#COAST TO COAST LA TO CHICAGO
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alexturner2005 · 11 months ago
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i’m literally 3rd in line for the strokes right now and they’re soundchecking drag queen 😵‍💫
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strangedisciple · 11 months ago
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luchyclover · 10 months ago
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so many people would benefit from this. soooooo many people would do this. …. i can’t fly like so many others and when i had to get from LA to NYC my only option was amtrak and it took 72 hours
15 hours is like 2x the duration of a non-direct flight between nyc and la and maximum of 3x the duration of a direct flight
sooooo many people split their time between ny and la, like, there can be 20+ flights leaving JFK and 20+ more leaving LAX every single day going just that route. high speed rail would absolutely make flying less necessary
why are we not doing this
“Nobody’s going to want to sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours to get from New York City to LA.”
Me. I will sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours. I’ll sit on it for days. I’ll write and read and nap and eat and then do it all over again. I’ll stare out the windows and see America from ground level and not have to drive. I’ll see the Rockies and the deserts and cornfields and the Mississippi River and your house and yours and yours too. I’ll make up stories in my head about the small towns I see as we go along. I’ll see the states I’ve yet to see because driving or flying there is a fucking slog and expensive to boot. I’ll enjoy the ride as much as the destination. And then I’ll do it all over again to come the fuck home.
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we-re-always-alright · 1 year ago
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seven years in a row!!!!!!!!
#Chicago my beloved#time for my annual promotion post for Chicago#some reasons you should move to Chicago:#you get a big city experience for cheaper than most cities (big and medium sized!!!#it’s cheaper to live here than NYC; LA; SFO; SLC; pretty much anywhere on the coast)#pristine beautiful lake that is one of the largest in the world#it’s like a mini-ocean with miles and miles of clean public beaches#you’re never more than a 10 minute walk from a public park or a 15 minute walk from a public library#competitive and expanding job market—lots of companies are making Chicago a hub because we’re centrally located and have the infrastructure#enshrined civil rights like marriage; abortion; gender affirming care; etc#it’s through the whole state but Chicago is the best part#strong union culture AND protected union rights#democratic stronghold for over 100 years#great public transportation (though admittedly we can improve)#affordable housing compared to all major and most medium cities!#177 distinct and interesting neighborhoods—the city is more than the loop and you’ll find when you live here#the loop is the least interesting part of the city!!!#immensely walkable—most places/neighborhoods have walking scores in the 90s#Midwest nice: people are friendly and helpful to their neighbors and acquaintances#and lots of local bars and restaurants love their regulars#ALLEYWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you don’t realize how key this is until you visit NYC or LA in the summer#both of those cities smell like boiling trash and are covered in garbage#Chicago has alleyways which take care of the garbage and help keep the streets clean#around 30% of people in Chicago don’t even own cars#anyway that’s just a few reasons I love my city and if you’re thinking of moving; move here#we’re friendly; we’re pretty liberal; we have a beautiful city and we work hard to make life better#Chicago#also because I feel this is fairly representative of the city: my fav local yarn store is by an insect museum; an LGBTQ+ game store &#a vintage bowling alley
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confessiononadancefloor · 2 years ago
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stellaron-hunter · 2 years ago
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no need to ask:) he's a smooth operator, smooooth operatooor
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a-sap · 5 months ago
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…Coast-to-coast, LA to Chicago, Western male🐆🍸…
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justasecretflower · 5 months ago
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Highschool! Jujutsu kaisen characters with an American! Transfer student HCS 🌸
~ fluff.
‼️Do not reblog my works‼️
_____________________________________
Satoru Gojo - canonically, he knows a bit of English, but for easier communication purposes all of the jjk guys can speak English and Japanese..
- orders snacks from America to try out with you
- I don’t think he’d hate on America or Americans but when you’d mess up a mission or lose during sparing he’d pull a joking “Classic American.”
- devours twinkies when he first gets them then orders like 50 more boxes. Refuses to share his twinkies.
- tells you he’s gonna take a trip over there when he’s older and has more freedom and eat all the best food. New York styled pizza, those huge milkshakes with like a waffle on top, triple cheeseburgers, he’s gonna take pictures of him eating it all and then frame it for you. (Don’t even ask.)
Geto Suguru - he’s more interested in the culture, i personally think. He likes to learn the proper greetings, weird customs, differences between Japan and America.
- he baked a classic southern dish once in secret and liked it..
- hates when Americans are overly patriotic. He pulls this face.
- more drawn to the west coast
Shoko ieri - makes fun of your accent. Yes, Americans have accents. Never actually mad or annoyed at it, just pokes fun.
- honestly doesn’t care as much as geto or Gojo. Like yeah, there’s other people from other countries and cultures, she’d already known that?
- honestly doesn’t care lol.
____________________________________
Yuji itadori- oh he knows about America alright. His wife lives there! (Jenifer Lawrence duh)
- finds all of the city’s interesting, definitely wants to watch a New York fashion show
- attempts to do a southern accent (either fails or does it scarily good)
- asks questions about schooling over there, specifically the dress code.
- pulls up to you one day decked out in American flags, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat and asks if you feel at home on 4th of July. If you told him about 4th of July.
Megumi fushiguro - another one that genuinely doesn’t care. He’s just like “oh alright cool”
- doesn’t make fun of you for an accent or poke fun at you for being American. He js genuinely doesn’t care.
- will watch the US reality tv shows and finds all the drama stupidly amusing.
Nobara kugisaki - also very interested in all the cities and fashion
- watches Victoria secret fashion shows with you if you like that. Or just New York fashion shows in general.
- critiques American style
- pls take her to LA, NYC, or Chicago she’s begging atp
- if she visited any of the cities she’d dress to the nines just to walk around in the city streets.
Aoi todo - interested in all of your celebrities you have other there.
- ends up finding a new celebrity crush and watches all of the movies she’s in.
- gossiping to u abt celebrity drama that YOU didn’t even know about before him.
- “this is y/n!! My American friend!!” “Todo you don’t have to introduce me to other people like that”
- yuji would prolly also say that line ngl
+ sequel! Teaching Satoru Gojo! To swear in English, Idea suggested by Chiefclown🤍
Thank you for reading :). Pls request some more JJK head canons with the “🌸” emoji!:)
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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 7 months ago
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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 4: Read Between The Lines]
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Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍
Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.
Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.
Chapter title is a lyric from: “Boulevard Of Broken Dreams” by Green Day.
Word count: 5.6k
💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜
Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰
It is your first week of basic training at Great Lakes on the north side of Chicago, and as you lie in the top bunk of your assigned bed you wonder what the hell you’ve done. You enlisted right out of high school, eighteen, no driver’s license, no work history, never been more than fifty miles outside of Soft Shell, Kentucky. The drill sergeants are always yelling and you’re bad at push-ups; you can’t understand the recruits from big cities like Los Angeles, Miami, Las Vegas, Detroit, Houston, and they don’t seem to get you either, and aren’t interested enough to try. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t signed that five-year contract, but where would you be if you weren’t here? Home is not words but textures, colors, fumes that still burn in your sinuses: cigarette ash on rose pink carpets, red embers glowing in the wood stove, Hamburger Helper and Mountain Dew, coffee creamer in Hungry Jack potatoes, laughter and heavy footsteps and slamming doors, scratch-off games, dogs barking, collecting coins from couch cushions for gas money, scrubbing clothes in the bathtub when the washer quits, Mama taking gulps from her favorite cup—plastic, Virginia Beach, filled with equal parts Hawaiian Punch and vodka—when she thinks no one is looking, blue shows flickering on the television, Family Feud, Maury, Good Morning America, WWE SmackDown. For as long as you can remember you’ve known you couldn’t stay. Now you’re getting out, but nothing in life is free.
You are at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, and even though it’s hotter than some noxious, volcanic hellscape—Mercury, Venus, Io—you are beginning to like it. You taste the salt of sweat when you lick your lips, sugar in the sweet tea they serve in the chow hall. There’s a magic in building something where there was only empty space before, in patching roofs and painting walls. Here being quiet and watchful is exactly what they want from you: head down, hammer striking nails, measurements and angles and long hours under the sun with no complaints. You’re not just running away anymore. You are creating something new.
You are sitting beneath swaying palm trees and a full moon on Diego Garcia, draining cans of Guinness with Rio, and he’s telling you things he shouldn’t, too personal, too honest: Sophie wants to try for a baby next time he’s home on leave, and part of him wants that too but he’s terrified. As thunder rumbles in the distance and raindrops begin to patter on the waves of the Indian Ocean, you tell Rio you think he’d be a good father. He wonders how you figure that, and you say because he’s not like any of the men from home. He gives you one of his crooked smiles—a flash of teeth, knowing dark eyes—and doesn’t ask what you mean.
But of course, when you swim up from the inky currents of sleep you are in none of these places. You are curled up on the floor of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio, cheap worn black carpet peppered with stars and swirls in neon green, pink, blue. You stretch out with a yawn. Someone has left a Lemon Tea Snapple within reach; you twist it open and guzzle it, hoping to extinguish the pounding in your skull, a rhythmic thudding of warm maroon, half Captain Morgan and half misery. The music isn’t helping. From the green Toshiba CD player, a man is singing in Spanish. Aegon and Rio are sitting at the nearest table and playing Uno.
Aegon says as he ponders his cards: “You know Enrique Iglesias, right Rio?”
“You are so racist.” Rio puts down a wild. “And the new color is red. Racist.”
