#ingrid engen x mapí leon

[girlgenius1111]

hard launch

mapi x ingrid x reader. after they confirm their relationship, the public's response makes you feel like maybe you don't belong with ingrid and mapi. an international break complicates the matter, until you're barely speaking to them, and they have to figure out what's wrong; until they have to try to pick up the pieces.

-----

“We don’t like to hide you, amor. We want everyone to know you’re ours. Please?” 

The hope in Mapi’s eyes was too hard to resist, quickly transforming into joy when you nodded your head. Next to you, Ingrid whispered a promise into your ear, that everything would be okay, everything would go perfectly. You weren’t so sure. They didn’t seem to understand your hesitation. Of course they didn’t. They were them. Ingrid and Mapi. They were widely adored, together and separately. 

Your girlfriends could do no wrong. 

Except choose you, apparently. 

It was easy to believe them, that no one would care, when you were safely tucked away in bed with them. Feeling Ingrid’s arms wrapped around your waist and Mapi’s lips press into your forehead. They made you believe them; when they told you that while some may have a negative reaction, the majority of the public would just be happy if they were happy. 

You shouldn’t have believed them. Shouldn’t have trusted them, shouldn’t have given in when they asked you. A small, very hurt part of you wondered if it had been on purpose; a way for them to show you they were too good for you without actually having to say the words. Logical you knew that was ridiculous, but it was hard to use logic when you were scrolling through comment after comment about how awful you were. 

Upon reflection, both of your girlfriend’s would realize the mistake of letting your relationship go public just a few days before you and Ingrid were set to go on national duty. It was a few simple posts, photos that would have previously just included Ingrid and Mapi now including you. You, asleep on Mapi’s shoulder on the plane. You and Ingrid, hand in hand as you walked through the darkened streets of the city. The posts confirmed rumors that had been simmering for months. You remembered so clearly hitting the post button at the same time your girlfriends did. 

They’d smiled at you, dropping their phones onto the table without another thought. Yours was heavy in your hand, though, and it felt like every comment that slid through made it weigh more and more. The comments were worse under your post, of course they were. It was more confusion on your girlfriend’s pages than anything, but mostly vile insults on yours. 

You shouldn’t have read them in the first place, but you were only human. You couldn’t help but scroll through the comments section late at night when you were supposed to be sleeping, search your name on twitter just to see what your new insecurity of the day would be. It was self destructive, yet you couldn’t stop. It ate at you for three days before you left. 

The worst was that they didn’t even notice. Long used to ignoring comments on social media, neither of them saw what was happening, and what it was doing to you. In fact, it may have even been bearable if they’d noticed. If they’d been there to dispel your worries. Instead, they’d remained oblivious, and then you’d all split up for a week. You to England, Ingrid to Norway, Mapi staying at home in Spain. 

You always got a bit anxious before it was time for camp, and any odd behavior on your part was attributed to that, both by your girlfriends, and by you. Because while your brain was screaming for you to show them everything that was being said and beg for them to tell you none of it was true, you refused to be that pathetic. They wanted this so badly, a relationship that wasn’t a secret, and you couldn’t ruin that. 

Maybe, though, you’d already ruined everything anyway. Each of them felt the odd and unusual tension when they kissed you goodbye earlier that afternoon, but neither of them were there to see the tears that fell once you were on the plane, leaving Barcelona. 

If the past 3 days had been almost unbearable, and you’d been with them, you couldn’t imagine what a week of not seeing them would do to you. You weren’t sure you could survive it. 

—

It took Ingrid an embarrassingly long time to realize you were avoiding speaking to her. Mapi, less so. It was the 3rd day of a 7 day break, and the three of you had only facetimed once. Which, in and of itself, wasn’t odd. What was odd, though, was the fact that you’d barely been texting them. You hadn’t spoken to either of your girlfriends unless they’d called you, hadn’t reached out at all. It was unlike you, but even then, both of them just assumed it had been a busy break. 

At least, until Ingrid got a text from Keira. The midfielder was wondering what was going on with you, if the three of you had been in some kind of fight or something, because you were acting completely weird. Barely socializing, looking exhausted no matter how much time you spent alone in your room. It was concerning enough that multiple of your teammates had noticed, and tried to talk to you about it, only to be shut down. 

You were fine, you told them. Nothing was wrong, you were just a bit more stressed than usual. 

None of them believed you, but your answer as to what was wrong remained the same. Finally, Leah instructed Keira to just text one of your girlfriends, and see if they knew anything. If they did, perhaps they could give Keira some answers on how to help you. And if they didn’t… well, there was clearly something very, very wrong. 

The phone call that followed Keira’s text wasn’t very fun for you, or for either of your girlfriends. Mapi had to ring you three times before you picked up, and even then, your face was only half in view of the screen. After you’d exchanged hello’s, you fell silent. It was a heavy silence, one that told both your girlfriend’s very clearly that you weren’t okay. They didn’t know why, but they were going to figure it out if it was the last thing they did. 

After a few more seconds of total silence where they waited for you to say something, Mapi gave in. 

“Amor? How are you?” Mapi wondered. 

“Fine.” You told her. Short answers, make up an excuse for why you have to go in a minute. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. They don’t need to deal with your emotions, just like how they probably don’t want to deal with you. 

“Really? Because Keira told us you’ve been acting kind of weird.” Ingrid said gently. You forced yourself to look away from her wide, concerned eyes. 

Fuck, this was hard. But you couldn’t break down. They didn’t need that. They didn’t need you. 

“Yep. I’m fine.” You replied shortly, shifting again so the camera only showed half your face. 

“Can you let me see you, then?” Ingrid asked. “If nothing is wrong, look at us.” 

With a very forced roll of your eyes, you tilted the screen so that your face was visible. You looked exhausted, which they’d known you would, but they weren’t expecting the completely empty look in your eyes. 

“Amor, are you sure you’re-”

“María, I said I’m fine,” you snapped, digging your nails into the skin of your thigh at the hurt look on your girlfriend’s face. Guilt was all you could feel, suffocating, maddening guilt. 

“Don’t be like that.” Ingrid said sharply. “We’re worried, and we want to help,” 

“I don’t need help. Everything is fine. God, can’t you both just leave me alone? You’re hovering and you’re suffocating me and I’m over it. I’ll talk to you later, I have to go.” 

You hung up before either of them could get a word out, throwing your phone across the room once you’d done so. 

Everyone was right. You weren’t good for them. You weren't good. 

The text you received afterwards only reinforced that. Your phone screen was cracked from the force of your throw, but you could still see what Ingrid had written. 

I don’t know what the issue is, but if you’re upset about something, you need to stop being immature and tell us what’s wrong. We can’t read your mind. You owe me and María an apology.

Mapi hadn’t even bothered to text. 

It was easier than you expected to push them away, which really just reinforced what you’d been convinced of over the past several days. They were better off without you. You tried to convey that in your reply. 

I’m sorry to both of you. You deserve better. Don’t worry about me, please. I’m fine.

You were pretty sure you’d never been less fine in your life. 

—

Neither of your girlfriends liked the sound of your last text. It was self deprecating, and it just didn’t sound like the you they knew. Their frustration began to fall back into worry, and that worry only grew with every day that passed. 

You wouldn’t answer their calls or their texts. None of your teammates could get a single word out of you. 

Mapi almost flew out to you when Keira told her that Sarina was benching you for the friendly you had. The only reason she didn’t was because you were coming home the following day. 

Keira said you weren’t sleeping and barely eating. The coaches and physios and captains had tried to talk to you, but you just kept saying you were fine. 

Neither Mapi nor Ingrid were very sure what they were going to get when you came home to them the next day. No matter how much either of them thought about it, they couldn’t put the pieces together. You’d been fine before you left. Maybe a little weird, but nothing compared to how you were now. 

Ingrid had barely played in her own match, too stressed over you to really focus on training. It was a friendly for her, too, and she’d never cared less about a match in her life. Never wanted something to be over more in her life. 

Mapi was laying on the couch when she figured it out. Snuggling with Bagheera, maybe wearing one of your shirts, and definitely not stalking your instagram. 

She clicked on the comments by accident, but the absolute vitriol caught her eye immediately. She read one comment. Then another. 

She read them until she was crying, herself. Until she finally had to close the app before she broke her phone by throwing it or something, and called Ingrid. 

—

Mapi was always more active on social media over the international break. She must have been really bored to be looking through your instagram, but that was the only explanation for the text you received with only a day to go until you headed back to Barcelona.  

Amor, I think I understand why you’ve been so distant recently. I don’t know how to fix this so far away from you, especially when you won’t answer the phone, but I love you so much. None of those people know you or us. We want you, and that is all that matters. Please don’t be too unkind to yourself. Call me if you can.

Ingrid’s text followed shortly after. 

I talked to María, and I went through the comments. I’m so sorry we didn't notice before now, and I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this by yourself. I understand why you’ve been distant, but I wish you’d answer the phone. I love you, so so much. More than you know. 

They still cared, and you didn’t understand why. 

You were nothing, and they were everything, but that’s not how they were acting.

It was incomprehensible, so you didn’t try to comprehend it. You ignored their texts, and knew that once you arrived home tomorrow, there wouldn’t be any more avoidance, for better or for worse. 

—

Your hand shook as you tried to unlock the door, eventually just dropping the keys all together onto the door mat. Swearing under your breath, you set your bag down to grab them, but the door swung open of its own accord. There Mapi stood, her phone in hand like she’d been tracking your location. Just the sight of her had emotion splitting your chest open, tears instantly filling your eyes. 

“Corazón,” she murmured, tugging you in through the door as her free hand grabbed your bag. 

“Hi,” you said meekly, shutting your eyes as Mapi’s hands came up to cup your cheeks, her eyes studying your face closely. The whole time you’d been gone, you hadn’t let yourself cry. Not one tear, no matter how much you’d wanted to. You’d done everything you could to push every emotion away, focus on numbness rather than everything swirling around inside your head. As soon as you saw Mapi, though, that was over. 

You sunk in on yourself, your head dropping until your chin hit your chest, and all you could see was your shoes on the hardwood floor. Tears clouded your vision, and you couldn’t help the quiet sob that slipped past your lips. 

It was a testament to how poor your state of mind had gotten in the last week that as soon as Mapi kissed your cheek, you broke completely, a part of you genuinely shocked that she still cared for you. Still wanted you. She drew you in closer, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking the door shut as she did so. You pressed your face into her shoulder, hands fisting themselves in the fabric of her sweatshirt. 

“I’ve got you, amor. I’m right here.” 

And she was. She was right there. Even though everything seemed to tell you that it should be otherwise, she was still there. She still loved you. The comments she’d evidently discovered hadn’t lifted some veil from her eyes, making her realize how much she despised you, how much better she could do. She touched you in the same gentle way, held you so carefully. She still loved you. She loved you. 

Somehow you found yourself being half carried over to the couch, still cradled close to Mapi’s chest. Once she had you comfortably resting with your head in her lap, you tried to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried, looking up with wide eyes at your girlfriend, desperate that she understand that you knew this was your fault, and your fault alone. 

Mapi just shook her head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was going on sooner, and I’m sorry there has ever been any doubt in your head that I love you.” 

And though it still didn’t make any sense, you turned and buried your face in the fabric of Mapi’s, of your, shirt, and let every feeling that had been trying to strangle you for the last week out.   

Mapi was there through it all, her hands stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Wiping away your tears as she murmured soft, sweet reassurances to you. 

It was still incomprehensible, but you were tired of trying to understand why they loved you still. Why they loved you at all. You were too tired of everything, honestly, and all you seemed to be capable of was sniffling into your girlfriend’s lap, and drifting off into the best sleep you’d had in 7 days. 

—

When Ingrid walked in through the front door, it was completely silent, save for an occasional sniffle. It had been radio silence from Mapi since the time you were due to arrive home, around two hours before her own plane landed. She had no idea what to expect upon her arrival, and the unknown made her stomach twist with anxiety. 

 She leaned down to pet Bagheera quickly, before making her way into the living room. If she thought she was going to find you to be the source of the quiet crying, she was wrong. 

Instead, you were curled up in Mapi’s lap, your head resting on her thigh, as you dozed peacefully. The Spaniard was playing with your hair in one hand, the other reaching up to wipe away her tears. If there was anything Ingrid hated, it was seeing either of you upset; she would get this itching feeling to fix it, no matter what it took. Within a second, Ingrid was crossing the room and sliding onto the sofa next to Mapi, her hand cupping the older woman’s cheek. Mapi inhaled shakily, trying to muster a smile for the Norwegian, but it was a weak attempt. 

“Hi my love.” Ingrid whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Mapi’s slightly damp cheek. 

“Hi.” Mapi whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. 

“Tell me why you’re crying.” Ingrid was pretty sure she had a good idea, but she wanted to hear it from Mapi. 

“She’s… she’s in so much pain, Ingrid. She believes everything everyone is saying about her. I can’t imagine what the last week has been like and I didn’t do anything about it-”

The Norwegian cut her girlfriend off. “Neither of us did. She didn’t tell us. We should have checked in and we should have realized something was off before we left, but she didn’t tell us, María. She didn’t want us to know.” 

Mapi nodded slowly, and Ingrid knew that the Spaniard still blamed herself. Honestly, Ingrid blamed herself, too, and no rational words could fix that. Not when you were laid in front of her, the effects of the past week clear on your face. 

Knowing that there wasn’t anything else she could say, Ingrid wrapped an arm around Mapi’s shoulder, pulling the defender into her. With María’s head on her shoulder, and you sleeping in her lap, Ingrid could almost pretend that everything was fine. 

In the silence, she could pretend that you hadn’t been subjected to astoundingly hateful comments that had made you doubt the entirety of your relationship with them. If she tried really hard, she could pretend everything was fine. 

When the first tear slid down her cheek, though, she knew she wasn’t really convincing herself. Not with Mapi crying on her shoulder, not with you, exhausted, heart battered and bruised next to her. Nothing could erase what had happened, but Ingrid hoped, with everything in her, that it could be repaired. 

—

When you woke, you thought you found yourself just as you’d been when you’d fallen asleep, with the environment around you slightly different. It was lighter, in the apartment, with the smell of something cooking wafting in from the kitchen. You shifted, realizing you weren’t lying on Mapi, anymore. Your head was resting on a pillow, two throw blankets tucked around you meticulously. 

Low voices were audible from the kitchen, and you rose shakily, feeling weak and exhausted from your breakdown, even as you’d just woken. A part of you wanted to just head for the door. Running away would be the easiest option, because you were quite sure that going into that kitchen would bring about conversations you didn’t want to have. If you could have done anything, you would have gone back in time to two weeks ago, when no one knew about the three of you, and no one had anything to say. Back when Mapi and Ingrid had no reason to question your mental health and your very negative view of yourself. It had felt like they were fixing that, slowly but surely. The response to your relationship had destroyed what self confidence you had built back up, and it was so fragile now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to successfully convince them that you were okay. 

But there was love waiting for you in the kitchen, love you didn’t understand but love you craved all the same. And if you walked out the door, you weren’t sure you’d ever find anything like it ever again. 

When you walked into the kitchen, it was to find both of your girlfriends sitting at the counter, both looking at something on Ingrid’s computer. 

Ingrid turned to look at the sound of your footsteps padding into the room, and any fear you had that she was still upset with you melted away at the look on her face. She got up, practically crashing into you with the force of her hug. One arm around your back, the other pressing your face into her shoulder, she held you so tightly, she hoped it would convey to you that she was never letting you go. 

“My love.” She sighed, feeling you sink into her. It was such a relief to have you back in her arms, to know that you were okay and safe, relatively speaking. Ingrid had thought the worry and concern would fade a little at the sight of you, but it didn’t. If anything, it grew. Because you so clearly weren't okay, and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d missed all of this. 

Ingrid and Mapi had discussed it while you were asleep; that for your response to the hatred being spewed your way to be this severe, there had to be some foundation to it already in place. For you to so readily believe that you weren’t worthy of them, that you were destroying their relationship, that you were an awful person, you must have had those thoughts before. They hadn’t known that, hadn’t ever known you to be anything but energetic and smiley and happy and loving. 

You felt arms snake their way around your abdomen, Mapi’s face come to settle against the back of your head. It was a relief to you, too, to keep being reminded that they wanted you, regardless of what the little voice in your head was trying to convince you of. 

They held you like that for a while. Until Ingrid’s arms started to go numb and Mapi’s began to ache from holding you so tightly. Only when you shifted uncomfortably in between them did they finally let go, allowing you to step away from them and rub harshly at your eyes. 

It was just hitting you now, the full force of what you’d put them through. And now that you were with them, again, you felt a little silly for how you’d acted. You were younger than both of them, not by much, but that immaturity was clear in your actions over the past week, and you hated that. You hated that you’d made things worse for them when you’d only been trying to make everything better.  

“I’m so sorry.” You croaked, desperate for them to know that your intention hadn’t been to hurt them, that you were just reacting in the way you best knew how. They both began speaking at the same time, trying to tell you that you didn’t need to be sorry, but you didn’t let them get very far. “No, I am. I put you guys through hell and that wasn’t fair of me. I should have just talked to you, I know that. I just- I don’t… I’m not-”

Ingrid interrupted you, reaching forward to grab your hand in hers, an almost painfully sympathetic look on her face. “It’s okay. We both understand that you were struggling, and that your first instinct was to shut down. I don’t really understand why, if we’ve made you feel like you can’t come to us with things that are upsetting you-” 

At this, you shook your head rapidly back and forth. This wasn’t their fault, they had to know that.

“-we want to talk more, but we want to show you something first.” Ingrid finished, tugging on your hand until you followed her over to her computer. There was a document pulled up, one they had clearly been pouring over when you’d walked in. Both of them stood behind you anxiously as you read, not sure if their idea was going to make this worse or better. 

When you turned to them with tears once again pooling in your eyes, they feared they’d made it worse. 

When you flung your arms around both of them, a soft thank you falling from your lips, they knew they’d made it better. 

It had been Mapi’s idea to craft a statement, one that she’d checked with her agent and the club’s PR people about. Everyone had been on board, so she’d got to writing, as soon as she’d gotten the okay from Ingrid as well. She’d never post it without your consent, but she hoped that it would alleviate some of your worries. 

It was quick and to the point, and you could see where Ingrid had vetoed some of Mapi’s run-on sentences. The two of them expressed their disgust with the way people had been treating you in the past week. They had really only ever been on the receiving end of love from the fans, and this was not what they had been anticipating. You were an important part of their relationship, of their lives. You deserved respect, and they wouldn’t tolerate anything else. Their priority was each other, and you. It should have all been things you already knew, but you were crying like you hadn’t known how important you were to them. 

They let everything sink in, let you calm down for almost 20 minutes before they started the conversation you’d been dreading. They watched carefully as you settled yourself in the armchair in the living room, leaving the couch for both of them. The distance you were creating made them nervous, and Ingrid couldn’t help but lean forward and rest her hand on your knee. You seemed to relax a little, even giving the Norwegian a tiny smile in response. 

Mapi was, again, the one to break the silence. “Amor, I don’t really understand. Why didn’t you come to us with this? We would have stopped it as soon as we knew.” 

It felt oddly like a therapy session, with both of them staring at you from the couch, the spotlight very clearly fixated on you as you began to speak. 

“At first, I didn’t want to be dramatic. And then the comments started to get to me and I was afraid that if I brought it up…”

“What?” Ingrid asked softly, bracing herself for whatever you were about to say. 

You looked away from them, chewing on your lip. “I was afraid you’d agree with the comments and break up with me. I was afraid you were just with me because you didn’t know how to end it. I was just really scared you wouldn’t love me anymore.” 

You kept your eyes fixed on the rug underneath you, even when Ingrid grabbed your hand and pulled on it, eventually pulling so hard you gave in and got up, settling in between the two of them on the sofa. Gentle fingers grabbed your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at Mapi. 

“How could we not love you?” She asked incredulously. Her disbelief settled something in you, and you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in her shirt and let yourself relax, but you knew you had to help them understand. 

“I’m not good enough for either of you. I’ve never understood why you want me, and-” 

“Stop.” Ingrid cut in, shifting so that she could look you in the eye. “How long have you been feeling like this? Longer than just since the comments?” 

You nodded slowly, feeling your cheeks heat up. You knew they didn’t like you keeping things from them, and this was something rather important. “Since the beginning. I love you both, but I’ve never understood why you love me.” 

Both of them were completely silent for a moment, long enough for you to get nervous. “It’s okay, really. I’ve always been like this.” 

“Unkind to yourself?” Mapi asked quietly. 

You turned your attention back to her. “Realistic.” 

She scoffed, taking a few calming deep breaths. “That is not realistic. Not at all. We tell you we love you and you don’t believe us?”

“No, María, I believed you, I just didn’t get why. It never made sense to me because you are both so perfect.” 

Ingrid squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to her. You wished they’d sit in front of you or something, so you didn’t have to turn back and forth like you were watching a tennis match. 

“The way you think about yourself is ridiculous. If we are perfect, so are you.” Ingrid said, her hand cupping your face, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. “You aren’t tricking us into loving you. We just love you. We aren’t going to change our minds about that.” 

She kissed your lips gently, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed her kisses, her touch, until that moment. Mapi’s voice in your ear stopped you from leaning forward and capturing Ingrid in another kiss. 

“I know this isn’t something you can change overnight, how you think about yourself. But I want you to try, okay? I want you to really try for me.” 

You nodded, shutting your eyes tightly. You could try. For them, even if you weren’t sure you deserved it. 

“I will.” You promised. “If you both promise that you won’t stay with me if you stop loving me. That if I’m not what you want anymore, you’ll-”

“We won’t ever stop loving you. There is no we without you, love. There is just us.” Ingrid told you, her green eyes boring into yours, making it hard to come up with a response. 

“We choose what’s best for us. And we choose you. You are good enough, mi amor.” Mapi promised. Her whisper in your ear sent a shiver down your spine, the words filling you with the sensation of being loved. So much love, you weren’t sure what to do with it all.

“You are good.” Ingrid emphasized, her lips pressing repeated kisses onto your temple. “You are good, and we love you so much.” 

It didn’t feel as incomprehensible anymore. 

“We want you to love you too. Whatever it takes to convince you that you are good and loved, amor, we’ll do it. Okay?” 

You nodded, turning to press a kiss to Mapi’s lips. Ingrid buried her face in your neck, and you wondered how you’d ever considered walking out the door. You belonged here, with them. They chose you, and that was all that mattered. 

—

i have no confidence that this is good BUT🤞 i hope you all like this one. it was a labor of love... i think i like it?? who knows.

normally bailey builds up my confidence before i post a fic but she's on a very well deserved fun super cool trip and i don't want to interrupt her so please tell me this doesn't suck! lie if you must!

love to you all 🥰🫶🏻

[also as always, tell me if you find any typos 😇]

[mapis-putellas]

Three’s a crowd

Pairing: Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x reader

Words: 3389

Warnings: swearing

Summary: You accidentally tell Ona about your relationship with Ingrid and Mapi despite promising them you’d keep it to yourself. Their reaction is nothing like you expect.

Notes: I’m sorry I’m advance for the terrible Spanish. Also, this may not flow smoothly and I apologise for that. I tried my best!

"I mean, I'd make out with them but like -platonically, you know?"

"You can't make out with someone platonically, idiota."

"Of course you can! We've done it like, so many times before already. I mean, maybe it was platonic at first, anyway. But it's definitely not now." You wave your hand dismissively. It takes promptly three seconds before you freeze in the midst of shoving your belongings into your back at the words that had just escaped your mouth without meaning to. Eyes widening, you turn to face Ona who was staring at you with a look of pure shock on her face. Her mouth was agape, hands frozen mid air in the midst of pulling off her jersey.

"qué?" Her eyebrow raise.

You panic. "Uhh, nothing. I said nothing," you scramble to collect the rest of your things, hoisting your kitbag onto your shoulder before slowly backing away from her. "You're just hearing things, Ona. I didn't say anything."

You see, this...relationship, or whatever was going on between Mapi, Ingrid and yourself was new. So new, in fact, it didn't quite have a label. In the privacy of their home, you were like any typical throuple. You kissed. Cuddled. Held hands. They'd dote over you and you craved their attention and affection. In public, however, they tended to stay away from you. Not in a mean way. A least, you didn't think so anyway. Sure they'd speak to you. Pull you into he occasional side hug if you did particularly well in training. Soft, subtle smiles would be shared between the three of you.

But that was it, and that was okay. It was just easier that way anyway. Nobody questioned you; talked you into thinking that maybe joining their relationship wasn't the best idea. You were already going a good enough job of that yourself, after all, and the rumours and speculations that would surely appear if started being affectionate in public certainly wouldn’t help.

It wasn't like you didn't want to be with them, because you very much did. It was just...they were perfect together. Had been together for years before bringing you into the mix. What did you bring into this...relationship that they didn't already have?

The answer was nothing.

Perhaps that train of thought wasn't fair, you thought. It had only been a month, after all. A month was nothing. It was why you'd chosen to remain silent. That way, you wouldn't cause any issues.

"ey ey ey, no," her hand grabs your arm, preventing you from making your escape. "You are not going anywhere chica. Sentarse." She all but demands, pointing your cubby.

"No, Ona," you futility attempt to free your arm. Ingrid was going to kill you. Literally murder you before bringing you back to clean up the mess. Both she and Mapi had asked you to keep this to yourself, and you'd broken their trust before talking without thinking. You and your stupid big mouth.

"Really. I have to go. I said I would-"

Ona shakes her head, effectively cutting you off mid sentence. "Sentarse." She says again, sounding less amused than she had before. It has you shrinking in place, but yet, your stubbornness has you once again shaking your head.

"No. I'm not a dog." The door was just there. Your eyes desperately flicker around the room in hopes of finding something that would distract the defender so you make a break for it.

"Y/n, I swear-"

"What is going on?" A new voice fills the room, and both your heads turn at the sound. At the sight of Mapi standing before you, tanned, tattooed arms crossed against her chest, your eyes wide almost comically. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. You were dead. You were so dead.

Mapi's eyes flicker from Ona's face to her grasp around your arm, prompting the defender for sigh heavily before dropping it. She turns and sits, bending down to begin removing her boots. The knowing smirk on her face was hidden. She knew it.

"Qué está pasando?" Mapi asks again, dropping her arms and making her over to you. You instinctively take a small step closer to her, staring at Ona with pleading eyes when she looks up and makes eye contact. She stares right back at you for a few moments before sighing lightly and shaking her head, rising to her feet and tugging off her jersey.

"Nada," she finally speaks, and you let out a subconscious breath of relief as feel your heart beginning to settle in your chest. Crises averted. For now, anyway.

Mapi eyes Ona for a second before nodding and turning to face you. You don't seem to realise the look of concern still etched on your face, but the Spaniard decides that for now, she'd drop the subject in an effort to prevent furthering your impending panic.

"Are you ready to go?" She asks instead, and you nod, allowing her to place a steady hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the locker room. You glance back at Ona who just so happened to be staring right back at you. She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head slightly to the side in question, and you nod, the defender mimicking it before focusing her attention back to her kitbag.

"Ingrid is in the car already." Mapi tells you in her heavily accented English as you make your way outside, her hand absentmindedly trailing up and down your back in a subconscious action of comfort.

You hum does little to comfort her.

"What happened, amor?" She gently pulls you to a stop, her hand on your hip gently coaxing you to face her. You comply, albeit a little hesitantly, eyes focusing on the tattoo on her neck. Looks can be deceiving. They could be indeed. A small part of you admittedly wants to tell her, but you figure doing so and spilling your guts and in the middle of a car park with all your teammates surrounding you wouldn't be the best idea.

"Later?" You plead instead, and though the Spaniard hesitates, she nods her head and once again starts guiding you back to her car with her hand on the small of your back. The remainder of the walk was completed in silence, Mapi opening the trunk of her car allowing you to dump your kitbag in the there along with Ingrid's and her own before opening the back passenger door.

You slip inside with a tight smile and without your usual kiss to her cheek in thanks, and the defender finds herself frowning as she closes the door and makes her way round to the drivers side, completely missing your less than enthusiastic greeting to Ingrid. You settle in the back with your headphones in, perhaps a not so mature response, but one you deemed necessary to get your thoughts together before the inevitable conversation ahead.

"Is she okay?" The Norwegian questions, glancing back a you in concern. She doesn't normally like talking about you with you in such close proximity, but she figures due to the loud music currently emanating from your headphones that you wouldn't be able to hear them. Besides, she was only doing so out of concern.

Mapi shrugs, "no sé. Ona said something, I think. Said something she did not mean to, maybe?" Her eyes follow Ingrid's for a second before she starts the car, pulling out of her parking space with relative ease. The plan had been for you to stay with them tonight, so she purposely misses the turn to your apartment and continues straight to theirs.

"Ona said something to her?" Ingrid frowns.

"Sí. She look like, how you say..." Mapi tightens her hands around the steering wheel, "como un ciervo atrapado en los faros?"

"A dear caught in headlights?" Ingrid responds, and Mapi nods.

"Sí." The Spaniard confirms.

Ingrid reaches out and places a steady hand on the defenders thigh, giving the bare, tanned skin a soft squeeze. "Did you ask?"

Mapi nods as she eases the car to a stop at a red light. "Talk later, she said. So obstinada." She grumbles.

Ingrid couldn't help but smile, "Like you, you mean?" She teases, earning herself a playful punch to the arm.

"She is worse." The Spaniard grumbles, and Ingrid laughs softly.

With a quiet sigh, you place your AirPod back into your ear. You were stubborn, she was right. But it wasn't like you weren't willing to talk about it. You just didn't want to do so where there was a risk somebody would hear.

The looming conversation ahead seemed way more daunting now.

*

"Go shower, bebé," Mapi finally breaks the silence as Ingrid closes the front door and locks it behind her, and you nod mutely as you kick of your shoes and make your way down the hall to their bathroom. Their bathroom. Ingrid and Mapi's. Not yours. That thought alone makes your eyes burn with tears.

Pathetic.

You miss the look of concern shared between both women share as you close the bathroom door behind you.

"I need to text Ona." Mapi murmurs as she pulls out her phone, a gentle hand resting atop of her own stopping her in her tracks.

"Qué?"

Ingrid shakes her head, "I know it's hard, but you need to let her come to us. It's obvious that she doesn't want us to know what happened with her and Ona, and we need to respect that. Forcing her to talk will only end badly."

Mapi sighs, knowing her girlfriend was right. Still, she couldn't help but push.

"But, what if-”

"No, kjære," Ingrid takes both Mapi's hand in her own and squeezes. "Let her come to us."

"Sí, mi amor."

Both knew the topic of conversation between you and Ona had evidently been about them. If not, you would have come to them. Just like you had when Lucy had said something to upset you. It wasn't like you to push them away. Mapi knew that. She also knew Ingrid was right about letting you come to them, despite her reluctance to do everything possible to figure out what was going on.

"Okay. Go find us a movie to watch. I'll make a start on diner." Ingrid places a soft kiss against the Spaniards cheek before disappearing through to the kitchen. Mapi watches her go before letting out a quiet sigh and curling up on the corner of the couch, picking up the remote to turn on the tv.

You finish with your shower long before Ingrid finishes with dinner, and you appear in the threshold of the living room clad in both their clothes. Ingrid's sweater, and Mapi's sweatpants, your hair wet and hanging down by your face.

Mapi gestures you over with one of those smiles that makes you melt, "Let me do your hair, amor. Sit." She opens her legs and pats the spot in between them. Your reluctance was evident as you comply, placing your hands on either of the Spaniards thighs as you settle and allow her to start combing through your hair.

"Dinner smells good." You finally find it within you to talk as you feel Mapi's fingers beginning to part your hair with the intention of braiding it. You didn't like leaving your hair down to sleep, and you found it endearing that Mapi had somehow remembered that fact despite it being weeks since you’d told her.

"Mhh," Mapi hums, "huele deliciosa." She agrees.

After tying off your hair with a hair tie, Mapi's tattooed arms loop around your waist, her hands clasped together against your stomach. You expect her to talk. To push you into opening up about what had happened earlier. But she surprisingly does neither. She simply rests her chin against your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek before once again picking up the remote.

"You pick." She mumbles into your ear, and you nod, eyes skimming over the screen.

Ingrid makes her way into the room just as you'd decided on the lion king, carrying a plate in either hand. She hands one off to both you and Mapi before once again disappearing and returning with her own.

It was pasta. Your favourite.

"Gracias." Mapi grins, settling back against the couch with you still between her legs and shoving a large forkful of food into her mouth.

Ingrid stares at you with a smile, one you couldn't help but mimic as you both watch the Spaniard stuff her face. Knowing you were in the way, you shift yourself over Mapi's leg and settle on the couch between them instead.

You ignore Mapi's playful pout at the action.

"Thank you." You whisper, and Ingrid smiles again as she gives your thigh a squeeze.

"You're welcome, elskling."

It didn't take long before dinner was quickly demolished, three empty plates sat on the coffee table as the three of you lay comfortably on the couch. You were in between Ingrid's legs now, your back to her chest with one of her arms wrapped securely around your waist. Mapi was curled up next you both, her head on Ingrid's shoulder as the Norwegian combs her fingers through her hair.

The defenders arm was thrown lazily over your stomach, tattooed hand resting on the gentle curve of your waist. Your own hand settles on top of her arm, the pad of your thumb trailing over warm skin. 

The silence between you was comfortable. You were comfortable. So much so you almost want to bring up the elephant in the room. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

You sit up suddenly, yanking yourself out of both woman's grip. Mapi whines unhappily, but Ingrid nudges her softly as she shakes her head and sits up too.

Understanding, Mapi sighs lightly and forces herself to sit in front of you, her rear end perched on the edge of the coffee table. She tries to take your hands, but frowns when you gently push them away.

"I told Ona." You blurt out.

Ingrid's eyes widen, but you didn't need to see it to know she was disappointed. You could tell by the way an alarmed Mapi meets her gaze over your shoulder. You desperately try and fix your mistake.

"Well, I didn't tell her. We were talking, and it just slipped out. I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear. It was just a joke. I mean, it wasn't a joke. I was just trying to tell her a joke. That's when it happened. Please don't be mad. Or well, you can be mad. I betrayed your trust. But please don't be mad. It was an accident, I swear." You weren't aware that you had started crying until you feel Mapi's hands cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

Her hands were warm, and you relish in the feeling as you force yourself to take a few breaths. Ingrid's arms, you now notice, were tight around you too, her hands beneath your shirt resting on the bare skin of your stomach. You inhale and exhale, feeling her hands move with you.

"It is okay," Mapi was the first to speak, scooting a little closer and moving her hands to rest on either of your thighs. You desperately cling to to them with your own. "I am not mad. And Ingrid is not too, right?"

"Right." The Norwegian murmurs in your ear, her chin hooked over your shoulder. Her hair tickles your cheek.

"But I told..." You whisper, your voice breaking slightly, leaning back into Ingrid as much as your body would allow.

"Sí. You did," Mapi agrees. "But it was an accident, no? You did not mean to."

"Mapi's right, elskling."

"I always am." Mapi smirks, and you couldn't help but laugh when Ingrid playfully kicks her with her foot.

"She is right,” Ingrid repeats. “We are not mad at you. Being mad at you for something you didn't mean to do would be stupid. And besides, it's about time we start letting people know, mhhh?"

You blink, craning your head to the side so you were more or less looking Ingrid in the eye. She stares down at you, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your nose. It scrunches up at the action, and both she and Mapi share a look when you flush and bashfully stare down at your lap. When Mapi reaches out to take your hands again, this time you let her.

"You want to tell people? About us?" You murmur.

This was not how you thought this conversation would go.

"Mhh," Ingrid nods. "Sí." Mapi agrees.

"But, what if..." you trail off.

"What if what, amor? Talk to us, por favor." Mapi coaxes, squeezing your hands again. You look up at her, and she smiles oh so gently at you it has your mouth opening before you could give it permission to do so.

"People will talk. About us. And that won't bother me, not really. But I don't want you guys to change your mind. You were perfect before, and I don't exactly bring anything to the table." You admit.

"Baby, no. Do not think like that. This is new, yes, but that does not mean we have any doubts," Ingrid starts, her frown identical to Mapi's whose eyes have grown shiny at your words. "I can almost guarantee people will talk. That's just what they do when they see something that they're not used to. But that doesn't mean their opinions matter."

You nod, feeling something inside you slotting into place.

"My opinion, yours, Ingrid's are what matter amor. If we are happy, then that is all that matters, sí?"

"Sí." You nod.

"You are happy?" Mapi pushes, and you nod with a genuine smile. "Bueno. Now stand, por favor." She holds her hands out for you to take, and you place your own into them allowing her to easily pull you to your feet. With a kiss to your forehead, she takes your place in between Ingrid's legs and tugs on the material of your sweater to pull you closer.

You yet again comply, ending up sat on her lap with your legs either side of her hips atop of Ingrid's thighs. Mapi's arms loop tightly around your waist, holding you tightly to them both, and you melt in their embrace as you rest your head against her shoulder.

Ingrid's face was just millimetres away from your own, and you smile when you feel her lips press softly against the top of your head.

"Something to the table. What does that mean?" Mapi settles back into Ingrid when she feels the Norwegian secure her arms around both herself and you.

Your eyes rip open. Damn. You hoped they wouldn't bring this part up. When Ingrid remains silent, it becomes clear she expects you to answer Mapi's question. So with a sigh, you do.

"It's an idiom. It means to do something that will benefit others." You mumble, less than happy.

Mapi's eyebrows furrow.

"You do not think you benefit us?" She places her hands on each of your sides and gently tugs your upper body away from her. You let her, but not without a pout and refusing to meet her eyes.

"Bebé, look at me por favor."

You shake your head.

"Elskling." Ingrid's warning voice echos around the room along with her fingers tapping gently under your chin, and you sigh heavily as you comply with the Spaniards words. Mapi's eyes immediately meet your own, but they didn't hold the stern look Ingrid's did.

"You do not think you benefit us?" She asks again, and you hesitate to shake your head.

"Por qué?"

"I don't know. I just...your relationship was perfect before me." You fumble with the chain hanging from Mapi's neck.

"No relationship is perfect, my love." Ingrid cuts in, Mapi nodding in agreement. "We love each other, yes. But all couples have their issues. Including us."

"If anything, being with you only makes us stronger. Because now there's three of us, instead of two. Meaning there is lots more love and time to go around." Ingrid hand grips your thigh and squeezes. You rest your own on top of it, gripping her fingers and squeezing hard.

Mapi nuzzles her nose with your own for a second before dropping her head back onto Ingrid's shoulder. "You make us better, sí?" She reaches up and cups your cheek, her thumb grazing gently over the still damp skin.

Your lips quirk up into a hesitant smile.

"There's that smile." Ingrid coos, and you flush slightly as you fall forward into their arms, hiding your face into the Spaniards neck. Mapi grins as she cups the back of your head, and Ingrid mimics is as she presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Our girl."

**

@ktgoodmorning @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @alexias-putellas @mapis-russo @wileys-russo

[helen-with-an-a]

Heyy, i hope you're doing well! I wanted to ask if you would be down to write a fic based on the song "drown" by bring me the horizon. I absolutely love this song and it has a place in my heart because this band and also this song carried me through some dark times ( I cried so hard when i heard that song live for the first time 2 months ago xD) . Maybe it could be a barca x reader fic that also deals with $elf h@rm if that is a topic you're comfortable writing about, because reading books and fan fics about this topic has been helping me immensely with my own recovery. So if this is an idea that interests you I would love to read that fic, but if it's a topic you're just not comfortable with feel free to just ignore this ask. (But seriously listen to drown it's such a beautiful song)

Hiiiiii - I hope I did this request and song justice. Please know if you are struggling, you are loved. You are so, so loved and people want to help you. I know asking for help is really hard, but I promise it is worth it. You are worth it.

