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fushipurro · 5 months

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In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 1 - Green Flag

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☆ Synopsis: You've lived most of your life trying to convince yourself that you're happy, but let's face it, you're far from it. Time continues to pass you by, leaving you feeling stuck — losing hope that life will ever get better.

That is, until a new neighbor and his son move into the vacant spot next-door.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, depression, fluff, angst, insecure/intrusive thoughts, mentions of smoking

☆ Word Count: 3.9k

Four in the morning. That’s the time displayed on your phone.

For many, that’s roughly the time others wake up, gearing up for a day of work or school. You however, that’s when you hope to be asleep by. The time just before the sun has a chance to peak above the horizon or the birds start their morning symphony.

It wasn’t always this way, nor do you remember when this routine became your norm. You tell yourself the life of a night owl is one of ease ─ a better way to live. You have unintentionally conditioned yourself into this lifestyle without knowing any better, and even then, you still can’t deny the positives feelings you get from it.

The nights feel as though they move slower than the day, and to you, it beats the alternative of selling your soul away to the 9-5 corporate job. Sure, you still had to go out and get a job ─ it’s an inevitable in life to those born without generational wealth to fall back on. Instead of some soul-crushing office job, you chose to become a model.

Not some high fashion runway Vogue or Louis Vuitton model, of course; that’d be a bit too much for your self-esteem to handle. Nor would you even want to be one, either.

You chose the side of modeling that gears more towards marketing, styling, or the occasional photoshoot here and there, but overall, as much work-from-home as you can get.

Your days typically begin sometime in the afternoon.

A cycle of waking up, feeding your cat, work, chores, whatever else you need to do before a night of indulging yourself with all your many hobbies before starting the cycle all over again.

Reality can be a blur at times with late night thoughts that make you question if you’re truly happy with how things are or if that’s just what you tell yourself to get through to tomorrow.

Putting your phone down on your nightstand, you made yourself comfy beneath layers of blankets in the highlight of your home, your bed.

Sleep is one thing you always look forward to. No thinking necessary or responsibility, just allowing your many dreams to consume you and feed that lust for adventure life can’t guarantee you. You’re more than ready to see what awaits you tonight. Maybe you’ll see dragons and knights, four-armed monsters and cursed beings, the possibilities are endless.

What more could you want?

All your hopes for that and more come crashing down when you wake with a jolt after having just fallen asleep, only to hear that the crash wasn’t a metaphor.

You groan, your voice burdened by your tired state. “Nooo, Tsumiki… come back– fuck.”

You stretch your arm out, feeling for your cat who decided to ditch you from the sudden noise and into one of her many hiding spots. The time on your phone now reads nine in the morning ─ a painful reminder to the cons of being nocturnal.

You’re the minority.

Through the thin walls of the old apartment building you live in, you can faintly make out whoever is disturbing your vampiric slumber, “What do you think, kid?” Their voice is deep, and smooth like honey yet ignites goosebumps down your back.

But wait, kid? As in a child?

Wouldn’t that be your luck.

You’ve been safe for a while with one side of your walls being vacant, but it seems luck has run out, and with a family no less. You only hope their day-to-day noise level is less than that of all the boxes and furniture being thrown around every second.

And just like that, your spare pillow is now your new best friend, sandwiched between your head and your arm to drown out the world.

At some point you managed to fall asleep again ─ if you can even call it that. A better description would be the state in-between, where you’re barely conscious yet still able to rest. By three in the afternoon, the alarm on your phone is your second rude awakening.

So much for any dreamworld adventures to make you forget the crushing weight of reality.

It’s beyond tempting to hit snooze and give it another shot, and maybe you could this time around, given the lack of noise emanating from the other side of the walls. Tsumiki however, says otherwise. With pinpoint accuracy, her tiny paws dig harshly into your bladder and every other vital organ as she impatiently mewls for her afternoon feast.

“Fine, I’m getting up,” you drawl out with a sigh, throwing aside the covers to your oh so warm cocoon…

No, no. Tsumiki needs her breakfast. Her needs always come first before your own, no matter what.

You crack open a can of wet food, adding in all your special additives to ensure she’s getting everything healthy her growing body needs. Once she’s good to go, you follow up with your own lackluster toaster meal, devoid of any extravagant sides. A trip to the grocery store is in order, but that can wait until after you’ve finished your work for the day.

Nothing beats getting all your chores done in the hours after waking up. That way, the rest of your day (read: night) is all for yourself and no one else. What better way to get everything finished too than by singing along to all your favorite songs with the occasional break to stretch.

By seven at night, you’re finished and dressed for the store. Some days you can bring yourself to look the part of a model, other times ─ like today ─ you’re too exhausted to care. So, you fit yourself in your choice of comfy clothes, designed by laziness, and without so much as a red sole on your preferred footwear. You’re going to the store after all, not some Hollywood premiere.

A glance through your peephole reveals an empty hallway, perfect for your liking. The less neighbors you have to pass by or talk to, the better. Once past the threshold, you spot the remnants of boxes just next-door, further proving to your dismay that you’re now stuck with someone on both sides of your home. Getting down the stairs and out the building proves just as easy. Excellent timing on your part to avoid homebound traffic, earning some peace and quiet on your walk to and from the store.

So you hope, at least.

On a better day you would’ve chosen an actual grocery store to go to, but for now, the closest convenience store will have to do. They’re convenient for a reason, might as well utilize it.

Despite only buying enough to last a few days, at best, you still end up with your arms full on the trip back. Each step you take leaves you cursing under your breath for not being able to afford a car. The world’s too expensive for a young, single woman without any family to get help from.

It’s already hard enough leaving the safety net of your home, and your tired arms now feel as if they’re ready to fall off. To top everything off, a lone man comes into sight, resting on the stairs to your building with a cigarette in hand.

He doesn’t look familiar, and in fact, a closer look from the nearby lighting reveals that he’s… actually quite handsome. Hell, he could be a model if he wanted to, and you’d be surprised if he wasn’t one already. His black hair falls neatly over his face, his physique unmatched from what you see around the hems of his black sweater. The scar down his lip adds an air of mystery, that at the same time raises some alarms in your head.

There’s always the chance he lives in the building. It’s not like you’re familiar with every tenant in the complex. But at the same time as previously established, you’re a young woman who’s walking all by herself, long after sunset. Anyone can be a murderer or kidnapper for all you know.

Best to just avoid him, and hope for the best.

You attempt to shuffle by him up the stairs, keeping your head held down and away, but his voice stops you right in your tracks sending a chill down your spine, “Need a hand with those?” He gestures to your bag with the hand that holds the foul cancer stick. There’s something familiar about him, but you can’t place it just yet. Not when your anxiety is shooting sky-high.

The bags tremble slightly in your arms as you turn partially to the man. “N-no, I uh…” You thickly swallow, mumbling softly after, “I’m okay, thanks.”

You move to continue up the stairs, but misplace your foot, fixing to tumble downwards only to be caught just in time by a pair of hands on each side of your shoulders.

“Woah, easy there. I don’t mind helping, doll,” he insists. You don’t protest when he reaches for the bags in one arm, too frozen in place to react beyond budding embarrassment. He opens the door to the building but stops, looking back at you. “You comin’?”

“Y-yeah.”

Great instincts, now let’s hope he’s not about inflict every crime in the book there is upon you. Ending up on the morning news in a body bag is not the type of modeling you had in mind.

His green eyes follow your form as you walk past him, silently thanking him for being chivalrous enough to hold the door open. You take the lead up the stairs, trying not to make it too obvious when looking back over your shoulder, praying he doesn’t pull a gun on you.

The smart choice would be to lead him to some other home in the building. For instance, someone that you’re familiar with to offer a sense of security. Unfortunately, you have about as many friends as you do cats.

Which in this case is… one. If you can even call your boss a friend.

Perfect.

The man quirks a brow as you arrive in front of apartment 4-C, your home. “Huh, looks like we’re neighbors.” He nudges his head to 4-D, the previously vacant housing. “Just moved in today,” he adds.

“Oh,” you reply, visibly stunned. Well that alleviates more of your worries and explains the familiarity you felt. The voice you had heard earlier in the day belongs to him. “I guess we are,” you laugh nervously, stumbling to unlock your door with unsteady hands.

You step inside, keeping the door parted for him to enter. He wastes no time following after, placing the bags down on the countertop in the kitchen alongside your own. Tsumiki runs into the room moments after, stopping to take a cautious sniff of the man’s ankle.

“Who’s this?” he asks, leaning down to pet the now-purring kitten with one thick digit. “Friendly cat you’ve got here.”

“Her name is Tsumiki,” you tell him, still unable to help how meek you sound. You can’t help but feel a bit more at ease with your cat’s quick approval of the man.

There’s a low hum from his throat with approval, “Cute name.” He picks her up into his arms, huffing out of amusement at all the air biscuits she starts making with her tiny little paws. His eyes meet yours unexpectedly, about stunning you in the process. “What’s yours?”

“Huh?”

He simpers. “Your name?”

You avert your gaze to your groceries, playing with the fabric of your sleeves as you tell him your name, no louder than a whisper.

“Even cuter,” he remarks, thankfully not making any comments on how flustered you must look right about now. He does wink however, not that you’re even looking his way to see it, but he does.“Name’s Toji Fushiguro.”

“Nice to meet you, Toji.” You offer up a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “Thanks for helping with the bags, by the way.”

Toji’s eyes spark with subtle interest. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.” He pauses, momentarily looking around. “Guess I should get goin’ now before I’m late for work.”

At this time of night? Though it’s not like you’re one to talk, let’s be real.

He places Tsumiki gently back onto the ground, turning back to leave. You end up having to pick her back up in order to stop her attempt at escaping with him.

Betrayed by your own cat.

He tells you his goodbyes, turning the key into his own home, finalizing the fact that he is your new neighbor and not some degenerate criminal. Well, hopefully. You never know these days.

Maybe this whole thing won’t be so bad after all.

Tsumiki meows with evident disappointment, pawing away at your front door once back inside. It looks as though Tsumiki’s deemed him a green flag with her pawprint seal of approval. “Well, you seem to like him. Don’t you, girl?” She meows in response, and you can only imagine what her mews translate to in your tongue. The most likely answer would be a series of complaints for not making him stay longer to give her more attention like you don’t do that enough.

The remainder of your night is spent as usual, mostly tucked away on the couch, enjoying some quality TV time and whatever else you like to do. Tsumiki’s bakery works wonders on your stomach, kneading and purring away until the covers of sleep pull themselves up and over you, whisking you off to the world of dreams.

The next day starts with a slew of curses leaving your mouth that could put a sailor to shame.

Your sleep deprivation caught up to you with impeccably awful timing, paired with a few missed calls from your boss, and a voicemail to match.

“I apologize for how late notice this is, but I need you in the office at three o’clock. We have a meeting with a prospective client, and they would like to meet you.”

Your eyes dart to the time registered on your phone as you listen in. The meeting is at 3 and it’s… 3:30.

Lovely.