“So what’s he saying?”
“Aegon, buddy, I told you, I was born here. My grandparents came over in the 60s. I don’t speak Spanish.”
“You can’t understand any of it?” Aegon is skeptical. He plays a skip, a reverse, and a seven. “My dad never taught me a word of Greek but I can recognize plenty of phrases. Vlákas means idiot. Spatáli chórou is a waste of space.”
Rio sighs, relenting. He puts down a two. “The song is called Súbeme La Radio, Turn Up The Radio For Me. Bring me the alcohol that numbs the pain… I don’t care about anything anymore…You’ve left me in the shadows…”
“Damn, now I’m sad. Draw four, bitch.”
“When the night comes and you don’t answer, I swear to you I’ll stay waiting at your door…” Rio studies his cards. “What’s the new color?”
“Green.”
“Yes!” Rio slams down a skip. “Fleeing from the past in every dawn, I can’t find any way to erase our history…”
Everyone else is awake already. As muted late-morning daylight streams in through the small tinted windows, Aemond is weaving between tables, pointedly checking on each person. He glances at you, says nothing, turns around and walks the other way.
“That’s tough,” Rio says sympathetically, popping open the tab on a can of Chef Boyardee and shoveling ravioli into his mouth with a plastic fork.
Aegon gives you a smirk. “You want to fake date now?”
“I’ll think about it.” No you won’t.
Helaena appears, a prairie girl vision in a modest blue sundress and with her hair tied back with a matching scarf. She reaches into her burlap messenger bag and offers you a choice between a ranch-flavored tuna pouch or a silvery pack of Pop-Tarts. “Strawberry,” she tells you.
“I’ll take the Pop-Tarts.”
Helaena gives them to you and then shakes a bottle of Advil. You’re so groggy it takes you a few seconds to figure out what she wants, then you obediently hold out a hand. Helaena lays two tablets in the center of your palm and moves on, soundlessly like a rabbit or a spider.
You wash the pills down with Snapple. As you nibble half-heartedly on a Pop-Tart—trying not to look at Aemond, multicolored sprinkles falling down onto the carpet—your eyes drift to the tattoo on the underside of Aegon’s forearm. It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You’ve spotted it before. Only now do you remember where you recognize the lyric from. “Is that Green Day?”
“Yeah,” Aegon says, enthused that you noticed. “Letterbomb.”
“I love that whole album.”
“Me too. I could sing it front to back if you asked me to.”
“I’m not asking.”
Aegon cackles and resumes his Uno game with Rio. Baela is wearing denim shorts and a crop top, slathering her belly with Palmer’s cocoa butter from Walmart as she chats with Rhaena and eats Teddy Grahams. Daeron is waxing the string of his compound bow. Jace is gnawing on a Twizzler as he scrutinizes Aegon’s map, annotated with Xs and circles and arrows in sparkling gel pen green.
“I’m going to be a thousand years old by the time we get there,” Jace mutters.
Aegon hits the table with his fist. The discard pile collapses and cascades, an avalanche of Uno cards. Rio, undisturbed, continues contemplating his next move. “You know what, Jace? The cities are full of zombies, the interstates are blocked by fifty-car pileups, if we bump into anyone else who’s still alive they’re just as likely to rob and murder us as want to be friends, and on top of all that I’m trying to do you the favor of preventing you from getting so irradiated you turn into Spider-Man. If you have a better route in mind, I’d love to hear it.”
“Spider-Man…? You’re such a dumbass, what are you talking about?!”
Luke says from where he stands by a window: “Aemond, someone’s outside.”
“What?” Aemond stares at him. “Zombies?”
“No. People.”
Aemond bolts to the doors, the rest of you close behind him. Rhaena turns off the CD player. You, Rio, and Aegon squeeze together to peer out of one of the windows. There are men—three of them, no, four, all appearing to be in their forties—passing by on the main road through town. They are armed with what are either AR-15s or M16s, you can’t tell which.
Rio whistles. “If you get shot by one of those, the exit wound will be the size of an orange.” Everyone looks at him. This was not an encouraging thing to say.
You elaborate: “Thirty-round magazines. Semiautomatic, assuming they’re AR-15s for civilian use. I guess they could have gotten ahold of M16s somehow. Those have a fully automatic setting.”
“So regardless, we’re out-gunned,” Jace says.
“If they know how to use them. Some men think guns are wall decorations, like deer heads or fish.”
Aegon recoils. “Fish?! What the fuck. I’m glad the colonies left.”
“Maybe they’ll keep walking,” Daeron says hopefully. One of the men stops and points at the bowling alley, saying something to his companions. They laugh and begin crossing the small parking lot. They are less than two minutes from the door. “Oh, great…”
“There’s an emergency exit in the back,” Baela says.
Aegon snorts. “Yeah, that we stacked about twenty boxes of bowling pins in front of to zombie-proof.”
“We won’t be able to get out before they hear us,” Aemond says. Then he abruptly orders: “Grab your guns, let’s go. Helaena, Baela, Rhaena, you’re staying here.” Aemond’s remaining eye—briefly, reluctantly—skates over you as Rio, Aegon, Jace, Luke, and Daeron scatter to obey him. “You too.”
“But I’m the best shot.”
“I don’t want them to know we have women with us.”
“I’m of more use to you outside.”
Aemond rips his Glock out of its holster, pointing it at the floor. His frustration is palpable, an electric shock, heat that refracts light rays until they become mirages on the horizon. “You’re going to stay here, and if a stranger comes through those doors you’re going to kill them. Okay?”
His urgency stuns you; his eye is blue-white summer storm lightning. “Okay.”
“Now get back.”
You soar to the nearest table, duck under it, reach for your Beretta M9 and double-check the clip, fully loaded. You click off the safety.
“Aemond, wait, let me go first,” Aegon is saying by the door. “I’m better at de-escalation, I’m less…uh…intimidating.”
“Less socially incompetent, you mean,” Jace quips.
“I’ll lead,” Aemond insists. “Aegon can talk. Rio, you’re up front with me.”
Rio pumps his Remington 12 gauge. “I’d be delighted.”
Jace is amused. “I’ve been demoted, huh?”
“He’s bigger,” Aemond replies simply, then opens the door and vanishes through a blinding curtain of daylight. The others follow closely; Daeron, the last one out—his compound bow in hand, the strap of his Marlin .22 slung over his shoulder—shuts the door behind him.
Very faintly, you can hear Aegon: “Hey, guys! What’s happening? How’s the apocalypse treating you…?”
Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are under the table with you. They deserve to have options. You tell them: “If you want to go hide behind the lanes or try to get out the back door, now’s your chance.”
Helaena shakes her head, clutching your t-shirt: black, Star Wars, pawed off a shelf at the Walmart. “I want to stay with you.”
“Same,” Baela says determinedly, gripping her Ruger. She barely knows how to use it, but she’ll try. Rhaena is shaking, her eyes filling up her face, small fragile bones like a bird’s.
You can’t hear voices from outside anymore, but there are no gunshots either. You keep your M9 aimed at the doors, your breathing slow and deep, your heart rate low. Your hands are steady. Your eyes hunt for the slightest movement, for the momentary shadow of someone passing by a window. Against your will, your thoughts wander to Aemond. I hope Aegon is on his left side. Aemond can’t see there.
“Rhaena, get your gun out,” Baela says sharply. “Come on. Turn the safety off. What if you were alone right now? What if we weren’t here to protect you?”
Rhaena nods, fumbling to free her revolver from its holster. “I’m sorry…I’m trying…”
Now there is a stranger’s voice, gruff and deep. He must be just beyond the door, the farthest one to the right. There is a creak of hinges, a sliver of sunlight. “That’s just too damn bad, fellas. You got a nice little hideout here, and you’re gonna have to share it—”
The door opens. Two unfamiliar faces, too shellshocked to raise their rifles in time. You close an eye, line up your sights, fire twice, and that’s all it takes: one headshot, one in the throat, blood like a fountain, spurting scarlet ruin, thuds against the carpet strewn with neon stars, gurgling and spasms as their brains send out those final electrical impulses: danger, catastrophe, apocalypse. Rhaena is screaming. Helaena is covering her ears with both hands.
You run to the doorway; there are more booms of gunfire out in the parking lot. You cross into the late-morning light to see the other two men on the pavement: one with an arrow through the eye, the other with a gaping, hemorrhaging hole where his heart once was. Rio is admiring his work, holding his shotgun aloft. He scoops a handful of Cheddar Whales out of his shorts pocket and shovels them into his mouth.
“Goddamn, I love Remington Arms Company.”
“Oh, that was awesome,” Aegon says, wan and panting, hands on his waist. “Yeah, that was…that was…” He bends over and vomits Snapple and Cool Ranch Doritos onto the asphalt.
“Everyone okay in there?” Rio asks you.
“Yeah.” Behind you, Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are stepping through the doorway. Your thoughts are whirling sickly: I killed someone. I killed someone. “They wouldn’t leave?”
“We told them the bowling alley was ours,” Aemond says, not looking at you. “We asked them very politely to keep moving. They chose to try to intimidate us into letting them stay. They weren’t good people, and these are the consequences.”
You click on the safety and re-holster your M9. You’re wearing Rio’s on your other hip. They seem to weigh so much more than they did ten minutes ago. I’m not supposed to be a killer. I’m a builder.
“Aegon, are you okay?” Daeron asks, a palm on his brother’s back.
