#touchau

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: mentions of cheating

Ghost found you. Pretty thing standing by the produce section and Ghost thought you too beautiful to be quite so sad looking. He snapped a picture and sent it to his team with two words. Found her. 6 Months Earlier.

“Fuck you, Kit! Take your stupid whore and get the hell out!” You screamed at your soon-to-be-ex husband, throwing a vase at the wall by his head. He’d been fucking your cousin because, as he put it, she was beautiful and skinny and you were some used up fat whore. He left with her in tow, smirking evilly at you over her shoulder. 

You collapsed on the floor where you stood, sobbing as you tried to deal with your heart shattering into tiny pieces. You and Kit had started dating in high school, back when you were much smaller and he was the guy every girl wanted. Sure, you’d put on weight, but she hadn’t expected it to be the thing that destroyed your relationship. Well, that caused your asshole ex to do what he’d done. 

The thing was you lived in an apartment building in a quiet neighborhood in Upper New York, second story with a neighbor above and below. You’d talked to the masked man that lived above, constantly having to apologize for the volume level that Kit would get to at 4 am when he was playing his games. The masked man would just grumble and glare, telling you to make sure he kept it down.

By the 6th or 7th time, Ghost noticed the bruise on your arm despite your efforts to hide it under a loosely knitted sweater and grunted, eyeing the mark before his dark chocolate hues flicked to yours in question. You blew him off, saying you fell in the bathtub, but he couldn’t ignore the fingerprint shape the purple splotch made. 

This time he came down and banged on the door, a sense of urgency behind it. He’d never heard you scream like that and he’d found himself with a need to protect you, if he could. You stood from your spot, wiping your tears as you moved to the door. Peeking through the peephole, you let out a heavy sigh and steeled yourself for the masked man’s wrath. Ghost grunted at you, brow raised as he took in the way you looked. Your hair was a mess, body wrapped in a tattered sweater and dark circles that held spilled tears. “I’m so sorry for the noise. It won’t happen again,” you stated, not looking up to catch the man’s eyes and moving to close the door again. But it stuck, the man’s large boot between the jam and the door. 

Your eyes widened and you opened the door, peeking around it and finally meeting his eyes. “Don’t d’serve that treatment,” Ghost grunted at you, arms still crossed over his broad chest. You’d always found him intimidating, but you had to admit that his size intrigued you. You whimpered in response, feeling a fresh wave of tears fighting to the surface.

Ghost bullied his way into your apartment, closing the door behind him with his boot as he scooped you up into his arms. He didn’t know why he was doing this, comforting a stranger like you, but he held tight to his words. From what he could hear, you didn’t do anything wrong and never raised your voice to your trash ex and no one deserved to be treated that way for nothing. 

He moved to the couch, holding you against his chest until your cries quieted down. That also meant your sense was coming back to you. You scrambled from his lap, moving to stand closer to the corner of the room. “I’m sorry. I’m okay, you don’t need to be here. I’m-I’ll be fine,” your voice shook with every word and you couldn’t look him in the eye. 

You heard the couch creak in a way it usually only did when you moved off it as heavy, black boots came into your view. You looked up and met his eyes, gasping softly as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t look a’ me like tha’, love,” Ghost growled low in his throat, massive form hovering over you in the corner. 

Maybe something snapped inside you. Maybe you were having a full on mental breakdown. But the next thing you knew, you were raising your hand to the bottom of the black balaclava covering his face. Your eyes never left his, watching them grow darker as your fingers hooked under the bottom. You waited to see if he would stop you, but when he did it, you slowly began sliding it up and off his head, scars and marks revealed inch by inch. 

Ghost didn’t know why he was letting you see him. Perhaps he wanted you to see that you weren’t alone in your brokenness. You closed the distance, pulling him down to you as you pressed your lips to his in a desperate kiss. He obliged you, letting you lead the kiss as you worked through your pain. His gloved hands came to grasp the flesh of your waist, backing you to the wall when his self-control slipped momentarily. 

With a growl, he pulled back from you and shook his head. He stomped away from you, wrenching your door open and slamming it behind him. He leaned against your door for a moment, ripping his mask back over his head before disappearing upstairs. And you found yourself collapsed on the floor for the second time that night.

You were resolute, determined to rid yourself of everything that tied you to Kit. It would be a long six months of divorce lawyers, packing, moving, and erasing every last trace of him from your life. 

Which was why you were standing in the produce section in the middle of Manchester, England, woefully looking over the peppers you knew you’d never end up eating. You hadn’t seen anyone tied to Kit or even your own family for about four months. You were lonely, but it felt better being lonely alone instead of lonely and married. You hadn’t seen the masked man that lived above you after he comforted you that night.

You felt eyes on the back of your neck, heading whipping up in paranoia as it swiveled side to side. But you didn't see anyone. You had moved out so quickly that Ghost didn’t have a chance to check on you and had been searching for you ever since, even looping in his team. How lucky was he that six months later, he happened to be on leave and you had moved right into his hometown.

If I continue, it'll eventually be poly!141. I'm trying not to use many identifying characteristics for the reader other than she is shorter. However, this is written with the idea that the reader is plus size. Please let me know any suggestions or ways to make this better. It's the first time I'm posting my writing publicly so please be nice.

[most-calm-revice-and-geats-fan]

THEY ACTUALLY MET!!!!

TRANSLATIONS:

Ore, Sanjo-!

What, what? Are you a demon too?

Eh? Of course not! Who the hell are you?! Everyone in the audience knows I’m an Imagin! Observe...Ore, Sanjou!

I'm so jealous! I also want to! Me too! Oretchi Touchau! (Is that how you even spell it? Is that even what he said?!)

Stop messing around with my appearance, bastard!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------AINT ACTUAL NO WAY, THEY FLIPPING DID!!! AND I NEVER KNEW UP UNTIL THE NIGHT BEFORE!!! I'M SORRY I'M SO BLOODY HAPPY TO KNOW THIS IS REAL!!! Y'ALL NEED TO SEE THIS!!!!! (Source: Kamen Rider x Super Sentai LIVE & SHOW 2022 (50x45 Anniversary))

they both got me kicking my feet and giggling

[neenamaiya]

The legend of a mighty waterfall

Yesterday was World Indigenous Peoples Day.

I am deeply fascinated by the stories, the art, the songs of our Amerindians of Guyana. I wish we could run to hear these stories and songs the way we rush to collect those of developed countries.

Here is one of their legends about our magnificent waterfall...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

KAIETEUR is named after Kai, the Touchau (Toshao)…the village chief…of the peaceful village of Chenau. According to The Guyana Times newspaper, in Legend of Kaieteur, Kai belonged to the tribe of the Patamona, one of the tribes of indigenous people who came to Guyana.

Not far from their village lived the Caribisi, also known as the Caribs. The Caribisi constantly raided the village of Chenau, stealing their corn, cassava, vegetables, sweet potatoes, and carrying away their women.

So peaceful were the Patamonas, that Kai did not wish to go to war against the Caribisi. I wonder if, perhaps, he foresaw the horrific consequences of never-ending war. He prayed to the great spirit, Makonaima, for help and Makonaima spoke to him, telling him what he needed to do.

In exchange for peace, Kai would have to make the ultimate sacrifice.

He rode with his canoe over the falls, crashing down, giving up his life for the protection of his people.

Thinking about the recent heatwave around the world, the wars today and the grand chiefs of wealth, I wonder if there is a single leader anywhere who is willing to work for the betterment of, for peace in, this global village of ours.

No, absolutely not, I do not wish for any leader to give up his or her life, physically. But what if leaders were to give up their lives in another way? What if they willingly gave up their egos, their need for the type of power that has brought untold grief to our…to their…brothers and sisters around the world?

Aug.10.22.

[cuteandtwisted]

this is your burning touchau anon here. i've had to rush to the bathrooms at work and school in order to read the first chapter and simultaneously sob over how perfect and beautiful your writing is. i love that it's from even's pov! his characterization, inner monologue, and how he views the world through rehearsed scripts is so fresh yet heartbreaking, and isak! my sad, lonely boy, he is such a good soul and heart! i want to say more but i just love you. thank you so much for writing this au

Omgg i was so nervous it wouldn't meet your expectations at all. Jdjdjdjdj. I really wanted to write this but make it different from what i've done before as well. I didn't want to go the expected route and wanted to have Isak closed off yet have all the hurt bleed through every detached thing he says even if it's not his pov. Tbh i drew a lot of inspiration from Captive Prince in this because i never would have written the series from Damen's pov because he's an open book. So i wanted to do the same kinda.I want them to be friends and then more 💕 thank you for always filling my inbox with the happiest and fluffiest and most amazing messages. Love you 💗💗💗

[andrewrossiter1]

Nos cles

Nos Clés Prédication par Andrew Rossiter à Dieppe, Dimanche KT (dimanche après Pâques le 23 avril 2017. Jean 20.19-23

Qui a son mobile ce matin? Il y a combien de tablettes ici ce matin? Prenez le temps de compter le nombre d’écrans que vous avez dans la maison… ordinateurs, mobiles, tablettes, montres, systèmes de chauffage, etc… Nous vivons dans un monde de plus en plus connecté. Nos maisons du futur auront les appareils intelligents connectés les uns avec les autres. Déjà nous pouvons régler le niveau de chauffage, éteindre les lumières, faire passer le robot aspirateur à partir de notre smart-phone quand nous sommes loin de chez nous.

Bientôt notre table de cuisson interrogera le frigidaire et le placard afin de proposer des plats selon ce qui s’y trouve ou encore nous envoyer un message avec une liste de courses à faire. Il n’y a pas de limite à ce que nous appelons la domotique.

Bien entendu il y du bien et du «pas-si-bien» dans tout cela. Le «pas-si-bien» c’est que nous allons vers une façon de vivre d’image-mass-média. «Mass»: qui veut dire que nos vies seront de plus en plus impersonnelles. Certes, je peux avoir ma page Facebook, mais qu’en est la différence avec les 30 million d’autres pages qui existent en France? Comment avoir quelque chose de mass qui soit vraiment «de moi»? «Média»: parce que toutes les informations que je poste, tous les messages que j’envoie passent par des réseaux que je ne contrôle pas. Mettre un timbre sur une lettre et la glisser dans la boîte aux lettres - c’est assez difficile d’intercepter cette forme de correspondance. Donner la lettre à quelqu’un de confiance, c’est encore plus difficile. Mais les messages qui passent par Internet, par courriel etc, sont facilement interceptés et lus. «Image»: tout se passe par un écran. Le mot écran est défini ainsi «objet qui empêche de voir, d’entendre». L’image n’est pas la réalité, c’est une representation de la réalité.

Mais il y a aussi du bien, et beaucoup de bien. Aujourd’hui il n’y a plus de distance. Je peux voir mon petit-fils grandir, prendre son bain, faire ses premiers pas à l’autre bout du monde, à plus de 17,000 kilomètres de Luneray et cela grâce à FaceTime ou Skype. Je partage les vies des personnes que je ne connais pas, que je ne rencontrerais jamais. Ces personnes, par leurs sites-web, leurs blogs et leurs twitters m’inspirent, me font rêver et me forcent à réfléchir. Ma vision du monde est élargie. Ma vie est liée étroitement avec la vie des autres. Je sais que je ne suis pas seul et que, quand ça marche, je peux faire appel à des inconnus à me venir en aide pour trouver mon chat perdu, ou mon enfant enlevé. Chaque personne qui possède un ordinateur ou un téléphone mobile n’est plus une personne isolée, mais interconnectée.

Il y a 2000 ans, au temps de Jésus, ce n’était pas le cas. Au moment de la crucifixion, de sa déposition de la croix et de son ensevelissement ses amis étaient absents. Ils ont pris la fuite. Quelques-uns restaient, mais pour la plupart ce n’étaient que ceux et celles qui étaient sans importance, des femmes et pauvres pêcheurs. Pour les autres, ceux et celles qui comptaient dans la société, c’était trop dangereux de rester sur place.

