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stillcamp · 2 months ago

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Family Camping Guide: Best Campsites, Kid-Friendly Gear, Fun Activities & Safety Tips

The family camping trip is a classic, yet still, efficient way of strengthening a relationship with family members while discovering the beauty of the natural world. Regardless of your experience, be it a newly formed family of campers or a family of great adventures, organizing a memorable family camping trip entails a lot of considerations things like the choice of the destination and the comfort of every family member. This summer we will provide a complete guide of camping ideas, the best campsites for families, camping gear necessary for kids, outdoor activities, easy campfire recipes, safety tips, a camping checklist for a family, fun camping games, and how to make your trip truly unforgettable.

1. Summer Camping Ideas for Families

Summer is the season of camping trips with family. If the temperatures are warm and the days are long, the outdoor adventures become even more fun and enjoyable. The list below contains summer camping ideas that your family is going to love.

a. National Park CampingVisiting national parks is the best way to get to know various terrains as well as the nature-oriented educational programs directed to kids. For example, Yellowstone, Yosemite, and the Grand Canyon are the parks not only displaying the breathtaking views but also offering them family-friendly hiking trails, wildlife spotting and ranger-led programs that teach kids about nature and conservation.

b. Beach CampingWater-loving families will find camping at the beach to be the ideal combination of relaxation and mega-adventures. Campsites on coastal states like California and Florida allow you to enjoy the ocean and sand while you are just steps away from the beach, spending the night over there. Don't forget to bring things like sunscreen, beach towels, and lots of water toys for the kids!

c. RV CampingRV camping is a brilliant choice for families as it brings in a lot of modern stuff including air conditioning units, kitchens, and bathrooms, thus providing a more relaxing camping experience. RV campsites scattered all over the place pave the way for you to have the opportunity to go on a trip with several stops. To add to the fun, some campgrounds provide amenities such as pools and playgrounds where children can play.

d. State Park CampingState parks give the camping alternative that is easily accessible and budget-friendly, and they are often the places with less crowded than the national parks. Visit local state parks that have campsites near hiking trails, lakes, and picnic spots. State parks mostly provide family-centered activities like ranger talks and exhibits of animals.

2. Planning the Perfect Family Camping Trip

A successful family camping trip requires thoughtful planning. From selecting the right campsite to packing the right gear, here are some tips to ensure your trip goes smoothly.

Choosing the Right CampsiteThe choice of your children's age and interests has to be considered when you are selecting a camping place. Young kids may be the ones who value campgrounds that have playgrounds, easy trails, or places where people can go swimming. On the other hand, teenagers might be the ones who value more difficult hiking, swimming in the water, or the opportunity to learn fishing or kayaking.

Creating a Flexible ScheduleWhen you are planning your activities, be sure to have a mix of structured outdoor adventures as well as downtime. Too many activities can cause stress whereas too much freedom can be boring for children. Hiking, canoeing, or exploring can be paired with quieter activities like sitting by the campfire or playing games.

Getting Kids Involved in PlanningLet your kids get their hands dirty in the trip planning by choosing some activities, help with packing, or assist in setting up the tent. It is because of them that we feel necessary, and it is always they who look forward to the trip.

3. Best Campsites for Families

Finding the right campsite is key to a great family camping trip. Here are some of the top campsites in the U.S. that are perfect for families.

a. Acadia National Park, MaineThe Acadia National Park is a gorgeous complex of coastal cliffs, thick forests, and various hiking trails that are made for any age. Blackwoods and Seawall Campgrounds are equipped with kid-friendly amenities such as picnic tables, fire rings, and even rangers-led programs. The park boasts beautiful uninterrupted views of the Atlantic Ocean and furthermore provides countless activities for those that love being in nature thus it is perfect for family trips with a hint of adventure.

b. KOA (Kampgrounds of America)KOA campsites are characterized by their family-friendly atmosphere. They provide many locations with pools, playgrounds, mini-golf, and organized activities such as movie nights or crafts for kids. KOA has a variety of options including tent camping, RVs, and cabins, so they really do cater to all camper types.

c. Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee/North CarolinaThe Great Smoky Mountains entices multitudes each year, luring people in with its vast, green woods, creatures that roam its area, and plenty of well-marked hiking trails. The Cades Cove Campground is a family favorite that is very close to the scenic drives, historic sites, and beginner-friendly hikes of the park.

d. Disney’s Fort Wilderness Resort, FloridaFor people looking for a combination of camping and Disney truck, Fort Wilderness is a great place to be. Besides the RV sites, cabins, and tent camping options, the site also offers horseback riding, canoeing, archery, and pools, plus direct proximity to Disney World.

4. Essential Camping Gear for Kids

Packing the right gear is crucial to keeping kids comfortable and engaged during your camping trip. Here’s a list of must-have items for your little campers.

a. Kid-Sized Sleeping BagsOpting for a sleeping bag that is metal specifically made for kids guarantees they are warm and very comfortable during the night. These sleeping bags are and they have better insulation and thus the children can comfortably sleep in the temperature variations.

b. Child-Friendly Camping ChairsShare among children their unique little space around the campfire using mini portable camping chairs for them. To this end, such a tiny addition is definitely a significant step to make them feel more integrated into the camping arrangements.

c. Headlamps and FlashlightsKids love having their own flashlight or headlamp. It’s not only practical for nighttime navigation but also adds to the adventure of camping.

d. Kid-Friendly BackpacksIf you are going on a hike a child-sized backpack is a great way to let your kids take care of their own personal belongings such as their water and snacks thus making them feel like they are part of the team.

e. Bug Spray and SunscreenPack insect repellent designed for kids along with sunblock to shield them from bug bites and sunburn. Choose gentle, hypoallergenic options that are suitable for children’s sensitive skin.

5. Fun Outdoor Activities for Families

Camping is all about making the most of the great outdoors. Here are some outdoor activities that your family can enjoy together.

a. HikingFinding a camp site is easy because there are many such sites at the foot of the mountains which are near the picturesque hiking trails. Select an easy or moderate hike that is beautiful and has wildlife spotting opportunities. A hike can also be made more interactive for children by turning it into a scavenger hunt where they look for certain plants, animals, or landmarks.

b. FishingFishing is an exciting but calm sport that the family can undertake during the weekends. Almost all campsites are located near bodies of water for instance lakes or rivers that guarantee great fishing. Those of you that are not familiar with the rules and regulations of fishing are encouraged to look into local fishing guides or state regulations for the best tips on fishing.

c. GeocachingGeocaching today is a peculiar scavenger hunt based on GPS uses to find secret caches. It allows one to explore the campground in a fun way while keeping the kids entertained. First, you will need some geocaching apps for your gadgets.

d. Canoeing or KayakingIf the campsite is built on a shore you can rent canoes or kayaks for exploring. Don't forget to bring life jackets for everyone and check the rental services.

e. StargazingCamping away from city lights undoubtedly is the best way to go and have fun with the night sky. Not only bring a star map, but also use a stargazing app to identify constellations and planets. Stargazing can be secreted into your peaceful way of life to open your children’s minds to astronomy.

6. Easy Campfire Recipes for Families

No camping trip is complete without delicious meals prepared over the campfire. Here are a few easy and kid-friendly recipes your family will love.

a. Campfire PizzaGet pre-made dough and stretch it over a grill grate and let the family member choose their favorite toppings. Cook over the fire for a fun, customizable meal until the crust is crispy and the cheese is melted.

b. Foil Packet MealsFoil packets may be prepared and cooked as over-the-fire meals in no time. To do this, combine meat, veggies, and seasoning. Each one can prepare their own packet, thus making fun and personalized dinner for everyone.

c. S’moresA true camping experience, s'mores are the most favorite snack for the kids. Toast marshmallows on top of the fire, then hug the graham crackers and the chocolate to make a gooey, tasty dessert.

d. Banana BoatsFor a sweet twist on s'moress, try banana boats. Cut a banana in half, stuff it with chocolate thrive and marshmallows, wrap it in foil, and cook on the fire for a sticky, yum dessert to die for.

7. Camping Safety Tips for Families

While camping is fun, safety should always come first. Here are some key tips to ensure everyone stays safe during your trip.

a. Fire SafetyEvery time children are near the fire, make sure to watch them, and tell them to keep a distance that is safe. If you have to go to one side, make sure the fire has not been left alone and there is no way to use water or a fire extinguisher.

b. HydrationCamping is often a physical activity. Therefore, it is very important to be hydrated. The water consumption of every person should be monitored and controlled regularly throughout the day, and particularly during hiking and outdoor games.

c. Sunscreen and Bug SprayRemember to lather on the sunblock and bug spray often postponed the swimming or strenuous sweating. Use products for your kids that are safe and reapplying as needed.

d. Food StorageTo prevent wildlife from being attracted, it is recommended to store food in airtight containers or bear-proof lockers if such are available. Keep food, trash, and any scented items as far away as possible from sleeping places.

e. First Aid KitA well-stocked first aid kit is a must for camping trips. You can also add pain relievers, band aids, antiseptic wipes, tweezers, and the medications you need.

8. Family Camping Checklist

Packing for a family camping trip can be overwhelming, but having a checklist can help. Here’s a list of essentials you’ll need for your trip.

Shelter & Bedding:

Tent and stakes

Sleeping bags (kid-sized if needed)

Sleeping pads or air mattresses

Pillows and extra blankets

Cooking Essentials:

Portable stove or grill

Cooking utensils (spatula, tongs)

Cooler with ice packs

Food and snacks

Water bottles and water filter (if needed)

Plates, cups, and cutlery

Clothing:

Layers for various weather

Sturdy shoes or hiking boots

Hats and sunglasses

Rain gear

Personal Items:

Sunscreen and bug spray

First aid kit

Toiletries

Towels

Entertainment:

Games and toys

Books or e-readers

Camera

9. Fun Camping Games for Families

Keep the fun going with these entertaining camping games for the whole family.

a. Scavenger HuntCreate a nature-themed scavenger hunt where kids can search for items like a pinecone, feather, or a unique leaf. It’s a great way to explore the campsite and teach kids about the local environment.

b. Capture the FlagThis standard board game is a perfect match for families or big company events. Split into teams and compete to capture the other team’s flag without getting tagged.

c. Storytelling Around the CampfireAfter a day filled with outdoor events, gather around the campfire to share your stories. Each family member can take turns narrating their story, either a creepy ghost story or a funny memory.

d. Flashlight TagAfter Submission of the Sun, Enjoy a Game of Flashlight Tag. A "tag" player uses a flashlight as a "tag" in the dark, making the game even more interesting.

e. Nature BingoPrepare bingo cards of different plants, animals, or natural features, and while you are at the campsite, you will have to check off items which you find. The runaway will be the first person to get a bingo and wins a prize!

10. Creating Memorable Family Camping Trips

The key to a memorable family camping trip isn’t about perfection, but rather enjoying the time spent together. Here’s how to make sure your trip is unforgettable.

a. Embrace FlexibilityIt is the same as life and in the adventurism that sometimes as a turn things don't go as expected, yet that is the whole adventure. The other side of the coin is that you can be that speed bump detour, but instead of it all and turn the situation into best.

b. Involve the KidsEncourage your kids to participate in the camp set-up, firewood gathering, or meals preparation. When they are involved, they will be more interested and have fun during the activity.

c. Capture the MomentsGetting involved while away from home is vital, but don't lose sight of the need when you capture pictures or videos of your trip. With time, they will become valuable and you may even make a photo album of the journey.

d. Create TraditionsA camping trip with the family should be a tradition by setting up a trip every year, either to the same campsite or exploring a new location each year. The traditions not only build up the excitement for the family members but also help create everlasting memories.

1. What are the best campsites for family camping?Great family campsites include national parks like Acadia National Park, KOA campsites with family-friendly amenities, and fun spots like Disney’s Fort Wilderness Resort, which blends camping with theme park activities.

2. What gear should I bring for kids on a camping trip?Essentials include kid-sized sleeping bags, child-friendly camping chairs, headlamps, backpacks, and kid-safe sunscreen and bug spray to keep them comfortable and protected.

3. What are some fun outdoor activities for families while camping?Activities like hiking, fishing, geocaching, canoeing, and stargazing are perfect for keeping the family entertained while enjoying nature.

4. What are easy campfire meals for kids?Kid-friendly campfire recipes include campfire pizza, foil packet meals, and classics like s’mores and banana boats.

5. What safety tips should I keep in mind for family camping?Fire safety, staying hydrated, proper food storage, sun and bug protection, and bringing a well-stocked first aid kit are essential for a safe camping experience.

Conclusion

Camping in the family is the most excellent way to interact, visit, and have the best time of your life. Even if you're a first-time camper or an experienced one, this guide covers everything you need from choosing the right campsite, and packing the right gear to planning outdoor activities and making sure your family is safe. You are now well informed about everything, so it’s time to pack your bags and head into the great outdoors to enjoy a truly memorable family camping trip!For additional tips on camping with kids, check out resources like Camping With Kids.

#family camping #summer camping ideas #best campsites for families #camping gear for kids #outdoor activities for families #easy campfire recipes #camping safety tips #family camping checklist #fun camping games #memorable family camping trips

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enfinizatics · 3 days ago

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dear americans,

as a polish queer woman and human rights activist, i know exactly how you're feeling right now and what to expect from these elections. i lived through the 2015-2023 regime of pis, a right-wing populist party that divided families in the same way trump did. i’ve experienced the rise of fascism in poland, the influence of far-right parties like konfederacja, and their “santa’s little helpers”—ordo iuris, an ultra-conservative catholic organization (banned in many countries, mind you) that helped enforce a near-total abortion ban and runs anti-queer campaigns in public spaces. i supported the black protests in 2016 as a middle schooler when they first tried to ban abortion. as an adult, i actively participated in the 2020 women’s strike, running from police tear gas daily after they finally passed the ban. i supported friends who faced charges.

i’ve lived through intense homophobia in poland as a queer teen and adult. i survived the first pride march in my hometown, where far-right extremists threw stones and glass at us. i endured the anti-queer propaganda spread by the ruling party in state-owned media. i survived the “rainbow night,” poland’s own stonewall moment in summer 2020, when police arrested around 50 queer activists following the arrest of margo, a nonbinary activist. i survived the "lgbt-free zones," the targeted violence, the slurs from strangers on the street, and the protests i held against queerphobia. it was hard as fuck, but i survived.

but just because i survived, it doesn’t mean others did. many women died because of the abortion ban—marta, justyna, izabela, dorota, joanna, maria, and many others who didn’t survive pis’s draconian anti-abortion laws. milo, kacper, michał, zuzia (she was 12), wiktor, and other queer and trans kids and young adults took their own lives because of the relentless queerphobia.

despite all of this, our experience in poland can serve as a guide now. here are some tips for staying safe and how we, polish queers and women, organized under the regime:

safety first, always. if you know someone who’s had an abortion, no you don’t. if you know someone is trans, no you don’t. if you know people who help with safe abortions, no you don’t—at least not until you know it’s 100% safe to share. if you are queer or have had an abortion, only share this with people you trust fully. most importantly, not everyone has to be an activist just because they’re part of a minority. if it feels unsafe to share that you're queer, trans, etc., then don’t. it doesn’t make you any less queer.

use secure, encrypted messaging like signal for conversations on potentially risky topics, such as queerness, abortion, organizing counter-actions, protests—anything that might be used against you.

stay anonymous online. if you want to research or report something without surveillance, do not use regular internet. get a vpn (mullvad is affordable and reliable), download the tor browser (for both onion and standard links), and if you plan to whistleblow, consider using a riseup email account.

organize and build networks. community is everything now. support each other, foster independence, because your government won’t have your back. set up collectives, grassroots movements. create lists of trusted professionals—lawyers, doctors, etc.—who can offer support.

to lawyers and doctors: please consider pro-bono work. this is what got us through poland’s hardest times. your work will be needed now more than ever.

for protests or risky actions: always write a pro-bono lawyer’s number on your arm with a permanent marker.

get to know the anarchist black cross federation and other resources on safety culture: "Starting an anarchist black cross group: A guide"; Still We Rise - A resource pack for transgender and non-gender conforming people in prison; Safe OUTside the system by the Audre Lorde Project;

for safe abortion info or involvement: get familiar with womenhelpwomen.

stay radical, stay strong, stay informed: The Anarchist Library

if i forgot to (or didn't) include something, don't hesitate to reblog this post with other resources.

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 5 months ago

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

It's difficult to write anything about the safety of Pride events without either greatly downplaying or exaggerating the potential risks of attending.

This is, at least partly, an online issue: the internet is international but there’s no international standard of safety for lgbt+ people. Someone reading this blog may be from a country where Pride events are generally safe and counterprotests are uncommon (or at least stay small and nonviolent) - but it'd be grossly negligent of me to pretend that this is true for everyone everywhere.

On top of those differences by country or location, there’s also individual safety concerns. Some things may pose a potential risk to certain groups or individuals while other people are unlikely to be negatively affected by them. This includes factors like crowds, loud music, exposure to alcohol or drugs etc. but also factors like the risk of being seen by someone who knows you or the risk of racist or antisemitic attacks etc.

All this is to say: I will happily share some general advice on safety with you – but if you’re trying to make a personal decision regarding the safety of attending Pride (regardless of whether that is “Is it safe for me to attend an event at all?” or just “How can I prepare for an event, so it’s as comfortable and fun as possible for me?”), don’t rely solely on me… or on any one voice you hear online. They may be in a totally different situation than you and inadvertently give you a totally wrong picture of it!

Tip Number One actually ties in with everything I said above: do you have friends (or other trusted people) who have attended Pride in your area before? If so, they may be a more reliable source of advice than a stranger online! Maybe you could even ask them to come along? Having an experienced Pride-goer with you is one of the best ways to ensure a safe and comfortable experience.

Other tips and pieces of advice that may be helpful:

Look the location up before you arrive: Which public transport stations are nearby? Where would you go if you need to buy a quick snack? Are there public toilets available? Where’s the nearest hospital or emergency room? Also note your surroundings when you arrive: Where are the exits? Are there any easily recognizable spots you could look for if you get lost? Where will you meet up with your friends or group if you accidentally get separated from them?

Make a plan beforehand and share it with at least one trusted person. Let them know where you are going, who you are going with, how you plan to get there and back home (public transit, your own car, your friend’s car etc.) and when you intend to be back home. Make sure to keep them updated on any changes in your plans and ask them to check in regularly. Also agree on what they should do if they haven’t heard from you at the agreed time.

If you go with a friend or a group, agree beforehand how you’ll handle potential scenarios: what if one person wants to go home and the other(s) want to stay? What if one of you gets separated from the other(s)? (Don’t rely solely on texting/calling each other in such cases (phones can unexpectedly die, get lost, get stolen, have no cell service etc.))

Pride events often take place in summer, so make sure to keep sun/heat safety in mind! Wear sunscreen, stay hydrated, don't overexhaust yourself in hot weather and read up on the symptoms of (and first aid for) heat exhaustion.

If you want to stay safe and alert, your best bet is to stay sober. Don’t drink alcohol or take drugs. (If you do plan to do either of these things, then please keep basic harm reduction measures in mind: don’t drink on an empty stomach, don’t mix alcohol and meds, have at least one person in your group who stays sober, don’t drink & drive etc.)

Make sure to take everything with you that you may need, such as a water bottle, snacks, any necessary medications, face masks, first aid supplies, a portable charger for your phone, emergency contact info (written down in case your phone dies), sunscreen etc.

Learn your rights when it comes to getting stopped by police (Make sure that what you read up on is actually true for your country and is up to date).

Read up on safety precautions for chemical irritation if the use of pepper spray/tear gas is a concern in your area. Same goes for active shooter situations. It may be a worst case scenario but it’s better to read up beforehand if it’s something you worry about.

