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starrynights-sunnyskies · 1 month

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mine to protect ⋆*·ﾟmisa x reader

the night you thought would be a lighthearted, fun time with some of misa's friends, ends with a different kind of bang you had originally anticipated. but when things go awry, you can always expect your girlfriend to be there.

(or; the mentioned club incident from mine to save)

tw: intimidation and harassment by a drunken fool. dw, sweet ending.

It was meant to be nothing more than a fun night out with friends now that most of them were in the area. It had been a spontaneous text by Jenni that had spurred the entire thing. The group had never been that good at planning things far in advance, with schedules changing and always full, but it seemed that most girls had at least a few hours to spare this Saturday night. And, well, while Misa’d had the day off entirely, she’d also mentally written your name in all caps in her agenda for this weekend as soon as she heard you’d be coming to see her. She hadn’t even realised the group chat had exploded until grabbing her phone to snap a picture of the two of you all cuddled up, something to add to her folder with pictures to cheer her up whenever you two were apart. It took her quite some scrolling to catch up, and when she saw the text that had initiated it all, she caught herself feeling a little indifferent. On one hand, she would love nothing more than to spend some time with her friends. On the other, she’d see most of them again soon during national camp. Plus, there was never enough time to spend with you. Sure, there were quick days in between matches you’d play near the other, but entire days spent together without worrying about the time were scarce. It was exactly why she’d been able to lose track of time for as long as she had, having you wrapped against her in her arms was far too valuable to her. You squirmed against her front, having lost your comfortable position as soon as Misa had shifted to reach for her phone.

With the curtains closed and the lights dimmed, Misa had turned her apartment into a cozy little bubble after the dinner you had made together. It was as if you were the only two people on earth. But that wasn’t a foreign feeling whenever Misa was around. Quite the contrary— you often suffered from severe tunnel vision whenever she was near. Even when she wasn’t in your direct line of sight, your heart would still quicken and there’d be an extra pep in your step and a shine to your eyes. Like a fool in love, you would perk up whenever she walked in, sought your eyes and sent you the most heartwarming grin. That grin of hers, whether the cheeky one or the adorable kind, had been one of the things that had instantly given her some of your heart. The two of you hadn’t even been properly introduced yet, she’d only acknowledged your presence for the time being with that damned grin, and you had felt your pulse quicken and your cheeks flush nonetheless. And then the nerves! She’d made you feel so nervous and giddy like some silly school girl whose crush finally decided to look her way. You’d felt pathetic when thinking about the encounter for the longest time until Misa had admitted to you that she’d put off introducing herself to you that day for so long, simply because she had been too nervous herself. It left you feeling a little alienated, knowing that you had been the one to leave your usual self-assured girlfriend feeling so insecure. Then you felt a little smug because of the exact same reason. Only you could make Misa feel that way, and that knowledge left you feeling euphoric.

A whine escaped your mouth as your back softly slid from Misa’s front to the back of the couch, watching as your girlfriend leaned sideways to type away on her phone that was still plugged in to charge.

Misa side-eyed you, and although she tried to hide it, you saw the tiny smirk wanting to pull at the corners of her lips. She quickly bit her lip before she could be caught red-handed, planted a kiss on your temple and pulled you against her again. Her fingers absentmindedly snaked underneath the sweatshirt you were wearing, one of hers, and softly brushed the skin of your waist. She typed away again.

“I think I like you better with both your hands on my waist.” You mumbled against her neck, feeling her muscles there tighten, signalling she was probably smirking again. Or still.

“Hm?” Misa quickly locked her phone, “Like so?” She turned to you, the arm around you pulling you back onto her lap, the hand on your waist snaking up your back and her free hand squeezing your thigh.

“Or more like this?” She looked up at you, eyes full with a type of fire that could only stem from pure love and adoration. Her nose nuzzled against your cheek before she planted some light kisses along your jaw. Your arms went to their designated spot around her neck as she continued to leave feather-like kisses along your skin. You let out a small sigh, bliss and a sense of belonging coursing through you. She softly pulled your face to hers by your chin and pushed you flushed against her before her lips found yours. Slow pecks and open mouthed kisses quickly deepened as your lips pressed against one another’s furiously and full of passion. But as you felt Misa start to play with the hairs in your neck, she also slowly untangled herself from your grip. Frowning, you quickly reared back.

“This is probably the worst time to tell you that the others are on their way here?” A child-like kind of guilt flashed across her face, and for a second, she couldn’t even look you in the eye. She knew how sacred the time you had together was, how scarce it was, too. Not to mention how much you had looked forward to spend each and every minute together, and make use of it as well.

“What? What do you mean? Who?!”

“Well, Jenni, Patri… Leila. Ale and Olga will be there, too, and all the others… if they have time.”

You rose an eyebrow, studied her face, “…there? Where?!”

Misa sighed and rubbed her brows, “They want to go out to some club since most of us are in town, but I had my phone off the entire day and only now read that they’re going to pick me up…but-”

“-they don’t know I’m with you?”

She nodded sheepishly, “I just texted them that, but Jenni said that’s even better… that it will be more fun with you around, anyway.”

You whined again and threw your head against her shoulder. She patted your back, “I know. Feeling the same.”

“Text them again. Say we’re out.”

“I could… if I hadn’t just told them I was not planning on leaving the apartment with you.”

“What’d they say?”

She sent a toothy grin your way, “Apart from hollers and dirty comments?”

“Oh God, I don’t want to know.”

You felt Misa’s hand start to roam beneath your shirt again. Her voice turned to a whisper, “Anyway, we don’t have to open when they knock.” You sidled up to her again, liking how your knees were on either side of her legs, giving you the control to keep her in place. “We’ll just pretend they’re not there so they’ll go, vale?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I like that idea,” You whispered back.

“Yeah? Think you can do that?” Misa cupped your cheek and tilted her head in challenge. You hummed noncommittally, having only eyes for her and the way she was looking at you, how she softly scratched your back with her cold fingertips and how it sent shivers down your spine already. You were going back in for the kiss when rapid knocking sounded from the hall. The two of you shared a look, before Misa whispered against your lips, “Ready to put your money where your mouth is?”

She kissed you, hard, stopping you from answering her as her hands raked across your body to all the places she knew would work you up.

The knocking commenced, but this time, it was a little harder to ignore,

“Police! Open up!” Jenni’s voice boomed from the other side of the door. You felt Misa pause, but she quickly continued and pulled you closer when Jenni’s muffled voice sounded again, “We received a phone call about a possible house fire. Neighbours said it was getting too hot, so we came by to check.”

You knew that all of Misa’s neighbours on this floor were probably hearing this as well, but when your head slowly turned to face the noise, Misa softly pulled it back to her.

Now you heard another voice, more banging on the door and some laughter, too, “We’re looking for two fugitives who could be inside. Both attached to the hip, can’t keep their hands off one another and are probably the reason behind the fire.”

"Yeah, we really need to get in to blow it out!"

Misa loudly cursed and dropped her hands, squeezing your waist before sliding you onto the couch with the utmost care before standing up.

“I won’t be long.” She spoke gently, in contrast to the way she grumpily walked to the hallway. “Going to fucking kill them-” She muttered under her breath.

You heard the voices less muffled now. Jenni, Leila and Patri, indeed. But their voices grew louder and you heard the front door close.

“Some fugitive you are, opening the door to the police.”

“I’d rather have that than have my building know I’m friends with idiots.”

“They already know, Leila and Patri ding-dong-ditched all the numbers downstairs at the intercom, that’s how we got in.”

You quickly made yourself presentable and perched yourself on the edge of the couch.

“There she is!” The trio stood in the living room, grins and smirks on their faces, with a less-than-amused Misa finally trailing behind them, mouthing an apology to you.

“You’ve found me… the arsonist.” You smiled softly, trying to calm the whiplash you felt from having gone from a heated make out with your girlfriend to this clownish trio standing before you.

Patri looked around, “No flames yet, so looks like we came just in time.”

You saw Misa roll her eyes and mock Patri, who saw you giggle and quickly turned around to face an innocently smiling Misa. Leila walked over and pulled you off the couch, “Go doll up, I'll help you pick something out but we gotta go, we gotta go! No time to waste! You can go and fire up the dance floor later, dale!”

You passed Misa as Leila pushed you down the hall, the defender’s giggles filling the room. They were having way too much fun with this, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh as well when you saw the big grump your girlfriend had become.

“Don’t kill them,” You mouthed to her before disappearing in the bedroom.

“You too,” Jenni plucked at Misa’s hoodie with disdain, “Come on! You’ve got to show them you’re a power couple.”

“I don’t have to prove anyone anything, let alone that we’re good together.”

Patri rolled her eyes, “Look, we can’t have you slacking in trainers when she’ll be looking like a snack. Or do you want everyone to go up to her, not knowing she’s with you?”

Misa threw her head in her neck and groaned, “First you go and ruin our time and now you’re having me play dress up? Really, woman?”

“You don’t want to spend time with your friends anymore?” Jenni gasped in mock outrage, then laughed, “Come on, you can thank me later when she sees you and can’t keep her eyes off you.”

A huff left Misa’s mouth as she threw herself on the couch, reaching for the remote to stop the show you had been watching so you wouldn’t miss anything. She watched as Patri gave her a look, “What?”

“Y/N’s committed to it, now you have, too.” Patri crossed her arms.

“More like had to surrender herself,” She squinted her eyes at Patri, “But alright, I’ll bite.” She sighed, realising they were not taking no for an answer tonight. “My closet is the first door to your right. You sprung this upon me, so you go and have a look, I can’t be bothered.”

“Aw, big baby-” Patri stuck her tongue out, receiving the finger from Misa. She plopped down next to her on the couch while Jenni hurried off towards the closet, loving the power she had been given.

“You really love her, no?” Patri teased, to which Misa only rose an eyebrow. “The real deal, yeah? I can see it.”

“Patri-”

“No, listen! I love it! It’s good to see you so happy and in love. A little weird, too.”

“Don’t go all soft on me now.” Misa tried to nudge Patri away, who was giving her air kisses, but her face had softened nonetheless.

“Hold onto that, don’t let her go.” Patri shrugged matter of factly and pulled the remote out of Misa’s hands, “Just don’t you dare forget about your idiotic friends.”

Misa smiled, genuinely, “Never. To both things.”

After Jenni had returned with an armful of clothing and threw it at Misa to put on, Leila and you had returned not long after.

“Yes, that’s what we’re talking about!” Jenni looked at how well you’d cleaned up, returning your smile. She came over, seeming to fix your outfit a bit, only to quietly mutter to you, “Got her to wear the national team blazer I know you love on her.” She winked, then turned to the others. “Let’s go!”

Misa walked up to you, her fingers immediately locking with yours, and you couldn’t help but look her up and down feeling completely mesmerised. She was indeed wearing the black blazer you absolutely loved. Beneath it, she wore an elegant green V-shaped satin top that stopped right beneath her belly-button, looking as soft as the sun-kissed skin beneath. And with a pair of black tailored trousers to match, she looked absolutely ravenous.

The smirk on her face had grown as she’d watched you take her in.

“Ready to go?” She squeezed your hand, pulling you back to earth, the dangling of her car keys taking you out of your daydream.

“You’re not driving with us?” Leila asked, seeing the shake of Misa’s head, “Then why did we pick them up?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing ever since you knocked on the door.” Misa muttered softly, playfully, having made peace with their predicament now, “But no, I want to be able to leave when we’ve had enough. I’m not letting you guys trap us again.”

You quickly plucked the keys out of her hand, then out of her reach when she tried to get them back, “Nah-ah, you always drive me everywhere. I want you to be able to have fun tonight. I’m not feeling like drinking anyway. Really, it’s okay.” You quickly added when you saw the look on her face. Misa was having a battle with herself. She hadn’t liked this turn of events, at all. It wasn’t the night she had planned and she knew you hadn’t wanted this either. For you to then sacrifice your night for her, felt wrong. If anything, she would have wanted you to have fun.

“If you’re wondering whether I can have fun without alchohol, then that’s a challenge I’ll happily take.” You shot at her when you saw the gears in her head turning for too long. She looked up, immediately, saw the playful pout on your lips and quickly planted a kiss on them. She knew this was you wanting to treat her tonight, a fair exchange for all the times she had put you first.

“Okay, let’s go, then.”

