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innominaterifter · 11 months ago

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The second part of the story "to get a telescopic baton past security." The previous part was ended at the metal detector went off moment, and then the guard asked me to open my backpack. This first part is here

https://www.tumblr.com/innominaterifter/736872534262349824/i-didnt-manage-to-finish-everything-in-my-costume

I began to put my plan into action.

Step one

I hecticly and hastily began to take off my backpack, showing with all my appearance that I was in a hurry and was afraid of being late for the performance. But at the same time, showing how uncomfortable I was that I had created more work for them.

In the process of all this, I dropped a couple of things, bending over to pick them up, and accidentally stepped on the security guard’s foot. While straightening up, I slightly hit my head on the desk, and yes, they already looked at me with a mixture of mockery and irritation, wanting to get rid of me as quickly as possible.

This was exactly the reaction I needed.

Step two

The metal detector kept going off. I cursed and apologized, muttering that it was probably a metal stand and a fabric mount (step two). One guard is already waving his hand for me to pass, but the second asks me to remove the metal elements from the backpack and go through again (it was the one whose foot I stepped on; perhaps this was unnecessary).

I take them off my backpack and try to go through again, but the detector, of course, continues to react.

The organizers announce the imminent start of cosplay performances into the microphone, and I show on my face the panic of a person lagging behind the train.

The first guard again waves his hand at me, saying, 'Come on in', but the second one detains me this time too. He asks me to show him what is inside the backpack.

I was unlucky to stumble upon a truly vigilant person. Or vengeful. Or maybe I literally stepped on his sore spot.

Well, step three

I unzip the compartment in which there is a tin box with food (and a baton at the very bottom).

And I exclaim as if I had just guessed: 'Ah, this is a box of food for cockroaches! This is what the detector is triggered by!'

I start to pull it out, but both guards exclaim in unison: 'Food for whom?!'

I show on my face the smile of a person who simply adores insects (as you understand, I practically didn't have to pretend):

'For cockroaches! They are in my backpack, and I will show them now!'

I bet that although insects may be interesting to people, it is unlikely that anyone would want unexpected tactile contact with hundreds of cockroaches (as subsequent events at the convention showed, even simple observation makes people nervous).

I turned the backpack towards them with the outer transparent wall, which was initially hidden by things hung on top of the backpack. After I took it off my shoulder, I wisely kept it transparent side towards me.

There is instant silence, and for a couple of endless seconds, two guards and two hundred cockroaches look at each other.

The face of one of the guards begins to shimmer with amazing shades of green, and for some reason, the other begins to giggle uncontrollably.

I feel this is the turning point and decide to press on:

'Do you want to take a closer look at them? I'm late, of course, but they are awesome!'

Both guards are unanimous this time. They simultaneously wave towards me towards the passage. I pick up things and with regret and hope in my voice, I say that maybe then after the performance I will find them here.

One of the guards blurts out: 'No way!', while the other more restrainedly tells me that their shift is ending soon.

I shrug my shoulders in frustration (two hundred cockroaches, swayed in unison, gave this gesture additional expressiveness), and waving goodbye to them, I walk into the event area. A muffled voice behind me exclaimed: 'Fkn cosplayers!'

Well, it was fun and quite simple.

I haven't even gone through all the steps of my plan.

#skitter #taylor hebert #worm #worm web serial #wormblr #wildbow #parahumans #cosplay #insects #cockroaches

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bonniepop · 9 months ago

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character: miya atsumu words: 1,800+ tags: the comedy that comes with killing bugs. literally that’s it. notes: i wrote this two years ago and it's still fucking funny. re-wrote it to make it fractionally funnier.

“YO!” atsumu cries, flashing you a panicked glare from over his shoulder. “don’t push me!”

