rennorthernlights - Tumblr blog

[rennorthernlights]

hey, are you doing okay? You haven't posted in some time. Did I notice because I love your stuff and want more? of course but you come first. Your health and wellbeing is very important. So I was just wondering how its going😅 *if* you wanna share of course...

Hello darling, thank you for asking. Unfortunately it’s been one shit show right after the motherfucking other on my side of things. Let’s seeeee

My brother ran away to go live with my ma that was really abusive towards me growing up. My dad’s blood pressure skyrocketed so much that he was sent to the hospital only to find out that he has 40% blockage to heart and almost had to get surgery to put a stint in. My sister became so stressed out over my brother and my dad that she had a mini stroke that could’ve turned into an actual stroke. My truck broke down and I lost my job.

BUT I know it looks very shitty right now but it’s turning up. I found a job… eventually…. And my sister and dad are doing great health wise now. My brother has gone no contact with me and I miss him to pieces but from what I heard, he’s a lot happier over there. As long as he’s happy and safe then that’s all I care about. I’m trying to get back in the grove of writing but late January till now has been really hard on my brain. Seriously though, thank you for asking about me. It’s people like you that make me still smile at my little works. You’re amazing, darling!

[rennorthernlights]

Having unhealthy thoughts about John Price but as a God.

TW- Blood, mentions of death, John wanting a wife and kids. (Give that man a baby pls)

GodJohn whose’s the God of Battlefields, Logic, Weaponry, Cunning and so on. GodJohn that has a massive temple that many soldiers go to for his blessings. GodJohn that is also a Protector of Families and Children, that when called upon he’ll be on the edge of the property line guarding and waiting.

GodJohn that stands tall and fierce, rarely bleeding the gold that is his lif-blood. GodJohn that prefers smoked offerings and devotional and sacred acts over gifts, wealth, and baseless physical offerings. If given a gift then it has to really mean something from the giver. Something that took time and care to give.

He does prefer to have people devote themselves to him though. What better way to prove that you’re worthy of protection than to devote yourself to him?

Countless years of battle that hounds him into well powerful killing machine. Any blade working effortlessly in his hand just as well as the reins of an animal. GodJohn that has taken part in battles and wars for the thrill. That as much as he craves fighting he will also put more at stake to protect innocents. Like a bloodhound that can just sniff out whose’s good and whose’s bad.

After centuries he finally thinks of something other than War and Fighting. GodJohn that wants a wife, that wants to settle down and have children. GodJohn that only cared about winning until he would see the soldiers he blessed come home to their families and thinking, “I want that. No— I need that.” He hasn’t lost before in a battle and matters of the heart are no different. Now he wants to win the heart of the pretty girl that lives near his main temple.

A walking temptation that smells earthy and sweet, a mix of something far more potent than just human. Far too many times he’s tempted to scoop her up and keep her away. But can’t due to his own self-imposed rule of not intervening. Doesn’t mean he won’t leave gifts for her. Best cut meats and furs, dresses, knives, handmade necklaces, anything he’d believe would be good.

Though his patience is thinning whenever he ‘accidentally’ catches her bathing in the lake by the forests. ‘Accidentally’ watching the water drop down her unmarred skin. Purely coincidental that her clothes might go missing as she laughs and plays in the water, after all it’s a forest. Animals could’ve taken it.

GodJohn that is nearly coming down from the heavens when his woman runs and stumbles into his temple. Bleeding out and wounded, the villagers chanting to “Grab the witch!! Burn the witch!!” No doubt that must be the reason that she came in since she’s never stepped foot in before.

GodJohn on the edge of his throne keeping his eyes solely on her as her bloodied hands grasp his statue and starts to beg as the villagers pound against the wooden door that won’t hold for long. He cannot move and intervene unless called upon but his resolve is waning.

“Come on little dove, say it. Say what I need to hear.” Thick, scarred hands clenching as he’s standing up at the ready. Already grabbing his sword, darken blue eyes solely on the woman so helplessly bleeding out onto his sacred statue. Her blood staining the marble floors like a lamb to the slaughter.

Breath catching in his throat as she opens her mouth, his heart practically stopping to strain to hear her meek and mumbled prayer.

“Oh, great God of the Battlefield. Hear my plea. Protect me and my life is yours!”

Shaky breaths as the wooden door cracks, the yells of anger outside making everything seem oh so hopeless. Promising a violent end. Tears falling down her face as she curls and waits for her death that will surely come. Her plea must’ve fallen on deaf ears until a thundering voice booms from within the temple. The ground shaking.

“I’ve heard your plea, little dove. You are mine.”

[rennorthernlights]

Scrumptious, thank you for the food!!!

Part 2 of Asset Soap!

The concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Again, please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.

CW for dubcon, threats, soap being mean again

(There will be a part 3 😔)

You don’t intend to fall asleep, but eventually you do.

Soap is quiet and still for long enough that your brain starts to settle. Feels safe enough for the adrenaline to bleed out. Leaves you washed out and cold, limbs rubbery.

You scoot into the corner of your not-cell and doze off, ignoring Soap’s increasingly aggressive whispers to look at him.

“Your information has been verified.”

Laswell.

The implications of what she means blares alarms a split second later. You scramble to your feet. Soap is already pressing up against the bars separating you, eyes seeming to glow.

He’s hard again.

“Y-you can’t,” you choke out, and you don’t know who you’re talking to.

“Should have used that time to get ready, lass,” he growls, licking his lips. “Best hope your little nap was worth it.”

“Soap, please—”

“Not so fast, MacTavish.”

If the fear doesn’t knock you out first, the whiplash will. One moment you’re painting Laswell’s wings black and next she’s got a halo. Either way, you hope you never see her again — if you survive this.

“What the fuck, Laswell,” Soap snarls, turning to the camera. “If you’re trying to break our deal—”

“You haven’t completed your part yet. You gave us the location, now the rest.”

Soap looks ready to tear the walls apart with his bare hands. Breathing like fireplace bellows; you half expect to see steam clouding at his nostrils. His mouth is an angry slash across his face. Every muscle tense to pounce.

“You give me what I’m owed, woman,” Soap snarls. “Or I’ll fuck her over your corpse.”

You whimper, can’t help it, eyes watering at the image. This is too much, too much. He’s frightening and inhuman and most importantly, his patience is drying up. You doubt Laswell brought you here just to dangle you in front of him.

Eventually, he’ll demand his “due” and she’ll be expected to trade you in exchange for whatever he’s got that’s so important. When it comes down to it, you know that’s not even a choice. Then the door will unlock.

And Soap…

Soap will make good on those earlier promises.

“You’re in no position to make threats.”

“And you’re in no position to deny me what’s mine.”

The tears are building, pure fear. He’ll break you, he’s all but guaranteed it. This is just a matter of ticking clocks and building frustration. Water boiling over beneath a tight lid. That door will open, but the longer that takes to happen—

On numb legs, you stumble a step forward.

Nearly lose your nerve when Soap whips around in an instant, eyes pinning you in place. You swallow, bite hard into your bottom lip, and inch another step. He’s against the bars again, seemingly unaware of the brutal metal against his skin.

“And what are you up to now, little bird?” he asks.

The intercom is silent. You pray it stays that way. Just this once, let this work. Please, please let this go the way you hope.

The tears start falling as you open your mouth, though your voice fails at the last moment.

“What a waste,” he hisses. “C’mere. Give us a taste.”

Your mind screams as you shuffle closer, but the way his eyes light up is your reward. He strains against the bars like an animal, indents in his cheeks. You’re close, too close — you take one last step and lean your temple against the cold metal.

A burning hot tongue laps at your tears, through and over the bars. Starting at your chin and working up to the corner of your eye. You let them flow as he groans, deep and rough. Licks sloppily at your face.

“Y-you scare me,” you admit.

“Good,” he growls against your skin.

“A-are you going to hurt me?”

You feel a nasty grin against your cheekbone. “Depends on how good you are.” Scrape of teeth, sending your pulse fluttering. “And how bad I want to.”

You jerk back. He snarls, reaching after you. Your body twitches to retreat into your little corner but that’s only temporary, illusory. The key to surviving this lies with the same man who could end you.

“I-I’ll be good,” you say, “if you don’t hurt me.”

He barks a sharp laugh. “You makin’ deals now, little girl?”

You swallow, muster up all of your fading courage.

“W-well, you can touch me when - if - Laswell lets you. Or… or I could stay…” Fuck this is hard. “Stay by the bars… keep you company.”

His eyes go hot.

“That so?” he breathes. “Mm, tha’s a tempting offer. You trying to sweeten up so I don’t fuck that little pussy numb?”

A denial nearly jumps from your tongue. But you’ve used up all your bravery and can’t admit the truth either.

“You scare me,” you repeat.

An actual laugh this time, rolling and deep. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. Force yourself to meet his eyes, to plead with the demon that’s taken up residence behind them.

“Prove you’ll be good,” he challenges. “C’mere.”

There’s no room for hesitation this time. You ease up to the bars again on shaking legs. He nearly rumbles with satisfaction. Clicks his fingers and points.

“Down.”

You lower onto your knees. Get an eyeful of his flushed cock. He’s far too big to get through the grid pattern of the wall, but that doesn’t stop him from smooshing the head against it. You see where this is going, settle on your heels and lean in, face close. He curses, stripping his cock with a mean hand.

“Laswell!” he calls, ragged. “Ya fuckin’ listenin’ still?”

“Of course.”

Your face burns with humiliation. Soap clocks it and flashes canine again, making his grunts loud and obscene as he talks through them.

“Got a pen ‘n paper? You’ll wanna write this down.”

He talks through groans and growls, information that you’re too dizzy to parse. Guard rotations, maybe? Names? You don’t know. It’s all so much noise.

He smells like sweat and hormones. Like sex, from earlier. He makes eye contact and thrusts hard against the bars.

“Give us a kiss,” he commands, undoubtedly audible to the speaker system.

You press the plush of your nervous-bitten lips to the sensitive, leaking tip. A string of precum connects your bottom lip to his slit. He curses, movements getting faster, rougher. Your jaw twinges with a phantom ache.

“With tongue.”

You lap obediently at the head, a distressed noise caught in the back of your throat. He tastes like salt and skin, like a man in his prime. The sound slips from your throat and vibrates down his shaft. Over your head, he’s still talking, a steady flow of information. Precum pools on your tongue and drips down your chin.

“Alright,” you distantly hear Laswell say. You could even fancy there’s something in her voice. Chagrin or regret. “Once we confirm…”

He cums just from the thought of access to you. Hot, thick stripes across your open mouth and cheeks. You shut your eyes just in time with a startled squeak.

“Fuck,” he groans, fingers white-knuckled on the bars. “Look’it you.”

You wipe spend from your eyelashes, unable to help your nose from scrunching. He rumbles, you can’t tell if it’s an amused sound.

“Up,” he commands.

You stand, lean in with a curious hum when gestures. His tongue again, cleaning you up, licking his spend from your skin.

“Gross,” you complain, quiet and half-hearted.

He snorts, draws away again. You dare to hope it’s over.

“Open.”

You blink. Realize what he’s asking and shake your head, eyebrows furrowing.

“No, no, Soap please don’t make me—”

“Thought you were gonna be good.” His eyes are cold, flat. A promise that this deal means more to you than him. You wilt a bit. Can’t help it.

Open your mouth.

He hums, then spits directly on your tongue. Smirks at the way you startle. You can still taste his cum.

“Swallow.”

You close your mouth and obey. Feel yourself shivering as he coos.

“Sit down ‘fore your legs give out.”

You drop into your ass with absolutely zero grace. Horrified to realize as you do that your slick between your thighs. When? How?

“My own little doll,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “All mine to play with.”

You rub at your eyes.

“Aw, d’you need another nap?” he croons. “Tuckered you out already did I?”

You nod, feeling pathetic — but maybe that’ll work in your favor.

“Go t’sleep, little bird.” He settles himself on the floor beside you back to the bars, one leg drawn up. “Liked watching you earlier.”

“What about…?”

He arches an eyebrow, waiting. Your face warms again. You cover your eyes with a hand.

“You said… you said earlier I should stretch,” you admit. “I-I should still…”

He groans. You whimper as you see his cock, still out, lying against his thigh, start to fill again. He strokes it absently this time.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warns, voice black as pitch. “Rest up, you’ll need the energy. Keep being good f’me and you won’t need to stretch first, aye?”

You settle onto the ground, parallel with the bars. Fold your arm to pillow your head and close your eyes against the bright fluorescents.

Soap is whispering again, though just to himself this time. You’re not sure what he’s saying; you’re almost positive you don’t want to.

The danger of proximity only keeps you conscious for so long. Exhaustion drags you down like lead weights. You believe Soap’s warnings that you’ll need your energy. (And maybe sleep will cool the hot, confusing ache between your thighs.)

[rennorthernlights]

Love that possessive nasty bastard ❤️❤️❤️

With Love, König tags: König x f!reader/f!oc, regency era au, manners, collaring, courting, king!König, reader is mildly insane, König is going to marry you and that's a threat Summary: Your fiance runs off, your reputation is in ruins, and worst of all König has decided he's going to make you his queen. He doesn't even ask your father's permission to do it.

You receive word that your fiance has left you in the short hours of the morning. It comes in a carefully folded note, with his seal, and his signature. It's cruel, but not unexpected. You'd known for long enough that this was an engagement for nothing but your title. Still, you shed a few tears onto the parchment at the loss of your future, bleak as it might have been. You can rest assured that your parents, and the rest of the social world, have already received the news. You expect they'll start looking for another match for you soon.

The second letter is somehow more surprising. You don't recognize the black wax seal, or the handwriting. You don't know how it slipped past your family without being opened, but it's tucked on the same tray as your fiance's letter and you break the seal with cautious fingers.

"My Heart," it begins, and you frown at the familiarity, "You have bewitched me, body and soul. My every hour is spent with thoughts of you. The memory of your touch is only remedied by my own hand, and even that is not enough. I hope that you will accept this small token of thanks for the dance we shared, and look forward to our next meeting with the same fervor I do."

You look up from the letter to stare at the wall. You narrow your eyes at the wallpaper and do your best to try and think of who the fuck is sending you love letters. Certainly not your ex-fiance, he never did more than send you a note asking you to wear something "more appropriate" for the next party. You look back at the letter. It's a bit stuck at the bottom, likely to keep whatever token it contains in place. You slip your finger carefully under the edge of the fold to open it. A silk ribbon flutters onto your lap as you stare down at the king's signature. "With Love, König" in perfect royal handwriting.

You scramble to ring for your maid, you need to get dresses and you need to speak to your father immediately. Your maid seems to either not know or not care that you are received a letter from a king because she helps you get ready with her usual compliments and coos. Disinterested in the day ahead of you, you always assume. She ties the ribbon behind your ears when you ask her what to do with it. The black clashes, but you don't have time to argue.

König is already in the sitting room with your father when you finally make it downstairs. He stands almost as quickly as you drop into a low curtsy. Your father stands too and you're taken aback by how small he looks next to König. Your father has always been a proud man, a man to be feared as much as respected, but next to König he may as well be a child. You drop your eyes to the floor, proper and polite.

"Gott in himmel," König breathes, and your eyes dart to him. His brows are drawn together, like he's in pain. You can't tell if he's displeased when you can only see half of his face, his mouth obscured by a dark black cloth. You meet his eyes and are quick to avert your gaze, lest the heat in his burns you.

You rise from your curtsy and keep your eyes on the floor. "My lord," you greet, and hear him hum. He's pleased you think.