You walked out of the apartment with Misa in hand, but not after hearing the trio mutter,

“Ten euros on them leaving within the hour,”

“Pussy, make it forty... on them not even making it to the place.”

“You’re not having lots of faith in them… I call two hours, but make it forty-five.”

“Why not round it up to fifty?”

“I like odd numbers.”

“Fifty is an odd number, you doof.”

You bit your lip, realising you could have some fun with the bets they had placed.

Finding an available parking spot in the city centre on a Saturday night had deemed more of a nightmare than initially anticipated. You should’ve just gotten an Uber, but you sensed Misa had done this on purpose. She’d insisted on driving the way there, after all, but you knew it was because she often really calmed down when behind the wheel. Especially at night, with the sun down. Only this hadn’t been the most relaxed drive.

“Mierda-” She cursed as she rounded another corner, seeing a car park right in the spot she’d had her sights on.

“I’m beginning to think you took the car on purpose just so you could use the no-parking-spots excuse and drive back home.”

“Don’t tempt me,” She laughed, her hand going to your thigh as she put the car in reverse, turning back around. You grabbed it, giving it a squeeze. She squeezed back, her eyes still fixated on the road behind her before turning the car back in first gear. It was a thing the two of you often did, the squeezing, both to ground each other when things got hard, and to remind one another you were in this together. Never alone. It was something Misa had kind of initiated after a particularly rough night you’d once had. It had been the first time she’d seen you so distraught… the first time she’d seen you cry, for that matter. It had all felt a little unknown to her. She was out of her element, physically aching at how she didn’t know how to get that smile of yours to reappear again. So she’d held you, squeezed you to the beating of her heart in an attempt to calm and comfort you, trying to get you back to her. It had worked, and every other time after that.

“There!” You perched in your seat, finger pointing to the spot that had just cleared up.

“I know,” Misa muttered, almost disappointed, “Hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

“Misa-” You let out a loud laugh, loving how her eyes immediately flitted to yours, amusement on her face. She parked the car, turned it off, then turned to you.

“You know, we could just stay here.”

“And?”

“I think you know.”

“No-” You pointed a finger at her, grabbed your clutch and pressed the release button of both your seatbelts, “I’m not losing. And you’re coming with me.”

“Losing what?”

But you had already playfully ran in front of her, turning around with a smirk on your face, daring her to catch up.

“Do you even know where it is?”

“I’ll follow the music!” You yelled back.

Misa shook her head and bit her lip. You were one hell of a woman.

The club was packed, dark and filled with people who’d already drank more than just a club soda. But perhaps that was exactly the fun of places like these. People came here to let loose. To have fun. To dance without inhibitions, to mingle and meet strangers. After stuffing both yours and Misa’s ID’s back into your clutch, she pulled you close to her. It felt safe to feel the weight of her hand on the small of your back, to know she was there, caring about your safety. She cleared your way through the crowd, passed the dance floor, the bar, the bathroom before walking up to the booths lined up to the wall in the back. You recognised the familiar laughter before you saw the group. They all cheered when they realised you two had made it, after all.

“Hey, what took you so long? Pay up, Leila!” Jenni laughed as she pulled the two of you into their booth. “Patri and Ale are getting drinks, Mapi and Ona went to the restroom.” She quickly informed you two before motioning towards the bar.

You gave Olga and Ingrid a hug as best as you could over the tables filled with empty glasses. Conversation soon flowed freely. Granted, it was a little distracting that Misa’s hand rested on your leg, squeezing now and then as she fell into an idle chat with Alexia once she returned with the drinks. You sipped from your alcohol free beverage, actually finding yourself enjoying reconnecting with these girls more than you thought you would after having been plucked away from your Misa-bubble.

Olga suddenly stood up, “I want to dance. Dance?” She turned to you, then to Ingrid.

“Dance.” You nodded, sliding across Misa’s lap and out of the booth.

“Don’t get lost.” Misa smiled playfully, keeping hold of your hand until the distance made it fall back onto her lap.

“There they go, the girlfriends.” Mapi sighed dreamily, her eyes on Ingrid who blew a kiss over her shoulder.

Misa took a deep breath, watching as the three of you laughed and walked away. “I love her.”

“Yeah,” Alexia agreed, her eyes following Olga, breathless.

The song had just changed as you made your way through the crowd, the three of you holding hands so as to not lose each other. Some people who hated the new song walked away, the dispersing crowd helping Olga to find her way to the centre of the dance floor. Olga’s cheer when Shakira’s Dare’s Club mix started to play egged Ingrid and you on and the music quickly helped you move around as if no one was watching. Two girls dancing close to the three of you joined, matching your childlike joy at being able to let go after a long week of work. The neon lights flashing above you were hot on your face as you moved around. But you couldn’t care less, you were having fun. A MEDUZA song started, followed up by something from Alok’s and Tiësto’s repertoire and soon, even without alcohol, the songs started to blur together. Olga pulled you close, quickly snapping a pic, then another one as Ingrid and the two girls joined. It was fun, and you wished it would never end. Your bladder had other plans.

“Gotcha!” Olga yelled over the music when she realised what you were signing at, grabbed Ingrid’s hand and pulled the three off you out of the crowd as swiftly as she’d weaselled her way in.

At the sink, the three of you giggled.

“I needed that.” Ingrid puffed out a breath, dapping at her neck with a wet towel, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the club.

“The dancing or the break?” You nudged her, watching her reaction in the mirror as you washed your hands.

“Both.”

“Fair.” Olga nodded with a giddy smile, sitting atop the counter, handing you a paper towel from the dispenser beside her.

“Oh-” Ingrid’s face suddenly fell, “We never said goodbye to those girls.”

“Aren’t we planning on going back out there?”

You turned to Olga and watched her hop off, “I like the way you think. I’ll text the wives that we’re still A-OK.”

“I’m just imagining them sitting in that booth, so lost.” Ingrid laughed.

“Then we should probably give them something to keep them entertained, no?”

Olga opened her mouth, both surprised and impressed, “I like the way you think, again. Ready?”

You linked arms, the heat immediate and slapping in your face as the door of the restrooms opened. Someone had just thrown up close-by, not making it to the toilet in time, that much was clear by the acidy smell in your nose. Or perhaps it was just the mixture of sweat, hormones and bitterly spilt drinks. You passed the bar, pushed through the crowd just enough so that the booth where your friends sat came into view. Olga pulled out her phone, turning the flash on and waving it around. Another waving flash came into view and you got a little closer. The girls from before had left apparently, but the three of you had fun either way as you danced again, interacting with the women in the booth now and then. Patri, Ona and Leila joined- Alexia was very clear that her seat was too comfortable to leave- Jenni danced over with her drink- Mapi opened her arms as Ingrid excused herself and joined her girlfriend in the booth, and Misa… Misa was staring right at you. You couldn’t quite tell if she was mesmerised by how independent, free and joyous you looked, like a little kid on the first day of summer, if she was trying to figure out what she’d ever done to deserve you, or if she was fantasising about all the things she could’ve been doing with and to you had you never left the apartment. She hadn’t even seem to notice the finger you’d used to try and beckon her towards you. You quickly ducked into view of the video Leila was making, then returned your gaze to the booth. Misa wasn’t there. But you knew exactly where she was when two familiar hands snaked across your waist from behind, her breath fanning your neck as you heard her hoarse voice from having had to talk above the music, “You look most beautiful when you’re happy.”

Your smile widened so much, it stretched your face. You grabbed her hands, swaying your hips along to the rhythm and against hers, loving how her grip tightened. She rested her chin on your shoulder, “God, you’re the best thing to have happened to me.” She murmured against your neck. She’d long abandoned her blazer and your hands traveled up her tattooed arms before you turned around in them, giving her nose a peck.

“I’m quite sure that should be my line.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, tilted her head, “Are you now? What’s that based on?”

You hummed, your arms snaking around her neck, hers falling to your hips, “Instinct.”

“What else is that instinct of yours telling you?”

You pursed your lips, not missing the look in her eyes, the message, the request.

“Thought you could read me so well?”

Misa’s lips cracked into a grin— you had her trapped.

“I think it’s telling me to get you another glass of whatever you were drinking. Don’t want you fainting on me. You’re my ride home, after all.” She walked away backwards, eyes never leaving yours, knowing exactly what she had just done by throwing you a rope to hold onto, and then pulling it out of your reach. In the corner of your eye, you could see Patri sneaking a twenty euro bill towards Jenni. That meant one hour had passed. You’d love to see the looks on their faces as you’d ask them all your share of the money for having lasted more than two hours. If you could make it that far. Misa was making it incredibly hard to resist. You excused yourself and went back to the booth, being greeted by Alexia, who scooted over.

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked in amusement, her eyebrow raised.

“Oh, yes. You, not so much?” You guessed, sensing this wasn’t exactly Alexia’s typical Saturday night.

“I am. Look at her.” A dreamy look coated her eyes as she watced a laughing Olga, having fun. “That’s all that matters.” She mumbled, but got a little embarrassed at the soft look you were giving her, “Anyway, shouldn’t you follow Misa, or something?” She chuckled, her tone a little too suggestive.

You froze. Oh God, had Misa meant something else with her whole ‘you’re looking parched’ act? Was it some sort of euphemism? Was she waiting in the bathroom now? She couldn’t be, right?

“No…” You breathed out in doubt.

Alexia laughed at the flabbergasted look on your face, “Sure looked like it from here… the way she was admiring you. Anyway, you go have fun, you youngsters,” She playfully rolled her eyes.

You stood up, a little self-conscious now as you fixed your clothes. Patri asked if you were okay by sending a questionable thumbs up your way, one you returned with a nod and smile. Gods, okay, what the hell. You were young indeed, why not enjoy it while it lasted.

Okay, the bathrooms. Right.

You felt yourself growing a little hotter as you pushed through the crowd, thoughts racing and your heart speeding up, but you turned back around when a sweaty hand on your arm stopped you. A man stood there. Mid-twenties, ash-blonde hair and a far-off look in his dark eyes as he smiled at you. You gave him a questioning glare, pulling your arm towards your body, but his hold wouldn’t budge. He leaned in, and you immediately reared back feeling incredibly uneasy. You realised he’d leaned in to tell you something,

“Never seen you here before.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, then pulled at your arm again. He let go but put his hand on your shoulder and stood beside you, pointing towards the crowd with his drink in hand, “Wanna join me and my friends?”

“No, I’m good.” You give him another tight-lipped smile. Stay kind. Stay patient. Then slip away. You could hear yourself say over and over again in your head. You tried to step around him, but he blocked your way and his grip tightened.

“Come on, please!” He gave you a playful smile and finally let go, allowing you to breathe again. He put his hands together and pouted, “For me?”

You stepped to the right. He stepped to the right. Between his steps towards you, and your steps back, the panicked shimmying had left you with your back against one of the walls in a vacant spot of the club. Most people here were ready to leave, already too far gone to notice your predicament.

“I’d really rather not.”

“Ah, why not? I’ll buy you a drink.”

One step closer. Another step back. You hit the wall.

You shook your head, “No, thank you.”

“I’ve seen you dancing with your girls, come on, you can take them, too.”

“No, thank you. Let me go, now.” He had expertly draped his entire arm across your shoulders now, pulling you into his side, against his shirt as he dragged you a few steps back into the crowd on the outskirts of the dance floor, planning to disappear with you in the sea of people.

“Ah, Dirty Little Virgin then, I see-” He let you go, but only slightly, the smirk on his face making you sick, “I’ll buy that cocktail for you, my treat, I’m sure you’ll like it, come on. My friends are there, you’ll like them.”

Panicked, your eyes darted around you, hoping that anyone who was watching would notice you were in distress and that you did not belong to this man.

Well, so much for being young and seizing the moment, you thought.

You fought against his hold, hating how your head pressed against his clammy shirt. You couldn't breathe.

“Joder, hijo de puta, keep your filthy fucking hands off of her, you sick fuck-” You turned your head around as much as you could in his drunken but firm grip, and saw your girlfriend push two drinks into the chest of the nearest bystander.

“Now.” She growled and approached, teeth baring, seething, fuming, already working on prying his arm off you with mighty strength. He let go in a painful protest.

“Fucking hell-” He took offence, stepping in front of you as if Misa was the one he needed to protect you from.

“Step back and walk away.” She spoke through gritted teeth. You saw her clench her fist, all the anger in her body collecting in there, and you feared what the end result would be if she’d release it.

