#duffle bag for men

[rustictowndufflebag]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Perfect Duffle Bag

When it comes to travel and daily life, having the right gear can make all the difference. One essential piece of equipment that many people overlook is the duffle bag. Whether you're planning a weekend getaway, hitting the gym, or need a versatile bag for everyday use, a duffle bag is a must-have. In this comprehensive guide, we will walk you through everything you need to know about duffle bags, from choosing the right size and material to the best brands available. Let's dive in and discover the world of duffle bags!

Why Duffle Bags?

Versatility and Convenience

Duffle bags are renowned for their versatility and convenience. Unlike traditional suitcases, they are soft-sided and can easily adapt to various storage spaces. This makes them perfect for stowing in overhead compartments on airplanes or squeezing into the trunk of your car. Additionally, duffle bags often come with both hand straps and shoulder straps, providing you with multiple carrying options.

Spaciousness

One of the most significant advantages of duffle bags is their spaciousness. These bags are designed to maximize interior volume, allowing you to pack a significant amount of clothing and essentials. Whether you're going on a weekend trip or need a bag for your sports gear, a duffle bag can accommodate your belongings comfortably.

Durability

Durability is a crucial factor when selecting a duffle bag. After all, you want your bag to withstand the rigors of travel and daily use. Duffle bags are typically constructed from robust materials like nylon, canvas, or leather, ensuring they can handle wear and tear. Some even come with reinforced stitching and water-resistant coatings for added protection.

Choosing the Right Size

Small Duffle Bags

Small duffle bags are perfect for short trips or as gym bags. They offer enough space for a change of clothes, toiletries, and a few personal items. These compact bags are easy to carry and ideal for those who prefer to travel light.

Medium Duffle Bags

Medium-sized duffle bags strike a balance between portability and capacity. They are suitable for weekend getaways or when you need to pack more than just the essentials. You can typically fit enough clothing and accessories for a few days in these bags.

Large Duffle Bags

If you're embarking on an extended trip or need to carry a substantial amount of gear, large duffle bags are the way to go. They provide ample space for clothing, shoes, and other essentials. Large duffle bags are also a popular choice for athletes hauling sports equipment.

Material Matters

Nylon Duffle Bags

Nylon duffle bags are lightweight and highly resistant to abrasion and tearing. They are an excellent choice for those who prioritize durability and want a bag that can handle rough handling during travel.

Canvas Duffle Bags

Canvas duffle bags have a classic look and are known for their sturdiness. They can withstand heavy use and still look stylish. Many people prefer canvas for its timeless appeal and reliability.

Leather Duffle Bags

For a touch of luxury, leather duffle bags are the way to go. They exude sophistication and elegance while offering durability. Leather bags often age beautifully, developing a unique patina over time.

Top Duffle Bag Brands

1. Nike

Nike is a renowned name in the sports and fitness industry, and their duffle bags reflect their commitment to quality. With various sizes and styles available, Nike duffle bags cater to athletes and travelers alike.

2. The North Face

The North Face is synonymous with outdoor adventure, and their duffle bags are no exception. Known for their ruggedness and functionality, The North Face duffle bags are perfect for outdoor enthusiasts.

3. Herschel Supply Co.

Herschel Supply Co. is a brand known for its stylish and functional bags. Their duffle bags combine modern design with practical features, making them suitable for both travel and daily use.

Packing Tips

When using a duffle bag, it's essential to pack efficiently to maximize space and minimize wrinkles. Here are some tips to help you make the most of your duffle bag:

Roll Your Clothes: Rolling your clothes instead of folding them can save space and reduce wrinkles.

Use Packing Cubes: Packing cubes help keep your belongings organized and make it easier to find items in your duffle bag.

Place Heavy Items at the Bottom: To prevent your bag from becoming top-heavy, place heavier items at the bottom.

Utilize Pockets and Compartments: Take advantage of any internal and external pockets your duffle bag may have for smaller items and accessories.

Conclusion

In conclusion, a Rustic town duffle bag is an indispensable travel companion and a versatile addition to your everyday life. Choosing the right size and material is crucial to ensure your duffle bag meets your specific needs. Remember to consider factors like durability, style, and brand reputation when making your selection.

If you're looking for the perfect duffle bag to suit your lifestyle, explore the offerings from top brands like Nike, The North Face, and Herschel Supply Co. By following our packing tips, you can make the most of your duffle bag's spacious interior.