Ils se trouvaient derrière des portes fermées à clé, cloîtrés dans une pièce (qu’on dit ��à l’étage»). Enfermés, pourquoi au juste? Jean nous dit qu’ils avaient peur. Qu’ils voulaient se protéger. Se protéger, mais de qui? Des autorités, oui! Mais aussi peut-être un peu d’eux-mêmes. Se protéger d’eux-mêmes! Se protéger de ne pas devenir fous! Après tout, qui peut croire au témoignage de Marie et les autres femmes? Elles ont dit qu’il était vivant. Un mort qui parle, qui marche et qui apparait comme ça - c’est impossible! Alors il faut se protéger de ce fantôme de la crucifixion.

Là où ils sont, derrière les fenêtres et portes fermées, impossible de savoir ce qui se passe dehors. Ils n’avaient pas FaceTime, YouTube et une connexion à haut-débit pour suivre en temps réel les événements à Jérusalem. Il n’y avait pas de vidéos postées pour voir… Aujourd‘hui la résurrection ne serait pas passée comme ça. Même la police fait appel à ceux et celles qui filment les attentats à Londres de leur rendre leur mini-films afin de poursuivre l’enquête.

Ils s’enferment, mais il vient! Faut-il croire que Jésus passe à travers des murs et des portes fermées? Faut-il penser que Jésus ressuscité n’est qu’une sorte de spectre, qu’il a pris une autre forme corporelle? Que faut-il croire? Je dois dire que j’ai du mal à croire à une prestidigitateur-Jésus, un Harry Houdini ou un David Copperfield du premier siècle! D’autant plus que le reste du récit nous parle d’un Jésus réel, tangible, physiquement présent. Il veut manger!

C’est bien lui. Le même qui est Dieu avec nous Emmanuel. C’est le même que la voix désigne au moment de son baptême, «Mon esprit est sur lui». Les évangiles nous disent: l’esprit n’est pas sans lui, mais en lui. L’esprit est essentiel, mais il n’existe pas sans ce qui est physique. Pus tard Jésus invitera ses amis de le toucher. De toucher ses mains et mettre le doigt dans les plaies. Il n’invite pas à ses disciples de toucher le bord de son vêtement, mais de le toucher lui. «Touche-moi, pour que je puisse te toucher».

Touché par Dieu, ce qui a le pouvoir de transformer des vies. Et le problème dans notre monde hyper-connecté c’est que tout nous invite à vivre une vraie vie sans être touché physiquement.

Nos clés nous protègent du contact et de connectivité réelle.

Notre foi est physique. Notre foi n’est pas fondée sur la méditation, même si nous méditons. Elle n’est pas basée sur un mystère ineffable, même s’il y a du vrai mystère dans le partage du pain et du vin et dans les eaux de baptême. Notre foi n’est pas une voix désincarnée qui nous parle, mais bien une voix que nous entendons grâce à la lecture des textes: des verbes, mots et adverbes.

Notre foi chrétienne n’est pas immatérielle, mais bien matérialisée, c’est la matière qui compte. D’être touché et de toucher. C’est Jésus qui nous invite de le toucher, non pas seulement caresser ses cheveux ou d’effleurer ses joues mais de bien avancer le doigt et la main. C’est à dire de toucher son vulnérabilité, sa faiblesse et son humanité. De se faire un avec son corps meurtri.

Et par peur, nous nous enfermons à double tour dans nos habitudes, nos certitudes et nos traditions. Par peur nous fermons les portes de nos vies avec des clés tournées dans des serrures bien huilées pour nous protéger. Par peur nous restons cachés derrière la protection de nos écrans. Par peur, par peur…

Jésus vient et il revient. Par deux fois il dit, «Shalom alekhem» La Paix soit avec vous. Et il souffle sur eux. Encore de l’esprit et du matériel. Ils sont touchés par cet esprit, afin de toucher à leur tour les autres. Par le don de cet esprit ils ont reçu une commission, une mission. Ils deviennent un touchau, une pierre de touche.

Le touchau, ou l’essai au touchau, est une méthode destinée à vérifier qu’un certain métal est en réalité précieux. La «Pierre de Touche» est employé depuis l’antiquité par les orfèvres afin de confondre des revendeurs frauduleux de l’or ou de l’argent. La pierre de touche est un minéral très dur, comme le jaspe noir par exemple, on frotte le métal à tester sur la pierre pour laisser apparaître une marque. Puis on frotte à côté de la marque un autre métal dont on sait qu’il est précieux. Après avoir aspergées de l’acide les deux marques, on compare des résultats. Le toucher d’un métal pure laisse une marque sur la surface de la pierre dont la pureté est reconnaissable.

Dans ce passage de Jean, nous avons une pierre de touche biblique. «Avance ta main. Touche-moi» Alors, avec Thomas, nous aussi nous pouvons être certains qu’il est vraiment: Mon Seigneur et mon Dieu.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 2

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: little creepy at the end, stalking vibes

By the time the other three members of Task Force 141 made the drive to Ghost’s hometown, he had already determined where you were living by following you from the market and was back in his own flat, swirling a glass of whiskey. The team sat down to make a game plan, almost treating you as if you were one of their missions while sitting around Ghost’s beat up old dining table. You’d be theirs, one way or another. 

A Week Later, Saturday. 

Bleary weather had plagued Manchester for the last few days, gray clouds hovering overhead while you attempted to find your motivation for your job. It wasn’t helpful that you’d received news from your mom that your cousin and Kit would be getting married soon. A brick settled in your stomach at the news, ending the call with your mom quickly as you forced down the tears you refused to keep crying over him. 

In an effort to cheer yourself up, you headed out of your flat and down the street to the sweet little flower shop you’d found your first week in Manchester. The owner, Magda, was a kind, gentle old lady who essentially took you under her wing when you had trouble finding your footing in the new country. She’d been a boon to you, telling you the best shops for everything from groceries to clothes. You’d helped her find her cat when the mangy thing had slipped out the back door to fight the stray living behind a neighboring shop.

The bell chimed above your head, banging against the worn wood. You were immediately greeted by the scent of the most beautiful flowers and Magda’s voice talking a man through the best choices for an apology bouquet. You caught her eye over his shoulder and waved, a soft smile on your face as your eyes drifted to the back of the man’s head.

He easily stood a foot and a half taller than the elderly owner, cropped mohawk adding to the already egregious height difference. His shoulders were broad, though not quite as broad as your masked man back in New York. Why were you thinking about him all of sudden? You shook your head, clearing your mind like an etch-a-sketch and headed straight to the hyacinths and lilacs, wanting the sweet scent of your favorite flowers to brighten up your flat and completely missing him turning to take you in.

“Pretty flowers. Almost as pretty as you.” A low voice startled you out of your reverie, spinning on your heel to face the man Magda had been helping previously. Now, you could see that his eyes were a shocking blue and the lopsided smile he provided you made your heart stutter against your ribcage. But the size of him was what intrigued you. 

You’d accepted that this was the way you were now. Despite doing months of working out and eating well, your body hadn’t changed much from when you’d left the States. The cleaner food of England helped you feel better though, breathing a little life back into you after everything you’d dealt with. But that also meant that men weren’t as courageous in approaching you, their bravado faltering in the face of society's expectations. So when an attractive man approached you, blatantly flirting, your first response was to think it was a joke, snort and walk away, effectively blowing him off.

A gentle hand on your shoulder a few minutes later had you whipping around to ask what the guy's problem was, but was greeted by Magda instead. Immediately, you looked around for the mohawk guy, but he was nowhere to be found and you could have sworn the bell hadn’t dinged against the door. Weird. Bringing your gaze back to the elderly woman, you raised a brow at the scrap of paper in her hands. “That sweet young man paid for your flowers and left this as well,” Magda handed you the piece of paper with a number and a messy name scrawled at the bottom. 

Johnny. 

You’d gone home with your overly expensive bouquet and the scrap of paper after, staring down at it as if it would burst into flames at any moment. You took a deep breath, telling yourself “Why the hell not?” as you punched the number into a new message chain. 🪻: Uh, hi. Is this Johnny?

🧼: Ay, it is, Petal.

🪻: Petal? 

🧼: Well, I don’t know your name, do I?

He made a good point, making you sigh as you released your own name to him in spite of your reservations. But maybe, just maybe, you could manage to make a few friends if he ended up not being interested in you.

The next few days were spent lounging around your flat, going to work, and texting Johnny. What you didn’t know, though, was that he was reporting everything back to his boys. It had only taken Simon’s word and the one picture to have each of them wagging their tongues and readying their arms to protect what they now saw as theirs.

By the time you were winding down on Wednesday night and brewing tea that Johnny had insisted you know how to make, you were smiling at your phone that lit up every few minutes with his messages. The two of you had discussed everything from your favorite color and food to what had brought you to England. When he’d heard the details of that night, sans your interaction with Ghost, and paired it with Simon’s recollection, he’d been furious. His fingers tightened around the phone to the point that Price had taken it from him in an effort to not have to buy another replacement.

Simon had been in the same boat as Johnny, opting for stomping out of the flat to walk off his rage and guilt, feeling it gnaw at him for not stepping up before and then abandoning you after. His feet carried him to your building, watching from the ground as you paced around your space. When your pacing brought you in front of the window, you paused and looked through the glass, heart hammering as you saw a dark shape of a man standing on the sidewalk. But the light of the lamp posts made one thing stand out very clearly,

the white skull painted on his mask. 

I didn't want to offend any Scots with trying to type out Johnny's accent. I have a feeling this is going to turn into some long winded fic, so buckle in if you're ready for that.

Thank you so much for your support!

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 7

Most of this chapter is the reader's first time with one of the boys. It’s skippable if it makes you uncomfortable and there will be a warning where it starts.

tw: smut, choking, hint of auralism/voyeurism

The old dilapidated flat buried in the poorest part of Manchester was filled with whirring, flipping papers and voices. Voices that spoke low and quick, pointing out places on a map with dirty, grubby fingers. Plans being laid that threatened life and limb. And every string on their board leads to one picture of a young woman. 

You.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you took a deep breath and did your best to walk confidently back into the room. Four heads raised the moment you entered making you want to shrink back into the shadows. Each face that looked back at you held apprehension and hope, but more than that, you could see the adoration they all had for you, even Simon. 

You walked over to Simon, who’s dark eyes widened the closer you got, and cupped his cheek, running your thumb over one of his many scars. “I don’t know how to do this,” you started, speaking to everyone in the room though your eyes remained locked on Simon’s. “But I trust you and I trust this can work out. What’s one more person, right?” You smiled down at Simon softly, feeling the room depressurize at your words. 

The other three men sighed collectively though they still watched as you bent over Simon’s form, your lips ghosting over his ear. “Looks like you’ve got some catching up to do, Si,” you whispered against the shell of his ear, making a chill run down his spine. “I could catch up right now if you’d like me to,” Simon offered, hand snaking its way up the outside of your plush thigh, sliding around to grip your ass in his massive paw. “I still remember how you taste, luv,” he whispered back, digging his digits into your flesh. 

You didn’t think that words could have such an impact on you, but the telltale rush of adrenaline and arousal proved you wrong. “Christ, Si, manhandling her already?” Price chuckled, watching as both you and Simon looked over your shoulder. Simon’s eyes narrowed while yours widened and a blush colored the apples of your cheeks. 

You straightened, cupping Simon’s chin with your hand as your eyes met his once more. “Wanna go to lunch with me?” You asked, the corners of your mouth curling up in a soft smile. “I’m supposed to be the one asking,” Simon countered even though his lips curled into a grin. “Too bad I got to it first,” you flirted back, stepping away so Simon could stand. You’d forgotten how massive he was, bigger than Price even and that night flashed through your mind. 

Knees a little weak, you took his hand when he offered it while he smirked at the boys over your head. “Alright, you big lug, let’s go,” you urged, heading towards the door as you dragged him behind you. He pulled a plain black gaiter out of his pocket and tugged it on before heading out the door. 

Simon led you to a taco truck and you think you saw him smile with the way his eyes crinkle when you laughed at his corny taco joke, asking which way you tilted your head when you ate tacos. He assured you that what happened that night hadn’t been his intention. He’d only wanted to comfort you. You told him it had been a comfort, despite the way he left. 

⛔SMUT WARNING!⛔

When the two of you arrived back at the flat, bellies full and hearts soaring, there was a faint sound coming from one of the bedrooms. You raised your brow and looked up at Simon, wondering if he knew what the sound was. “That’ll be Cap and Johnny, probably Kyle too, based on the sounds I’m hearing. Always makes Price a little randy seeing someone get felt up around him,” Simon explained like he was reading off his grocery list. 