"My lady," The way he stresses "my" makes you shiver, his lady, "look at me when I speak to you." You're quick to follow his command, the tightness in his tone is intriguing, but you can't see a reason for it when you do look up at him.

Your father attempts to raise issue when König stalks towards you, his voice drowned out by the way the king fills your vision. You barely flinch when he grabs your chin, and turns your head. His skin against yours is unfamiliar and rough, it makes your skin prickle with heat as he sighs.

"You're wearing this wrong, Hummelchen," He tells you, his free hand going to tug at the end of the ribbon around your head. The black silk is tugged loose, falling delicately into König's grip. His thumb teases your lower lip, improper and entirely hidden from your father. "You want to wear this right for me, ja?"

You open your mouth to answer and he pushes his thumb between your lips, presses down against your tongue to hold you open. Your eyes dart in your father's direction, panic rising in your chest. König's eyes crease at the edges, he tips his head to watch your tongue try to work under his grip. You settle for swallowing, your lips closing around his finger as you nod your head. What else can you do in the face of a king?

"Braves Mädchen," He praises sending another prickle of heat over your skin. You feel like all your manners are just being thrown out the window, it's making your head spin. His grip loosens, his thumb sliding out from between your lips to smear the wetness against your hot cheek. Warmth pools between your legs, entirely too familiar, and entirely his fault.

König makes a twirling motion with his finger, and you don't hesitate to turn. You can hear his fingers pulling the length of ribbon between his hands, and you're glad to have your hair off your neck when he loops the ribbon around your throat. You have to tip your chin up, you have the sudden --and startlingly appealing-- thought that he could very easily choke you like this. König's fingers pull the ribbon tight, and you make a quiet noise of... protest? Approval? You make a noise, and it loosens just enough to be comfortable. He's quick to tie a neat bow, the tails of it hanging on either side of your spine. You touch your fingers to the silk. Like a collar.

König's fingers linger on your neck, and you tilt your head to afford him space to touch. Each brush of his skin makes your heart race, this monster of a man is so gentle with you. As if you were some treasure he could hardly afford. He curls over you, one of his hands sliding down your arm. He grips your wrist tight, and raises it to his lips. You turn your head to watch him, his eyes are dark when he catches you staring. His teeth flash dangerously in the light where they scrape against your pulse. Not so gentle then.

"You will accompany me to the next party," He leaves no room for argument in his command, states it like a fact predetermined by God, "We'll announce our engagement there."

"Your what?" You father asks behind König, aghast at the breach in conduct. You hardly notice it, entranced by the way he presses his cheek into your palm.

"Kay," You breathe for him. He's just like one of the heroes from your penny novels, better for being real. You wonder if he's ever killed anyone, he'd look good with a little blood on him.

[rennorthernlights]

Need that old man to blow smoke in my face from his expensive cigars while making me look at him.

Grab my chin and just keep me looking only at him. Maybe even force me to sit in his lap and look disapprovingly when I try to squirm off him. Whining to him about how he “should be working and not slacking off.” Course he won’t listen at all.

45 year old price save me . Save me, 45 year old John price

[rennorthernlights]

The World We Knew

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5: The Catalyst on The Dinner Plate, Chapter 6

Warnings: Depictions of d3ath, b0dies on hooks, Cannibalism, MINORS DNI+ 18 AND OVER ONLY, imagery of people eating people, Reader kills for the first time, Homophobia, Issac is his own warning, Abuse towards woman. Tell me if I miss any.

”Tonight,” she says, and Angelica agrees. Grabbing their things to pack. “We’ll need to go about our day carefully and then we can go.” It’s just barely noon from the way the sun shines. Tonight, they can finally move past this and just go somewhere. Anywhere.

“The guards?” Angelica says as she bites her lip. “What are we gonna do about the patrols.” A sharp knock on the door makes them both jolt. Pulling them away from the frenzy of leaving. She grabs their things and hides it to make the room seem normal. Looking towards each other nervously before Angelica rolls her shoulders back and steps forward towards the door. Her brown eyes widening, a hand gripping the door as Issac stares down at her.

“Where’s Eve,” he doesn’t ask as he pushes her aside and steps in. Angelica protests, tries to shove him back with a glare but he walks in like he already owns the place. He looks around and then spots her. “Oh! My sweet Eve, I’ve come to ask you a very important question.” The woman in question tense as they both know what he’s going to ask.

The nails in the coffin about to hammered in. He takes a long step, up close and personal as he grabs her hands the same way he did when she was 10 and he 22.

“I’ve known since the moment I saw you that day in the garden that you are mine. Beautiful Eve,” his skin stretches as he smiles wide. “Marry me.” Looking intently into her eyes as he fully expects her to say yes. His goal finally within grasp, within reach as he’s been begging his father to make it so. To make it where the woman will be forced to marry. He waited, knew she’d say no, somewhere in his obsession made him believe that she was just too shy to accept his advances. Especially with Angelica, in his mind at least, always hovering and poisoning her against him. But now… now she’ll have no choice but to marry him.

She looks to Angelica, the woman that she cares about. The woman that they just barely confessed feelings for each other. One nod from her and that’s all it takes. Rips her hands from him and out of his grip, taking a step back. She steels her voice, “No.”

“No?” The man says with a tilt of his head. He steps back as the feeling in the room drops. Something colder, chilling the growing summer heat that’s outside. His hands ball into fists as it shakes. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? She’s been in the way of us since she joined our group!” He turns and starts walking to Angelica.

Knuckles turning white from the force of his own grip, “Don’t think I don’t know of the sin you committed. Ruining my Eve with your filth!” He raises his hand and Angelica tenses and gets in a stance.

Rushing in front of Angelica, putting herself in the way and Issac is forced to pause. “My name isn’t Eve.” Being stern with him for once. “Don’t talk about Angelica like that.” Glaring at him as she finally shows how annoyed by his very being she is. Emboldened by how much she cares about Angelica. Her hand reaching behind behind her back and Angelica interlaces her fingers with her hand. A silent encouragement that she’ll have her back.

“I’m not marrying you and that’s final.” The silence that follows is deafening. Suffocating in the way he doesn’t even blink as he looks into her that she can feel her soul shiver. Cogs in his head turning as he licks his dry lips.

Narrowing green eyes while his hands flex. “You’re just confused,” he offers as if trying to convince himself. “You don’t know what you’re saying. She’s poisoned your brain with her sin.” A misguided understanding as that must be why his Eve doesn’t want to marry him.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he backs away and moves towards the door. “Don’t worry. I’m very understanding, it’s not your fault, my beloved Eve.” His eyes hold a glint that makes her hands clammy, hairs sticking up on her neck. A silent warning that something ain’t right. That something can happen at any second. Her chest tightening as she braces for the worse. His hand gripping on the doorknob as he slowly opens it.

He steps outside the door, a forced exhale as she tries to regain her ground. Eyes watching his like a hawk as he leaves without even a word. A hard slam of her door that makes the hinges screech.

The seconds go by as they both stand tenses, fully expecting him to round back. Seconds feels like minutes, minutes feels like hours until Angelica speaks. “This is going to make this harder to leave.” Resting her head against the woman’s shoulder. “I knew it. I knew he was creepy as hell, but this just takes the cake.” Sighing and muttering a curse. She can feel Angelica’s mind rushing a mile a minute.

“You need to leave.”

“What? You can’t be serious.” Angelica nearly yells as she shakes her head. Taking a step around her to look at her. Angelica is dumbfounded as she can’t believe she’s even saying that to her. “I’m not leaving you with that fucker. I’m not leaving you. No way—“

“Ange.”

“No way in hell. I’d rather fucking die. I’m being so—“

“Ange!” Her hands cup her face to make her stop talking. Angelica’s brown eyes stare and open more as she leans closer to her. “He’s going to hurt you. He was willing to raise his hand to you infront of me. If I wasn’t here… he could’ve..” her voice breaks as she doesn’t want to think about it.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a man put their hands on me.”

“Ange,” her tone serious as she knows Ange is just trying to be playful. But they can’t be playful right now, they can afford to be. “You leave tonight, I’ll cover for you tomorrow and then we’ll be on our way. No more Issac.” She starts.

“And no more town.” Angelica finishes with a grin. “Alright, alright, I’m only doing this because you’re so convincingly cute.” The woman leans forward and kisses her softly. Angelica’s hands flinch at the suddenness before they start moving from the side to grasp the woman’s waist. Pulling Angelica closer, deepening the kiss as her hands entangle in Angelica’s hair. Biting on her bottom lip and she parts her lips as Angelica pushes her tongue into her mouth. Angelica’s hands more insistent and moving under her shirt.

“W-Wait, wait, wait,” she breaks the kiss and Angelica steps back worried, fearful that she overstepped. “I want more. Believe me,” she laughs and presses her head to to the woman she’s growing to love more and more. “God, I want more but you need to get your stuff and leave tonight.” Brushing her thumb against Angelica’s cheek.

“Alright, alright,” grinning at her, “I’ll let you breathe for now, but I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands to myself when we’re out of this fucking town.” A tease in Angelica’s voice but a very real need on her eyes. Night rolls around quickly and they say their quick goodbyes.

Angelica tells her in a hushed whisper as they step outside their place together. Hiding behind the corner to evade the nightly patrols. “Right next to that old mom and pop shop. Called like Oliver’s or is it Olive’s? There’s a barbecue place right next to it. Can’t miss it, that’s where I’ll be. Okay?” That one is right near the edge of the town, from there they’ll move past it and they’ll be ‘home’ free. No one goes near that area anyways. It’s clear enough instruction that she’ll know what to look for. A quick kiss goodbye as she watches Angelica leave.

The next day she knew she was being watched. Eyes on her as she went about her day. Telling the ladies that asked about Angelica that she’s feeling sick so she stayed home. Issac, who normally finds her, hasn’t showed up. A limp in his walk as he shakes his hand a bit. Shrugging her shoulders as maybe he fell and finally had some sense knocked into him. She wasn’t about to ask why he hasn’t talked to her and if anything, she’s happier to not worry about him sneaking up to her. Scrubbing the dishes clean and listening to the woman chatter and gossip about their day.

“Clark has asked me to marry him.” A woman says with a controlled sigh, the other women telling her their congratulations under a happy guise. A quiet understanding to the situation that they are all in. It’s been a lot of mixed feelings about what happen yesterday with the priest. Some of the woman agree to it and few don’t. Though she can’t help but wonder if they agree because it’s safer. Or because they’ll just have to be pretty housewives and be content for the men. Glaring at the dishes as the woman continue speaking and talking.

Once her shift ends, she goes to grab her ration for the day. The woman handing it to her with a hard smile, another woman that was forced into a marriage. Asking for Angelica’s ration under the guise that she’s sick and the woman tells her that she can’t. “It wasn’t a problem a week ago when Karen was sick?” Her arms crossed as the woman tells her that it’s “New rules.” And that she “can’t give rations unless the person is there.” Sighing to herself as she thanks her and then takes a seat. She hopes Angelica is safe. She knows she can handle herself, a spitfire of a woman she has.

“What’s got you smiling, Eve?”

Her hands tense and he sits in front of her. “Where’s your friend?” She goes to speak, “doesn’t matter,” he winced slightly as he scoots the chair forward. Was there always scratches on his neck? “I heard that she’s sick. Poor thing but it must be divine timing by God. Even our Heavenly Father knows that she isn’t right for you.”

“That isn—“

“I haven’t told anyone about you and her.” He says and she stiffens, “My father would never allow it. Never allow us together if he knew about what she did to convince you to sin. Just like my mother did my father.” His hands move and grip her hand. She remembers when she was ten. She remembers her parents talking about his mother. Her father wouldn’t lie. “She seduced my father just like Angelica is seducing you.”

She tugs her hand back but he grips her hand tightly, refusing to let go of her. “Let go.” She pulls back, “Issac let fucking go of me.”

“You never talked to me like that. Always so sweet and kind.” He says, fully believing in the fantasy that he has of her. A beautiful Eve in a garden. “It’s because of her. You’ll understand why she’s wrong for you, I had to...” He starts but stops like he’s catching himself.

“Had to what?”

He doesn’t answer and she glares, her heart starting to jump. “Had to what Issac?” He stares at her, beady green eyes as he doesn’t speak. He licks his lips and let’s go of her hand. Smiling as he eyes her up and down. Snickering like he’s aware of something that she won’t know, an inside joke that only he’s privy to. He gets up and leaves. Leaving her for once, more confused than nervous.

Walking out to remain calm and then speed walking to her room. Packing her things in a bag and pulling out her father’s rifle that she’s hidden. They tried to take it from her months ago when they started these whole men and woman job. Staying in her room until night rolls around, quietly stepping out the fire escape and carefully moving down the street. Her breath catching in her throat as she nearly got caught a couple times. Panting quietly as she finally makes it pass the guards and the patrols.

“Barbecue place near mom and pop shop.” She whispers over and over again as she shoulders her rifle. Being careful of the dead that roam on the streets. Her lip being bitten as she hides behind some cars as the dead pass by. Her eyes raking over the street signs, and she wonders if she’s in the right place. “Ah!” Her eyes perk up as she finally spots the mom and pop shop when the moonlight illuminates the way. “Barbecue, barbecue, barbecue,” she murmurs as her eyes flicker back and forth and finally she spots it.

“Angelica!” She whisper yells as she walks forward. “Ange!” Cupping a hand to her mouth as her other keeps a good hold on her rifle. Stepping into the barbecue place. She would’ve loved this place before the zombies. Still has a homey feel to it even after a bit of time. The barbecue place is large and even has its own smokehouse!

Looking around and seeing the western décor, her eyebrows furrowing as she sees some blood on the floor. Bending down and touching it, “that doesn’t look old…” she curses and shoulders her rifle. “I swear if you became zombie chow I’m gonna smack you Ange.” Pointing her rifle at ever sound. Teeth clattering as her nerves are getting the better of her.

Moving deeper into the place as she calls out to Ange again and again. “No sign of her…” sighing sadly as she moves to the back of the shop where it would be holding meat from cows and pigs if it was a normal less zombiefied-year. “Last room.” Steeling herself as she walks forward towards the smokehouse. Pushing the door open slowly as she prepares for a zombie grunt but it’s quiet and smells funny. Barely any fire going but the ash tells her that this smokehouse has and is being used.

Moving inside and she gasps. “Holy shit.”

This must be where the town is keeping the meat. No wonder no one goes here. Makes more sense now. “Why is it wrapped though…” Doesn’t make since to have the meat wrapped in a smokehouse. Unless it’s already prepared maybe? Moving to the one closest to her as she starts to peel it back.

“Oh my god.”

Her hand hovers over the meat and she’s still remembers the anatomy classes she took to know what it is. She was the best in her class. She recognizes that this ain’t animal. “This isn’t a deer. This is… oh…” her hand cups her mouth as feels the ration she ate earlier pushing up her throat. She moves and starts unwrapping them as she recognizes them. “Cody, Arianna, Davin, Lucas!” Her shoulders rising and falling as she breathes in and out fast. Fear courses through her heart. How long has this been going on? How long have they been unknowingly eating humans? How long?

Finally, the last one and this one looks upside down, like it’s still being drained. Unwrapping the person and she screams as she sees the brown eyes first. “No!” Tugging the body off the hook and ripping the the wrap off as her hand shakes even more. “No, no, no, no,” vision blurring in tears as she cups Angelica’s face. “No, baby, no, wake up.”

Shaking her face. The deep cut in her throat, the lifeless look in her eyes, the bruises and cuts on the body. “Ange! Please!” Crying as she pulls her close and hugs her tight.