Don’t engage with counterprotesters. Even if they seem nonviolent, keep in mind that they may just be waiting for you to provoke them, so they can “justify” escalating to violence. Just keep your distance, don’t talk to them, don’t let them bait you into conversation.

Lastly, you want to keep everyone else safe too, so: make sure you don’t accidentally out anyone. Pride is supposed to be a safe space. Don’t take pictures of strangers, don’t upload anything on social media that shows anyone’s face or name if you didn’t get explicit permission to do so.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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marlsswrites · 4 months ago

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Summer camp AU, part 26!!

July 26th <3

Unpleasant - @jegulus-microfic - words: 628

First part Previous part

The woods were certainly... unpleasant. Due to the pours of rain they'd had the past few days, the ground was turned from dust to thick, brown, swampy mud. His feet squelched on the ground as the group trudged along. today they'd planned to get the kids on the zipline, but it was a walk to the other side of camp to get there.

Chatter surrounded them with the occasional sound of a twig snapping as Regulus carefully avoided the roots plotting to trip him up.

The silence suddenly felt too loud, no words left James' mouth as he walked forward, not even a hum or an annoying whistle sang from his lips.

His head seemed to involuntarily turn to the side to scan over the other mans face, he was chewing onto his bottom lip and occasionally adjusting the gold ring that pierced through his nose.

"James?" He spoke up after he'd decided he'd been staring a minute too long.

"Hm?" James turned to look at him and almost instantly, the look of nerves wiped from his face as he gazed down at Regulus with his wide eyes.

"Are you okay?"

A beat, just one second. James face looked as if it had melted like a soft marshmallow on a hot stinging flame that was Regulus Black. The corners of his dark, slightly bitten lips tipped up into a caring smile as his eyelashes fluttered open and closed once, then twice as he smiled wider. Seeing James like this made Regulus so happy, James was so full of joy, sunlight, and safety it just gravitated Regulus towards the other man - not allowing him to even try to look away from the light that was burning a pattern of James Potters love onto his irises.

"You really care?" Looking slightly shocked, the brunette asked. It startled Regulus how startled James looked at the thought that Regulus cared about him, of course he did.

"Why wouldn't I?"

James just shrugged, shaking his head as the whole world around them seemed to morph into only the very real smile Regulus gave when he looked down at the floor and the way James softly moved a curl on Regulus' head. "'was out of place." He hummed.

Regulus watched the floor as their feet walked in sync, James' red converse a sparse difference compared to Regulus' green ones. The youngers threaded with silver and black beads and kept neat, while the older one had tatted, discoloured laces and no longer white surface covered with doodles and initials of others.

S.O.B... sketched messily on the side.

R.L.L... neatly curled around the shoe.

P.O.P...

L.J.E...

M.G.M...

M.E.M...

He read through all the initials, it was rather sweet actually, all the people that James loved had clearly written that on there themselves. The shoes were worn out, tatty and old, yet that had a meaning to them that no one could ever replace.

Slightly immersed in his thoughts, Regulus missed a twig that rounded out of the ground as his foot caught on it. He slipped forward towards the ground, before a heavy arm wrapped itself around Regulus' delicate waist and tugged him up before he fell. He heard a laugh come from James, who's arm was still wrapped around Regulus' waist - honestly, if it were up to Regulus, the arm would stay there for a whole lot longer.

"Careful there love." He chuckled.

"I am being careful." Regulus snapped, avoiding looking at James' lips even though they were ever so close and at the perfect height. Screw that man, and screw him for slotting in with Regulus like a jigsaw piece, it made this whole situation even harder for Regulus. He's not even sure if they really fit together, or if they could just be two separate pieces from two very different puzzles, coincidently finding each other for only a short while.

Next part

#they fit together like a fucking jigsaw #ill cry #im so normal about them #marauders #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #regulus x james #starchaser #writers on tumblr

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drinkpisser · 4 months ago

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MY HESITANT ALIEN FIC, HOW IT CAME TO BE CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY DONE!!

(I thinkk!)

thank you to anyone who has been waiting, I really hope you enjoy! :D 🫶 it's been great to make

PREVIOUS CHAPTER (the prologue) :

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CHAPTER 1: THE BUREAU

Like he had mentioned, it was the average summer night, albeit slightly chilly. Gerard had not long settled into the summer camp similar to the other teens who had wandered the woods all day. Even so, he found it difficult to relate to them. His dyed black hair was short and shiny from the humidity of the car ride there, though the streaks of red gleamed nicely in the sun- his eyes were sunken, glued to a drawing pad or species of insect that he would clutch into his hands and inspect, and he found it detrimental to attempt mingling beyond his limited social battery level. He simply wasn't ready to engage in interaction with an unfamiliar face, and I'd say that's pretty understandable. He found it reasonable to head to his dorm early, briefly skittering past the other kids and finding comfort within the spring mattress of the bunkbed.

With a sigh, he pulls out a rented comic book he had stashed beneath his pillow. A classic Batman issue, to be precise. As his eyes fluttered from one panel to the other, they grew heavier and heavier- eventually, he had wandered into the land of dreams (with a cameo of laser beams and men in spandex) shockingly early, substituting his stuffed animal at home for a comic book.

Not too long later, murmurs and tiptaps of tired campgoers slid past Gerard's unconscious mind, leaving him in little less of a deep sleep. Goddamnit, he just couldn't get back to it after that. Tossing and turning, time passed slowly. Toss. Nevermind, turn. Toss again. Turn.

What's the use, he thought, before laying still in defeat. Unfortunately, a short while passes by, and Gerard's eyes are still straining shut, unrelaxed.

All of a sudden, a warm, unwarranted apricity fell upon his face. His eyes blink awake in confusion, squinting at the brightness of the mystery orb in the sky. Everyone is asleep. He sits up, with slight haste and panic- how is nobody concerned about this?

A polite whisper of "What the fuck is this?" leaves Gerard's mouth, what a strange prank to pull if it is one, he thought. Of course, like any other naive teenager would, he swiftly leaves the dorms to check it out.

Outside, it's extremely windy; Gerard wished he had brought his blanket with him- rather instead he retrieved a long, wooden stick he found rested against the doorframe (for self defense) like it'll do much against a giant mothership. His messy hair is now messier, the small fringe he once had brushing rapidly left to right in the breeze. As he cautiously strolled past the shelter of safety, he took a deep and dry swallow to build up the already dissolved courage within him. If you asked him, he'd say isn't scared at all, he's had traumatic nightmares worse than this. In other words, he'd be lying through his teeth. It's the middle of the night in a forest, the most intimidating concept ever for a young and vulnerable person. Every step impersonates a cracking eggshell, every blink or twitch of a muscle echoes like a gunshot. Crows flock in an alarmed state, frogs and rats huddle together under drip-tip leaves. Foxes flee in unison with the hedgehogs they were chasing.

Why on earth did he think this was a logical idea? It's a catastrophic idea- which means he's still going to go through with it. Determined, even with shakily numb legs. Thankfully, by now, the occurrence that woke him up is in full view so he can save himself the trouble. He ends up resting against a wooden fence, pausing, gazing in awe at what was above him.

Graphic gleams illuminate the dull night in all colours beyond imagination, sourced from an outstanding construction of metal balanced in the night sky. Almost akin to if they invented a portable northern lights kit that can be used anywhere, it spun slowly, as though it was scanning the strange organism that was staring upon it. The lights from the sides of the cockpit shut off without warning. Sliding doors beneath the ship clang open, sending small sparks flying into the stars.

Red.

It's all red. A red light, aimed directly at Gerard's exposed forehead. It warped the grass to a strange brunette, the buildings to a maroon and the fence he was leaning on to a crimson. An ambiguous voice within that colour told Gerard all he needed to know- run. Get the fuck out of there! The last thing he needed on any historical record of his was "kidnapped by a strange vehicle", and it's sure to be impossible to explain to his parents or the police, so he'd best act quickly!

That he did. Running as quick as his body could take him, wary of hazardous rocks and tree stumps that could screw him over. As predicted, the machine begun chasing. It didn't appear to be hostile- shooting or sending out traps that could catch him, it just.. chased. Gerard looks back, pathetically lunging the wooden stick at the fortified metal. The machine looks behind itself in confusion and unphased, leaving Gerard puzzled. Did it even know what was going on? Was it just playing copycat to toy with him?

Nonetheless, he continues to sprint more than he ever had planned to at this stay. Absolutely terrifying.

SPLASH!!

Brilliant, just great! He's gone and fell in a swampy puddle, grazing his knees on sharp ground. His hands sting, but he endures, forcing himself to ignore the hisses of agony as he gets back up. Limping like a champion, he struggles his way into a nearby porta potty. Not the most hygienic or convenient but this is a pretty rational situation to be complaining.

Once he was inside, he realised there isn't much at all he can do to improve his pain. He grabs the half used, thin toilet paper and wraps it around his wounds, begging his senses to blind him from the putrid smell of the enclosure he's settling in. Petrified of leaving, he crafts a makeshift blanket out of his comfort hoodie, placing his pins and badges to the side. Because he is wearing shorts, he resorts to a foetal position to successfully contain the warmth of the hoodie blanket, also creating a third useful tool of a gas mask with the hood itself. He looks ridiculous. He surely feels it. Yet exhaustion had hit him like a pile of bricks; he soon falls back to his state of slumber in here. In a summer camp bathroom. Wrong. It's worse than that, a porta potty with barely any space. The interview from the prologue was right- you really couldn't make this shit up.

The next morning flows by perfectly. Birds sing a harmony, everyone is well rested. The ideal summers day, unless you're the nerd snoozing away in the trashy, unused camp toilet. The door is about to be unlocked by a relatively unhappy janitor who is definitely not paid enough for this... Dare I say, shit?

The door cracks open with a thud, hitting a filthy Gerard on the side.

"Oh, what, the door's jammed again?" The janitor complains before seeing the adolescent. His wrinkly eyes tweak, and he holds back several cuss words in surprise.

"Get up. Come on," he snaps, dragging Gerard out by the arm. Groaning, he shoves the cleaner away and composes himself.

"Look, I can explain- I was being chased by some spaceship! It was seriously a fuckin' mess. I'm covered in cuts from it- see?!" Gerard then shows him his battle scars from that mighty fall he took.

"Yeah, well, alcohol isn't allowed here. Being chased by aliens isn't a solid alibi either. Trust me, I tried it," The janitor snarls nonchalantly, sighing, "just get back to campus and clean up."

He shuts the porta potty door. Damn, he must be responsible for that tragic leftover shit-stench.

Gerard frowns. This, he did not consider. Going back to everyone- the people he'd barely even brushed past, without introducing himself the way he wanted. Now they're all going to know him for sure. Probably call him stupid names, humiliate him and such.

However, if it wasn't for who emerged next, he could have cried a river.

A chirpy, curious voice.

"Dude, I don't mean to embarrass you but did you get lost in the sewers?" the voice chuckles.

Letting out a small shriek, Gerard turns around.

An approachable looking young man stood before him, shuffling his feet with a sense of innate awkwardness. The boy was surprisingly tall for his age, and had the most wonderful curly locks of hair Gerard had ever seen. Somehow he knew by the shirt he was wearing that they'd hit it off straight away. Any sense of shame Gerard had dissipated, as the subject of music is one he exceeds in. Maybe this was his perfect chance to finally befriend somebody here!

"Holy shit," Gerard smiles, "The Smashing Pumpkins? I love their music, man."

"Ah, so we aren't gonna adress my question? Alright! Yeah, I listen to them a lot. I know a few songs on guitar too." He replies, impressed.

"My name is Ray. Weird circumstance, but you're pretty neat and... certainly interesting! Wanna be friends?"

Bingo, that was easy. Gerard almost exploded in excitement that his band tactic worked, but he resorted to a chilled nod and kick of a pebble.

"Yeah, sounds cool. Name's Gerard...

Uh, I would explain why I'm covered in mud and probably shit too but I don't wanna be accused of drinking by somebody I barely know again..." he mumbles.

"It's fine- I know a way we can get to the showers without passing anybody. Then I'm so down to hear all about this!" Ray chuckles ecstatically before wandering off.

"I suppose i have no choice but to follow, or else my ass'll get kicked by that janitor." Reluctantly, Gerard trails behind his new buddy, sneaking past anything that looked like a person or member of staff (not to say they arent people or anything, they're just a hindrance at this certain moment in time).

"At least I can get a laugh outta this in a few years," he monologues to himself whilst hiding behind a tree.

Ray slowly turns, confused both as to whether he was being spoken to or not and the fact this douche is pretending to be a tree.

"Yeah.." He smiles, unable to conceal a short burst of laughter.

They continue on their miniature voyage, finally making it to the shower room unscathed. The two wave a slightly uncomfortable goodbye, and Ray takes a seat outside, twiddling his thumbs.

A short while later, Gerard walks out, thankfully no longer covered in mud. He smiles, greeting Ray once again.

"Thanks for waiting," he says, holding his clean hand out for a handshake. Ray, with the reassurance that there is no more mud, shakes it.

"No problem, you wanna head to camp? I'm pretty sure it's lunchtime."

"Sounds like a plan." Gerard adjusts the geeky pins on his hoodie, making his way to the benches.

At the benches, there sits a group of four. Gerard avoids direct contact with their faces at first, in the dire case that he's only there for a small punchline. Ray introduces them all, but the names don't stick. Nerves have struck Gerard's mind like a vigorous thunder, preventing him from paying his most full attention. Nodding does the trick, so he just went along with it. After sitting and shuffling, attention once again falls to Gerard through a demanding whisper in the ear.

"What happened to you, then?" Ray enquires.

"No judgement, alright? I can barely get my own head around it," Gee releases an intense sigh. It seemed to go quiet, or was it just his imagination?

"I was chased by strange figures in a giant ship looking thing. It was beautiful at first until I thought I was going to die. It seemed to be after me specifically, and I almost fell right into it's trap whilst everybody else was fast asleep."

Ray's expression dropped like an astounded cat. Maybe Gerard had forgotten to use his indoor voice due to the exterior surroundings of the forest, but the whole table had suddenly earwigged. Silence had truly struck this time. A brief calm before the storm, so to speak.

Laughter invades the air like poison in an airvent. The barricades of comfort were banished and giggles screeched like nails on a chalkboard. Shame for ever saying a single word ever dawned on Gerard with a pile of regret.

"This dude's nuts!" a preppy girl whines.

"Whatever he's on, I want it.." a curtain-banged boy adds.

"Why'd you bring this freak here?" some jerkwad adds.

"Hey now, come on- he's just got here! If it wasn't aliens, it was surely something." Ray defends, but it's futile.

Its settled. He's done for. Gerard's done for. He knows full well, ducking down in silence. Just like he had worried, it isn't working. He's alone at this place, and not in the preferred introverted way he'd wished.

He could die here alone.

He could die alone point blank.

That being recognised, he grabs his satchel teary-eyed and rushes off. Being accused of lying when all you speak is truth crucially damages your self assurance, your fragile confidence, your efficacy as a living, breathing person. Usually it wouldn't phase Gerard at all, but salt had definitely been rubbed into those vunerable wounds. I mean, without a doubt it's a phenomenal story to tell to a stranger. Chased by aliens and all that junk. Yet what a laughing stock he'd become in his vacant mind, weeping his heart out behind the main office he fled and hid behind.

He wanted to go home, back to his younger brother and cluttered bedroom. Back to the dainty hallway filled with shelves of vintage dolls and trinkets. Back to his drawing desk and flickering lamp. Day one and he was already through with it all. He'd rather not get out at all than suffer another minute pretending he's enjoying himself in the cruel wilderness.

Without warning, the overwhelming stream of thoughts cut off with that same chirpy voice, however this time it approached gently.

"Thank god I found you, really. I didn't mean for all that to happen-" he's soon interrupted the blinded humiliation of Gerard's anger.

"Screw that! It was your plan all along to put me in the social shit. You just wanted me to look decent whilst you did it! They clearly ain't impressed by you on your own so the nearest idiot you found made the cut! I get it! Rub it in some more." He scrapes words through tears so warm that they're steaming, almost not completely aware of what he's spewing.

Ray's pleading face grows in distress; it's true that the people he'd lingered with weren't the most welcoming of friends. He'd just happened to have met them during a group activity and thought they we're right for him. He was never in their group, he was just with their group. In that moment, he was willing to sacrifice them all for someone he'd not long met after seeing an unusual spark in his eyes that they didn't posess. Aware of the room that needed to be read, he sits a fair distance from Gerard, quiet.

A few minutes pass by consisting of Gee huddled up within himself and Ray staring with guilt.

Forcing out his voice once more, Ray apologises.

"I've needed that lecture for a while, really. They're full of shit. I honestly just wanted to help you out- I thought they'd find you cool just like I did, you like similar stuff to them-" Ray rambles and trips on his words, desperate for an understanding response.

Fortunately, Gerard had calmed enough to not verbally vomit every thought in his brain this time.

"... I know," he reassures, "I just didn't wanna mess this up, yknow. The reason why I was brought here by my parents was so I could experience more things and a big part of that was a need to be liked," loathing away at himself, Ray listens and "mhms" until he can barely restrain his words any longer...

"I believe you."

"What?" Gerard's head perks up in disbelief.

"We don't need them to either, if more than one person believes then it's credible. Something in space is out there and you we're lucky enough to discover it, Gerard!" Ray forms a contagious smile as he speaks, erupting excitement as he does.

"I suppose.." a glum smirk passes Gerard's face, quickly turning to a grin. "Alright."

The two stand together and hug it out, walking back from the secluded area at the same pace, yapping all the time away whilst skipping day classes.

The afternoon quickly fades to the evening, the sunset tainting the busy perimeter with a sense of euphoria. All throughout that time, Gerard couldn't help but participate in small ventures of the camp activites with slight eagerness, collecting logs and sticks for the bonfire at the highest speed he could maneuver. As the fire erupted, he watched the flames dance with fascination. Being a self proclaimed pyromaniac and all, it helped him relax.

Even with a time of turmoil ahead, a deep puzzle within him had been solved, a message he needed to hear ever since the trainwreck of last night slammed its breaks.

That somebody believed in him.

[ end of chapter 1 ! ]

#brits4gerardway

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delopsia · 8 months ago

Text

stars on the barn floor | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 9,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf!Rhett, blowjobs, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, knotting, light bondage to keep Rhett from eating you alive, collars, heavy usage of "good boy," vague size kink, and a fluffy ending to top it all off. Rhett's just a big puppy in this one ❣ Brief Summary: This full moon, you're not letting Rhett spend his whole night chained up in the barn. No, tonight, you're gonna have some fun with him.

The crunch of gravel beneath your feet might be the only sound on this ranch. Where the wind is usually eager to whip past you, it has now fallen quiet, too exhausted to continue its ambitious journey. You think there may be some crickets chirping contentedly next to the pasture gate, the one that still bears the scars of being rammed by a rich kid's Ford. It ought to be fixed by now; Cecelia says lightning doesn't strike twice, but Royal says that a new one will just get torn up, too.

The old man must have a crystal ball up in that hat of his.

Fortunately, you don't need magic to know that you're about to walk your happy self into the equivalent of a lion's den, armed with nothing but a few flimsy pieces of leather and a strip of black fabric. A rifle would be a good start, but even that won't be enough to protect you if things get...hairy.

These barn doors are so much bigger than they looked from the safety of the porch, towering over your head, the rusted handle ice cold in your shivering hand. You've got time to turn back. Even if he does know you're out here, you know he won't hold it against you for making the better, safer decision.

But...

Chains clatter together, chased by a groan so low that you don't know if it's coming from the man inside or the settling of the barn.

"Rhett?" Your voice dies in your mouth as you push the door open, barely audible to your own ears. It's a wonder if your tone even carries a foot in front of you, never mind across the room.

Boots scuff against concrete, spurs jingling. He heard you.