Your cheeks turned pink and you blinked up at him. “That’s just from you groping me?” You questioned, the sounds creating a reaction between your thighs and you pressed them together to relieve some of the tension. Simon eyed you for a moment, watching the way your chest rose and fell with your quickening breaths, noticing the clench of your thighs. Simon stepped behind you, hands resting on your hips as his lips came close to your ear. “Does that turn you on, luv? Knowing just my hand on your arse has Cap so riled up he had to take poor Johnny to relieve himself?” he whispered against your ear, his hot breath ghosting the shell and sending a shiver down your spine.

Your thighs clenched again and you couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped your throat. “Aw, pet, do you want to see? Or would you rather I satisfy your pretty cunt myself?” he entreated, his hands sliding around as one came up to settle against the base of your throat while the other wrapped around your middle to pull you flush against him. 

You shuddered in his grip, head coming back to rest against his chest as your eyes flicked up to his. He was pleasantly surprised to find your pupils blown and your breathing catching in your throat. His fingers slid up to wrap around your throat and squeeze ever so slightly. Kit never touched you like this, always shied away from your kinkier requests saying you didn’t need all that if you really loved him.

But Simon could see the desire in your eyes as he stared down at you. Keeping his grip on your throat, he released your middle and brought that hand up to rip down the gaiter so he could crash his lips to yours. You gasped against his lips, turning towards him as he tightened his grip around your throat. The slight feeling of blood loss to your head made the pleasure of his kiss higher, fingers itching to touch his skin. 

Simon backed you up to the wall, the faint sounds of the other three spurning you two on as you gripped his hoodie in your hands. When he finally pulled back and allowed you to breathe, his free hand slid down your body, watching your eyes for any sign to stop. But you didn’t stop him, or couldn’t, you weren’t really sure. His thick digits found the gusset of your leggings, sliding between your thighs with expert hands. “Barely touched you and you’re soaked, luv,” he practically growled before slamming his lips back to yours again.

You let out a whimper against his lips, hips rocking forward in search of his fingers when he removed them. Suddenly, your throat was released and he was taking your hand, dragging you to his room where he threw you on the bed, your size not even a question when he lifted weights heavier than you. His hulking form hovered over you, a menacing vision if you didn’t know he wanted to ravage you. 

“S-Simon,” you breathed out his name like a prayer and he swore he heard angels singing. He watched you carefully as he began removing your clothes, swearing under his breath with every inch he uncovered. By the time he had you undressed down to your panties, he was panting and his erection pressed against the zipper of his trousers painfully. 

You fought the urge to cover yourself, watching him with wide eyes. “So bloody gorgeous, luv. Fucking hell, so pretty laying there all for me,” he murmured, quickly working off his own shirt before laying over you and kissing you deeply. Tongues and teeth clashed as your hands came up to hold his shoulders, fingers pressing into his flesh. 

Pulling away, he stared down at you before he was bringing his lips to your neck, your shoulders, your collarbones. When your hands left him to cover your soft stomach, he growled and yanked them away, gathering your wrists in one hand while he muttered about not hiding from him. 

Simon swallowed, feeling an overwhelming honor at being able to see you like this. Bare except your panties, lips swollen and your chest heaving with your breaths. He determined he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. He brought his mouth to one of your pebbled nipples, using his tongue to lick over the nub before wrapping his lips around it. His tongue flicked while he sucked, the sensation making you moan out his name as your hand found the back of his head

His mouth continued its hot trail down your body until he got to your hips, the fabric of your panties cutting into your plush flesh. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, looking for any sign that you were uncomfortable while his fingers hooked into the waistband and tugged them down over your legs. He tossed them off with the rest of your clothes, eyes settling on the glistening slick that covered your puffy core.

Simon gripped himself over his pants and adjusted himself, licking his lips before his eyes flicked up to yours. You were hot, skin heated and flushed under his gaze. When he lowered himself between your thighs, you hiccupped and scooted away. His eyes narrowed and he wrapped his massive arms around your hips and tugged you to him, keeping eye contact as he pressed a light kiss to your clit. 

The sight made you keen, gasping when he drug his wide tongue along the length of your slit. His touches were tentative, ready to stop if you said the word, but your fingers sliding into his hair and the rock of your hips told him you had no intention of stopping him. He lapped at your folds, groaning at your taste before he slid two fingers into your tight heat. “So fucking tight, pet, been too long, yeah?” he muttered against your pussy, not sure if he was talking to your or your cunt. 

It felt like hours that he devoured you, bringing you to orgasm twice before ever raising his head. When he finally lifted from your quim, his chin and lips were shiny with your wetness and he licked his lips. A soft blush formed on your cheeks as you looked at him through hooded eyes. He grinned, the smile almost mean as he shucked off his pants and your eyes widened slightly. So that was why he’d insisted on using three fingers to bring you over the edge the last time. 

Giving himself a few slow, long strokes, he looked where you were and chuckled. “Gonna take it nice and slow, hm?” He nodded his head like he was expecting your answer and you met his eyes with a small nod and your bottom pout caught between your teeth. Shuffling onto the bed, he pressed his hips against yours, laying the length of his cock against your belly and grinning to himself. Gripping himself, he ran the tip through your folds, spreading your slick before notching himself at your entrance. 

A soft gasp filled the room as you felt just the head stretching you already, a sting following as he started to push inch after inch into you. When he was halfway inside, he leaned over and whispered praises into your ear. “So good, taking me so well, aren’t ya, luv? So fuckin’ tight around me, such a good girl”

His praises only fueled you, whimpering at the feeling of his thickness stretching you. If they were all hung like this, you were in trouble and it excited you further. Your walls clenched around him and he gasped, the feeling making him press the last few inches into you in one quick thrust. “Simon!” You cried, back arching as he split you open on his cock.

Minutes later, he had you screaming his name as the headboard hit the wall with the strength of his thrusts, having bent you over so he could grip the fat of your ass in his giant paws, watching the way your flesh gave into his tight grasp. By the time he was close to filling you, he’d brought you over the edge two more times, ensuring you knew that your pleasure was his number one priority. But when you started begging for him to fill you, he was a goner. 

Hunched over your back, his hips slammed against your ass while he grunted in your ear, knowing the other three would be standing on the other side of the door. One hand planted firmly on your hip, gripping tight enough to leave bruises while the other slid up your body to wrap around your throat, gripping it tightly. The others had their ears to the door and their cocks in their fists as they listened to Simon rearrange your insides. 

 “Cum for us, pet. Come on my cock and scream for them. I know they want to hear your pretty sounds,” he urged while his hips began to stutter. That was all it took for you to start wailing and cumming around his cock, clenching him in a grip he couldn’t ignore anymore. His hips stilled against you as he came with a roar, filling you with everything he had as he released your throat mid-orgasm. The rush of blood made you feel light headed, arms finally giving out under you as his hands found your hips again with a bruising grip and holding you against him until he was sure that he was done. 

Panting, he pulled from you, sitting back on his haunches to watch his seed drip from your used hole before scooping it up and shoving it back inside. With a grin, he gave your ass a light smack and climbed off the bed to grab a cloth, cleaning you delicately before wrapping you in his arms and pulling the blanket over you. 

“Rest, luv. I’ll be right here when you wake,” Simon whispered, kissing the top of your head. You nodded, nuzzling against his chest and quickly falling asleep, exhausted emotionally and physically from the day you’d had. 

There was a soft knock on the door and Simon called out softly for them to open it, his gaze never leaving your sleeping form. Price filed in and sat at the end of the bed, hand coming to lay over your feet under the blanket. “Think it was a good idea to break her in so quickly?” Price asked quietly, eyes settled on you. Simon’s eyes narrowed slightly at Price’s words, his regard moving to look at the other man.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you all hadn’t been so loud. Should have seen her, Cap. It was almost instant. Heard you guys and then she was putty in my hands. Don’t worry, I gave her every opportunity to stop me,” he reassured his captain and partner, eyes sliding back to you. “We have to protect her, John. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her again,” Simon confessed, eyes wide as he tried to convey the strength of his feelings. “We will, boy. She’ll be the safest woman in the world.” 

The smut got a little away from me. If I don't include it with the other boys in the actual story, I'll be doing one shots once the story is done.

Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this story! I greatly appreciate it.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 4

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: little smutty at the end

The Next Day. Saturday.

Anxiety. First date anxiety to be exact and it had your stomach in knots. You’d woken to no alarm, blissfully off work that day and lounging in bed for a few minutes had been nice until you were hit with a pang in your stomach when you remembered you had a date with Price that night. Suddenly, you couldn’t lay in bed anymore. Tossing off the covers and heading to the kitchen, you brewed some tea to try to calm the racing of your heart while you mentally worked through everything you’d need to accomplish today before said date.

Only after tearing through your closet did you settle on a black dress that had been hanging in the back for ages. It hugged your curves in all the right places without making you self conscious about the curves you didn’t like. You’d originally bought it for an anniversary dinner with Kit, but when he’d canceled with the excuse that his job needed him to stay late (or in reality, your cousin insisted he come over), it never saw the light of day. What better time to wear it than on a date with a new man? 

You quickly found that John Price was not one to be tardy to anything. He’d shown up five minutes before eight, waiting patiently at the door while you called from inside that you were coming. Opening the door to your flat as you wiggled on your heels, you were presented with a bouquet of hyacinths and lilacs decorated with sprigs of baby’s breath. “Johnny said they were your favorite,” Price shrugged, giving you a warm smile as you invited him in and took the flowers to inhale their sweet scent. Your eyes traveled from the bouquet to his outfit for the evening and internally groaned at how handsome he looked in the maroon button up that stretched over his chest and biceps and black slacks that you decided you wouldn’t mind seeing on the bedroom floor.

“Please, make yourself at home. I just need to get these into a vase and then we can leave,” you stated before rushing into the kitchen, Price’s eyes glued to your backside as you disappeared. Quickly, you filled a vase and dropped the bouquet into the water, admiring it with a girlish giddiness and promising yourself that you’d properly set it up once you returned. 

When you returned to the living room, Price was looking over the bookshelves surrounding your TV and you walked over to join him. “This is my favorite,” you said, reaching up to hook your finger over the spine of a well-loved book, pulling it out and handing it to him. “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” Price’s gruff voice stated, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips and he looked you over with an appreciative gaze. You were smart. Just one more thing to adore about their shiny new toy.

“I love the fantasy, but also the deeper meanings behind it,” you replied, blushing lightly as you took the book and put it back in its place on the shelf. “Maybe one day we’ll talk a bit more about it,” you added, knowing if you started in on the intricacies of Lewis Carrol’s famous book, you’d never shut up. Price nodded and checked his watch before his hand came to rest against the small of your back. “We should get going, little bird. We have reservations,” Price spoke softly, his mustache twitching with his words. 

John Price was known to be a man with endless self control, but you seemed to be the exception. As the two of you made your way downstairs, his blue hues stayed glued to your form, taking in the way the dress accentuated your waist without hiding your wide hips. The short kitten heels that clicked on the stairs made your calves flex and contract in a way that made his mouth water. And he couldn’t ignore the way your hair shined in the light of the lamp post outside next to his truck. 

As you not so gracefully clambered into his truck, you noticed a figure on the far side of the street bearing the same skull mask you’d seen weeks before. Why did it seem so familiar? But then Price had your attention as he climbed behind the wheel and when you looked back, the shadow was gone. It made your brows furrow, but you shook off the feeling it left you with, choosing to focus on your date. 

The restaurant was nice, not too fancy, but definitely warranted your more formal attire. “Two for Price,” he stated to the host, voice rough but polite. He’d offered you his arm after opening the truck door for you and you’d accepted, sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow. The two of you followed the host to your table in the corner, Price pulling out your chair in a show of gentlemanly chivalry before taking his seat with his back to the wall. 

The waiter arrived, greeting Price like an old friend and it made something in your chest tighten. How many other dates had he brought here? But your concerns were quickly dealt with when the prettiest man you’d ever seen approached the table. “Price! Wonderful to see you again,” the man turned to you now, leaning down to take your hand and kiss the back of it. “And you must be the pretty lass Price and So- Johnny can’t seem to stop talking about.” 

