#one way turnstile gate

[tripodturnstile]

three arms turnstile door from RS Security Co., Ltd(www.szrssecurity.com) Appropriate for all types of public locations that need orderly passage of pedestrians, such as picturesque spots, exhibition halls, cinemas, docks, train stations, bus stations and other locations that require ticket verification; locations that require authorized entry such as factory attendance, canteen usage, golf courses, regular monthly card leisure centers, and so on; anti-static control locations of electronic factories, systems that need strict security measures such as face acknowledgment and fingerprint acknowledgment. RS Security Co., Ltd generally produces, develops and offers access control items, such as three rollers turnstiles door, city flap turnstiles barrier, servo motor swing turnstile door, translation turnstile door, optical turnstile door, full high turnstile barrier, half height turnstile gate, speed turnstile barrier and other channel turnstile door products, and boom barrier, facialface acknowledgment video camera, hydraulic bollards, road bocker three rollers turnstile gate Integrated electronic tickets, gain access to control and presence, club consumption/catering, anti-static, fingerprint, palm print, face recognition, iris acknowledgment Integrated application of other series of products; complete stainless steel frame structure, Taibang motor, individually established and produced movement; one-way/two-way turnstile door/ swipe to release the lever button and the upper lever is optional, with Counting function can recognize RS485 direct communication with the computer system; tripod turnstiles barrier triggers and instructions and alarm triggers; automatic fall of the pole when power is off and manual fall The pole is optional, and it receives the switch signal to open turnstile gate; it can be geared up with a card reading control part, and several units can be connected to the network; it can be geared up with magnetic card and distance card combination methods; it can be bought according to various practical requirements. Do. A totally rainproof box made of alloy aluminum or stainless steel, compared to the city flap turnstile gate servo motor swing turnstile gate and other pedestrian passage equipment, waist height turnstile barrier are more affordable. It has a customized setup user interface (such as card reader, sign light setup, and so on) to ensure that the system integrator's control turnstiles gate devices is easy and practical to set up. The movement of the three-stick turnstile door maker has actually an automatically adjusted hydraulic shock absorber. When using the three-stick turnstiles gate operation, the noise is really small and quiet. Impact, turnstile gate bar instantly decelerates back to center. The surface of the motion is plated with yellow dichromate. Can be programmed with turnstile barrier device control, a couple of direction control (set by user). The base is fixed with expansion bolts.

[szrssecurityswingturnstile]

dc brushless speedlane turnstile gate also called access swing turnstile door, which belongs to the gain access to control system, is among the important elements of modern entryway and exit control. The door wings are driven by the control system and open and close automatically. The operating mode can be picked through programs settings: As quickly as it is validated that the person going into is licensed, the door wings open instantly. It closes after a delay, and the delay time is adjustable. Typical servo motor speed turnstiles barriers are divided into scissor doors (metro flap gates gate) and swing doors. (1) Scissor doors are frequently used in rail transit, and common scissor doors are mainly utilized in subways and other locations. The door wings extend from the within package, which can effectively seal the passage and play the role of access control. In addition, an infrared noticing device is installed inside the door body, which can understand the purpose of "a single person, one card" for individuals to travel through. (2) The swing door appeared behind the scissor door and comes from the 2nd generation dc brushless glass turnstile gates. Such dc brushless glass turnstile barrier is that the door wings run in the front and back direction. The operation process is within the body's view, which is much safer. In addition, since the door wings do not need to be pulled back into package, The designs of swing doors are more varied. Due to the above qualities, swing doors are typically used in banks, business structures, high-end office complex, and so on. Anti-trailing function: There is a total infrared light band detection area in the channel. The switch state can be changed by software application according to the consumer's precision requirements. The application of the light band to adapt to various needs prevents the imperfections of point-type infrared detectors that are quickly infected and affects the dependability of judgment, and can effectively judge the future. Tag reader who reads the card. When the system determines that tailgating has actually occurred, the system will respond based upon the location of the valid cardholder returned by the infrared detector. After the door opening signal is sent out, there are still some unusual uses that will set off an alarm.

[szrssecurity]

Swing Barrier Turnstile is typically called a slap door in the rail transit industry. Its barrier body (gate pendulum) remains in the form of a plane with a specific area, perpendicular to the ground, and swings through rotation Implement obstructing and release. The products of the obstructing body are typically stainless-steel, organic glass, and tempered glass. Some also utilize metal plates covered with unique flexible products (to minimize the damage triggered by striking pedestrians). Bridge Smart Swing Gate Gate The more popular name has actually been inherited from the initial bridge-shaped structure. It consists of a primary chassis and two movable swing bars. The swing bars can swing 180 ° or 90 ° to achieve the function of dissuading or launching. Column Swing Door Turnstile The appearance of the main devices is in the type of a column, which can perform the same functions as the bridge type Swing Turnstile. It is defined by lower cost and less area. RS Security Co., Ltd Main Products: door, flap gate, full height gate, swing turnstile, hydraulic bollard, road blocker, access control, face acknowledgment, barrier gate and so on. Application of Swing Barrier Gate It is primarily utilized for passage entrance and exit management. Typically, just individuals are permitted to pass through, or people dragging travel luggage, and disabled people. Thinking about that Swing Gate Turnstile can attain larger channel qualities than wing gates. A lot of Swing Door Turnstile passages can be mixed with pedestrians, bicycles, mopeds, handicapped cars and other non-motorized vehicles. component Swing Barrier Gate structural structure: Swing Door Gate includes chassis, movement, swing arm, control system, infrared sensing unit, It includes control devices and other parts. High-end brake Swing Barrier Turnstile consists of: chassis, brake motion, control system, infrared sensing unit, control devices and other parts (high-end brake Swing Door Turnstile is that it can stop rapidly and efficiently, there is no shaking, no mechanical stuck structure, and the swing arm automatically opens after power failure. It completely complies with fire security requirements).

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part twenty

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k (YIKES)

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: guyssss guys guys guys omg :,) also s2 only has two parts left!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

The air is brisk as it surrounds you in the night, chilling you down to the bone, but with a book in your lap and a blanket draped over your shoulders, you don't mind the cold. Not one bit.

You're reading the same page over and over again- Romeo and Juliet. Act two, scene two. Your monologue. You flip the page, and that's all there is.

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.'

You whisper this, smiling softly to yourself. The grass tickles the undersides of your arms and when you look up, you see the stars. Thousands and thousands of them- more than you could count if you were given a pen and paper and a month to try. It's beautiful.

You lay back into the wild grass, letting it consume you. You can smell it as the long blades brush across your cheeks.

"Y/N?" You freeze at the sound of your name, not that you are really moving. You just hold tight onto the air in your lungs, as if exhaling it could light a beacon to you. Your heartbeat was thrumming in your chest- you were afraid.

"Y/N?" The voice comes again. Coriolanus. He shouldn't be here, he doesn't know where you go at night when you need to end your unfortunate days. Why is he here?

You don't move, eyes wide open as you stare at the sky. Maybe he'll go away, maybe he'll ignore the lantern still burning close enough that you could read under its flame. As if.

"Y/N, you have to go." Now you can hear the grass rustling with every slow step he takes, and he's trying to be quiet. Whispering, as if there was anyone here for miles.

"Go, hide. It's not safe for you out here."

You sit up quickly, scrambling onto your feet. He's close enough now that he's certainly seen you. You get no chance to say anything before you realize you weren't in the field you thought you were. Grass covers the ground of the Capitol arena, and alongside the long green leaves, Coryo's scarf is draping down your side, brushing your legs.

"Coryo?" You say, but you're not looking at him. The compact weighs heavily in the pocket of your dress as you spin around, taking in the dark space. Your lantern flickers out.

"Y/N." He says again, and your eyes snap back to him. His hair is short, buzzed almost down to his scalp like the last time you saw him. "Hide. Now."

"But, I-"

It was too late, and quickened footsteps alerted you to someone else coming.

"Come on, come on!" Coryo grabs you by the wrist quickly, pulling you with him toward the exit glowing red in the night as you abandon your book and blanket.

His hand shifts to hold yours, attempting to force you ahead of himself. You want to look back, but he won't let you. The exit feels miles away. You can't take leave- you don't know why you're running with him. You'll be killed. You'll be killed either way.

You fall through the turnstiles, the mocking automatic voice from the speakers going ignored as you hit the ground. You don't know what you fell onto, you look and there's nothing there, but blood begins to pour from three linear wounds in your leg and a gash on your upper arm.

"Are you okay? Hey, are you okay?" Coryo is in your face now, kneeling in front of you and trying to get you up.

You can't speak, looking past him at the faceless shadow following you. Pushing yourself back against the wall, they glide through the gate and Coryo turns quickly, hands raised. "Wait! Don't! He shouts, but has to duck as they swing something at them.

"Y/N- Run!" He yells at you, but you can't move. You curl up against the wall, burying your face in your knees.

You hear the sharp swing of metal in the air. Once, twice, and you're waiting for an impact that doesn't come until you hear Coryo cry out in pain instead.

You feel the grind of cement next to you as something is lifted from the ground.

"I don't want to hurt you!"

Another swing.

And then a cracking noise, and the turnstile again.

"Enjoy the show!"

You look up then, watching just as the shadow hits the ground across the gate.

"Coryo?" You push yourself up using the wall. He doesn't look back at you, but you can see his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths as he stares at the shadow now sprawled out across the ground.

He swings the club again, the cement block disappearing into the grass with a hard thud.

You don't run.

"Coryo, let's go. Please... let's just go." Your voice comes out small, but he still hears you.

He turns, and you aren't afraid. "Y/N-" He drops the weapon and you take an involuntary step back. You look into his eyes, cleared of the blonde curls he recently buzzed off.

Sky blue. Angry. No- baby blue. Worried.

He's afraid.

"Y/N, wait." He pleads with you, hands clear as he takes a step closer. This time, you let him. "Please don't walk away again."

"What did you say?" You ask, brow furrowed at the familiar statement as you take another step back.

"Please, don't run from me."

When you wake, you feel different. You feel your blood pumping quick through your veins as you stare at the ceiling, the sun peaking in through the curtains like usual, but you feel more sick than scared.

It's a welcome change.

Crawling out of bed, you pull a dress on over your pyjama shorts, deciding that would likely be fine since you didn't plan on leaving the house today. Maybe to go out to the meadow, but with sleep still blurring your vision you weren't ready to make any big decisions like that yet.

You felt guilty about ruining the lake day for everyone. It wasn't a bad panic attack, they did have to jump into action the way they did and try to rush you home, but they had. You can't be upset at them, Lennox and Lucy Gray only wanted to protect you.

You wish Maude Ivory hadn't seen you cry.

The hike back is all you can think about while you make your morning tea.

You watched as Sejanus grabbed Coryo by the arm, pulling him back up and into the cabin and shutting the door behind them.

No one bothered to get you dressed again, the priority just being to get you home. Lucy Gray had helped you get your shoes back on, and Lennox practically lifted you to your feet. You were still shaking, but the tears had lessened and you could breathe again.

"Tam Amber, will you go ask the boys if they remember the way back?" Lucy Gray whispered to her cousin and he nodded, running off the dock.

"You're safe. It's just us here." She reminded you as you watched him hurry away.

"But... But Coryo-" You stammered, suddenly shivering.

"I know, I know, Hun." She wrapped the blanket back around your shoulders. "He's gone. You're okay."

"No, no I-"

You heard Tam Ambers footfalls returning, just as hastily as he had gone. "They remember." He nodded to your friend.

"Okay, will you tell them to wait twenty minutes before following us?" She told him and he nodded again, disappearing once more.

"Lucy Gray, it's, it's okay. I don't think they need to wait." You tried to explain, and she had to lean in to listen to you.

"I know, it's okay." Clearly, she didn't know what you were trying to say. "I promise you they can handle themselves, you don't worry about it." But you weren't worried about them. You wanted them to come.

"E-Every one can master a grief but he that has it." You huff through shaky breaths, frustration at their lack of understanding building in your tone. Why couldn't they see that he was helping you?

Lennox and Lucy Gray look at each other on either side of you, but say nothing.

You looked back at the cabin over your shoulder as your brother and best friend guided you away, the rest of the Covey in tow.

You hadn't seen either of the Capitol boys since.

Coryo walks into Sejanus's room, expecting him to still be sleeping. It's early, the sun just peaking over the mountains, but he's not there. He was out late the night before, so maybe he hadn't come home. He did mention something about possibly staying with Lucy Gray after her show.

They would only be in town for another couple of weeks, he was getting down to the wire of time he had to earn your trust back. He was fucking it up royally, and he wasn't even sure he could go home without any conclusions. He just needed to talk to you, if it was him who was hurting you, and you said the best thing he could do was leave and never look back, he would do it in a heartbeat. He'd never recover, but he'd be willing to do anything to know you were happy. Or at least getting there.

But you hadn't said that. Remembering your conversation at the lake, he didn't feel like all hope was lost. Even if Lucy Gray and Lennox wouldn't let him anywhere near you. He couldn't give up yet.

This is why, in all honesty, he is lucky that Sejanus didn't make it home last night.

He saw his friend writing in a notebook the other day, so he opened the bedside drawer to try and find it. He'll just leave a note saying he's going for a walk, and Sejanus likely won't suspect he's going to go try and talk to you and come stop him. If he even wakes up from his hangover with enough time to find the note and then catch him.

When Coryo opens the drawer, that's not what he finds. Well, it is, and he pulls the pad of paper and pencil out, but his eyes catch on something else. Cash. And lots of it.

He looks over his shoulder at the door before picking it up and picking through it. It must have been in the tens of thousands. Why would Sejanus bring so much money to District Twelve of all places? He wishes he could understand rich kids.

He sits on the bed and opens the notebook, pausing again when he sees some scribbled notes.

'Hob, 10 pm, 08/17

Broken fence, storage shed. 4 am, 08/18

Lennox ?'

Brow furrowed in confusion, Coryo turns the page. Nothing else. No other context clues as to what on earth this could mean. It was meeting places and times. He looks around again as if he could find answers in the walls of the small bedroom.

Nothing.

He quickly shoves the notepad back into the drawer and leaves. Maybe he didn't need to leave a note after all.

Coryo had to move quickly. Collecting yet another peace offering, some kind of treat, and then make it to your house before Sejanus or Lucy Gray can intercept. He does it, but there was still the biggest obstacle yet- your brother. He prays as he knocks that Lennox doesn't open the door.

When there's a knock on the door, you leap from your bench on the back porch, quietly slipping back in the door. You were home alone, only for a few hours while your mom handled some business in town and Lennox went to hang out with some friends. Your mother didn't want to let you, she wanted you to come, but you insisted. You were an adult, you could be home alone for a few hours.

Who on earth would knock on the door right in that window of time?

Sneaking into your parents' bedroom, you peek out of the curtains to try and look at the front door.

No. This is ridiculous.

You force yourself to straighten up, smoothing the front of your dress and taking a deep breath. You're home. You're safe. No one at the door is here to hurt you.

You pace up to the front door just as another quick three knocks ring out. Deep breath. You twist and pull the handle.

"Y/N." Coryo grins, relief washing over him like a wave that only lasts a moment. "Here, these are for you." He holds out a small bouquet of flowers before you get the chance to slam the door in his face.

You can't help the smile that pulls at your lips when you look down at the hand he extends to you.

Butterflies. The very same ones you felt the first time he gifted you a flower.

"Coryo, you don't have to bring me flowers every time you see me." You giggle, and he smiles. The relief is back.

"Well, I'd like to. You deserve nothing less."

You look up through your lashes at him, slightly shaking your head. Your smile doesn't slip as you examine his features, checking his eyes. As blue and clear as the lake you swam in last week. "Would you like to come in?" You offer, unsure of yourself up until the point the words leave your mouth.

"I would love to." Coryo smiles so wide you feel as though your own heart could burst. You're doubting yourself for ever being afraid of him, but as he passes you into the threshold of your home, you remember why. Deep breath.

"You came at a good time." You joke, closing the door behind him and stepping into the kitchen as it's laid out next to the front door.

"Oh?"

"Well, Lennox isn't here to push you down the front steps." You giggle. Maybe you shouldn't be telling him you're home alone. Your heart stops for a beat.

And then he laughs, and everything is okay again as you pull a vase down from atop the fridge, placing it in the sink to rinse off. "That is true." He agrees.