“then move faster!” you snap, pressing yourself close to your boyfriend’s back as he creeps around your apartment in search of the cursed cockroach that you’d spotted on the wall earlier that night. after locking yourself in your room, you made a panicked phone call to atsumu and he came over (after a few minutes of sighing and grumbling).

immediately, you'd pressed a slipper in his hand and nearly kicked him into your living room to deal with the problem. atsumu had grumbled about how much of a little bitch you were being, but when he saw something flash through the air, he nearly steamrolled you in his effort to run away.

you'd wanted to call him a little bitch, too, but you were too focused on the fact that the cockroach was still on the loose to quip.

“i think—AGH! ATSUMU!” you yell, jumping and shaking out your leg when you felt something brush your ankle. frantically, you look at the floor around you, and whimper when there was no bug to be found.

“WHAT?!” atsumu shrieks in a rather high pitch, nearly whacking you in the head with his slipper. "WHAT?!"

“no, sorry, i think it was the edge of the curtain,” you sniff, pushing his arm with the slipper away. "or i think it was just my hair. it was nothing." your relief fades to irritation. "also, if you so much as touch my face with this thing i will make you eat this goddamn slipper.”

atsumu's jaw goes slack. “what the fuck, you asked me to come over and help you—”

“do you know how expensive the skincare i have on my face is?!” you demand, glaring. “there’s no way in hell—”

“wh—you’re so ungrateful!” he cries, just like a little bitch would, throwing his hands up in the air. “i woke up at five a.m., had a terrible day at training, and when i finally relax at home, you ask me to come over to kill a cockroach—”

you gape. “you said you wouldn't take that against me!”

“yeah, before i found out that you're literally just being a little bitch about a bug!” atsumu declares, wildly gesticulating. in his haste, though, he lets go of the slipper and it lands near your armchair. something dark darts up from the ground and flies across the room.

you both shriek (one of you hit a higher pitch, you can't tell who), and run back out into the hallway.

“atsumu,” you shudder, wriggling around as if trying to shake off something invisible. “oh my god, oh my god—”

he panicks, rubbing his arms in nervousness. “fuck, that thing is huge!"

you jump around in anxiety. “oh my god. oh my god, atsumu, get back in there and kill it—”

“what?! like hell i will!” he grabs his other slipper from his foot—he’d been walking around in just one slipper the whole time—and frantically pushes it towards you. “you kill it!”

“wh—” your jaw drops, whacking his hand away. “you little bitch!”

his face looks absolutely offended. “you’re just as little of a bitch as me—”

“what are the point of your muscles if you can’t kill this one bug—”

he’s so mad he flexes his biceps in your face and points at them, slipper flopping around in his fist. “these are for winning v.league championships, not killing a god damn cockroach!”

something black crawls along the wall behind him, and you try not to panic as you grab his hand and turn him around to serve as a human shield. “atsumu, oh my god, atsumu, it’s behind you, kill it, killitkillit—”

he yells and hurls his slipper at the wall, running into the living room. he greatly misses, and the thing is now crawling to your ceiling. in a frantic hurry, you run to your room on the other end of the hallway.

you slam the door and try and hear your racing heart in your ears. there’s a cockroach on the loose in your apartment, and you are trapped in your bedroom.

your boyfriend is out there, but better him than you, really.

your bedside buzzes, and you find your phone screen brightening, device still plugged into the wall.

atsumu 💘: WHAT THE FUCK atsumu 💘: WHY DID U LEAV EME you: I PANICKED I DIND TKNOW WHAT TO DO atsumu 💘: WHERE IS IT you: I DONT KNOW you: HALLWAY??

silence, then a yell, followed by quick, heavy footsteps that get louder and louder. he nearly breaks down your door as he pounds it, so you run from your bedside to let him in. he pushes himself in and locks the door behind him with a swift slam!

“YOU LEFT ME!" he recaps, looking absolutely betrayed.

"i'm sorry, i panicked!" you reasoned. "is it still out there? were you able to get back your shoes?”

“yes, it's still fucking out there,” he snaps, clambering to your dresser. “pack a bag. you’re coming with me.”

“what?" you ask, watching him in confusion, "where?”