You blushed a fierce red, head turning to look at Price who seemed to be a bit pinker than before. “Aw, hush it, mate. Little bird, this is Kyle, a friend of ours and the owner’s son,” Price introduced with a small smirk and your head swiveled back to look up at the man standing next to you. “It’s a lovely restaurant. I suppose that’s where you learned to cook? Johnny can’t stop talking about your food,” you replied, giving him a kind smile. “Ah, he’d have more to say if he took more than a second to taste it. Mate inhales food like it’s going to disappear,” Kyle chuckled and raised his hand to rub the top of his head before sliding down to wrap around the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. It’s on the house, Cap.” Kyle bent to take your hand again, kissing the back before standing straight. It left you staring at the spot on your hand while Kyle winked at Price over your head before disappearing into the back. 

For now, you perused the menu even though you knew you’d be ordering a salad. “What looks good to you?” Price asked, leaning over and incidentally against you as he looked at your menu, rather than his own. “Oh, I was just going to order a salad. They look pretty good,” you muttered back, feeling heat rise on the back of your neck. “Just because I call you little bird, doesn’t mean you need to eat like one. Get a steak, or pasta. Something you’ll enjoy,” he insisted, warmth pouring from his expression. You flushed and muttered that the steak looked fantastic and he nodded, proud that you’d listened to him. “Good girl,” he praised and you were pretty sure your stomach had dropped out of your ass, the color lingering on your cheeks turning darker. 

The dinner went by without a hitch once you’d conceded that the steak was worth it and much better than your original choice of a salad. You’d surprised him when you asked the waiter for a glass of whiskey neat, adding another reason the boys would adore you. 

Afterwards, the two of you headed back to your flat, chattering along as if the pair of you weren’t essentially strangers. The closer you got, the more your previous anxiety reared its ugly head. The evening had been wonderful and John was nothing less than a perfect gentleman, so when you entered your flat with him on your heels, you offered him a drink and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Meanwhile, Price was pulling out his phone and quickly updating the boys on the night, chuckling at their outrage at the lack of information he was providing. Shoving his phone back in his pocket when he heard you coming back out, you presented him with a glass of bourbon from your stash and settled next to him on the couch with your own glass. 

“So, Cap, huh?” you pressed, watching his reaction to your inquisition. Most of the night had been about you. Your job. Your car. Why you were in England instead of the US. But you still knew next to nothing about him besides he liked his liquor hard and he could fix a car. Price grunted in response before dragging a hand down his face to scratch at his beard. “Captain. I lead a task force that is made up of the boys, Johnny, Kyle, and Simon,” his words were crisp and short, letting you know that was the only information you’d get about their jobs right now. 

But you were trying to not be a wet rag when it came to letting things lie. “I see. So that means you guys go out there and do super secret missions for the government?” you asked, tone teasing in an effort to keep the conversation light. Price nodded before getting up off the couch, making the furniture creek with the weight being lifted off of it. He paced to your window, looking down at the street below. 

You stood, kicking off your heels before joining him at the window. His gaze moved from the street back to you and you had to fight back the gasp as the piercing blue of his eyes seemed smaller, taken over by the black of his pupils. Your heart hammered as he took your glass, knocked back the remaining liquid before setting it on the window sill. His hand raised to push a stray lock of hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear before his palm was settling against the softness of your jaw.

“Tell me to stop,” Price whispered, leaning down slowly to give you a moment to process just exactly what he wanted you to stop. But you didn’t, pressing up onto the balls of your feet to close the distance. His lips were gentle against yours, ever so slightly chapped, but his mustache and beard were soft against your skin and you hummed into the kiss. Your body instinctually leaned into his, hands finding the bulging biceps under the fabric of his shirt while his free hand found the dip of your waist. 

A low growl from him and a soft sigh from you bounced between the two of you as he pulled back, his gaze meeting yours as he searched for any sign you’d like to stop. But when all he found was round eyes and a soft smile on your parted pout, he grinned and resumed ravaging your lips and tasting every inch of your mouth with his tongue. 

His large hand drifted down from your jaw to wrap lightly around your throat as his thumb slid up and down over your pulse point. Your chin tilted up and he pulled away, breath heavy and hot between you as he smirked down at the pretty bird he’d caught in his trap. “Mm, as much as I’d love to take you right here in front of the window so the whole world knows who you belong to, I’m too much of a gentleman to do so on the first date,” he breathed against your lips, voice low and you almost whined in response.

His words made your legs weak at the knees, body reacting to the first hint of physical affection you’d had in months, possibly years. “What if I asked you to?” you quipped back, unaware of where your bravado was coming from. A chuckle and a shake of his head were the response you were given before he was stepping back, though his hand never left your waist while the other dropped to join it. “I would tell you to be patient, pretty bird” he growled back, his hold on his self control quickly slipping while his grip on your waist tightened.

Price rested his forehead against yours, panting softly before he let his control slip a little in a very rare ‘fuck it’ moment. His hands slid from your waist to grasp the fat of your ass through your dress, roughly pulling you to him as he pressed his lips back against yours in a heated kiss. Your own hands clutched at the front of the pretty maroon button up, tugging at the fabric in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him. He turned you, pressing you against the brick of the wall as he pinned you between it and him. 

You could feel his arousal through his trousers, pressing against the soft flesh of your tummy as the two of you kissed like rabid teens. He gathered your hands together in one of his, pinning them over your head while the other explored your curves; over your waist, your hips, down over your plush thighs. When he pulled back to rake his gaze over your breathless form, you could see his mustache curling up with his lips in a smirk before he was leaning forward to press soft kisses along your throat.

“You have no idea what we could do to you. Such a pretty little thing,” he muttered against your sensitive skin while his free hand ran up the inside of your thighs. ‘We? Who is we?’ you thought briefly before you felt the heat of his thick digits against the gusset of your panties. A soft moan left your parted lips, swollen from kisses while your legs spread of their own accord and his resounding groan let you know he felt the same as you. 

Then why was he releasing you? Stepping away as he dropped his hands from your body and he regained control of himself. You looked up to him with confusion, still leaning against the wall as if your legs would give out if you tried to walk. “I told you, I’m too much of a gentleman,” he chuckled, coming back to give you one more sweet, short kiss. “Don’t worry, little bird, you haven’t seen the last of me.” 

Thank you so much for the support! I appreciate it so much! Price is a little mean, but he'll make it up to her.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 6

TW: Mentions of Stalking

The next couple weeks were filled with cute dates and hang outs, either at your flat or theirs. You never saw Simon, always hiding in his room or out of the flat, running errands. But every night you’d go home, something felt off. You’d seen the man in the skull mask a few times, each time making you more and more wary. Finally, you’d said something to the boys one time when you were over.

“He just stands there, watching me. He’s never interacted with me or anything. But sometimes I swear someone’s been in my apartment,” you divulged as you laid on their couch, head in Johnny’s lap as you stared up at the ceiling. You didn’t see as Price’s eyes narrowed and Kyle looked towards Simon’s room. “We’ll look into it, petal. See what we can find out,” Johnny assured you, combing his fingers through your hair.

When you left that night, they confronted Simon. Rapping his knuckles against the door, Price called out to Simon, “Simon, can we talk?” The door opened and Simon looked over the three men standing outside his door. “Uh, sure,” he replied, eyebrow cocked as he stepped back and allowed them to file into the room he shared with Johnny when they all stayed there. 

They all settled into seats around the room; Johnny and Simon on the bed whilst Kyle sat in an armchair in the corner. Price stayed standing, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I’m going to come right out and say this and I want an honest answer, Simon,” Price commanded, his tone dropping into the one he used when they were deployed. “Are you stalking her?” Simon’s eyes went wide and he stood from the bed, shaking his head vehemently and trying to fight down the anger he had at being accused. “Hell no. I wouldn’t risk it. Why do you ask?” Simon questioned, his own arms crossing over his massive chest. “She told us about some guy in a skull mask watching her, stalking her building. If it’s not you, we need to find out who it is and quick,” Kyle explained, watching Simon with an uneasy gaze. “It’s not me,” Simon defended quickly, raising his hands to run through his dark hair. 

“Sounds like we have work to do. We’re going to have to get you and her reacquainted quickly,” Johnny added, diffusing the situation with one statement. Simon sighed in agreement. 

Back at your flat, you finally noticed something missing, your hairbrush. 

The next morning.  

👀: Wanna come over, dove? 🪻: Be there in 10

When you arrived, you could feel tension in the air. You were buzzed in quickly before you even touched the button. The door was unlocked as it always was when they knew you were coming. Stepping inside, you noticed there were four bodies in the living room, the only one you hadn’t spoken to with his back to you and his head in his hands. Something lit up in the back of your head and you tried to place him. “Come on in, dove. There’s tea on the table for you,” Kyle called from his spot on the couch. You clocked the tea he was speaking of and grabbed it, heading for your spot in the other corner of the couch. You refrained from looking at the new addition, butterflies fluttering away in your stomach. “What’s going on? You guys look like you’re breaking up with me,” you breathed out, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “Simon wanted to meet you, or well, reintroduce himself properly,” Price explained from his armchair. Reintroduce himself? You knew him? The man pulled his head out of his hands, brown eyes meeting yours. A soft gasp fell from your lips and your fingers tightened on the cup in your hands. “Guess I didn’t technically introduce myself the first time either,” he stated, an edge to his voice that you couldn’t decipher between amusement or stress. 

You couldn’t choose an emotion. Anger swirled in you while you remembered the way he left. Confusion tinged the anger as you tried to process how he was here. Happiness was in there somewhere, recognizing the man who’d calmed you down on the worst night of your life. 

“I’m going to need some explanation, because right now, I’m going with stalking and if that’s the case, you’re all in on it,” you wheezed, shaky hand now setting down the cup of tea. Johnny chuckled at your assumption, shaking his head while Price glared at him from his armchair, warning the younger man that now was not the time for his input. 

“I was in New York on a mission,” Simon stated very simply and you raised your brow. “Gonna need more than that, man,” you replied, mentally reminding yourself to breathe and stay calm. Simon made a sound that resembled a chuckle, but it was low and dark, almost inaudible. “Reconnaissance mission. Gathering intel on a group of terrorists hiding out in that building. Took time to find them, but it’s a damn good thing you left when you did.” Simon spoke as if the building had blown up. (It had. Two days after you moved out.) 

“So why are you here now?” You asked, feeling his words chipping away at your anxieties. “Well, technically, I own that couch you're sitting on,” Simon huffed, brow raised over his eyes, almost black from the low lighting in the room. “I own this flat and everything in it. The boys come to stay sometimes,” he continued, giving the men in the room a look that looked like he was smiling. 

“How did you find me?” You questioned, needing answers now and not having time for their loving moment unfortunately. “If I’m being honest, I roped my team into helping me find you, but you did a really good job of disappearing for a civie. Couldn’t find you until suddenly you were standing in the market in my hometown,” he explained, watching you now with his ever observant eyes. 

“Okay…so what? You convinced them into stalking me and inserting themselves into my life?” You were getting worked up, feeling your throat tighten at the idea that everything with them had been a lie.

“Petal,” Johnny began, coming to sit in front of you on the coffee table, the situation very similar to the night before. “Yes, it started that way, but each of us feel very strongly for you. You’ve become such a large part of our lives and we couldn’t imagine what it would be like without you,” he finished, reaching out tentatively to rest his hand on your knee. 

“I see,” you stated, looking between Johnny’s hand on your knee and each of their faces. “I think I need a minute,” you didn’t give them a chance to say anything as you rose from your seat and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Panic rose in your chest as you leaned against the back of the door, feeling a little like you just couldn’t get away from your past. But was Simon really your past? Yes, he’d left you there, but he’d tried to comfort you, calmed you down when you felt like your world was ending.

And the others. They’d been nothing but perfect gentlemen. Ever since the night with Price, they hadn’t done more than kiss you, even while their hands would skirt over the small of your back or drape their arm over your shoulders. Small touches that lit your skin on fire, making embers of arousal burn between your thighs. 

