#// answer their questions honestly ingrid

[ceesimz]

Wings (part two)

You return to the Norway National Team. (autistic!reader)

Part One of this little story is here, rest of the Reverie stories are here. @pickledwoso definitely saved this fic with their absolutely tremendous mind, so thank you millions once again <3 and i hope everyone's enjoyed these two chapters, thanks for reading :)

You were flying in training. Spectacularly so. 

The football side of it, you hadn’t been concerned about. Football had been your thing all your life, you knew you were good at it and you never shied away from admitting that. 

There was something different this time around, however. Maybe it was the combination of finally being accepted, of feeling happy in all aspects of your life, of having an incredible support system, of finally being nothing but your complete self. You entered the pitch every day, ready to play your heart out to make damn sure you would make it into the squad for the game that was only three days away. Then you stepped off the pitch, knowing full well you left everything you had out there. 

You felt fulfilled. For the first time in… well, honestly? Forever. It was the first time you felt fulfilled. Like, you had achieved all you set out for.

Well, all but one thing.

“Hi, come in! Thanks for dropping by.” 

A conversation with Gemma and her coaching staff was very much needed.

You stepped into her office, which was coolly lit and welcoming. No harsh lights, no unimpressed stares, no judgement. You took a seat across from her, where she sat down in her chair and fixed you with a warm smile. No intimidation, no animosity, no false promises. 

“So, firstly, I must say how happy I am to be having this conversation right now.” She began, and you smiled in slight embarrassment, which she noticed. “And I know you don’t want me to linger on that too long, so we will move on. I just had to let you know.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at her. No discomfort, no anxiety, no fear. Just… nervous excitement.

“I have some things to discuss, entirely at your will. It’s all up to you, alright? There’s no pressure from me.” You nodded, having to disguise a smile at how different this conversation was compared to ones you’d had in the past.

For a couple minutes, you two spent the time catching up together. She checked in with you, asking if there was anything else you needed from her support wise, how you were enjoying your time back. It was all very positive, and motivating. No masking, no resentment, no exclusion. Then the topic you were waiting for came up, and even in the moment when she was talking, you found yourself imagining the joy in Alexia and Ingrid’s voice when you told them the good news that was about to come.

“Now, onto the game coming up. There’s a few ideas me and the staff have been throwing around for the lineup, most of which revolve around you. But we’re not making anything concrete until I know how you feel because I know how big this is for you.” God she was torturing you by delaying it. Just say it. “So, what would you prefer? Do you want to be in the starting lineup? Or come off as a sub? Because we believe you are more than good enough to start from the first whistle. Your performance has been outstanding, both here and at Barcelona, we’re really happy to see it and want you out there. But again, we don’t want to put any pressure on you, I mean you don’t have to play at all if you don’t want to. It’s completely your choice, and I swear by that. You have my word.”

The second you heard that question, you tuned out; your mind was in uproar, for all the right reasons this time. You made it.

“I want to start.” You answered definitively. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that this was what you wanted.

Walking out for your country again. Establishing yourself to the rest of the world. Showing off on a global stage. Making it clear that your disability did not stop you from achieving everything you set out for. 

Maybe you’d win the next two World Cups, maybe you’d win nothing with the team. That wasn’t your goal, which to some might seem pointless to come back if you didn’t care for winning. For now, your goal was to wear the Norwegian crest with pride and purpose, to do it all for your country. Finally you had the chance, and the second you start rushing into things and getting ahead of yourself is when things go downhill, and you weren’t letting this opportunity and achievement get away from you again.

“Excellent, that’s that then! You’re in.” 

You were in.

You walked out of that office with your head held high. When you got back to one of the rooms hired for downtime, where Ingrid was sat nervously waiting and not really concentrating on the conversations around her, you paused at the door. You glanced around at your teammates and looked at their faces, some new, some old, and you wanted to tell every single one of them. Not just Ingrid. 

Well, Ingrid first, of course. But telling the rest of them afterwards almost sounded just as appealing. 

Then, there was Alexia, who knew you had the meeting that day and sat by her phone the whole time waiting for any sign of life from you, her knee bouncing endlessly as she did so and annoying everybody around her. And when you got a moment to breathe away from the giddy excitement of your fellow national team players, you stepped out to call her. You weren’t expecting her to cry, per say, but it was a welcome surprise to hear her overjoyed laughter turn into quiet sniffles in the span of two seconds.

Nevertheless, that joy had its limits; when you woke up on the day of the game, you were a mess. 

You woke up, rolled out of bed, got yourself ready for the day on autopilot, like you were watching yourself from above. You weren’t in control of anything, not your body or your mind, merely a passenger. In survival mode, almost, to get you through the day. Down at breakfast, not even Heidi’s company could lighten you up. You pushed your food around your plate, taking a bite here and there but not paying attention to anyone or anything, apart from the anxiety balled tight in your chest. 

At the briefing afterwards, you couldn’t take in a word anyone said even if your life depended on it. All you heard was doubts. From yourself, wondering if this was the stupidest thing you’d ever done or if you deserved it. From others, those praying on you to fail because someone with a disorder like yours wasn’t meant for success. From ex-staff members, the same ones that mocked and taunted you at the lowest point of your life. 

The minute the briefing was over, you were up and out of there. Despite the little food you’d eaten, it felt like the contents of your stomach were threatening to come up any second. You rushed to the bathrooms of the hotel, heading over to the sinks and letting the cool marble counter cool your sweaty palms where you gripped the edge under your hands. 

Bleach and posh hand soap mixed to make a harsh, acrid scent that made your head spin. The aircon above was so loud it felt as if it was making its own attack against your ear drums. Lights casting down on you with a laser-like sharpness that stabbed your eyeballs like daggers. 

And in the mirror, you saw a reflection that ashamed you.

How, when you'd spent so long getting back to the national team, had you let yourself get like this. Why were you so worked up? This was something you had worked tirelessly for, now you weren't sure you could do it. So what was the point of everything that you'd done over the last few months, the last few years even?

You’re making things harder for everyone.

If you really wanted to be here, you’d just get on with it.

You’re turning this into a much bigger deal than it is.

Life isn’t fair sometimes, you don’t always get what you want and you need to realise that.

You’re just looking for attention. 

Maybe you weren’t made for the real world.

All these phrases bounced around your head uncontrollably to humble you and put you in your place, their sole purpose being to throw you off track and derail every bit of progress you’d made to get there. It was cruel, but you were used to it. However, that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. If anything it just made you feel worse, because if you were used to it, why couldn’t you stop it? Why couldn’t you tune out and not listen to it? Maybe you weren’t made for the real world after all.

“Oh, sorry, we didn’t know you were in here.”

Frida and Caro stepped in in the midst of your panic. You jumped, not expecting anyone to come in even though it was a public bathroom of a giant hotel, and cleared your throat whilst hastily blinking away the burning sensation of building tears, giving the pair of them a tight-lipped smile. 

“Are you okay?” Caro asked, a furrow to her brow that conveyed her growing concern.

“Mhm.” You nodded and tried to hide your hastened breathing. Frida noticed it instantly. 

“It’s alright if you aren’t. We can leave if you would like to be on your own. Or we can get Ingrid or somebody for you.” She spoke in the softest voice you’d ever heard someone speak. 

“No, you can stay. Thank you.” Both of them heard the tremble to your voice but feigned obliviousness to save you the awkwardness. Not that they didn’t want to help, couldn’t be further from the truth.

“What’s the matter? Is it something we could help with?” Caro leaned casually against the wall, her hands in her pockets as she dropped the question with as little pressure for a response as possible. Frida couldn’t help the worry written across her face but for once it didn’t cause you to cower under the attention.

“The game, I’m just anxious. There is… a lot going on in my mind.” You admitted, not exactly expecting yourself to be so open and honest with them but not regretting it either.

“That’s understandable, it’s been a while and a lot has happened.” Frida reassured you, taking a couple steps closer with a comforting smile on her face. You sighed and turned to lean back against the counter, running your hands over your face and rubbing your eyes.“Are you worried about how you will play? Or how you might handle it? Anything like that?”

“I…” You blew out a deep breath, glancing between the two and noting the welcoming and focused looks on their faces. They were genuinely there to help you, they had no other agenda. Not that you believed they did, you just didn’t have a good track record with past players and staff members. These two, however, were the complete polar opposites of those from the past. “I have some bad memories that are trying to put me off. I know I can play well if I don’t let my anxiety get me to but it’s not working right now. I have a lot of impostor syndrome, basically.”

You described it lightly, barely grazing the surface of your true feelings. The pair of them shared a glance, before Caro shook her head with a smile and headed over to you.

“We are so lucky to have you back, you know? If there’s anyone that belongs in this team, it’s definitely you.” She smirked, standing beside Frida with her arms crossed over chest, exuding a non-faltering belief in you that was hard to argue against. “And if there is anyone here that knows how excellent you are, it is me. How many assists do I have for you at Barça? You’re single-handedly putting me in the running for the Ballon d’OR.”

Hm. That was kinda true.

“Everybody is here for you. You can leave the pitch anytime you want. Or if you line up in the tunnel and decide you don’t want to play, you don’t have to. Whatever you need. But you can do this. We all believe in you, we’re all cheering you on. We’re all by your side no matter what.” The blonde was wise beyond her years each time she spoke, and in an instant you knew she was someone you could trust indefinitely. She didn’t know much about what happened in the past, she wasn’t around for much of it and you kept it under wraps away from anyone else anyway. Yet, she seemed to understand regardless, without having to know or asking you to explain. “You came here to paint over those bad memories. Don’t let them drag you back down, okay? You made it this far, you are more than capable of getting on that pitch and putting on a five-star performance. You have to believe in yourself, that is all. By being here, you’re halfway there, so all that is left to do is get to the stadium, put your shirt on with your name and the badge, and play.” 

Being there, listening to what they had to say, made it nearly impossible to recognise why you were in such a state only a couple minutes earlier. Hearing what Frida had to say, Caro too, it was different to if it was Ingrid in front of you. Not that Ingrid wouldn’t have helped, of course she would have, but having two people that had no obligations tied to you at that point was odd. Odd and borderline fucking euphoric.

It gave you a different perspective, gave you the chance to look at yourself from another viewpoint rather than that of just your girlfriend and best friend over and over again. Two people that didn’t know you very well yet still thought the world of you. How strange.

“Thank you. Thank you both. I really appreciate that.” You mumbled sheepishly, trying to refrain from showing the utter delight coursing through you at the milestone it felt like it was.

“You’ve got this, we know you do. International football won’t know what’s hit it now you’re back.” 

They weren’t wrong. They couldn’t have been more right with everything they said in that bathroom if they tried. 

On the coach journey to the stadium, you were overcome with a strange sense of serenity. You were at peace, calm, focused. You were honed in on the game, hyperfixated on it perhaps. A newfound determination that hadn’t been with you in the bathroom that morning but had been building for the last few months, for the last few years, ever since you stepped away in the first place. 

You stepped off the bus, headphones still firmly in place, and the small gaggle of fans awaiting your team cracked a smile onto your face. That only grew when you spotted a young girl with a Barcelona shirt who lit up at the sight of you, rambling off excitedly to her parents who met her eagerness with bright smiles and wide eyes. You made a mental note to try and find her in the crowd after the game, because without having the foggiest idea of the impact she’d had, the small Norwegian with her blue eyes and brown pig-tailed hair had nearly single-handedly reinforced your sense of belonging within the team. 

As you passed her, you gave her a wave, to which she lit up more, and in her giddiness at having been spotted by you she didn’t even bother asking for a signature. You felt bad at leaving her behind – you never tired of coming across devoted fans, especially ones like her, they were simply a novelty that never wore off – but without wanting to distract yourself from the headspace you’d pulled yourself into, you headed into the stadium with her grinning face in the back of your mind.

Stepping into the locker room, seeing your jersey hung up with your number in blue contrasted on the classic red of the Norway kit, it was… an indescribable feeling. And you took advantage of the moment, where you were the first into the room, by taking a photo, wanting to remember the feeling of it. Your fingers hovered over your phone screen as you thought what to do next, before sending the photo to your family and to Alexia without a second thought. Then you slid your phone into your pocket, took a deep breath in, and headed over to your cubby.

When the rest of the team filed in, some of your teammates in the locker room mistook your intense concentration for apprehension and anxiety, but with a quiet word from Ingrid each time they came over to tell her, they were reassured it was just what you had to do to ensure you got out onto that pitch. 

Every game wasn’t so intense, nine times out of ten you joined in with the feel-good and light-hearted nature of the locker room in Spain, it was a different story with the national team though on this occasion. Future matches after this wouldn’t be the same, this one just felt like the most important one so far on a personal level. After the momentary blip in the bathroom, your mind had switched itself into protection mode; be as detached as possible from the surroundings and stay in your own world, so that nothing could knock the mediocre amount of confidence you had built. That confidence was about as strong as a tower of playing cards, the slightest thing could send it flying, hence your tunnel vision.

You changed into your pre-match kit, you had your necessary discussions with the manager and the staff, and you headed out onto the grass for the warm-up. Music blasted through the stadium and there was a quiet hum of general chatter as the stands filled up, fans littered by the sides of the pitch watching with their banners, the odd few catching your eye. Some had your name on, welcoming you back, which nearly made you stop in your tracks in the middle of the field. 

For some reason, it never occurred to you what the fan response might be. You thought the majority of people, ranging from your own teammates to the rest of the world, wouldn’t really… care. And the ones that did care were for all the wrong reasons. The reception you received was so unexpected. You were speechless at it. Not that you could dwell on it too long then, considering there was a very fast cross approaching the box that had your name on it.

It was a little tricky to find a stream for a Norway game in Spain, but Alexia had her ways and after a few technical difficulties that were solved by one Vicky Lopez, Alexia was left in one of the common rooms of the hotel with her laptop hooked up to the projector. Bean bags scattered the room for a few others to watch the game, some who were up to watch any football match in existence out of love for the game and others who were watching for the sake of you, knowing the importance of a seemingly inconspicuous international game. 

Front and centre with her laptop in front of her ready to solve any further problems, adamant to not miss a single second of the game, was Alexia. Her game was the day after, the greatest twist of fate she could ever ask for, because otherwise she might have simply had to drop out of her own game so she could watch you. To her left was Irene, as well as Mariona on her right. More teammates were scattered behind her, but her attention wasn’t on them.

By the time the warm-up was done, you were well and truly in the zone. You were ready, couldn’t be more ready if you tried. The sounds of your boots against the floor as you made your way back to the locker room was music to your ears, the smell of grass and the way blades of it clung to your boots, socks, skin, it was grounding. 

You’d been doing this since you were a child, the same age as that young fan outside the ground earlier. The feel of your studs digging into the mud below and the rhythm of the sport was second nature. It was peace, it was your safe space. Trying to convince yourself this was just any other game was useless, it was the biggest game of your personal standards so far. You might have won the Champion’s League, might have gotten a quadruple with the club of your dreams. This was different to that. 

This was establishing who you were, to yourself. This was you separating yourself from your team, being your own person and taking something for you. This was an individual achievement that might not make sense to most but meant everything to you. 

The best part of it all? You weren’t nervous or anxious in the slightest.

Not anxious, even when you stood in front of your jersey where it was hung up at your cubby. Even when you changed from your warm-up kit to the shirt that had pride and responsibility entangled in the fibres of it. 

Every match before this, you had been playing with a goal in mind for your team. Instead, there was only one real purpose in mind for an otherwise unimportant game: for you to get through it, for nobody but yourself. You wanted to play well, you wanted to put out a star-stopping performance like you did every time, but if you played like the worst player in the world you wouldn’t really care long as you made it to the final whistle. 

…well, maybe that was a stretch, god only knows what would happen if you ended up scoring a hattrick of own goals or something stupid like that, but the chances of that happening against you dropping a mediocre performance was quite unlikely. 

No matter how you performed, you knew you had a support system behind you that would make you feel like the world was yours, like you were invincible. That’s just how they made you feel on a day to day basis. And it was how you felt when you checked your phone before the final team, to see a long and soppy text from Alexia about how proud she was, how she had tears in her eyes before the whistle had even blew, how she had never felt so much love and pride for another person ever, and so much more that echoed in your mind as you made your way to the tunnel. 

Ingrid lined up behind you, her hand lightly tapping your shoulder to gain your attention. The look on her face was determined, focused, like yours, yet there was an underlying softness in her eyes like she could burst out into sobs any second at the sight of you in front of her, about to play for your country again. Her lips were in a straight, thin line as if she was fighting off the world’s biggest smile, and she held her arms out to offer you a hug whilst not putting any pressure on the invitation. But you couldn’t resist, so you stepped into her arms and momentarily hid your face in her shoulder.

She didn’t speak, didn’t do anything but hug you, a reprieve from everything around that you would remember long into the future. There wasn’t anyone you would rather have at your side, and there especially wasn’t anyone else in the world that deserved to be at your side for such a momentous day than her. 

That last pocket of time before the game started, you closed your eyes and took a second to breathe, step back from the importance of the situation, and remind yourself that no matter what happens, you’ve still hit a milestone you never thought you would again. The outcome of the game was somewhat in your control, as long as you gave it your all, nobody could ask for anything more, and you couldn’t ask for anymore from yourself either. You had faith in yourself, something that previous versions of you never had. And that was the most important takeaway from this whole thing.