Drowning

Barça femeni x reader

Description: R feels like she is drowning and the team comes to help her

Word Count: 5.4k

TW: Undescribed Self Harm; Brief mentions of cutting; Bad mental health

Kelly Clarkson once sang that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, that it turns you into a fighter, and helps you stand a little taller. Those words are meant to inspire resilience, to remind you that adversity is supposed to build character and fortify your spirit. But as much as you wanted to believe that, as much as you tried to let those lyrics resonate in your heart, the truth is, you weren’t sure if they were true. You wished with every fibre of your being that they were, but deep down, you felt the weight of life’s challenges pressing down on you. Instead of feeling stronger, you often felt worn down, as if the struggles you faced had chipped away at your resolve rather than bolstered it.

You wanted to feel like a fighter, to stand taller in the face of hardship, but more often than not, you found yourself struggling just to stay on your feet. It was as if each obstacle left a scar that made it harder to move forward, rather than easier. The hope that you’d emerge stronger sometimes felt like a distant dream, and you wondered if that strength Kelly sang about was something you’d ever truly feel.

Half the time, it felt like you were floating – weightless, as if you were drifting through life without a solid anchor. There was a strange sensation of being unmoored, detached from the world around you, almost as if you were existing in a bubble that separated you from everything real and tangible. In those moments, you felt neither grounded nor fully present, as if the weight of your worries and responsibilities had somehow lifted, but so had your sense of purpose and direction. You were there, but not really there – drifting in a kind of limbo where everything seemed just out of reach.

The other half of the time, it felt like you were drowning – barely able to keep your head above the water as the weight of everything threatened to pull you under. The world seemed to close in around you, the pressures and responsibilities of life crashing over you like relentless waves. Each day felt like a struggle just to stay afloat, as if you were constantly treading water in an ocean of overwhelming emotions, fears, and uncertainties.

Your mind was a whirlpool, dragging you down into dark, turbulent depths where it was hard to breathe, hard to think, and hard to see any way out. Every little thing seemed like an anchor, dragging you further beneath the surface, making it harder and harder to find the strength to push back up. The sensation of drowning was terrifying – your heart raced, your breath quickened, and panic took hold as you fought desperately to survive the relentless tide.

In these moments, it felt like you were being suffocated by the weight of your own thoughts and emotions, as if they were water filling your lungs, making it impossible to take a full breath. You tried to fight against it, to keep yourself above the water, but the effort was exhausting, leaving you drained and gasping for air. The more you struggled, the deeper you seemed to sink, and the idea of finding solid ground again felt increasingly out of reach.

There was one thing that brought you a small measure of comfort, a fleeting moment of relief that made you feel a little better. It was like a lifeline thrown to you in the middle of the chaos. Just for that brief instant, your feet were on solid ground again, and you felt a sense of stability that had been missing for so long. In that split second, you weren’t drowning in the suffocating depths of your anxieties, nor were you floating aimlessly through the fog of disconnection.

Instead, you felt anchored, grounded in a reality that was steady and secure. It was as if the storm inside you had paused, and the world had stopped spinning just long enough for you to catch your breath. In that moment, you were fully present, aware of yourself and your surroundings in a way that made everything else fade into the background. The weight that usually pressed so heavily on your chest lifted, and for that brief period, you were able to stand tall and feel the earth beneath you, firm and unwavering.

It didn’t last long – those moments of clarity and peace never did. They slipped away as quickly as they came, like sand through your fingers, leaving you once again adrift in the chaos of your thoughts. The sense of calm and stability that you craved was always fleeting, a temporary reprieve that left you yearning for more. But in the aftermath, when the world once again became overwhelming and your mind descended back into the chaos there was one thing that lingered: the small, neat red lines.

These lines were the only reminder of that brief lucidity, etched into your skin like a secret code that only you could understand. They were delicate but precise, almost methodical in their appearance, as if each one was a calculated attempt to bring some order to the chaos within.

The red lines were your way of marking time, of grounding yourself in a reality that often felt too slippery to hold onto. In those moments when clarity slipped away, when you were once again floating or drowning, they were there to remind you that, for just a moment, you had found your footing. The pain they brought was real, sharp, and immediate – something that could cut through the numbness and confusion, anchoring you back to the present.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when life was simpler, when the world seemed brighter and full of possibilities. Your dad used to tell you stories of when you were just a baby, how you were the very picture of happiness –  all gummy smiles and infectious giggles that could light up a room. He would describe how your laughter was so pure, so full of joy, that it could make even the grumpiest person smile. In his eyes, you were a little bundle of sunshine, radiating warmth and love wherever you went.

You often wondered what happened to that little girl, the one who seemed to find joy so easily in everything around her. Where did she go? What changed between those carefree days and now, when the world feels so heavy and your heart so burdened? You tried to remember the last time you felt that kind of unrestrained happiness, but the memories were hazy, like trying to recall a dream that had long since faded.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things started to shift, when the lightness began to slip away, replaced by something much darker. Maybe it was a gradual process, so slow and subtle that you didn’t notice it happening until one day you woke up and realised that the little girl who used to laugh so easily was gone. Or maybe it was something more abrupt, a single event that changed everything, though you couldn’t quite remember what it might have been.

There were times when you’d catch a glimpse of her, that little girl, in the mirror – perhaps in a fleeting smile or a brief moment of joy – but she was always just out of reach, like a shadow that vanished as soon as you tried to hold onto it. The happiness that once came so naturally now felt like a distant memory, something that belonged to a different time, a different version of yourself.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, a mourning for the person you used to be, for the life you used to live. What had happened to that carefree spirit, the one who saw the world as a place of wonder and possibility? Where did all those smiles and giggles go, replaced by the weight of anxiety and the burden of unspoken sadness?

You wished you could find your way back to her, to that little girl who knew how to be happy without even trying. But the path seemed unclear, the way forward uncertain, and all you were left with were the memories of who you used to be and the quiet hope that maybe, someday, you might rediscover that lost joy.

Ingrid had sensed that something was off the very first time she met you. It was as if she could see right through the façade you were trying so hard to maintain. You were just 17 at the time, still so young, yet there was something about the way you carried yourself that spoke of a weariness far beyond your years. Most teenagers were full of restless energy, eager to explore the world and discover who they were, but you – there was a heaviness in your eyes, a kind of fatigue that no child should ever have to bear.

When you stood before her, Ingrid could see that the weight of the world was already pressing down on your shoulders. It was in the way you held yourself, as if every movement took a conscious effort, every step a deliberate act to keep from being overwhelmed by the burden you carried. You tried to smile, to present yourself as just another teenager navigating the usual challenges of adolescence, but even your smile seemed strained, like it was something you had to force rather than something that came naturally.

Ingrid noticed how you seemed to shrink into yourself, as if trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable, perhaps in the hope that the world might go easier on you if you took up less space. But it was impossible to ignore the sadness that lingered behind your eyes, a sadness that seemed to have settled there long before its time. It was as if you had lived through experiences that had aged you in ways that others your age couldn’t begin to understand.

There was an unspoken tension in the way you interacted with others, a hesitation that suggested you had learned to guard yourself carefully. Ingrid could tell that you were wary of letting anyone get too close, as if you were afraid that if someone saw too much, they might unravel the carefully constructed image you were trying so desperately to hold together. It was a kind of self-protection, a shield you had built to keep the world at arm’s length, but Ingrid could see through it.

She saw the exhaustion etched into your posture, the way your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as if the weight you carried was too much to bear alone. And though you were still just a teenager, still supposed to be discovering the joys and freedoms of youth, there was an undeniable gravity about you, a maturity born out of hardship that no one your age should have had to endure.

She had gone straight to Mapí, her heart heavy with worry and a sense of urgency she couldn’t ignore. Mapí had always been her anchor, the one person she could turn to when everything else seemed to be spiralling out of control. There was a comfort in Mapí’s presence, a kind of steady reassurance that made the world feel a little less chaotic. And in that moment, when she felt like she was drowning in her own thoughts, there was no one else she could think of who could help her make sense of it all.

As she approached Mapí, she could see the girl was already watching her, those perceptive eyes filled with a quiet understanding. Mapí had always been like that – intuitive, almost as if she could sense when something was wrong without a single word being spoken. It was as if she could read the unspoken emotions, the things that others overlooked or dismissed, and she knew just how to respond without being told.

“I’m worried about her,” Ingrid said quietly to Mapí, her voice tinged with concern as she gestured with her head in your direction. There was a seriousness in her tone that caught Mapí’s attention immediately. Ingrid wasn’t one to express worry lightly; if she was concerned, it meant something was truly wrong.

“Who?” Mapí asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to follow Ingrid’s line of sight. She turned to see who Ingrid was referring to, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

“Den lille,” Ingrid replied softly. It was a name that fit you perfectly, even though you were no longer a small child. To Ingrid, you would always be den lille, the one who needed looking after, the one she couldn’t help but worry about.

Mapí’s gaze lingered on you, taking in the way you sat off to the side, your shoulders hunched slightly as if you were trying to make yourself invisible. She saw the way your fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of your shorts, a nervous habit she had noticed before but never truly understood until now. There was something about your posture, the way you seemed so withdrawn, that tugged at her heart. You looked like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it didn’t sit right with Mapí.

“She’s been different lately,” Ingrid continued, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real. “I’m scared, María.”

Mapí’s heart ached at Ingrid’s words. The concern in Ingrid’s voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the usual composed and confident demeanour she typically displayed. The way Ingrid had hesitated before speaking, the trembling edge to her voice, suggested that this was more than just a fleeting worry – it was a deep, gnawing fear that had taken root in her heart.

Mapí turned her full attention to you, her eyes softening. There was an undeniable shift in your demeanour that had been building over time, and it was clear now that Ingrid’s fears were not unfounded. The way you sat, so isolated and withdrawn, seemed like a cry for help that was too quiet to be heard. Mapí could feel the gravity of the situation pressing down on her, the realisation that something needed to be done before it was too late.

“Ale will know what to do,” Mapí said with false bravado, trying to mask the tremor in her voice behind a veneer of confidence. Her words were meant to reassure Ingrid, to offer a glimmer of hope amidst the growing uncertainty, but inside, she felt a pang of doubt.

Mapí had always relied on Alexia’s wisdom and experience, believing her to be someone who could handle even the most complex of situations with ease. She had a way of approaching problems with calm assurance and a strategic mindset that often brought clarity and solutions where there seemed to be none. Mapí hoped that, with Alexia’s involvement, they could find a way to help you navigate the turmoil you were experiencing.

She knew, however, that this situation was different. The weight of it felt heavier, more personal. Her usually steadfast confidence was being tested, and despite her efforts to maintain a brave front, she couldn’t completely suppress the anxiety that gnawed at her.

Ingrid glanced at Mapí, a mixture of hope and scepticism in her eyes. “You really think so?” she asked, her voice laced with both trust and apprehension.

“Absolutely,” Mapí replied, her tone firm despite the fluttering unease in her chest.

Alexia had noticed the changes in you too, though her observations were more subtle, filtered through a lens of quiet concern rather than overt worry. She had seen you through different stages of life, from the carefree moments of adolescence to the more introspective phases, but lately, something had shifted, and she couldn’t ignore the signs any longer.

It was in the way you interacted with others, or rather, how you had started to withdraw from those interactions. Alexia, who had always admired your vibrant energy and effortless charm, now saw you retreating into yourself. The once bright and engaging conversations seemed to dwindle, replaced by a more subdued presence that she struggled to reconcile with the person she once knew.

She noticed how you would often linger on the periphery of group activities, participating only half-heartedly, if at all. Your laughter, which used to come so easily, had become rare and forced, a stark contrast to the genuine joy that used to light up your face. Even your physical appearance had changed; where there was once a confident posture, there was now a noticeable slouch, a sign of the weight you seemed to be carrying.

Alexia also observed the small, telling habits that had shifted. The way you fidgeted with your clothes or avoided eye contact during conversations spoke volumes about your internal struggle. It was as if you were trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, a stark departure from the once lively and assertive person she had known.

“Ale, we need to talk,” Mapí said firmly, cornering Alexia in the changing rooms after training one afternoon. Her voice was low and serious, carrying an undertone of urgency that instantly drew Alexia’s full attention. The usual post-training chatter and the clamor of lockers being shut were fading into the background as the gravity of Mapí’s tone cut through the noise.

“Is everything okay?” Alexia asked, her voice betraying a hint of concern as she met Mapí’s gaze. The look in Mapí’s eyes was one Alexia hadn’t seen very often – an earnestness and resolve that spoke of something deeper than just a casual chat. The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, the room suddenly feeling smaller, more confined as the weight of the conversation settled in.

“No, it’s not,” Ingrid replied, her tone steady but laden with emotion.

Three sets of eyes turned to look at you, the subject of their concern. You sat on a bench, somewhat apart from the group, absorbed in your own thoughts, unaware of the intensity of the discussion unfolding just a few feet away. The distance between you and the others was more than physical; it was as though a chasm had opened up, underscoring the emotional divide that had grown.

You looked so tired. It was a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion, a heaviness that seemed to seep into your very bones. The vibrant energy that once defined you had dimmed, leaving behind a shadow of your former self.

Your eyes, which used to sparkle with curiosity and joy, were now clouded with a fatigue that spoke volumes about the battles you were fighting internally. They were deep and dark, the kind of tiredness that comes from sleepless nights and unspoken worries. The once bright and animated expression you wore had given way to a distant gaze that struggled to focus on the world around you. When you did look up, it was with a slow, measured effort, as if the simple act of meeting someone’s eyes required more energy than you had to spare. Your gaze seemed to drift in and out of focus, mirroring the exhaustion that you felt but could not escape.

Your training top seemed far too big on you now, the fabric hanging off you like a draped shroud. It was as if the clothes themselves reflected the way you had withdrawn from the world; they looked oversized and loose, emphasising the contrast between your current state and the vibrant person you used to be.

Every small movement you made seemed laboured, as though even the simplest actions required a tremendous amount of effort. Your shoulders slouched slightly, as if weighed down by an invisible burden that made every step feel heavier. The casual confidence that once characterised your movements had been replaced by a tentative, almost cautious mannerism, as though you were trying to conserve every ounce of energy you had.

Your breathing was steady but shallow, and every now and then, you let out a sigh that seemed to escape from somewhere deep inside you – a sigh that spoke of exhaustion and resignation. The small, subtle gestures you made, like tucking your hands into your sleeves or curling your legs up on the bench, were instinctive attempts to find some semblance of comfort or protection in a moment where you felt particularly vulnerable.

“Oh, cariño,” Alexia whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of you. The term of endearment slipped from her lips like a soft breath of sorrow, laden with a depth of feeling that words alone could not fully convey. It was a tender utterance meant to bridge the emotional chasm that seemed to separate you from everyone around you.

As Alexia watched you, her eyes were filled with a deep sadness that mirrored the gravity of the moment. The sight of you, sitting apart from the group, lost in your own thoughts, was more than Alexia could bear. Her heart ached as she took in the full extent of your weariness. It was clear that this was not just a fleeting moment of fatigue but a profound, ongoing struggle that had seeped into your very being. The vibrant spirit she once knew seemed overshadowed by a deep, unspoken sorrow that had taken hold.

You weren’t sure why you phoned Ona, out of all people. It wasn’t like you were particularly close with her; in fact, your interactions with her had always been somewhat limited and casual. You knew her mostly through mutual friends and shared activities, exchanging pleasantries and brief conversations but never delving deeply into each other's lives. Yes, you considered her a friend, but your one-on-one time had been minimal, mostly restricted to group settings or casual encounters. She wasn’t someone you confided in regularly, nor did you have a history of sharing personal struggles or intimate details.

Yet, in the midst of your crisis, when everything felt out of control and the world seemed to have narrowed to the confines of your bathroom floor, Ona’s name was the first to come to mind. You sat there, the cold tiles pressing against your legs, a razor gripped tightly in one hand, its cold edge a stark reminder of the darkness you were grappling with. Your thoughts were a swirling mix of desperation and confusion, and in that chaotic mental fog, Ona’s name emerged almost instinctively.

It was an odd choice, and you struggled to understand it yourself. Perhaps it was the nature of your relationship with her – though not deeply personal, it was still a connection that felt solid enough to offer some semblance of support. Sometimes, the familiarity of a person, even if not deeply entrenched, can provide a sense of comfort in moments of profound vulnerability. Ona had always been approachable and kind, traits that, despite the limited interaction, might have seemed reassuring in your current state.

There was also something to be said for the randomness of human emotion and instinct. In moments of deep distress, the mind often grasps at whatever feels familiar, even if it’s not the most logical choice. Ona, being someone who had always been friendly and supportive, perhaps embodied a sense of stability and kindness that was desperately needed in that moment.

“Hola?” Her voice came through the phone, laden with sleep, thick with the grogginess of having been abruptly roused from slumber. There was a softness to her tone, a slow, drowsy lilt that spoke of the deep relaxation she had been in just moments before. The initial, half-hearted curiosity in her voice quickly sharpened into something more alert as she processed the unusual hour and the unexpected call.

“I …” You began, but the words caught in your throat, tangled with the overwhelming emotions that had gripped you. Your voice trembled, barely more than a whisper, laden with a mixture of vulnerability and desperation. It was as if the sheer effort of making the call had drained you, leaving only a fragile thread of sound that barely carried your intent.

“Pequeña?” Ona’s voice was suddenly more awake, filled with concern. The fragility in your voice, so unlike the casual exchanges you had shared before, pierced through her initial drowsiness. The realisation that something was seriously wrong caused her to sit upright in bed, the sense of alarm and urgency pushing away the remnants of sleep.

“Help me,” you managed to utter, the words escaping in a pained whisper

You woke up in hospital. The room cold and sterile. The first thing you noticed was the biting chill that seemed to seep into your very bones, despite the layers of blankets draped over you. The air felt thin and clinical – you had never known such an impersonal space existed. The walls were a clinical shade of white, interrupted only by the occasional piece of medical equipment or the sparse, functional décor meant to provide minimal distraction. The lighting was bright and unyielding, casting a harsh glare that made the room feel even colder and more impersonal. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, their steady hum creating a rhythm that seemed oddly out of place.

Your bed, positioned at the centre of the room, was surrounded by a fortress of medical paraphernalia. An IV drip hung beside you, its clear fluids slowly trickling down a tube that was taped to your arm. The beeping of a heart monitor provided a steady, monotonous cadence, a reminder of the life support systems that were now a part of your immediate environment. The rhythmic sound was oddly comforting and unnerving all at once, a constant reminder of your current state and the care being provided.

The air was filled with a faint, antiseptic scent – a mix of cleaning agents and medicinal odours that seemed to hang in the atmosphere like an unwelcome guest. It was a smell that clung to everything, from the freshly laundered hospital sheets to the disposable gowns and sterile gloves that the medical staff wore.

There was a warm weight in your right hand. It took you a moment to realise what it was. A hand. A hand connected to an arm, that led to a shoulder, that was attached to a whole person. The fingers resting gently in your grasp were familiar and comforting, their gentle pressure offering a steady reassurance. You turned your head slightly, and through the haze of your groggy state, you saw the face of the person whose hand you were holding.

“Hi,” Ona smiled softly, her expression a blend of warmth and reassurance.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a weak echo of her greeting, laden with the exhaustion and vulnerability you felt. Your gaze drifted to the hand still resting in yours. She followed your stare, squeezing gently when she realised what you were looking at.

 “The others have got to get food,” Ona continued, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s just us, if you want to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” you countered, the words a defense mechanism. If you denied it, it would all go away.

“Do not play dumb, pequeña.” Ona’s voice carried a note of gentle reproach. Her tone was soft but resolute.

“I …” you began, but the words seemed to falter before they could take shape. The enormity of your emotions was difficult to articulate, and the effort to speak felt almost insurmountable. You struggled to find the right words, your thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

But how could she truly understand? What little you knew about her life seemed almost painfully perfect by comparison. From the outside, Ona’s existence appeared to be a seamless tapestry of success and happiness. Her football career was thriving, each game a testament to her skill and dedication. She was admired and celebrated by teammates and fans alike, her talent on the field a source of pride and achievement.

Her relationship was also the stuff of dreams. Ona had Lucy, someone who seemed to bring out the best in her, their interactions marked by genuine affection and mutual support. They were often seen together, sharing moments of joy and laughter that spoke of a deep and abiding connection. Their bond was one of those rare partnerships that seemed to transcend the everyday challenges, offering a glimpse into a love that was both passionate and enduring.

Her circle of friends appeared to be equally ideal. They were supportive and loyal, always there for one another through thick and thin. The camaraderie and warmth of their friendship were evident in the way they interacted, their shared moments of happiness and mutual encouragement. It was a friendship that seemed to offer a solid foundation, a network of support that was both comforting and reliable.

And then there was her family – an image of stability and happiness. They were often seen together, their interactions filled with laughter and love. The family dynamic seemed to be one of mutual respect and genuine affection, a supportive backdrop to Ona’s life that added to the picture of her seemingly perfect existence.

In contrast, your own life felt chaotic and fraught with difficulties. The weight of your struggles seemed all the more daunting when juxtaposed against Ona’s polished image. It was easy to feel that her understanding of your pain was limited, that the perfection you saw in her life might somehow preclude her from fully grasping the depth of your own challenges. You wondered if her empathy was genuine or if it was simply a reflection of her innate kindness, an attempt to reach across the chasm of your differences and offer comfort despite the apparent disparity between your lives.

“If you don’t want to talk yet, that’s fine. But let me show you something.” She pushed up her sleeve.

C O N T ; N U E

“You’re not alone in this, pequeña. No one is ever alone.” Ona’s voice was steady, a soft but firm anchor amidst the storm. She shifted slightly, her fingers gently tracing over a tattoo on her arm. “I got this just after I moved to England,” she began, her tone becoming more reflective. “I felt so alone. I didn’t speak the language very well, I had no friends, and we were in lockdown. Everything was different.” Her gaze softened as she looked at the tattoo, her fingers moving lightly over its surface, as if the act itself was a form of remembering and honouring a past struggle.

The room seemed to grow quieter, the beeping of the monitors and the distant murmur of the hospital blending into a background hum as Ona continued. “I almost did it, y’know. I was really, really close – had the bottle and everything.” Her voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in the veneer of her composed exterior. “I haven’t even told Lucy this.” She laughed humourlessly.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, the question hanging in the air.

Ona took a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours as she smiled gently. “Alessia knocked on my door. She noticed I looked a little down and came to check on me. I don’t know if she saw the pills or not, but she stayed with me all day.” The warmth in her eyes deepened as she spoke. “She asked me to teach her some Spanish, she taught me how to make pasta from scratch. She didn’t let me leave her side for three days. Even then, as soon as she left Tooney appeared.”

“Wh-why are you telling me this?” Your voice quivered, the words struggling to get out over the lump in your throat.

Ona’s eyes softened with a blend of compassion and determination. “So that you know you’re not alone,” she began, her voice steady and full of quiet resolve. “I don’t know the ins and outs of what you’re going through, but just know that I’m here, we all are. We aren’t going anywhere.” She promised.

She paused, allowing her words to settle, as if to let the depth of her meaning fully resonate. You blinked, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you. Tears began to well up in your eyes. The tears were a mixture of relief and sadness.

“You are loved, pequeña. So, so loved. And we will be here for you, no matter what, no matter how long it takes.”

[mj0702]

WoSo Masterlist

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Secrets

Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x Reader🔞

I didn't do anything - smut 🔞

Then help her - smut 🔞

Whatever she needs - smut 🔞

Whatever she wants - smut 🔞

Ingrid Engen x Mapí Leon x Reader

Talk to us - even smuttier 🔞

Lucy Bronze x sisterReader

The other Bronze

Barça Days:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7.1

Part 7.2

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

National Camp Days:

Part 11

Part 12

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16 🔞

Part 17

Part 18 🔞

Munich Days:

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Home:

Part 22

Part 22.2

Epilogue

On the Sideline (organized by Monk)

How it started

New Life

Kindergarten

Walk-in

Tooney

Lyon

How it's going

Obsession

Cooking

Catalan Pastries

Jacket

Halloween

El Classíco

Self doubt

Post Barca season

Arsenal??!!

Mariona

Tattoo

Taking a walk

Home Alone

Babysitting

Babysitting Aftermath

Laura

Euros

Mens Euros Final

Lena

Olympics

Jersey swap

Olympics

Hypocrites

Ona

Future

Sick

Pictures

Bachelor

Blitzen

Stainway

[wososcripts]

Introduction + Masterlist

You guys can call me lee👋

My masterlist can be found here

heads up I'm not a very fast (or frequent) writer but I'll do my best to post semi regularly

I'll be fairly selective with requests as I don't feel confident that I'll produce anything good/in a timely manner that I'm not inspired by!

I'll accept requests for: fridolina rolfö, salma paralluelo, stina blackstenius, ingrid engen/mapí leon, barca (team) x reader, lena oberdorf, and laura freigang

If I decide not to do a request please don't get offended! It's likely that I just don't think I can do it justice

Anything that features upsetting content I'll do my best to tag

I do not write child reader or teen reader

if my work is 18+ i mark it and I will block minors who interact with work marked as such

[girlgenius1111]

take care

engen!reader - solstråle ingrid gets injured during a match. sol is overwhelmed with worry. ingrid hates being worried about, and mapi tries to keep her two engens sane. more angst + fluff with my favorite little family.

The knock looked bad from the stands. You were sitting by yourself, your usual game-watching partner unable to attend today. You stood up without thinking about it, craning your neck to see the crumpled heap on the ground that was your sister. Mapi was crouched over her, motioning towards the sidelines in a way that made your stomach clench. As the medics ran out, you looked around, realizing there was no one here to take charge. Somehow, the injured list was empty, so you were sitting without even the quiet company of some of your sister’s teammates. 

You were supposed to wait here until after the game, and then head down to the tunnel to meet Mapi and Ingrid. The security personnel knew you, knew to let you in, especially after the time they didn’t let you into the tunnel, and you kind of freaked out being surrounded by the large crowds flowing from the stadium. Mapi had given the security guards an earful and since then you’d had no issue. It was different now, though, because the match wasn’t over, but Ingrid was still laying on the pitch, and you’d never been so worried in your life. 

Mapi was hovering by the medics, who were crouched around your sister, obstructing your view of her. The Spaniard looked worried, and she never looked worried when Ingrid went down. She’d check on her girlfriend, like a teammate would do. But the concern on María’s face was far from professional, and you swore under your breath, hurrying towards the cement steps of the stadium without another thought. 

You raced through the halls of the stadium, quickly exiting the fan area and nearing the team only area. Your focus was on finding a security guard you knew, on trying to remember where the medical rooms were in here. You didn’t think about Ingrid laying motionless on the pitch, the smack of her head you hadn’t heard but could imagine had been made as she hit the ground. There wasn’t room for you to pause and think and worry, because if you did that, you’d probably crumple up into a ball on the ground and never move again. 

Ingrid wasn’t prone to injuries. Ingrid didn’t stay down longer than absolutely necessary. 

Ingrid was fine. 

Mapi normally went and got water when there was an injury break, normally gave Ingrid space if she was being treated on the pitch. 

You were being absurd. It was just a knock to the head, but your body was reacting like you’d seen Ingrid get hit by a truck, and by the time you made it to the doorway you knew would lead you towards the changing room, you were out of breath for a reason that had nothing to do with the sprint you’d just done. 

Luckily, the security guard stationed there was familiar, looking confusedly at your sudden appearance. 

“Ms. Engen. Everything okay?” 

“I... no, Ingrid got hurt, and I need to-”

The confusion on the man’s face cleared, and he nodded quickly, stepping aside to let you by. Haphazardly thanking him, you zoomed by, coming to a slow stop only a few seconds later as you realized you didn’t really know where you were going. 

You knew the inside of Johan pretty well, but you’d never been to one of the medical rooms, didn’t even know where one would be. You were just about to turn around and ask the security guard for help when you heard a call of your name coming from down the hall. 

“Over here, chica!” Marta called, waving you towards a doorway just across from the changing room hall. You hurried towards her, feeling somewhat better at the sight of Marta’s easy smile. The captain didn’t seem worried at all. 

Reminding yourself to breathe again, you regarded Marta. “Is she okay?”

The brunette nodded. “Maybe a concussion, but she’s alright. She’s finishing up with the physio right now, then you can go in.” 

Relaxing just slightly, you exhaled. “How did you know I-?”

“Ingrid told me to look out for you. As did Mapi, Caro, and Frido.” Marta grinned. 

That made sense, at least. Of course Mapi had thought of you up in the stands right away, knew to make sure someone was looking for you to appear. Frido and Caro, too, though that was more unexpected and made your stomach twist with something between discomfort and appreciation. That they’d thought of you, too… well, you weren’t used to that. Being thought of, especially by so many people. 

You stepped forward, your hand on the door knob before pausing. What if Ingrid didn’t want you in there? You knew that when you got hurt, it was a 50/50 shot whether you wanted your sister or wanted to be left alone. 

“Go on. She wants to see you.” Marta encouraged, gently nudging your back. With her prompting, you opened the door and stepped inside. Ingrid was sitting on the exam table, one of the physios standing in front of her shining one of those pen lights in her eyes. 

“– a concussion for sure,” he was saying. “Probably a few weeks out.”

Ingrid swore, only catching sight of you when the physios stepped away. She gave you a half smile as the physio kept talking, gesturing you closer. 

“You know the drill. Rest, sleep, keep an eye on your symptoms. I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of.” He nodded towards you before walking out of the room. 

You hadn’t moved closer when Ingrid had tried to get you to, your eyes still flitting over your sister, as if you had to constantly reassure yourself that she was fine, standing right in front of you. 

“Hi there.” Ingrid greeted calmly, her heart melting at the concerned expression on your face. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, surging forward and wrapping Ingrid in a tight hug. She huffed as your body collided with hers, a small smile on her face. 

“I’m fine, Sol.” She assured you. “Really, just a bit of a headache.” 

You pulled away, skeptically looking at your sister. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good.” 

It was true; her forehead was already bruising and her eyes squinted as she looked at you, the light bothering her head. It had been a long match, too, and this was clear in the exhausted slump of her shoulders. Still, Ingrid rolled her eyes, lightly shoving at your shoulder. 

“Thanks. I love to hear that.” She got a half smile at that, which she took to be a win. “Alright, come on. You can come with me to get my bag and we can wait for María.” 

Ingrid stood, and even though she seemed pretty steady on her feet, you hovered behind her worriedly, one hand gripping onto the back of her shirt. 

“Sol. I can walk, it’s just a concussion.” Ingrid chuckled, patting your cheek affectionately as you both began to walk together down the long hall. 

You realized that you didn’t know very much about concussions, but you figured there was no such thing as being overcautious, so you stuck close to your sister, even as she slung her arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. Ingrid was like you in the sense that she didn’t like people worrying about her, and she hoped that when Mapi got off the field, the older Spaniard would be able to take charge and make you feel a bit better about the situation, because it was obvious you were stressing. 

And stressing, you would continue to be.

—

“Oh, Sol, can you grab my phone from my bag?” Ingrid requested, taking a bite of her pasta and giving you an innocent smile. You looked at her doubtfully, crossing your arms across your chest as you leaned against the counter. Did she think you were stupid?

Mapi chuckled, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Sí, go get it Sol. And bring it back to me, so I can make sure she doesn’t go on it.”

You smirked, walking out of the room very happy to have something to do. Ingrid deflated, sighing dramatically as took another bite of her dinner. 

“I hate this.” She said grumpily, and Mapi laughed again. The stubborn frown on her girlfriend's face reminded Mapi vividly of you. Ingrid was less obvious about her stubbornness, but you’d picked that trait up from somewhere. 

—

It didn’t matter how much time passed, apparently. It still hurt when you thought of your Mamma, especially when you weren’t expecting to think about her. But you should have been expecting it, because you knew your parents watched all of Ingrid’s matches, would have seen her get hurt. 

Still, when you pulled the phone out of her bag, and the display on Ingrid’s phone showed five missed calls, and ten texts from your Mamma, and a few more of each from your Pappa, it physically ached. 

Your parents were worried about Ingrid, clearly. After a minute, you pulled out your own phone, dropping Ingrid’s bag back onto the bench by the front door, looking at it for the first time since Ingrid had gotten hurt. 

One missed call and three texts from your Mamma. The first time she’d tried to contact you in months. 

Is your sister alright? I saw you in the stands on TV. 

She isn’t answering her phone. 

Just let me know she’s alright when you have a chance. I hope you’re doing okay, kjære. I love you. 

You inhaled deeply, the tornado of emotions inside of you quickly becoming overwhelming. You willed them to quiet down, at least for now. Ingrid was the priority. She always took care of you, and now it was your turn to take care of her. After only a second of hesitation, you quickly replied to your mother, before heading back into the kitchen. 

She’s okay. Just a mild concussion. I’ll tell her to call you when she’s feeling better. 

You knew you were doing the right thing, responding to your Mamma. It was responsible, it was mature. 

That didn’t make it any easier. 

Your Mamma seemed prepared to fly across the continent to get to Ingrid. That was fine, really. That made sense. It was just… why wasn’t she that worried when you got hurt, before? With each passing day, Ingrid and Mapi chipped away at the hold your self hatred had on you. And as each piece crumbled away, something replaced it; a deep confusion. Why? If you were deserving of love, why hadn’t you gotten it? If you weren’t a bad person, why did your Mamma always resent you? It didn’t make sense, and it was this mystery that kept you convinced, even still, that Ingrid was wrong. You weren’t worth much at all. 

You were pretty sure a part of you would always feel like that 16 year old that had finally given up getting her parent’s approval. You thought giving up on that would allow you to stop caring, but you never did. You always felt the gut punch whenever your Mamma would shout at you or ignore you or be disappointed in you. It never stopped hurting, and a part of you would always feel that worthless. 

When you walked back into the kitchen, it seemed as though someone had sucked all the life out of you. There was something disconnected about the way you moved, as though you weren’t really there. It piqued Ingrid and Mapi’s concern instantly, as you handed the Spaniard your sister’s phone. 

Mapi’s confusion faded as she clicked it open, understanding and sadness flickering across her face. 

“Sol? You okay?” Ingrid asked. You jolted out of your stupor, a very fake smile plastering itself onto your face. Ingrid was squinting at you with her face scrunched in pain a bit, and your insistence on being strong only strengthened. 

“Fine! I’m fine.” You assured her, voice cheery and fake. Ingrid looked skeptical, but Scout chose that moment to charge into the kitchen, having likely been napping on your bed. He scampered over to you first, licking your face when you bent down to pet him, before moving to Ingrid, as if he could tell she needed a bit more attention. Your sister pet Scout lovingly, and with her attention elsewhere, you slumped a bit, the weight of your emotions settling squarely back on you. 

And while Ingrid didn’t notice, Mapi certainly did. 

“Okay mi amor, go shower and then we can call it an early night.” Mapi instructed, pressing a kiss to Ingrid’s lips as you grimaced and sighed dramatically. Chuckling, Ingrid agreed, giving Scout one last pet before heading off to shower. 

As soon as Ingrid was out of the kitchen, Mapi turned to you, a sad frown on her face. There were tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes almost instantly, and you shuffled forward into her open arms. 

Mapi hugged you tight for a minute or so, gently rubbing her hand up and down your back. After a few moments, Scout evidently got bored of the lack of attention, or he felt like comforting you himself, because he pushed his way in between you and Mapi, standing awkwardly in between the two of you. This, at least brought a smile to your face, a small laugh escaping you. Mapi pulled away, giving your dog a very fake glare. He just kept wagging his tail and staring up at her. 

“Do you want me to reply to your Mamma?” Mapi wondered gently, her hand finding its way to your shoulder and squeezing. 

“No,” you replied, voice breaking a bit over the word. You cleared your throat, shaking your head just slightly. “No, she texted me and I told her Ingrid was fine and that she’ll call when she’s feeling better.”

María studied you for a minute, the way you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes, the way you shifted uneasily on your feet, as if you wanted nothing more than to run. “Sol, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” You insisted. “I just want to make sure Ingrid is okay. Are you sure it’s a good idea she showers by herself? Should we have taken her to the hospital? How often do we have to wake her up tonight? Should she sleep with her head elevated? Is ice good for a concussion? Should she have eaten more? Or eaten less? Does she need to drink extra water? What if–”

Mapi cut off your very long spiral of questions, covering your mouth with her hand. “Tranquilo, Sol. Ingrid is fine. I’ve got her, sí?  I know what to do for a concussion, I’ve got everything taken care of.”

You looked like you didn’t believe her, eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling at your mouth. 

Mapi sighed. “Seriously. I’ve got this. I’m just gonna get her an ice pack for her head and some pain killers and try to get her to sleep. You don’t need to worry about anything” 

“But–”

“Nope. Go get ready for bed. I know you were up late last night playing video games.” Mapi was very rarely stern with you, but in this moment, you saw what her opponents must see on the pitch; a borderline scowl, eyebrows scrunched together as she regarded you authoritatively. 

“That’s not true! I went to bed at 11!” You exclaimed, moving towards the stairs anyway. 

Mapi scoffed. “When I came to get Scout for his walk this morning, you’d fallen asleep with your controller in your hand and your headphones on and you only wear those when you play late at night and you only fall asleep playing when you’re up really late.” 

You rolled your eyes, stomping up the stairs without replying to Mapi. Still, there was something so soft about the Spaniard knowing all your habits, something that made the ache in your chest hurt just a little less. 

—

Ingrid wasn’t an easy patient, Mapi knew this. She just seemed to forget because Ingrid so rarely got sick or hurt. It was a struggle to get her girlfriend to take things slow, more than once having to steady the Norwegian when she stood up or moved too fast. Ingrid was clearly in pain, too, but she kept insisting she didn’t need any pain killers, only agreeing once Mapi promised to go get her favorite coffee tomorrow morning. It was shockingly similar to caring for you when you were hurt or ill, which was more than entertaining for Mapi, since Ingrid always complained about how difficult you were in those circumstances. 

But even once Ingrid was peacefully asleep in bed, Mapi knew her job wasn’t done. The Spaniard tucked the blankets up tighter around Ingrid, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead. She threw her pajamas on, an old pair of Norway shorts and one of Ingrid’s t-shirts, before surveying the room. The lights were off, Ingrid’s water was full on the nightstand. There was a trashcan next to the bed in case of emergency, and the white noise Ingrid insisted on sleeping with was set to the correct volume. The fan was on the second setting, and Ingrid’s phone was on charge on Mapi’s side of the bed. 

Nodding to herself, Mapi began heading down the hall to where you were almost assuredly still awake. What she wasn’t expecting when she pushed your bedroom door open, though, was to find you crying as you scrolled on your phone. 

“Hey, what’s this cariño?” Mapi said, referencing the tears falling down your face. She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, noticing that it was meticulously clean, something you only did when you were anxious. You wiped at your eyes furiously, dropping your phone onto the bed next to you without locking it. Mapi picked it up, worried that your Mamma had dared to message you something that would make you cry. 

You sniffled, unsuccessfully trying to stop your tears, knowing very well that you were being more than ridiculous. Mapi wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at what she found on your phone. On the screen was a google search about concussions, and you’d clicked on a tab of all the potential dangers of a head injury. 

“Sol, don’t google stuff like this.” Mapi told you. “None of this is going to happen.” 