Running your fingers through your hair, you pushed off the door and splashed water on your face before staring at your reflection. You looked happier. No more bags under your eyes or the edge of sadness that had settled in the corners. You found yourself putting more effort into your appearance, confidence building with the way they treated you. Nodding your head at your reflection, you decided what you were going to do. 

While you were in the bathroom, the boys had sat in silence for a moment before Simon dropped his head back into his hands. Price had slumped for the first time in years, feeling as though this was it for them. Johnny and Kyle looked to each other with hope lining their morose features. They were scared. Scared that you would leave them and never come back. 

This story has gotten so far from my original intention, but we're going to roll with it.

Thank you to everyone who has commented, reblogged and liked! I really appreciate every one of you!

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 3

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: Just a tad smutty, more like an idea of smut rather than the stuff itself. 

Two Weeks Later. Friday.

You stood outside under an awning, waiting for the bus to show up as you texted away on your phone. A soft smile had plastered itself to your face the longer you texted with the big Scot, but one thing you’d noticed is that he was always mentioning the other members of his team, not that he’d told you what they do.

“John is a pro at fixing up cars, never seen a car he couldn’t fix.” “Lordie, this pasta is good. Gaz is always making amazing food.” “Remind me not to bet against Simon again. Lost all of my money on that rugby match last night.” 

He never referred to Simon by his callsign, not wanting to give you any reason to recognize or connect the dots. Eventually, they’d each come to you, injecting themselves into your life one by one. You’d told Johnny that your car had broken down a few days ago, complaining that the bus was always late and it never had any open seats, but you didn’t have the money to get it fixed. He’d offered for John to come take a look, but you’d insisted it was fine. Except it wasn’t. After a week of bus rides, you were ready to take him up on the offer. 

🪻: Hey Johnny? Would your friend be able to take a look at my car? I can’t bear the bus anymore. 🧼: Of course. We can come tonight once you’re off work? 🪻: oh thank you so much! You guys are truly the best. 🧼: Anything for you, Petal.

You blushed at his message, stepping onto the bus in much better spirits than before.

A few hours later, there was a knock at your door and you jumped at the sound, getting up from the couch to open it and smiling shyly as Johnny’s face came into view. You hadn’t seen him in person since that day in the flower shop, exchanging pictures over the last two weeks, but nothing else. His scruff was freshly trimmed, bright eyes shining at you, but it wasn’t him that made your eyes bug. It was the man standing just behind and slightly to the left of him, wide frame blocking light from the hallway.

“Aye, this is Price,” Johnny’s thick accent sounded jovial as you stepped back, opening the door for these two men. Oh, Magda was going to have a heyday when you told her about this. “You can call me John if you like, little bird,” the older man stated, passing through the door to stand next to it. You stammered a bit before shaking your head and introducing yourself, closing the door softly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were gonna take a bit longer. I’ll go change and then take you guys down to my car,” you offered, giving them small smiles as they nodded to you before disappearing into your bedroom. You took a moment to lean against the door, fighting with your thundering heart rate as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. Clearing your head, you moved from the door to change into some jeans and a simple shirt, tossing the shorts you’d been wearing into the corner.

While you were changing, the two men were having an almost silent conversation in your living room. “Cap, did you see-?” Johnny’s eyes met Price’s who only gave him a hard stare and the slightest nod. Between the pretty color on your cheeks and those damn shorts, both men were having their control tested. And you only served to make it worse, coming out in jeans that hugged your hips and ass in a way that left nothing to the imagination. They were just as bad as the shorts.

“Ready?” you asked, trying to stay chipper as to not betray your rapid heart beat or the way your voice wavered on the word. “Lead the way, Petal.” Johnny gave you one of his lopsided smiles and you had to switch to manual breathing.

A few minutes later, you were down on the street with them, rambling on about what you thought the problem could be. “It’s possible it’s the alternator, but it could also be the battery. I’m honestly not sure at this point. It was a hunk of junk when I bought it,” you babbled out, forcing yourself to stop after a few moments of long-winded speech and the soft looks the two men were giving you.

John had himself under the vehicle in minutes, thankful that his line of sight to you was blocked. You were unknowingly challenging both of them with your thick waist and that pretty look you got in your eyes when you were looking at either of them. He wasn’t even sure how Johnny was coping, standing that close to you.

But Johnny wasn’t coping. If you looked away for even a moment during your conversation, he was readjusting himself to make his obvious arousal even the tiniest amount less obvious. You’d caught him once but didn’t say anything, turning to watch John under your car while you struggled to hide the blush that covered your cheeks. Sometimes, you were grateful you were a girl, though your squeezing thighs weren’t as subtle as you thought they were and Johnny had to clear his throat to hide the groan that threatened to spill forward.

Finally, John was sliding out from under the car and standing before you, covered in grease and wiping his hands on a towel. Suffice it to say, if you’d been a man, your desire for them would have been just as apparent as theirs. With a soft grunt, John was directing you to try to start it, making you jump to action. Darting over to the driver’s seat, you slid the key in and almost cried when it started. You hopped back out, running over to John to wrap your arms around his middle, thanking him profusely for fixing it and how could you ever repay him.

“Let me take you out, little bird.” 

Your eyes widened while your arms released the huge man, flipping between Johnny and Price, eyes filled with confusion when the former gave you a soft smile and a nod. You’d thought Johnny would ask you at some point, but you supposed that he hadn’t in two weeks, so why would he now? Chewing the inside of your lip, you nodded. “I’d love to,” you replied while your cheeks turned a bit pink and you could have sworn you saw them share a look over your head. “We’d best be going. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, 8pm,” John stated, a warm smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head before moving to clean up his tools. Johnny joined you and you looked up at him with the same confusion, though you couldn’t bring yourself to voice it. He just gazed down at you with those pretty blues, a soft smile on his lips that looked a little more like a smirk than anything else. “Don’t look at me like that, Petal,” Johnny whispered to you as Price started to move his tools to his truck, hugging you tightly before walking away to get into the truck. “See ya soon, pretty bird.” 

Hours later, laying in bed, you reflected on your evening. You’d been touched more in the last few hours than you had in years and it made your mind a little hazy. If it wasn’t Johnny’s hand on your lower back as the three of you trekked down the stairs, it was Price’s arm slung over your shoulders as you explained what happened when your infernal car died. From there it was Johnny’s small touches like brushing your hair back and then finally Price’s kiss to the top of your head that had your body feeling like they’d set little fires down everywhere they touched. 

There was a foreign feeling inside when you laid down that night. The ache between your thighs and the simmering flames they’d left behind creating a buzzing in your ears that you just couldn’t shake no matter how much chamomile tea you’d drank or how many breathing exercises you did. So finally, you did something you hadn’t even thought of in months. Sliding your fingers under the shorts you’d slipped back on when they left, you let out a soft moan as your fingers found the throbbing bundle of nerves and rubbed quick, precise circles on it. Your brain conjured some filthy images of the two hulking men taking you however they saw fit, not that you’d ever admit it. 

I hope you guys are enjoying this and thank you so much for the support! I promise I'm not forgetting Gaz and Ghost. It's just not their time yet. They'll get their shot, pink promise.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 5

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: little stalkerish at the end

Sunday Morning. 

You woke the next day to a bouquet of white lilies of the valley and yellow roses from Price for his “ungentlemanly actions” the night before and you found yourself immediately forgiving him. It was nice to know that despite what Kit had said, you were desired by someone. And how could you hold that against John? 

🪻: I suppose I forgive you. 🥃: How magnanimous of you, little bird. Does this mean I can expect a second date? 🪻: I guess. :P 

Your phone was now constantly blowing up with messages from Johnny and Price. And then Kyle was added, asking for your number from Price who’d asked you and you’d given your permission. You didn’t know what was going on. This time last year, you couldn’t get your husband to even look at you and now three very, very attractive British S.A.S members were clambering over each other for your attention. You didn’t know what they saw in you, but you weren’t going to complain. Eventually, the four of you ended up in a group chat when both Johnny and Kyle decided they wanted to take you out too. 

🪻: Alright. Do you guys even know the others have asked me out? Cause while I’m not complaining, ya’ll are friends.  🧼: Aw Petal. Just a wee competition between mates. 🥃: They’re just worried that I snagged you first, little bird.  👀: Excuse you. We’re giving her options for when she decides she doesn’t want you, old man.  🥃: Kyle, I am barely 10 years older than you. That doesn’t make me elderly. 🪻: -grabs popcorn- This is entertaining. I’ve never had men fight over me before. 🧼: Just you wait, they get worse than this.

And it did.

On Monday, Kyle showed up at your job and insisted on taking you out for lunch, his treat of course.

On Tuesday, Johnny brought flowers to you AND your boss who immediately told you that he was the one to pick. 

On Wednesday, Price picked you up from work and took you to a little bookstore, buying anything you even glanced at.

On Thursday, no one showed up to dote on you and despite numerous messages, no one replied to you.

On Friday, you received a single message from each of them.

🥃: Being deployed. Be safe, little bird. We’ll be thinking of you.  🧼: Heading out for a mission, petal. We’ll miss you. 👀: Will be gone for a bit, dove. Don’t miss us too much. 

On Saturday, you tried to find something to do all day besides checking your phone every five minutes. 

On Sunday, you visited Magda.

When you finally received a text from Price two weeks later, telling you they were home safe and inviting you over, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. You’d missed them terribly and were eager to see each of them. So after work on Friday, you rushed home, changed into some leggings and an oversized sweater and headed to the address you’d been sent. 

Pressing the buzzer, they let you in and when the door to their flat opened, Price was standing there with a warm smile. Your arms wrapped around his waist immediately, feeling his thick arms coming to envelop you while he kicked the door closed. 

“Aye, lass. He the only one that gets a hug?” Johnny asked as he rose from the couch, opening his arms with a laugh. “Johnny!” You instantly released Price and launched yourself into Johnny’s arms, hugging him just as tightly. He smelled fresh, like he’d just gotten out of the shower and you breathed in the clean scent of him. 

You felt Kyle wrap his arms around both you and Johnny, pressing against your back and sandwiching you between the two. If you thought it was weird that the three guys you were dating lived together, you didn’t say anything.

A few minutes later, you were tucked into the corner of the couch with a steaming cup of tea while you watched Johnny and Price interacting in the kitchen. It wasn’t lost on you how Price’s hand rested on the small of Johnny’s back or the way Johnny’s eyes softened when he looked at Price. You thought to ask Kyle who was taking up the other corner of the couch, but then you caught him gazing over at the other two wistfully and you felt a little like a fourth wheel. 

A door slid shut somewhere down the hall and it startled you before your gaze slid to Kyle with a raised brow. “I assume that’s Simon?” you asked, nodding your head to gesture down the hall. “Yeah, he’s not much of a people person, but he’ll warm up to you the more you’re around,” Johnny replied instead, making you look at him where he came to sit between you and Kyle. “You make it sound like I’m going to be over here a lot,” you replied with a raise of your brow. 

“Well, we’d like ya to be,” Kyle answered this time, a warm smile on his pretty face. But it felt like there was something that wasn’t being said and it put you on edge. Price could feel your apprehension as he went to sit in his armchair, noticing it on the edges of your eyes and the way you straightened up in your seat. “You look like you’re about to spring out of your seat, birdie. What’s going through your head?” Price questioned, tilting his head slightly while his eyes studied you. 

You froze at his words. You didn’t think you’d been that obvious with your discomfort, but Price had a keen eye and didn’t miss much. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing here,” you theorized, staring into your cup of tea like it was the most interesting thing in the room. Price pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, standing from his chair to sit on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes widened when your gaze lifted to meet his sparkling blue eyes, feeling as though he was about to tell you that they no longer felt the same and you needed to leave. 

“When you work as closely with a team as we do, things…develop,” Price watched you with trepidation while you nodded, urging him to continue. “The four of us, myself, Johnny, Kyle, and Simon, we’re a team in more ways than one,” Price paused, seeing if he needed to clarify any further. You stared at him for a moment, letting his words process in your head.

“So you’re all like together together?” You clarified, bringing your cup to your lips and sipping, using the moment to gather your thoughts. “Aye, petal, we are,” Johnny replied, reaching over to pat your calf. “So what am I doing here?” you asked, trying to figure out where you fit into this with their doting and dates. Kyle’s laugh was light and airy as he moved to sit next to Price on the coffee table. “We were hoping you’d join us, dove. Don’t worry about Si. He knows what’s going on,” Kyle explained, looking at you with those dark, hopeful eyes. 