You shoot up from the couch and into some much nicer clothing and whatever makeup you can scrounge to cover the bags resting below your eyes. With your purse in hand, there’s no time to even think about running into a neighbor as you leave. You exit the building like a bat out of hell, flying past Toji and his son on the sidewalk without even realizing.

He calls out your name, but you don’t respond nor even hear it over the sound of blood rushing in your ears, drowning out any and all outside noise.

His son looks on with confusion at the scene. “Rabbit…”

Toji stifles a laugh, “Might as well be one.” He follows you with his eyes, panning down to see that you’re running in heels of all things. It’s a wonder how a set of stairs almost got you the night before.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been running for. Being as late as you are, there wasn’t any time to order a ride. At the very least, it’s not like your agency is situated in the heart of the downtown, so getting there by foot is doable.

By the time you do arrive, the client is long gone, and other employees are leaving their shifts as well. You make yourself as presentable as you can in what seconds you have to spare before entering his office to hear everything you missed.

In the midst of the discussion, you apologize, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Nanami. I swear it won’t happen again.”

“No matter,” his exhale comes in the form of a sigh. “The client is willing to excuse it this time, and it’s fortunate they still wish to advance to the next step with us.” For a second, you can see some underlying frustration in his eyes, believing yourself to be the cause. “There will be consequences if this happens again, I do hope you understand.”

You lower your head in shame. “Y-yes sir ─ thank you…”

Even if it it’s true your sleep was disrupted the day before from outside of your control, you still feel as though you’re the only one to blame. You could’ve set more alarms, taken a nap ─ or better, not stayed up till dawn.

You’re snapped from your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t stress, this will be good opportunity for you,” he reassures. “Now go home and rest, I’ll be in contact.” You nod, taking your leave from the office.

You take your time on the walk home, losing yourself in your mind once more. Staying up at night to enjoy the silence is nice and all, but is it worth setting yourself back? You can’t afford to lose your job, or worse, not be able to afford your bills and all of Tsumiki’s food and care.

Speaking of which, food was one of the last things on your mind, but upon seeing the neon lights of the convenient store, your stomach growls on cue.

“…Guess I’ll grab something then,” you mutter to yourself.

You scan each aisle, grabbing a few simple snacks, and eventually coming across a comfort food that would taste perfect right about now in place of a full meal. It’s nothing too fancy or expensive, just enough to quell your noisy stomach and anxious body.

“You were in a hurry this afternoon,” a gruff voice sounds from behind you. It startles you, enough so that you lose your grip on the item in your hands. Toji catches it effortlessly, observing the contents in his hand. “Shit, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You take a moment to catch your breath, letting the vicious thumping of your heart calm down enough to speak. “It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

Toji gives you a questioning look, examining your appearance with emerald eyes that practically see right through you. “Something happen?” he inquires.

“Oh, uh– it’s nothing important.” You wave him off, shifting your head to the side. You almost forget he’s even still holding onto your food when the next thing you know, he’s putting it into his own basket alongside whatever else he’s buying. “Um, Toji?”

“My treat.” He winks, moving ahead down the aisle expecting you to keep up.

“I can’t let you do that, it’s too much,” you plead.

“Doll, this is nothing,” he claims. “It won’t break the bank for me.”

You don’t try and argue further, resorting to pouting when he turns his back to you to grab a few other items. With this view, you’re able to take in more of his appearance.

This time, instead of black sweats, he’s fitted in dark jeans, an equally dark shirt, boots, and muted olive parka that goes wonderfully with his eyes. You had noticed his scar looked rougher up close, with a few more hide away on his skin, out of sight. Toji looks over his shoulder, inadvertently catching you staring at him. You blush, quickly averting your gaze to the ice cream selection at your side.

After checking out, you thank him, sticking close to his side on route back to your shared apartment complex. Toji stays silent for the first few blocks, occasionally glancing in your direction without you even realizing, as you do the same.

Normally you’d be content with the peace, but your mind says otherwise even if you have no clue what to talk about. He ends up being the first to speak up anyways, “What do you do for work?”

You figure he must be asking based on how your appearance, especially when you know now that he spotted you earlier. “I work in the fashion industry, mainly advertising…” your voice trails off into a more meek tone, “…also some modeling gigs here and there, believe it or not.”

He hums, acknowledging your words while sparing another glance filled with newfound curiosity. Given your self-confidence, you’re not quite sure what to make of the stare, wondering if he’s silently judging you.

“W-what about you?” you ask, mentally scolding yourself for stuttering.

“I’m a bartender over at a joint called Star Plasma. You should come by if you ever want a drink, I’ll make it special for you.” He briefly pauses, keeping his eyes directed at you while scratching the back of his neck. “You look like you could use one, did somethin’ happen?”

You stop dead in your tracks, looking down at the concrete path below. He stops just in front of you, half-turning to see the glossy coating on your eyes. “I…kind of got in trouble at work, all because of a stupid mistake.” One called not setting a proper alarm or having your phone not set to silent, you later realized.

“I know all about that,” he responds, and in a way, it’s reassuring. “Can’t be that bad if you still have a job, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you slowly exhale. The next words out of your mouth are barely that of a whisper, almost completely inaudible, “I’m hating myself for it…”

Toji doesn’t say anything in the immediate moment, turning his head up to the flickering streetlamp overhead. After a minute he goes on to say, “Don’t beat yourself up, we all make mistakes.”

Tell that to a perfectionist.

“Come on then,” he urges. “Before the ice cream melts.”

You continue walking, muttering, “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

The two of you are quiet the rest of the way home. Once outside the front doors of your respective apartments, he holds out one of the bags for you to take.

“Here you go,” he says as you accept it from his hands. “I threw in a thing of ice cream too. Figured you might like some with the way you were staring earlier.” He smirks.

You glance into the bag and find a small tub of your favorite flavor tucked away. Your mouth parts in shock, the surprise evident on your features. “How did you know I like this flavor?”

“Lucky guess, I’m glad it paid off.”

Toji’s front door suddenly opens from the inside, and a young boy comes running out, latching onto the older man’s leg. One look is all it takes to see that he’s the spitting image of his father, save for the trademark scar on the lip and hair kept under control. The boy sees you and decides to shield himself behind his father, peering around his leg with a cautious expression.

“Megumi,” Toji kneels down, rubbing his hand along the course of his son’s spikey hair. “Meet our new neighbor,” he says, your name punctuating the sentence.

You smile, lowering yourself to his level. “Hi Megumi, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet.

He shuffles more behind Toji’s leg, and you can’t blame him for being nervous around strangers. He mumbles out, “Rabbit lady,” before darting back inside his home, leaving you surprised.

Toji eyes the door, sighing, “Sorry about that, he’s shy around new people.”

“No worries, he’s adorable,” you softly giggle, standing back up to normal height. “Thanks again for the food.”

Toji looks at you with slightly wider eyes, stunned by the sudden display of laughter. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll see you around then, neighbor.”

You wave goodbye, entering your own home and greeting Tsumiki who must’ve heard you through the door given how she’s right there waiting. Toji was right about the ice cream. Between that and the conversation you had with him; you’re already starting to feel better about the earlier turmoil.

Maybe being neighbors with him won’t be so bad after all.

☆ Notes: During my revision of this series, I gotta admit that my original upload was messy as HELL... i had waaay too many ideas and no cohesive plan for where i wanted the plot but that's all fixed now and i'm super excited for how this series will develop over time and i hope you all enjoy the new version of this series!

sorry for the name change whiplash btw, i've been thinking for a while that "light in the dark" was a little too basic and then thought of this new one on a whim so here we are :)

#jjk #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji #jjk au #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji x you #megumi fushiguro #nanami kento #model!reader

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growingstories · 9 months

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Side business

Gianni, a 23-year-old marketeer that recently graduated, landed a job as a junior press officer at a prestigious Italian fashion brand. As he embarked on his exciting new career, he began sharing his adventures on social media. His Instagram account quickly gained popularity, attracting an audience of over 50,000 followers.

His boss discovered Gianni's growing online influence and recognized its potential. Impressed by his ability to engage with an audience, Gianni was promoted to a senior position within the company. His boss even suggested a plan for Gianni to collaborate with other influencers and showcase outfits before they hit the stores. This strategy greatly boosted the brand's sales and left everyone involved thrilled with the results.

Gianni's online presence caught the attention of travel brands, who saw a perfect opportunity to collaborate with him. Combining his passion for travel with his current job seemed like a dream come true. Eventually, Gianni was offered a different position that allowed him to travel the world as a brand ambassador and head of social media. This proved to be a tremendous success, as he earned money by partnering with other brands and posting about their products. His healthy lifestyle and fitness journey also made him a sought-after expert, leading to features in renowned publications like Vogue, Vanity Fair, and G.Q Gianni's popularity continued to rise, and he enjoyed the luxury of a lavish lifestyle, complete with a glamorous personal trainer, Francesco. Francesco drives a Porsche and loves fancy watches.

For many years, Gianni thrived, giving Ted talks and attending exclusive parties, collaborating with numerous companies and earning substantial amounts of money. He even purchased a grand house in Tuscany and shared the renovation process online, engaging his followers with step-by-step updates and showcasing furniture brands.

Eventually, Gianni decided to leave his day job and focus solely on endorsement deals. He started offering online courses, recording podcasts from his home studio, and hosting, pay exclusive-per-view live Q&A sessions for his subscribers. While Gianni received many tempting offers of a sexual nature, he always declined. However, one evening, after consuming a few drinks, he engaged in a private, sexually explicit Q&A session with a follower named Franco89. This opened the door to more explicit conversations and eventually led Gianni to create a secret OnlyFans account. There, he redirected fans who desired sexually oriented content, including Franco89.

FitFrank, who Gianni initially didn't recognize, messaged him one day. Their conversations quickly evolved, and they eventually engaged in virtual intimate encounters. Although Gianni had his reservations, FitFrank eventually persuaded him to participate in paid jerk-off sessions, which they conducted weekly.

Amidst his immense success, Gianni received fan mail, flowers, and outfits from well-known brands. Due to his excellent physique, he could easily request any outfit he desired. One day, he found a box of cupcakes and received message a from FitFrank insinuating that he knew about the cupcakes. Initially Gianni dismissed, it, assuming it was a coincidence. However, after tasting and enjoying the cupcakes during one of his live sessions, FitFrank sent him a message, revealing that he was aware of Gianni’s indulgence. Intrigued, Gianni engaged in a conversation with FitFrank, who made an unusual offer: €100 for each cupcake Gianni ate during a live session. Although Gianni hesitated at first, FitFrank increased the offer to €1000 for two live eating sessions per month. Succumbing to the allure of the lucrative deal, Gianni agreed to indulge himself weekly.

Gianni's popularity continued to soar, and endorsement offers poured in, particularly for swimwear. Whenever he posted about a particular brand, it sold out immediately. His fit body, dedication to fitness, and healthy eating habits had transformed him into a lifestyle specialist, attracting media attention from magazines such as Vogue, Vanity Fair, and GQ.