Investing in a high-quality duffle bag will not only make your travels more convenient but also add a touch of style to your adventures. So, whether you're jet-setting across the globe or heading to the gym, make sure you have the perfect duffle bag by your side.

[imaginal-ai]

"Cargo Shorts" (0003)

(More of The Cargo Shorts Series)

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[harringroveera]

Rewatching season 3 for my wip and it actually terrified me how Karen and the other women actively went to the pool just to see Billy, announced the others when Billy’s shift started to gawk at him, changing their postures to appear more appealing and “sexy” to a freshly 18 teenager, like a bunch of actual predators with their preys as if they aren’t married with their kids playing at the pool already

[kodiakleather]

Shop Premium Leather Satchel Bags - Kodiak Leather

Elevate your style with Kodiak Leather’s premium leather satchel bags. Designed for durability and timeless appeal, our bags feature spacious compartments and handcrafted quality perfect for work, travel, or daily use. Experience the perfect blend of functionality and elegance. Shop now and carry confidence with Kodiak Leather! https://kodiakleather.com/products/kodiak-leather-satchel 

[tneluggage]

Stylish Sports Gym Travel Men Duffle Bag

[kargha-india-95]

Are you an avid traveler looking for the perfect companion to make your journeys seamless and stylish? Look no further than Kargha's exceptional travel duffle bag for men. Combining functionality with elegance, our travel bags are designed to cater to the needs of modern adventurers, ensuring you travel with ease and sophistication.

Stylish and Functional Design

Kargha's travel duffle bag for men is crafted with a keen eye for detail. Made from high-quality, durable materials, these bags are built to withstand the rigors of travel while maintaining a sleek and fashionable appearance. The spacious interior offers ample room for all your essentials, making it the ideal choice for weekend getaways, business trips, or even a day at the gym.

Versatile and Convenient

One of the standout features of Kargha's travel duffle bag is its versatility. With multiple compartments and pockets, organizing your belongings has never been easier. The bag's sturdy handles and adjustable shoulder strap provide comfort and convenience, allowing you to carry it in a way that suits your style. Whether you're navigating busy airports or exploring new cities, this bag is designed to keep up with your dynamic lifestyle.

Built to Last

Investing in a travel bag is a decision that should offer long-term benefits. Kargha's travel duffle bag for men is constructed with premium materials that ensure durability and longevity. The robust zippers, reinforced stitching, and water-resistant fabric protect your belongings, giving you peace of mind no matter where your adventures take you.

A Touch of Elegance

Traveling in style is about more than just functionality; it's about making a statement. Kargha's travel duffle bag for men features a sleek, timeless design that complements any outfit. Available in a variety of colors and finishes, you can choose the one that best reflects your personality and taste.

The Perfect Gift

Looking for a thoughtful gift for the travel enthusiast in your life? Kargha's travel duffle bag for men makes an excellent choice. Its blend of practicality and sophistication is sure to impress, making it a gift that will be cherished and used for years to come.

Why Choose Kargha?

At Kargha, we are committed to providing our customers with products that combine quality, style, and functionality. Our travel duffle bags are meticulously designed to meet the highest standards, ensuring you receive a product that enhances your travel experience. With Kargha, you're not just buying a bag; you're investing in a reliable travel companion.

[herozbags]

Enhance Your Travel Experience with Lightweight Duffle Bags –

Quality matters when buying a travel mens duffle bag travel. Our bags surpass your expectations since Heroz prioritizes quality and durability. Using water-resistant fabrics and stronger stitching, these duffle bags can withstand many journeys. Our bags can handle busy airports and tough terrain. Try Heroz, where quality and dependability meet.

[eskein]

The Ultimate Leather Bag Shopping Experience: Dos and Don'ts

Are you looking for a leather bag?

Shopping is the most therapeutic practice and let us be honest it is even more exciting when it is for a leather bag. To find yourself the ultimate leather bag you must consider the quality of the material and pay attention to the detailing. They can greatly affect the aesthetics and the durability of the bag.

If you are looking for a quality leather bag that is stylish and also functional then you must take a look at eské range of best quality leather bags.

Here is a list of dos and don’ts that you should keep in mind while deciding which leather bag to buy:

Let us do the do’s first-

Background research- take your time to research the different kinds of leather. The ongoing trends in fashion and the brands that have been leading the industry. It is very important to know what kind of styles align with your style and what will go best with your taste.