Who were you to deny these men? They’d treated you better in the weeks you’d known them than anyone else ever had and there was no question about your safety with them. “I don’t know how to do this,” You stated, hand coming out to gesture between the four of you. “I barely know how to date one person, let alone three,” you continued, feeling the shame of your past settling into your chest. 

Johnny’s hand on your calf squeezed and he flashed you a lopsided smile. “We can figure it out, together, if you want?” He offered, hope filling those cerulean hues of his. You looked between each of them, quiet as your mind swirled with questions. The most prominent being the fourth man in the equation, Simon, but you couldn’t be assed to worry about him right now. If they say he knows and would warm up eventually, you believed them. 

“Okay,” you stated, a soft smile on your lips as the boys processed your single word response. The first to react was Johnny, leaping across the couch to smother you in a bear hug while he buried his face in your hair. Price, always the mother of the group, snatched your tea cup before Johnny crushed you, setting it off to the side before pulling Kyle into his side with a wide smile. 

When you left that night, you felt at ease and dare you say it, happy. You were blessed with three men who doted on you, cared for you, treated you as if you were the world to them. Humming a little tune, you entered your apartment and immediately noticed something was different. You checked every nook and cranny, double checking the locks on the windows and even checked the door handle for pick marks. Everything looked right and instead of calling one of the boys, you sighed and shook it off, telling yourself you were imagining it. 

“Si, you’re going to have to face her at some point. She’s going to be around a lot more now,” Johnny chided while the two laid in bed. “I know, Soap, but she’s not ready,” Simon countered, staring up at the ceiling with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Are you sure it’s not you who isn’t ready?” Johnny asked, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at the behemoth of a man next to him. Simon just grunted and slipped from the bed just to shove the window open and light the cigarette. 

“What are you scared of?” Johnny asked as he joined Simon at the window, both of them looking down over the street below. “I just don’t want her to think I’m stalking her or something. It was over six months ago and I suddenly show up again? Not likely. I was lucky to even see her again.” Simon had never been an optimist. And that wasn’t likely to change any time soon, so Johnny let it lie as he rested his head against the man’s shoulder. 

On the roof across from your building, your shadow stood with his skull mask in place. Watching. Waiting.

Uh oh. Reader may be too happy. Hope nothing happens to her.

Thank you so much to everyone who is liking and reblogging this story! I appreciate every single one of you!

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 10

READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!

-This chapter is very heavy, but we’ll get you home, yeah?  -I’ve never written an action scene and action isn’t really my strong suit, so be kind please.  -So many military inconsistencies and just overall incorrect military vocabulary. I’m sorry. 

tw: hostage situation, torture, sensory deprivation, sexual harassment/abuse, battlefield type elements (ie: explosions, gunfire, little bit of murder)

Food was deposited in your cell again and while you were concerned with being poisoned, you were also starving and would be unable to fight back if you didn’t get some calories into your stomach. You ate the packaged items as you stared at the hot pasta, the granola bar turning to dust in your mouth as you grabbed the water and chugged down half of it. 

You didn’t stop counting though. When you reached 190,000, two days had passed since you’d been taken. You restarted at one, using your finger to drag through the grime on the wall and create another tally just above the top of the cot. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, able to see large shapes. 

Until they opened the door again and blinded you. 

Despite never being able to find him before, Moses’ compound was easy to locate. Well, the one in the UK anyways. Of course, it was a trap and the 141 knew this. It was too obvious. But the issue was in finding where they were keeping you and what the actual trap was. 

Another video dinged on the laptop, immediately garnering everyone’s attention as they huddled around the small screen. 

The lens was dirty, being wiped clean by Moses’ sleeve. As he backed away with a wicked smile and a small knife dangling from his fingers, he revealed you behind him and your current situation. Tied to a chair, cloth in your mouth and tied around your head. That wasn’t what had the team concerned. It was the rivulets of blood that trailed from the clean, shallow cut across the front of your throat. 

“You boys better hurry up. I might decide that I prefer her dead. She does look so pretty covered in her own blood.” Moses came to stand behind you, lifting your head and pulling your hair back from the wound on your neck. “Do you think they’ll come to save you, precious? I think they will. Too bad they won’t make it.” Your eyes opened wide as you found the camera, shaking your head in a panic. In your mind, if you died, they would move on. But you couldn’t bear the thought of a world without them in it. Then the screen cut to black. 

“Fuck, he’s going to kill her just to get under our skin,” Johnny anquishly moaned out, his fingers pulling at the cropped mohawk on his head. Simon’s fingers slid over the other man’s, gripping them tight in his fist and pulling them away from the delicate hair. “We’ll find her and we’ll end this,” Simon grunted, looking down at the sergeant. 

“Alright boys, let’s get our girl back.” 

The slice to your throat stung, burning as your blood now dribbled from the wound as it dried up. You’d expected to be sent back to your cell, but was instead taken to another room. Two women stood in the back, holding garments of clothing and medical supplies as you were shoved into the room and the door locked behind you. 

They were silent as they cleaned you up, getting a bandage on your throat and unzipping your pretty dress just to shove you into a scratchy beige shirt and black cargo pants. Ones that matched every other person you’d seen in this camp. They wanted you to blend in, harder to find that way, you supposed.  

When the door opened again, it was Moses. Leering at you as he came to circle your weak body, hand on his chin with the other on his elbow as he inspected you. “You clean up so nicely, my dear. Though I will miss that pretty dress of yours, made these look oh so delectable,” his words only cut through the static in your head when his hands groped your breasts from behind. Your elbow then met his ribs only for his fist to come down on the back of your neck and force you to your knees.

“Little bitch thinks she can fight,” your captor growled, lifting your chin just to let his fist collide with your temple. Two more hits to the side of the face and you finally crumpled on the ground as he dusted off his pants and made for the door. “Leave her here. She can die with her beloved boys,” he commanded the other women, who scurried behind him as he sneered down at you before slamming and locking the door. 

At least, you could see where you were now as you started counting again.

The sky was dark, not a star in sight as the clouds covered them with their looming grayness. Coming up from the back of the compound, they split into three groups; Price with Johnny, Simon with Kyle, and the third team of specialists to extract Moses. It was quiet and they were silent as they took down the scattered guards. 

With the path cleared, Ghost and Kyle slipped into the darkness where intel told them the cells were. Price and Johnny disappeared into another building that could possibly be holding you, while the third team slipped out into the darkness in search of Moses. 

That’s when the first boom rocked the earth. “Bravo-6, do you copy?” Simon’s hushed whispers filled the silence of the cell they were standing in. “Soap, the hell was that?” Price’s voice cut through the static of their radios. “Detonation. He’s going to blow the compound with us in it.” 

Another boom rocked the ceiling and then the entrance to the cells collapsed with Simon and Kyle inside. Coms were suddenly cut as the building Price and Johnny were in shuddered with another boom. 

You felt it too and were suddenly very much aware that you needed to get up and try to get out. You tried the door, tugging on it but of course, it was locked. You started banging on it when the next boom came and you wondered how many buildings had been taken out already as the one you were in shuddered and a wall blew out next to you. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you scurried out the hole the explosion created and headed for the stairs, taking two at a time. 

Price and Johnny were working through the levels, clearing the building as smatterings of people ran past them. Innocents. Civilians that Moses had kidnapped to fill the compound. All dressed in scratchy beige and black cargo. In your hurry to get out of the building, you ran smack into Price who grunted, staring down at the apparent civilian that had tried to plow through him. 

“Please don’t hurt me!” You cried, covering your face and cowering on the landing. But the pain never came. Just arms wrapping around you and lifting you to your feet. Fingers and a thumb pinched your chin, lifting your face to meet the man’s eyes you ran into. “They really did a number on you, little bird. Let’s get you home, yeah?” Price’s eyes burned into yours and you couldn’t help the sob that tore from you as you nodded in response. If you’d not literally run into him, you’d have been lost in the sea of civilians trying to find safety.

Getting back to the extraction point had been difficult. An explosion blasted apart a building the three of you were next to and unfortunately for you, you’d been in the path of a rather large piece of wall that knocked you out. When Price, Johnny, and your unconscious body met only Kyle at the extraction point, you were left in the care of Laswell who waited in the helicopter.

Meanwhile, Simon and Kyle were digging themselves out of the cells. The explosions that had followed the one that caved in the entrance had created a small hole big enough for Kyle to get through, but Simon, the massive man he was, wouldn’t fit without making it bigger. So Kyle dug from the outside and Simon from the inside. Finally, when it was big enough, Simon started to haul himself through the hole, only for another explosion to collapse it around him.

God, this is so not the story I'd intended to write, but this is where the muse led me.

Thank you to everyone who keeps supporting this series!

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 8

tw: mentions of stalking, the boys are a wee bit toxic, ex is a jackass, fatphobic comments, reader is a bit vindictive, suggested kidnapping

Dating four people was exhausting. Especially being the newest addition. They all wanted to spend their apparently endless free time with you and frequently, you found yourself on a date with more than one of them. All because they couldn’t be patient. 

Johnny had actually whined when he found out just how far things had progressed between you and Simon, jealous that he’d been talking to you the longest and not even gotten a kiss. So you spent three days dedicated to spending time with him alone. By the time the two of you left your flat at the end of the third day, you were sore, exhausted, and covered in love bites. Johnny was so pleased with himself, he was practically skipping. 

After that, you took a break from the boys completely as you needed time to recharge and recover. Better believe that when you came back to them, they’d already taught Johnny a lesson in self-control and you were greeted with an apology from him for not playing nice with you. You’d told him you forgave him, even though you hadn’t seen an issue with his insatiable appetite for you. 

They learned patience after that, dedicating specific weekends to a single man for dates and fun while the week was spent casually hanging out. Your stalker only showed when you were alone, which the boys insisted was never. Even if physically you were alone, they knew where you were since Simon had slipped a tracking device into the lining of your purse and they connected your GPS in your phone to their own. But even those trackers couldn’t see when the shape lingered on the roof across from you, studying you. 

A few weeks into your new normal, an invitation arrived in the mail. The paper was pure white, gold writing informing you that you were cordially invited to Kit and Heather’s wedding. You had choked on the fact that you’d received an invitation, feeling like you should be more upset that he was moving on so quickly, but then you remembered the four men that had spent the last few weeks devoting their time and energy to you, adoring you, and making you feel like the most important person in the world to them. 

With a smirk, you shoved the invitation into your purse and headed over to the boys’ flat, forgetting to change from your work clothes. By this point, you had a key and the passcode to get into the building and burst into the flat with a wide grin. “Look at this shit,” you announced, dropping the invitation on the coffee table where the boys leaned over and looked over it. 

“He’s got some balls to be inviting you,” Price grunted, leaning back in his chair as he swirled his whiskey. You walked over to him with a pretty smile and climbed onto his lap, straddling his wide hips. “I want to go,” you stated simply, looking down at the big man below you with the prettiest puppy dog eyes and Price was caving immediately. “Acht, fine. But who’s going with you?” he asked, raising a brow while his hand found it’s way to your hip. “All of you?” you answered timidly, a light blush coloring your cheeks. 

“All of us, petal?” Johnny queried, leaning back on the couch with his legs over Simon’s lap. You looked over your shoulder and nodded, biting your bottom lip. “Why’s that, dove?” Kyle asked from his spot in the other armchair. “Well, I-it’s petty, really. Just wanted to show off how much better I am without him,” you answered, dropping your eyes to your lap as Simon let out a low chuckle. “I’m in. He’s met me without the mask, I’d be glad to show off for you, luv,” he stated, raising his eyebrows at you which only served to darken your blush. 

“Sounds like a plan then. We’ll have to contact Laswell and let her know, so she can avoid sending us out around that time if possible,” Price squeezed your hip as he spoke, taking a swig of his whiskey. You leaned forward and laid on his chest, his arm moving to drag his hand up and down your back. 