“you're moving out,” he says with finality, yanking a backpack from the back of your closet and yanking your sock drawer open. “you're moving out, you're gonna live with me from now on, we're gonna put this place back on the market—"

your jaw drops. “atsumu, it’s one cockroach!”

“if it’s just one cockroach, then you go kill it!” he cries, pointing at you, and that shuts you up.

this is pathetic. you’re thousands of times bigger than that bug and you’re practically let it take over the apartment you pay rent for.

“oh my god, baby, i just remembered,” you say, and he looks back at you. “i have bug spray in the cabinet under the bathroom.”

the blond freezes, your open bag in his hands, stuffed with a dozen pairs of socks. after a beat, he throws it to the floor. “are you serious?! you made me face that thing unarmed when you had bug spray this whole time?!”

“i don’t have time to argue with you,” you snap, opening the door and taking a tentative peek into the hallway. “come on, let’s go get rid of it.”

“i’m gonna—” he grunts. he takes a calming breath before bending over to pick up the bag, and re-stuffing your socks back into your drawer. “fine. fine. let’s go kill the damn thing.”

—

some time later, you finally, finally, manage to kill the cockroach, thanks to around half a can of bug spray haphazardly sprayed that it stunk up the whole room (you) and a lot of screaming (atsumu). the screaming probably didn’t help, but it happened.

atsumu puts on the mask you handed him before he steps into the living room. “i found my slipper. it was next to the door.”

“your other one’s here,” you say from behind your own mask, pointing to the armchair. you open your windows and curtains, airing out the room. “where’d you throw the roach?”

“your kitchen trash bin,” he answers, shaking out his damp hands. “also, i kinda used a lot of soap to wash up, so your sink is bubbly.”

“it’s fine,” you say with an exhausted sigh. that whole exchange tired you out. “i’ll wash it down.”

“okay.” he sniffs. “do you need anything else?”

“i’m good,” you answer, dusting your hands when you tie off the last curtain. you fan your hands in the air in wide, weeping motions. “god, bug spray stinks.”

“you sure you don't wanna spend the night at my place?" he says, fanning the air, too. “it’ll at least smell better.”

“are you sure you’re not inviting me over just so i can clean something up?” wouldn’t be the first time.

"first of all, okay? you made me come here. you owe me. second of all, i take offense to you suggesting that i could be that big of an asshole.” when he sees the blank look on your face, he backtracks. “no, i swear it’s clean. and it smells better than this. samu left for the weekend, too, so it’ll just be you and me.”

“where’d he go?”

“some restaurant owner seminar.”

time to ask the important questions. “did he leave any food?”

“it's samu, so yes. but we can pass by a drive through, in case there isn’t any.” he pads over and wraps a gentle hand around your wrist. “come on, please?”

you let him gently pull you into a loose embrace and say nothing.

“besides, this place’ll smell better when you come back in the morning,” he continues to barter.

you purse your lips.

“you didn’t even thank me for coming to your rescue,” he pouts.

you roll your eyes. "okay, now you're—” you stop mid-sentence when you see something crawl at the corner of your eye. “oh my god. oh my god, atsumu, don’t move.”

“what?” atsumu says, alarmed, his torso stiffening against yours. “what? what is it? what happened?”

you turn your head and find that another cockroach crawling into your living room through the gap in the window.

five minutes later finds you in the passenger seat of atsumu’s car, with nothing but your keys, your phone, and a can of bug spray, as he drives you to his apartment with one slipper on.

(he forgot the other one.)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x you #haikyuu x you #hq x you #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #hq fic #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #hq writing #📝 — my writing

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rainybubbles · 4 months ago

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"Dance with me" + 141 x reader

Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Price

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

GAZ :

— Congratulations, Garrick, you whispered.

He barely heard you. Honestly, you doubted he even knew your name. Soldiers, especially those in special forces, rarely paid attention to the cooks unless they wanted an extra helping. At those times, flattery became almost a routine game.

But Kyle… Kyle had always been different.