However, as Gianni's workload increased, he found less time for travel and decided to reduce his trips. Instead, he focused on providing online courses and hosting events exclusively in Italy. He also introduced paid subscriptions for his live Q&A sessions, further boosting his income.

Despite his success, Gianni couldn't help but notice his clothes becoming tighter. Concerned about his appearance, he decided to end his deal with FitFrank and ignored his messages. However, FitFrank responded by sending cupcakes every morning, tempting Gianni to continue their arrangement. Eventually, FitFrank offered even more money, €1000 per cake. Gianni decided to extend the deal for one more month.

The cakes became larger and more challenging to consume, but Gianni managed to complete each one. FitFrank saw Gianni's dedication and increased the offer to €5000 per month after the last cake. Although the cakes grew in size, Gianni determination remained unwavering.

Despite his success, Gianni's lifestyle began to take a toll on his physique. Personal trainer Francesco expressed concern and suggested a diet to help Gianni lose weight. Francesco feared that having a visibly overweight ambassador would harm his own reputation. Gianni understood the need for change and revealed his to followers that he had gained weight during a renovation project. He created a weight loss program with Francesco for his fans, which received a positive response during the pre-sale phase.

However, Gianni's weight gain continued, exacerbated by his ongoing indulgence in FitFrank's cakes and cupcakes. Francesco confronted Gianni during a live session, shocked by his additional weight gain. Promising to do better, Gianni continued his collaboration with Francesco, now paying for the fitness program.

After two weeks, Gianni realized that his efforts were futile, and he had only gained more weight. Francesco, furious with Gianni's lack of progress, demanded that he publicly announce the end of their collaboration or face legal consequences. Gianni reluctantly complied, confessing to his followers that he was too weak to continue the program. He stepped on the scale and broke down in tears at realization that he the had gained a significant amount of weight.

Confused and desperate, Gianni questioned why he had continued the eating sessions despite having no financial need. Was it simply for attention? FitFrank, aware of Gianni's struggles, initiated a deep conversation that evening, forming a strong connection between them.

As Gianni's weight continued to increase due to FitFrank's challenges and his own overulindgence, he embarked on a four-week, all-inclusive trip to various resorts. The luxurious accommodations offered exquisite indulgences, leaving little time for exercise and fitness. He found himself in a predicament when thewear swim brands he had collaborated with realized his significant weight gain, causing them to distance themselves from him. Gianni grew about anxious his future and impact the his weight gain would have on his career.

During this uncertain time, FitFrank remained a constant presence, sending messages and offering support. Feeling a sense of care and connection, Gianni appreciated FitFrank's attention. They grew closer, building a relationship that felt as though they had known each other for years.

To salvage his career, Gianni had to lose weight, but the temptation of indulgent food and alcohol endorsements made it difficult to stick to his diet. In a desperate move, he accepted a deal with a champagne brand to become their brand ambassador for a year. This involved a week-long trip to a champagne mansion to sample the entire range and create content. The trip consisted of lavish tastings and extravagant meals, leaving Gianni hungover and on the brink of failure. He returned home feeling exhausted and defeated.

Gianni's weight became a source of worry, both for himself and the brands he had collaborated with. FitFrank continued to send him chocolates, and Gianni, feeling discouraged, started eating them. When FitFrank reached out, Gianni confessed his struggles, and their conversation became progressively intimate. However, during one chat, a technical glitch revealed FitFrank's identity, leaving Gianni enraged.

Confronting Francesco at the gym, Gianni discovered his personal trainer's secret life as a creator of weight gain content. Francesco had been secretly livestreaming and profiting from Gianni's weight gain journey, while driving an extravagant lifestyle. Francesco confessed to making over €450,000 from donations by viewers fascinated with Gianni's transformation.

Feeling betrayed by Francesco, Gianni hatched a plan to regain control. He proposed a new arrangement to FitFrank, demanding a majority of the revenue, FitFrank's authentic appearance and FitFrank joins in on food challenges. If FitFrank refused, Gianni threatened to expose him to his clients. Relantly, Francesco agreed, realizing that he had little choice if he wanted to maintain his luxurious lifestyle.

Together, Gianni and FitFrank continued their indulgent food challenges, delighting their followers with their ever-expanding physiques. FitFrank's following and body grew, and their loyal fans paid top dollar for their content. The money poured in, but Gianni couldn't help but wonder if his obsession with food and attention had gone too far. And how far will he go?

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction

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hometoursandotherstuff · 10 months

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Today, we're visiting the former 1950 townhouse of the late designer Gianni Versace. It's in New York City, has 7bd 8.5ba and is on the market for $60M. Notice the gold Versace logo in the door.

How spectacular is this entrance hall and stairs? I have never seen columns in 2 different marbles before.

Wow, look at the sitting room ceiling. The furnishings are available to purchase. I don't know if I'd want this red furniture. Maybe one sofa.

This must be a breakfast room. That's not a carpet, is it, that's the floor. Wow.

What do you think, should we buy the dining room furniture? Yeah, it's nice. Let's get it. Love the fireplace, walls and chandelier.

Everyday dining room?

Not lovin' the kitchen. So stark, but we're not cooking in here, anyway. It's for the chef.

The main bedroom.

Closeup of the wall behind the bed. I think that we should redo this whole thing. You know, start off fresh, b/c of the murder and everything.

This is some amazing bath. I bet it takes at least 2 housekeepers to keep this up.

He had an office befitting a major designer.

Casual TV room. I think we should get the purple couches.

Table for board games outside the game room. Look at the skylit ceiling.

In the game room. Look at the whimsical flooring.

A couple of the other bedrooms. Might as well get the furniture- there are 7 bedrooms.

The home gym. We'll take the equipment.

Fancy closet.

Beautiful roof top deck. Look, it's the skylight from outside the game room.

What a lovely private garden.

#celebrity townhouse NYC #gianni versace townhouse #historic townhouse NYC #houses #house tours #home tour

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another-lost-mc · 7 months

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a/n: had a few different prompts for what he would be like as a partner and nesting so I'm combining them here. <3

➤ boyfriend material: karasu | headcanons

0.5k words | sfw | gn!reader | fluff and domestic bliss

— He wants to help you achieve whatever goals or ambitions you have, and he'll do anything he can to support you.

— Do you wan to pursue a lucrative career? Do you want to work part-time? Do you want to focus on your hobbies instead of working? He trusts you to choose the path that will make you happy, and he'll be there every step of the way.

— Never feel guilty about doing what you think is best for you—he wants to take care of you and provide for you.

— His nest is your nest now too. It's important to him that you feel safe and comfortable and relaxed when you're there.

— He's used to doing all the domestic chores himself, so he's not afraid of doing his fair share to keep things neat and tidy. He doesn't want you to be overwhelmed.

— He's not a bad cook but he eats a lot of the same meals which might get boring for you quickly. Shopping together at the market, learning new recipes while you cook together...those are the little moments of domestic bliss he craves with you.

— His sense of décor is utilitarian and functional, but he's happy to let you pick out new furniture or paint colours or linens. He wants you to make his nest your home. Even when you're not there, it'll feel warm and comforting, the same way he feels when he's with you.

— He chooses to work from home more often so that he can spend more time with you. There's a comfortable lounge chair in his office if you want to relax and keep him company.

— The unused guest room near his office is yours to use for your own workspace or hobby room. He wants you to have somewhere you can go if you feel overwhelmed or want alone time. He respects your space and privacy.

— He customizes your D.D.D. notifications so you have access to his schedule. If you have trouble with remembering important dates or appointments or setting alarms, he'll help you with those too.

— He actually thinks it's cute and kind of fun when you send him text messages even if he's home with you. He's also the sort to leave little sticky notes (with hand-drawn hearts or I love you's) around the nest for you to find throughout the day.

— He learns that even the most mundane tasks are more enjoyable when he can do them with you. He might poke your nose with soapy water when he does dishes, or he'll hug you from behind while you're standing at the counter. He's more playful because your delighted reactions are so satisfying.

— If you're too tired or feeling unwell, he never wants you to feel guilty or like you're a burden. He's never been happier, and being your mate is a privilege he is truly grateful for.

#my oc: karasu #obey me oc #obey me oc x reader #obey me headcanons #x reader #gn!reader

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 6 months

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Haunting chapter 1

Note: it's spooky time! this fic is strongly inspired by the book True Haunting (a true story and a must read if you're into ghost stories!). this was supposed to be a one shot, but the fic was becoming way too long, so I had to split it up.

Warnings: angst/horror/paranormal stuff.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You and Sihtric finally bought a house, but at what cost?

wordcount: 4k

Masterlist

'Something is wrong with this house!'

'I still can't believe it,' you wiped a tear as you looked at your new home, while the movers were busy moving the furniture inside.

'I know,' Sihtric smiled proudly, and pulled you in his arms, 'we did it, babe,' he kissed your forehead, 'we finally bought a house.'

'I justl can't believe it,' you chuckled, 'I mean, the fact that a detached house was so… so cheap?'

'Yeah, it surprised me too. Apparently it's been on the market for a long time, the previous owners just really wanted to get rid of it.'

'I wonder why,' you scoffed and looked around, 'I mean, look at this place! It's a dream. It's in a quiet neighbourhood, the backyard is huge and it's located perfectly between the centre and the forest. Why on earth would anyone want to leave this place?'

'I don't know, honey,' Sihtric shrugged, 'but I'm glad they did, because it's ours now.'

Sihtric picked you up and threw you over his shoulder as you yelped, and he carried you inside, where you both started unpacking boxes right away, to make your dream home a reality.

For years you have been trying to buy a house together, but the prices were just absurd, and even when you both worked full time you couldn't afford a house. Until Sihtric saw an ad in the local newspaper, and he called the number immediately.

The real estate agent told Sihtric on the phone that he could pick up the keys at their office, and he was free to go and look around the house on his own. And so your husband of five years did, alone. He didn't want to give you any false hope, as previous houses you both had viewed always got sold to a couple who could afford to overbid, and Sihtric had seen the disappointment in your eyes each time. And he hated it. So, when you thought he was going to work one afternoon, he went to pick up the keys and drove to the house.

It was a huge, completely detached two story house, with a small, windowless attic on the seemingly hidden third floor. The porch looked cosy and was surrounded by an impressive front yard, and when you walked around the house you ended up in a huge backyard. The lawn was so big, Sihtric already felt tired when he thought about all the work it needed. But he didn't care about that then, you both just really wanted to buy a house and finally move out of that horrible apartment building you rented a small studio at. You both wanted to start a family and it had been on hold, all because you just couldn't get a place that would be big enough for two adults and a child. And this house was big enough for two adults and four children, which is exactly what your husband wanted, a big family eventually.

Sihtric walked up the porch and put the key in the lock, but the door wouldn't open. He frowned and worried that maybe the real estate agent had given him the wrong key. Which didn't make much sense, Sihtric thought, because the key did fit in the lock, it just wouldn't fully turn. After a few tries he decided to walk around the house and ended up in the backyard, where he saw a back porch, and went to try that door. At first he had the same issue, but after the third try the door suddenly flung open and Sihtric almost fell inside the house, in the kitchen. He chuckled and inspected the lock, but saw nothing weird. He figured maybe the front door had an extra lock, and he'd check it out later.