When you stepped out onto the grass for the second time that day, this occasion the actual moment you’d been waiting for, you allowed yourself to take in the surroundings and the gravity of the event as you lined up for the national anthems. The second they were over, and you made your rounds with the other team shaking hands, you slipped into that unshakable trance that always overcame you for a game, and got the job done.

—

“You did it, engel.” 

Was there any better sound after a day like the one you’d had?

“You did it, and you scored a goal, and you won the game, and got player of the match.” 

Your girlfriend was right. 

So far though, everything post-match was sort of a blur. In a few days time, when things had calmed and you had time to process things, each little sentimental conversation and congratulation and recognition for what you had achieved, they would all jump out into a clear picture to make up one of the best days of your life. For now however, it was all a little too far out of view. All you had was a concoction of feelings which had settled deep in your chest, a heavy mixture of accomplishment and overwhelm. 

Once the adrenaline and dopamine rush wore off, you were left in a pit of… mental discomfort. Disarray. 

You had built the occasion up so much, but how were you supposed to feel afterwards? What was the expected reaction? 

“I couldn’t stop crying, really. And you looked so happy afterwards too, tell me how you are, tell me all about it. I’m so sad I wasn’t there.” 

Ingrid was sat on the bed beside you as Alexia took up your phone screen, leaning over the balcony of her hotel room back in Spain. Unlike normal, even just their company did little, if anything, to calm your overthinking. 

What you do remember, was getting quite lost in your emotions after the final whistle. You shook hands with the opposing team, you saw Ingrid coming rushing towards you from the bench before she wrapped you up in a tight hug and lifted you off the ground, which was where it all sunk in. Then fast forward to the post-match huddle on the pitch, during which you were made centre of attention and emphatically congratulated for both your performance and personal achievement, and suddenly you were wired. 

The locker room afterwards, all you remembered at that moment of time was it vibrating with energy, with you at the centre of it. The coach ride back too, you were giddy and completely overjoyed at how successful the day had gone, it literally couldn’t have been much better. 

“I’m so proud of you, I don’t know what else to say. But I a-”

And yet, your mind did what it did best, and got the better of you. It twisted and warped the already skewed memory you had to play into your insecurities and downplay the pride of others.

You overestimated their excitement, didn’t you? You imagined something that wasn’t there just to feed into your own wishes, dreams, delusions. None of them were anywhere near as excited for you. It was just. One. Game.

“Do other people feel like this after… playing one game?” 

Both of them looked at you, utterly perplexed. Alexia was still rambling about how proud she was and Ingrid was on her phone, thanking people on your behalf, when you’d said that out of nowhere. The worst part though, was that you glanced at them like it wasn’t an upsetting question for them to hear. Like you were genuinely asking as a result of the racing thoughts going around your head.

“What do you mean by that?” Ingrid wondered with a frown that matched Alexia’s too. 

The Norwegian next to you looked like she was angry at what she’d heard, you didn’t take it to heart though because she had a tendency to look fairly homicidal when something worried her. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, seemed as if she was on the brink of tears. Her face exuded delicateness, like one more comment might send her crying into her cotton socks, and you had to avert your attention away from the earnesty in her eyes because it might have swayed you into thinking that you were allowed to feel so fulfilled after just one game.

“Everyone else doesn’t get this excited and whatever after one match. It’s a bit… ridiculous and childish, isn’t it.” 

The blonde’s jaw dropped for a moment whilst Ingrid’s clenched in heartbreak and disappointment – not at you, but rather at the fact you couldn’t even enjoy such a milestone.

“No. You aren’t allowed to think like that.” Alexia stated first which caught you and Ingrid by surprise. “Please give her a hug from me.” 

Her request nearly brought a smile to your face despite the self-deprecating habits that ran the show, and you cracked just a little when your best friend did as asked almost immediately. Through the camera, Alexia could see as you settled into it, noticing how you sank into Ingrid like you needed a hug. Not just a brief, congratulatory one that felt almost obligated, but one where somebody you loved embraced you tightly, tight enough to quell the feelings that stirred inside of you. As she watched, however, that realisation of the midfielder slowly faded into how much she needed one from you. How much she desperately wanted to be in Ingrid’s position then.

Once you pulled away, Alexia could already tell part of the weight on your shoulders had been lifted. Not all of it, the rest probably wouldn’t budge until you slept it off when you let your body and mind rest, but still. Progress. And it was all she could do from afar, sending her love in any way that worked. That was something she was still figuring out, and each time you reluctantly had to spend time apart, she got better at it. Of course, as you returned to Norway for the national team, that was the occasion she finally knew best what to do. Because even though she wasn’t there with you, it sure did feel like it. 

“Don’t start undermining yourself now, snuppa. You have nothing to worry about, you’ve done all that you need to do. You should be feeling happy for yourself. Not like this.” Ingrid murmured, loosening her arms when she finished talking to leave a kiss on your forehead. Alexia hummed her agreement, smiling softly when you turned back to her, a small action that filled your heart with adoration and made you blush the tiniest bit. Though, it was still noticed by the Spaniard, who gave a teasing grin once she did.

“You know we are proud of you, and everybody else is too. I know I wasn’t there, but I can bet my life on the fact the team showed you how they felt, no? So why are you thinking that what you feel is not allowed?” She asked, a playful lilt to her voice that proved she wasn’t irritated by your adamance to not celebrate yourself, rather she was more than happy to take on the role of hyping you up until the joy you locked away finally bloomed in full. 

“I don’t know, it’s just… weird. Feels weird for one game to be such a big deal.” 

“No.” A lonesome demand which left no room for argument.

“What do you mean ‘no’ Ale?” You scrunched your nose up at the woman’s peculiar behaviour, meanwhile Ingrid stifled a laugh.

“You can’t think like that. I’m saying no.” She had a smugness to her face that communicated she had some sort of plan going on. Not that you could tell, but Ingrid could. You were the most confused you think you’d ever been in your entire life. Coincidentally, it took away some of the things bearing down on your shoulders since it derailed your mind from its destructive route and pulled you in the opposite direction of the toxicity it so desperately clung onto.

“What are you talking about? You can’t just say no to m-”

“I could tell, even from across the screen, that you were proud of yourself when the game ended. You had a huge smile on your face, one that made me cry. What you’re doing now is trying to fit into what you think everybody else expects from you, but it’s not that at all. We expect you to be happy and proud because you should be. This is not some small achievement, it wasn’t just a game, it was something that plagued you for years and now it’s all in the past because of how strong and determined and brave you are. So, come on, say it for yourself.” She looked at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised as she waited. You were almost certain that outside of the camera frame, she had a hand on her hip as she tapped her against the floor like an impatient train ticketer. 

“Say what?” 

“You know what.” Ingrid glanced at you, letting out a huff of laughter when she saw the unimpressed frown you wore at the coup that had transpired against you. “I know you feel it deep down, you just don’t think you’re allowed to believe and say it. But you are, so say it out loud now to us both.” 

You rolled your eyes and cursed her out under your breath as you shook your head at her antics.

“If you don’t say it, I’m hanging up the call.” Still, you stayed silent for a bit longer. Alexia let out a theatrical sigh, much more exaggerated and dramatic than was necessary. You threw your head back against the pillow and groaned in frustration. “Vale, I am leaving then, goodni-”

“Alright, alright!” You exclaimed with another annoyed sigh. You then said it, but in a reluctant and barely audible mumble. “I’m proud of myself.” 

“Are you? Are you actually?” Alexia’s eyebrow shot up even higher somehow, provoking an honest answer from you instead of a hesitant and disdainful one.

“Yes. I am proud of myself.” 

That time when you spoke, you sounded awfully bashful. For all the right reasons too; a second or so after you finally said it and meant it, there was this warmth that flooded your chest. The realisation that you did feel that way about yourself washed over you and almost took your breath away. 

The old you would have never admitted such an unprecedented thing because feeling proud towards something of your own doing wasn’t a thing, it wasn’t a concept and it certainly wasn’t a possibility. The old you would have shrugged off the praises of others and reminded yourself that success wasn’t an accomplishment, but a necessity. What other choice did you have than to succeed? If you were going to do something, you only did it if you knew you would achieve the outcome you wanted. If there was a possibility that you weren’t, then you didn’t do it, through fear of underwhelming others, and proving to your subconscious that you really were the subpar human both you and the rest of the world thought you were.

Yet, you sat on your bed at a hotel in the capital of your home country with two people that had changed you for the better, having reached something that you never thought you would manage to do again. Not only did you manage it, you flourished whilst doing it. 

So yeah, maybe you were proud of yourself. Because with the pair that celebrated the moment with you, you’d become the person that the younger you, the one that hadn’t yet heard of autism and still had dreams bigger than the universe, always thought you’d be. You’d grown into the example you saw growing up as a teenager but never imagined yourself as due to the limits put on you. The two people with you then had allowed that to happen. They gave you a safe space to exist in, to daydream in and to wish for things bigger and better than you ever had before. They returned the true version of yourself back to you, the one that had been lost for a few years and you felt whole. Rather than clipping your wings, they gave you space to soar. And the version of you as a child that could hardly sleep at night due to being enraptured by your imagination and all the things you wanted to do in the future, she had a sacred space to live in again, back in your heart, as a result of your resilience and the love that surrounded you.

“I’m really proud of myself.” 

Ingrid’s face softened immeasurably as you admitted it wholeheartedly that time, meaning every single syllable of the phrase. Alexia, on the other hand, was grinning like a maniac, however the teasing act she was trying to put on was severely overlooked then when you saw how her eyes glistened in the sunlight that bounced off of the building across from her. It forced the same reaction upon you too, and before you knew it, there was a tear streaking down your cheek. 

“I can’t believe I did it.” You choked out, Ingrid wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her. Alexia briefly turned the camera away from her to try and hide how she wiped her own tears, but the sniffles coming from her gave away instantly. It only made you cry more.

“You did do it. We really could not be happier for you.” The dark-haired woman told you sincerely, the pair of you turning to the phone screen when a stifled sob sounded through the room. 

“I’m so happy. I’ve never been happier than I am right now.” 

It was one thing for you and Ingrid to have never seen Alexia like that, in such an emotional state, but it was a big thing for her too. 

To her, it was like from the minute you stepped into her life, everything she felt had increased tenfold in intensity. Every emotion overcame her a hundred times harder than before, she suddenly had especially strong opinions about things she’d never had to think about before you, and she knew for a fact she loved with more conviction than she ever did before. Every aspect of her life was just so… vibrant. And full of life. The way you viewed the world had unknowingly affected how she saw it too, because she genuinely, completely, absolutely believed that it was so much more beautiful through your eyes. 

You taught her how to love, that much she knew. But what she didn’t realise until that moment, was that you had also taught her how to be a better person. A better girlfriend, sister, daughter, friend, human. You had taught her how to be more in tune with herself, more comfortable with who she was. Seeing someone express themself as freely as you did, it made Alexia want to do the same too. So it meant a great deal to her when you mentioned only a few days prior that she was your safe person, because she thought that about you too.

If she thought you were the best person she’d ever met, and you thought the world of her? It gave her, Alexia Putellas, Ballon d’Or winner and World Cup winner, more confidence than anything else in existence could ever do. It gave her more security in showing the emotions she well and truly felt, rather than suppressing them for the sake of others. At the same time, it made her feel comfortable in expressing emotions that were new to her also. Like, for example, not just tearing up at an achievement someone else had got, but sobbing at it. From pride, from love, from admiration, all of that and more.

She felt she was on cloud nine being loved by you. It was the greatest privilege of her life. Seeing the person that she loved and that loved her do something they so desperately wanted to do was indescribable. Every emotion she experienced then were things she didn’t even know she could feel. That was just the effect of being around you; everything out of reach suddenly seemed… possible. 

From that day onwards, she knew she had to make it her mission to remind you what an astounding person you were, even more so than she already had been doing. She had to make sure you knew she loved you in ways she had no idea she could. 

—

Having something that stressed you out to extreme heights go as successful as your first game did, it had an obvious impact on how your daily mood. It was evident to everyone in the way you carried yourself, both to those that knew you well and those that hardly knew you at all.

Walking into breakfast the day after the game, each person in the room could see you held your head higher, you had a smile on your face that never left, and there was just this air about you, this confidence that wasn’t there beforehand. The change was literally night and day. And it uplifted everyone.

With it being a recovery day, the schedule was light compared to a day of training. That meant you had more free time than normal, and whereas previous days that would have made you panic, nothing could shake you out of the bliss you found your mind living in. Rather than shying away from all the suggestions thrown at you of what you could spend the day doing, you relished in it. 

First, you ate breakfast, vafler of course, courtesy of an extra upbeat Heidi, seated with some of the more unfamiliar faces of the group as Ingrid caught up with them. Initially you were quiet, but as the conversation flowed between the table, you found yourself joining with ease. There was an occasion or two where you found yourself overthinking what you wanted to add, but the more time went on, the less that happened. By the end of breakfast a number of days into camp, you’d quite comfortably found solace in each person in the squad. Unlike the past, there wasn’t a single member of both the team and the staff that you felt uncomfortable and unwelcome around. 

You found that, rather quickly, this was becoming a place you wanted to come back to as often as you could. For the people, the sense of belonging and even family, for the home comforts of your country, and for the sheer triumph that had established itself within you. Everything that happened in the past, all the mental scars and the wounds to your self-esteem, were fading away as if they were never there in the first place. 

Not only did it give you a great amount of joy and relief at being with the national team again and adorning the Norway crest, it was healing. In a way you never knew you needed but couldn’t go on without. Even with one match still to go of the camp, you could tell you were a completely new person. You were a new version of yourself, one that you loved most and were proud to be.

“Hey, uh, apparently there is a sight-seeing cruise the staff have booked for anyone that wants to go. A few of us are going, will you come too?” 

It was Frida that had appeared beside you as you stacked your plate on top of the other used ones once you’d finished eating, a hopeful smile on her face because she wanted you to go, you recognised that. She wasn’t asking for the sake of asking, something you would have convinced yourself of in the past.

Was going on a sight-seeing cruise on your agenda when you woke up? No, but it sounded like the perfect way to spend a day where you otherwise had no plans. Of course you wanted to go.

A good few hours of your afternoon were taken up with the spontaneous boat trip that took you around some of Oslo’s fjords on a traditional sailing ship, around half the team coming along and making the day-out a hell of a lot of fun. Drinks were shared, food was eaten, anecdotes were told and jokes were made about anything and everything in between. 

When you planned to come back, you didn’t think it would be this good. You knew that once you got back home, it wasn’t just the achievement you had to take with you and remember forever, it was the memories like that which would live in your heart. There was one instance specifically on the boat where you were sat with some of the team, new faces and old, where you took a second as the others continued to laugh and drink the single glasses of wine they were allowed, in which you could feel the warm crackle of contentment slowly simmering in your chest as you sat with them all. You thrived off of the connection you experienced with others, and there on the boat you recognised how pure and unfiltered what you'd found was. Your mask wasn’t up, you weren’t pretending to be someone you weren’t to try and fit in. 

You appreciated the people you were with much more than they would ever understand, comprehend even. As the thought crossed your mind and the gratitude burned inside you, there was a huge grin on your face you didn’t hide, couldn’t try to if you wanted to, because of how happy you felt. The conversation then wasn’t particularly funny, it wouldn’t explain the size of the smile on your face, but none of them cared. They didn’t point it out and make it the butt of the joke. A few of them noticed and felt themself have the same reaction too, they cared about your joy just as much as everyone else that knew you. Frida saw it too, nudging Ingrid in the process who swore she hadn’t seen a better sight.

You, with friends you’d made on the national team, immersed in the conversation and the banter with no doubts or fears, and a genuine smile on your face. It might not have been a milestone to others, but to her it was one she’d remember on your behalf for as long as her mind would let her.

Near the end of the journey on the way back, you were at the back of the boat away from the dialed-down madness now that the impromptu trip was almost over, you facing the sunset as you left the horizon behind. With the dwindling hours of the day, it’d dropped in temperature, aided by the calm water below and the chill that drifted in the air. You tugged your zipped coat over your chin, hands tucked deep into your pockets with ears so cold they were probably verging on purple. But even then, it was a cold you were used to, a cold that was your home, and it hardly even registered in your mind as you took some time to process what the trip had been and the events of the day before, with your first match back and all. 

Still, you were speechless, unable to make sense of everything. Such huge, almost life-changing things like this, it took a long while for you to fully grasp what you thought of it all. The only thing you could highlight was that it was worth it. So. Worth it.

The way the world worked was funny to you, how life worked out when it seemed least likely to. If you hadn't met Ingrid, you might not have continued playing football, since you met her at such a time where everything felt uninspiring and pointless, just for her to end up restoring the slightest bit of faith that kept you playing. If you hadn’t transferred to Barcelona and stayed in Frankfurt instead, where you’d hit the ceiling of your abilities both professionally and personally, maybe you wouldn’t have ever returned to playing for your country. If you hadn’t met Alexia, you certainly wouldn’t have felt so loved, so content in your safe space to leave your comfort zone, so much more confident with yourself, you just wouldn’t be who you were and where you were now. 