He was the only one who gave you a genuine smile when you served him. The only one who would chat with you, arrive early to help in the kitchen, and stay late to clean up.

Kyle had been there.

In that endless cycle of meals, dawns, and dusks, he remained. So at the medal ceremony, you had hoped, just for once, to step into the light with him, to talk without the barrier of those ridiculous hairnets.

But Kyle was standing there, a companion on his arm, and suddenly, you felt utterly foolish.

Where you had hoped for a slow dance, it turned out you were just tap-dancing alone.

So, after everyone else had offered their congratulations, you added your own, feeling a wave of shame wash over you, making you sweat. That knot in your stomach tightened as the lights grew blinding, every gaze seemed to pierce through you, and everything felt absurd.

You felt absurd.

With that stupid outfit that was too tight, a tie that was too blue, shoes that were too shiny. Anxiety crept in and took hold, forcing you into an unwilling dance. Desperately, you tried to calm yourself, to find an escape, a place with fewer people. The door seemed so far away. Your vision blurred. And then…

Fresh air hit you.

Finally outside, you sat down. Everything was swirling inside you. You wanted to cry. But you couldn’t even manage that, as your boss appeared.

— The caterer is late; get in the kitchen, we can’t ruin the evening.

So you resumed your dance: uniform, hairnet, apron, safety shoes. What you thought was a duet was clearly just a solo.

Peeling carrots and chopping vegetables, you listened to the barked orders with the other kitchen staff.

The food was enough to satisfy everyone’s patience, and the caterer eventually arrived.

Alone, you scrubbed the floors.

You were the only volunteer anyway. Searching for crumbs, cockroaches, or dirt, you scrubbed until your knees ached and bled.

— Aren’t you at the party?

Kyle was there. Of course.

— I was.

— Oh, I—

— Don’t worry about it. There were a lot of people, we probably just missed each other.

A lie.

You had seen him, had even spoken to him. But to him, you hadn’t even existed.

— Yeah, I... Sorry they made you work.

— It’s fine. It’s a nice change from the usual rations.

— Yeah... I guess so.

An awkward silence fell between them, the first one they had ever shared.

— I feel like something’s off, admitted Gaz.

— Off? How do you mean?

— There’s this tension... Did I do something wrong?

No.

You knew you couldn’t blame him; it was your own fault.

— No, nothing like that... How was the party? I mean, you’ll probably get promoted soon.

— It was nice. There was even a ball.

You knew that.

You had gone there hoping for a dance.

— Really? Who did you dance with, Garrick?

— A childhood friend. I didn’t want to ask someone I didn’t know well.

Oh.

So… you weren’t even considered a friend. Just an acquaintance.

— I hope they didn’t get too bored.

— They ended up in the infirmary.

— Oh, what happened?

— I… I’m a terrible dancer, and let’s just say my weight isn’t exactly light when it lands on a foot.

— You broke their foot?

— No, it’s not—

You burst out laughing.

— Stop making fun of me, he said, though he couldn’t help but smile.

— Sorry, but you can hit targets from a distance, and three steps are too much for you?

— I’m just not good at ballroom dancing.

— So what would you have preferred? The Macarena?

— Maybe.

— I can totally picture Price doing that.

He grinned.

— But… if I had been better at dancing, I would’ve asked someone else, anyway, he admitted.

— Asked them what?

— To go with me.

— Oh.

— I just didn’t want what happened tonight to happen, and then we wouldn’t talk anymore.

— They’d be silly to let that come between you.

— You think?

— Yeah.

— So… can I assume you’re not silly?

— Why are you—

Oh.

— You wanted to invite me.

— Yeah.

— But…

— The dance was mandatory, and I didn’t want to embarrass you. I’d rather embarrass myself.

— Why didn’t you say anything…

— I didn’t have the chance.

— ...Well, I’m not sure I’m convinced. I mean… dating someone who can’t dance? you teased.

— I can do the Macarena.

— Go on, then.