“You don’t know that!” You replied, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth. “She hit her head really hard, she could have a delayed brain bleed or she could have hurt her neck or–” 

Mapi wasn’t sure why you were so worked up over something as simple as a concussion, but the urge to laugh at your absurdness had faded, replaced by a deep concern as she realized you were genuinely convinced something bad was going to happen. 

“Solstråle,”

“No, Mapi, you should be in there with her watching her and making sure she’s okay!” You shouted, raising your voice almost unconsciously as you continued to cry through your words. 

“Hey! Don’t shout.” Mapi said, still calm even though you knew she didn’t like to be yelled at. 

You forced yourself to stop pacing for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Mapi watched you silently, trying to determine whether or not you’d accept a hug from her at the moment. Your anger seemed to be fading as quickly as it appeared, your shoulders slumping as you sat heavily back down on the bed. You looked small, suddenly, in Mapi’s oversized tshirt and a pair of sweatpants. You looked like the kid you still very much were, not the adult you tried to be. 

Mapi took a seat next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you to lean against her.

“What’s going on, hmm? Why are you so upset about this?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t like that she’s hurt. It makes me anxious.”

Mapi hummed, her thumb rubbing small circles onto your arm. “How anxious?”

“Very.” You exhaled, leaning into the Spaniard even more. 

Mapi smiled a bit, thinking about just a few months ago, when you would have shied away from any comfort at all. 

“Do you know why?” She wondered. 

“No.” You answered too quickly for her to believe you, and you began fidgeting with your hands in your lap, which was something you only did when you were lying. She didn’t press you, though. Instead, she kissed the top of your head and stood up. 

“Alright. It’s late, your eyes are shutting, you’re exhausted. Go to bed, nena.” 

You merely shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Mapi in a way that told her you were going to be doing anything but going to bed. The Spaniard sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose in between her fingers. 

“How can I get you to sleep, Sol?” 

You thought for a moment, before a small smile tugged at your lips and you looked up at Mapi much too earnestly. You told her your idea, and much as she wanted to say no, she knew you really wouldn’t sleep otherwise. So, she relented, and you grabbed your pillow and a blanket [and Scout], and followed Mapi down the hall to their room. 

—

Ingrid woke up with a pounding headache the next morning. With a groan, she rolled onto her side, hand searching for Mapi to grab onto. Her girlfriend shifted down from where she’d been sitting up in bed, allowing Ingrid to burrow into her chest. 

“How are you feeling, mi amor?” 

“Like I’m dying.” Ingrid sighed dramatically. 

“Dying?!” You cried, sitting bolt upright from where you had been laying on the floor next to Ingrid’s bed. She rolled over to look at you, wincing at the pain she felt from the movement, blinking a few times as if she thought she was hallucinating. 

“Did you sleep on the floor?” Ingrid asked incredulously. 

Still borderline frantic, you nodded your head. “Yes. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

Ingrid was silent for a second, looking between you and Mapi, completely bewildered. “Sol, why did you sleep on the floor?” 

“Don’t bother, amor. Answer her question first.” Mapi sighed, reclining back against the headboard and shutting her eyes. 

Ingrid huffed her frustration. “I’m alright, Sol. Why did you sleep on the floor?”

You frowned up at her. “I was worried. Google said the first 24 hours of a concussion are the most important, and I know Mapi is a heavy sleeper, so I just wanted to make sure-”

“Sol, that isn’t your job. I’m fine. You shouldn’t have done that, you have school today, you’re going to be exhausted and sore.” Her tone was more sharp than she intended it to be and she felt immediate guilt at the look of hurt that flashed across your face. 

“Sorry.” You said sharply, getting up and gathering your pillow and your blanket and hastily walking out of the room. 

Ingrid flopped back down onto the bed with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t mean to make her upset.” 

Mapi kissed her temple tenderly. “I know. She’s just worried, and I think you embarrassed her a little. She was going to stay home from school to look after you.” 

“She shouldn’t have to do that.” Ingrid argued. 

Mapi spoke slowly, like Ingrid was missing the point. “She wants to. She’s really anxious about this, Ingrid. She was pacing around her room last night googling concussions trying to figure out how to help. She just wants to make sure you’re okay, like you do for her.” 

Ingrid felt her heart melt a little. She forgot, sometimes, how sensitive you were, how much of a worrier. You kept so much inside that it was always a bit startling to see you express yourself so outwardly. She moved to get up from the bed, but Mapi’s arms remained locked around her midsection. 

“María, I need to go talk to her.” 

“No. You stay here, I’ll go talk to her.” 

“I’m not staying in bed all day.” Ingrid grumbled, fighting back a smile as Mapi kissed her cheek once, then twice more. 

“No, of course not.” Mapi agreed. “You can lay down on the couch, too.” 

Ingrid groaned, slumping back onto the bed and crossing her arms over her chest. “I hate this.” She called. 

“I know! Mapi replied, shaking her head at her girlfriend’s dramatics. 

—

Mapi knocked on your door, hearing a huff that she assumed meant she could come in. You were stuffing your things into your school bag, angry tears tracking down your face. 

“Sol, stop for a second.” 

“No, I’m going to be late.” 

“Solstråle.” 

“Go away, Mapi.” 

“No, stop it.” Mapi said, more firmly this time. She took your bag out of your hands, attempting to hold it out of your reach. You glared at her, lower lip trembling as you did so. “You can stay home. I talked to Ingrid.” 

“She doesn’t want me to stay home.” You choked out, humiliated at how upset this was making you. 

Mapi looked at you for a moment longer before placing a hand on your shoulder. “She does, she just doesn’t want you to worry. Just like you don’t like us to worry about you.” 

“No, she doesn’t want me here.” You argued, finally ripping your bag away from Mapi and slinging it over your shoulder. Mapi almost commented on the fact that you were very clearly still wearing your pajamas, and that school didn’t start for another hour, but another voice cut in before she could. 

“I do want you here, sweetheart. I just don’t want you worrying about me.” 

Both you and Mapi turned to face Ingrid amusingly fast. 

“Ingrid, I told you to stay in bed!” Mapi chided good naturedly, knowing how much her girlfriend hated to be babied. 

“Sol-”

“Go lay down, Ingrid. I’m fine.” You pleaded, the redness of your eyes and the wobble of your chin not helping your statement. 

Your sister ignored you, crossing the room in two long strides and pulling you into an almost painfully tight hug. Mapi stepped out of the room, knowing that this was one of your Engen moments, where you really just wanted your sister. 

“No, Sol. I’m fine.” Ingrid told you, her fingers scratching lightly at your scalp where her hand rested. 

You sniffled, pressing your face further into her shoulder, as if to assure yourself that she was really there. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. I’m okay. Everything is okay.” Ingrid promised, pausing for a moment before she extracted herself from the hug and led you to sit on the edge of your bed next to her. She gave you a second to calm down, still crying softly into her shoulder, as she took in the sight of your room. The framed photo of the three of you on your desk. The polaroids up on the wall, all taken at the top of a hike you’d completed. The map that Mapi had given you, and the painting of the waterfall in Norway. 

Ingrid didn’t like to see you cry. But your tears, just like the things decorating your room, showed that you were feeling things. Not like before, when it was difficult to even get you to explain how your day was in more than two words. You felt safe to feel here. Safe to be vulnerable. 

So, she didn’t like the tears. But everytime she saw you cry, she thanked the universe that you were still here with her to cry, still willing to push your face into her shoulder and grip onto her shirt with your fist like you’d done when you were little. She’d never take that for granted. Ever. 

She didn’t take her responsibility to care for you lightly, either. 

“What’s going on, Solstråle? Why are you so worried?” 

Again, it was that magic ability Ingrid had to get you to admit things you normally never would. Instead of brushing your sister off like you’d done to Mapi the night before, you sucked in a breath and tried to explain the absolute mess of feeling inside of you.

“Do you ever… feel like things are too good? Like everything is going so well. And you’re happy, but you aren’t sure you deserve to be. So something bad must be about to happen to ruin it all? It feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s too good to be true, and I’m so scared, all the time, that I’m going to do something to mess everything up, or something bad is going to happen.”

Ingrid wasn’t really quite sure what to say to that. Whether it was because her head was pounding with an incessant headache, or because she’d truly never felt the way that you were describing right now, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that you needed reassurance that no one was going to come and take away your happiness. 

“You deserve to be happy. You’ve been through so much, Sol, and you deserve to be happy. I’m not going to let anyone take that away from you. Ever. It’s not too good to be true. No shoe is going to drop. Nothing bad is going to happen and you’re not going to mess anything up. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere. I love you so much, Solstråle, and no one could ever take that away. Nothing could ever stop me from loving my baby sister.” 

Ingrid felt tears soaking through the fabric of her shirt, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. Still, she kept running her hand up and down your back, keeping you held close to her. She wouldn’t be the first one to pull away. 

“I… I want to believe that. I just don’t know how to stop being scared. I don’t know how to convince my brain that nothing bad is going to happen.” 

“I don’t really know either.” Ingrid hummed. “But we’ll figure it out together, no?” 

You nodded, feeling absurdly emotional at the together part. 

“And anytime you feel scared, you tell me or Mapi. And I’ll be rational and give you a hug and Mapi can make a joke so bad you have no choice but to laugh, and she’ll be happy because her goal was just to distract you anyway.” 

You let out a weak laugh, leaning away from your sister to wipe at your face with your sleeve. 

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll try.” 

Ingrid smiled at you. “Good. Now come downstairs with me. We’re going to put on a reality TV show and you’re going to describe everything happening on screen because I can’t watch.” 

You laughed again, standing and following your sister out of your room. You held onto her arm as she walked down the stairs, and Ingrid let you. Sometimes, she couldn’t fix things right away. She’d let you hover, and in time, you’d realize she was alright and you’d be okay. 

Or, she’d have to climb out the window in the middle of the night and run away to Frido’s just to get away from your and Mapi’s hovering. Either way. 

—

:) i love my child sol.

[girlgenius1111]

learning curve part three

alexia putellas x reader [& r's nephew] will meets some more important people, and has his first day of school. it doesn't go as planned, and r doubts her abilities to be will's guardian. angst. fluff. kidfic. enjoy :)

—

There were a few inevitable things in life. Much to Will’s dismay, school happened to be one of them. Another was that when María León wanted something to happen, it was happening. So, the night before Will was due to start school, you and Alexia finally gave in to Mapi’s pleading, and invited her and Ingrid over for dinner to meet Will. It would be a good distraction if nothing else, and you knew Will would like Mapi, as most kids did. 

It had been a nice, slow day. Will and Alexia both seemed exhausted, and you caught them passed out on the couch together napping, while a history documentary on dinosaurs played on the tv. Will was curled up against Alexia, and you must have stopped and sat there to watch them for at least 10 minutes. Alexia had taken to this… ‘parent’ thing so much easier than you had, and it simultaneously made your heart burst and hurt. It was easy for her, but it wasn’t for you. 

Will was, as was becoming a theme, a bit nervous to meet Mapi and Ingrid, but they broke the ice easily. Mapi entered with a loud ‘hola!” carrying with her an entire kid’s bike. It was black and green, with a spikey helmet hanging off the handlebars. You and Alexia stood, slack jawed, as she wheeled it into the house with a proud look on her face. Ingrid came in behind her, smiling amusedly at her girlfriend. 

“I told her a bike was too much.” She commented, but Mapi just waved her off. 

“No! Nothing is too much, right, Will?” Mapi replied. She spoke in English, enunciating to make sure your nephew understood her. Will peeked out from behind your legs, looking at Mapi, then at Ingrid, then at the bike. He pulled on the hem of your shirt rather frantically, so you scooped him up into your arms as Alexia inspected his new bike, and Mapi demonstrated how the bell on the handlebars worked… several times. 

“Tia, I can’t ride a bike.” Will whispered in your ear, panicked as though you were going to throw him onto the bike and send him on his way. You kissed the side of his head, smiling fondly at him. 

“That's alright, bud. Ale and I can teach you.” 

Will looked relieved, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. “Don-don’t tell them I don’t know how, okay?” 

“Okay.” You agreed, setting him back on the floor and ruffling his hair. 

Alexia had removed the bell off the bike and put it into her pocket, while Mapi was now practically climbing onto her to try to get it back. 

“That is Will’s,” Mapi scolded, holding on tight as Alexia tried to shake the defender off her back. 

“Then stop playing with it.” Alexia threw back, only stopping their faux argument when she saw the confused look on Will’s face. “Will, cariño, it’s okay. We are just joking around.” 

Mapi slid off your girlfriend, mumbling something under her breath that made Ingrid frown. 

With the commotion died down slightly, you nudged Will forward a step, encouraging him to execute what he’d practiced. He took a deep breath, his eyes trained on the wood floor under his feet, but he spoke all the same. 

“Hola. I’m Will.” He said softly. You and Alexia grinned at him proudly, knowing how much he’d wanted his greeting to be perfect. 

Ingrid and Mapi both bent down, gentle smiles on their faces. “Hola, Will. I’m Mapi.” 

“And I’m Ingrid.” 

Will studied them for a moment, decided he wasn’t sure what else to stay, and moved to hide behind Alexia’s legs. Ingrid and Mapi didn’t try to coax him back out or ask him a billion questions. Instead, they straightened up and allowed you to gesture them into the living room. 

Alexia waited a moment, before turning and crouching down in front of Will. 

“Good job! You said ‘Hola’ better than Mapi does.” 

Will smiled happily at her, haphazardly pushing his hair out of his face and then high fiving Alexia’s outstretched hand. Will felt as though the hardest part of the evening was over, especially because you’d promised him he wouldn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, once he’d said hello. 

Hand in hand with Alexia, he followed her into the living room, a very proud look on his little face. 

—

Ingrid took a seat on the floor next to Will, accepting the small race car he wordlessly handed her. Will was a shy kid, but shy didn’t even begin to cover the level of quiet he seemed to be around Ingrid, barely even looking at her all through dinner. While he laughed and talked with Mapi, his face flushed red every time Ingrid addressed him. Now, though, it was just the two of them as Mapi helped you and Alexia clean up in the kitchen, and that seemed to help, just a little bit. 

“I hear you are starting school tomorrow.” Ingrid said casually, noticing immediately that Will’s shoulders slumped a bit at the mention of school. 

“Yeah.” He mumbled, not raising his gaze from his race track. 

“Are you excited? Or nervous?” 

Will fiddled with his toy car, peeking up at the Norwegian for just a second before looking away. Then, he shrugged.

 “Nervous.” He whispered finally. 

Ingrid hummed, thinking. “Want to know a secret?” 

This time, Will made eye contact with her, holding it for a second as he nodded cautiously. 

“When I moved here to Barcelona to play football, I did not know any Spanish. I was so nervous and so scared because I was afraid I would not understand anything anyone said. It was a really hard change.” 

Will’s eyes were wide as he stared up at Ingrid in wonder, apparently shocked that grown ups could feel the way he was feeling, too. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” Ingrid confirmed. “But I did it, even though it was hard and scary.” 

“How?”

“Well, everyone was very nice to me, just like they’ll be nice to you at school. And whenever I did not understand something, I made sure to ask someone for help. It took a little bit, but I learned to understand Spanish, and I made friends with the girls on the team, and it wasn’t scary anymore. I just had to be a little brave at first.” 

“I don’t think I’m a brave boy.” Will whispered in response, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him as he tried not to cry. 

Ingrid just shook her head, though, resting her hand on the top of his head. “No, Will, I think you are very brave. Your Tia tells us all the time how brave you are.”

“She does?” Will’s head snapped up. 

Ingrid nodded, smiling at the both shy and thrilled look on the small boy’s face. “You just have to keep being brave tomorrow, and everything will go fine. Do you think you can do that?” 

Will nodded his head rapidly, chest puffing out a bit with pride at hearing how many people thought he was brave. 

Just then, you stepped into the room, smiling gratefully at Ingrid. “I don’t think anyone here wants dessert, right?” 

Will shot up from his spot on the carpet, charging over to you and crashing into your legs. “I do, Tia, I do!” 

You pretended not to hear him, keeping your eyes on Ingrid instead. “I don’t know where Will went, but I don’t think he wants dessert?” 

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think he does.” 

Will huffed his annoyance, both his hands grabbing yours and pulling on them unrelentingly. “Tia! I’m right here! I want dessert!” 

You looked down at him, then, scooping him up into your arms and pressing kisses all over his face. “Alright, Willosaurus, let’s get you some vegetables for dessert.” 

Will groaned dramatically, ragdolling in your arms as you laughed, carrying him into the kitchen. Ingrid followed close behind, a very fond smile on her face. You’d spoken to her a few times about feeling like you weren’t doing well with Will, about how you weren’t cut out to raise a child. Now that she’d seen you with him, she was even more convinced you were wrong. Will didn’t belong anywhere else but with you. 

—

Will stood, staring up at the school building in front of him with nothing but apprehension in his eyes. His hand held yours tightly, even as the other students streamed into the school talking loudly amongst themselves in rapid Spanish. 

“Ready, buddy?” You asked, crouching down next to him and straightening his shirt. 

“I don’t want to, Tia.” He whispered back, the look on his face beyond pleading. 

The worst part was that you knew exactly how he was feeling. You’d spent much of your childhood being shuffled around different homes, and with each one came a new school. There was nothing worse than a first day at a new school, nothing worse than not knowing who anyone was and feeling eyes on you all day as you tried to acclimate yourself. 

“I know you don’t. But you’re going to be so brave for me, and you’re going to have so much fun and make friends and learn new things. Okay?” 

Will nodded shakily, though he looked very far from convinced. Alexia crouched down on his other side, fixing his hair with her hand before speaking. 

“You are going to do great, cariño. And we will be back to pick you up right when it is over.” 

“Promise?”

“We promise.” You replied, pulling him into your arms and kissing the top of his head. Once you let him go, he turned to Alexia, hugging her as well. She whispered something in his ear that made him giggle despite himself, and you could have cried seeing a smile on his face for the first time all morning. 

With a gentle nudge, he began walking over to his teacher, a very nice woman who’d had Will come in to meet her and see the classroom a few days prior, after school let out so Will wasn’t overwhelmed by the other students. She greeted him warmly, directing him to the line of other 5 year olds, all looking bigger than your nephew. Will was small, but he looked completely dwarfed by the other kids in his class, his anxious gaze flickering back to you every few seconds. 

“Come on, it is better if we go.” Alexia murmured, waving one more time at will before turning. 

“What did you say to him?” You wondered, intertwining your fingers with Alexia’s as she led you back to the car. 

She grinned mischievously. “That we can get ice cream after school.” 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. “You’re spoiling him.” 

“No.” Alexia disagreed. “I am showing him how much we care.” 

There wasn’t much you could say to that. Instead, you slowed down and turned, craning your neck to see if you could still spot your nephew. 

“He’ll be okay, amor.” Alexia promised, pulling on your hand. “We have to go, or we will be late for training.” 

You knew she was right, yet you still stopped at the driver’s side of the car, weakly pulling at your girlfriend’s hand. “Ale?” 

She turned to look at you, a sympathetic smile on her face. 

“Can I have a hug?” You asked quietly, heat rushing to your cheeks at the question. 

“Of course you can.” Alexia replied, opening her arms for you to collapse into. You buried your face into the soft fabric of her sweatshirt, winding your arms around her and squeezing. She squeezed right back, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise.” 

—

Will hated school. Well, he wasn’t supposed to say he hated things. He didn’t like school. 

He didn’t like that almost all the other kids in his class were taller than him. He didn’t like that they all spoke Spanish so fast he had no idea what they were saying. He didn’t like that his teacher seemed to teach only in Spanish, even though he’d known that was going to be the case, [it was the fastest way for him to learn, or so you’d told him]. He didn’t like that the loud boys in the class hogged all the dinosaur figurines during playtime, and he didn’t like that he forgot the Spanish word for bathroom and had to ask to go in English in front of the whole class. They’d all giggled at him, hearing him speak for the first time, and he’d felt his face flush red and his eyes well with tears as he left the classroom. 

He didn’t like school. Most of all, he didn’t like that you were gone, and he had no way of knowing if you’d come back for him. The last time he’d been left at school… Well, he didn’t want to think about that. But the churning feeling in his tummy only continued as he imagined himself waiting outside for you to come get him as all the other kids got picked up, until he was the last one, and he knew you weren’t coming. 

You were his Tia, not his Mommy, and he wasn’t quite sure if that meant you had to come get him. Even if you and Alexia had promised. His Daddy had promised, too. 

And in the end, that hadn’t meant anything.

Will’s hands trembled as he unhooked his backpack from his cubby and pulled the straps over his shoulders. As relieved as he was to finally be done with the school day, he was beyond terrified to go outside. What if you weren’t there to get him? What if Alexia wasn’t either? He felt like he was reliving the worst day of his life, and if he walked outside and you weren’t there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. What happened to kids in Spain with no parents and no Tia that wanted them? 

He walked slowly down the hall towards the doors, hoping that if he took longer, there was a better chance you’d actually be there when he got outside. Other kids passed him, excitedly rushing out to their parents, talking with their friends. Will thought about how sure you’d been that he was going to make friends, and he almost teared up as he pushed the doors open, realizing he hadn’t done what you wanted. He hadn’t been able to make a single friend. 

Will squinted his eyes in the sunlight, head whipping back and forth as he tried to catch a glimpse of you. At first, there was no one familiar. And then he looked to his left, shading his face with his hand, and saw you. 

Will really couldn’t help the dead sprint he broke into in your direction, crashing into your legs and holding on for dear life, even as you struggled to maintain your balance. Instead of scolding him, though, you just gently nudged him backwards, before bending down and pulling him into a hug. 

“Hi bud!” You held him tight for a moment, before pulling back and studying him closely. “How was it?! Did you have so much fun?” You asked, smiling so brightly at Will that he faltered. 

“Yeah! It was fun!” He lied, forcing a smile onto his face. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told the truth. Maybe he was embarrassed, or maybe he just didn’t want you to feel bad for him. Either way, the lie was out and you were pulling him into another hug and telling him how proud you were of him. 

“I’m so happy you had fun, sweetheart. It’s ice cream time now, huh?” 

Will nodded, even though his tummy still felt like it was full of butterflies. He’d lied, and lying was bad and he’d gotten himself into even more trouble than he would have been in if he’d just told you that he hadn’t made any friends. And all of it was all his fault. 

—

Dinner was a happy affair that evening as Alexia had picked up pizza, Will’s favorite. Though Will seemed a bit subdued, you assumed it was because it had been a long day for him, and he was likely just tired. You didn’t think much of it when he barely spoke as you handed him his plate, quietly taking a seat at the table and nibbling on the slice of pizza. You and Alexia had gotten caught up in the topic of your upcoming schedules, not noticing how Will seemed to shrink further and further into his seat. 

“And then Madrid the next weekend?” You asked, taking another bite of your pizza as you did so. 

“Yep. And then Champions League back the week after.” Alexia replied, scrolling through her calendar on her phone. “I was thinking this weekend might be the perfect game to bring Will, no? It’s at home, and my Mami was going to go so he can sit with her!”

You couldn’t help the way your heart melted at how excited she seemed about bringing Will. At how easily she had adjusted to having him living here. Maybe there was some jealousy there, because you sort of felt like you were drowning in this new role, failing, all the while Alexia was thriving as if she’d been born for it. You pushed that thought away, refocusing back on your girlfriend. 

“Good idea! He can wear my jersey.” You winked at her, not noticing how quiet your nephew had been. 

Alexia scoffed, glancing at Will but only seeing the top of his head as he seemed to be studying his pizza very closely. “Or he can wear mine. What do you think, Will? Whose name do you want to wear?” 

Will didn’t look up from his pizza, and this time both you and Alexia fixed your attention on him, frowning at the silence. 

“Will?” You asked, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm. 

He looked up, then, tears falling from his eyes as his lip quivered. 

“What’s wrong?” You and Alexia both asked frantically at the same time. You practically fell out of your chair trying to kneel next to him, resting your hand on his back as he began to shake with sobs. 

“You do not have to come to the match if you do not want to, cariño. Don’t cry.” Alexia tried to soothe, crouching down on the other side of his chair. 

“No,” Will whimpered, rubbing at his eyes with his fists as he tried to calm down. “No.” 

“No what, baby?” You asked, using your sleeve to wipe the tears off his cheeks. 

“N-not that.” 

It was odd that he was barely speaking in full sentences because Will was normally a pretty articulate kid. Whatever had him so worked up, though, was so upsetting that he couldn’t get a full sentence out without another round of sobs overtaking him. 

“You are not upset about going to the match?” Alexia wondered. 

Will shook his head, sniffling, before hesitantly reaching out to wrap his arms around your neck. You hugged him back, picking him up and standing. Alexia was right on your heels as you walked over to the couch, deciding that this didn’t seem to be a conversation you should try to have kneeling on the uncomfortable wooden floor of the kitchen. You settled on the couch with Alexia next to you, Will still hugging you tightly as you let him sit in your lap. 

“What’s going on, Will?” 

“I-I hate school.” Will mumbled. 

“What?” 

“I can’t understand what anyone says and I didn’t make any friends and all of them laughed at me when I asked to go to the bathroom and I hate it, Tia, I don’t want to go back.” He sobbed, the details of his horrible day spilling out of him as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

You and Alexia exchanged looks, for once the both of you rendered speechless. Everyone had assured you that Will would adjust fine to school, and though you’d had your doubts, you hadn’t been prepared for this and you weren’t sure how to fix it. 

“Buddy, why didn’t you tell me?” You wondered, knowing instantly that was the wrong thing to say as Will wrenched himself away from you like he’d been burned. 

“I’m sorry, Tia, I didn’t mean to lie, I didn’t want you to be mad because you told me to make friends and I didn’t but I tried and–”

“Vale, vale, breathe, Will. Calm mi niño, everything is okay.” Alexia cut in, resting her hand on his chest as she tried to get him to calm down. 

“Will, I would never be mad at you for any of that. I can’t imagine how hard today was for you, and I’m so proud of you for getting through it.  It’s hard to make friends, especially when you can’t understand any of the other kids, huh?” 

Will nodded tearfully, his breathing still shaky as he wiped at his tears. “I asked to play with the dinosaurs with them but they just looked at me weird and I didn’t get to play. They had a brachiosaurus, Tia, and I didn’t get to play with it.” 

Your heart broke for the little boy, and you made a mental note to get a brachiosaurus figurine the next time you were out. One look at Alexia told you she was thinking the same thing, a frown set on her face as she rubbed Will’s back softly. 

“Will, what if we practice some things to say? In Spanish, so you can talk a bit more and play with the dinosaurs.” Alexia suggested. Will shifted in your lap so he could look up at her, cautious hope in his eyes. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” Alexia replied, tickling his tummy when he wasn’t expecting it and causing him to burst into giggles. It was the best sound you’d heard all day. “We can finish dinner and–”

“Can we practice now? I’m not hungry.” Will interrupted. Alexia deferred to you, and with the two of them looking at you pleadingly, you knew you had no chance. 

“Alright, but I’m putting your pizza in the fridge in case you want it later.” 

You headed into the kitchen, mindlessly cleaning up from dinner and putting the leftovers in the fridge. As you did so, you heard Alexia begin her Spanish lesson, asking Will what he wanted to say in English, and then helping him translate. 

“Me llamo Will,” Alexia annunciated. “Me gustan los dinosaurios. Puedo jugar?” 

Will repeated it in clunky Spanish, but his accent wasn’t half bad and it was easy to understand what he was saying. 

“Very good!” Alexia cheered. “What about. ¿Quieres ser mi amigo?” 

Again, Will repeated it, looking over at where you were leaning against the doorway of the living room. “Tia! Did you hear me! I spoke Spanish!” 

You cleared your throat, finding it suddenly a bit choked up. “I did, buddy. I’m so proud of you.” 

Will was practically bouncing with excitement, a complete contradiction to how he’d been just 10 minutes before. He continued to converse back and forth with Alexia, who was clearly enjoying her role as Spanish teacher. 

And you were happy he was happy now, absolutely. Anxiety still swirled in your stomach at the thought that Will had been miserable at school, and tried to hide it from you. It felt like a failure, like you’d let down Leo, and let down Will. You joined in on the Spanish lesson a few minutes later, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t doing well enough. You weren’t good enough for Will. 

—

There was no chance you were sleeping, with the way your mind was racing. Alexia’s face was smooshed into your shoulder, one arm slung over your waist, but she was sleeping deeply, and it wasn’t hard to slip out of bed and head for the living room. You kept the lights off, collapsing onto the couch and burying your face in your hands. 

Everytime your eyes shut, you could see Will’s crumpled face as he sobbed, begging you not to send him back to school. This was your failure, and you should have seen it coming. You didn’t know what you were doing, you weren’t cut out for this. You weren’t good enough to be Will’s guardian. This had all been a massive mistake and today had only made that clearer. Will was miserable, and it was your fault. Solely, singularly your fault. You were failing Will, and you were failing your brother. 

You jumped when a hand came to rest on your shoulder, startling away from the contact and whipping your head around. 

“Hey, it is just me.” Alexia whispered, squeezing your shoulder before leaning to flick the lamp on. Her face fell when she looked back at you, and you realized for the first time that your face was wet with tears. “What’s wrong, amor? Why are you out here by yourself? You are upset, you should have woken me.” 

Alexia sat down next to you, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and tugging you into her. You let her pull you in, tucking your face into her neck as your hand gripped tight to her white sleep shirt. All you could do was sob, unrestrained, into your girlfriend. Alexia held you tightly, alternating between whispering reassurances into your ear and kissing the top of your head. 

When a few minutes had passed, though, and you showed no signs of telling Alexia what was wrong, she pulled away and cradled your face in her hands. 

“Talk to me, amor.” She whispered, dusting your cheek with a soft kiss. 

You inhaled shakily, letting Alexia’s thumbs gently swipe the tears off your face. 

“I’m horrible at this.” You choked out. “Will is… is miserable and it’s my fault. I’m not cut out for this, I don’t know anything about kids, I don’t know anything about a stable childhood. How am I supposed to do this? I can’t do this.” 

Alexia pulled you in tighter, shushing you softly. “You are not horrible at this. You’re doing your best–”

“My best isn’t enough, Ale,”

“It is! Your best is loving Will, and you are doing that. He is having trouble at school, sí, but this is not your fault, mi amorcita.” Alexia spoke earnestly, as though she believed every word she was saying. You wished you had the confidence in yourself that she seemed to so easily possess. 

“I’m not right for this.” 

“You are the only one right for this. You are what Will needs.” 

“I barely had parents, Alexia. I had no stability, all I had was Leo. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, no idea–”

“That is how everyone feels when they first start taking care of a child. I feel that way, too, but–”

“It’s not the same, Alexia. You grew up with love and warmth. With parents that loved you and a family.” 

You hated the pitying look on Alexia’s face more than anything, so you attempted to stand and storm off. Your girlfriend wouldn’t let you, though, pulling you back down into her lap and nudging your chin up until you met her eyes. 

“I know it is different. It was so hard for you, amor, I know that. But just because you did not have a traditional family, this does not mean you do not know how to be a part of one. You love that little boy, and the rest will come. You just have to be patient. You just have to try your best. I know you can do it. I know you can.” Alexia murmured, her voice and words so sweet you felt more tears welling in your eyes. 

“How are you so sure?” 

Alexia pressed her forehead to yours, speaking without a single doubt in her voice. “Because you are a good and loving person, even if your brain tells you different. Leo trusts you, Will trusts you, and I trust you. You just have to trust yourself, amor.” 

Her words rattled around in your brain, even as she took your hand and pulled you back towards the bedroom. It was only once you were both settled back in bed in the dark that you spoke. 

“How are you so perfect? You’re so good to me and you’re so good with Will.” You whispered, voice muffled slightly by the fabric of her shirt. You felt her chest rise and fall a few times before she answered. 

“I’m not perfect. I just love you, amor. I am doing my best just like you.” She replied, fingers threading their way into your hair. You hummed at the sensation, snuggling further into your girlfriend’s chest. Alexia was much too humble, in your opinion. Overwhelmingly perfect and irrationally humble. 

—

please be nice to me i am very fragile right now [finals season has attempted to take my life but it cannot take my fanfiction]

[girlgenius1111]

study buddy

solstråle engen ft. @wileys-russo 's fresa! sol struggles with school, and facing the threat of having to repeat the year, ingrid and mapi try to get her some study help. it doesn't go... exceptionally well.

—

It was more frustrating than anything. For years, you hadn’t really given school much thought, or put in very much effort. And then, suddenly, you’d been shipped off to Spain and everything was different. Everything changed again six months later, and suddenly, school felt like something that held a lot more weight.

You didn’t have many opportunities to make Ingrid and Mapi proud of you. Sure, they’d say they were proud of you when you asked for help while having a panic attack, or for setting some sort of boundary. That just didn’t feel… right. It didn’t feel like it was enough. They were bending over backwards, every day, to make you feel known and seen and loved, and the least you could do was show that they were helping you, right?

So, very suddenly, school was important. Grades were important. It seemed, though, that the years of not caring and not paying attention had taken their toll. Because you studied, and you actually tried but it wasn’t enough. Your grades were still… mediocre. Nothing to brag about. 

You worked harder, to no avail. You tried different methods of studying, you devoted hours and hours to your schoolwork, and… no improvement. So much of your work felt like it went way over your head. 

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t be upset when you handed Ingrid the test you’d gotten back. She had a busy week and she really didn’t need you breaking down over a stupid test, like you had earlier in the school bathroom. Your plan was to bypass your sister and her girlfriend, head straight to your room, and maybe slam the door. If you acted angry, they were more likely to give you space to calm down, which meant there was much less of a chance you’d get all pathetic and upset.  

Only, you’d forgotten that Ingrid had known you were getting the test back today, having seen you study and study and study for it. Your sister was sure that since you studied so much, it must be a good grade, and she had a magnet all ready to attach your exam to the fridge. 

The minute you walked into the house and saw her waiting in the kitchen, freshly showered from training, an expectant and excited look on her face, you shrunk in on yourself, very suddenly wanting a hug more than you wanted to cry silently into your pillow all alone.

“How’d you do?!” Ingrid asked excitedly, her smile only faltering when your lip began to wobble. “Solstråle?”

“I’m sorry.” You choked out tugging the collar of your shirt up over your eyes before she could see you begin to cry. Ingrid’s arms were wrapping around you only a moment later, holding you tight against her as she floundered, confused as to what had upset you.

“Hey, it’s okay. Whatever happened, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” Ingrid promised, making eye contact over your head with Mapi, who had wandered into the kitchen and caught sight of you trembling against your sister. 

Ingrid thought something must have happened at school, and Mapi quickly came to the same conclusion. The thought that you’d done poorly on your test, and this was the reason behind your distress, never even crossed her mind. Ingrid had never known you to care much about your grades, and while you were trying harder now, she didn’t think something like a bad result could get you this upset. 

“I’m really sorry. I tried my best.” You whimpered, briefly wondering when you’d turned into this person who cried at the drop of a hat and allowed her sister to hug you whenever you were upset. It was so different. Everything was so different. 

“What are you sorry for?” She asked, heart melting a bit as Mapi walked closer and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, before perching on the counter. “Tell me, Sol, tell me what’s wrong.” 

Wordlessly, you withdrew from the comforting embrace of your sister and swung your bag off your shoulder. You unzipped it, pulling out the exam from the red folder Ingrid had neatly labeled for you. You handed it to her, eyes brimming with tears again at the sight of all the red marks all over the first page. 

Ingrid’s first instinct was to sigh, but you’d been with her long enough for her to know you’d just shut down. Not to mention that she knew how much work you’d been putting into this specific exam. Prepared to ask you what had gone wrong, she looked up to see that the tears had stopped. There wasn’t a hint of emotion on your face, like you were preparing yourself to be yelled at. Ingrid had no such plans.

“Oh, Sol. Kjære, come here.” She said instead, pulling you back into her. There was some hesitation on your part, but after a second you melted into the hug, knowing that if Ingrid was upset, she would have told you so by now. “You studied so hard, I’m sorry it didn’t go well.” 

“I’m sorry.” You said again, frowning when Ingrid pulled back and placed both her hands on your face, tilting your head up to look at her. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You tried your best, that’s all I want from you.”

You shook your head, but didn’t say anything, instead opting to stare at your shoes. You hadn’t taken them off at the door, breaking one of Ingrid and Mapi’s rules. This additional mistake, regardless of how small it was, made you feel even worse. You couldn’t do anything right. 

A tattooed hand grabbed yours, and you looked up at Mapi. She had moved closer, holding the exam in one hand, her other gripping yours. 

“This is a passing grade, mi sol. Why are you so upset? It’s not like you to get so worked up over school.” Your face flushed, but before you could step away, Mapi’s grip tightened, as if she’d sensed you were about to run. “Come on, it’s us. You can tell us.” 

“I.. It’s not good enough.” You stammered, looking between your sister and her girlfriend with genuine despair written all across your face. “I wanted to do well. For both of you., I wanted you to be proud of me.” 

“Oh, Sol,” Ingrid sighed, exchanging a look with Mapi that only served to make you feel even more foolish. It had taken so much for you to admit why you were working so hard, and though you knew, logically, that Ingrid wasn’t trying to make you feel dumb, she had. 

You wrenched away from her, suddenly deciding that you didn't need her pity. Backing up until you hit the wall on the opposite side of the kitchen, you began to ramble. Unable to look either Ingrid or Mapi in the eye, you missed the sadness on their faces. “No, forget it. It’s fine. It’s really fine. It’s not a big deal, It’s my own fault, I’m too stupid to learn stuff my classmates already know-”

“Hey!” Mapi cut in, sounding uncharacteristically stern. “You are not stupid. Don’t ever say that again.” 

You froze, staring at her with your mouth agape. Ingrid took a cautious step closer, aware she was toeing a thin line between you breaking down again, and pushing you into anger. 

“You aren’t stupid.” Ingrid echoed. “You’re not stupid, and you know you aren’t. It’s just one exam, Sol, it doesn’t make or break anything.” 

At this, you averted your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck. This exam could be a determining factor in your educational career. Ingrid just didn’t really know that information yet. Like a bloodhound, though, Ingrid caught the scent of your secret, her eyebrows raising as she stared at you. 

“It doesn’t make or break anything, right?” 

It was a staring contest for a few moments, one you and Ingrid both knew she would win, yet you kept it going all the same. The silence became too intense, the gazes of your sister and her girlfriend breaking your resolve rather quickly. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your bag yet again and pulled out a slightly wrinkled envelope. 

Ingrid held her hand out expectantly, apprehension clear on her face. You handed her the envelope, eyes still training on the floor. 

“Solstråle. This is addressed to me.” Ingrid huffed, removing the letter from inside and beginning to read it. Mapi moved forward, peeking over her girlfriend’s shoulder, eyes quickly scanning over the letter. You braced yourself, prepared for the worst. 

The last time you’d brought home something like this… you’d ended up living in Spain. Which was potentially the best thing that could have happened, but you had a feeling the consequences of this letter wouldn’t work out as well. 

Your sister placed the paper down on the counter, raking her fingers through her hair as she thought for a moment. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Part of her wanted to yell, but when was that ever the right choice? Before she could decide, María’s shoulder bumped into hers. Her girlfriend nodded in your direction, clearly trying to get Ingrid to see how terrified you were. 

And Ingrid couldn’t yell at you when you were like this, all sad and scared with your head bowed and your arms folded across your chest protectively. 

“Sol?” She said, her tone much quieter and kinder than you were expecting it to be. You looked up at her, shocked further to see that she didn’t look very angry. “Why didn’t you give this to me last week when they sent it?” 

Ingrid nodded towards the date on the letter, and you exhaled shakily. “I… I was hoping I could just try really hard for the rest of the year and do really well in all my classes and it would be fine.” 

