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the-brave-new-world-project · 2 years

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OC Intro - Fun Fact

Let's meet some of the AUs major original players with a fun fact!

These are formatted as if the denoted individual is speaking.

Destiny Binter Prophet (DBP): Even though I'm half metal and have been poked and prodded more than anyone should be, I refuse to get a tattoo (I'm scared of needles).

Robert Irwin (RCI): I once used a Jedi Mind trick on a crocodile we were trying to catch. It sort of worked.

Gracie McQueen-Larin (GML): I wanna quit my job and have six kids.

Jerome Larin (JL): My wife is crazy. Also, I was a mechanic before and during the Crossfire Revolution. I'm still pretty decent if I do say so myself.

Louis Paulis (LP): I used to do drag charity shows, but I got stalked and had to quit.

Lauren de Montagrie (LdM): The reason I always wore a motorcycle helmet when I was with the Lettermen Syndicate is because I have a birthmark under my bangs on my forehead *lifts bangs* that would ID me.

Devon Novell (DV): I can neither confirm nor deny I have seen DB sleep hop on one leg to the kitchen at 3 am.

Raquel Hasad (RH): I found out those, like, pirate bandanas technically count as a head covering, and that's all I've worn since.

Alsace Loraine (AL): I do a pretty convincing wolf howl when I'm in pain.

Nicolav Bartok (NB): I once knocked out the President of the United States in an evacuation because he just kept shuffling around and getting distracted.

Alejandro Cordova (AC): I have three kids, a little girl named Anya and two boys, who we're currently looking for among the Zygerrians enslaved victims.

Durango Prophet (DP): I'm a jedi... in training! *slips Sloane a fiver*

Sloane Prophet (SP): I can do this! *dabs*

Vincent Novell (VN): We all thought I was an orphan and only child there for a few years.

Chang'e Moon (CM): I met President Xi Xing Ping once.

Houyi Moon (HM): I legally changed my name to match Chang'e, 'cause she's named after the lady in the moon, so now I'm named after her lover! (Who she steals an immortality potion from, mind you).

Besk Treden (MT): I was adopted by Mandalorians who turned me over to the creche. I'm a Mandalorian Jedi.

Malin-Grace Irwin (MGI): I usually go by Grace. DB technically named me after she rescued my parents from Zygerria.

Feel free to ask questions, leave suggestions and interact with me or any of these guys!

Next one coming soon, so stay tuned!

#ask me questions #star wars #star wars au #brave new world #screenwriting #writers #writers on tumblr #Brave New World AU #questions

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theseverence · 1 year

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@aurea-fide asked:

He's standing on the edge of Pirriks throne, his hands gripping onto the table and his shoulders shake. It's not often he feels this way. His face shifts and he buries It into his hands and he wonders what he did to deserve -- a raspy breath escapes his lungs. Oh, light help him.

Pirriks makes his way to his throne, slightly hunched over, one arm still bent over the healing wounds. When he sees Jorvek there, he straightens up to not worry his mate, and steadies his breathing, then comes over.

For a moment, Pirriks isn't sure what to do when he sees Jorvek's weird state. He touches the baron's shoulder, slightly nervous - what if his mate is going to have another breakdown? The Kell is not sure he can deal with that in his state.

But he can't just leave the other to fend for himself, no matter what it is.

"Jorvek?"

#pirriks | we will fight to the death. to the edge of the earth. it's a brave new world. | star-crossed lovers au #pirriks x jorvek: stardust #aurea-fide #mobile

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imaginedreamwrite · 11 months

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Brave New World: Part 12

A/N: Trigger warnings for mentions of misogyny, sexism towards women, forceful confinement

It was the sharp cry that pierced the dark wing that had initially woken you up. It was a sharp and startling sound that broke you from your slumber, drawing you upright in your bed with a sudden jolt.

Immediately, you reached for the sides of your bed and curled your fingers in the sheets as a method to ground yourself. To hold yourself to the thin and old mattress, one with springs that were poking through your equally thin nightgown.

You have recently been thrown into a new yet seemingly endless, hellish environment. The move from a private room to the shared room was necessary to make space for another influx of omegas who had been brought to the facility.

Through the thin walls of the shared women’s ward you were thrown into, it was glaringly obvious that some pregnant omegas, used as surrogates and breeding machines, had given birth early.

There was an urgency to give birth before the due date, a necessity to try to save both mother and child from a fate that was unfair for both of them, however, the child would fare much better than she would.

“Shut up! Shut up!” One of the other omegas on this crowded floor raised her voice harshly, caring neither for the other woman in another room nor the consequences that would come to the poor mother.

