I'm dead."

"Are you busy? I need someone to talk to."

"Can you come over?"

"Want to come over?"

"I need help. And you're the first person I thought of, because you always help me."

"Oh, you know you love my jokes."

"I'm the mom friend. You always say that. Why are you surprised I'm dragging you to urgent care?"

"Can you believe we've been friends since [insert school grade here]?"

"I wish you were my roommate in college. Would've made my first year a lot better."

"I have a running list of horrible typos you've made."

"Expect me to remind you of this moment for the rest of your life."

"What classes are you taking next year?"

"Let's compare course schedules. I want to see if we have any classes together."

"Dream team! You and me! Let's go!"

"If you prank me on April Fool's Day, I will stop being friends with you! ... Not really. But I'll be mad about it."

"Let's grab [breakfast/brunch/lunch/dinner/etc.] today."

"Nobody hurts you and gets away with it."

"Who did this to you?"

"You're my best friend."

"You're my best friend! If anyone messes with you, I'm going to intervene."

"Oh my gosh! [Name]! How are you?"

"Just like old times, huh, [Name]?"

"I need you to taste test this for me."

"This is the last time I let you take me on a hike."

"I'll be in your neck of the woods this weekend. Are you free?"

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"I don't have any plans this weekend. Do you want to do something?"

"I wanted to check in and see how you were doing."

"The carnival's in town! We have to go!"

"Our friendship means a lot to me."

"I miss you. I don't know anyone in this [new school/new city/etc]."

"If you ever leave [place of employment], I'll die. I can't work here without someone else who gets how much it sucks here."

"We're friends, [Name]. That means we stand by each other."

"We're friends, [Name]. Don't keep secrets from me."

"Thank you for being my friend."

"Thank you for being my friend. I love you, [Name]!"

[russellsppttemplates]

Surprising Pierre for his birthday!

"P...", you called, walking slowly to meet your boyfriend in the kitchen, your slippers dragging on the floor and shoulders slumped clearly giving away that you didn't come bearing good news. Because a client changed things up, you and your colleagues had to switch your plans around so you could handle the situation. "Oh, no", he cooed, stretching his arms wide so you could hug him and let the comfort soothe your frustration. "There was no way they could've let me have the free day", you pouted, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at his face, "it's okay, we knew it would be difficult anyways", he reassured, squeezing your body against his and kissing the top of your head.

As you walked through the busy train station, you kept checking your watch, not wanting to miss the next train and the meeting you had to go on after it took off.

"The seats are near the power sockets, like you needed", the lovely lady said as she checked in your ticket, "thank you so much", you smiled, finding your seat. Like you expected and had seen online when you booked the ticket, the carriage only had another two people, probably travelling together since the seats were next to one another, and they seemed to belong to an older couple.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you", you began as you approached them, "I have to be on a work call - I promise I won't talk too much or too loud -, and I just wanted to let you know in advance", you smiled, hoping they would be understanding of it. Because the client had to move the meeting to an online platform, you argued that everyone could do the same, allowing you to travel up to meet Pierre after the car launch, all whilst still tending to your job demands.

"Oh, dear, don't worry!", the lady said, "we don't mind! Besides, my husband will probably fall asleep as soon as the journey begins, and I have some trouble hearing - old age and all of that - so it should be fine", she smiled, putting you at ease for your meeting as you went back to your spot after thanking them.

The meeting went along fine and everything was like it was supposed to, with you even bring able to enjoy the last thirty minutes of the journey just looking outside of the window, giddiness overcoming you at the prospect of seeing Pierre. You ended up not telling him that you would meet him after the launch, opting to surprise him.

Leaving the train and getting a taxi, you gave the driver the address and he drive there as both quickly and safely as he could, "thank you, have a nice day!", you called back.

Walking into the big venue, you saw familiar faces waving and then putting your finger in front of your lips, wanting them to keep the secret for a few more minutes as you looked for your boyfriend in the middle of the press and guests.

When you spotted him, Laura from the media team helped you by talking to Pierre, making sure his back was turned to you so you could cover his eyes with your hands, "what's that? This person smells familiar", Pierre said as you kissed his neck, "hey, birthday boy!", you giggled, turning him around and letting him pick you up, "you came, amour!", he shrieked, spinning you around.