Your sister nodded slowly, reading the letter over again. 

Mapi took the opportunity to chime in, her hand absentmindedly resting on your sister’s back, even as she fixed her warm gaze on you. “Nena, that is a lot for you to carry all by yourself. Having the threat of maybe needing to repeat the year hanging over your head… you should have told us.” 

You shrugged, blinking away the moisture pooling in your eyes at Mapi’s tone. “I didn’t want to disappoint you guys.” You mumbled. 

“You haven’t disappointed anyone!” Mapi exclaimed, frowning when you just scoffed in response. “I’m serious, Sol. We saw you study and study for this exam. You did your best, you’re doing your best. That’s all we can ask from you.” 

“My best isn’t good enough! I’m going to fail and have to repeat the year.” You cried, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation. The mere thought of another year of school was horrifying. 

Ingrid finally put the letter down, a blazingly determined expression on her face. “No. You’re not going to fail anything. We’ll help you, we’ll reach out to your teachers, we’ll get you extra help. We’ll figure it out, Sol, but you’re not going to fail. Not if I have anything to say about it.” 

For anyone else, that may have sounded overbearing. For you, though, it just felt supportive. It felt like you weren’t dealing with this yourself anymore, and that was a relief you didn’t know you needed. 

“Okay.” You said quietly. “Thanks.” 

Luckily, your sister knew you well enough to understand that after such an intense conversation, you’d need some time to yourself to process. 

“Hey,” Ingrid said, catching your wrist and turning you around slightly before you could leave the room. “I’m already proud of you, and the person you are. You could fail every test for the rest of your life, and I’d still be proud of you. Okay?”

You blinked at her for a prolonged second, before you nodded jerkily. Turning to head up the stairs to your room, you changed your mind, spinning back around and falling into your sister. She hugged you tight, as she always did, and you wondered briefly how you got so lucky. 

—

It was the following day that Mapi and Ingrid proposed their plan. Before they’d even said anything, you knew a few things. 

One, that they were excited about whatever plan they’d cooked up that day at training. 

And two, that you weren’t really going to have a choice in the matter. 

As a general rule, Ingrid and Mapi didn’t make you do many things. If they thought something was important, they’d encourage you to try it a few times, and then they’d let you stop if you still didn’t like it. That was how it had been for the school’s climbing club, the school’s hiking club, and the school’s baking club. All those were activities you enjoyed, but… activities you enjoyed doing yourself.

Well, not always.You loved to climb and hike with Ingrid. Frido, too, sometimes. And you could bake for hours with Mapi helping, measuring out ingredients and getting baking flour everywhere. But doing any of the above with strangers who spoke in rapid, fluent Spanish or catalan, was not fun. It was anxiety inducing. 

You knew this was about to be another one of those ideas, the ones you had to give a fair shot. 

It was at dinner, and you were trying to hide the wince everytime you picked up your water glass with your right hand, your wrist intensely aching after the time you spent in the climbing gym after school. It always hurt when you climbed for too long, though it was getting worse with every passing day. Another problem for another day, you decided, seeing the barely contained glee on Mapi’s face as she cleared her throat. 

“What?” You said suspiciously, putting your fork down and narrowing your eyes at the Spaniard. 

Mapi opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Ingrid chimed in. 

“Mapi’s made you a playdate!” She said, smirking when her girlfriend wacked her in the arm. 

“Ingrid, that is not going to help me convince her.” Mapi huffed, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. 

Still unamused, you continued to frown at Mapi. “I’d love it if you didn’t keep proposing ideas that you’d need to convince me of. Teaching you how to rock climb, trying to get that stain out of my favorite sweatshirt yourself, being the keeper while you practiced your free kicks, helping you build that bonfire–”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mapi dismissed. 

“You got stuck on the rock wall, my sweatshirt has a hole in it, the ball hit me so hard in the stomach I threw up, and both of us lost part of our eyebrows!” 

Mapi glared at you, while Ingrid hid her face behind her hand as her body shook with silent laughter. 

“Well this plan,” Mapi sighed, “is Ingrid AND Alexia approved.” 

That wiped the smile off your face. 

“Alexia? What does she have to do with this?” 

There were a few things you knew for certain about Mapi. One, she didn’t give up easily. Another, that she wanted more than anything for you to be friends with Alexia’s little sister. And from the sly smile on her face, you were almost sure you knew where this was headed. 

“I asked her to ask Fresa to tutor you!”

“No.” You said immediately. 

Mapi continued like you hadn’t spoken. “Fresa is a bit younger than you, but already finished your year! She’s studying to be a nurse, she’s very smart. Fres speaks English and she can help you with your Spanish and any other school things you need help with.” 

“No.” You repeated, looking helplessly at your sister. Ingrid looked to finally be taking the situation seriously, a familiar look on her face; one you knew meant that no matter how much you argued, she was going to get her way. Meanwhile, Mapi was still droning on. 

“–get along great with her! I think you guys have a lot in common, and it could be fun and educational!” 

“And you know all the best things are fun and educational.” Ingrid chimed in cheerily, this time her face telling you to go along with Mapi’s idea because she was excited about it, or else. 

“Educational.” You said sarcastically. “Super!” 

Still, you agreed, Mapi grinned at you, and Ingrid patted your back reassuringly. Mapi had a lot of bad ideas. You were pretty sure this would turn out to be the worst. 

—

You always spent more time at the climbing gym when things were rough. Back in Norway, you’d spend multiple hours a day, everyday, there. It was one of your tells; Ingrid always knew something was bothering you if you went to climb right after school. It was your way of shoving your emotions down before you could feel them, before your sister could read the hurt on your face and give you one of those tight hugs that brought tears to your eyes. 

Only, sometimes climbing didn’t do it. Sometimes, it felt like the walls were closing in, like you were about to suffocate, if you didn’t have some time completely by yourself to think. On those days, you really preferred to hike. You hadn’t felt that urge in a while; the urge to just disappear for hours, walk until your legs felt like they were going to fall up, and sit at the top of the trail until the world felt like a place you wanted to be in again. The last time had been back in Norway, after a day you didn’t even want to think about. 

Yet you found yourself in that same familiar mindset after your first study session with Fresa. 

It hadn’t gone well. You tried to go into it confident, sure that if you acted chill enough, she’d maybe miss that you had no idea what you were doing with your schoolwork. 

Confident, even as you arrived 15 minutes late. Scout had gotten his favorite toy, a small tiger that squeaked, stuck under the sofa, and it had taken you time you didn’t have to get it out for him. You could have left it, but Ingrid and Mapi weren’t home and you knew Scout would just sit by the couch and cry the whole time you were gone if you didn’t get his tiger out for him, and you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him to be so upset. And then you’d had a hard time finding a parking space at the library, and the directions inside were all in Spanish and Fresa had texted you to follow the signs to the study rooms but you misread the sign and went to the opposite end of the library before figuring out your mistake. And you would have texted you were going to be late, because you hated being late, but your phone was dead and the cord from your car had gone missing. 

When you entered the room, Fresa already looked annoyed. 

Annoyed, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, twirling a pen repeatedly in an almost unconscious manner. She looked very… put together. 

“Llegas tarde.” She commented, rolling her eyes when you didn’t reply. Your face flushed a bit as she must have picked up on your confusion, repeating herself in english. “You are late.” 

Any other time, you would have known what she said. Your issue wasn’t really understanding Spanish, it was more speaking and reading it. You felt weirdly flustered though today, like your brain was distracted and not quite able to follow what the other girl was saying. Anxious, too, at this social situation you’d been forced into. 

Briefly, you thought about explaining about Scout and the tiger and the parking space and the signs being in Spanish, but then you realized Fresa wouldn’t care about any of that. So instead, you just nodded and apologized, feeling your heart start to pound from the anxiety of the situation. 

You didn’t like talking to new people. Especially pretty new people who spoke a different language and were looking at you like you weren’t very smart. Even if you thought that yourself… you didn’t want anyone else to think so. Any intention of actually asking Fresa for help with the mountains of stuff you were confused with went out the window, then, and you almost subconsciously decided to just… try to get through without letting her know quite how lost you were. 

Fresa was alarmingly smart. She kept asking you questions about your work, about what you needed help with. Everything didn’t feel like an answer you wanted to give. Fresa seemed organized, though, and you assumed letting her take the lead and decide what to work on would placate her. Instead, she just looked more and more annoyed with every passing second.

 She kept asking questions about this paper and that paper and you didn’t know what papers she was talking about. You felt so stupid. More stupid than when you’d failed your test last week. 

“How do you even find the right paper in there?” Fresa asked, pulling a judgemental look as you rifled through your bag, searching for the article she was asking for.

Your bag was a mess, you knew it was a mess. You’d knocked your coffee over all your folders a few days ago, sitting at the counter when Scout barked and startled you. That was oddly upsetting in and of itself because Ingrid had gotten you the folders and labeled them for you and you felt like you’d destroyed something nice she’d done for you. You hadn’t told her, not wanting to hurt her feelings or anything, so now your school papers were living crinkled and disorganized in your bag.

And you were pretty sure the article Fresa was asking for had been a casualty of the coffee incident, because you’d scanned the paper and thought it wasn’t important before throwing it out. The Spanish had confused you, and you hadn’t realized you’d need the article for an assignment. Stupid. 

 You were feeling more and more embarrassed as the minutes passed. And, maybe, your reaction to feeling embarrassed was always anger. You pulled out a random piece of paper, slamming it down onto the table with more force than necessary in your haste to give the Spaniard something. 

Fresa instantly knew that what you’d given her wasn’t the right article, asking again if you had it as you shoved the other paper back into your bag. 

Logically, you knew you should just… admit you threw it away because you didn’t realize you needed it. For some reason, you just couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. You couldn’t get any words out of your mouth, feeling shockingly like crying. Nothing was going right and you were making yourself look like an idiot and all you could do was shrug as Fresa looked at you and took a deep breath. 

Then, she seemed to come to some kind of realization, her expression softening slightly. 

“Can you not read this? The spanish?” 

You flinched, feeling your face flush. Again, the reply of ‘no I can’t, would you please help me?’ seemed to evade you. Instead, you spewed some lie about being able to read the article, calling Fresa’s questions stupid and telling her she was wasting your time. 

Fresa seemed to have reached her breaking point, her voice rising as yours had. You didn’t really hear what she said, much too distracted by the way her eyebrows knitted together when she was frustrated, and the way her hand tightly gripped the pen she was holding. 

Then, she made an offensive impression of your shrugging. And if you hadn’t been angry before, you were absolutely fuming now. 

So what if you were quiet? It wasn’t like you really needed to talk much, considering how many questions she’d asked. You were furious at being called out for all your bullshit, feeling like a mess compared to the perfect girl next to you. A very angry mess who’d had a long day and was cursing one María León for making her do this and cursing the beautiful girl next to her for being so infuriating.  

“Alexia’s super little sister. Everyone says you are so smart. Can you not see I do not want your help? You want to be a doctor, no? So go find someone who does.” 

Fresa’s nostrils flared as she shoved her chair away from the table and got to her feet. She began angrily putting her stuff into her bag, and you remained completely still, unable to stop this whole meeting from going up in flames. 

“Eres un maldita idiota!” Fresa snapped, her face red with anger. 

There wasn’t really anything worse she could have said to you at that moment. 

“Snobbete kjerring.” You threw back, feeling a sharp spike of satisfaction when she zipped her bag angrily, completely incapable of understanding what you’d called her. 

“You know, I did this as a favor, tonta. I have worked all day, I came right here after my shift, on time. I have my own studies to do because yes, I want to be a nurse. I am smart, and I know what I want to do with my life. Maybe if you get your head out of your own ass, Engen, you might too! And you are right, this is a waste of time. My time!”

Fresa stomped out of the room, then, and you waited until she was out of sight before dropping your head into your hands with a deep sigh. 

That couldn’t have gone… any worse. And though it was probably all mostly your fault, you couldn’t help the resentment building for the intelligent, stuck up girl that had thrown insult after insult at you, hitting you in all the places it hurt. You packed your own stuff up once you were sure you wouldn’t run into Fresa again in the parking lot or something, shuffling dejectedly to your car.

The overthinking had begun. Was it really overthinking, you wondered, if you’d actually completely fucked up and the reasons for your anxiety were entirely reasonable? You weren’t sure, and you supposed it didn’t matter, your thoughts quickly spiraling as you rewinded the short meeting in your head. 

The shrugging had really gotten to her, but you weren’t sure what else to do. When in doubt, you had learned silence got you the best results. Often, no one really cared what you had to say anyway. Fresa was different, though, looking at you with her wide eyes, expecting an answer. It was intimidating. It scared you, honestly, how well the other girl seemed to see right through you. 

And maybe… maybe there were some other feelings brewing. Ones you didn’t want to consider. Feeling that didn’t even matter given the way Fresa had stormed out. It didn’t seem like there would be another study session.

This led you to your other problem. You’d fucked this up. Something your sister and Mapi had gone out of their way to set up for you, because they didn’t want you to have to repeat the year. 

You didn’t like to make mistakes. Every single one you made carried the risk that Ingrid would lose her patience with you, and give up. She hadn’t yet, and you’d messed up a fair amount in the past several months, but you couldn’t let yourself believe that no mistake could push her away. That just wasn’t a possibility. So, rather than face your failure, tell Ingrid and Mapi how awkward and weird you’d been, you ran. 

Or walked, you supposed. Your study session with Fresa had ended at 4:00, and it was almost 8 when you found yourself at the top of your favorite trail, legs scratched and aching, as the sun slipped below the horizon. Your phone was still dead and now Ingrid was absolutely going to kill you for going off the grid. 

You broke traffic laws on the way home, any peace you’d found at the top of the hiking trail entirely gone as anxiety began to build up inside of you again. 

Stepping into the house, you slipped off your muddy shoes, wincing at the blood trickling down the few cuts on your legs. Before you could even set your car keys down, though, footsteps were pounding down the hallway towards you. 

“Oh, thank god.” Ingrid gasped, sounding alarmingly emotional as she rushed forward and crushed you into a hug. “She’s here!” 

“Dios  mio.” Mapi muttered, appearing over your sister’s shoulder a moment later. Ingrid pulled away from you, her hands on your shoulders keeping you at arm's length. Her face quickly transformed from relieved to furious. 

“Where the hell have you been?” She hissed. 

“I–”

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You were supposed to be home hours ago, Sol. Your location wouldn’t show up on my phone, Fresa even said you ended your meeting early,” Ingrid ranted, though you began to tune her out at the sound of her name. 

“You talked to Fresa?” You interrupted, ignoring the incredulous look on Ingrid’s face, turning your attention towards Mapi who was staring stonily at you. 

“That doesn’t fucking matter right now. Where were you? Are you drunk? High? Were you fighting?” Ingrid demanded.

Each accusation felt like a bullet to the heart as Ingrid grabbed your chin and yanked it towards her, looking intently at your eyes. You shoved her away angrily; Ingrid wasn’t supposed to see you as that person anymore. She had promised that she didn’t, that she knew you weren’t a bad kid, that you had just been having a hard time. Now, though. She was looking at you like she didn’t trust a word that was about to come out of your mouth. 

“No.” You spat at her, grabbing your phone from your pocket and slamming it on the front hall table. “I went on a hike after I met Fresa and my phone died. I lost track of time. I wasn’t getting drunk or high and I wasn’t fighting anybody, but thanks for having some faith in me.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm, and even though you expected Ingrid to soften with a bit of guilt, she only seemed emboldened with anger. 

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me. You were supposed to be back four hours ago Solstråle. Four! This was so irresponsible. Do you not care that we were worried? Do you not care that we were here waiting for you? That Mapi made dinner, and you were going to work on her bike? Or that we were supposed to make cookies? After everything we’ve done for you, Solstråle, I expect more.” She was shouting at this point, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

You looked to Mapi, hoping for her to step in and talk her girlfriend down, but she looked almost as mad as Ingrid was, and you shrunk in on yourself.

“You are…. you are grounded. This is unacceptable, and you better never let it happen again. That is not how family behaves Solstråle. Did you think about how worried we would be? I am so upset with you, so disappointed that you didn’t think about anyone but yourself, that you were so selfish–”

“Alright, Ingrid. Enough.” Mapi cut in finally, stepping forward to grab her girlfriend's hand and squeeze it. You were frozen in front of your sister, fighting the sob that was building in your throat. 

Ingrid stepped back, her face still red with anger. A hint of regret flickered across her face at the sight of your lip trembling and the tears in your eyes. Still, you looked confused, and Ingrid couldn’t shove her anger down at your lack of understanding. She turned, stomping off towards the kitchen, leaving you and Mapi behind. 

“Sol-”

“I’m going to shower. Sorry, Mapi. I’m sorry.” You mumbled, pushing past her and heading up the stairs before the Spaniard could get out another word.  

Mapi sighed tiredly, rubbing her hand over her face. Her Engens were going to make her go grey. 

—

You had only just pulled some pajamas on after your shower when Mapi knocked, her gentle voice calling to you from the hall. 

“Yeah?” You called back, voice gravelly from all the sobbing you had done in the shower. 

Mapi entered, the first aid kit in her hands and a much calmer expression on her face. She was in her pajamas, too, clearly having been waiting up for you to get out of the shower. It had been a long one. Another thing to be sorry for, keeping Mapi awake. 

“Can I help with your legs?” She wondered, gesturing to the many cuts that littered them.

Shrugging noncommittally, you sunk down onto the edge of the bed, Mapi soon taking a seat opposite you. She pulled your calf up to rest across her lap, getting out the antiseptic spray and a few bandages. You purposefully looked away, barely having been able to get the blood off in the shower without getting light headed. 

“Are you okay, mi sol?” Mapi murmured, fanning her hands over the cuts so the spray would dry faster. Mapi had a way of looking at you, eyes crinkled with concern and kindness, that made you want to burst into tears. You fought that instinct. 

“I am fine.” 

Mapi sighed, unwrapping a few of the bandages and beginning to carefully put them on you. 

“Then someone else was crying in the shower while you were in there?” 

No reply came, and Mapi sighed again, tapping your leg to tell you she was done with that one. 

“Look, I know Ingrid was harsh, but you have to understand how worried she was. How worried we both were. I know you still remember the things you wrote in that letter all those months ago. Things like that don’t just go away, Sol, and when you disappear for hours without a word, we worry.” 

This time, Mapi got a shrug in reply, and a small sniffle. She finished up with your other leg, gently pushing it off her lap and pulling you into a soft hug. “It’s okay, Solstråle. Everything is fine now.” 

You scoffed through your tears. “Nothing is fine, Mapi. I screwed up with Fresa, I screwed up with Ingrid. They both probably hate me. Please, just go. I’m tired.” 

Mapi shook her head. “You’re upset, I just want to–”

“No Mapi, just leave me be.” You tried to sound firm, but your voice was shaking almost as much as your hands were, and you were sure you just came off as pathetic. 

“Alright, nena. I love you, hmm? Don’t be too hard on yourself.” 

You remained silent, flopping back onto your bed as Mapi walked out of the room. Scout hopped up on the bed in her absence, licking your cheek twice before curling into your side. 

It wasn’t being too hard on yourself; the self hatred you felt in that moment was completely justified. You were very sure of that. 

—

You were tucked into bed when the door creaked open again, Scout not even bothering to lift his head from where it was tucked into the comforter draped over your leg. You blinked your eyes open and they widened in surprise at the sight of Ingrid walking into the room, hair messy as though she’d been tossing and turning. She neared the edge of your bed, leaning down and kissing your forehead gently. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I don’t hate you, okay? I love you very much. Everything is going to be okay, so just try to get some rest.” 

You nodded weakly, impatiently pushing a tear off your cheek with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry, Ingrid. Really sorry.” 

“It’s alright. You’re safe, yes? And that’s all that really matters.” Ingrid promised, and you nodded, sniffling pathetically. “We can talk more tomorrow, but just go to sleep, okay? Everything is fine.” 

“Love you.” You mumbled, Ingrid smiling softly down at her. You didn’t often say that first, something Ingrid attributed to having said it to your Mamma and not heard it back so many times. 

“I love you.” Ingrid replied, patting your cheek twice before tucking the covers up tighter around you, and heading out of the room. 

—

You woke up to a few unexpected things the next morning. One, it was almost 11 and Scout hadn’t woken you up demanding a walk. In fact, Scout was nowhere to be found. Two, the sounds of Mapi’s Spanish soap and Ingrid’s clanging around the kitchen echoed through the house. You’d forgotten they had the day off today. Ingrid must have taken Scout out to let you sleep in. 

The first two unexpected things, then, were explainable. The third… was not. 

A text from Fresa. 

Tuesday at the library. If you want to give it another shot. I think I can help. 

You thought about the way you’d behaved, and the way Fresa had spoken to you. Before you could delete the thread with her and close your phone, though, you thought about the letter you’d hidden from your sister. The excited smile on Mapi’s face when you’d agreed to let Fresa tutor you. 

Before you quite knew what you were doing, you pulled the message back up, your fingers typing away without you telling them to.

Yeah. I’d appreciate that. What time? 

There was something that drew you to Fresa, even as she infuriated you. Maybe it was how her voice had softened when she’d asked if you couldn’t read the Spanish on the paper, or maybe it was how she’d smiled unconsciously, watching Alexia score a goal the past weekend. It was a nice smile. And she had a nice voice. 

None of it really made any sense to you, but you’d already sent the text. 

—

For some reason, you felt a bit awkward. There was something very odd about knowing Mapi had been upset with you, because normally that was just Ingrid. But you knew Mapi had been just as worried last night as Ingrid, and just as upset. She’d been in the garage all morning, too, and you wondered if she was avoiding you or allowing you to decide to come to her if you wanted to talk.

After the 5th time you glanced at the door to the garage, though, Ingrid rolled her eyes from where she was sitting at the other end of the couch, typing away on her computer. 

“Go talk to her. She’s not angry, I promise.” 

Ingrid wasn’t angry anymore, either. You’d spoken with her practically first thing when you’d woken up, apologizing again and again and emphasizing that you hadn’t really realized how your actions would have affected Ingrid until it was too late. 

You’d told her about a time back in Norway when you’d stayed out all night after a fight with your Mamma, and when you’d come home the next morning, she hadn’t even noticed that you’d been gone. Ingrid understood a bit more, then, and was quick to hug you tight and whisper that she forgave you.

And even though Mapi had come in last night and tried to make you feel better, you knew she might have been waiting to be upset until she knew for sure you were okay. That made you even more nervous. 

Ingrid snorted from behind you when you knocked on the door to the garage, as normally you just walked right in. You shot her a glare, stepping inside the garage at the sound of Mapi’s quiet come in. 

The defender didn’t glance up as you walked in, but you took a seat in the chair next to her. Your chair. 

It was quiet for a moment, the sounds of Mapi’s metal tool gently clanging against the bike. 

“What did Fresa say to you last night?” You blurted out, face flushing red because why was that the first thing out of your mouth. 

Mapi fixed you with a half amused look, shaking her head. “That is what you’re asking?” 

“No.” You sighed. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No.” Mapi echoed, going quiet for a moment as she thought. “Not mad. It’s just hard for me, Sol. Last night, you didn’t even think that we’d be worried about you and where you were. It just makes me a bit sad.”

“Oh.” 

“And it’s not your fault, nena. I just worry for you.” 

You nodded slowly. “I’m really sorry. I should have thought about how worried you guys would have been.”

Mapi gave you a half smile. “I know you are. And you won’t do it again sí?” 

Your head bobbed up and down rapidly as you agreed, more sure than you’d ever been that you’d not be doing something that stupid again. 

“Now. Why are you so concerned with what Fresa said to me, hmm? What did you do?"

—

[girlgenius1111]

all that i did to try to undo it

engen!reader... platonic ingrid & reader + platonic mapi & reader

r lives with her sister, but their relationship is rather rocky. can they fix it before it's broken beyond repair? angst. pretty much just angst. r is not mentally well. proceed with caution.

–-----

Moving from Norway to Spain wasn’t your idea. It seemed that your parents had had quite enough of you. You knew you could have been better behaved, but you hadn’t realized they were so frustrated that they were willing to send you away. Not until it was too late. 

It was your friends, back in Norway, that were the issue. They were why you snuck out and drank and cut school and generally broke all the rules that had been set for you. And this was why, when you arrived in Spain, it all… stopped. Mostly because you barely spoke Spanish and had no friends. Also because Ingrid had adopted a rather tough love attitude with you. She was strict and cold and you knew that she wouldn’t tolerate any missteps. And honestly, you didn’t know where you’d go if Ingrid decided she didn’t want you around anymore. Not that you were sure she really did in the first place; you were pretty convinced that she was doing this as a favor to your parents. She didn’t want you here, and you weren’t going to push her to do something about that. 

Unbeknownst to you, Ingrid did want you there. It had been her idea for you to come to Spain in the first place. Your parents were at a loss with what to do with you, and Ingrid was tired of hearing how frustrated they were with you when she knew you were just trying to get their attention. She decided she could probably do a better job, simply by just paying attention. And so she did. She moved you in, she got on your ass about your responsibilities and your future, and you hadn’t yet put a toe out of line. Your sister was determined that you assimilate, thinking it would make it easier for you, so she only allowed you to speak Spanish in the home. She had Mapi read over your essays, and help with your grammar. She drove you to school everyday, and made you all eat dinner together as a family every night. It seemed to be working. You were quiet, but behaved. Ingrid was pretty convinced she’d done a good job, and solved the issue. You were a teen, and she figured you didn’t need her trying to hangout with you all the time. 

So, while Ingrid paid attention to your school, she didn’t pay much attention to you. She didn’t know you didn’t have any friends at your school, or that a lot of the kids were pretty cruel to you. She didn’t know school had turned into an entire nightmare, and that you had to push through an insane amount of anxiety just to walk through the front doors every morning. She didn’t know that you were behaving because you were scared of her kicking you out. She didn’t know you were desperately sad and homesick, not even allowed to speak your language in your own home with her. She didn’t know that all you wanted some days was for her to just pull you into a hug, and tell you she was proud of you. That she loved you. 

Why would she? Your parents clearly didn’t. Ingrid had no reason to either. 

Mapi had some reservations about the way Ingrid was with you. It was a complete 180 from the Norwegian’s normal demeanor. Ingrid was smiley and warm and silly with the younger girls on the team, and stern and harsh with you. Mapi noticed the way you watched your sister with her teammates, face full of jealousy. As time went on, though, and you didn’t cause trouble, Ingrid became more and more sure that her approach was the right one. Mapi still wasn’t as convinced. She wasn’t quite sure it was her place to say anything, though, so she kept a watchful eye on everything, and made sure to make you feel like their home was yours too.

You didn’t quite know what to make of Mapi, honestly. She was clearly infatuated with your sister. And she was always so kind to you. Mapi made you coffee every morning, made sure to buy all your favorite foods at the store, and she reminded you, repeatedly, that if you ever wanted to talk, about anything, she was around.  But Mapi was Ingrid’s. Not yours. If Ingrid was so reluctant to show you any affection, you shouldn’t seek it out from her girlfriend. 

You were quietly miserable. Ingrid thought you were okay, finally mellowing out. Mapi was caught somewhere in the middle, seeing both the side of yourself you hid from your sister, and the neutral façade you put on in front of her. 

For you, things couldn’t get much worse. Or at least, you didn’t think so. 

------

It had been a while since you’d gotten in a fight. You’d forgotten how good it felt to punch someone in the face who very much had it coming. 

It was your birthday. You would have forgotten, too, if a few of your old friends hadn’t texted you. Ingrid had forgotten. You’d woken up to her knocking on your door like she always did. She was focused on the important training session ahead, and barely spoke to you on the way to school. She’d forgotten your birthday, and you thought that it hadn’t bothered you. Until the idiotic group of boys was following you down the hallway, saying awful things. Until you’d snapped back at them in a way you never did, and until they began throwing punches. And you didn’t run. You turned and you fought and you let your anger and your hurt out for the first time in months. For the first time since you left Norway.

 There was an odd sense of calm that washed over you, waiting in the dean’s office for your sister to arrive. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, in that moment, what she would think. Your hands hurt, your face hurt, and you’d finally stood up for yourself to the awful boys that wouldn’t leave you alone. 

When Ingrid walked into the office, though, an absolutely livid expression on her face, you realized you did care. Very much. You had been waiting on the dean, and although he was a scary man, you would have rather faced him at that moment. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Ingrid hissed, grabbing your face in her hands and inspecting your wounds. 

“Ing,” 

“Do not. I cannot believe you. I don’t want to hear your excuses or your explanations. You are going to apologize to the dean, take your punishment, and we are going to go home. I’ll deal with you there. Understand?” 

You lowered your head, nodding. She took the seat on your other side, still visibly angry, though she softened for just a second as she looked closely at your hand. 

“Is anything broken?” She asked quietly. Your eyes flooded with tears at the question, everything inside of you screaming to lean into her arms. She was angry, you thought. She was angry, and she wouldn’t want to hug you right now. 

“I don’t think so.” You mumbled instead. 

“Good. María will patch you up when we get home.” Her tone was cold again, and you began to zone out. The dean walked in, spewing a long lecture. He didn’t tell Ingrid that you hadn’t swung first, or that the boys had been bothering you for weeks. He didn’t tell Ingrid what they called you, or that it was three 18 year old boys against an 18 year old girl. He just said that the school didn’t tolerate fighting, and that you would be suspended for a week. 

The worst part was that Ingrid didn’t even ask what happened. Not in the office, not in the car, not when you both got home. You used to get into fights all the time, back in Norway. She thought this was more of the same from you. Your sister stormed off to call your mom the minute you were in the house, leaving you standing in the entry hall in front of Mapi, eyes fixed on the ground. 

Mapi’s hand was gentle when it rested on your back, gently guiding you up the stairs and into the couple’s bathroom. She sat you on the counter like you were a little kid, and pulled out the first aid kit. Only then did you raise your head and look at her. You thought she would be mad, but she only looked concerned. 

“She hates me.” You said it before you could stop yourself, and your voice shook over every syllable. Mapi’s face melted, and she shook her head insistently, carefully wiping a tear off your face. 

“No, nena. She’s upset, but she loves you very much.” Mapi seemed convinced. She loved your sister, after all. And though you didn’t know it, Mapi had been a witness to your sister worrying over you for 2 years now. 

There was no use arguing, so you stopped talking again, and Mapi got back to cleaning your face up. She asked you a couple questions in English about things that hurt and didn’t hurt, and you responded in English. Mapi had moved on to cleaning the cuts on your knuckles when Ingrid appeared. 

“Can you bend your fingers?” Mapi asked. 

“Yeah, it’s a little sore, but I can bend them.” You replied. 

“Español.” Ingrid scolded. You nodded, correcting yourself quickly, now trying to stifle the flow of tears flowing from your eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” Ingrid asked, stepping in closer to study you closely. 

“Okay. Hurts a bit but I’m fine.” You said softly. 

“Do you promise it just hurts a bit?” Ingrid asked. 

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. Your body didn’t hurt that bad. You hurt though. Every inch of you ached with a deep sadness, a deep loneliness. But that wasn’t what Ingrid had asked. 

“We have a dinner tonight, a team dinner. Will you be okay here if we go?” 

A little bit of you shattered, then. Maybe you’d been hoping that Ingrid had remembered your birthday, had been planning a fun dinner or something. Clearly not. 

“Yeah. I’ll get a head start on my homework.” You managed, biting down hard on your lip to stop yourself from crying. Ingrid nodded, satisfied, but Mapi didn’t look away from you. 

“Are you sure? You look a bit upset, nena. We can stay if you need us.” 

You shook your head harshly. “No, I’m fine. Promise.” 

You were very far from fine. You needed to be alone, though, if you were going to feel every complicated emotion raging through you. 

------

“Ingrid,” Mapi said suddenly, about halfway into their drive to the restaurant. Ingrid hummed in response, looking over at her girlfriend from the passenger seat. “Your sister said something today. And it seemed like she really, really believed it. I think you need to be a little easier on her, amor. She’s just a kid.” 

“What did she say?” Ingrid wondered, head stuck on that comment. 

Mapi hesitated, well aware of how hard this might hit Ingrid. “She said you hated her. She was pretty convinced, Ingrid. How mad were you at the school?” 

Ingrid sighed roughly, running an exhausted hand over her face. “Fuck. She’s always been dramatic, I forget that she’s just… sensitive sometimes. I was pretty harsh.” She admitted. 

“Amor, I know you think this strict approach is working, but I don’t know. She seems so sad sometimes. She’s just a kid, and she’s doing her best. I think she needs you to be a bit… softer with her.” Mapi suggested, finally voicing the thoughts that had been plaguing her for weeks, if not months. 

Ingrid was quiet for a while. “Maybe. I don’t know, I thought it was working, but then today happened. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Why don’t you just… talk to her? What was the fight even about?” Mapi asked. 

Ingrid didn’t respond, her frustration with herself quickly replacing her frustration with you. 

“You didn’t ask?” Mapi sighed. 

“No, but the dean didn’t say either.” Ingrid defended halfheartedly. 

“That probably isn’t a good thing mi amor. We’ll talk to her when we get home. Figure out what’s going on.” Mapi declared. 

“We?” Ingrid asked quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“We.” Mapi affirmed, looking cautiously at her girlfriend. “Is that okay?” 

“More than okay.” Ingrid assured her. “I think she might need both of us.” 

It was clearer, now, to Ingrid. Suddenly, and very painfully. That she’d gone about this wrong. The extent of the damage that had been done was not yet to be realized, though. 

--------

The silence that echoed through the house was what got you. Today, on your 18th birthday, you sat alone at the kitchen table, tears falling freely from your eyes. They stung the cuts in on your face, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. It felt like wherever you went, you messed up. Wherever you went, you weren’t wanted. When you’d come to Norway, you’d had hope that maybe things would be different. Maybe Ingrid would treat you differently than your parents. She had, but you still didn’t feel loved. It felt like there was something fundamentally wrong with you that drove everyone away. You just wanted to make it better, and yet, at the same time, you felt so incredibly hopeless. Like there was nothing in the world you could do to make your family love you. You supposed it was your fault; you’d been acting out for years. Everyone was bound to get tired of you. You didn’t want to be like that, you just didn’t know what else to do. The age gap to your siblings was huge, your parents were tired of being parents, and no one had any time for you. Or the desire to make time. You’d done the only thing you could think of at the time to get their attention, and it had only made things worse. You had only made things worse. 

And still, a part of you was angry. Furious. Did you have to be perfect? Did you have to make no mistakes? Shouldn’t they love you regardless of all that? There was no consistency in your brain; sometimes it all felt like your fault, and other times it felt like there wasn’t anything you could do right. 

You felt the inexplicable urge to apologize. Really apologize, really explain.  Maybe they could forgive you. Maybe Ingrid could forgive you, maybe you could get her to understand. You didn’t think you could make it through an entire apology, though, not verbally, not face to face with your intense sister. So you got out a piece of paper, and began writing. 

Ingrid,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got stuck with me, and I’m sorry I haven’t been good enough. I’ve tried, I promise I have. Sometimes I feel like it isn’t possible for me to meet your standards, but I still try. 

I’m sorry about the fight today. They came at me, I swear. These three boys have been bothering me since I've arrived, and they say horrible things to me, and I just snapped. I should have just kept quiet, and they never would have started the fight, and I’m sorry I didn’t do that. 

I’m sorry I’m always home and bothering you and Mapi. I’m sorry I haven’t made any friends here, and I’m sorry my spanish isn’t perfect. I’m sorry I'm so miserable. I don’t know why I can’t just be happy, but I can’t. I want to be. I really do. It just feels like you’re always mad at me. I feel like such an awful person no matter what I do. Mom and Dad didn’t want me. And I don’t think you want me. I don’t think I want me either, sometimes. 

I’m trying to like it here, but it’s so different. I miss Mom and Dad, even though I know they don’t miss me. I miss my home and I miss Norway. I miss my friends. I didn’t really feel like I belonged there, but at least it was familiar. 

I think I’m mad at you, too. You’re my sister, Ingrid. Do you always have to be so harsh with me? I think I’d be happier, if you seemed happier that I was here. 

You forgot my birthday. Mom and Dad didn’t remember either.  I turned 18 today. I turned 18 today, and you and Mapi went to dinner without me. I made a sandwich and ate it by myself in the kitchen. I’ve never felt so worthless. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I just want you all to love me again. I want to love myself again. I think I’d do anything, to feel like I have a family again. 

I’m so desperate I’m writing you this absurd letter that I’ll probably never give you. I don’t know if I can give it to you. I’m scared to give it to you, and I’m scared not to. 

I’m scared because sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me. I’m scared because it feels like no one would even notice if I was gone. It feels so easy. Everyday it feels like it would be easier. 

I guess I’m asking for help, Ingrid. I don’t want to ask you to fix this for me, but I don’t think I can do it myself.  I want to be better, I want to

Your writing cut off abruptly, as the front door opened. All you felt was panic. You were a mess, sobbing uncontrollably on the couch with the letter almost completed in front of you. They weren’t supposed to be home yet. The event was supposed to be a long one, and you’d planned on leaving the letter, if you were brave enough, on the kitchen table, and going to bed. Handing it to your sister face to face had never been the plan. You weren’t even sure it made any sense, and you weren’t sure you wanted to give it to her. 

The front door swung open anyway, and Mapi walked into the house. You remembered, then, that she was always coming home early. She had a follow up appointment for her knee the following morning, and she hadn’t wanted to be out late. Alexia had driven her home early, not wanting a late night herself. Ingrid was still at the dinner, but Mapi was here. Standing frozen in the entryway, with a perfect view of the disaster you were on the couch. You were frozen, and she was frozen, but then she was moving, moving closer to you, and you couldn’t you couldn’t you couldn’t. 

“Pequeña, what is it? What hurts?” Mapi asked urgently, moving to sit next to you on the couch. She thought you must be hurt, physically. The thought that the agony on your face could be from anything else didn't even enter her brain. 

She sat next to you, and you were still frozen, not even able to move the piece of paper out of sight. 

Mapi saw it. You were using one of your textbooks as a surface, not unlike how you did your homework. Your favorite pen was in your hand. And resting in your lap, on the textbook, was a piece of paper that somehow radiated pain. Mapi was reaching for it before she even knew what she was doing, and you were still frozen. Frozen, staring at Mapi like you were afraid of her. Very suddenly, Mapi was terrified. 

“Nena, what is this?” She asked softly. It was to Ingrid. Written in Spanish. Mapi saw her name in it a few places as she scanned it over, before she looked back up at you. “Nena?” she prompted again. 

This time, you did move. You jolted forward, reaching for the letter, a deep gasping breath escaping your mouth. Mapi held it out of your grasp, her eyes stuck on one sentence, the only sentence that she’d read so far. It had jumped out at her. 

“I’m scared because sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me.” 

An instantly, Mapi knew she couldn’t let you take the piece of paper back. She knew she needed to call Ingrid and tell her to come home. She knew she couldn’t let you out of her sight. You were so fragile, though, sitting in front of her like you were second away from shattering into a million pieces. Too many pieces for anyone to ever be able to fix. 

“Nena, I think I need to read this.” She whispered, watching carefully as you pulled your hand back towards your body, as you curled in on yourself, and began to shake with silent sobs. 

And then Mapi read the letter. With one hand on your back, and one hand tightly clutching the paper, she read the most painful thing she’d ever laid her eyes on. It tore her apart, reading how you felt. 

And it wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for Ingrid. And, ridiculously, Mapi wished she could fix it before Ingrid ever read what you’d written. Mapi would have done anything in that moment, to make things right with you, and to make sure Ingrid never had to know how badly she had hurt you. Because realizing it would hurt the Norwegian just as much. 