He walked through the large kitchen. Clearly the previous owners had moved out a while ago, as it was covered with quite the layer of dust, and thick cobwebs hung from the ceiling and lamps. To Sihtric's surprise, the kitchen had almost all the things one would need to live there. Cabinets full of plates and cups, as well as cutlery, all in good condition but a little dusty. He found a stack of towels, a bunch of pots and pans and even a drawer full of tablecloths.

'Odd,' Sihtric mumbled, and he was startled when the backdoor suddenly slammed shut.

Sihtric cursed loudly but then laughed at the scare.

'Close the door, Sihtric!' your mother would say, he thought with a smile, which faded quickly as his sudden memory continued, 'or it will slam shut and wake up your father, and you know what he's like…'

Sihtric cleared his throat and shook the random negative childhood memory. He shivered as he started to feel a little cold, and then continued his viewing. From the kitchen, he walked straight into the living room, which was also filled with furniture, dust, and cobwebs. The couch could be replaced and the tv cabinet was a bit old, but the chairs and carpet all looked decent. Sihtric smiled, everything seemed perfect so far. Except that it was quite chilly inside, while it was the middle of summer, and outside it was incredibly hot. In the summer the temperature inside was fine, but Sihtric worried about how cold it would be inside during the winter. But that again was a worry for later, just like the work that the backyard would need.

He walked out of the living room into the hallway, which looked almost royal with its high ceiling and large wooden stairs, which were also covered with dust and cobwebs. As Sihtric checked the locks as he passed the front door, and to his surprise he found out there was nothing wrong with the door as he opened it without trouble from the inside.

'Odd,' Sihtric said again, and closed the door, continuing his way to the second floor.

The wooden stairs creaked with each step Sihtric took, and he thought maybe he'd fall through, but that didn't happen. He noticed the second floor was even colder and he took a quick look in all the bedrooms, which were, not surprisingly, also covered with dust and cobwebs. Everything was once again complete with furniture. Each room had a bed, a closet, a drawer and some rooms even had a desk. The master bedroom came with a huge king size bed, but Sihtric shuddered at the thought of what kind of nasty things the previous owners had done on that mattress, so he would definitely replace that with the bed you owned now. Strangely enough, the master bedroom was also the coldest room in the house. Even though the sun was shining directly inside through the large windows, Sihtric could still see his own breath and he had goosebumps all over his body.

He took a quick look in the spacious bathroom, which came with an old but decent bathtub, and Sihtric decided he had seen enough already. He would check the attic once the house was sold to him, and he made an offer right away when he returned the key at the real estate office.

'You really want the place?' the agent asked, 'like… for real?'

'Yeah?' Sihtric frowned, 'sure, it needs some cleaning, but for that price? Bring it on.'

'Well,' the agent chuckled and mumbled, 'it's your life, not mine.'

And next thing he knew, Sihtric signed some papers and got to keep the key to the house. He surprised you with the news later that day, after dinner, and he drove you to see the house that same evening.

You both agreed it needed work, but it had been a bargain, and you were simply over the moon.

It took a few weeks to get the place all cleaned up, but once done, it looked amazing. You both had a couple of weeks off when you just moved in, but now, Sihtric had to go back to work again, while you worked from home. And you simply couldn't wait to use the brand new bedroom turned home office.

And it was only when you could finally work in silence that you realised the mark your previous apartment had left. You often thought you heard stomping footsteps and muffled voices, but it had to be your imagination, as you'd hear sounds like that the entire day and night in your old home. You simply ignored whatever you thought you heard, and continued your work.

Everything went pretty normal in the following weeks. You and Sihtric were at peace. You both slept well at night after years of being kept awake by noisy neighbours, and you figured the bad luck you two had was finally turning around, for now...

'Have you seen my phone, hon?' Sihtric asked as he was running late for work one morning, 'I swore I put it on the cabinet in the hallway, but it's not there.'

'Oh?' you frowned and searched the kitchen alongside your husband, 'hm, no, baby,' you sighed, 'I haven't seen it anywhere. Did you leave it upstairs?'

'I already looked there.'

'Couch?'

'Already looked,' Sihtric groaned as he emptied another drawer, without any phone appearing, 'fuck,' he hissed, 'well, no phone then. I really gotta run, love,' he said and pecked your lips, 'love you, see you tonight.'

And with those words he ran out of the kitchen and slammed the front door shut behind him. After a few minutes you felt bothered by the fact that he couldn't find his phone, so you continued the search. There was no bother trying to call his number, because his phone was always on silent. You decided to look upstairs, and as you walked through the hallway, you found his phone on the cabinet.

'Men,' you snorted, and you took a photo of your husband's phone which was in plain sight, on the cabinet in the hallway, just where he said he had left it.

You texted the photo to Finan, a friend and colleague of Sihtric, knowing he'd show the photo to him at work.

You: tell my husband he's getting old ;)

Finan: Sihtric asked if this is a prank

You: what? No, I swear. His phone was right there when I passed the cabinet…

Finan: he doesn't believe you

'Babe, I checked that cabinet like ten times,' Sihtric said during dinner that night.

'Siht, you don't actually think I hid your phone and let you leave the house without it?' you scoffed, 'you know how anxious I get when I can't reach you.'

Sihtric huffed, he knew you were right, but he just didn't understand how he hadn't seen his phone that morning.

'I don't know,' he said, 'I just can't explain it.'

'Well, I didn't touch it, okay?'

After a while of slight arguing, you both decided to drop the subject and cleaned up the kitchen together. And as you did the dishes, Sihtric snuck up behind you and circled his arms around your waist. He squeezed you in his arms and kissed your cheek.

'Want to take a bath together?' he asked, his smooth voice still making your legs go weak after all those years.

You nodded with a cheeky grin and your husband was quick to slap your ass, before he ran off into the hallway and up the stairs. Sihtric filled the bathtub with pleasantly hot water, and threw in a multicoloured bath bomb before he switched off the tap. As he walked past the stairs, to the bedroom to grab some towels, he yelled that the bath was ready.

You quickly switched off all the lights downstairs and sprinted up the stairs. You were eager to have some romantic time with your husband, as that's the only thing that has been lacking since you had moved. You met Sihtric as he walked back to the bathroom, and you playfully shoved him to the side to get into the bathtub first. But when you were ready to take off your clothes and stared into the bathtub, you frowned and turned to your husband.

'Is this a joke?' you clicked your tongue, 'because it's not funny. I heard the water running, so you just wasted a shit ton of water, and apparently a bath bomb too,' you said, confused.

'What?' Sihtric asked, equally confused, and he looked in the bathtub, which was completely empty, except for the colours the bath bomb had left.

'Sihtric, we already don't have that much money left each month, don't waste water like this…'

'What the fuck?' he muttered, 'n-no, I filled it. It was completely filled up. Here!' he said and dropped the towels on the floor, 'see, you can still see the faint line of where the water was because of the bath bomb!' he pointed near the edge of the bathtub, and you couldn't disagree with him.

'Did the plug come out then?' you wondered out loud.

'I guess,' Sihtric scoffed, 'but… there's no way the water could have been drained this fast. I only left the bathroom for like twenty seconds.'

'Are you sure you plugged it?'

'Yes!' Sihtric hissed, 'I'm not an idiot!'

'Well, your phone-'

'It wasn't there when I checked!' he snarled, then sighed and raked his fingers through his curls, 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I'm sorry, honey. It's just been a weird day, I don't mean to take it out on you. I'm sorry.'

'Yeah,' you mumbled, 'let's just… let's just go to bed, Siht,' you turned and walked out of the bathroom, 'I'm not in the mood anymore.'

The next morning Sihtric's phone was missing again, and he searched the entire house. Once he finally found it, in the fridge with a dead battery, he cursed loudly and went on to make breakfast. He switched on the stove and sat down at the table, annoyed. As you were still asleep, he wanted to leave a note that his phone was broken, and he went into the living room to grab a pen and some paper. When Sihtric returned, he noticed the stove was off.

'This better not be broken,' he muttered and switched it on again.

He sat down to write you a note, but the pen didn't work, so he left the kitchen again to get a new one. And when he returned, the stove was once again switched off.

'What is this bullshit?' Sihtric mumbled.

He switched the stove on again and kept his eyes on it. For five minutes he stood there, arms crossed and jaw clenched, watching a perfectly fine working stove. Then he returned to writing his note, went back into the living room to put the pen back in the drawer, and when he came back the stove was again switched off. Sihtric cursed and left the kitchen, thinking he was going insane. He went upstairs and kissed you goodbye, then left for work, without breakfast, as he'd grab something on the way. If he could leave at least, because when he grabbed his car keys, he saw the key was bent.

'What is going on with you?' you asked when you found Sihtric still at home after you had woken up.

'My phone was gone again and when I found it, it was dead, I can't make any fucking breakfast because the stove keeps switching off whenever I leave the kitchen, and my fucking car key is bent out of shape!' he spat, 'I emailed Finan to let him know I'm not coming into work today.'

'Oh, okay,' you said, 'so, you're just home because you had a bad morning?'

Sihtric didn't answer and just stared out the window from the couch.

'Honey,' you said, 'we really need the money-'

'I know!' Sihtric yelled, 'I know we need the money! But something's… something's not right!'

'What do you mean?' you asked, 'w-with us?'

'No, not us. This house! Something is wrong with this house!' he yelled.

'It's an old house,' you scoffed, 'are you surprised-'

'No, not like that, sweetheart,' he exhaled sharply, 'I just… fuck,' he jumped up, 'I'm going for a walk.'

While Sihtric was out, clearing his head, you had gone upstairs to work in your little home office. Again you were taunted by the noises stuck in your head from your previous apartment. The sounds had only seemed to intensify the past few weeks. The odd thing was that whenever you truly focused on the noise, it disappeared. But when you were working, the noise was constantly there, driving you insane because it sounded so real and you couldn't explain it.

When Sihtric came back after a few hours, you argued again. You had gotten angry about Sihtric's phone being broken, and told him he had to pay more attention to his belongings, as you simply didn't have the money to replace everything right away. Sihtric got mad because he never broke things on purpose, and he did not mess with things he needed every day, like his phone or his car keys. After the heated argument, you prepared dinner in silence. And you were both calm again when you sat at the table together.

'Sihtric?' you asked during dinner, 'have you heard any noises here?'

'What kind of noises?' he asked and stuffed his mouth with potatoes.

'Like… running,' you said cautiously, 'or voices?'

Sihtric furrowed his brow, 'What do you mean?'

'It's like… when I'm working, I keep hearing those kinds of noises,' you explained, 'it's almost like we're still living in the apartment building. That kind of noise.'

'But that kind of noise is impossible, love,' Sihtric sat back, 'we don't have any direct neighbours.'