Aegon retches again. “Shut up. You can’t even buy fireworks.”
“Zombies.” Luke is peering through his binoculars. “Not many, just two. Way up the road.”
“There will be more.” Baela’s cradling her belly; you don’t even think she’s aware of it. “They heard the gunshots, the sound carries for miles.”
“We’re leaving,” Aemond says. “Right now. Everyone get your things.”
As backpacks are hastily zipped and Daeron and Aegon stand guard in the parking lot, you kneel down beside the men you murdered and check their rifles. They are M16s, either stolen or illegally purchased: there’s a little switch by the trigger to choose between semi-automatic or the so-called machine gun mode.
“They barely had any bullets left,” you tell Rio. Just like us when we were trapped on that transmission tower.
“Yeah, same story for the other two guys. Four bullets in one magazine, a half dozen in the other. But it only takes once. We don’t have any ammo that will work with M16s, do we?”
“No, we definitely don’t.”
“Fantastic. Well, we’ll throw them in a Walmart cart and take them with us just in case.”
You’re staring down at the man you shot through the head. His eternal resting place is a puddle of blood and brains in a bowling alley in rural Ohio; surely no one deserves that. “He was a real person,” you say, dazed. “Not a zombie. Just a person.”
“Hey.” Rio grabs your shoulders and spins you towards him. From where he is helping Luke gather up the remaining food, Aemond’s head snaps up to watch. “You hurt him before he could hurt us. You did the right thing.”
“Sure.”
“I killed a dude too. I blew his heart right out of his chest. You think I’m going to hell for that?”
“No,” you admit, smiling. “And if you’d be there with me, I guess I wouldn’t mind so much.”
Rio grins, wide and toothy. “Well alright then. Let’s finish packing.”
The ten of you depart from Shenandoah, Ohio heading northwest on Route 603 just like Aegon marked on his map, Jace chauffeuring Baela in one shopping cart, Rio pushing another loaded high with food and M16s.
“It looks like rain,” Helaena says.
Everyone else peers up into a clear, cerulean sky, wondering what she means.
~~~~~~~~~~
You’re a few miles north of Shiloh when the storm rolls in, cold rain and furious wind, daylight that vanishes behind dark churning thunderheads, jagged scars of lightning in an opaque sky. The road is only two lanes, surrounded by fields of wildflowers and ravaged crops and untilled earth; it would look like the patchwork of a quilt if you were gazing down from an airplane, but of course the FAA grounded all flights over a month ago when the world went mad: Revelations, Ragnarök, the fabric of the universe unweaving as death burned through families, cities, nations like a fever, like plague.
“Maybe we should cut across one of these fields,” Jace says, pointing. He is soaked with rain; it drips from his curls, runs into his eyes. Baela is in her cart again; each time she tries to get out and walk, she’s gasping and can’t keep up within half an hour. You’ve all taken turns pushing her, much to Baela’s dismay. She’d be humiliated if she wasn’t too exhausted to keep her eyes open.
“Here, let me do it,” you offer, and Jace gratefully relinquishes the cart. Baela gives you a frail wave of appreciation.
“We stay on the road,” Aemond insists, flinching as rain pelts his scarred face. “Farmhouses have driveways and mailboxes, we’ll pass one eventually. If we lose the road, we might not be able to find it again. We’ll end up wandering around in circles in the woods.”
“Just like the Blair Witch Project,” Aegon says glumly, his Sperry Bahama sneakers audibly soggy.
“There!” Luke announces, spotting something with his binoculars. “Up ahead on the left. Past the bridge.”
You can’t see what Luke does until there is an especially brilliant flash of lightning: a farmhouse, old but seemingly not derelict, and with a number of accompanying buildings, guest houses and stables and barns and towering silos.
“Home sweet home!” Rio says. “And I don’t care if I have to kill a hundred of those undead bastards to get in, it’s mine.”
“Well, hopefully not a hundred,” you reply, in better spirits now that a sanctuary has been found. Aemond keeps glancing back at you as you push Baela’s cart. If he wants to say something, he’s doing a good job of resisting the temptation. “We don’t have that much ammo.”
There is a concrete bridge over a river, probably unremarkable and only five or ten feet deep normally but now torrential with rain. Water rushes by beneath, a muddy incline on each side as the earth rises back up to meet the road. A reflective green sign proclaims that you are only two miles from Plymouth, which Aegon plans to skirt along the edges of. It’s a decent-sized town; he thinks you might be able to find a car to steal there, something with gas in the tank and keys on a hook just inside the house.
“I call the master bedroom,” Jace says craftily, rubbing his palms together. You’re near the center of the bridge now, another ten yards to go. “Nice big bed, warm cozy blankets, and I was up for half of last night keeping watch so tonight I am off duty, I am a free man, it’s going to just be me and my girl and eight glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep—”
Rhaena shrieks, and then you hear it over the noise of the storm, pounding rain and rumbling thunder: moans, growls, hisses like snakes. Not one zombie. A lot more than one. They’re crawling up from under the bridge, from the filthy quagmire at both ends. There was a hoard of them waiting, aimless, dormant, almost hibernating. But now they are awake. They are grasping for you with bony, dirt-covered claws. They are snapping with jaws that leak blood and pus and bile as their organs curdle to a putrid soup.
“Get off the bridge!” Aemond is shouting. He has his Glock in his right hand, a baseball bat in his left. He’ll shoot until he’s out of bullets, and then, and then…
Rio helps you get Baela out of the cart, then opens fire. His Remington doesn’t just pierce skulls, it vaporizes them. When he’s out of shells—there are more in his backpack, but no time to reload—he yanks the M16s out of the other Walmart cart and empties each of them, mowing down zombies as the rest of you scramble across the bridge. All around you are explosions of gunshots, thunder, lightning, zombie skulls crushed by bullets and blunt force trauma. Baela is firing her Ruger as you half-drag her, one arm hooked beneath hers and around her back. When the last M16 is empty, Rio starts clubbing zombies with the butt of it. You’ve all reached the north side of the bridge, except…
“Fuck off, you freaks!” Jace is screaming. They’ve backed him up against the guardrail, a swarm of ten or more. His Remington shotgun is out of ammo; he’s swinging it wildly, but he doesn’t even have enough room to maneuver. There are still more zombies emerging from under the bridge. You can hear them snarling and groaning. You swipe an M9 off your belt and put a bullet in the brain of a zombie as its fingers close around your ankle, then you start picking off the ones mobbing Jace. You aren’t fast enough. As they lean in to bite him, teeth gnashing at the delicious throbbing heat of his jugular, Jace throws himself over the barrier and into the surging water below.
“No!” Baela cries. She careens off the road and into the field, running parallel to the river as swiftly as she can. You are helping her, steadying her, firing at any zombies you have a clear line of sight on. The others are here too: slipping in the muck of the flooding earth, shouting for Jace. He surfaces through the frothing current, flails pitifully, disappears beneath the water again. You glimpse a white hand, a shadow of his dark hair, a kicking shoe. There are more zombies on the opposite side of the river, trailing after Jace, lurching and slobbering viscous, gory saliva. They cannot swim, but they can follow him until he washes ashore.
Jace bursts up through the waves, gasping. “Help! Aemond…Aemond, for the love of God, help me…” He blubbers and then is dragged under. Aemond and Luke are continuing frantically after him. Baela is hysterical, sobbing, trembling with adrenaline. Aegon is yowling as he swings at zombies with his bloodied golf club. Helaena is darting around almost invisibly, always cowering behind Daeron or Aegon or Rio.
You glance north towards the farmhouse, growing not closer but farther away. We can’t leave shelter. We can’t leave the road. You lock eyes with Rio. He’s thinking the same thing.
“Aemond, we have to go,” Rio says, but in the midst of the rain and the turmoil it barely registers.
“Jace, we’re coming to get you!” Aemond swears. The ground is increasingly sodden, deep, difficult to trudge through. Jace resurfaces, coughing and sputtering.
“Jace!” Aegon wails. He caves in the skull of a zombie who was once a registered nurse as Helaena crouches behind him. “Jace, I’m sorry! I’m gonna miss you, man!”
Jace splashes in the rising river, his arms flailing helplessly. He is being swept away far faster than any of you can move on foot. “Aegon, you dumb bitch!” Jace manages, then slips beneath the water and doesn’t reappear.
“Where is he?!” Baela is saying. “Aemond, where…?”
You are trying to soothe her, to bring her back to reality. She was always so pragmatic before; you have to wake her up. “Baela, listen, we can’t stay here, he would want you and the baby to be safe—”
“Aemond! Aemond, we have to go!” Rio catches him, wrenches him around, roars into his face as driving rain pummels them both: “We have to go, or we’re going to die here too!”
It hits Aemond all at once; he understands, horror and agony in his sole blue eye. “We have to go,” he agrees. And then louder, to everyone: “Get to the farmhouse!”
Baela collapses into the mud, howling, tears flooding down her face. “No, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, we can’t leave him!”
You and Rhaena are trying to haul Baela to her feet. Now Aemond is here, pulling you away from her—his fingers tight and urgent around your wrist—as he and Luke take your place. “Go,” he commands. “You run. Don’t wait for us. Rio?”