"But, I'll warn you, Tybs is here somewhere. He's always watching." You look at him over your shoulder as you place the flowers down and run the tap into the ceramic vase.

"Noted." Coryo chuckles, looking around his feet to see if the cat had come to say hello.

He watches you as you turn back around to focus on your task. Watching you wash dishes was a privilege he never even considered that he wanted, but now that he had it, he was more certain than ever that he could never let you go.

It was so good to see you have some peace.

"I brought some things for a picnic, I was hoping you could take me to the meadow you told me about. I'd really like to see it." He asks as you dry off the outside of the vase, proceeding to fill it with water.

"I was going to head out there myself, actually. That sounds perfect." He watches your hair move as you nod, popping the flowers into the vase and turning to show him. The smile on your face makes his heart melt. He didn't know that feeling was real.

"How do they look?" You ask, quickly adjusting some.

"Lovely." Coryo grins and your lips pull together, looking back down at the bouquet in your hands.

"Thank you, by the way. I realize I didn't say thank you." You say, carrying the vase out to the living room and he follows while you place it on the coffee table.

"You don't have to." He shakes his head. "To be honest, I didn't even expect you to accept them."

"Oh, would you like them back?" You ask, worried.

That's not what he meant, you were just too sweet. "No, I picked them for you."

"Would you tell me if you did want them back?" You ask, wiping your hands off from stray water on the front of your dress.

"Probably not." He admits with a smile that matches yours, shaking his head. "I suppose you'll just have to trust me."

"Here we are!" You grin, flipping out the quilt you brought from your room for the two of you to sit on.

Coryo looks around. It's a big open field, with trees and hills in the distance. He did imagine it would be beautiful at night like you said, but he never thought that during the day it would be as much of a sight. After years and years of coming to this exact spot, the grass is shorter here. Already conditioned to not grow where this family could come and sit during the days and nights of your childhood- you had built the perfect little spot to lay down a sheet.

You're already sitting down cross-legged on the hand-sewn material when he looks at you again. "Thoughts?" You ask, tipping your head up at him. "You look like you're thinkin'."

"Yeah, yeah. It's beautiful. This isn't what I pictured."

"No?" You ask as he sits down next to you, adjusting on the blanket and placing his bag on the corner.

"No. Nothing like this." He answers. "It's much bigger."

You giggle, looking around. "So you understand what I was missing, then."

"Yeah." He breathes the word out with a slight nod, but he's still staring at you even as he pulls everything out of his bag. Some cookies, and the book.

"So," You start with a smile, and he looks up at you. You look down at the book, your train of thought completely leaving you when you see it. "You brought it..." You mumble, reaching out to touch the cover.

He lifts it to hand it to you, but you quickly pull your hand away as if the book could bite. You look between him and the leather-bound book in his hand, cheeks flushing. "I-I don't, I'm sorry. I don't know why..." You laugh awkwardly, looking instead out to the woods that surround you.

Your trauma had consistently manifested in the strangest of ways. That book had done nothing to hurt you, you knew that, but it did remind you of the nights and days you spent reading it before the games when Coryo was locked away in the hospital. The memory almost makes you sick.

"Don't be." Coryo shakes his head at you. "I get it." He puts it down on the other side of himself, just out of your view. "I just... I know you usually read out here. So I wanted to bring a book too. It's the only one I have here."

You smile nervously and nod. "I'm glad you like it." You look over your shoulder when you hear a soft 'meow' from within the grass. "Someone followed us."

You let out a soft gasp, smiling as your cat emerges from the tall blades next to you. They were only about knee height to you, but they completely swallowed his small form. "Tybs!" You grin, opening your arms to him and he crawls straight into your lap. "Good King of Cats, there you are." You scoop him up, kissing him on his fluffy head.

"Y/N," Coryo says, drawing your attention again. You hum, face still pressed into Tybalt's fur as you hug him. "I... I was hoping we could talk about some things, if you feel safe enough. I know with just me it's scary but there's some things I really need to tell you before I have to leave and no one will let me talk to you, so now feels like my only chance."

"Okay." You nod, lowering Tybs down onto your lap again, holding him close. "But... I just, I don't want you to have to deal with me if I... I don't know, panic. I can't promise you I won't, and it's embarrassing."

"That's okay." He assures you, scanning your face closely even as you avoid his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, so if you can't talk about it it's totally okay. I can try my best to say what I need to say without scaring you."

"No, no I... There's stuff I have to say to you too." You confess to him. "I just, it is so frustrating to not be able to talk about anything without feeling like... I can't communicate what I need to say. Or like I'm dying."

Coryo nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I'll be as patient as you need me to be." He promises. "I can't imagine what that's like for you." He adds, almost whispering. You have always expressed yourself so eloquently through words, and in a way, the games, he has taken that from you.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, focussing on petting your cat. You can feel the vibrations of his purring against your body, and that helps already.

"It's hard." You admit quietly. "I still sometimes feel like no one wants to listen to me when I can talk about what happened. It's always the same thing." You shake your head, letting out a slight laugh. "Do you know how many times I've heard 'You're safe now'? Or 'you're home now. It's okay'? Because it's a lot. And I know that. I know they're just trying to help, but... It's more complicated than that."

"There's no guidebook on living with this stuff." Coryo agrees. "That's what your father told me."

"He's right." You mumble. "No one knows what to do, Twelve has never had a Victor before. I'm lucky number one, and it feels like nobody sees me as human anymore. Not even Lucy Gray. Not even my family."

"I do."

You smile sadly at him. "Coryo, I..." You sigh, shaking your head and grounding yourself in feeling Tybalt rub his head against your palm, begging to be pet. "Is this real?"

He furrows his brow slightly with confusion.

"I mean, I don't-" You sigh. "I feel like I am being so daft but Sejanus says he thought you actually cared about me but that was back in the Capitol so I just need you to be honest with me."

"Y/N..." He shakes his head at you, fully in disbelief. "I have never lied to you. I don't think I could even if I wanted to."

"No, not- not like that." You sigh, shaking your head. "I mean, the way you acted. The things you did- I feel like I don't know who you really are."

"You know me. Better than anyone." He assures you, voice soft with sincerity. He doesn't want to be offended, but he'd still like to understand.

"You said... you said you wanted to start over." You say after a moment, looking into his eyes and loosening your grip on your cat as he adjusts the way he's laying over your bare legs. "So... can we?"

Coryo smiles, giving you a quick nod. "My name is Coriolanus Snow." He starts, and he can see how closely you're watching him, a small smile growing on your lips. That's not exactly what you meant, and he knew it. "But you can call me Coryo. That's what my friends call me."

How could he miss the apples of your cheeks turning slightly pink under the sun?

"I was born and raised in the Capitol, and I'm an orphan. My mother died in childbirth, and my sister didn't make it. My father died here, in Twelve. I live with my cousin, Tigris, and our Grandma'am, and my whole life I have been starving." He admits, swallowing as he monitors your reaction closely. Sadness. Empathy. "One time, during the war, I even ate a jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach." He smiles as he says it, it's meant to be funny- to try and keep you with him as he speaks.

He raises an eyebrow at you as you can't help but giggle. "I'm sorry, that must have been awful."

"It was certainly... pasty." He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "But then, the moment I first laid eyes on you and was told you would be my tribute, I knew that everything was going to change."

You think back to the reaping, and how he must have watched. One of many memories that haunted you now doesn't seem all that scary, knowing he was with you even then.

"I was angry, I knew Highbottom was trying to sabotage me- to give me no chance at winning the prize but I didn't know that the universe was just bringing me to you."

"Coriolanus." You grin, tilting your head at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

"Did you know that I was named after a play?" He asks, a teasing smile pulling at his lips knowing that the only reason he knew that was because of you.

"Oh? What's it about?" You humour him, and he chuckles shaking his head at you.

"Well, it's a long story, really, but it's about a man in ancient Rome who gets put in a position of power, and makes some pretty big mistakes." He quotes as much of what he can remember you telling him. "Then the people of the city hated him, and he was cast out because he betrayed people who trusted him."

You don't say anything, hanging on every word of his interpretation.

"And sometimes I feel like it's a fitting name." He continues, voice lowering with seriousness now. "But I don't think I am like him, because I regretted my mistakes the moment I made them. And I think that if he was more like me, and had someone who made him want to be a good man, his story wouldn't have ended too tragically."

You feel the telltale burn of tears brimming your eyes, and Coryo watches you closely. Your breathing is steady, the ghost of a smile still on your lips.

"Are you okay?" He asks quietly, reaching up to push your hair from where a piece is beginning to fall into your eyes. He's careful not to move too quickly, or even to touch your skin.

You nod, briefly drawing your lip in between your teeth while you think. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Coryo smiles, almost in disbelief. "You forgive me, then?"

"I'm a Victor." You state, although your whisper sucks almost all the confidence out of your voice as you focus on Tybalt purring against your lap. "If I expect forgiveness in return I need to give it, don't I?"

"You don't need forgiveness from anyone." He insists, smile fading. "You didn't do a single thing wrong."

"I think I did." You admit, lip beginning to wobble as you try and remember, looking down at your cat and stroking his back almost obsessively. "I should have gone back for Wovey, I should have stayed with Jessup, and... and I think I killed those boys, Coryo. I haven't told a soul and it's been killing me."

When you look back up at the boy next to you, his heart breaks. You hadn't done anything wrong; you even tried your best to be a pacifist when thrown into the Hunger Games, of all things, and still, you found things to blame yourself for. "Do you remember what I told you?" He asks, very slowly and carefully reaching out to swipe away a tear from your cheek. "That we all do things we aren't proud of to survive. That doesn't make you a wicked person."

"Is it true?" You ask, resisting your gut and it wanting you to lean into his touch. "That... that I killed them?"

"No." He answers. "I did. I gave you the compact."

"But I used it."

"You had no choice." He reminds you. "That was my fault, and I'll take the blame for it but I won't lie and tell you that I regret it."

You take a sharp breath in. His eyes. Look at his eyes.

"I did it to save you, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I couldn't live with myself if I let you die. You saved my life first, and you could have ran but you didn't." He wouldn't let you beat yourself up about something that was his fault. "You could have saved yourself, but you gave up that chance for me. I couldn't let you die. It would be such a waste for the world to lose a girl like you."

"Coryo... That's not right." You say, shaking your head. The way your face fell made him nervous. "You can't tell me you did it for me. That is not as noble as you feel like it is."

He felt stupid for telling you that, despite its truth. You wouldn't like it, he knew that. "I know, but I don't want to keep anything from you. I have to tell you why I did the things I did, I have to get you to trust me again. I'd speak every thought I'll ever have if that's what it takes."

You take a shaky breath. "What about when you killed Bobbin?" It took you a moment to even get the words to leave your mouth- and he waited all the while. Powder blue. Patient.

"I... okay." Coryo nods to himself. "I was scared, I didn't want to do it. Sejanus was injured, I remember realizing he couldn't walk. I tried to talk to the boy, but he wouldn't listen..." He trails off, not daring to break eye contact with you. "I felt... desperate. I was panicking, and then... powerful. That's the only way I can describe it. That I wasn't helpless anymore, the way I always had been."

His words are terrifying to you, but you can't look away as you tuck Tybalt closer to your chest. He's stopped purring, but he's breathing against you, craning into your touch. It's actively keeping you grounded through your fear.

"Then I looked at you," Coryo continues. "And I thought that I should have let him kill me instead, because maybe that would have hurt you less."

You swallow the anxiety sitting heavy and thick in the back of your throat. If it was you, you would have thought 'Yes. I should die before taking the life of another,' but since it was Coryo, your gut reaction was telling you to say no; to reassure him that he was only protecting himself and it was scary but he had done the right thing. The realization that he outweighed your own morals and the fact that as much as you wanted to say that, you weren't sure you would stick to it yourself now was a sick combination of things to grapple with all at once.

"Stop, please." You say quietly, feeling your heartbeat picking up just behind your ears. You don't even notice when you had looked away, but your eyes are shut tight.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop." Coryo quickly promises. "But I need you to look at me, okay? Can you do that?"

When you don't immediately respond, he takes the calculated risk of rubbing your back. It didn't scare you last time, it almost seemed to help for the brief moment you were able to look at him.

"I'm sorry." You say quickly, voice cracking.

"Don't be." He says softly, feeling how quickly you're breathing with the hand he has so delicately placed on your back.

It almost makes him cry, too, not knowing what to do to help. It was his fault, again, and this time there was no Lucy Gray or Lennox to come running. He looks around anyway as you cling to the cat in your lap. Tybalt. Quickly, he looks down to the book at his side.

"Oh sweet Juliet," He says, no better ideas surfacing on how to help you. He would make a fool out of himself if he must, but he had to try. "Thy beauty has made me effeminate, and in my temper softened... valor's steel." He tries to remember, and prays that he remembered it correctly.

Under his hand he feels you shake, and he tries to catch your eyes again. It takes him a moment to realize that you weren't crying harder- he hadn't made it all worse again. You were laughing.

He grins, chuckling slightly. "There she is, hey, hey... Look at me."

You turn your head, your smile already mostly gone by the time your eyes reach his.

"I don't remember it, can you refresh me?" He asks, trying to give you an adequate distraction.

"That... that scene? Uh-" Your mind is short-circuiting, running a million miles a minute to try and remember more details. What came before, what came after?

"Anything. Any part you want."

"Okay. Okay..." You nod, trying as best you can to take a deep breath. "Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night. Give me my Romeo, and, when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night..."

Just like at your interview, Coryo watches your anxiety begin to melt away as you recite every line. Something about it was so calming to you. It forced you to focus on something other than the tightness in your chest and the tremor of your hands.

"Atta girl..." Coryo nods, proud as he keeps rubbing your back. "Are you feeling a little better? Do you want some water?"

"I- I can get it." You nod quickly, reaching for the bag and digging for your water bottle, careful to not disturb the cat on your lap.

"I'm sorry." He says, withdrawing his hand so you can drink in peace. "I hate that the games have done this to you..."

You seal up the bottle again, wiping your lips on your wrist and shaking your head. "No one can come out of that unchanged, but... let's talk about something else, please."

"I just... I hope you know how much I truly care for you. That's real. That will always be real." Coryo promises, allowing you to put the bottle down before taking your hand.

His hands are slightly cold against the one of yours he is holding, and you attribute that to your no doubt increased blood pressure. There's nothing but pure, undiluted honesty in his eyes.

"I read your note." He continues, wanting to explain but you look away quickly, letting out a slight laugh. He's never seen your face so red.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said the things I did. It was foolish and I was feeling so confident knowing that that day very well may have been my last and-"

"It wasn't foolish." Coryo smiles slightly, moving so he can look in your eyes again. "It was sweet, and all this time I have been dying to tell you that I love you. I do." The confession has his heart pounding as if he were the one who is still coming down from a panic attack.

For the first time maybe in your whole life, you were speechless. It didn't feel like all the love stories you had read in books that made your heart flip the way it just had- it was more. It was your story, and no quote felt quite fitting to describe your own feelings. They were all yours.

"Is that... is that okay? I don't want to scare you but-" Coryo doesn't even get the chance to finish before your lips are against his.

You are kissing him. You're real, you're alive, and he is finally getting that second kiss that he never thought he would have. You were still his.

Your cat had long abandoned his post on your lap by the time Coryo processed this and moved his hands up to grasp your cheeks. He's as gentle as he possibly can be, he knows he's being somewhat irrational to imagine you just vanishing from his hold like you had consistently done in his dreams. This wasn't that; your lips against his, your unbelievably soft skin under his hands.

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest." You mumble against his lips, having finally found something close enough to express it.

This was real, you were there, and Coriolanus would never let you walk away again.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[something-tofightfor]

On Deck Part 1: Hot Corner

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 8,117

Rating: M (language, general adult thoughts, etc.)

Summary: Taking your best friend's little brother to a minor leage game to see his favorite player just might lead to a lot of changes in your life.

And you're ready.

Author’s notes: 

This story has been in progress for more than two years. I've written about Baseball Jack many times before ... but only the "after". It's time to see how - and where - it all began.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

Thank you to everyone that convinced me to work on this and to keep this pairing going / to flesh them out more. I have had so much fun with this because I have such a love for the MLB (and the men who play in the league) - and I'm so excited to share it.

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand them - we're not getting overrly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out. I hope you enjoy this as much as I am.