The prickle of your skin suggests that he can see you, but as you trudge into the darkness, it sets in that you cannot see him. Navigating blindly, hands held out at your sides, feeling along the rough texture of the old stalls, ancient and dusty from lack of use. They haven't seen a horse since last summer when Rhett and Perry put the finishing touches on the new barn.

"Rhett?" Calling out again, as if doing so will make it easier to locate him.

That low growl is closer than you anticipated it would be.

Light trickles in through the warped window frames overhead. Thin slivers cascade downward, miniature spotlights revealing everything in its path. There's movement in the center of the room, chains clinking as a slim figure interrupts the delicate light show of the full moon, stumbling left, then right, bound to the center of the room.

Opening your mouth once more, you call out his name. "Rhett?"

His head jerks. Boots stomping the dusty floor. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. All it would take is for those steel chains to come off the overhead beam, and you'd be toast, sliced up like tomorrow's breakfast sausage.

But he already sees you.

The light catches in his golden eyes, reflecting off them like mirrors. Your blood runs so cold that it might freeze. A handful of times, you've caught sight of their unnatural glow, rising to the surface when he grows angry, but it's never been quite this bright. Blindingly so. And yet, they're not all that different from the ones you've come to know.

Soft around the edges, encased by long eyelashes that flutter as you come near.

"Get out," curt. Grit through his teeth.

If you didn't know any better, you would think he was in the middle of a roleplay. His ears have long since broken from their natural human form, pointed and wolfish, sitting atop his head like a pair of triangles. There's a tear out of the left one, right at the tip, from a scuffle with his brother a few years back.

Perry still doesn't talk about where the bite scar on his shoulder came from.

"Get." Fangs flash with the opening and closing of his mouth. "Out."

Perhaps you're simply entranced by the sight of him; it's been days since you last saw him, and even then, it was a short meeting in a feed store checkout line. Or maybe you've plum lost your mind, a dumb sheep walking into the mouth of a hungry wolf.

The leather slips from your hands, falling to the floor with a clatter so loud you reckon it'll wake the neighbors. Rhett jolts. Stumbling backward with a heavy growl that vibrates all the way up into your bones. His lip curls with a warning. One little nip is all it would take to remove a finger. But it's as if you're caught in a trance. You can't seem to stop yourself from reaching up and curling your palms around his scruffy cheeks.

He's stiff. Heated gaze boring into your skull. "I said—" Your thumb rises to stroke the thin skin directly beneath his eye.

And he's quiet.

The muscle there softens. Squishing beneath your touch. Dare you consider it; you reckon his gaze has warmed by a degree or two. A little shinier than before, as if the light of the moon is reflecting off a serene lake.

Hesitant, his head tilts, eyes falling shut as he pushes into your touch.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Yer gonna get hurt," he mutters, but he makes no effort to squirm away, "if I come loose..."

The vicious wolf he's always warned you about is nowhere to be found. No bloodthirsty snarls or vicious snapping of his teeth as you grow near. Hell, the moon is as high as she will go, but he hasn't even fully shifted.

Your thumb ventures down his face, swiping across his bottom lip, past needle-sharp teeth and all. "You seem pretty lucid to me."

"'cause it's still early," his head jerks, afraid of your touch, all of a sudden.

One would think that a werewolf, a cowboy no less, would be pretty decent at understanding how to tell the time based on the positioning of the moon. Alas, you won't be sharing the insight you gained from looking at the time on your cell.

Talking isn't what you're here for, anyway.

No. Instead, your hands on his cheeks are growing firmer, holding him still, and he must have already caught on to what you're doing because his boots slam against the floor. Agitated. Trying to step backward. But his arms are still bound behind his back, and he's still attached to that beam overhead, can only move so much before he hits a dead end.

A snarl tears through the quiet air. He's trapped with nowhere to escape. Those razor-like canines are showing themselves again. A flashy warning that he makes no attempt to fulfill, not moving a muscle as you lean in and tilt his head down, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

The smile spreading across his face reveals the unnatural jaggedness of his molars. If it weren't attached to Rhett, you think you may have run out the door by now. "Did y' come all the way out here for a kiss?"

"You're guilty of it too, cowboy," you've lost count of all the times he's shown up at your door, looking for a little love. A kiss here, a snuggle on the couch there, once, he showed up just to see you smile and hear your voice.

"I know it," the roll of his eyes is the last thing you see before you move in once more, lips finding the corner of his jaw. "I know it..."

Your hands are sliding away from his face, smoothing past his chest, on a one-way track to find those damned buttons on his flannel. It must be your lucky day because it's one of his pearl snap shirts; each and every one of them pops open with the slightest tug.

"'ts a bad time to be feelin' me up, darlin'," Rhett's muttering beneath his breath, but he's stepping forward. Pressing into the caress of your touch, fingers running over the divots of his ribs, up and down the smooth skin of his back. Anywhere and everywhere, all at the same time.

Your mouth pauses against his neck. "Is it?"

For a moment, he's quiet. This close, you reckon you can hear the gears turning in his head, searching for the right words to say. He shifts, bumping himself into your mouth, but it doesn't reward him with another kiss.

You wonder if he's realized that he stomps his foot when he's feeling impatient.

"Not that 'm complainin'," his voice is quieter as if he's afraid to hear the sound of it.

Fortunately, you're in no mood to hold out any further, already beginning to lean in and ghost your lips over a vein, tongue darting out to trace across it. A portion of you is amazed that he's letting you do this, tilting his head to grant you access to his vulnerable throat, humming at your touch. So completely and utterly comfortable, despite the dizzying draw of the moon and the overwhelming helplessness he's placed himself into. Those chains behind his back are far too strong for him to break on his own; he can't defend himself, even if he wants to.

But that's not on your mind at all. No, you're too focused on nipping at his sensitive collarbone, still bruised from your handiwork earlier in the week. Then, down across his chest, broad and thick enough for you to get a greedy handful of as you kiss your way below that cheap, faded tattoo he got when he turned eighteen.

Your tongue darts out to lave across a soft nipple.

"Shit," he sucks in a breath, always so sensitive here, "that...you..."

It's such a simple thing. Swirling your pointed tongue around the bud, feeling the way it hardens within a matter of seconds. You shouldn't be getting anything out of it, and yet, your thighs are squeezing together without a second thought. All the while, your fingers are finding that neglected bud, pinching it between your thumb and index.

Rhett jerks, stumbling backward. "Leave...leave those alone."

"I thought you liked having your nipples played with?" You know the answer to that.

He knows the answer to that.

But that doesn't mean he's going to say it out loud. Not without a few beers buzzing through his veins, warping his filter just enough to let a million and one truths tumble off his pretty tongue.

"Don't say it like—mmh," sucking in his bottom lip, barely stifling that little noise.

You'd linger a little longer if you weren't thinking about something else. Every kiss you press to his skin glistens in the light, shimmering little patches that trail down the soft muscle of his belly, across his belly button. Never ending until his belt rudely intercepts you, obnoxiously large buckle still fastened and shiny as ever.

Without a second thought, you pinch it open, knees settling against the dusty floor.

"Oh my god," Rhett's head lolls backward, neck on full display, "you ain't...you're..." As if your intentions couldn't get any clearer, you find the flip of his zipper, pulling it down. "Shit, y' are."

The only thing between you and what you're after is this damned button. Popping it open takes two seconds and two centuries, all in the same moment. "What did you think I was doing?"

His feet shift, spurs singing their shrill little tune whilst you reach through the gap in his boxers. "I can lose my mind 'n eat ya alive at any given moment," interrupted by a shaky breath as your soft hand wraps around his half-hard length, "'n all y' wanna do is suck my cock."

You've gotten a little too good at guiding him past his confines, out into the cool air of this dingy old barn. It's a shame that you can hardly see him; a portion of you was beginning to wonder if this whole full moon thing would change anything in this department.

"Is that a problem?" Feeling around blindly, your hand slips back through the fabric.

His hips jolt as your fingers brush against his balls, gently drawing them out. They're heavier than you last recall them being, but maybe that's your memory playing tricks upon you. All you know is that Rhett's opening his mouth again, and you've been presented with the perfect opportunity to shut him up.

"Naw, I ain't sayin' that," he whispers. So airy and light that he might be up on a cloud, "'m tryin' to tell—shit."

Your devilish tongue glides up the underside of his balls. Not afraid to let him feel the scrape of your teeth, internally hoping it will translate as some kind of sick reminder of his place. "What was that...?"

"No, no, no," you can't see it, but you know he's shaking his head, "jus'...keep doin' that."

Can't complain with that logic.

A little too excited, your mouth returns to the underside of him, his heavy cock bumping against your temple. It shouldn't do all that much for him, but the feeling of you gently sucking on his balls is all it takes to get him groaning low in his throat. Behind him, the chains clink, biceps straining against them, desperate to paw at the back of your head. Always a little too keen to get you moving on to his cock.

But you're in control here, and right now, you're too focused on moving over to equal out the attention. Carefully sucking on him, tongue soothing the skin when you let him fall free of your mouth. His feet shift, boots impatiently clunking across the floor. Your hand rises, taking hold of his all-too-heavy cock, hard as a rock within a matter of moments.

A drop of precum spills onto the floor, leaving a shiny spot that catches in the light. Almost looks like a tiny star has fallen out of the sky to join in on the fun. A second lands to join, mere inches away from the first.

You're far too stingy to let a third go to waste. Licking up the underside of him, trailing up the thick vein that emerges from his base and not stopping until you reach his tip. Plush and silky soft against your lips, he hasn't gotten an ounce of attention here, and yet he's soaked. There's so much precum gathered here that it looks like you've already taken him into your mouth.

"What's got you so wet, cowboy?" A lopsided grin interrupts your teasing, sprawling across your face before you can realize it.

The corner of his lip wavers up and down, "'y know exactly why."

"No, I don't reckon I do," leaning back on your haunches just as his hips thrust forward, seeking a contact he's no longer receiving.

Rhett's quiet. Always has been a little shy when it comes to telling you exactly what got him going. Those wolfish ears twitch, stubborn teeth sinking into his bottom lip as if his words are going to burst past at any moment. He just needs the slightest push...like leaning forward and opening your mouth, hot breath fanning out against his flushed tip.

Again, his foot stomps. "Fuckin' mean." But then he's lowering his head, long strands of hair cascading into his face. "I..." hesitating, if only for a second, "like when y' go 'n do whatever ya want with me."

You knew what he was fixing to say, but that doesn't mean you're any less excited to hear him voice it. "Yeah?"

Nodding. "Uhuh—oh."

A giggle is all you can manage, mouth too full of his cock to do much else. Heavy and throbbing against your tongue, already so damn excited, and you're not even started. Only just beginning to start sucking on him, cheeks hollowing as you gradually take more of him in. His pretty moan is an encouragement all on its own.

Sucking off a werewolf during a full moon isn't exactly something that has made it onto your bucket list, but oh, is it a dream. Listening to the way his arms strain against his iron restraints, desperate to cling to your head as it begins to bob, slow ups and downs, at your own comfortable pace.

Experimental, you lean back until your tongue can swirl around his sensitive tip.

His thighs squeeze so tight that his knees damn near knock together. "Fuckin—ah!" Even from down here, you can see how his jaw has gone slack, completely and utterly lost in the feeling of your mouth. "Sen...sensitive."

All you can do is hum, amused by the little shiver that ripples up his spine.

It's been a few weeks since you've last felt him on your tongue, but your memory is gradually beginning to come back, hands scurrying off to work. One wraps around the base of his shaft, the past that you can never fit in your mouth, while the other reaches to find his soft balls, still wet from your earlier handiwork.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he's babbling, head rolling back and forth. Restless. "Keep doin' that."

There's already an ache blooming in the corner of your jaw, but you can't help yourself. Not when Rhett's keening high in his throat, panting like a damn dog as you lower your head, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth. His blunt head bumps into the back of your throat. Damn near sends you lurching.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, burning like they're going to start streaming down your face at any moment, but you can't bring yourself to mind it. You're far too preoccupied with getting another one of those noises out of him, sucking hard on your next draw backward.

A crippling whimper breaks through the midnight air. His hips jolt forward by the tiniest fraction.

You might as well have cracked the code to a bank safe.

He's a goner. He knows it. You know it. He knows you know it. Because you keep doing it. Long, slow bobs of your head, the ones that he desperately tries to chase the feeling of. Drool runs past your swollen lips and down your chin, leaving you just as wet and slick as he is, dripping off your skin and speckling across the barn floor.

It's so distracting that you've nearly forgotten about the leather that rests by your right knee. It is not as if you can do anything to put your plan into motion; no, your hands are full. One gently stroking his shaft in synchrony with the rise and fall of your head, the other slowly beginning to roll his balls in your palm. Working him over like you're getting paid to do it.

Rhett's strangled whine catches in his throat. "'m already close."

You don't know if it's a warning or a plea, but the discomfort in your jaw is getting easier to ignore. Cheered on by the shiver that sets into his thighs and the airy noises tumbling out of him, starving for a breath that he can't keep ahold of. Broad chest heaving, still glistening with the trail that led you to your knees.

His foot taps against the floor.

"Baby, baby, baby," chanting like a melody, chased by the sweet cry of your name, "I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."

Humming, you tilt your head to look up at him. Wide eyes meeting with his half-lidded golden ones—the tip of your tongue lifts, dancing across the sensitive underside of him.

That's all it takes.

You feel the twitch of his cock before his raspy wail greets your ears. A shudder wracking up his body. Spine trembling. Hips jerking forward as rope after rope of his cum spills from his overworked cock. Flooding your mouth. The base of his cock swells with every pulse. Too shallow to catch and form a knot, but he's almost there. If you push him a little further in a few minutes, you might get one out of him.

Devilish, you swallow around his softening length, amused by the sudden whimper and backward jerk of his hips. Pulling himself out of your mouth with a nice, wet pop.

Those sweet eyes of his are closed. Blissfully unaware, on his own plane of existence. So far gone that he doesn't seem to notice as you tuck him back into the safety of his jeans. Nor does he rouse at the sound of you grabbing the leather from the floor. Your knees ache as you rise to your feet, the wet spots on the floor looking something akin to a galaxy as you reach for the chains behind his back. The mechanism is simpler than it looks. Just one little pinch and—

"What—what are you doing?" Tripping over his own words. Arms suddenly falling to his sides. Free. "No, no, no, you can't—"

"Do you trust me?" Spoken far too gently for it to be such a sharp interruption.

His lower jaw quivers, mouth parting the slightest bit. You can almost see the gears twisting and turning up in his scrambled head.

Hesitant, he lowers his head with a shallow nod. "'course, but I can hurt..." Falling silent as you lift that thin rope of leather for him to see, held taut between two hands, the silver buckle gleaming in the moonlight. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

A boot thumps against the ground. Nudging himself closer to it. No glimpse of razor-sharp canines. Ears round and human as can be. Not even a sliver of gold in those wide eyes. Whatever control he's found, if you can even call it that, doesn't slip. Even as you loop the leather around his throat, feeding one end through the clasp, buckling it shut.

The snap of the leash clasp on his collar damn near makes your heart stop.

But Rhett hasn't moved, still perfectly in control. If anything, he's more interested in the thin piece of black fabric you're lifting, torn from an old t-shirt he ruined while moving the cattle to the west pasture.

"What're y' doin'?" He mutters as if he's afraid to open his mouth too far, and though you're beginning to cover his eyes, he doesn't make a move to stop you. Remaining still, even as you tie a sloppy bow behind his head.

Your hand finds his cheek, squishing it with your thumb. "Taking you home, sweet boy."

The corner of his lip rises.

With a delicate pull of the leash, he stumbles forward, spurs singing their shrill tune as he clumsily drags his feet. Even with the help of you at his side, he's a mess. Knocking into the barn door. Very nearly trips over your kitchen rug when you get him home. So willing to trust where you take him but not quite equipped to make it graceful.

"Why'd ya cover my eyes, anyhow?" He grumbles, big, sharp ears twisting and turning as he hauls himself through another step.

"You mentioned nearly mauling a cow a couple moons ago," pausing just long enough for you to get him around the corner, into the bedroom, "and I doubt you know how to heel."

"I can, too!" Those unnatural teeth glint in the light. You wonder if he would let you touch them. "'m a werewolf, not a damn stray."

His bare foot knocks into yours as you lead him to the bed, a little more confident now. There's not much for him to run into here. The biggest obstacle is the bed that's hitting the backs of your knees, has you falling backward before you can realize it.

On his own whim, Rhett's thumbing at his belt buckle. Opens it so damn easy that you almost question how it took you so many tries when you first got together. It's no easy task, getting his jeans down his legs, the material clinging to his thighs like a second layer of skin.

Vaguely, you think you catch the silhouette of his cock bouncing, half hard and smacking against his hip. "You took your boxers off, too?"

"Might as well," seeing him naked from the waist down is a bit of a sight, but it's one that doesn't last for long. His flannel hits the floor even quicker than his jeans did. "Ain't gonna need 'em here in a minute."

Coy, you tilt your head. "What makes you think I'm in the mood?" It's only after that you realize he can't see what you just did.

But Rhett's entirely oblivious of your mistake, lips rising with an obnoxious grin, sharp teeth poking through, "can smell it."

Your face feels cold. Blood draining away as if someone has just pulled the plug, spilling out into everywhere but your head. "You can what?"

He's leaning closer. Nose nudging into the side of your cheek, warm breath fanning out and tickling your ear like a feather. "Yer scent gets a lil spice to it," he murmurs, so low that every word rumbles down your spine like thunder, "kinda sweet, too."

His unshaven jaw bumps into yours, long enough to have lost that sandpaper-like texture, nothing but a smooth glide as he blindly guides himself to your ear. He'd nibble at the shell of it, if he weren't worried about accidentally eating you. "Makes me fuckin' dizzy jus' smellin' it," whispering, so damn close that you feel his lips brush against your skin.

Maybe that's the reason why your inhale shakes the way that it does. "So you knew what I was up to when I walked into the barn?"

"Mhm," his humming damn near makes you shiver, "jus' didn't know what kinda fun you were hankerin' for."

Your hand darts behind his head, tugging on the knot of his blindfold until it unravels, falling from his face and landing onto the sheets.

Golden eyes stare back at you, vivid as ever. Except they're soft around the edges. The werewolf might have awoken for the night, but Rhett Abbott never went to sleep. He's still here, with you, crawling into bed the same way he always does. His cheeks fit into your palms the same, squishing beneath your touch as you draw him in.

He kisses the same, too. Humming into it, purring like a pleased little kitten, shifting to brace his weight on one arm, free hand skirting up the side of your shoulder. Fangs graze your bottom lip, a delicate reminder of the power they hold and what they could do if the reigns of control were to slip from his grasp.

But Rhett's never been anything other than gentle. The sharp impression of his teeth is merely there for show, as harmless as the muscles that bulge in his arms, present to protect and never to harm. Because his open arm drifts around your waist as he pushes you backward, cushioning an already soft fall.

Your hands are on the move, one grabbing hold of his meaty bicep, the other drifting across his shoulder, blissfully abandoning the task at hand. His rough mouth parts your lips, a growl sitting so low in his throat that you almost mistake it for distant thunder, rattling the house and you with it. Rhett's warm belly may be pressed against yours, pinning you to the mattress, but it isn't enough to keep you from wondering if you've floated off the bed and begun spinning around the room.

"My shirt," you gasp, breathless, "get it..."

There's no point in finishing your sentence because Rhett's already tugging at the end of it, only breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head. The bedroom air hadn't felt cold until now. A sharp contrast compared to Rhett and his warm lips that melt with yours fits so perfectly, like your own perfect puzzle piece.

His hips roll forward, rutting into your core, merely held back by the soft fabric of your pants, so thin that he could rip through them if he wanted. But he doesn't seem interested in doing such a thing, simply content to drag his leaking cock against the inside of your thigh, wetting the fabric there.