“Not you,” the body limp and cold in her arms as she doesn’t hear the door open. “Why you? Why you?” Crying and burying her face into Angelica’s cold neck. Her arms lifeless and not moving as she screams into her neck. A hand grips her shoulder and she curses angrily at whoever it is. A blind rage when they try to pull her away from Angelica.

“Let go! Let me go!” Her eyes shut as she grips tighter to Angelica. Something hard hits her in the back of the head as she feels like she’s slipping deeper into a darkness. The last thing she remembers is Angelica’s cold brown eyes staring back at her. Lifeless and unmoving.

Coming too in anger as she’s placed on a bed in a room that’s not her own. Getting up and grabbing the bedside desk and throwing it as she screams. Her hands digging into her skull as she bends forward. Finally throwing up as she coughs, her knees buckling under the growing agony and pressure. Tears blurring her vision as her hands grip and claw at the floor. Misery and anguish flooding her heart as she wraps her arms around herself. The door opening catches her attention and Issac walks in.

“Oh, Eve,” he murmurs, “you poor thi—“

Getting up and running at him, her hands balled as she throws a clumsy punch that he catches. “Now, now, is that any way to treat your fiancé?” He glares and she yells profanity’s as she kicks and punches him. Clawing at his face as he tries to settle her into the chair. “Calm down!” He yells.

“Calm down! You want me to calm down?!” Pulling her leg up towards her and tries to kick him as hard as she can. The impact to his thigh makes him growl in anger. Raising his hand and slapping her harshly. She locks up, stiffening from the blow. The stinging in her cheek and her lip split open as she settles from the shock of being hit.

“There we go.” He says and presses a kiss to her face. Her eyes shut tight as she whimpers and breathes in shakily. “Next time don’t make me hurt you. I don’t wanna hurt my precious Eve. All shaken up over that filthy woman.” His hands gripping her arms and forcing her down even more on the chair. “Don’t worry I’ll wash the sins of her touch off your body in due time.”

He’s too close. Far too close to her. Close enough that she sees the cuts on his neck and her mind starts running a mile a minute as she thinks back to their conversation earlier. I had to. Repeats over and over again in her head as she finally looks at him. Tears down her face as she speaks, “Y-You killed her. You killed her! You son of a—“

His hand raises again and she flinches. He smirks and instead he cups her face and forces her to look at him. “I had to.” Confirming what she’s thinking, “After I told my father what happened he said that I couldn’t marry you. He said that the sin will be on you as long as Angelica breathed. I told him,” he leans forward and his green eyes stare at her and then her lips, her lip that still bleeds. “Told him that I’d get rid of the sin for you. You should be thanking me.”

Her heart slams against her chest, “We’ll be married in 4 days. Four days and I’ll be able to throughly cleanse your body.” Jerking in his grip, squirming on the chair. She can only begin to imagine what he has planned for her.

A defiance gathering in her eyes, she spits at his face. His thumb digging into her jaw as she cries out. “I’ll train you to be better. You’ll be so beautiful as my wife and as the mother of my children. So enticing even right now,” his other hand moves from her arm and down her stomach as her muscles tense and seizes. “I could cleanse you now but then we’d be committing sin.” He huffs and steps back.

Her hands rub her jaw as she quickly gets off the chair and steps back. He leaves, the door shutting and locking with a hard ‘click’ noise. She thinks that’s the end of it until he come back with a plate. Her eyes widen, “Don’t worry it’s just meat.” He grins and she doesn’t trust him, not one bit.

“How long?”

“Sit down,” he motions to the chair.

“How. Long.” Balling her fist as she refuses to even touch the plate of food. Thinking back to when people were getting sick. Thinking back to when people thought the rations were getting spoiled from the ‘animals’ they found. Chalking it up to the ‘animals’ being sick. Her stomach is empty even as she can feel the growing need to throw up.

“Long enough that everyone’s eaten someone here. Tasty, no?”

The amusement in his voice, the way he enjoys her suffering, enjoys seeing her so distraught. Almost as beautiful as her happiness. The smile she never gave him but always to Angelica, the happiness in her eyes when Angelica walked in the room, his hands grip the plate as he breathes in and out. He places the plate on the table as he watches her contemplate everything from the start.

Staring down at the plate and then at him. “I’m not going to touch any of that. You’ll have to force it down my throat.” Defiance in her voice as she won’t eat a lick of food from him or anyone else in this town. He snickers as he nods fast at her.

“Sure, sure, Eve,” he smirks, “I’ll be patient. I prepped a special dinner for our wedding night. You’ll just love it.” Leaving her alone with her thoughts as he takes his leave again. Shutting the door behind himself. The windows barred and no real way out. Stuck in this room with a plate of food that most likely is more human than animal.

The days pass and he tries to make her eat but she refused. He even forced her mouth open as she kicked and cried, forcing the meat down her throat as her throat constricted and she threw up on him. Making him yell and beat his fists into her. Her bruised body shaking as he realized what he did and told her off for making him hurt her. For making him be a monster when all he does is love her.

The day of the wedding came far too fast and she was forced into a white dressed. Too weak to fight back, too emotionally and physically exhausted as she nodded and barely spoke as the priest wedded them. Issac looking happier and happier as the reception was creeping up.

Her heart beating fast in her chest as the plates were being served at the reception. Issac in the middle with her to his right and the Father on the left. Her hand shaking as she grips on the fork. Her stomach growling and rumbling as she nearly gives in to eating.

Issac leans to his side, her hands grip the table as his lips brush against her ear. He whispers, “Hope you love her. I prepared her just for you.” His voice bouncing and echoing in her mind.

Her whole body tensing. Her eyes widening as she stares down at the plate and all she can image is Angelica. Angelica as the meal. Angelica as the meal the townsfolk are greedily eating. Tearing into her flesh to feed their sick bellys. The laughter, the glee, the sickening smile from Issac as she turns her head to him.

Mouth parted as a white-hot anger grips into her, burning the embers that were almost snuffed out. Warm brown eyes flash before her eyes, a distance of the woman she loved now prepared on a white plate and she knows what she needs to do. Blood demands blood.

Her hand grips on the fork and without thinking stabs it into his hand. He yells in pain and she takes the knife and stabs it into one of his eyes. For fully digging it into the socket as the blood seeps out. Staining the once white dress as she yanks the knife out and Issac falls head forward on the table. Father Abraham comes around and she’s quicker than the old man and swipes it at his neck. The knife itself is dull but she put enough force into it to slice the skin.

Everything blurs from then on. Last thing she remembered grabbing is her fathers rifle from the armory and bolting into the streets. The men yelling to find her as she runs and runs. She doesn’t stop running not even for the dead that try and grab her. She just runs. Runs farther and farther.

Forcing herself to keep moving, to not give her name, to sleep in random buildings and move on the next day. To never look back and keep as much distance between the hell she escaped into the hell that is everyone’s reality. The zombies would love her more gently than Issac can. That thought alone made her nights colder until she found that radio. The radio that changed it all. Made her open her carefully guarded heart to the men on it.

The sound of fingers snapping, and a voice forced her out of her memories. Brought into the present and she doesn’t know if she’s rather stay in her past. “Eve? Hello? Earth to Eve. Oh poor thing still distorted from when you hit the wall,” he laughs that stupid noise. He waves a hand in front of her face and she jolts a bit.

Nearly 4 months. 4 months she’s been away from this hell hole. Away from him and everyone in this godforsaken town. “That’s not my fucking name.” She finally gets a good look at him. Her face pulling into a grin as she eyes that stupid eyepatch. “Should’ve stabbed your other eye out. Never liked the color green.”

His hand ball into a fist. She continues speaking, “Thought you were dead. Hoped you were considering I stabbed that knife into your eye.” She grins at him, “Is your daddy dead? Hoped he was after I sliced his thro—“ a harsh slap against her cheek as her eyes widen. Her arms jerk in the binds as she turns her face to glare as her chest rises and falls from the anger.

“You will learn to respect me, wife.” She can’t help but grin as she knows she hit her mark. At least one of them is dead. Good riddance.

“I’m not your fuk-“ another backhanded slap and this time she cries out in pain. His hand grips her jaw hard like he did those months ago but this time. This time she has more fire in her eyes. More than enough anger to hold her over. “Fuck you.” She says and pulls on the moisture in her mouth to spit at him.

His other hand wipes his face clean. “Oh, but you are. My father married us before God and the church. Making you, my wife.” Jerking his hand back harshly as her neck stretches back. Her back arching as she tries to accommodate to the forceful stretch. “You’ll be my perfect wife by the next couple of days. You’ll give me a son and I’ll name him after my father.” Like hell she will. She’s rather die than give him anything.

Tilting his head back as he laughs at how helpless she is in this moment and all she can do is grit her teeth and bare it. For now at least until she can find a way out. Or maybe the Captain will make do on his promise to get her.

A silent prayer escapes her lips, a plead for them to find her before it’s too late. Before she breaks under the pressure.

[rennorthernlights]

Haven’t even read it and I just KNOW it’s gonna be good!!

exit, no entry wound joe bear graves x reader; part 1 (3.8k)

-

Local time at destination: 0500 hours.

And then the world rushes back to him like the culmination of a terrible dream.

Bear wakes up in another rosebush outside the front steps of the local library worse for wear. Blinking out of sleep-crusted eyes, shapes diverging in blurry unfocus before slipping back into material objects. A bench. A door. The thorny stems of roses already on their way out, already depetalling, the ground below covered in a thin layer of them. One petal even sticking to his cheek when he pulls himself off the ground, wincing at the branches that crunch around him, that tug against his skin and clothes.

His clothes smell of cheap liquor. Gin. Bourbon. It hurts to open his eyes, to sit up. 

“Morning, sunshine,” someone says. He remembers hearing it in his dream too. 

He looks to the source of his awakening, blanching when he notices the man staring at him.

Rip sits on the other side of the bushes on his haunches, looking deeply unimpressed. Hair slicked back for a change. “This what you get up to when I’m gone?”

Bear doesn’t respond. He struggles to his feet instead, hangover only just creeping in. Still drunk, to an extent. His knees threaten to buckle under him, forcing him to lay a hand flat on the wall to keep himself upright. One foot in front of the other. The walk home feels endless in the hour before dawn, hardly any light to guide him. 

“Pretty pathetic shit, Bear,” the man says, trailing along behind him. Not quite mockingly, but bordering on it. “Getting piss drunk and passing out in a bush? Really? C’mon, man. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

There’s no sense in responding, Bear knows that now. No sense in even turning around to look. One foot in front of the other. Stumbling home alone under the cloak of night, dawn just around the corner; terrified that one day he’ll have to see it—the sun coming over the mountains, over the horizon. 

It’s been less than a year. He hasn’t yet made his amends with God. Forgiveness sits outside of him. Not quite the right time to let it in. Maybe that time passed a long time ago, a small aperture that shuttered closed at the approach of his eyes. He missed it sometime between killing a boy and losing his mind.

A man cannot hold himself up on the scaffolding of the world alone. There has to be something beneath him. There is no sense in repeating the horrors of the world back to him; he’s already lived them. He’s got something of a Midas touch for death. 

The months have been long since the divorce was finalised, since Lena left for good, since Buckley died, since Rip—since it all went down. If he thinks about it for too long, it seems like a nightmare that he woke up from still mad about; a nightmare he had no choice but to drink himself into a stupor over to escape. That’s the reality of the world. 

“You know, Bear, you’re not the one that’s fuckin’ dead,” Rip spits as he follows behind, matching Bear’s stumbling gait stride for stride. “So you can stop acting like it.”

There’s a truth in Rip’s words and it leaves him feeling nauseous. There’s also a kink in his neck and a headache threatening to split his forehead open. In the belly of him, he has a truth that says that the firmament of heaven is beyond his reach. When he looks up and the sky is void of coruscating light, the meagre stars like an exit with no entry wound, it doesn’t surprise him. Of course there wouldn’t be anything there.

On a good day, his heart feels like it’s weathered a siege. 

“So she left you! It’s time to fuckin’ move on. Go to a bar—I mean, you already are, so step one done—and pick someone up. Go on Christian Mingle or something. You keep living your life like this and you’re going to wind up killing yourself. And then the fuck good that’ll do?”

It takes everything in him to not turn around and do something rash. Only the nausea keeps him from making any sudden movements. Even if he were to turn around and do something, his knees would probably buckle under him. Probably throw up the contents of his stomach. Not much in there either. It rumbles when he thinks that, clenching at the thought of food. Then it twists, the nausea returning. 

One foot in front of the other. The walk home takes twice as long, his whole body aching.

“Heard you almost quit. Wouldn’t be the worst idea you ever had. Let Buddha take over—he’s earned it. Get yourself a nice piece of land in fuckin’…Montana or something. Couple cows, maybe some chicken—you could get a dog, Christ. You look like a guy who’d have a dog. Why don’t you have a dog, actually? You would’ve told me if you didn’t like dogs, so it’s not that.”

His forehead is greasy when he touches it to rub his head. Body secreting poison in his sleep. Oily. The corners of his lips crack when he yawns. It’s not like he’s never thought about a dog, about having something to care for, another living thing in his house. 

But—

(“Bear? …I don’t think we should have a child.”)

What he wants often falls to the wayside, slides off him like a glancing blow. 

Her old, familiar shape appears at the sudden loss of a dream: one where Lena’s gaze lingers on him long enough to burn; but then it is the sun.

Bear watches dawn break. Sunday morning. In a different life, he would’ve squinted into the light of a new day and closed his eyes against it, curling into the slighter body tucked into his chest for another hour of rest. Felt the rise and fall of her chest. Woken up to a hot mouth on his cock or fingers curling in his chest hair, petal lips seeking him out. Church after that, showering off the remnants of their morning, solemn in their pews with their chests still holding the laughter of an hour previous. Light as air, as a feather. 

He won’t go to church today; hasn’t in months. Not with the guilt of missing it the week before trailing after him, each missed week compounding month after month. The cracks in his faith webbing. Splintering out like stepping on the lake when it freezes over in the winter, crunching under his boot until he holds his place. Conscious that it could break under his feet.

“I grew up with a dog,” Bear finally responds, voice hoarse. First thing he’s said since last call at the bar. 

“Yeah. Figures. What kind?”

“Black lab. We called her Daisy.”

It’s another lifetime ago. Still living in his parent’s house, Daisy curled by his dad’s feet, her favourite spot to sleep. Television playing at a low volume, mom at the kitchen table doing her crossword, ink bleeding into the side of her hand. It’s been a long time since Bear buried all of them. He’s buried countless people since. 

“What—can’t get another? One and done? That’s how everything works for you?”

Teeth raze across his skin again. Trust Rip to always cut to the quick. Finally back in his neighbourhood at least, the street empty apart from the cars parked in their driveways or along the sidewalk. Bear’s stomach rumbles something fierce now, entreating him to eat. Worse than hunger is how he’d kill for a glass of water though. Anything to settle his head.

“Haven’t wanted a dog,” Bear grumbles, then clears his throat.

“Yeah, you have,” Rip scoffs. Bear hears him kick a rock, sending it skidding across the asphalt. 

“Fuck off.”

Heart silicified in his chest, composed of fossilised shells and rocks and bones. It feels heavy in his chest. 

He turns down the street leading to his house. 

“Gotta let someone else in, Bear. Girl, dog—whatever. You can’t keep this up forever or it’ll kill you.”

When he turns around at the door, fishing in his pocket for his keys, the sidewalk beyond his house is empty. 

(So a man lies down and rises not again; till the heavens are no more he will not awake or be roused out of his sleep.)

Every Friday like clockwork, Bear stops at the diner down the street for a coffee and a slice of cherry pie before heading to the bar. 

