The tall diesel's piercing and predatory gaze examines the newcomer with a hint of curiosity, the other of his typical pride and vain nature lurking behind the predatory glare. He manages a small smile, revealing only a few of his large sharp fangs, a charming smile to other rolling stock but the stuff of nightmares to humans.
He chuckles softly, a sound resonating deep within his chest before he adjusts his posture, standing up straight as a deep guttural purr escapes his throat.
"Well well well.. what do we have here?" his tone of voice was riddled with either malice or pure pride. He knows he is feared and he relishes in that thought alone. He's a predator, a beast of lethal proportions, and he knows it.
I finally decided to write a one-shot for an AU I've had cooking for a while. I do not condone anything in the District!AU. You can find more information on the District!AU on it's own on my other blog: @welcome-to-the-districts One-shot under the cut.
Descpription: Dallas has taken an interest in the culture of the rolling stock, learning more and more about their way of life every day. He begins to realize he and them have more in common than previously thought..
Dallas stood on the tips of his toes on the step stool as he watched with fascination as the great humanoid steam and diesel hybrid filled out the paperwork on her desk. She dipped her crimson claws into the ink. The thick black substance oozed from her claws like blackened blood before she gently tapped the excess ink off of her claws before she set her claws to the paper. Her claws almost gracefully glided across the paper as she etched the symbols that were the written language of the rolling stock with relative ease. It was so odd to see such a thing. Her claws carving their language into the paper. He could only imagine the things she had seen and recorded from the years past.
It was so odd for him to be the only one out of the entire gang to be able to understand the mindset and the culture of these massive, feral, yet civilized beasts. He found these creatures to be absolutely fascinating. He was used to being able to rely on his wits, agility and strength to survive out in the streets, so he had a somewhat better understanding of their logic. Yet, the animalistic side was the most intriguing side of the rolling stock. They walked a very fine line between man and beast and built a civilization and culture around it with their own laws and customs.
Amira, the hybrid beside him, was a great beast of lethal proportions. Her body rippled with muscle with a generous layer of fat on her belly. Her eyes were sharp and focused, predatory even and were red as the blood he had grown so used to seeing out in the streets during fights. Her skin was dark and tough. He recalled how his switchblade wouldn’t even make a dent in the hides of the rolling stock, which made them far more dangerous and formidable than anything he had encountered before. It was unnatural. It disturbed him at first, but he grew to take a liking to these powerful monsters. His gaze rested on her strong arms, which were covered in black metal plates that were polished to perfection and rivets that were red as blood held them in place. Each metal plate overlapped with one another, reminding him of the scales of a great dragon, like the ones in the books Ponyboy loved to read. The metal plating covered the entirety of her arms, chest and belly, giving her an extra means of protection in her more vulnerable areas.
She wore a crimson leather jacket and two chains, one draped across her chest and another across her waist. Both jingled with every step she took, meaning she was heard before she was seen.
Her piercing gaze rested on Dallas, studying him before she let out a dismissive snort before she returned her attention to her work. Smoke billowed from her nostrils in thick black clouds. Dallas couldn’t help but feel so small and insignificant compared to her. Yet, he knew she wouldn’t harm him if he didn’t do anything ill advised by others, or even herself.
“What are you writing?” Dallas asked, finally breaking the silence between them. Amira paused her writing and she wiped her claws clean on a cloth, revealing the glossy natural crimson color of her natural weaponry once more.
“I’m writing the daily report. It’s required in order for us to ensure our defenses are as strong as we claim them to be. We have to be sure of it and be able to prove such things.” Amira replied. Her voice had an English accent and her voice was one that demanded respect. She spoke like a Shakespearean actor, weaving her words carefully with that silver tongue of hers, yet she had the professionalism of a politician. It was an odd combination but it certainly had its charm.
Despite this she never spoke down to anyone at all. She treated those around her not as those below her, but as equal peers. She helped to forge this civilization through blood, sweat, tears, determination and the idea of creating a city of not just civilized beings, but a city of animals. There were no true villains here, only beasts letting their natural instincts run free, embracing themselves completely rather than being fearful of the consequences.