"C'n I take these off?" He's speaking against your lips, too lazy to pull away any further than he already has.

You're already nodding. "Please."

Now, he's got to draw himself away from you. Leaning back onto his haunches, the muscle of his chest catching in the moonlight that peaks through the window, calloused hands smoothing down the sides of your waist. Your hips lift from the bed just as his fingers curl into your waistband.

That leather leash knocks into your leg as he draws your pants and underwear down all in one go, handle tapping at your knee as if to get your attention. One of your hands are reaching for it before you've even realized it, fingers slipping through the loop. It's just long enough to give him the space to pull your pants past your heels, only pulls tight when he leans back a smidgen further.

"Forgot ya got me collared," Rhett's chuckling, already yielding to the tug of the leash. His lips graze up the side of your ankle, ambling along in no real rush as he makes his way back up your legs. Kissing at the juncture of your knee and up into the inside of your thigh, tongue darting out to sloppily wet the skin there.

Golden eyes flicker up to meet your gaze.

Idle, your unoccupied fingers find their way into his hair, curling and twisting in the messy curls that rest at the back of his neck. The leash pulls, too eager to guide him higher. Wasn't exactly a part of your plan for tonight, but you cannot even begin to deny yourself this simple pleasure.

"Good boy," it's hushed, and it's barely there, but the words tumble off your tongue like any other.

Rhett hears them. You know he has because those dumb, wolfish ears emerge from the darkness. Twisting and turning. Drinking up the tiny noise that chokes out of your throat when he sucks on a patch of skin on your inner thigh, working it over until you're certain that he's left a mark there. Repeats it again a little further up, drifts over to your other thigh, the tip of his nose bumping into you as he guides himself up, up, up.

His breath fans out against your cunt. So hot that it nearly burns.

Your tug on the leash is all the encouragement he needs. Tongue poking past his lips and drawing through your folds, licking a slow, fat stripe up your cunt, groaning to himself like he's just won a grand prize. Even here, you can feel the smooth glide of his teeth, almost a perfect mirror of the silent threat you made to him in the barn.

Big hands settle on either side of your hips, holding you still as he dips down to repeat it once more. "Taste so fuckin' good," grumbling into your pussy, the vibration of his voice dancing around your sensitive clit.

He's already getting comfortable, settling flat on his belly, arms curling around your thighs, hanging onto you like you'll wander away if he doesn't. Leaves you no choice but to clutch the back of his head as his upper lip brushes where you crave him most. The very spot that he's so deliberately ignoring.

"Bastard," hissing. If he'd just go a little higher...

"What?" Artificial innocence drips from his tone, peeking up at you beneath long lashes. He's the very definition of a man who knows what he's doing, with that dumb, wolfish grin sprawling across his face.

Fuck, you can't stand him sometimes.

The leash yanks. Jerking him upward, his mouth helplessly dragged up to the very place he's been avoiding. So caught off guard that he's hardly got time to react, before you're pushing his head back down.

Two can play at this game.

"Impatient," he grunts, but he's not making any move to fight back. Contentedly swirling his tongue around your clit like you've been wanting, only pausing to wrap his thin lips around it.

A spark of heat jumps up your spine, bursting in your head like a lone firework. Makes it so damn hard for you to get your thoughts in order. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full, cowboy."

Even with his face buried between your legs, it's impossible to miss the way that his eyes roll. Nor can you fail to notice the roll of his hips, chasing the feel of your sheets against his neglected cock, still heavy and weeping.

But you can't pay attention to it for long because a calloused fingertip nudges between your folds. Stroking at your delicate entrance, pressing to feel the way you open up for him. What he finds must have been what he was looking for because the outer corners of his eyes rise with a smile. Your light tug of the leash is enough to keep him moving, that thick finger slipping into you without a second thought.

It's been so damn long that you've nearly forgotten how this feels. The faint burn of taking him dry. How he curls upward, rubbing his blunt fingertip up your walls, rising up, up, up. You know he'll find that sweet little spot, he always does, but that doesn't stop your nerves from winding tight, thighs tensing as he nudges closer and closer to it.

"Fuckin' tight," he muses, drawing right across the nerves of your g-spot for the first time in forever.

Your body jerks, a gasp bursting past your lips. "And who's fault is that?"

"I know," sheepishly pausing to twirl his pointed tongue across your cunt, "'m sorry." Pity rewards you with a second finger, eagerly nudging in alongside the first, finally beginning to stretch you in earnest. Pumping in and out of you to the languid tune of his mouth, a lazy sort of thing that has your thighs clamping down around his head.

"Rhett..." you don't know why you're muttering his name, but he's humming his response, and it's sending a bolt of lightning up your core.

A plume of heat swells between your legs. Familiar. The kind that has your lower belly alight with an excitement you haven't felt since the last time. Spurred on by the rough fingertips that incessantly rub into your walls and the burning tongue that draws sharp figure eights across your spasming clit. Just a little bit more. Just a little bit—

"Stop." Blurting. A little too loud.

Rhett freezes so quickly that his tongue doesn't even dart back into his mouth. So shocked that his ears have returned to their usual human shape. His eyes are the only thing that moves, darting up to scan your face. Whatever expression he's looking for, he doesn't find it.

"Close?" Lifting his head. Stiff.

Weakly, you nod, tugging on his leash with an uneasy hand, "Uhuh."

Those shoulders drop with a heavy sigh, fanning out against your sensitive core as he begins to move. Hands settle on either side of you, bracing his weight as he crawls up your body, the muscle in his biceps flexing with the simple effort, veins rising from his forearms. A sight so mesmerizing that you nearly miss grabbing the lube off the spare pillow.

His hand darts out, reaching to take it, but you're a little quicker, drawing it out of his reach.

"Sit," a simple order, not an ounce of firmness behind it.

Rhett's head tilts to the side, pausing if only for a second, then falls back onto his haunches without a word. Sitting innocently between your legs, watching as you sit up and snap the cap open. The lube spills out a little too quickly, flooding your palm and dripping between the crevices of your fingers.

"Shit," his eyelashes flutter as your hand wraps around his heavy cock, lazily spreading the sticky fluid across him. There's so much of it. Squelching with the motion of your strokes, the excess running down into the neatly groomed hair at his base and beyond. "Think ya got enough on me?"

"Aren't you usually heckling me for using too little?" Fighting the urge to laugh, slick hand reaching between your own legs. The nudge of your own two fingers isn't what you're craving in the slightest; too small and thin as compared to Rhett's, but they work just fine when it comes to spreading some more of the lube.

"'cause I don't wanna hurt ya," the corner of his lip quirks up. Smug. One of the many downsides of dating a man who's hung like a damn horse and knows it.

But there are a number of upsides that come with the territory, too. Wrapping his hand around himself makes him seem that much bigger. Thick in his hand, so heavy that it can't stand upright without some help. Falling onto your back does nothing to help it, and even as he shifts forward, blunt tip nudging at your inner thigh, you can't help but wonder how you take him every time.

Nor do you know how you plan to take the knot that subtly swells at his base, still inflamed from your handiwork in the barn.

His cock head nudges against your folds, experimentally rutting between them. Has the air hitching in your throat and your hand unintentionally yanking on his leash.

"Alright, alright," mumbling to himself through a laugh, "impatient."

A familiar pressure blooms before you realize what he's talking about. The careful nudge of his dick at your entrance, gradually stretching you around his mushroom tip. And maybe the full moon really does affect his size because you don't recall it ever aching quite like this. A subtle burn rising, even with the lube, has you holding your breath as he opens you wider and wider.

"Relax, doll," he's coaxing, in that quiet voice of his hands rising to glide up your sides, "can feel y' clenchin' 'round me."

Easier said than done. But his touch is distracting enough to let a puff of air burst past your lips, lungs burning for a fresh intake of oxygen, chest rising and falling in perfect tune with Rhett's. With it goes the tension in your thighs, falling slack against the bed, drawn out even further as his tip drags against the sweet bundle of nerves inside of you. Little sparks bolt through your nerves, bursting up in your head and behind your eyelids.

The leash tugs again, but this time, it isn't an impatient correction. No, you're trying to draw him closer, helplessly beckoning him to settle down onto his forearms. And he does just that. Warm body coming to rest against yours, so close that his jaw bumps into yours.

"'s this where ya want me?" He whispers, rubbing your noses together just for the sake of doing it. Always has to be stealing some kind of affection, even when his cock is sinking into you, inch by devastating inch, stretching you so wide that your thighs tremble from it.

You can't formulate a response; the words in your head have broken into fragments. Maybe you'd be able to gather them up if not for the delicious sensation of him bottoming out. Not another inch to take of him, his hips flush with your body. It's a damn surprise that you haven't cracked in half, so full that your lungs feel like they've shrunk by two sizes.

"You can..." you're already too winded to get your words out, "you can move."

Rhett doesn't budge. Eyes closed, seemingly off in his own little world, content with the sensation of your warm cunt, wrapped around him. But you didn't go through all this trouble just to skip out on all the fun now.

You give the leash an experimental tug. Jerking him by the slightest fraction.

A growl bursts from his throat. So loud that the room seems to shake with it. Gone as quickly as it arrived, replaced with an awkwardly quiet air, wide blue eyes blinking back at you. As if you were the one who made the noise and not him.

"Move," repeating yourself, and if he notices the wobble in the firmness of your tone, he doesn't acknowledge it.

Obedient, his hips draw backward, and you immediately know you're in trouble. Even for such a shallow movement, he's dragging deliciously against every little nerve within your walls, the soft swell of his base catching on your entrance as he eases back inside. It's the second thrust that knocks the air from your chest, puffing past your lips as he bottoms out, the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

"That," blurting, before he can even begin to lose his angle, "keep doing that."

"'s that the spot?" Rhett grins, fangs and all. As if he can't feel the way you involuntarily flutter around him when he passes over it again.

Your lube-slick hand tangles into his hair. There's not a doubt in your mind that it's going to leave it matted and sticky once it dries, but that's alright. You're both gonna need a bath once this is all said and done.

He's finding his pace, rising higher up onto his forearms, properly hovering above you. The kind of shift that has his balls smacking into your ass, the heaviness of his body rocking yours against the bed. Your mattress squeaks with every heavy movement, but it's barely audible over the wet squelch of his cock disappearing into you and the grunts that rumble out of him.

He's feeling it as much as you are, eyes squeezing shut, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, canines threatening to puncture the thin skin there. Even as he draws back to settle on his haunches, you can hear him. Unusually noisy, those low noises bubbling into something louder, traveling on the coattails of his breath.

Your thighs rise to squeeze around his waist, pulling him in a little harder now, "you're getting loud, cowboy."

"Fuckin' sensitive," his hair bounces into his face, forces him to run one of those big hands through it, "still haven't—oh fuck."

Your cunt is spasming around him. Clenching and unclenching as his plush tip kisses those sweet little nerves over and over and over. Your unoccupied hand can't stay still. Grasping at the edge of the pillow, squeezing a fistful of the sheets, flailing around at your side like a fish out of water. Anything to keep yourself grounded.

"God," squeezing his eyes shut, hardly stifling a moan, "y' feel so fuckin' good."

The sight above you is enough to make you dizzy. Rhett and his messy curls, sweat beading on his forehead, and the veins along his arms have long since begun to show themselves. Muscles flexing with every heavy thrust, his thick cock disappearing between your parted legs, stretching you obscenely wide.

Fuck, you can't believe this cowboy is real.

He's reaching beneath one of your shivering knees, fingers sprawling around the underside of it and pushing it up toward your belly. "Ain't ever stayin' away for that long again."

And you don't ever want him to, either. This bed and this house have been far too quiet without him; your toys haven't seen this much of you since before the two of you met. But he's here now, black collar looped around his flushed neck, leash bouncing with the movement of his body, and you don't have any intention of cutting him loose.

"Yer thighs are shakin' so much," he says it like he's not trembling himself, weak hand struggling to keep hold of your leg, the two of you wavering like leaves in the autumn breeze. "'s it feel that good, sweetheart?"

If he keeps talking, you're going to combust.

The leash nearly slips out of your sweaty hand when you tug on it. Couldn't have been much of a pull at all, but it works a growl out of Rhett's throat, golden eyes twinkling as he lets you reel him back in. A little too eager to get close to you again, chests pressing against each other, mouths meeting for a kiss, so sloppy that it hardly counts as one. Lips bumping together, unable to do anything but that.

"Good boy," it slips off your tongue without thinking.

The phrase has never really crossed your vocabulary until tonight, but something about the collar and the distracting massage of his cock has you throwing all rationality out the window. There's only one way to find out if he likes the phrase or not. MIght as well learn on the one night when he's fully capable of swallowing you whole.

"Again."

You almost don't believe what you just heard.

But Rhett's nuzzling his nose against your cheek, suddenly losing his rhythm. "Call me that again."

Fire ignites in your core. Spreading until it feels as if your entire body has been plunged into a pot of boiling water. Fuck, if he keeps—if he just keeps doing that. "Good boy," repeating yourself, dissolving into a mewl.

His whole body jerks. Set off like a damn firecracker. Head dropping low, keening high in his throat, too weak to hold it back anymore. If he had a tail, you have no doubt that it would be wagging back and forth, a little too eager to hear your praise.

Impatient, your hand dips between your bodies, the pads of your fingers pressing against your clit. Sparks volt through your nerves. Has your heart lurching and hammering in your heaving chest. You're already close.

"Want you to knot me," admitting your plan is easier than it should have been, falling off your drooling tongue without a shred of fear. "Can you do that?"

Now you've got his attention, snapping up to look at you. Mouth open. Eyes wide, clear for the briefest of moments. But then his cock head hits your g-spot head on, and it's got you clenching around him like a fucking vice. You're both gone. Fear of getting hurt be damned. Neither of you can think of anything except for this, this, this.

Then you hear it. The faintest "uhuh" you've ever heard.

But it's there.

"Such a good boy for me," you might be babbling, but you don't care. Rhett's whimper is just as loud as yours, dancing together in the bedroom air, and that's all that matters. "so good, Rhett."

The base of his cock is swelling. Growing taut with a knot that catches on your rim, forcing those long strokes to devolve into short, fragile little motions. His voice is getting pitcher, whispering nonsense that sounds like your name, the curve of his nose pressing into the underside of your jaw.

Until all of a sudden, his hips are slamming into yours, and he's cumming in you with a pitiful cry. Knot swelling into a bulb, locking your exhausted bodies together as his cum finally, finally spills into you, flooding your helpless pussy with rope after rope of white. And all he can do is collapse on top of you, his head buried into the gap of your neck.

You're so full of him. Nowhere for his cum to escape, even whilst his hips involuntarily twitch forward, jostling the mess he's made inside of you. And it's all just making your fingers work a little faster, rubbing over your clit over and over, spasming impossibly tight around his overworked cock.

"Cum 'round me," Rhett's begging, his voice shaky can be. "Please."

And you do.

Back jerking up off the mattress, spots dancing across your vision, cumming around his cock without a shred of warning. Your pussy clamping down around his knot, fingers stalling over your clit. A strangled cry cuts through the air. You haven't the slightest clue if it's coming from you or Rhett, but you can't bring yourself to care. Too lost in the spinning of the room and the clouds fogging your mind to even try to comprehend what you're hearing.

For once, the room is quiet—nothing but two labored breaths, so heavy that the wind howling outside ought to be jealous.

Rhett's eyelashes tickle your neck with every blink, the only sign you've got that he's still alive, "Think ya almost killed me."

"You're one to talk," you have to crane your neck to get a better look at him, contentedly snuggled against you, eyes blue as can be. Not a shred of werewolf left in him, too tuckered out to show its face any longer.

"Careful," it's the start of the emptiest threat you've ever heard, "the moons still high."

The pillow has a higher chance of killing you than he does.

"You haven't eaten me so far," teasing, letting your fingers dart down his naked spine. He shivers, jerking up onto his forearms all of a sudden.

His knot is already beginning to go down, makes it easy for him to draw his hips backward. Pressure builds for the briefest of moments, and with a soft 'pop,' he slips out of you entirely. Like a damn has burst, his cum begins to spill from your abused cunt, running down your skin and staining the comforter below.

You really should get up and throw the sheets in the washer before anything can begin to dry, or worse, leave behind an impossible-to-remove stain. But you're too focused on Rhett, rolling over onto his back, sweaty chest heaving. The kind of thing that you cant resist from reaching out and touching, your palm sliding along his warm stomach, feeling the way it rises and falls in tune with his chest.

"Are you rubbin' my belly like 'm a dog?" He asks, through that lazy smile, all half-lidded eyes and sleepy muscle. Even now, you can't bring yourself to believe that there's a single vicious bone in his body, big and strong as it may be.

"Should I stop?" You suppose you already know the answer to your question; he'd be kicking up a bigger fuss if he didn't like it.

His head shakes, and even that looks like too tremendous of a task for him. "No, no, I ain't sayin' that."

Instead, his hand rises to cover yours, following along as you rub up and down, gradually working your way higher and higher, from his belly button to that proud bull tattoo. A quiet growl rolls out of his chest when your thumb dares to swipe over one of his nipples, the closest thing he can get to purring.

But you're not done roaming. Wandering even further up, across his sweaty neck and up to his scruffy cheek. It's been far too long since the last time you've gotten to do this. Feeling the soft drag of his stubble under your touch, the way that he dares to twist his head and nip at your palm when it ventures close to his mouth. Every gentle bite is soothed with a kiss, peppering across your wrist and fingers.

"I suppose I should take that collar off of you," musing mostly to yourself. The leather still rests around his neck, no doubt sticking uncomfortably to his clammy skin, the leash still hanging from the loop.

"Wanna keep it on," stubborn to the very end, his foot kicking out, as if that can possibly add fuel to his argument, "jus' a little longer."

Your fingers drip down, tracing the redness that's long since appeared, his skin rubbed raw and no doubt sore from the collar. "It's chafing your neck." A part of you supposes its your fault, for not buying one meant to be worn on skin.

"But I like it," that bottom lip pokes out the slightest bit, pouting in the only way he knows how, "feels nice."

"It's gonna have to come off eventually," at the very least, you can unclasp the leash, tossing it off the edge of the bed with a surprisingly loud clatter. "We're both gonna need a shower here soon."

His head tilts, brows raised. "Who says?"

"Me," fighting back a smile. Whether or not you're doing a good job at it is anyone's guess.

"Nope." Rhett's defiantly shaking his head, as if that can possibly change the fact that the sheets and your inner thighs are stained with his cum, the kind of mess that absolutely requires a shower. "No, you don't."

All of a sudden, he's moving, rolling back on top of you before you can even begin to comprehend what he's up to. You're pinned like a damn note under a tack; try as you might, you can't get all one-hundred-something pounds of him to even budge. Practically trapped here on the bed, forced to endure his giggles and the nuzzle of his cold nose, burying its way back into the crook of your neck.

"You're not gonna move, are you?" Why do you keep asking questions that you already know the answer to?

"Nope," Rhett's pressing a kiss to a vein in your neck, like it will do anything to make this easier for you," the shower can wait a lil longer."

Admitting defeat has never been sweeter. You'd really love to climb into the shower and stand beneath the warm water with him, taking turns scrubbing each other down and rinsing the soap from his hair, but you don't mind this. Arms looping around his broad shoulders, hugging him close like some big, oversized teddy bear.

In the back of your mind, a tiny light kicks on. "Will you agree to move if I promise to get you a softer collar?"

"They make those?" His voice is muffled by your neck, words tickling as they vibrate through you.

Humming, you tap your fingers against the solid bone of his shoulder. "You can even pick out the color."

"Well, why didn't ya mention that before?"He's up on his haunches in the blink of an eye. Grinning from ear to ear, he reaches for your hands, giving them a tug, urging you to sit up. "C'mon!"

The sheets.