Today is like any other. He leaves the house with only his keys and wallet and walks the long twenty minutes to the diner. Every time he fights the urge to drive, but there has to be something holding him in place. A reason not to throw it all away. 

It’s never completely empty when he shows up, but it’s never full either. His seat at the back of the room is open as usual, like they put up a sign before he comes ambling down the street that says Reserved for Joe Graves and then pluck it away before he opens the door. It’d be nice if that were the case. Nice to have something just for him for a change. The thought comes with its accompanying pang of shame. Desire is a dangerous thing; anything he’s ever wanted has come at him with sharpened teeth, clamping down on his leg and ripping through the flesh. Bear trap for old Bear. 

He slides into the booth and waits for someone to notice him. Never bothers to flag someone down—if it’s ten minutes or even half an hour before he’s served, that’s fine by him. 

“Hiya,” a clear voice says to his right, pulling him away from staring through the blinds out the window. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea?”

The face Bear turns to meet is pleasant, smiling. Wide and untroubled. It’s not a face he recognizes though, despite months coming to this diner and becoming familiar with the staff. If he had to guess, he’d bet she only started a few days ago, maybe a week at most. She still has the sparkle of someone who hasn’t had the goodness beaten out of them yet. 

“Coffee,” he says, his own smile strained. “And a slice of pie.”

“Sure—we have key lime, blueberry, apple—”

“Cherry,” he interrupts, not letting her build steam. The wick in his chest burns too low for any conversation. The quick flicker of her brow makes the shame in his chest swell again. Forgive me sitting on his lips, unsaid. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I do this. 

She nods and scurries off to the back, skirt swishing with her movements. Bear notices only because his eyes get stuck there, somewhere between the curves of her hips and the roundness of her ass. When he realizes where he’s let his mind wander, he pulls it back, flattening his lips into a hard line. Any sort of indulgence feels wrong, a taking that shouldn’t be taken. He hasn’t even begun to pay penance for all the damage he’s wrought. 

It’s only on her way back that Bear notices the small bump protruding from under her apron. His mouth goes dry. When she reaches him again, he wordlessly accepts the cup of coffee and her reassurance that the pie will be out in just a minute. For a moment, he can hardly meet her gaze, eyes locked on the gentle curve of her belly, caught off guard in a way he hasn’t been in months. 

The first thought with any clarity is, what is she doing working here? A crummy diner on a Friday night. Down the street from an even sleazier pub. His second thought is to look outside at the poorly lit stretch of road and think that this is no place for a pregnant woman to be alone. He recognizes each car in the parking lot save one, likely hers. Drove herself here with the expectation of driving herself home at the end of the night.

If it had been Lena—well, he never would’ve let it be Lena, but if it had been, Bear can’t imagine letting his pregnant wife drive herself home in the middle of the night. Can hardly stomach the thought. 

She’s not Lena though, so he has no right. 

She’s gone before he has time to say anything else, skirt swishing behind her. It catches his eye again. When he tears his gaze away for a second time, he swallows back the metallic taste of self-loathing. It curdles in his mouth. It’s the sign telling him to stop coveting, stop looking out into the world and wondering what he can take. It’s his hamartia, his fatal flaw; thinking himself above the reproach of God. Thinking that he can kill, fuck, curse, and stray farther and farther from the light only to find his way back in the dark. 

The bell above the door rings when someone else comes in and Bear tenses. His shoulders only relax when two older women step in and head to a table. 

He watches as she picks up a plate from the pass-through window and heads back towards him. When she places it in front of him, he draws a deep breath in, trying to catch more than just the aroma of fresh baked cherries. 

“Here we go…one slice of cherry pie, straight out of the oven.”

“Thanks, honey,” Bear rumbles, smile finally meeting his eyes. 

“No trouble. The guys in the back said they make it special for you. Joe, right?”

That gets him to levy her with the full weight of his attention. The thought of her asking about him. “I go by Bear.”

“Oh. Alright, Bear.” She twists the word around in her mouth and seems to find it satisfying. “I think I’ve heard your name before. You were—I mean, you’re part of Pastor Adams’ parish, right?”

He clears his throat, cutting off the triangle point of his pie with the side of his fork. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Me too,” she confides, voice a low whisper. A secret between strangers. She doesn’t glance around though, doesn’t bother to draw out the ruse. “Or, I was, anyway. Haven’t been to service in awhile. I, um…I remember you. From a year or so back. You and your—um…you and your wife used to always sit up at the front.”

The fork scrapes against the plate. “Ex-wife.”

He catches her wince from the corner of his eye. “Oh. Sorry. You just—” She doesn’t have to say it. The slight dip of her eyes tells him all he has to know, and besides, it’s his own fault for still wearing the ring. Even with the paperwork signed and dated, even with Lena in another state now, starting a new life without him, the thought of taking it off makes him break out in a cold sweat. 

“It’s not—” Bear starts before giving up. He curls his fingers into a fist on the table. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. Not a big deal.”

She fidgets in the silence. Bear can’t bring himself to break it or make the atmosphere less oppressive. He tenses under it, the ache in his low back worsening. These days, he always aches. Nerve damage, a disc on the verge of slipping, an old ankle injury that flares up whenever he goes running. A ghost that follows him from haunt to haunt. The ring on his finger is just another old ache. 

“So, uh—” he clears his throat, nodding to her belly. “Your first?” 

It’s inappropriate, hardly his place to ask. Incredibly intrusive for someone he’s met for the first time, a stranger just trying to do her job and serve him coffee and pie before he goes off to drink himself half to death again at the dive bar down the road. 

Still, he asks. 

Only the faintest wrinkle of her nose betrays any embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. First one.”

“Congratulations.” It’s sincere. The envy in his gut is old, but it’s a manageable pain. 

“Thanks,” she says, with a small, private smile, hand resting absently under her belly. “I’m excited. I’m only a couple months along, but, uh…it’s been a journey. Just me and baby against the world, you know.”

That stops him in his tracks. Screws up the whole course of his evening because suddenly the sound of the bell over the door jingling doesn’t draw his attention away. It stays fixed on the smiling girl to his right that just opened her mouth and said something unacceptable. 

“Where’s the dad?” he asks, far too bluntly. 

She shrugs. “Somewhere. Didn’t stick around long enough to tell me where. It’s fine though—I’ve got my little peanut. That’s all that matters.”

“You told him and he left?” 

The pie sits cooling in front of Bear as a pit in his stomach opens up. It’s a terrible, empty hole that holds truths like the fallibility of the body and the good shouldering the burdens of the world.  

He only regrets being so direct when her lip quivers, a little motion that betrays her until she wrests control over her face again. “It’s not his fault. I don’t think he was—well…you know, it was a surprise.”

“That’s—” he struggles to find his words, “—that’s not right.”

Again, she shrugs. “That’s life.”

Bear feels his eyes go hard. A coldness settles under his skin. 

In the deep, dark gut of him, only anger lives. He spends his days questioning why God has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart, has allowed countless other people to die, but refuses, for reasons unbeknownst to him, to kill him. He’s given him enough opportunity and enough reason. 

The answer he circles back to time and again is the same. An eye for an eye. Divine wrath. The litany of his sins could be sung until the end of time and there’d still be more to sing. It’s only right that there would be consequences for him. 

The rage that simmers in his blood now is twofold. It begins with the sharp pang of injustice, of witnessing a punishment meted out to someone innocent. The girl standing by the booth he’s shoved himself into, almost too small for a man of his size, cannot be deserving of the same punishment that he’s brought upon himself. She has never killed. The babe in her belly has never killed. The two of them should never have to meet at the point of two paths converging with the likes of someone like Bear and proceed down the same road together. 

Then it sinks into a familiar territory. A place at the core of him where righteousness gives way to envy, as it always does. After what he's been through, the thought of someone having everything that he's always desperately wanted handed to them on a silver platter and then sending it back leaves him feeling a bit off-kilter. Not quite right. 

“Bear?” Her voice breaks the silence. When he blinks, concerned eyes stare down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, dragging a hand down his face. Shaking it off. “Sorry, I—got lost in my head. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright,” she says, again gentle in her voice and smile. “Easy place to get lost in, isn’t it?”

He makes a sound in acknowledgment. Drags the silence out. Her mouth twists shy under his scrutiny. 

“Anyway, I have a few other tables to get to, if you don’t mind. Enjoy your pie. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

He eats his slice of pie in silence as she leaves, eyes following her to her next table. Rage still sizzles under his fingertips. It makes his hands shake, old nerve damage and anger problems. 

It’s like a gun punch to think of her all on her own. It’s not right. For someone like him, well, it’s—deserved, earned. Inevitable, even. Every step taking him further away from grace, from its light. No one who knows his story would think otherwise. 

She’s a pretty thing though, this new waitress. Too tired, the bags under her eyes testament to that, no matter how well she hides them with makeup. Slightly puffy anyway, maybe from a lack of sleep or too many tears. His stomach aches at the thought. It must have come as a shock, the bottom of her world dropping out from under her when the baby’s father took off. Dragged away from the church not through her own doing, but the fault of another. Not her shame to bear, and yet. 

He forces the pie down. Bites that taste like nothing, 

Bear hears the lilt of her voice from two tables over. “Refill on your coffee, hun?” 

A supplicant sits in his place as he sips his coffee. The hour slips by into the next and it starts to come together in his mind. Why he's been forced down this long road alone, why God hasn't struck him down yet despite every terrible thing he's done. His eyes follow her flit across the diner, the light seeming to bend around her like a halation. 

When Bear looks across the room at her, he thinks, Lord, do not think I am waiting patiently for your hands. Every part of me trembles with anxiety.

(O Lord, show me I can fall apart together again; but not just yet.)

He stays until the last customer has finally left, waiting for her to come back to his table with an apologetic smile. When she does, Bear hands her his empty plate, watching her take a step back when he scoots out of the booth, rising to his full height. He makes note of the way her eyes round as they follow him up. Taller than her, unsurprisingly. Surprising though, the way her bottom lip droops just the slightest bit. 

“Is it just you closing up?” he asks, voice a tad too gruff. He clears his throat again, looking around for anyone else. 

“Well, the chef’s cleaning up in the back, but, uh—” she looks around the diner, conspicuously empty apart from the two of them. “Yeah. Just me.”

Bear gestures with his chin towards the door. “I’ll wait ‘till you’re done, then walk you to your car.”

“Oh, Joe—”

“Bear,” he corrects.

“Bear,” she amends, fingers twisting together now. He relishes the sound of it on her lips. “You don’t have to. I’m used to it, honestly. I know I just started here, but I’ve done closes before, you know.”

“I’ll wait outside.” A statement now. Stubborn. He’s always been a bit mulish, hard to shake off. 

He can tell the second she relents, shoulders slumping. “Alright. I shouldn’t be too long…you can leave if you get bored though. Won’t blame you.” 

He fights the urge to tilt her head up by the chin to make her meet his eyes. Just barely restrains himself. 

Leaning against a tree out front, he twirls the ring around his finger as he watches her clean up. For the first time in a long time, he slips it off.

[rennorthernlights]

The World We Knew

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4: Snakes In The Garden, Chapter 5

Warnings: The depictions of the priest are not at all an embodiment of other priests and Christian. Implied grooming, Creepy older dudes being weird around KidReader, Nothing happens to the KidReader though, Zombies, Mentions of minor character death, Sexism towards woman, Zombie apocalypse brings out the worst

Backstory to get a better insight about Issac and Radio girl’s first group. (Radio girl being Reader)

She remembers the day she went to church for the first time. An impressionable age of 10 years old. Her mother made her father swore that if they ever had children that they should be allowed to choose their faith. Her father, a devout Christian, agreed to her mothers, an atheist in every sense of the word, request.

Granted her father tried to persuade his daughter to go to church, she just never wanted to go. That is until her father made Captain in the police department. His church was holding a celebration for her father’s honorable work. The people were nice and even though she hated being forced into a frilly dress that her mother picked out. She’d much rather watch Kim Possible or maybe Dragon Ball Z but at least Sunday school was fun.

Some of the kids even made her laugh and she sorta had a lil crush on one of the boys too… much to the teasing and amused smile her mother gave her. “Alright now, lil lady church is starting.” Her mom said as she waved goodbye to the cute looking boy. Sitting in the hard pews as she had half a mind to fall asleep that is until the robe looking dude walked up to the wooden thing. Tugging on her mom’s sleeve to ask her who and what that is. “That man is a priest. Father Abraham Norton and that’s a pulpit.” An O on her face as she nods and looks to him.

They say that children can understand an adult far better than an adult could. Something about being able to clock when something just ain’t right. That tiny, small feeling of something most would miss.

The beady eyes of the priest is what set her off. Not her fault since she was always the best at games like I Spy and Hide-and-Go-Seek. He was off… so to speak, at least about the way the man looked. “Like a snake,” her brows furrowed as her mom pinches her elbow to be quiet and to listen. She couldn’t shake how much of a snake he looked like to her. Blame all the zoo books she got for Christmas.

The way his tongue rolled on S’s and the eyes the man had. Like they were searching for something. “Good morning, my lambs.” The man says with a soft smile. Eyeing the crowd and she shakes her head of nerves when his eyes land on her for a bit. “Now I know we are celebrating and honoring our new appointed Captain but there is something that I must say.” His shoulders fall as he looks sad but almost forced, like when she gets caught taking another cookie when she’s not supposed to.

She looks to her mom but her mother just tilts her head motions for her to keep listening. “I have come to ask for forgiveness.” Some people gasp in the congregation. The Father continues, “20 years ago, I gave in to the sins of desire for a woman. I was seduced by the way she looked, and I couldn’t stop myself.” His brows creasing as he places a hand on his chest.

Her dads eyes widen and then narrow, like he’s calculating. His thumb tapping against his thigh as he always does when he’s recalling something. Until it stops. “If we were back in the old days then I would gladly pluck out my eyes. I’ve found out recently that I have a son. A man that is now 22 years old named, Issac.” He extends his hand, and a man stands. Tall, light skin, brown hair and green, beady eyes. The same as his father.

“A fitting name, Issac Norton-Cortes,” her father grasps her mothers hand and they stare at each other. Wordlessly speaking as the Fatherspeaks solemnly. “Unfortunately, Issac’s mother has passed from unforeseen events. Her last wish was for Issac to be joining our church to help out so please… bare no ill will towards him. It is not his fault that his mother seduced me. He is innocent in his creation that was formed by sinful lust.”

The priest is still speaking as her mother taps her hand, and she looks confused before her mom says, “We are leaving. Now.”

Standing up and walking out as her father has a distant look, a thundering storm raging in his eyes. Being sent up to her room as she doesn’t understand why her mom and dad wanted to suddenly leave. Her dad loves going to church, makes an effort to always have Sunday off. Her dad was about to be celebrated or something like that. So she couldn’t understand why they’d want to leave. Why is her dad so… strange right now?

Tip toeing out of her room as she overhears her parents speaking softly, “-other is Elizabeth Norten. I knew her, Maria. She wasn’t seductive or would ever do something like that. She was just barely 18! Now I know why she suddenly forced to leave.”

“Jamie you can’t mean…”

“Look, she… Elizabeth was troubled, got into fights, did some smoking but she’d never... She would’t.” Her father sounds… upset and angry. “For years I wondered what happened. Her parents never told me.

“Sounds like you really knew her.” Her mother says softly. Her brows turned upward as she’s never seen her husband look so. So distraught before. “Was she your friend?” A tentative ask.

“She…” he sighs, “she helped me out a lot with my dad. Sure, she was a bad influence sometimes, but she stuck up for me whenever I came in with a new bruise from my old man.” She moves closer to get a better look over parents as they look sad. Her mother holding her father in a tight embrace.