“Fucking girl telling me how to live my night-”

Misa’s eyes then quickly flickered to yours, softening slightly, needing the confirmation that you were alright. Shaken up, yes, but Misa was here, so all would be fine. You trembled but nodded.

For your sake, she clenched her fists tighter, hoping to lock her anger there, not wanting this to get out of hand. But when he turned around and made a move to pull you with him again, she pushed him against his broad shoulders. He was tall, fit, towered over her, and yet Misa seemed not intimidated in the slightest. He lost some of his balance that he’d already lost to drinking the entire night, and clashed against some dancing bystanders. They scowled, scoffed, and stopped to see what was happening. More people seemed to realise something was up and turned to stare. You looked around at how many people were already looking your way. Your eyes caught those of your friends in the crowd, who saw the look in your eyes and immediately brought the entire situation to the attention of the others before they tried to make their way over through the partying crowd.

“Fucking girl has more manners than you or I would’ve knocked you out already.”

He huffed, took a step closer to her, abandoning his quest to get you to himself.

“Yeah? Think you can beat me?”

Misa tilted her head, half accepting the challenge and not backing down from this display of alpha behaviour, “I can. Don’t want to. So walk off.” She dug her fingers into his chest, making him take a step back. He immediately closed the distance again, their faces incredibly near to each other. You were finally able to walk away from him, making sure to walk around him in a large radius. When Misa saw you in her peripheral, her arm stood out and you immediately took the invitation to stand behind her. But instead of safely tucking you closer, she pushed you further away, and fear suddenly struck you.

“Misa, come-” You softly tugged at her arm, afraid of what she'd to to him... what this man might do to her. Not that you thought she couldn’t handle him, please no. You just had to be realistic. And given his size and seeming strength, you weren’t sure how much damage this drunken fool would do to your girlfriend before she’d inevitably take him down.

“Afraid?” He taunted, standing way too close for both your comfort, but Misa didn’t waver one bit.

“Of a teenage boy throwing a hissy fit because he got rejected?”

You closed your eyes, realising Misa wasn't making it better when you saw the anger on his face.

“Then put your fucking money where your filthy mouth is.”

Your face paled as he bumped into her with his chest, but Misa barely budged. Oh, how different you thought your night would be the last time you’d heard that sentence.

“Misa, please.” You pleaded, "Let's just go home." You felt her relax, lean back as if she realised you were right. If only he had just shut up after that.

His eyes went to yours again, an unreadable look in his eyes. He huffed, “Oh, I see.”

“Good,” Misa nodded, standing in front of you when he approached, “Then you should see she’s taken and not interested and quite frankly, disgusted by you. Fucking move!” She rose her voice and pushed him when he looked at you, readying himself to think of what would no doubt be an insult or a slur.

A couple sets of arms and hands softly pried you backwards, to safety. Leila, Olga and Ingrid stood behind you, faces serious but gentle as they turned to you, pulling you out of harm’s way. You noticed Jenni, Alexia and Mapi were trying to pry Misa away from the man, making her see it was a useless thing to fight with a drunken fool who only enjoyed egging her on. But she was not backing down. Not now as the words left his mouth. Not only that— he had hurt you, intimidated you and made you feel afraid. Drunk or not, she was not going to leave without teaching a lesson to the one who had wiped the smile of her lover’s face. You watched as Misa’s friends pulled at her, pried at her, tried to talk in on her, tell her it was not worth it, but all you could see was the constant clenching of her fists. This was bad.

You rubbed your temples, burying your head in your hands before looking back at Misa, “This is bad, get her out of there-” You muttered, stopping the trembling of your fingers by nibbling on them. Someone stroked your back as another hand with a glass of water was pushed in your face. You knew they meant well, but you couldn’t rest and calm down until Misa was fine, preferably a thousand miles away from the fool.

“Fucking disgusting.” He used her words against her and spat at the ground. Within an instant, yelling ensued as you saw flying limbs and people dashing away. You jumped forward, a rush of instinct telling you to protect what you loved before arms kept you where you were, putting you down onto a stool, not wanting you to get hit in the process or to upset Misa even more. Leila went to stand in front of you, obstructing your view while glancing behind her now and then.

“It’s okay- she’s okay- they’re all okay.” Ingrid reassured you, her eyes following her own girlfriend with worry.

“Did he hit her?”

“No.” Olga immediately shook her head, a little too quickly for your liking.

“She him?” You wondered, looking back up at Leila.

“Don’t think so.”

You rubbed your knees and dropped your head.

You could hear yelling.

“Hey- no, think of your career!”

“Fuck my career, think of my girl, you mean?! I’ll never put my fucking career before my girl. I fucking fight for what I love.”

“Hey- I know, I know, but she wouldn’t want you to do this.”

You realised the girls around you were joined by Ona and Patri as they started to whisper, then whisked you away.

“Time to go.”

“She’s behind us.” Patri immediately spoke when she saw the protest in your eyes.

“Say that the fuck again!? You made a fucking mistake laying a hand on her, you hear me?! Look me in the eyes and say that again!”

You glanced over Ingrid’s shoulder and saw Mapi, Jenni and Alexia forcefully shepherd a furious Misa along between them, who threw insult after insult over her shoulder at the man being held back by security. She looked as fine as she could given the situation. You saw no cuts, swelling or blood. At least not on her face. And with each passing step, the distance between her and the man grew. That calmed you down. For now.

One of the bouncers walked behind your group, making sure you left without reconnecting with the man outside, telling them your night was over and to not return. Misa got mad at that, saying they should ban the man for sexual harassment, call the police, even. The bouncer only signed her to calm down, then told her they’d figure it out once they left so the fight wouldn’t commence in the streets. He kept a close watch on you all even as you exited the street. When the music boomed further in the distance and the streets turned vacant, Misa seemed to snap out of her anger and rushed through the group, hands immediately replacing those of Olga and Ingrid as she pushed you against her chest.

“You’re okay now.” She kept muttering, and you realised she probably did so to herself, as well. Then, “I’m sorry.” Over and over again.

“I was worried you’d hurt yourself.” You let Misa squeeze the air out of you, burying yourself in her embrace.

The biting tone to her voice returned, “Well, I was worried he’d hurt you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Okay.” Misa put you at an arm’s length in front of her, examining your eyes to see if you were lying, then pushed the stray hairs from all the dancing out of your face.

“But I really want to go home now.”

Misa’s heart broke at your voice. You sounded so disappointed… defeated, that your night had ended like this. This was not the night you’d had in mind, and it didn’t seem like you were leaving with those forty-five euros either.

Misa also couldn’t help but feel something for the way you had called her place home.

She grabbed your hand, squeezed it twice, I’m here, you’re okay, and turned to the others. She quickly thanked them for looking after you and making sure she hadn’t just killed someone, seeing you couldn't, and then pulled you into her as you walked back to where you’d parked the car. Misa softly pried the clutch out of your hands and dug around for her car keys.

“No- I said I’d drive. I haven’t drank anything. I'm fine, I can do it.” You protested, only for Misa to open the passenger door and help you in, even going as far as to put on your seatbelt. She planted a kiss on your cheek.

“I haven’t drank anything either.”

“I told you I would-”

“I can have fun without alcohol, too, believe it or not. And I was having a good night before-” She stopped herself, shrugged it off and got in the car herself, "Well, I didn't want to drink too much anyway, because then I wouldn't be able to protect you the way I want."

“You do too much for me.” Your little voice sounded in the quiet of the car once she had driven off.

“There’s no such thing when it comes to you.” Misa kept her eyes on the road, her hand squeezing your knee to comfort you.

“But you never let me do anything back. It’s give and take, you know?”

“I don’t see our relationship as transactional. I do things for you because I love you. That doesn’t mean I need anything in return.”

It was silent for a while, until you spoke up.

“‘Kay, good. Because I’m in your debt after tonight and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do such a thing back to you. He was big.”

“His ego, maybe.” Misa snorted, finally being able to see the humor of it all now that she had you safe and sound beside her.

You didn’t laugh along, instead wondering, “Did you hit him?”

“Wouldn’t be sitting here if I did.”

You thought of the bouncers and security, “Yeah, okay.”

“I wanted to, though.” She turned to look at you, “Said some real nasty shit about you, us, then swung at me. He was so drunk that he almost hit Mapi. That’s when security stepped in and held him back. Couldn’t get a punch in even if I wanted to.”

“So he didn’t hit you either?”

She stopped at the intersection, “No, love, I’m fine.” She grabbed your clenched hand, softly pried her fingers through and planted a kiss on the back of it. She didn’t need to ask if you were fine, she could see you were still a little shaken, the worry for her only slowly disappearing.

“You could have ruined your entire career back there.”

Misa shrugged, driving off again, “So?”

“So?! Everything you worked for?! Your entire life?!”

“That’s only slightly true. You’re my entire life. Do you really I think I would have picked it over your safety?” Fuelled by passion for you, she continued, “Listen, football is everything to me. I breathe it, I am it, but at the end of the day, you are what keeps me holding on. You are what drives me, who I want to make proud, who I think of at the start and end of each day. Football became my everything when I grew up and I had a rough time, when I didn’t have a lot of people in my corner. It’s like a best friend. It filled up some of the loneliness I felt. Gave me a purpose, gave me friends, gave me something to focus on, something to enjoy. But you… I’m not sure I can even properly explain what you mean to me without making it sound too dramatic or cheesy, but it’s true. You are my everything. You are... this tangible kind of love, something I can hold and instantly feel relief, love, belonging…. You are joy when I see your smile, you’re my idea of a fun time whenever I hear you laugh. Your love is so big that I can even feel what you feel for me from miles away. That I’m wanted. That I'm yours completely. I’ve never been lonely a day in my life ever since we got together, not even when you are out of the country. I love you to your core.” She turned to you, finally daring to look into your eyes, “That’s why I don’t need anything in return. How can I want even more when you’ve already given me all of that?”

Tears prickled your eyes and your throat burned as you tried to hold them in. Misa was never one for grant speeches or declarations of love. She never needed to tell you how she felt about you when she already showed you. But this… it had moved you.

You could see she had played back her monologue in her head and grew a little embarrassed, her hands gripping the wheel and her eyes focusing on the road.

“Don’t forget that, okay?” She softly added.

She saw you wipe at your eyes and felt you move to her side, planting a teary kiss on her temple. She heard you whisper those three words, words that were spoken by everyone in the entire world to declare one’s love, and yet, even while so common, they still made her heart burst.

Misa smiled, “I love you, too.”

The two of you relished in the way your hearts swelled for a bit, until your chuckle filled the quiet car. She turned to you, amused yet confused all the same.

"Que?"

"I thought your whole 'leaving to get drinks' thing was a euphemism. I was on my way to the restroom, actually. Then I saw you with those drinks and God- I could slap-"

"Wait- you wanted to... with me... there?"

"I mean... I figured you-" You stopped.

Misa shook her head, telling you it was okay. She bit her lip, turned to you, her eyes flicking to your body, then to your face. She shrugged and turned back to the road, a smug smile on her face knowing you were hers to love.

"Can't say I hadn't thought about it, but I wanted them to lose, you know? And if we'd started that, I'd have dragged you back home to finish it."

You gasped, ignoring the flush of your cheeks at her confession, "You knew about the bets, too?!"

"They weren't exactly being secretive about it."

"Right?!"

"Having said that," Misa started to drum her fingers against the steering wheel and absentmindedly looked across the road, making it clear to you that her next statement wouldn't be as unserious, "Guess it's safe to say that if there'll ever even be a next time, I won't let you out of my sight all goddamn night. Maybe I can take you up on that offer then." You felt the squeeze on your leg and your hand found hers, squeezing back.

"I'm good on clubs for a while."

"Fine by me. That way we'll never have to leave the apartment again, no?" You pushed her away, seeing the suggestive look on her face, that of a teenager high on hormones.

"Don't you start getting ideas into that pretty head of yours, now."

She held up her hand in defeat, "Vale-" She laughed, then quieted down, her mood softening.

"Let's go home then."

She looked your way, then realised home was already sitting next to her.

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

#woso x reader #woso imagine #misa rodriguez one shot #misa rodriguez x reader

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copper-16 · 2 months

Text

Scary

Several things go amiss during an El Clásico, but it is nothing that cannot be fixed with a little love and bravery.