"Did you miss your meeting, Y/N Y/L/N?", he scolded, "no, don't worry about that. We did it online and the train WiFi actually cooperated for once", you nudged, impressed at the actual thing, "I told you I'd do my best to make sure I spent your birthday with you", you smiled, kissing his lips, "now, show me around!", you chuckled as he held his hand, wanting to show you the new livery and to keep you as close to him as he could.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[canirove]

My neighbour Rúben | Chapter 19

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Masterlist

"This is such a fancy building... And there is doorman!" grandad said. After picking them up from the train station and leaving their bags at their hotel, we had come to my apartment so they could finally meet Lucy and Julia. 

"I've never been anywhere with a doorman before. I feel like royalty!" grandma giggled as the doors of the lift opened and we walked into my apartment's floor.

"Look at how big this is and... I know you!" grandad said, pointing at someone. 

"What are you talking... Rúben" I gasped when I saw him standing outside his door.

"The neighbour?" grandma asked.

"Dias is your neighbour? I thought you said he wasn't a player" grandad said, still looking at him.

"He is a player?" grandma asked. 

"He is! Rúben Dias!" grandad said. "Oh... Rúben... The R... Now it makes sense! I always call him Dias" he chuckled.

"So he is your neighbour? The one you fancy?"

"Grandma!"

"Oh, sorry. He doesn't know you fancy him?" 

"If he didn't, now he does" grandad said, trying not to laugh.

"He is very attractive..." grandma smiled.

"And he has very nice arms too" grandad added.

"Oh God" I said, covering my face with my hands. 

"Nice to meet you, lad. We are the grandparents" grandad said, shaking Rúben's hand.

"Nice to meet you, sir" he replied.

"I'm her grandmother. I know, I know, I look like I could be her mother" grandma said, offering him her hand.

"Nice to meet you too, ma'am" Rúben said, kissing it as she wanted, and giving her one of his charming smiles, making her giggle.

"Behave, woman" grandad said, rolling his eyes. 

"I was just going to give Lucy the tickets for the game" Rúben said, looking at me. 

"Thank you so much for those" grandad said. "Am I gonna get to give Arteta some advice?"

"You will, sir."

"Fantastic! He'll probably need it, you lot play so well!"

"Thank you" Rúben replied with a shy smile. 

"Anyway, we should get going" I said, walking towards my apartment's door.

"Aren't you two going to say anything to each other?" grandma asked.

"Like what?"

"I just told him that you fancy him. Don't you wanna know if he fancies you back?"

"I do" Rúben said with his famous smirk. "She already knows it."

"I... I... Urgh" I groaned, opening the door and walking into my apartment. If I stayed there with them any longer, I would end up killing someone.

"I think she's mad" grandad said. 

"She'll be fine" grandma replied. "Nice to meet you, Rúben."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. Sir."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Oh my God, your grandma" Lucy said, still laughing. 

"She's the worst sometimes."

"She's the best! I love her. Can she be my grandma too?"

"Ask her, she'll probably say yes. She already adores Julia."

Their meeting with my grandparents had been perfect, all of them instantly liking each other. They were so smitten with the other, that my grandma had forgotten about meeting Rúben. Me, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about it. 

"And she also seems to adore Rúben judging by what you said."

"I think she fancies him, which is worse. You should have seen the way she looked at him."

"And do you blame her?" Lucy laughed.

"But you know what was the worst part? That once the initial shock had passed, he was enjoying it. He was smiling and flirting with her, and then when he said that he fancied me, he gave me that smile he knows I love, and..."

"And?" Lucy asked, trying not to laugh once again.

"I hate you all today."

"Oh, c'mon! It all went well, didn't it? Your grandparents liked us all."

"I guess they did, yes” I sighed.

"Then stop worrying and enjoy that they are here" she said, patting my arm.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I hate you" I said as Rúben opened the door and I walked into his apartment.

"And hello to you too."

"Why did you tell my grandma that you fancied me?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "That's not how we had planned to tell them."

"I don't know. But it is the truth" he shrugged. 

"I just... Urgh!" I said, hitting his chest.

"Careful there" he said with a teasing smile, his hands on his pockets. "I need to be on my best shape for Sunday, remember?"

"I don't care" I said, now hitting him again. 

"You are so cute when you get mad."

"Shut up!" I said, now pushing him with both hands and obviously not being able to move him from the spot where he was.

"Or what?" he asked, that teasing smile still on his face.

"Or I... I..."

"You?" 

"Fuck it" I said, walking towards the door.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes, I am."