Mapi ached to tell you so many things. That Ingrid loved you so much, she just wasn’t sure how to help you. That she thought what she was doing was working, helping. That she was sure Ingrid didn’t know the date, or she’d have never forgotten your birthday. That she knew Ingrid would do anything, anything in the world, to fix this. That Mapi was sure both she and Ingrid would go back in time if they could, and fix everything that had gone wrong. 

She couldn’t force that all on you now. She couldn’t defend Ingrid, or herself. 

Instead, she placed the letter carefully on the table, and sent Ingrid a very brief text. 

“You need to come home now. Everything is fine, everyone is safe, but you need to come home.”

Instead, Mapi pulled you into her lap, and held you so tight it almost hurt. 

Instead, your sister’s girlfriend, who owed you absolutely nothing, told you, over and over, how very loved you were. How proud she was of you. How her and Ingrid were going to fix everything if it killed them. 

They’d fix everything before it killed you. 

------

🙂

[girlgenius1111]

all of my past i tried to erase it

part 3 of family line tensions are still high between Ingrid and her sister. Mapi tries to keep the peace. Solstråle tries to pretend she's fine. Ingrid tries to pretend she isn't going insane not understanding what is going on. cw: mentions of poor mental health / panic attacks. ingrid is pretty worried about solstråle and whether or not she is safe.

-------

It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Mapi bringing her parents to the match shouldn’t have gotten to you the way it did. You didn’t really have an explanation for it, either. You saw Ingrid talking to Mapi’s mom and it felt like everything that had gotten marginally better in the last few days had miraculously disappeared. 

You were 8 again, sitting in the office at school, fielding pitying looks from the office ladies. Both of your parents were busy watching one of Ingrid’s matches; at just 16, she was playing for Rosenborg. Your mom was supposed to bring you to watch, too. She’d forgotten. 

You were 10 again, lying to the school nurse that your parents hadn’t known you’d hurt your hand. She said it looked broken, and you pretended that you hadn’t asked your mom to take you to the doctor the night before. You pretended your mom hadn’t told you to stop faking injuries when the attention wasn’t on you for one minute. 

You were 13 again, sobbing into your pillow, while everyone celebrated just down the hall. Ingrid was leaving to play in Lillestrøm. 5 hours away. She was leaving you behind. 

You were 16, having just been dumped by your first girlfriend. You’d come home in tears, and when you told your dad what was wrong, he told you it was for the best, that a girlfriend was just a distraction. He warned you not to bother your sister with this, because she was busy with much more important things in Barcelona. 

You were 17, so drunk you could barely speak, walking home on a dark road in the middle of the night because neither of your parents had answered the phone to come and get you from the horrific party you already regretted attending. It was dark, a windy road you were walking along, and if a car came, you weren’t sure your reflexes would be quick enough. You were 17, stumbling over the smooth pavement, the depression you’d been trying to drown in alcohol making a reappearance. You were 17,  thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it all ended there, just like this. 

You were 17, standing in the airport with your parents, preparing to board the plane to Spain. You leaned in towards your mother for a hug. She avoided it, pinching your cheek lightly, and reminding your father that they had a dinner reservation to get to. You watched them walk out of the airport from your place in the security line. Your vision was blurred with tears, but you still could tell that they didn’t look back at you once. You were 17, and your mom hadn’t told you she loved you before you moved across the continent. 

In a second, all of these memories that you’d fought so hard to keep locked away deep inside your head were flooding out. Tears were pricking your eyes, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Ingrid didn’t care. Mapi didn’t care. You weren’t worth caring about. How had you forgotten that? How had you let yourself forget that, after everything? 

Ingrid didn’t see your expression change, too busy thanking Mapi’s parents profusely for coming to see her play. Mapi did, though. She watched as you caught sight of your sister talking to her mom, and she watched as you flinched like someone had swung at you.  She watched as you slipped out of the crowd, speed walking into the building. Mapi was torn in 2 directions, Ingrid on one side, and you running off the other way. You needed Ingrid, most definitely but Mapi didn’t like the look on your face as you ran off, like all of the emotion had been sucked out of you, and all that was left was exhaustion. 

Someone else had noticed your disappearing act, though. Caro stood, staring after you, before her gaze fell to Mapi, raising an eyebrow. The defender nodded, and Caro followed after you, while Mapi turned to her girlfriend. She pulled her away from her parents with an apologetic smile, appreciating that Alexia walked over and picked up the conversation where it had left off. 

“Ingrid, vamos,” Mapi whispered urgently. Ingrid looked at her, confused and unmoving. 

“What? I was in the middle of a conversation, María,” the Norwegian scolded. 

“I know, it’s your Solstråle, though, she’s upset, come on,” Mapi insisted, pulling on Ingrid’s hand, who finally seemed to feel a sense of urgency, and let Mapi lead her into the building. 

“Upset? Why? Did something happen?” 

“She saw you with my mom and just looked really upset.” Mapi explained. A bit of understanding washed over Ingrid’s face, and now she was the one leading her girlfriend, rushing down the hall and beginning to open door after door in search of you. 

Caro, meanwhile, had found you pretty easily. You were on the floor of a room she often came to when she was overwhelmed, although that happened much less these days. You knew Caro, obviously, and she knew you, had known you since you were pretty young. She had a calming presence, and the minute she sat next to you, and extended her hand in your direction, you took it gratefully. 

“Mapi is bringing Ingrid.” She told you, but didn’t say anything else. She just sat next to your trembling form and held your hand.  It was enough for now, enough until your sister arrived. 

And when Ingrid did arrive, it was with a loud bang as she threw the door open, sighing in relief at the sight of you. Though, that relief quickly dissolved back into worry at the state you were in. She quickly took Caro’s place at your side, hesitantly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your sister was surprised when you turned and threw your arms around her neck, crying silently into her shirt. 

“Jeg har deg, kjære. Det er greit, du er ok.” She murmured, looking worriedly at the other two women hovering in the doorway of the room. Mapi nodded at her encouragingly, and Ingrid refocused, rubbing a hand slowly up and down your back. 

“Thank you,” Mapi muttered to Caro, as they both stepped into the hall to give you some space. 

“Of course.” Caro said easily. “She having a hard time?” 

“Which one?” Mapi asked wryly. “Yes. It’s… it’s a work in progress.” 

“She’s a good kid.” Caro noted, Mapi nodding her head in agreement. “Well, Marta and I are around if either of you need anything.” 

“Thank you, Caro. Really.” Mapi said, squeezing the forward’s shoulder. Caro just shrugged like it was no big deal, and headed back out to the pitch. When Mapi reentered the room, you were tucked perfectly into Ingrid’s lap, although you seemed to have calmed down some. Ingrid was speaking to you in hushed Norwegian, and something she said had you lurching away from her and to your feet, stumbling blindly to the door. 

“Solstråle, wait,” Ingrid called, not really sure what she said to upset you, but well aware that it had been something. You fell right into Mapi’s arms, and though she looked a little startled, she easily pulled you close. 

“Okay, it’s alright. We’re all okay.” She murmured, noticing the rather heartbroken expression on her girlfriend’s face at the fact that you had fled from her right into Mapi’s arms. After a few minutes, you said something quietly that neither girl could hear. “What was that, nena?”

“Can we go ho- back to the house?” You asked, correcting yourself quickly, and pulling away from the comforting embrace Mapi had you in. Ingrid felt like you’d stabbed her, honestly, when you didn’t let yourself call it home. You were stoic again, though, your face void of emotion, wiping roughly at your cheeks to rid them of tears. 

“Kjære,” Ingrid said, hating the way you forced all evidence of your breakdown away. You’d been so upset, about something, but now you were acting as though nothing had happened. Your sister would have climbed into your brain if she could’ve, just to understand what was going on in there. 

“Let’s go home.” Mapi said easily, shooting her girlfriend a meaningful look. Ingrid wasn’t supposed to push you, she knew that. It was just getting harder and harder to not do so, especially when she could see how much pain you were in. She couldn't understand why you wouldn’t just talk to her, and you couldn’t understand why she was so concerned or why she was so desperate to hear what you were feeling. And considering it was the two of you, the situation was bound to blow up into an argument. It was just a matter of time. 

-------

Ingrid knew what was coming before her phone rang, but she still desperately wanted to avoid it. She was quite comfortable at the moment, curled up on top of Mapi in their bed, a show playing softly in the background. Mapi was scratching lightly at Ingrid’s scalp with one hand, and tracing lines over her back with the other. The movements made Ingrid’s entire body relax, which had definitely been Mapi’s goal, but it was all interrupted when her phone went off from next to her. 

She sat up off her girlfriend, glancing at the screen, her expression hardening. 

“Your mom?” Mapi guessed, pulling Ingrid back down into her when the Norwegian declined the call. 

“Yes.”

“You haven’t talked to her since Solstråle’s letter, have you?” 

“No.” Ingrid said. “I think I hate her right now.” 

Mapi was surprised, only because Ingrid didn’t hate anyone. If there was going to be a person, though, it would be someone who had hurt you. Because Ingrid didn’t like to kill spiders she found in the house, but Mapi knew she would kill a person for you without a second thought. “That’s okay. You can hate her.” 

“I miss her.” Ingrid admitted after another minute, her voice cracking. Her forehead was scrunched with sadness, and her hands gripped Mapi’s shirt tight in her hands. 

Mapi sighed, wishing she could take Ingrid’s pain away. And yours too, for that matter. “You can miss her too. You can feel whatever you need to feel.” 

“No, I can’t, not when Solstråle is so upset,” 

“How your sister feels does not limit how you feel. You can be hurt, and sad, and frustrated too. It doesn’t take away from pequeña’s feelings. Just like her feelings don’t take away from yours. You are both upset. That’s alright.” Mapi said confidently. “This isn’t just happening to your sister. It’s happening to you, too, and you can be sad, mi amor. You can cry.” 

Ingrid hadn’t even known she’d been about to cry until Mapi said that, but suddenly there were tears running down her face, and she was clutching tightly to the Spaniard underneath her, who did not seem surprised at all at the sudden emotion. 

“I know, baby.” Mapi husked, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of Ingrid’s head. She knew Ingrid needed this, and was content to let her cry it out until she heard a sharp breath from the doorway. You were standing just outside the room, frozen and horrified. 

“I’m sorry, Ing,” you mumbled, having come in to say goodnight, rather stunned to see your sister so distraught. 

Ingrid could only cry harder, now furious with herself for letting you see this, but too upset to do anything but squeeze Mapi’s hand, wordlessly begging for her to do something. 

“Ven aqui, nena, it’s alright.” Mapi said, gesturing you over to the bed. You looked skeptical, but you did so anyway, carefully sitting on the bed next to your sister. 

“I’m really sorry, Ingrid, I don’t mean to stress you out.” You whispered. You were in a guilty mood, it seemed, not an angry one, and Ingrid felt that somehow, she preferred when you were angry to this. 

“Don’t apologize, pequeña. You haven’t done anything wrong. Ingrid is upset, and you’re upset. It’s okay to be upset, and it’s okay to cry.” Sometimes, Mapi felt like she was teaching preschoolers how to identify and express their emotions when she talked to the both of you, though that might be an easier task.

“I’m not upset with you, Solstråle, I am upset with mom, and I am upset with myself. You don’t need to say sorry. Not for having a panic attack, for having a hard time, for any of it.” Ingrid managed then, taking your hand in hers. 

“I’m doing my best.” You said. “I know I’m not making it easy, but I promise I’m trying.” 

“We know you are. You’re doing so well, nena.” Mapi said enthusiastically, with so much excitement at you saying something remotely positive about yourself that you and Ingrid both cracked smiles. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ingrid asked after a minute. At that, you withdrew, pulling your hand from Ingrid’s and rising from the bed. Both your sister and her girlfriend repressed sighs at your sudden withdrawal. 

“No, I’m really tired. I came to say goodnight. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” You rushed out, before bolting out of the room at a speed that could barely be considered a walk. 

Ingrid sighed once you were out of earshot, settling back into Mapi. “She’s so difficult.”

“She’s stubborn. Like her sister. She’ll come around, just give her time.” Mapi assured her. 

Giving you time, though, was a lot harder than it seemed. 

-------

Your whole life, you had been encouraged by your parents to be smaller, to take up less space. If you were upset, you should keep it to yourself. If you were angry, you should calm down. You were taught that your needs always came second to everyone else’s. You didn’t like to be vulnerable with people, and you didn’t like to put your emotions on others. 

So when you woke up the next day, it was the feeling of intense shame swirling around inside of you. You’d ruined what was an impressive win for your sister, and a nice moment with Mapi’s parents. You’d upset Ingrid, so much so that she had cried about it. 

Too much. You were being too much. 

You resolved yourself to be happy today. If not happy, content. Mapi and Ingrid probably needed a day off from your ridiculous, all over the place, emotions. So today, you wouldn’t feel. You’d be perfect, you’d be small, and you’d cause as little trouble as possible. 

What you didn’t expect, though, was for that to be the opposite of what Mapi and Ingrid wanted from you. They didn’t care if you took up space. They just wanted you to talk. More than anything, they just wanted you to be okay, no matter how inconvenient that process was for them. 

It was a day off for both girls, due to the match the day before, and they were able to let you sleep in. Ingrid was worried you were sleeping too much, but Mapi assured her that angsty teens always needed a lot of sleep, and depressed teens going through a rough time needed even more sleep. Pair that with the intense panic attack you’d had the day before, you were bound to be exhausted. 

When noon rolled around, though, and you’d yet to make an appearance, Mapi relented, much to Ingrid’s relief, who had half a mind to check you for a pulse. Mapi made a coffee to bring up to you, opening your door quietly to find you out cold under the covers. 

With Snø clutched tightly in your arms, your nose pressed against the soft polar bear, you looked so young. 

“Pequeña, despierta,” Mapi murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed and pulling the covers away from your face a bit. 

You blinked up at her groggily, an adorably sleepy expression on your face, and Mapi couldn’t help but push some hair out of your face and smile down at you. You looked slightly suspicious, as you couldn’t remember being woken up like this in the entire time living in Spain, but Mapi just handed you your coffee, and settled on the edge of your bed. 

“Morning,” you said after a minute and a rather large sip of coffee. 

“Afternoon.” Mapi corrected, a little confused when your face turned red at the comment. “It’s 12:15.” 

“That’s weird. Normally Ingrid comes to make sure I’m breathing if I sleep past 10.” You noted. 

Mapi chuckled. “We’re working on some of your sister’s annoying habits.” 

“Don’t get rid of too many, or there won’t be anything left.” You said, your lips tugging up into a smirk. 

“Okay! I will just go through this chocolate croissant I made for you in the garbage!” Ingrid scoffed from the doorway, turning on her heel and marching back down the stairs. 

If there was any surefire way to get you out of bed, it was to present you with a breakfast pastry. 

Within 90 seconds, you had kicked Mapi out, thrown some clothes on and bounded down the stairs, in search of the promised croissant. It was sitting on a plate at the counter, waiting for you, next to your sister who was glaring at you slightly. 

“Thank you, Ing,” you said sweetly, throwing her a charming smile. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

You hit Mapi’s hand playfully when she reached for your croissant, and she withdrew it with a laugh. “You’re like breakfast pastries the way Ingrid is about coffee.” 

“Reasonable? Reasonably attached to it? Is that what you mean, María?” Ingrid asked with a frown. 

“Of course, mi amor.” Mapi said with a smile, kissing Ingrid’s cheek softly. You averted your eyes, but you couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t make you happy to see your sister loved so well. 

The morning, or afternoon, was going exactly as you’d hoped. No attempts at conversation. No feelings. Of course, it couldn’t last. Once you’d finished eating, Ingrid perked up and seemed to prepare herself for what she was about to say, which instantly made you weary. 

“We should talk about last night, kjære.” Ingrid said calmly. 

You froze, slowly putting your mug back on the counter. Both other girls watched the way your whole body tense, the way every ounce of emotion was wiped off your face. 

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” You said stiffly. 

“That is not true. Something upset you, and we should discuss it.” Ingrid argued. 

“Ingrid, it’s fine. Just leave it. We don’t need to talk about that. We don’t need to talk about anything.” You replied defensively. 

“It’s not fine!” Ingrid said, raising her voice, and shaking off Mapi’s gestures to calm down. “None of this is fine. We need to talk about last night. We need to talk about the letter you wrote. We need to get you in therapy. These are all things that need to happen, solstråle. We’ve given you time, now we need to do this.” 

“I am not going to therapy.” You declared, standing up with a scoff and crossing your arms across your chest. “Ingrid, I am fine. I don’t need to talk and I don’t need help.” 

Ingrid grew visibly more angry with you at that, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration. 

“Amor, take a breath.” Mapi said quietly, sighing to herself when Ingrid did not do so. 

“You don’t need help? That is the most untrue thing I have ever heard. You do not write the things that you wrote and then turn around and say you’re fine. You. Need. Help.” 

“Ingrid. I am not going to therapy, and I am done talking about this.” You said, your voice dangerously quiet. 

Your sister wasn’t phased, stepping closer to you with her eyes narrowed. “You will go to therapy if I say you will, and this conversation is not over until I say it is.” 

In retrospect, even Ingrid realized that this was decidedly the wrong thing to say. You didn’t take well to being told what to do. Your reaction really should have been worse; Ingrid had gotten off easy. 

“Jesus, Ingrid, do you hear yourself? You sound just like mom.” You spit back, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the hurt that flashed across your sister’s face. “I don’t want to talk about this, especially not with you.” You spun around and began stomping towards the stairs. “Don’t fucking follow me.” You warned over your shoulder, causing Ingrid’s jaw to drop. 

“Do not-” Ingrid began, starting after you. 

“Amor, leave her.” Mapi said, intervening before Ingrid got very far, and pulling her back. 

“She is the most frustrating person on the planet.” Ingrid huffed, slamming a hand down onto the counter. Mapi looked unimpressed. 

“She is probably thinking the same thing about you right now. I told you not to push her.” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Could you be on my side here for once?” She asked bitingly. 

Mapi very calmly shook her head, opening her mouth to explain when Ingrid’s eyebrows flew up on her forehead. “No. I am on your sister’s side, and you should be too. No one has been for a really long time.”

The Norwegian deflated at that, sinking down into one of the stools at the counter. Mapi continued speaking, pulling Ingrid’s hair gently out of the bun it was in, and running her fingers through it. “You’re looking at this wrong, mi amor. She doesn’t need you to talk her into therapy. She’ll get there on her own, you just need to give her time. That girl has a long way to go before she admits she needs help, believe me.” 

Ingrid sighed deeply. “Can you go check on her? She’s mad at me, I just need you to make sure she’s okay and she isn’t going to do anything stupid.” 

“Of course.” Mapi said, delicately kissing Ingrid’s lips. “I love you.” She reminded the Norwegian with a soft, almost shy smile. 

Ingrid wanted to cry at how sweet, how perfect, how helpful and kind and funny and beautiful her girlfriend was. “I love you, so so much.” 

Mapi headed for the stairs, and Ingrid made yet another cup of coffee, a coffee she wouldn’t drink.

Because Mapi came running back down the stairs a minute later, an apprehensive look on her face as she approached her girlfriend. 

“Mi amor, she isn’t up there.” She said carefully. 

“What do you mean she isn’t up there,” Ingrid asked, rising to her feet and feeling panic rise within her. 

Mapi just shook her head, putting her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders. “She isn’t up there. Her window is open, I think she snuck out.” 

Ingrid felt like something inside of her was collapsing, leaving behind a chasm that was quickly filling with anxiety. “Where… what? She… she’s gone? She…we have to-” 

What had you left to do? Only horrible, life shattering options of where you were and what you were doing were flying through Ingrid’s head, and she reached out, latching on to Mapi’s outstretched hands. 

“Amor, breathe. Calm down. We’ll find her. Where would she go?” 

Mapi hoped, with everything in her, that Ingrid had an answer. Because she had to be calm right now, for Ingrid, but Barcelona was a big city. And if you didn’t want to be found… Mapi didn’t know what would happen. 

Ingrid’s mind was racing, but one thought pushed to the front of everything else. “The lake, there’s a lake in Melhus she would always go to when she was upset. She’d go to water, a body of water.” 

Mapi nodded. “Okay, there are 2 beaches in walking distance, in opposite directions. We’ll go to one, and we’ll send Frido to the other.” 

Privately, Mapi hoped Frido found you first. She wasn’t quite sure that you wouldn’t bolt away from Ingrid, but you wouldn’t be expecting Frido to pop up. 

-------

A quick call to Frido later, Mapi was directing one very frazzled Norwegian into the car, and setting off for the beach. Ingrid was deep in thought, and Mapi kept her hand on her girlfriend’s leg, softly and soothingly rubbing her thumb back and forth. It was only a few minutes to the beach, and Mapi knew Ingrid would talk before they arrived. 

“Do you think she’d do something stupid?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her hand covering Mapi’s and gripping tightly. The Spaniard didn’t need her to explain what she meant; she knew this question was coming, really. 

“She said she wouldn’t.” Mapi said calmly. 

“She said she wouldn’t ‘do that to me,’ that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it, especially now that she’s mad at me.”

“This is a little fight. She wouldn’t… do that. Not over this.” Mapi reassured her, but Ingrid remained unconvinced. 

“I don’t know what she’s thinking, María, maybe she was lying before.” 

“Ingrid, mi amor, calm down. You have to trust her. Even when you’re scared, and even when it feels like you should take her bedroom door off the hinges and implant her with a GPS chip. You have to trust her not to hurt herself.”

“But what if she does?” Ingrid asked softly, as if saying the words loud enough would somehow will it into existence. 

“We can’t think like that. Promise me you won’t think like that, okay?” 

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed faintly. Both of them knew she was lying. It was all she’d been worrying about for days, and all she would worry about for many to come. 

--------

Frido found you first. When she drove by the beach and didn't see you there, she got another idea. There was a rock climbing place nearby; Ingrid had said you always used to go to a lake back home when you were upset. Though Frido didn’t want to say so, it had been a long time since Ingrid had lived with you, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if your habits had changed. And the Swede knew from your instagram that you spent a lot of time rock climbing. She told Mapi where she was headed, and sped over to the gym. 

Sure enough, as soon as she walked in the building, she spotted you in the middle of the hardest wall, seemingly only using the smallest holds to get yourself up. You were breathing hard, and the worker belaying you looked a bit concerned. 

Frido pulled her phone out, shooting off a quick text to Mapi.  “She’s here, she’s okay. Let me talk to her, don’t let Ingrid come in. I’ll bring her out.” 

Ingrid probably wouldn’t help the situation, if you were as angry as you seemed. The blonde spoke quickly to the front desk attendant, and headed over to where you were. 

She stood, just watching you. You were a few feet from the top now, luckily for your hands, which you clearly had not put enough chalk on, and were beginning to really hurt. With only a bit to go, you took a risk, attempting an impressive, one armed pull to get your other hand to the next hold. You just barely missed, falling away from the wall. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, swinging back towards the wall and smacking it with your hand. You were lowered down, clearly fuming, and Frido took the opportunity to step in front of you, giving the girl attached to the other end of the rope a look. 

“Again,” you requested, avoiding Frido’s gaze. 

She took your hand in hers, though, inspecting the tear in your skin, shaking her head. “No, that’s enough Solstråle.” 

“Leave me alone, Frido.” You snapped, trying to pull away from her when you felt the rope fall slack. You turned, seeing that the worker had abandoned her harness in favor of going to help someone else, no doubt at Frido’s direction. 

You rolled your eyes, quickly regretting it when the Swede raised an eyebrow at you. Ingrid could be scary sometimes, but she had nothing on Frido. 

“Are they here?” You asked, loosening the harness and stepping out of it with an exasperated sigh. 

“They’re outside. You terrified your sister.” Frido said, pulling you over to a bench and making you sit down, before handing you a bottle of water. 

You looked unimpressed. “I’m 18, I can handle myself in the city for an hour.” 

“She wasn’t worried about that, she was worried you were going to hurt yourself.” Frido said bluntly, sitting down next to you. She ignored how stiff you’d grown and how uncomfortable you seemed, reaching for your hand and looking at it critically. 

“That wasn’t on purpose.” You said defensively, wrenching your hand away once again. “And I told her I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Can you blame her for worrying, Solstråle, really? And maybe you didn’t do that on purpose, but you came here to push yourself instead of dealing with your feelings in a healthy way.” 

You really hated that she was right. Frido was always right. It was simultaneously her worst and best trait.

“Are they mad?” You asked in a small voice, suddenly looking very much your age. Frido stood and held out a hand to help you up.

“Not right now. Just worried. Ingrid’s going to give you a hug and you’re going to let her.” Frido instructed. You supposed that was fair. And really, you could use a hug. Hugs from your sister always made you feel better, even if you’d never admit it. 

As you exited the building, you instantly spotted your sister and her girlfriend by their car. Mapi was leaning calmly against the Cupra, while Ingrid was pacing frantically, speaking fast and gesturing wildly with her hands. 

“Did I do that?” You asked quietly. 

Frido laughed. “I think she was born like that.” 

As you neared the car, Ingrid turned as Mapi pointed at you, her face melting with relief at the sight of you. It really hit you, then, how worried she must have been, to still be so anxious even after Frido had likely told her you were okay. You weren’t making this easy on your sister. 

She practically knocked you over with the force of her hug. “You’re okay.” She murmured into the top of your head, leaving a kiss there. 

“I’m okay.” You reiterated, letting yourself hug her back tightly, even if it was just for a moment. She felt you tighten your arms around her almost unconsciously, and made a note to hug you more often. Even if it seemed like you weren’t very interested. After a minute she pulled back, placing both hands on your cheeks and making you look at her. 

“Next time leave through the front door? And tell me where you’re going? Please?” She asked. You appreciated that she didn’t tell you to do this, leaving it more as a request, although you knew it was a reasonable rule for her to put in place.

“Promise.” You said quietly. She nodded her head, satisfied, before pulling Frido into a hug that also looked to be too tight. Mapi was looking at you, rather unimpressed. You knew she was not happy with you for upsetting your sister so much, and though it annoyed you a bit, you knew it was deserved. And you appreciated that your sister had someone that was so protective over her. 

“In the car, nena. I want to talk to you when we get home.” Mapi instructed. You got in the car with no argument, the fight having gone out of you a bit. It had nothing to do with the hug Ingrid had given you, nothing at all. Definitely not. Instead of anger, you only felt apprehension, because Mapi looked dead serious about whatever she wanted to talk about. 

-------

You were nothing short of shocked when Mapi opened the door to the garage and gestured you inside upon arriving home. Ingrid watched on anxiously, and you pretended not to see the way Mapi whispered some reassurance to her and kissed her cheek, before pointing her towards the kitchen

You’d never been in the garage before; it was Mapi’s space. You were already invading her home, you wouldn’t invade the one place of the house that was really hers, too. You knew she worked something out there, knew there was a reason both cars parked in the driveway instead of in the garage. 

Mapi followed you into the room and sat down on a stool next to the large motorcycle in the middle of the garage. It was clearly in the process of being restored. You hadn’t known Mapi rode motorcycles. Well, you hadn’t known that your sister let Mapi ride a motorcycle. You stood awkwardly in the door as Mapi inspected 2 different wrenches, until she pointed at the stool next to her. 

“Ven aqui, nena.” She said. 

You took a seat, not really enjoying the tense silence that washed over the room. “Are you mad at me?” You asked after a minute. For all your anger, and all your bravado, you didn’t like it when people were mad at you. Especially not people you looked up to, people you admired. 

“No. Not mad, nena. Never mad. I wish you hadn’t snuck out your window, but I understand why you did. I wish sometimes you thought a bit more about how your actions affect me and your sister, but I know how hard that is to do when you’re as angry as you are.” 

“I’m not angry.” You said defensively. Mapi rolled her eyes, handing you a couple of tools and beginning to tighten something on the bike. 

“You are angry. You’re so angry that you feel like you’re going to explode sometimes. You’re so angry that sometimes you forget that you’re sad, too. You’re angry, and you’re hurt, and I cannot blame you for that. If anyone has a right to those emotions, it’s you.” You didn’t really enjoy being perceived so well, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “I know angry, nena. Do you remember when I hurt my knee?” 

You nodded. The first few weeks of Mapi's injury hadn’t been a fun time, your sister beyond stressed with dealing with Mapi’s injury and her new role in the team, and you’d tried hard to be on your best behavior. 

“I started working on this bike a year ago, when everything happened with the Spanish federation. It was Ingrid’s idea, a way for me to distract myself. When I hurt my knee, it had been a bit since I’d worked on it, but suddenly I was back in this garage until all hours of the night. It’s nice to be able to control something like this, when everything else feels out of your control. That is how climbing is for you, yes?” 

You relaxed a bit at the turn the conversation was taking, and Mapi wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t just the topic; it was the fact that she wasn’t staring at you, putting pressure on you to give her an answer she wanted to hear. You were just talking. Casually. 

“Yeah. I’m in control, and I don’t have to think about anything else. It’s relaxing.” 

“It’s good for you to have an outlet like that.” Mapi stated. “This bike was Ingrid’s idea, when we first got together. Do you know what her other idea was?” 

You were pretty sure you did, and you grimaced at the thought. “Therapy?” 

Mapi snorted, handing you the wrench she was using and taking the screwdriver from your hand. “Yes therapy. You don’t have to look at it like that, though, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“It’s not for me.” You said decisively. 

Mapi just shrugged. “I didn’t think it was for me either.” She paused, knowing your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d ask for more information. 

“What changed your mind?” You asked after a minute. 

“Your sister did. After the euros, I had a hard time coming back to Barça and playing. Those weeks were some of the hardest of my life, trying to find my rhythm again but trying to recover from the stress I’d been under that summer. I was a mess. And Ingrid was right there with me, through all of it. I’d had a really bad day, and I asked Ingrid to come home early from a lunch she had. She came home, calmed me down, and afterwards, she asked me if I trusted her. I said I did. And she said that she really wanted me to try therapy. That I didn’t have to feel how I felt, and I deserved help. I deserved to not be miserable. She asked me to try it, for her, just give it a try.” 

“And you did.” 

“And I did. Because she’d done so much for me, I couldn’t refuse her request. Not when I knew she just wanted the best for me. I gave it a shot, and it helped, more than anything else had helped. It wasn’t a fix all, but it helped. It made me feel like I was doing something to get better.” 

Mapi abandoned her work on the bike, looking at you for the first time since you’d entered the garage. You could only see sincerity in her gaze. Not anger, but annoyance. Just sincerity. “You deserve help, Solstråle. No matter how you feel about yourself, Ingrid and I know you. And we know you deserve help. You’re a good person, and you deserve to be happy.” 

María sounded so sure. So completely convinced. You looked away from her, blinking hard. 

“You don’t have to agree to anything now. Keep an open mind about it. Think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You agreed quietly, grateful that Mapi didn’t make a big deal out of it, only nodding slightly. 

“One more promise?” She asked. 

“What?” 

“Talk to us. Or just me, or just Ingrid. We’re a little lost here, nena. It feels like we were just kind of plopped down in the middle of this. We had no idea anything was going on, not really. And all of a sudden we’re reading that letter, and realizing we missed a lot. That’s on us; we should have noticed sooner. We don’t have the whole picture, though, and that makes it really hard for us to figure out how to help you. We’ll both worry a lot less if you talked to us, just a little bit.” 

That was reasonable, you had to admit. When she put it like that. You’d spent so much time being annoyed that no one had noticed, then being annoyed when they finally did notice, you hadn’t really spent a ton of time thinking about how little they knew. There was no context to your behavior, aside from what you’d put in the letter. And that just barely scratched the surface. You supposed they deserved an explanation. At least a bit of one. 

“I’ll try.” You promised. 

Mapi grinned at you this time, an infectious smile. “Bueno! Come here with that wrench. No, that one. Put it on this bolt. Twist.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. Easily. You got the feeling that Mapi would have let it go if you’d insisted on it, but you miraculously felt better. Talking, listening had made you feel better. Mapi had made you feel better. 

-------

You both emerged from the garage around an hour and a half later, when the smell of baking cookies became too strong to resist. Ingrid had clearly been stress baking, one of your favorite of her habits. There were at least 3 different types of cookies on the counter, some done baking, some still in progress. It smelled so distinctly of home in the house, it was almost overwhelming. 

“I have something for you,” Ingrid said, drying her hands and stepping away from the counter when you walked into the room. 

“I can see that.” You said, nodding to the cookies appreciatively, but Ingrid shook her head. 

“No, something else.” Ingrid said.

“OH! I do too.” Mapi said excitedly, and they both disappeared in different directions. You stood bewildered in the kitchen, not quite sure what you were about to be given. 

They returned simultaneously, each holding what looked to be 2 frames. “Mapi’s first.” Ingrid directed. “I haven’t seen it yet.” 

You looked surprisingly at Mapi, taking the present and beginning to unwrap the wrapping paper. “What is this for?” You asked. 

“Your birthday.” Ingrid said quietly. You froze momentarily, an unreadable expression flashing across your face. “I know it seems like we forgot, but we didn’t. We got the dates messed up, but we had presents, and we had dinner reservations, just… for the 25th. Not the 15th.” 

“Oh. I thought you’d forgotten.” You said slowly, seemingly slightly emotional. 

“Nope, just bad at remembering dates. Now open your present.” Mapi said impatiently, bouncing on her feet like an overexcited child. 

You unwrapped it slowly, as if you were slightly weary of what it might be. When you pulled the frame from the wrapping paper, though, every wall you’d put up fell instantly, your jaw dropping open at the piece of art in your hands. 

It was a map. Not just a map, but a map of all the hiking trails in Barcelona. It was textured, detailed, labeled. It was intricate, all neutrals and earthy colors. It was so you. From the contents to the design, it was like it had been made just for you. 

“Mapi…” You whispered, staring, stunned, at the map. “Where did you… how did you… what?” 

“Ale’s sister Fresa  went to school with this girl that hand makes maps like this. I got her name from diablillo, and I told her what I wanted. Do you like it, do you like it?” Mapi asked excitedly. 

Mapi got her answer when you handed the frame to Ingrid, and launched yourself the few feet between you and Mapi, wrapping her in a tight hug. Mapi beamed at Ingrid, who was trying very hard not to cry. She hadn’t even given Mapi any advice on the gift. It had been all her girlfriend’s idea, she executed it all by herself, determined to get Solstråle the perfect gift. 

“It’s perfect, thank you María,” you mumbled. The ridiculous smile on Mapi’s lips didn’t falter at the use of her real name, only squeezing you tighter. 

“Te amo, Solstråle.” She said back. For once, you believed it. When you pulled away from the hug, it was to see Mapi looking smugly at your sister. “INGRID I DEFINITELY WON.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She hasn’t even opened my present yet.”

“Still. I won.” Mapi smirked. 

Now it was Ingrid’s turn to hand you your gift. It was wrapped in the same paper, and you tore it off, almost cautiously, not quite sure what Ingrid would have gotten you. 

You were, once again, speechless at what you saw. This time, your eyes filled with tears immediately. Ingrid wasn’t as excited as Mapi had been, instead looking at you anxiously. 

It was a painting of a waterfall back home not far from your house. It was so distinct, you knew Ingrid must have paid a ridiculous amount of money to get someone to hand paint it. Each individual stroke was so precise, blending perfectly into the image it was supposed to be, but if you focused hard, you could pick out the greens and greys and blues and whites that you’d grown up with. 

It felt like home. It felt comforting. You could almost smell the trees, feel the cool sting of wind on your cheeks. It was a little piece of home just for you, and it was perfect. So beautiful and artistic that you weren’t sure you were worthy of it, but you looked at it in awe nonetheless. You wiped at your cheeks, not able to control the tidal wave of emotion washing over you. 

“Kjære? Is it okay?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her eyes searching your face, trying to figure out if these were good tears or bad tears. 

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? Ingrid… it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s… perfect. Thank you.” You said, turning to her with a look of complete shock. And even though it pained Ingrid that you were so surprised to receive a nice gift for your birthday, she pushed that feeling down. Instead, she pulled you in towards her, placing the frame on the counter so she could hug you properly. You were happy with it, now, and that was all Ingrid had control over. 

After a few seconds, Ingrid moved to pull away and break the hug, but you kept your arms wrapped around her, not quite ready to let go yet. Maybe it was the homesickness, or maybe it was your sister making you feel so known, and so loved. Whatever the reason, you just wanted her near you for a minute more, holding you nice and tight and safe against her. 

“I love you,” she whispered, hearing you mumble the words back, your voice thick with emotion. When you did pull away, a minute later, it was to wipe at your face in an almost embarrassed manner. 

Seeing how desperate you were for the attention to be off your tears, Mapi spoke up, her voice light and easy. “You can put them up in your room, you don’t have anything on the walls.” 

You looked at the ground, then, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t know I could put anything up on them.” You admitted.

The room fell quiet, but even though you could tell that what you said had hurt Ingrid and Mapi, they just shook their heads softly. “It’s your room, for good, you can do whatever you want to it.” Ingrid told you. 

You were about to thank her, and try to move the conversation long when Mapi let out a dramatic gasp. Both you and Ingrid whipped your heads to look at her, confused at the mischievous grin on her face. 

“Ikea. WE CAN GO TO IKEA AND GET FURNITURE FOR SOLSTRÅLE’S ROOM.” 

“María, calm down. Maybe she doesn’t want to redo her room.” Ingrid looked at you hopefully, and you knew it had nothing to do with your room, and everything to do with her not wanting to take Mapi to ikea. 

You simply smirked back at Ingrid, who sighed and shut her eyes for a minute. 

“Okay. Ikea.” She said finally. You and Mapi cheered, comically loudly, completely ignoring the rules she was setting in favor of high fiving each other and going to get ready to leave. “María, you are not building anything. Solstråle does not need her bed to collapse under her in the middle of the night. And kjære, please, please, don’t let Mapi talk you into a loft bed, you’ll fall off of it and break your arm. Amor? Kjære? ARE EITHER OF YOU LISTENING!” Ingrid shouted after you, rolling her eyes at the chants of ikea echoing around the house. 

Mapi in Ikea was a handful. You, too, were a handful at the store. Together? She was going to lose one of you, she was sure of it. It had been a long day already. And it was only set to get longer. 

--------

fluffy engen-león family trying to put furniture together in the next part?

yes, that IS all i have to say about this chapter thank you for your time.

[girlgenius1111]

all of my pain and all your excuses

part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.

-------

It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground. 

“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands. 

“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths. 

“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute. 

“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice. 

“I’m really scared,” you mumbled. 

Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.” 

You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right. 

When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you. 

“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel. 

You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way. 

The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread. 

You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter. 

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. 

Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.” 

If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself. 

When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.” 

And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.

-------

Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend. 

“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,” 

Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands. 

“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better. 

“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly. 

“María, give it back, I need to read it again.” 

“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”

“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried. 

It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go. 

“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.” 

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again. 

“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.” 

Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.

“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled. 

“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.” 

And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this. 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious. 

The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t? 

You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent. 

“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?

“Fine.” You snapped. 

Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check. 

“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured. 

Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled. 

Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-” 

You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown. 

“You can’t-” 

“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.” 

Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.  

“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell. 

“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. 

“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did. 

“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly. 

Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared. 

Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her. 

Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders. 

“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.” 

You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.” 

Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face. 

“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing. 

“I communicate.” She said stubbornly. 

“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head. 

“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her. 

“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised. 

You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?” 

“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door. 

“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.

You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it. 

--------

As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.

“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head. 

She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone. 

Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached. 

“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked. 

“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly. 