You reacted quickly and threw the blankets off you, stumbling and falling to your hand and knees due to the process of them administering more drugs to your body. As your knees and hands had banged against the creaky wood, another sharp cry had been heard through the walls of this place.

Your weariness had made you crawl, initially, and as you traversed your way to the next rows of beds, that same woman screamed again, thrashing against the holds that kept her in place.

You could see her struggling, the latest douse of serum altering her brain chemistry and inducing temporary psychosis. Despite her aggression toward the mother and child in the birthing unit, you wished the other omega luck on getting past this debilitation. You knew full well that if she hadn’t recovered from this aftereffect, she would have been thrown into one of the many pleasure houses and used as a toy.

If she hadn’t recovered, she would be discarded as if she was nothing more than a heat receptacle for alphas.

“Please, you have to be quite. Please, if you don’t they’ll come down on all of us!”

There was a steady thud of her back against the bed as she violently rocked herself back and forth, creating her own despotism hold of her world as she saw it. She was so far in her head and in her madness created by this last bout of the serum, she hadn’t realized that rocking back and forth as violently as she had would create more hell for you all.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She screamed three more times before another omega had risen to her feet, stumbling just as you had, and started toward the bed.

With the one omega woman behind dealt with, you felt secure enough to rise to your feet after reaching for one of the rails of the metal bed. Your hands gripped the end of the footboard, and you slowly pushed yourself to stand, your legs and feet aching to the point where it felt like they were burning.

Still, despite the aching in your bones, you pushed yourself further. You took every step cautiously, fearing that at any point one of the guards would come for you, for all of you, to deliver swift punishment. It wasn’t just you that would suffer for being out of bed, rather harsh consequences would come to every omega.

Even those that were sleeping.

“Shut that thing up!” there were hurried whispers in the room that followed an outburst, the direct order coming from the oldest omega in the room and focused on the woman in a mental break. “Shut her up, or we’ll all get it!”

You paid no mind to the order and focused on getting out of the room you were in, to head to the birthing ward. While you had known the door would be locked and access was denied to you and anyone else in the room, you also knew that one of the panels on the left-hand side of the wall was fabricated and easy to remove.

With the thinness of the walls and this falsified covering, you could easily slip from one room to another, and once you’d gotten to the other room you could help the omega who just gave birth. Or at least you could attempt to help, you could attempt to console her and her child, make an effort to extend what little kindness you could while being trapped here.

“I said shut her up!” The oldest omega yelled again, her voice carrying as you removed the panel and began to slip into the crawl space, keeping yourself as small as possible in order to make your way from one room to the other.

A shiver ran up your spine when your feet hit the other panel, the cold metal piercing your skin through the soles of your feet. The sensation was temporary, it had evaporated the moment you kicked the panel loose and managed to pull yourself through, coming into the other room.

You struggled to stand, a shake to your knees and thighs had almost made you tumble back to the floor, your hand already outstretched before you caught yourself.

The newborn was hastily wrapped in a thin blanket, squirming and still squawking with a great set of lungs that would have aided a career in entertainment further down their life. You had heard the omegas in the other room struggling to stop the maddened omega from raising too much of a complaint while this poor woman had just given birth.

Your approach was slow and calculated. You didn’t dare try to cause another sound to alert the betas and controlled alphas who ran this facility. You were already on their radar, already someone they wanted to study and watch, an omega who they had wanted to get rid of.

“Please,” she pleaded with you, simpering soft voice almost a wail, “they’ll take my baby. If they hear…”

The chirp of an alarm somewhere else in the facility prickled your skin, your stomach bubbling with unease and caution.

“Shh,” she rocked her child, her eyes wide and her lips parted with every attempt at quieting her child, “please…please-!”

“You’re a breeder,” you already knew she was and yet, it felt as if this reality was just hitting you, “they’re supposed to be coming for you but-”

“— I gave birth early, without medication. Without-”

Your heart nearly leapt from your chest as another bang had resounded somewhere in the building, a ghostly echo of something nefarious happening somewhere else. You stepped closer to her, hands shaking and your eyes growing wide in size, unable to truly think or react to what was going on around you.

Women, omegas, restrained to beds with what had once been softened cuffs but had now become rough, were lining the room from one end to the next. They were laying on nothing more than tufts of stuffing bound in thin canvas, a state that even cattle wouldn’t be permitted to lay on.

“They’ll take my baby, help me.” The omega was whimpering, and it wasn’t until now that you’d realized she was weakened by giving birth.