(a/n: This might be a stretch to the imagination, but let’s just pretend that all the RM/Barcelona games are played at bigger stadiums in this universe. Also Marta Cardona still plays at RM in this as well, because I said so <3)

Ingrid and Mapi had made a small list of rules regarding their daughter when she was born. Some of them included things like:

4. She would not attend any games at stadiums bigger than Johan Cryuff until she was three years old.

7. She would never go to a Spain camp or a Spanish national team game unless situations change drastically.

12. She would take turns being their mascot, unless it was a big event for one of their teammates, and they wanted Elena as their mascot.

All of them had been good additions to the list, and they had stuck to their guns on it. They were made for her safety, to make sure that she wasn’t overwhelmed or overstimulated as a young child, or put in situations that could negatively affect her as such a young child. They did not regret their choices, but it did lend itself to an interesting situation just a few weeks after Elena’s third birthday.

Ever since she had been born, all of the Barcelona vs. Real Madrid games had been played at large arenas, beyond the capacity that they wanted Elena to experience at such a young age. And just as they said, the toddler had never been to a Spain national team camp or game. She readily came to the Norwegian camps and games, but Mapi strictly forbade her from coming to Spains.

When the Spanish defender had made the decision to go back to the Spanish national team, it wasn’t something she had taken lightly. But Pina and Patri wished to go back, and the brunette both wanted to protect her friends, and play for her country again.

But hell would freeze over before she let her baby anywhere near that environment, near the coaches and structures that had played a hand in so much abuse, both physically and mentally.

It was better for Elena this way, and Mapi preferred it that way. But it also meant that several of the Real Madrid girls who Mapi wasn’t necessarily as close with, had never met Elena.

So when El Clásico is scheduled for early January at Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium, the mothers realize that it will be their first time getting to bring Elena to such an event. She had just turned three a few weeks ago, and they figured it was as good of a time as any to introduce her to the environment of a larger game, still safe with the two of them.

And as it turned out, Mapi was the one who got Elena as her mascot that day. Which meant that early in January, the center back stood in the starting eleven lineup with her daughter on her hip, bouncing her lightly as they waited to walk out onto the pitch.

Elena was slightly overstimulated, the roar of the crowd outside of the tunnel and the sheer size of the place around her slightly overwhelming for the young girl, so she was happy to cling to her mother’s side. She looked around at everything for a while, before settling on waving back at her Mama, who was standing in line behind her, holding the hand of another little boy.

Mapi waved forward at Misa Rodríguez and Marta Cardona, who were both pointing at Elena with excitement. The Barcelona defender smiled, rubbing her daughter’s back up and down softly as she nodded - confirming that the two players would get to meet the little girl today.

But it’s an exchange Elena misses entirely, only focusing fully back on her Mami when the players begin to walk out to the stadium properly.

It’s an early evening game, the sun just beginning to set as Mapi tickles Elena’s stomach as they walk out, pointing at all the fans and explaining everything to her daughter. The little girl tucks herself into the smaller defenders side, happily pressed up against Mapi as she takes everything in, curious if not a little anxious.

It’s the biggest environment she’s ever been in, but Mapi finds that their daughter settles quite quickly, waving at all the people as they stand in a line.

“Hola!” Elena calls out happily, and the brunette smiles as many of the fans wave back, well aware of who was in the defender's arms.

“I love you mi sol,” Mapi murmurs, pressing a kiss to her daughter's temple before she passes the little one to Irene, who would not be playing in the match, but rather resting. Ingrid comes over to kiss Elena’s forehead once before she runs toward the backline, leaving Mapi to jog after her, still looking at their daughter.

“Adios Mami, good luck!” Elena called out as Irene carted her away, remaining happily placed in the older defender's arms for the remainder of the game.

The game doesn’t end up being too hard of a match for Barcelona, with a scoreline of 5-0 in their favor. Ingrid had even scored one of their goals, a header off of a corner set piece they had played.

When the final whistle blew, Irene released Elena and watched carefully as she ran straight to Ingrid, who was closer to the little girl than her wife. The Norwegian turned easily, opening her arms as she crouched down, scooping the toddler up into her arms and pressing kisses all over her head.

“You won!” Elena cheered as she giggled, and Ingrid nodded, sweaty and tired but excited nonetheless. It had been a good match, and the crowd was rowdy and roaring around them, clearly equally as elated with the win.

“We did!” Ingrid responded happily as she bounced her daughter on her hip, clapping her hands together as best as she could as she held her daughter, looking around at her teammates with a big smile on her face.

The Norwegian headed toward the bench, intent on getting some water, when she was intercepted by one of the staff members.

“They need you for media,” she explained with a grimace, her voice urgent, and the dark haired woman nodded her head in understanding as she looked quickly toward her wife. The Spaniard was standing off toward their bench, talking to some teammates.

“Of course, let me just do a hand off real quick,” Ingrid explained, rushing over to place Elena down a few paces from where Mapi’s back was turned to them, as she hears her name being called more urgently. “You go over to Mami, okay Elena?” Ingrid explained as she brushed the little girl's sandy blonde curls back, and she received a small nod in response from her daughter.

“María!” Ingrid called out as she turned around, running over to where they needed her for media. But just as she called out and turned away, Mapi started walking forward, away from her daughter as she was called to meet with one of the staff members. Ingrid’s call for her wife is lost in the crowd, and suddenly Elena is left standing on the sidelines of the pitch, with neither of her parents really in sight.

The little girl looks around, hoping that someone in her Mami and Mama’s team will notice her standing all alone, but everyone is distracted. And the loud, rambunctious crowd that she didn’t mind so much when her Mami was by her side, suddenly seemed much scarier than it had a minute ago to the toddler.

Elena doesn’t know this stadium like she does Johan Cryuff, but there are similarities. She turns around, eyeing the tunnel that she finds similar to the one in Johan, and she makes a run for it, weaving through legs in her quest to get to somewhere a little more quiet and contained.

Once she gets there, she realizes that she’s maybe made a bit of a mistake. Because suddenly nothing really looks familiar, and the young girl struggles with what to do. At Johan, you turned right to get to the Barcelona changing room, so that’s exactly what she does.

The little girl is near close to tears, and desperately hoping that she’ll stumble across the locker room, or one of the Barcelona players that she knows. She’s simply kept walking, going down hallway after hallway, trying to find something or someone familiar. By the time she decides that she should turn back around, she’s so lost she doesn’t know how to get back out to the field, and there are tears beginning to brim in her eyes.

Elena comes to a halt in one of the intersections of a hallway as she realizes that she just wants her Mami and Mama, and she doesn’t know what to do. She isn’t the type to wander off, and she’s never been lost like this before. Armed with exactly no experience or skills in coping with such overwhelming feelings, the little girl can do nothing but burst into tears, which stream down her cheeks at a rapid pace as she stands there helplessly.

Misa had been pacing up and down an abandoned hallway in Lluís Companys, staving off tears of her own, her face red as tears brimmed in her eyes. She was frustrated with her performance, with her team's performance, and she needed a second to calm herself down before talking to her teammates or the press, she had decided.

What she didn’t expect, however, was to hear someone else burst into tears, in what sounded like the hallway down from her. Misa pauses, confused by how high pitched and small the noise sounded. It didn’t sound like one of her teammates, and when she rounds the corner, she is entirely unprepared for what she finds.

There is a toddler, a little girl standing alone in the completely empty hallway, her shoulders heaving with the force of her cries, her hands covering her face. She has a little Barcelona kit top on, with the number 23 on it but the last name León across it. The Madridista immediately knows who it is, but what she doesn’t quite understand is why Mapi León and Ingrid Engen’s daughter is sitting in the middle of a hallway on the away side of the stadium.

“Niña? Elena?” Misa calls out softly, walking toward the little girl, who looks up at her when she hears her name called.

Elena looks up, finding a woman she doesn’t know walking toward her, and the first emotion that pours through her is fear. The woman is tall, like Mama, but her face is flushed and she’s wearing an alarmingly bright red jersey and shorts that the young girl doesn’t recognize. Her hands are large, considering that they are encased in goalkeeper gloves, but Elena doesn’t quite realize they are just gloves in her stressed state.

All she registers is that there is a large, unknown woman walking toward her with big, scary hands, and if she was panicked before, it was nothing compared to now. She lets out a fearful squeak as she cowers from Misa, taking several unsteady steps back.

“Hey, it’s okay, I am not going to hurt you niña,” Misa promises, even though she herself is cringing at her words. She’s never felt more like a child predator than in this moment, despite her intentions being more than pure. The goalkeeper had been excited to meet Elena, even more so after the loss, honestly. All of the girls often spoke about how much they adored the little girl, how smiley and kind she was. Misa felt like she could use just a little bit of that energy after the frustrating loss.

And here the smiley little girl was, trying to get away from Misa because she was scared of her. It cracked the Spaniard’s heart right in half, and if she wasn’t upset before, she most definitely was now.

Elena looked behind herself, finally and thankfully spotting a familiar face that had just turned toward the hallway toward the two of them. The Spaniard and Norwegian’s daughter ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, beelining for the Barcelona player who had just turned the corner with Marta and Olga next to her.

Salma had just been coming back to talk to Misa with Marta when all the sudden she felt something slam into her legs, nearly sending her toppling over.

“What the hell—o Elena!” Salma quickly corrected, trying to take in the scene in front of her with complete confusion. The little girl was cowering behind Salma’s legs, holding onto the forward for dear life, practically shaking. Salma instinctively placed her hand over the little girl’s hair, smoothing her curls as she looked up to see Misa walking slowly toward them.

“Elena? What’s going on?” Salma asked helplessly, lost on what to do as she looked between the three Real Madrid players for some semblance of guidance.

Elena had always loved Salma, from when she was a baby. The forward never knew what to do with the little girl, especially when she was younger. She had no experience with children, and she found herself often stunted and awkward in her interactions with Mapi and Ingrid’s daughter, but Elena’s love for her transcended any superfluous worries or awkwardness Salma expressed.

“Scary,” Elena whispered as she pointed toward Misa timidly, her grip on Salma tightening as she tucked her head behind the young Barcelona player's legs. Salma looked up with a heartbroken expression, watching as Misa bit her lip to keep from crying, keeping her distance.

The goalkeeper knew that some people thought she was scary. She got it, she really did. She had an RBF that could probably win an award, and a very intense personality. But it was one thing for a conscious adult to call her scary, and another for a little girl who she had been so excited to meet to call her that. The goalkeeper's heart sank at the realization that this was how Elena was always going to remember her, as the scary woman who tried to kidnap her when she was three years old.

Salma looked between Olga and Marta, silently begging for help. She still had no clue what to do, and appeared to be rather paralyzed by indecision.

It’s Olga who crouches down so that she’s level with the little girl, her voice soft and kind.

“Are you lost niña?” The defender asked gently, and Elena poked her head out from its spot against Salma’s calf, nodding slightly. Her lower lip wobbled heavily, but she wasn’t actively crying, so they all took it as a win.

Elena regarded Olga kindly, if not a bit shyly. The two women with Salma were wearing white, nowhere near the angry red that the other, larger woman was, and the little girl didn’t find them nearly as frightening, all things considered.

“Come on, why don’t we take you back to your Mamis,” Olga decided, holding her hand out for the young girl. Elena took it carefully, but not before reaching for Salma’s hand, making sure that the forward was still holding onto her.

Salma sent the little girl what she hoped was an encouraging smile as they began to walk out toward the pitch. The Barcelona forward wound them down the confusing hallways, with Olga holding Elena’s other hand while Marta carefully wrapped her arm around the goalkeeper. Misa was fighting to keep it together as they all ventured back out to the stadium pitch together.

After a few minutes of walking, Elena let out a small whine, looking up at Salma with big, wet eyes.

“Carry?” She asked, letting go of Olga’s hand in favor of staring up at the tall forward hopefully, tugging lightly on her kit top. Salma looked around at the other girls, terrified and scared of disappointing the little girl. They all looked back at her expectantly in that moment, and she was struck with the fact that she was the one with the most experience with Elena, of the group. It both calms her and terrifies her at the same time, somehow.

“Uh…sure!” She laughed nervously, reaching down to pick Elena up, gripping her under her arms. The forward was used to dealing with the toddler when she was planted firmly on the ground, and she hadn’t carried the sandy blonde girl since she was a baby. She had been so scared to drop the baby that she had shook anxiously the whole time, until Mapi took pity on her and took her daughter back.