'I know, that's why I'm asking. It just… it feels like I'm going insane or something,' you chuckled, 'because I can't explain it. I guess it's like what happened to you with the stove.'

'How do you mean?'

'When I focus on the noise, or try to figure out where it's coming from, I don't hear it anymore. The same way you told me you kept looking at the stove, and it didn't switch off. But as soon as you stop paying attention, the problem returns again.'

'Huh,' Sihtric scoffed, a little concerned, 'but how is that possible?'

'I don't know.'

'And where does it sound like the noises come from?'

'From the attic,' you said, 'but I don't want to go up there, because the light doesn't work.'

'I know, I still need to fix that,' Sihtric sighed, 'I'll have a look tomorrow, okay? The running noises could just be old pipes that rattle. Like you said earlier, it's an old house.'

'Yeah,' you agreed, 'I guess you're right,' you smiled, and Sihtric kissed your forehead as he thanked you for the dinner.

'Do you think buying this house was a mistake?' he asked after a while.

'What? No. Why? Do you?'

'No,' he said, 'well, I mean… I… we've been arguing a lot since we moved here, haven't we? We never used to be like that.'

'I guess,' you agreed, 'but we're under a lot of stress too, Sihtric. We put all our money in this house. But still, I'm glad we live here. The house is amazing, but I think we're just getting caught up over little things we can't explain. We've never lived in a place this big before. It's not uncommon to misplace things, have a faulty stove, a bath that unplugs and to hear some sounds I suppose. We still have to get used to it.'

'Maybe,' Sihtric said, 'but what about my key being bent?'

'I don't know,' you shrugged, 'maybe you sat on it with that big butt of yours?'

'Hey,' Sihtric scowled, but then chuckled, 'I don't know,' he became serious again, 'I definitely didn't sit on it, and I also did not put my phone in the fridge.'

When you went to bed that night, it was once again incredibly cold in the bedroom. You had switched on the heating but that didn't change anything. The room was freezing cold, but if you'd touch the radiator, you'd burn your hands. You got under the sheets and not much later Sihtric joined you. He also complained about how cold it was, but you were both too tired to argue about it, and you fell asleep.

Hours later, you woke up out of nowhere. You glanced at the clock and saw it was a little over three in the morning. You yawned and pulled the sheets up again, as your shoulders were exposed to the cold room. And then moments later, the sheets suddenly got pulled off you with force.

'Sihtric, what the fuck?!' you shouted, angry, cold and tired, 'what the fuck are you doing?!'

'What?' Sihtric asked, startled, as he woke up by your yelling, 'what did I do?' he rubbed his eyes and yawned, then shivered as he realised there was no blanket covering him anymore, 'where's the-'

'Did you not pull it off me?' you interrupted in the dark.

'What?'

'Did you pull the blankets off me?'

'I- what? No!' Sihtric hissed, and switched on a light, 'what are you talking about? Why would I-' he stopped talking as he looked at the floor.

You followed your husband's gaze and froze when you saw the bed sheet was on the floor, near the closet, at the opposite side of the bedroom.

'I can't fucking believe this,' Sihtric huffed the next morning when you met in the kitchen, after a horrendous night.

'What?' you yawned.

'This!' he said and held up the charger of his new phone, which was split in two.

'What the… how?' you frowned.

'I have no idea,' Sihtric threw the cable on the table, 'I'm fucking done. What the fuck is going on here?'

'I don't know, ghosts?' you tried to make light of the situation.

Sihtric glared at you.

'Don't joke about those things!'

'Sorry, mister superstitious,' you mumbled, 'hey, will you check that attic by the way?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric sighed and grabbed a flashlight, 'I'll do it before I go to work.'

'Thank you,' you kissed his cheek, and he went on his way.

You sipped your tea in the kitchen, trying to stay awake after you had been up since three in the morning. You had been too afraid to sleep again, and had clutched onto the bed sheet until morning came. Sihtric was brave enough to grab the blanket off the floor after the weird event, and he managed to fall asleep afterwards again, but you didn't. And now you were paying the price.

Sihtric climbed up the steep attic stairs and clicked on the flashlight. He looked around the dusty place and took a closer look at the pipes, seeing if they were in need of replacement. But everything seemed fine, and he had no idea what else could cause the noise you heard while you were working. When he turned to climb down the stairs again, he suddenly saw a box in the otherwise empty attic, and he grabbed it.

As you sipped your tea you suddenly heard your husband storm down the stairs.

'Is this fucking funny to you!?' he shouted as he neared the kitchen, and you perked up.

'What?'

'This!' Sihtric snarled, and threw his attic find in front of you on the table, 'did you plan this? You know I don't trust these things!'

You stared with big eyes at the old and nearly falling apart Ouija board box, which you had never seen before. And when you looked up at Sihtric, completely deprived of colour, he immediately knew that you were as spooked as he was.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @liandav

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #modern!sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

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lizpaige · 1 month

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sunday snippet 📦

i got nothing like cute/juicy this time around. i'm just trying to write more and sometimes that means it all ends up getting cut, but here's a snippet from the declan outsider pov pynch chapter 2!

The Lynch brothers were helping Ronan move into his first apartment in DC. When Adam transferred for the third time to Georgetown and his financial aid and scholarships no longer covered room and board, they agreed to find a place together. Declan offered to help set up some of the apartment tours, but in the end, Adam found this affordable one bedroom on his own.

It was a secure access building with a doorman and 24 hour security. It was a 10 minute metro ride and 20 minute full commute to Georgetown, a little longer of a commute to his new auto body shop part time job, but not unreasonable. He somehow managed to convince Ronan to compromise and split the rent 50/50 despite Ronan’s barely-touched trust fund. He had two years left of college, two years where even though DC was closer to Singer’s Falls, neither of them could stand the time apart anymore.

“Why do you have so much stuff?” Matthew whined, hefting a cardboard box onto the desk in the living room.

“We’re giving you all the lightest boxes,” Declan winced at the loud bang as Ronan let go of his side of the couch. “We’re the ones doing all the work here.”

“And you had way more shit when I helped you move to DC,” Ronan groaned as he stretched his back before knocking off Matthew’s hat and ruffling his curls. “I didn’t complain.”

Matthew swatted him away. “Yes you did!”

“Did not!”

Declan raised his gaze to the ceiling as his brothers fell into an exhausted half-hearted wrestling match on the couch. He decided to take the time to look around the place.

Declan trusted Adam’s judgment more than Ronan’s on the affordability, security, and overall fit of the apartment. So when Ronan begrudgingly told them a move-in date, Declan offered to help them move in. Somewhat because Adam seemed hesitant about the extra cost of hiring movers and also because Declan wanted to scope out the place.

The apartment itself was a modest one bedroom, with a large windowless closet marketed as a “den” by the apartment complex “perfect for a home office,” but Declan thought that was a joke. The bathroom was clean, spacious. There was even a washer and dryer in-unit and a dishwasher in the kitchen. The complex itself was pet friendly, although Chainsaw was not with them currently. No doubt she was shredding up Declan’s couch in their Boston apartment with Jordan.

In the bedroom, in the corner by the window, were three modest boxes and a potted plant on the window sill. These were not boxes that they moved in, so these must belong to Adam.

It was then that Declan really realized most, if not all, of the stuff they moved was Ronan’s. Adam, despite being on his own for years now, never accumulated a lot of stuff. Even when he would visit the Barns or Boston for a week-long holiday, he would only ever have a small duffle bag over one shoulder with just enough room for a change of clothes and whatever textbooks he needed to complete his homework.

Even the furniture they brought upstairs - the old desk was from Ronan's room, that they basically let collect dust as soon as they were old enough to have their own desks at school. The couch was another Barns hand-me-down, as well as some of the kitchen items.

It all belonged to Ronan, legally, so Declan didn’t speak to it. Just another observation he kept to himself for fear of starting another argument. Even though they didn’t argue as much anymore, they still happened to fight. That was always going to be inevitable with the eldest Lynch brothers. Declan just knew how to avoid the landmines with a higher survival rate now.

#declan lynch #ronan lynch #adam parrish #post greywaren #pynch #pynch fic #sunday snippet #the raven cycle #trc #trc fic #the dreamer trilogy #tdt

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maries-gallery · 10 months

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Beach day with Chevalier

genre: fluff, nsfw, mdni

warnings: soft sex, female bodied reader

wc: 1200 words

Summer had dawned on Rhodolite in the flap of a bird’s wing, the streets of the kingdom now drenched in generous sunlight and animated by Zephyr’s gentle breeze. It was the least the gods could send to preserve the people from the ripe Sun in the sky.

Usually Chevalier remained in the palace during the hot season, locked in his office amongst royal documents and affairs, when he did not retreat to the quiet of his private library.

Rarely did he step outside of the castle to bathe in the Sun, and rarely did he take any time off to enjoy the pleasures of a weekend by the beach.

Not that he ever enjoyed the seaside anyways.

But this year was different, for this year Chevalier was not alone anymore. And he knew you’d probably be happy at the thought of a weekend away from the palace with him.

He could already picture that genuine sunshine smile on your features, the one that lit up his world and made him think that maybe this world had other things to offer than duties and a crown.

His heart fluttered in his chest at the thought of you, so cheerful and excited, beaming with joy at the prospect of a weekend by the beach. And it is this thought precisely that drove him to make reservations for a cottage on the beach, facing the translucent waters of the Benitoitian sea.

And although he hates the beach, hates the sand that gets everywhere, hates the scorching sun that licks his skin and hates the salt in the waves, Chevalier knows he made the right choice when you throw your arms around him in a flurry of thank yous when he tells you to keep your next weekend free.

The white cottage is not anything extravagant or impressive, Chevalier knows you prefer it cozy and would choose this kind of inhabitation over a luxurious mansion any time. A modest exterior of white painted wood, a small porch that leads straight to the sandy beach with a plush rocking chair, a bedroom for the two of you, a tiny kitchen with everything you might need, a bathroom and a living room. All with wooden floor and light flower painted blue tapestry covered walls.

The interior is to your tastes too, Chevalier made sure of it. Crochet curtains cover every window to welcome the light summer light inside ; not that you’d need much coverage from the outside world considering this beach to be pretty much isolated. Dark wooden furniture sits in every room, trinkets and seashells stand on shelves, white linen sheets and a comfortable couch.

But he knows you won’t be spending much time in the cottage anyways, as your first wish is to take a walk on the beach and go for a swim.

Of course he follows, not especially keen on getting wet or taking sand back home, but as long as you smile he can endure whatever. And reading on the beach to the gentle sound of the crashing waves isn’t too bad either.

So he lies on the towel you spread out for the two of you, enjoying some much needed peace as his eyes alternate between running over the lines of his new read and stealing glances your way. And for the first time, Chevalier finds himself liking the beach, if only for the sight of you picking up seashells, twirling in the water and swimming like a fish in a pond, or just for you lying beside him on the sand, taking a nap under the watchful eyes of the kind Sun and his own.