Others could see it too.

“Are you alright?” Frida came to join you, the person you’d got along with best so far in camp, her cheeks a deep red but a warm smile on her face nevertheless.

“Yes, just taking it all in. I have been to Oslo so many times but have never seen it like this.” 

Something you noticed was that Frida’s eyes brightened when she spoke to people. You had no idea it was possible, but it was the truth, it was impossible to deny. Whether it was the way her face exuded glee whenever she smiled, because she didn’t just do it with her mouth but with every muscle in her face, or it was her soul reflecting the light within it, you didn’t know. But by the time you finished speaking, you mirrored her expression.

“Me too. Normally the staff book things for us if we want to do them, but they haven’t done something like this before. I really loved it.” She agreed, to which you nodded easily. There was a slight pause, before she turned to you properly. “I am glad you came. It is nice to see you like this, back here. I’m happy that you are happy, and that you are fitting in. It’s been really nice getting to know you properly.” 

You were just so grateful for how things had worked out for you. Never before had you been so at peace in your life.

“Thank you, Frida. I’ve… I’ve had a lot of fun here. I’m really glad I came.” Somehow, her smile got brighter.

“Me too! Will you come back for the next camp?”

That was something you had spent most of the night before thinking about. And by the time the sun began to rise, you were pretty certain of your answer.

“Yes, I think so.” You answered shyly, to which the blonde haired woman beamed at you. All the more reason to come back.

“Good, otherwise you would have to come to London so I can see you again.” She joked and you laughed in response, but underneath the surface you felt your heart clench at the sentiment. She wanted to see you again. A simple thing to her, treasured thing to you.

“You should come visit Barcelona, the weather is a lot better there.” Frida laughed along with you, as light and as gentle as the way she spoke.

“No, London weather is more like home, Barcelona is too hot for me.” 

All too soon, however, the boat pulled into the harbour and the day had come to an end. Or so you thought – your plan was to have dinner, then spend the rest of the night in your hotel room, coming down from the day. However, your teammates had other things in mind.

“Some of us are going to play cards later, care to join us?” 

The offer from Celin as she skipped to catch up with you was a tantilising one, though it wasn’t in your plan for the evening and you were pretty tired from all the emotions that had ripped through you recently. Despite that, with one look at her and the fact you knew it’d be a fun time, you gave in rather quickly. You nodded, and the forward grinned excitedly before going off to round up some others. 

During the walk back to the hotel, you weren’t convinced it was the right idea for you. You were tired, you were quite mentally exhausted, and any extra socialising might push you over the edge. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. After eating dinner, a select few of you, including Frida and Ingrid, stayed behind and spent a good hour or so immersed in many intense, highly competitive – because what else would be expected from a group of athletes – card games of different variations. And it didn’t go on too long, the rest were tired and wanted to relax on their own before training the next day with another game in only three days’ time, so it ended up working out perfectly. 

There really wasn’t anything more you could ask for from this whole thing.

—

The second and last game of the camp came and went pretty quick, and it went much the same way as the first. That time, however, you felt settled and calm from the second you woke up. There was no anxiety, no moments of utter blind panic, no doubts. You were focused for the game ahead with no preamble. It was a really, really good sign. One that wasn’t wrong, either, because you had yet another stellar game that Alexia watched with her eyes glued to the screen, except this time when the whistle blew there was a spark of excitement in her chest because that meant she was just one day away from getting to see you again. 

One sleep, one flight, one taxi ride, and you’d be back together again. So despite the MVP award that you’d been given again, all you could think about was arriving at your apartment to find her there and waiting for you. Her flight got in earlier, so she had ample time to go home and refresh herself, then get to your flat by the time you got back, and you just couldn’t wait for it. Reuniting with her after time apart had never felt so meaningful and needed. It had been torture going through the last two weeks without her; being on top of the world but without the person that had got you there was terrible luck. Your phone call with her afterwards was all soft murmurs and giddy declarations for what would soon come, topping off what had been another flawless day in Norway. 

You’d miss the chilly country, but you also missed Spain too. Missed your club, your apartment, the warmer weather, your teammates. All of the above never happened at Frankfurt, as harsh as it sounds. Not that there was warmer weather there exactly, but the point still stands. 

The game finished in the early evening, which left perfect time for there to be a sort of goodbye dinner, the best way to end the camp before everyone went their separate ways back to club football again. It was lowkey, it was heartfelt, and there were a couple occasions you caught yourself looking around the room and reminiscing on what the last fortnight had been. 

A success is what it had been. In all avenues: football, socially, personally. You took the time to acknowledge that it was everyone else in your life that had gotten you there, but you could hear Alexia in the back of your head.

“You did this yourself. All we did was urge you, it was you that took yourself there and woke up each day determined to make it go well. We did nothing really, it was all you, engel.” 

It had always been the most important thing to you to make sure you gave credit to those around who helped you. This time, however, you made the conscious effort to give yourself credit too. It felt incredibly unnatural and embarrassingly forced sometimes, like a cringey motivational podcast, yet you still tried. Initially you shrugged it off. Then, you truly started to take it in. Before you knew it, you were lay in bed on your final night before returning home, letting yourself sink into the mattress and feeling the weight of your effort lift, because it was done. Over. 

Knowing that you had faced something that seemed unexplainably difficult, pushed through the hard moments, and came out of it stronger, wiser, with a better sense of yourself and two matches under your belt, it… felt like you could finally release a deep breath you’d held in for years. The quiet yet powerful realisation that you actually did it kept sleep far out of reach, that wasn’t a surprise, and even though you might have looked a little psychotic lying in a pitch-black room in the middle of the night, you didn’t stifle the smile that forced its way through. You’d worked so hard to feel that pride, you weren’t about to fight it off. 

You let it consume you, not annoyed at the lack of rest, knowing that you were about to go home to your girlfriend who would tackle you into bed at 4pm if necessary to ensure you got the sleep you needed, and she wouldn’t move an inch out of your space for the whole time. Dreamy. 

You couldn’t wait to see her proud face in person, not a lagging phone screen, hearing her ramble with her arms around you rather than over a phone call with a tinny signal. 

Ingrid could sense your excitement from the other side of the hotel room as you both packed your things the morning you were due to leave. She couldn’t help it, she felt the same too. There was a small something hidden away in her backpack she was due to give to you before you went your separate ways, you back to your apartment and Ingrid back to hers. It had been Alexia’s idea, a plan discussed whilst you slept in the next bed over as she spoke in a hushed whisper that Alexia could hardly hear, each time she asked the Norwegian to repeat herself adding to the risk of you waking up. Alas, you didn’t and you were none the wiser to their conniving behaviour.

The duration of the short flight, the dark-haired woman swore she could feel you physically vibrating with excitement in your seat beside her; legs bouncing, hands either wringing together or tapping against your thighs, you pulled out all the stops. The only thing Ingrid could do was smile with amusement, deep down revelling in your clear joy and your carelessness for showing it. And it continued from the flight, to the shuttle to the terminal, to the car ride that dropped you off back home. 

Barcelona was well and truly home. Or, home was just wherever your life with Alexia was.

Your desperate anticipation was entirely all-consuming, to the point where Ingrid had to pull you back by the handle on your backpack to keep you from running off before she got to say goodbye. Well, not a goodbye as such since you’d be seeing each other in a couple days back at the club, and you did live in the same complex, but she still wanted to have a final moment with you to round off the international period.

Her hands landed on your shoulders once you’d entered the elevator together, and her facial features fell into that soft, “I’m about to say something sincere and you’re going to let me say it,” kind of look. She held your gaze for a few long moments as the building floors ticked by, and there was a smile that crinkled her eyes in the corners. Really, she didn’t need to say a word. You saw the unspoken message etched across her whole being: I knew you could do it.

Then, of course, she drew you into one of her usual hugs that had you toeing the line of death due to lack of oxygen, along with a gentle murmur in your ear of Stolt av deg, the combination of your mother tongue and the honesty she spoke it with poking at your tear ducts. The sentimental value of the moment was almost overwhelming, it was all you could do to hug her back like your life depended on it. 

Your dignity was saved by the bell, literally, as the doors opened and the chime to match it went off, alerting you both as you pulled away and Ingrid reached for her backpack. It was her floor, though she wasn’t getting out just yet, to your confusion. Your eyebrows pinched together as she rooted around in her bag for a little while, until she pulled out a small gift bag. 

“This is for you.” She said simply as the elevator doors shut again, though it didn’t go anywhere. “From all of us at camp, but it was Alexia’s idea. She wanted to do something for you. So thank her, okay? She’s in awe of you, as are us all. But her especially.”

And with a quick kiss to your forehead, she was grabbing her suitcase and leaving the elevator. By the time your brain caught up, the doors were already closing again. You stood frozen to the spot for a second or two, cheeks red and your head spinning at the prospect of the gift in your hand, whatever it was you didn’t know yet, before you pressed the button for your floor and the elevator started whirring again.

For the whole journey up – which was about fifteen seconds – you stared at the bag in your hand, staggered by the sudden surprise. This definitely wasn’t on the cards for your return home. Regardless, you realised your heart rate had picked up a little. Whether it was from the gift or the prospect that Alexia was only one closed door away from you as you stepped out the lift, you didn’t care. 

It was a miracle you didn’t run to your door really, though you found that since getting out of the car, your energy had dipped quite an amount. There was only one logical explanation for that; all the exhaustion the past fortnight had caused was catching up to you now that you were soon to be with the one person that you could properly rest with.

You hardly managed one knock at the door, not bothering with your keys, before it swung open to reveal her. You didn’t even catch a glance at her– one second your feet were on the ground, next minute you had a face full of faded blonde hair and a familiar pair of arms around you that lifted you up into the tightest embrace she’d ever given. It was a bit awkward given that you weren’t quite expecting it and you still had your backpack on, but, hoping that your gift wasn’t fragile, you dropped it to the ground and wrapped yourself around her wholly. 

God only knows how long the two of you spent like that, but neither of you were prepared to move for a long while, wanting to drink in each other’s company again. You planned to not pull back until Alexia did, a plan that was entirely scuffed when you heard a quiet sniffle. 

When you leaned back, the picture before you was unexpected, yet made your heart swell.

“Why are you tearing up, Ale?” You asked in a quiet voice, your hands moving up to rest on her cheeks as she linked her own together behind your back.

“Because you are back here with me again. Because you make me proud by being you, and you make me proud to love you.” Her voice trembled with her reply and it made it all the more sweeter. 

That last part about her being proud to love you, just might never leave your mind. Nobody had ever said they were proud to love you, nevermind mean it. You know there were probably some in your life that felt the same way but weren’t too sure how to articulate it, but Alexia did. She always did. You were proud to love her, too. 

“I love you, Alexia. And I missed you so much.” 

After shrugging off your bag, you rushed in for a hug, a proper one this time. One where you ducked your head down and buried your face in her neck as her body enveloped you, the kind you’d craved every morning you woke up and every night before you slept. All you could think then was finally. Finally, the person who’d had the biggest impact on you out of everyone, maybe bar Ingrid, could feel it within you in her arms. The way your shoulders were lighter and your posture stood taller, how it did from the morning after the first game. 

“I love you too. Love you, love you, love you, lo-” You removed your head from her neck, rolled your eyes, and shut her up with a kiss. A cliche, soppy, rom-com movie kind of kiss at the end of the film when the protagonists finally got together. That word again, finally. Except the two of you had said those words probably thousands of times and it never got old.

“That was the longest two weeks of my life, god.” You groaned as you rested your forehead against hers, eyes falling shut as you enjoyed the close proximity to her again. She gave an unreasonably wide grin for such a simple comment, and pulled you closer to her somehow, to the point where any outsiders wouldn’t have a clue where she ended and you began.

“For me too, but it was worth it, no?” The way she proposed the question, you knew it was her last way of properly checking in with you before embedding the two of you in post-success joy, where she could at last go on and on and on forever about the two weeks. You loved it, the way she wanted to know what you were thinking at times she thought you might be covering the truth, without doing it in an oppressive and irritated way. Your answering smile gave you away before you had the chance to think of a reply.

“So worth it.” You told her shyly, watching as her entire demeanour lit up more than it already was before. “How was camp for you? I’ve barely got a word in about it.” 

“No, no, no. Let’s not bring the mood down with that, I just want to forget it.” You frowned, a notion Alexia caught onto instantly as she waved you off, so she distracted you with a comforting kiss to your cheek and a bright smile. “Ingrid gave you the gift, right? Open it now.” 

Making a mental note to revisit that conversation, you let it slide temporarily. You reached down and grabbed the bag again, glancing between that and Alexia’s somewhat nervous face with a questioning look. A slightly accusatory one as well, because there really was no need for her to get a gift after everything she had already done for you.

“What have you done?” You wondered suspiciously, the blonde anxiously chewing her lower lip as she waited for you to see what it was.

“Just… something. For you. From me. And your Norway teammates, and-” 

“Okay, well, quit the anxious rambling and let me open it.” You teased, some of the tension leaving her shoulders with the quiet chuckle she gave.

Never in your life could you have predicted what was waiting for you.

In the world of football, the gift was a common thing for reasons you thought were much more important than the one you were given it for. You didn’t expect to receive one, but you got it, it was right there in your hands.

Your shirt from the first game you played, first match you started, signed by each and every teammate there, along with some staff members like Heidi and Gemma. All of them took the time, under instruction by Ingrid and Alexia, to sign it for you as a token of their respect, their admiration, and their support. Unwithering support, each and every single one of them. Ingrid had nearly cried at the suggestion Alexia made, and the latter woman could cry as she watched you stare at it in disbelief.

“I thought it would be nice if we had it framed and put it on a wall in your apartment. So that you can see it and be reminded of it everyday. You seem to struggle with remembering your strengths and I think this is the biggest example I could get to help you with that. I want you to acknowledge all you have overcome to get here, I want you to see the product of your hard work. Well, this is that. I think. I don’t know. If you don’t agree, then we can, I don’t know, n-”

“Shut up.” 

“Q…qué?” 

“Shut up, Alexia. This is the best thing someone has ever done for me.” 

The midfielder scoffed lightheartedly to brush off the bold statement out of fear of what it might have done to her emotions. She stepped closer again and hugged you, unable to keep herself away from you after so much time apart. And you just fell into her, arms loose around her waist as she placed one of those beautifully soft kisses against your forehead whilst whispering the purest declarations you’d ever heard.

Your emotions, on the other hand, had hit such a height, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. They’d built up so much that you were frozen by them. The sole thought that escaped through was just… finally.

Finally, you had someone that was proud to love you, someone that would go behind your back and plot from another country the best gift to give you, someone that let you be… you. No mask, no anxiety, no fear of being too much. You had people around you that saw you for who you were rather than what you weren’t, that didn’t care if some traits were different, because, as a product of finally being in a place in life both metaphorically and physically, you didn’t change a thing about yourself.

Finally, you were the person you always set out to be. 

—

i am so, so sorry for how long this took to come out! it's been a time these last few weeks. after i posted part one i had an awful experience with trolls in my inbox and it was the worst thing i've had to deal with, and to be completely honest if it happens again with this one i'm most likely gonna dip out of here for good, i just don't have the energy to deal with that. anyways it was so bizarre writing p1 when i was manically anxious about uni because that part was similar to how i felt then, compared to now with p2 where i'm happy and settled at uni and still riding the wave of relief at how it's worked out there like in this fic. thanks for sticking around and waiting, hope you liked this little story within a story, there will be more to come of reverie hopefully if all goes well :)

[girlgenius1111]

unhappy reunions

sol runs into her parents after the copa de la reina final no warnings.

--------

“Solstråle?” 

You froze. You knew that voice, knew it well. Your mother normally didn’t call you by the nickname Ingrid had given you, and that almost surprised you more than her surprise appearance.The noisy cafe still existed around you, but when you turned around, that was all forgotten. 

“Mamma?” You whispered, instinctually taking a step backwards from the woman in front of you. 

It made sense; you should have known better than to expect your parents to miss one of perfect, perfect Ingrid’s important games. 

“Hei, kjære.” Your dad said gently. He had his hand on your mom’s elbow, holding her back from taking a step closer. It wasn’t as jarring to see him, but your body had been plunged into panic the moment you’d seen your mothers’ face. 

“I-.... I can’t,” you mumbled, backing up until your back hit the door. The last thing you saw before you turned to leave was a heartbroken expression on your mom’s face. As if she was upset you wouldn’t talk to her. You were confused, overwhelmed, and so, so upset. 

You booked it back to the hotel. As fast as you could, walking as quickly as would be socially acceptable. You’d forgotten the coffee you’d ordered, which you only realized as you got in the elevator at the hotel. You were kind of torn on whether to head to your room, or to Ingrid and Mapi’s. They’d probably still be asleep; the celebrations had gone late the night before, and you wanted them to rest, to really soak in the victory. 

But honestly, you weren’t sure you’d be able to calm yourself down, and you knew your sister could. You made a decision that you wouldn’t have a few months ago, maybe even a few weeks ago, stopping in front of your sister’s door rather than your own. You chose company over self pity, and comfort over punishing yourself. And it felt wrong. 

