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girlgenius1111 · 6 months ago

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contagious

sol gets... pretty sick. ingrid and mapi try to help. basically. a sol sickfic :) so warnings for sickfic things

It didn’t even really occur to you to tell anyone that you weren’t feeling well. You were sick, you had an exam today in one of your classes, and there was no thought in your mind that considered not going to school. Now it was probably your fault that you were sick, honestly.

This exam had been keeping you up for a week. It was the first big test you’d had since everything had happened. And you were determined, more than determined, to prove that you were better, that progress was being made. You hadn’t cared much for your grades since arriving in Spain, but you wanted that to change.

It was this motivation, to give your sister and Mapi something tangible to prove that you really were trying to be better, that had you studying hour after hour, night after night. It was just… you wanted to be worth all the trouble that Ingrid and Mapi had gone through with you recently. And you really believed that if you did better, were better, you’d be worth it.

So, your health was the least of your concerns. You’d run yourself down, you knew it, and there was nothing else to do but push through. It was around 7:30 am and you were going through your flashcards, once again. Your exam was in your chemistry class, and it was expected to be the hardest exam of the year. Your eyes were closing, and your head ached, but you pushed through, moving through unit card after card, whispering the answers to yourself.

A soft knock on your door interrupted you, and you glanced up, making an almost identical movement to Scout, who was sprawled out on the edge of your bed.

“Come in,” you replied, clearing your throat as your voice came out raspy.

Mapi pushed the door open, a wrinkle of concern etched into her forehead. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”

“Fine.” You said confidently, shaking off her concern. “What’s up?”

“The training schedule got changed, we have to leave in 5. Is that okay?”

You nodded, having already been dressed. “Yeah, I’ll go to the library and study more before class.”

“Make sure you eat something before we leave, Solstråle, it’s important.” Mapi reminded, and you nodded, agreeing easily, though you weren’t quite sure you could swallow anything at the moment; your throat felt like it was on fire.

You got all your stuff together, shedding the sweatshirt you had on as you were rather warm, before heading downstairs. You accepted the coffee Ingrid handed you gratefully, stopping in the kitchen to grab a granola bar and an apple that you were sure you wouldn’t be eating.

“You look pale.” Ingrid said, stepping closer to study your face. “Do you feel alright?”

“Yep, fine. Just nervous about the exam.” You lied, mustering a half smile that you were sure was not believable. Ingrid reached her hand out, about to feel your forehead for a fever, when Mapi’s voice echoed through the house.

“¡Vamos chicas!” She shouted. You slipped past your sister, heading for the door, and though she followed close behind you, Mapi asked her a question about training that successfully distracted her. Your slightly odd behavior slipped her mind as she contemplated the long training session ahead, even as you got out of the car at school, and both her and Mapi wished you luck on your exam.

You walked into the building, ignoring the dizziness that was making walking in a straight line difficult, determined to make it to your 3rd class of the day, determined to ace your exam.

--------

An all encompassing anxiety flooded Ingrid’s body when the assistant coaches pulled her aside, and handed her phone to her. It wasn’t the action that scared her, more the words that accompanied it. “Your phone was ringing like crazy in the locker room, Mapi’s too. It’s your sister’s school.”

Making sure to thank the coach, Ingrid took the phone and stepped away from the pitch, a shaky hand bringing the phone to her ear as she called your school back. Were you hurt? Sick? Had something horrible happened? Were you having a panic attack? Did you get into another fight? The possibilities of why the school could be calling her so insistently swirled around chaotically in her head, until someone finally answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Ingrid Engen, I am returning your call about-”

“Yes, Ms. Engen. Your sister was brought to the nurse's office a half hour ago. She seems to have the flu, as her fever and other symptoms indicate. We have to send her home, but she cannot leave without your permission. Can you give us the go ahead to let her leave?”

Ingrid breathed a sigh of relief. You were sick, and that was something she could deal with, though the nurse’s words confused her. “Let her leave? By herself? Can you put her on the phone?”

“Of course.”

There was some shuffling, before your raspy voice came over the line, sounding horribly guilty, and horribly unwell. “Hi.” You sniffed, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back on the wall behind you. You’d barely made it through your first class before everything had caught up to you, and you passed right out at your desk. From exhaustion, or just because of your fever, you weren’t sure. You were cooling off now, though, an ice pack on the back of your neck, a fan blowing cool air on you, and you had the mind to feel sorry for interrupting an important training session.

“Hey, solstråle. You’re sick? Ingrid said softly.

“Yeah. Can you just tell them I can uber home?” You asked, not quite sure what she wanted to talk to you about.