But the day has only started and as the two of you wander in the streets of the seaside village your eyes land on a small market that lines the shore.

“Come.” Chevalier urges you, hand in the small of your back as he leads you to the first stand.

“But you don’t like-” You start, throwing him an hesitant glance.

“I do not, but you do.” And with that the debate is close.

You take your time strolling through the many stands, taking a look at everything they have in store, Chevalier a silent guard that follows after you, the softest of smiles on his lips as he watches over you, attentive to the things you take an interest in.

And there is one particular item that catches your fancy, he notices. A cute flower hair claw of a pale yellow colour that he knows would look splendid in your hair and flatter your complexion. So he does not understand why you put it back and proceeded to walk away.

Foolish simpleton.

Of course he buys it for you.

The joy bubbling in your eyes and the wide smile that lights up your face as he pulls it out from his pocket to put it in your hair enough to satisfy him and for warmth to fill his chest. As planned, it looks ravishing on you.

You also find a white light summer dress to go with it, that compliments your figure and twirls when you dance. One that Chevalier swears to take off once you come back home this evening after a trip to a local restaurant.

And although the meal made your taste buds sing, nothing compares to Chevalier’s rough hands grazing the sensitive skin of your back as he unzips your dress and unties your swimsuit. Nothing compares to the thrill and impatience that knots in your stomach as his hands wander down your sides to your hips to remove your last piece of clothing.

Your own fingers trace the defined muscles on his chest, your touch like fire on his cold skin, one that only fuels the kernel of desire inside of him and that wakes every fiber of his being. Gently, he pushes you down on the bed, crawling over you. Lips immediately seeking yours before wandering down to claim your throat and nape with his teeth and tongue.

Never satisfied until your supple skin blooms with the hints of his burning love for you.

You know the night is going to be long when your eyes meet his, two pools of molten blue darkened by lust for your flesh, your soul and your heart. Of course you are happy to give it all away for him. And only him.

His hands caress and grip, searching every part of you as if trying to make sure no piece of you falls apart under him and the strength of his desire. Until his fingers finally reach the one treasure he never fails to crave, the only treasure he vows to keep to himself.

His eyes on your features, engraving every reaction of yours in mind, from the way you gasp for air and your gaze shoots up to meet his as he slides two digits inside of you, to the way your world crumbles as you come on his fingers and arche up against him.

Then, when you catch your breath, his hands find yours, pinning them over your head and on the plush pillow beneath your head, your thighs part for him as a soft needy sound comes from your throat. And in a room drenched in moonlight, his hips meet yours again and again in a concerto of moans and cries.

Your legs wrap around his waist, seeking him closer and closer still, wishing he could crawl under your skin and find your heart beating for him, join it with his.

“Ah-! Chevalier-!” Your hold on him tightens as he picks up the pace, focused on hitting your sweetest spot until you cannot bear it anymore and your voice goes dry.

“Say it-” He sheathes himself inside of you again in one powerful thrust, “ -Again.”

You do, calling his name into the night over and over again, chanting your lover’s praises as his thumb flicks over your precious pearl and the stars in the sky come to greet you. Until he, himself, cannot hold himself up above you anymore and comes crashing beside you, letting you snuggle up to his side. The two of you finally closing your eyes as the Sun rises in the horizon, showering the both of you in pink light.

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap

send me a text if you’d like to be added <3

star banner by the talented @/saradika

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werewolfnightwalker · 6 months

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Home

It wasn't much, at first.

In fact it was nothing at all, just an empty one bedroom apartment and a mattress on the floor. But for Hawks, who never had anything that truly belonged to him, and for Touya, for whom this was a fresh start, it was everything.

Touya worked his ass off at his new job at Hawks' new agency; it was smaller than the first had been, the dozens and dozens of sidekicks reduced to a select few teams, who found themselves actually able to help their boss instead of just cleaning up his mess. Touya only had a desk job, days filled with filing reports back and forth, but when his desk was literally in Hawks' office and gave him free access to the hero's snack stash, he had no complaints.

Eventually, when they were able to pocket their first paychecks, they bought a table and chair set. It was secondhand, but it fit perfectly into the corner they designated the dining room. They even had enough left over to order takeout, which they got to eat at their new table.

At the next check, it was a bed frame. Some slats were missing, one leg wobbled, but Touya solved that with a quick venture to a cheap crafts store. They managed to find a couch, a recliner, and even an end table just by taking night drives through neighborhoods and whisking the furniture off the curb where it had been left out for trash. A handful of nails and duct tape, and a 24 hr rental of a steam cleaner did wonders for the old junk.

Mirko gave them their first TV.

"We don't want charity." Dabi scowled.

"It's not. I lost the remote and was gonna toss it anyways." She rebuked. They took it, and Hawks found the remote for five bucks online. Friday night was spent curled up under a shared blanket, watching a show on a streaming service they paid for themselves.

Bit by bit by tiny bit, their apartment came together. Soon they had a bookshelf, that they filled with books and knickknacks from garage sales and secondhand shops. They bought posters and paintings and flags and neat things to decorate their walls, until the apartment was colorful and alive. They found a desk and chair set at a flea market, and suddenly Touya had a place to do artsy things and try out hobbies he'd never had before.

Hawks won a laptop in a giveaway at another hero's agency, and found that he really liked online puzzle games in his downtime. Their Friday nights in front of the TV started to include playing games and knitting together. Eventually, they had enough to replace their cheap and plastic cookware with actually decent stuff. Touya, admittedly, cried a little when he bought his very own rice cooker.

It took months, maybe even years. But one day Hawks- Keigo, he wasn't at the agency right now, he was allowed to be Keigo- stopped and took a look around at his little apartment, at the coat rack he put together last weekend and the new curtains Touya had picked out, at Touya sitting on the couch with a book and the cat they took in from the streets, and realized he was home.

#conans writing #dabihawks #dabihawks fluff #long post #dabi #mha dabi #bnha dabi #touya todoroki #bnha hawks #mha hawks #keigo takami

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amr-jayprakash · 8 months

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Home office furniture is used for seating, installing computer systems, and storing files and documents. It is commonly used by the employees, students, professionals, and entrepreneurs for the purpose of reading, writing, operating desktops/laptops, attending online meetings and lectures, and storing files. Furthermore, the home office furniture has witnessed rapid growth in recent years, in line with the growth in the global economy and subsequent demand for work from home. Demand for versatile and multi-functional products further offers portability and can easily be accommodated in small spaces, which drives the growth of the home office furniture market. Rise in number of nuclear families fuels the demand for portable and space-saving products. This factor is anticipated to drive the demand for the market growth in the forthcoming years.

#Home Office Furniture Market Size #Home Office Furniture Market Share #Home Office Furniture Market Demand #Home Office Furniture Market News #Home Office Furniture Market Forecast #Home Office Furniture Market Analysis #Home Office Furniture Market Growth

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joels6string · 1 year

Text

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x f!OC

Chapter 5 - Search and Rescue

Summary: A chance encounter on patrol leads to intel too troublesome to leave uninvestigated.

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.5k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix-it fic

Chapter 4 || Series Masterlist

The green that normally surrounded you had exploded into flames, the orange, yellows, and reds bursting from the trees and raining to the ground was a sight you’d never tire of. As the leaves had begun to change, the knot always present in your chest loosened. Joel and Tommy had repaired your roof, and cooking lessons with Indy were still ongoing but had proved somewhat useful as the jeans you’d been given upon arrival were passed back to the swap shop in favor of the next size up.

“Are you coming over tonight?” your favorite chef called from ahead of you, the next outpost on your assigned route coming into view, “Ellie was asking, guess she prefers my cooking.”

The smug look on your partner-turned-friend’s face said it all, Ellie’s budding relationship with her half Indy’s skill at cooking and half the fact that she let her sip at a whiskey that still went down rough during dinner.

“Only if you’re making that soup again,” you replied, your eyes following a leaf as it twirled through the sky.

“You want me to make that soup because Joel likes it,” her tone was teasing and all-knowing, “And I know you send your leftovers with Ellie to give to him.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“He brings me the containers back.”

It was true, Joel did like it, and no matter how hard you tried to remember just how she did it, the steps never stuck. You didn’t expect him to be the one giving you away. Although, Ellie was in on the ruse of telling him bringing him home a bowl was always entirely her idea.

Things had been tepid but pleasant after the summer incident. You’d spent two weeks letting the cut on your hand heal and Maria had taken too much time in forcing you out of your house and into society. You had a shelf of books now, your focus having improved enough over the last four weeks you could sit in the new armchair Tommy had found with you in mind for at least an hour at a time. Ellie supplied you with more than enough movies, opting to spend Fridays at your house now filling you in on her weekly favorites. Maria always made sure you had the day off.

You sat for drinks at the Tipsy Bison every Thursday, keeping quiet but sitting with the group as they conversed candidly. Indy had come to realize Joel was only someone to fear if you’d earned it, teasing him constantly about seeing another glimmer of that fire from the field again while Tommy teased her bravery for poking the bear. It all felt right and wrong at the same time, the walk back to your house Joel always insisted on accompanying you for the most natural twenty minutes of the evening.

“We’ll go to the market when we get back,” Indy said as she pulled the heavy steel door shut behind you, “You’re buying.”

“Deal,” you agreed, “I’ll even write the recipe down this time.”

In an abrupt motion that had your heart skipping, she bolted quickly to the open window, her rifle pointing up at the sky as you followed after her, ready to fire at whatever threat she’d spotted but finding nothing out of place or amiss.

“Oh,” she sighed in relief, lowering her weapon as your eyes darted around, “Sorry. Thought pigs were flying.”

“Fuck you,” you groaned, laughing as you shoved at her shoulder, finding the logbook on the table and pausing at the neat ‘Clear -J’ on the most recently filled-in line, “We all clear?”

“Just check the back.”

The floorboards creaked beneath your boots as you wove through the remnants of office furniture, your hand gliding over rotting wood just lightly enough to keep it from splintering into your skin. The fall air was crisp as you breathed it in, the cold of wintering hinting in the sweet aroma. It would frost soon, the mountains welcoming winter sooner than you would have liked for its extended stay well into the months you’d recognize as spring.

“Is anyone there?!” you heard a voice calling, the hair on the back of your neck prickling as you pulled your pistol from the tattered holster on your thigh, “Please!”

“Shit…” you hissed under your breath, your back colliding with the wall beside the door, your head peering around just enough to see a man in the clearing ahead.

“Please! I…I need help! Just…I saw horses!”

“Mother fucker,” Indy sneered as she took cover at the other edge of the frame, “I’m not falling for this. Tell me you’re not falling for this?”

Almost every single one of your razor-sharp instincts told you to hop on the back of your horse and bolt, save a single tickle at the back of your head. There was a tug on a thread that had been loose for months now, the reminder that at one point in the not-so-distant past you’d been a straggler collected by a man willing to take a chance.

“Jesus Christ,” Indy scolded at your silence, “Let’s go.”

“Who’s with you?!” you yelled through the missing glass, Indy groaning as she clicked the safety off on her weapon.