It hadn’t been until that moment that you’d even been aware that she was bleeding. The tang of copper hits your nose, mixing disgustingly with the smell of mildew and stale dust.

“You’re dying.” You crept closer and sank to your knees beside her bed, your hands curling against the cheap canvas bed. “You don’t have time.”

“Take my baby,” she turned to look at you, eyes losing their light and her breathing becoming shallow, “don’t let them have her. Don’t let her fall to the fate.”

“I can’t, don’t give her to me. I can’t take her. I can’t keep her, I can’t-” you stumbled over your words, fumbling as you tried to speak and make your case for not taking the child, for not taking the baby to be punished.

“Find someone, please promise me-” the babe was pushed into your arms, instincts leading you to cradle the child, and with a purpose thrust upon you, you rose to your feet and balanced tenderly.

“Thank you, Y/N. You,” the omega heaved, desperately fighting for breath, “you’re my family…my sister-”

Hours bled into days, and days had shifted into the next week.

While your heat had come and gone, while you had been marked and mated, you had never let go of the expectation that you would become pregnant. It was what you had been altered to do, to become a vessel for pups to boost the population that was faltering.

Whether it was this reality or the one you had escaped from, the result was the same. Your body and your DNA, your every genome, was geared toward fertility and pregnancy.

Even now, you could feel it.

Even now, only a week after you had been marked and mated, you knew your body was flush with life. You had narily placed your hand upon your belly, still unaffected by your growing child, and knew you were expecting.

If it hadn’t been the nesting you had done when you expressed your anxiety about being a mother, to the empathy of your mates, then this would have been every indication that it had happened.

Your stomach turned once, just once, and your sense of smell had increased with the changes in your body, and you knew. It was obvious, it was painstakingly clear that you were now doing what they had always intended you to do, only now it was by your choice.

Now, you have the decision to keep the child while in a safe and loving environment.

It’s the soft rapping on the door that audibly announces their presence on the other side of the door, but it’s hardly the first indicator that they were going to find you. With your new heightened senses, already increased from the serum before you were pregnant, you already knew.

It was their scent that carried, it was the sounds they made as they walked around and throughout the cabin. It was the soft mumbling of Bucky as he reiterated his annoyance and temporarily forgetting where he put things, and Steve whispering to himself as he sketched or painted.

You could hear it all; you could smell every shifting difference in the cabin.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve was the first to speak, the first to come and sit beside you.

You had negated to look at him immediately. Instead, you curled tighter on the outdoor chaise, tucking the blanket you took up and under your feet. You pressed yourself against the back of the lounger before you tucked your chin into your chest, and then you spoke.

“I’ve been thinking. A lot.” You spoke to them, addressing Steve verbally, and Bucky physically.

“Are you okay?” Steve was on your right, Bucky was on your left, both had been figuratively shielding you from a nonexistent threat. “Omega-“

“I’m pregnant.” Stagnant silence, unwavering quietude and the bubbling intensifying gleam of hopefulness and want had clashed in the middle, as if two beasts had represented the two sides of an emotional state of mind, with teeth and claws.

“Y/N,” Bucky crept in, a smile bursting on his face with eyes wide and vibrantly pulsing, “omega…this is everything we’ve ever wanted, this…”

Their happiness was unbounded. Their dreams of becoming fathers and having an omega was finally and wholly a completed reality. Puzzle pieces that hadn’t been set had finally clicked into place, with everything they’d wished and longed for becoming theirs.

There was a short time between you three wherein Bucky and Steve had let their raw emotions out to air, their happiness and loving statements settling upon you like the warmth of the sun and the soft breeze of summer.

It was further removing the corrupted chill you felt had been running through your veins, extinguishing the final clutch the organization, that wanted to make you a possession, had on you.

With Steve and Bucky, you were freed. Your baby was safe, your baby would grow up happy and healthy in a world that cherished it.

And you.

“I want this, I’ve decided. I want this baby, but…” you bit down on your bottom lip, teeth digging into your flesh while your eyes had become instructed by fat tears. “You may want to get that.”

The phone rang clear through your ears, a sharp yet melodic chime breaking the conversation, and you waited with bated breath as Steve walked to his phone and picked up the call, eyes locked on you.

“Cap,” Sam’s voice hit your ears, and you knew, “we need you back here.”