Whispering words that she can’t hear as her mom rubs a hand on her dads back. “Her parents brought her to Father Abraham to see if he could help. She wasn’t the same after the first week that she’d have confessionals. She became more and more quiet. Wearing hoodies and always being covered.” His voice breaks.

The realization of it comes crashing down on him nearly 22 years later. “If I’d known… If I had just taken a closer look… I didn’t even reach out to her.” Tears forming in her fathers eyes and the man rarely cries. “How did I not think that it was suspicious?” He remembers how Elizabeth’s parents suddenly disowned her. A crushing guilt in his chest. Her mother says nothing but just holds him to her. “No one knew why… until now.” He glares hard at the floor.

From then on, they’d barely go back to that church. Making up a reason to be excused as the priest smiles assuredly. She was always around her mother since she wouldn’t let her little girl out of her sight. Getting tired of it like children do with overbearing parents. She decided that to sneak away to play with the other kids.

Playing soccer with the kids until she gets tired of it. Can only kick a ball so much before boredom creeps in. She spots the Churches garden and voice in her head to not go in but against her better thought she goes in. Her eyes widening as the garden looks well cared for. Different plants and even some trees. She grins as she crouches near one of the plots. Her hands digging into the soil.

“Hello there,” a voice calls out as she sits with her knees on the dirt, playing with the rolly pollys. The other kids laughing in the background, most likely still playing soccer. She tenses and moves to look at whose is speaking. Green eyes and a wide grin, something that supposed to be kind yet for her 10 year old mind… she doesn’t feel okay.

“All by your lonesome in the garden? Where’s your parents?” He looks around before he steps forward. “My names Issac and you are?”

“My mommy and daddy says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” She tells him shyly as she stands up. Her feet shuffle close.

The man grins and he holds out his hand, “That’s very smart. You’re a very smart girl, aren’t you?” He laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world, “Well my name is Issac.” Grabbing her hand and shaking it. “No longer strangers, see? I bet your name is Eve. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Confusion evident on her face at the name, “My names not Ev-“

A voice cuts through the garden making both of them look towards the person speaking. “There you are! Where have you been I’ve been calling you for an hour.” Her mother spots her and rounds the corner faster as she spots Issac. The man grips her hand harder as she tugs back. Finally letting go when her mother places a hand on her shoulders. Her eyes narrowing as she holds her hand out for her little girl to hold onto.

“Gotta be more vigilant with your lil girl. Almost snatched her up,” he laughs but something in his eyes isn’t playful. Her mother pushes her behind her as she smiles far too sweetly. He continues speaking as he looks down at her and not her mother, “She’s a pretty thing too. She’ll make all the boys fawn over her especially at her age right now.”

The smile on her mothers face drops as she glares at him. “10 year old girls shouldn’t have to worry about boys. Stay away from my daughter.” Her tone tight as she moves her and her daughter along as he smiles wide.

As soon as they were closer to her father her mother told her to not speak to Issac again. That the man is up to no good especially since he’s talking to a 10 year old girl like that. Her mom can’t prove it but that man… that man is not a good man. She just knows it. Her mom has never been wrong about people before.

————————————————————

She groans awake. Her hands clenching and unclenching as her eyes blink. “Finally awake, my Eve?” She shivers with disgust at the nickname. Eve, it’s what he called her on the day they first met, and he’s been calling her that ever since. No matter how many times she tells him that’s not her name. Her head pounding as she tries to remember what happened. Her hand moving to massage her head, but she finds that she can’t move them. “Your head hurt, Eve? Sorry I was so rough with you.” The fake worry in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by her as she glares. “Shouldn’t fight your husband next time.”

“We ain’t married, Issac.” Glaring at him hotly as she struggles in the binds. “You’re not my husband and I ain’t your damn wife!”

“Oh, silly me,” he laughs that stupid noise. All nasally and all teeth, “How presumptuous of me. We never did consummate on our wedding night.” Her glare hardens as she remembers all too well that night and the days before that lead up to it.

————————————————————

She’s been on her own for a couple weeks. Given up hope that her parents are alive. Both aren’t answering their phones and when she went to where her mom worked it was already overrun with dead children and screaming teachers. Her father was one of the first responders to downtown Houston…. They don’t call that place a Dead-zone for nothing now days. It’s a miracle she even made it this far with what little she has. She’s been seeing a group every now and then… maybe she could talk to them and ask to join?

“Holy shit,” her eyes widen as she recognizes the priest. Her parents never let her go back after that whole incident with Issac when she was 10. Apparently, that alone was enough for their parents to leave that church. But… beggars can’t be choosers especially since the Priest is opening up the church for everyone to go to. The priest immediately recognized her as “Jamie and Maria’s daughter.” He smiled with those beady eyes that she could hear her younger selfs thought of him being a snake.

It wasn’t so bad save for the son that kept trying to talk to her. 2 months have come and gone faster than many anticipated. The random cold days and hot days messing with peoples perception of what month but she’s betting it being near December. She had hoped that the son of the priest would’ve forgotten about her in the 2 months that she’s been here but no.

“He really, like really, likes being around you.” Angelica, a friend she’s made in the time that she’s been here. “You don’t think it’s strange?”

“I know it’s strange but s’not like I can mention it.” She sighs as she grabs her pack. “If you haven’t already noticed. His dad is becoming like the leader of this group.” An annoyance in her tone as she thinks on it. It wouldn’t be too bad if the priest wasn’t spouting his ideas to everyone. At first everyone had a voice but slowly but surely it’s like the woman are being treated less. Just a couple days ago and she was almost taken off a scavenging hunt due to her being a woman. Issac stepped in and that’s the only reason why she’s still on the team.

“Doesn’t even make sense that they wanted to take you off. You’re one of the best especially since they’ve been coming back with less and less people.” Angelica notes. It’s true though. Yesterday the Andrews brothers, Edward and Connor, died. Issac was leading that scavenging group. Eric and Alexi died four days ago also when Issac was leading them. 2 weeks prior a couple more died… Issac was also… leading at the time. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s killing them.” She snorts and elbows her friend for being so bold with her words.

“Don’t say that. It’s not like those men were helping out round town anyways. Edward was a drunk and tried to drink all the alcohol that we’ve been using for wounds.” Rolling her eyes but it does seem strange that people have been dying. “Besides… it was zombies that killed them.” Patting her pants as since Issac would always come back to tell the harrowing tale of the dead outside, “that’s bound to happen at this point.”

“I’m just saying.” Angelica raises her hands. Her eyes flickering as some of the men come around. A look of disgust on Angelica’s face and she laughs. She wishes she would’ve meet her in university. “Here comes the dicks.” Her arms crossed. She knows her friend’s just upset because she’s been on ‘cleaning duty’. Some old fart told her that it’s better for a woman to be doing a ‘womans job’.

She’s just glad that— “Eve!” Speak of the devil. Issac comes running up with a wide grin. All teeth in it as he eyes her up and down making her bite back a shiver.

“That ain’t my name.” Gritting through her teeth as politely as she can. He’s been insistent on calling her that. It was cute in the beginning but now it’s just downright annoying. “What’s going on?”

“You’ll always be my Eve.” He laughs, his hands on his hips. Leaning forward, “No, no, just wanted to tell you that they’re passing out some more rations.” Her eyebrows perk up and even Angelica looks shocked. Angelica’s lips purse as she stands closer.

“Thought we were running low?” He looks at Angelica, his fingers flexing a lil as his left foot shifts a bit.

“We are but,” he pauses as he looks back from the friend to her. “We found some deer a couple weeks ago and we’ve been getting it ready to share it. Isn’t that wonderful, Eve?” He steps closer getting more in her space.

“Couple weeks ago?” Angelica muses and is shoulders tense a bit. “You mean when you came back with nothing?” Her arms crossed as she ain’t buying it. Angelicas’ never liked Issac, been more vocal about him being a creep and honestly that’s what she loves about Angelica. She’s never been afraid to speak her mind. “Came back with nothing except some men dead save for your friends. Strange ain’t it?” He turns his head towards her, his green eyes staring at her as his hands flexes again.

“We found a deer but didn’t want to say anything incase it’s infected. As for the men that died, I told you. Zombies attacked us.”

“Was that before or after you found this miraculous deer?”

Her hand touches on Angelica’s shoulder as Issac and her are having a stand off. The atmosphere shifting and she swears she could hear a pin drop. “Angelica.” She says and then looks to Issac and her, “A deer was found that’s all that matters.” Her friend scoffs and backs away. Walking away to cool off..

“You should’t be friends with her, Eve.” Watching Angelica leave before he turns and faces her fully. “My dads gonna announce some things when the food is passed out in the church. I’ll save you a seat.” He doesn’t offer, he never offers and always expects her to sit next to him.

“I appreciate that but I’m already sitting with Angelica.”

His hand reaches up and puts a hair behind her ear. It takes everything in her to not shove his hand away. “A pity. You need better friends.” A grin spreads on his face and she takes a step back.

Later that night when the food from the deer was passed the priest announced that he will be taking more of a leadership role, “Just until a vote happens.” He smiles wide and some of the men and even the woman are happy about it. Angelica had her concerns about it but nothing could be done. A couple months go by and the ones that tried to be leader would either get sick or somehow die. Of course, her friend called it suspicious.

“Georgie was the last person to try for it and he went on a scavenging group and somehow died by a zombie attack.” She says hotly, she hasn’t let it go and has spoken about it again and again. “Georgie was built like a brick house and knew his way with a knife and you’re telling me that he somehow died but not Issac or Issac’s friends?” She scoffs and scrubs the dishes.

It has been suspicious. Especially with the way things have been turning within the group. More and more women are put in ‘womanly’ roles. The men have outright refused to wash or clean things. Mandatory church meetings whenever the priest feels ‘called’ to say something too. Even she’s been takin off the scavenging groups finally. The men even tried to take her fathers rifle from her.

Doesn’t help that people have been on edge, everyone thinks the rations might be bad or spoiled since a good amount have been getting sick. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but you need to keep it down. Ange,” her friend walks off in a huff, “Ange, come on.” Her hand reaches out and grabs hers. “I trust you. You know I do. If you say it’s weird then I believe you.” Her voice softer as she looks at her friend.

“Look I think we sho—“ the sound of a bell ringing cuts her off. “Great.” Glaring in the direction of the church. “What has he been called to speak about now.” Normally the loud noises would attract the attention of the zombies but cars and some wooden fences have been used as walls. Along with patrols, their relatively safe. “Let’s get this over with.”

The people move closer to the church, the cold making people bundle up as much as possible. Texans aren’t built for the cold. More for heat and crazy hurricanes. Everyone thinks it’s somewhere near February. Maybe early April since sometimes it can still be cold. One of the reasons why everyone’s been snappy lately. Typically, animals should be coming back since Spring is slowly creeping up. “Yeah,” she murmurs in agreement, “Let’s hear what he has to say now and move along.”

The priest smiles at everyone coming in, not like anyone has a choice. His Bible prepped as he speaks on the pulpit. He drones on and on about sin and that the sinners outside the walls are trying to lead people astray, the sinners being the zombies and anyone not in town. Something she’s found weird. He keeps speaking and she looks around bored until he says something that makes her tense. “And as for the lovely woman of our town. God has put on my heart that it is now time for us to repopulate the earth. Even some of the man has said that they’ve felt God’s call to marry some of the woman here.”

Her blood runs cold as she can feel eyes on her. Angelica moves her hand to grip hers. “I would be more than happy to marry off people in our lovely town. I think it’s time for marriage and eventually… children.” The smile he gives doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t like the way he says children. Doesn’t like how she just knows Issac is staring at her. Hair standing up on the back of her neck.

Finally, the sermon ends and she leaves quickly with Angelica in tow. “We need to leave.” Angelica pulls her aside. “I don’t like this one bit. Not shittin on any Christian here but this feels more like a man-made call than God’s call.” And she can’t help but agree. They know they can’t just outright leave. They have no preserves and no way of knowing how bad it is out there since they aren’t allowed out anymore. None of the woman are.

Tensions rising in the town as the men have made proposals but the woman that have been proposed to would say no. The priest would mention how it isn’t right to go against God’s word but he understood by saying, “The ladies are just nervous about having such fine suitors.”

Things changed in the coming months, when Spring slowly started getting warmer. Summer on the horizon. People are still dying on the scavenging groups and people aren’t getting as sick from the rations. Unmarried women are no longer allowed anywhere without a chaperon because of ‘safety’ reasons. “Ladies aren’t as strong as our fellow men. The Lord has implored that we protect the weak and feebler bodies.”

Issac has been more and more insistent with being her chaperone even with Angelica always being around. He’s been hovering more around her, and she hates it especially when he keeps getting in her bubble. Someone tugs on her hand and then pulls her into a closet. “Hey!”

“Shh!” A hand presses to her and she relaxes as she recognized that Angelica is the one that grabbed her. “They’re kicking out some of the woman that has been saying no to getting married.”

“What?”

“Lily, you remember her? Button nose Lilly,” she nods and Angelica continues, “Sam’s been trying to marry her for weeks now. I just overheard Issac saying that he and the men are going to take her stuff and kick her out.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead fucking serious.” Her stare hard as she leans against the wall. “We need to leave.”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere but here. I’ve told Tommy no 10 times already. If I’m going to get kicked out then I want to do it on my own terms.” Her hand reaches out and grabs hers. “Come with me. No more Issac. No more town. Just us.” Her thumbs rub on her hand. “We can leave this all behind us. Finally visit New York like you were telling me about.”

Thinking it over as she always does, careful and cautious, as she looks at Angelica. “Ange, I…”

“Look I.. I like you,” her eyes widen but Angelica still speaks, “and I don’t want to leave if you don’t. I’ll get kicked out anyways but Issac.” Her face sours. “I know he won’t let you leave. He’s been obsessed with you. I don’t like it. I don’t like how he stares at you.”

“You like me?”

“Is that all you got out of what I said?” Angelica frowns and then slowly smiles. Pulling her closer as she smiles. “Yes, dingus. I like you. Have for a while and I—“ the sound of a bell ringing again and she growls in frustration. Stepping back but a hand grabs Angelica and pulls her close to press a chaste kiss that makes her gasp.

“I like you to.”

“You Motherfucker.” A blush spreading and she glares lightheadedly. Holding her hand as they walk out the closet to listen to what the priest has to say. The sermons have been getting more and more strict. More far-right Christian ideals. The priest stands at the front of the church welcoming everyone in like he always does. His beady eyes stare at her and as she holds Angelica’s hand.

They sit at a back pew, whispering their plan as the priest talks. The men saying their amens as the woman, at least some of them are speaking. “It is with a heavy heart that I must say that Lily White will no longer be in our town.” Some gasps in the congregation as she holds tighter to Angelica’s hand. “From now on, a woman must marry if they are for their hand in marriage. The men have all been called to marry certain woman. To deny that is to deny God. We cannot allow sin and disobedience to be in our town.” They both look at each other and as soon as the sermon ends they nearly run out.

Green eyes watching as they rush out. Not stopping until they are in their shared room. “We need to leave, Ange.” Angelica nods and immediately starts packing their things.