You need to get the sheets off the bed, but you've got no choice. Rhett's got a hold of you, and he's not letting go. Laughing, kicking up the biggest fuss he can possibly manage, eyes shimmering with pools of gold as he pulls you up onto your feet. Uncaring of the mess that is being left behind, too busy herding you in the direction of the bathroom.

The water is already running when you realize you've forgotten to grab clothes, arriving in the form of an offhanded thought whilst you were watching Rhett test the temperature with his foot. But he's beating you to that, too, eagerly darting off into the hallway like an oversized puppy. Doesn't even bother to wipe the water off his foot, leaving behind a trail of water droplets that shimmer in the light.

They kind of look like the stars you left on the barn floor. Twinkling little galaxies, just waiting to be discovered.

"Watcha lookin' at?" Rhett's already rounded the corner again, tossing those offhandedly chosen clothes in the direction of the sink. Whether or not he remembered to grab underwear is anyone's guess.

Your shoulders rise and fall with a shrug, "just a mess on the floor."

He'll help you make a bigger one after you two step out of the shower.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #werewolf au #werewolf rhett abbott #oneshot

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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 3 months ago

Text

"Stop touching me!" - "I'm not touching you!"

@summer-of-bad-batch week 13 main prompt

Fandom: The Bad Batch/The Clone Wars Characters: Echo, Fives Set after season 3 when everyone is living happily on Pabu and Fives is alive and reunited with Echo, obviously Word Count: ~1100 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: After a lifetime fearing the roiling ocean dark of Kamino, Fives has his first encounter with the shallow, tropical sea of Pabu

I have put precisely zero thought into the questions 'How did Fives live?', 'How did Fives meet the Batch?' or 'How did Fives and Echo reunite?' These are unimportant considerations. What is important is that Fives and Echo are together again, happy on Pabu :)

“And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“It’s perfectly safe, Fives,” said Echo, a hum of amusement softening his usually gruff tone. “It’s just water.”

Fives looked at him askance, and then turned his sceptical gaze back to the gently lapping waves before them.

“We grew up on the same Kamino, right? What, Techno Union drill the ocean-safety lectures right out of your head?”

Echo only grinned good-naturedly, giving his brother a shove.

“If you’re afraid of this little… puddle,” he said, gesturing to the expanse of glittering sea stretching to the horizon, “you can stay on the beach. I’m sure no-one will be surprised that an Arc Trooper is too scared to go paddling with the little kids.”

Grumbling, Fives’ hand found Echo’s and clamped around it.

“Fine,” he muttered, taking a deep breath and then a deliberate step forwards. “But you’re coming with me!”

“I’m not the one who’s scared of the water, tubie,” Echo laughed, but squeezed Fives’ hand reassuringly all the same.

They ventured down to the water’s edge, Fives squealing and shuffling backwards as an unexpected wave rushed up and doused his toes. In moments Echo was pulling him further in, until he was up to his ankles, up to his shins, up to his knees, in warm, undulating water.

“There,” said Echo teasingly, “that’s not so bad, is it?”

Fives made a wordless, disparaging noise, swinging their hands gently between them.

“S’pose not,” he offered eventually, wriggling his toes to dig them into the damp sand that formed the seabed underfoot. “Didn’t expect it to be warm.”

“Want to go in a bit deeper?”

“Yeah… sure.”

They sloshed slowly through the waves, Echo giving a shudder when they reached a depth where the water finally lapped against his skin, above the join of his prostheses. Fives noticed and nudged their shoulders together, a single raised eyebrow asking the question for him, but Echo smiled his reassurance and carried on.

“I’m waterproof, you know. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Always going to worry about you, Echo,” breathed Fives, eyes on the studded metal implants either side of his brother’s pale, knobbly spine.

Sensing the turn in his mood, Echo freed his hand and dashed a sweeping arm across the surface of the water, sending a cascade of droplets arcing in the sun. They spattered Fives’ chest, drawing an indignant squark from him.

By the time they were waist height in the water, Echo tipped to his front, swimming forwards a few feet and waving back over his shoulder with his scomp arm to encourage Fives to join him.

Fives shook his head firmly. “Nuh-uh. I am not going out of my depth.”

“It’s still shallow,” called Echo, tipping back to his feet. The water lapped against the metal plate that replaced his sternum. “The sea-bed here goes out on a very gentle slope.”

Under his feet, Fives felt the seabed change from sand to rock as he ventured further from the shore. He glanced back nervously at the island, moaning softly at how distant it seemed to be, before coming to stand beside Echo.

“Happy?” he said with a mock glare, letting his arms float atop the water whilst he bobbed on his toes.

“Happy,” confirmed Echo with a smile.

For a while they simply stood, waves bobbing against their chests, watching the whirl of seabirds and the track of wispy clouds across the horizon.

All of a sudden Fives flinched, convulsing and flailing at the water.

“Ugh! Echo, stop touching me! Your duraplast feet are cold and slimy!”

“Huh?” Echo looked nonplussed, brows knitting in a frown. “I’m not touching you.”

“Yes you are,” moaned Fives, standing on one leg to rub at his calf. “Running your foot down my leg, it feels weird. Leave me alone.”

Echo shook his head, and at his genuine puzzlement a look of horror dawned on Fives.

“What is touching me in the water?”

“I don’t know,” said Echo unhelpfully. Then, with a grin, “Duraplast legs, remember? Can’t feel anything.”

The brothers locked eyes, Fives’s dark brown searching Echo’s mischievously glinting amber for any hint of reassurance. Then he convulsed again, letting out an almighty shriek.

“It touched me again! Echo!”

In moments he had clawed his way into his brother’s arms, legs wrapped tightly round Echo’s waist and arms all but smothering his face. Echo staggered under his weight, even with the water to support them, trying to steady Fives with his left arm whilst he rubbed the side of his scomp along his side soothingly.

“Hey, Fives!” he said, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Kriff, let up before you choke me…”

“Take me back to shore, Echo!” howled Fives, and Echo could never tell how much was genuine and how much was drama in Fives’ penchant for overreacting. “I don’t like it out here!”

Echo peeled Fives’ limbs from his torso, shoving him away. Fives yelped as he ducked briefly under the waves, then bobbed back to the surface, treading water.

Taking a breath, Echo ducked under too, blinking back the salt-sting against his open eyes. When he surfaced again he was grinning, holding up a handful of long, leathery kelp.

“It’s just seaweed, Fives,” he crowed, gently mocking. “It can’t hurt you!”

“It felt gross,” lamented Fives, still frantically pedalling to keep himself afloat. “Let’s go back, Echo. I don’t want to be in the water any more!”

With a wicked grin, Echo slung the seaweed at Fives, laughing at the wet slap it made as it hit his skin. Fives groaned, flailing as he brushed it off, before he swam back towards Echo.

“Carry me back to shore,” he demanded, grabbing round his neck with both arms once more.

Echo linked his arms under Fives, scomp across his back, left arm hooked under his knees.

“You’re such a tubie,” he grinned affectionately, squeezing him tightly as he began to wade back to shallower water. “I can’t believe you’re scared of the seaweed.”

“You can’t feel it,” Fives moaned, lolling his head back dramatically. “It was horrible.”

“I’m gonna put it in your bed.”

“Do that, and I’ll disown you.”

“You’d never do that.”

Fives huffed an unimpressed noise. “Don’t be so sure.”

Echo held him close as the water dropped away from their bodies, sloshing round his thighs as Fives shivered in the air.

“We’ll see,” he murmured, lowering Fives to his feet when they were no more than knee deep once more.

Then, with a shove that sent Fives staggering into the waves, “Race you to the shore!”

#summerofbadbatch2024 #week13 #stop touching me! i'm not touching you!#the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb echo #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #echo and fives #fives and echo #domino twins

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writing-whump · 6 months ago

Text

A punch to the gut

Dylan wants to see a real wolf fight. It isn't exactly safe. First time meeting Rip. A bit of violence, blood and emeto.

Dylan didn't want to meet Isaiah Wolfson, yet everywhere he went to the city, the guy kept following him around.

Was the guy as tough as Isaiah Wolfson? Is there an Executioner as strong as Isaiah Wolfson? Did you ever meet Isaiah Wolfson?

Oh my god. There was no escape of hearing the name.

But Dylan didn't want to meet this surely stuck up arrogant wolf with a giant shadow. And it wasn't because he must have been wealthy as heck or had reputation over three countries or was from the coolest, most powerful wolf family with probably the best training in the world.

It was the least because he managed to charm his sister away from them. That was one reason Dylan would never admit to and never forgive.

Okay, they weren't getting along that much, when he was 17 and his shadow was all over the place and his grades took a nose dive...and yeah, Seline was academic and too smart and a show off and always the best at everything that his parents expected him to be at least half as good at.

But she was his sister and he missed her. It felt like giant fail that she moved to Vienna without him (1) that she found a pack in matter of months after leaving (2) and that she had the Isaiah Wolfson for a boyfriend. Jesus fucking Christ. It couldn't be any worse.

While Dylan was the famous packless high school dropout of 19 that had loving but entirely human parents and absolutely no connections to get into one.

Yeah, he had friends in all towns he lived in, in Bratislava and in Vienna, from primary school and high school and then the other high school and then from the little summer jobs and bigger jobs he kept switching up.

He had many wolf friends too. Peers. Other pups. They sparred together and worked out and gave each other tips on the best shakes to get the right kind of toned muscles. And boxed and trained and everything.

But they had their own packs and now they had girlfriends and dads they could spar with and not protect.

Yeah, he was ungrateful. He had great loving parents. Who loved staying home and working in the garden, making their own tomatoes and shit. It was awesome.

For them.

It was boring as hell to a 19 years old shadow wolf, who just wanted to feel like...like a proper wolf for once.

And yes, he had advantages for being so "human". He was one of those rare wolves who had friends across packs, who also got along with human kids his age, who was great at break dancing, got invited to every and each big beach volleyball play on the Donaukanal. He was invited to all parties, human, wolf, everything.

But he wasn't a damn witch to be invited into a pack in three months. And he wasn't Isaiah fucking Wolfson to be recognised on the streets.

So when Dylan heard of that not so offal street fighting ring in the lawless district, where wolves of different packs could fight with shadows and fists - unsupervised - he was intrigued.

His friend was explaining the risks and safety measures and the rules that came with wolf fights and shadows in public and blablabla.

Dylan heard 'unsupervised' and 'wolf fight' and knew what to do with his Friday night.

He was a decent fighter. Maybe never been in a real fight, like hostile 'we aren't friends' kind of fight, but he would do well, right?

No better way to learn a bit how he would fare.

...

He imagined it a bit like an underground Fight club, not a few wet streets between apartments, but hey. It was a start.

The wolves looked the right kind of scary. Torn up shirts and even earrings! The guy had to pierce his ear everyday for it to work, his shadow would heal it up with each sweep.

He watched the fights in fascination. There really was no referee, just a circle of wolves and the two guys currently fighting.

No shirts, contact allowed, no gloves. And shadows, all naked and black slashing out at each other.

Maybe the pavement wasn't wet just from yesterday's rain. Now that he looked closer, maybe it was kind of bloody too.

He had never been in a party where the wolves truly made the best of their healing. Meaning, they didn't mind getting injured quite drastically. Making them lives bleed or tear up the arms or muscles or break bones, knowing they would heal up with a sweep.

Or until morning.

"Hey. What pack are you from?" It came from the guy with huge arms in a white undershirt.

"Oh, me? I'm Dylan Sil-"

"No, dumbass. Your pack."

"I'm packless at the moment," Dylan said with a grin. "You?"

The wolf threw a look behind him, then returned the smile. Though there was something about the crookedness of it that didn't seem genuine to Dylan.

"Forrester. And my friend over there is from the Starks." He said it in a way like Dylan should know them. Dylan was a little behind on all the names and packs he should keep track of.

There were the old ones, but he wasn't sure if that meant they had the oldest members (guys that looked 40 but were actually 140) or they were in the city the longest.

Then there was pack order by size and number of branches, which wasn't necessarily by importance, money, property, profession or size of district they claimed as territory. And allainces. And proness to fights.

To cut it short, there were many factors. None of which involved Dylan or that someone would explain to him, cause a wolf with human parents was apparently super rare.

Not the fun kind of rare.

"How long do you have to wait for a round?" Dylan asked. Conversation was good right? "Is there like a list or...?"

The guy chuckled. "Hey, Toby. This guy says he wants a round."

"Can you get me inside the ring?" Dylan asked hopefully.

"Nah, man. Only proven guys get into the ring."

"How can you prove yourself?"

The guy snickered, joined up by who was apparently Toby. And another guy to his left.

"You need a lesson. A testing fight so to say."

Dylan was starting get a bad feeling about this. "One on one?"

All three of them laughed. "Nah, newbie. Someone's gotta teach ya the rules."

Dylan wasn't sure how they got away from the crowd, but no one seemed to mind. The circle around the two current fighters cheered and laughed and screamed.

And he was pushed out, just a few meters away, but somehow with his back to the wall. "Hey," Dylan repeated the greeting he heard. "Maybe this is a misunderstanding. You guys could-"

"What? You wanted to fight, didn't you?"

Dylan frowned, eyes narrowing. "I can take you. One by one, so it would be fair, but I can take you like this too. You don't know what you are playing with."

This was posture. Or maybe pure belief. Dylan just knew that face to face to a wolf, you never showed fear. You needed to convince your attackers you were too much of a hassle to fight.

Or so he heard.

The first guy chuckled while the two others exchanged hungry grins.

Dylan crouched down, thinking of the boxing gloves in his backpack somewhere at the feet of the crowd, calling up his shadow.

That triggered another round of laugh from them. It was a little disheartening.

"Oi. What do you guys think you are doing?"

The guy - the wolf - that showed up wasn't the tallest. He didn't have the biggest muscles and he wasn't the oldest either.

If anything, he looked scrawny. Average high, a mop of curly black hair that needed a haircut, his clothes kind of torn up and dirty.

But the trio of would be attackers still froze, each of them averting their gaze.

"We are just playing around with some fresh meat, Rip," Toby said. "He is new. He doesn't know the rules."

"So you are helping out?" Rip said dryly.

The first guy, the one in the white undershirt, growled. "He is ours. Go find your own."

Rip focused his eyes on him. They looked dark from the distance but Dylan thought they weren't black. What kind of colour was it? They looked like catching a sunlight on a sharp knife.

"You are on my turf. You need my permission to fight." He nodded towards the ongoing fight. "You want to fight somebody without it, you fight me."

Even the big guy ducked his head this time. "He needs a fucking lesson."

Rip shrugged. "Alright."

Dylan blinked. That wasn't the kind of answer he expected.

Before he could brace himself or even move, there was a smear in the air and suddenly there was a leg shooting up, kicking his feet from under him.

Dylan fell flat on his back, his shadow flailing around in confusion.

Rip was above him, his leg on the top of Dylan's neck. "You came to fight, eh? You forgot to ask."

Dylan tried to say something, but the weight on his throat intensified. Probably a rhetorical question.

"Let me show you how it's done."

The last thing Dylan remembered was Rip's sneaker heading towards his face.

...

Dylan woke up with taste of iron on his tounge.

He shot up into a sitting position, doubling over as pain immediately flared up in his ribs. His right side was burning.

Gingerly, he reached out towards his face. It had fried blood all over it, from his nose and mouth.

He spit on the ground, doubling over himself. His stomach was doing somersaults as if trying to catch him up on the events.

"How stupid can you be to say you are packless?"

Dylan whirled around towards the voice.

Rip was sitting just a few meters away. Ripped jeans and a bloody shirt with short sleeves, but somehow still radiating danger.

"That's the one thing you never, ever say, even if it was true. Makes you an easy target, fool."

Dylan blinked in confusion. Wasn't Rip the one who kind of saved him...and then kind of beat him up?

He rolled his shoulders, trying to make an overview of what was hurting. His stomach was one thing, his ribs, his nose, his throat...he reached for his shadow then, in a way he never did before. But it was there, jumping to respond, happy and willing as always.

It wasn't something he ever had to. It was usually just fun or a twist of an ankle or hurting teeth.

But this time he pulled his shadow over himself like blanket. The wave of needless ran through him, prickling in a soothing way.

Dylan let out a deep relieved breath as the pain disappeared, carried away by his shadow as it settled back down.

He looked at Rip, understanding downing on him as his skull stopped throbbing. "Thank you."

That had the other wolf jumping up to his feet with a snarl. "Don't you say that. I didn't help you."

Dylan smiled. "Of course you did. You saved me from being torn to pieces by three by beating me up yourself. Really smooth. Not the most comfy approach," he said with a wince. Somehow his stomach was still rolling inside him, despite the healing.

"You are an idiot. What are you doing here?"

Dylan carefully got to his feet, not liking how Rip towered over him when standing. "Just looking around. Exploring." He gave him a wide grin, hoping there wasn't blood stuck on his teeth. "What pack rules here?"

"Why do you think it's called the lawless district, huh? So that wolves could claw at each other in the open, without pesky humans."

"But we can't use our shadows in public to seriously hurt someone.."

Rip's head went back. "That's the kind of rules that work in the center. Where humans would get scared if your shadow as much as stuck out. Not here. You could freaking die here, man."

Dylan nodded, trying to take it seriously. The intent in those guys definitely wasn't friendly. He had a little trouble focusing though, with the nausea making the hair on the back of his head stand up.

He swayed a little. It just all seemed so foreign and too far away from reality. His reality.

Rip shook his head. "You better head home, city boy. This is not the park for you."

But that was exactly why Dylan was there. To prove it was, that he could make his way- a sudden burp snuck out.

Dylan pressed his hand against his lips, swaying again. What the hell was this about?

His stomach rolled and flipped and then suddenly rocked up with a twist.

Dylan barely manged to brace himself on his knees before his lunch loudly lurched out of him onto the grass. They were standing on grass?

Dylan burped, his stomach churning angrily. "I don't-uuuurp- understand. I just healed up-" another wave of vomit shot up his throat and splashed in the grass between his feet.

Rip sighed. "Punch to the gut. You can heal the injury, but not the effect."

"Oh, that's interesting, I never heard- urghh..." Dylan vomited again, almost losing his balance. He managed to take a few steps away from the pool of sick, falling to his knees.

Everything was spinning, so leaning his forehead against the cool grassy ground felt good. Grounding.

"Nice meeting you. Rip, right?" he said in the general direction of the other boy. "I'm Dylan." Which would have been a lot cooler of an introduction if he didn't burp right after. He wrapped both his hands around his stomach as it bubbled, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Hey, Dylan," Rip said, sounding nearer. He sat down near the sick wolf. Not moving closer, but not moving away in disgust. "You just hurled all over your shoes."

#sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #hurt/comfort #whump writing #werewolf wip #my writing #Dylan #here! have the newbies #*hides

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1000-silverfish-in-a-hoodie · 21 days ago

Text

Trans Tips for Camp Staff

(This is going to be long)

General tips:

Bring a small bag/backpack to carry throughout the day. Bring a large water bottle. Use more sunscreen than you think you need. Focus on your campers and have fun!

Cabins/bathrooms:

Camps will have different policies about accommodations. Some will offer gender neutral opinions. Some cabins may also have change rooms. Check the kind of accommodations your camp offers, and voice your cabin preferences as soon as possible. If you’re worried about privacy, you can request to change in a bathroom or practise inside a sleeping bag.

Binding/tucking:

You will likely be working long hours and exercising. It will be uncomfortable and unsafe to bind/tuck for the full work day. Do not put yourself at risk. It sucks, but your safety is a top priority. You can keep a binder/gaff in your bag and change in bathrooms. If you put a binder on at the beginning of the day, put a sports bra in your bag to change later. If you use (safe) tape, make sure you follow product instructions and slowly remove it with oil (vegetable oil is a cheap option).