Mapi answered the door. “Good morning Sol!” She said cheerily, stepping aside to let you in the room. The bathroom door was closed and you could hear the shower running, which explained where your sister was. 

“Hi.” You said, your voice much shakier and quieter than normal. 

“You okay?” Mapi asked, shutting the door and giving you a concerned look. 

“Yeah.” The lie was instinctual. “No, actually. No. I… I went to get coffee.” 

Mapi looked at your empty hands, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“I saw my mom. She- both of them. My mom and my dad, they were in the coffee shop I went to. And I saw them.” You looked away from Mapi as you spoke, staring down at your hands. They were trembling. 

“Sol,” Mapi sighed and reached out for your hand, though you stepped backwards, shaking your head at her. 

“Please don’t touch me.” You whispered, pressing the heels of your palms tightly against your eyes. You felt so unsettled, so uncomfortable. Suddenly, Zaragoza didn’t feel safe, you didn’t feel safe. You wanted to go home, or maybe you just wanted to hide yourself somewhere quiet and far, far away from anyone else. 

Mapi stood for a minute, not sure what to do. You’d never refused a hug from her before and though she realized that you coming to their room as opposed to hiding away in your own room was a step forward, everything about your body language was screaming that you were miles away, back in Norway. Norway, where you didn’t feel loved or noticed. Where you shied away from hugs because you weren’t used to getting them. Mapi heard the shower turn off and wasn’t sure whether or not to be glad. Ingrid might be overwhelming for you, as it seemed like you were already overwhelmed, but Ingrid could sometimes get through to you in a way that only she could. 

“Okay, Sol. Everything is fine, cariño.” She tried to soothe. 

“No! No, everything isn’t fine. They aren’t supposed to be here, I don’t want to see her. Are they here to take me back? I don’t want to go back. I want to go home, to Barcelona. I want to go home Mapi, please.”

“You aren’t going back and you don't have to see anyone, nena.” Mapi promised, stepping closer with her hands raised slightly in the air. “Tell me what to do, tell me how I can help.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” All you could do was shake your head back and forth, trying to keep yourself in the present. 

“Okay, Sol, just breathe. Just breathe for me.” Mapi soothed, taking a slight step forwards. It didn’t seem like you were hearing her. It didn’t even seem like you were in the room with her. 

“Mom, please please don’t send me away. I want to stay here with you. Please mom, please.” You sobbed. Your head hurt from crying, from going back and forth in circles with your mother. 

“You are going, and that is final.” Your mother said firmly. She didn’t really seem to see your tears, or how upset you were.  

You looked towards your dad, who couldn’t meet your eyes. “Dad, please. I don’t want to go. I’ll be better, I promise, just please,” 

Your father opened his mouth, as if to reply, but your mother beat him to it. “Enough. We are not changing our minds.”

You wiped a few tears away. “How can you do this to me?”

“Do this to you?” She repeated incredulously. “I’m always the bad guy with you. No matter how much I do, nothing is ever enough. You are ungrateful. You are only capable of thinking of yourself. This is not the kind of person I raised you to be. You say that you are anxious and depressed. I think you’re lying, and I am sick and tired of your excuses for this poor behavior. It is a miracle your sister is even willing to take you in. I am sure she has no idea what she’s getting herself into. You will go to Spain, and you will learn what it's like to not have someone do everything for you. And until you learn that, do not bother coming back here. I do not want to see your face again until you have cleaned up your act.” 

The room fell silent as your mother took a step back, a flicker of emotion flashing across her face. Your dad still wouldn’t look at you. If he had, he would have seen that the tears had stopped. You stood, looking like you’d been struck. In that moment, you hated yourself as much as your mother seemed to. Even if you didn’t understand why she felt that way. You were pretty sure it was warranted. 

“I am sorry for yelling. I just get so frustrated with you sometimes, and I don’t know what else to do.” She stepped closer, stopping when you took a step back. “We are doing this because we care about you.” 

It was always because they cared about you. Never because they loved you. Your mother had stopped saying love a long time ago, around the time you’d started acting out. You wondered if you’d ever hear it again. From anyone. 

“Sol, I need you to breathe.” Mapi said, bringing you out of your thoughts. You raised your head to look at her, and she almost cried herself at the downright haunted look on your face. The next second, you were practically lunging towards her, a broken sob falling from your lips. 

“I want Ingrid.” You choked out, pressing your face into Mapi’s shoulder. She nodded quickly, arms holding you securely to her, even as you trembled violently. 

“Ingrid,” Mapi called.

“One second.” Ingrid replied, not hearing the urgency in her girlfriend’s tone. 

When Ingrid walked out of the bathroom, clean and dressed in the clothes she was intending on wearing to the airport, she stopped in her tracks. Mapi was holding you close against her, shushing you quietly, and you were sobbing. 

“María? Solstråle? What-?” 

Mapi just shook her head, waving Ingrid to come closer. Your sister crossed the room quickly, filled with confusion and worry as she saw the state you were in. When you didn’t seem like you were going to explain anytime soon, Ingrid looked again to Mapi. 

“She saw your parents. They’re here, in Zaragoza, she saw them in a coffee shop.” 

Ingrid felt fury rise in her, but she pushed it aside, softly stroking over your hair with her hand. “Sol, I’m so sorry.” 

Once you felt your sister’s hand on your head, you turned around, falling into Ingrid. You squeezed her tighter than you ever had before, the only thought in your head that you did not want to go back. 

“Ingrid, don’t let them take me.” You sobbed. 

“Elskling, I am not letting anyone take you anywhere . You are staying with me, okay? I promise you.”  

Ingrid had seen you upset before. Really upset. Nothing came close to this, though. It felt like just when she thought she understood how much damage your parents had done on you, something else would happen that told her it was far worse than she'd been thinking. 

And at the worst possible moment, the door flew open and Patri and Pina’s loud voices filled the room, before they fell completely silent. They froze in the doorway, realizing that they had walked in on a full breakdown from you. They’d heard from Ingrid and Mapi that you’d been struggling. Until now, it had been hard to fit that information into the image they had of you. Smiley quiet Sol. 

Neither of them knew what had happened to get you to this point, cradled against your sister, sobbing so hard they weren’t even sure you knew they were there. 

“Out.” Mapi said harshly, moving to block your trembling form. She’d never snapped like this to her teammates, and though they had already been on their way out of the room, they moved faster.

“Sorry, Mapi.” Patri said quietly, yanking Pina out of the room quickly and shutting the door behind them. 

“What-?” Pina began. 

“I don’t know. Whoever hurt her enough to be like that… I don’t understand. She’s such a good kid.” 

“If Mapi ever goes to jail for murder, we’ll know who she went after.” 

Patri nodded her agreement. 

Back inside the room, you had stopped crying, save for the occasional sniffle. Ingrid almost preferred the crying to the completely blank look that had washed over your face. 

“Sol,”

“Pina and Patri?”

“They won’t say anything to anyone, and they won’t make fun of you, Sol. Not for this.” Mapi promised. 

“Okay. Good. I need to pack.” You said stiffly, stepping away from the comfort of your sister, and turning to walk out of the room. 

“No, Sol. No. Stop for a second. We cannot pretend that didn't just happen.” Mapi cut in. A flicker of surprise flashed across your face, as Mapi was normally the one to encourage Ingrid to let you take things at your own pace. 

You looked between her and your sister, wondering how you could explain it in a way that made sense to them. “ I can’t think about this any more before we go home. I just need to go home. Please.” 

For once, Mapi looked conflicted while your sister nodded instantly. She understood. You hated unfamiliar places. You were introverted that way, while Mapi was very much the opposite. There was never a feeling of complete safety when you and Ingrid were away from home, and she understood why you didn’t want to deal with this now, here. Not when you were only a few hours from being home. 

“Okay. I get that. I am not leaving you alone right now, though. We still have a few hours until we have to go, so take Mapi with you to finish packing, and then go find me coffee.” 

You nodded weakly, moving only once Mapi had given you a kind smile and began to lead you out of the room. 

Ingrid waited until the door had shut behind you both before she grabbed her phone from her pocket, and clicked on a contact she hadn’t even looked at in a while. 

-------

She was doing the right thing. That’s what Ingrid told herself. It had nothing to do with the desperate wish to see her parents, even if she was so furious with them she couldn’t put it into words. She missed her mom, and she had for a while. Ingrid was doing this for you, though; she was putting you first. 

When she entered the bar in the lobby of the hotel, she saw her parents instantly. They were sitting at a small table in the corner of the bright room, conversing quietly. Her father kept shaking his head, and her mother seemed to be insisting on something. 

Making her way over to the table, Ingrid schooled her features and took a deep breath. 

“Hi.” She said neutrally, taking the open seat at the table without really looking at either of her parents. 

“Ingrid.” Her mom said happily. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

Your sister dug her nails into her palm. Think of Sol. Think of what they have done.

“I’m not here to chat. I am here to tell you to stay away from Sol. She isn’t ready to see either of you right now. I didn’t realize I had to be specific in my request for you both to not come to the final, but you’ve crossed the line here. You had no idea how upset Sol is.”  

“Ingrid, we didn’t mean to run into her. We just came to see you play. It was completely coincidental, our flight back home leaves this evening.” Her dad explained. 

“You told us what Sol needed, and we want to respect that. But we have really missed you, and you’ve had such an incredible season. We just wanted to see you play.” Her mom chimed in. 

“And what about Sol? Have you missed her?” Ingrid asked bitingly. 

“Of course we have. I know we… I messed up. I made a lot of mistakes. I wasn’t well, Ingrid, but I’m doing better now and I want-”

“Sol is not going back to Norway.” Ingrid snapped. 

Her mother nodded instantly. “I know. I want your sister to be happy, and it seems like she is. The best place for her is with you, I understand that. I don’t get to be upset that she doesn’t want to come home, not when I’m the reason she had to leave in the first place. I want to apologize to her, Ingrid. Not today, but maybe we can come to Barcelona? And we can talk to her.” 

The suspicion on Ingrid’s face said enough. Her mother knew then that what she had broken was not fixable. Her relationship with you may not even be salvageable, and her one with Ingrid was broken. Potentially beyond repair. 

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to her when we’re home to see if she wants to do that.” 

“Okay. Whatever you think is best, Ingrid.” 

The table fell into silence before your father spoke, his voice oddly choked up. “How is she?” 

Your sister’s eyes flickered to your fathers before she answered, trying to gauge his sincerity. “She’s okay. She’s doing better. It’s not perfect, but she’s happier. We got her a dog, and she’s making friends. Her and Mapi are… crazy together, but it’s fun. She’s going to be okay, I think.”

Your father gave Ingrid a watery smile, blinking hard. 

“Ingrid, I want to say I’m sorry to you, too.” Your mother said after a minute.

 Ingrid glared at her. “For what? I am happy to have Sol here, I love her. She isn’t a burden to me.”

Her mother flinched, wiping a tear off her cheek. “That’s not what I meant. I… she’s doing better, and that is because of you. Because you are doing an incredible job with her. I am sorry because what I have done has understandably pushed you away from me. And it isn’t fair for Sol not to have had an attentive mother, but it isn’t fair for you either, to lose me too. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry. I miss you, kjære. I love and  miss you both, but I understand.” 

Ingrid stared out the window for a moment, willing herself not to start sobbing. “Thank you for apologizing.” She said finally. “I miss you too, but that doesn’t change anything. Sol needs me, and she is my priority. She hasn’t been yours in a long time, but she is mine and I will do whatever she needs me to do. Even if that means not seeing you both.” 

Both your parents nodded solemnly. “We understand, Ingrid. Really, we do.”

Ingrid nodded, biting her lip hard to keep from crying. God, she wished Mapi was here right now. 

“Okay. You should get back to your sister. We’re so proud of you, Ingrid. We’ll be cheering you on in the champions league final, and if Sol decides to hear me out, you know how to reach me. I love you, darling.” Her mother said, standing and pressing a kiss to Ingrid’s head, before she walked away from the table. She, too, was trying to keep it together, for her daughter’s sake. 

Your father rose and gently patted her cheek. “I love you, kiddo. Fly safe.” 

“I love you too.” She whispered, but both her parents were too far away by now to hear her.

She couldn’t stop the tears from dripping down her face as she headed for the elevator. She wiped furiously at them, but they fell all the same. 

The elevator opened up in front of her, and she was met with a very concerned Frido. 

“Hey. Mapi told me you were meeting your parents, and I… oh, Ingrid.” Frido sighed. At the sight of Frido, Ingrid had stopped trying to fight it, stepping in closer and letting out a heart wrenching sob. Frido tugged Ingrid back into the elevator with her, carefully wrapping her best friend in a tight hug. 

“I know, I know. It really sucks.” Frido whispered, clicking the button for your sister’s floor. “You’re doing the right thing for your sister, though, and I’m really proud of you, Ing.” 

Your sister wished she could find it within herself to feel proud, but the only feeling she had was that she really just wanted a hug from her mom. And more than that, she wanted to go back in time and erase all the hurt from your life. She wished things could just be fixed but she knew they couldn’t be, not quickly, maybe not at all. And that was something she was going to have to live with.

-------

You seemed weighed down with despair when Ingrid arrived back in her room. And distracted, finishing the final touches of packing Mapi’s suitcase. Mapi hated packing, and you loved it, so there was no confusion on Ingrid’s part as to why this was occurring. What was a bit alarming for her, though, was that you didn’t even seem to notice the tear tracks on Ingrid’s face, even though you looked right at her. You were an observant person, and not noticing how upset your sister was spoke volumes towards how poorly you were handling this. 

Mapi didn’t miss it, though. Of course not. She glanced up, seeing her girlfriend’s face, her brow instantly furrowing in concern. Ingrid refused to meet her eyes, terrified that she’d start crying again, but this time in front of you. 

“Hey, Sol? Can you go up to Frido’s room and see if I left my book there?” Mapi asked. 

You nodded absentmindedly, walking right past your sister and out the door. 

“Come here, princesa,” Mapi sighed, allowing Ingrid to fall into her arms and bury her face in Mapi’s t-shirt. She just held the Norwegian for a few minutes, every so often pressing a kiss to the side of Ingrid’s head. Mapi made sure to thread her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair, as she always did when it was down, scratching gently at her scalp. Ingrid tried to focus on the smell of Mapi overwhelming her, instead of any of the one million emotions she was feeling. “Did it not go well?’

“No, it went okay. Good, actually. They’re both completely aware that this is their fault, and they aren’t going to try to make Sol go back to Norway. It was just hard. I miss them, and I know I shouldn’t-”

“Hey, no. There is no should or shouldn’t when it comes to how you feel, mi amor. You can miss them and be angry at them all at the same time. And missing them doesn’t mean you love your sister any less. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ingrid nodded, trying to muster a smile for her girlfriend. “Thanks for sending Frido down, I was kind of a mess.” 

Mapi just flashed a smile at the Norwegian, gently kissing her cheek. “I love you.” She said softly. 

Ingrid wilted slightly, overcome, as she usually was, at how ridiculously perfect her beautiful girlfriend was. “I love you too, María.” 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi had left you alone in the airport for five minutes, going in search of coffee before Ingrid went on a killing spree of some kind. And it was in that short period of time that Patri and Pina very suddenly appeared on either side of you, flopping into the open seats next to you. 

You regarded them warily, trying to figure out if they were going to say something about it or not. 

“If we have to kill someone for you, we will.” Claudia said matter of factly. “More importantly, though, Mapi is going to fall asleep on that plane. And you are going to write something on her forehead.” 

“Am I?” You asked, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. 

“You are. I am thinking something along the lines of… I love my girlfriend?” Patri suggested. 

“Single and ready to mingle.” Pina countered. 

“Heterosexual.” 

“World’s biggest simp.” 

“Loser.” 

“Little bitch.”

All three of you were giggling at this point, attracting the attention of a few of your sister’s teammates sitting nearby. Among them, Esmee. She was a quiet girl, incredibly kind and also fond of your sister. Esmee was shy, and as such, the words that came out of her mouth were completely unexpected. 

“#1 Real Madrid Fan.” She suggested, a small smirk on her face. 

You fell off your seat, tears forming in your eyes as you pictured both Mapi’s reaction to that being written on her forehead, and at Esmee being the one who had come up with it. 

You didn’t notice Ingrid and Mapi watching on from a few feet away, having stopped in their tracks at the sound of your laughter. 

“I didn’t think I’d see her smile for a few days at least.” Ingrid murmured. 

“Me either. Thank god for the two biggest imbeciles on the planet.” Mapi said with a roll of her eyes. 

“No, not imbeciles. They saw she was upset earlier, and they knew what they were doing just now.” Ingrid said softly, exchanging a look with Patri. The young captain sent Ingrid a huge grin and a sly thumbs up. 

Mapi got a slightly mushy look on her face. “My favorite imbeciles.” She decided. 

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head. She knew very well that Pina and Patri would be right back to being Mapi’s least favorite imbeciles. Just as soon as Ingrid helped them draw on her girlfriend’s face. 

--------

“I don’t even like penises.” Mapi grumbled, dragging her bag through the door. “Stupid thing to draw.” 

You and Ingrid choked back laughter. “No one gets a penis drawn on them because they LIKE penises Mapi.” 