“Just my son!” the man replied, hope seeping into his voice, “Please! I’m unarmed!”

“Well that’s fucking stupid,” Indy muttered, earning her a dirty look, “He’s lying. Millie, he’s lying. Eugene barely made it home alive two weeks ago—“

“Show me the kid!” you demanded, ignoring Indy entirely, your fate now dependent on this momentary lapse in judgment.

When a boy no older than eight emerged from behind a tree that should have been too narrow to hide him, your spine straightened. You could hear Indy muttering under her breath as the frail child slid behind his father, peering out from around his hip with wide, terrified eyes. With your gun raised, you kicked the door open, Indy following closely behind and demanding for hands to be in sight at all times, the man obliging as he watched with fear and hope swirling in his gaze.

“Talk,” you instructed, the muzzle of your gun inches from his forehead as he dropped to his knees in surrender.

“We’re…looking for a place called Jackson,” his voice was shaking, eyes averted, “It’s a myth…but we couldn’t stay…had to chance it.”

“Are you bit?”

“No!”

“Spores?”

“Traveled in open air, I swear.”

“Anyone follow you?”

“We snuck past a camp three days ago, but they never saw us.”

“A camp?” Indy cut in, “Where?”

“By the river.”

Another problem added to the growing list. Maria and Tommy would want as much information about the visitors encroaching on the protected territory, risking Jackson’s people and resources wasn't something either of them took lightly. The possibility this man was a scout passed through your mind, flashing like a warning beacon as you felt Indy’s eyes staring. She’d left this decision up to you and was impatiently awaiting your verdict.

“Is this your dad?” you asked the boy, putting your gun back in its holster and hoping for the best as you kneeled to get on his level, “Tell me the truth.”

“How did you get that scar?” he asked after a nod, timid as a mouse, his big brown eyes so terrified it made your stomach clench.

“Bad people.”

“Like the people at the river?”

“You tell me.”

“They took mommy.”

Caught in a lie, the man began to stammer in defense as Indy doubled down, her gun still raised as she took a menacing step toward him. He detailed their journey, the narrow escape from the hunters camping on the water banks, and the loss of his wife who had been taken as the child's eyes remained transfixed on the long scar slashed across your nose and cheeks. He promised none had followed, swore on his life, begged for at least the boy, James, to be taken to safety or spared, your own intentions becoming murkier to the survivor who had begun to weep.

“Let’s go,” you snapped, “Give me your pack, the kid can ride with me.”

“So I get to ride with the weirdo?!” Indy chastised as you began to search through the man’s bag, finding food that had been stretched too thin and clothes worn down enough to be sheer.

“Where are you taking us?” you were asked as Indy helped the small boy up to sit in front of you in the saddle, her grip on the father's coat collar rough as she tugged him towards her own waiting mare.

“It’s your lucky day, Simon,” she taunted, “We’re headed to the mythical land of Jackson.”

The first face you saw as the wooden gates of Jackson closed behind you was unexpected, Joel bursting out of the stables and running with Tommy hot on his heels.

“Who the hell is this?” he growled, placing himself between you and Simon as if you hadn’t just ridden miles beside him on a horse.

“Simon,” you answered, the way the new gray and black flannel Joel was wearing hugged his shoulders slowing your speech, “and James. They come bearing bad news.”

After scans to the backs of their necks, the Tipsy Bison welcomed them just as it had you almost three months ago. They devoured the food put in front of them unlike you had, Tommy and Joel immediately planning the scout of this supposed encampment for the following morning at dawn.

“They’re armed,” Simon warned, his face falling at the decision to take on the hunters head-on.

“So are we,” Joel replied, his tone hard and menacing, “You two comin’?”

“Of course!” Indy answered with an air of sarcasm, “Who could refuse?”

With the help of Simon, an ambush was planned, Tommy thanking you for having the judgment to trust the stranger enough to bring him back. It had gone against every one of your most basic instincts, trusting a man in the wild like that, and your eyes drifted over to Joel as you contemplated exactly why that was. You hadn’t trusted him either, and he hadn’t trusted you, but here you sat beside him in a bar enclosed in the safest stronghold the United States had to offer.

“Is your wife alive?” Joel asked Simon as Tommy began to lead him and his son to the inn for the night.

“Last I knew,” he answered sadly, the reality of why that was settling onto Joel’s face in a furious scowl.

“Can you handle a gun?”

“Joel…” you scolded, this man clearly in no state to be storming into the trenches, “He’s not up for it. If there are women there, we’re getting them all out regardless.”

Your tone left no room for argument, and Joel’s surrender was swift as you turned to follow Indy to finally begin your evening plans, “Yes ma’am.”

“She’s terrifying,” Simon muttered when you were just out of earshot, a smirk ticking up one corner of Joel’s lips.

“She is, ain’t she?” he chuckled, smiling fondly as you disappeared further and further into the gray autumn dusk.

An impatient Ellie was seated on the stoop of Indy’s single-story home, her face lighting up when you rounded the corner before bounding down the street to meet you. Her “you’re fucking late” had you smiling, your arm slinging around her shoulders as you explained yourself honestly, promising to make it up to her Friday when she came by.

“I already picked the movie,” she bragged as you dropped the bag of groceries onto Indy’s counter, “Something with planes.”

“Talk to me, Goose!” you recited, a toothy grin breaking onto Ellie’s face.

“Goodness gracious great balls of fire!” Indy chimed in with a bushel of carrots as a microphone, Ellie promptly inviting her to join the Friday festivities and beaming once again when it was accepted.

The lessons in the kitchen were just as much for you as they were for Ellie, her dinner postponed dinner party having ended before it began when Joel walked into his kitchen so filled with smoke it had left his eyes red for two days after. You’d teased him about it passing him at the stables after patrols, for a man that had tossed smoke bombs he scrounged up from expired explosives and sugar, he certainly had gone soft.

“This is what you’re missing,” Indy informed as she tossed a bushel of green herbs in front of you, “Thyme.”

“Guess it’s time to start learning how to grow herbs in my backyard,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face through the terrible joke that had Ellie practically on the floor and Indy giving you a dead stare that reminded you of someone else.

Gardening was something that had piqued your interest, it always had. You’d tried to maintain a small Pothos in your dorm room, the lack of light killing even the most hearty of plants, and then the world had gone to shit. Ellie had griped about her hatred of farming rotation, but every time you passed Maria in the streets or saw her at the Bison, you were tempted to request a week here or there in the greenhouses. Winter was approaching, but a book on the subject sat waiting by the armchair in the living room, Joel having accompanied you to the swap shop with the last of your venison from his freezer to exchange for the pile of to-be-reads.

“Don’t chop food with that!” Indy screeched as the familiar click of Ellie’s switchblade broke through the comfortable silence, “You kill things with it!”

“I washed it!” Ellie defended, grumbling to herself as she pocketed it, picking up the provided knife laying beside her on the counter.

All you could do was laugh at the exchange, your fingers staining green as you plucked at the thyme you’d been thrown. The prep went quickly with three hands, the pot bubbling on the stove as the deck of cards was quickly brought out, a lively round of blackjack ongoing between Ellie and Indy as you dealt.

Clean-ups and laundry services were wagered, with Ellie bringing home the big win of Indy’s hand in clothes washing for the next week, a full basket waiting to be scrubbed back at her little converted garage. After dinner was shared, Ellie was sent home with two containers, one for her and one for Joel, with Indy sliding you a third with a knowing smirk.

“Before you go,” she blurted out as you followed Ellie out the front door, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t listen to me today.”

Quickly you spun, running out onto the porch and almost knocking Ellie straight onto the ground, “Oh,” you sighed in relief, “Thought pigs were flying for a second.”

“After I fed you dinner.”

“See you bright and early.”

“Can’t wait! Nothing like the smell of gunpowder in the morning.”

When Ellie asked where you were going as you walked her home, you skirted around the subject. There was no need to worry her, she’d already been particularly on edge since the incident six weeks ago. You knew she could tell you were lying, and as much as it ate away at you, it was for the best. Her life had become exponentially easier and less burdened once the walls of Jackson had welcomed you, but you knew the years of freedom from worry would be short for her already being 15, she could savor the time she had to be carefree.

As you rounded the corner from the greenhouses to the back gate closest to her little house, soft notes of music greeted you, the sight of Joel on the porch gently plucking the strings of an acoustic guitar lit by the dull orange glow of his backlight held your gaze as Ellie bid you goodbye. She laughed while your brain caught up to her words, a quick, nervous goodbye mumbled as you quickly glanced at her teasing expression before returning to what would be seared into your memory. Your feet carried you subconsciously toward him, his eyes finding yours in the dark.

“Hey,” he greeted, gruff but soft, tuning the instrument in his hands with subtle turns of the pegs, “Thanks for walkin’ her home.”

“Sure,” you choked out, your mouth dry, “I didn’t know you could play guitar.”

“Yeah. Been playin’ since I was a kid. Haven’t touched one in some twenty years now though.”

“Sounded fine to me.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

With nothing but a gesture, he welcomed you to take the empty chair on the porch, a round table with a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler set between the two seats. He picked up where he’d left off, unbothered by your intrusion, his shoulders relaxed and his features serene as his fingers ran off of muscle memory untainted by decades of disuse.

“Help yourself,” he offered, his chin ticking towards the amber liquid to his left, and you filled the empty glass halfway at his invitation.

The whiskey was warm as it settled in your stomach, the cool night air nipping at your nose and cheeks as you settled back in the chair, your eyes fluttering closed as the notes of his song traveled with the breeze. This was contentment you hadn’t felt in a very long time, not one you could vibrantly remember anyway. Your thoughts calmed for a moment, each twang of the guitar recentering you in this serenity, your fingers tapping absentmindedly on the glass now sitting ignored in your lap.

“I ain’t carrying you home,” he teased, one of your eyes opening into a slit to peek at him.

“Can I have a blanket at least?” you jested in return, enjoying the toothy grin stretching up on his face.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Another gulp of liquor preceded your meditative state returning, his song continuing longer after finding the perfect harmony. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when silence roused you from tranquility, his fingers pulling the glass from your lazy grip.

“No, keep going,” you mumbled, it was almost a whine, but a breathy laugh followed the request.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It seemed darker, a little cooler, Ellie’s lights were still on but some of the surrounding windows that had been illuminated before were now black. Joel seemed indifferent to the late hour, decades of long, days-long stretches without sleep still wearing on him, the dark circles beneath his eyes improved but not indiscernible. His hair had grown longer, the length now closer to what you recognized from your time on the road, the curls behind his ears beginning to reappear.

“You should get home,” he announced, pouring a glass of whiskey and downing it in one shot, “We got an early mornin’.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, already missing the state the night had put you in and hoping it lasted long enough to get you to sleep, “Okay.”

“Want me to walk you?’

“No. I’m okay. Thank you though.”