Breast forms/packers:

You will sweat more in the summer, this could make packers or breast forms uncomfortable. If you’re using prosthetics, make sure to wash them often and follow care instructions. A shower or single stall washroom is the best place to wash. You can keep them in a ziplock bag, inside a backpack or suitcase pocket for cleanliness and privacy. Socks might be a better choice for camp as they are more discreet and can be washed with your laundry.

HRT:

Camps will have different policies on staff medication. Check with the healthcare team about where staff meds will be kept. If you’re staying in cabin and use injections, you may need to request some time in a private area to do your injections.

Showers:

Showers will likely be inconvenient for all staff. Your camp may or may not offer gender neutral showers. Dry shampoo is great if you don’t have time/too dysphoric too shower, but is not a replacement. The shower is probably the best area too shave.

Swimming:

Some camps require all staff to be on the water with campers (with exceptions for accessibility concerns). This is a matter of camper safety. Avoid cotton swim shirts, they increase the risk of hypothermia, an old non-cotton exercise shirt can be a good option. Some camps will have dress codes for swim wear.

High Challenge:

Some camps will offer high challenge courses. These may require staff to wear a belay harness. Harnesses can induce dysphoria, especially for people with penises.

Managing dysphoria:

Try to make friends with people who will affirming your gender. If comfortable, you can wear a pronoun pin. Bring clothes/hygiene products you enjoy. Camp will be busy, try to focus on having fun with your campers! If you’re struggling with mental health, tell a trusted supervisor as soon as possible.

Kids:

Kids will probably have a lot of questions, some might be about your gender. You only need to answer whatever your comfortable with. Otherwise you can just say “that’s private” or something similar. If a parent is concerned about trans staff, direct them to a supervisor, that shouldn’t be your responsibility.

Bullying/discrimination/harassment:

If you experience any of this, report it as soon as possible. Your camp should have an anti bullying and/or anti harassment policy, refer to it for next steps.

Feel free to ask anymore questions!

Disclaimer: this is based off my experience as a white, able bodied, openly trans man working at a fairly progressive overnight camp in “Canada”/turtle island. I have worked there for 4 years (one year round) in counselling, programming, and leadership/supervising positions.

#transgender #trans #trans advice #summer camp #camp staff #camp #working with kids #child care #nonbinary #lgbtqia #queer #tw dysphoria #summer job #christian camp #outdoor ed #camp counsellor #canadian

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writing-time-bitches · 9 months ago

Text

Onward! // Submas drabble

Based on this post by @critterbitter ! Go check it out. Now. 🔫😐

\\\

Zephyr loved his job. He loved being a subway conductor even if the workplace was at times subpar with its safety. Sure the rails needed to be redone, sure the AC sometimes shorted out, and sure people tended to battle on it a few too many times per day but by Arceus’ eighteen plates did he adore the Unovan subway.

The one thing that could possibly outdo his love for trains and railways are children. And there’s a certain trio of kids that come by every time, without fail, when his train comes to a stop in Nimbasa City. They loved the trains almost as much as Zephyr did, particularly the twins. The Sinnohan girl and her Blitzle were quiet, likely due to her language barrier, but they always seemed to be just as excitable.

It was commonplace by now for Zephyr and the kids to exchange greetings when they entered his train. And recently, the Sinnohan has been speaking more too! Zephyr would be lying if he said he didn’t feel like a proud father.

The kids, now with a new companion in the form of dwebble that relaxed in the blitzle’s bags, were seen commonly working on homework when the train was moving. School was starting up again since the summer has drawn to a close. The twins, especially Ingo, would often help their foreign friend with her Galarian and homework.

And today they seemed particularly determined though…

“Right on schedule, Mr. Zephyr!” Emmet and Ingo shouted in tandem, ending off with their hellos. Elesa waved with a grin and their pokemon did the same. Zephyr couldn’t help but let a smile slip through his stoic work facade as he tipped his gray hat at them. They hurriedly approached the subway doors exchanging friendly nods when they entered.

“Oh, by the way…” Zephyr rummaged through his coat pockets and produced four clear plastic bags that were tied with a cute yellow. Blitzle perked and brayed excitedly as he recognized one of the bags’ contents,”I remember you mentioning what treats your pokemon liked so my husband and I made some for you! I apologize if their not the best, I’m not exactly a baker… the sugar cubes are infused with lemon.” Zephyr mentioned, scratching at his growing stubble with an air sheepishness.

Elesa’s and Emmet’s grins grew wider and Ingo produced one of his signature odd Purloin-like smiles. Elesa bowed,”Arigatou! Thank you Mr. Zephyr!” Blitzle drew his lips back in an excited snarl as he sniffed at the bag of sugar, Elesa laughed and sat down in one of the seats close to the door he stood at. The twins were quick to follow her lead.

Zephyr loaded on more passengers, punching their tickets and all, requesting all pokemon larger 3ft be returned to their pokeballs unless they are medically trained. Once the last person was onboard he turned to the twins behind him, and as if they had used Foresight, they turned at the same time. Zephyr didn’t have to say anything they were already jumping to their feet.

Zephyr crouched down and turned on his radio,”Attention all passengers, Line 6 is now departing.” He held the black box towards the boys who screamed into the radio,”ALL ABOOOOAARD!”

All three of them snickered at the yelps and curses of surprises that echoed both within and outside the train. Elesa cackled at a group of teens who turned to glare daggers at Zephyr and the boys while holding their ears.

Emmet grinned with a mischievous triumph, foot tapping,”I am Emmet. I will never grow tired of that.” Ingo nodded in agreement,”Indeed, we owe a gratuitous debt for the times you’ve allowed us to send this train off.”

Zephyr gave a mere chuckle and stood up, straightening his coat,”Ah it’s no big deal. By the way,” he turned to his little passengers,”where are you headed off to this time?”

“Route 10.” Came the synchronized answer. Zephyr’s pale blue eyes widened before a worried frown found its place on his face,”Route 10? Are you sure? You know the cliffs are unstable there… and it right next to the League, plenty of powerful pokemon will be there.” All three nodded their heads, Ingo piped up seemingly having predicted the conductor’s hesitancy,”We are well aware of that. We plan to strictly stay on Boufallant herding trails and on designated hiking trails. And,” he spared a withering glance at his brother,”we will run and hide at the sight of any overly-strong pokemon.” Emmet shrunk at at the glare and exaggerated words,”I am Emmet. I prrrromise to follow the rules.”

Zephyr bite his lip, unconsciously running his hand through the thick brown curled locks of hair under his hat, a few strands fell into his eyes as he glanced between his young passengers,”Are you sure…? Are you going to tell your uncle where you’re going at least?”

Emmet and Elesa gave a shug while Ingo nodded,”That is the first thing we will do when we reach Opelucid. Right Emmet? Elesa?” Under the glare of the eldest twin the two electric-type enthusiasts were quick to nod. Satisfied with their compliance he turned to the other with complete self-assuredness and confidence.

Still, Zephyr couldn’t help but feel a little responsible.

“What if I came with you for part of the hike?” He offered. The trio blinked, apparently having not anticipated that response. Elesa was first to recover,”No need! We handle ourselves perfectly good!” She tried, her Sinnohan accent thick upon her clumsy tongue. Emmet nodded, with his little tynamo sparking,”I am Emmet! Thank you for the offer but no thank you.”

When Ingo hadn’t responded as well the two looked at him with a badly hidden pleas. Ingo, being the ever so responsible young man he was bite the side of cheek in consideration,”… I would not be opposed to the notion…” at that the litwick atop his hat started spewing words a mile-a-minute. Zephyr had no clue what she was saying but from Ingo’s grimace it seemed like something of a scolding. Ingo picked up his ghostly friend and muttered something in argument but the litwick was not hearing it.

Sighing in a dramatic defeat he looked up at the grown he had grown to trust sadly,”I must apologize, it would seem the party’s against a chaperone.” Elesa and Ememt and their pokemon gave a not-so-quiet cheer for independence while Ingo sat in remorseful silence. Zephyr sighed through his nose but gave an understanding smile,”It’s ok, I understand. You’re all growing up to be young adults now, it’s only expected you’d want to go off alone. But promise me one thing, you’ll call your uncle once you’ve reached Route 10’s entrance and when you get back to the city ok?” At that everyone nodded (Litwick gave a begrudging accepting nod and pouted; she will always crave independency and chaos) and Zephyr smiled.

“Good. I hope to see you soon when you’re done.”

Emmet tapped his foot nervously against the cold pavement of the station. Night was starting to fall and the Line 6 train has not arrived yet. Similarly Elesa had begun to pace around the small bench they were seated on, chewing on her already short nails.

Emmet leaned back and complained to his friend,”When is train gonna get heeeeerrrrugh.” He drawled, swinging his legs as he tilted his head to look at his brother who was busy trying to find out why their train was so late. Emmet didn’t like this. Line 6 was never late. Never. Zephyr would never let the subway be so late, especially when he and his friends were supposed to board. Litwick was unusually quiet too, she would definitely be complaining loudly by now but she was statue still as if her wax had cooled off and quiet as the stale wind in the tunnel they were in.

His and Ingo’s moms must be worrying. They should’ve been home by now…

Where the hell was Line 6?

A soft choked gasp erupted unbidden from his brother. Straightening with alarm he and Elesa turned to the eldest of the three,”Ingo? What’s wrong?” Ingo, face sucked pale as the snow that surrounded Iccirus City, turned to face his companions. Emmet felt the unease that was already bubbling in his stomach rise to just underneath his skin at the horrified and grief-stricken look on Ingo’s face. What happ—

“Line 6… had a derailment.”

Two days after the reported crash, the Nimbasan kids stood at the edge of a gathered group of mourners. Their pokemon were tucked in their pokeballs today.

The sun beat down on the group in an almost mockingly cheerful way. Elesa wished the scenery was like what it was in movies. Clouds should be covering the sun, the threat of rainfall thick in the air and congested with sombre music. Not the energetic chirping of pidoves, the yawns of sewaddles and swadloons or the cheerful floating of nearby whismsicott.

It should be depressing. Not single sound should be heard but the barely contained sniffles and sobs of the grieving.

Elesa glanced at the tombstone’s writing: Here lies Zephyr Harrison, loving son, brother and husband. 19xx - 19xx.

Elesa quickly has to look away, hands gripping each other tightly enough that she could feel her nails dig into her skin. She couldn’t bear to think about the kind train conductor who smiled at her proudly whenever she spoke a sentence in galarian, or the man who had given all of them tailor-made gray conductor hats that matched his. She couldn’t bear to think of the man who felt like a doting older brother or a second father.

Next to her Emmet was swaying a little too hard, almost tipping to fall on his face one too many times, and staring— no, glaring— at the earth beneath him like it had wronged him in some inexcusable way. His smile was no where to be seen, replaced by a tight, wobbly straight line instead. His eyes were misty with unshed tears.

Ingo wasn’t much better. His face was schooled into a mask of indifference as he stared distantly past the grave and stock still like a statue. The only thing that told you he was alive was the uneven and short breaths he was taking, as if trying to not burst into fat ugly tears.

To be honest, Elesa was trying to not do the same. She never noticed how constant Zephyr was in their lives until he was 6 feet in the ground. Her mind couldn’t stop replaying all the little moments she had shared with the older man, his fond smiles and the proud glimmer in his eyes, other tics the man had. Like adjusting his hat just before leaving to the control car, or carting his hand through his hair, or how his eye twitched every time he dealt with a Karen on his train. The slightly off-center quirked lips in his teethy grins.

Grief burrowed itself deeper in her heart when she realized she was never going to feel Zephyr’s hand ruffled her hair with unsaid affection.

Elesa was going to miss Zephyr.

The twins were going to miss Zephyr.

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ifitmeanslosingyouthenno · 20 days ago

Text

though i am bruised, face of contusions (know I’ll keep movin')

day 22 whumptober prompt: bleeding through bandages | reopening wounds | “oh, that’s not good”

tw talks of rape / non con (non explicit)

it was dark by the time neil stumbled to the familiar parking lot of wymack's apartment building

he wasn't ready to face andrew yet, and he couldn't deal with his teammates concern right now

back in may he hadn’t imagined he would be able to walk into a middle aged man's apartment willingly, a place he associated with safety

today had been rough enough he needed safety

wymack had proven so far that he wouldn’t hurt neil, neither physically nor... he wouldn't hurt neil

he hadn’t expected to take so long, had no actual idea what the time was but if the sun was down in the middle of summer it could be past 10 pm

every step is an agony against his side, against his back, deep in his belly

every breath burns and every inhale reminds him of the fact that he's worn his binder for too long

he can't bear the idea of taking it off right now

wymack had made neil keep the spare key, but neil lost it somewhere during the day's events, so he knocks on the door instead

wymack wrenches the door open like he wants to take it off its hinges, but a mix of surprise and concern wash out the fury on his face when he sees neil

"where the hell have you been?" he demands, looking neil up and down, pausing more than on one place. it makes neil shiver. "andrew

got back from columbia hours ago. matt called me to say you weren't with them. what the hell happened to you?"

he's looking at neil with too wide eyes, trying hard to pretend he's not worried

if neil looks at all how he feels he kind of gets why

he can't make himself answer wymack, not when he's trying to pretend today didn't happen, not when he's trying to forget everything

"can i stay here for a little while?" he settles on, despite knowing it doesn't answer anything

"shit kid what the-"

he goes to grab neil to haul him inside, but neil flinches away out of habit, everything from today too fresh in his pained psyche

he can't make himself look wymack in the eye, there's an apology in the tip of his tongue

from the corner of his eye, he sees wymack take a deep breath

"just come inside"

he follows wymack, wrapping his arms around his middle

he trips on his own two feet before he reaches the living room, having to catch himself on the wall at his side

"oh that's not good"

the words slip from his mouth before he even thinks about it but thats okay

his vision is blurry, the world around him tilting to the side and wymack is right there in front of him with the phone pressed to his ear

"neil’s back, i need your help"

no, no, knowing wymack it's probably abby on the phone, neil doesn’t need her, doesn't need anyone's help, he can deal with this on his own-

"i don't need abby"

"you're covered in fucking blood josten, i decide that you need abby"

"i can stitch myself up, i don't- she doesn't need to come"

"she says she's on her way"

neil groans, fight spilling out of him just along with his own blood

well if she's on her wait he might as well-

"can she bring me some pads?"

"you got that?" he says into the phone, and neil slowly sinks into the floor, wincing as he sits with his back against the wall, waves of pain shooting up his spine

its okay, hes okay, he can handle this, its nothing he hasn’t handled before, he can leave this behind along with the countless other times

wymack grunts, still talking with abby,"ask him when you get here"

he pauses for a second, and if neil were any more aware he'd think of his pause as worrisome, of his gaze too suspicious

but he doesn't notice either, too focused on breathing through the pain and locking the memories away

"neil"

he snaps his eyes open, putting away the memory of dark eyes and ginger head and a leering smile

wymack is looking at him

neil just hums

"abby’s asking if you've been getting the testosterone shots"

he's far too tired to understand the relevance of the question but answers yes regardless

"she says with how long you've been taking them you shouldn't be getting your period"

neil freezes, eyes wide as he stares at wymack without actually staring at him

the ghost of hands and lips on his skin threaten to overtake him, the weight on top of him is suffocating, the pain inside him ripping him in half

he can't fucking breathe

his hands are digging into his sides, tearing open the wounds he'd hastily bandaged with part of the hoodie he managed to steal

there's something too much like understanding in wymack's gaze

how did they figure it out?

his voice is a trembling whisper, "please don't"

the word burns on the way out, and it echoes in his head, the memory of it being ignored earlier that very day too many times along with "no"s and "stop"s too fresh to stop his skin from crawling

he digs his fingers deeper into his side, until he feels the blood blooming freely again

god he just wants to rest, he just wants to take a break

he's so fucking tired

"not today", he says softly

wymack's gaze softens uncharacteristically, but instead of the pity neil was expecting there's pain and grief in his eyes

"okay, abby asks how heavy the bleeding is, for the pad"

if he had any blood to spare, he'd blush, out of shame, out of rage, out of defeat

"very"

he hangs up not long after, and despite neil wanting to drown in the silence wymack doesn't let the silence drag

"do you want me to call the cops?"

that startles neil so much he almost laughs, almost

"there's no use in that"

"you could press charges"

he's reminded of when he was younger, the first time at only 13 when he'd come to mary and told her he'd been raped by an adult at his school, how angry she had been at him, how she'd called him stupid and an idiot for letting it happen, how when he'd timidly asked if he should tell the cops she'd slapped him

how he just had to suck it up and deal with it

how it was something that happened sometimes

"no"

he didn't tell her when it happened again

he didn't tell her any other time that it happened again

"he paid when i made smashed a bottle in his head"

that's too much information and nothing at all at the same time, but neil didn't even wait around long enough to see if he was alive, bleeding and hurting and with glass stuck in his side

he ran as soon as he could

to his relief, there's no judgement in wymack's face, no anger, no disgust

its enough he releases the tightness of his arms across his abdomen and he gasps involuntarily at the pain of the scratches and torn up skin and the deeper wound in his side

"come on, you're bleeding through your shirt, let's start getting you cleaned up"

i kinda lost track of the prompt and got carried away but i kinda liked what came of it at the end funnily enough second fic with dadmack and like the third fic with a less painful ending fkksd title from cut my lip by twenty one pilots

#whumptober #whumptober 2024 #aftg #all for the game #aftg fic #aftg au #neil josten #david wymack #dadmack

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lilyevanstan1325 · 11 months ago

Text

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 3

I look around trying not to lose my mind.

Behind me I can hear the quiet patter of a horse, its low whinnies are the only thing keeping me company.

They won't kill me.

Right?

Oh shit.

Ok ok, I have to stay calm, I can't lose my mind right now.

Breathe Summer, breathe.

Despite the darkness, interrupted by only a few rays of moonlight passing through the old wooden planks of the ceiling, if I concentrated I could try to understand how the hell to escape from this place.

Would it be such a bad idea after all?

I almost miss the woods full of biters.

I sigh shaking my head.

Bullshit.

I'm just panicking and this isn't going to help.

I'm safe now.

I'll be fine here and Daryl won't let anything happen to me.

Daryl.

Another big sigh leaves my lips.

I'll be honest, when he puts a gun to my head I felt betrayed.

It was an unexpected gesture but after the initial shock I think I can understand his motivations.

He doesn't know who I am and the people he cares about live here.

From what I understand and from what little I was able to see there are women here and perhaps even children.

It is more than normal to want to protect them from the new intruder, even if the new intruder is a girl on the edge of death.

A pang runs through my shoulders.

Damn Shane.

That's the name of the man with the crazy look who tied me up as if I were a serial killer.

Without even realizing it, I relive in my mind the meeting with these people on the top of the hill.

As soon as the three men reached us, the one with the shaved head was the first to start yelling at Daryl.

"Are you crazy?What the hell is going through your head?And who the hell is this kid?” he shouted, looking down at me and waving the gun in my direction.

I found myself staring into two black pools full of hate and…madness?

For the first time since I set foot out of that damned woods full of biters, I was truly scared.

I felt a drop of cold sweat run down my spine and with eyes wide open and full of panic I did the only thing I thought was safe at that moment.

I turned my head in the direction of the archer, looking for help, finding his blue eyes already fixed on me.

I know it was an irrational thought.

Asking for help from the man who points a gun at your head is certainly not a smart move but at that moment my every action was the result of my instinct.

I remember moving a little more towards him, sliding my knees on the hard ground scratching my knees, bringing me closer to the archer's legs.

The tip of my left shoulder grazed his knee.

Without hesitation Daryl moved from my side and positioned himself in front of me, interposing himself between me and that dickhead who, waiting for an answer, was looking at me as if he was ready to rip my heart out of my chest.

With bare hands.

Everything about him screamed danger.

There is definitely something wrong with him.

At that moment, however, I couldn't do anything other than look at Daryl.