Access requirement- it is important to consider what kind of bag you require and where you want to carry it. If you are setting out for a trip you might want to consider a spacious backpack that can carry all your outfits. But if you are looking for an office bag then you should look for a laptop bag that can help you maintain your class.

Quality inspection- well whenever you are looking for a leather bag do not forget to keep in mind to check the quality of the material. Cheap quality leather or bags made of poor synthetic material may wear out easily. But if you buy from trustable brands that guarantee you quality products then you must not worry as the leather bag will surely last you long and will be worth the money.

Assess the look- touch and feel the quality of the leather. Good quality leather adds a luxurious look to the fine-crafted bag. They have a subtle glow that adds elegance to the bag.

Versatility check- if you are someone who is not very interested in spending hours to find accessories that will complement each look then choose a bag that is so versatile that can go with all of them.

Let us look into the don’ts now-

Never compromise on quality-  looking for affordability is fine but you must compromise on quality. Investing in quality bags might seem a bit expensive but it's a wise investment as it will be durable and last you very long.

Do not overlook maintenance- there might be colours that might need special maintenance if you are looking for something for rough use then you should try to avoid them.

If you are looking for a good quality leather bag that can be stylish at the same time without compromising on functionality then don't forget to check our website. We have fine craftsmanship and use the best quality materials so you never miss out on the trendiest leather bags.

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ breaking the one rule he was always supposed to follow, rafe found himself sitting in the shadows of the gentlemen’s club where bitchy!pogue!reader worked at. imagine your surprise when you find out the person that paid for a private dance with you is your brother’s best friend.. and business partner.

warnings: dealer!rafe, stripper!reader, brother’s best friend trope, mentions of you and barry arguing, sexual tension, flirty banter, making out, heavy petting

a/n: this is what bitchy!pogue!reader is wearing in this btw.. i watched anora and worked on this right after lol

wc: 1.1k

rafe knew it was wrong the second he got in his truck and drove down to ‘pink sugar’ to see if you were there. he knew it was wrong when he walked in and scanned the room for you, and he knew it was wrong when he took a corner seat furthest from the stage. after overhearing you and barry arguing about what you did for work, rafe couldn’t help himself from seeing what was making you come home with a duffle bag full of cash. his curiosity got the best of him, and when he saw you emerge from behind the curtains, pink lace lingerie hugging the curves of your body, the cutest pair of bunny ears adorning your head, with a little bunny tail on your g-string to match, all the guilt he once felt melted away into nothing.

you were sin with legs. rafe watched you smile at the men in the front, the group of them emptying their wallets when you hadn’t even did anything to make them shower you with cash. then again, rafe felt the urge himself to give you all of his money just because you were so pretty. rafe swallowed thickly when your song started and the lights went low, everyone’s attention zeroing in on you as you lowered yourself to the glossy floor of the stage. he watched you crawl to the center, arching your back as the rhinestones around your eyes sparkled under the club lighting. one of the men reached out, poking the little ball that was your bunny tail, slipping what looked like a hundred dollar bill in the string of your bottoms.

rafe hated the way the men in here were looking at you right now, his fists clenching at his sides as he imagined what kind of thoughts were currently running through their heads. “that’s it, baby!” a drunken holler was shouted, the rest of the club following suit and bursting into a fit of cheers when you managed to spin around the pole in the middle of the stage. rafe watched in awe, deciding he needed to get you to himself, and away from the hungry stares of the crowded club. making his way over to the bouncers that stood outside of a concealed hallway, he handed both of them a few crispy bills. “get the one on stage with me and i’ll double it.” without another word, both of the security guards moved aside, letting rafe through.

you finished the rest of your set, blowing kisses to the men who made it a mission of theirs to spoil you rotten tonight before you made your way to the locker rooms where you refreshed your hair and makeup. “y/n?” nancy, the owner’s right hand woman walked in, “i have a private dance for a younger gentleman in room five.. he requested you specifically.” you smiled at her through the reflection of the mirror. “okay, i’ll be right over.” you nodded, giving yourself one more glance before making your way down the dimly lit hallway. the first private dance of the night always made you a little anxious, but at least you knew you were guaranteed a hundred dollars that you didn’t have to share.

you took a breath, twisting the door knob open before going in, shutting the door closed right after. “i must be special if you chose me..” you placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, walking around him before standing between his legs. looking down, you felt your heart drop to your stomach when he looked up, the face all too familiar to you. “yeah, you are.” you gasped, retreating your hand from him as if he burned you. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing, rafe?!” you nearly lost your footing when you stepped back, suddenly feeling exposed as his eyes trailed down your body. “what? i’m just a paying customer.” he shrugged, tossing back the drink in his hand.