“You are on my list Engen.” Mapi sneered, her face cheering up greatly as Bagheera ran to greet her. 

“Hey, just be glad Alexia stopped them from putting it on your forehead.” You giggled. 

Ingrid turned to you, wide eyed, while Mapi whipped around, her jaw dropping. “Ingrid said SHE stopped them from doing that!” 

You dodged the wack Ingrid tried to land on your arm, laughing even harder. “Nah, Ingrid was pro penis on the forehead. Alexia was too, until she realized there’d be cameras when we got off the plane, and she changed her mind.” 

The Spaniard frowned down at the large drawing on her forearm, before her glare turned to you. “Oh, just wait, Engen. You’ll regret this.” 

A scandalized look appeared on your face. “Me?! It was Pina and Patri.” 

“They will pay too, pequeña, don’t worry. You’ll all pay.” 

You rolled your eyes at the Spaniard’s dramatics, but your amusement completely disappeared when Ingrid rested a hand on your shoulder and turned you towards her. 

“Can we talk for a sec, Sol?” 

Worry clouded your face as you nodded, allowing Ingrid to lead you into the living room. She wanted to be honest with you, tell you what had happened as soon as she could. You both were home now, and she knew you’d be upset if she kept her conversation with her parents from you for any longer. 

Taking a seat on the couch next to Ingrid, you turned expectantly to Mapi. Ingrid never had an important conversation with you without her girlfriend there as a buffer. 

“I am going to get the dog.” Mapi said, giving you a reassuring smile before she headed back out the door with Scout’s leash in hand. 

“Ingrid, I didn’t really want to talk about-”

“I talked to mom and dad.” Ingrid interrupted, wincing slightly at the panic and hurt that flashed across your face. 

“Oh.” You mumbled. 

“I just wanted to tell them to leave you alone, sweetheart. We didn’t talk for very long. They just said that they want you to be happy. Mom was really… apologetic. And she said that she wanted to talk to you. I told her that it was up to you, whether or not you wanted to talk to her.”

“Oh.” You repeated. Ingrid couldn’t get a read on how you were feeling. Overwhelmingly, it seemed to her like you were anxious, so she reached out and took your hand. “Mom wants me to go back to Norway?”

“No, Sol. She wants you to be happy. And you’re happier here than you ever were in Norway. I think she just wants to talk. To apologize.” 

“Oh. Okay.” You paused, trying to slow your pounding heart. You didn’t have to go back. “Do you- do you want me to talk to her?” You asked insecurely, eyeing your sister with apprehension. 

Ingrid shook her head again, running a hand through her hair. “Solstråle, I want you to do what you want to do. I want you to decide what will be best for you. Don’t think about me, Sol. Think about you.” 

She spoke so earnestly, you had a hard time figuring out which thing she really did want. But the more you thought about it, the clearer it became. 

Ingrid had always been close with your parents. The last few months must have been really hard for her, barely speaking to them at all. Ingrid probably wanted you to make up with them, so that she could do the same. Even if you didn’t go back to Norway. You could put your family back together again. That was what Ingrid wanted. 

You opened your mouth to tell her you’d talk to your mom, before you slammed it shut again. 

Ingrid had also said she wanted you to choose what was best for you. And if you were sure about anything, it was that you weren’t ready to talk to your mom, not yet. It didn't come naturally to you, putting yourself first and making a decision that would be best for you, and not for the people around you. BUt you felt you owed it to your sister to be honest. To do what she was asking. Ingrid had done so much for you the last few months. She just wanted you to be happy. And you wanted to be happy, too. More than anything. 

“I… I’m not ready yet. I don’t want to talk to her. Maybe in a few months, but not… not now.” You said quietly. You didn’t seem confident in your decision at all, but Ingrid understood what that insecurity was really about. 

“Okay, Sol. Whatever you want sweetheart. Whatever makes you happiest.” 

You looked up at her, tears welling in your eyes. “Really?” 

Ingrid exhaled sharply, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Really.” 

You nodded your head, before leaning in towards Ingrid. She hugged you tight. 

“I’m really proud of you, Sol. Really proud.” 

You squeezed her tighter. You were proud of you, too.

------- :)

[isan0rt]

You know, when you consider Azure Moon as a self-contained narrative, the use of ‘unanswered questions’ and ambiguity as a reinforcement of the themes of the route are really effective. I honestly think having the route not address the Slithers was the best narrative choice IntSys could possibly have made given the themes of Azure Moon.

Like. The developers didn’t really expect people to actually play all the routes; they designed the game so ‘everyone would have a different experience.’ As a result, all the routes have very different themes and scopes. Azure Moon is the tightest, most character-driven narrative despite not being the shortest route.

And Azure Moon is about grief.

Grief hangs over the entire route; except for Mercedes, every single one of the Blue Lions is haunted by the Tragedy of Duscur and the unanswered questions surrounding it. Felix loses his brother directly, and his worldview and best friend to the aftermath. Ingrid loses her fiance, but also her sense of security; without Glenn, her people may starve, and her personal future is now uncertain. Sylvain and Glenn were the same age, so we can assume they were friends, though his loss is less direct; Sylvain is surrounded by people broken by loss, including his own father. Annette’s father leaves her family in disgrace over being unable to stop the tragedy. Ashe loses his foster brother to the aftermath; and later his foster father as well. 

Dimitri and Dedue lose everything.

All of them spend the whole route wanting to find answers and some kind of closure for this event. It drives the entire narrative for all of the Lions actually from Faerghus. Mercedes, meanwhile, stands as an outside observer to that tragedy - but she is also dealing with her own personal tragedy and unanswered questions about her brother, and that drives her during Azure Moon.

And the thing about grief is that sometimes you never get closure. But you still have to move on, anyway.

That’s the whole point of Azure Moon. Dimitri has to move on. All the Lions have to move on. 

Mercedes cannot regain her brother, whether you find out his identity or not in the route. She has to move on anyway. Dimitri cannot reconcile with his family, not with Rufus (Did Dimitri kill him? We the viewer can never really know for sure) and not with Edelgard. He never finds out whether Patricia wanted to kill his father, or whether she loved Dimitri at all (and we the viewer don’t, either). He has to move on anyway. The Lions never find out the cause of the tragedy.

They have to move on anyway.

Involving the Slithers at that point would not only add a bunch of last-minute narrative complications that aren’t necessary in Azure Moon, it would undermine the emotional impact of the route (in much the same way the last map of Verdant Wind does, honestly). The themes of Azure Moon not only don’t need to answer the question of the Slithers; not answering that question is the point. Bringing up the Slithers at that point would take all the air out of the personal drama the route takes its entire runtime addressing.

Dimitri hesitates at the end. He stops, and tries to look back, and Byleth stops him. He has to move on. He can’t keep looking back at Duscur. He’s got to walk forward. 

And that means leaving his questions unanswered. 

[pridelessdaydreamer]

“Quite the far walk,” he says bluntly, before shrugging off the notion—Linhardt’s idea of a sleepless remedy was never to exhaust himself anyway. Whatever Ingrid chose to do couldn’t exactly be compared to Hevring’s method of sleep induction.

Also, Linhardt is just sleepy by default.

“Wait, what–? Why do I have to help? Surely, you can handle that yourself, can’t you?” (Not to mention that Linhardt wasn’t incredibly interested nor well-versed in the art of hiding horses, winged or otherwise.) “If anything, I’d be more likely to slow you down. We’re both well aware of my weak constitution, yes?”

Further, Linhardt just wasn’t the most interested in putting in more effort after she’d already wandered all the way out here. A huff. “No, I have no interest in experimenting on it either. Ignoring the fact that I don't have any tools with me to test it with, further observation would do better to determine just what exactly requires further investigation—so even if I wanted to, now wouldn’t be the best time.”

As for the comment on there being more to Ingrid than liking horses, they have no response.

A sigh, drawn out and exhausted by all the walking already done—“Be honest, how much voice do I have in this matter actually? Like, if I say no and walk away, are you going to stop me?” He wouldn’t be surprised if so, especially based off of what he’s heard/seen of the girl. (It wasn’t much, granted, and certainly, he internalized very little of it, but it made an impression nonetheless and that was what mattered.)

“How out of the question is it for me to simply brainstorm a place to hide the horse, tell you how to get there, and then go back to the monastery unbothered?” It’s an honest proposition, though he suspects he already knows the answer. “Thinking is something that doesn’t bother me too much—it’s doing that’s out of the question.”

Apterous

[biggie-chcese]

Question 10 with Yuma because my main blog was shadow banned :(

10. What is your favorite piece of fanart for Yuma?

you have no idea how unbelievably difficult it is to answer this question. there is a lot of yuma fanart i really adore, especially pieces by sushu and emu on twitter, or dailykokohead's work here, or en-chi-la-da's incredible art... i could honestly go all day.

but perhaps one of the pieces i always find myself going back to are the yuma doodles in this post by typical-ingrid. the way they drew his little expressions endears me so much that the art always instantly lifts my mood every time i see it

[laugtherhyena]

If Levi is alive, would Ingrid help him learns to play the piano whether he stop by travelling from escaping the horrors??

Unfortunately Levi and every other termina contestant except for Daan and Karin are dead in the Au/scenario Ingrid comes from, they were the sole survivors of termina and stuck around each other afterwards. You can read about that mess here in care you haven't seen the work this fankid originated from.

But to answer your question, honestly? If the two of them meet i think they'd get along pretty well, they're both a little awkward and coming from messy homes maybe they could vent to one another and stuff. Ingrid would be super excited to teach him how to play because she loves the piano a lot, tho refrains from going on long rambles about the instrument out of thinking people would just get bored ("Oh.. Silly me, you're here to listen to the music, not my voice..")

So if Levi asked her to teach him more about it there is no universe in which she'd say no, haha

[saturnlovewp]

Hey queen! I have a question!!

Would each of your OC’s rather be able to time travel to the past or time travel to the future?

this question really made me sit and think for a moment i genuinely love it so much!!!

as much as it might be a "boring" or "safe" answer, ingrid wouldn't want to go to the past or the future. her life has been traumatic ever since she was 4 years old, so going back to any moment in the past means being hit with all that trauma. as for the future, ingrid is scared it doesn't exist. she's scared that she doesn't exist, or even worse, the people she loves don't exist. so i honestly don't think she'd choose either.

vivica would go into the future, and i think she's the only one who would go into the future out of pure innocent curiosity. like, as much as i love traumatizing her, she would have no sad motives to time travel to the future, she'd just want to see what's happening (i don't think she'd like it that much, though)

evangeline is a person who is basically stuck in the past, so i think she'd jump at the opportunity to go back in time. hopefully it would take her to a time before she learned she was a witch, but she'd also be happy with literally any time in the past.

andrea would choose to go to the future for the exact reason why ingrid wouldn't. she actually yearns to know if there is something out there and if there even is a future for her. gwendolyn is a tricky one. at first i thought she wouldn't want either, but i think her biggest fear is being stuck in the present, and having to live without the knowledge of what happens next. so i think gwendolyn would choose whatever, anything but the present.

[mj0702]

Good morning writer , sorry not putting pressure on you or anything when can we expect the next part? You can update it anytime you want. I think the anons just want an angry ingrid and Alexia being done with mapi and bb. I can totally see mapi being a figure to bb who will help her in overcoming grief that she is going through. She is not so sympathetic or overbearing and just goes with the flow. Though I love your idea of mapi and bb going somewhere(Pina and patri included) where they can't find her and just casually returning after making the adults have a temporary panic attack. Love your writing ❤️

Good morning anon

I'll be totally honest with (all) of you... I haven't started pt.8 - I got distracted by another part (camp) soooooo... this might take a while 😅 I promise to get it out as soon as possible but I can't really give you a time frame since I honestly get distracted in my own chapters and then need to find a way back to the original plan 😅 (ask @valewosomtb for my constant moaning about my own writing)

and IF I really put all your amazing ideas into that chapter that's gonna be a looooong one 🤣

I'm really sorry I can't answer your question about when it's out but I promise I try to get it done quickly ❤️

[windflowerofskellige]

(sorry for my bad english) Don't you think that the quest "A Matter of Life and Death" united those who benefit from Radovid's death? Morvran Voorhis, Marie-Louise La Valette (she was just in the company of Morvran), Dijkstra and a certain friend of Morvran (Roche?) and Ingrid Vegelbud herself (after all, because of Radovid's decree, her son leaves the house and is in danger). These are just my thoughts, sorry if this fact is obvious.

No problem! I'm glad to see you in my inbox no matter your proficiency! See the answer your question, if I've understood correctly, is yes but no. Mostly because I am of the firm opinion that some of these characters would not benefit from Radovid's death. In particular Dijkstra and Morvran politically do not benefit from Radovid's death. Morvran because in doing so it opens the door for the Empress Ciri ending and thus takes his right to the throne itself making him Emperor Consort rather than Emperor fully, he benefits more from Radovid winning the war and Nilfgaard turning on Emhyr. Dijkstra also doesn't benefit from Radovid's death, and in RoS is acting out of character. I've mentioned many times on this blog I think realistically the only reason he comes back from Zerrikania is to try and keep tabs on Radovid. Realistically he more likely wants back into Radovid's court and is doing his crime syndicate role in Novigrad to aid Radovid's interests in gaining control of Novigrad for the war. Maria Louisa and Ingrid Vegelbud DO benefit from Radovid's death. Maria Louisa herself can directly be traced back to Nilfgaard and thus Foltest's death. Fittingly she is in neutral territory that is not controlled by Redania nor Nilfgaard for this exact reason. Radovid would treat her harshly, as he does all other traitors. Ingrid benefits due to her connections to Maria Louisa and Nilfgaard as well as her son's involvement in Alchemy.

Roche is complicated because his entire reasoning in Reason of State is... flawed? but if we take that he actually thinks that Nilfgaard would be forgiving of Temeria and allow the province some semblance of sovereignty then he also benefits from it. However the introduction to Radovid through Roche seems to imply he's been working directly with the King and his commentary on "something's not right" when entering the chess club seems to be an attempt at deceiving Geralt (which he does in TW2 occasionally so he's not above it). Because the Temerian camp is right next to the Vegelbud Residence I personally think that Roche was tasked with keeping an eye on them due to their connections with Maria Louisa and as such indirect connections with Nilfgaard. I don't honestly get where you might be inclined to believe Roche is a friend of Morvran? Unless I've mistaken something. Mostly because we have no indication in game they've interacted. I wouldn't put it past him though! Anyways, yes, A Matter of Life and Death does unite some people who would benefit from Radovid's death. Most pointedly Triss Merigold, Maria Louisa, and Ingrid Vegelbud. But not all of those you mention benefit from Radovid's death.

Triss's involvement is huge because we know Triss's relationship with Philippa Eilhart and that relationship also means she's likely in on the plot to kill Radovid even though we don't see her in Reason of State. Thus you can look at her involvement in A Matter of Life and Death as both a means for staking out the political landscape, as a favour to Ingrid, and as her working for Philippa. I don't personally enjoy Dijkstra's involvement in Triss's storyline in the Witcher 3 because it feels very out of character especially since he would know she's on Philippa's leash and he has a personal grudge against Philippa and not only that Triss's storyline condones and romanticises rape and abuse to an extreme degree I'm personally a fan of. A Matter of Life and Death however would've been a better starting point for Reason of State due to the fact that it gathers quite a few people who would've realistically wanted Radovid dead and easily can loop Philippa back in and reveal she's been orchestrating this (though not necessary would be in character.)

[nightofnyx8]

Yaaay! I get to ask you about writing 😁

Okay, here are my questions 💕 and 🎬

Thank you!

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Ironically, it's my royai deathfic. It broke my heart to write, but I don't think I've ever written anything more beautiful to me. It's very bittersweet and dear to my heart. you feel like home

I don't have a favorite twiyor one I've written yet, although the Woman in Red was very fun to write, there were specific people in mind I wrote it for (including you lol) where I couldn't wait to see their reactions. These Beautiful Lies We Tell Ourselves is also just a huge passion project and I'm looking forward to start working on it again!