And slowly, in the kitchen, with his phone blasting the tune, Kyle started dancing, and under their shared laughter, you realized this might just be the dance he preferred after all.

_______________________________

SOAP :

Soap gave you a slightly unsteady grin.

— I missed you, he murmured, his words slurred.

You shook your head, watching him struggle to redo his shoelaces with clumsy fingers.

— Johnny, you're drunk, you said, a glint of amusement in your eyes.

— Maybe… but I still missed you. Best roommate in the world.

— I'm the only one, you replied, laughing softly.

— That's why you're the best, he said, giving you a clumsy wink.

You handed him a glass of water, a gentle smile on your lips.

— Drink this, and I'll fix you something to eat.

— That’s why you're my favorite.

— How was your night? you asked as you busied yourself in the kitchen.

— L.T. dared me.

— And of course, you accepted.

— Naturally.

— And got your ass handed to you, didn't you?

— Hm, he mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

He finally managed to sit down, struggling to stay upright.

— You know… I've never seen you dance, he said suddenly.

— What? you responded, surprised by the comment.

— I've never seen you dance. It’s a shame.

— I'm not really the type to go out dancing, you know that.

— Yeah… He thought for a moment, then added, We could dance right here, right now.

— And why would we do that? you asked with a curious smile.

— Because I want to see you differently. To feel you close to me.

— Johnny, you see me every day, you said, laughing softly.

— It’s not the same. This way, I could really see your eyes up close, smell your coconut shampoo…

— You already know all that, you replied gently.

— Yeah, but living it is different. I could touch you, feel your heartbeat, your hands on me… just you and me.

You looked at him for a moment, touched by his vulnerability.

— You’re really drunk, you murmured tenderly.

— Just one dance, he insisted, almost pleading.

— One dance?

He stood up with a bit of effort, swaying slightly but determined. He reached for your hands and pulled you close. The world around them seemed to blur into a haze.

Each step was awkward, each movement hesitant, but nothing could shatter the bubble they had created. To him, this was a precious, almost sacred moment.

As his eyelids grew heavy, he let himself relax into your arms, finding a sense of peace and contentment.

They shuffled in the confined space of the kitchen, their movements creating an unsteady rhythm that was as endearing as it was clumsy. You held him close, guiding his steps with a gentle hand on his back. The light of the overhead bulb cast a soft glow, illuminating the warmth of their shared moment.

The kitchen, usually bustling with the mundane tasks of everyday life, had transformed into a quiet, intimate space where time seemed to stand still.

The clatter of pots and pans was replaced by the gentle rustle of their clothing and the soft shuffle of their feet on the tiled floor. The contrast between the chaos of the night and this tender, private dance was stark but comforting.

Soap’s head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat that mirrored your own.

There was something deeply satisfying about this moment of stillness amidst the chaos.

His breathing, slow and steady, was a soothing reminder of their connection. The way he relaxed into you, his body melting against yours, spoke volumes more than words ever could.

As they continued to sway together, you could sense the vulnerability and trust in his movements.

His occasional missteps and the way he leaned into you for support only highlighted the depth of his feelings. Despite the awkwardness, there was an undeniable grace to their dance—a testament to their bond and the quiet understanding they shared.

— You’ll dance with me again, won’t you? he murmured, half-asleep.

— We’ll see tomorrow, you whispered, guiding him gently to the couch.

He collapsed from exhaustion, instantly drifting into a deep sleep, still wrapped in the memory of their dance.

As the first light of dawn began to creep through the window, you moved about the kitchen, preparing breakfast with a newfound sense of tranquility. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the gentle sizzle of food in the pan were soothing. You stole glances at Soap, who was still deep in sleep, his breathing even and calm. There was something deeply satisfying about this morning routine, a feeling of normalcy and peace that you hadn’t realized you’d missed

The comforting aroma of breakfast filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of whiskey that still clung to the air. The contrast between the warmth of the kitchen and the cold light of dawn outside created a sense of cozy isolation. You moved with practiced ease, your actions steady and deliberate, a quiet testament to the care you took in your daily routines.

