#tradgedyinwaves

[tradgedyinwaves]

his heaven on earth

I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately. Here's a random bit that implanted in my brain this morning.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

tw: fatshaming behavior

something about Price's frumpy, round assistant, but the one who's really interested is Ghost.

Sure they all think you're gorgeous, but Ghost...Ghost has never seen someone so soft. From the roundness of your cheeks to the thick of your calves, he just wants to sink his fingers into the squishy parts of your body. And not even in a sexual way. (Well, not only in a sexual way.)

Everything about you screams peace and sanctuary and what he wouldn't give to press his face to the roundness of your tummy just to know what Heaven is like.

But despite his desires, the most you've ever received from him was a grunt when he turned in some reports for you to give to his captain. You had nodded up at him with wide eyes and the smallest smile, chirping out a 'thank you'.

When a military ball comes around and Price insists that you go, you immediately decline with the excuse that you don't have anything to wear. He tells you not to worry about it and that he'll take care of it. After fighting with him on it for twenty minutes, you conceded. Throwing up your arms as you headed back to your desk.

Did Price actually pay for the exquisite gown that now hung on the back of your door? Absolutely not. Ghost would rather set himself on fire before he let anyone else doing anything for you. Some people said he had a tendency to be possessive. He called it protective.

The military ball finally arrives and it requires a couple glasses of wine before you slide the gown on. It fits perfectly, tailored to your body shape and size and the color compliments your skin so nicely. The only information you'd provided to Price were your measurements (given only after you made him swear on his cigars that he wouldn't comment on the numbers - not that he would ever dare) and that you looked better in certain types of colors.

Your friend from base comes by to do your hair and makeup, keeping it light and fresh as you know you have a tendency to sweat in these situations.

And when you finally walk through the doors of the ballroom, Ghost is pretty sure his heart has never beat so hard. Not when he's laying in his sniper's nest about to pull the trigger on the head of a sex ring trafficker. Not when his team finally took out the leader of a terrorist group. Not even when he had a hook through his ribs.

You immediately fade into the background, grabbing a glass of champagne and standing against the wall. Price approaches you with that smile of his, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes as he looks over you appreciatively.

"You look lovely, my dear. The dress fits you perfectly." You thank him as the apples of your cheeks turn pink before he tells you not to thank him - thank Ghost. That only darkens your blush as you duck your head when the captain leaves.

You don't go searching for Ghost to thank him and ask why he'd gotten you the dress because you're stopped by a gentleman you don't recognize. But you do recognize the smirk on his face and the sound of laughter coming from a group of his buddies.

As adults, one would think people would be mature enough not to poke fun at the big girl. But that didn't seem to be the case as the man struggled to ask you to dance through his laughter, eventually giving up and going back to his friends when he couldn't manage the sentence.

You wanted to leave after that, but that meant letting them win and you refused to give them that satisfaction.

So when Ghost finally found the courage to come and approach you, you thought it was another joke.

"Would you like to-" "Please, don't. Just...go away."

Ghost was not used to being interrupted and it showed in the way his black Balaklava twitched around his mouth.

"What's wrong, luv?" "Just...don't, Ghost. I'm not in the mood." "I just wanted to dance with you." "No, you didn't. You're just here to make fun of me like everyone else."

Ghost was stunned before it turned to anger. Who had hurt you like this?

"M'not. Just wanted to dance with you, promise."

You glanced up at him, meeting those dark orbs - the only part of Ghost you'd ever seen. They didn't crinkle at the corners like he was laughing at you and the way the fabric of his mask didn't move meant he wasn't holding back his laughter.

"You want to dance with me?" It was unbelievable to you that anyone would want to be seen with you, even if the dress you had on was gorgeous.

"O'course, yer stunning. Why wouldn't I?" Ghost had never been one to compliment women. His team got compliments all the time from him. "Well done, Gaz." "Good job, Johnny." "Nice shot, Cap." Those were easy.

With you, he was terrified he'd say the wrong thing and upset you. And that...he couldn't stand that. Watching those beautiful eyes of yours fill with tears because of him and his stupid mouth. It should be easy. Beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal, stunning. All words he felt described you and yet they didn't hold enough weight.

In the end, you agreed to dance with him. Just one, of course. But that went out the window as another bad joke of his pulled a giggle from you. He found he quite liked the tinkling sound of your laugh and the way your nose scrunched when he complimented you again.

And that night, he found out what it was like to watch his thick fingers dimple the roundness of your ass, to worship between your plush thighs as he deemed you a goddess. His grip left pretty bruises all over your body while his lips left his mark across your collarbone.