“I see.. I have a question..” Dallas dared to meet her gaze. He couldn’t help but feel as if he were a rabbit standing before a great wolf, at the mercy of a powerful apex predator. Amira nodded and gestured for him to speak with a gesture of her hand.
“Go on, speak your mind.” Amira sat down in the large ornate chair next to him. The chains jingled as she sat down.
“Why did you choose me as a student? You chose me out of everyone else, even other rolling stock. Why choose a human over your own kind?” Dallas asked. Amira’s face softened to a gentle smile, putting her sharp teeth on display. Dallas felt a knot in his stomach as he swallowed nervously at the sight. It was a stark reminder of what she is, a predator, and humans are prey to such beasts.
“Humanity discriminates. Nature does not. We are equal to animals, each of us fighting tooth and claw physically or metaphorically for our survival. Whether it be for food, territory, or even wealth and resources, we all fight for such things. Humans may think they are superior to us, to animals, yet, they are not. They are blind to such things. Take the gang you are with, for example. You both fight tooth and claw to defend each other and to put territory disputes to rest, just as how certain animals do. I chose you because you understood it much more than the rest. You fought tooth and claw for survival on your own, relying on your strengths, adapting to the environment.” Amira replied. The humanoid hybrid had an odd philosophy, yet it clicked with something deep within his very being. He had seen the worst of humanity, seeing how they are, in a sense, animals in their own right, unpredictable, relying on instinct to survive.
He slowly nodded, letting her words sink in before he spoke.
“Ah.. I.. think I get it now. You know that I saw what you know is right. It goes further than you guys. Humans do it too, fighting with each other for food, shelter, everything.. I grew used to seeing it and understood it.” Dallas said. Amira nodded.
“Exactly, now, since you’ve taken interest in our written language, I think you might be ready to learn how to write in our language. I plan on teaching the rest on this topic as well.. with some patience and determination, each of you can finally understand what’s being etched into the paper with our claws. I know the youngest of your.. gang, will take great interest, as I noticed he was looking at the books in the study. But for now, I’d rather educate you on it first. It’ll be easier on us all.” Amira stood up. The leather chair squeaked and her chains jingled again before she skated over towards her desk and pulled a chair up to it before helping Dallas into the seat before she sat down in the chair beside him. She dipped her claws into the ink once more and smiled warmly.
The higher ups of the Apollo Victoria train yard would definitely collaborate with certain hotels so guests can get a really interesting experience. They know Greaseball and Rusty are a big draw for tourists, so they would definitely want to cash in and probably offer an alternative to tours of the yard.
The hotels have exclusive access to the property of the train yards, offering a view in the train yard letting people watch the rolling stock, which could be a potential dream come true for train spotters or potential fans of Greaseball or Rusty as a whole. It will definitely be expensive, but worth it. Rusty is the most engaging with guests, often trying to play with them on the other side of the glass. Greaseball does enjoy the attention, but he’s not too interested in interacting with hotel guests, but if there are kids in the hotel room, expect to see Greaseball spending hours by the hotel room and basically becoming a teddy bear of a diesel. Greaseball loves to interact with the kids and is known to be gentle and rather protective over them, so kids are definitely going to have a blast, especially if Greaseball calls his gang over, cue a bunch of intimidating diesels becoming absolute softies towards the kids.
There are definitely options for free tours if the guests would prefer. The tour is essentially a VIP tour, which would cost extra without the hotel room booking, possibly allowing guests to potentially interact with the rolling stock, but it’s not exactly guaranteed as their schedules change frequently. Most of the tour guides are rolling stock handlers, people specifically trained to handle and monitor the rolling stock during events. Mike was one of the favored guides when Greaseball was given the day off, giving people a chance to ask Mike questions and if they’re lucky, interact with Greaseball himself.
Literally and shamelessly based off of this, specifically the first and second lodges:
The caboose is sitting on a cushioned chair, specifically made for his large size as he smirks. The chair is intricately carved, and black as the night sky. The crimson cushions match the intricate design of the chair itself, having design embroidered into them. He swirls a drink around in his goblet before taking a sip before looking towards his visitor. His striking pale blue eyes look the visitor up and down before he sets his goblet down and leans forward, elbows on the table and his hands pressing against his chin as he smiles a wolfish grin. "Well then.. what brings you to my district, hm? Are you lost?"