[rennorthernlights]

Annoying as hell!!! Why is he so under appreciated??? He’s literally so freaking funny and charming. Pretty boy with a strong head on his shoulders!! Thick big shoulders!!! What’s not to love??

i was just minding my own on when i saw an ad for call of duty warzone mobile. i then went and watched every trailer for it to see if there were any gaz cameos. there weren't any, but i wasn't surprised. then i went to look for promotional photos to see if he was in any and i found this one...

anybody see gaz here? nope, neither do i! he's not in ANY promotional photos or videos that i could find. i don't even know if he's in the GAME. you have all these characters lined up yet you don't have one of the MAIN characters from THREE OF YOUR GAMES! and i know he's not the only modern warfare character missing, but he's also the one missing from almost everything. last time i checked task force 141 included price, gaz, ghost, and soap. GAZ! GAZZZZZ!!!!!!! not some operator who is never mentioned in any campaign. i have no idea why activision hates him so much, yet here we are :/

[rennorthernlights]

I was feeling pretty bad the other day about my writing and one of my favorite COD authors sent a Kudo!!! To me?? My shitty writing and they liked me???!!!!

Made my day ten times better because I look up to them. And everytime I get a kudo or a comment from other people I just

It really, really, really helps a writer. It’s why I’m trying to get better about commenting and rebloging. Wanna kiss(platonically) everyone on the head and make them pack lunches. ❤️❤️

You guys are commenting on the fics you read right? You’re at least leaving kudos on the Astarion smut and the pairs that have less than 20 fics for them too? You’re bookmarking stories you really like that are still being updated and ones that haven’t been touched in over a year right?

You know that even the smallest interactions are like cocaine to fic writers right? You understand how important a string of emoji hearts left behind on chapter at three am is right?? Right????

You’re treating AO3 like a community and not a content factory….right?

[rennorthernlights]

The World We Knew

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3: Past Catching Up, Chapter 4

Warnings: Zombie death, description of a child zombie, you unaliving zombies, violence and violence against our girl, Tell Me If I Miss Any

October-ish, 2023. Time??? Location: outskirts of Houston

It’s been a couple days since she last talked to Static and Electricity. Much to their worry but she told them. “I’m gonna be on the move for a couple days and I’ll need it to be quiet. I promise after 3 days I’ll contact you again.” To which Static made her triple-dog swear as she laughed at him being childish about her swearing to him. To which Electricity remarked that they were being extra serious even though his tone was playful. They also swore they’d come for her if anything bad happens to her. Nothing could go more wrong than a zombie virus… right?

“Just my fucking luck.” She sighs heavily as she wipes her sweat. Packs of zombies roaming the streets and on top of that she’s running out of food preserves. “I should’ve saved them raviolis…” her stomach grumbling as she presses her back against a brick wall of the library. God what she would give to read a hard back book again. Grumbling to herself about how she almost finished the Percy Jackson series.

Her thoughts momentarily stopped when she hears the groans of the dead and that’s her cue to get a move on. Carefully looking around and noticing how run down most of it is. Most likely when the virus really took hold of this town it became a buffet. Considering the dried bloody marks on the streets, broken windows, ripped doors, “Jesus,” she murmurs as she ducks behind a car.

A rasping growl snaps her attention as a lil kid stumbles and twitches down the sidewalk. Eyes milky and searching aimlessly, half their face bitten into that she can see the inside of their mouth. She shivers as she moves her rifle to the side and grabs her knife.

She’s noticed that the Z’s don’t see that well. They rely more on their other senses which normally isn’t a problem for her. But… she doesn’t like being out in the open like this. Usually she’d be in a building by now but most have broken down doors. Not safe enough. Maybe she should go find an office building.

She pauses and grumbles lowly “Okay maybe I am predictable.” Snorting as she thinks back to what Electricity was saying and the kid snaps their head towards the noise she made.

“Shit.”

The kid runs limply at her, their blood encrusted nails reaching out to swipe at her as she steps back. Her back against the abandoned car as she waits for the kid to get closer. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs as she kicks her boot against the kids stomach. The dead kid falls down and she’s quick to get on top and stab her knife into the kids head. The kid shakes on the ground for maybe a second before stilling. Her eyes soften as she breathes out slowly. Kneeling down and closing the kids eyes, “I’m sorry you got turned kid… I hope you can rest easier now.” Wiping the blood of the kids from her knife on the kids pants.

Standing back up and dusting herself off as she looks to her side when suddenly she hears a massive BOOM!! The sound making some of the cars blare their emergency sound.

“Fatherfucker!” She yells as another explosion goes off. The sounds riling up every zombie in the area their snarls heard as they immediately start searching in a frenzy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she curses as she runs towards a building. Artys Arts and Crafts is what she barely saw before she runs in. Ducking behind the shelves as she almost didn’t see the 4 zombies in the room. She stills fast as her eyes widen. Her hand slamming against her mouth as she tries to control her breathing.

They groan and shove against the wall to get to the noise. Mindlessly moving and twitching at every sound. Yells are heard outside and whoever is out there is just attracting more and more attention. She knows she can’t just stay here unless she clears the building. At least the noise will make it easier for her to work around getting to them one by one.

Moving to the one that’s closest she slams the sharp point of her knife to the skull. Pulling her arm back as the sound of the body falling alerts the other 3. Their heads twisting towards the sound. Their arms reaching out as she ducks under one’s arm. Swiping a leg causing that one to fall. Sheathing her knife and grabbing her bat that’s attached to the strap of her backpack. She knows she’ll need range considering the three are coming at her. She can’t risk a bullet or the noise that comes with a bullet.

Yanking her bat free and swinging it hard at the small one that runs to her. “Asshole!” Slamming the bat on head like she would a baseball. Kicking at it as zombie doesn’t go down with that hit. It snarls at her and she pulls back and swings— THUNK!! She has to run back as the other one tries to lunge at her. She curses as it almost grabs her ankle. It crawls on the ground and she stomps her boot on it’s face. She repeats that again as she tries to keep and eye on the fourth that’s staggering to her slamming her bat down on the zombie and once satisfied she pays attention to the last one.

“3 down.” She murmurs as the last one swipes at her. Their veiny hands grasping at her bat and she yells as it snaps it’s teeth towards her. She jerks her bat back making it lean forward and punches the zombie. It lets go of her bat and she slams her bat upwards with her right hand gripping the handle. Breaking the jaw of the zombie as she wails on it again and again once it stumbles to the ground. Swiping her bat to the side to force the black blood off. Walking back to the other three, slamming the blunt of the bat against their heads to make sure they’re dead before she starts checking the rooms.

“Corners and windows.” She murmurs as she checks. Thankfully it’s clear. With a heavy sigh she sits on the table in what looks like the breakroom. She already has the door shut and barricaded. “Those four must’ve been a group.” She notices as some moldy food and wrappers are thrown haphazardly on the floor. Water bottles, some snacks, and some unused toiletries, “Thank god,” she laughs as she sits in the corner. Grabbing her backpack and pulling out a granola bar. Another explosion goes off and she flinches. More noises outside and it might be a fight that’s going off.

“Rival gangs probably,” she’s seen her fair share of warring gangs. Territory claims and all that jazz. “I’ve never been caught in the crossfire of it.” She huffs out as she munches. She pulls her backpack to her. “It’s been longer than 3 days…” she swallows thickly as she knows she’ll get an earful from the guys. Taking time to count and she realizes that it’s been 5 days in total… sighing, “let’s hope they won’t be mad.

Unknown to her as someone watches her closely through the scope of their rifle. Watching as she sits completely unaware that she’s being watched. “Well, well, well,” A grin stretching back as they mark where she is on the map before taking off. “He’s gonna love this.”

————————————————————

“It’s been 5 days!” Soap yells as he hovers over the radio. He and Gaz have been more stressed the last two days. “She said 3. What if she’s hurt or worse?!” His hand slams on the wall of the room he that everyone is hunkering in.

“That’s not helpin, Johnny.” Ghost snaps as his arms are crossed over his chest. Everyone’s been on edge since their girl hasn’t been talking on the radio. It’s become increasingly harder to deal with Soap’s outbursts and Gaz’s quiet glares and clenched hands. “She’s probably trying to get somewhere safe.”

He paces back and forth muttering words in Gaelic and he glared when Ghost tells him to speak English. “And that’s the problem! We told’er to tell us when she needed help!” The Scott growls out in frustration. Eyeing Gaz as he keeps staring at the radio. His thick hands gripping it as he mutters something. “What was that?” Soaps eyes narrows.

“I said..” Gaz flickers to him hesitantly. Biting his lip before he lets out a shaky response. “I said… She might not be al-“

“Don’t!”

“Johnny there’s a very real possibility that she mi-“

“Kyle.” Price cuts through the tension when he sees the radio’s dot blinking. “Look,” He says and Kyle immediately looks at it. His heart pounding as it buzzes.

“..yone hear me? Static? Electricity? Hello?” She calls out through the line. She sounds nervous and scared. Ghost and Price share a glance as they catch the tone of her voice.

“Sunshine? Hey, hey, it’s me,” he speaks back urgently. “We thought… god, love, we thought you were hurt or worse!”

“I… I know, I’m sorry. Is Static okay?” She asks and god love her Soap stumbles to him and he answers quickly. His hand on Kyle’s back as he unconsciously moves his thumb up and down. He speaks, letting her know that he’s there as well. “I’m glad you're both okay. I got into a couple rough patches. There are too many packs roaming.” The men freeze and Soap speaks first.

“You okay? Swear we’ll come for you, Bonnie. Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine, Static. Promise.”

“What’s going on, Sunshine? It’s not like you to miss out on our daily talks even with packs roaming.” Gaz says softly, all the men huddle around him as they listen for her reply. She takes a bit to respond so he says again, “Sunshine?”

The static from the radio crinkles and finally she speaks, “Got caught in a bit of a crossfire between gangs. At least I think they’re gangs.” She says and then says quickly right after “Nothing to worry about though!”

“Gangs? Oh lass,” The Scott says worriedly, “Are you safe? I thought you said you didn’t do groups?” A tease in his voice.

“Pft, I’m a free-range roamer, Static” joking back, the radio gets loud again, “I’m hunkered down in an arts and crafts store. Killed a couple Z’s but I’m safe. Promise.” Her voice is murmured into the radio like she’s trying to be quiet. “I can hear them outside. There’s been at least 3 explosions.”

Explosions? When Ghost was out checking the perimeter, he noticed an explosion a couple miles out… could they be close to her? “You need to stay in cover, Sunshine. Don’t go out unless you have to.” Kyle says urgently. His thumb cracking and popping the air between the bones. A tale tall sign that he’s nervous. Relaxing just a bit when John places a hand on his shoulder. “Listen… we uh… we saw an explosion from where we are a couple minutes ago. Estimate about 20 minutes ago. Are we?” He bites his lip before he speaks, “Are we close to you?”

The static gets loud as she doesn’t speak for a minute. Price looks a Ghost, a worried twitch of his eyes as Ghost tilts his head slowly. “I… Maybe I don’t know?” Her voice sounds nervous again. “I can’t give a location you kno-“

“Sunny,” Kyle says, his voice warm and understanding. His hand gripping the radio as he wishes he could ease her fear. He and the team speculated on why she’s so intent on hiding her name and location. Probably has something to do with her first group.

“I’m not gonna ask for your location. You know I wouldn’t but if they are using explosives along with fighting… you might get hurt.” She could get hurt, she could die, she could get burned from the explosive. When Ghost was describing it to them earlier when he saw the explosion in the distance Soap looked worried. Soap knows his bombs, he’s a demolitions expert Goddamnit. “Please… darling, you gotta tell us if it gets too hard and you’re not safe.” He says softly, using that pleading voice that gets even Price to stumble sometimes.

“I… Well, I’m safe for now, I guess. There’s a couple building near me that has some insignias on it. Most likely to mark territories.”

“What do they look like?”

“One has what looks like a black bird and the other looks like cross.”

“Bird and cross” Ghost murmurs beside Soap. They tense when she’s about to speak but they hear a faint crash on the line. It doesn’t sound like a radio crashing but something akin to glass. “Bonnie! What’s goin on?!”

————————————————————

Voices outside causes her to freeze. The hairs on her back standing up as she listens in to what they are saying. She… she recognizes those voices. Her focused snapped back to her radio as the Scott is still speaking to her. “Bonnie!” Static yells into the radio. She curses as she zips up her backpack and putting the sling of her rifle over her shoulder. “I’m fine, Static!” She tries to say more but the sound of something slamming against wood is heard from outside the breakroom she’s barricaded in.

There’s a voice yelling outside and they’re calling out to her. Calling out a name. A name that he gave her. A name that isn’t her own but forced on her. “No, no, no,” stammering as the men on the radio are still trying to figure out what’s wrong.

“I-I think I’ve been found.” She says weakly. That voice outside making her skin crawl, memories flashing through her as her heart pounds. She put so much space between her and that group. How did they find her? She’s been so careful and cautious these last 4 months. She needs to move; she needs to leave and go. God, why can’t she move?

“Sunny, wait, darling please.” Electricity says, he sounds nervous, scared even and her heart clenches at the sound. “What does that mean? Who found you?”

————————————————————

“Handmaidens Tale.” The men all tense when she says the name. She has only ever mentioned them briefly, Soap tried to get her to speak a bit more on it the second week in, but she shut it down fast. She’s more scared, more scared than shes ever sounded. Gaz and Soap look to Price as they don’t know what to do.

The man sighs and takes the radio. “Can you get somewhere safe? Do you have a weapon?” Price says, he was planning to speak to her when the time was right but now? Now he doesn’t have a choice. “Breath, love.”

A pregnant pause that has them all on edge, fearing the worst until she speaks. “Y-You're with Static and Electricity, right? The uh Captain?” She has overheard him before, faintly but she recognized him since Soap has said it before that the voice is owned by their Captain.

“Yes, love. Listen to me.” Experience in his voice, “Estimate up to 6 people, assume guns and weapons on hand with them. They’re most likely surveying the perimeter. You can hide or you can fight.” His eyebrows crease as he speaks.

He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the clench in his chest when he tries to imagine her, scared and fearful. He knows all too well what fear can do to a soldier, but she isn’t a soldier. A regular civilian and that makes this situation ten times worst. At least with soldiers they are trained to compartmentalize. To work through the adrenaline and fear. She doesn’t know how to.

“Okay, okay, I-I might be ab-” She gasps when they hear something breaking. Something loud enough that the radio catches it for all the men to hear.

————————————————————

“No, no, no, please,” The window in the room she’s barricaded in is shattered as her scream alerted the people that’s looking for her. The brick thrown in has a note attached that says in scrawled-out words. Found You, My Eve.

She can hear them just outside. “T-They found me. He found me. They broke the window.” She says to the radio as she clambers to get the barricade away from the door. Maybe she can run and get away? “Oh god, oh god, I-I can’t go back. I don’t want to go back.” Her blood runs cold as she tries to breathe deeply. The radio shaking as she talks to the Captain. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

The weapons she has are momentarily forgotten as she gets the barricades off and runs down the hall. Her backpack on as her bat swings back and forth almost like it’s trying to remind her that she has it. Her fathers rifle slung to her side from the strap on her shoulder as her hand grips her radio. She can hear the Captain speaking again. Trying to calm her down to get her to think but she’s in a blind panic. The fear of what she went through and what she’ll go through if that group takes her. She hears the shoutings. “Found her! She’s on the run!” And “Don’t let her escape! Grab her!”

Panting as she runs down the street. Weaving between cars and narrowly passing the dead as her heart pounds and slams against her chest. Running into a bank as she goes behind the couches there. Not even bothering to look for any deads that could be in there as she strains to hear for the voices outside. His voice.

The Captain on the radio still speaking. “We need a description, sweetheart. Can you give us a description? Look around you. Try to think. Don’t be scared, being scared is going to cause you to make mistakes.” Too late, far too late for that.