#silverfox!alpha!Stucky x omega!reader #alpha!silverfox!steve rogers x omega!reader #alpha!silverfox!steve rogers #alpha!silverfox!Stucky x omega!Reader #silverfox!alpha!Steve Rogers #alpha!silverfox!Bucky Barnes #silverfox!alpha!Bucky Barnes x omega!Reader x silverfox!alpha!Steve Rogers #brave new World Series #brave new world #brave new world part 12 #brave new world masterlist #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega #au #trigger warning #mysoginy trigger warning #sexism trigger warning

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igknightedart · 6 months

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Don't think I ever posted these but the other day I wanted to design my OC Dreadringer in the TFAUs of a few different friends!

The one on the left and on the right are both the @lost-world-of-gaea incarnation of Dread, envisioned as an Autotrooper captain turned Black Leopard in @necromastersdomainstuff's Brave New World AU and the one dead center belongs to @agathaarts' WaR (Wreck and Rule) AU!

I think the leading idea with that one now is that he's a Shockwave clone that achieved singularity and remolded himself after Optimus to do...a lot of things to try and make right in his progenitor's name, tbh. WaR Shockwave is the /worst/

#my art #transformers #maccadam #tfau #tf brave new world #tf WaR #tf wreck and rule #dreadringer #tfoc #character design #definitely looking to do more with other friend's AUs soon!

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weireir · 22 days

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Little girl’s room got raided by G.U.N. and they found a threat to public health in her closet - a flower. 🫢 Could be spreading a virus! Time to take the girl to a re-education facility to erase her dangerous love of nature!

#sonic the hedgehog #biopunk au #g.u.n.#flower #brave new world #psychology

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quaintnecromancer · 4 months

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"Does it ever bother you? Being alone?" || @little-tyrant-gortash

Curious Sentences | @little-tyrant-gortash

It did. While Jett had always been a relatively solitary person, that didn’t mean that he enjoyed being so, even when he wasn’t locked up in a dungeon. He liked being around people. Craved attention and affection like plants craved sunlight. People just didn’t like him in return. If he got upset about it, he was seen as a rabble rousing punk. If he tried to seek out what he was lacking, he was called clingy or an attention whore. Of course, there were people back home who didn’t think of him as such, but they were few and far between. Eventually, he’d accepted that he’d just have to make do with whatever scraps he got, and cope in any way he could.

“I’m used to it,” he answered curtly, peering up at his lordly captor from the other side of the cold metal bars. “The small space is more bothersome, honestly, but it’s better than nothin’.” That, and the boredom. He’d counted every hole and crack in the stonework ten times over in the past few days in an effort to keep himself sane. Gods, he wished he had music to listen to; he’d been alone with his thoughts for too long, and no amount of meditation was helping him.

“What is it that you want to know about me?” Jett sounded calmer than he felt, an art that he’d been practicing and perfecting since his teen years. He even offered a polite smile to sell the illusion of serenity. “I’ll be as cooperative as possible.” The sooner they got this interrogation over with, the sooner he could get out of this stupid cell, and away from the ghosts of its previous inhabitants, who were no company at all!

#💀 with a rebel yell 💀 v; modern #💀 a brave new world 💀 au; isekai #little tyrant gortash #sir your prisoner is climbing the walls of his enclosure and has gotten a little sassy #lol I’ve never been so excited for an interrogation before

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theseverence · 1 year

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@aurea-fide

It’s unusual for the Kell to go to any of the teams’ quarters, so when the door opens and Voliks’ crew sees Pirriks, they look rather spooked. He ducks under the doorframe, his hands folded on the small of his back, looking suspiciously calm, which doesn’t make anything better.

They can never tell what is worse - loud rage or the calm before the storm. Each of them quickly recounts everything that they might have done wrong to at least know why the Kell is going to throw a fit, but he simply passes by them and knocks on Voliks’ door.

“He’s not in there, Pirrikskell.” Talik says, instinctively making himself look smaller behind the table. Pirriks gives him a glance, then a nod. “I am, aware. Thank you.”

To say their jaws dropped at the ‘thank you’ is not enough, but no one says anything anymore.

When the door opens, the Kell looks down, seeing just the person he wanted to see. “Will you, walk with, me?” He asks, clearly tense.

#pirriks | we will fight to the death. to the edge of the earth. it's a brave new world. | star-crossed lovers au #aurea-fide

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ceilidho · 3 months

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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 3; ghoap x reader) part 1, part 2

“What is this anyway—‘bring your girlfriend to work’ day?”

She’s snarky as ever, but with an agitated edge. Nerves prickling when Johnny holds her jacket out for her to slip her arms into. Even that makes her snap—something about not being a toddler that Johnny needs to help dress, but by then his head is in the clouds. In another place altogether.