Third base is often called the ‘hot corner’ due to the prevalence of right handed hitters - and subsequent on-field action - in the league. The third baseman is typically the infield position player closest to the batter, so to excel in this position, players need to display quick reaction times and exceptional hand-eye coordination. 

“We’re going to be late.” He stood next to you, arms crossed over his chest. “We still have to walk to the stadium.” 

“Caleb.” You sighed, closing and then locking the car door before sticking your keys into the small bag you’d bought specifically for games. “We’re here. We’re parked. The stadium is right there.” Pointing with one finger, you raised a brow and grinned. “The parking lot is only half full, and we’ve already got seats, so -”

“Yeah, but we’re going to miss warm ups and the pregame.” He rolled his eyes, turning away from you and heading toward the ballpark. “And those are the best parts.” 

You agreed, but for a very different reason than the twelve year old you were with. 

You’d been to games with him and Erin before. You and your friend sat a few rows back while the pre-teen hurried down to field level, a baseball and a pen clutched in one hand, hoping to meet at least one of the players after they’d finished warming up and stretching. 

From your vantage point, the two of you had been free to whisper about the players - pointing out the way their uniforms fit, discussing whether or not their asses were in mid-season form yet, or even commenting on the stretches they chose to warm up with before the game. Typically, you didn’t have a thing for men in uniform - but baseball pants were a different story. 

You loved the game, and had been visiting The Distillery - your local team’s home park - since you were a child, attending games with your family and friends and even dates as the years passed. Baseball games were the perfect summer activity no matter who you were with, and that was even true when your company was the younger brother of your best friend… and the game wasn’t a Major League competition. 

“She’s got the tickets.” He made the announcement when you reached the gates, the boy pointing back over his shoulder at you. “Two of them.” You smiled at the attendant, sliding your unzipped bag across the table so she could search it, and then returned your eyes to Caleb. He’d already removed his ballcap and the wallet he carried, pushing them forward and stepping through the metal detector. 

“He’s excited, hmm?” 

“Yeah.” Letting her scan the ticket barcodes, you laughed. “He really is.” Caleb waited for you to follow him through the turnstiles, his hat flipped backwards on his head, and you could see the impatience on his face. “Caleb, do you want to get something to eat before we -”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet. Before the game starts, but …” He glanced over his shoulder and you looked down at the field, where the grounds crew were still getting everything ready. “Can we go down there? I want to try and meet him. He’s playing today. They said it on the news.”

“Go.” Your smile widened, head moving up and down in a nod. “I’m right behind you, kid.” 

Caleb took off running toward the stairs that led down toward the third base line, and you followed him slowly, taking your time and eyeing the seating situation. There were people already waiting; a handful of kids and their parents, along with a few women that looked to be your age or a little younger, but there were still plenty of seats open adjacent to the field. 

You sat closer than you normally would have, deciding to take a seat in the row directly behind the boy. Just in case. For the next ten minutes, you paid no attention to the field, instead scrolling through social media and waiting, the music pumping through the speakers fading to background noise as you mindlessly browsed and clicked ‘like’ on a few posts. 

You also let Erin know that you’d made it to the game, and that Caleb was exactly where he wanted to be. But when you glanced up, ready to take a picture to send to her, you were distracted by the sight of the team taking the field. Caleb was too, the boy bouncing up and down in place as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the low wall in front of him. 

You watched for a few minutes - eyeing the players as they did their sprints and stretches, your lips twisting into a small smile at the sight of some of them utilizing their trainers for extra resistance during a few of the exercises. “He’s not here.” Caleb turned back to look at you, disappointment on his face. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Maybe he’ll come out late.” You shrugged, still looking at the field. “You never know, kiddo. You said he’s in the lineup, right?” 

“Yeah.” He turned back to the field, leaning forward. “They talked on the radio about how he was coming back today, because they want him to back in Louisville by the end of next week, and -” Caleb stopped mid sentence, straightening up. “There he is!” 

You couldn’t help it, your attention snapping in the direction that he was pointing. Sure enough, Jack Daniels and one of the trainers - a woman with short, dark hair and glasses - were taking the field to a low chorus of cheers, many of them coming from the section you were sitting in. There he is. 

Despite yourself, you leaned forward to watch him, staring as Jack began his warm up. He started with a few stretches - knee hugs and focusing on his quads, carefully extending and testing his arms, and then bent forward at the waist, the man almost able to press his palms flat against the ground without bending his knees. 

You didn’t take your eyes off of him, because like Caleb, one of the reasons you liked going to the Statesman games was looking at Jack Daniels. And there’s so much to look at.

The trainer watched him closely as he continued to warm up, speeding up his movements and then doing a series of static stretches. But when Jack started to do lunges, you actively fought back a groan, settling against the backrest of your seat and chewing on your lower lip. That’s hot as fuck. 

He looked healthy, and you were happy to see it, because the truth was that the Statesman needed him to be. “He didn’t warm up yesterday.” You turned your head toward the voice, watching as another woman next to you stared at Jack, her smile wide. “He stretched a little, and took batting practice, but he didn’t warm up.” 

“Oh, you were here yesterday, too?” She nodded, and when you glanced back at the field, you saw that Jack and the trainer had switched to more arm exercises, warming up the muscles of his upper body. 

“He pinch hit late in the game.” She leaned forward, her smile widening as she watched Jack start arm circles, the trainer standing a few feet away from him with her arms crossed. “So I knew he’d play today. And that’s why I’m here.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Gonna shoot my shot when he comes over here to sign for the kids. Why not, right? We both know he goes for it sometimes.” 

The girl was pretty - and definitely dressed to get his attention. She wore one of his t-shirts artfully slashed to show off her cleavage and had her legs on display in a pair of cutoff denim shorts. Good for her. “Yeah, why not.” You smiled, turning your head away from where the players were sprinting into the outfield and back to give her your full attention. “Even if he’ll be back in Louisville pretty soon, you might as well. See what happens.”

“It’s only 40 minutes away.” She shrugged, looking out and pointing at where the man was laying on the field, one knee bent and his other ankle resting against the top of it. The trainer was applying extra resistance, and you hummed in approval as you watched. I wish I was that trainer.  “I’d drive there if I needed to.” 

Her eagerness didn’t surprise you. Jack was a notably eligible bachelor, and one of the most desirable men on the team. Unlike the others, though, he didn’t often publicly date. But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hook up. And … You returned your attention to the field, watching as he stopped to talk to the woman, pointing at the front of his left shoulder and grinning. And I’m sure he’s got his pick in every city he visits. 

“Oh, I think they’re coming over now.” 

She adjusted her shirt and you watched her posture change, the woman’s shoulders straightening and her smile widening. Instead of staring at Jack’s strut toward the seats, you looked at Caleb. The boy was buzzing with excitement as he turned toward where the man was headed - about ten people to your left, where a small crowd had gathered. “Do you think he’ll come over?” Caleb said your name, frowning. “There’s not much time, and -”

“He will.” You leaned in, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’re wearing one of his shirts, right? He’s gotta stop for you.” Caleb grinned, turning back toward the field, though he kept his head turned to the left. 

You watched Jack then, smiling as he interacted with the fans. He signed autographs and posed for a few pictures, his smile genuine. But you noticed that he was really only focused on the kids and teenagers, spending more than a few seconds with them instead of moving along as quickly as was politely possible the way he did with adults. He took pictures with a few women, the man leaning in but keeping both hands behind his back. He puts his hands on the kids’ shoulders, but doesn’t touch the women… interesting. 

“Keep your phone out. I’m gonna need you to take a picture.” Caleb was excited, the boy happier than you ever remembered seeing him. You laughed but did as he asked, leaning to the right and angling the phone so that you could snap a picture of the two of them, though Jack was barely in the frame. 

The girl next to you leaned forward when he was only a person or two away, and then seemed to second guess that decision. You bit back a laugh as she stood and climbed over the seats, standing next to Caleb and effectively blocking your view of the man on the field. Gee, thanks.

He finished with the little girl that he’d been speaking to, handing her back a signed baseball and a pen, and then took a step to the side and in front of the woman, saying hello. 

Clearly hearing his voice in person shocked you - the man’s accent thick, even in the few words he spoke. You desperately wished that you could see him, but you didn’t want to shift in your seat and draw attention to yourself. I’ll see him when he talks to Caleb.

“I heard you were playing and had to come today.” She leaned forward, fingertips resting against the wall. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah?” He laughed, reaching up to pull his hat off and then set it back down on his head, taking a few seconds to think. You caught a glimpse of the bullseye tattoo on his hand, biting down on your lower lip at the sight. “Well thank you for comin’ out. It’s good to be back on the field.” The woman giggled and then held her phone up, tilting her head to the side. 

“Can we get a picture? I’ll tag you in it on Instagram, and -”

“Sure.” You watched as the woman spun around and then leaned backwards, holding her phone up to take a selfie. “Hope it’s a good one.” He smiled, peering at the phone from over her shoulder, and you fought back a roll of your eyes at how wide and practiced her smile was - the woman’s head cocked to the side - and toward his. 

When she straightened up, he took a half step toward Caleb, already tipping his head down and toward the boy. But the woman spoke up before he could fully move on, reaching out to touch his arm. “Thank you, Jack. You have no idea how much I -” He flinched - just barely, but you saw it, his shoulder jerking back slightly as her fingertips made contact.

“No problem. Thank you, and enjoy the game.” She stiffened, but you didn’t focus on that. You turned your attention to the boy in front of you - and in turn, Jack, whose face split into a grin, the man’s dimple on display, even beneath the shade from the brim of his hat. “Well hi there. I’m Jack, what’s your name?” 

“Caleb.” He leaned forward and you opened your camera app again, your smile widening, too. Caleb’s going to be so excited later. “I had tickets to see you play in Louisville and then you got hurt and I didn’t know if you’d be back this season but then my mom bought me tickets for today after I found out you were going to play again, and so we drove all the way here -” 

“Slow down there, big guy.” Jack laughed, giving you a glimpse of his teeth, and then gestured to Caleb’s hand, the boy holding a Sharpie tightly. “You want me to sign somethin’ for you?” 

“Yeah. This ticket, please.” Caleb held the marker out, looking up at Jack. “And I’ve got your jersey, but it was too hot to wear it today, so I picked this t-shirt instead.” 

“Of course I will.” He nodded, taking the Sharpie and the paper, scrawling his name across the front of it. “Turn around and I’ll sign real big on the number on the back.” Caleb spun around and you were thrilled to see that he was almost delirious with excitement, his eyes wide and his smile nearly splitting his face in two. 

“Can I take a picture of you signing for him?” Jack glanced up at the sound of your voice, his smile faltering for a split second and a confused look passing over his features. “I didn’t want to just do it and have the flash go off, and…”

“Go right ahead.” He smiled again, giving you a nod. “Thank you for askin’.” It only took a few seconds for him to sign, but you took multiple pictures, and then as Jack capped the marker, you decided to speak up again, not wanting to make Caleb ask. 

“And can I get one of the two of you looking at the camera before he turns around again?’

“You’ve already got your phone out.” Jack smirked at you, and then reached up to tilt the brim of his hat back, showing you more of his face. Holy shit, look at him. “I’m more’n happy to take a picture with my new buddy Caleb.” 

You couldn’t help smiling at that, and when Jack settled his hand - the Sharpie poking out from between his fingers - against the boy’s shoulder and squeezed, it widened. “Got it.” You lowered the device, mouthing the words ‘thank you’ at Jack at the same time Caleb spoke them out loud, turning back to face the man. 

There were only two more kids to the right of you waiting to talk to Jack, but before moving to them, he hesitated, looking between you and the boy. “Where are you and your mom sitting today, Caleb?”  Mom? Do I really look like -

“She’s not my mom, she’s my sister’s friend. And we’re over there.” He pointed at the outfield. “Somewhere.” Why is he asking? 

“The section right at the end of the dugout.” Jack pointed, but looked directly at you. “First row. Aisle seats, 23 and 24. They’re mine, and if you want ‘em, today they’re yours.” 

“What? Jack, that -” 

“I’ve gotta go.” He nodded, looking at Caleb and grinning, and then back at you, his smile softening. “Enjoy the game.” He didn’t say anything else before he stepped down the field and then stopped to talk to the other kids waiting. What the fuck just … “That was so cool!” Caleb spun back to look at you, his eyes wide. “He signed my shirt and took a picture with me and now we get to sit in his seats, and -”

“Caleb.” You took a breath, still trying to process what had happened in the previous few minutes. “I don’t -” 

“We’re going to sit in them, right?” You didn’t know how to answer him. Should we? You sighed and then looked to your right, watching as Jack signed a baseball and handed it back to a little girl before laughing with an older man that was with her. “I mean he told us to, and -” 

“I definitely would.” The girl next to you spoke up, and when you looked over, you saw that she was jealous, her eyes narrowed as they looked you over. “Do you know him? Is that -”

“I’ve never spoken to that man before just now.” You shrugged, unsure of what else to say. “I have no idea what … or why, or …” You would have been lying if you’d said that no part of you was a little smug at the fact  that he’d offered the seats to you and not to her, but you didn’t want to be that woman. “He must have liked you, Caleb.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Whatever. I’ll just see him after the game at the players’ parking lot.” She stood then, but didn’t say anything else before she spun away from you and headed down the row and toward the aisle. 

Caleb watched her go, his head tilted to one side.“What crawled up her butt?” You snorted at his question but there was no way you could give him an actual answer - so you gave him a partial one. 

“She’s probably just sad that you get to have a great view of the game tonight, kiddo.” With a sigh, you stood up, sliding your phone back into your bag and zipping it. You looked at Jack, watching as he said goodbye to the last of the fans and then headed for the dugout. 

But he didn’t go straight there - instead, he stopped and spoke to one of the security guards, pointing at the stands. Oh, he’s… And then you were stunned when both men looked back in your direction, Jack raising one arm to point at you while nodding. The security guard caught your eye and nodded too, and you then watched as Jack gently smacked him on the arm and smiled again, finally turning away to disappear back into the dugout. 

“Can we go and see the seats? And can I get french fries? Will you send the picture to my mom? And Erin? And -” He was excited - and you couldn’t blame him - but you still laughed, gesturing for Caleb to follow you down the row and toward the opposite aisle, closer to your new seats. 

“Yeah. We’ll do all that. Let’s go.” 

There was plenty of room for the two of you to walk to where Jack had indicated, and when you got close, the same security guard that Jack had spoken to stepped forward, gesturing with one hand. “You’re right here tonight.” 

You thanked him, letting Caleb choose which seat he wanted, and when you dropped into the remaining one, you pulled your phone out again as the boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the back of the wall in front of him. 

You had just enough time to send off a few quick texts to Erin - the pictures of Caleb and Jack, as well as one that you took from the seat and a message that said we got upgraded, I’ll explain later before the National Anthem started. 

You rose to your feet again, keeping your eyes on the field. Once the music faded and the announcer began to give the starting lineups, you were excited, your smile just as wide as Caleb’s. 

And when they announced Jack and the man trotted out onto the field to even more cheers from the crowd, you clapped along with them, pulse quickening. I love watching him play. 

He and the shortstop tossed a ball back and forth a few times while the pitcher made his way from the bullpen, and the grin never left the dark haired man’s face. By the time the ump signaled the start of the game, he was settled in place and standing a little behind the bag, knees spread and both hands resting on his thighs. 

It took a few batters for him to see any action, and when you heard the crack of the bat, Jack sprung into motion, moving toward second and bending over to scoop the ball off the infield before tossing it to first for the out. 

You cheered just as loudly as Caleb did, clapping your hands without looking away from the field - but you weren’t expecting to catch Jack’s eye when he turned to move back into place at third… and you definitely weren’t expecting him to grin at the sight of you. 

The moment was over quickly, and as the players ran off the field after the third out, you turned to Caleb, clearing your throat. “You said you wanted fries?” 

— 

You made it back to your seats just in time to watch the bottom of the second, both of you carrying a drink and a snack. Jack was batting 8th, so there was a good chance he wouldn’t hit until the next inning, giving you time to eat before he headed to the plate. 

You also checked your messages, a series of exclamation points from Erin and a thumbs up from her mother the only two you had waiting. You showed Caleb, the boy laughing and then scrolling up to look at the picture of him and Jack, his smile so broad that you thought it must have hurt. 