“Look…” the man pauses, “you’re going to get caught,” she whimpers and hits her head against the couch. Her knees tensing at the statement because as much as she wants to deny it, but she knows it’s going to happen. “I need you to focus and I need you to describe them to me. I need you to describe where you are? Can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes, I.. I can,” She whispers as she speaks between breathes. Her eyes shut tight when the front door to the bank jingles open from the bell. Alerting her to the very real situation that is going to happen. So many memories flooding her brain as her boot taps nervously on the floor.

“I-I ran into a bank near Humble. There are birds and crosses spray painted on buildings and I-“ she bites her lip when she can hear the desks being tossed. She should’ve tried to hide somewhere else. Why didn’t she think to hide in one of the rooms? Why is it so hard for her to think straight? “I’m scared. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I never got to see you.”

“Don’t say that. You’re going to see us. I swear you will.”

She’s about to respond, her mouth parted when she hears a cruel laugh from where she’s hiding. Her hands shake as she finally grabs her knife. She knows that laugh, she hates it. Hates the man that laughs like that. Her hand grips her radio as she readies herself to try and work through the fear and describe the man to the Captain. The couch is forced aside as she screams and lurches forward.

Scrambling to get up as she clutches her knife and radio. “B-Brown hair, white skin, eye patch on left eye, green eye, tall,” she words off the man’s description as the man grins and licks his lips like a wolf would a cornered rabbit. “His name is Issac.” She breathes out shakily as she takes one last glance and speaks. “Don’t let him keep me again. Come find me.”

Holding her radio in hand as she backs up. She knows she’s cornered from the way the man is so calm. Someone breaking the glass window with the note was most likely to flush her out. Most likely to cause her to panic. She curses under her breath as she has to assume that there’s others around the building. A tilt of his head as he shows his teeth in his smile. “There you are, my Eve. I’ve missed you. Had me so, so worried.” He takes a step forward as she backs away. “Who were you talking to?” His voice colder as his eyes lock on the radio she has on hand.

The Captain talking urgently on the radio that she can’t even hear since she’s focusing on the man in front of her. He extends his hand, “You won’t be needing that anywhere. Give it.” Flight or fight kicks in as she bolts down the hall of the bank. The man follows after her with a yell. Rounding a corner as a hand grips the back of her shirt as she screams.

Swiping her knife at him as she turns and aims for his arm. He curses loudly, “You little!” His arm bleeding as he slams his hand against her head. Her head hitting the wall causing the wall to crack on impact. Head-shaped crater in the wall as she feels dizzy. Distorted as she stumbles back and crumbles to the floor.

The sound of the man on the radio still trying to talk, promising to find her, is just out of reach from when she fell. Issac walks to her, nearly infront of her as he’s speaking and saying something. Her ears still buzzing as she blinks. Her breath catching as she looks up at him. Scooting back as her blood is pumping fast, her pulse nearly jumping out her skin.

She looks to her radio, then towards her knife that fell out of her grip when she was slammed against the wall. She makes a split-second decision and lunges for her knife. He laughs at her feeble attempt. His boot slamming on her hand as she tries to grab her knife and she cries out.

He makes a disappointed tut, “A good husband never hurts his wife but…” he stares down at her as she tries to shove his boot off and he only presses more on her hand making her whimper. “A good husband also shows his wife her wrongs and how to be a good help meet again.” He lifts his boot and slams it on her face.

Turning on her side with a groan. Her hand covering her now bruising face as tears spill down her face. Coughing and hiccuping as she tries to think past the pain. The pain in her face throbbing as her nose bleeds. “N-No,” she begs as the man bends as he grabs the radio. The Captain getting louder and angrier as he tries to speak to her. Cruelly only able to listen and do nothing but hear what happened. A listening witness to the assault.

“And who has been keeping my wife company?” Issac speaks coldly, a possessiveness in his tone as he stares at the woman that looks up fearfully. A bruise already growing on her face.

“Captain John Price. Where is she? If you hur-“

“That’s none of your concern. She’s mine and she’ll stay mine, Captain.” He mocks. He looks down at her and then at the radio.

“You’ll never find her.” He laughs and throws the radio away. She yells “No!” as she watches as her radio thumps hard against the wall and breaks when it hits the floor. He goes to grab her but she kicks and tries to get up. Grabbing at her collar as her hands push and scratch against his face. Her fingers digging into his eye patch as he growls in pain. Finally having enough of her antics as he balls his fist and punches her hard at the side of her head.

Going limp at the impact, her hands falling to the side of her head. A tear rolling down her face as she tries to hear what he’s saying before blacking out. Dragging her body a lil before he finally picks her up. Whistling to his men and tossing her in a car.

Her arms and legs bound tightly with rope when she finally came to. Screaming and yelling as she tried to get out of the car and away. The rope digging into her skin almost as painfully as the throb from her face. Trying to bite until someone hits her in the back of the head with the butt of his gun. “Finally,” one of Issac’s men says as she’s now easier to handle with her being knocked out again.

————————————————————

“Fuck!” Price slams his fist against the wall. All of his boys are ready, Ghost already jumped up and started packing their car as soon as that Issac spoke to them. Gaz and Soap are standing up as Price looks at them. Both of them have murder on their mind and an itch to have blood spilled. For once Soap is quiet and Gaz looks volatile.

“Weapons free from this point on. Find any that are involved and get information out of them.” Price’s voice is rough, “Whatever means necessary.” Staring down at the radio, their only lifeline to their girl and now they won’t even be able to reach her. His hands fisted as he sees that it’s bloody from when he punched the wall. What he would give to have punched this Issac fellow. His chest heaving with anger as he steels himself. His men already moving with urgency to head out. Gaz grabbing the map so they can find Humble. And hopefully… find her.

“Let’s go get our girl.”

[rennorthernlights]

Ren’s Masterlist

Hello, hello, names Ren or Rennor. As stated in BIO I’m a sucker for dumb facts and I find them absolutely sexy. I’m not the best writer but I will at least try. Figured that with the new year that I’ll actually start writing finally. I just wanna have some fun and make some friends along the way. Enjoy!

This is Strictly a MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY!! If you are under age then begone! I’m not responsible for what you consume so don’t come at me.

Most of my works will have some degree of Smut, Fluff, Angst, and whatever’s in-between. I’ll always tag accordingly and put warnings first.

Requests are OPEN unless stated otherwise.

The World We Knew Masterlist - Zombie COD AU. Who doesn’t like Zombies and 141?

Currently: Not Finished

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Of Beasts, Magic, and Man Masterlist- Monster and Magic COD AU. Hybrids and Monsters and Magic oh my!

Currently: Not Started

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Mustang Inquiries - An OC only in name that is mainly for One-Shots and Short Stories with our favorite COD Characters.

Currently: Open For Requests

[rennorthernlights]

Mustang Inquiries

A collection of Drabbles from my OC Mustang, that will span over the Call Of Duty universe. One-Shots and Short stories involving our favorite characters. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF HER WILL BE SHOWN ONLY THE NAME I’VE GIVEN HER!

Includes Smut, Fluff, Angst, and anything and everything in between. They will be tagged accordingly.

Requests are OPEN

Smut 🌶

Fluff 💞

Angst 💔

In-Between 🪢

As always, READ THE WARNINGS ONCE CLICKING ON A ONE-SHOT OR SHORT. MINORS DNI+18 AND OVER ONLY!! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CONSUME.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Breaking You In 🌶🪢 | One-Shot

Heatwaves 💞 | One-Shot

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Maybe I Was Wrong 💔💞 | One-Shot

All Mine 💔🌶 | One-Shot or maybe Short?? Haven’t figured that out yet.

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

All Tender For Me 🌶 | One-Shot

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

John “Bravo-6” Price

Insanity In Company 🌶 | Mini-Shorts

———•———•———•———•———•———•———•——

[rennorthernlights]

Breaking You In

Ghost X Reader/OC——————————————————————————————

Brief Summary: Hiding your identity as an Omega is nothing new but hiding it in an Elite Taskforce is harder than you thought.

Your callsign is Mustang due to your stubbornness and the “Fuck You” attitude that you tend to embody. You take your heat-blocking pills religiously until they don’t come in anymore.

Just what you need… The beginning of Pre-heat is starting to show and your losing your mind with how annoying the Lieutenant is being.

(There’s no description of what Mustang looks like. I just wanted to name her that.)

——————————————————————————————

MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Con to Dub-Con, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Aggressive Behavior, Aggressive Sex, Spanking, Dom/Sub, Forced Submission, Overstimulation, Ghost Ain’t A Good Guy In This But He’s Hot, Forced Bonding, Forced Mating, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-Clothed Sex, Breeding Kink, Ghost Tryna Be A Dad And Daddy, Choking, Hands On Throat, Tell Me If I Missed Any

MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY

——————————————————————————————

The world has a love for Alphas in the military, they’re stronger and aggressive, good for the firefights and the bullets. Dominant and steelier compared to the Betas. Many of the Alphas tend to hold the higher positions in the military just due to their second nature alone. Leading most of the military fields save for the Betas that manage to keep up with them. Even the elite Taskforces are no different due to them being chalk full of Alphas and a handful of Betas. Only the best of the best is needed after all.

Omegas on the other hand… now that’s a different story. Most Omegas that choose to work have more of the “Less-Stressful” jobs. At least that’s what the unspoken rule is supposed to be. Some old-fashioned Alphas and even Betas would say that a good Omega is an Omega with their legs spread for a knot and filled with pups. Made to only raise the young and be good for their better mates. Depending on who you talk to it’s practically looked down upon if an Omega has a job.

Docile. Sweet. Easy.

That is what the world expects of Omegas. At least that’s what THEIR world expects. When you first presented as an Omega at the young age at 12 years old you refused to stay seated. Not surprising since your moms an Alpha and your dads a Beta, if anything they were more surprised that their daughter turned out to be an Omega.

“Just keep your head down.” Is what your mother would say to you over and over again. Snapping at you when you started doing things an Alpha or Beta would do. Their own views on how to train up an Omega became demeaning and suffocating. Even going so far that when you turned 18 years old your mother set you up with an old Alpha suitor.

With no foreseeable way out and your future hanging by tiny threads you did the only thing you could think of. Something drastic and life changing that could take you far away from your parents and that would-be suitor.

You signed up for the military.

18 years old and you dived headfirst into it. Inhaling nearly every heat-blocking pill on the market to hide what you are. Going against the rules and forging your documents. It’s amazing that you haven’t been caught but as long as you keep taking the pills there’s not much to worry about. Besides your CO’s would’ve blamed you if you caused the alphas to go into a rut if you chose to keep your heats. So what if you have to take some experimental pills? It keeps you safe and keeps you far away from your parents and the old Alpha your parents wanted you to mate.

Now, that was 5 years ago. 5 years of putting blood, sweat and tears into your military career. 23 years old and you gained the nickname “Mustang” for being far too stubborn and forward for your own good. Having an argumentative streak with your CO’s and calling them out for shitty plays on the battlefield. It’s no wonder that when the Captain of the 141 read over your file that he immediately requested for you to join. Seeing the potential in you and fire in your eyes reminded him of his Beta, Gaz.

At first you thought it was a joke, a jest that he’d want someone with only 5 years of experience, at least until you realized that he was dead serious in his inquiry. The Alpha Captain became deadset on taking you under his wing to help mold you into something better.

Upon meeting the team, you got along like dry leaves in a fire when you met Gaz, a kind and ever-patient Beta Sergeant. Nearly had your minds meld together when meeting Soap, the demolition Sergeant, and in time he told you with complete trust that he’s an Omega. The 141 treat him normally and as if he’s not just his nature was very eye opening to say the least, to see a fellow Omega be treated so well nearly made you come clean. But you digress, you trust them with your life but not something like this.

You got along well, building up lifelong bonds all except for the Lieutenant… he’s as Soap likes to call him. “A spooky bastard.” Hard and tough around the edges, as prickly as a cactus and even more of a hardass when it comes to drills.

Though it’s to be expected especially from the way he’s always in a corner, brooding with hardly a tell of an emotion with that skull mask of his on. Doesn’t help that he’s always quick to spot your mistakes. Every single mistake. Quicker to growl a sneer when you butt heads. Though you hate to begrudgingly admit that you’ve learned more under his watchful eyes. Amber brown eyes that always seem to be on you the second you’re in sight.

Though it’s been like that for months; you’ve had an easy rhythm with the Sergeants and you fall right into step with the Alpha Captain but for some reason. You and the Lieutenant? It’s like the two of you can’t see eye to eye. Doesn’t help that he’s been constantly hovering over you, being an unwanted guardian as he wards off the other Betas and Alphas. His scent always around you and sometimes on you much much to the increasingly teasing Sergeants. An almost knowing look in Soaps eyes when he smelled Ghost on you… again.

Your clothes somehow carry his scent like as if he’s rolling around in it. You swear that if it wasn’t for the pills you take you would’ve gone into heat a couple months ago. It’s annoying that the Lieutenant, the bane of your existence, gets his scent on you. Wards off the guys and ladies that you used to have one-night stands with. The soldiers fearing the wrath from a man who isn’t even your mate and you hate that he’s fucking with your ability to get laid these past couple months.

It reaches a boiling point when the Captain is put on a month-long bedrest, no longer able to play mediator between the two of you. Hell, even the Sergeants have a hard time breaking up the yelling matches you both have.

“Have some fucking respect.”

“Maybe try earning it.” You growl back, postering at him like an Alpha would. The other soldiers already leaving the breakroom to not have to deal with whatevers going on between the two of you.

The latest argument you’re having is over something useless that you can’t be bothered to remember. All you know is that he said something that’s pissing you off. Doesn’t help that the latest request for your heat-blocking pills haven’t been cleared just yet. You told Price in confidence a couple months back about what your second nature is, course you got an earful, but he swore he’d keep it to his grave. Normally he’s is quick to have them sent in but since he’s been on bedrest the paperwork has just been sitting in his office desk drawer collecting dust. You’ve already been off it for a week, swallowing your immense pride, you had sent in the request to a higher up that Price trusts but for some reason they never come in.

Your body is going through the drawbacks. That scent of yours has been jumping from sour to sweet throughout the days making your hormones shoot up dangerously. Hindbrain starting to encourage your pre-heat to flush out the remaining toxins of the pills. Any other team and you’d be scared but due to how well Soap is treated, you’re not too worried. So far no one has called you an Omega or even tried to imply what you are, and you would prefer to keep it like that.

The Lieutenant scoffs at your audacity pulling you from your thoughts as you shake your head of them. “I think I’ve earned plenty of your respect since I’ve saved your hide more times than I can count,” dark amber eyes narrowed as he stares down at you. “Omega.” Smelling out your second nature and it makes you freeze up. Your hands balling into tight fists as you fight the instinct of running away. A whisper in your ear that you should just stop antagonizing him but no. No, you press on.

Standing up straighter and if your glare could deepen any more then it would. “Don’t call me that, Ghost.” Distain towards him as your scent spikes up in a sweetening anger. Pre-heat befuddling your mind as you nearly bared your throat when he called you by your nature.

“What should I call you then, Mustang?” Taking a large whiff of the room. His eyes darkening, “You smell like an Omega.” Taking a step forward and you feel more acutely aware of how it’s really just you and him in the breakroom. “Smell just like one in pre-heat too.”

He lunges forward. “Hey! What are you—?!” An alarm goes off in your head to get away as he moves far too quickly for you to scramble and evade him, large hands grabbing and shoving you against the wall. “Let go!” You yell and throw your fist forward that he easily catches. Gripping hard and snatching your other hand to force them over your head. His thigh sliding hard between your legs as you breath in sharply. “You fucking basta-“ thick fingers shove into your mouth, you gag and cough at the sudden intrusion. Eyes watering in response and you see the blatant amusement in his eyes. Anger riling up so you bite down on the fingers forcing him to yank them out.