But she tries to remember how Mapi and Ingrid do it, settling Elena on her hip as she clings to the little girl for dear life. She would never forgive herself if she dropped her, and she knew she would never hear the end of it from the rest of the team if she did. They were all highly protective of her, a fact that they all prided themselves on.

As the five of them walked out toward the pitch, they had no idea the chaos that was awaiting them out on the field.

—

After her interview had ended, Ingrid had walked back over to her wife with a pep in her step, still overjoyed at the win and the goal she had scored.

Mapi wasn’t hard to find, standing with the assistant coach, discussing a few tactics from the game after he had called her over to talk about some of their defensive lapses. Their daughter was nowhere in sight, so the Norwegian assumed that Mapi had passed her off to one of their teammates, but when she looked around, she couldn’t see Elena anywhere.

“Who did you give Elena to?” Ingrid asked, a crease appeared in her forehead as her eyebrows furrowed together. Mapi looked back at her with equal confusion, shaking her head.

“You have Elena, not me. She went to you after the game,” the Spaniard insists, now beginning to grow confused. Ingrid’s eyebrows flew into her hairline at that statement, shaking her head.

“I gave her to you ten minutes ago, I sent her your way and called out to you,” Ingrid explains, and Mapi pales at the realization that she had never received her daughter.

“I did not hear you, and she never came over to me!” Mapi cried, looking around wildly for her daughter. When she cannot see her anywhere on the pitch, her worry only balloons. “Oh my god, she is lost. She is not here!” The brunette cried out, panic washing over her in waves as she realized what this meant.

The ironic thing was that generally, Ingrid was the anxious one between them. She was the one who worried for Elena, the one who baby proofed the house and took first aid classes and sat in the back of the car with her when she was the baby.

But Ingrid was also exceptional in a crisis, and this was no different.

Mapi, however? Not so good in a crisis, at least a non-football related crisis, that was.

“Oh my god, Ingrid, she could be anywhere!” Mapi pitched as she clawed at her chest, her throat tightening with anxiety as she whipped her head around, looking for any sign of the little girl.

“Do not panic Mapi, she has to be here somewhere. Come on, let’s go find her,” Ingrid insisted, forcing herself to remain calm as she pulled her panicking wife with her as she began to inform people, everyone scrambling to begin looking for the young girl.

They alerted security, sent people all over the stadium to look for her as the Norwegian drug her wife back toward the Barcelona bench.

“This was the last place I left her, so we should stay here. She’s around here somewhere, we just have to find her!” Ingrid insisted as she turned to Irene, who had come over as she got wind of the situation. Hot on the tails of the older defender is the Barcelona captain, looking close to tears herself.

“Is Elena really lost? Where could she have gone? We must find her!” Alexia cried, baby hairs escaping her ponytail as she looked around, clearly frazzled and stressed at the news of the curly haired little girl being lost.

“Yes she is gone–” Ingrid began, only to be cut off before she could even really start her sentence.

“Well we must search for her then!” Alexia interrupted, looking around wildly, her own panic growing.

“Alexia, this is not even your child! If anyone should be allowed to panic, it should be us!” Mapi interjected, her stress seeping into her tone as she gestured wildly with her hands. Alexia let out a huff of disapproval at that, clearly in disagreement.

“She is my goddaughter, I love her too!” Alexia insisted, the two squabbling uselessly as Ingrid watched on with an unimpressed expression.

“If I were not more aware I would assume that these two were the mothers, and not me,” Ingrid mumbled under her breath to Irene, who couldn’t resist letting out a small peal of laughter that she quickly masked as a cough when Mapi and Alexia looked toward her pointedly.

“Who knew that all it took to reduce La Reina and the fearless Mapi León into a puddle of stress was losing a toddler one singular time,” Irene joked back, where she was promptly met with more unimpressed looks from her teammates, and a chuckle from Ingrid.

But even the Norwegian, who was generally cool in a crisis, was beginning to grow worried as time stretched on. Her eyebrows remained furrowed together, her foot beginning to tap nervously as she looked around, letting out a nervous sigh.

“She’s going to be fine, Ingrid. She’s just wandered off somewhere, kids do it sometimes. We lost Mateo in the store once, and found him in the freezer aisle cuddling with some old lady's little dog,” Irene soothed, and Ingrid sent her a grateful smile, even if she didn’t look convinced. She knew the stories, she knew it was normal, but it didn’t make it any easier when it was her own child.

She just wanted Elena back in her arms, proof that she was safe and sound, and to not let her daughter out of her sight until she was twenty seven years old.

“How about we go check the locker room again?” Irene suggests, and the dark haired woman jumps at the opportunity to do something, nodding insistently.

“That’s a good idea,” Ingrid confirmed, and she was just about to head back with her fellow defender when she heard it.

“Mami! Mama!” Elena called out from her spot in Salma’s arms, and both Ingrid and Mapi were booking it toward their daughter as soon as they heard it. The forward was entirely unprepared for both the Spaniard and Norwegian to plow into her, raining kisses down onto her head as they plucked her from Salma’s arms. Mapi hugged Elena tightly to her, as Ingrid pressed into her space, both of them crowding their daughter with an abundance of love and relief, the panic washing off of them at the sight of their precious little girl back safely in their arms.

The forward flipped her braids over her shoulder in relief at the hand off, nearly stumbling over when Ingrid stepped away from her wife and daughter, pulling her younger teammate into a tight hug as Mapi cradled Elena to her chest.

“Thank you so much Salma,” Ingrid murmured in the space above the forward’s shoulders, and despite accepting the hug, the younger woman shook her head.

“It was Misa who found her,” Salma promised, and the dark haired woman wasted no time in moving toward the Real Madrid player, stepping into her space and immediately hugging the goalkeeper, regardless of the fact that they hardly knew one another. Elena looked up from her spot against Mapi to see her Mama moving toward the scary woman, and she let out a whimper as she turned, burrowing her face into Mapi’s sternum with fear.

As the panic subsides from her chest slowly, Mapi takes stock of the whole situation. Elena seemed scared of the Real Madrid players, cowering into her arms as Ingrid hugged Misa tightly. Everyone else seemed focused on Misa, with Salma, Olga, and Marta watching her wife and the Real Madrid goalkeeper. The goalkeeper seemed on the brink of tears, something that the center back assumed was because of the game.

She was informed otherwise when Marta approached her carefully, her voice soft as came close to the Barcelona defender.

“Misa found her in the hallway, but I think she caught the little one in a bad spot, and now I think she’s a little scared of her,” Marta explained, looking toward the Spanish goalkeeper with worry before looking back at the Barcelona center back. Misa was getting a pep talk from both Ingrid and Irene, to what appeared to be little avail, if the tears in her eyes were any indication.

Mapi nods slowly, rubbing her hand soothingly over Elena’s back, up and down softly. Her daughter is already a hundred times calmer, having regulated herself well in her Mami’s arms. That being said, Mapi knew they needed a few moments to regather themselves before they reintroduced her to Misa, if they could.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know. Give us a few minutes?” Mapi asked gently, and Marta nodded before leaving, heading back to her teammate's side.

It was just a few moments later that Ingrid appeared at her wife’s side, the Spaniard wordlessly passing her daughter to the Norwegian, who held her close and rained kisses down on her.

“It’s okay, we’re right here Elena,” Ingrid promised, her own worry and stress evaporating at the content little sigh their daughter let out as she was held tightly to the Norwegians side. It was after a few minutes of holding her that Elena leaned back, looking calmer, if not a little more worried.

“‘M sorry, got lost,” Elena explained gently, her lower lip wobbling as tears brimmed in her eyes again. Ingrid shook her head slightly, her words soft and soothing.

“You do not have to be sorry, Elena. Just try to stay close to me or Mami next time, or someone you know, si? We do not want you to get lost where we cannot find you, because that would make us very scared, okay?” Ingrid explained carefully, and when she finished Elena nodded, a small smile finally appearing on her face as she settled in her mothers arms, back to the happy little girl she normally was. That was something wonderful Ingrid and Mapi both loved about their daughter being so small, how resilient she always was in situations like this.

Mapi looked back over toward Misa, her heart breaking when she saw that the tears had broken through finally, her head buried in her hands.

Elena looked from her mother to the Real Madrid goalkeeper, her little eyebrows worried together at the sight.

“Mami, is she okay?” The sandy blonde girl asked as she looked toward Misa, recognizing the signs of someone crying. Mapi looked toward her wife for a moment, and after receiving a nod of approval from the Norwegian, the Spaniard took her daughter into her arms from her fellow center back.

“That is my friend Misa,” Mapi explained to her daughter, her words slow and gentle. She stays where she is, but tries to convey her warmth to the woman regardless. “She has had a bad day, and I think she is just expressing that by crying, like you do sometimes too when you are upset,” Mapi continued, watching as her daughter stared at the goalkeeper with concern painted in her small face.

“Friend? Tía?” Elena asked curiously, clearly trying to work everything out as Mapi nodded.

“Yes Tía Misa, she is one of my very good friends. She is very kind and funny, just like you!” The Spaniard tried, and Elena looked over at her skeptically, but she chose to believe her Mami.

“Maybe we cheer up?” The little girl asked, and Mapi raised her hand to run it over Elena’s cheek gently, in a soothing manner.

“Are you sure, El? You do not have to, I know you thought she was scary earlier. I promise she is not though, she is one of Mami’s friends,” Mapi promised, not wanting to pressure her daughter to do anything she didn’t want to.

“Cheer her up,” Elena decided, wriggling her body slightly to signal her mother to move. She stiffened suddenly as she looked from Misa to Mapi, with some fear clearly still present in her tone. “You come too,” she checked quickly, relaxing back into the Spaniard when Mapi nodded her agreement to the statement.

Salma, Olga, and Marta had led Misa over to the Real Madrid bench, which was where Mapi brought Elena over to. The goalkeeper was sitting on the bench, her head in her hands as silent sobs wracked her shoulders.

Marta looked over at Mapi with a hopeful expression as the Spaniard placed her daughter on the ground, taking Elena’s hand as she led her over to Misa.

The young girl held her mothers hand carefully as she made her way up to the woman who had been wearing the angry red jersey. She was now wearing a white jacket over her kit top, and something about seeing her when Elena was in a calm state, and the lack of such an aggressive kit top helped to soothe the little girl’s initial concerns.

“Hola,” Elena said softly, her voice small but fierce in its kindness as she stopped a few steps from the goalkeeper. Misa paused, looking up carefully, unable to keep the surprise off her expression when she realized who was in front of her, looking at her carefully.

The goalkeeper looks up at Mapi in shock before she is wiping the tears from her eyes, offering a watery smile to the toddler.

“Hola,” she responded, unsure of what else to say. Elena took another step toward her, offering a small smile.

“My name is Elena,” she expressed quietly, watching as Misa rubbed the tears from her eyes.

“Hi Elena, I’m Misa,” the goalkeeper repeated, trying not to burst into more tears. There was no fear in the little girl's eyes, only curiosity and kindness. Misa feels hope flying into her chest at the little girl's face, at the thought that maybe this whole situation was salvageable. Elena looks at the spot next to Misa, her eyebrows furrowing together in curiosity.

“What are those?” Elena asked gently, pointing to the abandoned goalkeeper gloves that were sitting next to the Madridista. The Spaniard reached for them, holding them out to the little girl softly.

“These are my goalkeeper gloves. Would you like to see them?” Misa asked gently, her voice hopeful. The little girl looked back at her mother for a second before releasing Mapi’s hand, nodding as she walked over to Misa, right up to where she was sitting, placing her hand on the goalkeeper's knee.

“Here, you can put them on,” Misa said softly, everyone watching with relief as the goalkeeper slid her giant gloves onto Elena’s little hands, holding them on to help to keep them from falling off.

The Real Madrid player was absolutely positive that Elena healed something within her when she giggled, leaning into Misa as she moved her hands with the gloves still over them, laughing happily at the sight. It was the goalkeeper's first real smile of the day, and her heart leapt into her throat when Elena climbed into her lap, beginning to talk her toddler nonsense to Misa, who held onto every single word she said.

The Madridista carefully held Elena to her, making sure she was secure with no chance of falling. She looked up when the toddler gasped, seeing Pina and Jana still out on the field, passing the ball listlessly back and forth as they spoke about something.

Elena turned back to Misa with excitement, the goalkeeper gloves falling off her hands in excitement.

“Come play Tía Misa?” The toddler asked hopefully, her eyes big and filled with joy at the prospect of getting to play with all of her friends. Misa looked toward Mapi, who nodded her head in agreement before she smiled brightly, agreeing with Elena.