In the light of the morning, he leaned over your sleeping form as the suns rays gently shone on your face. There in that moment, you embodied peace and beauty, radiant even as drool slid from the corner of your parted lips.

His Heaven on Earth.

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 1

Poly141! x fat!reader tw: self fat shaming, social anxiety, drinking, mention of male appendages at the end

This late Friday night found you where it always did. Alone after watching all of your pretty, skinny friends filter out into the crowd. The plush of your ass settled over the edges of the stool and you're grateful the bar is pretty dark, easier to hide. A glass of whiskey is being nursed in your hands while your eyes take in the crowd, effectively also checking on your friends.

As your eyes rove over, they settle on the back table, tucked into the corner and surrounded by four larger than normal men.

The one with the mohawk is the loudest by far, his boisterous Scottish brogue filtering over the sounds of the crowd. He's got a hand wrapped around a half finished bottle of beer while he loudly recounts a story that makes all of them groan like they've heard it a million times.

The dark skinned one had to be the prettiest man you'd ever seen. His long fingers danced along the side of a glass of what looked to be rum and coke. His chuckle made his shoulders shake, shaking his head at his comrade.

The one with the thick mustache was laughing along with the Scot's story, butting in with his own interjections when he had something to add. His meaty paw held a glass of bourbon while the other gestured a bit wildly with a lit cigar.

The one with the mask though. He had an almost full glass of whiskey in front of him, arms crossed over his chest as he scoffed at the Scot's story. He had been there and he knew that wasn't quite how it went. His eyes trailed from his buddies at the table, doing another sweep of the room. The fifth one you've watched him do tonight.

This time is different. His eyes meet your and you duck your head, avoiding the eye contact. You'd known (the way someone with social anxiety knows) that people would think you weird, making eye contact with strangers. It immediately signals your fight or flight response, settling on flight even though you weren't in any danger.

When you glanced back up, he was looking back at his friends, but you didn't know he'd smiled softly and was now bringing the rest of his tables' attention to you.

In your new panic, you paid your tab and headed out the door. So when Ghost finally got the others to look your way, your seat was empty and the bell was chiming over the door.

"You sure she was there, LT?" Soap asked, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

"Was right there, on the end. Prettiest bird I ever saw," Ghost grunted, his mask wrinkling with his nose.

"Thass m'friend yer talkin bout," a pretty blond slurred at them as she hung on to a frat boy type that was more interested in running his hands all over her body. "Come 'ere e'ry Friday, woo!" She was herded off by her cohort, giggling as they headed for the door. "Guess we'll be here next Friday too then."

You walked home in the chilly night, anger and resentment flooding through your veins. They'd never give you a chance, not with all the pretty girls that were in that bar. You'd always been looked over for girls more beautiful or thinner than you. What was the line they always fed you? 'I love your personality, but you're just not...my type.'

Suffice it to say, the four men would head back to their shared flat, fisting their cocks to just Ghost's description of you and fiending for the next Friday to come.

I promise I'm working on the Touch Fivesome. There's a lot of details and functionality that I'm trying to figure out.

I couldn't get this out of my head. Inspired by another post along a similar vein. I can't remember who it was now, but it's been festering.

Update: I found the inspiration. :3 @devil-in-hiding

Part Two ->

[tradgedyinwaves]

tw: cheating, car accident

Being John's assistant and girlfriend was hard sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time. Holidays were missed. Special occasions put on back burners. But when he was home, John made every effort to make it up to you. At least, he usually did.

You took care of their paperwork for the most part, submitting their reports once they were turned in with details of their mission. You made a point never to read them. You'd made that mistake once and gotten a first-hand account of how Johnny had shoved a grenade down someone's throat and then stood back to watch.

They were your boys, but that didn't mean they were stable. Simon liked killing people with his bare hands. Johnny liked to watch them explode. Gaz liked to wittle them down to nothing during interrogation(torture).

But your John? Well, he made sure his shots provided the most suffering. Shooting out the knees first, then the elbows, shoulders, spine and then finally the head. He had no issues getting the headshot, but liked to take his time.

With you, though? Oh with you they are protective and gentle. Harm almost never befell you with them around. The worst that had happened since the beginning of your relationship with John (and your indoctrination into their group) was that you'd stubbed your own toe on a chair you hadn't pushed in. It was your own fault really, love.

The team had returned the day before your birthday. What a birthday present, right? Wrong. As you greeted them on the tarmac with warm meals waiting in the car, each one gave you one armed hugs. John was last, pulling you to his side but not saying anything.