You were met with a scoff. “No, I cannot. I’ll leave right now and come pick you up. 10 minutes, max.” Ingrid promised, thinking the suggestion that you uber to be a bad joke.

“You have training, Ingrid,” you sighed. “I can get home by myself, it’s fine.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, beginning to walk over to Jona to update him on the situation. “I am sure that you can get home by yourself, but you don’t need to. I’ll come get you.”

“I don’t- okay.” You replied finally, too exhausted and too ill to argue that hard.

“See you soon.” Ingrid said, before hanging up. She told Jona what was going on, and he told her that, of course, she could leave early. Your sister practically sprinted to the locker room, fully colliding with Mapi in the hall.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Mapi said, her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders the only thing keeping her girlfriend upright.

“Solstråle is sick, I have to go get her.” Ingrid rushed out, moving around Mapi and into the locker room to grab her stuff.

“I knew she didn’t seem right this morning. Let’s go.”

“María, you don’t have to-”

“I am coming. I am done in the gym for the day anyway. Vamos, vamos,” Mapi said, rolling her eyes. Ingrid managed to give her a small smile, before they were heading out of the building, and on the way to you.

-------

It seemed a little ridiculous that Ingrid was leaving training for this for you. It felt more ridiculous when both her and Mapi came rushing into the front office, making a beeline for you.

“Mi sol, how are you feeling?” Mapi asked kindly. You cracked your eyes open to see both your sister and her girlfriend crouched in front of the chair you were sitting in, looking like they had literally come right from training.

“I’m fine, you guys didn’t have to come.” You mumbled, although you unconsciously leaned into the hand Ingrid placed on your cheek, checking your temperature.

“She passed out at her desk during her first class, and she has a fever of 38.9°.” The nurse chimed in.

You resisted the urge to glare at the woman, who had actually been very kind, and very helpful.

“38.9°?”

“Passed out?”

Both Ingrid and Mapi spoke at the same time, frowning at you as you were clearly downplaying this for some reason.

“I’m fine,” you emphasized. The two women exchanged glances, before deciding to focus on getting you home, rather than calling out your obvious rejection of their help. “If you tell them I’m fine, I can go back to class and take my exam.”

You looked at them hopefully, shrinking a little when they both returned your gaze, looking astonished.

“Absolutely not.” Ingrid said. “We’re going home.”

“But-”

“No. Let’s go.” Mapi cut in, silencing your argument with her uncharacteristically harsh tone. If one thing really got to her, it was when you showed little regard for your own health or wellbeing.

You frowned at them, but went quiet anyway, knowing the argument was lost. You stood, stumbling a little as you were dizzy and a bit unsteady on your feet. Ingrid steadied you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, before guiding you out of the building.

“Jesus, Solstråle, you’re like a furnace.” She said, wincing at how hot your skin burned against hers.

“It’s warm in the school, I’m fine, really,” you began, weakly fighting Ingrid’s grip. They were making you go home, yes, but you’d rather have them run you over with their car than admit how awful you really felt.

“Stop it. You’re sick, we’re going home. No arguments.” Ingrid replied firmly, giving you a look that dared you to argue again with her. You didn’t.

------

Upon arriving home, you stubbornly refused to sit on the couch while Ingrid and Mapi questioned you about your symptoms. You told them that you couldn’t really breathe through your nose, your throat hurt, your head hurt, and you were exhausted. Of course, you played all this down, not that either of them believed you.

“Open your mouth.” Ingrid instructed. “Let me look at your tonsils, you might have strep.”

“What, are you a doctor and I didn’t know?” You asked grumpily, shrugging out from her grasp, and trying to head up to your room. The last thing you wanted was to get them sick.

“Stop, you aren’t going anywhere. Get on the couch.” Ingrid snapped, her impatience and worry getting the better of her. She softened, slightly, when she saw your expression waver, a bit of insecurity bleeding through the passive look you’d been sporting all day.

“No, I'll go to my room. I don’t want to get you sick.”

“We don’t care about that, we want to keep an eye on you. Especially because you seem pretty committed to pretending you’re fine.” Mapi said, handing you some pills and a glass of water. They both looked tired and worried, and you hated it. Both of them were still in their training kits. They’d left training, probably not gotten properly stretched afterwards, and rushed to you. And here they stood, not worried about any of that. Only focused on you.

You could handle the flu yourself, you’d done so up until this point. “I’m fine, I’ve got it.” You croaked, feeling weirdly emotional. You blinked hard, looking away from both of them.