Major TW for violence, injury and blood. This one-shot was written after listening to this particular cover. I highly recommend checking it out.
Summary: You are one of Rusty’s most favored humans, but the stress from the higher ups of the yard along with reduced rations are putting a strain on him. The beast within cannot be contained for long. Will he be able to keep himself in check? Or will you face perilous danger and potentially suffer a horrible fate?
One-shot under the cut.
You smile as you make your way towards the freight yard, looking forward to seeing one of your closest coworkers. You have just started your break, albeit it’s later than yesterday, but your boss didn’t allow you to take it unless you made sure all the passengers had left the passenger train. It’s one of your duties as a passenger service attendant. You don’t mind working with Greaseball, considering how much he has become humbled after the races. However, he’s not the one you’re looking forward to seeing. Out of all the engines here, you’ve taken a liking to the young steamer in the freight yard, Rusty. Your coworkers have warned you to be careful around him. You didn’t come here without knowing the risks. You had taken the time to research the different types of rolling stock at least a little bit. You know steamers are powerful predators and are to be approached with extreme caution. However, Rusty has never harmed a single human in his life.
Sure, Poppa has attacked at least one worker, who had recently disappeared a few months ago. You’re not quite sure why no one refuses to talk about it and why you suddenly got a big raise. It’s odd, as if they are trying to keep people here, or are they trying to keep people quiet? You’re not sure but that’s not important at the moment. You’re more concerned about seeing your friend. Hopefully, he hasn’t let his victory at the races get to him, or had become stressed from the sudden surge of attention.
You stop at the gates. The chain link fence goes all along the perimeter of the freight yard. You ponder for a moment. If Poppa and Rusty are so dangerous, then why don't the higher ups put up a much stronger fence to keep them from escaping if things go wrong? You shrug it off and open the gates before stepping into the freight yard. It’s oddly quiet. It seems the freight trucks are taking a much needed break. You begin to think Rusty may very well be on break as well, likely spending time with Pearl as always. You jump as you hear his familiar whistle and Rusty races over to you with a toothy grin. Steam billows from his nostrils and between his sharp teeth.
Rusty races around you in circles while he chirps excitedly before he screeches to a stop just in front of you. Sparks fly from his wheels and fall onto the concrete, which quickly extinguishes them. He looks down at you with his warm amber eyes. You are a little under half his size. Rusty is easily a bit over ten feet tall, mostly likely twelve feet exactly. Despite this, you never have felt intimidated by him. He never really made you feel unsafe. You feel comfortable around him, safe even.
“What took you so long? I was beginning to worry a little bit. The diesels didn’t give you a hard time did they? I know they tend to be dangerous at times.” Rusty asks, concern visible on his face. He looks you up and down as if he’s checking you over for wounds. He bends down and sniffs at you like a large dog, seeing if he could pick up the scent of blood. You watch as he relaxes, relieved you’re unharmed. His smile returns and you’re able to get a good look at those sharp teeth of his. They remind you of the teeth of a great lion. His canines are a bit longer than Greaseball’s, which is normal for a steamer. His teeth are built for the kill, adapted for him to easily rip pieces of flesh from his kills. They’re a reminder of a steamer's nature, predatory, and dangerous. Yet he has always been so gentle with you.
His amber eyes almost have a glint of mischief to them. It’s not uncommon for the steamer to pull some small prank or tell a joke he has learned from the freight trucks, specifically Flat-Top. Some of which were more for adults yet went right over his head. You’re sure he’d grow to learn the true meaning of the jokes. As for the moment, he seems perfectly fine and docile. Despite this, you know the food rations have been reduced and the workload has been increased on the rolling stock, putting more stress on the rolling stock and the human workers alike. The recent budget cuts have taken their toll on both the workers and the rolling stock alike. It could make for a potentially disastrous situation. However, Rusty still seems to be his usual self. Perhaps this isn’t as bad as you thought it was.