The room quieted as the boys resumed their previous activities. Kyle was in the kitchen cooking up dinner while the game played in the living room. Johnny and Simon resumed watching as well, yelling out to Kyle when he needed to come watch a play. Price sipped his whiskey while you napped in his lap, the sounds and scents lulling you to sleep while his massive paw warmed your back. 

New information had plans changing, red strings moved about until a perfect scheme was created. 

Arriving in New York had hit you with a wave of nostalgia and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Your family wasn’t from there, so the only memories you had were with Kit and those memories weren’t ones you were thrilled to revisit. 

The morning of the wedding found you sitting in the bathroom, waves of panic ripping through you. The last time you’d seen Kit was in a courtroom where you’d looked pathetic as you cried over the loss of your marriage and the new couple sneered at you. What if he just invited you to humiliate you again? Just to rub his happiness in your face. 

But wasn’t that what you were doing here? To show him that you had moved on to much bigger and better things? Successfully talking yourself out of the panic attack, you finished getting ready, only stepping out once you felt everything was perfect. 

When you finally did leave the bathroom, four heads turned towards you with different versions of shock and awe painted on their faces. A dark burgundy dress adorned your form, a modern version of a 50’s formal dress that settled off your shoulders, cinching your waist and flaring around your hips to end mid calf with little black kitten heels so your ankles didn’t end up broken. You’d really leaned into the decade's inspiration, enhancing the look with a pearl necklace that sat right at the base of your throat and pretty pearl earrings sat on your ears. 

“Say something!” you gasped out, feeling like their eyes were burning holes through you. Kyle was the first to snap out of it, approaching you with the warmest smile. “You look beautiful, dove. I think I speak for all of us when I say you’re the most gorgeous woman we’ve ever seen,” he reassured you and you heard some small agreements from behind him. 

They were already dressed, each of them sporting simple black suits that had to be tailor made to fit their massive forms properly, wrapping muscles in the dark fabric. Briefly, you wondered if you needed to make an appearance at all, wanting to spend the next few hours undressing them with your teeth. 

When the five of you arrived at the wedding, Kit’s family greeted you with wide eyes. They’d tried to keep you from being all four of them in, but when Simon peered down at your ex-father-in-law, daring him to open his mouth, the five of you were let in without any more fuss. 

Hiding in the back, you watched them marry in silence, having no more tears for your past. Simon and Price watched your face for any sign that you needed a break, but the resolute stillness had them more concerned. Normally a pretty emotional person, the cold look in your eyes made them a little nervous. 

When the happy couple turned towards the crowd, your eyes met Kit’s cold gaze and you smiled, waving at him while surrounded by your men. His gaze shifted from you almost immediately as his new bride started to rally him down the aisle. 

The five of you were the first ones out the door once guests were allowed to leave, finding a quiet spot along the edge of the woods outside. You separated yourself a bit, watching from afar while Kit and Heather were having their photos taken. It reminded you of your own wedding and it made something pinch in your heart. 

“You doing alright, luvie?” Simon’s voice startled you from your preoccupied thoughts, turning to look up at the dark eyes settled over a plain black gaiter. Despite wearing essentially the same suit, each man had customized it in some way. Simon added the black gaiter, only comfortable going without his mask in his or your flat and black leather gloves.

From where you stood, you could see Price’s boonie hat settled on his head where he’d put it when they escaped outside. Johnny had a tartan pocket square that matched his tie, the pattern subtle with the dark palette. Kyle’s suit was pristine, pressed to have a crease down the front of each pant leg and shirt cuffs that adorned silver initial cufflinks. 

“I’m alright. Just reminiscing, I guess. This is a lot more than I got for our wedding. It was small, but I suppose marrying an heiress would warrant this extravagance,” you stated, turning fully away from the scene out on the lawn. “Well, heiress or no, she has nothing on you,” he reassured you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. 

When they finally opened the open air hall for the reception, your group waited until others were in, hoping to sneak in once things got going. Unfortunately, going anywhere with four massive men following you around didn’t work for flying under the radar. So when you stepped into the room, all eyes turned to your group and you flushed, darting for the corner to hide. 

Kit and Heather made their rounds, blissfully ignoring you and the guys until your ex-in-laws insisted it would make them look good if they at least greeted your lot. You were three glasses of champagne in while the boys were stone cold sober so when the couple approached, you gave them a wry smile while your eyes flashed with something dangerous. Even though you’d moved on, you still hated your ex with every fiber of your being. 

“Kit. Heather. Congratulations,” you stated, the tone almost seething despite the edge of civility. Their noses turned up at you, disgust on their faces. “Let me introduce my boyfriends, John, Kyle, Johnny and Simon,” your tone changed as you listed them off, fondness pushing out the anger.

“Requires more than one to handle all of you, huh? Now you really are just-” Kit’s words were cut off by Price’s low growling voice. “I’d watch what you say next. She’s worth more than either of you ever will be.” Kyle had to put his hand on Simon’s chest to keep the man from lunging for Kit’s throat. You knew what he was going to say and surprisingly it didn’t bother you.

“At least they know how to make a woman cum. Obviously, you don’t or your beautiful bride here wouldn’t be fucking David behind your back,” you broadcasted, raising your voice ever so slightly as Heather’s eyes bugged and Kit looked like he was going to kill you. “Not my fault you’re oblivious. I clocked it the second I walked in and saw her making heart eyes at him while you were talking to her parents,” you shrugged and turned to walk away before you felt the familiar feeling of his fingers wrapping around your arm. 

“I suggest you take your hands off of me before you find out exactly what my men will do to you,” your voice was low, full of warning. He scoffed and tugged on your arm, a massive mistake. Johnny’s hand shot out to rip his hand from your arm while Kyle removed his hand from Simon’s chest, letting the furious man loose. 

The leathered hand wrapped around Kit’s throat and squeezed, slamming the man against the back wall and subsequently gathering everyone’s attention to the group. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, you’ll find out what true nightmares are,” Simon growled, nose to nose with your trash ex. 

You sniffed at the sight, watching Heather screech and plead for Simon to let him go. “Alright, alright. Please, just let me go,” Kit begged and it made a piece of your heart heal, watching Kit get his ass handed to him. Simon huffed, growling at the man before looking over his shoulder, looking for your eyes. You nodded and he dropped Kit, stepping back as you stepped forward. “This is for putting your hands on me,” you stated before reeling back and decking him in the nose. 

Kit crumpled, stumbling over to Heather as he dripped blood on her dress. “I hope you treat her better than you did me, no one deserves what you did.” You made eye contact with Heather before turning on your heel and walking out, the boys following behind. 

No one spoke as your troop traveled back to the hotel, all of them staying close. They hated that the night had turned the way it had, but the man-child had deserved it. They wanted to praise you for the fantastic punch and the way you’d stood up for yourself. But you were withdrawn, mind replaying the moment over and over again.

You disappeared into your room, citing a need to be alone for a little bit. When they came to check on you an hour later, the room was empty. Except for a hundred masks just like Simon’s and pictures of each of the boys with you. 

A single picture of you laid on the bed with a large red x over your face with a word written under. 

Karma. 

Ope.

Thank you to everyone who is supporting this story. I appreciate every single one of you.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 12

tw: medical jargon, allusions to sex,

“Oh, Si, I wish you were awake. I miss your voice.” 

“I left some hyacinths for you. I hope you can smell them in there.” 

“Johnny was released today. We’re just waiting for you, Si.” 

“We miss you, Si. We aren’t the same without you.” 

“They’re waking you up tomorrow.” 

The more you spoke to him, his visions would change more and more. One time you weren’t beaten so gravely before having your skin sliced open. The next time there wasn’t any torture, just you and him staring at each other. After that, you were free, standing in the room as you watched him. Then you were both unbound in the same cell. It continued until finally the pair of you were in your bedroom in your tiny flat, enjoying each other’s presence. 

When the haze finally lifted, he didn’t come out thrashing and cursing like he had before. He was calm, eyes blinking at the fluorescents. You lifted your head as you felt him twitch under your cheek. “Simon? Simon!” you gasped, hand flying up to cover your mouth while tears filled your water line. The doctors had lifted his sedation hours ago, stating it might take him a while to come out of it, if he did at all. 

A nurse flew into the room at your outburst, immediately coming to check on Simon’s vitals. A low growl filled the room and your hand grabbed his, giving it a light squeeze. “She’s just checking to make sure everything looks right. She’s not going to hurt you, Si,” you gave him a small smile as his dark eyes came to meet yours. A grunt and a nod were the only response he provided.

Once the nurse left, he opened his mouth to say something but you quickly shushed him, grabbing a cup of water from the table. Giving him the same treatment Kyle had given you and Johnny, you held the straw to his lips and let him drink down what he could. “You had a feeding tube so your throat is going to be sore,” you explained before retaking your seat and setting down the cup of water.

“Do you think you can write?” you asked and he nodded, giving you a pained look. “I know, my love. It sucks but we’ll get you taken care of. You’re already healing so fast. The doctors think you can leave in about three weeks. The rest of us are okay. Even Johnny. We’ve been waiting for you to be woken up.” You explained every bit of information you thought he needed from a list of everyone’s injuries to what you knew of the operation. “They won’t tell me what happened to Moses. I don’t have the clearance.” your voice conveyed your annoyance, but you’d been reassured that he’d been handled. How, you didn’t know. You took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before grabbing the whiteboard and marker from your bag and laid it in his lap, removing the cap so he could use it. 

Are you okay?

“I am. I start seeing a therapist next week, but all of my physical injuries are mostly healed. Just have the shiner and the permanent choker,” you joked, lifting your chin so he could see the half healed wound across the front of your throat. 

He made a face at your joke, quickly erasing his words and writing something else down. 

Not funny

“Oh come on, Si. It’s a little funny,” you teased but sighed when his brow rose and he made a face. “Alright. It’s not funny. But I’m coping and it’s a reminder that I survived,” you reasoned, lifting a hand to run your fingertips over the tender, pink flesh. 

He scowled in response before his eyes widened at the intrusion of the other three into his room. “Aye, look who finally woke up!” Johnny called from the door as he came to sit on Simon’s other side. Kyle’s hands wrapped around the foot board of Simon’s bed, leaning on it as he examined the lieutenant on the bed. John pinched the bridge of his nose at Johnny’s excitement. “Alright, Si?” John grunted at the bedridden man and Si nodded back before furiously writing on his whiteboard.

Moses?

John just nodded, eyes darting to you then back. 

She deserves to know

“It’s not up to me. You know I’d tell her if I was allowed to,” John replied while you sat there, looking back and forth between the two men. Frustration was getting to you again. You wanted to know what happened to the man that had had you kidnapped. It was the least they could do.  

Tell her

John looked between you and Simon as he waged a war inside himself before sighing. “Everything I tell you here, you don’t know. If anyone asks, you claim you know nothing,” John looked at you with fierce eyes while Kyle went to close the door. You nodded, frowning a little at the seriousness of the situation. 

“He’s dead. Or will be at least. He’s being held in a secure location until they can charge him with everything,” John explained, watching your reactions. You nodded, letting the information worm its way into your brain. “So I’m safe? All of you are safe?” you queried, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yes, petal. We’re safe.” Johnny replied for John, giving you that wonderfully lopsided smile of his. 

Three Weeks Later. 

Simon groaned as John helped him from the bed while you watched from the wall. You weren’t nearly strong enough to help lift the behemoth of a man. You’d figured that out when you took Simon for a walk and he happened to stumble. You caught him, sure, but more as a landing pad than anything else. Since then, there was always a male nurse or one of the guys with you if you were the one to take him on his stroll. 

Once he was up and properly supported by John, you joined the two and took up Simon’s other arm. Laying it across your shoulders, you smiled up at him softly. He was still healing, but his doctors were no longer worried about his chest collapsing in and damaging his organs, so they released him. You were pretty sure they were relieved too. 

Simon hadn’t been a very good patient. Sneaking out of his bed in the middle of the night, just to be found at the end of the hallway on the floor when he slipped. Stealing extra food when he was finally able to shuffle around without falling. And he was always sneering at everyone. The nurses hated to come by, finally just asking you if he was good before skipping out after quickly reading over his monitors from the door. 

Getting him home had been another feat. He demanded to have real food, insisting on the diner down the road from his flat. Kyle had called ahead, running inside once there and collecting the massive order before returning to the truck. Simon immediately dug into his burger, silent as he ate the entire thing in the five minutes it took to get back to the flat. 