Ingrid sighed. “Go put on comfy clothes, and then come back downstairs.” She said softly. Resigned, you nodded, wiping haphazardly at your eyes, before you headed for the stairs. You heard Ingrid and Mapi conversing in hushed tones behind you, but you were honestly too sick to listen very hard.

You shuffled back downstairs a few minutes later, clad in one of Mapi’s Barcelona sweatshirts, a pair of shorts Ingrid thought she’d lost, and wrapped in one of the blankets from your bed. You looked miserable, your nose all red from using tissues on it all day, face flushed with fever. Ingrid smiled at you sympathetically, nodding towards the living room.

“Go lay down.. I’ll be there in a second.” She instructed, happy when you did as she asked this time.

You flopped onto the couch, accepting Scout’s offered snuggles as you were shaking, cold beyond belief even though you were covered by a fuzzy blanket. Mapi came in a minute later, freshly showered, and handed you the remotes to the TV.

Mapi never let you pick what to watch, always insisting that you and Ingrid needed to watch Spanish shows with her to work on your mastery of the language. Really, you both knew her Norwegian was far worse than your Spanish, and she couldn’t keep up with the rapid dialogue in the shows you and Ingrid watched. Wordlessly, you put on a rerun of an old sitcom you’d grown up watching, curling up under the blanket, and next to Scout, until only your eyes were visible.

Mapi snorted at the sight, settling in the opposite corner of the couch. “Comfy?” She asked.

You gave her a thumbs up.

“Need anything?”

You shook your head.

“Is there a reason you aren’t speaking or is it just for fun?” Mapi asked casually.

You huffed, sitting up a bit. “Throat hurts.”

The Spaniard looked at you with concern. “Oh, nena.” She said sympathetically. You squirmed uncomfortably at her sympathy, looking away. Your sister walked in, then, her hands full of about 8 different things, which she dumped on the coffee table, taking a seat right next to you on the couch.

“Okay. Temperature first. Sit up.” She instructed.

Grumbling slightly, you did so, in the process dislodging Scout, who sighed dramatically and snuggled closer to your legs. Ingrid ran the thermometer over your forehead, frowning at the little screen when it beeped. She turned her phone flashlight on, instructing you to open your mouth. She ignored your eye roll, looking critically at your tonsils.

“They look swollen.” She said to herself. “We should take you to the doctor.”

Both Ingrid and Mapi watched in alarm as you sat completely upright, the color draining from your face. “No doctor.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Honey,” Ingrid began, but you cut her off.

“No doctor, Ingrid, please.” You looked near tears, and it was such a departure from your composed nature just seconds before, that Ingrid found herself nodding.

“Okay, no doctor today.” You noticed the added today but decided not to comment, relaxing back into the couch cushions. Your sister settled down next to you, offering you a bag of cough drops, which you took, giving her a small thanks.

You must have fallen asleep only minutes later, because the next thing you knew, a soft touch on your forehead and the smell of something delicious cooking wafting into the room were waking you up.

“Wake up, nena. You need to eat.”

You blinked open your eyes to find Mapi hovering over you, her hand softly pushing some hair off your forehead. You struggled to sit up, allowing the Spaniard to help you, before you spoke.

“Lunch?” You asked not quite awake enough for full sentences, but very aware that when you’d fallen asleep, it was just before 11am, but you felt like you’d been asleep for hours.

Mapi shook her head. “No, it’s 3, but we let you sleep. Ingrid finished the soup, though, and it’s time for more medicine.”

Soup. Soup sounded good. You nodded slowly, chugging the water bottle that Mapi handed you. Your head felt all cloudy, your throat agonizingly painful, and you were unable to breathe through your nose. You could only lay limp on the couch, teeth chattering.

“How do you feel?” She wondered.

You shrugged in response, frowning. “Tired.”

Mapi cracked a smile. “You can go back to sleep after you eat.”

Ingrid entered the room then, carrying a steaming bowl in her hands, a large sports drink tucked under her arm. She looked undeniably a bit frazzled, and you wondered if it was from making soup from scratch, or from worrying about you. It was just a cold, honestly. Everyone was being dramatic.

Ingrid handed you the bowl of soup, and you noticed that she gave you a little spoon. You hated using big spoons, even for the foods you were supposed to use them for, but you didn’t really recall telling your sister that. She must have just… noticed. It was a nice gesture, and it shouldn’t have made you want to cry as much as it did.

“Thank you, Ingrid,” you said, voice barely there, but the sentiment was clear all the same. Ingrid smiled down at you, gently pinching your cheek.

“Of course. Anything for you.” Ingrid murmured, sitting down on the couch next to her girlfriend.