“Sorry I’m late. My boss wouldn’t let me take my break until I finished unloading the passengers and checking to see if anyone stayed behind. They put Greaseball back on passenger service today. He’s still a little upset after Mike disappeared, but he’s doing better. Dinah definitely was a big help when it came to cheering him up. She’s been spending a lot more time with him apparently.” You reply. You watch as Rusty’s smile falters for a moment, as if you had said something that bothered him. You give him a puzzled look and he quickly shakes it off.
“Your boss should’ve let you take your break at the time it’s scheduled to be on. It’s not fair to you as you have a break scheduled. Your boss can’t go against it. As for Mike disappearing.. the police didn’t even bother to look into it and the higher ups just.. swept it under the rug.” Rusty's smile fades and his expression becomes much more serious. The mischievous glint in his eyes disappears. “Be careful around Greaseball. He’s not as friendly as I am. I know he’s changed since the races. I don’t want you to get hurt.
This is a change you weren’t expecting to see in Rusty. Deep down, you feel a bit worried, but you quickly shake it off. You have to be careful with any of the rolling stock you work with anyway. It’s simply common sense. You simply nod, avoiding his gaze. A nervous behavior you quickly correct. You can’t act nervous or anxious around him. It could end in disaster.
“I understand.. Are you okay, Rusty? Did I say something that bothered you? I’m sorry if I did.” You fret. Rusty’s expression softens
“Note taken.. Are you okay? Is something going on?” You ask him. His expression softens and he gives you a small reassuring smile.
“I’m okay. I’m just worried about you is all. Just.. please, be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to disappear like how Mike did.” Rusty replies. He may have a warm and soft smile on his face but his eyes are riddled with concern. It’s a dead giveaway to you that he’s really not okay. You know he’s worried sick about you. You are well aware of the dangers. The red caboose, CB, has already tricked you once. You were lucky Rusty was able to stop him when he did. You dread to think about what may have happened if he hadn’t intervened when he did. You most certainly won’t make the same mistake twice, and refuse to trust him now.
“I know, Rusty.. I know. I’m making sure to be careful. I learned my lessons from CB. I try my best to be as careful as I can. Don’t worry, Rusty. I’ll be okay.” Your smile returns as the gentle warmth returns to Rusty’s gaze and he gives a soft smile in return.
…
Rusty feels a wave of relief wash over him as he hears you say that and he smiles softly, giving you a glimpse of those sharp teeth of his. He knows he has to watch over you even more closely now since the fuel rations have been reduced to almost half of the usual amount. The others have been growing restless, needing to forage or hunt, but the higher ups keep piling on the work. However, they still try to hunt or forage when they can. Rusty has recently resorted to feeding on the rodents that hide out near the freight sheds whenever he can. They aren’t much, but they are just enough to keep him going. He has been trying not to take too many to try and ensure the rodents are able to repopulate and leave some for the other rolling stock to feed on, but unfortunately, with a good few of the freight trucks, and even some of Greaseball’s gang feeding off the the rodent population, their food supply is almost already depleted, unable to keep up with the relentless predation.
He knows it’s only a matter of time before he has to leave the train yard to go out and hunt. The others will be quick to follow too. He’d rather not have to fight for his share of prey, but if his survival depends on it, he will. The rodents aren’t enough to feed everyone. Rusty knows that. On top of that, stress has been building up with more work being piled on him and the others. Not to mention the fact he is barely eating enough to keep himself functional. It’s pushing him to his limits both mentally and physically. It’s only a matter of time before something or someone snaps and it will be just like the time Poppa attacked Mike all over again. If Rusty hadn’t been there to help Mike and keep Poppa distracted, Mike wouldn’t have made it, only for Mike to end up being killed and probably eaten by the dreaded diesel he was close to. It hurt to think about, but he knew Greaseball was only acting out of instinct.