"Don't you want to stay?" 

"What for?"

"Well... " Rúben said, slowly walking towards me, his hands still on his pockets. "You definitely are angry, which means that you'll spend most part of the night thinking about it and won't sleep, and tomorrow you'll be dead when you meet your grandparents. And you are planning on showing them around and do many things, right?"

"That was the plan, yes."

"Then why don't you stay..." he continued, now just a step away from me. "And do something with all that anger? Put it somewhere?"

"On your punching bag, for example?" 

"I was not thinking about that and you know it" he said, still smiling.

"You are not allowed to do anything of what you are thinking."

"I was suggested not to do anything. That's different. And besides, I was thinking about letting you be the one in charge. I mean, you always are because you pick what we do, but you know..."

"You want me to do all the job."

"And let that anger go, yes."

"Ummm... No" I said, turning around.

"What?"

"I like ordering you around" I said, looking at the door. "But if you want me to stay, I'll tell you what to do and you'll do it while I just enjoy it." 

"So bossy" he chuckled.

"It is what it is" I shrugged, my hand on the door's knob.

"Ok, fine" Rúben finally said. "But if I'm tired on Sunday..."

"You'll be fine. You have tomorrow to rest, recover and focus. And besides" I said, looking back at him again before starting to walk towards his room. "You owe it to me for being a dick."

"Fair enough" he chuckled, walking behind me. "But you know" he said, stopping on the door and casually leaning against the frame, his hands still on his pockets. How could he look so sexy doing nothing? "I do fancy you. A lot."

"You asked me to be your girlfriend, didn't you?"

"I did. And I was being serious despite the circumstances. I like you and I want to be with you. I'm all in on this. On us." 

"Then show me" I said, trying to think about anything but what he just said. I'll have time to freak out about it later. 

"Yes, ma'am" he replied, smiling like I was expecting him to do: with that smirk that has drove me nuts since the day we met.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 5 - On the Road Again

Summary: Gareth enrolls in the Eddie Munson Driving School.

Word Count: 993–CUTTING IT CLOSE GOD DAMN

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Angst, some swearing, coming of age friendship fluffiness.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Gareth Emerson was shitting bricks.

Or, rather, he would if he wasn’t so constipated from stress.

“Ew,” Dave pushed his lunch tray away. “Do you have to say that while we’re eating?

“Yes, Dave, I do,” Gareth snarked right back, arms curling around his midsection. “God. My stomach hurts.”

It was Gareth's first day of Driver's Ed and, unfortunately, he had done horrendously.

And it wasn't just bad, it was almost-crashed-the-driving-instructors-car bad. If anything could go wrong, it did, and nothing would make Gareth feel better than to go home and forget it all happened.

Better yet, if he could drop dead...

“Hey,” Eddie clapped a hand on the drummer’s shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be fine. The DMV let you have a permit, which means you're smart enough to drive...you just need practice."

"I hit the gas instead of the brake," Gareth deadpanned.

"An easy mistake," Eddie offered.

"I didn't check my blind spots, and almost hit Higgins while I was backing up."

"He deserves it."

"And then I pulled the steering wheel clean off."

Jeff and Dave both clapped hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter as Eddie used every piece of willpower on earth not to react in an extreme way.

"That..." He took a deep breath, searching for the kindest way to continue. "Yeah, damn...I don't know how the fuck you did that."

Gareth threw his hands into the air and was about to leave, over his friends judgment and just ready for the day to end, when Eddie pushed him back into his seat.

"Hey, I get it," he began. "Driving's a big deal. And it's hard when you get behind the wheel for the first time. But, hey, you weren't born knowing how to play the drums; you had to practice to get good. Same thing for driving."

"But what if I'm never good enough?"

"Impossible."

"Coach Simmons is never gonna let me drive again," Gareth moaned.

"Then we just find another car," Eddie shrugged. "Your mom's station wagon or...what if I let you drive the van? Show you a few things? I'm a great driver!"

Gareth didn't exactly have any other choices though, especially once he started getting the stress sweats on the days he had Driver's Ed.

So every Tuesday for an hour before their gig at the Hideout, he was officially enrolled in the Munson Driving Academy.

"Driver's Ed with Ed," he joked, earning groans from the others. "What, come on, it's funny."

Eddie had even made a sign to tape to the side and back of the van.

"So no one honks at us," he revealed with a flourish. "And if they do? Lesson Number One? You honk right back. The horn is your friend."