Eventually, Soap stirred, his eyes fluttering open with the kind of groggy confusion that only a hangover can bring. He squinted in the light, struggling to get his bearings. When he finally registered your presence, he gave you a tired, lopsided smile.

— What I said last night… I meant it, he murmured. And this time, you can’t say I’m drunk.

— Technically…

— Technically, I’d love to kiss you and ask for another dance.

— You stepped on my feet more than twenty times last night.

— I know…

— And you reeked of whiskey.

— …

— Not to mention your snoring that kept me up all night.

— Okay, so I’m not perfect…

— But despite all that, I enjoyed our dance.

— Really?

— Even if choosing Blue Da Ba Dee for a slow dance was a terrible idea.

— That was me?!

— Yep.

— Damn… Let me make it up to you, he said, dropping to his knees in front of you.

You laughed, amused by his dramatic gesture, then knelt down in front of him, running a gentle hand through his hair.

— Alright, one more dance.

— One more dance, he repeated, a smile spreading across his face.

___________________

GHOST :

The room gradually fell into silence, despite the constant chatter of the journalists on the screen. No one was really paying attention to the news broadcast. Simon was staring at his still fresh cuts, watching the red darken to brown.

— Want to dance? he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You looked up, surprised, then let out a small laugh.

— Dance? Now?

— Yes, now.

He reached out his hand to you. You hesitated, then finally placed yours in his. Exhausted, you let yourself lean against him. Simon picked out a vinyl, and soft music filled the room as they swayed slowly from side to side. He felt your warm breath against his neck, your body seeking refuge in his arms. His hand, still trembling, held yours tightly.

— You’re stiff as a board, you murmured with a smile.

— I’m managing, he replied, slightly offended.

— It’s like you have two left feet. Relax a bit, you added, a playful grin on your lips.

Simon couldn't help but smile inwardly. He had missed that smile so much— the real one, the one that made your eyes sparkle and your dimples appear, a stark contrast to the hollow gaze he had seen recently.

— It’s all over, you whispered.

You wasn’t talking about the dance.

— Yes, it’s all over.

Neither was he.

— Will I ever be able to dance again? you asked, doubt creeping into your voice.

To love. To love again.

A few weeks ago, Simon had returned from a grueling mission, only to find your home surrounded by police. The sight of the flashing lights and the presence of uniformed officers had sent his mind spiraling into a whirlpool of fear and dread. He imagined the worst, his thoughts racing with the possibility that his desire to keep you close had ultimately endangered you. He had feared that, like so many others before you, you might have been irreparably damaged by his choices.

But…

Under the harsh, unforgiving lights of the police cars, he had found no body, no immediate evidence of a catastrophic event. Yet, when he had seen you amidst the broken glass and the wreckage of their lives, you were nothing more than a shadow of the vibrant person you once were. Your eyes were vacant, the walls bore the scars of a recent trauma, and the TV was stuck on a loop, replaying the same game over and over, as if it were mocking the endless cycle of their suffering. The word "Sorry" was scrawled repeatedly, a haunting echo of remorse and helplessness.

Simon had understood the weight of the moment. With a gentle hand, he had helped you up from the floor, guiding you through the aftermath with a steadfast determination. He had been by your side for every medical appointment, every police report, and every painful statement. His presence was a constant, unwavering support as they navigated the wreckage of their lives together. Gradually, they began to live together, two lost souls seeking something more as they danced together that night.

A home, a dream, a soul?

No, it seemed they were searching for something more elusive—a ghost of their former selves, the remnants of a life that once held promise and joy.

— I’ll be here for you, Simon said softly.

— Then you better improve your dancing, you retorted with a hint of teasing.

— I promise, he murmured.