“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face. 

“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be. 

“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch. 

“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary. 

Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.

-------

You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido. 

Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.

“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked. 

“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly. 

“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of. 

Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking. 

Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked. 

“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction. 

“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly. 

“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed. 

“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute. 

Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?” 

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed. 

-------

You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi. 

You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.

Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while. 

You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks. 

“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.” 

You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together. 

“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.” 

You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally. 

Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say. 

You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.” 

“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it. 

“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…” 

Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it. 

“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.” 

“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her. 

“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,” 

“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.” 

“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder. 

The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her? 

-------

doesn't everyone feel so much better now!

[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.

------- :)

[girlgenius1111]

give yourself a reason

engen!reader memories, and the present. changes. sol reflects on how different her life is now. good different. even if getting to the good was hard. here she is.

warnings: discussions of depression. sol gets into a fight. with people, and then a mug and a picture frame so, some blood.

------

It was a bit of a deja vu moment, honestly. You were sitting in the dean’s office once again, only a couple months after the last time. Then, you had been pretending you didn’t care. A lot had happened since, and a casualty of the progress you’d made was that you could no longer pretend not to care. You did care. You cared so much, you thought you might throw up. 

You’d begged them not to call Ingrid. Begged. They had anyway. You couldn’t help but worry about her reaction to this most recent fight, though it hadn’t been your fault. You hadn’t been in trouble since everything had happened, and you weren’t quite sure what to expect. Would everything change? Would Ingrid still want you? Every set back you had, every mistake you made, had you convinced that Ingrid was going to change her mind, and send you back to Norway. You were working on it, thinking of yourself as worthy of their love, but it wasn’t easy, and you felt your eyes stinging with tears that had nothing to do with the beating your face had taken. 

You weren’t sure you could go back to not feeling loved, not when you’d been experiencing something so different recently. The dean didn’t seem to care that your face was rapidly swelling, that you were crying, or that you hadn’t stopped bouncing your knee since you’d been brought into the office. He’d already let the boys go with a warning. He hadn’t even called their parents. You didn’t know what to do when Ingrid arrived, didn’t know whether to try to explain, or to stay quiet and just take your punishment. 

You felt so weak, suddenly. Crying, in front of this absolute asshole? Normally, you’d never let a person you didn’t know well see you this emotional, but your face really hurt, and honestly, you just wanted a hug. You were pretty terrified, though, that you wouldn’t get one. 

That you didn’t deserve one. 

The speaker in the office crackled to life, then, and the secretary’s voice rang out into the room. “Ms. Engen’s guardian is here.” 

The dean took a break from glaring at you to hit the button on the speaker. “Send her in.” 

You directed your gaze at the ground and tried to make yourself as small as possible, hearing the door open behind you.

“Mi sol, are you okay?” Mapi said instantly, moving quickly into the room and crouching down next to your chair. You refused to look at her, and she knew she had to be careful about this. Mapi showing up instead of Ingrid was a relief, but only for a moment. Then, you were just worried that she was too mad to come get you. 

“I was expecting the elder Ms. Engen,” the principal began, though he was quickly interrupted by your sister’s girlfriend. 

“Ingrid couldn’t get away from work, and I am a guardian too. Her face is bleeding, and her hands. Has she been seen by the nurse?” Mapi asked bitingly, scowling at the man on the other side of the desk. 

He looked a little put out. “Well, no, we were-” 

“Jesus, she could have a concussion.” Mapi snapped, her gentle hand on your back completely contradicting her sharp tone.   

“I don’t think-” 

Mapi ignored his response completely, slowly moving her hand up and down your back. You were shaking, and Mapi knew that if she wanted to avoid a panic attack, she had to do something, soon. 

“Mi sol?” she asked in a much softer tone, frowning when you shook your head. You knew if you looked at Mapi you’d burst into tears, and you absolutely did not want to do that in front of the dean. 

Mapi thought for a minute, before she turned back to the man. “Can we have a minute please.”

It wasn’t really posed as a question, and the man frowned at Mapi before nodding somewhat indignantly and walking out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, you looked up, breaking Mapi’s heart with the terrified look on your face, and the rough sob that fell from your lips.  

“Oh, nena,” Mapi sighed, seeing the extent of the damage to your face for the first time. It was mostly bruises and a very swollen lip. Your knuckles were swollen, too, but there were very few cuts on your face, and for that, she was glad. Mapi’s hands flitted over your face, her own scrunched with worry. “I’m so sorry this happened.” 

“Is Ingrid mad? Is that why she isn’t here?” You choked out.

Mapi shook her head, carefully wiping a tear off your face. “No, no, she couldn’t get away from training. She isn’t mad, I promise, she sent me to come bring you to her so she could see you were okay.” 

“Are you sure she’s not mad?” 

“I promise, cariño. She is not mad at you.” Mapi replied seriously. “Tell me what happened.” 

“They came at me, Mapi, I promise I didn’t start it.” You cried, almost pleading with her to believe you. 

“I believe you, I believe you.” The Spaniard soothed. “Where are they?” 

“He let them go with a warning.” You told her, watching as her face hardened. She seemed to think for a minute, before she stood, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you to your sister. Ingrid and I will come back later to speak to the dean and see the security footage. Venga.” 

“Mapi, I’m in trouble,” you tried to tell her, but she just shook her head. 

“Not with us. We’ll deal with it later, I promise. I want to get you taken care of and calmed down first, and I don’t think I can do that here.” Mapi told you gently, pulling you out of the room when you nodded hesitantly. You hadn’t realized you were shaking intensely until Mapi had mentioned getting you calmed down. You supposed you were getting close to a panic attack, and just hadn’t noticed. 

You continued to tune out as Mapi led you out of the office, standing in front of you protectively when she addressed the dean. 

“Ingrid and I will be back later to discuss the situation. We’re leaving now.” She told him. 

He looked at her with an incredulous expression on his face. “She can’t just leave, we have to discuss her punishment.” 

“We can discuss it later.” Mapi repeated, turning without another word towards the door, guiding you out of the school. 

Once you were out the door, Mapi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, steadying your shaky steps. “Alright, we’re almost to the car, just hang on, okay?” 

You could only nod in response, starting to lose yourself in your head, clinging tightly onto Mapi. Time seemed to speed up, or skip ahead entirely as suddenly you found yourself in the passenger seat of the car, your sister’s girlfriend buckling your seatbelt for you. 

“In and out, nena. Just breathe. Everything is okay. No one is upset with you.” Mapi was saying, waiting for you to give a faint nod before she made her way over to the driver's side door. It was quiet in the car save for the hum of the engine and the gasping inhales and exhales coming from you every few seconds. 

“Tell me what you’re worried about.” Mapi instructed, taking your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ingrid- Ingrid is gonna be mad and make me go back to Norway,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as another wave of panic washed over you.

“That is not going to happen.” Mapi said confidently, grabbing her phone and clicking Ingrid’s contact. Her girlfriend picked up astoundingly quickly considering she was supposed to be training, and her voice over the phone made you both terrified and reassured at the same time. 

“We’re in the car, she was too upset, we can come talk to the dean later.”

“What do you mean she’s too upset? Is she okay?” Ingrid asked worriedly. 

“Talk to her.” Mapi instructed, holding the phone out to you. You looked at her pleadingly, but she just nodded encouragingly, eyes fixed on the road in front of her. “It’s okay, nena, just tell Ingrid what you told me.” 

Ingrid could tell when you took the phone, as she could suddenly hear your rapid breaths as you gulped in air and tried to get the words out. “Hey, it’s just me. You can tell me.” Ingrid said softly. 

You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Mapi’s thumb tracing over the back of your hand instead of the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. “M’ scared you’re mad and you’re going to send me back to Norway.” 

“I’m not mad. This wasn’t your fault, just like the last one wasn’t, and I am not angry with you. You are not going back to Norway. You are staying right here with me and Mapi. You’re okay, Solstråle, I promise.” 

“Okay.” You said, nodding your head as you replayed her words over and over in your head. “Okay.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I have to go, but Mapi is bringing you over, okay? I’ll see you soon.” 

Mapi quickly bid her girlfriend a goodbye before hanging up, though her hand didn’t release yours for the rest of the car ride. 

Getting to the Barça grounds was somewhat of a blur, and before you knew it, Mapi was leading you to the pitch where Ingrid was running drills. When Ingrid spotted you, loitering on the sidelines, she spoke a few quick words to Jona before making her way over.. You were half hidden behind Mapi, which was no accident, but the concern on Ingrid’s face brought another round of tears to your eyes. You stepped forward anxiously, bottom lip beginning to wobble. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ingrid sighed, getting a quick look at the wounds on your face before you were barrelling into her and wrapping your arms tightly around your sister. “Hey, it’s okay.” She whispered, running her hand through your tangled hair in a soothing manner. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you blubbered. If you had been even a smidge calmer, you would have been embarrassed about sobbing into your sister’s training kit in front of most of the team. 

“Don’t apologize, Solstråle. Everything is okay.” She soothed, looking over your shoulder at Mapi, before pulling away from the hug to examine your face. She frowned deeply at the damage that had been inflicted, trying to shove her anger down. It would only scare you further, and you really didn’t need that right now. 

“It hurts,” you whimpered, flinching as Ingrid’s finger accidentally made contact with an already forming bruise. The way you were acting was so out of character for you, Ingrid felt her worry growing by the second. You were so upset, you were shaking and sobbing. It hadn’t really occurred to anyone how triggering this might be for you, what a reminder this fight would be. Not just of what had happened a few months ago, but of your time in Norway. There wasn’t a fight you’d gotten into that you didn’t have to take care of your own cuts and bruises. No one ever heard you out, no one was ever not mad at you. 

A fight had been the last straw before you were sent to Spain, and it was as if all the feelings you’d repressed during those occasions were flooding back through your body, until your nervous system was in overdrive. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid said again, trying to get your attention back on her. You hummed in response, forcing your eyes to focus on your sister. “Two options, okay? We can have the physios patch your face up, or we can go see a doctor. What would you prefer?”

It was something Mapi had read in her definitely-not-a-parenting parenting book. Giving you options in a situation you were anxious about forced you to calm down a bit, and choose. It gave you a sense of control, while still ensuring that you did what had to be done. 

“Physios.” You told her, after just a minute of consideration. “Go back to training, Ingrid. I’ll be okay.” 

You were trying to be brave, Ingrid could tell. She allowed you this façade, and with both an encouraging smile and a promise that she’d come see you in a minute, she ran back to the pitch. Mapi led you inside, her arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. 

The physios were a tolerable experience, completely allowing Mapi to direct them. They didn’t touch you unless you agreed, each time asking before they made sure your lip was okay, or inspected a forming bruise. You very rarely got to see intense Mapi off the pitch, and it was interesting to see it now. When she spoke to the physios, asking question after question about your injuries, she was dead serious. When she turned to you, though, to shoot you an encouraging smile or squeeze your hand, she was back to being the Mapi you knew. 

She took care of you like you were her own. 

------

Upon returning home, Ingrid refused to let you retreat to your room and hide yourself away. You’d spent too long alone, when you’d first arrived. She was going to support you, and she intended to prove that. 

So, you laid on the couch, your head in your sister’s lap, a Norwegian sitcom playing on the TV. Ingrid was holding ice to one of your eyes, glaring down at you anytime you tried to remove the other ice laid across your knuckles. Mapi was making pancakes in the kitchen, at your request. Scout was on the floor next to the couch, though he picked his head up to check on you every few minutes. 

You were home, and you couldn’t help but compare today to the last time.

Ingrid had come to the school, and been furious at you. Today, she was furious for you. 

They’d left you that night, to go off to some team dinner. Now, you weren’t quite sure that Ingrid was going to let you out of her sight for at least a few days. 

You’d been alone, then, and now you weren’t. 

And though today had been pretty horrific, it was another little reminder of how different everything was. You loved those reminders, and you got them often. You tried to remember each one, how good it felt. To be loved, to be seen. To be liked. To be cared for. It was new, and it always surprised you a little. Every time something happened, and you remembered what it had been like to be alone, Ingrid and Mapi were there to remind you that you weren’t anymore. 

-

-

-

It was just one of those days. 

You wanted to stay home, like you wanted to on that day. Before, when everything in the house had been tense and you’d barely spoken to your sister. School had been difficult back then, not that it wasn’t now, but more difficult. Ingrid knew how much you were struggling, but assumed it was a lack of effort on your part. And so, when you quietly asked her if you could stay home because you weren’t feeling the best, Ingrid hadn’t believed you. 

“Ingrid, please. I really don’t feel well.” You begged, fighting back the tears that were pricking at your eyes, even though you knew that they would probably help your case. 

“How? What doesn’t feel well?” Ingrid asked, trying to be patient. Your hatred of school was starting to bother her. She didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just try a little harder. At your work, and at making friends. 

You floundered for a minute, not sure how to describe what you were feeling. You supposed the word was depressed, but there was no way you’d admit to that. Ingrid didn’t need to worry about you like you knew she would if she understood what was really going on. At the same time, you wished desperately that she would see through your excuses. 

You’d been silent for too long, and Ingrid sighed, zipping up her bag for training and walking over to you. She didn’t look sympathetic, exactly, but she didn’t look as harsh as she normally did. 

“I know school is hard. But skipping isn’t going to make anything better, okay? You just need to try a little harder.” She said, resting her hands on your shoulders and looking intently at your face. As usual, your expression gave very little away. All you gave her was a small shrug, before you picked your bag up with a sigh and headed for the car. 

You were trying your best. How couldn’t she see that?

It hit you similarly today, as it had on that day.

 You wanted to lay in your bed and not move. Your body was heavier than normal. Breathing was hard, moving was harder. All you could do was think. And think, and think, and think. It wasn’t sadness that you felt, not necessarily. It was exhaustion, and an almost numb ache. 

You were pretty sure Ingrid wouldn’t make you go to school if you told her the truth, you just weren’t really sure what to say. It was nearing the time you were supposed to leave for school, though, and you still hadn’t gotten out of bed. It would only be a matter of time before Mapi came in to see why you hadn’t left your room yet. So, you dragged yourself out of bed, your whole body feeling too heavy, and you walked downstairs. 

Ingrid was in the kitchen, eating breakfast while Mapi made all three of your coffees. Your sister turned to look at you, her good morning dying on her lips when she saw the look on your face. It must have been pretty bad, if Ingrid’s reaction was any indication. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Ingrid asked, abandoning her breakfast to walk closer and place her hand on your forehead, checking for a fever. 

“No.” You said honestly, trying to breathe through the panic that always accompanied honesty. Mapi joined Ingrid in front of you, her brow creased in concern. She couldn’t figure out from looking at you what was going on, you just looked… wrong. Unlike yourself. 

“Are you sick?” 

“No. I just… I don’t feel right.” 

“What do you mean, Sol? What’s wrong?” Mapi asked, nudging Ingrid’s hand off your forehead to replace it with her own. 

“I don’t know how to explain it. I just want to go back to sleep.” You mumbled, a single tear falling down your face.

“Try to explain it to me?” Ingrid requested. You knew it was a request, though, and that made it easier to answer her. Her worry for you was coming off her in waves, and though you were pretty sure it was warranted, you didn’t want her to panic. 

“It’s just a bad day. I’ll be okay.”  

 Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances, before your sister nodded slowly. You often described tough mental health days as simply  bad days. You didn’t like to be overly descriptive, or really admit what was going on, and that was the closest you’d get. 

“Okay, kjære. Go back up to bed.” 

“Thanks,” you muttered, moving to turn away. 

“Wait,” Mapi said, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you into a hug that was probably too tight, but felt nice all the same. Mapi’s hugs were always comforting, always made you feel safe. “You’ll be okay here by yourself?” 

You knew what she was asking, and you tried to speak clearly, even with your chin resting on the Spaniard’s shoulder. “I will, promise.” 

As soon as Mapi had released you, Ingrid was pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that never really failed to make you emotional. You remember seeing your parents kiss her forehead when you were growing up. And while your parents never really did the same with you, Ingrid had. She was always willing to give you the love she was overflowing with, especially when you were sorely lacking it. 

“I love you, okay? Call me if you need me.” Ingrid said firmly, almost as if to reinforce how much she meant it. 

You agreed, promising yourself that you wouldn’t interrupt training. You knew they’d already be distracted by being worried about you, and you didn’t want to ruin their day anymore than you already were. 

The logical part of you knew this was ridiculous. It was getting easier and easier to identify unhealthy thoughts, but a part of you still believed them. Especially when you were already having a bad day. You didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you already were. 

You were the farthest thing from a burden for Ingrid and Mapi, but it was an almost insurmountable challenge to actually believe that. 

-------

You’d hoped, perhaps, that by resting right off the bat, you’d escape the worst of the depressive episode. This was a naive thought. Or maybe, you would have if you’d asked your sister to stay home with you. 

You really really didn’t want to be alone. It had been a while since you hadn’t felt safe around yourself, but here you were again. You thought you were done with this, over this. It was upsetting to realize that you weren’t, not completely. That this wasn’t something you could just… get over. It was a result of your brain chemistry as much as your lived experiences, and you could be smothered with all the love in the world. That wouldn’t fix the genuine problem inside your head. 

You were asleep when Ingrid got home. 

Her and Mapi weren’t expecting you to call them, even if you needed them, but they had texted you during a break and gotten no answer. Mapi tried not to speed home, but it was difficult when Ingrid was an anxious mess next to her in the passenger seat. 

Upon arriving home, Ingrid dumped her bag right in the entry hall, not bothering to put it away like she normally did, and went right up to your room, sighing in relief at the sight of you in front of her. Mapi was right behind her, melting a bit at the way Scout was perched on the end of your bed protectively, and Bagheera was curled up against your chest. Both of them were taking care of you, she was sure. Bagheera would get a treat and some extra pets, for sure. And Scout would too, but when no one was looking. She had a reputation to uphold, after all.

You awoke to the feeling of someone brushing their fingers through your hair. The reaction you had was different now than it had been a month ago, and Ingrid had done the same thing. Then, you’d startled awake, not used to the gentle touch. Now, you just shifted slightly, content to stay asleep as Ingrid settled on the bed next to you. 

You felt Scout get off the bed, and Mapi begrudgingly agree to take him on a walk. You knew she was faking her dislike of your dog at this point, but it was more fun to go along with it and catch her napping with Scout or giving him extra treats. 

It was only when the cat sneezed rather dramatically on your chest that you cracked an eye open, unimpressed with the lack of decorum from Bagheera. Ingrid was trying to stifle her laughter and you rolled your eyes, stretching and wiping the imaginary sneeze particles off your face. 

“Hi.” You murmured, voice rough with sleep… and with crying, but you were hoping to keep that to yourself. 

Ingrid smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the edges in the way they'd started to recently. It was something Mapi’s eyes did and while you weren’t sure how Ingrid had picked that up from her girlfriend, there was no question in your mind that she had. “Hi. How are you?” 

You shrugged, the momentary distractions from your feelings fading as everything came screeching back into focus. 

“Have you been crying?” Ingrid murmured, eyes stuck on the tear tracks staining your face. 

“A bit. I’m fine.” You replied, trying your best to shake off her concern. 

“You should have called me.” Your sister sighed. 

You shook your head, sitting up against the headboard. It was then that you noticed for the first time that your sister was still in her training kit, when normally she’d shower and change after a session. Her and Mapi must have rushed home. The thought sent a weird feeling through your body; not bad… just different. 

 “No, I was fine. You had training, you can’t miss that for no reason.” 

“There's not no reason. You were having a bad day, and you needed us. Why didn’t you call?”

You shrugged, but Ingrid continued to stare at you, awaiting an answer. “I didn’t want to make you choose between me and football.” you mumbled, picking at a hangnail and avoiding eye contact with your sister. She grabbed your hand though, and used her other hand to tilt your chin up until you were looking at her. 

“There is no choice, Solstråle. I will always come when you need me. It could be the middle of the champions league final, or the middle of training, and I would drop everything to get to you. So would María.” 

You grew teary, trying your best to not cry again. “Okay.” Your voice broke, and Ingrid felt like a piece of her heart went with it. 

“Sol, I mean it. You are more important than any football match or training could ever be. More important than anything else could ever be. You are the most important thing to me.” 

Your expression grew disbelieving, almost stunned. “I’m not worth all that,” 

Ingrid tried not to groan in frustration. It wouldn’t have been fair to make you think she was upset with you, when she was upset with your parents, and with herself. “You are! Solstråle, you are worth that and more.” 

You were getting better, definitely. But your self esteem was always something you struggled with, something you always probably would. No matter how convinced you were, now, that Ingrid and Mapi loved you and wanted you in Spain with them, you still couldn’t comprehend that you were important to them. 

“It just… it wasn’t like that before. I’m not used to this.”

Ingrid’s face fell. “I know. I know you aren’t. But I promise you, sweetheart, even before, even when we argued all the time and I was so hard on you. I cared then just as much as I do now. I just didn’t understand how to help you. But I do now, right? It’s better now?” 

A more confident nod from you. “A lot better.” 

Your sister smiled gently. “I know you’ve felt really alone these last few years. But you aren’t anymore, okay? I’m right here with you.” 

There was something behind her words that felt like a promise, but it wasn’t necessarily a promise you needed to hear. It was one Ingrid had already made through her actions. And through the flood of doubts and insecurities, you knew that she wouldn’t break that promise. 

In that moment, you hated how hard it was for you to be vulnerable. How difficult it was for you to put words to your feelings, and express your appreciation and love for your sister. All you could do was try, though, right?

“Ingrid?” You mumbled after a minute of silence. Ingrid hummed in acknowledgement, squeezing your hand. “You… everything you’ve done for me. You’re just… you’re my favorite person. And I love you.” 

Ingrid could have sobbed, truly. She, too, had struggled to share her feelings her whole life, as you had. She knew just how much it took for you to say something so sincere, and not even make a joke after it. The brunette pulled you in closer to her, leaving a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You know that, right?” You wondered, after Ingrid hadn’t responded right away. She was trying to keep the deep emotion out of her voice, not wanting to make this moment even more difficult for you than she knew it already was. When you turned to look at her, though, catching her just as a tear slid down your face, you understood. 

“I do know, Solstråle. And I love you, so much, min perfekte lillesøster.” 

It didn't really matter as much, that you didn’t think you were perfect. Because for as long as you could remember, Ingrid had been the perfect one. And now she thought you were, too, and that was enough. 

“You’re my favorite person, too.” Ingrid added as an afterthought, pulling you into an even tighter hug. “Just don’t tell-”

“AHEM.” Mapi cleared her throat from the doorway. You whipped your head to look at her, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles at the sight of the very disgruntled defender standing in the doorway. “Well, your not favorite person just came up here to say that she was going to go get you both ice cream, but now…”

It was rather difficult to stop laughing, what with Mapi standing there with her arms crossed, a frown on her face, one foot stomp away from throwing a temper tantrum. You and Ingrid pulled yourselves together, forcing serious expressions onto your faces. 

“Mapi, I was just trying to make Ingrid feel better about herself. You are my favorite. Of course.” 

“Me too, mi amor. You are my favorite.” Ingrid grinned, before very obviously winking at you. 

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Mapi turned on her heel and headed downstairs. “I am going to poison your ice cream.” She shouted over her shoulder. 

Mapi was far from upset. It was enough for her that you seemed a bit better, and that her girlfriend’s anxiety had definitely lessened. Although, the day had clearly taken its toll on you and Ingrid, because when Mapi arrived home with the ice cream, she found you both passed out in your bed, your head resting on your sister’s shoulder. 

-

-

-

You swore as you slipped in the small puddle of water on the kitchen floor, almost instantly losing your balance and falling with a thud. The mug you’d been holding fell, too, shattering on impact with the floor. You heard Ingrid call your name, evidently startled by the sound, and moved to sit up on instinct. Instead of putting your hand down on the cold floor, though, you smashed it right down into a pile of mug shards. 

“Jævel!” You shouted, almost jumping at the burst of pain and bringing your hand to your chest. It was bleeding heavily, and you gasped, startled by the amount of blood flowing out of your hand. “Ow, ow, ow,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. 

“Sol? You okay?” Ingrid shouted from the top of the stairs. 

You tried to reply, but Mapi beat you to it, appearing in front of  you out of nowhere. “No, she cut her hand. Ven aquí! And bring a clean towel!” The Spaniard shouted, grabbing the broom from the closet and hastily sweeping the shards away from you so she could safely get closer. 

“I’m sorry, Mapi, I’m so sorry,” you said shakily, sure that you were about to be in trouble for not being more careful. The water spill was your fault in the first place, and then it was what you slipped on. Now, you’d broken one of their favorite mugs, and you were getting blood all over the kitchen. 

Mapi only had time to look at you, confused, before Ingrid came running into the room holding a hand towel from upstairs. 

“Jesus, Sol,” Ingrid murmured, crouching down next to where you were and reaching for your hand. You mistook her statement as one of frustration, and not one of worry, and flinched away from her in a way you hadn’t in a very long time. 

“I’m sorry Ingrid, I broke the mug,” you cried. 

Ingrid exchanged a look with her girlfriend, before turning back to you. There was blood all over your shirt, dripping down where your good hand cradled the injured one. Your face was frighteningly pale, and you looked completely terrified. Ingrid paused, though all she wanted to do was get some pressure on your hand, forcing herself to calm down a bit. She wasn’t sure why you were reacting the way you were, but she knew by now to take it seriously. 

“Don’t worry about the mug.” Ingrid said gently, holding her hand out again. “Let me see, Sol.” 

With a pained whimper, you placed your hand in hers. Only then did you look at the wound, and both Mapi and Ingrid watched in alarm as the remaining color drained from your face. 

Ingrid knew what was coming a second before it happened, hastily trying to cover your hand with the towel as you started to sway where you were sitting. “Fuck, she’s gonna pass out,” she warned, unable to catch you as she pressed the towel into your hand, trying to get the bleeding to stop. 

Mapi dropped to her knees just as your eyes rolled back into your head, and you fell limp into her arms. “Ingrid,” she cried, overcome with panic. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s just bad with blood.” Ingrid assured her. She pulled the towel away temporarily to look at your hand, and saw a long slice across your palm. It wasn’t deep, and though you might have nicked a vein, Ingrid was pretty sure you wouldn’t need stitches. Readjusting the towel over your hand, she tried to give her girlfriend a calming smile. “It’s really okay, María. I promise, she just really hates blood.” 

“She passed out!” Mapi yelped. “This does not feel okay!”

Ingrid bit back a laugh, knowing this wasn’t the time or the place. “She’ll wake up in a few minutes, just hold this towel while I get some water for her.” 

Mapi took over with the towel, allowing your head to drop into her lap as Ingrid walked across the kitchen. 

“Ingrid, do we have any smelling salts?” She wondered, poking your cheek a few times as your eyes remained firmly shut. 

“Why, yes, María, let me go check my potion making kit.” 

“I do not appreciate your sarcasm at the moment.” Mapi grumbled, again poking your face as your eyes started to scrunch together. You looked uncomfortable, and Mapi braced herself for you to wake back up and freak out again. Instead, you stayed unconscious for a few more seconds, unbeknownst to the Spaniard, reliving a memory you’d… kind of forgotten. 

When the picture frame shattered on the wood floor, all you felt was panic. It was panic that led you to lean down and try to collect the pieces of glass in your hands. A second, much quieter crash was heard as a piece of glass shifted in your hand, cutting your finger open. 

You’d never been good with blood, and you felt yourself getting lightheaded at just the sight of the small rivulets of blood forming across the cut. You shut your eyes tightly, all thoughts of being afraid of getting in trouble for breaking the picture frame flew out of your mind, and you were turning and shouting before you could stop yourself. 

“Mamma! Mamma!” You yelled, growing dizzier and dizzier. 

“Stop yelling, my goodness.” Mamma said, walking calmly into the room. She came to a sudden stop at the sight of the picture frame broken in front of you, before her face grew cold and mean. “What have you done!” 

“I-I- I bumped the table and it fell and I tried to clean it up, but my finger, Mamma,” you cried, missing the anger on your moms face and leaning towards her for comfort as she moved closer. 

“This is my favorite picture of your sister, couldn't you have been more careful! You are always breaking things, always making a mess. I am so tired of you and the stupid things you do when you don’t pay attention.” Mamma ranted, picking up the pieces of glass and making sure the picture was unharmed. “I should be the one crying, you broke my picture frame!” 

Your stomach twisted at her tone, and at the drops of blood that were hitting the floor at your feet. You tried to fight it, knowing it would only make her more upset, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Keeling over, you threw up on the ground, whimpering as your mother gasped in surprise. 

“What-”

“Mamma, my finger,” you sobbed, holding out the bloodied appendage towards your mother. 

Some of the confusion left your Mamma’s eyes, knowing just how poorly you handled any kind of injury, on anyone. 

“Oh, goodness. Come with me.” She said, not completely unkindly as she led you into the kitchen. There, she wrapped your finger up with a dish towel, holding pressure on it as you sniffled and hiccuped. She brushed a few flyaways out of your face, your hair always coming loose no matter how tight Ingrid braided it. 

At the kind gesture, you relaxed a bit. Maybe she wasn’t as mad anymore. Cautiously, you allowed yourself to step in closer to her. “Hurts, Mamma.” 

Some emotion, of what you weren’t sure, flashed across the older woman’s face and she sighed. “You’ll be fine. It is just a little cut. It is just a little blood, kjære. You are 8 years old. And 8 years old is too big to be getting this worked up over a small cut.” 

“Sorry, Mamma.” You mumbled, scrubbing at your eyes with your good hand. You took a few deep breaths, trying to stop crying even as pain burned through your finger, and all you wanted was a hug. 

“Alright, no more blood, see? Now go get a bandaid while I clean up your mess.” 

“Okay, Mamma.” 

She sent you off with a kiss on the top of your head, but as you climbed the stairs, you heard the garage door open. That meant Ingrid was home. You knew she’d had a long day, but you couldn’t help the way your body sagged in relief now that she was home. Now that you’d get a hug. 

That was, until you heard Mamma’s voice addressing your sister downstairs, as you rifled through the bandaid box, looking for a yellow one. 

“Look what your sister did.” Mamma sighed. She sounded so disappointed, and you promised yourself to do better. Next time, you wouldn’t throw up. And you would clean up the mess all by yourself. Then, Mamma would be proud of you. Then, maybe she’d give you a hug.

When you came to, Mapi’s face was hovering ridiculously close to yours, and you jolted away from her. 

“Sol! You’re awake!” 

You tried to sit up, just as Ingrid’s voice rang from across the room. “Do not let her sit up yet, she’ll only make herself more dizzy.” 

Mapi’s hands pushed your shoulders back to the ground and you frowned, seeing Ingrid appear above you holding the broom. 

“No, Ingrid, I’ll clean it up,” you said weakly, even as your stomach turned at the sight of a bloody rag in your sister’s hand. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ingrid dismissed. “You stay right there until you feel better.” 

Ingrid cleaned up the ceramic shards, and you wondered just how upset she’d be that you’d broken the mug. It was her and Mapi’s favorite. They had made it together in some pottery class, and they often fought over who got to use it in the morning for coffee. And you’d gone and broken it. Ingrid didn’t seem mad yet, but she would be… right?

 After a few minutes of Mapi gently combing through your hair, she finally helped you sit up. Your sister appeared in front of you once again, first aid kit in hand, and sat down on the ground.  She moved slowly as she reached for your hand, trying not to startle you. You held it out to her, leaning against Mapi and inhaling shakily. 

“I looked when you were out, I don’t think you need stitches.” Your sister assured you, pausing when you only gave a short nod. “You okay? Do you feel sick?” 

You shook your head firmly, clenching your jaw shut tight. Ingrid still didn’t unwrap the towel from your palm, still focused on the uneven way you were breathing, and the slightly green tint to your face.  

Mapi rubbed her hand up and down your back comfortingly, exchanging a look with your sister. “It’s okay if you feel sick, Sol. Just tell me and we can get you a bag or something.”

“No. I’m fine. I don’t get sick when I see blood anymore.” You said, sounding almost angry. 

Since when? Ingrid thought. Still, she got to work disinfecting your hand and cleaning it up. Once she’d wrapped a large bandage around it, having tried her best to ignore the way your good hand was clenched into a fist so tight it looked painful. 

Once your sister was done, she helped you to your feet, holding her arms open for a hug. You looked between her and Mapi suspiciously, a frown set on your face. “You’re… not mad?” 

“Why would we be mad?” Ingrid wondered, leading you into the living room, having decided to make you rest on the sofa for a while until you looked less ill. 

You followed her lead, albeit still sounding very confused. “Because… I made a mess. And I didn’t clean it up. And I broke your favorite mug.” 

Ingrid couldn’t figure out what you were so worked up about. “It wasn’t on purpose, Sol. And you were hurt, why would you clean it up?” 

“I should have been more careful. And it was my mess. I should have… I should have cleaned it up.” 

It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of something, a somewhat vacant expression on your face. Ingrid had the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. It was the one that appeared whenever your sister discovered another piece of the puzzle; the puzzle of why you were the way you were, why you’d left Norway. Most of the time, the pieces were intrinsically linked to your mother. And Ingrid really hated that. 

So, she wasn’t quite sure what the specific issue in this situation was. But she knew you well enough to know what would make you feel better. Taking a seat on the couch next to you, your sister brought you into a tight hug, feeling the way you froze at first, before melting into her. 

“I don’t care about the mess.” She promised, before she leaned back, her expression contradicting her words slightly as she took in the blood on your shirt. 

You smiled weakly at her, not quite sure you believed her words. “I’ll go change-”

“No!” Ingrid interrupted. “I’ll go get you a new shirt, yeah? You just stay here.”  

With that, your sister took off up the stairs, and you were left in deep thought on the couch. Mapi took Ingrid’s spot pretty quickly, handing you a glass of water to sip from as she studied your expression. 

Mapi nudged you with her knee. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I broke a picture frame once. It was of Ingrid and Mamma, and the picture was completely fine but the glass broke and I cut my finger on it. But my mom was really mad about the mess. She said she was tired of me and the messes I made. I just… thought you’d be upset. It was your guys’ favorite mug. I thought you’d be mad.” 

Understanding dawned across Mapi’s face and she scooted closer, until her shoulder pressed to yours. “I don’t care about the mug. And neither does your sister. We’re both just glad you’re okay, that’s all we care about.” 

“Really?” You asked in a small voice. 

“Sol, you could break everything in this house, crash my motorbike, and ruin my favorite sweatshirt. And I’d still want you here. I’d still love you, nena.” Mapi assured you, not a single trace of doubt detectable in her voice. 

You looked away from her, the eye contact combined with her words proving to be too much. “I love you too.” You choked out, still looking away from Mapi, but leaning closer into her. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“How could you not? I am the best.” Mapi said seriously. 

And then the tears in your eyes were forgotten as you laughed, always shocked at Mapi’s ability to take your mind off something emotional. Always shocked, but always so grateful. 

When Ingrid reentered the room with one of her shirts in hand, it was to find you and María in absolute hysterics on the couch, your hand and whatever had upset you so greatly before completely forgotten. 

She’d thought she loved Mapi as much as a person could love another person, before you’d arrived in Spain. And then she’d picked you up from the airport, a shell of yourself, angry and hostile. And she’d watched Mapi chip away at all the anger and all the sadness. She’d watched as you became you again, with Mapi’s help.

Ingrid wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d helped you, too. But you were her sister. Mapi had no obligation to you, yet… here she was. 

And Ingrid realized that her love for María Pilar León Cebrián had grown exponentially in the past few months. Because she’d gotten to see Mapi grow to love you. Her favorite person in the world. It was so much love, she thought some days that her heart might burst.  

Ingrid hated the process of getting you here, and of everything that had happened for you that had been so incredibly difficult. But she couldn’t pretend she didn’t love the family she got as a result. 

------

hahahaHAHAHA IM FINE im FINE

i love sol.

ps. please tell me if you see any typos okay goodnight

[girlgenius1111]

all the same

mapi x ingrid x reader all three of you want a baby. a look into the discussions leading up to this decision, negative tests, a positive test, and the first few months. cw: pregnancy..? mentions of body image issues. suggestive.

-----

You were really astounded at the turns life took. 2 years ago, you were new to Barcelona, having left everything you knew behind in the states, working for a social media company. You knew no one, had very few friends outside your coworkers, and barely knew the city at all. 

Today, Barcelona was your home, in a way no city had ever felt before. You’d fallen in love here, with two of the most perfect beings on earth. It wasn’t what you expected when you arrived in Spain, but their love was what had been missing in your life. It healed a fissure in your heart that had formed long ago, one that had been around for so much time, you’d forgotten what it was like to live life as a whole person. Live life surrounded by love. 

And surrounded by love, you were. Your girls fell in love with you and never looked back. They spent every waking minute of every day loving you, and making sure you loved yourself. María and Ingrid were perfect. There was no other adjective to describe the pair of them. They were everything you needed, everything you’d ever need. 

-----

It started when one of Mapi’s friends had a baby. It was a little boy, an adorable little boy, and you saw the switch flick in both of your girls’ eyes when they saw him for the first time. They’d met babies before, held babies before. They spent time around toddlers, but something was different about this. They held the boy with reverence, a quiet awe etched across their faces. They gushed about him to his parents, expressing how truly happy they were for the couple. 

Happiness wasn’t the only emotion they were feeling, though. Something evolutionary in them changed that day, and they were filled with a very distinct longing. For more, for this. This special kind of love that would transform their lives, change everything. 

You wanted it too, suddenly. You’d spent most of your adult life pretty neutral about having children. It was different, when you weren’t in a relationship. Now that you had Mapi and Ingrid, though, your fears of parenthood seemed to lessen. They’d be with you, so how scary could it be, really?

The drive home from meeting the baby was silent. You and Ingrid in the front seat, Mapi in the back. Everytime your gaze flickered to either of the other women, you found them deep in thought. You knew what their hesitation was, why they weren’t instantly bringing it up. 

How could they bring it up? When it was very clearly, very simply not an option for them to carry? They were professional athletes, in the prime of their careers. They loved football. There was such a short time of their lives where they could play, and both of them had decided a long time ago to not sacrifice any months of their career to have a baby. 

 And so, it wasn’t right, in either of their minds, to bring up how desperately they wanted a baby when the only option to carry said baby would be you. They couldn't put that on you, couldn’t ask that of you. 

You knew them well enough to know that this was exactly what they were thinking on that long drive home. The thing was, you wanted it to. Maybe you weren’t sure about kids before, but you definitely were now. 

You’d been focused on something other than the baby, earlier. He was adorable, yes. But the way his parents looked at him? Like what they were feeling transcended words, transcended all human rationality. Like that little boy was the only thing in the world that mattered, or would ever matter? You wanted that. And you wanted that with Mapi and Ingrid more than anything. And if you could give the two of them what they wanted so desperately, and without requiring either of them to sacrifice time away from football? You wanted that too. 

-----

It was almost funny, how similar they were sometimes. The three of you arrived home, and your girls each flitted off to their favorite corners of the house, leaving you rather amused in between the both of them. They were so wrapped up in their thoughts that they didn’t seem to notice the other was feeling the exact same way they were. 

Mapi was on the balcony. You peeked over her shoulder from behind the glass door, and found her watching baby tiktok after baby tiktok. Honestly. 

When you went after Ingrid, you were met with a slightly more concerning sight. She was wedged in between the nightstand and the wall in your room, a spot she only went when she was feeling anxious. You and Mapi were still working on getting her to come to one of you when she wasn’t feeling right, and she still sometimes found herself enjoying the tight space. 