Guess he didn’t like that as grabs your neck with the same bitten fingers. “Feisty little Omega.” Squeezing your throat causing you to gasp as his grip hardens until you start to see spots. “No wonder you’ve been acting the way you’ve been. Heat coming up now that you ain’t downing those pills. Just need an Alpha to put you in your place, yeah?” The muscles in his thigh tense as grinds it against your core. Releasing just enough pressure from your neck that makes you gasp and gulp for air. If your brain worked faster you would’ve caught on to the fact that he knows you take pills.

“F-Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” brown eyes rolling, “Always such a mouth on you.” Moving his hand down your throat, ghosting over the mounds of your breast till he cups one through your shirt and squeezes. “Maybe a knot will make you easier to work with. Make you nice and pliant. When’s the last time you’ve been fucked anyways?” A grin under his mask as he knows exactly how long it’s been for you.

Your heart beating wildly as your teeth nearly stab into your lip to bite back a moan. His thumb pressing on the nub of your nipple through your bra and shirt. “No smart mouth, no snippy remark? Guess I finally shut you up.” Smirking under his mask as he spots the table in the breakroom before looking back at you like as if he’s been given the most amazing idea. His hand moving to the back of your neck and forcing you to move.

Jerking around and fighting uselessly as he bends you over the table stomach down. Hiking your ass up to present even as you try an squirm away. Almost successful in your attempt until a hard smack resounds in the room. Eyes bulging wide as he pulls his hand back and does it again. “Ah!” Screaming out as he smacks your ass with purpose. His hand on the base of your neck keeping you face down as you squeal and pant.

A meek, defiant growl from you as he responds with another harsh smack. “Behave, Mustang. Be glad I’m not making you count them.” Tears pricking your eyes as they shut tight, having mentally lost count of it ten slaps ago.

Tears falling down your face wetting the table as you half expect another smack and yet he cups your burning ass, your pants have done nothing to shelter your cheeks as you felt every sting of the assault. “There we go.” Gasping quietly when his large fingers grasp and fondle to soothe the ache, “Already bein sweet for me.” Taking a lungful of your enticingly sweet smell, “Can smell your slick,” he states downright devilishly as you tense. Your ass stiffening while your thighs shift tightly together, your body betraying you as you hate how right he is.

Tutting disapprovingly and reaching his hand around and dipping inside your pants right when you start to protest weakly. Sliding a gloved finger harshly against your soaked panties. “Soakin my glove.” Cupping your soaked cunt as it seeps into his glove. “Naughty, naughty Omega.” Purring against your ear making you wail louder. You’d try to escape if he wasn’t pressing his whole weight down on you. Kicking your feet apart with his boot and thrusting forward, canting his strong hips against the flush of your clothed ass. Something impossibly hard pressing and rubbing against your bottom that makes your eyes roll back as his fingers graze harder on your panties in time with his thrust.

“S-Shit.. ah s-stop! Please,” you beg as it’s too much, you haven’t been sexual with anyone in a while. Especially with your hormones out of whack, his scent smells stronger, dominating and thickening in the room. Invading your nostrils, intoxicating and encouraging more wetness out of your disloyal cunt. The sensitive walls clench when he presses a finger inside, your hole clenching around the cotton, the fabric of your panties rubs against your throbbing clit. You can’t stop the moans that fall from your lips even if you wanted to.

A coil starting to curl within you. “No, no, no, ah!” Your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues humping more aggressively. Grinding and circling his hips against yours, the table creaking under you as his strong body keeps you under him. Trapped and forced to just take it as the pleasure he’s giving you is mixing up the signals in your brain.

You don’t even realize his hand on your neck has left in favor of shucking his mask up, latching his hot mouth against the glands on your neck. Teeth grazing on the sensitive gland as the heat of his mouth sends shocks through your body. “This what you needed, pretty girl?” Whining in response when he removes his hand from inside your pants. His glove soaked with your juices. “S’why you’ve been such a brat. Had to keep pushin and pushin me till I had to do somethin about your problem.”

“N-no I-“ breath hitching as he bites on your throat, sucking harshly as you can’t find the words to speak coherently. Small mercy that he didn’t bite down too hard on the mating gland, merely sucking bruises on it. A grin etching into the skin of your sensitive throat. His tongue lapping and circling as he feels you shake and mewl under him. Having a harder time to not give into your baser needs. Body betraying you as you buck back in time with his canting hips as your hands move and fist near your face.

Finally letting up as he leans back, you breathe so hard as you look behind you through half-lidded eyes. Sweat beading around your forehead causing your hair to stick to your skin. His hands working fast to unbuckle his belt and pants. Pulling them down past his thighs and his boxers following suit. Eyes widening as you see his large thick cock already leaking pre. The flare of his knot making him seem much thicker. Cock slapping against his stomach and you know that a knot like his won’t fit. Blood pumping faster as you fear you can’t take that size in you.

Watchful molten eyes noticing how you try to shift away from him. A thick hand landing forcibly on your back to keep you still as he works on undoing your pants. Pulling them down as you stutter and beg for him not to. “No, no, no, darling. Gotta give you my knot.” Panties falling down, the ever increasing shame burns on your face as your slick slides down. “See? You want it. Need it from the looks of it.” Arms shaking and you try to hit behind you as he just laughs cruelly. Grabbing both of the flailing arms and pinning them against your back with one hand.

Your thighs instinctively try to close but he’s having none of it. Forcing your legs apart with another kick of his boot. A firm grip on your hip before sliding it under a bit to make you lift your reddened ass up. Slotting the meat of his cock through your glistening, fluttering folds. Sliding in between over and over, slowly teasing your engorged clit with the head of his thick tip.

“So fuckin wet for me. Haven’t even fucked you yet and you're pouring on my cock.” Moaning embarrassing louder as he inches the tip into your tightening hole.

A forceful push, heading deeper inside as you plead for him to pull out, to stop what he’s doing but he doesn’t hear you. Too lost in the feeling of your warm, tight cunt squeezing so nicely around him. Even with the gush of your wetness easing a bit of the stretch, it still burns. Ghost is by far the thickest you’ve ever taken. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried all the way to the hilt. “Fuck!” He murmurs lowly while his eyes shut just as yours do from the feeling of being so full.

Pussy gripping him hard, “Relax for me.” Grunting hard as he circles his hips. The hand under your hip lifts you a bit more as your mouth parts to suck in air. “You can take it. That’s a good girl.”

Hardly giving you the time to adjust as he pulls back, his tip not escaping your heat before slamming back in. Whimpering due to the electrifying shot of pain and pleasure, “P-Please, it.. it ah hurts!” Ghost murmurs something rough as tears begin to prick your eyes. His hand moves from your hip and instead of stopping his thrusts, he circles a finger around your wanting clit. Your eyes opening wide as more slick starts coming out more. Easing his large cock in you as your body starts to take him better.

“That’s it, that’s a good little slut,” slamming his hips fast as his fingers work a slow torturous pace on your bundle of nerves. “Doin so good for me Omega. Clench ‘round me baby.” Heavy balls slapping with each harsh thrust. His mouth latching against your glands, muddling your brain further as your Omega nature preens in response of being taken by this strong alpha. “Knew you’d be perfect for me. Just had to stop the pills from coming in.” His damning words not heard as he keeps up his brutal pleasuring pace. The smell of the heady sex permeate the breakroom, filthy sounds of wet slaps of thigh against thigh only enthralls your Omega nature more.

Becoming pliant as you moan and keen high in pleasure, mouth hanging open as the tip of his cock bullies into your tight cunt, making a home inside your gummy walls. His grunts and dirty words sinning against your ear as he growls about how you’re his now. That you’ll never escape him. A possessiveness scent seeping into the room as you babble useless words. His fingers, nearly forgotten due to the mind-numbing pace of his burrowing cock, start to move faster and press harder against your clit. Sliding his finger side to side just as fast as the hard smack of his balls intensifies the pleasure tenfold. “Cum for me, Omega. Wanna— agh,” grunting deeply behind you, “Wanna feel it.”

Your traitorous body gives in when he angles his hips and slams against that spot that makes you scream. Stars blurring your vision as you cum, squeezing and milking his cock as he pounds into you with renewed vigor. The tightening walls suck him back into your greedy pussy. “Gonna breed you good.” A heavy-laden promise as his eyes darkens with dangerous lust. His upper body hunching over as he presses his forehead against the side of yours as you plead for more. His hand moving from your pinned arms, placing his elbow beside your head to give himself more leverage as pistons his hips faster.

Hammering into your pussy as the wood of the table screams from the exertion and scraps against the floor. Your words bouncing against the walls, “Pl-Please, please, please!” Begging for it now. Begging for more, for his cum and his knot. Too lost in the pleasure to really understand what you’re saying. “Alpha, Alpha please!” Crying out as it’s too much and yet not enough. Overwhelming animal instinct to be bred by your strong Alpha. Arching your hips in time to feel him growl loudly, the vibrations tingling up and down your spine.

“I’m going to, Omega, I’m going to.” pulling back suddenly before slamming back into you full force with his damning vow. “I’m gonna breed you till you can’t take it.”

Pulling back out and forcibly turning you around, back now on the hard surface of the table. He looks downright predatory as he licks his lips. Yanking the rest of your pants and panties off, ripping them off even with you wearing your boots in wanton abandon, discarding them out of sight and out of mind.

His hands grabbing your ankles and placing them over his shoulders. Your boots scraping the skin of his flesh be he could give less of a fuck right now. Maneuvering your knees against your chest to fuck you deeper, feeling deliciously constricted since his body is blocking out everything from your sight. Everything but him.

“Gonna give you my knot. Make you mine in every way.” The newer position makes him feel even larger inside you. Pounding into you as your moans sound heavenly to his ears. Pressing more of his weight into you, caging you in as if his only thought is to fuck into your fertile womb. An animalistic need in his eyes as he gives into his own nature to claim the Omega under him. “You want it? Want my knot? Beg for it.”

“Want it! Want it s-so bad! Please, Alpha!” Wasting no time as you work hard to form the words. Jumbling and spilling over it but you don’t stop in your mindless pleading. Your pleading flipping a switch in him as he no longer cares about the consequences. He’ll deal with them later because right now all he wants to do is fill your pretty pussy till it overflows.

Surging forward, his teeth bites down harshly against your mating gland. Mine. Mine. Mine! Eyes rolling back to your skull as you cum faster and harder. The build up of the dam inside the both of you breaking as the swell of his knot starts to catch. Teeth digging into your neck as he intends to make the binding claim as deep as he can. Tears springing out your eyes as your legs shake in the tidal wave of pain and pleasure.

“Mine.” Growling aggressively in affirmation as he moves away from your throat and kisses you roughly, “Mine.” Mouthing the word against your swelling lips that can’t keep up with him. His hips stuttering as his muscles clench, the need for him to cum approaching faster. Balls tightening up as he forces home his thick knot inside your sensitive walls. “Mine!” His forehead falls against yours as he roars out that soul-claiming word. Hot spurts of cum filling your greedy and welcoming womb. His knot expanding wide and locking you to him for now.

“G-Gho— mph!“ his lips dominating against yours, shutting you up as he grinds his knot while his balls empties the rest of his thick seed in you. Moans being swallowed by the other in response. Tongues wrestlings as he takes hold of your boot and eases it off his shoulder. The other following suit as he wraps them loosely around his waist. Your mewls being swallowed by the hungry kiss that he gives you, possessive and devouring as he doesn’t let up. Moving his mouth down, trailing kisses and nips gently against your chin and then to your throat where the mating mark is on your neck. His permanent mark on you.

Chest against chest as you both pant heavily. The clothes worn sticking almost uncomfortably due to the sweatiness of each other. His warm tongue lapping lovingly against the mark he made before he finally leans back. His knot still keeping the both of you connected as it won’t deflate for a bit longer. The smell of the intense coupling is sure to deter anyone from even getting within 30 feet of the breakroom. Not that he’d ever let anyone see you like this. Not his pretty little mate. No, no, no, this sight is for him and him only.

Drinking in the vision of you, mellowed out and soft on the hard table. Hair spread around you like a halo, tired eyes shutting to a close, mouth open and panting. The bulge in your stomach scratches at the delicious size difference between the two of you. His cock twitches from inside you as he wonders how you’ll take him if he took your plump ass. Though an animalistic instinct demands that he not waste his seed, preferring to keep his Omega filled with his warm seed. Snug and protected safely in your precious womb.

“Ghost,” your words softer than he’s ever heard it, eyes opening as you shiver from the shift in his touching, his scent smells more welcoming. More warmth, like firewood on a cold night and the bourbon that he likes. The rare gentleness throwing you off a bit as he rocks his hips forward. A low hiss from your mouth as you’re far too sensitive and yet a slow build of pleasure starts to grow as your overstimulated pussy clenches in response. Your head turning up with a needy whine.

His lips pull back into a wolfish smile. Needy Omega he muses to himself. His Omega. “Simon.” Stating his name and he places a large warm hand over the bulge of your stomach. A primal instinct lighting up at the thought of the seed catching on the first try. Imagining you round with his pups is a black hole that he’ll gladly fall into. He didn’t mean to bite you, didn’t mean to claim you but what’s done is done.

He just wanted to fuck and get rid of his obsession over you but if he did this all over again he wouldn’t stop himself. He’d gladly bite you over and over again.

“Call me Simon.” Your breath hitching as he says his name firmly, commanding you to him by a name he rarely gives out. “Want you to say my name from now on.” His knot starting to deflate. “After all,” He may not have meant to bite you but that doesn’t mean he won’t uphold it. You’re his now. He won’t let go of you no matter how much you’ll kick and scream once your senses finally come to and the high of pleasure fades. Slowly pulling out as his potent cum spills out. Your head scrunches up, sighing pathetically from the loss of his cock.

“You’re mine now.”

His hand sliding between your shaking legs that still wrap loosely around his waist. Scooping up the cum that tries to escape, to go where it shouldn’t. A rumble in his chest, his second nature demanding to keep his Omega filled and sated. His fingers push it back in eliciting a sharp gasp. He can’t help but grin at how sensitive you are.

He leans close and as he uses his fingers as a plug. “Now be a good little mate and keep’em safe. Gotta make do on my promise to breed you after all.” His cock already starting to harden, his stamina has always been the best and he’s never broken a promise.

Ever.

[rennorthernlights]

I finally caved and wrote smut

[rennorthernlights]

yes Yes YES

i have begun joe graves fic

[rennorthernlights]

I think I’d have to fight Ghost if I was Soap. Like yes, I love you and I love my wife BUT YOU BRITIFIED MY KID.

Where’s the SCOTTISH accent??? Oh maybe for some more angst MomReader does the major holidays from Scotland to honor Johnny but doesn’t really introduce the culture to their kid. Like Grandma MacTavish offered since that’s her boys kid but MomReader just couldn’t because it hurt so much.

Inevitably denying half of what their kid is. So of course when Ghost rolls around she’s more open because it takes her away from the pain of Johnny. It’s her pain that keeps their kid from really immersing in their Scottish heritage.

OK so yes to the idea of Simon taking care of Johnny's widow and baby. And they do not mean to fall in love, in fact they both fight it like hell, but it's inevitable. They give in eventually, try to make a go of it and find contentment in each other. Johnny's baby starts learning to talk and calls Simon dad. The pain of Johnny being gone becomes a dull ache that is overshadowed by the love they have for one another.

Three years later when Makarov is dead and John MacTavish is revealed to be very much alive having been working deep undercover for MI6 is when things get complicated.