There were no seats in front of you, which meant that you had an unobstructed view when the man finally headed to the plate, the familiar sound of his walkup music - Hungry Like The Wolf - blaring through the stadium’s speakers. Here we go. C’mon, Jack. 

He took a few practice swings and you were relieved to see that he didn’t wince or hesitate. His swing looked comfortable, and when you leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees, you nodded as he took another, pointing the bat outward before settling it on his shoulder and waiting. 

He swung at the first two pitches, making contact on the second one and hitting a long foul down the first base line. But Jack ended up walking, taking his place on first and then getting into position as the catcher stepped to the plate. 

You watched him closely - taking in the way the dark blue jersey fit him, the V of upper chest skin - and a peek of the gold chain he wore - visible thanks to two of the buttons being undone, his socks pulled high to accentuate his muscled calves. He always looks fucking great. 

You knew it meant nothing that he’d offered you and Caleb his seats that day - that he’d just done it to be nice. But you would have been lying to yourself if you said that it didn’t make you feel good, Jack’s momentary attention a confidence boost, especially after the reception he’d given the woman next to you. 

The batter hit a single, and when Jack advanced to second and stopped, you cheered again, the man clapping his hands and shouting something that you couldn’t hear at his teammate. But it was all for nothing, because the following player popped out, ending the inning. 

Jack trotted across the field and toward the dugout, the disappointment on his face evident - but again, when he saw you he smiled, the expression only there briefly … though you certainly didn’t miss it. 

As you settled back against the seat, halfway listening to Caleb as he recounted team stats, you wondered why Jack was making so much of an effort when nothing would come of it. You thought of the woman’s comment about the players lot, wondering just how likely it was that you’d be able to meet him if you went, too. But not with Caleb here. 

The night would be a good memory at least - for both you and the boy, and that would have to be enough. 

By the time Jack stepped to the plate, you were more than ready. The setting sun shaded the sky in hues of orange and purple, the stadium’s lights brightening up the field. Your eyes flicked from where Jack stood to the scoreboard, scanning over the information about him that was displayed there and lingering on the giant image of his smiling face. 

But when you heard the groan of the crowd, your attention snapped back to home plate, where Jack was arguing with the umpire over the previous call, his head shaking back and forth. He stepped back into the box, but you could see his irritation, though it didn’t last for long.

He swung on the next pitch and made contact again, sending the ball straight through between first and second. It rolled halfway into the outfield before anyone got to it, and you got to your feet and cheered, the sound signaling that a run scored loud through the speakers. Not only had he gotten his first hit after the injury, but he’d batted someone in, giving the Cavalry the lead. 

And when the next player swung hard, sending the ball up and out and over the center field wall, the stadium erupted - Jack raising his arm and pumping his fist as he rounded third, before stopping to wait for his teammate to make it home. They celebrated for a few seconds and then off the field, and you slung an arm around Caleb as both of you cheered, too. 

They took a three run lead into the next inning, and then handled their business, setting the batters down 1-2-3 thanks to a double play that Jack initiated. You could see his confidence in every movement; his body remembering exactly what he needed to do to be successful on the field even after weeks away. And he’s good at it, too. That makes a difference.  

Caleb left the seats to fill up his cup from the fountain at the top of your section, and by the time he came back the game had started again. It was a productive inning. You spent more of it on your feet than sitting, joining the crowd in cheering as the Cavalry scored three more runs. But when Jack’s turn to bat came, you realized what the celebration meant. 

“They took him out.” You looked down at Caleb, watching as he frowned. “They’ve got such a lead, that it’s better to rest him, and …” 

“That’s stupid.” Caleb crossed his arms, sighing. “He only batted twice.” You agreed, but you also weren’t the manager of a baseball team. You figured he had a better idea of what the right strategy was when it came to Jack’s rehab … even if it did disappoint you that you wouldn’t get to see him at the plate or on the field again. 

The rest of the game went by quickly, and though they gave up a few runs, your team ended up winning handily. Caleb requested to stay and watch the on-field celebration after, and as the players lined up for high fives and handshakes before leaving for the locker room, you focused, too. Maybe he’ll come back out for a second. 

It was stupid and you knew it, but the moment the field emptied, it meant that the night - and the experience in Jack’s seats - was over… and you didn’t want it to be.

He took his place in line - still wearing his uniform but without his hat - and you watched as he greeted the other players, smiling and laughing with them as they interacted. You couldn’t hear him, but you could tell he was happy, and that made you smile, too. Maybe he really will be back in Louisville by next week. 

The handshakes ended, and when Jack headed back toward the dugout, he didn’t look in your direction again - until right before he made it to the top of the steps. 

It was then that he stopped, eyeing the seats until he saw the two of you. You tried not to react, but Caleb didn’t hide his response; the boy raising his hand and waving wildly. Jack laughed at the sight of it, lifting one of his hands in a wave, too. 

You thought that was it, but then his head turned just enough that he made direct eye contact with you. 

Even from the distance, you could see one side of his mouth lift into a half smile as he nodded, raising one hand and touching the tips of his fingers to his temple before tipping them toward you. Your smile grew and you nodded in return, but before you could do anything else, Jack disappeared into the dugout, leaving the two of you standing in front of the seats. 

Well that was something. Biting your lip and letting out a breath through your nose, you turned your attention toward Caleb, saying his name. “Alright, kiddo. We’re going to go to the bathroom before we head out, because I am not stopping twenty minutes into the drive to let you pee.” 

— 

You’d expected Caleb to talk your ear off the entire drive home. Instead, he fell asleep before you made it back to the highway, leaving you with your thoughts on the drive back. 

And you would have been lying if you said that most of those thoughts weren’t of Jack. 

The interaction with him had been limited, sure. But it had been meaningful in more than one way, for both you and Caleb. He had a cool story that he could tell his friends, and pictures that he could show them. You’d look back on the way his gaze on you had felt and remember the thrill of being on the receiving end of one of his bright smiles. 

You didn’t know him any more than any other person that had ever seen him play or interacted with him briefly, but that didn’t matter. Even if you never spoke to him again, and never saw him in any capacity aside from on the field, you’d have that night as a memory. And a damn good one.

After dropping Caleb off and promising Erin a recap the following day, you drove the short distance to your house and parked in the driveway, turning the car off and enjoying the silence for a few seconds before unbuckling your seatbelt. 

Your house was quiet and dark as you moved through it, leaving your shoes and bag by the front door and grabbing your phone before heading upstairs. You tossed that onto your bed and went into the bathroom, scrubbing your face and changing into your pajamas before staring at your reflection in the mirror. 

You’d been single for six months, and though you’d talked to a few men through the same dating app Erin had used to meet Troy, none of the conversations had led anywhere past the first awkward meetings. It wasn’t that the men weren’t interested, it was you that was selective, opting not to waste your time with anyone that reminded you of the time you’d spent with your most recent ex. 

You knew that you were being picky, but you were content with that knowledge, even if it meant a longer period of being on your own before you found the right person. And Jack couldn’t ever be the right person. You wrinkled your nose while you brushed your teeth, still watching yourself in the mirror. Because he’s been consistently single for his entire career. 

Jack kept much of his personal life private, but Janie was the exception to that. 

And after climbing into bed and plugging your phone in, you searched their names, refreshing your memory of the story that you’d become familiar with when The Statesman had first drafted Jack. 

They’d been high school sweethearts, opting to go to college together. He was going to play ball and major in engineering, and her chosen field was communications. It was clear from all of the pictures of the two of them you found that though they were young, they were in love. 

Everything had gone well for the first few months; Jack and Janie settled in on campus, started classes and began making friends. They’d come home together for Christmas, and Jack was set to begin baseball in January with the rest of the team. 

But only a few weeks into the pre-season, the unthinkable happened: Janie stopped at a convenience store to buy coffee on her way to meet her study group off campus while Jack was at a team workout, and was caught in the middle of a robbery. She hadn’t even made it to the hospital, and Jack had considered quitting the team due to his grief. 

Her parents had convinced him otherwise - reminding him that he’d worked hard for years to get to where he was, and that she wouldn’t have wanted him to give up on his dreams on her account. His parents had agreed, though there were interviews where they admitted that they would have understood if he’d chosen to take a break or even quit outright. 

And Jack had taken a few weeks off, but was ready to go on opening day, dedicating his season to Janie and her family. He was a skilled player, there was no question about it, but the coverage of a D1 athlete losing his girlfriend in such a shocking manner helped draw attention to the man and his performance, and it hadn’t taken him long to grab the attention of scouts. 

He’d had some attention in high school, too, though nothing had panned out - aside from the offer of a partial athletic scholarship. That all changed in his sophomore year when everyone really took notice of his exceptionally high fielding percentage and his infectious enthusiasm toward his teammates. 

Jack declared for the draft that was to take place a month after finishing his junior year - only days after his 21st birthday, and The Statesman had taken him with the fourth overall pick in the first round. 

The rest was history. 

He’d played with The Cavalry for almost four seasons before getting his first call-up, and though it had been toward the end of the regular season, Jack had received an invite to Spring Training the following year … and he’d never gone back. 

In his second season with The Statesman, he’d been named the starting shortstop, making a name for himself with both his agility and personality. His teammates loved him. The community loved him. The cameras loved him, and in the five seasons he’d played in his original position, he earned two gold gloves and got voted into the All-Star Game once. 

But he was injury prone, and after careful consideration, they moved Jack from shortstop to third base. It was an adjustment period for everyone involved, though after a few years of playing the position, it seemed almost natural for him, and there were fewer injuries. 

Until earlier that season, anyway, when Jack had misjudged a slide into second and jammed his shoulder, spraining a muscle and knocking him out of all baseball activities for weeks. He’d gone on the 60 day injured list, though you’d seen him at more than a few games in the dugout before he’d headed down to rehab with The Cavalry. 

He was lucky he hadn’t needed surgery, and even luckier that there’d been no complications with his healing. According to the newest articles you read as you scrolled online that night, Caleb was correct and the team was aiming to have Jack re-activated by the following weekend so that he could finish the final 7 weeks of the season in the majors. Which is where he deserves to be.

You sighed and rolled onto your side, eyes still on the screen - and on a picture of Jack that had been taken a week or two earlier during a Statesman season ticket holder event. He was grinning from behind the bar, one hand holding a glass and the other pulling on a tap to pour someone a drink. 

“Enough.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. Doing a deep dive on Jack wasn’t going to change anything, even if it was keeping you occupied as you wound down for the night.

But before you put the phone down and rolled in the opposite direction, you couldn’t help opening his instagram page and checking his tagged photos, just to see if the woman from next to you had posted the picture like she said she would. 

There were countless pictures of Jack in his uniform posted - everything from on-field screenshots to pictures of him with his teammates and family - but those were dotted with more personal ones; people tagging him in photos of themselves, edited photos, or photos of Jack alone that had been taken from other sources. You didn’t have far to scroll before you found the picture of Jack and the woman, tapping it with one finger to make it bigger. 

She’d put more than one filter on it, smoothing out her features and his, and when you zoomed in on it, you wrinkled your nose. Why would you filter him? He doesn’t need it. Even with the filtering, you could see the bored look in Jack’s eyes, his smile small and tight. Not like it was with Caleb. 

She’d captioned the picture with a black and a yellow heart bracketing the number 7, and it already had more than a few likes. She also had a story, and even though you knew that she’d be able to see who viewed it, you didn’t care, hesitating for only a second before tapping on it. 

The girl - whose name was Brittany - had posted a few times throughout the game; pictures from in her seat, a video of Jack walking up to the plate, her grinning at the camera at the end of the game with the scoreboard behind her… but the final story post was clearly a picture of a parking lot with a tall fence around it, and what looked like a security guard in the corner. She went to the lot. 

You sighed, backing out of the story - and her profile - and going back to Jack’s, eyes lingering on his account’s picture. You followed him, and had for years - liking and commenting on the pictures he posted as well as tagging him and the other players in the occasional ones you’d taken at games. He’d never replied or acknowledged them in any way, though. 

And he won’t, you admitted to yourself as you closed out of the app and opened your alarm, making sure that it was set. “Good luck, Jack.” Closing your eyes after setting the device down on your bedside table, you rolled away from it and got comfortable. As you settled in, you let your thoughts wander back to earlier - to the way Jack’s eyes had warmed when he’d smiled at you, and the way his smile had widened when he saw you and Caleb sitting in his seats. 

You would have been lying if you’d said that the memories didn’t make you feel good. It didn’t matter that he’d likely smiled at hundreds of others in the same way. He’d made the night special for you and for Caleb, and that was the important thing. 

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep - and Jack followed you into your dreams… which you didn’t mind at all. 

— 

You didn’t have a meeting until 10:30 the following morning and so you slept in a little, taking a shower and getting dressed before you even checked your messages. 

There were a few from Erin, asking for details, and you promised you’d reach out once you had a break. But before then, you needed to focus and settled in in front of your laptop, clicking open your first email of the day. Back at it. 

You worked steadily until almost 1 PM, checking things off of your to-do list and scheduling a second consultation with the same client for the end of the following week. You typically worked virtually - and had since your uncle had hired you a few years prior - but there were occasional accounts that required your presence in person. And this one’s going to be one of them. 

That wasn’t an issue. Their offices were located in New Orleans, and you were looking forward to potentially spending a few paid days in the city. But we’ll see. 

While you waited for your lunch to heat, you called Erin, your friend picking up on the second ring and groaning into your ear. “Whatever happened yesterday must have been incredible because Caleb hasn’t shut up since he woke up this morning.” 

“It was pretty great, Erin,” Taking a seat at your kitchen table, you laughed. “I sent him the pictures, did he -”

“He’s already set the one of him and Jack as his phone background. And he’s been bugging me to take him to get them printed.” You weren’t surprised; Caleb loved baseball, and the opportunity that he’d had at the game the previous night had likely meant the world to him. “So how did that happen? He just offered you the tickets?” 

“Pretty much. He stopped to sign for Caleb, and just out of nowhere, asked where we were sitting.” You wet your lips, laughing. “And then once he knew we were in the outfield seats, he just … pointed at the dugout and told us that we could sit in his instead.” 

“He offered them to Caleb? Or to -”

“Well… sort of.” You stood, looking out your back window. “He asked your brother where we were sitting but he was looking at me when he offered the tickets…” You pulled your food out of the microwave and set it down to cool. “And then when we were in the seats, he made eye contact with me a couple times, but -”

“How hot is he up close?” You snorted, but she continued. “Because that picture of him and Caleb? That man’s hand is -”

“Really hot.” Humming in agreement, you reached for a fork. “And he seemed really nice, too. Paid more attention to the kids than to the adults. There was this girl sitting next to us and she was clearly trying to catch his eye, but he barely looked at her.” You figured that he was a professional and wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize his reputation while on the field - and in front of younger fans. But still. She made it obvious. “He was polite, but he was just … going through the motions.” 

She hummed again, the sound non-committal as you took your first bite. “But not with you. And not with Caleb.” No, I guess not. “You should post those pictures and tag him.”

“Erin, I’m not trying to -”

“No, just hear me out. Maybe he’ll see them. And maybe he’ll remember you. And maybe he’ll -”

“Erin, come on. That’s a fantasy. I’m sure he’s got a million people tagging him every day. He won’t even see it if I do.” 

“You never know. It can’t hurt.” She said your name, the tone teasing. “And since Caleb’s account is private since he’s twelve, it makes sense you’d post ‘em for him. He really had a lot of fun with you. He’s already asking if you want to go to a game again.”

“Yeah. There’s still a little over a month left this season, so I’m sure we can figure out a weekend to see the Statesman. I’ll third wheel with you and Troy.” She laughed at that, agreeing. “I’m going to go, though. I need to eat. I have to run and analyze metrics for two campaigns this afternoon, and it’s going to take forever.” 

You hung up soon after, but as you ate, you contemplated what she’d said about posting the pictures. It was really no different than any of the other games you’d been to or posted about. You’d taken pictures that weren’t of Jack, and those could go up, too. Why not post the one of him and Caleb? It’s a good picture. 

After sending the final email for the day, you shut your laptop and changed into more comfortable clothes before stretching out on the couch. You needed to go to the store, but figured it could wait til later … and you had pictures to post. 

You chose five of them - one of the field from the concourse, one of the scoreboard, a picture from the seats, and then two of Jack and Caleb - one while he was signing and the other of them looking at the camera, which you made the main image. Choosing a caption was harder than picking the pictures themselves, but you finally opted for something extremely neutral: First @The_Cavalry game of the season. Great game, even better seats, and @CalebOnBase got to meet his favorite player. 