"Got it," Gareth nodded, and then climbed into the driver's seat.

"Or you just flip them off. You're already a pro at that Gare," Jeff snickered from the back of the van, where he and Dave were sitting, cramped, amongst their equipment.

Truly, Gareth was grateful for the lessons and the time and effort that Eddie put into them. Shit, he was even grateful for Jeff and Dave not saying a damn thing in the back while he was driving, even though they'd worn their bicycle helmets during that first lesson.

The thing was...

Eddie wasn't that great of a teacher.

At least when it came to driving.

There were certain things that he was a pro at.

He got Gareth to feel comfortable backing in to parking spots and making three-point turns. He'd even shared all of his tips about avoiding the cops and getting out of a ticket, knowing Mrs. Emerson would drop dead if Gareth ever got pulled over.

But despite half of Eddie's "tricks" being useful, for the other half of the time spend with Gareth, he had his nose in the exam booklet learning some of the things himself.

"Alright, we're coming up to this hill," he flipped through the pages. "Let's try parking."

"Where's your emergency brake?" Gareth asked as he pulled to the side.

"Uhhhh, it's next to that other switch right there, why do you need it?"

"I need to the emergency brake to park uphill Eddie!"

"Oh yeah," he flipped through the booklet again. "Good job!"

Gareth swore that he could hear prayers being muttered behind him during those lessons. And damn if he didn't say a prayer or two himself.

Needless to say, when the day of Gareth's driving exam finally arrived, all of the boys showed up to the Roane County DMV along with Gareth and his parents.

It was a momentous occasion, and Jeff and Eddie made a whole show of fussing over him.

"Our little buddy's all grown up," Jeff sniffed.

"Hey isn't that supposed to be my line?" Mr. Emerson joked.

Dave had even gotten a little package of cupcakes for them to celebrate once Gareth was out.

An hour passed, then two. All of the boys got restless as they waited in the van for the Emersons all to emerge.

But when they did, all of their hearts sank.

Gareth had his head in his hands, his mom's arm around his shoulders, as his dad simply shook his head in disappointment.

"Ah shit," Eddie cursed as Gareth shook his parents away to break the news to his friends. "How bad was it?"

"Did you miss a stop sign?" Jeff asked.

"Did you tank whole written test?" Dave questioned.

"It was one of the worst experiences of my life," Gareth moaned, eyes wrenched shut in pain.

And then, like the little shit he was, he pulled a laminated card out of his back pocket and proudly held it out to show his friends.

"It's a good thing I never have to do it again!" The other boys hollered and whooped and jumped around in celebration. "You guys wanna go to the arcade to celebrate? I'm driving."

[blond-jerk-tourney]

Blond Sweetheart Tourney: Round 2, Poll 24

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Richard Ranasinghe de Vulpian

Richard is a gentle, caring man who is determined to create a place where people can be free of discrimination and judgment. He can be awkward and sarcastic at times, but always because he's trying to help other people at expensive of his own feelings and tries to push people away. He gets incredibly invested in people extremely easily, and massively overpays his only employee and even takes him out of the country when the employee (Seigi) can't stand living at home because of his PTSD. He is a sweet, caring man who canonically is extremely overly affectionate and doesn't know how to dial it back.

Richard. Richaaaaaard. Richard, light of my life, spark of my soul. Richaaaaaard. The man who refuses to judge anyone who walks through his door. Lesbian? Absolutely. Trans? No problem. Kidding yourself because a guy dumped you? Shhh, believe in yourself. Aroace? That's fine; if you don't want to be in a relationship, don't be. In love with your stepmother? He doesn't care at all. Don't buy something from him? That's good, too. But lie to someone? Play with their feelings? Cheat and scam people? Get read to be scammed back, you jerks. The man who nearly fired his employee for accidentally othering a lesbian in his own head. The man who waited 12 hours outside a train station just in case his employee got his feelings hurt so he could comfort him after. A guy who gave a classmate an international plane ticket just because as a kid. Who cried for hours when his childhood dog died. Richard is the sweetest, kindest, most awkward man, and he deserves more votes. And now, this. He taps his feet when eating pudding, y'all. [link to propaganda images]

