FauxHumanity
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You've been best friends with Johnny for most of your life. You're not sure when things started to cross the line.
Bookmarked by FauxHumanity
01 Jul 2025
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You Are The Girl (That I've Been Dreaming Of) by GoodyGumDrops
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
08 Sep 2025
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The bully from your adolescence had returned home on leave.
Johnny was a local hero, the golden boy beloved by everyone in his rural Scottish hometown. All, except for you. From the spunky lad snapping your bra straps and torturing you to the brawny SAS soldier, John MacTavish was still your biggest enemy through and through. You hated him and couldn't wait for him to leave.
Too bad he wanted to fuck you.
Bookmarked by FauxHumanity
16 Jun 2025
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“Aye,” he muttered finally. “Been hard shakin’ the feelin’. Everything’s quiet now. Like my whole life went and muted itself when I wasn’t lookin’.”
Simon nodded once. Let the silence sit. Then, without looking at him, he said, “You need a lass.”
Johnny scoffed—but it came out weak, half-hearted. “Oh sure. That’s all I’ve been missin’, yeah? A warm body to keep the bed from bein’ cold.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
And Johnny knew that. He did. He felt it—like an echo in his chest. What Simon meant was something steady. Someone who gave a damn if he came home. Someone who’d reach for him in the night when the old scars ached louder than they should. Not just a body. A reason.
“You don’t have to keep bein’ sad just ‘cause it’s the only thing you know now,” Simon said, softer. “You don’t owe that to anyone.”
Johnny felt his jaw tighten. The ache behind his eyes wasn’t from the booze.
Or:
Johnny gets medically discharged and has to learn to live with himself without war-and you happen to be back in scotland the same time as him.
Bookmarked by FauxHumanity
21 May 2025
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You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works.
Or: scenes from the 'Still Wakes the Deep' au
Bookmarked by FauxHumanity
15 May 2025
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734 days. You'd been a prisoner, locked and hidden away in this solitary cell for over two years. Others there had committed petty crimes or made themselves an enemy of the Ultranationalists, and before them— the Soviet Union.
A majority of prisoners hadn't done anything wrong at all, though they were too poor, too educated, or simply too much of a threat to the regime. Anyone could have been in the cell next to yours for any reason. But you? You knew why you were expected to rot away there.
It was either die of disease or malnutrition in your cell, long forgotten by anyone who'd known your name, or be found by either side of the conflict and be killed. Death had called to you for a while; you didn't fear it. And you didn't fear the three, foreign operators when they broke through the door to your prison cell— or when the one with the skull mask held an assault rifle to your head.
❝And who the fuck is this?❞