You tagged the picture - adding Jack and The Statesman’s accounts - and thought about adding one of Jack’s walk up songs to the post. No. That looks too desperate. So you posted it without, taking one final look at the images - and lingering on Jack’s smile - before you checked the Cavalry’s account to see if they’d posted that night’s lineup. 

Jack was starting again, but instead of being in at 3rd, he was the designated hitter. So he’ll get to bat, but can save his arm. It made sense, and you figured that if all went well, he’d only play in a game or two more before being called back up to the majors. And he’ll be back here. It made you smile, and the expression widened when you got a comment on the post from Caleb - four baseballs and the thumbs up emoji. 

You’d done your part, and that was that. Caleb could see that you’d posted the photos, and if by chance Jack saw the tag, he’d also see that you appreciated the seats he’d allowed you to sit in. With one final look at the pictures, you nodded and then sat up, sighing. 

“Alright. Grocery shopping’s not going to do itself.”

— 

You were stunned the next afternoon when you got an alert that The Cavalry tagged you in a story, and didn’t even try to hold back your grin when you saw that they’d reposted your pictures. You got a comment from their account a few seconds later - Glad you had a great time, thanks for coming! - the words accompanied by a blue heart and a baseball. 

After sending the link to Erin so that she could show her brother, you set your phone down, returning to the work you were doing. You stayed busy throughout the rest of the day, and even though your phone kept lighting up with new alerts - strangers liking the pictures and commenting on your post, it didn’t break your focus. 

And by the following day, things were pretty much back to normal. The story was gone, strangers weren’t still finding your profile, and you’d opted to work for most of Saturday morning to get ahead, which meant that you could take Monday off. And I can take a nap. I haven’t been able to do that in weeks. 

You pulled the drapes shut and then climbed into bed, the darkened room helping you to relax much faster than you anticipated. There was no need to set an alarm, and so you didn’t, figuring that you’d wake up on your own when you got hungry… which you did, just after 6 PM. Maybe I’ll order food. I don’t feel like cooking. 

You stretched, pointing your toes, and then reached for your phone, mentally flipping through restaurant options. But you froze with the device in front of your face as the screen lit up, eyes zeroing in on the alert in the center of it. 

Whiskey_Jack7 liked your post

---

[whalesforhands]

of public transport and amusement parks

summary: gojo satoru has been sheltered his whole life, never having seen the amenities available to the general populace until his first year of highschool. (ft.first year!sashisu)

The turnstiles clatter against a certain someone’s thigh, a clench of teeth, red cheeks and the shine of a slightly teary gaze as his hands quickly fly to grip onto the affected area.

Gojo Satoru is not going to admit he was hurt by the inanimate gate that allowed entrance into what his classmates called ‘public transport’.

“What an idiot.” Ieiri Shoko is sipping upon an iced coffee, the bitterness lingering on her tongue as she crossed her arms, her totebag shifting slightly as she rolled her shoulder.

“Rich people are certainly a different breed.” Geto Suguru is less than impressed by that new pompous classmate of his, a quirked brow and narrowed eyes.

“Is he… Okay?” You’re in two minds as your nervous eyes flitter between your all too calm classmates and the one practically kneeled over in pain.

“He’s perfectly fine. Look at him.” Suguru’s tilting his head towards the boy that was limping towards your little group, a frown on his face and words said through gritted teeth. “Commoner amenities…”

“Oho? I thought you were the one who wanted to go?” Geto’s face is smug as he watches irritation emanate from his classmate, your form inbetween the both of them as you feel the tension raise.

Oh no.

“Spouting off as if you’re so high and mighty, am I starting to rub off on you, Weird Bangs?” A provocation as sunglasses start to slide down the length of his nose.

“Dream on, pretty boy. I’d rather swallow a thousand curses.” Flared purple meet egoistic blue.

“Why? Don’t feel like talking things out with me?” A smirk upon his good-looking face. “I’ll make sure to say everything real~ slow for your ears.”

Rising attitudes and sparks fly.

(You’re trying to hide your face behind your sunhat and pretend you don’t know these two.)

“Oiii, train’s coming in 2 minutes.” Thank goodness for Shoko, you feel her arm hoop around your arm. A hushed whisper under her breath.

“Let’s go before they start a brawl.”

Grand opening of XY Amusement Park! The largest ferris wheel, the fastest rollercoasters, a beautiful carousell and much more! Come enjoy a fun-filled day of adventure with your family and friends!

(Not to mention the cheap entrance fee just for students.)

And Gojo Satoru was hooked. It was a spur of the moment decision, a yearning want in his chest, an impulse that pushed him to burst into the dorm loungeroom, flyer in hand and sparkling eyes that expected full compliance.

“Huh?” Geto Suguru is blinking at the flyer basically thrusted into his face. “You’re into this kind of thing?” Copper-purple scan over the colourful words and cute mascots littering the paper before he lifts an arm to push it away.

“Stop smushing it onto my face, I can see perfectly—“

“Weird bangs, I demand you to show me the way to this!” The flyer is pulled away to reveal an all-encompassing blue that commanded attention; a hint of childish excitement within those sparkling orbs.

A look of disgust. “No way. Get there yourself.” Geto easily dismisses him as his gaze flits back to the book upon his lap. “This kinda thing is a waste of time.”

A quick rejection, but as a Gojo, he won’t give up so easily.

“Oi, healing girl! How do I get to this place?”

“I-ei-i-ri.” She slowly enunciates each syllable of her last name, her grimace slowly devolving into a smirk upon her face as she notices the irritation on the white-haired boy grow. “Why? Can’t figure it out yourself, genius?”

She still hasn’t forgiven him for eating the strawberry roll cake you had bought for her earlier this week.

Another rejection. Will he really not get to go afterall…? Maybe he can ask Yaga or somethin— His ears perk up at the sound of a muted squeak.

Crystal blue immediately shoots to your form reading a magazine on the sofa, hiding your face away behind the papers as you curl up and make yourself seem small.

A devious grin.

“Sayyyyy…” He thinks for a moment, eyes narrowed and a smirk upon his face. “(name).” A shiver runs down your spine at the mention of it, drawled out with each syllable enunciated with an underlying motive.

“You know, I’ve always been locked away in my home.” There’s a groan from Geto at your side, a chuckle from Ieiri at the table.

Gojo chooses to ignore both of them. “It’s been so lonely… And I’ve never gotten to experience such peasant activities.” A sideways glance reveals that his head is downturned, a melancholic smile upon his face.

“It would be nice to have some memories…”

You can still sense the evident pompous nature in his words, yet you still freeze in expected guilt, nervous eyes hooked onto the same sentence you’ve been rereading since he entered the room. It looks like ruffles are a charm point this season…

A patter of socks against the wooden floor, and he’s towering above your sitting form, sunglasses pinned onto your ‘distracted’ self.

“You wouldn’t deny me the chance to have a normal highschool life, would you?” A pout in his words as you slowly start to lower the magazine.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he wants to involve himself in such activities…

——

“None of you have any sense at all~” Ieiri Shoko is absolutely glowering with pride, a flip of her short hair as she holds onto the stuffed whale that she had just won. A lovely blue, fluffy and mochi-like in texture, beady little eyes and a dopey smile. It was adorable.

A win of the century, as compared to the tiny windchime Geto held and the empty hands of Gojo.

“How did you even do that…?” Suguru is at a loss for words as his little consolation prize jingled lightly.

“Huh? You don’t get it?” Shoko’s smile grows ever wider. “It’s just like a fwoo, you have to let it go; then it just happens.” The look on her face was just too proud, the explanation just far too lousy.

Gojo Satoru’s head steams with confusion as Geto Suguru just scratches his head.

“Too bad then.” She’s humming as she approaches you with her grand prize. “(last name), here.”

Your eyes are widening slightly, squeezing the softness of it in your hug. It’s— freaking adorable.

“You’ll… Really give this to me?” Your face feels hot, embarrassment and gratitude flooding through your very veins.

“(last name).” A snap of fingers fail to snap you out of the staring trance you were in. Confused brown following your trail of sight to the large, fluffy mass that was the whale you couldn’t keep your eyes off of. A carnival prize?

“Oiiii.” She tries again, and there’s yet another failure, your eyes still blank. Looks like there’s only one solution. She turns around to face the arguing duo, cutting in their conversation.

“Anyone up for a challenge?”

“Thank you, Ieiri…!” You stare down at its beady little eyes. “I love it!” A cuddle into its face as you giggle.

The smile upon your face is worth it enough for her, a satisfied hum leaving her as she twirls her hair.

“Show-off.” Gojo crosses his arms as he pouts. He clearly could’ve won that too!

“If you’re so upset,” Shoko’s eyes gleam with mischief as they spot the haunted house attraction close by. “I have just the perfect thing.”

——

“Ieiri…?” You’re whispering into the still darkness as you take a step forward, arms crossed tight to your chest as you continue forward slowly. “Are you there…?”

(The haunted house required you to place everything you held into a locker for safekeeping.)

“See? There’s nothing to be afraid of—“ She’s cut off abruptly as a hand appears on her shoulder, pulling her into the darkness unnoticed as you turn the corner.

Now you’re all alone, wandering the creepy halls lined with lingering shadows and unsettling sounds that made you squeak in surprise. It wasn’t long before a jumpscare caused you to turn tail, backing up quickly only to hit something akin to a person, your screams echoing through the halls before a hand is placed over your mouth.

“Please calm down—“ The familiar calming voice of Geto Suguru is blown into your ears. “It’s just me.”

(Oh. You feel like smacking him for scaring you like that.)

——

You can barely make out the silhouette of him in this dreary dark, always trailing a little too far from him. “Ah— Here. Hold onto my arm.”

“Are you scared, (last name)?”

You nod, only to hear a laugh that makes you hot with embarrassment, your body immediately facing away from him with a self-conscious pout. “Sorry, sorry.” You hear him stifle his chuckle. “We quite literally deal with curses. It’s funny that you’re still afraid of such things.”

“I-It’s just the atmosphere…! I’ll be fine after we get—“

There’s a sudden crying wail of a child, one that causes you to jump in surprise, your classmate immediately standing in front of you protectively as he feels you tense up.

“Mama…! Mama, I’m sorry! I won’t run away from you anymore!” There’s a little boy sitting upon the ground, knees to his chest and crying. “Please save me…!”

“(last name),” His eyes turn to look down at you. “You can open your eyes now, it’s not a jumpscare.”

Geto was the first to realize.

Are the staffs not around? How could they miss him? You notice the ordinary civilian clothing he donned, out of place from the ‘deep sea terror’ theme of the haunted house.

He certainly was not an attraction.

——

“And your name?” The little boy was held in your arms as he continued to sniffle lightly, small hand gripping onto your shirt as you walked towards the exit.

“Junpei…” He blows his nose into Suguru’s handkerchief. “Yoshino…”

“Yoshino,” Your voice takes on a stern, yet all too gentle tone. “It’s bad to run from your mother. She could be so worried about you, you know?”

You feel him bury his face into your shoulder, a whimper coming from his already small voice.

“You have to apologise to her, okay?”

“Okay… I promise, big sister…”

Geto Suguru finds it funny how your fear disappeared the instant you had to help someone, how quickly you disregard everything else. You didn’t even notice that you were walking ahead of him, fear absolutely dissipated as you near the exit.

“You’re a good kid, Yoshino.” A grin on your face is just barely seen, a look of gentle fondness and happy eyes.

He thinks it’s kind of cute.

——

“Crepes.” He repeats the words back to you as you hold the strawberry cream flavoured one out to him.

“Yes, Gojo-san…”

(Geto was actually off puking his guts out after losing to Gojo in the parfait-coaster showdown. Just what kind of monster is this menace to be able to down 5 overly sweetened parfaits without a sweat? Especially after they had just rode the biggest rollercoaster available there 7 times in a row.

Ieiri just wanted a smoke break.)

So that left the both of you. Alone. Together.

“Um— G-Gojo-san, would you like—“ Your eyes are darting throughout the park. You really, really feel the awkwardness of being left alone with him without Ieiri or Geto here to subvert his attention towards them.

“Crepes?! I-I’ll pay!”

That’s 1300 Yen down the drain…

“So this is what I’ve seen in all those anime.” He’s close, poking at the treat and the shine of the glaze. “Commoner street food.”

“Ahaha— Ha… Yea.” You want to die, gulping nervously when you catch a glimpse of the wholly unimpressed gaze he gives you. The dessert is gingerly plucked from your hands, an almost bored gaze having trained their eyes on it, before they flicker back up to you.

He’s unnerving.

You’re twiddling with your fingers, eyes looking to the side as you feel sweat start to form from your nerves. Please, please…! Any god up there please make him stop scrutinizing you so much…!

“…it’s— Good!” His eyes are shimmering, cream on the corner of his lips as he takes another bite, and another, and another. There’s an entire crepe stuffed into his mouth before he knows it.

A jolly melody gallops into his ears, his eyes widened, sparkling with childish wonder.

“What? Whatcha staring for?”

“Your lips—“ You point to the corner of your own pair. “There’s something there…”

A pointed stare and following silence.

“Well? Get it for me?” It’s expectant, almost as if he was asking you what you were waiting for. Is this a byproduct of being waited on hand and foot? Nevertheless, your own handkerchief is produced from your pocket, leaning up to dab lightly at his chin.

It was meant to be a joke. He didn’t expect you to actually— Did you always smell so good? Your sudden close proximity shoots a tingle into his cheeks, hell, not even those maidservants got this close to him—!

“O-oi—“ Your eyes look up to stare at his, head tilted to the side and a pretty (colour) that he never really got to look at up close, his hand subconsciously holding onto your wrist as you began to pull away.

Did you always look so—

“Uhm… Did you want the handkerchief too…?”

A breeze flutters by your hair, the swaying in the wind causing a swirling in his heart. His eyes are slightly widened as they keep staring into your own, a pause in the atmosphere as his senses are all focused on you.

(He’s just been staring at you. You really want to run away now.)

“I-I’m sorry, you can have it too…” You release your wrist from his grip and place the cloth onto his palm, nervous stuttering and tripping of your words. “I think I heard Geto calling for help…”

And you ran. (You really liked that handkerchief…!)

Gojo Satoru realizes there’s quite a few things he doesn’t know about you, the fabric of your handkerchief soft against his palm the flutters of it much alike his heart.

——

“What are you listening to?” His voice is quiet, smooth on your ears that tingle slightly due to the proximity.

“Just… Something, I suppose.” Your whisper back to him is barely audible, trying to keep your conversation hushed as Shoko’s head nuzzled on your lap. If you’re being honest… You have no clue what you’re listening to, the old portable music player softly murmuring lyrics into your ears.

“I don’t think I know this song…”

The mere sight of seeing Gojo Satoru passed out upon Geto Suguru, your whale plushie hugged tight to his chest and his head lolling about the long-haired boy’s shoulder as drool seeped from the corner of his lip.

(You’d think that your usually gentle classmate would throw him off… But you’re pleasantly surprised he didn’t. It’s strangely… Relaxing right now.)

“…do you like it?” His soothing voice is refreshingly clear within the mumbling snores of your 2 other classmates.

“Mmm…” Your eyes close to focus on the sound just a little bit more. You don’t think you can really decide, or make an unbiased decision when your heart just feels so at ease.

A decisive hand removes the bud from the side closest to Geto, body shifting ever so slightly and nudging a fast asleep Ieiri that doesn’t stir. Your careful fingers gently prod his ear, a sheltered lull playing that begets an amused chuckle.

He could just imagine your face right now, proud, and anticipating silently for his reaction as he loses focus on the song.

It was on that day that Geto Suguru decided that you really were cute.

masterlist

Notes:

Shoko and Suguru only decided to go after you agreed to bring Satoru.

Gojo Satoru has been to amusement parks before. It’s just that whenever he went, the entirety of the park was booked, an army of bodyguards followed him to-and-fro in utmost silence and it was just… Lonely and unenjoyable.

Jujutsu High provides assistants that will drive students to their mission sites. Keyword; Mission sites. Hence Gojo’s request for private transportation was denied.

Gojo Satoru learned that taking the train isn’t as complicated as it seemed.