From my perspective I could only see his boots but better than the eyes of that raging madman.

Now he was my only chance of salvation.

Daryl for his part seemed calm.

Relaxed.

Even too much.

Looking up I saw him take a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans and very calmly, as if at that moment we didn't have the end of the world on our heels ready to bite us in the ass, he took a cigarette, lit it and took a long, deep drag.

Spirals of white smoke dispersed freely into the sky.

For a moment he turned his head, glancing over his shoulder, right at my figure kneeling on the ground.

“I found her in the woods.I couldn't leave her"

A clear sentence.

Short and concise.

But also a big lie.

He could have left me to die, he didn't have to take me with him and jeopardize the safety of their safe place.

Another spiral of smoke rose above his head.

From my position I could hear the crackle of tobacco consumed by the flame.

Daryl's attention was totally focused on the man in uniform.

Another useful detail for me.

He's the leader here, I thought.

I remember observing his figure, half hidden by the man in front of me, for endless minutes.

I could hear the gears turning at lightning speed in his head as he pondered what to do with me.

After another deep exchange of glances between Daryl and the cop, the latter moved to the side, kneeling in front of me and bringing his eyes up to mine, studying me for a few more seconds, as if I were a fucking animal in the zoo.

I had some difficulty keeping myself from snorting and rolling my eyes.

All that was left was for him to throw peanuts at me.

The cop ran his hand over his face, rubbing his tired and exhausted features and then finally I heard his voice for the first time.

“I'm Rick Grimes.Who are you?"

“I'm Summer Davis” I stammered uncertainly, using my mother's last name as information.

I had already abandoned my father's surname a long time ago, no longer using it helped me overcome his betrayal.

I saw him nod just once as if he was satisfied with my answer.

"You are alone?Do you have people looking for you?”

Now to anyone this might seem like a simple question.

But not for me.

Not for me.

Was I alone?Yes.

Was someone looking for me? Probably.

Would I have told him?Hell no.

Looking at the men in front of me I knew immediately that I didn't care what they did with me in the end.

The only thing that mattered was that I would never allow their path to intertwine with that of him and his men.

After all, they seemed really good people.

Except for crazy eyes, he's definitely a disturbed son of a bitch.

So I did the thing that came most naturally to me.

Lie.

After all, I had been lying to him for months now.

I also became quite good at it.

I cleared my thirsty throat and I straightened my back.

The first rule for lying is to show confidence when speaking and look your interlocutor straight in the eyes.

“Yes, I'm alone, I don't have a group or a family.I was just trying to get to Atlanta”

Rick's blue eyes suddenly clouded with sadness.

I remember looking at him with curiosity.

Why that reaction?

“Atlanta is overrun.Nothing exists in that city anymore” Rick replied softly, responding to my questioning look.

“Oh…” was all I could mutter.

The memory flies from my mind.

Atlanta is overrun.

I cannot believe it.

I left Washington and arrived here with the illusion of being able to find something but instead?

In the end I almost lost my life to find myself tied to a pole in a stable.

I move my aching shoulders again and a hiss slips between my parted lips.

Why did Shane have to tighten the rope so much?

Where the hell did he think I would go?

After Rick's little interrogation I was left alone, but kept in sight by all four men, while they conversed among themselves.

About what?

Well I found out soon after.

Rick and Shane left without even looking back, the two were too busy arguing heatedly with each other.

And I'm sure that the topic of their heated discussion was me.

Great.

Antagonizing someone like Shane is never a good thing.

Glenn and Daryl instead escorted me into this stable, leaving me here and telling me to wait.

After a few moments Shane arrived with his damn rope.

Prick.

The stable door creaks open, taking me by surprise and tearing me away from my mental ruminations.

In front of it was a man watching me.

I try to understand who it is but then the timid sound of his voice takes away any doubts.

“Hey”

“Hi Gleen” I smile.

“I'm still here” I add with an ironic laugh.

Where the hell could I have gone anyway?

Slowly he approaches me.

His footsteps echo lightly around us.

I watch him carefully while in the dim light he sits on an old chair in front of me.

In his hand he holds a glass of water which he places near his feet.

“I'm sorry about that” he murmurs ashamedly in a low voice as if it were his fault, while with a wave of his hand he points to the rope that keeps my hands tied behind my back.

I shrug, feigning indifference, trying to hide the grimace of pain caused by my aching shoulders.

“Shane is an idiot.I tried to tell him it wasn't necessary but…you saw him…he can be a real hothead” he admits defeated, taking the baseball cap off his head and fiddling with it.

I smile at his sweetness.

Glenn is a really good guy.

“Don't mind” I try to reassure him.

His gaze wanders for a few seconds and then stops on me.

“I brought you some water and these” he says, taking what appear to be crackers from his pocket.

Food and water.

I think I could cry with gratitude.

I try to settle myself more comfortably even though the hard wooden floor beneath me is leaving indelible marks in my battered flesh.

I straighten my back grunting and cross my legs waiting to receive my dinner.

Glenn gets up from his chair with a little huff and after lighting a small oil lamp hanging right above my head he sits on the floor right in front of me, also with his legs crossed.

I blink several times trying to get my weak eyes used to the dim yellowish light.

The smell of the oil burning in the lamp fills my nostrils.

Glenn grabs the glass and brings it to my lips.

I drink enthusiastically without ever taking my eyes off the boy in front of me.

He seems really happy to be helping another human being.

After drinking half a glass I move my lips away, better to go slowly and avoid throwing up on the poor Glenn.

“Thank you” I whisper while the boy fiddles with the plastic of the cracker packet and after a few moments he brings one to my mouth.

I gladly accept and starting to chew slowly in ecstasy.

It's just a stupid cracker but...damn, it tastes like heaven.

"Are you crying?" he asks me hesitantly.

At first I don't understand what it means but then I realize that some big tears are slipping from my chin, wetting the once light fabric of my worn jeans.

“Sorry” I reply, accompanying my words and tears with a big hysterical laugh.

My reaction seems to scare the young man even more as he looks at me with his big dark eyes.

I shake my head and continue to smile, I smile so much that my cheeks hurt.

"Sorry.I assure you I haven't gone crazy but I haven't eaten in days.Can I have more?” I ask impatiently, looking at his hand which is still holding half a cracker.

Glenn seems to recover and giving me a wonderful smile he hands me the food.

Wrapped in a pleasant silence I eat my meal.

A meal that didn't last long but gave my hungry stomach some respite.

“You should be out there eating a hot meal with everyone else” Glenn murmurs dejectedly, looking at me sorrowfully.

“Nah” I reply with a smile after drinking the last drop of water.

“I'm not one of you”

My words seem to hit him and I see a flash of anger cross his naturally kind eyes.

“You are a human being.You are someone who seems to have been through a lot.You don't deserve this” his words are accompanied by his hands waving and pointing to the place around us.

I look around again, focusing my gaze on the open door of the stable.

From it I can glimpse the sky.

There isn't even a cloud and a blanket of shining stars covers it entirely.

I will never get used to the beauty of the starry sky.

Living my entire life in a city, the only opportunity I had to observe the stars was in the summer, when my parents and I went to spend the holidays at the seaside at my grandparents' house.

I remember that every night I spent whole hours lying on a blanket looking at the stars, drinking in their splendor.

I look back at Glenn and, gathering all the courage I have, I ask him the question that scares me the most.

“Glenn?”

The boy lifts his gaze from his hands to rest it on my face.

Gripped by anxiety I shift my gaze towards my boots unable to look at him.

Afraid of the response I might read on his face.

He certainly understood that there is something that disturbs me but he doesn't push me.

He waits patiently letting me take my time.

“Do you think…do you think they will kill me?”

"What?" he responds agitatedly choking on his own saliva.

“No, oh my God!No!Don't even think that”

“And why shouldn't I think that?” I quickly reply angrily.

“They tied me here, alone, in the dark”

I shudder.

The anger seems to evaporate instantly leaving only a lot of fear in me.

"I...I don't want to hurt you.Please, please Glenn convince them to let me go.I'll disappear.You will never see me again.I swear I won't tell anybody about you or this place.I just want to have a chance.I want to live”

I feel my chest tighten and my breathing becomes short.

I'm hyperventilating.

I feel the panic crawling in my stomach as it slowly rises, wrapping itself in my heart and clouding my mind.

I feel the walls closing around me, suffocating me.

Hot tears flow from my eyes.

“Please Glenn” I repeat letting my head fall forward.

Big sobs shake my chest.

I feel out of control.

So far I had managed to stay calm but interacting with this sweet good soul in front of me shattered my facade.

“Hey, hey Summer.Look at me!"

I feel his hands on my shoulders.

His strong and firm grip forces me to look up.

There is a strong determination in his eyes.

“No one will hurt you.Nobody.Rick would never allow it.I won't allow it” he smiles sweetly at me.

I feel my entire body shaking under his grip.

“You know, no one wants a bolt in his ass” he chuckles immediately afterwards.

The veiled allusion to the archer makes me blush for no reason.

The thought of Daryl being out there fighting to keep me alive makes my heart beat with an emotion other than fear.

Why would he do that?

Why expose himself so much for me?

I am nobody to these people.

And yet…and yet Daryl saved me in the woods first.

Glenn is here, kneeling in front of me, promising to help me.

Suddenly a loud commotion catches our attention causing our heads to snap towards the large stable door.

Outside I can clearly distinguish footsteps and frantic voices.

My body trembles without restraint now.

Even though the warm air of this summer night envelops us I feel a cold that grips my bones in a cruel grip.

Glenn's grip on my shoulders tightens, he looks worried too.

"It's madness.Madness!” a woman's voice shouts.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer.

"Wait!" another voice shouts.

This time I recognize who it belongs to.

Rick.

After a few moments some dark figures stand out against the entrance.

Here we are.

They came here for me.

Without thinking twice I curl into a ball pressing my body against Glenn's, burying my head in his chest.

His skin smells like laundry soap.

I can hear his heart beating furiously.

At first, perhaps due to the surprise at my gesture, his hands detach from my shoulders as if he had been burned but after a few moments, without any further hesitation, his arms tighten around my shoulders, engulfing me in his embrace, trying to give me the protection I seek.

I feel the muscles in my shoulders pulling and burning from the unnatural position I'm in but I don't care.

“What the hell is going on?”

It's the same woman speaking before but I'm afraid.

I can't move.

I don't have the strength to look, I don't want to see.

The agitated voices stop, in the air only the sound of my sobs suffocated by the cotton of Glenn's t-shirt.

“Summer?”

Daryl's voice makes me jump like someone just slapped me across the face.

His tone seems worried.

I don't have the courage to look at him.

I couldn't bear to see his eyes.

I couldn't bear to read his placid resignation for what is about to happen.

After endless moments of silence, some light footsteps approach me and a delicate hand like the wings of a butterfly rests on my head, making me tremble.

“It's okay honey.It's over”

That woman again.

I feel her hand move down my back, towards my tied hands.

I feel her fumbling with the rope, I feel a cold blade graze the tortured flesh of my wrists.

Another shiver shakes me violently.

“Don't worry” Glenn whispers without loosening the grip of his arms wrapped around my figure.

I trust him so I try to stay as still as possible.

“Carol”

“Shut up Shane!She's just a kid.You should be ashamed” the woman hisses in disgust.

Now the voice also has a name.

After a few moments my arms are free.

With aching muscles I move my arms forward and with my hands I cling even harder to Glenn, squeezing his shirt between my fingers and crying even harder.

I don't care that strangers are watching me, that they are judging me.

I do not care.

I'm tired and scared.

Carol's hands continue to caress my back as she softly whispers reassuring words in my ear.

Slowly, Glenn on my left and Carol on my right, support me, helping me to my feet.

I tighten my grip on the boy's t-shirt, burying my head further into his chest as he slides an arm around my waist.

Carol instead wraps her arm around my shoulders and the three of us walk towards the door.

Towards the public who witnessed and is witnessing my pathetic mental breakdown.

The few steps that separate me from the exit seem to expand, becoming miles in my head.

I feel like I'm walking my own personal green mile.

My walk of shame.

I feel tired, empty...as if panic has drained every crumb of who I am.

A few steps from the door Carol slows down until we are forced to stop.

“You should be ashamed.Everyone” she repeats.

“Especially you” she adds after a few seconds.

I risk a glance in the direction of her gaze.

And my eyes meet the archer's contrite ones.

I feel an uncontrollable blush color my cheeks, totally embarrassed I look down again.

Glenn tightens his grip on my body.

“Come on dear” Carol whispers in my ear again.

Now there is no longer any trace of anger in her voice but only an infinite sweetness.

We start walking again and as we finally get out into the open air I feel my heart getting lighter.

The grip that oppressed me until a few minutes ago seems to lighten with each step that takes me further and further away from that place.

"Where do we go?" I croak, sniffing at her and finally lifting my head from my refuge.

I straighten my back, popping several vertebrae.

I can finally give a face to that sweet voice.

Carol has short silvered hair and eyes as blue as the sea, full of sweetness and pain.

She reminds me a bit of my mother.

She smiles at me in a reassuring way, pointing with her hand to a point in front of us.

“Let's go somewhere safe and quiet, okay?Nothing will happen to you, I promise”

With my gaze I follow the direction of her hand and a few meters from us I see an RV.

I look at Glenn and he nods his head reassuringly, inviting me to continue.

Once we reach our destination, Glenn opens the door of the RV and Carol helps me up the steps.

“Now I'll help you get cleaned up.Glenn can you go get a real meal for our new guest?” Carol murmurs softly.

Glenn nods vigorously but before he can leave I quickly go down the steps I just climbed and standing on tiptoe I throw my arms around his neck.

Just like a little while ago in the stable, at first Glenn remains still and surprised by my gesture but then his arms tighten around my waist.

“Thanks Glenn.Thank you so much” I whisper with my cheek pressed against his.

“You have nothing to thank me for Summer”

I quickly break the hug and when we are eye to eye I meet his sweet smile.

Then he turns and digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans he walks away.

I watch him for another couple of seconds until my attention is drawn to a figure in the distance watching me intently.

Motionless in the dark of the night.

Daryl.

“Let's go” Carol whispers, drawing my attention and inviting me to enter the RV again.

Once back, Carol accompanies me to where there is a bed, then indicating it with a wave of her hand and another reassuring smile.

I sit down without saying a word as the woman walks away.

The bed under me is so soft that my brain does nothing but scream at me to lie down, to rest my tired and exhausted limbs but I can't.

I have to stay alert as long as possible.

I have to understand what's happening.

I have to understand what will happen to me.

I don't feel ready to let my guard down yet even if something tells me I can trust these people.

Or at least I can trust Carol.

And Glenn.

And then there would also be Daryl.

I think back to his eyes, in that stable.

I can't decipher his look.

The regret in his eyes, the way he whispered my name when he saw me trembling in Glenn's arms.

What does it mean?

My thoughts are interrupted by Carol's return, in her hands she has a basin full of water.

She sits next to me keeping a certain distance, I'm sure she does it to show me that she doesn't want to invade my space.

With slow and measured gestures she grabs a small towel and dips it in the water after which she begins to clean my face, my neck, my arms, being careful not to rub too much on the irritated skin of my wrists.

“I would like to apologize on behalf of everyone” she mutters after a while.

I look at her confused and remain silent.

She continues to clean me gently.

“You know, we've been through a lot lately, we've lost so many loved ones.We are all very stressed and suspicious”

Her voice cracks.

I am sure that among those people there is also someone very important to her.

And in fact her wet eyes immediately dispel all my doubts.

Carol clears her throat, I can tell from the tone of her voice that she is struggling to hold back tears.

“A few days ago, we encountered a horde of walkers”

Walkers?

Is that what these people call those fucking monsters human flesh eating?

“We hid but something went wrong…my daughter Sophia got scared, she ran away and we lost her.We've been looking for her ever since.This is why Daryl was in the woods when he found you”

The last words full of gratitude for the archer come out in a whisper.

“I'm sorry Carol.Really.I'm sure you'll find her again”

I try to smile reassuringly, placing my hand on hers.

I know my words mean nothing but how can I deny a little comfort to a broken hearted mother?

She smiles back at me, getting out of bed.

“I'll go get you some water” she whispers.

I'm sure she needs a minute alone to regain some composure, talking about her missing little girl must not have been easy for her.

I think about Daryl again and why he was in the woods.

Imagining him looking for that poor little girl confirms what I already thought.

Behind that tough mask there is a big and pure heart, the same heart that I saw in his eyes when he offered me that sip of water.

Before Carol can return there is a knock on the door of the RV.

Will definitely be Glenn with my meal.

I smile at the thought of seeing his friendly face again.

Carol opens the door, mutters something.

I see her nod her head at me.

After a few moments, a man I have never seen before enters.

He has a cloud of white hair and a kind look, he wears a pair of elegantly gray trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

I immediately notice a stethoscope around his neck.

He approaches cautiously, smiling at me reassuringly.

A noise behind him distracts me and I just need to look up to understand what it is or rather who it is.

Behind the kind man is Daryl, his gaze wanders everywhere except on me, next to him Carol smiles at me.

“Nice to meet you, I am Hersel, the owner of this farm”

Hersel speaks confidently catching my attention as he extends his hand towards me.

“You must be Summer”

I nod accepting his handshake, his skin is soft and warm.

Daryl clears his throat.

“I thought about calling Hersel 'cause he's a doc.I thought ya needed one” he mutters under his breath, scratching the back of his neck.

Carol looks at him curiously, raising an eyebrow.

My gaze returns to Daryl's eyes.

My heart does a somersault.

He seems almost embarrassed.

My confused look softens.

His gesture is so kind.

“Technically I'm a vet but I guess we should be satisfied with this nowadays” the man in front of me chuckles.

“I'd like to make sure you're okay, I know they found you unconscious” he smiles at me and when he does so his eyes smile too.

“Thanks but I'm fine now” I try to reassure him but the tremor in my hands and especially in my voice don't seem to convince him.

Behind him, Daryl shifts his weight from one foot to the other, biting the side of his thumb.

Our eyes meet again but this time I can't look away.

His eyes are like deep blue pools that draw me in like a magnet.

Thank goodness he's the first to look away, allowing me to turn my attention back to the sweet doctor in front of me.

Hersel smiles again.

“I would feel more comfortable if I could visit you, I would just like to check your blood pressure and your pulse.Then I promise I'll leave” he chuckles.

“Ok” I whisper in response, sketching a shy smile.

I don't feel like telling him no.

After all, he is welcoming me into his house and it costs me nothing to indulge him.

With another big smile he invites me to lift my shirt.

I'm about to do so but suddenly I remember the archer's presence and I stop embarrassed.

I don't even have time to look up before I see him turn his back on me.

Nice of him to turn around so as not to embarrass me.

After making sure that everything was ok, Hersel recommended me to eat and rest and that he would check me again in the morning.

“Thanks Hersel, thanks for everything”

“You're welcome, Summer” he replies, walking away and leaving me, Carol and Daryl in an awkward silence.

What happens?

Why is it suddenly hot here?

Why does Daryl look at the floor of the RV with such interest while Carol giggles?

I reflexively look down and focus on my hands clasped in my lap.

The silence continues, charging me with a strange anxiety.

I should speak, say something.

I lick my dry, chapped lips but when I open my mouth nothing comes out.

Just a strangled sound.

A sob shakes me and then another one.

Great.

I can't seem able to keep my damn emotions to myself tonight.

“I'm sorry” I murmur between sobs, burying my face in my hands so as to avoid the pitying looks that Carol and Daryl are surely giving me.

I hear some footsteps, then someone sit next to me.

The mattress sinks under the weight of the latter.

“Ya safe now”

His voice immediately stops my tears.

I honestly didn't believe that he would actually come close to console me.

God, he'll think I'm pathetic.

Crying in Glenn or Carol's presence had definitely been easier and less embarrassing.

We both remain silent.