“Come on!” Elena cheered as she took Misa’s hand after being set on the ground by the goalkeeper, and dragging the taller woman toward the younger girls.

Ingrid had come over to join Mapi, Salma, and Marta, as the right winger shook her head in disbelief. Misa was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the ground, rolling the ball toward Elena, cheering when the toddler tried to kick it.

When Elena finally managed to hit the ball back with some semblance of accuracy, Jana and Pina immediately cheered loudly. Elena giggled at both of them, smiling before she ran over to Misa, collapsing into a hug as she wrapped her arms around the goalkeeper, who hugged her back just as fiercely, a huge smile pulling at both of her cheeks.

“What is it about children that just…heals any wrongdoing?” Marta asked wistfully, and Ingrid chuckled as Mapi shook her head.

“You can’t not love them,” she acquiesced, letting out a final sigh of relief as they all moved to join the girls in playing with the toddler, who happily giggled away at all the attention raining down on her.

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #ingrid x mapi x daughter #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #olga carmona #marta cardona #misa rodriguez

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dn-imagines-in-2023 · 6 months

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DATE NIGHT

Light

Is pretty open to whatever you want to do. If you ask him to choose, he'll go with the classic dinner at a nice restaurant and maybe go to a museum or something.

He's a very good conversationalist. He loves to learn so he's very easy to talk to; he remembers details.

'Oh, they hate this color, I better pick a different tie.'

If you're doing something fun, he'll have a good time. But he's not a fan of the 'lay around on the couch' kind of dates, they make him feel unproductive.

He LOVES the lay around on the couch type of dates. They're a good safe option for him when it's not safe for him to be in public.

When it is safe for him to be in public he's completely shameless. All of his habits and quirks are out on display for the whole world to see and he does not care if he gets judged for it.

So if you can't handle the secondhand embarrassment of your boyfriend having his bare feet out for free, you're going to have a bad time.

If you do go out, he likes quieter, more private dates. A library, a park, places that aren't too crowded or chaotic.

Cafes and bakeries are always a win for obvious reasons.

Misa

She really goes all out. You have to schedule your dates with her, because they can be like 6 hours long.

She's a big fan of classic romantic dates. The 'dinner and a move' kind of thing.

I think she would absolutely love to take you to a masquerade. A chance to experiment with fashion and dance with you all night? She'd be all over it.

She would also like shopping dates. She loves to pick out clothes she thinks would look good on you and will let you pick out things for her too.

Takes lots of cute pictures through the night and displays her favorites in her room.

Mello *NSFW mentioned*

He’ll only go on dates with you on his off time- work always comes first. He has to beat Near by any means necessary, that means his love life comes second to that. In another world where everything was resolved neatly, he would likely be more willing to engage in romance.

Mello loves an adrenaline rush. His favorite dates are always a little risky and you always end up sweaty and out of breath (in a good way.)

I imagine he would like taking you out for drinks and going dancing- probably to raves rather than nightclubs.

The dark is a nice excuse to hold your hand- so you don’t get separated of course.

When you’re so exhausted and dizzy you can’t see straight, he’ll call you both a cab and you’ll do everything short of have sex in the back of it.

The real fun starts when you both get upstairs ;)

Matt

Matt loves relaxed stay-at-home dates. You hop on multiplayer on a really relaxing game like stardew valley or minecraft and just lay in a snuggly pile of blankets together.

I think he would also like dates where you make something together- trying a new recipe, or making an art project. It might not turn out great - he doesn’t have a sophisticated palette or a lot of artistic skill, but he would have a lot of fun.

He doesn’t mind going out once in a while, but he doesn’t like dressing up. He hates wearing ties. He’ll do it occasionally for your sake, but it’s not his favorite.

Near

He doesn’t really do specifically set out *dates*. You both just… end up in each others company.

It’s never a case of ‘Let’s set aside this Saturday at 7 for a date night.’ Usually, you just end up in his room while he’s working, you distract him, and you two end up spending the next six hours talking.

I imagine he would like that type of date, where you sit and have a really, really good conversation for hours and hours.

Especially since you’re one of the only people in the world who can really keep up with him.

He might bring out something for you two to work on together, some of his toys, puzzles, models, etc.

He likes meticulous, detail oriented work. Introduce him to knitting/crochet and you two can sit and knit together for hours. (embroidery would also work for this.)

Matsuda

Silly goofy guy.

He likes new experiences, he’s willing to try just about anything once. So if you have a really wild date idea, he’s probably down with it.

If he’s the one to come up with the date, he tries to put some thought into it and make it personal to you. But he has trouble coming up with new ideas so he tends to stick to what he knows - you two have a dedicated date night restaurant you both like.

I have no idea why, but I imagine he would love live theater? Like specifically musicals. Take him to see Hairspray, he’ll have the time of his life.

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palant1r · 10 months

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death note characters ranked by how much they fuck, from least to most:

L: im sorry but this bitch died a virgin. you know im right. we can talk about lawlight gay sex all we want and its very fun but there is NO way his relationship with light actually went beyond psychosexual mind games that they both found far more sexual than actual sex. he does not leave his weirdass computer floor room he is NOT on tinder. this guy had watari make him a special fleshlight that jacks him off in 3 seconds every time he experiences horniness so he can get back to work

near: same as L, really. the only reason he's ranked higher is because he hangs out with a bunch of sexy americans and could theoretically have had an opportunity at some point

Ide: asexual king. could have sex but simply has no interest in it.

light: divorces his mind from his body to an absolutely insane degree. uses sex purely as a method to give misa rewards for killing a bunch of people. this barely ever happens

misa: only ranked higher than light because i feel like she had sex at least once before meeting light and light was absolutely a virgin at that point

mikami: he has scheduled sex that he pencils into his planner about once every month or so

takada: with how she reacted to light's advances, it's clear that this is not a woman who is accustomed to pleasurable sex. girl go get some better dick its not worth it.

aizawa: on one hand, he is married. on the other hand, between the investigation and having a young child in the house, i doubt they're boning down on the reg

mello: i know people will get mad at me for ranking him this low. because like, look at him. he LOOKS like he FUCKS. but im sorry. he doesnt. he goes after his goals with the singleminded focus of a bear on cocaine presented with a dumpster full of salmon and sex simply does not play into those goals. however he would fuck to FURTHER those goals he just wouldnt even enjoy it because hed be thinking about Beating Near the whole time but like, in a heterosexual way

soichiro and sachiko: you KNOW old man yagami is a freak. that man is not normal and he's gonna dick his wife down crazy style. however he is also working long nights all the time

matsuda: between his need to be around other people and his neglected shelter dog rizz, i think its fair to say matsuda is having a fair amount of sex

matt: to mellos chagrin, matt fucks

mogi: this man is coveted in the tokyo gay scene. dick is bomb AND he makes breakfast in the morning. this man FUCKS but he minds his own business about it

#death note #lime

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misadeluxe · 11 months

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SCHEDULE FOR THE WEEK

This week we will be playin a bit more RE2 with Valera and then I will be starting up Pikmin 3 Deluxe and at the end of the week theres a collab on Prinny's channel and then another one on Bancha's channel for his birthday!

twitch_live

#ENVtuber #VtuberEN #Vtuber Uprising #Vtubers of Tumblr #2DVtuber #vtubers are live #vtubers are now watching #vtubers are still watching #Misa Schedule

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phoebepheebsphibs · 2 months

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Epilogue

@boots-with-the-fur-club @littlemissartemisia @daboyau @tmntaucompetition

Prev || Return to the Propaganda

Leon - UIFY DvD - UIFY Mikey / Michael - UIFY ‘Phael - UIFY Leonardo - NFIF Donnie / Donatello - NFIF Angie / Angelo - NFIF Raph / Raphael - NFIF

"Oof!! What the hey...?"

Leon had been disturbed by something jumping onto his lap. It knocked the wind out of him, startling him awake.

Misa had apparently clambered onto him, crushing his legs as she walked across his person and curled up like a cat on his stomach. Leon sighed, stroking her shell softly and giving her gentle head pats as she fell back asleep.

Misa had been doing this on the hour, every hour since they'd taken their collective turtle pile nap. Leon wasn't sure how she managed to wake up on such a schedule, but she'd managed it. She'd been going in a sort of circle, waking up from her naps to simply switch out napping partners and cuddle with a new turtle. She'd started with Raph when they had initially all settled in, but at the second hour she'd woken up and wiggled out of his hold and went to sleep in the embrace of someone else. Leon was a light sleeper, and Misa was a noisy turtle, humming as she walked, and grunting as she climbed into the lap of someone new, and making little happy chirps as she snuggled in and felt them sleepily hug her close.

Once Leon was awake, it was hard for him to get back to sleep again. Misa had no issue with insomnia like he did; as soon as she had curled up and Leon began rubbing her shell, she'd fallen right back asleep and was snoring softly in his lap. Well, Leon was up now. Might as well take a look and make sure everyone was all okay and accounted for...

It was nice that the competition provided each team with their own private rooms, almost like a hotel or apartment complex. Somehow, each room magically knew what the contestants needed, and had their spaces properly furnished with everything they could ask for. The two teams had joined forces for the night, UIFY bringing their pillows, blankets, and sleeping supplies into NFIF's room for an epic turtle-pile sleepover. It was funny, though. Leo wasn't a stranger to turtle piles, he and Mikey had been doing that since they were tots. 'Phael and DvD were more green about the subject, though, and could use the practice. April and Karai had little to no idea what to expect.

Karai was the one in the group to have opted to stay awake, taking a reclining chair in the corner to watch over them while they all rested. Some habits never died, some tendencies -- the the overpowering drive to make sure everyone was safe and nothing would hurt them while they were all sleeping for example -- tended to linger. But even she had to admit defeat, too. Leon had woken up during Misa's first stumble around the room, and before he managed to go back to sleep, he'd noticed Karai had nodded off in her recliner. Good. She needed rest just as much as they all did.

Working around the room, next up were 'Phael and April, who had initially fallen asleep side by side but had somehow ended up with April curled into a ball in 'Phael's embrace. April was wrapped around him, her feline/canine Yokai tendencies showing as she purred and vibrated in her sleep, her tail twitching every so often. It must have been a comfort to the anxiety-riddled teenager, almost like a therapy animal. 'Phael's snores were soft rumbles, like having a natural white-noise maker in the room. His head was pressed against an enormous pile of blankets and comforters, which upon close inspection turned out to be his baby brother Michael, bundled up in a cocoon of soft things. Mikey had been the first to pass out, and the others had taken care to wrap him up in quilts and covers and layer after layer of warmth and weighted sheets that kept him anchored to the pile of pillows and beanbags underneath them all. Leon suspected that Mikey had been half-awake for that whole process of mummifying him; he'd seen the box turtle give the biggest grin ever as he was tucked in. DvD slept beside him, his arms wrapped over the top of the mountain that consumed his precious little brother that he guarded so closely. DvD had been skeptical about letting the other Donnie be so close to Mikey, but relented in the end when Michael had assured him he was all good now. (Apparently the two had a private heart-to-heart after everything. Mikey didn't say much, but his brothers had noticed the puffiness in his eyes afterwards. Yet rather than seem broken, the tiny teen looked lighter and healed, as if some weight had been lifted off him. Leon wasn't sure what they'd talked about, Mikey had insisted that it was private. NFIF Donnie wasn't saying anything about it either; apparently he'd been sworn to secrecy. But whatever Dee had said to him, it had proved he was himself and trustworthy again.) Donatello had fallen asleep just a little aways from Mikey -- a safe distance from DvD, who watched him like a hawk before he'd eventually drifted off. But even still, Mikey had apparently shimmied his hands up from the cocoon of comfort and Donnie had taken his exposed fingers in a small embrace. NFIF Angelo had fallen asleep on top of Donnie, his arms wrapped around him, almost mirroring DvD and Michael. Raph held the two in a close embrace, squeezing them tight every so often. In spite of that, they were completely undisturbed. Leon heard a loud snoring sound coming from the NFIF cuddle sesh, and at first assumed it was Raphael. It was so bombastic and deeply gargled, it had to have been! Imagine his surprise when he leaned over and instead found the noise coming from Donatello, his mouth wide open with a trail of drool dripping off his chin and soaking his plastron.