“oh, yeah? tell that to barry. he’ll kill you if he finds out you were here.” you scoffed, your eyes meeting his. rafe stared at you for a moment, motioning for you to get closer to him. you swallowed thickly, the small disco ball in the room illuminating his features. “i’m not gonna do anything to you, i just wanted you away from everyone out there.” he spoke lowly. you took a step, accepting the hand he held out for you before he guided you onto his lap. you wrapped an arm around his shoulders like it was second nature, his large palm running up and down your thigh. “sooo.. you think you’re doing me a favor by pulling me back here so no one else can watch me dance?” your face was just mere inches away from rafe’s.

“i’m losing out on a lot of money, ‘country club..” you whispered, the slow music playing softly in the background. “how much do you want. throw me whatever number you’d like.” you smiled, your fingers slipping underneath the hem of his polo. “two thousand,” you spoke, “with interest.” rafe laughed, nodding his head as he trailed his hand from your thigh to your hip, adjusting the strap of your g-string against your skin. “with interest, huh?” he smirked, eyes falling down to your lips, “..i’d happily give that to you.” you leaned in first, just wanting to feel his lips on yours. rafe stilled for a second, a groan rumbling from his chest when he pulled you closer by your neck, returning your kiss tenfold.

“is barry home?” he was breathless when he pulled away, his hands roaming your body as if he wanted to take you right then and there. at the mention of your brother, reality seemed to grip its claws into you when you realized what you were doing right now. rafe saw the look of confliction pass over your face, his fingers cupping your chin to avert your attention back onto him. “hey..” he whispered, “i won’t tell if you don’t.” his words echoed in your head, his cologne and his proximity overtaking your senses. as if you two were meeting on the same page, rafe watched as your eyes grew dark, a smile gracing your lips. “i don’t kiss and tell, rafe.” as if a flip switched, you two began ravaging each other once more.

time slowed when you two moaned into each other’s mouths, grappling onto one another as if the two of you would disappear if you let go. “barry’s gone for the night.” you managed to speak between kisses, rafe nodding as he cupped you through your bra. just as he was going to tell you to leave with him, the bouncer outside the door yelled that rafe’s thirty minutes were up. “what the fuck, already?” he glanced down at his watch. you sighed, letting rafe pick you up before he kissed you one more time. “get your shit and let’s go, i’ll be waiting at the front door.” he squeezed the globes of your ass, making you gasp as he walked out. and just like that, rafe never let you step foot in that club again.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Price’s cute little whore 💓

Idk what people say but John will absolutely be adamant to have a housewife. And it is absolutely because he is a hypocritical fuck.

Sure, he’s worked with female colleagues who he has deemed equal and possibly better than other men that he has worked with but at the end of the day, he’s not there to make those women his wife.

John knows when to fuck you like a slut and when to treat you like a princess.

Coming home after months away on the battle and sees you in your home looking absolutely fucking comfortable on the couch wearing his worn out Led Zeppelin t-shirt and suddenly the rope of restraint in him snaps. Dumping his duffle bag on the floor, he can barely kick his boots off his feet as his strides towards you purposefully, finally having you in his arms after months away filled with lonely nights with just a polaroid of you on the wedding night absolutely dishevelled, makeup ruined and hair tousled. He’d groan, fisting his palm frantically using all his might to imagine the feeling of your wet, warm cunt squeezing his cock, but there is only so much he can imagine being hundreds of kilometres away from his birdie. The single picture gives a depraved man like him a sliver of comfort on such nights. 

And now he finally has you and he’s not gonna let you go. 

John would push you to lay flat on the couch, kissing the side of his neck to lick a long stripe down his neck, his nose burying into your skin as he inhales your scent deeply and he swears that he can just cum in his pants right there. 

You chuckle softly, the scratchiness of his beard tickling his skin as you push his face away from your neck only to cup his face in your hands as you look into his eyes. You notice how his dull blue eyes slowly gain back its spark back the longer he looks at you. The pad of your thumb caresses his cheek, tracing the contours of his face as a loving smile gracing your lips. 