You ate a spoonful of the soup, blinking in amazement. You knew Ingrid was a good cook, but this was one of the best things you’d ever eaten, even with your taste slightly dulled from your illness.

“Good?” Ingrid asked.

“So good. What is this, and why haven’t you made it before now?”

Ingrid furrowed her eyebrows at you. “What? It’s the chicken soup with dumplings, don’t you recognize it?”

You returned her look of confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d remember eating this.”

“You’ve had this before.” Ingrid said incredulously. “Back in Norway.”

Your expression changed, growing guarded and slightly angry. “No, I haven’t.” You said back, a bit sharply. You saw where this was going, and it was not the turn you wanted the conversation to take today.

“Mom used to make this for us when we would get sick!” Ingrid continued, freezing after the words left her mouth, realization dawning across her face, as well as guilt.

“Not for me.” You replied in a monotone, sipping slowly at the soup, trying not to seem too eager. You were annoyed with Ingrid now, angry with your mother, as you always were, and you didn’t want to seem too excited about the soup. Even if it felt like it was bringing you back from the dead, spoonful by spoonful.

“Oh.” Ingrid said, ignoring the look sent her way by her girlfriend. “Well, I’ll make it for you whenever you want. Do you need anything else?”

You shook your head, keeping your gaze fixed on the ceramic bowl in front of you. At that, Ingrid left the room, mumbling something about putting the leftovers away. Once she was gone, Mapi turned back towards you, and you knew before she spoke that her voice would be that soft one she used, that always made you feel like crying.

“She didn’t know, mi sol.” Mapi murmured, watching your expression carefully. Her concern was for you but also for her girlfriend, who took every misstep with you like the world’s biggest failure.

“I know.” You said.

“She thinks you’re upset with her, but you aren’t, are you?”

“No. It's not her fault.”

“Maybe tell her that next time? Ingrid is really sensitive, nena. And you have every right to react and feel how you need to, but try to be a bit easier on your sister. She’s trying really hard.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. You knew she was trying hard. Why did you have to make it so difficult for her? You didn’t say anything else, sitting completely silently as you finished your soup. Once you were done, you stood up from the couch, ignoring the way the room swirled around you, and the way your stomach turned at the movement.

“I’m going to lay in my bed.” You said quietly, avoiding eye contact with Mapi.

You thought Mapi was going to argue, make you stay downstairs, but she just nodded hesitantly, her gaze searching. “Okay. Shout or text if you need anything.”

You agreed, before you crept upstairs, avoiding the kitchen and your sister. She didn’t need to deal with you anymore than she already had today. No one did.

--------

Your goal of being as little trouble as possible after upsetting your sister turned out to be a lot harder to accomplish than you’d expected. Especially when the nausea caught up to you, and you found yourself stumbling towards the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible. You made it to the toilet, hoping that the sound your knees made when they dropped to the ground wasn’t as loud as it sounded to you. You were sick a few times, pausing briefly to catch your breath when you heard the door open behind you.

“Honey,” Ingrid sighed, moving closer to you, intending to take your hair from your hands and tie it back. You recoiled, though, sending her a harsh glare. It was like a switch had been flipped. You didn’t need this, this comfort. You’d gone your whole life without it, and you definitely didn’t need it now. You didn’t need it, didn’t want it, didn’t deserve it.

“Get out,” you managed, not too distracted by how sick you felt to miss the hurt look on Ingrid’s face.

“Solstråle,”

“Out, Ingrid,” you snapped, before you were overcome with nausea again. You leaned back over the toilet, this time too preoccupied to push Ingrid away when she kneeled next to you. Gently, she took your hair out of your hand, tying it back for you. Her hand found your back, then, rubbing soft circles over your tshirt.

“You’re okay, kjære, I’ve got you,” she murmured. She stayed with you until you were done, allowing you to collapse back into her, completely drained of energy.

“Better?” She asked quietly. You nodded slowly in response, limp against your sister.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, you’re sick.” Ingrid told you firmly. The door creaked open once more, and Mapi appeared, a wet washcloth in her hand. She gave it to your sister, who in turn put it on your forehead. You sighed in relief at the chill, but still, you hadn’t gotten your point across, and you couldn’t relax fully. Mapi stepped back out of the bathroom, giving you both some space.

“Sorry I snapped.”

You felt Ingrid sigh. “You don’t need to be sorry for that either. This is an adjustment for you, still, and you don’t feel well. I understand that you’re overwhelmed. It’s okay.”

There she was again, being so understanding and kind, when you’d been nothing but hostile and difficult to her. “It’s not okay. You’re being too nice.”