When they finally managed to get the hulking man up into the flat, there was another tussle. Johnny had left the dishes in the sink, Kyle hadn’t taken out the trash and the clicking sound still remained in the freezer despite John saying he’d take care of it. You seemed to be the only one who could do no wrong to Simon. 

He spent the first two hours he was home, tearing into all of them for not taking care of HIS flat. While they were all welcome to live there, he was still the one paying for everything and all he asked was that they cleaned up their messes. Eventually, you got him to leave them alone, shooting each of them a look that told them to scram and get their shit done.

It took another week before the five of you found a system. Simon still couldn’t lift anything so most things were left to the rest of you, but he always did the dishes. Johnny wasn’t supposed to lift things, but he found that taking out the trash didn’t pull his side. Kyle made dinner every night without fail and made sure you had lunch for the next day. John fixed the freezer. And the squeaky door hinges. And the flickering light in the hall. 

You’d been going to therapy for a month at that point and while you’d been cleared by both the doctor and your therapist, the boys refused to touch you. Before everything had happened, they couldn’t keep their hands off you. Someone was always touching you whether it was an arm around your shoulder or a hand on the small of your back. You even missed Simon and Johnny poking you randomly throughout the day. 

When John actually flattened himself against the wall when passing you so he didn’t accidentally brush against you, you snapped. “All of you, living room, now!” You practically screamed, puffing as you headed into the living room yourself. You never raised your voice so the increased volume had them tripping over themselves.

Johnny actually pushed Kyle out of the way in his fear, making the other man bump into the wall and groan. Once they were finally all seated, you stood before them with your arms crossed and a hard look on your face. “Will one of you please explain why you are all so terrified to touch me?” 

They all looked appropriately sheepish, even Simon who hadn’t had to move from where he’d been sitting on the couch. “Well, see, we just wanted to give you space, right? We didn’t think you’d want to be touched,” Johnny tried to explain, sufficiently nervous. You glared even harder and tapped your foot.

“Didya even think to ASK me? Ever think talking to me might have been a better way to do things?” You were glaring at John now, their captain and usually the leader of the ragtag group of men. “We just didn’t want to upset you, little bird. I know the therapist said you were okay, but we were scared we’d trigger something,” John tried to explain, looking up at you with those soft baby blues.

“Well, knock it off. I miss my boys,” you pouted at them, bottom lip jutted out and everything. John raised up onto his feet and stepped towards you, making your eyes travel up rather than down at him. The others joined him, surrounding you in a wall of big burly men. You swallowed hard, their gazes dark and filled with lust now that you’d given them permission. 

You’d never been with all of them at the same time. Usually, it was only one of them except for the few times that John would lean on the door frame and watch one of his boys ruin you while adjusting himself in his trousers. 

Simon stepped up behind you, pulling your hair back from your neck before ghosting his low, husky words across your skin. “Oh, luv, we miss you too.” 

Alright. We're getting so close to the end. Honestly, I know I just reposted the poll and said there'd be another part. But I think the epilogue is next.

Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this series! I really appreciate every comment, reblog, and like. <3

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Epilogue

The absolute amount of fluff in this epilogue is almost gross. 

Also, more military inaccuracies (I made it all the way to the epilogue before remembering the word ‘inaccuracies’)

3 Years Later. 

You stood on your back porch, watching Johnny run around the backyard with your one and two year olds who squealed and screamed anytime he got close. His laughter roared over their sounds, picking one up like a football while chasing the other still. The scene made you giggle. 

You could smell the meal that Kyle was working on in the kitchen, the scents of homemade mashed potatoes and steaks wafting through open windows. Simon had disappeared into the shed, working on a stronger bed frame after the five of you plus the little ones broke the original. 

Usually, you would find John in there with Simon, toiling away on a project. This time he was sliding his hands over your rounded belly from behind, cupping it from underneath and lifting gently. It made a soft groan leave your lips as you leaned back into his embrace.

When you found out you were pregnant the first time, John, Kyle, and Johnny had all requested their discharges citing the need to be home with their family. Simon had been honorably discharged after the events with Moses, his injuries determining the course of his (and the military’s) decision. He was okay with it, surprisingly. Said it was time to stop running from the past and embrace the future you’d given him. 

Blonde, little Leila was most likely Simon’s, although there’d never been a paternal DNA test done. Nathan was most definitely Kyle’s with his cocoa skin and pretty eyes that rivaled his fathers. But they all loved your children, no matter who their biological dad was. The little one still growing in your belly would be no different. 

Kyle finally called out that dinner was ready and everyone headed inside. Well, everyone except you, who padded off to the shed to collect that last of your tribe. “Si? Dinner’s ready,” you called as you poked your head into the shed. “Mm, coming, luvie,” he replied, dusting off his hands on his pants and grinning at you. 

He joined you at the door, his large hands settling on your hips as he gazed down at you. Licking his lips, he leaned down and spoke to your belly. “ ‘Ello little one,” he whispered to the baby in your belly before straightening up only to lean down and kiss you deeply. “Love you pregnant, all swollen with our baby. Makes me want to put another one in you,” he growled against your lips. 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you backed up and grabbed his hand. “Come on, you big lug. Let’s go eat,” you chastised playfully, dragging him out of the shed and back up to the house. 

You’d never been one to want a huge family. But as you sat at the head of the table with the loves of your life and your two babbling toddlers, you couldn’t imagine your life any other way. 

FINITE! 

Okay, so holy crap. I started this as a little project intent on making my touch starved heart happy. It definitely turned into something else, but I'm happy with it. I just want to say thank you to every one who has liked, commented, reblogged, and followed. Every interaction means the world to me.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 9

Sorry for the late post. My days off were busy, but now I'm back at work so we should be back on daily updates.

So many military inconsistencies and just overall incorrect military vocabulary. I’m sorry. 

tw:  revenge, light torture, sensory deprivation, bondage (not the fun kind), 

It’s dark, so dark you weren’t sure if your eyes were open or closed, the only light is the red blinking of a camera above your head. Your wrists were bound with a soft rope as you sat on the edge of a measly cot, using your other senses to learn about your surroundings. You couldn’t hear much besides the rustle of footsteps above your head and the rare voice as guards changed out in front of your door. 

The smell was what permeated everything else though. The coppery tang of blood hung in the air, burning your nose, but there was something else. The faint scent of burned and rotting flesh tinged the edges of your senses, making you gag as the smell almost coated your tongue. A choked laugh had filled the silence in the space when you realized someone had sprayed an air freshener just before you’d been deposited in your cell. The lavender had only made the smell worse, almost thankful when it finally faded only a few minutes later. 

You’d spent the time counting, focusing on the numbers as if they were going to save you. Reaching 85,000 meant it had been about one day since you’d been taken. You didn’t sleep. You didn’t eat. You never stopped counting, not even when the door opened and light shone on your body. “Aw, precious, just as pretty as I remember.” 

When the boys realized you were gone, all hell broke loose. Price was out of the room and on his phone in seconds, calling the one person outside of his team that he trusted: Kate Laswell. Kyle was on Price’s heels, his calm, level headedness the only thing keeping him from tearing the entire hotel down to the studs. Johnny stood staring at the picture that had been left behind, staring at the word as if he was waiting for it to burst into flames. Simon saw red, fists clenching and relaxing at his sides. 

Grabbing Johnny’s arm, he hauled the younger man out of the room to follow Price. They were going to get you back, no matter what it took. Simon just hoped they’d make it in time. 

Bursting into the room just as Price ended his call, Simon deposited Johnny on the couch and squatted between his legs just to reach up and slap the sergeant. Blue eyes shot to Simon’s dark ones just to be followed with a grunt and nod. Simon stood and Johnny followed, all of them standing around the table. 

“Laswell just informed me that they’ve received a video. She’s sending it now. She said it’s not pretty,” Price revealed, grunting quietly as his hand rubbed over his face to scratch at his beard. Kyle was quickly working to set up the laptop and getting the video pulled up. 

“What do we know?” Simon asked gruffly, arms crossed over his chest in an effort to hold in the unbridled rage that threatened to endanger the men in the room. He hadn’t been this angry since getting back from leave and finding his mother and brother in such terrible shape and he’d kicked his dad out for the abuse. He should have gone back and killed him. 

“She was being stalked by someone using your mask, so it must be someone from your past,” Kyle reasoned, looking over at Simon. He wasn’t accusatory. It was a good reasoning, but Simon growled at the implication it was solely his fault. Kyle raised his hands in surrender, showing the largest member of their team that he didn’t mean to offend him.

“There were pictures of all of us. What’s the likelihood that it’s someone we’ve dealt with before?” Johnny questioned, looking at Price with wide blue eyes that didn’t seem to look AT Price, more through him. Price was startled by that look. He’d never seen the sergeant look so mentally far away. 

The computer dinged as Kyle got the video pulled up, cringing already at the capture that served for the video icon. They all gathered around behind him and he hit play, all of them watching the screen intently.

The shot is focused on a blacked out truck when the door opens, zooming in on your still fighting form as they drag you from the vehicle. One of the masked guards, about the size of Simon, has his arm around your neck in a chokehold when you manage to tuck your chin and bite him hard, blood coloring your teeth. He releases you but another hidden man steps up and backhands you across the face causing you to fall to the ground. You’re hit in the temple with the butt of a gun and your body falls limp on the ground while the man who backhanded you lifts you from the ground and carries you off screen. 

Another man, this one wearing a copy of Simon’s mask, steps into frame and slowly pulls the mask off, revealing oily black hair and beady eyes that look down at the mask almost fondly. “You know, Simon, this is quite the mask you wear. Makes for a pretty good scare tactic, don’t you think? Though, I suppose that’s why you wear it, huh?” The man lifts his head and makes eye contact with the camera before it goes black.

“How the fuck does he know my name?” Simon growled, low and deep, a menacing sound that would terrify anyone but the men in the room. John’s phone rang once, answered immediately and put on speaker. “Kate, what do you have for us?” Price was no longer the sweet caretaker. He’d been replaced with the Captain the moment they realized you were gone. 

“Name’s Darin Moses. Bold of him to show his face, to be honest. We’ve been after him for years, but he’s usually flying so far under the radar, that we couldn’t find him. Nothing would get him out of hiding either, except…” Kate’s voice trailed off, sighing into the phone. “Your girl. Whoever she is, she’s important enough for him to come out of hiding.” 

They were all listening intently, memorizing every bit of information. “He’ll be keeping her in a compound of sorts. I haven’t figured out where yet, but based on that video, I can tell you he’s still in the UK. We’ve grounded every private flight out of the UK for now. He wouldn’t be able to take her on a commercial flight with how much she seems to be fighting back.” Kate continued, papers rustling in the background before keys clicked on a keyboard. 

“Get us back and we’ll get started on a plan. In the meantime, try to figure out where they’re keeping her,” Price said, picking up the phone and clicking off the call before Kate could reply. “We’ve got work to do, boys.” 

When the team landed on the tarmac about 24 hours later, Laswell was there to brief them, walking alongside as she informed them that they’d received a new video. Finally inside, they huddled around a table and watched as their anger roiled and raged inside each of them.

The camera angle now looked down on you from the corner of your cell, more of a security camera type of placement. It showed you up and pacing, muttering what sounded like numbers under your breath as your hand drug over the wall. 

A voiceover began playing, blocking out most of your sounds. “John Price, Kyle Garrick, John Mactavish, and Simon Riley. Task Force 141. I have to thank you boys for taking out some of my competition. Making a lot of money now that I’m the only one that can collect information like I can. But the thing is, the men you’ve taken out? They weren’t little pawns or weak. They were powerful men. So now you’ve made yourselves targets.”

There was a rustling sound and you sat down on the bed, now staring up at the little blinking light. “Do you think she knows you’re watching? Or maybe she’s hoping you are.” The screen zoomed in on you, the night vision making your eyes look like they were glowing white. “Pretty little thing. I think once I’ve got you all taken care of, I’ll keep her. Break her down until she can’t fight back anymore. Maybe I’ll bring her your heads so she knows no one is coming to save her.” The screen cut to black.

Little bit of a shorter part.

Thank you to everyone who is supporting this series.