Emil Västerström

There's another character called Lalli who is quiet and neurodivergent and can come across as rude, and even while Emil is unnerved by him at first, he is SO kind to Lalli from the start! He tries to comfort him on the train! He gets him food! He gives him his jacket (page 383)! He keeps talking to him and spending time with him despite the language barrier, AND then he learns Finnish for Lalli even though Emil has never been one to study languages before! And Emil doesn't abandon Lalli when he's basically stuck unconscious, instead carefully dragging his body with him through a dangerous environment and keeping it safe the best he can even though it slows him down and lessens his chance of ever reuniting with the rest of the party and getting to go back home. Emil is also really good with kids, as seen when the party stops in Mora before their adventure. He also feels really bad for the zombie animals he has to kill... (Chapter 7) and! he finds and saves a stray kitten :3

[carters-things]

Drive

Stiles Stilinski x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Stiles go wherever the Jeep will lead you.

Tags: Just a short fluffy blurb about the love of my life.

Masterlist

"I'm going to fall!" 

"You're fine! I've got you!" Stiles giggled as he helped shuffle you out the door. His hands covering your eyes but managing to almost knock you backwards with each step. 

"You never were graceful" you poked. As he jostled you down the last step, he positioned you in the driveway before running away. You can hear him trip over himself but stifle your laughter to not take away from his excitement. 

"Ok, now look!" His arms are wide open, presenting you with sight of the old, beat up, baby blue jeep he drove in high-school sitting in your yard, still wearing every dent and scratch from all of its adventures. 

"You're kidding! How did you get it back?!" 

"Pays to know the Sheriff." He smirked. The jeep was just as old and rickety as you remember. Broken seats, the door latch that used to stick still won't open, and the front headlight still has the crack from when Stiles bumped that pole at the gas station. He makes his way over to your side of the car and begins tugging on the door to pop it open for you, nearly knocking himself over when it finally lets go. 

"My hero." You kiss his cheek with a small giggle. You can feel the heat from embarrassment in Stiles’ face on your lips. You climb your way up into the jeep and settle down into the rundown interior. The rough fabric scratches the bottom of your thighs, as the sun from the open topped jeep warms the top of them. Stiles cranks the engine to start it, gears grinding and failing to start. After about the third or fourth try, and a few whispered frustrations, the car finally comes to a start. 

"Smooth as butter!" he exclaims as he pats the wheel. 

You spend the next hour or so driving around town, back country roads, highways, and everywhere the jeep could take you. Your hand intertwines with Stiles’, resting on his lap; every so often a small kiss pressed sweetly to the back. Through the day both of you relive your high-school days and stories. Time is lost to you and before long you realize you don't know where you have even brought yourselves. The sun has almost set fully and the air is starting to get a bit cooler; the slight sunburn on your skin keeps you warm. As you turn down a road that Stiles swears will bring you right home you see a sign for a drive-in movie up ahead. 

Before you could even say anything Stiles was turning into the parking lot. The jeep bouncing you both almost out of the roof with each stone on the gravel driveway. You didn't even know what movie was playing but that didn't stop you both from getting tickets and parking in the most prime location. The field was only occupied by five or six other cars, the rest of the space flooding with fireflies. Stiles jumped out of the jeep, forgetting he was still holding your hand and almost pulling you out with him. He opened the back hatch and pulled out two blankets he must have stashed in there earlier today; or at least you sure hope he did and they weren’t the ones from school. You climbed your way through the seats into the bench in the back, Stiles scaling up the wheel and over the roll cage, settling himself right beside you. He draped one blanket around your shoulders and the other over both of your laps before he wiggled hand back into yours.

"Remember when we all came to the drive in after prom?" You rested your chin on his shoulder, looking up at his freckled face. The butterflies swarming your stomach when his gentle brown eyes locked into yours.

"Yeah, and Scott spent the whole movie trying to impress Allison with his Owen Wilson impression." The both of you laughed at the memories of you as young, dumb, lovestruck kids and the nostalgia of being back at the drive in. Being in the back seat of the jeep topping everything off. 

The movie started to play but between the comfort of Stiles' arms wrapped around you mixed with the steadiness of his breathing you didn't make it further than the opening credits. Your soft snores made Stiles chuckle gently, not enough to wake you. He kissed the top of your head and adjusted the blanket to keep you warm; resting his head on the back of the seat he just smiled. Smiled just as big tonight as he did when he held you in that seat back in high-school, and will only smile larger every day he holds you in the future.  

Taglist!

@commander-vas-normandy

@murrdxcks

[rantaroamamifuturegf]

Traveling Headcaons!!