“I got her,” Rio replies, grabbing your free hand with an iron grip. Gales of wind rip at you; every millimeter of your skin is soaked with rain. As you flee across the fields towards the farmhouse, dozens of zombies pursue you. More are still staggering along the banks of the river, swept up in the hoards chasing Jace and the promise of his waterlogged corpse when it reaches its final destination. Daeron has run out of arrows and is shooting with his .22, which is very much not his preference. Aegon trips, getting covered in mud as he rolls, and Rio stops to help him. While he is distracted, you look back at Aemond. He, Luke, and Baela are moving quickly, but not quickly enough. A drove of zombies is closing in on them. You have a spare few seconds at last. You yank your backpack off, grab a box of ammo inside, and reload your M9.
“Chips?!” Rio calls over his shoulder.
“I’m fine.”
He knows you well enough to listen. The world goes quiet as your finger settles on the trigger. There’s a rhythm one slips into, an impassionate lethal efficiency. It’s easier to keep going than to stop and have to find it again. You fire over and over, dropping eight zombies. You sheath your M9 and whip Rio’s out of your other holster, the sights finding grotesque decaying faces illuminated by lightning. You pull the trigger: blood, bones, brains, corpses jerking and convulsing as they fall harmlessly to the mud. Aemond is here; when did he get here?
“I told you to run!” he’s shouting through the storm, furious. He’s shoving you towards the farmhouse. You resist him.
“Let me kill as many as I can—”
“Go! Now!” Aemond orders over the clashing thunder, and then sprints with you all the way to the front porch to make sure you listen. Everyone else is already there. Helaena has fetched a spare key from under the doormat and is turning it in the lock.
Daeron observes her anxiously. “We don’t know if it’s safe in there, Helaena.”
“Not in,” she says, insistent. “Through.” Through this building, and maybe through the next one too. The average zombie is not terribly clever. If they lose sight of you, without the benefit of the momentum of a hoard they are lost. Helaena opens the door. The living rush inside, and she locks it behind you. As you are bursting out the back door, you can hear zombies pounding their rotting palms against the front one. You soar through a stable full of dead horses and donkeys, leaving the doors open; this should keep the zombies distracted if they make it this far. Then you race to the farthest guest house. Luke, swiveling with his binoculars, spies no zombies approaching as you steal inside. There is no spare key this time; Rio punches out a first-floor window for you to climb through. Once everyone is inside, he and Aegon move a bookshelf to cover the opening.
You all stand in the living room, gasping and shivering, dripping rain down onto the rug and the hardwood floor. The air is dusty but clean of any trace of vile, swampy decay. Outside, thunder booms and lightning flashes bright enough to illuminate the lightless house. The sky is so dark it might as well be nightfall. Baela sinks to her knees, clamping both hands over her mouth so she won’t sob loudly enough for a zombie to hear. Rhaena and Luke are beside her, both weeping quiet rivulets of tears, trying to comfort her in whispers. Helaena is rummaging around searching for candles; she has already taken a lighter out of her soaked burlap messenger bag.
“Daeron, bro, come over here,” Aegon chokes out. He embraces Daeron, clutches him tightly and desperately, doesn’t let go. Rio is reloading his Remington 12 gauge.
Jace is dead. Jace is dead.
Aemond says to you, his voice low but seething: “What the fuck was that?”
You blink the raindrops out of your eyes as you stare at him, bewildered. “You needed help.”
“I told you to run.”
“I’m an asset, I have skills that can keep you alive, why am I here if I’m not going to be useful—?”
“You’re not in the fucking Navy anymore!” he hisses. “When I tell you to run, you run, you don’t stop, you don’t look back, because I can’t worry about you and take care of everyone else.”
“Nobody asked you to worry about me.”
“But I do.”
“Aemond,” Aegon pleads, waving him over. Aegon’s plump sunburned cheeks are glistening with rain and tears. “Man, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters now. Please come here.”
“I’m going to clear the house,” Aemond says instead.
Rio raises an eyebrow at you—this is one fucked up guy, Chips—and then pumps his shotgun. “Me too.” He sweeps with Aemond through the main floor and then vanishes up the staircase.
Helaena is lightning candles she found in the kitchen and arranging them around the living room. Daeron starts gathering food from the pantry. Rhaena and Baela are murmuring to each other softly, mournfully. It doesn’t feel like something you should intrude on. Luke is peeking out of a window with his binoculars, vigilant for threats. Aegon sniffles, wanders over to you with large, sad, shimmering eyes, pats your shoulder awkwardly.
“Hey, Chocolate Chip. You doing okay?”
“No,” you answer honestly.
“Yeah. Me either.” Then he flops down on the hideous burnt orange couch and lies there motionless until Daeron brings him a can of Dr. Pepper. Aegon pops the tab, slurps up foam, and then begins singing to himself very quietly, a song so old you can remember your grandfather saying it was one of his favorites as a boy: A Tombstone Every Mile.
When Rio comes back downstairs—heavy footsteps, he can’t help that—you meet him at the bottom of the steps. “The house is good,” Rio says. “And Aemond’s in the big bedroom on the right if you’d like to go up there and talk to him.”
“I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”
“I could not disagree more,” Rio says with a miserable, exhausted smile. Then he goes to the couch to check on Aegon.
You pick up one of the flickering candles, white and scentless, and ascend the staircase. You find Aemond in the master bedroom, the same accommodations that Jace laid claim to when he was still alive. He is sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at the wall, at nothing. Tentatively, you sit down beside him, placing the candle on the nightstand.
“Aemond…what happened to Jace…it wasn’t your fault.”
“Criston said I was in charge, that’s the very last thing he told me. They might be the last words I ever hear from him, and I just…” His voice breaks; he wipes the rain and tears from his face with open palms. “I really wanted to get everyone home.”
“I’m so sorry about what I said at the bowling alley,” you confess, like it’s a dire secret. “I don’t want to fight with you, Aemond, I…I want to help you. I can see what you’ve done for everyone here, me and Rio included, and I believe in you. I want to be a part of this.”
He nods, an acceptance of peace, but he still doesn’t look at you.
“Can we start over? I’ll never bring it up again, okay? I wasn’t trying to guilt you or upset you or anything. I should have just dropped it. I overreacted. And I understand why being with someone like me maybe wouldn’t be…super appealing.”
“It’s not about that.”
“Then what’s it about?”
Aemond wrings his hands, shakes his head, at last turns to you, golden candlelight reflected in his eye, his scar cloaked in shadows. His words are hushed, clandestine, soft powerless surrender. “I’m already so afraid of losing you.”
He cares, he hopes, he wants me too? “I’m here right now, Aemond. I don’t know what else I can say. I’d promise you more if I could.”
He reaches out to touch you, to ghost his thumb across your cheekbone, wet with rain. Then he kisses you, so gently you cannot help but imagine the wispy borders of calm white summer clouds, the rustle of leaves as wind blows down the Appalachian Mountains. You don’t have to ask him what he’s thinking, what it feels like. You can read it in the startled, firelit wonder on his face.
You taste like the beginning of something, here at the end of the world.
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thegirlfromblackwater · 4 months ago
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If the Van der Linde Gang lived in Modern Times (Modern Au)
Life gives you funny ideas...and I'm going to write them down
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Arthur
Would live on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming as a rancher
Offers services like trail rides, lessons, and boarding
Has a herd of cattle
Spends every Sunday watching Rodeos on TV
Watches while sitting in his favorite worn-out armchair
Always has a cold beer and a snack or his dinner while watching
Has a pickup truck that's a bit filthy on the inside. Addresses his car as a "she."
Treats it like a horse: calls it a "good gurl."
Has a mounted Trout and some taxidermy on the walls
The Wifi at the ranch is spotty..doesnt understand why guests need it when they're surrounded by nature
Network Name: MorganRanch Password: Ynnel123
Tried to fix the router once but not exactly tech savvy. Ended up punching it
Texts Albert Mason sometimes
Dutch
Definitely lives in a city either Los Angeles or New York City
Lives in a Snazzy Penthouse in the clouds with a skyline
Works as a motivational speaker
Wears a lot of bling
Has a bar in at his place
Molly always tries to find a way in
Calls Hosea a lot
Has a weird fetish for black, red and white furniture.
Still loves reading books by Evelyn Miller despite that the writer is a nobody living in Idaho
John, Abigail & Jack
They probably live out west on a farm (very much like Beechers Hope)
John works on the ranch and also has side multiple side jobs (thanks to Abigail)
Jack spends his time in the school library
Abigail is obsessed with this one bakery
Molly
Lives in whatever city Dutch lives in
Tries to make herself at home in the penthouse
Famous on social media for her makeup tutorials
The neighbors can usually hear Molly & Dutch fighting
Dutch: "Not now Miss O'shea" Molly: "Pig!"
Bill
Lives somewhere in the Midwest
Works as a truck driver for Walmart
spends a lot of his life on the road
Has a bit of road rage
likes rest stops
when he's not working, he is a part of a biker gang
has a tattoo sleeve and wears a white wife beater
one of those bikers that wears a bandana with the American flag on it
Marybeth
Probably lives in a quaint town on the east coast
Works in a bookstore during the day and is a freelance writer in her free time
Lives in a cute townhouse with a small garden in the front full of flowers.