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

Oh, the Woman in Red, why not :) Oh goodness, I don't think I could pinpoint a specific actor/actress to play Twilight and Yor. I honestly wouldn't care who they were as long as they had the chemistry. I really do love that old-time "golden age of hollywood" those actors and actresses had. One of my favorite cinema kiss scenes is from a film called Notorious, made by Alfred Hitchcock in 1946. In those days, on-screen kisses couldn't be more than 3 seconds. So Hitchcock had Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman kiss many, many times as they walked about the room and talked and held each other. I think it's one of the most romantic scenes of all time and it's very twiyor to me. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zu8JASfWb6A

Although as for Vito Cohen, I think Michele Marrone would make a good match :) He's gotta play someone handsome yet completely dispicable.

thank you for the ask! these were fun to answer!

from the fanfic asks

[teriwrites]

Castle on the Hill: Chp. 36-Epilogue

My Live Reactions to Reading Through My 2019 Novel

I feel like I keep remembering more and more stuff that somehow has to fit into these final chapters

Wow, as everyone gears up for finals, even Peter can be spotted in the library (his year has been more practical for the most part)

Josef is still avoiding the others, sus

'The sounds of other friend groups and study sessions created a cacophony of white noise, so thick that when a figure approached the table, they didn't seem to hear or notice until a hand reached out and tapped Klaus on the shoulder. Klaus looked up, and for a moment he was stunned into confused silence. Ingrid was standing beside him, looking slightly embarrassed. He realized after a moment that she'd asked a question. "Sorry, what was that?" Klaus asked dumbly. "She asked if she could sit down," Georg informed him without looking up from his work. "Oh, sure!" Klaus said, too quickly. Ingrid took the seat and began digging through her bag for a book. As she did so, she explained, "There were no other tables open in the building - even in the quiet section upstairs - so I figured that I would just ask the first person I recognized if I could sit with them, and well... here we are." "Don't worry about it," Georg answered when Klaus found himself dumbstruck again. "Just ignore the oaf, he'll leave you alone." Ingrid shot a grin at Georg, and Klaus suddenly wondered whether it was a good idea to have the two of them sit together.' (The fact that Ingrid and Georg aren't besties through the whole story is honestly a crime)

All the lads introducing themselves to Ingrid aww

All of them bonding over bullying Klaus awwwwww

Infodumping about what little I knew about German politics in the early 1960s via Ingrid and Peter

Georg deciding firmly that he Wants to stick with law doesn't feel like it's had enough buildup, but given his investment in various policies and especially the division between East and West Germany, it actually kinda makes sense that he would, it just needs more foundation

Hans casually dipping early from their group study sesh, and everyone is so busy chatting that they don't really notice :(

He found Josef tucked away on the upper floor so fast

If you didn't wanna be found so easily, Josef, you shouldn't have been born a ginger soz

Oh shit Hans is upset with him

"I think we probably need to talk about something," Hans began, skipping over a greeting entirely. Josef glanced down at his work. "I'm a bit busy right now, but we could do it some other time, yeah?" "No." (hell yeah dude, stand up for yourself!)

Josef keeps trying to dodge out of this convo and Hans keeps railroading back to it, good for him

Hashing out why your friend has been avoiding you in direct sunlight during a heatwave feels like maybe a poor decision

They're both gonna be so irritable

"Okay, then," Josef began, irritation prickling in his voice. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" "Well, we could start with why you've been avoiding us," Hans began. Josef opened his mouth to argue, but Hans continued quickly, "And don't you try to pretend it's anything else, because you're not that good of a liar. You've been avoiding us for weeks!" Josef crossed his arms stubbornly and muttered, "It hasn't been weeks." (technicalities, babe)

And it all started the day that Hans revealed his biological parents were arrested and executed by Gestapo, fancy that

Josef desperately coming up with half a dozen excuses for why he's not hanging around his friend group that Aren't suspicious as shit

But the reason?

His entire life has always been catered to supporting his father's vision of things, and his father is, as we've established, a Nazi.

"Not in the 'oh, he fought in the war and believed in Germany' way. In the 'actively worked towards the war effort and supported the party even before the war had begun' way. He supplied the government with steel to build weapons and God knows what else. He still believes that Germany should've won the war." we've covered this, yes

But now Josef feels Extra guilt around Hans bc he feels culpable for supporting the man who would've very happily sold out his friend's family (and might've?? it's vague, I'm not sure that's the reading I was intending, but you could draw lines to imply that the Weber family was involved in the capture of Hans' folks)

Thus: avoidance

Very stupid solution but, yk, Josef was never the brightest of the lads

But it's almost like Communicating can actually help you work through your feelings!

Hans wants to switch majors because he only ever was in medicine to try to feel closer to His father-who-isn't-his-father, and now Josef might do the same bc his father-who-unfortunately-IS-his-father is probably gonna cut him off anyways (and, like, tbf, Josef isn't really looking to reforge that relationship with him anyway to save it)

Josef also smokes, apparently

"I'm sure we'll figure it all out," Hans said, voice somewhat distant. "Let's hope so." (same)

Peter's at a house party woooo

At Ernst's house 👀

Peter being like the only one getting drunk bc everyone else is solidly in their later 20s/30s is such a nice reminder that he is, in fact, the baby brother of his family, regardless of his role with the lads

Wait no, Ernst is even drunker than him

Ernst, you're the host!! Show some decorum!!

They're going to chat in private 👀

'[Ernst] wiped his hands down his face and frowned down at his feet. "We're friends, Peter." "Sure," Peter assured him, though he was only growing more uncomfortable. "And you seem the kind to be good at keeping secrets," Ernst continued. Peter shifted his weight away from the other young man. "What's this about, Ernst?" (well that anticipation's probably sobering him up pretty quick)

Omg guys Ernst is gay

I'm shocked!!

Startled!!

I never could've seen this coming!!

Nobody could've!!

Anyways, don't get too excited, there's nothing salacious, they don't even like kiss or anything, it's more about Peter finding self-acceptance in accepting another

Like he's been so terrified this whole time, but seeing someone else express the same thing, he sorta realizes that it's okay, actually, it's not something he has to hate about himself, because Ernst revealing his own sexuality doesn't really change his respect or love for his friend yk?

Anyways, they almost definitely are getting together at some point after this chapter, but i think this closes out Peter's final solo-POV

Final non-epilogue chapter here we gooo

Ingrid's hanging out with the lads 😭

Klaus is refusing to tell his friends where he's leading them, natürlich

"You didn't tell us it would be a hike," Georg grumbled as he rolled up his sleeves to stave off some of the heat. Klaus laughed. "Georg, anything beyond a flat surface is a hike for you northerners." "Try living in the Alps," Ingrid added. "This is nothing." (Ingrid getting to turn her snark on the whole group is such a blessing)

But where is Klaus taking them?

'It was a large, open space, steps of stone in a half-circle facing a central pulpit, like some type of old amphitheater. Klaus descended the mossy steps, followed quickly by his friends. They walked carefully, as though they'd accidentally stumbled upon some ancient, forbidden arena. Nobody uttered a word until they'd all joined together in the center of the stage. All around them, the stone rose up back towards the forest. "What is this place?" Ingrid asked, circling around to get a look at the area. "This used to be a Nazi amphitheater," Klaus explained. "They used it to give speeches and things to rile up the public." (what a joyous way to close out the story, 2019!Teri)

This is also an actual location btw, the Thingstatte Amphitheater

"I'm not sure what drew me to it in the first place. It's mostly used for concerts and performances now. Whatever they did back here when it was built, it doesn't reflect that anymore. It's just some stone set into the woods." also true, it was abandoned pretty early after its construction and was adopted into a place to host things like the Walpurgis Night celebrations after the war

"It's strangely peaceful here." it really is

And we close out the non-epilogue portion of the story with the lads + Ingrid (honorary lad) having a picnic and reflecting on the upcoming end of the term/Klaus and Georg's graduation/etc.

But! Epilogue!

'The streets of Heidelberg were crowded with thousands of people - visitors and residents alike. The evening was fading into night, and a sunset painted the sky in pastels that reflected in the Neckar.' i wonder why it's so crowded!!

'Klaus, Georg, Peter, Hans, and Ingrid were clustered together in the Philosopher's Gardens, stubbornly holding their position despite several other groups trying to take the superior spot. "I'm telling you, we're going to have the best view of the castle from here," Klaus said for what must've been the tenth time that evening.' (And so we end where we began: the castle lighting ceremony)

Josef is currently missing just because he's inducting new members into the secret society, dw

Peter and Hans declined for this year - Peter for being a grad student, Hans because he personally doesn't wish to continue - and Klaus and Georg aged out bc they graduated, so Josef is the only one left

Hans has transferred into the Economics department, so he and Ingrid get to be buds now

Klaus is gonna be working at a bank, just to sort of settle himself into post-grad life

Georg's visiting from law school in Hanover

And Ingrid and Josef are entering their final year of undergrad (idk if at the time it was still true that their Bachelor's typically take 3 years, but I was just rolling with it)

Josef's here!

"We had a bet going over whether you'd make it in time," Hans told him. "Did you win or lose?" Josef replied. Hans flipped a 5-Deutsche Mark coin over to Peter, who grinned as he pocketed it. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me." Josef's voice dripped with sarcasm. "But I'm here, so no need to worry." (I like how Hans was a lil sassy in his narration at the start of the book, and it's slowly begun creeping into his actual dynamic and conversations with the other lads)

Hans trying to be sentimental, talking about all the change that's coming with the following term, and everyone's soaking it in

'Ingrid was the first one to break [the silence]. "Probably. But change is good. Otherwise none of us would be here in the first place." "Actually-" Klaus interrupted. Ingrid and Georg punched him on either shoulder without turning to look.' (we get it, Klaus, you're From Heidelberg. Also, I'm telling you, Ingrid and Georg are built to be best friends)

I'm getting a little emo about this actually bc I was writing this in 2019, the fall semester of my senior year of college, and I was clearly anticipating having that last picnic/spring afternoon moment with my friends at the time, and looking ahead to our lives post-undergrad

And then 2020 happened, and we didn't get that spring

It's fine, we'll see me revisit that concept later on a lighter note

Back to the last scene

It's focusing mostly on Hans, just like the prologue had the whole crew and then focused in on Hans

He's started to make amends with his mother (the one who raised him), so he'll be heading back to Munich soon until the winter term begins

And as he reflects on change, he makes it back to his apartment, and he closes his door

Ending Thoughts:

There's something so bittersweet about the last few parts of this story. Not just like with the lads themselves, but more meta, like reading it with the constant awareness of what the years since I wrote this have brought, especially in regards to the building alt-right, in regards to the state of my own country, (in regards to the latest German election). We're far too dangerously immersed in the current state of things to truly take comfort in the idea of what comes after. It's impossible to think about rebuilding when things are so actively being dismantled and destroyed so blatantly in front of our eyes. Here in the US, we're not even a full 6 weeks into a 4-year presidency that's already promised utter chaos. (Okay, now it's been over two months, but things are only continuing to fall into the shitter) But whether it's comforting or not, there are so many people fighting, and there's such human persistence underlying the struggle and refusal to be erased, to be quiet. That doesn't mean the struggle isn't there. That doesn't mean the fighting is glamorous. But it's a very human thing, and I guess when I read the ending of that story, it just makes me hope that, someday, maybe decades from now, a handful of college students can sit out on the lawn where one of these notorious rallies was once held and talk about how horrific things were then and muse over how things have changed and how much farther they want to go. That's not my typical outlook, and it's a little hard to look at from this end of things. But it's inherently hopeful, too, and that might actually make me kinda emotional later. TBD.

[girlgenius1111]

promises

part 2 to behave. sol makes some questionable decisions. mapi comes to her rescue. ingrid comes home. ft. someone special.

Your arm was broken, and you hadn’t gotten drunk in months. Of course, the two main reasons you had for sneaking out could definitely be construed as two reasons not to sneak out as well. But Ingrid was out of town only until the following afternoon, and Mapi slept like the dead. It was a perfect opportunity, the only opportunity you’d have for many more weeks to come. And besides, you were 18. You weren’t breaking any laws. 

You’d been invited to a party, too, which wasn’t an opportunity you wanted to waste. You hadn’t assimilated to school very well. It was a nightmarish hell, honestly, but in the past few weeks you’d made a few casual acquaintances. They weren’t in any of your classes, and you didn't know them very well, but it was a good start.  

You slipped out the front door at around 1, promising Scout you’d be back soon, and began the few blocks’ walk to where the party was. You were excited. 

------

You didn’t like this. It was unclear what was so unsettling, maybe it was the fact that everything had changed so dramatically since the last time you’d been drunk. Maybe it was because, now, you cared very much about disappointing the people in charge of you. There was also the tiny detail that you’d had way too much. Your tolerance had evidently gone down in the past several months, but you hadn’t really thought about that until it was too late. 

Either way, you just really weren’t feeling the party. It reminded you too much of being back in Norway. How you felt then… you hadn’t really realized how bad it was until you were out of there, and doing much better. The taste of tequila on your tongue was a very visceral reminder of that time. 

It tasted like loneliness. It tasted like you hated everyone, yourself most of all. It tasted like you didn’t care much whether you got home safely, or got home at all. Like you were completely meaningless, and you always would be. You were scared, honestly, just wanted to go home. You headed out the back slider, leaving behind the noise of the party, and fell into one of the patio chairs. You couldn’t walk straight, your mind was completely cloudy, and you were having a hard time stringing any coherent thoughts together. You wanted to go home, but there was no way for you to get there; you definitely couldn’t walk. And even as drunk as you were, you knew ubering home in the middle of the night, by yourself, completely wasted, was a horrible idea. 

You were considering your options when your phone ringing interrupted your thoughts. Mapi was calling you. Fuck. You had no choice but the answer. She had your location. The only way you would have gotten away with this in the first place would have been if she hadn’t woken up. Now, though. You were completely screwed. You did your best to sound as sober as possible when you answered the phone.

“Hi Mapi.” You said cautiously. 

“Nena. Are you coming home soon?” Mapi asked calmly. 

“W-what?” You slurred back, blinking hard in an attempt to clear your mind. 

“You snuck out a couple of hours ago, and now it is almost 3am. So. Are you coming home soon, or should I come get you?”

“You knew I snuck out?” You asked dumbly. 

“Yes, nena. Now, where are you? Are you drunk?” 

“No.” 

You could feel Mapi roll her eyes. “Liar. I am coming to get you.”

The wind picked up a bit, and you shivered, suddenly feeling very cold, and very alone out in the dark. “Mapi?”

“Sí?” 

“Can you stay on the phone?”

And just like that, Mapi’s tone switched from annoyed and slightly amused, to full of concern. “Sí, I’m right here. What is going on? Are you safe? Are you with anyone?” 

You looked back through the sliding door, the party still in full swing. You weren’t alone, really, but you weren’t… with anyone. And for some reason, maybe because you were having memory after memory of feeling very similarly in Norway, you didn’t feel quite safe. 

“There’s a party inside. I’m outside. By myself. Can you come fast? I don’t feel good.” 

“I’m on my way, mi sol.” Mapi promised, and you knew without her saying it that she would go as fast as she could. 

------

She should have stepped in sooner. She should have stopped you the minute you’d snuck out the front door, or at the very least, followed you to where you went. 

She’d been awake, scrolling on her phone. Sleeping was always a bit more difficult without Ingrid there with her, so though it was later than usual for her to be up, it wasn’t completely unheard of. You were quiet as you left, but Mapi had accidentally picked up your phone earlier in the evening, and seen a text containing an address in it. The Spaniard was young once, too, and she knew pretty much instantly what was going on. She half hoped that you’d just ask about going, but as she was reminded often, your parents had done their damage. You’d snuck out instead. 

The thing was, Mapi honestly didn’t care very much that you wanted to go out. It was slightly worrying that you’d felt the need to sneak out, but she understood. The rules were different now than when you’d been in Norway, and it was clear to her that you were still getting used to that. 

You didn’t sound good on the phone, though, and she couldn’t help the worry that filled her as she sped towards the house your location was displaying. It wasn’t just that you were hammered. You sounded… far away. You sounded like the Sol she met when you first arrived. Cold, terrified, closed off, and desperately sad. Mapi didn’t like hearing you like that, and now she really wished that she would have stopped you from leaving the house earlier. 

There hadn’t been a peep over the phone for a few minutes as Mapi neared the house. “Hey, nena? You with me?” 

“Mm hmm.” You hummed, your attention fixed on the sky above you. It was funny, how all the stars could be the same in Barcelona as they were in Norway, yet everything else could be so drastically different. 

“I’m in front. Can you walk out to me, or should I come back and get you?” She was thrilled that you’d made friends enough to go to a party, and she didn’t want to embarrass you if she didn’t have to. 

“‘Can walk,” You mumbled, standing up from the chair, taking a step forward, and promptly falling face first to the ground. Mapi heard the racket, and was out of her car and running to you before you could get a word out. “Mapi, I fell,” you whined over the phone, completely oblivious to the fact that the Spaniard was sprinting in your direction. 

“Idiota.” Mapi mumbled, arriving at your side and bending down to inspect your face. 

“Mapiiiiii,” you sang, eyes halfway closed as you grinned up at the other girl.

“Ay dios mio.” Mapi sighed. You were worse off than she’d thought. “Did you hit your head when you fell?” 

“No, but I hurt my knee, look,” you said sadly, pointing down to a very small scrape. 

“Alright, let’s get you home and I’ll take care-”

“Excuse me, who are you?” A girl asked, stepping out onto the patio, looking between you and Mapi. “Sol, do you know that girl?” 

“I am her… Mapi.” Mapi said, internally rolling her eyes at herself. 

“She’s my Mapi!” You said enthusiastically, somehow hopping to your feet with a bit of agility, and leaning heavily against your sister's girlfriend. “She’s my sister Ingrid’s Mapi, her name is girlfriend.” You slurred. 

The girl just blinked, looking confused. “I am her sister’s girlfriend, María. She called me. I’m going to take her home now.” 

The girl’s expression cleared. “Oh, got it. Thanks for coming, Sol, see you monday.” 

“Byeeeeeeeee.”

“Have a good night.” Mapi said kindly. She appreciated that the girl hadn’t let some stranger abduct you from her patio. She began the arduous journey of practically carrying you back to the car. Once you were in the front seat, she turned the light on above you tilted your face towards her. 