A/N: Idk I just thought this was a cute idea after seeing how Mahiru dislikes traveling alone lol

Plot: Traveling Headcaons with their S/O!! Mahiru, Rantaro, Ibuki!!!

Characters being used: Mahiru, Rantaro, Ibuki

Mahiru

She ALWAYS gets the window seat, It doesn't matter if it's a bus or airplane. She's getting that window seat to get nice picture views, don't even think about arguing about it

If the trip transportation comes in later than the time it should've she'll be kind annoyed over it, because she made both you and her come on time and just for it to come late was an annoyance

If you guys are taking the airplane, she's def take picture around the place because of the nice and pretty scenery. You once both lost each other in the airport and she blamed it on you for not paying attention

Loves trying out new food but only if you're doing it with her. She wants you both to enjoy the moment together

Hates it if she gets the seat near a crying child or someone who doesn't know what personal space is, She would ask if you would want to switch seat if you're sitting in a better area. She won't probably force you if you say no

Once you're both done on the transportation, she'll def book a hotel closest to all the places she wants to see. Makes you carry to luggage while she's booking it

Sometimes she might be afraid that she lose you in the new area and would stay close to you or just hold your hand

As soon as you both get settled in and got your hotel and everything is fine, She already has her camera out and is taking photos left and right!

Most of the pictures are just you or the nice scenery even some of them are just both of you

She wouldn't hold you hand if you guys are exploring somewhere new because she doesn't want to miss the perfect opportunity for a photo. She would hold your hand once she's done though maybe

Rantaro

He plans everything and take care of everything, he carries the luggage, he sets the time to wake up, he's the one driving to the transportation, he already got the ticket. Like I said he take care of everything so all you have to do is follow him and don't go behind schedule.

he won't get mad or yell or anything overdramatic but he'll just tell you to hurry up a bit.

You guys will either be at the station on time on more early than expected but most of the time it’s on time because he wants to look around the station with you

You guys don’t lose each other because he’s always near you and you don’t run away from him to explore either so

He’ll probably buy like a scrapbook so when he takes photos with you he’ll put them in there

Once the transportation comes, He doesn’t care what seat he gets as long as your both at least near each other and that you’re fine

But if he does get the window seat he’ll look out the window most of the time, he’s probably the type to be on his phone a lot while on the transportation

Would tell you everything he knows about the place your both going, he doesn’t really hold your hand but if you wanna hold hands he wouldn’t mind

Won’t fall asleep if the transportation is long but doesn’t mind if you fall asleep though, he’ll wake you up once you guys get closer to your destination

Once you guys get to the place before you guys go anywhere he’ll make sure you guys have everything and didn’t leave anything. He’ll carry the luggage but if it’s a long he’ll ask you to carry some of em

Literally already booked the hotel so you guys just have to go on a taxi and just head to the hotel lol

Makes sure that your both settle in and everything is good then you both can go exploring, he doesn’t really take pictures but instead just enjoys the moment with you but if you wanna take pictures he wouldn’t mind

He doesn’t want to end up losing you in the new place even if it seems unlikely, just stay near him

Takes you to the best place to see the sunset even if it might be a bit packed he’ll look for a way

Ibuki

She's the type to talk to random people and compliment them out of nowhere, You lowkey have to keep an eye on her because she'll be exploring the places in the airport or bus station like Mahiru there was a time you both lost each other but she manage finding you and just laughed it off

You equally care the bags, but you're the one who has to set everything up while she just follows you excited and what not

She doesn't really mind what seats she gets but if she does get the window seat, She'll point out the window at all the nice sights she's seeing

Would def tell you to take out your phone and take pictures so she can post it on her social media

LOVES watching movies and listening to music on the plan. would make you watch the movie with her even if you might fall asleep, she'll probably falls asleep with you if its a long ride

Def at least made a new friend while traveling

Will try out all the new food and if she’s full, she’ll gave em for later but she’ll make you try them all as well even if you get full in the process

Once you guys make it your destination, she’s so excited and wants to go exploring right away and wants to see all the stores and restaurants and etc

You’ll have to slow her down and hold her hand so she doesn’t end up running around and you both lose each other

Once y’all get to the hotel, she’ll be look around it but once y’all get settle in she’s so fast and trying to leave so she can explore with you

Def takes pictures and makes a lot of new friends, she likes to check out the music stores and makes you follow her everywhere