You could tell they were exhausted and that something hadn't gone quite right on their mission. They were always extra quiet and morose on those days, usually breaking out of it with a good meal and a decent night of rest.

That wouldn't be the case when you woke up the next morning next to...an empty bed? Usually, the day after he returned, John would sleep in, catching up on the hours of sleep he hadn't been able to get.

And went you puttered out into the rest of the apartment, you would find it empty. Boots, keys, and wallet were gone. Boonie hat missing from it's spot on the hook by the door. Maybe he was just out getting things.

He'd never missed a birthday if he was home and always made it up to you if he wasn't. So you waited. Took a shower, pampered yourself with the new body scrub you'd purchased just for this day.

When John wasn't back even a couple hours later, you headed up to the base as you felt the first prickles of anger rising on the back of your neck. You brought a lunch with you, an excuse for being there on your day off.

"Oh, just bringing Captain Price is lunch. Silly man forgot it again."

And so they let you in. No one questioned you, giving you warm smiles and well wishes. Some even wishing you a happy birthday for which you thanked them.

Stepping into John's office always made you cringe. It was an organized person's nightmare. Papers strewn everywhere, dirty coffee mugs left around sporadically, cigar ash filling the tray but also filtered around it like he was in a hurry. He wasn't like this at home, so you let him have his space at work the way he wanted it.

Except he wasn't in there. Keys and wallet, sure. So you knew he was on base. Leaving the warm meal on his desk, you meandered out to find the gym where you thought maybe they were sparring, getting rid of excess adrenaline from their mission.

No one there. At least, no one who knew where Captain Price was.

You spent the entire work day looking for him and when you never found him, you left the base. You end up stopping to grab a little cake for yourself and a bottle of wine, setting up at the coffee table.

And when you wake the next morning, you're still on the couch and the living room is a mess. And there's still no boots by the door.

So you go to work on your own (when John would normally drive you). You eat lunch on your own (when the entire team would usually join you in the mess hall). You drop off papers outside John's door (when you would normally go inside and leave them on his desk).

And you went home alone.

That was when you noticed some of his clothes were missing as was his duffel. You slept alone that night. And the night after. And the night after that.

By the time the next week rolled around and you'd slept alone for four nights, you were on edge and furiously upset. Not a word from your boyfriend of three years or his team.

And then the calls stopped going through. And the texts. So you called Laswell who was actually one of your best friends at this point, as was her wife.

"They're on another mission, hun. John didn't tell you?" "John hasn't spoken to me since they got back from the last one." "That bastard. I'm sorry. Unfortunately, they're already gone and I can't get you in contact with them until they're back." "I know. Just...tell him I love him?" "Absolutely." You went to work and did your job. When the taskforce was on mission, you were used for general paperwork needs in other departments since there wasn't much for you to do with them gone.

You went home alone and it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

It took another two months for them to return. But you weren't waiting for them on the tarmac. You were up to your eyeballs in new recruit uniform requests and even though you knew what time it was, you couldn't find it in yourself to care much.

Kate had been able to contact John and give him your message, but he never gave her one to return to you. And that had rubbed you the wrong way.

Forgetting your birthday was one thing. Disappearing and not telling you that they were going on another mission was another. But his silence was what hurt the most. Everything had been perfect when he'd left for the first mission.

It was hours later when you laid in bed that you heard the keys jingle against the lock. They wouldn't work, not the ones he had anyways. Knocking followed and you rolled over, throwing your pillow over your head to block out the banging and the sound of his voice filtering through the wood.

It stopped surprisingly quickly and you sighed, knowing you'd have to face him the next day at work.

You did. Sort of. You saw him when you came in, immediately turning to your office when he looked up. You stayed there all day, eating your lunch there and only leaving for bathroom breaks.

Unfortunately, you had some forms that needed to be turned in before you left but they required his signature. You didn't bother knocking as you went into his office, teeth grinding and prepared to be as short as possible. You weren't expecting the sight before you.

Your boyfriend leaned back in his office chair, eyes squeezed shut and grunting quietly with one of his own men between his thick, burly thighs. You could see the mohawk just above the desk, the sounds coming from a man you considered a brother ripping more holes into your psyche.

With a gasp, you dropped the papers and fled from the room, immediately grabbing your purse and fleeing from the building.

You could hear them calling your name, but you kept going. You'd have to find a new job or transfer, but that was a small price if it meant getting away from the only family you had.