Your sister pulled you closer, resting her chin on the top of your head. “You deserve nice. You deserve to have people worry about you, and you deserve to have people that love you and want you to be okay.”

You weren’t really sure what to say to that.

A teardrop hit your hand where it was resting in your lap, and you realized you were crying.

You weren’t really sure what to say about that, either.

-------

Falling asleep after that probably would have been hard, if not for how tired you were. And if it weren’t for how your sister sat on your bed next to you, holding an ice pack to the back of your neck, running her nails up and down your back. It was like a tranquilizer, and you were out before you knew it.

Ingrid kept outdoing herself on the worried scale. Just when she thought she’d reach the peak of how much a person could worry about another person, something would happen with you, and it would get even worse. You looked younger as you slept next to her, your face devoid of the usual defensive mask you kept up. It made her sad, that you couldn’t just be a kid. You constantly felt like you had to protect yourself. She couldn’t blame you, not really. The issues you had weren’t issues that could just be fixed by a few kind words and promises. It was a process, one that wasn’t linear. This situation was clearly a step backwards; you hadn’t been this hostile with her since before. She hated it, hated seeing you sad or in pain. But right now, you were both.

Mapi had to practically drag her to bed. Ingrid didn’t want to leave you, but Mapi insisted that she would be no help to you if she didn’t sleep, and that they would leave both doors open, so they’d know if you needed them, though they hoped you wouldn’t.

It was only a few hours later, almost 2am, when loud coughing woke Mapi. It startled her from a light sleep, and she sat upright in the bed, shaking Ingrid awake next to her.

In your room, you felt like you were potentially suffocating, gasping for breath in between rounds of coughs. It barely registered when Ingrid and Mapi ran into your room, frantically turning on the lights. You could only look at them, completely panicked, as you fought to get enough air in.

It only took a second of listening to you for Ingrid to understand what was happening. “Asthma, she’s having an asthma attack. It must be worse because she’s sick.”

You hadn’t known Ingrid knew you had asthma. You’d only found out about it after she’d moved out, and you were sure your parents had forgotten as soon as they’d given you the inhaler the doctor had prescribed. You hadn’t had an asthma attack in a while, definitely not since you’d been in Spain. Ingrid was right, the illness must have triggered it. The issue was, though, that you were suddenly very unsure as to the location of your puffer.

Mapi was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, more panicked than you’d ever seen her. “What does she need? Water? Medicine? Tell me, I’ll get it,”

Ingrid shook her head, moving closer to grab your hand in hers, and press it to her chest. “Relax, you’re okay, everything is going to be fine. Where is your puffer?”

You wheezed in a big breath, trying to follow Ingrid’s chest rising and falling under your hand. “Don’t-Don’t know.” You gasped out. Tears were springing to your eyes, from panic or the violent coughing, you weren’t sure, and you reached out to grip onto Ingrid’s free hand, trying to convey your distress.

“It’s okay, I’ve got one. Mapi, the medicine cabinet. Top shelf, in a little box.” Ingrid instructed over her shoulder. The Spaniard took off out of the room, Scout barking at her from where he was pacing on the floor. You didn’t really process your words, another round of coughing wracking your chest.

“Ingrid, help,” you choked out.

Her expression was one of calmness and confidence, and it was the only thing keeping you from being convinced that you were about to pass out.

“Mapi’s getting it, solstråle, you’re okay.” She soothed, hearing her girlfriend’s footsteps thundering back down the hall. Mapi entered the room, almost falling in her haste to get to Ingrid. Once your sister had the box in hand, she whipped out the inhaler, batting your hands away when you tried to grab it. Instead, she held it to your mouth, instructing you to breathe in while she dispensed the medication. You took a few big inhales, relief filling your body as the drugs worked, and your lungs began to expand correctly again.

Your body untensed, and you collapsed back into the bed, chest still heaving slightly. Ingrid didn’t let go of your hand.

Mapi sagged onto the bed, the stress of the situation clearly getting to her.

“Okay, mi sol?”

“Good.” You told her, managing a thumbs up and a half smile. Ingrid brought her hand to your forehead, then, frowning.

“You need more cold medicine.” She decided, moving to rise from the bed. You clung to her, though, gripping her shirt in your hand. She looked down at it, then up at you, before slowly sitting back on the bed. “María?”

“On it.” Mapi said, rushing back out of the room, though significantly less frantically than she had before.

“Ingrid?”

“Hmm?” She replied, squeezing your hand once.

“How do you have one of my inhalers? I didn’t even know you knew I had asthma.”