Her house is cozy
has a seating area with big windows that look out over the street
spends her time writing and reading there
likes to sit at cafes and drink coffee
Lenny
Is a full-time university student by day and bartender by night
Lives in Chicago or Atlanta
Probably double majoring in Business and literature (if that combination even exists)
Lives his single life to the fullest
Mostly an A student who goes full ham on the weekends when partying
Micah
Lives in Las Vegas
Sells illegal drugs
Has no money because he gambled too much
Stays in different hotels
Owns a pawn shop
Everything for sale there was smuggled across the border
Has dealings with the cartels & other shady characters
Hosea
Lives a quiet life out west
Goes to his lake house on the weekends to go fly fishing
Reads a lot of books
Also likes to go hunting
Is a part time English teacher who teaches children to read
Talks to Dutch by phone
Sometimes visits Arthur and stays at his Ranch
Uncle
Lives in a trailer park in Florida where the weather is always warm and the cold won't bother his illness
Sits on a folding chair outside his mobile home
Plays the Banjo
Drinks a beer
Is a complete mess inside
Doesn't own much furniture
Can't work because of the Lumbago
Sweats a lot
Naps and snores too loud
Lives next to a swamp
Javier
Lives in Arizona
Lives in the desert
Grows cactuses
Owns a Music shop
Travels around playing at local bars
Works part time as a music teacher at the local high school
Has a YouTube where he shows off his music
Sadie
Probably lives in a city like Dallas or Denver
Works as a cop
Likes to catch people for speeding and sits on the side of the highway
eats Chick-fil-A while waiting
Watches Dateline
Carries a Taser
Always looks sexy in her uniform
Charles
Definitely lives in a cabin out west
works as a conservationist
Likes National Parks
Goes fishing with Arthur
supports and donates to the Bison Sanctuary (if one even exists)
Likes Camping
Trelawny
Lives a wealthy life in Charleston, South Carolina
Lives in a large southern mansion
Wears a robe to sleep
Has a whole walk-in closet full of clothes and accessories
Has a sauna in the basement where he relaxes
Owns a bunch of fancy cars: He loves his Bentley
Reverend Swanson
Probably lives in Philadelphia
Still works part-time at the church
Mostly spends his time helping people with addictions
Hosts an AA meeting three times a week
Rescues crackheads from the street
Mostly sober
Wrote a memoir on his journey to recovery
Sean
Lives in Boston
Likes the university/young people vibe
works at a pub
Everyone's favorite Bartender
Makes customers laugh
goes back to Ireland once a year
Takes Karen with him sometimes
Karen
Lives in Portland, Oregon
Works at a bar as a bartender and a stripper
Good Pole Dancer
Her large tits are popular amongst the men
Puts on shows in the evening
Talks to Sean a lot
Gets Hammered
Strauss
Works in Finance in New York City
Is a Workaholic
Has no friends
Goes back to Austria every few years
Boring to talk to
Always on a work call
Listens to Classical Music
Tilly
Lives in Nashville, Tennessee
Visits Marybeth a lot
Wants to be a Nurse
Likes taking care of people
Wants to travel around the world
Pearson
Lives somewhere in New England
Owns a restaurant and catering business
The restaurant is interestingly enough called "Pearsons"
Probably has a wife and some kids
Loves Maine Lobster one of those people that wears a bib when eating it because he's messy
Is a good Butcher
Susan Grimshaw
Lives in Florida
Is a housekeeper
Cleans uncles' mobile home once a week
Tries to control Tilly and Marybeth from miles away
disgruntled
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pigeon-pit · 4 months ago
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~*PIGEON PIT FALL 2024 DATES*~
hey y’all! we’re really stoked to be hitting the road again this fall and play east coast shows for the first time in a long time. come hang out, we’ll be playing new songs, old songs, whatever songs we feel like and have some brand new merch for sale too. we got some really special shows on here! Will update bands and ticket links as time goes on but for the most part shows are pay at the door and all ages! <3
10/14 in Minneapolis, MN at The Artery w/ Erica Lyle & Mold Wine
10/15 in Chicago, IL at Pilsen Community Books w/ Sunday Cruise
10/16 in Indianapolis, IN at Longshot w/ Looter & Passerine
10/17 in Pittsburgh, PA at Mr Roboto Project w/ Frog Legs, No Jane, Cacklin Racket & Rayne Blakeman (https://dltsgdom.ticketleap.com/pigeon-pit-roboto/)
10/18 in Akron, PA at House of Jenk w/ Local News Legend, Joyful Forfeit & Erin Incoherent
10/20 in Brattleboro, VT at Buoyant Heart w/ Harm, Leaf Glitter & Kivimae
10/21 in Brooklyn, NY at Trans Pecos w/ Choked Up & precious human (https://www.venuepilot.co/events/114396/orders/new)
10/23 in Philadelphia, PA at Foto Club w/ Paper Bee & Ezra Cohen (https://dice.fm/partner/4333-collective/event/dk59l6-pigeon-pit-paper-bee-ezra-cohen-23rd-oct-foto-club-philadelphia-tickets )
10/24 in Richmond, VA at Crescent Club w/ Flora and the Fauna and Shotgun Princess
10/26 in Gainesville, FL at Roadhouse w/ Mechanical Canine, Heavy Lag, Shift Meal & the Alleged Band
10/27 in Gainesville, FL - FEST - at Vivid Music Hall w/ Chuck Ragan and the Camaraderie, Tim Barry, Brendan Kelly, Walter Mitty and his MAkeshift Orchestra & Apes of the State (https://www.seetickets.us/event/Vivid-Music-Hall-CHUCK-RAGAN-TIM-BARRY-BRENDAN-KELLY/610483) (18+)
10/28 in Atlanta, GA at Wallers Coffee w/ Dakota Floyd, Official Bard of Baldwin County & Ozello (https://pigeonpitwallers.bpt.me/)
10/29 in Pensacola FL at the 309 Project w/ the Taints & TBA
10/30 in New Orleans, LA at SASS w/ Twisted Teens & TACK (4011 St Claude)
11/1 in Little Rock, AR at River City Coffee w/ TBA
11/2 in Kansas City, MO at Howdy w/ Small Void & TBA
11/4 in Denver, CO at 7th Circle Music Collective w/ Fables of the Fall, Marissa. & Darling Driftwood
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thatsdemko · 2 years ago
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smooth operator - c.sainz
pairings: Carlos sainz x fem!reader
warnings: not intended for minors + angst
a/n: a short drabble/blurb for our smooth operator!!
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《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》
A license to love, insurance to hold
Melts all your memories and change into gold
His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold
his heart doesn’t beat to the same rhythm as yours; love. the lust he gives and burning passion is all a nightly ritual, by morning time that’s faded with the stars. he’s a smooth operator.
his cock is the only thing that fits inside you, his love just fills the cracks. he’s a constant reminder that men are all the same. love is a game, and he’s down to play.
“more, amor. I need to hear you.” you can feel him in your core. tears brimming your eyes as you try to bat them away with your heavy mascara covered eyelashes, but nothing stops them from slipping.
your nails rake his tanned skin back. lips hovering over yours, his eyes are glued shut waiting for his name to burn the little hairs in his ears. he needs to hear you beg for it. he needs you to remind him why he’s here in the first place, why he’s skipped his family dinner for a silly little orgasm.
“c-carlos.” it croaks out from the back of your lungs, he can barely hear you over his own grunts and the burning around the tips of his ears. his big dull brown eyes flicker into yours and for a second, you crumble.
you remember why you were against the hotel mattress, wrists pinned to the sheets while his cock takes deep long strokes that itch your clit with a new found sensation that makes the nerves ready to combust. your body craves this, nobody else does it like Carlos sainz.
“carlos,” it comes out from you again, tears stream down your cheeks. the sound comes from your gut, it’s louder, but it’s not loud enough. he wants to hear it reflect off the walls, he wants to hear that lando called the front desk for a noise complaint.
“louder,” his tip nudges the bundle of nerves one more time and you can feel your body curl into him, the gasp of his name is loud. it fills the room, and finally he signals for you to come. body finally relaxing, you listen to the tension in your muscles, the ache in your groins, and the pain of your pussy.
you watch him slip from the bed, the belt that was casted aside was now slipping around his belt loops. once again, he flees the scene before you can say the words that have been held tight against your chest. the ones that’ll make him stop coming.
Coast to coast, LA to Chicago, western male
Across the north and south, to Key Largo, love for sale
Smooth operator
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transit-fag · 8 months ago
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for a while I've been wanting to do a road trip where I travel the entire perimeter of the US by train, is that possible right now?
You can do the entire thing, except for the gulf Coast by taking the Sunset Limited from New Orleans to LA then taking the Coast Starlight to Seattle where you will take the Empire Builder to Chicago where you transfer to the Lake shore Limited to Boston where you transfer to the Northeast Regional to New York, where you can the take the Silver Service to Miami
133 notes · View notes
vaultdasalmas · 7 months ago
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★ Coast to coast
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LA to Chicago ꉺ ̈ 🐚
96 notes · View notes
dear-ao3 · 1 year ago
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smooth operator
smoooooth oPERATORRRRRRR
COAST TO COAST LA TO CHICAGO-
223 notes · View notes
secretswiftymarvelfan · 1 year ago
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Boston Bears: Off-Limits - Rugby Player!Chris x Reader (Part 2)
Summary: After an unforgettable night, Chris finds out more about you
Word Count: 6.4k
Warnings: Angst! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Male Masturbation! MINORS DNI!
Rugby Explained
Dividers by Me!
Series Masterlist / Masterlist
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Chapter 2
You heaved out a long sigh as you put the last of your clothes away, walking out of the closet towards your bed only to completely collapse on your bed in exhaustion. The bed springs creaked as you bounced slightly, the noise bringing you straight back to last night when they were creaking for a completely different reason. 