I can't even think of what I could say to him.

After a few minutes Daryl gets up and walks away.

His gesture makes me snap up.

Is he leaving?

But after a few moments I see him return with a steaming plate in his hands.

“Eat”

His is almost an order.

Without hesitation I obey by grabbing the plate he is handing me and he sits down next to me again, this time a little closer.

I grab what looks like a piece of meat between my fingers, hold it to my nose to smell it before taking a bite.

As soon as the meat comes into contact with my taste buds, an embarrassing moan escapes my control.

It's absolutely delicious.

I don't know if it's because I was literally starving but this meat is the best thing I've ever eaten.

Forgetting about the man next to me, and about my good manners, I begin to eat with more ardor, bringing larger and larger pieces of meat to my mouth.

Daryl doesn't say a word the entire time but I can clearly feel his eyes probing my face continuously.

“Mmmh” I murmur at the end of my hearty meal after licking my fingers.

I feel calmer now, more relaxed.

This meal gave me time to reflect and calm down.

So with a big smile on my face I turn to Daryl.

For a moment I remain silent.

I was smiling and he was serious, his lips were a hard, serious line.

"Thank you.It was truly delightful” I thank him trying to convey all my gratitude into my words.

In response I get a grunt and a shrug.

I look back at my now empty plate and find myself once again surrounded by silence.

The smile on my lips is now the shadow of a memory.

Daryl jumps up making me jump.

What?

What happen?

I watch him as he nervously runs along the entire length of the RV a couple of times.

What have I done?

He seems to be upset because of me.

Did I say something I shouldn't?

I get up from the bed taking a couple of steps in his direction but suddenly the archer stops his walk and turns towards me.

I think he didn't expect to find me so close because he takes a sudden step back, hitting his hip on the corner of the small table to his right.

Another grunt, accompanied by a puff of air coming out of his nostrils.

“Daryl…”

“’M sorry” he suddenly grunts, making the words die in my throat.

I frown in confusion at his apology.

Why is he apologizing?

His eyes look in any direction except mine.

“Daryl?” I call him and his eyes focus on his boots.

I wait patiently for him to decide to look at me but when this doesn't happen I take another step in his direction and when I notice that he doesn't step back I take another step.

Now only a few inches separate us.

From here I can smell his skin.

Daryl smells like the woods, he smells like the woods where we met.

It is a strong, pungent but pleasant smell.

He smells like wood, musk and smoke.

An intoxicating smell that enters my head.

Very carefully I lift my arm and then place my hand on his bicep, squeezing it delicately.

As soon as my hand comes into contact with his warm skin a discharge seems to pass through my skin, my muscles, my bones.

Straight into my soul.

It's like I've been hit with a teaser.

Pure electricity.

His eyes dart first onto his arm where my hand is and then into my eyes.

And the emotion I read in it destabilizes me.

Panic.

This big, thick, muscular man with a menacing look is totally panicking just because I'm touching him.

His eyes are wide open.

I don't want to make him uncomfortable so I remove my hand from his body and take a step back.

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask in a small voice still shocked by the sensation I just felt.

Sensation that I can't explain and to which I don't even want to give a name.

His eyes are still fixed on me, a few locks shadowing them.

I have to use all my willpower not to bring my fingers to his face and move those locks away.

I dig my nails into my palms, the pain caused helps me concentrate.

When I think he won't answer me anymore I take another step back and turn my back on him and go back to sitting on the bed.

I rest my back against the wall of the RV, stretching my legs out in front of me, trying to relax my sore muscles.

The silence around me makes me understand that he left me alone.

Fantastic.

I close my eyes trying to understand what happened.

“I shouldn't have let Rick and Shane treat ya like that”

Jesus.

I jump, putting a hand to my chest to try to contain the pounding of my heart.

“Damn” I mutter through gritted teeth, my eyes wide with panic.

Daryl lifts one corner of his lips in what looks like the ghost of a smile although in the dim light of the RV it could also look like a grimace.

“'M sorry.I didn't mean to scare ya" Daryl apologizes, biting his lower lip slightly.

I shake my head as if telling him not to worry.

I cross my arms over my chest, softening my gaze at the image of a man so strong, with a dominant aura, so absolutely incapable of managing his own feelings.

“That's ok.It's not your fault.You…you have already done so much for me Daryl that a whole lifetime wouldn't be enough to thank you” I stammer.

His gaze wanders nervously from one point of the RV to another.

Ok.

Daryl isn't even comfortable with compliments.

I leave the bed again followed by the protest of my aching muscles and cautiously I approach him again but this time I remain at a safe distance.

I don't want to invade his personal space but I need to make him understand how grateful I am to him.

“If it wasn't for you I'd be walker food right now”

Daryl snorts in response.

“Yeah…sure” he grumbles without saying anything else.

I roll my eyes even though he can't see me.

This man can be truly unnerving.

His vocabulary is limited to snorts and grunts, what the hell!

In exasperation I watch him as he crosses his arms over his chest, his firm, toned muscles contracting elegantly, his tanned skin glistening under the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

In the silence peppered by our breaths I surrender to the thought that perhaps I will never be able to understand this man.

I'm too tired and anything he does or says only adds to my frustration so I do the only thing I think is wise at the moment.

I head towards the RV exit.

“Night Daryl” I murmur passing by him avoiding any visual or physical contact.

As soon as I find myself outside, I breathe deeply, raising my face towards the sky.

Above my head millions of beautiful stars shine set in a dark velvet blanket while the smell of grass tickles my nose.

Within a few moments I regain a bit of serenity...serenity which is interrupted after a few seconds by the door of the RV being slammed forcefully.

Daryl makes no sign of leaving, remaining behind me.

I slowly turn around determined to face him.

His eyes seem full of anger.

It's my fault?

Is all that anger for me?

Maybe my presence is causing trouble to him with his group.

With Shane.

“What's wrong with you?” I snort without being able to contain myself.

His mood swings make me dizzy.

First he seems worried about me.

He brings me food, calls a doctor and then…then he treats me like I'm a disease.

Like I'm one of those fucking biters.

I feel like I've reached the limit of my kindness for today.

Now that's enough.

I had a gun pointed in my face.

A crossbow.

I let myself be dragged.

Interrogated.

Tied up.

I let myself be treated like a criminal even though I didn't do anything.

Nothing.

The banks are breaking and the words are starting to flow like a raging river giving vent to all my frustration.

“Why do I get the impression that you're regretting having brought me to safety from that damned woods?Well know that if it bothers you it's not my problem, I wasn't the one who asked you!You could have just let me die and come back here to mind your own business on this nice farm safe from the walkers with your stupid water and your stupid food” I spit the words out angrily.

I feel the blood boiling in my veins.

Something in my words seems to set off an alarm in the archer's head.

He storms down the steps of the RV, getting dangerously close, his every step sounding like an imminent threat.

His massive body towers over me as his cruel gaze pins my feet to the ground.

He remains to observe me with a menacing expression for a few moments, his dilated nostrils quivering with anger.

If a look could kill right now I'd be six feet under.

“Is this what ya think?” he hisses.

His posture is rigid, his arms at his sides with fists clenched.

White knuckles seem to want to pop out of his skin.

Honestly?

Yes that's what I think.

I have the impression that once the adrenaline of the moment has passed he is realizing that perhaps it would have been better to let me die.

This thought hurts me.

And I don't understand why...

After all, who am I?

And in the end he could be right because even if I personally am not a danger, the people who are looking for me are.

My life is certainly not worth more than those of these people.

I would just like a moment's respite.

Nothing more.

“That's what I see” I murmur dejectedly.

My eyes fill with tears and I don't even try to hide them this time.

My heartbeat is deafening in my ears.

Daryl looks at me with even more disgust, clenching his fists even tighter as if he's holding himself back from hitting me.

Would he really be able to do that?

This Daryl scares me.

The archer takes a further step towards me invading my personal space.

“If ya looking for consolation sunshine ya have chosen the wrong man.Go cry to Glenn, it doesn't work with me” he taunts me viciously and then walks away without even sparing me a glance.

I turn to watch him as he walks away, stomping his boots angrily on the grass.

I'm totally shocked.

What the hell just happened?

He's the one who was acting strange to me.

He started.

I was kind, I tried to reason with him, I respected his space.

What did he give me in return?

Only silences.

Threats.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

I put my hands on my hips, huffing loudly.

My eyes are still on him as he walks away and enters a tent not far from the RV.

“Don't worry, you'll get used to him.He may seem grumpy but deep down he's a good guy”

I jump with fear.

God!

Tonight everyone is having fun testing the resistance of my heart.

Another scare like this and I don't know if I'll see the dawn rise tomorrow.

I spin around looking for the person who spoke but strangely I don't see anyone.

“Hey!I'm here”

The man chuckles and following the sound of his voice I look up.

On the roof of the RV there is a man, sitting in an old chair with a rifle in his lap.

He wears a bucket hat and has an unkempt beard.

How long has he been up there?

How much did he hear?

I look at him for a couple of seconds in total embarrassment.

Nothing happened between me and Daryl but the fact that this man may have misunderstood our attitude makes me blush to the tips of my hair.

Thank goodness it's dark and I don't think he can notice it from up there.

“Anyway, I'm Dale.If you're looking for Carol, she went that way” and with his finger he points to a small bonfire a few meters from me where Carol and other women are chatting.

“Thank you” I murmur under my breath, glancing one last time at Daryl's tent and then walking briskly towards Carol.

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dilf-din · 1 year ago

Text

I Said I’d Never Let You Go (And I Never Did)

Pairing: Joel & Ellie, brief Tommy & Ellie

WC: 2300

Warnings: language, PTSD mention, dissociation mention, allusions to Silver Lake but no explicit details, hurt/comfort

A/N: thank you to my dear betas and friends for looking this one over for me :) @starchild0985 @sunflower-0180

The title is from Have Faith in Me by A Day to Remember which is Joel & Ellie coded if you squint

Ellie and Joel had arrived back in Jackson in the middle of the summer. Warmer days were instantly a welcome distraction as Ellie felt the chill start to uncling from her bones. She started to think that maybe she wouldn’t always feel like this, a prisoner in her own body, bound by skin tainted, stretching so hard to contain her inner turmoil she feared it might snap. She picked at her cuticles until they bled, bit her nails until she couldn’t. Sometimes, she snapped the extra hair tie around her wrist over and over, the sensation keeping her grounded, as if she might drift off and never come back, course charted for the moon, the sky a welcome safety net.

She spent a lot of time in the stables during the warmer months, finding horses easier to talk to than people. Ellie found a particular kinship with Shimmer, a chestnut filly sporting a white blaze down her face. She spent countless hours brushing out her coat, sneaking her apples, and telling her stories. The regular barn workers just smiled when they saw her approaching every day, noticing the way she brightened up when she was there. She had come to Jackson closed off and apprehensive. No one knew the full extent of her story, but anything that made the burdens easier to carry was encouraged for everyone who came through the gates. Besides, she wasn’t bothering anything by being there.

School starting back up in the fall was another routine welcome to both Joel and Ellie. At least he knew where she was most of the day. He tried to give her space. A lot of days, she would wander the woods for hours, perch in a tree and wait for animals to cross through. She was quickly filling the sketchbooks he had found for her front and back. Using pencils until they were barely nubs. She kept her knife on her and used it to sharpen them back into a point as needed. Joel usually found her by the accumulating piles of shavings at the wide base of a maple.

“Supper time,” he would say.

“Almost done,” she would squint, tongue pressed between her lips as she put the finishing touches on a sketch of a starling, pulling wide strokes down then erasing the tips to mimic its shiny feathers. She would then shut her sketch pad and shove it into her backpack, grabbing a low hanging branch to swing down to the ground. Joel always held his hand out to steady her, and she always grabbed it, whether she needed the extra balance or not.

A chill was making its way back into the air as summer wound down. Not having to face the sweltering heat meant she could spend more time outside and less time drenched in sweat. The red hoodie she always donned to cover her bite less likely to raise questions on cool afternoons than ones where the sun beat down, tinging the tips of her ears and the apples of her cheeks a soft shade of pink. She liked blending in, avoiding attention. Enough time had passed now that the two of them were no longer the topic of every conversation. Patrols over the summer had found a few straggling survivors and brought them in to recover and integrate into the community, so she was no longer the new kid.

Life there was slowly beginning to make sense for the two of them. They ate most of their dinners in the meal halls at night. Joel cooked them breakfast in the mornings and packed lunches for them both to take when they went their separate ways. Most evenings, they spent time on the porch reading, or Joel would teach her a few new chords on guitar. She could sight read music like a natural, just picking it up like she had done it her whole life. The library had a few music books on the shelves that she checked out regularly until she memorized every song on the worn pages.

When the moon settled high in the navy sky, and the stars spilled across the horizon finding their place in the mural, Ellie would perch on the front steps and point out constellations to Joel.

“Those three right there make Orion’s Belt. And that orangey looking one up there, that’s his shoulder. It’s called Betelgeuse. It’s 750 times bigger than the sun.”

“Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice,” Joel called over from his rocking chair.

Ellie shot him a confused look over her shoulder.

“It’s from a movie. Michael Keaton?”

She gave him the same look she had given him when he asked her if she knew who Linda Ronstadt was.

Joel sighed, “I’ll see if Tommy has a copy.”

Ellie pushed off the steps with a groan. “It’s getting late, old man. I’m gonna go shower and hit the hay,” she announced, pressing a kiss to his temple. His hand rose to his shoulder to give hers a quick squeeze before she retreated into the house.

“Night, kiddo,” he called after her.

As October faded into November, each morning brought grey clouds that hung thick in the sky blocking out any hope of golden light. Frost regularly crawled up the windows of their home without the sun’s rays to melt it away. Ellie would trace the patterns from the inside with her finger, feeling like a storm cloud was hanging over her, a shadow she couldn’t outrun. She didn’t quite know how to name the feeling. A sense of dread tinged with panic, a heaviness dropping over her shoulders like a thick winter coat.

Joel noticed the melancholy she walked hand in hand with. He would say things like, “I’m here if you want to talk about anything,” before the two of them turned in for the night. She always gave him a sad smile colored with gratitude before declining. She didn’t know how to open up, and he certainly wasn’t going to force her, send her running like a deer hearing a twig snap. She had felt like prey before; she knew what it was like to be hunted.

So, he loved her quietly and closely. Sometimes, he left a note scrawled in her lunch with a crudely drawn smiley face or heart. He brought her every comic he could find, made sure to always save her his dessert or slip her an extra slice of bread at dinner. At night, after she showered, she would always sit on the floor in front of him in their living room. His rough hands never smoother than when they were brushing through the tangles in her hair and separating them into even sections. He lovingly tucked each piece into matching French braids, securing the ends with two small elastics. When he finished, she would lean her head into the crook of his knee and close her eyes. His hand would reach forward and stroke her cheek or scratch the bit of her back between her shoulders.

His touch anchored her night after night. When she felt like she was drifting, out of body, out at sea, his voice was able to call her home. The bright light of his love cut through the clouds, calmed the waves. The two of them were linked together in a way most people would never understand from the outside. The months they spent together forged an unbreakable bond. Each knowing the other inside and out, their tells, their tics, always at the ready to jump in after their friend if the darkness started winning.

Seeing her like this scared the shit out of Joel. He recognized the vacancy in her eyes like it was a mirror of his younger self. He heard the screams for help in the silent moments, when she looked to him with tear-stained eyes and dark circles so deep he feared she’d never catch up on sleep.

The cold weather was starting to take a toll on him as well. He was opting to stay inside and woodwork when he could, passing off some of his patrol shifts to younger folks on particularly windy days. His hands ached with age and poorly healed breaks. He spent a lot more time than usual clutching hot mugs and stretching his tired fingers out in front of the fire he kept blazing in their living room.

Ellie rushed out to school that morning like she normally did. Losing track of time, pulling on her shoes haphazardly with her lunch bag hanging from her teeth.

“Take your hat, it’s mighty cold today,” Joel said as he refilled his coffee cup for the second time that morning.

She pulled it off the hook and over her ears, mumbling a, “Bye Joel!” through her full mouth.

He smiled and watched as she scrambled down the stairs and around the corner towards the town.

She had been looking forward to school lately. Her age group had been reading plays aloud for literature, each person playing their own part. Right now, they were doing The Importance of Being Earnest. She giggled at all the word play, asking Joel to keep an eye out for more books by Oscar Wilde while he was out on patrol.

Mrs. Jones had seen the way she really took to acting out the parts, so when she had to call her name several times to get her attention that afternoon, she started to worry.

“Ellie, honey, is everything okay?” she knelt down in front of her, concern coating her voice.

Ellie’s eyes were glued to the window, thousand yard stare and color drained from her face. She barely registered the figure there in front of her; her mind was somewhere else. Outside the window, snow had started to fall, the first of the season. Once her eyes registered the flurries, she was gone in an instant.

Mrs. Jones peeked out into the hallway and was relieved to find Tommy there, checking some of the heating vents.

“Tommy,” she whispered loudly, drawing his attention away from the ceiling tiles he was fidgeting with. He stepped down from the small ladder and walked towards her with his brows knit together.

“Is everything alright?”

“It’s Ellie, she’s, I don’t really know. I can’t get her to talk to me.”

He nodded and followed her back into the room. She did her best to divert the class’s attention back to her and the play while Tommy knelt in front of her.

“Ellie, darlin’, can ya hear me?”

Her glassy eyes were unresponsive as he gently grabbed the book from her hands to put in her backpack and sling it over his shoulder. He took her hands to help her up, and she followed blindly, stumbling obediently out the door after him. He draped her jacket over her shoulders and pulled her into his side as they exited the building. The wind was biting. He gritted his teeth and squinted for visibility keeping his arm tucked tightly around her. She was heavy and weightless at the same time.

“We’re just gonna get you home, honey, okay?” he said softly to her, trying to constantly whisper reassuring things into her ear, red from the wind. He wasn’t sure how much she could hear, but he wanted her to know that he was there. She wasn’t alone, no matter what prison her mind was holding her in.

The walk to their house was quick on a normal day, slowed slightly by her stumbling steps just now. Tommy got her up the stairs and rapped loudly on the door. Joel heard it faintly from his shop, setting aside the piece of maple he was fashioning into a bookshelf for one of the older ladies in town. He made his way to the front door with a slight annoyance at the repeated knocking, instantly sobering up at the sight of Tommy holding up a haunted looking Ellie.

“I don’t know what happened,” Tommy said, urgently shuffling her inside and helping Joel set her on the couch.

“Snow,” Joel said grimly. He lifted the jacket from her limp frame and tossed it to the side.

“Ellie baby, can you hear me?” he asked gently. Her gaze was locked somewhere behind him. He knelt down in front of the couch, steady hands rising to hold her cold cheeks. “Ellie, it’s me, it’s Joel,” he pleaded.

At the sound of his name, she shifted her gaze to lock eyes with his.

“That’s it, baby. It’s just me. I’m here,” he smiled softly.

She lifted her arms up towards him weakly, and he knowingly rose to sit down beside, her pulling her into his lap. She buried her face in his neck, cold nose sending a chill down his spine.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of her head.

Tommy clasped Joel’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before retreating out the door.

Joel’s arms wrapped tightly around her, the smell of his old flannel and the feel of it against her cheek, the sound of his voice calling her name, the scratch of his beard against her forehead all working in tandem to pull her back into the light bit by bit.

He held her for hours like that, steady as an oak tree, arms like branches holding her against his strong heartbeat. He never stopped talking, murmuring against her hair that she wasn’t alone.

“Thank you,” she finally squeaked out, voice barely a whisper, but he heard it.

She felt his lips turn up into a smile, and he pressed another kiss to her head.

“I’ve got you, baby girl; I’m not going anywhere.”

#the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fic #hurt/comfort #joel and ellie #joel miller #tommy miller #ellie williams

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