And then there was Leon, who'd claimed a beanbag chair with a blanket by the side. He'd chosen his quiet little corner of the pile for the same reason Karai had picked the reclining sofa chair. He'd wanted to make sure he could get a good look at everybody --

Wait a minute, someone was missing. There was an empty space between NFIF Donnie and UIFY Mikey, a lone katana resting where its owner had been previously.

Leon was about to get up and investigate where his alternate counterpart went, when the door to their private room opened with a soft click, and in walked the missing NFIF member, wearing a deep blue hoodie and carrying several bags of snacks and gifts for everyone. He'd been hoping to sneak in without being seen. Immediately he and Leon locked eyes, NFIF Leo's face falling as his mind frantically searched for an excuse.

"Leonardo," Leon greeted with a smirk.

"Leon," Leonardo replied.

The two stared at each other for an awkward three seconds.

"I won't say anything," Leon assured him with a smile.

Leonardo huffed with relief.

"Thanks. I just needed to get out for a bit. I felt like I was asleep the whole time with Audrey III. I wasn't really in the mood to sleep anymore, y'know?"

Leon nodded.

"What'dya get?" he asked, pointing to the bags and boxes Leonardo was holding.

"Oh, just some stuff. I got some fries while I was out," he said, showing the to-go bag from a fast food stand he'd found. "And I found this pretzel stand; I got some in yellow and dark yellow for Don-a-Tron. Figured he might like 'em. Oh, and I got something for you," he added, showing him all the snackfoods he'd picked up on his private little excursion.

Leon eyed the other gifts.

In a past life, he would have rooted through them all and taken anything that looked interesting or valuable... they wouldn't have noticed a small thing missing or one less of a baked good, there were so many bags and boxes.

"How long have you been gone?" Leon asked.

"Maybe an hour or two," Leonardo winced. "I got distracted by a few friends. Oh, by the way, Ghost says hi."

Leon smiled.

"How is the old softie?"

"Pretty good. He's hovering over that human Donnie."

"He's still here?" Leon asked, surprised by the fact.

"Yep!"

"Good. I wanted to see him again."

"Get in line. I overheard Miguel and Raph trying to bribe each other for who got to spend time with him first."

"Why not go together?"

"I guess they didn't wanna overwhelm him. The guy seems kind of on edge. But he starting to relax, and Ghost is watching him."

Leon smiled.

"He really is an old softie..."

Leonardo chuckled as he leaned against the table, taking out one of the donuts he'd gotten.

"I also ran into the Void Brothers. They were--"

"Pleasant and charming as always?"

Leonardo choked on his donut.

"No, no, they... they were surprisingly understanding. Although I'm glad it was me they ran into, instead of Donnie or Raph. I think they're still a little sore about everything... I can't blame them," he chuckled softly. "Funny. Usually, it's me that gets on the wrong peoples' nerves..."

Leon looked at him, wondering.

"...Can I ask you a kind of... weird question?"

Leonardo shrugged.

"Go ahead."

"Does it ever get any easier?"

Leo blinked.

"Does... what ever get easier?"

"This. Life. Dealing with all the stuff that comes with being 'us'."

Leonardo thought about it.

"That's... a tough question. I mean, nobody ever said life would get 'easier'. But it does get better."

"What's the difference?"

"Well, take a look at yourself. You're a pickpocket, right? No disrespect, it's a pretty cool trick to have, and useful for a ninja -- but how did you learn to do that? I bet it wasn't easy at first."

"No," Leon answered, cringing at the memories of how he'd gotten caught with his hands in different strangers' purses and wallets, the claps on the ears and the belt-shaped welts he got that made certain he couldn't sit down for a week afterwards.

"But with time, you got better," Leonardo pointed out. "And that's how life is. If I'm being totally honest, life tends to get tougher and tougher the longer you live. Some things get easier with practice, but there's always gonna be new challenges to face. A story never really ends, there's always gonna be a sequel, a new beginning, a new ending, a new after-credits scene --"

"Oh no, not more pop culture references..." Leon groaned.

"-- But even with the difficulties, it gets better. And again, take a look at yourself -- look at your family. You've been through a lot, and though it was tough at first, you guys seem pretty close."

Leon smiled as he looked down at his brothers and sisters -- Mikey snuggled deeply in his little kingdom of comfiness, DvD 'protecting' him as Raph and April kept each other pacified in their sleep, while he and Karai stood watch over them all, and even little Artemesia slumbering peacefully in his lap. They certainly had been through a lot... but Leon had to admit this moment was more than worth all of the pain it took to get here.

"...Can I ask another question?"

"Sure."

"Does the Curse ever go away?"

"Curse? What curse??"

"The Curse of Leo."

Leonardo was taken aback. Was this another little lore drop? Did this Leo have some weird magic spell on him or something??

"I ask again, what curse??"

"Y'know, the part of us that always gets us into trouble, no matter what we do. How we always get the worst of it, always lose what matters, always hurt the people closest to us... how we always do it to ourselves. The Curse of Leo. We all seem to have it."

"Oh. THAT curse..."

Leonardo sighed.

"Hmm. Eeoough, boyyyy... I honestly don't know that much about curses. That would be up for Angelo or Dr-- um, 'Barry'. But anyways, if there is a curse, I think it might be coupled with something else."

"Like what?"

"The Blessing of Leo. No matter how many times we screw it up, no matter what we do to antagonize our family or the mistakes we make -- even to the point where we might doom all of humanity because of our pride and pigheadedness -- our family will still do anything for us. Even rip a hole through time and space just to reach us. Because they love us."

Leon got the sneaking suspicion that he was speaking from experience...

"...The Blessing of Leo, huh?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Maybe. Okay, one last question."

"Fire away."

"How'd you get out of here without waking anybody?"

Leonardo smiled. He pointed to his spot on the bed, where a lone katana filled his space. He held the sword's twin in his hand. Leonardo placed a finger to his lips, and with a wink --

He reappeared in a small flash, cozy in his bedspace. Donnie subconsciously realized that someone he loved was close; he made a few sporadic snorting sounds before nuzzling his face closer to his twin. Angelo and Raph also scooched in closer. Even Michael reached his fingers over to touch what was undoubtedly his newest adopted brother.

Leon just stared, jaw dropped.

"How'd you do that?!" he whisper shouted.

"A magician never reveals his secrets!" Leo chuckled, taking Dee's hand and holding it close.

"Ya think I'll ever learn to do that?" Leon asked.

"That depends. Can you do any kind of magic?"

Leon smiled.

"You tell me," He said as he leaned across the NFIF team, reaching behind Leo's ear and pulling out the coin he'd 'given' him and Michael at their first meeting.

Leo gaped for a second, before laughing, almost waking the others.

"When did ya learn how to do that?" he asked.

Leon leaned back, tossing the coin to its rightful owner.

"Not until I found you."

The end.

For now..

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married-to-google-translater · 2 months

Note

hi! can ı request y/n has a death note, L is yandere and finds out about it what will happen

Yandere L Lawliet

It was because he took you with him on the investigation.

Although at first it was a false alarm.

You wouldn't get the deathnote until later.

But L wouldn't know this.

However, since he would be a yandere, he would include you in the investigation.

And L would like to know all about your day.

Best way to stalk someone lol.

But things would change anyway.

Because L starts noticing strange "coincidences".

And how your schedule would mesh with the murderer.

L really doesn't like this.

L wouldn't want to believe it.

He wouldn't want to believe you could do something like this.

L would be really careful around you now.

He would also quickly start preparing your "kidnapping".

Of course that place would be nicer than what Light and Misa had.

However, you would have no access to the outside world.

And it seems that every time you're about to get out of "following"

L comes up with some new excuse.

Yeah, he's not going to let you go.

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maevearcher · 2 months

Note

How is L not a good person

Well, anon, thanks for the ask, in the first place.

Now, it's more than obvious that i love him to death, I'm not in any other fandom, i don't have any other fictional loves at the moment, so my emotional position concerning him is painfully clear.

That being said, he is obviously morally gray at best. Starting from:

(1) his choice of cases. If he were truly a good person, he would be genuinely interested in solving cases for humanity's sake, but no, he only picks cases that give him a thrill, or have high stakes (in money or number of victims). So, his primary drive is selfishness and/or gratification. It can also be argued that he is just One person after all, and thus he Has to pick his cases, he's not a machine to be able to (have time to) solve every single thing thrown his way. But still, he is more interested in the puzzle of it than helping the people involved.

(2) His ginormous ego. Like......godlike huge, even if he lowkey has the right to it, given his intelligence, means and power scope. However, he is only 24-25 and has been treated as this awe-inspiring machine all his life, being radically different from most people out there, whom he may perceive, on some level, and not entirely unjustly so, as inferior. His emotional development is waaay behind his IQ, so the sulking child in him often demands his rights.

(3) his more than questionable methods. By his own admission, he has stepped outside of the law, being The Law, being Justice itself. He is not above torturing people, physically and emotionally, with complete disregard for human rights (especially see Misa). I am not talking about how he used Lind L. Tailor to die in his place, since his death was already scheduled. I am somewhat talking about how in the Yotsuba arc he was willing to let people die so he could gather more data.

(4) He acts cruel and insensitive bordering on offensive towards people who help him. I'm mainly thinking of poor Matsuda... (although, now that I think of L's roundabout way of conveying things, may well be that he actually likes Matsuda and he pesters and belittles him like you do with younger siblings hehe)

He is not cold blooded though, not by far, he did take ample precaution measures to ensure the safety, welfare and financial security of the task force members....and the way he basically bled emotionally for Ukita....

So. He is a very complex, flawed, imperfect man, but....should people be perfect in order to have our love?..... not from where i stand.

#l lawliet #death note #l death note #death note l #thanks for the ask!#m.muses

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cat3ch1sm · 2 years

Text

╔══ஓ๑💚๑ஓ══╗

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭!

╚══ஓ๑💚๑ஓ══╝

🌿 𝔠𝔞𝔱3𝔠𝔥1𝔰𝔪 🌿

*:･ﾟ｡ hello, everyone! i am cat3ch1sm, formerly simplysober, a black writer on tumblr! you may also call me eve. 💚

i hope you all enjoy my content and consider following me if you do <3 *ੈ✩‧₊˚

🕸💚 request status: closed for now! 🤍🤎

🤎🤍 masterlist below! 💚🕸

part one of masterlist

part two of masterlist

part three of masterlist

part four of masterlist

part five of masterlist

🧺 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 🧺

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ i write sfw and nsfw works! i have no posting schedule, and time taken on requests varies. below are the fandoms i write for :D

writings can be drabbles, headcanons, text msgs, one-shots, incorrect quotes, and rarely multi-chapter stories. for x reader writings, the reader will mostly be female for sfw and nsfw works, but for sfw works the reader may also be gender neutral.

some fandoms are rarely written for unless requested, so some fandoms have less works than others. however, it doesn’t mean that i won’t write for them freely, and feel free to request for them whenever reqs r open <3

✧༺💚༻∞

death note- light, l, misa, near, matt, mello, mikami (sfw+ nsfw)

hunter x hunter- gon, killua, leorio, kurapika, chrollo, hisoka, illumi, uvogin, machi, pakunoda, shizuku, feitan, phinks, shalnark (sfw+ no nsfw for gon and killua)

ohshc- haruhi, kyoya, tamaki, honey, mori, hikaru, kaoru (sfw+ no nsfw for haruhi, honey, and the twins)

black butler- sebastian, ciel, claude, agni, soma, mey-rin, finnian, bardroy (sfw+ no nsfw for ciel, finnian, or mey-rin)

sk8 the infinity- langa, reki, miya, joe, cherry (sfw+ no nsfw for miya)

jujutsu kaisen- yuuji, nobara, maki, megumi, gojo, nanami, geto, toji, sukuna, yuuta (sfw+ nsfw)

chainsaw man- denji, power, aki, kobeni, makima, himeno (sfw+nsfw)

across the spiderverse- miles, gwen, pavitr, miguel, margo, hobie, lyla, jess, peter b, miles!42 (sfw+ no nsfw for gwen, pav, miles, miles!42, margo)

hazbin hotel-charlie, vaggie, angel dust (platonic only), husk, alastor, sir pentious, lute, adam, sera, emily, lucifer, vox, velvette, carmilla carmine

notice- some fandoms/characters are rarely written for unless requested!

☘️ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 ☘️

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ here are just some things i want readers to keep in mind when on my account!