Ingrid blinked at you. “I got one when you moved here, just in case. I knew because I talked to your doctor back home before you came, and he sent in the prescription so I could get an extra.”

“You… you talked to my doctor back home? Before I moved here?”

“Of course. I’d been gone awhile, and mom and dad told me nothing. I needed to know your medical history.” Ingrid said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. She was looking at you almost earnestly, like every word out of her mouth was true, and still a testament to how much she cared for you. How much she always had cared for you.

You were, once again, at a loss for words. Ingrid didn't seem like she wanted to push you into talking, though. She just helped you sit up as Mapi entered the room again, handing you your water and the pills she’d brought.

They both watched on, anxiously, as you took the pills. You studied them as you did so. They both looked exhausted and stressed, but for once, it didn’t make you feel bad.

All this time, they’d been telling you they cared, and you hadn’t been quite sure you believed it. Especially when you pushed away their attempts to show you that they cared. If you let them show you, though, it was something that could never be in doubt. They cared, and they loved you, and they clearly thought you were worth all of the trouble. Even when you were sick and grumpy and stubborn and hostile. They weren’t ever deterred.

You didn’t like to think of yourself as someone worth fighting for, someone worth the difficulty. And though it was still relatively incomprehensible that Ingrid and Mapi felt very much the opposite, it was something you were beginning to accept as fact.

And when your eyes began to close again, of their own accord, [or likely due to the nighttime cold medicine Mapi had brought you], you didn’t fight it. You knew they’d be there when you woke up, if you needed them. And even if you didn’t.

-------

More about Sol’s doctor-phobia coming soon 🙃🙃

hope you enjoyed and everything makes sense because it really might be a complete jumble of fever induced words.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #🍓☀️

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sunrizef1 · 7 months ago

Text

Proper Scouser

pairing: Max verstappen x alexander-arnold!reader Trent Alexander Arnold x sister!reader

warnings: none, man united

authors note: guys I'm working on whiv I swear 😭 all the other chapters came out during break so I had time. But I already had this mostly finished and after that united loss I had to post it

————————————————————

y/narnold99

liked by trentarnold66 andyrobertson94 and 308,068 others

y/narnold99 7 reasons to smile 😁

load comments…

user1 I love her

user2 TAKE THAT UNITED

user3 up the reds

user4 UNITED IN THE MUD

user5 the caption… Trent’s sisters lowk class

user6 warra top 4 for Liverpool

user7 keep crying mate

trentarnold66 😁

user8 United fans crying in the comments

virgilvandijk was it entertaining? 😂

y/narnold99 🙏 very

user9 7up

user10 ��️❤️❤️

user11 tell your brother to defend better

darwin_n9 VAMOS!!!

liked by y/narnold99

user12 Trent’s so fit man

user13 the scouser in our team

user14 ALLEZ ALLEZ ALLEZ

curtisjr 🔥🔥🔥

liked by y/narnold99

user15 I ❤️ y/n

user16 that’s embarrassing mate

—————————————

MESSAGES

y/narnold99 has added to their story

TWITTER

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

y/narnold99 added to their story

trentarnold66 replied to your story

we win and you’re out celebrating without me???

fake 😒

y/narnold66

you’ll get over it mate

trentarnold66

so…

who is it?

y/narnold99

none of your business

trentarnold66

what

I’m gonna tell Virgil you’re being mean to me

y/narnold99

He’ll be on my side

go back to dating my friends without me knowing

trentarnold66

that was one time!

and she sucked so

you really should be thanking me for revealing that she was a terrible person 🤷‍♂️

y/narnold99

my dates calling me

bye loser

tell Curtis I said his goal was really good

trentarnold99

don’t call me a loser

———————

virgilvandijk replied to your story

Do I get to know about mystery man?

y/narnold99

Yeah sure

It’s max

Don’t tell Trent though

virgilvandijk

I won’t haha

Nice kid though

He’s got the Dutch approval

y/narnold99

Thanks virg

Nice win today btw

virgilvandijk

Thank you 🫡

Have a good date y/n

y/narnold99

🫡

———————

trentarnold66

you told Virgil but not me??!!