“Didn’t come home in a casket…” You mutter softly grateful to once again have him close to you, alive. 

A weary smile makes its way to his face, his knee making it between your thighs, gently pressing against your cunt. John hovers over you, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“Told ya I wouldn’t as long as I know you’re here waiting for me,” John murmurs, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

You respond eagerly, kissing him with fervour, closing your eyes. John slips his tongue between your lips, tasting the faint flavour of rum on your tongue. He pulls back, memorising his face with reverence, his saviour and ticket to salvation. 

Staring up at him, eyes glossy with need and lust, you try to pull him back down for another kiss only to have him pull away. John helps you to take the shirt off your body leaving you in a pair of cotton panties. It was nothing fancy but made John’s head swirl with hunger. 

John is a patient man, even though in this moment he wishes to do nothing but to use you like a fleshlight but he can see the love you have for him. He needs to take his time, he reminds himself; to prepare his darling to take him again after months of being apart. He takes his time to worship your body to relish in the pudgy-ness of your flesh groped by him, splayed underneath him for his eyes only. Heat pools in between your legs, sticky arousal coating your flesh. A silent plea for the need to be taken care of. 

John stops kissing, pulling away, tsk-ing at your neediness. 

“I’ve left my girl alone for too long, hm?” 

You choke back a sob unable to hide your desperateness, “Uh huh!”

John hums, your cries fueling his pride. Making his way down to your sopping cunt, nuzzling his nose into your begging hole inhaling your scent with zeal.

“Gonna fuck this pussy good tonight, kiddo.”

[latesttechnu1]

Stop Carrying Multiple Bags - Upgrade to the WITZMAN Duffle Backpack

[ceilidho]

prompt: ghost and you are the only survivors of a military plane crash. you spend weeks alone in the wild together. (ns/fw)

-

In the years you’ve worked as a flight attendant, you’ve never experienced a plane crash before. It’s exactly like what you would’ve expected.

Clear skies rapidly turn grey outside the tiny windows to your left and right; you notice it almost instantly because it casts a pall over the interior of the aircraft. It makes the small group of men that you’ve been travelling with sit up a bit straighter in their seats, only a few of them looking genuinely concerned. Military men often do; it’s in their nature to worry and fret. You feel it like a twinge in your gut, like something telling you that you don’t usually fly through dark clouds. 

The soft ding of the seatbelt sign comes on a handful of seconds later. The turbulence only a few moments after that.

Pilots are trained to avoid cumulonimbus clouds like they’re a harbinger of death (and they are). Even large airliners avoid crossing the path of a cumulonimbus. Your pilot should’ve known to divert and fly around the cloud, avoiding the possibility of flying through a thunderstorm altogether. The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom for everyone to fasten their seatbelts and you notice distantly that his voice seems frazzled. 

Your hands grip the seat as you strap in. This is exactly the kind of scenario you’ve prepared extensively for, but in the face of it, your stomach tosses and turns. Practice can only hope to ape reality; it often falls short. 

From across the aisle, you lock eyes with the lieutenant in the skull mask that politely refused a beverage ten minutes ago. The plane jostles you violently in your seat as it passes through a rough patch of turbulence. Even the lieutenant, twice your size and rooted into his seat, his hands clamped around the arm rests, grunts when he’s rocked side to side. 

There’s a loud pop outside the aircraft and the plane teeters dangerously to one side. The bags in the overheads bash against the doors, the plastic squeaking under their weight. 

Someone screams. The other attendant sitting across from you is already shouting, “Brace! Brace! Brace!” The mantra bursts from his chest along with spittle and the singular, quivering note of fear. There’s not much more you can do but follow his lead, dropping your head to your knees and wrapping your arms around your legs.

Your stomach drops when the plane descends far too suddenly. You would’ve been pulled back against the wall if your arms weren’t wrapped around your legs. You have enough time to peek up briefly to see all of the other men assuming the same position, some with their heads pressed against the seat in front of them before the aircraft nosedives and there’s a sharp whistle in your ear and the lights flicker ominously in the cabin and something tears and tears and tears and—

Then it’s dark.

Your grip must have loosened because the world disintegrates after you hit your head. There’s only a faint buzz and something ice cold, something that grips you from the inside and slithers over your skin. The aftermath of a crash is so quiet for the devastation it brings.