You nibbled at your lower lip as the memory of last night replayed in your mind, the way Chris took you to heaven multiple times. The thought of it alone had you crossing one leg over the other as pressure built between your legs. When your phone vibrated in your jeans pocket a small involuntary gasp escaped your lips. 
A smile then grew on your face when you saw it was Chris replying to your text asking how his post-match recovery was going. Like promised Chris had texted you this morning and you two had been texting ever since.
Chris: good, just warming back up after an icebath before watching the Chicago Knights game later, playing them next weekend and wanna know where they’re at
Y/N: oh very good, getting yourself in the coach’s good books?
Chris: just trying to be a good captain, although it never hurts to stay in his good books
You let out a snort since you knew that was definitely the case, you’re dad was pretty chill in most aspects but when it came to Rugby he was pretty strict. Speaking of the devil, you put your phone away when he knocks on your bedroom door with an open bottle of beer. 
“All done in here?” he asks walking over and passing you the beer.
You accept it, sitting up to take a long sip “Yup, don’t ever let me say I don’t have enough clothes” you tell him.
Your father snorts “If only your teenage self could see you now” he says with a shake of his head “kitchen is all unpacked, but feel free to reorganise everything because I did it wrong” he offers. 
“Thanks Dad, you didn’t grab yourself a beer?” you ask nodding down to the beer bottle in your hands. 
“No need to keep my mind clear got games to study when I get home,” your dad says with a shake of his head. 
“Well take one for later once you’re done studying, did you even celebrate the win yesterday?” you say with a knowing look. 
Your dad sighs and rolls his eyes “The team all went out to celebrate” 
“I didn’t ask about the team I asked about you” you point out standing up from your bed and walking out towards your kitchen. 
“Fine, I got takeout while watching the game back” your dad relents with a long sigh. 
“See, today is supposed to be your day off so just take a beer and go relax for a bit, you deserve it considering you helped me unpack,” you say opening up your fridge and grabbing him a beer. 
“Fine but I’m still watching the Knights match tonight and that counts because I enjoy watching rugby” your dad argues as he accepts the bottle of beer. 
You chuckle shaking your head at him “I wouldn't expect anything else, thanks for today Dad”
Your dad smiles warmly over at you, walking over to sling his arm around your shoulders “It’s nothing, I’m just happy to have my little girl back on the east coast”
“Me too Dad” you smile.
You had enjoyed your time in LA, you had met some friends for life there. But you missed New England so much, especially the sweater weather. When you walked off the plane it was like a breath of fresh air, you felt good about returning home and getting your fresh start after everything with Bryce. 
“I better get going and let you settle and reorganise,” your dad says grabbing his jacket. 
“Thanks Dad, don’t forget to relax,” you say pointing over to him.
“I won’t see you tomorrow for your first day, don’t be late” your dad smiles pointing a finger right back at you. 
“Don’t worry I know how to make a good impression” you wink as you close the door. 
Once he was gone you made your way into the kitchen, sipping your beer as you went. You inspected the unpacking your dad had done and where he had put everything. Like he suspected you would have to move things around and re-organise because where he put a few things just didn’t make sense to you. 
But that would be a job for another day. You were far too tired from unpacking to even think about re-organising the kitchen, if you attempted it now you would probably only make it worse. 
So instead you made your way back to your living room and collapsed on the couch. Looking at the time you had a lot of time left in the day, for a second you considered texting Chris and inviting him over to fulfil that reward he teased but you stopped yourself. Doing that would just open yourself up to getting attached, you couldn’t make the same mistake again. But Chris was so different to Bryce already, it was what made you comfortable to give him your number. 
Letting out a long sigh you shook your head trying to get Chris out of your head. It was a one-night stand, nothing more. To carry it on would only make things complicated, even if it was the best sex of your life. Sex that every time you thought about it made your core ache and wish to seek out the toy he used last night. 
To distract yourself you grabbed your laptop and decided to do some work. Your dad had already given you the lowdown on the team’s list of injuries so you wouldn’t go into it blind. But you also knew players tried to hide any injuries and niggles they had so you wanted to rewatch yesterday's match to see if you could spot any. You had already noticed a couple but you suspected there was more. 
You also planned to watch the Knights game too to do the same thing, knowing what your opposition's injuries are can be a great help. You know which players could be slow to turn or not at full speed and easy to run past.
You were halfway through making some notes on yesterday’s match when your phone buzzed. You instantly jumped to grab it to see who it was, scolding yourself when you realised you were disappointed that it wasn’t Chris. Instead, it was your best friend back in LA, Tommi. 
Tommi: Hey how’s unpacking going?
Y/N: Done, free to videochat?
Tommi: Yes! I need to vent!
You chuckle as you close the tab playing yesterday's match on your laptop and start video calling Tommi. She picks up almost immediately, her hair dishevelled, tied up in a messy bun, a glass of wine in her hands. 
It was a sight that you knew very well, like you, Tommi grew up on the East Coast but down in New York instead of New England. The two of you had met at college when you ended up being roommates, the rest was pretty much history. You became fast friends and incredibly close you couldn’t believe you had gotten through life before her. She had moved to LA a couple of years before you and you were both so excited when you got the job at LA Lions. 
“Do I need wine or will beer do?” you ask holding up your bottle. 
“Beer will do” She nods taking a large sip of her wine. 
“What’s up wedding planning again?” you ask tilting your head sympathetically. 
Tommi lets out a long sigh “Yeah…”
“Didn’t you guys get a wedding planner to help with it all?” you ask with a small shake of your head. 
“We did and she’s great but it’s hard to make any decisions when Dan isn’t there to make the decisions with me, we were supposed to go cake tasting today but he had a work emergency” she pouts, her shoulder slumping. 
“That’s annoying, are you able to reschedule?” you ask with a sympathetic look. 
“Yeah but not for another couple of months! This bakery is so popular that it was near impossible to get the tasting appointment in the first place!” Tommi vents before taking another large sip of her wine. 
“Is there anything else you can get sorted sooner so you feel like you’re making progress?” you suggest.
Tommi sits back and tilts her head as she thinks “No not really” she sighs “Weddings suck, don’t ever do it” she adds making you laugh.
You knew she was joking, despite how much stress the planning was causing she was actually really excited. Tommi and Dan were the definition of love, you didn’t think you could find anyone more in love than the two of them. When you first met Dan you had been pretty sceptical, nobody could be good enough for your bestie, but Dan really was and it made you crave that sort of love.
Before you knew it you started picturing it, startling when you realised that you were picturing Chris. That was not a good idea at all. You needed a bucket of ice water stat.
“What’s that look on your face?” Tommi asks frowning at you, pulling you completely from your thoughts.
“Oh um, nothing” you say waving her off “Just trying to think of a solution for you” you lie.
Tommi’s eyes narrow as she leans in closer to her screen before gasping dramatically “You had sex!” she exclaims.
“What! No! No, I didn’t!” you stutter shaking your head, knowing Tommi would not approve of you jumping into someone’s bed so soon. Well, Chris did jump into your bed but you didn’t think she would accept that loophole. 
“Yes! Yes, you did! I can see that glow! It’s faded a bit but it’s there! Who! How!” she exclaims. 
“It was nothing just a one-night stand” you relent “I met him at the bar last night”
“The rugby bar?” Tommi questions her brow pinching together slightly “Was it a fan?”
Your silence as you tried to work out how best to answer the question gave her the answer she was after “Y/N” she said with a long sigh “Please tell me it was one of the opposition players”
You pause for a moment “It was one of the opposition players” you lie.
Tommi saw straight through you “Y/N… I love you… but…” she says drifting off at the end as she tries to work out how to kindly reprimand you. 
You knew exactly what she was thinking. You got yourself into the mess with Bryce because you slept with him. Who’s to say you won’t end up in the exact same mess again with Chris? There was a reason people say don’t shit where you eat. 
“I know, I know” you sigh “but he just- he seemed different, I felt safe in his company and he was nothing like Bryce” 
“He’s a rugby player, they’re all the same. Player is literally in the title” Tommi argues “What’s his name? I need to see if he gives off player vibes” 
You wanted to argue that they’re not but gave her Chris’ name anyway. You’ve met and worked with plenty of rugby players and not all of them were bad, there were some really sweet guys. Chris seemed to be one of the sweet ones. 
“Okay he’s hot I’ll give you that, and he seems nice but there’s that player look in his eyes, one that says he’s sexy and he knows it” Tommi says as she scrolls through photos of Chris on her phone.
“I needed to get back on the horse though, I don’t want what happened with Bryce to stop me from doing what I want” you argue. 
Tommi lets out another long sigh, you could understand her hesitance, she has never been the type of person who could do one-night stands. She just didn’t get them, she needed that emotional connection, whereas you could make do with just physical. She never judged you though and never criticised the fact that your list was much longer than hers. 
“Okay, I just worry about you that’s all, what Bryce did and what you went through was properly shitty and I don’t want you to go through that again especially now you’re thousands of miles away” She eventually sighs. 
You smirk “Don’t act like you wouldn’t jump on the first flight over” you say knowingly.
“I would, but the only reason I want to visit you is for happy reasons” she retorts. 
“Okay, that’s fair” you chuckle “But don’t worry it’s fine, it was just a one-time thing,” you say trying to sound convincing. 
Once again her eyes narrow “Why did that sound wrong? Like you were trying to convince yourself”
You let out a groan, you could never hide anything from Tommi. She had crazy mindreading and people-reading skills, which you guess helped her in her career in PR, but it was annoying when she put those skills to use on you. 