But they weren't your family, were they? They were a family on their own. They obviously didn't need you. They leaned on each other in the field and at home. You took care of them, sure, but it wasn't enough apparently.

You got home and packed your bags, leaving behind anything that reminded you of the team or John. You left the keys in the lock with a post it stuck to the door.

"Go to hell, John."

You got back in the car and called Laswell, voice surprisingly even for what was going on.

"I need a transfer, Kate. Immediately." "Whoa, what happened? What's going on?" "He's cheating on me." Calm. Collected. Numb. "Excuse me?" "You heard me. With Soap. Probably the lot of them."

You didn't get to hear what she replied with as a semi plowed into the driver's side of your car.

I just want you all to know; this was supposed to be happy. It was going to end with a cute surprise party and apologies from everyone and nobody died. Oops, sorry.

Alternate Ending

Part Two

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 3

Part three of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: social anxiety, self-doubt, drinking, the tiniest hint of touchy-touchy

You’re immediately declining to join them. You know how this goes. See who bags the fat girl and then drop her on her ass once they’ve gotten what they wanted. It had always been hard for you to find someone that actually found you attractive and wasn’t just trying to fetishize your size. And there was absolutely no way this gorgeous man in front of you ACTUALLY wanted you to join them. 

“Up to you. The offer is there if you want to take it,” the beautiful man replies, a soft smile on his face that you think looks genuine. You sigh and chew your lower lip. You could spend some time with them. At the very least, they look like they’ll keep you entertained until you’re ready to go home for the night. What was the worst that could happen?

“Alright,” you finally utter, picking up your glass and sliding off the stool. The man leads you to his table, having you slide in before him so now you’re squeezed between him and mustache guy. 

“I’m Kyle, by the way. Next to you is Price,” Kyle, you now knew, started introducing his cohorts. “Call me John, please,” Price interjected, lifting your hand and kissing the back of it. The action made you blush a fierce red and you delicately removed your hand from his grasp. “Next to him is So-er, Johnny and the scary looking dude in the mask is Ghost.”

You smile softly at Johnny who winks when he’s introduced and your eyes grow wide in response as you turn your attention to Ghost, who is boring into your soul with his gaze. A gaze that tells you he wants something from you, but you can’t figure out what. Quickly, you avert your eyes and look at the spot between the John(ny)’s heads, telling them your own name as well. 

“Here with friends?” John asks, his arm thrown over the back of the booth behind you. You nod and lean forward to point them out. All three are already on someone’s arm, being fed drink after drink and looking beautiful as always. It made you sigh, though you covered the sound with a cough and returned to looking between the four men. 

“We’ve seen them around the last few weeks, was wondering when you’d come back,” Johnny quipped, a bright smile on his face and his baby blues dancing in the light. Your eyes widened, stunned that they had been thinking about you at all, let alone wondering if you’d be back. A slap to the back of his head from John made you giggle quietly, quickly hiding the sound behind your glass. 

“Wha?! We were!” Johnny exclaimed, now rubbing the back of his head as he grumbled. Kyle rolled his eyes and lifted his own glass to his lips. You were close enough to confirm that it was indeed a rum and coke that he nursed, the smell of the alcohol cutting through the air. 

A blush covered your cheeks once more, the whiskey making you feel looser than normal. Your anxiety was in check for the moment, tampered down to a smolder in your chest rather than the roaring fire it normally is. You leaned against the back of the booth as the conversation picked up around you, no longer quite as afraid of John's thick arm resting over the back.

Nothing super exciting happened here. Sorry. Trying to keep these around 650 words so part four is accidentally already mostly written at this point.

<- Part Two Part Four ->

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 10

Part ten of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: reader hurts her own feelings for a bit, Price is the tiniest bit toxic (like you gotta squint real fucking hard)

You were determined not to think of the four men who, at least for a weekend, made you feel like the center of their universe. It wasn’t like every little thing reminded you of one of them. How they had ingrained themselves so solidly into your head over the span of two days, you would never know. But it was a gnawing feeling. 

You’d wanted to listen to them explain it away, explain why they showed up to the gala you just happened to be at with these pretty little things on their arms. Or why only Johnny seemed to fight for you. 

But you were tired of excuses, tired of reasons why you weren’t good enough. It was just easier to be alone. It didn’t matter that your phone had been blowing up since you’d closed the door on them that night. It didn’t matter when your phone suddenly stopped vibrating against the couch one evening, a week out from that dreadful gala. 

Another week and there were no new messages. You supposed they finally got the idea that you didn’t want to see them (even if you were lying to yourself). 