The prospect of getting to parade his new girl around leaves him giddy, fox-like grin hard to squash. He doesn’t suppress anything, finds it hard to push things down. When he does, it’s often unconscious.

She doesn’t like the way he savours her anxiety like a fine wine, sniffs it from the top of her head and groans out his breath, cackling when she tries to stomp on his foot to make him go away. He dances away with her coat, light and nimble on his feet because he’s used to ducking and weaving for her affection.

“The guys wanna meet ye,” he repeats for the umpteenth time. It’s surprising how many times he’s had to say it.

“Why? Haven’t they ever met a girl before?” she gripes, swallowing now, her stomach probably cramping and poor bonnie lass, Johnny thinks. His poor, pretty girl is trying to put on a brave face when he knows she prefers being in the backroom of her little flower shop, snipping off stalks and tying pretty bows around pretty bouquets. He wishes he could keep her back there forever—put a lock on the door and come only to smother her in kisses and gorge himself on every inch of her—but there’s a whole wide world demanding his attention.

“Aye, hen, never a lass as cute and sweet as ye,” he crows, ducking a hand that punches through the sleeve of her jacket in his direction.

In the car, he drops the facade. Loses his teasing edge. It’s a violent removal, like jolting awake to the sound of someone sawing away at a catalytic converter. If his smile is saccharine, it’s really only a smokescreen concealing the apprehension bubbling away in his belly.

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel on the drive back to base. Heart in his throat, choking his words and rendering him quiet for once in his life. He hears Ghost’s voice in his head, a low rumbling laugh, tectonic plates shifting beneath his feet. These days, his voice acts as a lodestar, the thing steering Johnny home.

Months ago, it was the only thing between him and annihilation, the ice cold maelstrom dragging him deeper into its maw. Guiding him through the valley of death. The wound in his arm still aches in the first light of day. His sleep is still wracked by dreams of running down alleys and ducking into houses, the rain pattering against the window panes ominous, a ticking clock, each step having to be precise, calculated, each movement quieter than quiet, fading into the shadows, a cool heart and mind bested by agony from the bulletwound in his shoulder.

And then—Ghost’s voice, low and soothing in his ear, shattering the pain. Ghost’s voice in his ear telling him where to go, how to survive.

It’s hard to explain. Johnny’s tried. It’s like talking in circles when he opens his mouth and tries to get it out. I trust him with everything in me. He could do anything to me, anything.

He is no less capable, no less competent. His rank demands respect, and he takes what’s due to him. Since Las Almas, he’s worked across a medley of other teams, even solo a time or two. It changes nothing. He still wakes in a sweat, chasing that voice. It takes him back into the real world. The days burn into the fringes of a memory that he is always living.

“Should I know anyone’s name before we get there?”

Her voice breaks through the noise in his head this time. It’s every bit as precious.

“What d’ye mean, hen?” he asks, clucking his tongue. Sweats a bit when he realizes how far down the motorway they are now, how long it’s been since he checked out, lost in his thoughts. One hand rests loose on her leg, fingers spread wide and thumb gliding up and down her outer thigh, the other still holding the wheel.

The pinched look has mostly fallen off from her face, but there’s still a tremble in her lower lip when she says, “Well, I don’t know any of your friends. I wouldn’t introduce you to my friends without telling you their names first.”

“No’ my friends, hen—we’re coworkers.”

She looks over at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m friends with my coworkers.”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s no’ the same with guys. Couldnae tell you fuck all about any of them except their names, to be honest.”

“Oh, don’t give me that—you’re not friends with a single one of them? No one?”

No hunger without resistance. His mouth goes bone dry. He’d be wise to learn that.

He swallows. “Maybe a few.”

No transaction without accountability. Ghost saves his life and now Johnny has to pay that debt back tenfold. Sinking into the crease of Simon’s voice late at night, clutching it to his chest. Breathing it out. Maybe they are friends.

He’s a bit show-offy at the base gates, dangling his ID card out the window pinched between two fingers. The civilian guard on duty just waves him on, scanning it only for the sake of the logs. His tires spin in the dirt when he guns it down the stretch of road leading into the base, windows still all the way down. Her hair whips around in the wind until she gathers it all up in her fist and shrieks at him to roll the windows up.

Johnny enjoys showing off. That’s a core aspect of who he is, his charm. Braggadocious, confident in the way he looks, his physical prowess, his lot in life—so why would that change with his girl? He holds her close with an arm around her waist when he drags her through the rec centre, the building closest to where they parked.