He winces ever so slightly as he felt his hunger gnawing at his very core like fangs. He knows he can’t let you be around him for too long, as each minute you’re around him is increasing the risk of him losing control, but he just wants to make sure you’re okay for now. His hunger be damned. He can see if he find another one of the smaller animals he routinely sees around the yard. He can feel the beast beginning to claw at the deepest recesses of his mind, screaming at him to take the opportunity for a quick and easy meal, a means of guaranteeing his chance of survival. He quickly takes his focus off of you and looks up at the clock. He knows his break will be coming soon. He focuses on the clock behind you as he shifts anxiously ever so slightly. He needs to eat. He needs to hunt. It’s the only way he can survive at this point.
He glances at you anxiously and whines softly like a large dog. He’s trying to keep himself from snapping but your scent and the sound of your heartbeat is almost enough to drive him mad. He considers simply leaving but he doesn’t want to push you away so suddenly. His gaze snaps towards you as he hears you speak.
…
“Are you okay?” You ask him. You almost flinch as the steamer’s amber gaze snaps towards you. Something is wrong. You know there is and it worries you. Rusty shifts a bit. His gaze never leaves you for a moment, as if he’s locked onto you. The warmth in his gaze is fading. You start to feel uneasy and glance around, seeing any escape routes you can take just in case he does happen to snap.
“Oh.. I just have to return to work soon. Maybe we can talk another time, hm? I promise I’ll see if I can get some more time set aside so I can talk to you a little more later, okay?” Rusty’s smile is forced and he fiddles with his thumbs. A lie. Rusty doesn’t like to lie to you or anyone for that matter and you know it. For him to lie outright like that.. something isn’t right. He glances back up the clock behind you. He knows. You noticed something is up and he’s not sure how to react to that. Rusty still continues to fight that unseen battle with himself deep within his own mind. The beast is starting to break free of its cage, and there’s only so much he can do about it now.
You start to have a suspicion about what may be going on. You remember the fact the rations for the rolling stock are reduced, meaning Rusty wouldn’t be able to eat as much as he needs to in order to keep those instincts under wraps. That’s when it hits you. He’s losing control and he’s trying to redirect his attention away from you just in case he does lose control of himself. You know you may not have enough to give him a decent meal, but you can at least take the edge off of him just a tiny bit. It may just save not just yourself but the lives of your coworkers as well.
“I can let you have my lunch. I can always go and always see if I can get something to eat from Dinah, or I can go out to eat at one of the restaurants if I need to. I wouldn’t mind it if I needed to bring something back from there too if you want. I can get you anything you want, honest.” You give him a reassuring smile. Rusty’s gaze slowly returns to you and he quickly nods. You don’t waste time and rush out of the freight yard and towards the parking lot outside of the parking lot. You unlock your car and grab your lunch box before you slam your car door and lock it before you race back into the train yard. You check your surroundings, making sure none of the other rolling stock could pose a potential danger to you before you race into the freight yard. You barely managed to race into the open gates before you trip over your own two feet and you fall, scaring your knee against the ground and drawing only a small amount of blood.
You curse under your breath and hiss in pain as you feel the stinging sensation on one of your knees. You scramble back up to your feet and grab your lunch box once more as Rusty approaches you to help you. You look up to reassure him you're fine when you feel a knot begin to form in your stomach and your chest feels right as your heart races.
Rusty is looking right at you. The warmth in his amber gaze is no longer there as all trained civility fell from his face, revealing the beast dwelling deep within his very being. His amber eyes are now piercing and predatory as he lifts his lips into a snarl as he lets out a soft growl. The sound shakes you to your core as you feel it shake the ground beneath your feet. He begins to salivate as he takes one step closer to you, looking over you, making you feel that much smaller compared to him as those amber eyes bore deep within your soul. There is only one word that comes to your mind: run.
You immediately drop your lunch box and take off running as fast as you can. Your life depends on it more than ever.
…
The sweet scent of your blood hits his nose and he finally caves in. The beast finally broke free of its confines and is now running rampant. He's no longer the steamer you have once grown to adore. He's now the blood-thirsty monster his kind is known to be. He doesn't want to be this way at all, but he cannot deny what he truly is. He's a killing machine, designed to hunt, to kill. His hunger overrode any sense of civility he had left. He bares his teeth in an almost wolfish grin as he watches you run and his sharp predatory gaze becomes fixed on you. His pupils contract to cat-like slits as he lets out a deep guttural growl from within his chest before he gives chase, taking off like a shot with a great roar. He quickly catches up to you, yet he keeps a small distance between you and him. He’s drawing it out, wanting nothing more than to relish the chase and the primal fear of his prey. He knows once he catches you, there will be no mercy for you. For now, he’s going to enjoy this moment, savor the chase.