The big one in the scary mask is the one who drags you from the wreckage, lifting you into his arms when you’re still too dazed to do more than whimper pathetically. Fear and pain and adrenaline have crumpled you up into a little ball. 

“Keep your eyes open,” he says, and maybe it’s a shout. His voice is so loud. When you open them, you nearly close your eyes instinctively when you see the gaping hole in the plane where it’s been torn apart. 

“Where are—” it hurts to speak, but you have no choice, “—the others…”

He doesn’t respond. That makes it worse. You slip your arms around his neck so he can hike you closer up his chest. Slung over his shoulder is a black duffle bag that he must have pulled from the overhead, or what’s left of them. When your head turns on a swivel, you startle at the sight of the other attendant still strapped in his seat, his neck snapped back at an odd angle. 

You turn your head away. 

“My leg hurts really bad,” you sob, fingers clutched in the sweat-matted fabric of your saviour’s shirt. 

He palms the back of your head and tips you just enough for you to meet his eyes. Something dark shutters over his face for a split second. If your eyes weren’t filled with tears, you might’ve noticed it. It passes fast though, too quick for you to register it in these conditions.

“‘Gonna be okay, sweetheart,” he says, gentler this time, rough-sounding like he’s not used to using that tone. “Gonna get us out of here and then I’ll check your leg. Just hang on to me.”

It’s hard to catalogue every moment because you drift in and out of consciousness. You feel the man shift you in his arms whenever he clambers down the side of the mountain your plane must have flown into. There’s debris from the wreckage scattered around the rocks, the other half of the plane not too far away. When your eyes blink open briefly, you see how decimated the other half is. 

There aren’t any other survivors. Only bodies. He doesn’t stop for them.

Far off from the wreckage, he sets you down onto the soft earth and rifles around in the bag he took. There’s a first aid kit with supplies that he uses to wrap your ankle, which is swollen and tender. The adrenaline crash is nearly more violent than the plane crash you just survived. It wracks through your body as the lieutenant strips your shoes and socks, gently manipulating your foot in his big hands. You notice he’s also lost the mask.

Ochre yellow and green plains spread outward from the mountains. You remember from the flight maps on board that you were somewhere over Mongolia, but the exact mountain range eludes you. This could be the Khangai or the Sayan or the Altai, but you have no way of knowing. 

“Is there a…a phone in the bag? How’s anyone gonna know we’re out here?” You sound helpless, smaller than you’ve ever sounded. 

He shakes his head. The tight ball of tension in the middle of your chest grows tighter. The thought that you’re stranded in the mountains in Mongolia, thousands of miles away from home and no way to get help is almost enough to send you into a panic attack. 

A hand cups under your chin to tilt your head up. His face up close is exquisite and haunting—weathered in the way that career military men often are, burn marks and old scars littered across the delicate skin, lips perpetually chapped, and a nose that looks like it’s been broken way more than once. You can’t look away. 

“Someone’ll be looking for us,” he says. It’s reassuring only because he says it like it’s a certain thing. “Don’t know if you saw who was on that flight roster. A lot of important men were supposed to arrive in Germany at twenty-one-hundred hours.”

You nod, tears still dribbling down your cheeks even when he swipes his thumb across to rub them away. He’s not wrong. There was a colonel on your flight after all. Dead now, hot corpse still steaming in the wreckage half a kilometre away, but he would’ve been important enough to warrant an immediate rescue. 

You go still under his touch. “You weren’t on the flight list.”

He shakes his head. “Never am.”

“But you were with them?” You remember someone on the flight addressing him by his rank. It was early on in the service, when you were still strapping down bags and doing cross-check, making sure everything was in place. But you remember, even then, seeing that there were more bodies on the plane than names on the list; you’d brought it up to the captain, but he’d brushed off your concerns. Maybe he knew the reason behind the lieutenant’s name being held off the passenger list. 

It’s all moot now anyway. 

“Can’t bring a ghost on a flight,” he says darkly, like it’s a joke. Like you’re in on it together. “Can’t put it on the roster at least. S’bad luck after all.”

It’s a monstrous joke at a time like this. Your life feels cracked in half and the scarred brute of a man that pulled you from the wreckage makes jokes like it happens to him every other day. When the sky splits later that night and pours out a lake’s worth of rain, it feels appropriate. You huddle with the lieutenant at the base of a densely branched tree and shake.