You didn’t know why she was anxious, though, or why she had tears running in her eyes as her chin rested on her knees, staring blankly ahead of her. Ingrid was an emotional person, something you loved about her, but she was normally more put together than this, unless something was really wrong. 

“Ingrid? What is it?” You asked softly, sitting carefully in front of her and brushing a tear off her face with your thumb.

“Nothing.” She replied, not very convincingly as her voice shook. 

“Ingrid.” You repeated, giving her a look that you normally received from her. 

She sighed heavily, tilting her head back to lean against the wall. “Mapi wants a baby.” 

You nodded slowly, wondering if maybe you’d read Ingrid’s behavior all wrong.

“And I can’t give that to her.” She finished, looking at you with such pain in her eyes, you wanted to reach out physically take the hurt away from her. “You want it too, I can tell. I can’t give either of you what you want. It’s awful and selfish, I’m awful and selfish, but I don’t want to stop playing football. I can’t.” 

You weren’t quite sure why Ingrid had just assumed you’d both expect her to carry your child, but this assumption seemed to be tearing her apart. 

“ I don't ever want to hear you say that again. You are not awful, and you are not selfish. It makes complete sense that you don’t want to lose any playing time. It’s not selfish to know what you need, and to stick to it. And, Ingrid, baby. You cannot possibly think this is all on you. There are three of us in this relationship. Two other options. ” 

The Norwegian shook her head. “No, Mapi doesn’t want to be pregnant, she’s said it before.” 

“Well you’re lucky you are dating a third person with a uterus.” You said, joking lightly. 

“You don’t want to be pregnant either.” Ingrid said with conviction. 

You blinked at her. “Why do you think that?” 

“You said it. Years ago. When we met Mapi’s pregnant friends for dinner and she was pregnant, and barely sleeping, and nauseous all the time, and miserable. We left the restaurant, and you said that you could never be pregnant.” 

Ingrid recounted the story like she’d had it burned into her memory for the past 2 years. You remembered that night, very vaguely. The relationship had been incredibly new, you’d had too much to drink, and you were rambling. You hadn’t meant it, barely remembered it. 

“I didn’t mean that.” You began, but Ingrid cut you off, shaking her head firmly. 

“No, please don’t do that. Please don’t say you’ll do it because you want us to be happy, when this would make you unhappy. I know how your brain works, elskling, I’m not letting you do that.” 

You supposed this was fair, as you had some self sacrificing tendencies when it came to your girlfriends. The entire first 2 months that you dated, you pretended to like your coffee without cream because that's how both of them drank it, and you didn’t want them to have to go out of their way and buy cream for you. They were not happy with you when they realized you’d been lying. 

“Ingrid, I promise you, I didn’t mean what I said that night. I’ve been thinking about it too. And I want- hold on. Let me get Mapi.” You interrupted yourself. Ingrid withdrew her hand from where it held yours, expecting you to get up and get your other girlfriend. Instead, you turned your head. 

“MARÍA, VEN AQUÍ,” you shouted, ignoring the half amused, half annoyed look on Ingrid’s face. You simply grinned back at her, standing up and extending your hand down to her. She took it, allowing you to help her to her feet, and you both took a seat on the bed, amusedly listening to Mapi’s loud footsteps coming down the hall. 

“Amor, speaking spanish? Did you hit your head?” She joked, walking in and smirking at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “I speak spanish.”

“Sure, amor. What’s…up, Ingrid have you been crying?” Mapi said softly, catching the tear tracks on the Norwegian’s cheeks, walking forward and taking Ingrid’s face in her hands. 

Ingrid was weirdly emotional today, and seeing that baby had only made it worse, had only made the issue she’d been thinking about for weeks feel worse. She bit her lip, trying to fight off tears yet again at how concerned Mapi sounded. 

“I can’t give you what you want.” She mumbled. It was unlike Ingrid to be this soft spoken, sound this insecure, and Mapi looked at you worriedly, even more confused when you rolled your eyes. Ingrid was upset over something that wasn’t a problem, yet she didn’t believe you. 

“You give me everything I want, cariño, you both do.” Mapi assured her. 

“No, I can’t give you a baby. I can’t be pregnant, I don’t want to. I can’t stop playing for that, I’m so sorry Mapi,” Ingrid cried, leaning forward into the Spaniard’s arms. Mapi looked upset, heartbroken, there was no other way to explain the look on her face. “An she’s trying to convince me she wants to carry a child, and I know she doesn’t,” 

At this, Mapi’s head snapped to you, the familiar stern look she got when she thought you were putting your needs behind theirs taking over. 

“Both of you, look at me.” You instructed. Ingrid pulled away from where her head had been resting against Mapi’s chest, red eyes gazing at you. “I want this. I’m not just trying to make you happy. I want this for me, and I want this for us, I really do. I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Please, believe me. I want to do this for you guys, I want to do this for myself.” You spoke slowly, watching as a very cautious hope took over both of your girlfriends. 

“Amor, just because we don’t want to do it right now with our careers doesn’t mean that you have to.” Mapi reminded you. 

“I know that.”

“We can’t ask you to do something that we aren’t willing to do.” Ingrid echoed. 

“I know. You aren’t asking. I am offering. We all want the same thing here, no? You both want a baby?”

You took in the 2 very hesitant head nods. 

“I want it too. This makes the most sense, logically. And more than that, I want to do it. I want to be pregnant, I want to carry our baby. I promise you both. On Bagheera’s life.” 

Ingrid looked like she was going to break down into tears again, and Mapi frowned. “You better not be lying, especially now.” 

“I’m not lying.” You said seriously. “Although cats do have 9 lives…” 

Mapi pinched your arm. “That is not funny.” 

“Ingrid,” you whined, swatting Mapi’s hand away. 

“Never mind, both of you. I already live with 2 children.” Ingrid said, but the huge smile on her face gave her away. 

“We are doing this?” Mapi asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Yes.” Ingrid murmured.

‘Yeah,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Mapi moved forward in a flash, wrapping you up in her arms and spinning you both around before tossing you on the bed and climbing right on top of you. 

“María,” you laughed, hearing Ingrid scolding the Spaniard lightly. 

“Gonna put a baby in you, sí?” Mapi rasped, her lips attaching themselves to your neck. 

“I don’t think that’s possible, amor, no matter how much you want it.” You chuckled. Suddenly Ingrid’s face was next to yours, too, joining Mapi to kiss at your neck. 

“It’s worth a try,” she said. 

“Insatiable, both of you.” You sighed, lacing your fingers through each of their hair, relaxing into their movements. 

You were doing this. And you didn’t have any doubts. For someone that always had doubt and fears, this was unheard of. Of all the decisions you’d make in your life, though, this was one you needed to be sure about. And you were. 

------

You hadn’t thought much about the actual process of getting pregnant. IVF and sperm donors and doctors appointments and injections and stress. So much stress. It was insane, how difficult it was, how many hoops you had to jump through. You knew it was part of the process to have negative tests. That didn’t make it hurt any less, though, when it happened. At first, it was alright, because you weren’t really expecting it to work right away. As the months passed, though, and you failed to get a positive test, you grew more discouraged. As you sat, waiting for the allotted time to pass on your current test, you thought back to the last negative test that had been… a lot, to say the least. You’d been doing IVF for almost a year, and you couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working. Was it you? Were you doing something wrong?

------

The timer rang through the bathroom, and you took a shuddering breath, hand shaking as you reached for the test. Ingrid and Mapi were on the other side of the door, as you’d insisted. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep letting them down, and you couldn’t stand seeing their faces fall when you inevitably weren’t pregnant, again. They’d hated this idea, wanting to be with you regardless of the outcome, but you’d insisted. 

So, outside the door they sat, hearing the timer ring, and holding their breaths as they waited for you to read out the results. You didn’t speak for a full minute, and your girlfriends grew impatient. 

“Amor? What does it say?” Mapi called through the door. Her and Ingrid strained to hear a response from you. 

“I’m sorry guys.” You eventually got out, your voice thick with tears. Mapi and Ingrid deflated. They were disappointed, yes, but they’d been watching the toll this had been taking on you, and they knew what another negative would do to you. 

“Open up, cariño,” Ingrid insisted, knocking softly on the door. 

“I just need a minute,” you called back, trying to sound more put together than you were. 

Neither of them wanted to give you a minute, but they respected your wishes, moving away from the door and over to the bed. Inside the bathroom, you stood up, throwing the test away as you couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. You splashed some cool water over your face, noting that it didn’t do much to hide that you’d been crying, before you opened the door. They had both been staring at the door impatiently when it opened, the sadness radiating off of you as you stepped out of the bathroom feeling like a punch to the gut. 

Ingrid got to you first, wrapping her arms around your shaking form, holding you tightly to her. You sobbed quietly into her shoulder, feeling Mapi come up behind you and wrap herself around your back. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you repeated brokenly. 

“Please stop apologizing, my darling, this is not your fault. It is completely out of your control.” Ingrid insisted, and you could only shake your head, burying yourself further into her sweater. Seeing you cry always made your girlfriend’s cry, even Mapi, and it wasn’t long before you were all sniffling pathetically. Still, you remained hidden in Ingrid’s shirt, even when she pulled you over onto the bed, allowing you to fully rest in her arms. Mapi sat next to the both of you, working her fingers through your hair, laying her head on Ingrid’s unoccupied shoulder. 

Every time they thought you were getting close to calming down, every time you stopped crying, just a little bit, you almost instantly fell back into sobs that wracked your whole body. You cried until your head hurt, until your throat was raw, and you felt dehydrated. You cried until you were empty, completely devoid of energy and feeling. 

When you finally stopped, you murmured another apology to your girls, feeling horrible for making them comfort you when they’d been just as disappointed. Both of them shook off your apologies, exchanging a look. They’d been discussing what to do if this test was negative, and they both agreed that you couldn’t really go on like this. It was taking everything out of you. 

“Mi amor, maybe we should take a break.” Mapi said softly. 

You flew off of Ingrid in a panic, frantic eyes meeting Mapi’s. “From us?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper, as if you couldn’t even put your full voice behind that idea. 

“NO!” They said simultaneously. In a flash, you were yanked off of Ingrid and pulled into Mapi, her arms holding you almost painfully tightly. “No. No break from us, never a break from us, bebita, I promise. I meant a break from the IVF.” 

You tensed, and Ingrid rushed to explain further. “Just for a bit, love. This has been so hard on you, and we hate seeing you so upset. We take a couple months off, and then we can reevaluate. You need to put yourself first, my love. You are our priority.” 

You didn’t want to give up, couldn’t give up. You knew that if you stopped now, you’d never be able to start again, never be able to put yourself through the process again. 

“One more try. Please. One more, and then we can take a break,” you proposed. 

Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. It didn’t feel like a good idea to them, but it was your body, and your decision. If you said you could handle more, they had to trust you on that. 

“Okay. One more try.” Ingrid said finally. 

“One more.” Mapi agreed. 

You smiled weakly at them, sitting up off of Mapi and scrubbing at your face. Ingrid seemed satisfied, but María was looking at you with a pensive expression on her face. 

“One more, but only if you promise us that you know it isn’t your fault if it doesn’t work. We love you. If you can’t do this, we’ll still love you. Promise me you know that.” 

You looked back at her. “I think I know. I just worry sometimes. I promise to try to remember.” 

Mapi nodded. “Okay. Mi nina perfecta. I am so proud of you.”

Ingrid and Mapi took in the way you lit up at her words. From then on, they didn’t let a day pass without telling you how proud they were of you. 

------

Here you sat, again, on the floor of the bathroom, the test turned over in front of you. The seconds counted down until you could look, and you felt oddly at peace. Whatever was meant to happen would happen. If it didn’t work again, you’d figure something else out. And Ingrid and Mapi would still love you. 

They were, once again, outside the bathroom door, pacing this time. They both felt slightly nauseous when the timer went off, turning towards the door, freezing. It was quiet again, on the other side of the door, and they both feared the worst. 

“Amor?” Mapi called. 

A second later, the door flew open, and you launched yourself out of the bathroom, holding the test out for them to see. 

“Positive, it’s positive,” you cried, entirely overwhelmed in the best way possible. 

They each wrapped you in a hug, gentle hugs this time, tears flowing down all of your cheeks. It was positive. It had worked. You were going to have a baby. As you celebrated with them, you tried to remind yourself that the hard part wasn’t entirely over. There was so much joy to come, though, and you focused on that. One the absolutely alit with joy expressions on both of your girls’ faces. It had all been worth it, just for this. 

------

No one on the team had really known you were trying to get pregnant, aside from a few people.  They had left all of this up to you, assuring you that they didn’t care who knew when, as long as you were comfortable. That was pretty much it. It had been a difficult few months, and you knew your girlfriends needed the support of their best friends, so Alexia knew, and Frido knew you were trying. As such, you also decided that Ingrid and Mapi could tell them about the pregnancy first.

Telling Alexia went according to plan, for the most part. The three of you had her and Olga over for dinner, presenting her with a box after everyone had eaten. Alexia looked quizzically between the three of you, before she opened it up to find a very small Putellas jersey inside. The entire time you’d been trying to get pregnant, Alexia had teased Mapi that she’d get the baby in a Putellas jersey if it was the last thing she did, Mapi insisting the baby would only wear her and Ingrid’s jerseys. Alexia knew, instantly, what this meant, and to everyone’s shock, the blonde woman immediately covered her face, and broke down into tears. 

“Oh my god, I am so happy for you,” she sobbed, hands still hiding her face. 

You and Ingrid were frozen, never really having seen Alexia cry. Not like this. Olga simply rolled her eyes, placing a comforting hand on her girlfriend’s back and rubbing softly. Mapi was close to tears too, shockingly. 

“What is happening?” You whispered to Ingrid, as both Spaniards tried to pull themselves together. 

“I’m not really sure. Maybe I put too much pepper on the chicken,” Ingrid whispered back, and you covered your mouth to hide your laugh. 

Very suddenly, Alexia slid her chair back, clambering over to Mapi and yanking her up from her own chair. She pulled her into a bone crushing hug, which Mapi met eagerly. They hugged for a while. Long enough for everyone to grow even more confused. When they broke apart, Alexia pulled Ingrid into a hug, and Olga got up too. Alexia wiped at her tears hurriedly, sending you an apologetic smile as she hugged you, too, so gently you could have laughed. 

“I’m sorry, I just know how hard it’s been, and how badly all three of you wanted this, and it’s been so long, and I’m just really happy for you,” Alexia rambled. Behind her, Mapi blushed heavily, and you and Ingrid exchanged knowing glances. 

Mapi had been the picture of strength the past few months. While you had cried, and Ingrid had cried, Mapi had remained optimistic and perfect. Both of you had been wondering how she was managing it. It seemed that the answer was Alexia. She had been spending more time with her, and if there was anyone Mapi trusted with her feelings, it was her best friend. 

With that mystery solved, and the secret finally out, the five of you spent a long time in the living room, discussing all things baby related. Alexia really was so excited for you guys. She held onto the baby Putellas kit pretty much the rest of the night, and you were beginning to get the feeling she was having other thoughts as well. If the longing glances she was sending Olga’s way were any indication, they weren’t too far off from being parents either. 

That thought filled you with so much joy. Alexia and Mapi together were hilarious, and their children together could only be more entertaining. This was one of the fun parts of growing up; getting to watch the people around you grow and change in the best ways.

------

Telling Frido went less according to plan. In fact, no one even told her. 

The three of you were supposed to have her over for dinner over the weekend, and tell her the same way you’d told Alexia. You saw her before that, though, at the midweek match. It was at home, and you were in attendance, sitting in the stands per usual. Frido had picked up a small injury, and was sitting the game out to make sure she was good to go for the more difficult games coming up in the next few weeks. 

It was going fine, completely normally, for the first 15 minutes of the match. You and Frido exchanged easy small talk, most of your attention on the pitch. 

Then, there was a break in play, as one of the opposing players received treatment on the pitch. Frido took the opportunity to look at you, her eyes piercing as she looked down at you, almost smugly. 

“What?” You asked defensively. 

Frido just shook her head, turning back to the pitch. “You’re pregnant.” 

“I- I’m… what?” You stuttered, absolutely baffled. 

“You are pregnant.” She said again. It wasn’t a question either time, and you just blinked at her, wondering if Ingrid had let it slip or something. 

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because you’re glowing. And you were supposed to take a test last week, and Ingrid didn’t call me in tears at all last week, so I know you didn’t test negative. And when you walked off the pitch, away from them, Ingrid and Mapi looked like they were worried you were going to be kidnapped or struck by lightning or something. Also, Mapi bought a parenting book, and when Jana asked her about it, she said she was ‘just preparing’. We both know Mapi doesn’t prepare for things that aren’t happening for sure.”

She really had you there. You couldn’t lie, and she was looking at you expectantly. 

“Dammit Frido,” you sighed. 

She grinned at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in tight. “Congratulations.” 

She said it quietly, but the word was filled with emotion, and you knew that she, too, knew how hard this had been. You were struck, then, with a sense of gratitude, that your girls had such incredible friends. They deserved nothing less. 

After the match, after Barça won, you and Frido headed down to the pitch. Ingrid looked confused when the Swede pulled her into a tight hug, her expression growing shocked when Frido congratulated her quietly. 

“Love, we were going to tell her together,” the Norwegian scolded you, catching the attention of Mapi, who sent you a [less convincing] stern glare. 

You threw your hands up in the air. “I didn’t say anything, she figured it out,” you defended. All three of you turned to Frido, who was, once again, smirking rather smugly at you all. 

“You are bad at keeping secrets, all of you. I’d work on that, or the whole team will know before you’re out of the first trimester.” She said. 

“Know what?” Claudia asked, popping up from behind Frido with a mischievous glint in her eyes, like she knew she’d heard something she wasn’t supposed to. 

It was going to be a long first trimester, if this singular match was any indication.

------

This wasn’t to say that everything went smoothly once you were pregnant. 

Things were alright up until the 4th month. You had a bump by then. You hadn’t thought that it would bother you, gaining weight, not when it was happening for a specific purpose. You’d always had a certain level of discomfort in regards to your body, not that you’d ever admit it. Dating professional athletes had its perks and its drawbacks; your girlfriend’s bodies happened to be both. Normally, you were able to push through your insecurities easily, helped by the way Ingrid and Mapi worshiped you. 

Now, though, everything was different. Your whole body was changing, and you felt so different. What was worse was that you were only in month 4. There were still 5 months to go. You were really struggling. Maybe it was the hormones, too, you weren’t really sure, but letting them see you naked wasn’t an option, suddenly. You shrugged out from under their hands, you didn’t let Mapi pull your shirt up to talk to your bump before bed, and you hadn’t had sex in weeks. The bathroom door remained locked when you changed or showered, when it never had been before. 

They noticed pretty early on that something was going on. At first, they thought they were hovering too much. That didn’t seem to be it, though, because you wanted to be around them, clearly, you just couldn’t stand it when they touched you too much. They brought it up to you briefly, and Mapi believed your explanation that it was a sensory thing, for a while, but Ingrid saw through that. She just wasn’t sure how to bring it up without making you feel worse. It was evident you were feeling a fair amount of shame, and you didn’t want them to know this was going on. You felt so stupid; there was no reason for you to be so upset about something that was completely normal. Your body was built for this, and yet, you felt so uncomfortable, so unnatural. 

Ingrid was waiting for the right opportunity, which came a few days after you’d lied and given an excuse as to your odd behavior. The three of you were on the couch, watching a movie. Well and Ingrid were watching a movie. Mapi was squished against you, her hands roaming dangerously about your body, her lips nipping lightly over your skin every so often. 

You were enjoying it, honestly, until one of her hands drifted down to your thigh, squeezing lightly. Your thighs were a body part you currently were not very happy with, and you flinched away from the contact, pushing Mapi’s hand off of you, and sliding closer to Ingrid. Mapi tried not to be hurt, keeping her hands to herself and simply resting her head against your arm. Ingrid looked down at you with concern, but your attention was fixated on the TV, so she shrugged it off. 

Until a minute later, when she heard a small sniffle. She looked over at Mapi, who was looking at you. Ingrid tilted your chin up towards her, seeing a few tears in your eyes. 

“Hey,” she cooed. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m sorry, María,” you cried, reaching for her hand. You’d noticed how hurt she’d looked when you pulled away from her, and that hadn’t been your intention. 

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t want to, that’s okay, that’s always okay,” she assured you, kissing the side of your head repeatedly. That seemed to help, and you nodded, weakly smiling at her. She returned your smile, leaning in very slowly and pressing her lips to yours. You met her eagerly, kissing her back with hunger before she pulled away, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

Ingrid was not smiling. “Hey, elskling?” 

“Yeah?” You replied, shifting to look up at her. The small smile on your face melted away as you took in the concerned expression on Ingrid’s. 

“You know you can tell us anything, right?” She asked softly, her thumb tracing across your cheekbone. 

“Of course I do.” You told her, somewhat uncomfortably. Ingrid could sense your discomfort, but she pushed anyway. You needed to talk about whatever was bothering you. 

“Then talk to us, love. Something isn’t right.”

You knew she was talking about more than just your rejection of Mapi’s advances this evening. You sighed deeply, and the Spaniard sat up once she realized you were about to talk, leaning on her elbow to look at you next to her. 

“I look… different.” You said shortly. 

“Yes. You’re growing a baby inside of you, love. You’re supposed to look different.” Ingrid said, attempting to reassure you, not knowing this only made you feel worse. You knew you were supposed to look different; that didn’t stop you from disliking it.

“I know.” 

“But…?” Mapi prompted you. 

“I don’t like it.” You whispered. “I hate it. I hate how every part of my body is getting bigger. I can’t even look at myself, not when you two are so beautiful.” 

“Oh, mi amor,” Mapi sighed, curling herself closer around your body. 

“I’m not pretty anymore, and you guys are going to hate how I look, and leave me, and-” You knew you were spiraling, catastrophizing, but you couldn’t stop yourself, not even when Ingrid insistently placed her hands on your cheeks, turning your face towards her. 

“You are beautiful. So beautiful. You were beautiful before you got pregnant, and you are beautiful now. You will always be pretty. Gaining weight will never change that, my darling, never. And definitely not when you’re carrying our child.” She said decisively. 

Mapi spoke then, her voice right in your ear as she clung to you. “I could never hate how you look, I love you too much for that. When I tell you that you are perfect, I mean it. You and Ingrid are the best parts of me, and I would never leave you, no matter what.” 

You closed your eyes, trying to let the words wash over you, let yourself relish in the feeling of being so completely and entirely loved. You opened them, though, when you felt Ingrid move. She was kneeling on the floor in front of you, and her hands rested on the hem of your shirt, waiting for your permission. When you nodded, she lifted it up, letting it bunch around your sternum, before began to lightly kiss your skin, starting at your thighs, alternating legs, moving up slowly until she was kissing your bump, up to your collarbone, your neck, your jaw, and finally, her lips pressed themselves against yours. You couldn’t get over the way either woman was looking at you, with so much love and adoration. Like they were in complete awe of you. 

You exhaled against Ingrid’s mouth sharply, more tears falling down your cheeks. This time, though, they weren’t sad tears. You were crying because of how well Ingrid and Mapi loved you, how they always knew just what to say, and just what to do. It was this, most of all, that you were most excited to see transform into parenthood. It was different, and new, but at its core, it was still your Ingrid, and your Mapi. The three of you, together, with a new little addition. 

It was confidence in their love that had you surging forward suddenly, wrapping your arm around Ingrid’s neck, and drawing Mapi in closer by the front of her shirt. There was no room for insecurity when they held you this close, when they worked at your body like it was divine, like it was sent from heaven, just for them. All you had to do was let them in, and they’d make everything better, always. They’d do it for the baby, too, you were sure. For now, though, you needed to enjoy your dwindling time with just the three of you. And you planned to do so. 

------

no part 2 to this probably, i'm pretty happy with where it is :)

[girlgenius1111]

face the consequences

ingrid x mapi x reader mapi talks you into being a brat. ingrid has no patience for it, and punishes you both. basically ingrid topping tf out of mapi and r.

smut. 18+

cw: light choking. dom sub dynamics. fingers. cunnilingus. strap on use. riding. biting? i guess? once? mentions of spanking, but no actual spanking.

-----

You knew you were in for when Ingrid didn’t even look at you as she all but pushed you into the backseat of the car, very unnecessarily buckling your seatbelt for you.

You knew earlier than that, really, when you’d let the random woman grind up against you on the dance floor, when her hands had drifted somewhere more than friendly, and Ingrid had gotten very sick of watching your little show. 

It was Mapi’s fault, though, not that Ingrid would ever believe you. Mapi was her perfect girl, and you were… not. María had clearly been in a bratty mood, but was too much of a coward to act out herself, so she talked you into making your girlfriend jealous. 

Ingrid hadn’t let it go on for very long before she was dragging you both out of the crowded club by your hands, mumbling about how she couldn’t just have one night out where you didn’t act like a slut. Your explanations that this had been Mapi’s idea had seemingly fallen on deaf ears, and eventually you gave up. You grew steadily more turned on as a tense silence filled the car. Mapi was rather pleased with herself, Ingrid was fuming, and you were frustrated, but more so excited. You wanted what was coming your way, you thought. 

The Norwegian was possessive even when you hadn’t been draped all over another woman 20 minutes earlier. Now, though, she was downright pushy, pulling you out of the car and barely letting you go as she unlocked the front door and guided you into the house. 

She had you fully in her arms, Mapi forgotten behind her, within a second, spinning you around and tilting your face up to look at her. 

“Needy slut, hmm? Couldn’t wait for me to give you what you wanted? You had to get it from someone else?”

Wisely, you kept quiet, only blinking up at the brunette with a sheepish look on your face. 

Ingrid regarded you for a moment, her fingers gently tucking your hair behind her ear. “How much did you have to drink?” She asked, face softening just slightly. 

“Huh?” You replied, confused at the turn this conversation was taking. 

“How much did you drink? You can’t be drunk if I’m going to do to you what I want to,” 

You inhaled deeply. “2 drinks.” 

That was apparently not good enough of an answer. “How do you feel?” 

“Good, I’m good, Ingrid,” 

“Hmm. I wouldn’t say you are good. You’ve been very bad tonight, darling.” She said condescendingly, and you forced yourself to keep your eyes on hers, even though the look she was giving you was rather intense. “You want to do this? You remember your safewords?” 

“Yes,” you responded breathily, as her hand started to creep down from your lower back, gripping at your ass. 

“Good. Go get on the bed. And take your clothes off.” 

There was no room for conversation or argument, so even though you didn’t particularly feel like leaving your girlfriend’s sides, you moved quickly, heading into the bedroom, hearing a sharp gasp from behind you. You didn’t dare turn around to see what the cause of the sound was, focusing on the task Ingrid had set you, and only that. 

Ingrid had Mapi pressed up against the wall, similarly to how she’d just had you, though Mapi wasn’t quite expecting it. She should have been, but the attention had been on you, and she hadn’t known Ingrid knew what’d she done. 

“What happened to my good girl, hmm? I’m used to our princesa being a brat, but not you, mi amor. Never you. I’m disappointed.” Ingrid whispered, ghosting her lips across Mapi’s jaw. 

Mapi whined, a pathetic sound she’d never admit to making. “I am your good girl, Ingrid,” 

“Do not lie, María,” Ingrid hissed, wrapping her veiny hand around Mapi’s throat, applying very light pressure. “You told her how to act, and she listened, didn’t you?” 

“Sí,” Mapi breathed, her brown eyes on Ingrid. The Norwegian hummed quietly, contemplating. 

“Are you going to make it up to me?”

“Sí, claro que sí,” 

“I know you will,” Ingrid cooed. “What do you think your punishment should be, baby?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Mapi tried, blinking up at Ingrid with a slightly dazed look on her face, the domination the brunette was showing making her feel weak in the knees. 

“Think, elskling. What would make you all needy?  What would make your cunt drip for me?” 

Mapi’s mouth was suddenly very dry, and she opened and closed her mouth a few times before answering. “Don’t let me touch her,” she suggested, hating herself for it as soon as the words left her mouth. She had no chance, though, not with Ingrid looking at her so intently. 

“Muy bien,” Ingrid smiled. Per usual, the Spaniard felt her face flush at the sound of the Spanish phrase so heavily affected by her girlfriend’s thick Norwegian accent.

 The look in Ingrid’s eyes was downright predatory, and Mapi felt a shiver run down her spine, knowing the Norwegian was not about to let either of you off the hook very easily. 

Meanwhile, you were growing impatient. It had been a couple minutes, and you had done as Ingrid had instructed. You were kind of cold, though, and you ached for the feeling of either of your girls’ skin on yours. Perhaps more than that, though, you wanted something harsher, something rougher. You were pretty sure you knew how to get it too, so you let your hand trail down your stomach, settling over your hot core. It wouldn’t possibly feel as good as Ingrid or Mapi’s hands on you, but it would probably succeed in getting what you wanted. You weren’t quite understanding of Ingrid’s mood, though.

You kept your hand where it was, playing with your clit, as you saw your girls stumble back through the doorway, Mapi being backed into the room by Ingrid, the taller woman’s lips working insistently against the Spaniard’s. Ingrid’s eyes fluttered open very briefly, to make sure she wasn’t about to smash Mapi into the bed, widening when she saw what you were up to. Her lips broke away from your other girlfriend, but her hands remained all over Mapi, drifting under her shirt and playing with her chest. 

“Stop.” 

The look on Ingrid’s face, paired with the very simple command, had you freezing. 

“You are not going to get what you want. I’ll touch you when I want, how I want. Hands off what is mine.” She warned, and you completely abandoned your plans, hands practically flying away from where it had been resting. 

The brunette turned back to Mapi, who was looking at her with the familiar dreamy expression she got whenever Ingrid got bossy with you. Before she had time to react, Ingrid had her backed up against the wall again, this time falling to her knees before the older woman, and yanking down her pants and underwear impatiently. 

“Fucking-Ingrid, jesus,” Mapi cried, when Ingrid’s mouth immediately attached itself to her. 

“Shut up.” Ingrid warned. 

Mapi’s hands scratched at the wall behind her, hovering over Ingrid’s head before she decided against it. She gripped the door jam in one hand, and clenched the other into a tight fist, her body already spasming under Ingrid’s precise tongue. Mapi was clearly unsteady, and Ingrid didn’t help matters when she gripped the other woman’s leg and threw it over her shoulder, giving the Norwegian a better angle.

It was torture, watching and not being able to do anything. You knew just what Mapi was feeling, too, the feeling of Ingrid’s tongue flicking over her clit, her fingers teasing over the Spaniard’s entrance before harshly pushing in and searching insistently for the spot deep inside. The spot that Ingrid knew would make Mapi fall apart in mere seconds. It was a point of pride for the Norwegian, how quickly she could make the both of you come, purely based on her own skill and how well she knew your bodies. 

She knew Mapi very well, indeed, knew the minute the older woman began to tighten around her fingers, the minute her legs began to shake on either side of Ingrid’s head, that Mapi was close. 

“Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid,” Mapi whined, her body jerking, trying very hard not to grind down too hard on her girlfriend’s face. 

“Am I making you feel good, María?” Ingrid asked mockingly, pulling her face away as she spoke. 

“Sí. Ay dios mío, sí por favor, más rápido amor.” Mapi cried out. Ingrid obliged, speeding her fingers up until they were sliding in and out rapidly of Mapi’s pulsing cunt, her entire hand covered in Mapi’s wetness. 

“Are you close? Are you going to come all over my fingers?” 

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” Mapi begged. She was, in fact, dangerously close, all thoughts of her behavior and her punishment fucked right out of her head. She wasn’t cautious, the way that you would have been, not used to being punished by Ingrid. You saw what was coming from a mile away. 

Just as Mapi was about to come, so close she could feel her orgasm beginning to ripple through her body, Ingrid withdrew her fingers and stood up, a very satisfied smirk on her face. 

“No, Ingrid baby, no,” Mapi cried, her legs not quite strong enough at the moment to hold her up. She stumbled forward just slightly into Ingrid’s arms, and the laugh that echoed through the room was soft, not cruel, adoring and not teasing. The Norwegian held Mapi easily, whispering sweet reassurances in her ear, as she guided the woman over to the bed. 

Mapi flopped back onto the bed, pouting up at Ingrid, until your face leaned over hers. 

“Well.” You teased. “Ingrid’s perfect girl being punished? I never thought I’d see the day.” 

Still, your hand cupped Mapi’s cheek, and you left a light kiss on her forehead. Mapi could only grumble incoherently in response. She was kind of embarrassed, honestly, at how easily Ingrid had gotten her to fall apart. You deserved a lot of credit, it seemed, for lasting so long through Ingrid’s teasing and punishments before you started begging. Mapi had barely lasted one ruined orgasm. Just as she was about to comment on this, she heard you let out a low, drawn out moan, and her eyes flew open. 

Ingrid had you bent over the side of the bed, her fingers lightly teasing you. The red bite mark on your left ass cheek told Mapi exactly why you’d just made that sound, especially when Ingrid was still barely touching you. 

A fact you were very aware of. Ingrid hadn’t wasted any time getting to work on Mapi, but she was taking her time with you. You knew why, and you weren’t sure about it. You’d been a massive brat, yes. And normally, this would warrant Ingrid’s favorite punishment to dish out, one which would leave your ass red for days. You just… weren’t feeling it today. When Ingrid punished you like that, all the attention would be on you. She’d work you up to it, focus on you, before making you take it. She hadn’t done that today, which was fine. You needed something different from her, though, and you knew you had to speak up, or she’d continue with what she was planning. 

“Ingrid,” you said, voice slightly muffled by the duvet under you. 

“Hmm?” She responded absentmindedly, her hand stroking easily over your ass. 

“I don’t want that tonight?” You mumbled, more of a question than a statement. 

Her hands left your body briefly, before she flipped you onto your back, and hovered over you, her face only inches from yours. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” You knew what her real question was. Were you drawing a line, or being a brat?

“Telling,” you whispered. Her lips met yours in a soft kiss, and you settled into the comfort and familiarity of it. 

“Okay.” She said against your mouth, smiling at the glazed look in your eyes at a simple kiss. “I have something else in mind, then,”

“Okay.” You replied breathlessly, agreeing without a second thought. Her green eyes were blazing with excitement, and you knew whatever was coming, it would be a lot. 

Her weight was off of you in an instant, moving quickly as she rifled through the drawer with all the toys, selecting the perfect one before also grabbing Mapi’s strap. 

“You’re going to ride María. Now. You can get yourself ready while she straps up.” 

And you did just that. Her permission flipped a switch in your brain and it was only seconds before you were spreading your legs open and burying your hand in between. You were dripping already, from watching, from Ingrid being so close to you, from hours of pent up energy in anticipation of tonight. You took two fingers easily, eyes falling shut as you focused on the task at hand, ignoring the movement on the bed behind you, and the words exchanged. 

“She’s going to ride you, but you can’t touch her. Do you understand?” 

“Ingrid,” Mapi whined. 

Ingrid shook her head smiling to herself. “No, baby. You picked it. No complaining.” 

You let out a pleasured sigh, and the Norwegian fixed her attention on you. “Enough. Come here.” 

Regretfully, you withdrew your hand and moved, clambering on top of Mapi and settling yourself over her strap. She didn’t move an inch, her hands gripping tightly to the duvet, though her eyes roved up and down your body with a distinct hunger. 

Ingrid retreated to her favorite place to watch the both of you from, the leather chair in the corner of the room. She settled there, sitting back relaxed, as if she was about to watch a movie, not watch her girlfriend get herself off on her other girlfriend. 

You turned your attention back to Mapi under you. She was the reason you were in this predicament to begin with, and you decided to make this as difficult for her as possible, lining yourself up with the strap and sinking down onto it with an almost pornographic moan. 

You threw your head back, allowed your fingers to pinch at your nipple, and began to rock up and down, slowly, and then faster, finding the perfect angle for the strap. It was a bit of a stretch, but one that you were more than willing to take. You let your audience know how good you were feeling, how good you were making yourself feel, a steady stream of curses and whimpers leaving your mouth. 

“Good girl, putting on a show for us. You look so pretty riding María, don’t you? So pretty fucking her cock.” Ingrid said softly. You opened your eyes, glancing back to find her watching Mapi intently. You turned your attention to the woman under you, and withheld a grin. 

“You’re making María go crazy, aren’t you?” Ingrid called. 

You definitely were. For as good as Mapi felt inside of you, her strap the perfect shape and size to fill you just the way you needed, enough that when you clenched around it, you really felt it, Mapi looked like she was about to explode. Her face was red, her hands a stark white from how tightly she gripped blankets under her. Her whole body was tense, her ab muscles on full display as her eyes followed you up and down, up and down. 

“Neither of you can come until I say so.” 

At this, you both let out a frustrated huff. The strap Mapi was wearing had a vibrator attachment that Ingrid had obviously utilized. Every movement from you jolted it inside of the Spaniard, and combined with the friction of the actual strap on her clit, she was getting close. 

She had nothing on you, though, as you tipped forward, forgetting about putting on a performance and making Mapi pay for making this punishment occur in the first place, too lost in the pleasure, lost in the sensation of your climbing orgasm. You were fighting it, trying to fight it, that much was obvious to Ingrid. You gripped Mapi’s abdomen under you, nails scratching at the skin, making the other woman squirm, but you were past noticing and past caring. 

“Ingrid, I can’t-” you warned her. 

“Yes you can. If I say you can, you can.” 

Mapi was biting her lip now, her legs twitching under you. She so desperately wanted to fuck up into you, take over and give your shaking legs a rest. Get you under her, and rail you. But Ingrid said not to touch. And Mapi had already been bad tonight. She wasn’t planning on doing it again. 

“Don’t slow down,” Ingrid warned, and you let out a rather undignified whimper. 

“Please, baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, please just let me come,” You begged, pride forgotten as you tightened every muscle in your body, trying to fight it off. 

That was, apparently, all that Ingrid was waiting for. “You can touch now, María. Fuck her.” 

It was like Mapi had known all along the instructions she’d receive, because the words were barely out of ingrid’s mouth before she had you under her, her face buried in the crook of your neck, thighs working to fuck into you rapidly. 

She grunted quietly with every thrust, gripping tightly to your body. You were blabbering nonsense at this point, your girlfriend’s names barely understandable as your back arched. Mapi hadn’t been as close as you, and she didn’t slow down when the first orgasm hit you. 

No, she only sped up, until you were screaming her name, tightening around her strap as one orgasm turned into two, and Mapi could barely move inside of you. It didn't matter, because she’d gotten herself there, too, a guttural groan fighting its way out of her lips as her hips stuttered and thrust into you one last time, her body weight practically collapsing on top of you. 

You weren’t sure you were on earth anymore, half sure you’d ascended into heaven. Words weren’t an option, and moving was barely an option as Mapi pulled herself out and rolled off your body, gasping for breath along with you as she stared dazedly at the ceiling. 

Soft Ingrid was back, instantly, climbing onto the bed next to you and checking in, her soft fingers tracing a pattern over your cheek until you opened your eyes. 

“Okay, my love?” 

You could only nod, and Ingrid chuckled at the fucked out look on your face. 

“María, niña bonita, estas bien?” She asked, looking over to the other woman. 

“Good, good. Your turn.” She murmured, leaning up on her elbows, and directing a very enticing smile in Ingrid’s direction. 

“No, mi amor, it’s alright.” The Norwegian tried to insist, but Mapi was unrelenting, removing the strap from herself, and getting everyone situated how she wanted. 

Of course, Ingrid only allowed this because she wanted to. Mapi wouldn’t dare manhandle the other brunette if she wasn’t sure she’d be okay with it. No, Ingrid let herself settle back against your chest, with you propped up on some pillows. She rested her head on your shoulder, feeling your hands lazily tease at her chest. 