If becoming a dance master was what it took to help you rediscover the rhythm of life, then he was willing to dance for you, over and over. For he knew that no day should be spent with a heart broken by another. As they continued to sway to the music, the simple act of dancing became a symbol of their shared commitment to healing and moving forward. It was a testament to their resilience and to the enduring hope that, despite the pain, they could still find solace and joy in each other’s arms.

______________

PRICE :

The flames in the fireplace crackled softly, casting shadows across the now-empty room. The guests had left long ago. John approached you slowly, deliberately, sliding his arms around your waist. He took a deep breath, letting your unique scent—something distinctly you—fill his senses, anchoring him in the present moment. The weariness of the past two months seemed to melt away as he embraced you. Finally, he was home.

—Something on your mind?, you asked, a hint of amusement in your familiar tone. It was a sound he had missed—something about your tone always made him feel like everything would be alright.

—I missed our date, he replied, a trace of regret in his voice.

—You've been on a mission for two months, John. I didn’t expect you to show up every Friday night for our little routines, you said, your laughter soft and genuine, like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. The light in your eyes, though, told him that you understood more than you let on.

—I could have tried.

—And how would that go? 'Hey guys, hold on a sec, I need to leave for a romantic date with my partner?"

—I'm sure I could’ve convinced them, he said with a smirk.

You burst out laughing, shaking your head.

—Maybe, but I doubt El Sinombre would have agreed.

—Probably not, he admitted, his tone softening as he pulled you closer, But I couldn’t give you those moments that are just for us.

—John, you sent me more than enough money; don't worry about that.

—That’s not the kind of moments I meant, he said gently, his fingers tracing light circles on your arms, the touch both tender and reassuring. His caress was a silent promise of the moments yet to come.

—Oh...

—I love our dates, all those little memories. I remember the day a stray dog pushed me into a pond, or the time you ended up with cream on your nose at the restaurant, He chuckled softly, the memory of those times clearly cherished.

—And which one’s your favorite?, you asked, turning to face him.

Their faces were just inches apart, their lips almost touching, but neither gave in to the temptation. It was a game, a silent challenge.

—Our wedding day, he finally said.

—That wasn’t a date, you replied with a playful smile.

—It was, on the dance floor.

—Oh, that moment...

You remembered how John had surprised you, revealing that he had secretly taken dance lessons for months. That slow dance had transported you, as if the whole world had disappeared, leaving just the two of them, their steps perfectly in sync, their love shining like a star.

—I can’t even remember the steps, you confessed softly.

—Let me remind you, he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The intimacy of his voice and the proximity of his body sent a shiver down your spine, making the room feel even cozier.

With infinite tenderness, he gently took your hands, his rough fingers guiding you with a careful precision that spoke of countless hours spent perfecting their dance. As he began to lead you through each step, humming the tune from their wedding, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. A tender smile lit up your face, and you looked up at him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

—I love you, you finally whispered.

—I love you too,he replied with a sincerity that warmed your heart.

Slowly, the lights around them seemed to dim, the room growing tranquil as the dance came to an end. They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts beating in harmony. The fire continued to crackle softly in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over them as the night settled into a peaceful calm. In that serene moment, surrounded by the remnants of their love and shared memories, they found solace in each other’s presence, cherishing the quiet beauty of their reunion.

If you want more : masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john mctavish x reader

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greynatomy · 8 months ago

Text

confessions and accidental meetings

ona batlle x reader

prequel to soft launch. requested here

———

Arriving at your favorite coffee shop, you swing the door open only to feel some resistance on the other side.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” You’ve not even looked at the person, but grabbed as many napkins as you could to start wiping her down. “I am such a klutz.”

What you don’t notice is the person smiling widely at you, entertained at how you’re wiping her down and apologizing nonstop. She reaches out to grab one of your wrists to stop your panick.

“It is okay.” She tells you once your eyes reach hers.

You swear you could’ve melted right there and there. The hand she isn’t holding is stilled on her shirt over her stomach where you were absolutely sure you felt some indentations.

You couldn’t look away, opting to just nod as words aren’t able to properly come out of your mouth.