Five weeks in the mountains go by slowly. 

The shelter he builds is haphazard but meticulous, composed of various materials that Ghost scavenges from the plane wreck. A door becomes a makeshift roof. He makes you sit and wait as he collects dozens and dozens of branches, chopped down from the surrounding trees and fashioned into a lean-to. Padded with moss and leaves. 

“I can help with getting the leaves,” you protest when he catches you hobbling around and carries you back to the nest of blankets and tarps that he’d pulled from the plane. He goes back every so often to see what remains and what can be used. It’s the only time other than when he hunts that Ghost leaves you alone for even a second, preferring to be within arm’s length of you the rest of the time.

“You can help by sitting your ass down,” Ghost grunts without even looking up at you. 

You frown, fingers digging in the dirt by your feet. It’s a silly complaint but there’s never anything to do but wait. 

In the early morning hours, Ghost goes off and hunts for you, when the world is still quiet and the animals are still asleep. They’re sluggish when dawn still hasn’t peeled its pink belly off the surface of the world. Ghost comes back with a deer slung over his shoulders one week, his knife still protruding from its neck, and your stomach only twists a little bit. Not used to seeing where your meat comes from. 

There’s not much choice when you’re on your own in the elements. Every day, you expect to see a helo appear over the horizon, and you end each night crestfallen when it doesn’t. 

It’s not like you haven’t completed basic training, a prerequisite to applying as a military flight attendant, but admittedly it’s been several years and basic never taught you to hunt for your food. You did other things that seemed, at the time, inconsequential to your career path, like learning to rappel and how to wait an hour for your NCO to show up for PT in the morning. 

Even if your ankle hadn’t been badly sprained, you wouldn’t be much help. Ghost’s remarkably self-sufficient. It makes you question whether he’s done this before—whether he’s gotten stranded in the woods for weeks on end and had to learn to live hand-to-mouth. 

“Have you…where’d you learn all of this?” you ask him in the dead of night, when the wind is a shrill hiss through the trees and you cower close to him in your sleeping bag (also salvaged from the wreck, though his has a tear down the side of it).

Ghost is quiet for a moment. “All over the place. Been doing this for years, love; had to learn.”

“Anything ever like this?”

Even with the absence of his mask, it gets so dark at night that you can’t see his face. You can hear the wry smile that plays on his lips in his voice though. “I’ve had worse days.”

There’s a story there that you see like a fish darting under the water. Too quick for you to catch with your bare hands. 

You wake up with your cheek pressed against his pillowy chest most days. It’s embarrassing at first, but you learn to let it melt off you when you meet Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing there but piercing blue. They root you in place most of the time but they never tell you to move. 

It takes a while before your ankle starts noticeably healing. In the intervening weeks, Ghost almost dotes on you, in a rough, untested sort of way. Like he doesn’t have much experiencing tending to another person besides himself for weeks on end. As the weeks drag on, it morphs into something unrecognizable, like a wounded animal healing wrong. 

It starts when Ghost insists on sharing sleeping bags. It’ll be easier for him to pull you close if something tries to drag you off in the night (and doesn’t that thought put you on the brink of a panic attack until he shushes and soothes you). It escalates when you make the mistake of tending to the meat hanging over the fire while he fiddles with the little radio he’d dragged back from the plane, and the look he gives you when you tell him that supper is ready borders on reverent. 

It gets even worse when he has you both strip your clothes off on a particularly cold and rainy night, wrapped around each other for warmth. 

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” you hear him rumble, big hand drawing a line down your back. You do tremble at that. “C’mon, get closer. Gonna warm you up.”

You wake up in the middle of the night when your ankle is starting to feel solid enough that you think you can manage to go off on your own to relieve yourself instead of waking Ghost up again. That’s the plan anyway. Before you’ve even managed to crawl all of six feet away from your sleeping bag, a rough hand pins you by your shoulder to the ground and the heavy, over two-hundred pound body of your companion drapes itself over you.

“Where the fuck do you think yer going?” Ghost snarls. 

For the first time in a week, there’s a moment of genuine fear. It’s like realizing for a split second that the animal you’ve let creep up behind you is a lot more dangerous than you thought it was. 

“I have to pee,” you whisper-hiss, heart still skittering in your chest.