He gets lost in conversation for longer than expected. Pure gloating about the girl he’s managed to bag. Cooing in her ear when he feels her get a bit uneasy, still timid around the other guys despite having him at her side. He supposes that’s fair. She’s more comfortable around the women on base, a bit freer with her greeting and questions, but there’s still a pinch in her brow that never smooths all the way over.

It takes a while to find anyone that he knows. There are plenty of sergeants and corporals that he’s worked with before, familiar faces and names, but Johnny still glances around the room while they make light conversation with his girl, searching. Looking for something familiar, something that’ll reel him in, make him perk up like a dog catching a scent.

They cross Gaz in a random hallway on the way to the comm centre, hardly recognizable at first with the darker stubble of his beard grown out. He must’ve just come back from wherever he’d been shipped off to the month previous, no time to shave or clean up. He even smells of old sweat when Johnny leans in for a hug.

“Is this—?” Gaz glances over at her just once while the question dangles in the air. He looks back over at Johnny.

They lock eyes. A silent exchange of meaning.

“Aye,” Johnny nods, steering her in front of him with both hands on her shoulders, showing his girl off like a kid with a new toy. Eyes glinting like, don’t say a word. “Brought her in to meet everyone.”

A molasses slow smile spreads across Gaz’s face. It’s clear why men like him always get the girl. Johnny’s hands tighten on her shoulders. “Nice to meet you—thought John would hide you away forever.”

She glances up at him through her lashes. “You talked about me?”

Gaz shakes his head. “Not as much as you’d think. Took Ghost ages to get it out of him.”

Johnny flushes. “Did no’. Jus’ ‘cause I don’ blab about everything under the fuckin’ sun doesnae mean—”

“John says you’re a florist,” Gaz interrupts, turning the conversation back to her. Her lips split up into a mischievous little grin, delighted at the turnabout, probably delighted at seeing Johnny stumble over his words.

Something about her teasing grin gets his dick hard. More points to the rapidly disintegrating belief that he doesn’t have a humiliation kink. He leans forward, pressing it into her ass, delighted himself when she shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder but doesn’t pull away.

“So, where’s everybody?” Johnny asks casually, trying not to make it too obvious who he’s referring to. The look Gaz gives him is unimpressed. He keeps running into that brick wall, his thoughts written out on his forehead, obvious to everyone around him.

“Everyone?” Gaz repeats sceptically.

“Aye.” His voice is tight, warning. “Everyone.”

“Ghost’s actually on his way here now, I think. We got called over to HQ—s’where I was headed, actually.”

“I dinnae say anything about Ghost, now did I—,” Johnny grumbles, but the words dissolve in his mouth when the man in question comes into the room.

Sometimes, Johnny has the pleasure of seeing Ghost round a corner. The split second pleasure of being the observer, of dragging his eyes up and over, his chest bursting with a light like dawn cresting behind mountains and splitting the sky. In the field, he’s often deprived of that; becomes used to experiencing the phenomenon of Ghost melting out of the shadows, sometimes scaring the daylights out of him.

It’s what happens now though. Glancing up on a whim only to see a man round the corner of the hallway leading out of the rec centre, shirt stretched out maddeningly over his arms and chest, muscles bulging like he just came from the gym, still pumped. The shirt’s a little threadbare, something old and worn, and Johnny’s seen it a million and a half times he figures; it leaves so little to the imagination that he’s joked about Ghost busting it at the seams from time to time, only to be met with a steady, aloof stare.

There’s something to be said about how he’s drawn to people who refuse to scratch him behind the ears until he’s more than proven himself. He works tirelessly for Ghost’s approval, for his girl’s approval. Dogs with their bones, tigers with their stripes.

He has a balaclava pulled over his face, just a simple black one this time, the underside of his eyes darkened by eyeblack hastily scrubbed off the night before, probably. His eyes scan the crowd, locking on Johnny and Gaz almost instantly. It’s the mark of a good soldier—he doesn’t flounder in the dark. Always finds his target, like a sixth sense for knowing when he’s being watched.

Ghost course-corrects upon noticing them, crossing the room in a handful of seconds. The curt, “Johnny,” he gets is a bounty, a treasure. He grins back when Ghost glances down at the girl at his side. “That your bird?”

“Told ye I’d bring her in—s’long as everyone’s on their best behaviour, of course.”

Gaz snorts. “Good luck with that.”

Ghost must cock an eyebrow because he can see the fabric of his mask shift. “Pretty.”