…
You hear the steamer beginning to gain on you. Rusty’s hot breath rolling down the back of your neck as he growls deep in his chest, a sound you feel through your feet and in your chest. Oddly enough, he doesn’t pounce on you or grab you. It’s as if he’s toying with you, knowing you have nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. He has you right where he wants you and that alone is a terrifying thought. You frantically look around to see if you can find any coworkers nearby. It looks as if they too are on a rather late break. Somehow you are not surprised at this. The higher ups have been getting worse when it comes to that. They’re trying to make everyone work more with less payment, and in the rolling stock’s case, less food or fuel, which makes things worse.
You quickly turn a corner and for a moment, Rusty stumbles and reaches out for you. You feel the wind of the sheer force of his arm swinging at you. You glance behind you to see if he’s given up. Rusty snarls in frustration and opens his fists. Razor sharp claws unsheathe in place of fingernails. You remember Mike telling you steamers don’t have nowhere near as much control over their claws than the other types of rolling stock. The claws only sheathe if their hands are closed into fists. Their hand muscles aren’t made to sheathe and unsheathe the claws like the others. Steamers are built for the chase, built for the kill. Primal fear rushes through you as you look away and scramble for a place to hide.
…
Rusty snarls and opens his fists. He sinks his claws into the concrete to slow himself down for a moment. His nostrils flare as his eyes smolder with rage as he sees the fear in your eyes. He’s not about to be outmaneuvered by a human, such an easy prey item to him. He quickly recovers and picks up speed once more. This time, he has the intent to snatch you and to go for the kill. His mouth waters at the mere thought of sinking his teeth into your tender throat, wanting to aim for the windpipe to end this swiftly. He flexes his claws as he begins to gain on you, eager to snatch a quick and easy meal.
He can smell your fear, hear your racing heartbeat. It’s almost torture to him. He can’t wait any longer. He needs food and he needs it now.
….
Tears well up in your eyes as you begin to grow tired. You know you can’t run forever, meanwhile the dreaded steamer is quickly closing in. You have to hide somewhere and fast. You finally spot the freight shed and use some of the last bit of your energy to sprint towards it. You try to open the doors, but they’re far too heavy, or they are locked. You’re left shaking and terrified. You see Poppa’s shed is right next to it and you check behind you. Rusty is just about to pounce on you as he’s mere inches from you. The feral look in his eyes is something that will never leave your memories. That’s not the Rusty you know. That’s the true nature of the steamers, wild, predatory and famished. Rusty’s jaws open, revealing a set of teeth specifically to tear into prey. His canines are the longest you’ve ever seen, rivaling Greaseball’s.
You quickly duck down between his legs as he pounces, slamming right into the doors of the shed and he roars. It echoes throughout the freight yard and shakes you to your very core. The ground shakes beneath your feet and you cover your ears as they begin to ring. Rusty quickly whips around to face you. His expression is one of a feral snarl and he growls deep in his chest. The anger, the rage in his eyes is truly terrifying. He lunges for you and you quickly slip between the small gap between Poppa’s shed and the freight shed as you scream for help.
Rusty’s claws dig into the sides of both sheds as his amber eyes smolder with rage and ravenous hunger as he snaps his jaws at you. He snarls as he begins to salivate, as if he’s anticipating finally sinking his teeth into you. His claws leave deep marks in the sides of sheds as he tries to force his way between the two sheds. You shrink back as one of his hands barely misses you, the claws nearly grazing your skin. Rusty pulls his arms back and inhales deeply. You see the fire in his firebox in his chest rising as you feel the temperature rise rapidly. Rusty almost has a wolfish grin, as if he’s figured out how to finally get to you. His powerful jaws open, revealing the fiery glow at the back of his throat. It glows brighter as the fire rushes up his esophagus.