“Fine, I’m just struggling to get him out of my head because fuck the sex was so good, like best I’ve ever had, like the sex you talk about in those books you read” You relent. 
Tommi’s eyebrows rise slightly “That kind of sex doesn’t exist” she says. 
“It does trust me and it’s addicting and my brain is saying it's a one-time thing only but my body is just begging for more” you huff slumping back against the couch “like if Chris walked in right now I would jump his bones it was that good” 
Tommi sighs pursing her lips “I’m happy for you, everyone deserves good sex but listen to your head, you’re playing with fire if you sleep with him again. Right now you’re just remembering good sex, whose to say the next time with him won’t be shit. If you end it now you won’t have ruined it”
You nod your head slowly, what she said made sense, why risk tainting a good memory? While you weren’t drunk last night, there was definitely alcohol in your system, maybe you were more drunk than you realised and it was the alcohol making the sex seem better than it was. 
“Yeah you’re right, thanks Tommi” you sigh. 
“It’s nothing I’m glad I can still provide sound advice miles away” Tommi smiles warmly. 
“Me too and don’t worry about your wedding planning, if you need me to give Dan a kick up the ass I will, I’m sure it comes under maid of honour duties” you smirk making her laugh. 
“Thank you, the wedding is still ages away so we have time, i’m just stressing over nothing” Tommi sighs.
You nod in agreement “I think we’ve had a good vent session if I do say so myself” you smirk.
“Hear hear” Tommi cheers holding up her glass before drinking the rest of her wine, you laugh following her example by downing the rest of your beer. 
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Chris let out a quiet groan as he climbed out of his car, his calf twinging in pain as he stood. He’d hoped that the recovery he had done yesterday would have been enough but he clearly overexerted himself on Saturday. 
A smile tugs at his lips when he thinks back to Saturday. He hadn’t expected his night to go like that but he doesn’t regret it at all, in fact, he could barely stop thinking about it. He was no stranger to hookups but none had been like that, none had lingered in his mind. 
He wondered if you felt the same way, he guessed so considering the text conversation the two of you had yesterday. That was until you just stopped replying halfway through the afternoon. He guessed, hoped that it was just because you were busy not because you decided to ghost him. 
Pulling out his phone he quickly checked it to see if he had just missed you texting him back but there was nothing. He considered shooting you another text but before he had the chance he heard someone shouting out his name. 
Glancing up he spotted Jensen walking across the parking lot towards him, quickly pocketing his phone, Chris locked his car and walked over towards Jake. 
“Hey man, get up to anything fun yesterday?” Chris greets him with a forearm handshake. 
“Downloaded this new game so was just playing that all day, what about you?” Jensen asks as the two of them walk towards the training centre. 
“Just watched back our game and watched the Knights game see what they’re playing like” Chris shrugs as he opens the door. 
“Man, do you ever take a day off?” Jensen exclaims shaking his head as he steps inside. 
“I can take a day off when we win the championship” Chris retorts knowing there was no way Jensen could argue with that. 
“Fair enough” Jensen shrugs “At least you came out with us on Saturday whereabouts did you get to anyway? No one saw you leave” he then asks.
Chris for a second considers saying he went home with someone but decides against it. It wasn't his team's business what he did and who he did. Chris liked his privacy, what he did in the bedroom stayed in the bedroom. 
“Just went home, sorry I didn’t say but I knew Storm would try and convince me to stay out,” Chris says nodding to the winger who looked like he was recovering from a 2-day hangover. 
Jensen snorts as he claps Chris on the shoulder “I don’t blame you” he chuckles as they join the rest of the team in the video playback room. 
Chris nods in agreement as he sits down. Looking around at the team he was glad it seemed to be only Johnny who was still suffering from a hangover, sat in the darkest corner of the room with his hoodie pulled up over his head. Everyone looked a little tired but it was a Monday so Chris couldn’t blame them. 
Finally, Coach Y/L/N and the rest of the coaching team walked, including Andy the assistant coach. Chris always felt a little pang of sympathy when he watched Andy coach, he’d been at the high of his career until a knee injury forced him to retire far earlier than any player wants to. 
“Right, how many of you have had a chance to review the game?” Coach Y/L/N asks as he plugs in his laptop. 
Almost all of the players in the room raise their hands, earning an approving hum from the coach. 
“And did any of you catch the knight's game?” he follows up, every hand going up this time, even Johnny who looked like the movement made the room spin. 
“They were awful, got an easy match next week” Ari smirks as he leans back in his chair. 
“Or they’ll attack harder next week” Andy warns “Never go into a match thinking it’ll be easy, you’ll get complacent and that's when the worse happens” the rest of the team hums in response taking his warning on board. 
“Barber is right, but before we jump into the game analysis there’s a couple of announcements” Coach Y/L/N says glancing at his watch with a sigh “She said she wouldn’t be late but… I'll get started anyway” he continues rolling his eyes “we have a new medic joining the team-”
At that exact moment the door to the video playback room opens, light streaming in which made Johnny hiss as it hit him directly in the eyes. When Chris’ eyes adjusted to the change in light they widened when he saw it was you standing in the door. What the hell were you doing here?
“Sorry, got a little lost” you apologise as you shut the door behind you and move towards Coach Y/L/N.
“So much for a good impression,” Coach Y/L/N smirks at you, earning a roll of the eyes, before he turns back towards the team “As I was saying we have a new medic, meet Y/N, she’s the best in the business even if I am a little biased”
Chris felt like his brain was short-circuiting, he wouldn't be surprised if sparks were flying from his head as his brain went into meltdown. Why were you here? Why did the coach talk to you like he was very familiar with you already?
“I’m sure you all will be very welcoming, but it’s my duty as a father to tell you all to keep it professional, Y/N is off-limits, that means no dating Storm” Coach Y/L/N warns pointing over to Johnny the known player on the team. 
Duty as a father? No way is Coach Y/L/N your dad, no way did Chris already break the off-limits rule.
“Dad” you complain quietly, glaring daggers at him, your face flushing. 
Fuck. 
Chris was dead. He was dead. He will never see his team lift that championship trophy because he was about to be killed by his coach. 
His gaze shifted to you to see you were completely avoiding his gaze. He let out a small scoff as he crossed his arms and looked down. You knew. You knew who he was and how your father would react and you said nothing. You invited him back to your apartment knowing it would paint a target on his back. 
Chris was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you leave until the door shut behind you. Even with your departure, Chris couldn’t focus, he just sat there the entire session stewing, kicking himself for being so stupid. He barely participated, many of the insights he noticed during his re-watches went unsaid. All he could think about was getting out of here, tracking you down and asking WHAT THE FUCK!
He had to bide his time though as straight after the analysis session was a gym session. Chris hoped that maybe some exercise would help him work through some of his anger at the situation but he was not so lucky because you were observing the session alongside Andy. 
Chris watched you as he did bicep curls, his teeth gritted not just in exertion but in frustration. You were barely paying him any attention, you were instead focussing on Johnny who was doing some weighted run across the gym. You were acting like he didn’t exist and it pissed him off. But not as much as when Andy said something to make you laugh, your hand landing on his arm as you threw your head back laughing. 
He finally got your attention when he dropped his weights back on the floor, the sound of them hitting the ground reverberating around the gym. Your brows furrowed slightly as you studied him for a second, only to turn your attention back to Andy. 
That pissed Chris off even more so even though he knew his leg still hurt he decided to join Johnny and do some weighted runs. That definitely got your attention, he could feel your eyes on his back as he strapped the trolley around his waist and prepared for his first sprint. When he turned back around he saw you watching him intensely, your brows furrowed slightly. 
Chris ignored you though, gave you a taste of your own medicine, and began his first run. He instantly felt the twinge of pain in his calf but he pushed through, he just needed the loosen the muscle up that's all. When he was done he pushed the trolley back to the start ready to start again. 
He went a few more times before his leg completely went forcing him to hop and come to a stop. You were instantly over to him kneeling down as he sat down on the floor to massage his poor calf. 
“You okay?” you ask tilting your head.
“Fine, just cramp” Chris huffs standing back up before you could do anything “Already gone” he states as he turns around and walks off to go back to biceps curls. 
He tried to just focus on his workout and not you nor the pain in his leg but he did catch you watching him a bit more intensely now. A flash of satisfaction shoots through him knowing that but he quickly pushes that down. 
When the session came to an end Chris was making his way out but Andy stepped in his way “Hey your leg doesn’t look good, go down to the medic and get it strapped and properly stretched out” he told him.
“It's fine” Chris huffs.
“That wasn’t a request” Andy states, his gaze turning hard. 
Chris huffs before suddenly realising this was his opportunity to confront you and find out exactly what had gone down. He gives Andy a quick knock before making his way to the medical room making his arrival known with a short sharp knock.
“Come in” he heard you call out from inside. 
Walking in Chris saw you crouched down by one of the cupboards sorting through some of the supplies. You glanced over to see who it was, eyes widening slightly when you saw it was him. 
“Here for the leg?” you ask standing up and brushing off your hands. 
“Amongst other things” Chris states crossing his arms across his chest. 
You arch a brow at him and gesture towards the bed “Sit down and let me take a look” you tell him.
Chris lets out another huff but does as you tell him moving over to the bed and jumping up. 
“So what does it feel like?” you ask pulling on some gloves and moving over towards him. 
“Tight” Chris huffs.