———————

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y/narnold99

liked by maxverstappen1 judebellingham and 2,008,987 others

yourusername a proper scouser, he is

tagged: maxverstappen1

load comments…

user17 how… romantic?

user18 YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

user19 I am fully convinced that max has not understood a single word that y/n has ever said

virgilvandijk congratulations 🎉

liked by y/narnold99

user20 just imagine 3-time f1 world champion, max verstappen, navigating the city that is Liverpool

user21 they all live in Manchester anyway so he's probably fine

trentarnold66 WHY DOES THE INTERNET GET TO KNOW BEFORE ME

judebellingham a barca fan 🧐

y/narnold99 why do you know that

judebellingham dw about it

user22 MY PARENTS

landonorris damn how'd he pull you

maxverstappen1 ???

landonorris 👋

user23 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH YOU GUYS DONT GET IT

maxverstappen1 is the caption a compliment

y/narnold99 yes

user24 the way Trent had no idea is actually so funny

trentarnold66 happy for u ig

liked by y/narnold99

maxverstappen ❤️

y/narnold99 ❤️

—————————————

Tags: @casperlikej

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #trent alexander imagines #football x reader #football imagine

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think-like-a-poet · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii, i dont know if you write smau. But can you do a female f1 driver who is soft launching her bf on insta and the driver are protective even though they dont know who he is. Would love it he isnt famous,

My beautiful boy

Spaniah F1 red bull driver reader x oc boyfriend

Summary: The summerbreak got the soft launching your new relationship, only the drivers like to know who he is

-Spa f1 track

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourbf and 1.294.201 others

@.Yourusername: Omgg, my first gp win. I couldn't be more happy. It was a great last race befote summer break. Lets refresh and come back stronger.

@.maxverstappen thank you for ruining my hair with champagne.

Maxverstappen1: no problem, like to do it again soon. Congrats on your win, you deserve it

Yourbf.priv:I am so proud of you. I wish I could be there for it

Youruser.priv: thank youu, i cannot waite till i see you tomorrow

Yourbf.priv:🩷🩷🩷

Sergioperez: Felicidades. te lo mereces

User991: I love how she is still his grid child, even though she took his seat

User555: He retired, the seat was going to be filt

Yourusername: gracias. No podría haberlo hecho sin tus consejos.

User919: CHECOOO

User292: VAMOS Y/N

Mickschumacher: congratulation yn

Yourusername: thank you mick🧡

Yourusername: Gracias Fernando. Next time I want you there too

Fernandoalonso: Felicidatess🎉🎉

Fernandoalonso: Crash Max out and i be there

Maxverstappen1: why not p3. No crashing me out please

Fernandoalonso: What is the fun in that😏

User819: HAHAHA FERNANDO

User929: I cannot believe i ever screamed harder at my television.

Yourmom: my Baby's first f1 win. I am so proudd

Yourusername: My FIRST WINNN, thank you mom

Liked by: youbf, yourbff, kikagomes and 762.919 others

Yourusername: re-united with me beautiful boy🐶

User91: dulce is such a beautiful dog

Kikagomes: dolce and simba should meet up once

Yourusername: YESSS. DOGGY MEET

Alexandramleux: I bring Leo too

Yourusrname: SI SI SI🐕🐕🐶

Usr891: Do you need an other dog?

Usr891; I can bark

User7829: I no one going to talk about the whole as men in her car

Mickschumacher: i miss him it has been to long since the last cuddles.

Usr671: With flowersss

User1233: omg

User782: Do I smell soft lauch??

Fernandoalonso: Maybe my eyes dont work, but is that a man?

Yourusrname: your eyes dont work, abuelo

Liked by: Yourmom, yourbf, alexandramleux and 968,917 others

Yourusename: Eat pasta, drive fasta

Alexandramleux: That looks great

Kikagomes: Can you answer my text?

Pierregasly: Mine too please

Maxverstappen1: 🤔🤨

Yourusername: what do you need emilian

Maxverstappen1: Nothing, just looking at the food

User782: Miss yn, who is that??

Yourusername: That is the love of my life, truffel pasta

User782: Omg you replied

User782: not what i meant. But i take it

Yourbf.priv: The things you lie about

Youruser.priv: you have a third place, after dolce❤️

Yourbf.priv: I take it🩷

Yourbf.priv: Had a great night with you, darling

Youruser.priv: Me too, i missed you so much

Liked by 1.388.239 people

Yourusername: well deserved break

User782: She is definitely soft launching

User561: how does a man get put queen?

User682: rightt

Sergioperez: dile que tenga cuidado. Max ha estado enviando spam a mi teléfono preguntándome si sé quién es. Tell him to be carefull, max has been spamming my.phone asking if i know who he is.

Yourusername: Max tiene que ocuparse de sus propios asuntos.

Maxverstappen1: What do max??? Can someone tranlate for me, por favor

User7829: i have to write her ideas down for my future soft launch

Lilymhe: so what happened to girl code

Kellyqiuet: We really have to scedule a new brunch date

Kikagomes: and you bring the tea

Yourusername: I love bruch dates

Yourusername: what kind of tea, green or black. Maybe some rooibos

Kikagomes: not that kind of tea

User782: first HAB??