He can’t help the way he preens at that. Tucked away by his side again, Johnny can feel his girl squirm, but he pays it no mind. She’s shy—he’s known that from day one, from the first time she stumbled out from the back of the flower shop and scrunched her nose up at his attempts at flirting.

Admiration is a smooth, buttery feeling. It keeps him aloft while another couple of servicemen take interest in their conversation and come over, Johnny’s girl at the centre of everyone’s attention. He’d be pricklier about it if he didn’t have a firm hand on her waist, keeping her pressed to his side.

He soaks up the attention. Drinks it up when someone asks his girl a question and Johnny answers for her or pinches her cheek when she manages to pipe up before him. He knows he’ll get read the riot act when he takes her back home later, but he might be able to convince her to ride him while berating him for talking over her. Might beg her to slap him and spit in his mouth—say it’s the only way he’ll learn his lesson.

Dirty dog.

It strikes him that maybe he’s picked up some bad habits in recent months. He’s never been one to overthink, to worry and fret. Yet, he toils in it now, shovels coals into the furnace of it and gives it life.

His shoulders go slack, the tension finally ebbing out of him. No longer dogged by the incessant fear that his girl is going to run away, bolt at the first loud noise, or that someone’s going to pluck her up out of his arms. She seems comfortable if anything.

He’s been overthinking all of this, wrapped up in his head. He can breathe out, unclench.

When Ghost shifts to stand closer to them, he glances over because that’s where his gaze always goes these days. Seeking Ghost out, finding him in a crowd; looking for his North Star wherever he is, wherever he goes.

Only to watch in mute horror as, in plain sight, not trying to be discreet or hide it from anyone, Ghost gropes his girlfriend’s ass in front of everyone on base. Just reaches out a big hand and fondles her ass, digging his fingers into the cheek. She freezes, back ramrod straight as she stares ahead, eyes going a bit blank.

He fails whatever test this is, mouth too dry for any words to come out. Humiliation burns him from the inside out. Another sergeant that he’s worked with before frowns, glancing over at Johnny. Neither of them say a word.

Ghost tilts his head, staring down at his hand on her ass like he’s contemplating its plushness. Admiring it. With how Johnny stands on one side and Ghost the other, the two of them bracket her, like the soft centre of their trio; nowhere for her to go, a handler on either side. That’s wrong though. Ghost is not her handler—Johnny hardly is, more of a self-appointed one.

Still he—

He lets it happen.

Contention dies a bloody death in his mouth, massacred. Mangled. He lets Ghost sink his fingers into his girlfriend’s backside and hum a little under his breath before finally pulling his hand away. The others look at him, waiting for Johnny’s reaction with bated breath. A reaction that never comes because it gets strangled in Johnny’s throat.

“Nice meeting the bird,” Ghost finally says, voice a decibel lower, rough enough to scrape. “Gaz and I’ve got shit to do now. Be ready on the tarmac by oh-seven-hundred tomorrow, Johnny.”

He grips Johnny by the shoulder before heading off, like he didn’t just grope Johnny’s girlfriend. Like he didn’t just reach down and grab a handful of her ass like it was his to feel up. And Johnny just nods. A placid, docile thing under Ghost’s hand, bobbing his head like a doll.

Then Ghost leaves, Gaz trailing after him, looking back about a half dozen times to see if Johnny will suddenly follow them until he’s forced to job to catch up to Ghost, the man already yards away, longer legs carrying him fast out of the building.

They don’t talk on the drive back to her apartment, the inside of the car tense and uncertain. Johnny walks her to the door when he lets her off, but it’s a formality, a chaste kiss at the door instead of the rough fuck that he’d envisioned to send her off. Despite the hard set of her jaw, she doesn’t lambast him like Johnny expected. The silence is worse though, haunting when she shuts the door in his face.

The drive back to base after the drop off is agonizing in a whole new way. Still pent up, cock heavy in his pants, and fingers drumming over the steering wheel twice as fast now. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? What he wants to do is turn around at the closest gap between both sides of the motorway and speed all the way back, knock on her door until his knuckles blister and bleed, until she opens the door and lets him in, lets Johnny push her to the floor in the entryway and spread her legs, welcoming him in.

Until she lets him fit his fingers into the marks left behind by Ghost’s hand.

Cold fire rising up off his bones, and then something hot. And wet.