A restless night followed, the faint hint of a song replaying in the back of your mind enough to at least stop you from screeching into the gray morning light as it filtered into your windows, the cold sweat coating your skin enough to remind you of the horrors that had filled your nightly rest. You dressed quickly, eating breakfast slowly as you watched the clock tick closer to 7 AM. The sun greeted you a little later each morning as autumn approached, the air still with its overnight frost stinging your lungs as you took off towards the stables. Joel’s house was on your way, the hope of crossing paths with him inflating in your chest like a balloon all to be popped as he was nowhere to be found despite your slowed steps.

The stables were bustling with the team of six heading out, the Miller brothers, Indy, Paulie, and Eugene all prepping their horses during your apparently late arrival. Indy teased you while you scrambled to fill your quiver and grab a few magazines of ammo for your handgun, your breathless thank you to her as she passed the reins to your saddled horse to you putting you in her debt. “Ellie’s laundry is now yours.”

“That is not a fair trade-off! For putting a saddle on!? Are you out of your mind?” you argued to your laughter, “I’ll help you. Best you’ll get.”

Despite the stakes and danger that lay ahead, the ride was surprisingly lighthearted. When the river came into view, however, business took over. Tommy and Joel had established that the hunters had likely moved closer, opting to camp for a few days between shifts. Jackson might have been a myth to some men, like Simon, but to others, its lands were a hunting ground for unexpecting survivors eager to regain some normalcy. Hunters, slavers, and cannibals alike stalked the woods preying on the innocent. Fear that this group was a faction of slavers was high, few groups took women and kept them alive.

“Okay, listen up,” Tommy announced, a plume of smoke visible from the shoreline of the river less than half a mile away, “Indy, Arrow, find the women. That is your job. Take out who you can, but the four of us will clear you a path. They ain’t gonna want to see any of us, it’s gotta be you. Understood?”

Not that you were a soft place to land, but you understood the sentiment.

“Joel and Paulie, take right, Eugene and I will take left,” Tommy finished, Joel’s grumbles of protest were heard throughout the group as you suppressed a smile, “We’re all making it out. No questions asked. Be safe. Be smart. Home for dinner.”

“I am not cooking,” Indy butt in, “Not this time.”

“Well, the Bison it is then,” Eugene conceded, “I could use one of Seth’s sandwiches. Haven’t had one in a bit.”

“Okay, focus,” Joel snapped, “We can worry about dinner when we’re all out. Alive.”

“You’re insufferable when she’s around…” Paulie mumbled what he though was only to himself, Tommy’s arm immediately shooting out to stop his brother from lunging, “Eugene and I can take the right! He’d get me killed keeping his eyes locked on his prize.”

“I swear to God!”

“Shut the hell up! Both of you!” Tommy snapped, “Joel, with me. Jesus Christ.”

“You should look a little less excited,” Indy whispered in your ear, your jaw snapping shut at her warning.

Gravel cracked beneath your boots as you crept towards the muddy bank, not a soul spotted mingling about yet, red flags waving in all of your heads as you continued the approach. Indy was muttering under her breath about how fucked this was, there was no way this wasn’t a trap, and you were inclined to agree.

“It’s too quiet,” you hissed at Joel as the two of you took cover behind a large boulder, the camp completely visible and notably deserted, “Something is wrong here.”

“Yeah,” he growled, “Shit.”

“Look, camp’s empty,” Paulie spoke too loudly, everyone’s wide eyes shooting to him filled with confusion and rage, “maybe they left something behind.”

“Push forward,” Tommy commanded, you and Joel both sighing in disagreement, “We gotta at least look around.”

With weapons drawn, you crept forward, noting that even though this camp was haphazardly put together, it was expansive. Someone had no intention of leaving here anytime soon, the question was where that someone might be. The silence was deafening, your leg throbbing as memories clawed at your fragile psyche that had just begun to shoddily repair. It had been silent that day too, until gunfire echoed through the neighborhood and the pain became too much to resist.

“Hey,” a deep southern voice rumbled from beside you, “I got you.”

“He asked me to bring her back,” you choked, recalling the ride back to Jackson with Simon and James in tow, “either way.”

“And we will.”

If only the confidence in his voice was reassuring.

Muffled voices were heard, halting all of you in your tracks, cover being taken as Joel went ahead alone, your heart hammering as your eyes stayed locked on him, your finger twitching against the trigger of your gun as every muscle tensed waiting for the need to strike. When Joel halted and crouched behind a pile of firewood, his arm shot up, four fingers pointing up towards the sky. Six on four was no concern, in fact, it was probably almost too easy.

“Okay,” Tommy began, the plan now being set into full motion, “Ladies, you know your job, we’ll do the rest. Search every tent, they gotta be in one of ‘em.”

“There has to be more than four,” Indy warned, pulling you back down to the ground as you rose, still staring at the man ten yards ahead of you.

“Maybe. Maybe not. They’re probably out huntin’ and this our time for an easy strike. We pick those four off and take the rest out at the wall when they come lookin’. Easy.”

The logic made sense. It was now or never, with or without Indy at your side. As she went to press her argument with Tommy, you took advantage of her distraction, taking off uncaring of who followed. You and Joel had taken out more than four hunters in your day, you could do it again. The sound of your boots had him rising to his feet, his finger pointing to a larger tent off in the distance, the one the men were closest to. There was no doubt in your mind he was right.

With a nod, you were off, Indy hot on your heels as the men engaged the four sitting around a fire, somehow managing to finish the job without a shot going off in an attempt to not alert anyone who may still be lurking nearby. The tent you and Joel had assumed housed who you were looking for turned out to be filled with supplies, ones you hoped you had the time to search through later, leaving you and Indy to search the remaining half a dozen tents.

“Nothin’?” Tommy asked as your head emerged from the third with a downtrodden expression, “Shit.”

“Maybe they’re deeper in the woods,” you suggested as Indy came back from searching the final three with nothing, “It would make sense. Isolate them, make them feel stranded, helpless.”

“Okay. Fan out, whistle if you need. No more than ten minutes and we regroup. I’m serious. I don’t like this.”

Stress and tensions were high as you and Indy walked deeper into the woods, her warnings it was time to turn back went unheeded; they had to be here, they had to be somewhere. A whistle from your right set your feet into a sprint, Paulie and Eugene standing outside a dilapidated shed sealed with too shiny a padlock. A hand stopped your gun as you raised it, Joel coming to stand beside you with a look of warning in his eyes.

“Be smart,” he cautioned in a low voice, knowing how you got in high stake situations, “I’ll get it.”

The butt of his shotgun took out the lock in three blows, the edge of the door shattering at the impact. You went in first, your blood running ice cold in your veins at the sight before you.

“Oh my God…” you muttered, Indy’s equally shocked breath echoing beside you, “Joel…”

“Christ,” he exhaled, his hand pulling you slightly behind him as he surveyed the group of eight all staring at you with wide, terrified eyes, “We’re here to help…and we don’t have much time.”

Indy took over, the group sighing in relief when everyone was on their feet. At least they could walk. The walk back to the horses was quick and guarded, the six of you forming a perimeter around the women all huddled together, one visibly pregnant but you doubt she was alone in that. They were understandably skeptical, but somewhat hopeful it seemed, all of them looking to you like a beacon of hope, of reason.

“Get them on the horses. Indy, Arrow, can you share one?” Tommy strategized, with fourteen people and six horses, this had turned into a predicament, “Paulie, Eugene, get on the last one. Joel and I will walk.”

“I want to check that tent,” you reminded them, Indy staying back to help get everyone loaded up to go while you, Joel, and Tommy advanced, Paulie and Eugene staying planted in the middle ground.

There was some food that would come in handy, various boxes of ammo you stuffed into packs uncaring of what it was, you’d find a use for it, and one little canvas sack of what felt like dry beans that had your lips lifting into a smile when you brought it to your nose.

“Hey Tex!” you called out, tossing Joel the bag as soon as his attention was on you, his brow furrowing as he peaked inside, the contents setting his face aglow.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he sighed, grinning so wide it sparkled into his hazel eyes.

“Hey,” Paulie snapped, “Why’s he get that?”

“Cause Deacon has a favorite,” Eugene answered with a wink in your direction.

“Deacon has a debt actually,” you corrected, movement catching in your peripheral.

The whistle of your arrow through the air caught everyone’s attention, the cry of a man taking a bolt to the chest cavity setting off a row of dominoes on a trail to disaster. As more men emerged from the trees, panic set in. Five turned to seven and then seven to twelve… Tommy was screaming at Indy to take off, don’t even slow down until the walls of Jackson were well in sight while Joel bellowed at you from behind a stack of firewood to get to the god damn horse, but as a chain of automatic gunfire cracked through the woods the world fell away.

Standing like a target in the middle of a field, the rattling of the assault rifle had you frozen in place. The echoes of FEDRA soldiers, the rumbling of a tank, the smell of smoke, gunpowder, and decay, the screams of the QZ citizens caught in a war zone…

“Tommy!” You didn’t know a Tommy. Who was Tommy? “Cover me!”

Cover him. You could cover. You knew how to cover. Your pistol was heavy on your thigh and cold in your fingers as you pulled it from its holster, firing off in front of you despite having no target in sight.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Maybe there was a target.

Whipping around wildly in search of him, your ears began to ring as a flash bang went off, shrouding your surroundings in a smoky haze. It all came flooding back as the piercing shrill grew louder, the smoke growing thicker as you began to choke, and you weren’t sure if the tears streaming down your face were a product of the burn or the memories that now went hurtling to the forefront of your mind and trapped you in your nightmares here in the light of day.

An arm wrapping around your middle pushed what little air you’d been able to bring into your lungs, your feet forced to shuffle as it pulled you backward, your back hitting something jagged and splintering as you were tossed to the ground and caged in. You couldn’t hear a thing, your eyes locked on the dirt as your body focused on its need for air. Someone was in front of you, you could feel the heat radiating off of them, something was grazing against your cheek, a jacket maybe, or the edge of a knife. You couldn’t be sure. Bullet shells rained down from above you, one brass cylinder falling into your lap, smoke still billowing from the searing metal, at least whoever it was wasn’t shooting at you.

“Joel, get her out of here!”

That name... You knew that name.

“Joel?” It was a plea, an anchor, a place to ground yourself.

His canvas coat was rough in your fingers as you realized it was gripped between your knuckles, the comforting sight of a red and black flannel coming into view as you breathed in the familiar scent of leather and wood. Joel.

“Move,” it was a command, his voice hard with what could be anger or focus, you couldn’t be sure.

A large palm swallowed your upper arm whole as you were lifted to your feet and forced to take off into a sprint you weren’t prepared for. His grip kept you upright every time you tripped, the whinny of a horse startling you as you were lifted and tossed into a saddle.

“You ride and you don’t look back, you understand?” he instructed, shooting his eyes over his shoulder, “Do you understand?”

With a snarl at your lack of response, he slapped the horse’s back end, your hands forced to grip the horn of the saddle for dear life as the horse took off in a gallop.

“Joel!” you yelled as you steadied yourself enough to look back and see him disappear into the trees and gunshots, “JOEL!”