You begin to lose hope before the doors to the freight shed slam open. It all happens so fast. You see a large blue and white blur crash into Rusty just as the steamer unleashed a blast of flame. Most of it was redirected away from you, but the mere heat coming from it is enough to burn your arms as you try to shield yourself from the immense heat. You cry out in pain and hear the steamer’s screech. It’s a sound that curdles the blood. You sob and cover your ears. Dustin, the big hopper, rushes back to check on you. He’s a mess. His body riddles with scratches and bites wounds. His own mouth has traces of blood on it. He almost looks sick.
“Run! Go! I’ll keep him busy! Go find Wrench!” Dustin cries out just as Rusty attacks him from behind, prompting a screech from Dustin. His expression turns one of rage as Dustin snarls and delivers a powerful blow to Rusty’s side. Rusty screeches and Dustin quickly pins him against the wall freight shed, letting out his own growl. The sound puts Rusty’s growl to shame and you begin to understand why the diesels never really messed with Dustin that much. He’s the only one of the freight capable of standing a chance against a steamer. You nod and gather your courage before darting out from your hiding place and towards the gates. Once you reach the gates, you check behind you.
You watch as Rusty slowly begins to soften as Dustin still has him pinned. Dustin pleads with Rusty to come back to him in hopes of bringing the steamer back from his feral state. Rusty blinks a few times and panics. Dustin quickly releases him and Rusty asks Dustin something in a panic. Dustin points to you and answers him. Rusty’s expression turns to sheer horror as he sees you so terrified. His gaze shifts to your arms, where you’ve been burned. Tears well up in his eyes and he looks as if he’s going to vomit. He covers his mouth and quickly races off, as if he can’t handle the guilt of looking at you. You turn your gaze forward and open the gates before you rush off to find Wrench. You know this won’t be reported. They never are. You begin to have an idea as to what happened to Mike, but you simply can’t face the truth.
A little self indulgent oneshot with my version of GB. Brief mention of death and a tiny bit of angst under the cut.
The diesel’s piercing and predatory gaze drifted down towards the tiny human woman that was curled up on his chest. He felt a soft gentle smile tug at his lips as he watched her sleep. He slowly and carefully resituated himself on the bed to get a little more comfortable, all the while keeping an eye on the human on his chest to make sure she didn’t awaken. She stirred ever so lightly in her sleep before she grew still once again. He purred softly at the sight and she snuggled into him further, feeling warm and safe in the presence of the diesel. He chuckled softly as he lifted a hand and gently ran his large fingers through her dark brown hair. She was so small and fragile compared to him, a prey item to him, yet here she was, sleeping soundly on his chest. He had to admit, she was a nice weight on his chest, the very small pressure she was applying was calming in a sense, as if she were a very small weighted stuffed animal.
He could hear her heartbeat. It was slow and calm as she snored softly in her slumber. That was one of the ways he picked up even the most subtle signs from her. Even a change of pace in her heartbeat told him everything he needed to know. Earlier, she had been stressed and lacking sleep. Out of all the individuals she could’ve gone to, she went to him. Of course, she and him had known each other for quite some time. He found it odd as to how she managed to find his presence so comforting. Perhaps it was the fact he was so much bigger than her? Maybe it was the fact that so few would dare to try to rise against him and she knew she was safe as long as he was by her side? Whatever the reason, he didn’t mind it at all. If anything, he rather enjoyed moments like this. It was a reminder for him to slow down and to rest every now and then.
He rested his head down on one of the soft pillows as he sighed in contentment. The warm light of the fire in the hearth flickered and licked at the walls, illuminating some of the room in a welcoming and calming light. His eyes drifted towards the walls, looking at the various photographs he had on the elaborate walls. Most of them were from his racing days with Dinah. Although, some were memories he’d rather not recall. He glanced towards the one in the far corner, concealed in shadows where the warm light couldn’t reach. It was a picture of him and his beloved engineer, Mike, after their first win in the races together. The photo brought back many memories he’d rather forget. Mike’s last moments were burned into his memories. He felt a twinge of remorse and grief as his gaze rested on it for a split second. He made a mental note to hide it under the bed or in the nightstand. He couldn’t stand looking at it anymore.