✧༺💚༻∞

~ be patient when requesting, my schedule/health is inconsistent and sometimes interferes with my uploading :( for this same reason, sometimes i don’t post for a while, bear with me please)

~ please be specific with your request!! like genre, plot, gender if needed, body type if needed, personality, setting, sfw or nsfw- i can write much better if i have more details :) just specify whatever you can<3

~ all of my writings are either fem!reader or gender neutral reader. idk how to write for males :// all nsfw works, though, are fem!reader

~ i don’t write nsfw for children or non-con. if you have questions for other things i won’t write for message me :)

~ i will happily write x black!reader, if that’s what you would like specify in your request! also, if a writing randomly has a black reader, don’t question it lmao. my black followers mean the world to me tbh 🤎💚

~ people who have requested several times will not be top priority over first-time requesters.

~ must be following me to request!! sometimes i cannot see if you are following me or not, so if i accidentally write a request for a non-follower, that requester will be blocked. if i take the time and energy to write a story for you, the least you can do is follow me. (because of this rule, anonymous requests are not accepted because i cant see if you follow me or not!)

~ i have the right to ignore or deny any request

~ discrimination or bigotry will be immediately blocked!

that is all, everyone! i hope you enjoy reading on my account, i love you all very much <33 your support is valued greatly :)

#master list #headcanons #anime #fanfic #smau #masterlist #my account

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copper-16 · 3 months

Text

You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here.

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right?

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to.

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls.

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients.

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there.

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally.

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along.

It’s just, nobody had.

But perhaps that would change.

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back.

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling.

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town.

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where.

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike.

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded.

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action.

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear.

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet.

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet.

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet.

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like.

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in.

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table.

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to.

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man.

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head.

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot.

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken.

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk.

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do.

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name.

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally.

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion.

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room.

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence.

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them.

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble.

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive.

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act.

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune.

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble.

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her.

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs.

And god was Misa wrong.

This woman wasn’t attractive.

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop.

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk.

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid.

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now.

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high.

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work.

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English.

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded.

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin.

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman.

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out.

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation.

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious.

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name.

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes.

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s.

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily.

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on.

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers.

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers.

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different.

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her.

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully.

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair.

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt.

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently.

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen.

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless.

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi��s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away.

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care.

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer.

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly.

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy.

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason.

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low.

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back.

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette.

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise.

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back.

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body.

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid.

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman.

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow.

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought.

It was her choice.

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in.

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly.

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat.

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing.

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree.

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap.

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power.

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it.

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless.

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own.

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling.

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core.

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier.

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs.

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace.

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons.

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed.

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second.

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning.

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to.

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something.

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more.

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots.

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more.

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished.

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest.

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other.

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly.

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful.

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate.

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten.

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk.

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such.

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with.

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways.

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like.

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again.

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her.

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly.

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance.

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently.

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own.

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time.

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually.

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises.

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her.

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace.

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there.

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire.

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut.

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful.

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin.

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere.

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette.

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed.

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow.

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while.

#ingrid engen #mapi leon #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #misa rodriguez

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deathnotewiki · 6 months

Text

December 9, 2009:

Misa Amane announces her comeback with a scheduled appearance on a New Year’s Eve celebrity singing show

Near arrives in Japan and sets up new SPK base.

Light Yagami and Near exchange confrontational words.

Near explains to the SPK members his theories on Kira’s current situation and the team’s future plans.

Light Yagami reveals the existence of the Death Note to Takada and has her kill criminals.

#Death Note #DeathNote #manga #anime #episode 32 #Misa Amane #Nate River #Near #Light Yagami #Kiyomi Takada

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random-yandere-fandom · 2 years

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Hello Author!! The most recent Death Note ask inspired me, so could I request some HCs for Yandere Light, Yandere L, & Yandere Misa with a Darling who loves ‘messing around’ with people, no one is off limits to them they have had lovers who were their superiors before, and who easily gets into romantic relationships, but never truly falls in love?

Darling could romance any person at any time, could make even the most aloof and cold hearted person swoon, has been on hundreds of dates and knows the inns and outs of making the people around them interested in them, but they never really give away their heart.

Darling doesn’t even mean to be cruel to those they quickly break up with, their attention just simply never stays on one person at a time long enough for something substantial though they never cheat, and they just find themselves bored of it all after a few weeks. (The thrill of the chase is an addicting feeling, and the connection that Darling has with the people around them satisfies them for a bit, but they always find themself back with the same instinct to peruse new and even more exciting experiences)

Ooohhh how exciting! I love it!

Yandere Light with a darling who is quick to lose interest

Really, it was only a matter of time until your attention fell unto him. He was the perfect guy in everyone’s eyes, even if he did not have the time for friends which was almost sad to watch. He was infamous and similarly, you were just as talked about at your high-end university. Truly, it almost seemed that fate had decided that he would be the next to pique your interest.

You had a tendency to get bored with people easily, the way they tick all too obvious after some time and all interactions with them suddenly growing dull. At the same time though, there always seemed to be someone new that you wished to get to know, the thrill of meeting all kinds of people and getting them to work in your favor unending. You did feel somewhat guilty for leaving all those people behind though, but everything about them was just so tedious, so predictable, and life was short and you always made sure to be honest to them, staying loyal and caring for them during your time together, so there was really nothing else you could do.

When your eyes first fell on Light you couldn’t stop smiling, getting him to fall for you would truly be an excitement like no other has been in a long time. Light on the other hand almost groaned the first time you approached him, even he had heard everything about you despite being busy as Kira and while he had nothing against you personally, he really didn’t feel like getting wrapped up in one of your plays or whatever those around you called them.

Consider him baffled though when you instead ask about his studies. The surprise burns down quickly though, he concludes that this might be the best way to start a conversation with him and you just took use of that. In the following conversation he can’t help but give you credit as you proof yourself exceedingly intelligent. While the two of you did study in a renowned university, it was rare for him to enjoy a discussion with someone else. That, added with the almost endless self-confidence the guy has brings him to the decision to keep you around for a while. Not only is he sure he won’t fall for you, but he can also use you as cover. After all, Kira wouldn’t want to waste their time with some mindless flirt, right?

There is something nice about the way you talk to him. You are enraptured with him, seemingly looking straight through his facade, keeping Light on his guard around you. It’s fun playing little games with you, keeping you guessing while also getting a small shock each time you are able to predict his behavior. It makes him extra careful, makes him consider each word he says and each gesture he almost performs, just for you. It’s a welcome distraction as well as a challenge and before Light knows it, he is looking forward to meeting you. The fact alone he is making time for you in his busy schedule is enough proof for how you managed to fascinate him, enough for him to finally face reality.

Congratulations, you got Light to fall for you and he no longer can just hide his emotions behind the facade of you being a simple alibi. You are too great for that, your manipulations on par with his, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud. But now that you have his attention, he will not let you go. Keeping you interested, speculating and always taking you off guard is one way, but once you lose interest, he will have no choice but to reveal one last secret to threaten you to stay. But it’s only fair, after all, you should take responsibility for what you make him feel.

Yandere L with a darling who is quick to lose interest

L knows of your tendency even before you two meet, obviously he had gotten a background check on you before the two of you even met, but what can you expect from him when he is planning to work with you for a case. You are a specialist in your field and seem just right for the job. L is convinced that your innocent flirting will have no effect on him and as long as that kind of environment gets you to do your job efficiently, who is he to say anything. He himself has his quirks and he views your behavior as nothing else, even when he is prepared to tell you off.

He does not expect to like your little flirts, your light smile and small touches. It is obvious you have your sight set on him and he can’t tell you to stop, your words all too flattering even when he replies coldly and your presence seeming so addictingly warm and sickly sweet. There is something about you that makes him want to give in and sooner than later L will withdraw, leaving you to do your tasks on your own while you can do nothing but pout as he tries to calm his mind. You suspect to know the reason though, giddy that you have gotten this far with the aloof detective.

He might take a day off, a rarity, to collect his thoughts. He has no need for a relationship and besides, he already has his more than interesting job. That doesn’t keep him from being hyper aware of your presence though, even after he gets you to back off after a serious talk. While you are obviously displeased with his reaction, he also notices your determination growing and he almost feels ashamed for being happy that you don’t plan to simply give up. Though, he is well aware to not show it, otherwise you might just loose interest.

Whilst you do actually back off, he still takes note off how you perk up at any clue he gives you to himself, you almost seem to drink up each detail about him and L would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the attention. Each time you are just about to grow bored or might even meet someone else that might catch your interest he is quick to indulge in your little game, not enough to give away that he is actively playing it, but enough to keep you on the edge of your seat. He makes sure to keep up an air of mystique around him, displaying little quirks only for you to see and seeming just enough out of reach to hopefully keep you trying to catch him.

All good things must come to an end though and the case the two of you are working on will get solved, even if L is hesitant to let it come to a close. Instead, though, he reassures himself that things will go back to normal now and you will go your separate ways. The disappointment from your side is clear though as you hadn’t been able to wrap him around your finger like you wanted, despite your best efforts. Hell, you had even made him some of his favorite sweets and yet he hadn’t reacted much, only thanking you before moving on to work. So, you end up leaving having no clue that L still checks on you via the many security cameras he had let someone install.

At first you believe to have some incredibly bad stroke off luck as each entertaining person you find somehow disappears from your life, some kind of personal thing always making them have to go somewhere far off and none of them were interested in keeping in contact. When it happens a third time you get suspicious, though there isn’t much you can go on, no clue really getting you anywhere. When you get a request to work with the first person to escape your grasp, or rather, seemingly not even falling into it, you gladly accept. You have a feeling that working together with L again will solve this little mystery and you’d be all too glad to move on. Your old target is just as happy, if not even more, to see you again, too. This time there will be no more good-byes though.

Yandere Misa with a darling who is quick to lose interest

To say you are confident is an understatement. Sure, you’ve managed to date all kinds of people, but a celebrity? This would be a first and if you didn’t get in contact with her through your work even you have to admit that this would have been almost impossible. But alas, luck is on your side and you are able to start some friendly chatter in between her shootings.

Misa catches on to your intentions immediately, holding back an eye roll when you approach her. Instead, she treats you just friendly enough to not come off as rude, which she only does because you yourself are an important figure in your company. Once you’re gone though she lets out a sigh of relief, believing your little flirt to be over. When you do appear again, grin on your face and greeting her enthusiastically, she manages to hide her annoyance quite well, though she does drop some hints that she’d rather you leave.

Of course, you catch on and decide to back off, making her uncomfortable wasn’t what you wanted after all. you might even apologize, catching Misa off guard. The next few interactions are pleasant enough as you make sure to only push a little, delighting with each new information she inevitably reveals about herself. You hadn’t thought her to be quite the romantic she was at heart, though that was probably only because you didn’t know her as well, which definitely needed to be changed. So, when Misa herself approaches you to hang out sometime you happily oblige, excited at the prospect of having caught her interest and seemingly also redeeming yourself for coming off too strong in the beginning.

It’s quite fun to hang out with her. She always makes sure to show you new intriguing things, dragging you to cafes and places only those living practically next to it would normally know. It’s obvious how she drops hints that compel you to want to know more and you enjoy your time with the model, the little mind games only being a small part in the fun. Honestly, she might be someone you would want to keep around as a friend given how adorable and yet sharp she was.

However, you could never be so sure about that and besides, you had already caught her blushing around you. The thought of making her fall in love with you and loving her in turn was just too tempting to give up and so you rejoiced at her reactions, the way she would cling to your side and how cutely she pouted each time she believed you were spending too much time with someone other than her.

With your perceptiveness however it was easy to see the red flags and while you had to admit you kind of ignored them before, you slowly got the feeling that you should get out as long as you still could. Besides, while you hadn’t lost interest yet, you could tell her possessiveness was slowly wearing you down. When you sat her down in a semipublic space to break the news to her, that you wished to part paths, you did not expect her to brush a piece of folded paper against your hand. You also did not expect to see that thing hovering over her almost protectively, and you for sure where not ready for the kind of threats she was making. You had your fair share of break ups gone badly, but never did you have one that left you scared for your own life like this. With nothing else left to do you couldn’t do anything but force a smile and lie her in the face, which she could obviously tell, that you were just joking. It looked like you wouldn’t be getting away from Misa anytime soon.

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