“Nena, open your eyes.” She instructed. You did, opening your eyes ridiculously wide, until they began watering. She just wanted to make sure you hadn’t been drugged or anything, given how out of it you were. Your pupils looked normal, and she decided you had just had way too much to drink.“Okay, you can let your eyes be normal now.” 

They fell back into the half lidded state they were in before, and you sagged into the seat. Mapi bit back a smile. Now that you were safe, she was slightly amused at Drunk Sol. You were funny. 

She’d noticed something though, and as she buckled your seatbelt around you, she asked a question she knew you’d probably avoid answering if you’d been sober. 

“Nena, do the kids at school call you Sol?” 

Mapi had been under the impression that you went by your real name at school, as much as you hated it. Ingrid and Mapi almost exclusively called you Solstråle or Sol, now, just out of habit, but she hadn’t realized you’d made the change at school, too. 

“Yup.” You said, head turned towards her, though your eyes remained shut. 

“Why?” She wondered. She was just curious, honestly. Not only had she not known that you’d had friends at school, you hadn’t mentioned talking to anyone enough to come out of your shell, and tell them something different to call you. 

“I like it better.” 

“Oh.” Mapi said. 

“I like Sol. It’s pretty. And you picked it.” You attempted to poke Mapi’s nose, missed, and hit her cheek, though you continued on like nothing had happened. “And my mom never called me that. It’s a happy name.” 

Mapi blinked at you, before she cleared her throat. “Well, I’m glad you like it.” She said softly, before she shut your car door, and walked around to her side. And if she wiped a few tears away as she did so, that was no one’s business. 

-------

“That STINGS!” You shouted, sitting up out of what Mapi thought was a light sleep, yanking your leg away from her. She’d been trying to disinfect your knee, taking advantage of the fact that you’d collapsed onto the sofa the minute you made it into the house. 

“Sorry, Sol, I’m just cleaning it.” Mapi said, stifling a laugh at the absolutely betrayed look on your face. 

“You SCRAPED MY KNEE!” You insisted, a huge frown on your face. 

“Sol, you scraped your knee, when you fell down earlier. Now let me put a bandaid on.” 

“I didn’t fall, you fell.” You grumbled, though you extended your leg back out to her. “Mapi?” 

“Hmm?”

“Why is my arm wearing a blue condom?” You asked, dead serious, holding up your cast and inspecting it thoughtfully. Mapi bit her lip, trying in vain not to laugh at you, knowing you wouldn’t appreciate it in this state. 

“It’s not a condom, Sol, it’s a cast. You broke your arm.” 

“Oh.” You sat for a moment, watching as Mapi very carefully ensured the bandaid was correctly placed on your knee. “Are there condoms for lesbians?”

God save her. Mapi looked up at you, trying to tell if you were being serious. Your face was completely blank. No. No. She wasn’t doing this now. She was quite sure you’d had sex education, and even if you hadn’t, she’d make Ingrid do it when you were sober. “We can talk about condoms tomorrow. You’re going to bed now.” 

“If there are lesbian condoms, I’m in trouble, because I’ve never used one and I’m a lesbian.” You continued, before sitting up with a gasp. “Oh GOD. Am I pregnant?” 

Now, Mapi really wished she had stopped you from sneaking out. She wished she’d locked you in your room for the night, honestly. 

“Sol, you are not pregnant. Lesbians can’t get each other pregnant.” She explained, lifting you off the couch and into her arms. You were silent as she walked up the stairs, you curled up against her, until you sniffled quietly. She looked down, seeing tears in your eyes, and hurriedly placed you on your bed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked gently, wiping away a stray tear. 

“That’s so sad.” You cried. 

“What is?” Mapi asked, bewildered. 

“That lesbians can’t get each other pregnant. It’s not fair.” 

“Sol, did you not know lesbians couldn’t get each other pregnant?” The Spaniard asked exasperatedly, really starting to doubt the sex education program at your school. 

“No. I just didn’t think about it until now and it’s so sad.” You mumbled, flopping back onto your bed. “‘Cause lesbians are the best.” 

Mapi flopped down onto the bed next to you, rolling her eyes when Scout picked his head up to glare at her. Of course. Now the dog woke up. “It is sad.” She agreed, thinking it was the easiest way to end the conversation. You didn’t respond, though and she looked over to find you already asleep. 

Thank god.

-------

When you wandered down the stairs at 10 the next morning, Mapi was glad to see that you looked relatively… fine. Not hungover at all, which was absurd considering the state you’d been in the night before. 

“Good morning, Solstråle.” She said, smirking when you looked at her with a furrowed brow. 

“Morning.” You mumbled back, throwing yourself dramatically onto the couch.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Just tired.” 

“You aren’t hungover?” 

“I don’t really get hungover.” You said absentmindedly, scrolling on your phone, only looking up when Mapi didn’t say anything. “What?” 

She looked surprised and kind of annoyed. “You don’t get hungover?” 

“Nope!” You said cheerfully. “Probably a young person thing.” Turning back to your phone, you jumped when a pillow thwacked you in the face. 

“I am young.” Mapi grumbled. You just laughed. “You will not be laughing when Ingrid finds out you snuck out to get drunk.” 

You sat bolt upright, staring at her with your jaw dropped. “You’re going to tell on me?” 

And though she’d said it mostly as a joke, she’d been serious, and she was surprised you hadn’t known that. She told Ingrid everything. She couldn’t keep this from her. “Sol, you had to have known I’d tell her.” 

“You knew I left and you didn’t say anything! This is your fault!”

“My fault?” Mapi laughed. “I wasn’t going to tell her if you snuck back in, but you were so drunk I had to come get you. So. I’m telling Ingrid.”

You studied her for a minute. “I don’t think you will.” 

“Oh you don’t? And why not?” Mapi said, grinning. 

“Because if you tell Ingrid, I am sure Alexia would love to know that you gave her hermanita a tattoo behind her back.” 

The smile fell from Mapi’s face as she stared at you in horror. “You wouldn’t.” 

You smirked. “I would.” 

“Sol, you promised you would not tell. This is not just about me, this is about Fresa too, and you cannot…”

You began to tune Mapi out at the name. Fresa. The day you’d met her had been… a rough one. You’d argued with Ingrid about Camila, and she’d left the house before you could make up. Camila had been together a week, and Ingrid was far from happy. You were left stressed in your room, worried that Ingrid was going to return and take back every nice thing she’d said over the past week or so. It had been a bad day, yes but you still remembered meeting Alexia’s little sister, very clearly. 

-------

A soft knock on your door had you looking up from the school work you were struggling over. 

“Come in.” 

Mapi popped her head in the door. “Can we talk for a sec?” 

You stiffened, though your face was completely blank. “Okay. Did I do something wrong?” You asked quietly. You were always more withdrawn after an argument with your sister. Mapi didn’t say anything about the fact that your cheeks were tearstained, or how you regarded her a bit frightfully. You did so many things frightfully, even now, even still. 

“No, no, not at all. I just have a favor to ask you.” You nodded for her to continue. “Alexia’s younger sister is coming over today for a tattoo, while Ingrid is gone. And I really, really need you not to tell Ingrid about it. Or Alexia. Or anyone.” 

You were a bit stunned by the fact that Mapi would trust you with a secret like this. No one had trusted you with… anything in a really long time. Things were different, you reminded yourself. “Okay .I won't tell.” 

Mapi looked at you for a minute, maybe surprised at how easily you’d agreed. “I don’t mean to make you keep secrets from Ingrid, it’s just that-”

“It’s fine, Mapi. Ingrid won’t think to ask me about it, so it’s not really lying anyway.”

Mapi was  aware that she was probably crossing a boundary by asking you not to tell Ingrid about this, but Fresa was practically an adult, had a good head on her shoulders, and honestly, she needed someone to show her some love. Mapi knew she wasn’t doing something bad, which is how she justified asking you to keep the secret. Fresa needed her sisters, but they weren’t paying attention, and she was tired of trying to get it. So, if Fresa wanted a tattoo from Mapi, then she’d get one. And honestly? Mapi didn’t feel bad about keeping it a secret from Alexia. She was pretty frustrated with the midfielder at the moment, but she could only fix the relationship between sisters one at a time. 

“Okay. Thanks, kid.” She said, giving you a small smile. You smiled back at her, just a bit, but it was more than Mapi normally got, so she took it. 

------

When Mapi had said Alexia’s sister was coming over today when Ingrid was shopping, you’d been much too focused on Mapi trusting you to really process what she’d said. Though it all came rushing back to you when you wandered down the stairs, responding to a text from Camila. She had just invited herself to the next home match and told you she didn’t want to sit with Mapi. You were trying to figure out what to say, because honestly, you liked sitting with Mapi at Ingrid’s games, even if she talked a lot; it was endearing. You had just decided to agree to Camila’s request when Mapi caught your attention. 

“Oh, Solstråle,” Mapi said excitedly. You looked up at her in surprise, your eyes flicking over to the other girl in your house. She was looking at you with a smile on her face, as if she’d just been joking around with Mapi. She had that Putellas aura, one that completely projected confidence. It intimidated you, and you faltered, unsure what to do, or say to this mysterious, beautiful girl. You didn’t want to lounge in the living room anymore, waiting for Ingrid to get home so you could apologize and see if she was still mad. You wanted to go back to your room where it was safe and there were no strangers. “This is Ingrid’s hermana, Solstråle,” Mapi introduced, giving you an encouraging smile. 

You took a minute step backwards, slightly panicked. You forgot you had social anxiety, sometimes, especially when you went so long without meeting new people, and being expected to talk to anyone other than Ingrid and Mapi. The pretty girl smiled, and your brain fell empty for a second. 

If she was beautiful before she smiled she was… otherworldly when she did. She was warm and happy and so… light. She was overflowing with love, and you could tell from just a few seconds of being in her presence. 

“Solstråle, this is Alexia’s sister, Fresa.” Mapi continued, pretending that you weren’t acting like a complete weirdo. You still couldn’t talk, your mouth suddenly very dry, and Mapi sighed a bit. That sent you reeling because normally, Mapi was so careful not to ever let you think she was disappointed in something you did. 

She really just wanted you both to be friends, and felt like she was blowing the introduction, but you felt like you needed to get out of there before you made even more of a fool of yourself. 

“You can say hi Sol she does not bite! Actually you-” 

You interrupted Mapi, hastily greeting Fresa in what was probably very poor, and very quiet spanish. Then, you made it even worse, somehow, by turning on your heel and making a break for it. Back to your room where it was safe. 

Mapi apologized later for putting you on the spot with a new person, and you’d apologized for acting like you’d never spoken to another human being in your life before. Mapi casually asked if you wanted her to get Fresa’s number from Alexia, so you both could be friends, but you’d declined. 

You didn’t need friends. Definitely not pretty friends that made you nervous, especially when there was absolutely, positively no way she’d like you back. Or even that she liked girls. What were the odds all three Putellas sister’s were lesbians? It seemed unlikely to you, and you tried to push Fresa out of your head as the weeks passed. You focused on Camila, and then you focused on anything but Camila. Fresa always… stayed in the background, though. Always a thought. Always there. 

-------

You blushed at the memory, at how insanely shy and awkward you’d been. You honestly weren’t really looking to share that story with anyone, let alone Alexia, who was one of the coolest people you'd ever encountered. 

“Alright, I won’t tell anyone. I did promise.” You stated, before you grew serious. “But please don’t tell Ingrid, Mapi. It is never ever going to happen again, I felt so weird yesterday, it wasn’t fun at all. It was a one time thing.”

“What, you are never going to drink again?” Mapi asked, distracted and now slightly concerned. 

You decided to be honest, because vulnerability couldn’t be worse than Ingrid yelling at you. It would come close. But it wouldn't be worse. “No, I just…I realized I don’t need to do that anymore, blackout every weekend. When I used to do it before, in Norway, I was trying to forget. I was running away from my problems. I don’t need to do that anymore, I don’t want to.” 

“Oh.” Mapi said carefully, recognizing the weight of what you’d just admitted to her. “Okay. Fine. I won’t tell Ingrid. If you promise to stop taking pictures of me sleeping next to Scout, because they are not representative of our relationship. We do not like each other. We just happen to fall asleep in the same spot sometimes.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “Sure, Mapi. If that’s what you want.”

------

Ingrid hated ubering home from the airport. It took forever, the drivers were never very good, and she much preferred her girlfriend to come to the airport and greet her with a warm hug. However, Ingrid couldn’t miss the opportunity to surprise you both upon her arrival home. It had been a tough couple days for you, she knew. You were an emotional mess after the hospital, though you pretended not to be, and you hated not being able to do your normal activities. So, when Ingrid realized she could catch a flight in the morning as opposed to the afternoon, she jumped at it. She missed her girls, and seeing you both sooner was worth the hassle. 

You and Mapi had ensured the house was spotless. Early on in the break, you’d suggested making slime. Mapi had agreed, and it went about as well as could be expected. The dining room floor was now bare, the rug that normally lived there was nowhere to be found. Other than that, though, the house was clean, and Scout had gotten a bath, courtesy of Mapi due to the cast on your arm. That went about as could be expected, too. 

After cleaning, you’d slumped onto the couch grumpily. Mapi knew you were bummed about your hand. You were such an active person, always moving around, always doing something outside. Now, though, you needed to rest your very broken arm, which meant that you were stuck inside with Mapi. You were grouchy and short tempered, but the Spaniard was doing her best to keep you occupied. 

Both of you were too wrapped up in the intense round of mario kart you were playing to notice the car pull into the drive, or hear your sister approach with her suitcase. You could only play with one hand and the thumb of your broken hand, so Mapi promised to only do the same. As soon as you began to beat her, though, she began to cheat, sneakily using both her hands on the controller, much to your frustration. 

Ingrid felt a pang of worry flash through her when she heard a raised voice as she unlocked the front door. She knew what your mood had been like, and she was worried you were arguing with Mapi. You’d never yelled at her girlfriend before, but you’d definitely yelled at Ingrid. 

“I swear to god María, I am going to throw this at your head,” you shouted. 

Ingrid fumbled with her keys in her haste to get the door open. 

“I am not cheating!” Mapi defended. “You are seeing things, pequeña, I thought it was your arm that was b-”

Her voice cut off as Ingrid swung the door open, a small smile on her face as she’d realized what the argument was about. 

“Ingrid?” You and Mapi said, completely in unison. Scout hopped off the couch, trotting over to his second favorite person, eagerly sniffing at her legs. Ingrid petted him, her attention still on the two of you, frozen on the couch. The rainbow road music still played in the background, and it was truly a comical sight. You had been attempting to kick Mapi’s controller out of her hands, and she was trying to cover your eyes. 

“Ingrid!” Mapi said again, launching off the couch to almost tackle her girlfriend in a hug. 

“Hi my love,” Ingrid murmured, hugging Mapi back rather tightly. 

“I’m so glad you’re home.” Mapi whispered. “She’s scary when she’s grumpy.” 

“I heard that.” You said, frowning at the Spaniard. Ingrid was surprised when you yanked on the back of Mapi’s shirt, pulling her away from your sister, and took her place. The hug you gave your sister was fierce and if Ingrid had been wondering if you’d missed her, she no longer did. 

“Hi sweetheart,” she said, squeezing you tight. 

“Hi.” You mumbled. “Missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Solstråle.” Ingrid said with a smile, taking your cast into her hands as she pulled back. 

“How is your hand? How are you? Are you doing okay?” She asked worriedly, and you nodded, though you really appreciated how much she cared. 

“It’s fine, really. Mapi was… Mapi was really helpful. Couldn’t have done it without her.” You glanced at her, before turning back to your sister, changing the subject. “Blank canvas for you to sign.” You grinned. Ingrid returned that smile and dragged you into the kitchen without further ado. She completely disregarded her duffel bag by the door, and left her backpack on as if she couldn’t be bothered with it before she signed your cast. 

“Can I sign when you’re done?” Mapi asked eagerly. 

“When I’m done, yes,” Ingrid sighed, though she was endlessly entertained by her girlfriend’s impatience. Mapi was like you in that sense. 

Ingrid found a sharpie in the drawer, carefully grabbing your cast in her hands, instructing you to close your eyes. 

‘du er favorittpersonen min selv når du faller love, ingrid’

When she was done, she told you to open your eyes, and you did so eagerly, looking down at what she’d written. You weren’t expecting tears to flood your vision, but they did. ‘You’re my favorite person, even when you fall.’ It felt like it had more than one meaning. Ingrid would always love you. Regardless of your mistakes. 

You smiled at her through your tears, throwing your arms around her again in a tight hug. She caught you easily, enjoying the moment. 

“Ahem. MY TURN.” Mapi said impatiently, causing both you and Ingrid to break into laughter. You let Mapi sign, then, even though she wrote so big it took up half the cast. Ingrid just watched, enjoying the sight of her little family. It was very perfect. 

-----

:)

send! your! sol! thoughts! and let me know what you thought of this one 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Domestic Battles

Chapter 55: A Trying Night

What Merlin had no doubt seen as a failsafe to keep Nimue attached to the dagger, in the end provided quite an interesting twist for him. He'd need to sacrifice the heart of someone who knew him before he was cursed. It made sense. Crushing hearts for spells was all about making a sacrifice. To return to a life of freedom, he had to be willing to sacrifice part of that old life. That would probably give pause to anyone looking to do what he wanted to do, just as the heart of the thing loved most had once given Regina pause for a fraction of a second.