You furrow your brows at him as if you were confused as to why he was pissed “Right well it doesn’t feel like you’ve done any serious damage” you say as you feel his calf muscle “Just need to do some stretches and maybe skip leg day” you add with a knowing look. 
“Fine” Chris mutters as he pushes himself up from the bed, brushing past you. 
“Hey, what’s up? You’re acting like a bit of a dick” you huff turning around to face him. 
“What’s up?” Chris scoffs “You know damn well what’s up”
“No I don’t!” you exclaim looking at him in disbelief and confusion. 
“You knew exactly who I was and didn’t feel the need to tell me who you were! Your dad is going to kill me if he finds out what we did!” Chris whispers harshly, not wanting to raise his voice and bring attention to this conversation. 
“What? I didn’t hide anything” you exclaim, your brows nearly disappearing into your hairline. 
“Yes, you did you hid who you were from me” Chris hisses.
You look at him bewildered “Well I’m sorry I didn’t announce who my dad was but it was pretty fucking obvious, I told you I was a medic and came from a rugby family, you would have known the Bears were looking for a new medic” you argue gesturing wildly with your arms “it takes two to tango”
“I wouldn’t have tango’ed if I’d known” Chris growls stepping closer and cornering you back against the wall. 
“Oh come on you’re being ridiculous!” you complain “We’re grown-ass adults! I don’t need Daddy’s permission to sleep with someone”  Chris’ nostrils flare as he tries to think of a response “If you wanna feel better about it my dad said no dating, I don’t know about you but I don’t consider sex to be a full-blown relationship” you point out “casual sex or… friends with benefits is still on the table” you continue your head tilting slightly as your gaze changed from irritated to turned on. 
That seems to snap Chris out of his stupor “No, this…” he says gesturing between the two of you “is over”
“What just because coach said so?” you huff before taking a deep breath “Look,” you say holding your hands up “Saturday night was the most… fun, I’ve had in a while and I feel pretty confident to say you found it fun too”
Chris’ jaw clenches as tries to deny it but can’t, only this morning he was considering calling you to schedule round two. But knowing who your dad was changed everything, yeah he shouldn’t let his coach stop him from doing what he wanted to do but he had the championship to worry about.
“So if you change your mind, you know where to find me” you say standing up tall “Don’t forget your stretches” you add patting his chest as you brushed passed him and walked out of the medical room. 
Chris blinked a couple of times as he watched you go, completely bewildered at the change in tone. He was still pissed but when he put his hands on his hips and looked down he saw the evidence of the other emotion he was feeling being so close to you. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to quickly readjust himself.
“Behave” he grumbled to himself as he walked back out of the room
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Chris was so rilled up from training and his encounter with you that he felt close to bursting and needing a release. Exercising hadn’t helped, he couldn’t talk to his teammates about it. He considered talking to his mom about it but decided he needed someone with a bit more discretion. Frankly, he didn’t really want to talk about it either, he didn’t see how it would help, he just needed a distraction.
Hence why he was now standing outside his brother’s apartment building, repeatedly pressing the buzzer to get Scott’s attention.
“Alright, alright calm down” His brother’s voice finally came through over the intercom “Who is it?”
“It’s me” Chris huffs. 
“Sorry, I don’t know anyone named me” Scott replies making Chris groan in irritation, Scott knew exactly who he was and Chris wasn’t in the mood for games.
“Scott not now” Chris states his tone sharp.
“God what put you in a bad mood” Scott huffs, still not letting Chris into the building. 
“Right now, you” Chris grumbles “Now are you gonna let me in or not?” 
“What’s the magic word?” Scott asks in a singsongy tone.
“Scott” Chris growls in warning.
“Nope, incorrect,” Scott says. 
“Scott c’mon open up I’m not in the mood” Chris groans, hitting the buzzer again when he’s met with only silence “Scott!”
“What’s the magic word?” Scott asks again. 
Chris lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose “Please?” he’s met with silence again, silence that drags out long enough that Chris considers just giving up before he finally hears the sound of the door unlocking. 
“Finally” he mutters to himself as he pushes the door open and makes his way inside. 
When he reaches Scott’s floor, Scott is already standing waiting for him with his arms crossed “Bad training session?” he asks as Chris walks over.
“Something like that” Chris grumbles as they walk inside Scott’s apartment. 
“Wanna talk about it?” Scott asks as he closes the door behind them, Chris considers it for a moment before shaking his head “Right Beer and MarioKart it is then” Scott decides before walking towards the fridge. 
“Thanks” Chris says letting out a long sigh as he sits down on the couch and stretches out. 
For the next hour or so the Evans Brothers played race after race. It was pretty even who was winning which just made it get even more competitive, to the point where they decided to play Rainbow Road, the track neither of them were good at to crown the winner. 
It had been a good distraction up until that point, but every time Chris’ character fell off the track his mind would wander until it was near impossible not to talk about it.
“I slept with the Coach’s daughter” he finally announces. 
It catches Scott off guard so much so that he spits out his beer, and his character plummets from the track. Scott turns to face Chris, the race now completely forgotten. 
“You did what?” he blinks. 
“In my defence, I didn’t know who she was and she didn’t tell me either” Chris reasons.
“Damn, does the coach know?” Scott asks as he wipes the rest of the beer from his face. 
“No, but when he introduced her to the team he gave a pretty clear warning to stay away” Chris explains.
Scott’s brows furrow in confusion, his head tilting “Why would he introduce her? Isn’t that just asking for trouble?” he asks.
“Because she’s the new medic” Chris explains.
Scott’s lips form a small ‘o’ in understanding before a smirk grows on his lips “You still like her, don’t you? You want the forbidden fruit”
“No” Chris grumbled but even he could hear how unconvincing he sounded. 
“Okay, if she wasn’t the coach’s daughter would you want to sleep with her again?” Scott asks with a knowing look. 
“I mean yeah” Chris admits with a shrug of his shoulders “but she is so I can’t”
“What does she think about all this?” Scott then asks. 
“She doesn’t care, says he can’t stop her from doing what she wants” Chris answers shaking his head “And she pointing out that he said no dating, he didn’t say no hook-ups or anything casual”
“I mean she’s got a point, you’re both adults if you wanna sleep with her and she wants to sleep with you there’s no problem” Scott shrugs. 
Chris looks at his brother in disbelief, he thought Scott would be on his side “The problem is that we have a championship to win, I can’t let a girl mess with that by getting in my head” Chris argues.
“Sounds like she’s already in there” Scott mutters as he takes a sip of his beer. 
“Not anymore, me and her are over” Chris states “It was a mistake that I’m never repeating again no matter how good it was”
Scott quietly snorts shaking his head “Yeah you tell yourself that” 
That evening when Chris got home, despite talking to Scott and making the decision that he’d never sleep with you again, he still felt restless. He’d taken Dodger for a long walk to see if that helped, it didn’t. He actually managed to wear the poor pup out which was a feat. 
No matter what he tried he just couldn’t get you off his mind. What really didn’t help was doing the stretches he needed to do to get rid of the tightness in his leg. If he could he would just ignore the direction and let his leg heal on its own but he had to get himself match ready. 
When he was finally done he decided to go have a shower to cool off, he needed to get you off his mind. If he couldn't get you out of his head before the next game he would be screwed. He couldn’t be distracted, he needed to be at the top of his game and not make any mistakes. 
Stepping inside his shower he almost instantly turned the temperature down. He knew he should be using hot water to help his muscles relax but cold water felt much better right about now. 
Except for the fact, it wasn’t really working and when he glanced down he groaned when he saw his cock standing proud. He tried to ignore it and just focus on what he needed to do but it was growing impossible with every second. 
He just needed a release that’s all. It had absolutely nothing to do with you it was just a release. As long as he didn’t think about you it would be completely fine. 
He repeated that to himself as he wrapped his hand around his erection and started working his hand up and down. His eyes fluttered shut as a groan escaped his lips. Yes, this was exactly what he needed. 
As he continued to work himself his mind began to wander, picturing your hand around his cock instead. As soon as he realised what he was doing he stopped himself, shaking his head trying to rid that image from his mind but it only got stronger.
Before he knew it he was picturing you down on your knees, your lips wrapped around his cock. He let out a long moan bracing himself against the wall as he pictured you taking him down your throat, your hand cupping his balls. 
“Fuck” Chris groaned as he started pumping himself faster. 
His daydreams about you only got more vivid, all of his senses betraying him. He could have sworn he could feel your nails digging into the back of his thighs, the feel of your hair in his hands as he guided you. He could smell the scent of your arousal that just made him want to turn your around and fuck you from behind. He could hear your moans and feel the vibrations of them around his cock. 
“Ah shit” he curses as he finally came, his spend hitting the shower wall. 
His chest heaved as he came down from his high, his eyes screwed shut and presses his forehead against the cool tile. The image of you was still flashing in his mind, the way you’d lick up every last drop he gave you, the way you’d look up at him through your lashes with a playful smirk that guaranteed he’d be hard again in no time at all. 
Eventually, the image of you faded and Chris opened his eyes, finding him still alone in the shower. The ice-cold water stung his back. He let out a long sigh as he quickly cleaned himself up and stepped out of the shower. 
He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he wrapped a towel around his face. Even he could see the distracted look on his face. He’d found a release but he wasn’t ready to admit it wasn’t the one he’d been craving. It had taken the edge off but something was still lingering. 
He just prayed it would be enough and soon enough the craving would go entirely. 
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