He’s silent behind you while he mulls that thought over; you think maybe he’s still half-asleep, his body acting on instinct before his brain’s ready to take over. The tension only releases you when he finally picks himself up off you, but it’s immediately made worse when he insists on accompanying you into the woods. 

He doesn’t even turn around while you pull your underwear down and squat. Ghost’s eyes are bright in the dark, trained on you like it’s the thing that gives him purpose. 

Things change in the woods. There are people who are only one bad thing away from reverting to their neolithic mind; as the weeks go on, you see the way his eyes change when they fall on you, no longer detached but gluttonous. 

There’s a brown bear that slouches past your camp one day, sniffing around only because it’s curious, and Ghost all but completely obstructs your vision with how he shoves you behind him. He puffs up big when the bear gets too close, keeping you hidden until it snorts and ambles off, not interested in the pair of you. 

Do animals act like this? He curls you around him in sleep, legs tangled together. When you soak in the lake under the glare of the sun, he slips into the water and comes up behind you until his hands close around your waist and he tugs you closer to the edge, away from the deeper parts. It’s testament to how long you’ve been out on your own that you’re no longer unaccustomed to the feel of his hands on your bare flesh. 

His lips on your bare shoulder are a little less commonplace, but you only shiver and stare out at the mountains. 

Then one day, you look up into the sky away from the sun and there it is, a black dot on the horizon at first. You scream for Ghost, who’s skinning a fish on a damp log near you and start waving your arms wildly in the air, unbridled joy streaming out of you. He’s quick to pull his mask on when the chopper lands a few hundred yards away and two similarly dressed soldiers spill out. 

You ignore the stiffness in his body as he sits beside you in the chopper, pinning you against the side. Ignore the way he answers for you when the men start asking questions. 

What does it mean to come back worse?

“Wha’s that, love?”

“Trauma bonding,” you repeat, swallowing nervously. It’s months later, but the weeks on the mountain and the forest still haunt you. The real world seems flimsier now that you’re back in it, less real somehow. Here, no one hunts for their food. “The therapist said that we trauma bonded. And—and that’s why you won’t—”

Here’s where the words can’t seem to come out on their own. 

He sleeps in your bed these days—can’t stand to be more than a room away from you at any given time. Follows you into the bathroom when you need to clean up at the end of the day, crowding you into your too-small shower. The you from a month ago wouldn’t have been able to imagine inviting a six-foot-four soldier into your apartment, but—and here’s where your brain scrambles a bit to catch up—you didn’t invite him in. 

He lifts a brow. The mask comes off in your apartment, so you’re able to see the way his lips slip into something unimpressed. “Why I won’t what?”

You swallow. “You know. Leave.”

“Do you want me to leave, love?” 

That’s the crux of it. The heart of it. You really don’t. In the dark sometimes, if the wind rustles outside your window just right, shrill like those weeks in the forest and out on the open plains, your heart pounds in your chest until it grows so tight that you think it’ll just stop. 

“No,” you whisper in response to his question.

Most nights, you wake up drenched in sweat, still half in a dream where you turn your head and the other flight attendant is staring back at you with wide, empty eyes. Blood dribbling down from his head. Where a plane is ripped in half, grey metal strewn across a mountain and the valley below is a dark pit where you go to die. 

Then you roll over in your bed and Ghost is there, already awake and cupping a wide hand over your cheek, laying kiss after kiss across your face. Murmuring that it’ll be alright, that you’re safe. That he’s got you. 

His breath is hot on your skin.

You let him roll you over and spread your legs when he says those things. Let him be a bit filthy after being so kind to you in the woods. 

He spits on your pussy and rubs it in with a coarse thumb, chuckling when you yelp all breathlessly and squirm away. Sometimes when you fuck, he gets rough with you and slaps it, but he’s always tender with you after a nightmare, content to sooth you with his mouth on your pussy until you’re close to hyperventilating. 

“S’alright, sweetheart,” Ghost breathes, spearing you on his turgid length, barrel chest heaving when he finally crams it all in. Always a bit too big for you to take without crying. “I got you, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you.”

It’s a new development, but it feels older than time. You could’ve let it happen in the woods and you might have, if no one had ever come. 

“Look at me, sweet girl,” he tuts when you turn your head to the side, holding your face in one hand until you have no choice but to stare at the bulk of him straining over you. He has shoulders like mountains that roll when he pushes into you. “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?”

You don’t want to acknowledge what this is: that you found something in the woods and it followed you home.

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