Geto got separated from Gojo in the haunted house, and he found you by following your screams.

nvy’s aftertalk:

guys i had so many rejected drafts for this i couldn’t decide which ones to put 😭😭

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

so idea for a Spirited Away AU, if you wanna, fair warning i am awful at writing so if i try i honestly hope someone else will pick it up for me

Adam as Chihiro

Lucifer as Haku

Alastor as Yubaba

Lilith as Zeniba

Angel as Lin

Pentious as Kamaji

Charlie as Yubaba’s baby (Charlie can be kidnapped as a baby and not knowing that Alastor isn't her parent)

Husk as Yubaba’s bird thing

idk who to have be the Great Water Spirit

Nifty as the three bouncing green heads (idk who else would be the other two alongside her so for now shes just gonna be all of them)

the only other characters i can think of are the two frog demons who are racist, maybe the Vees as them?

Adam ends up in the Demon realm after his moms and him get lost on the drive to their new home, Sera and Rosie are turned into pigs for stealing the food that was meant for the demons, Adam has to go and work at the Radio Demon’s Bathhouse to repay the debt his mothers owe so he can have them back and go home. Alastor tricks Adam into signing a contract to work at the bathhouse without pay, Adam meets Angel Dust who is a fellow worker of the bathhouse, Angel shows him what to do to help the hundreds of other demons around the bathhouse. Adam ends up meeting a cute man named Lucifer who can’t remember who he was before he started working at the bathhouse but feels like he has some kind of connection to Adam, like he knew him somehow.. anyway Adam is very quickly isolated by the rest of the bathhouse staff because he is human (humans have a scent that demons find to be gross).

i would write out the rest of the plot but i don't want to miss anything because i haven't seen it in a while..

Anyway how it starts!

Adam sighed as he looked out the car window at the scenery rushing past. He hugs a bouquet gifted to him by his friend as a parting gift,

"Hope you have fun wherever you move, I'll miss you <3

To Adam From Eve"

he reads the card that was hastily stuck into the center of the bundle of flowers. Adam sighs again, he didn't want to move, but his moms got a job opportunity that they couldn't pass up. He scowls at them, angrily glaring at the backs of their heads. "I can feel your stare Starlight," spoke Sera, "I don't like uprooting you from your friends, but we really need the money, I hope one day you'll understand that.." she trails off frowning.

Looking back out the window, the scenery has changed from hills and farmland to a dense forest, "Where are we mom?" Adam says as he spots a strange statue nestled in the woods as they pass through. "This is a shortcut, don't worry Starlight," his other mom, Rosie says turning in the passenger seat to try and make eye contact with him, "We'll probably beat the moving vans to the house even though we left half an hour after them," she chuckled lightly. Adam stared blankly at her, "I think we're lost," he deadpanned.

"There's no way that we're lost, I know what I'm doing, trust me sweetheart," Sera confindently says, though she begins to slow to a stop because there is something blocking the way foreward. "uh huh, yeah definitely believe you mom," Adam says as he looks at whats in front of the car.

It looks like an old entrance to a theme park that has been shut down for ages, he could see the moss and ivy growing on the big sign covered in rust.

"Lu Lu World.." Adam mumbled as he read the sign. Sera stopped the car and turned it off, "What are you doing mom?" Adam says as he feels a shiver go down his spine, "Why aren't we turning around? This is clearly a dead end.." Adam stares at his mothers as they both get out of the car without responding to his questions.

Adam gets out of the car and follows them at a distance, "Somethings not right about this.. We should go, I don't feel safe." Adam said, voice quivering as he felt a gust of wind brush by him, feeling as if its trying to pull him towards the gates and turnstiles of the abandoned park.

Sera turns to him, looking mildly out of it for a second before her eyes clear, "Come on, let's take a peek at this place, I've never heard of it before.. It'll be an adventure!" Rosie nods with her own matching excited grin, "We haven't done something fun as a family in a while, come on Adam, it'll be fun. We'll just do a little exploring and then we'll go, okay?"

Adam shook his head, "I don't like this.." He stayed standing by the car. Sera spoke, her tone disappointed "Well, we're going in, so if you want to stay here at the car alone you can." Adam stared at her, its as if something has possessed his mothers and is making them need to do this. Adam stands defiantly at the hood of the car holding the card from the bouquet tightly in his hand.

Sera and Rosie turn to the looming gates of Lu Lu World and begin walking through, as they get farther and farther away Adam feels a creeping unease, he doesn't want to be alone in the middle of this forest, he took at deep breath and ran after his mothers.

He jumps over the turnstiles and skids to a stop right behind them, he pinches the excess fabric of Sera's dress as a way to calm himself. He's not alone, his moms are there, he'll be fine, just stay calm.

They finally make it through the tunnel into the park, infront of them is a vast field of wild grass, the beginnings of the park a good distance away, "That's weird" Adam thought to himself. His mothers didn't stop for more than a moment to look around then they were trekking across the field towards the park. as they reach the stone steps up into the park there is a small stream flowing infront of the steps, all three of the family jump over it to the otherside.

Little did they know, they were walking into another plane of existence, by passing over the stream they are now in the demonic plane. Humans don't know that there's multiple planes of reality, its theorized by some, but most don't believe it to be possible. The demonic plane is the place where monsters and ghouls come from, demons and banshees, any monster you could imagine came from this plane.

{{thats all im up for doing tonight, ill write more tomorrow if you respond :D}}

I HAVE SEEN THIS MOVIE!!

It's been so long I forgot that's what it was called. But I love this and the idea!!

[postmodernbeliever]

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Two: Piglet Takes A Plane

^^ rip the gif quality ugh LOL

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 2,575

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You were not well-acclimated to flying. You’d gone on one trip in your life by plane, and it was from Massachusetts to Disney World; you were five, and your father held your hand the whole ride, and you had not a worry in the world. But now you’re older, bigger, and positively terrified of all the possibilities. Even in taking this job with the FBI, you somehow failed to consider the chance you’d need to travel. All that time spent working in New York got you used to staying in one place because God knows there’s enough crime up there to keep you stationed at home. But now, you need to fly halfway across the country just to start your job. You were a nervous wreck; Fox could see that by how you sat hunched over in your seat, flipping through your copy of the case files like a fugitive, jumping at the fuzzy announcements every time they reminded the gate-goers of their departure times. 

“Not a frequent flier, huh?”

“No.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fine. I fly all the time, I’m a pro, I’ve got all the tips,” the man attempted to comfort you, but it came out more like teasing. He shifted gears with, “Did you know that you’d have to fly every single day for nearly 10,000 years to get in a plane crash? The likelihood of you dying in a plain old car accident is way higher than the plane going down.”

You frowned in aggravation and grumbled, “Not helping.”

“What will help, then?”

The attendant interjected, her grating voice in the PA system blaring the worst news: “Flight 128, Dulles to Kansas City, will begin boarding now. Groups one and two, please make your way to the gate.”

Fox stood up and took your bag for you, chuckling to himself. When he caught a glimpse of the color leaving your face, he said, “Oh, come on, Piglet, the plane won’t go down! You’re gonna be okay, promise.”

You followed the man towards the front of the gate, where a line of people itching to board stood. The odd nickname rang in your ears like an alarm, panicking you along with the feeling jolting through your arms; you wanted to say something, but the anxiety paralyzing your limbs was much more pressing than your objection. Ignoring the urge, you stood behind Fox so you could watch how he got through- the attendant took his boarding pass, scanned it, and checked his passport photo. He smiled charmingly at the woman, whose eyelashes fluttered as she passed his papers back. Then, he walked through the little turnstile and stood on the other side, giving you an encouraging nod. He mouthed to you: Relax. 

You attempted to mirror the ease with which he went about passing through, but as you flashed the lady a nervous grin, you fumbled the things in your hands and dropped your passport. You bent down to grab it and bumped into the man behind you on the way back up. You muttered an apology, and he simply huffed in response.

The attendant stared at your passport photo, which you knew was nearly expired, and she said, “Changed your hair?”

Mortified- and slightly pissed off by her tone- you responded, “Seven years ago.”

She passed your belongings back and you walked through the checkpoint to Fox, but not without bumping into the bars before she unlocked them, yet again making yourself look like an idiot in front of the line. Your partner was biting back the most innocent laugh when you finally passed through. He’d never tell you, but he admired the way your face did the talking- all it took was one look to know how you felt about that woman, and the sheepish color in your cheeks was endearing. You tried to take your duffle from him, but he swung it away and clicked his tongue, so instead you walked onto the jet bridge, and he followed. Every few seconds you looked back to find he was still there, and each time his kind eyes put you at ease. You let out a heavy breath as you reached the plane door., where you were greeted by two flight attendants who looked at your boarding pass and pointed you in the proper direction. You made sure your partner was right behind you and tried not to giggle at the way he had to hunch. You knew he was tall, but inside a plane, he almost towered… or maybe you just thought he did, since you felt relatively small all morning. Attentively, you followed the aisle numbers just above your head down the line until you reached the middle of the cabin. Row 29, you thought to yourself, this is it. You scooted into the window seat and watched Fox push both yours and his luggage into the overhead compartment. You would’ve never imagined he was strong, given the pleasing lankiness of his body, but he didn’t lug or haul- he simply lifted. You turned your attention to the seat before you when he moved to loosen his tie and sit in the aisle seat of the row. 

Fox watched as you leaned back against the headrest to settle, taking note of your features. He stole a few glances yesterday when you were filling out paperwork for your transition into the Bureau on his old desk; for the first time, he wished his office wasn’t so dark. He didn’t get much of a chance other than when he offered to walk you to your car at the end of the night, which you gratefully accepted. He thought your car suited you, being compact and black, but with pictures pinned to the inside roof- reserved, understated, hiding things beneath the surface. His analytic brain was so intrigued by you. Here, where the lights weren’t so low, he could see a lot more. Your jaw had less sharpness and more of a curvature, molding your face into something of a heart; your eyelashes were long, and they curled upwards, mirroring your button nose. It had a little bump on the bridge, which he thought might be from long-term glasses-wearing, but he couldn’t be sure. His eyes traveled along your plump cheeks, a nervous red, just like your lips; your chin protruded a bit, but not too much, just enough. There was a warm feeling between his lungs, an odd one, but he kept looking at how your chest rose and fell anxiously, and wondered how your face could look serene when you felt anything but. 

“Excuse me, you’re in my seat.”

Fox’s head snapped around to see an older woman, gray hair to her shoulders, staring down at him with frustration. You opened your eyes as he muttered, “Oh, sorry. I’ll move over.”

You pulled yourself in tight, tucking your elbows between the armrests stiffly so Fox could scooch over and sit beside you. He smiled at your awkward position and said, “Loosen up Piglet. Everyone is too small for economy, you don’t have to suck it in for me.” You blushed and readjusted, offering him a tight-lipped grin. Another stress you’d had was taking up too much room in the seat, but he didn’t seem to find you did. Fox crossed his own over his chest to give up the armrest. You continued to take long, deep breaths as the seatbelt lights flashed, and when they announced preparation for takeoff. You were doing fine- when Fox started talking about the case, you even paid him half attention. But it all went downhill when the airplane engine began to rev beneath your feet. You tensed up like you were in pain, drawing Fox’s attention away from his ramblings. 

“What’s the matter?”

“I told you, I- I don’t like flying,”

“I know you don’t,” Fox spoke softly, “We’re on the wing, you know. I changed our seats last night so we got the wing. It’s the steadiest part during the flight. Nothing to be scared of.”

You looked out the little window by your shoulder, seeing the plane’s wing stretching out for what looked like forever. You couldn’t see the tarmac, only the span of it, white and comforting. Turning back to him, you realized you’d never seen a face so sincere. “You did?”

“No reason to make you suffer, right?”

Just as you went to really smile at him, the plane began rolling- no, hurtling into takeoff. In a fit of fear, you seized the armrest and shut your eyes. You’d had nightmares about plane crashes. You’d refused any trips that were too long by car. Between when he told you about the case yesterday and this morning, you’d imagined every possible disaster and had reached the epitome of paranoia about it. Yet here you were, stuck in the center of your fear. It felt like your ribs were burning up from the inside out.

You felt rough skin against your knuckles and opened your eyes to see a familiar hand on your own. Your gaze trailed up the arm to the face it belonged to. 

“I’m right here,” Fox leaned in close, and you saw those golden rings again. They seemed to glow. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

There were so many things you wanted to say, so many worries you wanted to voice, but you couldn’t. The sound of his comfort was a roadblock, and all your reckless thoughts smashed head-first into it, making it impossible to think in the pile-up. Instead, you nodded quickly and flipped your palm up, lacing your fingers with his. Pressing your head hard against the seat and swallowing butterflies that you couldn’t define as nervous or excited, you paid close attention to the way his thumb rubbed slow, deliberate circles into your hand. Through the rattling of the engine and the screaming whistle of the air curling around the wings, you felt his touch grounding you in mid-air. You forced yourself to get lost long enough that the plane was in flight for at least a minute or two before you opened your eyes again. 

Humiliated by what a sight you must’ve been, you loosened your deathly grip on Fox’s hand and apologized. “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, flexing his palm. “You’re strong. Didn’t hurt me, though.”

As you settled into the seat, you felt the ghost of his thumb on your knuckle. The skin was cold. You thought of how hard his hands were. Oddly warm. Curiosity nearly got the better of you as you saw him looking from the corner of your eye, but you pivoted to something else that bugged you. “Where did Piglet come from?”

“Huh?”

“Piglet. Before, at the gate, you called me Piglet.”

“Oh. That,” Fox giggled. You wondered how a guy could look so boyish and weathered all at once. “I don’t know, you’re just so… fretful.”

“Fretful?”

“Yeah. You worry about everything. Yesterday you were practically pulling hair out over those stupid processing papers. This whole plane thing has been a nightmare for you. I don’t blame you, I can be anxious myself… but it just seems like everything drives you crazy. I can imagine you just stressing out, running all around the woods rambling like Piglet does. Y’know, pacing, complaining, bugging Pooh.”

“Oh, and what, are you Pooh in this scenario?”

Fox feigned offense. “What, am I not carefree and- and honey-loving enough for you?”

“If you’re anybody, you’re Eeyore. Maybe some weird amalgamation of Eeyore and Tigger, since you think you’re so funny.”

“I can’t believe this!” Fox gasped jokingly, splaying his hand over his heart and wincing. “You’re brutal, Piglet. So brutal.”

You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, so you looked down to hide what you could of it. And in a stroke of confidence, you said, “If you’re gonna nickname me, can I at least suggest something?”

Fox craned his neck down playfully, searching for the eye contact that you were purposefully refusing him. You felt your cheeks heating up once again, and he must’ve seen it because his eyes twinkled. “Sure. Whatcha got?”

“Rosaline. Maybe Rosie. Something like that.” “Rosaline? Why?” 

When you did raise your head to meet his gaze, there was a genuine look of interest. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pouted in some gentle way, and he rested his chin in his hand like he was a student behind a desk, soaking up every second of a lecture. You blinked, suddenly embarrassed for speaking up. “Like Romeo’s Rosaline. She’s my favorite Shakespeare character. I, uh…”

Fox was fixed on you. When you trailed off, he insisted, “What about her?”

“Well, I had to do a project on her back in middle school. I had to come up with a new end scene, sort of like a “What if Romeo went back to Rosaline in the end?” type of deal. I- I got in her head a little, tried to understand what it must’ve felt like to be left by a lover out of nowhere… I don’t know, I guess I just resonated with her. I always thought she deserved better cards. I do love Romeo and Juliet, but I think how she disappears into their story is almost more tragic than how the play really ends sometimes… a-and after that, I always wished I had her name,” you gushed. As you realized how much you’d spoken, you mumbled, “Sorry. Dorky, I know.”

The agent ogled you like some specimen he’d never seen before. He knew he was making a face, but he couldn’t help it. You were like a curveball, just flying by and catching him off guard every chance you got. You thought about things in a way that made him want to think like you. Before you said anything, he hadn’t remembered who Rosaline was; his extent of knowledge was how hot the actress who played Juliet was in the 1968 adaptation he saw in school. But the way you looked when you explained it somehow made the man feel guilty for ever forgetting her, for just letting her be lost in time like everyone who suffered the whiplash of Romeo and Juliet’s love. For you to resonate with her, you must see yourself in her, and he wanted so desperately to understand why. Somewhere in the part of his brain where he stifles his thoughts, he knew he could never forget her name now- because by doing so, he’d be forgetting you. And that was not something he was prepared for.