His golden eyes quickly returned their attention to the little human resting on his chest, the small woman he had grown to adore. He stopped stroking her hair and slipped a finger or two under one of her tiny delicate hands. He gingerly lifted her hand up to get a better look at it. A small smirk formed on his lips as she gently wrapped her small delicate fingers around one of his much larger ones. He softly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. She stirred slightly as she slept and he paused for a moment, waiting to see if she would wake up. She quickly grew still again, her head resting right in the center of his chest, listening in to his inner workings and that strong heartbeat of his. He found the sight to be endearing. She was so small, so helpless, and he was so massive and powerful. Yet, she found comfort in the most unlikely of individuals. It never truly failed to amaze him just how much she trusted him, knowing he’d keep her safe as long as she lived.
All the lives he had taken or shattered didn’t matter to her. He was her safe space. It was odd to be considered as her safe person, but he welcomed it nonetheless. He gingerly slipped his finger out of her grip and gently placed her hand back down against his chest, right where she could feel his heartbeat, a gentle reminder he was always there for her. He yawned like a giant cat. His sharp teeth shone in the warm light of the hearth. He considered it for a moment before he carefully rested his hand on top of her, letting it rest on her like a weighted blanket. He chuckled softly as he saw a small smile creep across her face. He began to nod off, feeling perfectly comfortable like this. He slowly closed his eyes and gradually fell asleep. He wouldn’t trade this for the world.
Requests are open! Yippie!!! Could I perhaps request a human reader x King C.B? I love me some twisted romance.
-Bubble anon🫧
Sure thing! One-shot under the cut. Quick Tw for implications of blood, mentions of violence and death.
The red humanoid caboose sits before you on his throne as he takes a sip of a crimson liquid from the wine glass in his hand with one leg crossed over the other. The liquid stains his lips and sharp teeth as he smiles a wolfish grin. You know all too well what the dark red liquid is and you can’t help but shudder at the thought. It’s not unusual to see him like this. A soft purr escapes his throat as his piercing and predatory pale blue gaze studies your frame. You’re so small compared to him. He could easily end your life within a matter of moments, yet he chooses not to. The sheer adrenaline from this relationship. Being a prey item in love with such a cruel and powerful predator is what you simply can’t get enough of.
“Well, now.. since we are alone. I suppose a little quality time is in order.” His sweet voice rings out and he chuckles softly, sounding similar to that of a hyena. He snaps his fingers and another human rushes out from the dark halls, holding a silver platter and offering it to CB. The caboose set his wine glass onto the platter and waved the human away. They nod before racing back into the halls, not wanting to risk staying around for far too long and facing the king’s anger.
You nod, averting his gaze. You can almost feel the intensity of that piercing gaze of his just boring into your very soul. CB stands up, towering over you. You’re nearly half his height if not slightly smaller. He skates over to you, only taking a stride or two before he circles around you. His wolfish grin never leaves his face as he slows to a stop before bending down and offering a hand for you to take. You almost hesitate before placing your smaller hand into his much larger one. CB gently wrapped his fingers around your delicate hand. He could easily crush your hand if he wanted to, yet he chooses not to. You are at his mercy.
You yelp in surprise as he stands mostly upright and pulls you close. His crushing jaws mere inches from your face, allowing you to get a good look at his fangs that are stained with red. He purrs softly and together, the two of you dance in the silence of the throne room. He makes sure to take it slow with you, not wanting to risk you falling or injuring yourself. You both know the scent of blood drives him mad.
You dare to meet his pale blue eyes. You’re not sure how you managed to catch the king’s eye. Regardless, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You smile as he dips you backwards slightly and he smirks. Within an instant, CB sweeps you off your feet and cradles you in his powerful arms. You can hear and feel his purring right in your ear as you rest your head against him. You look up at him and he smiles softly, lowering his head before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.
You relax and he carries you back to his throne. He sits down with you in his lap. You nestle against him. His immense warmth is comforting and familiar. You can get used to this.