Somewhere in the rainforest of South America, Task Force 141 sat around a small fire, each one grumbly and grumpy. They’d been sent out for a reconnaissance mission, gathering intel on some sex trafficker and now they were currently waiting for evac, one that wouldn’t come for another few hours with the way the storm above them was raging. 

“I just hope she read the messages. I’d hate for her to think we gave up,” Soap sighed, exasperated from not knowing if you had read them.

“When we get back, we’ll get her to listen. Explain everything,” Price drawled, making a grumbling sound in his chest as he adjusted in his seat against the bottom of a tree. 

“It’s not like we gave her any reason to listen to us,” Gaz reasoned, eating through his MRE for the night. Ghost stayed silent, whittling away at a piece of wood and tossing the scraps into the fire. “We spent a single weekend with her, only talked to her through texts for the rest of the week and then showed up with other women to a gala. It doesn’t matter if we knew what was going on, she didn’t because we didn’t explain.” 

They all sighed and nodded, each thinking on their own part in the misunderstanding. 

After three weeks, you had convinced yourself that you had forgotten them, left them in the past. After your phone had been quiet for a few days, you read through them all, letting yourself feel the pain of not listening to them before deleting them. The last message had come from John. 

“We’re going to be out of town for a few weeks and when we come back, you will let us explain.” 

It was very forward, blunt, like you had no choice in whether or not you would listen to them. You didn’t like that, being told what to do, but at this point, if they were still fighting for your attention when they came back…well, who were you to keep denying them? 

Which was why you found yourself at the same table you’d spent the first night with them at, nursing your second glass of whiskey as you waited for them to show. You’d arrived much too early, but had wanted to get a drink in you before you were forced into the impending conversation. 

They arrived five minutes before the set meeting time, each stopping by the bar to order their drinks before sliding into the booth. You sat at the back of the round booth, John directly to your left with Kyle on his other side and Ghost to your right, with Johnny on his other side (mainly in an effort to keep the more excitable man from crawling into your lap and begging you to forgive them). 

Looking up from your glass, your gaze turned to John as you raised a brow. It was a silent invitation for them to get on with it. The thing was, now that they sat there in front of you, they didn’t know how to say what they needed to. Except Ghost, apparently.

“We’re military, luv. We were deployed for a few weeks, hence the silence. But I - we know that isn’t why you’re upset. That gala…” You flinched slightly, not enjoying the reminder of the night. “We were undercover. Those women you saw with us, they’re other soldiers trained for those types of missions.” 

Your gaze had settled on the man, noting the lack of balaclava that was replaced with a black medical mask. It was the most of his face that you’d ever seen, silver and pink scars littering his face that you could see under the hood of his jacket. 

“We can’t say much more than that. But we do want you to know that our interest is genuine,” John continued for Ghost, finally finding his words. “We’d like to spend more time with you while we’re around. We will leave for deployments, sometimes they last months, and we know it isn’t fair to ask that of you. But if you’re willing to have us, we’d put in the effort and you’d never want for anything else.” 

They all were staring at you now. Ghost with a look of understanding, but also a sort of defeat already filtering in. John and Kyle managed to keep their faces neutral but they couldn’t stop the hopeful look in their eyes. Johnny had amazingly managed to stay quiet, but the look on his face was like an expectant dog, begging for a treat. 

You sighed, taking a long drink from your glass before setting it down on the coaster.

Next part is the last one. This took on a life of it's own and while I loved writing this little series, I think I'm going to focus on pairings of 3 or less people for a bit.

<- Part 9 Part 11 ->

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 4

Part Four of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: social anxiety, self-doubt, drinking, more touchy-touchy, reader thinks about sexual acts

In celebration of 200 followers, this part has way more than 650 words. More like 1600. :)

Conversation flowed easily with them despite their sole focus being on you. At some point, Kyle’s hand had drifted onto your thigh, fingers pressing into the flesh gently. John’s arm had slipped from the back of the booth and now rested around your shoulders. You couldn’t be sure, but it seemed Johnny couldn’t keep his feet still and kept tapping yours under the table. The only one who couldn’t seem to relax was Ghost, sitting almost across from you. 

His eyes never left you and he mainly seemed to communicate in grunts. At least, he was drinking this time, his glass now empty of his own whiskey. You were careful not to drink too much, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of these beautiful men. But it didn’t keep you from relaxing and feeling the warmth of the two next to you. 