Despite the churning in his stomach, Fox slapped on a smirk and joked, “Good job, you just reminded me of how much I hated Shakespeare when I was fourteen.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Well, we’ll see,” he teased, tipping his head back against his headrest and smiling. “Maybe I’ll go for it. But every time you freak out, we’re going straight to Piglet.”

“Yeah, fine… Eeyore.”

“What’d you call me?”

“Nothing!”

You playfully fell silent and turned towards the window, which you swiftly shut because you didn’t want to know how high up the plane was flying. From a seat over, Fox watched you close your eyes and zone out, and he thought to himself that if you happened to fall asleep in your seat, and your head lolled onto his shoulder, that he would let you rest on him, even if it meant holding his pee until landing. 

[gigagendergt]

NEW NOIR ROBOT G/T STORY LET'S GO

as of right now this is untitled. let me know if i should continue it!

The sun was orange in the smoke-haze of the slum chimneys by the time J-8 arrived at the crowded turnstile-filled entrance of the cellblock apartment building on Eleventh street. He, as always, brushed past the fee gates with impunity. The light on the turnstile he passed was broken and the bar only reached up to his thighs, but it still cranked its way in a jarred circle to let his metal lower half through.

The place was crawling with humans and they eyed him in suspicious tones or let out breath through their noses or, in one man's case, spit flavored tobacco on the floor as he passed by. Saffron and anise. The elevator was broken so he took the stairs as always, stepping up three at a time. The low ceilings of the place weren't up to code and he took care not to brush the metal lobe of his crown against the ceiling lest it damage it and cause one of the above occupants to fall through.

Everything human-built was fragile. If he was found of comparisons he might say it was like living with paper dolls in paper houses, but it had been Stell who came up with that one.

He arrived at the door a little past ten pm. It was painted a sad, peeling yellow. Stell's roommate Neely answered the knock. He was high and the smoke rolled past J-8 into the hallway. Behind Neely three or four others lay sprawled on blankets on the floor, watching the sticky TV screen. As Neely spoke they looked over. One, a girl with long blonde hair rolled into makeshift rag curlers, stood up violently at the sight of J-8.

"Oh, shit," Neely said. "Yo." He tried hard to extinguish the blunt he'd been smoking.

"It's fine, Neely," J-8 said.

"What the fuck is that doing here," the girl with the curlers shrieked.

"Hey," Neely said, raising his voice. "Chill. This is Stell's guy."

The girl grabbed a pastel pink bag from the counter and shuffled towards the window, keeping her body hunched towards the door in a suspicious C-shape.

"Hey, what the fuck," the man next to her said-- he was skinny, all angles and lines-- "that's a bot."

Neely looked back at them, looked back at J-8. His ineptitude was almost endearing. "Yeah," he said.

J-8 moved forward and Neely shuffled out of the way, cramming himself against the humming refrigerator. The room wasn't large and J-8 wasn't small and he had to move at unnatural angles to avoid touching Neely, whose heart rate had jumped at the sudden intrusion.

"I just need to talk to Stell," J-8 said.

"Well, fuck, man," Neely said, ducking under J-8's bent knee, "I'll go get her. Jesus. Betta, C-line, Mono, dip out the fire exit. We can chill on the roof."

The blonde ran over to the window and hauled it open, crawling out onto a metal terrace. As her bare feet vanished the skinny man glanced back at Neely.

"Yo," he said, "you good?"

Neely waved his hand frantically in the man's direction.

"All right," the man said, and followed the blonde. The last human, an androgynous figure with ripped-up jeans and a hook nose, stared at J-8 for a charged half-second before they moved to exit.

He ran records, ticking through the mental files. Mono. The alias rang a bell. A few counts of drug possession, distribution, forgery. J-8 had legal right to detain them but doing so would damage his relationship with Stell and he needed her more than he needed a petty conviction. Besides, drugs weren't this thing, or his AI's. He hadn't turned a dealer in for fifteen years.

Neely hobbled over the crowded floor to a thin stairwell: grabbed a tall orange bong with one hand as he went, stooped to sweep a few buds into his pocket with the other, and almost tripped over a number of ancient analog cassette players, which he collected. He vanished out of sight as he ascended the stairwell, and J-8 heard him rap on an unseen door and the answering creak of it opening. Stell emerged a few seconds later, Neely trailing behind.

She was descending the stairwell slower than usual and J-8 immediately clocked the broken rib she'd tried to hide by packing herself into a tall corset. It was looser than it should be, for one thing, and for another she was using it to immobilize her upper body, taking the corset's structure as support when she shifted side to side. She'd scrubbed off most of her makeup but streaks of black remained around the eyes where, J-8 knew, the cheap stick liner street girls wore lingered. J-8 connected Neely's earlier anxiety as his presence to Stell's injury and began redrafting his approach. Humans were complicated at the best of times. Scared and injured they were nigh unpredictable.

"All right," Neely said, waving his arms toward J-8 as Stell settled onto the floor and leaned back against the wall. "Have fun. Scream if you need me."

"Yeah, yeah," Stell said, pushing her palms against the linoleum and shuffling herself a bit higher so her back was flush against the cheap wallpaper.

Neely turned to head out the window and Stell watched him, pursing her lips. It wasn't until he shut the glass behind him that she turned to J-8.

"What do you want, big boy?" she asked. J-8 shifted, tucked his metal limbs into a cross-legged full lotus position.

"There's a new striker," he said. "Killed six in the past 48 hours."

Stell scoffed. "Well I know jack about that. Sorry."

"I know," J-8 said. "I came to hear about the humans."

Stell considered him with soft brown eyes.

"What about the humans?" she asked flatly.

"Did you know them, are there rumors, where did they live, who were they, what drugs did they take, why'd they sell out?"

"No I didn't know them, yes to the rumors, they lived out in the- well, two lived out in the brick building by Central, and the other lived I think over in Newsom, something like that- what were the other questions?"

"Who were they?"

"Oh, you know, street drags. One guy sold TV's. I think the girl was a busybody or something. I dunno about the big guy. Don't you have record for this stuff?"

"Had," J-8 said. "they got wiped."

"All of them?"

"Just the sellouts."

Stell let out a burst of laughter, then winced. "Fuck. That's funny. You got a rogue one huh?"

"It happens."

"Yeah, it sure fucking does."

J-8 inclined his head.

Stell yawned. "Fuck," she said. "Stinks in here."

J-8 said nothing.

"Are you gonna bust Neely?"

J-8 shook his head. "I don't do drugs."

"Oh, I forgot, you're a bleeding heart."

"I'm a tactician. Weed is harmless. Strikers aren't."

Stella pressed her lips into a suspicious line. "Except at the facility, right?"

"I don't have time for this, Stell."

Stella considered him, and some of the tension on her body eased. J-8 heard the smokers outside laugh through the thin wall of the apartment.

"I don't know," Stella said, pulling a thin glass vial from her pocket and smearing a white liquid onto her mouth with a finger. "That's the truth. Just what I told you already."

J-8 inclined his head. "Two in Central, one in Newsom, street drags, TV's, busybody."

"Yeah, that's about it."

J-8 pushed his weight up, unbound his legs. "Thanks, Stell. I'll check it out."

"Wait," Stell said. He paused. She leaned forward, rocked onto her feet with a wince, and slowly straightened.

"Knock 'em dead, cowboy," she said, and hobbled over to kiss his cheek. He permitted the action in tense silence, hyperaware of her broken rib, the fact she used sex as a connection to the unattainable, the way her infatuation with him would have to be discouraged if not broken entirely for her own safety.

She pulled back and he let his eyes drop to her rib. "I'll send a doctor by this afternoon," he said. "Confidential. No questions asked."

She sighed. "Fine. Be that way. I'll get you sooner or later."

J-8 left without commenting. It wasn't until he reached the stairway that he allowed himself to put a hand to his cheek and feel the metal chip she'd stuck there using her own saliva and, he'd guess, a sterile glue. It would have to be probed for malware before he could decipher it. He dropped his hand, tilted his head, sent one of his remote drones to monitor the apartment until his next return. That was a level of theatrics humans only went to when they felt unsafe. She must have stored the waterproof chip under her tongue for the duration of the conversation.

Smart girl, Stell. He would have to keep an eye more than usual. Smart and risky, and humans had a way of getting themselves killed.

[tripodturnstile]

tripod turnstile barrier from RS Security Co., Ltd(www.szrssecurity.com) Ideal for all kinds of public places that require organized passage of pedestrians, such as picturesque spots, exhibition halls, cinemas, docks, train stations, bus stations and other locations that need ticket verification; locations that need authorized entry such as factory participation, canteen usage, golf courses, regular monthly card leisure centers, etc; anti-static control locations of electronic factories, systems that require rigorous security measures such as face recognition and finger print acknowledgment. RS Security Co., Ltd primarily produces, develops and offers gain access to control products, such as three rollers turnstile barrier, train flap turnstile gate, dc brushless swing turnstiles door, translation gates door, one arm gates gate, full high turnstiles door, half height turnstile gate, fastlane turnstile gate and other channel gates barrier items, and parking barrier, recognition camera, hydraulic bollards, roadway bocker three arms turnstile barrier Integrated electronic tickets, access control and attendance, club consumption/catering, anti-static, finger print, palm print, face recognition, iris recognition Integrated application of other series of products; complete stainless-steel frame structure, Taibang motor, independently developed and produced movement; one-way/two-way gates door/ swipe to release the lever button and the upper lever is optional, with Counting function can realize RS485 direct communication with the computer system; waist height turnstile door prompts and instructions and alarm triggers; automatic fall of the pole when power is off and manual fall The pole is optional, and it receives the switch signal to open turnstile gate; it can be equipped with a card reading control part, and multiple systems can be connected to the network; it can be geared up with magnetic card and distance card combination approaches; it can be purchased according to different practical requirements. Do. A totally rainproof box made of alloy aluminum or stainless-steel, compared to the subway flap turnstile barrier dc brushless swing turnstile gate and other pedestrian passage devices, waist height turnstile gate are more economical. It has an individualized setup interface (such as card reader, indicator light setup, etc) to guarantee that the system integrator's control turnstile gate equipment is easy and convenient to set up. The movement of the three-stick turnstile gate maker has an immediately changed hydraulic shock absorber. When using the three-stick gates door operation, the sound is extremely little and quiet. Impact, gates barrier bar immediately decelerates back to center. The surface of the movement is plated with yellow dichromate. Can be set with turnstile barrier maker control, a couple of direction control (set by user). The base is repaired with expansion bolts.

[soul-controller]

A Change Of Possession

When Lindsay Thomas first thought that attending a Cincinnati Bengals football game with her boyfriend Aaron would be the death of her, she didn’t think that it would literally happen. But alas, Aaron’s eagerness to get to the stadium and witness his favorite team play led to his foot pressing down a little bit too hard and causing the car to reach dangerous levels of speed. All it took was one unaware driver to attempt a lane change and Aaron’s reflexes to avoid a collision failed miserably as the car spun out and ended up flipping and barrel rolling countless times. Throughout this endeavor, Lindsay had no chance to really comprehend what was going on. One second she was scrolling through social media and liking posts about her friend’s newest engagement, then suddenly there was a moment of intense pain before everything faded away into complete darkness…

Although the darkness was quite inviting to Lindsay, it seemed as though it wasn’t quite her time to move on as a stark white light was filling the dark tunnel that her soul was traveling through. As she finally was encompassed by the light, the woman slowly parted her eyelids and gasped at what she saw. Instead of seeing the pearly gates of heaven, she found herself standing in front of Paycor Stadium, the home of the Cincinnati Bengals.

Looking around in shock, the woman watched as fans stood outside the security turnstiles excitedly chatting with others in line. Despite her loudest attempts to get someone’s attention and ask what’s happening to her, it seemed as though no one else could hear her. On the verge of a breakdown due to the overstimulation of both going through a car crash and seeing this vast sea of fans ignore her, the woman lifted her hands up towards her face so she could cry into them. But upon doing so, the woman stopped as she saw that instead of the lightly tanned complexion that she often sported, Lindsay was now stuck with a ghastly blue complexion. Unfortunately though, the realization of what happened to her quickly became apparent as she watched a small slip of paper suddenly blow through the wind and pass directly through her hand as it tumbled down to the ground. Holy shit, I’m a ghost!

Although the woman was quite literally on the verge of a breakdown, this was ultimately hindered for the time being as a familiar voice loudly called her name. Lifting her eyes up and looking around, the woman gasped in relief as she saw a specter version of Aaron levitating above the crowd searching for her. As she began to run towards her high-flying boyfriend, she soon found that each stride was taking longer and longer for her feet to touch the ground as she remained in the air for a few milliseconds. Luckily though, this revelation was finally the knowledge she needed to propel herself up towards her boyfriend. Now at a rapid pace, the girl pushed off from the ground and slowly levitated up towards Aaron, who had finally found her and smiled widely.

Upon grabbing onto each other, the duo were relieved to find that they could physically hold each other given the fact that they were unable to feel anything else as they walked on the ground and over scattered trash. As they embraced and held each other into a tight hug, the duo were relieved to be reunited once more despite the tragic consequences.

Looking for a place more quiet than the rowdy lines outside the stadium, Aaron led the way for the couple to phase through the iron gates surrounding the venue and into the stadium itself. As they finally found themselves inside the inner halls of the stadium where the staff worked, the duo talked and tried their best to figure out what was going on. So while the circumstances surrounding it were fuzzy for some reason, the duo were confident in the fact that they had both somehow perished on the way to the football game. Yet as they were beginning to pass towards a bright light, the couple both found themselves outside the venue for some reason. Although they were unsure why this was occurring and whether it was due to unfinished business, the couple were sure of the fact that they didn’t want to ascend to the afterlife. They were young and still had lives to lead, so they didn’t want to give it up no matter how appealing the concept of the afterlife sounded. As such, it was Aaron who quickly proposed the idea of using their ghostly forms to possess someone at the stadium. Unsure of what was going on but with no other options, Lindsay listened intently as her boyfriend proposed the concept of possessing a Bengals football player and cheerleader so they could continue to be together in perfectly hunky bodies. 

Although Lindsay countered his idea with her own of just settling for another young couple attending the game, Aaron was able to quickly convince her that since they’re ghosts now they might as well go for something different than what they used to be. So despite the crazy plan that Aaron had proposed of taking over two unsuspecting peoples’ lives and the moral dilemma that continued to run through her mind, Lindsay was willing to try anything to get a second chance at life and thus eagerly agreed with Aaron’s idea.

As the couple slowly levitated through the inner halls of the stadium, Lindsay couldn’t help but jump as Aaron suddenly broke their silence with a loud gasp. “Oh shit, it’s Logan Wilson. He’s a great player” he exclaimed, extending a hand out and pointing towards a man quickly pacing down the hall. Although that name certainly meant nothing to Lindsay, a quick glance at his body made her instantly swoon. With his gorgeous visage (she was a sucker for a strong and prominent nose and nice plump lips) and slightly muscular physique that easily filled out his clothing, she immediately found herself encouraging her boyfriend to take him over. Envisioning having her boyfriend inside that body pleasuring her was quite an erotic sight, so she was quite relieved watching as Aaron built up the momentum and rushed towards the hunk. 

Given the fact that no human could see their presence, Logan was completely unaware of the spirit that was rushing towards him before it was too late. Upon watching as Aaron made an impact head-first into Logan’s firm chest, Lindsay watched in worry as the spectral version of her boyfriend fully disappeared within the player’s torso. For several seconds, she watched in worry for any sign that Aaron’s plan had been a success.

Soon, an answer came as Logan’s emotionless face suddenly shifted into a wide smirk. “It worked,” he quietly said, trying his best to keep his voice low to inform his girlfriend of what’s going on. 

Although Lindsay herself couldn’t feel any real sensations due to her ghostly form, she knew that that voice would give her butterflies in her stomach if she still had one! Even though Logan’s voice was fairly normal for an adult male, there was this underlying sense of deep dopeyness within it that left Lindsay swooning even more. She loved that Aaron was an accomplished journalist and all, but the concept of having her frail and weak boyfriend in the body of a hunky himbo was a dream come true.  