Mapi settled between her legs, finding her absolutely soaked, and knew it wouldn’t take much. You were still on another planet, practically, listening to Ingrid’s soft moans and whimpers as Mapi worked her up. 

Even when she was technically under her girlfriend, Ingrid wasn’t one to let up control, or let anyone forget who was in charge. Her hands came to rest over yours, directing your movements on her chest. She kept up a steady stream of instructions and praise, something that always made Mapi work harder. 

“Fuck baby, there. Faster. I said faster María. Good, baby, your tongue feels so good,” Ingrid murmured, enjoying the feeling of your hands on her, of Mapi’s mouth on her, more than she could express. 

Mapi had been right; it was only a few minutes before Ingrid’s thighs were clamping around the Spaniard’s head and she was crying out, fingers lacing into Mapi’s hair, before she relaxed completely, falling limp on top of you. 

You kissed her cheek lightly a few times, feeling Mapi move up and lay practically on top of Ingrid, the Spaniard’s head resting on the Norwegian’s abdomen. 

Because, at the end of the day, while you were at Ingrid’s mercy, she also relied on you more than anyone thought. Her sense of control in the bedroom made her feel inexplicably safe. The only thing that felt better was being pressed up against the both of you, completely content, completely satisfied. You never left each other unsatisfied, or unhappy, and all three of you were quite sure that you never would. 

------

worked on this for three hours straight and im tired but i have no regrets

[girlgenius1111]

behave

ingrid leaves for 2 weeks for national duty. sol and mapi try to stay out of trouble and fill the time. they are successful at one of those two objectives. some medical trauma discussed.

-------

“And I have an extra one of her inhalers, in the medicine cabinet in our bathroom. She hasn’t had an asthma attack in a while but-”

“-But just in case, Solstråle has one in her backpack, and you have one in the medicine cabinet. Ingrid, relax. It’s going to be fine. You’ve left the two of us before.” 

“I know, but this time it's for longer, and she’s still not really herself. So many things have happened and I’m so worried,” the Norwegian rambled. It had only been a few weeks since everything had happened, and you were doing better. You were adjusting. Ingrid still didn’t really want you out of her sight, but she was due at the airport to fly back to Norway for the international break. She’d already said goodbye to you back at the house, and now she was very anxiously trying to give Mapi some words of advice before she had to go. It wasn’t the first time she’d left you with Mapi to play for Norway, but it was the first time since your mental health had really declined, since Ingrid became aware of how hard of a time you were having. 

“Ingrid, amor, I know. I will take good care of her. Do you trust me?” Mapi said calmly, squeezing one of Ingrid’s hands. 

“Of course, María, I’m sorry, of course I trust you. It’s just… keep an eye on her? Please?” Ingrid’s worry bled through her tone, eyes pleading with Mapi to agree to her request. 

“I promise, Ingrid. We’ll be completely fine. And if we aren’t, I’ll call you.” 

“Okay.” Ingrid said quietly. 

“Alright. Fly safe, mi amor. I love you.” Mapi said, pulling Ingrid into a hug. Her girlfriend clung to her, and Mapi rubbed her back softly, trying to provide some comfort. 

“I love you too.” Ingrid whispered, pulling back to leave a sweet kiss on her girlfriend’s lips, before turning and walking into the airport. 

Mapi sighed, a bit relieved because she honestly wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be returning home with Ingrid after a failed airport drop off. The Norwegian had been increasingly anxious about you in recent weeks, and Mapi knew that leaving you, now, felt like she was failing you as a sister, and as a guardian. She also knew, however, that she had the situation handled. You were comfortable with Mapi, and she was confident in her abilities to keep an eye on you, and make sure you were doing okay. 

She understood Ingrid’s anxiety. The Norwegian had always been a person who needed to feel control. Leaving her very vulnerable sister behind while she went off to play football for two weeks would certainly not give Ingrid the sense of control she craved in every situation that scared her. 

Ingrid had gone, though. Entered the airport, gotten on the plane. And now it was time for Mapi to get back home to you, and begin the 2 weeks of fun she had planned. 

------

Mapi wanted to bond with you, in a way that didn’t involve heavy emotions and tears being spilled. She wanted to do something fun that you enjoyed. Even if it wasn’t something that she necessarily wouldn’t have chosen. When you enthusiastically suggested that you both go to your rock climbing gym, she’d agreed easily. How hard could it be? She was a professional athlete. She was fit and strong, and she knew she could do it. She’d checked with the trainers at Barça, and she’d been cleared for the activity. An important piece of information that she’d forgotten, however, was that she wasn’t the biggest fan of heights. 

Well, it wasn’t that she forgot. It was more that she just didn’t think it would be an issue. Her fear of heights had decreased significantly in recent years. She went on hikes often up tall hills and mountains, and was barely bothered. She didn’t stop to consider that being tied to a wall and climbing to the top with very little support would be harder. 

It was easy to get on the helmet, the harness, and all the gear. It was adorable to watch you expertly tie the knots to her carabiner, very nonchalantly, though Mapi could tell you wanted to impress her. It was fun to learn all the silly little commands she was supposed to shout. It was fun that you knew all the right pointers to tell her, easily getting her going up the wall. It was even fun climbing; it took a specific muscle strength that was slightly different than the one she possessed, and it was just difficult enough to present a challenge, without being overwhelmingly difficult. 

As she got higher up, though, she became more and more aware that the only thing between her and falling a very significant distance to the ground was a rope and a self belaying machine. She kept herself calm, though, until she got to the top of the wall. She allowed herself a small smile, glancing down at where you were cheering for her. 

That was her mistake. The ground was so far away. And once she started to panic she couldn’t really stop. 

You were yelling instructions up to her, ones she could barely hear.“Okay, like I told you. Flip the hand brake to the other side, and let the slack of the rope slide through your hand.” 

“NO!” Mapi shouted, surprising even herself with the volume of her voice. “I can’t.” 

“What do you mean you can’t? Is it stuck?” You replied. It didn’t even occur to you that Mapi might be scared. She was Mapi. She was fearless and confident and she was brave for you when you weren’t sure you could be. 

“No, Sol, I can’t. I can’t.” Mapi said again, and you were floored to hear her start to get choked up. She had a white knuckle grip on the rope in one hand, holding tight to one of the handholds with the other. She looked like her whole body was trembling, and you floundered for a minute, entirely lost on what to do and how to help. 

Though after thinking about it for another minute, the solution was clear. Ingrid could fix Mapi, just like Mapi could always fix Ingrid. 

“Okay, Maps, hold on I’m gonna help you.” You shouted, seeing her nod weakly. There was no getting her down like this. You had to have some confidence in the equipment, and yourself, in order to repel down the wall, and Mapi clearly possessed confidence in neither of those things at the moment. 

You grabbed your phone and called Ingrid. It went right to voicemail. You called again, waving off the worker who came up to ask if you needed help. 

“I’m calling Ingrid, Mapi, just hang on.” 

Ingrid didn’t answer for a second time. You dialed Caro’s number, one you had for emergencies, and she picked up on the first ring, no doubt concerned at the sight of your name on the caller ID. 

“Hello?” Caro said. 

“Caro, are you with Ingrid? Can you get her for me?” 

“Uh… yeah. She’s in the gym, I’ll grab her. Is everything okay?” 

“No, please hurry.” 

It was unsettling to see Mapi this distraught, and you were absolutely flooded with guilt that you’d made her do this. She was clearly terrified and it was all your fault.

You heard some muffled voices over the phone before Ingrid’s absolutely panicked one came over the line. 

“Solstråle? What is it?” She asked, beside herself with worry. 

“Um. Mapi and I went to the climbing gym. And she made it to the top of the wall but now she’s… stuck.” 

“Stuck? What do you mean stuck?” 

“She’s too afraid to come down, I don’t know what to do.” 

Ingrid fought off a smile. The mental image of Mapi stuck at the top of an indoor climbing wall, securely attached to a rope, a thick mat underneath her, in absolutely no danger at all, was comical, she couldn’t lie. 

“Switch it to a video call.” She instructed, for no other reason than to get photographic evidence of this. Alexia would be getting a late birthday gift this year, in the form of this moment, framed. 

You did as she asked, flipping the camera around to show Mapi up at the top of the wall. It was the shortest one in the place, and Ingrid had a very clear view of her girlfriend, holding onto the wall and the rope for dear life. 

“Oh, María.” Ingrid chuckled, finding the whole situation very amusing. She took a screenshot, before you spoke and the situation became significantly less funny. 

“Ingrid, I think she’s crying.” You murmured. That sobered up your sister pretty quickly. It was one thing for Mapi to be scared, and entirely another for her to be so terrified she was moved to tears. Ingrid very suddenly remembered Mapi’s fading fear of heights. Or, what was supposed to be a fading fear of heights. 

“Shit. Can you get up there? With me in your pocket or something?” 

You sounded almost cocky when you responded. “I could get up there with my eyes closed. It’s the easiest wall.” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Okay, get me up to her.” 

You did as your sister asked, attaching your harness to the ropes and getting the self belay machine all set, before you slipped your sister into your pocket, and climbed up the wall, at a speed that could only be described as a sprint. It took longer than it could have, because you went slightly diagonal, trying to get as close to Mapi as you could. When you reached her, she seemed completely spaced out, every muscle in her body tensed, a few tears on her cheeks. 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, turned the volume up, and held it up so Mapi could see her girlfriend. 

“María?” Ingrid said soothingly. 

Mapi snapped back into herself, her head whipping around to look at the phone, and at you. 

“Ingrid.” she said, relief clear in her voice. 

“Hey. Are you scared?” 

“No, I am staying up here for fun Ingrid.” Mapi snapped. Ingrid looked unimpressed, and Mapi mumbled an apology. 

“Can you listen to what Sol tells you to do? And do it with her?” 

“Isn’t there another way I can get down?” She asked in a quiet voice. 

“Yeah, I can cut the rope and you’d drop right down.” You deadpanned. Mapi looked horrified at you, and you choked back a laugh. 

“Solstråle, that is not nice!” Ingrid scolded. “María, my love, you are completely safe. You’re going to do what Sol says, and you’ll be back on the ground in a second, okay?” 

“Okay.” Mapi agreed, glaring at you. 

“See you in a sec Ingrid! If we make it down alive,” you added, tucking your sister back into your pocket before she could yell at you again. 

When you spoke again, though, it was soft and encouraging, and Mapi knew that you were taking her fear seriously. It is one of those little signs that you loved her, too. You weren’t as good at saying it, having not heard it said to you for a lot of your life, but you showed it. When you’d squeeze her hand during a Barça game, knowing how hard it was for her to sit out. When you’d find a silly cat tiktok and send it to her, even though she knew you didn’t find whatever it was very funny. And now, when you talked her through the whole thing, assuring her that she’d be safe the whole time. 

“It’s gonna be fine, Maps. Flip the handbrake off, and hold tight to the rope. You won’t go anywhere until you let yourself.” 

Mapi found herself following your instructions without much thought. You just very clearly sounded like you knew what you were doing. 

“Okay, good. Now loosen your hand on the rope, just a little. A bit will slide through and you’ll drop. The less you let go of, the slower you’ll descend.” Mapi let the rope go a bit, lowering maybe an inch. You nodded encouragingly, lowering down with her. “Keep your feet on the wall. You’re just going to walk yourself down. You can go as slow as you need to.” 

Very slowly, at the pace of a wounded snail, you and Mapi moved down the wall. You didn’t stop talking the whole time, forgetting, honestly, that Ingrid was in your pocket. 

She was sitting in the hallway, all the way in Norway, wondering what she did to deserve such a sweet sister, who cared so deeply for the people around her. Who adjusted to her girlfriend without a second thought. Who was sensitive and loving, even if you pretended not to be. 

When Mapi got down the wall, she was still shaking too badly to undo the harness. You handed her your phone, un attaching her from the wall, as she spoke quietly to your sister. When she was free, and you were free, you shoved your face next to hers, greeting Ingrid again. 

If Mapi was worried you’d make fun of her, she didn't have to be. 

You just smiled at her. “Ice cream?” You asked hopefully. Mapi and Ingrid felt their lips both tug up into smiles, matching smiles. 

“Definitely.” Mapi agreed. 

The day had been a bonding experience. Just in a very different way than Mapi had anticipated. 

------

You enjoyed spending time with Mapi, you really did. But you were also a person that needed a lot of time to yourself. Maybe it was a consequence of having no one around who paid much attention to you growing up, or maybe it was just how you were wired. Either way, after almost 2 weeks of spending every minute with your sister’s girlfriend, you needed a break. 

Some silence, and a break. 

Which is how you found yourself on a long hike, two days before Ingrid was due home. You’d gone yourself, without Scout, which wasn’t a common occurrence, but you wanted to be gone for a while. Just you and nature and nothing but your thoughts to echo around your head. 

When you got to a fork in the path, you stopped to consider. The right path would lead you back down, and you’d be home within the hour. The left path would lead you through a tricky boulder section of the hike, and you’d be gone another 2 hours. 

Your only hesitation with the left path was that Ingrid had very specifically told you not to take it alone. You’d talked to her before you’d left, and she’d warned you that the boulders were really tricky, and you shouldn’t do it by yourself. She promised to go with you when she got back, if you promised not to do it today. 

Mapi would never know, though. You’d just tell her you stopped at the top to enjoy the views for a bit, before you headed down. And if Mapi didn’t know, Ingrid wouldn’t know. And you really, really, just wanted some more time to yourself. 

So you set off to the left, ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut that you were making a mistake. 

------

You didn’t remember it hurting this bad, having a broken bone. It was definitely broken, though. You’d heard it go, even as your body hit the ground with a loud thump. 

The boulders had been tricky. So incredibly tricky. They were slightly loose and wobbly, and there were big gaps in between where you could easily fall. You had to get up and over a pile of rocks to keep moving, and you were tired. There were only a few more, by your estimations, and you were so relieved to almost be done that you were a bit more careless on the last few. 

It was the final obstacle that you fell from. You lost your footing towards the end of the boulder pile, rolling and tumbling down the last boulder, and onto the dirt path. You threw your arm out to catch yourself, and that was all it took. 

Sitting for a moment, you assessed your hand. It was broken. You knew instantly. You’d felt this before, you knew what it was. You felt strangely calm after making that assessment, carefully testing all of your fingers, and trying to move your wrist. 

Ouch. No, it was definitely broken. You had a couple options. You could call Mapi to come get you. She’d freak out and call your sister, who would be furious that you’d done exactly what she warned you not to. Or, you could finish the hike and get home. Pretend you were tired from your hike, or sick or something, and sneak away into your bedroom. Sleep it off. 

Logically, you knew the second option was bullshit. You couldn’t hide a broken arm forever. The thought of going to the doctor, though, was not something you would even consider. You only had one choice. 

You rose to your feet, the movement jostling your arm just enough to make your stomach turn. You bent over, throwing up onto the path. Straightening up again, you set off down the path, arm cradled close to your body. You could do this. You were strong and independent and you didn’t need anyones help. 

------

You felt like the universe was on your side, with the way things were going. Aside from the broken arm, of course. You were able to slip past Mapi, telling her a small lie that you’d grabbed food on the way home and weren’t feeling well, before you made it to your room. She popped her head in to say goodnight, and if she thought your behavior was weird, she didn’t say anything. 

You waited until she was in bed to shower, knowing she’d be up early for training the next day. You weren’t quite sure what your plan was past that, but you were taking this step by step. 

If Mapi didn’t know, she wouldn’t make you go to the doctor. She wouldn’t tell Ingrid. And Ingrid wouldn’t be mad. 

It was very poor logic, but logic nonetheless. 

You probably could have kept it up for longer, too, if your damn dog wasn’t so intelligent. 

------

Scout wasn’t sure what a broken bone was. Nor was he sure what was wrong with you. But you were hurting, had cried yourself to sleep the night before, and no one was doing anything. The helpful tall one was gone, leaving him with only the annoying and loud short one. Scout didn't think she was very smart, but he’d try to get the message across that someone should probably do something about you, his favorite person on planet earth. 

He followed her around when she arrived home from training. She ignored him. 

When she sat on the couch and turned the TV on, he stood right next to her, staring daggers at her face. She ignored him. 

It wasn’t until he started to whine loudly, and paw at her hand that she got fed up and finally looked at him. 

“Scout, chico, I am begging you to leave me alone.” Mapi sighed. The dog just looked at her, taking a tiny step closer to the Spaniard and letting out a quiet whine. “I swear to god.” 

She stood from the couch, heading for your room. If Scout would listen to anyone, it would be you. And she assumed that he was just pouting because you had shut your door, not allowing him inside. Now that Mapi thought about it, though, she realized she hadn’t seen you at all today, though she had exchanged texts with you while she was at training. Upon arriving at your door she raised her hand to knock, but before her hand could make contact with the wood, she heard a quiet, pained yelp come from the room. 

Mapi frowned. “Nena?” She called, knocking on the door before trying to knob. 

It was locked. 

You never locked your door. 

Mapi paused for a moment, looking down at Scout next to her, who was panting and staring up at her. See, his eyes seemed to say. I told you something was wrong. 

“Solstråle? Can I come in?” 

Inside, you had clapped your good hand over your mouth, realizing that Mapi had heard the sound you’d made. You’d been trying to pull a sweatshirt on to hide the awful sight of your arm, but even the soft brush of the fabric against your arm was horribly painful. 

Fuck. Fuck. Mapi wasn’t going to go away, not without seeing you. You struggled with the sweatshirt further before responding, but you were unable to muffle a cry of pain when your forearm twisted slightly. 

You shut your eyes, fighting back tears. “I’m fine, Mapi.” You replied, though you knew very well that it would not be enough for the Spaniard. 

“You don’t sound fine.” Mapi said, twisting the knob again, as if it would have magically unlocked itself in the last few seconds. 

“I am. All good.” You said back, fighting against the urge to open the door and collapse into her arms; your arm was on fire, the pain so bad that you were barely keeping yourself from openly sobbing. 

On the other side of the door, Mapi shook her head, growing more and more panicked. You didn’t sound right, not at all. Scout next to her had begun to pace, and she was trying to figure out if she could break the door down before she spoke again. 

“Open the door, nena. I am not asking. I need to see that you’re safe.” Mapi said firmly, closing her eyes and praying to god that you were okay. 

You had no choice. You stepped forward, unlocking the door, and Mapi’s eyes fell to you, cradling your arm close to your chest. You arm that looked wrong. It was bent at a slightly awkward angle, turning an ugly shade of purple, and it was twice the size of how it normally was.

“Jesus.” Mapi sighed, stepping closer to you, she missed the pure panic that flashed across your face, but she saw you flinch violently away from her, backing up until you were on the opposite side of the room. There were tears in your eyes, and Mapi froze, raising her hands in the air.

“Sol,” Mapi began, her heart shattering when you shook your head rapidly, wordlessly begging for something, although Mapi wasn’t quite sure what. “It’s just me, Sol. I won’t touch your arm. I just want to look at it, okay? I promise, I will not touch you.” 

You blinked at her for a minute, before nodding slowly. You moved over to your bed, taking a seat on the edge, sitting rather stiffly. It was a testament to the trust you had in the Spaniard that you held your arm out for her to see, a quiet sob falling from your lips. 

Mapi moved closer slowly, like you were a wild animal she didn’t want to scare off, until she was standing right in front of you. She kept her hands behind her back, simply looking at your arm. It was broken. Mapi wasn’t a doctor, but this wasn’t a difficult determination to make. A broken arm is pretty obvious. 

“What happened?” 

“I fell.” 

“How did you fall?” 

“I was hiking along those rocks that Ingrid told me not to climb on and I lost my balance and fell on my arm.”

“This was yesterday?” Mapi breathed, sick to her stomach at the thought that you’d been hiding this from her for so long. That you’d been hiding it at all, but that you’d gone to sleep with an untreated broken bone, that she’d left you alone while she went to training, while you had a broken bone. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh, cariño.” She sighed. “You must be in so much pain.” She studied you closely, and she decided that now was not the time to have a conversation about hiding things from her. “Nena, do you want a hug?” 

Now that she knew, it was even harder to pretend that you were fine. She was right. You had been in a lot of pain. You were acutely aware of that pain, now, and how desperately you wanted someone to take charge of the situation and make everything okay. 

“Please,” you whispered, leaning in her direction. Mapi very carefully wrapped her arms around you, gently rubbing her hand up and down your back. You trembled against her, and Mapi thought at that moment that she would break her own arm if it meant you weren’t in pain. 

Mapi hugged you tight for a minute before she very regretfully pulled back, putting her hands on her shoulders and studying you. “Okay. Okay. Here is what we’re going to do. Tomorrow, we are going to have a talk about hiding injuries from us. Because Sol, this is so dangerous. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me, and you can explain later, but right now we need to go see a doctor.” 

“No.” You said simply, your face hardening as you looked up at the Spaniard. And it wasn’t that Mapi hadn’t expected some resistance; she knew that you had an issue with doctors. It was the decisiveness with which you spoke, and the barely masked fright on your face. 

“Solstråle, we need to get that x-rayed.” 

“No. It’s fine, Mapi.”

“It isn’t fine! It looks broken, nena, we need to get it looked at.” 

“No. No doctors, no hospital, no x-ray.” 

“Solstråle, I will call your sister if I need to. We are going to the doctor.” 

A look of betrayal flashed across our face, and you held your arm tighter to your body in a protective manner. “Please don’t make me.” You whispered. 

Harsh wasn’t working. Demanding wasn’t working. Mapi knew she couldn’t force you. She just had to convince you. She stepped closer, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You are scared, that’s okay. I’ll be with you the whole time, though, nena. Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah.” You said, your voice cracking a bit, looking up at Mapi with wide, wet eyes. 

“I promise you, I am not going to let anything happen to you.”

You considered for a moment. You knew, realistically, that you had to go in. And you also knew that Ingrid was probably going to be furious with you. You craved comfort from your sister, though, you needed to hear her voice, telling you that you were safe. Ingrid knew a bit more than Mapi did about your issue with doctors, even though she didn’t have the full story. Ingrid was safe, and so was Mapi, but you really just wanted your sister. 

“Can I call Ingrid on the way there?”

And even though Mapi winced internally at mere thought of how upset this would make her girlfriend, she nodded. “Of course you can. Come on, let’s go.” 

The care with which Mapi helped you down the stairs brought tears to your eyes. She put your shoes on for you, double knotting the laces like you always did, before she paused, crouched in front of where you sat on the bench by the front door. 

“I promise you, Sol. I am not going to let anything happen to you. Okay? I’ve got you, kid.” She said, watching as you blinked hard, clenching your jaw and nodding. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. Mapi helped you up, then, and you both exited the house. 

Mapi dialed the phone in the car, connecting it to the speaker. Ingrid picked up on the first ring, almost like she knew something was wrong. “Hi mi amor,” she greeted warmly. 

“Hola. We’re in the car, Sol is with me.” 

“Hi solstråle,” Ingrid said.

“Hi,” you replied, not uttering another word. 

“Tell her what happened, mi sol.” Mapi encouraged

“Tell me what? What happened?” Ingrid asked, her tone much more concerned and serious. 

“I hurt my arm. We’re going to the doctor.” You mumbled. Ingrid sighed, but she got the feeling that this wasn’t the worst of what you had to tell her, that it was going to get worse. 

“How? What’s wrong with it?”

“I was hiking and I fell. Mapi thinks it’s broken.” 

“Broken…climbing… on the trail I told you to be careful on- wait, Sol that was yesterday. This happened yesterday!?” Ingrid shouted. “Why are you just taking her now, María?”

Mapi winced. “I didn’t know until now.” 

“YOU DIDN’T TELL MAPI UNTIL NOW?” Ingrid yelled, so loudly that the speakers crackled slightly. 

Mapi glanced over at you to see that there were tears pouring down your cheeks, and your bottom lip captured in between your teeth, as you tried valiantly not to cry. Shit.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Relax, let’s all just take a breath.” She soothed, turning to pull over on a side street. 

“María, I will not relax, this is not oka-”

“Ingrid, stop.” Mapi said firmly, her voice more stern than you’d ever heard it. Ingrid fell silent. “Sol, breathe. Ingrid isn’t mad, she’s just worried. We are okay, everything is okay.”

You nodded frantically, trying to get a handle on your emotions, which were, frankly, overwhelming at the moment. “Sorry, I’m sorry Ingrid, I’m so sorry.” You sobbed. 

Ingrid felt her heart shatter. She hadn’t meant to shout. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled, honey.” 

“I just- the last time I hurt my arm mom didn’t believe me and you told me to be careful and I didn’t want you to be mad, and I didn’t know if you’d think I was lying, and I don’t want to go to the doctor, Ingrid, but Mapi is taking me and she says I have to, and-” you cut yourself off with another loud sob, before arms were reaching over the center console and wrapping around you. 

“Shh, nena, it’s okay. You are safe, you are loved. You are okay.” Mapi whispered, loud enough that Ingrid could hear it over the phone. Tears were falling down her cheeks, too, for a combination of reasons. Mostly, though, because her girlfriend was being so absurdly sweet and patient with you. Not that María would ever be anything different, but Ingrid would never stop appreciating it.

Once you’d calmed down a bit, you leaned back away from Mapi, looking at her desperately. “María I really don’t want to go to the doctor, please don’t make me,” you begged. Even as everything in Mapi wanted to give in and take you home where you felt safe, her eyes flickered down to your arm, which was black and blue and swollen, and she knew that wasn’t an option. Before she could speak, though, Ingrid chimed in. 

“Solstråle, switch the phone to a video call and let me see your arm.” 

You did as she asked, fighting back another wave of tears when Ingrid’s face popped up on the screen, looking sympathetically at you. You held up your arm, holding back a groan of pain as you did so, not happy when Ingrid frowned at the sight. 

“Sweetheart,” 

“No,” you cried, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow. This was absurd. Your arm was clearly broken, you were 18 years old, and you were afraid of the doctor. Like a child. It was humiliating and you wanted nothing more than to pretend that this was fine, that you were fine going to get a few x-rays and a cast, but the feelings of anxiety and panic were only rising in you again, and your whole body shook at the thought of letting a doctor anywhere near your arm.

“I know, I know,” Ingrid whispered, sounding like she really did know. While your parents had always dismissed your fear of doctors as you being dramatic, ingrid had always been able to tell that you were completely and utterly terrified of going in for a check up, or going into the hospital. The pure horror in your eyes whenever you had to do so was proof enough, but she’d had to take you once, just to get your flu shot, and you’d silently cried the entire way to the office, thrown up in the bathroom upon arriving, and almost broke her hand with your strong grip while the shot was being administered. 

You hadn’t always been like this, though. It had started when you were 10, and Ingrid had never known the reason. You’d never told her, and your parents hadn’t either. 

“You’re scared, yes? Can you tell me what is making you so afraid?” Ingrid asked gently. 

You took a few shuddering breaths before hesitantly looking at her on the screen. “When I broke my arm? They had to reset it because mom waited to take me to the doctor and the bones were in the wrong spot. 

They told me they were going to put some ice on it and a bandage and then the nurses were holding me down and the doctor was forcing the bones back into place.”

You took a minute, trying to stop the incessant shakes that were running through your body at the memory. You jumped slightly when Mapi’s hand found your uninjured one, but you grabbed on tight, closing your eyes to finish your explanation. 

“I cried and I screamed and mom told me to stop being dramatic, and that I was embarrassing her in front of all the doctors. They made her leave the room then, and it was just me and the doctor and the nurses. The bones didn’t go back right on the first try, and they had to do it two more times before it worked. Mom only came in when they were done and they were putting the cast on. I asked her if I could call you, and she said no, because you were too busy for me.”

It all made sense, now. Ingrid remembered coming back from international duty after you’d broken your arm. You’d seemed so depressed and withdrawn, and she’d assumed you were upset about the injury. Never could she have imagined what had gone on while she was gone.  

“That is awful, nena. You did not deserve that, and I am so sorry that happened to you.” Mapi began, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I understand why you’re scared. I promise you, though, I won’t let anyone touch you until you say it’s okay. They’ll tell you what they’re going to do before they do it, and I’ll be with you the whole time.” 

Your sister could tell that you were slightly more convinced, now. You really trusted Mapi. She’d never given you a reason not to trust her. 

“Solstråle, you really need to get it looked at. I’m sorry I’m not there, I’m sorry I wasn’t there the first time, but Mapi is going to take really good care of you, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed, another tear sliding down your cheek. Even as you did so, though, even as you gave Mapi permission to start the car and resume the drive to the hospital, you weren’t sure you could do this. You understood the importance of getting your arm taken care of, and you’d try. Whether you’d get through this hospital trip, though, was a different story.

--------

Mapi was relatively sure she was going to need an x-ray herself; you were holding her hand so tightly, your knuckles were white. You were shaking in the hospital bed, a vacant expression on your face. 

You’d been sort of… despondent since returning from your x-ray. The doctors had insisted you go alone, and after some convincing, you’d agreed. When they walked you back into the room where Mapi was waiting, though, it was clear you were in another place. All she could do was wait for you to come back a bit. 

 “Mapi?” You said quietly, getting the attention of the Spaniard, who had been looking down at her phone, texting your sister.

“Sí nena?” Mapi replied, very gently squeezing your hand. You looked at her, then, making eye contact for the first time since returning from x-rays, and Mapi winced at the terror in your eyes. 

“I don’t feel safe.” You whispered, unsure of what else you could do or say. You needed help, your fear was rapidly becoming overwhelming, especially because you knew that any minute, the doctor would be returning. 

Mapi nodded sympathetically, reaching out with her free hand to push some hair off your forehead. She knew that physical touch was often the only thing that could comfort you when you were feeling anxious. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel more safe?” 

“Promise you won’t leave? You won’t let them hurt me?” 

“I will stay right here with you the whole time. And I will never let anyone hurt you.” Mapi looked at you with such conviction, spoke with such confidence and finality, you had no choice but to believe her. 

“I want to go home.” You whimpered, your voice cracking. 

“Soon, mi sol. Soon.” 

It was only a few minutes later that the doctor returned. She was a kind woman, gentle and cautious. She had some  understanding that you were afraid, and she’s respected that. She told you everything she was going to do before she did it, and she hadn’t once made you feel ridiculous for how you were acting. 

“Alrighty. Got your x rays here. We’re looking at a bilateral forearm fracture, which means both the radius and the ulna are broken. The fractured are clean across, nothing is displaced which is good news for you; that means we can put the cast on, and nothing has to get put back into place.” 

Mapi watched as your body practically deflated next to her, a long sigh of relief escaping your lips. 

The doctor continued. “I am curious, though. Have you broken this arm before?”

You stiffened slightly, and Mapi shifted next to you, moving closer unconsciously in a protective manner. 

“Yeah, when I was 10.” 

The doctor nodded. “I can see it on the x-ray, there’s a line here, where it didn't heal exactly right. That white dot? You’ve developed a bit of a bone spur there where the bones weren’t properly aligned the first time. Does it give you pain?” 

You shrugged. The relief was gone from your face, and you only looked defensive now. “Sometimes.” 

Mapi guessed that sometimes meant often, and she wondered if you ever would have told her and Ingrid that you were having issues with your arm, if this hadn’t occurred. 

“Well, the good news is your bones are not at risk for healing in the wrong spot, so you should avoid a repeat of the first injury complications. There are options, though, if that bone spur continues to give you issues. Physical therapy, steroid injections, and surgery are all on the table.”

You nodded, jaw clenched tightly shut. Mapi could tell this wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, and she figured you’d been pushed far enough today. 

“Thank you, very much. What is the recovery time like?” She said, effectively drawing the attention away from you as the conversation turned to casts and braces and slings. 

You might as well have been in another room, for all you heard. You didn’t need to get the bones reset. Just a cast. You could handle that. 

Or, you thought you could. It was much more stress-inducing than you expected, when the doctor came in with the items to make the cast, and reached for your arm. You flinched away from her violently, looking helplessly at Mapi. You were thinking about how she said she wouldn’t let anyone touch you if you didn’t want them to, and Mapi knew that. 

“Can you give her a second, please?” Mapi said, not taking her eyes off of you as she slid into the hospital bed you were sitting upright in. 

The doctor nodded, for her part lacking understanding, but not needing an explanation to respect that you were clearly terrified. 

“Sol, breathe. It’s just the cast. They’re gonna put it on, they aren’t going to mess with your arm. You can do this, I know you can.” Mapi encouraged, more than a little surprised when you took a deep breath, nodded, and held your arm out to the doctor.You turned your head away, pressing your face into Mapi’s shoulder, gripping onto her shirt with your good hand. 

You were putting all of your trust in Mapi in that moment, to ensure that the doctor was gentle and didn’t do anything she hadn’t said she would. This wasn’t lost on the Spaniard, and she watched closely as they wrapped your arm, and began applying the plaster. 

She could feel your tears soaking through the fabric of her shirt, though you were completely silent as you cried. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, Mapi cursed your mother with everything in her. The woman had given her Ingrid, and you by extension, but she had inflicted so much pain on you in your short life. Mapi ached for the day where these scars weren’t painfully obvious, for the day you could go to the doctor without fear, ask for a hug when you needed one, cry openly when you were hurting, believe with all your heart that you were loved. 

She held tight to you, watching as the doctor put the finishing touches on your cast. 

“I’ve got you, nena.” She whispered. “Almost done.” 

You were too good to have experienced everything that you had. She just wanted you to be happy. 

When you pulled away from her to inspect your arm, she could still see such apprehension written clearly across your face. She wondered how long it would take for it to fully leave. Or if it ever would. Some scars never faded. 

You gave her a watery smile, though, nodding towards the blue of your cast. “Couldn’t get it blaugrana but this is good too, right?” You joked. 

Mapi returned your smile, feeling a very familiar spark of hope inside of her chest. Of course you would be okay. Of course you would. You were one of the strongest, most resilient people she knew. 

“Very good. I am going to draw something so inappropriate on there before your sister gets home.” 

You laughed, and Mapi laughed, both of you felt a bit like everything would be okay. Even if Ingrid scribbled over whatever Mapi drew on your cast. 

-------

You sat blankly on the couch upon arriving home, staring at the cast your hand was wrapped in. You weren’t really sure what to do now, and it didn’t seem like Mapi knew, either. She took a seat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her. 

“Talk to me, nena.” She encouraged.

“I just don’t feel good. I’m really tired.” You told her. 

“It’s been a long day, your body is coming down from a lot of stress and anxiety. You’re okay, now, so let’s just lay on the couch and relax, sí?”

You agreed, shifting to move into your spot in the corner of the sectional, before you paused. “Can you stay with me?” You asked. 

Mapi smiled at you. “Of course I can. Even if it means your damn dog is going to come lay on my legs and get fur all over my pants.” 

You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly, but you couldn’t give much of an argument because Scout jumped up on the couch right after, flopping down on your legs, making sure to stretch a leg out to rest on Mapi’s legs, too. 

You dozed off relatively easily, clearly drained from a very emotionally and physically exhausting day, and Mapi took the opportunity to call her girlfriend, who she had been updating over text frequently, but who would still be, no doubt, beside herself with worry. 

When Ingrid answered the phone, and only Mapi’s face appeared in view of the camera, Ingrid half convinced herself that you’d locked yourself in a room somewhere and were refusing to come out. Mapi shifted the camera, though, showing you absolutely passed out on the couch, your uninjured hand holding onto her arm, something you’d done completely in your sleep. 

“Hey.” Mapi greeted. She didn’t worry about the volume of her voice; you could sleep through anything. 

“Hi.” Ingrid said, feeling ridiculously emotional at the sight of her two favorite people together. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah. It was really hard for her, I’ve never seen her that anxious. They just put a cast on, though, and she’s relaxed enough now to rest. She was so exhausted, Ingrid, I’d be surprised if she slept at all last night.” Mapi paused as Ingrid hummed. The Norwegian could tell her girlfriend was upset, just from the way her mouth was set stiffly, and the way her eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“How are you doing my love? That must have been really hard to see.” She commented, studying Mapi’s expression closely. 

The Spaniard just shrugged, though. “I am sorry this happened, I know how worried you must have been being so far away.” 

Ingrid shook her head. “Don’t do that, don’t try to distract me. I want to know how you are doing.” 

Mapi nibbled on her lip for a moment, her eyes everywhere but on the phone in front of her. “I am so sorry Ingrid.” She said finally, the phone dropping into her lap as she wiped impatiently at her eyes. Ingrid had to be furious with her. Had to be. This was all Mapi’s fault, after all. 

Of course, Ingrid had never considered blaming Mapi, not for a single minute. “No, baby, this isn’t your fault.” She said, as if she’d read her girlfriends mind. Mapi could only scoff. “I’m serious, María. These things happen, it’s no one's fault.” 

“She didn’t tell me. She didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” Mapi whispered. 

Ingrid frowned. “No, she trusts you. It’s complicated with her, when she’s hurt. You heard what she said about when she broke her arm the first time. Her response to being hurt was completely based on that experience, it had nothing to do with you.” 

Everything Ingrid said was so logical, Mapi had a hard time coming up with a counter argument. She wasn’t quite ready to forgive herself, though, so she changed the subject. 

“You come home tomorrow.” She said, a small smile gracing her lips. 

Ingrid let the very obvious subject change go in favor of smiling back at her girlfriend. “I do. I’ve missed you both so much.” 

“I have to make sure to sign Sol’s cast before you get here.” Mapi said thoughtfully.

Ingrid grew pale at the thought. “No, María, whatever you are planning to put on there please, please don’t. Just write your name.” 

“Oh, my name will be on there.” Mapi smirked. 

Well, at least it didn’t seem like she was planning something explicit. “Leave room for me to sign too.” Ingrid said grumpily. 

Mapi almost jumped when you chimed in from next to her, throat slightly scratchy. “Ingrid signs first. Those are the rules.” You mumbled, barely opening your eyes to address your sister when Mapi tilted the phone towards you. 

“Ha!” Ingrid said, looking very pleased with herself.

Mapi wanted to argue, she really did. She knew, though, that Ingrid felt insecure about her relationship with you. You were a bit more open with Mapi, a bit more outwardly trusting. Mapi knew this was just because she normally had a much softer approach, though Ingrid’s tougher one was definitely necessary. She knew, too, that Ingrid worried a lot that you preferred Mapi to your sister. So, she let this one go. 

“Fine. I don’t need to sign it. I’ve already got that number 4 tattooed on you.” 

Ingrid paled. “No. No you didn’t. María Pilar León Cebrian, no you did not.” 

“She did. It’s huge, on my right ass cheek.” Next to you, Mapi stifled her laughter, and you did your best to keep a straight face. 

“You better be kidding. I swear to god if I get off that airplane and you have a four tattooed on your ass I will kill you both right there.” 

“How are you going to check? Are you going to pants me in the airport?” You laughed. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, her teeth clenched. 

“Relaaaax Ingrid. I don’t have any more tattoos,” 

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.” 

“...Yet.” You added, laughing with Mapi when Ingrid brought the phone closer to her face. 

“NO! No, Solstråle, no no no no no.” 

You and Mapi laughed so hard you could barely breathe, hearing Ingrid repeating no over and over. 

Ingrid rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t annoyed, not really. You were laughing and that was a big change from before. You were on the road to recovery, and you looked adorable all curled up next to Mapi, grinning at your sister through the phone. How could she be upset at your [stupid, idiotic, immature] joke?

Though she really would murder her girlfriend if you had another tattoo when she got home. 

-------

this took me an absolutely absurd amount of time.

hope you enjoy sol <3

ps. please tell me all your sol thoughts comments keep me living and breathing 🫶🏻🫶🏻