Pulling out your phone, you checked the time and groaned. “I really should be going. It’s been great,” you announce, looking to Kyle to move so you could slide out from the booth. “Aw come on. We’re having so much fun. Just a wee longer?” Johnny asks and you turn to him, finding yourself giving in almost immediately. Damn the puppy dog eyes. 

“Only a bit longer,” you concede and relax back into the seat. This time when Kyle’s hand lands on your thigh, it’s higher and the heat is searing through your jeans. You let out a soft sound, biting your lip as his hand starts slowly caressing your thigh up and down. He’s not even looking at you when you look up, already deep in conversation with Johnny about some sports game you had no clue about. 

John’s arm settled back over your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer so his hand hovers over your breast and you can feel the hair of his arm on your bare collarbone. Your breasts jiggle slightly with your laugh when Johnny makes a joke and you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate ever so slightly before darting back up to your face. He, at least, has the decency to blush, the faint pink color tinging his cheeks. 

When the crowd in the bar starts to thin out and you realize even your friends have left for the night, you’re yawning in your seat and now leaned completely against John with his thick arm draped over your shoulders. Kyle’s hand is now tucked between your thick thighs, the side pressed as tightly to your core as he can get it and you hope to whatever higher powers that be that he couldn’t feel the radiating heat or the damp spot that had soaked into your panties. 

“Okay, okay. I really do need to go now. My friends aren’t even here anymore and that’s saying something,” you chirp, suddenly very awake and aware that you’re in an almost empty bar with four men you’d only met that night. They all look at you like they’d rather eat sawdust than let you go and you feel a warmth creep over you. 

“Ahw, bonnie, we couldn’t let you go home on your own. Let us take you home,” Johnny chimes in, soft smile and kind eyes that hold a hint of something else in them. You swallow, looking between each of them. Your gaze lingers on Ghost for a while, noticing the man’s eyes had almost never left you.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s go. It’s not a far walk,” you reply, biting your lip at the reckless decision. These men could be serial killers and you were just inviting them to know exactly where you live. “Why don’t you let Johnny and Ghost take you home? Kyle and I can follow in our truck so they’re not stuck walking back here,” John offers, a warm smile curling up the thick mustache. 

At this point, you’re ready for bed and just want to get home. “Sounds good to me,” you reply though the words are manipulated by a yawn. All of you shuffle out of the round booth, both Kyle and John kissing the top of your head like they’d known you for years before disappearing out the door. You wrap your jacket around you again, pulling the zipper together over your belly and getting a little frustrated when it gets caught up on your shirt. 

“Lemme,” Ghost grumbled, stepping up to you and taking hold of the jammed zipper. It’s the first time he’s spoken all night and it almost stuns you how deep and growly it is. Your breath hitches as he grabs the zipper, yanking on it and subsequently making your breasts bounce as he accidentally pushes against them. He gets it undone and you mutter a bashful ‘thanks’ before turning on your heel as you finish zipping it up to your throat.

You know they’re meant to be escorting you home, but you’re out the door so fast the two men have to jog to catch up. Johnny’s arm wraps around your waist, fingers pressing into the pudge of your stomach in a way that makes you want to shrivel up. You don’t like anyone touching your stomach, but you’re warring with yourself on whether or not to move his hand, to show that kind of discomfort in front of these men. 

You choose to do so anyway, wrapping your fingers around his and lifting his arm up over your head and ducking under it, dropping it at his side. Johnny looks down at you with a furrowed brow. “Don’ like it when people touch you, do you?” he asks as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t look bothered that you’d removed his arm, but your anxiety rears its ugly head and makes you worried you’d offended him. 

“It’s not that I don’t like being touched. It-It’s…complicated. I-I don’t want to talk about it,” you manage to stammer out before picking up your speed. It’s not like you’re going to shake off your two guard dogs whose legs are easily longer than yours by several inches, but you take off anyways. 

When your building finally comes into view, you slow your pace and breathe a soft sigh of relief. Your bed was so close, just a few more yards and you could get rid of the guard dogs and curl up in bed. “Well, this is me. Thanks for bringing me home. I really appreciate it.” You were grateful that they’d walked you home. It wasn’t safe this time of night to be wandering around in this part of town. 

“We’re walking you to your door, bonnie. Wouldn’t want someone to snatch you up between here and there,” Johnny stated, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You wanted nothing more than to sink into the scent of him, warm and tingly to the nose like oranges and nutmeg, but you shook your head and backed up to the door of your building. “There’s really no need. My neighbors are great.” Lie. Absolute fucking lie. Nestor at the end of the hall on the first floor would, no questions asked, rip you from the hallway if he saw you alone. A chill went down your spine and you conceded the moment you looked into Ghost’s eyes. You didn’t have a choice if they were escorting you all the way up. 