“Linds, I can’t see you anymore, but it worked. I’m Logan Wilson now! Go find a body as fast as you can,” he said with a smile, taking a moment to drop his bag and take a look at his two hands. After observing the wider and slightly callused hands that were fitting for a linebacker, Aaron couldn’t resist taking a moment to subtly run these hands along his body and feel the ripples of Logan’s abs and slight hills of his pecs. Upon cheekily taking a moment to lift the waistband of the player’s pants and underwear to take a quick glance at his new and improved manhood, the man smirked as he lifted his arms and flexed. Upon glancing at his modest biceps for a moment, the man’s attention was quickly caught by the brand new ink that he would be rocking while inside Logan’s body. Despite not being overly religious, Aaron was more than willing to go along with the cross tattoo due to just how badass he thought it looked on him.

While Aaron continued to flex and check out his new body, Lindsay was very much enjoying the view as she further fantasized about how much she was going to love kissing her boyfriend’s gorgeous new face and worshiping his muscles. Just as the two of them continued to check out more of Logan’s body, a loud voice down the hallway suddenly interrupted both of them. 

“Wilson, where the fuck have you been!?” 

As Lindsay and Aaron both looked up, they watched as a buff older man was angrily marching towards the two of them. Of course, as soon as he stopped in front of Aaron and began speaking to him, Lindsay reminded herself that there was no way that the man was speaking to her. Due to this, she observed as the older man, whose badge indicated him to be part of the coaching staff, grilled the possessed football player about not being in the locker room to get ready since the game was about to start. 

Trying his best to defuse the situation, Aaron apologized and said that he was running a bit late but he was ready to go. Given the fact that he couldn’t see where his girlfriend was anymore, the man’s eyes rapidly darted around as the coach grabbed onto Logan’s shirt sleeve and began to tug him towards the locker room. As he slowly mouthed for Lindsay to go find a body as soon as possible, the brand new hunk was ultimately pulled away into the thick crowd of staff heading towards the locker room.

Now with Aaron inside Logan’s body and being dragged away by someone on the coaching staff, Lindsay found herself feeling increased pressure to figure out a new host body fast. Understandably, there was a lingering sense of fear that waiting too long would cause her soul to get pulled back into the vast darkness as she traversed to the other side (whatever that may be). As such, Lindsay used her newfound gift of levitation to quickly bob and weave her way through the busy inner halls of the stadium in search of a new body.

Luckily, it didn’t take long before Lindsay’s eyes focused on a woman decked out in a cheerleading uniform. Although her back was turned while talking with someone and Lindsay could only see the woman’s slim and curvy figure along with her voluminous blonde hair that fell down past her shoulder blades, the recently deceased ghost was more than willing to accept it as her new body. As such, the female spirit propelled herself faster and faster in hopes of claiming her new life.

Unfortunately for Lindsay, it seemed as though the cheerleader had finished up her conversation as she suddenly turned and began to walk away. Given the rapid speeds she was traveling at, the woman was unable to slow herself down as she found herself slingshotting directly into the cheerleader’s chatting partner - a bulky football player. “Oh fuck no,” she exclaimed, trying her best to change her trajectory and curve past the football player to continue her plan of possessing the cheerleader. Although she was certainly willing to accept mostly any bodies so she could get a second chance to live again, trading her gender and becoming a man was a nightmare scenario for her. Despite loathing the concept, it soon became clear that her fate had been sealed as Lindsay closed her eyes while her spirit rushed directly towards the hunk and shot itself directly into his open mouth. 

Upon making contact with the back of the man’s throat, the impact of Lindsay’s soul provided an unintended side effect as the player suddenly tumbled back before falling back and landing on the hard concrete floor. Although Lindsay was still seeing darkness due to closing her eyes in fear of the impact, the addition of a nice warmth calmed the woman as she realized that she was feeling firm and corporeal once more. On top of this, the random sound of some low volume rap music filled Lindsay’s head and proved that she certainly wasn’t a ghost anymore. Despite only listening to upbeat pop music in her old life, she was more than willing to accept the mumble rap as a sign of success. Along with this realization , the sudden reappearance of physical sensations like pain against her head, shoulders, and ass further proved that her possession attempt was a success.

As such, Lindsay slowly peeled her eyes open and gasped as she found countless people hovering over her. Gasping in shock, the woman was caught off-guard as several members of staff (as evident by the badges hung around their necks) extended a hand out towards her and asked about if the man was ok. Through this sudden onslaught of questions, Lindsay was able to quickly pick up on the name of the man she was currently inside - Sam. Upon extending a hand out and allowing the staff to help her back up to the ground, the woman shook her head and rapidly blinked her eyes due to the intense migraine against the back of her head. 

Upon lifting an arm up to check on the pain at the back of hunk’s wide head, Lindsay’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the thick bulging bicep that limited how far she could extend her arm back. Just from the quick glance she made at it, Lindsay knew for a fact that the man’s bicep was bigger than one of her old thighs! Still quite dazed from the possession, Lindsay allowed herself to be led away by staff as they told her that they were going to have the team doctor make sure that the fall hadn’t given the football player a concussion. 

Throughout this entire walk, Lindsay then got her first opportunity to realize just how broad, bulky, and manly she was now. Instead of being a dainty woman with a modelesque figure, she felt gigantic as this imposing football player that was fully stacked with firm muscle. On top of that, each step that loudly pounded across the floor gave way to several new sensations. Firstly, the man’s sizable thighs caused Lindsay to adjust her gait to compensate in order to avoid any unnecessary chafing. Moving to her rear end, Sam’s sizable but firm ass couldn’t help but wobble slightly with each powerful step she took. 

Although these were certainly significant changes for her to adapt to, the sensation of a slight bounce in the crotch area revealed a semi-firm boner in Sam’s pants (which was clearly due to his attraction to the cheerleader he had been talking to previously) and caused the woman to comprehend that she was now in possession of a cock instead of a pussy. Continuing to think about the difference between her female form and Sam’s masculine one, a quick glance down at the tight compression shirt that Sam was wearing revealed two thick slabs of pectorals that were somehow bigger than her small A-cup breasts! This man was absolutely built to be a dominant force in athletics, which left Lindsay rightfully worried about her new life given the fact that she had no knowledge about football.

After arriving into the small room and sitting down on an examination table, the woman anxiously fiddled her wider and meatier thumbs upon waiting for the doctor’s arrival. Once the small middle-aged doctor arrived, he wasted no time going through a quick concussion test to check on the status of the Bengals player. After having the possessed player go through balance and visual tests that the new Sam passed with flying colors, the cognitive evaluation was where things got a bit more dicey. Although Lindsay was able to successfully confirm that the player’s name was Sam and that he was a player on the Cincinnati Bengals, other questions such as his birthday and last name left the woman understandably stumped. Luckily though, the doctor was more than willing to provide those details to the new man and then ask him to repeat them back to him.

“My name is Sam Hubbard and I’m a player on the Cincinnati Bengals. I was born June 29th, 1995,” the brand new player puppeted back to the man, which was seemingly enough for the doctor to clear the hunk for play and send him off to the locker room. Despite her best objections due to the fear of not knowing how to play, the doctor remained committed to his decision and had the staff ultimately escort Lindsay back to the locker room.

Upon arriving into the locker room, Lindsay awkwardly returned pleasantries to other players who seemingly had a close relationship to the real Sam as she searched for the body that she had seen her boyfriend possess earlier. Despite the hecticness of the crowded room of countless hunks in various stages of undress, Sam was finally able to find Aaron in his hunky new body and pull him back to a more secluded area of the locker room.

Of course, Aaron tried his best to pretend as if he was the real Logan Wilson, but this facade quickly fell as Sam revealed the truth behind who was in control of this body. Understandably, Aaron was quite concerned about the status of his girlfriend given the fact that the cheerleader plan had clearly gone awry. Although it was certainly not something the former Lindsay was finally coming around to, she quickly pushed that aside as a more pressing matter emerged - her lack of football knowledge and skill. 

So after the new Logan Wilson gave a quick crash course on Sam’s position and what he was expected to do on the field, Lindsay was quite concerned about the prospects of having to stand her ground and be a strong defensive force. Luckily though, Aaron revealed that he would be on the field with her and could help her as best as he could in between plays to give her tips. Before the two could continue coming up with a plan, the Bengals coach finally arrived and gave a rousing pep talk as Lindsay stripped out of Sam’s tight clothing and slipped into his football gear and uniform. The woman finished just in time as the coach finished speaking and began to lead the team out to the now-full stadium of players eagerly awaiting for an incredible football game.

Despite a few hiccups throughout, Lindsay was able to slowly understand Sam’s position and do her best to prevent the Bengals’ opponent from progressing further down the field with Aaron’s encouraging words. Luckily, his impressive and well-built physique was a saving grace in helping stop the opponents dead in their tracks as they were unable to move Lindsay’s new bulky body an inch. By the end of the game, the Bengals defense was able to completely decimate the offense and thus allow their offense to beat the other team by over 30 points. Amusingly, the commentators after the game singled out two key performers in the game - Bengals linebacker Logan Wilson and defensive end Sam Hubbard. 

Although in time Aaron would discover that he was now married with a wife and had no attraction at all towards Sam Hubbard’s body, this turned out to be perfectly fine as Lindsay had some changes of her own. While Lindsay hadn’t become married by possessing Sam, she did in fact gain Sam’s heterosexuality. In fact, she was able to find a new girlfriend that left her quite amused. Throughout happenstance, Lindsay found herself dating the Bengals cheerleader that she had originally planned on possessing. Although she hadn’t found any attraction originally to the woman’s curvy figure and perky ass, it was now one of Lindsay’s favorite things about her new girlfriend whenever the couple undressed and began to fool around in bed. Given the fact that she used to be a woman herself, Lindsay was quite amused by just how wonderfully she was able to take care of her new girlfriend by making sure she was constantly sexually fulfilled via vaginal or oral sex.

So while the couple ultimately did end up going their own separate ways by gaining these new bodies, Lindsay and Aaron still remained the closest of friends both on and off the field. While playing football the duo were able to be an unstoppable force for the Bengals defense, while off the field they loved to spend their free time working out or hanging out at each other’s places to play video games and watch football together. Although it was safe to say that this wasn’t the life either individual had planned for themselves, Lindsay and Aaron were determined to take advantage of their second chance of life as best they could!

Like what you read? Please consider signing up for my Patreon to read more stories and support my work.    

[untitledinstinct]

What’s an ultimate fantasy you have ☺️

So... I have agoraphobia...

I don't leave the house unless absolutely necessary.

When I order food, I don't even go out the door, just reach through it.

There's been instances where I don't fit as well as I used to, like walking down the center isle of a bus... my hips have to weave and sway side to side between people.

I want to have a date night, twice a year where we actually leave the house, and do all the things I used to, to see me struggle through it.

Let's go into the city for our date night.

First, I need to eat. A lot. I mean... I'll need my strength to get through this. You can only fit so many protein bars in your backpack.

Then we waddle over to the local bus stop, pausing every few houses to catch my breathe... maybe I shouldn't have had that much... I feel my stomach, and while a little swollen, it still soft and doughy.

The bus arrives, it's busy. We need to go towards the back. My hips get caught gently on the first two seats I pass, and I start weaving my hips a little.

It's been months since I've been on, that's new. So is the amount I'm jiggling just from riding in the bouncier end of the bus - I'm feeling every ripple.

We get to the train station, and the train isle is a little narrower.... I have to lift my arms above the seats to get by.

We get situated, you sitting across from me so we're face to face, and you point out that I'm taking up nearly half of the seat beside me. - you chose to sit across from me to watch every ripple the jolting of the train makes in my stomach, at one point recording it.

We get into the city, and get ready to leave the station, only to notice exactly how much smaller those turnstiles are than the last time....

Everyone around us going through easily - only a few having to turn slightly.

You walk through.

My turn.

I have to turn sideways, suck my gut in as much as a can, and squish-and-lift it with my hand as I shuffle my way through.

I let it all go with a deep gasp.

I didn't get stuck. This time. Not going to be long though...

We get into the heart of the city, and quickly find me something to eat. It was a long 2h trip, and that shuffle I had to do to get through the turnstile took a lot out of me.

We walk around the city, being regular tourists, and making sure I have a snack between every activity we do.

I'm nicely bloated, and round by the time we get to the hotel. We check in, and I flop on the bed, springs creaking.

We decide what we'll be properly stuffing me with, from room service. We place an order large enough for 4 or 5 people, and start up a movie...

You grabbed a shower first, while I find something to watch, then when I'm in the shower, the food arrives. You set it out and I see the almost overwhelming amount, knowing you'll likely only snack on whatever you're feeding me, having also had a big (for you) dinner.

I lay down, and we set to the feast.

The next day, early afternoon, we go to a local grocery store, to load up of what we can.

Cake

Pie

Cookies

Roast chicken

Mashed potatoes

Potatoes wedged

Cheesecake

Fruit smoothies

A couple different tubs of icecream.

With plans to order taco bell and a pizza.

That's the rest of our day.

Eating/feeding, snuggling, making out, playing around.

I wanna see how firm we can make my bloated stomach

Don't forget.

Tomorrow, I still won't have digested all of this, and have to squeeze back through that turnstile to get us back home....

Let make them open the gate for me.

Since that happens about twice a year, the rest of the year I spend inside. I want to get big enough that I just make it through the front door, then the next time I try and leave, I want to have eaten myself trapped inside.

Too fat to fit through the door.

[hecckyeah]

so i recently read the ballad of songbirds and snakes book, but haven't seen the movie yet, and i just saw a clip of the scene where they visit the arena, and the turnstiles used for entry and i gotta say... coriolanus, you are immensely dramatic. like i remember a literal paragraph of complaining about omg they only turn one way, how ever will i get out if my rescue mission goes south? like bro just.. crawl underneath. ???

like, am i crazy for having imagined something like this, where exiting is physically impossible

but no, bro was afraid of a couple subway gates. like. i'm so serious, he made such a big deal out of it and this is what they looked like

uh hey suzanne collins that prissy stuck up manipulative lying cheating sob you wrote? he's afraid of a couple turnstiles. help why is this SO FUNNY to me omg

[obsessivelyloved]

IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY WRITING THANKS!!!

I was hoping to imply the part got closed down indefinitely and literally all the robots being platonic yanderes for poor Edd. Even future Edd is after this kid lmao.

Poor Edd is just trying to find a way to escape but keeps turning up empty. Little does he know, the animatronics have already boarded up the exits from him-

Also the park was closed because the security guard they killed was the final straw for the company and they had to abandon it. The animatronics are honestly overjoyed because now they can do whatever they want and take care of themselves! Hope Edd likes his new home :)

You did perfect on the implication!! Damn though, this poor guy 😭. I absolutely love that this company just bailed after that last night guard, they really said "FUCK this, these guys can rot in hell"

_________________________________________________________

This can’t be right….. Edd stared in disbelief at the exit. Or well, what was supposed to be an exit. The large Come Back Soon sign had been ripped down, and the metal bars of the gates twisted along parts of the sign. The two turnstiles had their little rotating bars bent nearly beyond recognition. There was nowhere for him to climb. Nowhere for him to go around. 

This was insane. 

“Shit,” Edd mumbles, furiously trying his best to shove through one of the turnstiles. No dice. Of course he wouldn’t be able to move metal. 

He was just going to have to move on and find the next exit. And fast. The animatronics have been moving more lately. Not to mention, he had three new ones on his tail… 

Edd shuddered. His time with the western animatronics had been an…. Experience. 

None of them had taken their eyes off him for a long while. His back crawled at the thought. Prince Matthew had spent time turning over his face and pinching his cheeks, rambling on about practically nothing. 

However, Edd would admit that he was too afraid to soak in what the robot had been talking about. Beyond hearing about dressing him up, he was too nervous about Thomas. The animatronic stared as if something greatly amused him. 

And the barkeep, well, Edd never got his name. That one had merely kept watch from his window after heating up better food for Edd and getting him a drink. 

Edd was extremely lucky he shook those three.

Thomas untied him so he could eat and Edd bolted. He knocked over stools and chairs and darted out the swinging doors. 

All three of them basically cussed him out as they tried to chase him. But someone, Edd assumed it was Matthew from the yelling, tripped over something Edd knocked over. It gave him enough time to hide. 

But that didn’t matter since the damn exit was blocked! 

Edd sighed, rubbing his face. The next one. He just had to find the next exit. Then he could leave and head towards town. Where he’d be safe.