Ona was loving every second of this interaction, loving how you melt to her touch, a complete stranger’s.

Despite being soaking wet, Ona sat down with you at a table, attentively listening to to whatever you had to say. It was a bit difficult to understand, but all she knew was that she didn’t want to stop talking to you.

“Can-can I get your, uh, number?”

You gave it to her without hesitation, telling her that you’d be her tour guide of Manchester. You brought her to your favorite places, Ona making a mental note about everything you’ve said and shown her.

In the three months since you’ve met, your jobs never came up, relishing in the bubble you two have built around yourselves. There was an understanding that you both very much liked each other more than friend’s, it was just a matter of who has the guts to take it to the next level.

Seeing as you weren’t going to do it, Ona dragged you out of your apartment, taking you to all of your favorite places. You loved how she remembered everything you’ve told her, everything being highlighted on this day.

Last but not least, you’ve both made it to the coffee shop you’ve both met at, always feeling nostalgic whenever you step foot in it.

“I, uh, wanted to ask you something and I thought it’s good to come back here to do it.” You nod, telling her to continue. Ona squirmed in her seat, avoiding eye contact, she stammered, “Um, so, I’ve been thinking… I mean not-not that I think about this all the time, but uh.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity peaked. “It’s just me Ona. Spill it.”

Ona took a deep breath, “Well, when we are together, I-I have this weird feeling in my stomach. Not like, not like a tummy ache, but what is it people say? Cockroaches?”

“Butterflies?” You correct her.

“Yes! Uh, yes, butterflies. And I-I like you. More than a friend.”

You blinked, trying to process her words, then broke into a bright smile. “That was the most awkward and adorable thing I have ever experienced. And I also have butterflies in my stomach whenever we hang out. How could I not?”

“Really? Uh, wow.”

“Well, first, let’s stop being awkward and acknowledge that we both like each other. And then… maybe you could come over here and kiss me.”

Ona, seemingly getting all her confidence back, walks around the table to where you sat. Hands cupping both sides of your face, she dips her head down, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

You’ve been together for a good six months now and everyday has been full of laughs, adventure and comfortability. When she found out who your sister was though, she looked like she’s seen a ghost.

“You don’t have to be scared of her, baby. She’s just a big giant teddy bear.”

“She could probably beat me up.”

“Don’t say that! She’s all soft and cuddly.”

Ona didn’t believe you. She’s played against Lucy before and it’s safe to say your sister scares her a bit.

One day, Ona had just finished training and decided to go and surprise you after not seeing each other for a week with both of your busy schedules. She picked up your favorite flowers and favorite take away and made the journey to you apartment.

She doesn’t bother to knock, using the spare key you’ve given her.

“Mi amore!” She calls out, taking her shoes off by the front door. walking further into the apartment, she’s met with one Lucy Bronze sitting on your couch. “Uh, hello.”

“Ah. So you’re the one my sister is seeing.” Lucy gets up from where she sat, stalking closer to Ona.

“Uh, sí. It is nice to meet you.” Ona gulps, nervous say how Lucy was looking down at her.

“You’re technically the enemy, so I wouldn’t say this is anything but nice.”

They were both staring down at each other, unaware that you’ve walked back into the living room.

“What are you guys doing?”

They whip their head towards you, like they’ve been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

“Just getting acquainted with your girlfriend here.” Lucy says, placing a hand on Ona’s shoulder, squeezing a bit making Ona wince, but tries to hide.

“Lucy, don’t scare my girlfriend please.” You grab Ona’s arm, pulling her away from your sister. “I would like to keep her alive forever.”

“Fine. But just know, I’m keeping a close eye on you. Hurt my sister and I hurt you.” Lucy flexes her bicep, making you let out a laugh.

“You are always flexing, I swear.”

“I promise to not hurt your sister, at least intentionally.” Ona pulls you close, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

“Good. Good. Now, what kind of take out did you bring? I’m hungry.”

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso community #fcb femeni #barcelona femeni #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader

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