You turned and opened the door to the building, looking down the hall to make sure Nestor was in his apartment before slipping in and letting the boys in behind you. You headed to the elevator and punched the up arrow, biting your lip as you tried not to wither under the intense stare of the man in the mask. The elevator had been the selling point for you. It was the only place within your budget that had an elevator and you weren’t about to walk up five flights of stairs multiple times a day. 

The lift dinged and you stepped inside, Ghost and Johnny slipping in behind you just to stand with their bodies pressed against your back. Unintentionally, you leaned into them before your eyes widened at your own movement and you straightened so your body pulled away slightly.

The doors dinged and opened allowing you to step out onto your floor. You headed to your unit, digging for your keys in your purse. With a ‘aha!’, you pulled them out and shoved the key into the doorknob, unlocking it. “Would you guys like to come in? I might have some whiskey left?” you offer, turning to look at them. You didn’t know why you were inviting them in, but the sense of safety you had around them had you desperate for them to stay. 

“Sure, lemme text Price and Kyle where to come. Go on in, Si-Ghost. I’ll come in in a minute,” Johnny stated, already pulling his phone out and going to stand next to the window at the end of the hall. You opened the door and allowed Ghost in, leaving it unlocked so the others could join once they arrived. 

Heading into your kitchen, you stood up on your tippy toes, reaching up so you could pull out five of your good glasses. You were looking for the last one, but it was just out of your reach. Suddenly, you felt what could only be Ghost against your back, pressing you against the counter as he leaned over you to grab the glass. 

The heat of him against your back has your thighs clenching together while you watch his thick digits wrap around the glass and you wonder briefly what they’d feel like inside you. He takes a step back once he has the cup and holds it out to you. 

You turn back to him while trying to fight off the blush coloring your cheeks. You murmur a thanks and wrap your own fingers around the glass. 

Of course, that would be when the other three burst loudly through the door.

I wasn't intending for this to become a whole story, but it's really stuck with me over the last week or so.

<- Part Three Part Five ->

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 2

Part two of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: social anxiety, self-doubt, drinking

A month. You didn't go back to the bar for a full month. Avoided the place like it was the birthplace of the plague. And it was to you. You didn't want to run the risk that they were there again, that the man in the mask would berate you for making eye contact with him that night despite knowing he'd probably forgotten about you 30 seconds after. Social anxiety was a bitch.

But they were there. EVERY. FUCKING. FRIDAY.

Ghost thought he was going to lose his mind. The others had started to think he'd imagined you or had a hallucination of you. So when they sat down on the fifth Friday, there wasn't a mention of you from them. Simon still kept his eye out for you.

Surely a month was long enough that they'd have moved on, gotten bored with the dark, dingy bar and the same crowd every Friday. Arriving with your friends, your heart was in your throat and there was a swirl of nausea in your stomach.

They're not here. They're not here. They're not here.

The mantra was on repeat, but you couldn't help checking the back table anyway. You froze where you were standing as your eyes landed on the four larger men, your friend bumping into your back and asking what was wrong. You shook your head and gave her a weak smile, claiming you thought you saw someone.

You took your usual seat at the bar, tucked into the far corner where you could see the table of men and watched as your own friends filtered out onto the floor again. It was so easy for them to just introduce themselves to men, flirt their way to free drinks and possibly a nice little one night stand.

Ghost clocked you the moment the bell above the door dinged pathetically against the wood door and you walked in with three of your friends including the little blonde that informed them that you would be there every Friday. His gloved hand reached out and smacked Soap center chest, incidentally grabbing everyone's attention at the table as well.

"That her, LT?" Soap asked, eyes darting between his lieutenant and you. Soap eyed you for a moment, taking in the open scoop neck long sleeve shirt and the swell of your breasts that weren't hidden very well.

"Tha's 'er. Pretty thing, hm?" Ghost replied before picking up his glass and knocking it back, mouth suddenly dry as the Sahara. You were as pretty as he remembered and the urge to have a picture of you with him at all times roared to life in his chest.

Gaz being on the end gave him the best view of you, taking in the jeans that hugged your plump hips and ass. He could also see the way you held your jacket over your stomach to hide your belly as best you could.

Price could tell you were uncomfortable, watching you watch your friends with a hint of resentment and disdain in your eyes. He hadn't missed that all of your friends were "conventionally beautiful" and he could see that it bothered you.