He'd been alive a very long time, which made that list exceedingly short. The Red Fairy and the Black Fairy, obviously. But of course, neither of those fairies would prove to be any easier to lay his hands on than the Blue Fairy currently running around Storybrooke. Lucky for him, there was currently one other person in this world capable of fulfilling the requirement quite easily. And he wouldn't mourn them.

Captain Hook. The man who had been his own personal villain since before he'd been that kind of villain. Oh, and easy it would be, indeed. Would there be planning necessary? Surely. Recent events aside, it wasn't an ordinary day that he sought out alone time with the Captain. And though he'd gone to great lengths to keep their current time together under wraps, if he continued to behave in such a way, people would surely notice. Which meant he'd either need a hell of a story or he'd have to sneak up on him alone to do the deed. Of course, he wouldn't have to worry about killing the pirate, not right away. But once he controlled Hook's heart, the rest would come easily.

That thought alone had him walking over to the library that night with a smile on his face. Fuck, he nearly skipped there in joy! However, given the somber situation at hand, he made sure there was a frown plastered on his face before he stepped into the library and found Belle still hunched over books.

"Another night in your temple of knowledge?" he questioned, looking her over.

She glanced up at him with a mix of frustration and sorrow. "Would you mind? With everything happening with Emma-"

"Not at all," he shook his head before she could finish her sentence.

Last night, he'd minded. A week ago, he would have minded. Hell, a week ago he'd have told her she needed to be a little more selfish about drawing boundaries and returned with her to their house. But at the moment when his own head was spinning with plans and preparation, he realized that the busier and more ragged she was at a time like this, the better. Belle was a clever woman with a laser focus to detail. The less she could apply that focus to detail to him, the better it would be. And not just for him, of course. But potentially for both of them and Henry in the long run.

"And…have-have you heard anything? About Emma?" she asked eagerly.

"I've heard nothing, one way or the other," he answered honestly, only to see her face fall as she returned to the work of tending her space.

Her space. Not their space. Suddenly, the sea of books between them felt like it stretched on and on for miles, a distance that not even his magic could conquer. Today had been long. And busier than he'd expected. Certainly, far more adventurous than he'd planned on. He'd hoped that after what occurred earlier, the way he'd helped, the advice he'd given might further close the gap that he felt growing between them, radiating from the other side of the table.

But it hadn't.

Time and patience. His instinct told him that would be the key. After all this was over, after he was separated from the dagger, after Ingrid was stopped, after Hook was dead, things would go back to the way they'd been. Time would knit that gap closed. If only he could be patient. And get them both out of their separate spaces and into something a little more shared…

"Come, let's leave the day behind, shall we?" he offered, moving closer and extending a hand to her.

She looked at the books strewn out before her, her heart obviously wanting to remain, but fortunately, her body gave in. She nodded and took his hand to let him lead them up to the apartment, but their arrival was short-lived. They'd only just gotten into the bedroom and pulled out a change of clothes before a ringing filled the room, and Belle dove for her phone.

"Emma?" she asked eagerly, making his stomach twist into knots. It had been a long day for both of them. The circles under Belle's eyes suggested that she needed sleep, and yet he knew that if it was Emma on the other end of that phone, the chances that she'd retire the way he wanted her to were slim.

But before he could question who it was or what they needed, before he could insist that she needed her rest, she grabbed her coat and keys. "It's only Mary Margaret, I'll be back in a minute!" she hollered as she closed the door behind him. It had happened so quickly he didn't have the opportunity to object. And seeing her slip out of the apartment as quickly as she did had him turning back to the bed he stood beside, waiting for her. The events of the morning replayed in his mind, making his heart hammer all over again. First, she slipped out of his arms, then ran out of the apartment, next thing he knew she might…

He shook his head and turned his attention back to turning down the bed and preparing for her return. He was being ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as he'd been this morning. Ridiculous and controlling. She wasn't a pet; she was a person. This morning she'd adjusted to make herself more comfortable, it was a fluke. When she got back, they'd talk. He'd hold her like he always did, and she'd sleep in his arms as she always did. He'd see that this morning was simply an anomaly.

And as for leaving him now, it was Mary Margaret; she'd be back in a minute, just like she promised with-

A baby?!

There was a noise in the hall outside the apartment door, something dragging, and he had only just made it to the door to investigate when she walked in with a baby, an armful of bags, and something dragging along behind her. He stared open-mouthed at the sight for a moment before his brain put two and two together and realized that she'd been talking to Mary Margaret before she left. The baby...it must have been Neal.

"Of all the things I ever expected you to bring home from work, I can honestly say I never thought that would be one of them."

"They still can't find Emma," she informed him as he stepped forward to remove some of the bags from her shoulder so she could rock the infant. "They went out to look for her, and I-we get to babysit for the night."

She needed rest, and instead, what she got was a child that he had no doubt was still not sleeping through the night…

"Fantastic…" he muttered. It was going to be a long night.

Sharing his precious time with Belle with baby Neal certainly hadn't been something he'd expected or hoped for. He'd wanted to talk to her. He'd wanted some alone time with her, to reassure himself and her that they could work through whatever this thing that was coming between them was. That no matter what the trial or the emergency they could remain unbroken. Neal wasn't what he expected or hoped for, but he supposed in a way, at least in the end, the child did provide that for them both in unexpected ways.

As with most babies, Neal didn't want to sleep. Though Belle had set up some kind of portable crib Mary Margaret had given her, the source of the mysterious dragging sounds, the child wailed and wailed. A bottle didn't stop him, Belle walking with him around the living room didn't stop it, and after two hours of her apologizing, insisting she be the one to handle it and promising that she'd get him calmed down, he finally slipped out of the bed and joined her.

"Give him here," he insisted with as much fervor as she'd been insisting she be the one to handle this responsibility. An hour ago, he'd been happy to let her try, happy to tell himself that Mary Margaret had asked her to take care of the baby, and she had volunteered; therefore, it should fall on her. But he was a Dark One who didn't need sleep, and without her by his side, there was little point in lying in that bed, going over and over plans in his head that he could be working on instead of feeling lazy as he waited for her. He had magic; he could put the child to sleep and fix this in an instant.

But Belle looked him over skeptically, holding Neal even closer to her chest as she considered something. "No magic," she stated in a warning tone as if she'd just read his mind.

Well, that idea went right out the window. But still, he found himself rolling his eyes and taking the baby from her arms anyway. The Dark One would have needed magic, Rumpelstiltskin on the other hand…

"I don't need it. I have had my fair share of putting a crying infant to sleep before I was the Dark One."

In fact, the way he nestled the babe against his chest exactly as he had Baelfire hundreds of years ago was practically muscle memory. Hell, he hadn't even told himself to start dancing on the balls of his feet with him when he started doing it, his good leg taking most of the weight just because that was how he knew how to do it. It was the same with offering the boy his pinky finger to hold in his little grasp so he could bring it to his mouth and suck. There were just some things a parent learned they couldn't forget. The tricks to experience blissful quiet...that was one of them.

"There now, that's better," he whispered as Belle stared at him, her mouth gapping open in shock. Only a few quiet moments later Neal finally dropped off into sleep. Belle scoured the bags Mary Margaret left them with and found a pacifier that he deftly exchanged for his pinky before setting him in the crib and taking Belle back to bed with him.

That should have been the end of it. Exhausted as she was, the second she changed into her nightgown and rolled into him, he knew she should have drifted off quickly and put this entire day behind her. But she was almost as difficult to get to sleep as Neal.

For nearly an hour, he stroked her back, counted her breaths, and measured her heartbeat. Every minute he expected would be the minute that she would fall to sleep and he might follow after her, but it took nearly another hour for her to get there. And the fact that she hadn't gone to sleep as easily as she usually did was enough to set him on edge. Maybe he wasn't the only one worried about the fact that she'd rolled away from him. Maybe it was on her mind just as it was on his mind. He didn't know if that was good or bad, only that he was not fond of this fear that it stoked within him.

Far earlier than was normal for her, too early for them to ever know if she would have rolled away again, Neal stirred to life quickly with a moan and then a wail, instantly waking Belle with a jerk. She had a bleary-eyed moment of confusion before she bounded off the bed and sprinted to the crib like a first-time parent on pins and needles, fearful that every little scream was death itself. After determining that he was not, in fact, dying, she retrieved a bottle.

He rose from the bed, recognizing that though it was early, the day had clearly begun. No matter how much he wanted to drag her back to bed, no matter how much he knew she needed sleep, after last night, the last thing he wanted was more time to lie awake in that bed. Perhaps the best thing he could do for her now was make sure she got her other needs met.

With that in mind, he showered and dressed quickly, returning to the living room moments later to find her attempting to burp the child. Without a word, he grabbed a tea towel from the kitchen, threw it over his shoulder, then took Neal from her and settled him into the familiar position. A couple of hops, a few firm pats, and…done.

"How do you do that so fast?" Belle questioned with exhaustion in her voice. She hadn't even had time to get back to the bedroom before he'd completed the task.

"Here, I believe the phrase is 'it's like riding a bike,'" he commented as he repositioned the child so he could get him back to sleep. She looked almost disappointed at that answer, and as he thought the word "amateur" playfully to himself, he made a point to file away that look of disappointment. Someday, when Hook was dead, when he was free of the dagger, when Ingrid was defeated, when they had a child of their own…it would be important for him to realize that he had a head start in parenting that she did not. Just as it would be important for him to remember not to be too cocky about that head start. Obviously, whatever method of parenting he'd used hadn't been all that successful. On that depressing note, he motioned her in the direction of the bathroom.

"Take your shower. Get ready for work. He'll go to sleep in a few moments anyway."

She nodded and twisted her hands almost nervously in front of her before she moved around him and-

Before she moved past him, she stood on tiptoe and tugged on his arm so she could kiss him. Swiftly, of course, so as not to disturb the baby she gazed at now. But he felt a blush creep into his cheeks, and his heart raced all the same.

"I love you," she whispered with a smile.

He felt a shower of relief pour over him at the words. Perhaps they hadn't stayed in bed long enough to know whether or not she would have rolled away from him, but pulling him in closer to kiss him and remind him that she loved him…that was a reassurance all on its own.

"I love you too," he smiled back. "Go ahead and get ready."

An awkward sleepless night with an infant hadn't been the original plan, but perhaps it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to them either.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 16 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

With the more relaxed atmosphere, new questions rise in my mind. 

I still can't wrap my head around the fact I have a great-uncle who looks young enough to be my brother and I haven't even begun to process what he'd told me about my Fae ancestry but the mystery of Lagrange seems mundane by comparison. 

"I've been thinking," I say, drawing even with Halloran as we approach the place where he and I had discovered the cavern.

"Let's say you're right and Rhiannon came through the portal here but you said portals in the 'underworld' are hard to find, while on this side, they don't change. If Lagrange was her target, it seems too coincidental that he'd have a shop right above the one she found." 

"I see your point," he allows.

"And I've been pondering the same thing. Honestly, I don't know, which is why we're here."

"The runes are strange, too," I say.

"What do they mean and who were they for?" 

"That I can answer," Halloran says.

"Your scholarly wolf is correct, more or less. The one in the thrift shop means 'Hart' and 'beware' while the one in Lagrange's means 'ha Lárán' or 'Halloran' if you will and 'so it is done.' Runes are cryptic, even among Fae;but I think the messages were meant for other Shifters other targets and not for us. The first tells them why she's here, vengeance for her lover and perhaps for her son. The second tells them who seeks it."

 "So, a calling card." 

"More or less." 

"Do you think she'd talk to us? To me?" I ask.

"I mean... It's been, what? Almost sixty years since she was banished. Couldn't she be pardoned and allowed home after all this time? If she stops murdering people, I mean." 

Halloran winces.

"I don't think you quite comprehend the scope and severity of her crimes, Julian."

He lowers his voice, perhaps conscious of Dane and Ingrid's presence.

"She slaughtered an entire innocent Wolf-pack and jeopardized a fragile peace. However tragic her own tale, the choices she made were her own and she bears the responsibility. Besides, as you say, it's been nigh on sixty years. Sixty years in the underworld is no picnic. I'd be surprised if she's even sane at this point. So don't put too much stock in the meaning of runes." 

I fall silent again as the seeds of his words sprout new questions in my mind. 

How would Dane's family feel if they knew just whose grandson he'd mated with?

And was it right for me to stand at his side and 'claim' land where my own ancestor had spilled Wolf's blood?

Despite my commitment to support him, he'd told me the ritual required a full moon, so we had another ten days to think it through. 

My thoughts are interrupted as we reach the place where Halloran and I had moved the bricks and all eight of us crowd about the opening, peering in.

"I've only brought spelunking equipment for two," Halloran says.

"Anyone have experience caving?" 

"I do," Ingrid says, raising her hand and then wincing as her nails scrape the vaulted ceiling overhead.

"I went caving with friends last summer." 

"You did?" Dane asks skeptically and Ingrid sticks her tongue out at him.

"Anyone else?" Halloran offers, half hopefully but Ingrid remains the only eager volunteer. 

He sighs.

"Very well. The two of us will explore the lower cavern. The rest of you record as much as you can up here, take pictures and notes, whatever. We want a detailed map of the place, if possible." 

We disperse in groups of three... Chloe, Ian and Sam head back the way we'd come while Grace, Dane and I forge on into the dark. 

Without the added spice of fear, the tunnels quickly lose their air of intrigue and before long, I'm tired and bored with the cold brick passageways. 

It's obvious they align with the streets above, with branches leading to the historic buildings on the block.

Some are dead ends... things have changed since the tunnels were built but some lead to trap doors like the one in Lagrange's shop. 

Oddly, we can't open any of them from this side. 

"So, this grandma thief is running around, right?" Grace posits.

"Breaking into shops and stealing crap, looking for a Shifter. Okay but how does she get down the tunnel and conceal it from the top? Basic rule of true crime... you can't kill yourself and bury yourself, too." 

I laugh but to my surprise, Dane takes the question seriously. 

"That's a good point," he says.

"I wonder..." 

A scream cuts him off and we freeze, listening.

"Was that...?"

"Ingrid," Dane confirms.

"I'd know that ear-piercer anywhere." 

“Shit.” 

As one, the three of us turn and make our back down the tunnel as quickly as we can. 

At the cavern, we find Halloran helping Ingrid over the lip of the chasm and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Both appear unharmed. 

"What happened?" Dane asks, as Ingrid unclips herself from the ropes. 

Ingrid shakes her head and points toward the circular hole at her back.

"See for yourself." 

I advance, Dane at my side and the two of us shine twin beams down on the black water a dozen meters below. 

A pale shape catches the light, and I bite back a gasp.

"Holy shit," Grace breathes over my shoulder, giving voice to my thoughts.

"Is that... a body?" 

"Yes," Halloran confirms grimly.

"And unless I'm very much mistaken, it's the body of Jeffrey Lagrange."

[cigvrettedvet]

although paul cared for all his patients and he wanted to help them, he had a soft spot for ingrid. he saw a part of himself in her which made him care a little more. for obvious reasons, paul wasn't allowed to have favorites. it brought in all sorts of unprofessional feelings that shouldn't be there. and yet . . . "my biggest regret in life? you really went in for the kill, didn't you?" paul lightly chuckles. still, he knew he had to answer the question honestly. "i guess it'd have to be not doing everything i wanted to. once i became a therapist, i sort of neglected my own personal needs. i've devoted my life to helping others." and yet he doesn't know how to help himself, how ironic. "which i enjoy, of course. sometimes i just wish i could've done the same for myself, that's all." he chuckles once more, hoping to lighten the air after he unintentionally ruined the once jovial mood.

“we’re all the better for it then.” ingrid mused with a pleasant smile. she knew he had other patients, probably even ones that scheduled more appointments than she did, but there was a secret hope within her that she was his favorite patient. whenever that thought came to mind, she had to force herself to stop it. it was incredibly inappropriate and incredibly unlikely. when she stepped out of his office after every session, she had to believe he never gave her a second thought until it was time for another, just for her own sanity. at least paul was willing to play along with her game. “hmm, okay, my absolute worst…” though the worst, inappropriate things instantly came to mind, she knew not to voice any of them aloud, so she tried for something neutral: “what’s your biggest regret in your life?” she decided on, thinking about her regret over her career choice.

[saturnlovewp]

my new tradition asking you a question for serotonin!!!! what song would all your OC's be and what lyric in particular of the song??? if that's too much brain power then just a song :)

and my new tradition is answering your questions for serotonin! all my fics were named after taylor swift songs i feel would fit them and the themes of the fic best, but if i fear i could always choose more songs (listening to music is all i do honestly)!

ingrid is very "american teenager" by ethel cain. every lyric of that song is very very her, but particularly the chorus

vivica's is "matilda" by harry styles! the song fits her more in some points of the story then ghe others, but all the lyrics are very very her!

i can now only see evangeline as being "cassandra" by florence + the machine. that whole song is very her, but especially the second verse!