The next day at breakfast in the mess, one of the guys says something like, “If Ghost was into my girl, that’s the last you’d see of me and her,” and his mind goes blank and he goes over the table.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #soap/reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader

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rebelthree · 1 year

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@skeletcnkey (for mitchell) | continued from x

the world, so new and complicated melts away the moment soft lips meet her forehead, warmth radiating throughout her whole being. the world the woman had once knew was one filled with chaos and danger, where spies could be around every corner and secret deals had been made with washington-- and clearly not followed through. the discovery that the world remained unaware of witches and vampires and everything in-between frustrated the witch for a promised new world of cooperation and acceptance had not come to pass (nevermind the fact she had not revealed her own nature to her husband before the fates had separated them). however, at least for now, this frustration is tempered by the fact one dream had been granted them. her captain and herself had been given second chance to live and raise their child together after centuries of purgatory and pain and elena felt as if, in the least, this was a just reward for serving the rebellion faithfully. was it wrong to believe they deserved happiness after the hand they had been dealt? it mattered not (at least to her) the horrors her captain may have committed before her return. they were part of a past which had been robbed from them and elena was determined to focus upon their future in a world were moving pictures existed in talking boxes and herrick was no part of it.

sigh escapes pink lips, body leaning into his as she takes his hands from her shoulders and guides them over her stomach where faint movement is detected. “as long as you come home to us at the end of the day, that is enough.” she wishes they could live in moments like this forever instead of him forced to leave her to go to the infirmary. it was not that she disliked his friends or the tea which annie seemed determined to make her float away upon (six mugs in an hour was a lot by any standard), but they were not him. too much time had already been stolen from them and she did not care if her desire to be with him more often was selfish. still, she concedes it is an unrealistic and unfair desire. he had lived without her for centuries and held a life he had already established. she, a woman who had once been.. frankly, the center of attention within their new york town.. was the sudden outsider. “i discovered the picture box and annie made me twelve cups of tea today. she revealed to me it was.. decaffeinated? she said a doctor inside the box determined that is best for our child.” elena offers in response, as if that would explain the nature of her day perfectly.

#skeletcnkey #muse; elena gilbert #verse au; brave new world

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scuderiahoney · 5 months

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*word counts next to fic titles!*

all works written and owned by me. please do not repost these works to other websites, or copy them in any way. thank you!

OP81

In Motion - in progress Hockey AU Series Oscar’s a certified hockey prodigy, and the new kid on the block. You’re the adopted best friend of his new hockey team. You take it upon yourself to make him feel welcome. What could possibly go wrong?

Take Care- 7.4k feat. Lando Norris! You, Lando, and Oscar are roommates. The three of you promise to take care of each other. It takes you all far too long to admit just how much you mean it.

Color Theory- 6.6k 18+ mdni! Oscar’s an old friend of yours. This time when he comes home to visit, things get messy.

Ache- 1.9k 18+ mdni! Leaving you behind makes Oscar’s chest hurt. Sometimes coming home is just as hard.

Be Brave- 5.2k You’re a teacher, and someone’s had the brilliant idea to send your class full of 5 year olds to the McLaren Technology Centre. Chaos ensues. Oscar’s there to help.

In From The Rain- 7.1k Oscar’s looking for an easy to care for houseplant. You have just the solution.

Stick Around- 4.1 k You’ve been searching for your soulmate your whole life. Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong place.

Tangerine- 6.8k You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried.

tangerine series masterlist

CL16

Every Second - 2.6k The world is ending. you’re right where you belong.

All You Got - 5.4k You hate Charles Leclerc. The feeling is mutual. He’s made that clear from the very beginning. (driver reader, enemies to friends to lovers)

After All- 3.6k Charles Leclerc is your best friend. According to everyone who’s ever seen the two of you together, he’s also madly in love with you.

MV33

Always Walk Me Home- 4.3k You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

🍓 can be read as standalone, but for more parts in this universe, check out Strawberry Wine!

Pick You Up- 6.7k When Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls.

DR3

Blackbird- 10.1k You’re a bartender at a mountain lodge. When Danny shows up, you’re determined to keep your distance. It doesn’t really go to plan.

Sweet Like Grenadine- 5.6k You love weddings. However, you don’t love being stuck by yourself at a wedding, a plus one to a boyfriend who’s too busy for you. Enter Daniel Ricciardo, your knight in shining armor.

LN4

Puzzle Piece - 3.6k You’re always drawn to Lando. He’s always happy to have you near him. Finally, the pieces might just click into place.

Take Care- 7.4k feat. Oscar Piastri! You, Lando, and Oscar are roommates. The three of you promise to take care of each other. It takes you all far too long to admit just how much you mean it.

Blurbs:

I Want Your Midnights // NYE Blurb Drop

1k Celebration Blurbs

#fics #honeywrites #cl16 #op81 #f1 fic masterlist

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