"Go get her," Price suggested to Gaz, nudging him a bit as he knew Gaz was the proper man to send. You'd never come over if any of the rest of them approached you. Ghost made a disgruntled noise, looking to his captain for a brief moment of silent communication before he nodded, conceding to his superior.

You ordered your whiskey, sipping on it as you flipped between checking on your friends and scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You couldn't help but to let your eyes flick up from the dim screen to check on the table in the corner every once in a while.

Which was where your eyes were now, but there was one missing, the pretty one. Oh, he wasn't missing. He was settling himself against the stool next to you, looking down at you with those molten eyes of his and a friendly smile. "Come join us for a drink. Promise we won't bite. Well, I make no promises about Johnny."

Yup. I did a part two. This is really speaking to me right now for some reason.

Hope you guys liked it!

<- Part One Part Three ->

[tradgedyinwaves]

i think an interesting idea is simon distancing himself from reader (wife, partner, spouse , etc) because of Soaps death and it just causing an absolute rift in their relationship. He doesn’t want to be hurt by being close to anyone, but your still try to keep your relationship and doing all the work until you just snap

LOVE YOUR FICS AND HEADCANONS BTW sending love 💕

AHHHHHHHH! My first ANON! Love and mushrooms to you, my dear!

I love this idea and it spoke to me on a personal level. Thank you for suggesting this. Also made me have to do some research on Scottish funeral traditions.

Simon had been the one to stand guard over Johnny’s body during the week long wake watching, only allowing someone else to take up the mantel when he needed to use the restroom. You brought him food and water, insisted he let someone else take over so he could get a little sleep, but he never let you sway him.

He didn’t cry or mourn. He just…shut down. He went through the motions. Kissing you when you left for work, a mumbled “love you too” at the end of a call, sharing your bed but never touching you.

You put in the work. Texting him know when you’d be late, cooking dinner, supplying him with endless whiskey, and letting him know you were there for him when he was ready. You even went so far as offering your body to use in an effort to get anything out of him, but it didn’t work. Nothing did.

When he starting sleeping on the couch most nights, you found yourself with wet pillows and the blanket curled around you in an effort to mimic the way his body would keep you warm at night. You missed your boyfriend and it never seemed to get better.

A year later and you finally hit your breaking point when he left on a deployment without telling you and wouldn’t answer your calls or texts. It required a call to Price to see what was going on. He confirmed that they were shipping out for a week, and you muttered a thanks before ending the call. Price’s eyes narrowed on his lieutenant before flipping back to his phone with a sigh.

When Simon returned and stepped over the threshold of your shared flat, he found it empty with a note on the table.

“Staying with Julia. Be back soon.”

No date. No signature. He tried your phone and you let it ring out to voicemail. Ignored his texts while you and Julia sipped girly drinks in the VIP section of a high class club that a friend of Julia’s had gotten you into. Maybe a little drinking would let you loosen up and forget your troubles for a while.

When Simon showed up halfway through your third cosmopolitan, you could hardly believe it. One, because he never showed up to anything outside of work. Two, this wasn’t a place you normally went to and you wondered how he managed to find you. Probably a tracker of some sort if you knew the man at all.

Even the bouncers didn’t stop him as he entered the VIP area and wrapped his gloved hand around your arm and hauled you from the seat, dragging you outside while you tried to escape his grasp and Julia yelled drunkenly for him to stop. He tossed you in the car and you fumed the entire way home, tears of anger silently slipping down your cheeks.

You tried to slam the door in his face as you entered the flat, his palm stopping the swinging wood from smacking him.

“How dare you? You think you can just show up and drag me out of there like I belong to you?!” “You do.” The audacity he had in even uttering those two words to you made you snap.

“The hell I do! It’s been a year of you ignoring me and treating me like I don’t matter! And you just come home from deployment and suddenly, you think you can lay any kind of claim to me?!”

You ripped open the closet door, pulling down your suitcase and began stuffing it with your clothes. The one suitcase wouldn’t be enough for all of your things, but it would be enough for a week.

“Luv, please. I’m sorry. I-I’ll do better.” His voice sounded raw, cracking with emotion he rarely showed. It almost made you falter in your rage. Almost.

“No, Simon. You don’t get to be sorry. I was there. You weren’t the only one who lost him, but you’re the only one who hasn’t moved on.” Your words were harsh, mean almost, but they rang true. Even Johnny’s sister had moved on, honoring him in naming her son after the boisterous Scot.

“I can’t keep waiting around for you to come back to me. I’m done, Simon.”