User7224: a what

User991: Had, husbands and boyfriend. You know instead of the wag

Liked by: 1.878.382 people

Yourusrname: 🏖🏝☀️

Comments have been disabled.

Likedby: yourbf, kellypiquet and 978,672 others

Yourusername: admiring the view⛵️

User781: FIRST

User92: no one cares, look at the whole as men next to her

Max verstappen1: can those crazy fans get to work and find who he is

Landonorris: thisss. Why don't they do it now

Carlossaimz; i like to have a word with him

User789: when is this torture going to stop

User7829: show us the face please.

User515: Maybe he is famous

Uswr9828: maybe it is a driver?

Ussr691: i always shoppen her with lando

Landonorris: it is not lando, i dont no who it is.. but not me. And not an other driver.

Landonorris: also she is more then a sister

Yourbf.priv: you are my favorite view

Yourusername: Ah, stop itt😍🥵💕

Liked by yourbf and 1.978,682 others

Yourusername: My man, my man, my ma-a-a-an

Fernandoalonso: Muy bien, alguien consigue las cerraduras. Alrightz someone get the locks

Carlossinz: ¿Puedo hablar con él ahora? Can i talk to gim now

Yourbf.priv: my beautiful darling

Yourusername: my beautiful boy

Maxverstappen1: just so he knows. My cats can scratch him

Yourusername: i think he is safe

Yourbf.priv: those scratches can be add to my colection

Youruserpriv. 😏

Landonorris: the twotter girls didn't fo their work

User682: We wont if it is our queen

User7829👸👸👸

User891: and he like doesn't excist online

Sergioperez; Finalmente, ya no necesito mantenerlo en secreto. ¿Puedo publicar esas fotos que les tomé a ustedes dos?

Yourusername: checo no lo hagas

Carlossainz: you kneww

Fernandoalonso: i feel kinda betrayed, ngl

Yourusername: Abuela, who learnt tou that

User681: Yes post those pictures checo, please

Maxverstappen1: when your boyfriend turns against you. Holding this secret from me.

Kellypiquet: 🤨🤨🤨

Yourusername: Doctor he escaped

325 notes · View notes

noticiasarquelogicasjaponesas · 10 months ago

Text

Capitulo 1:ヨーロッパの雰囲気が漂う五稜郭/Goryokaku a hallmark with European airs.

Sean bienvenidos a una nueva entrega de cultura e historia japonesa, en este caso vamos a hablar sobre Goryokaku, localizado en Hakodate en la prefectura de Hokkaido al norte de la isla de Honshu.

Toponimia de Hokkaido en, el siglo XIX se llamaba Ezo, último reducto del shogunato contra el nuevo orden creando una república (1868-1869). Hay que destacar que Japón estubo cerrado al mundo durante 260 (1603-1868), este periodo se le conoce como periodo Edo, bajo el régimen militar Tokugawa.

En 1854 finalizaron los tratados de amistad con Estados Unidos, Gran Bretaña, Rusia. Hakodate se convirti�� en una ciudad portuaria abierta al mundo exterior y en 1858, concluyendo el tratado comercial y al año siguiente se convirtió en puerto comercial. Hisaburo Takeda, estudio en Europa y se formó en fortalezas tipo estrelladas de traza italiana, en 1864 se completaron las contribuciones de la fortaleza.

Espero que os guste y nos vemos em próximas publicaciones.

Welcome to a new installment of Japanese culture and history, in this case we are going to talk about Goryokaku, located in Hakodate in the Hokkaido prefecture north of the island of Honshu.

Toponymy of Hokkaido in the 19th century was called Ezo, the last stronghold of the shogunate against the new order creating a republic (1868-1869). It should be noted that Japan was closed to the world for 260 years (1603-1868), this period is known as the Edo period, under the Tokugawa military regime.

In 1854 the friendship treaties with the United States, Great Britain, and Russia ended. Hakodate became a port city open to the outside world and in 1858, concluding the commercial treaty and the following year it became a commercial port. Hisaburo Takeda, studied in Europe and trained in Italian star-type fortresses, in 1864 the contributions of the fortress were completed.

日本の文化と歴史の新しい記事へようこそ。今回は、本州の北、北海道の函館にある五稜郭について話します。

19 世紀の北海道の地名は蝦夷と呼ばれ、共和制を樹立する新秩序（1868～1869 年）に対抗する幕府の最後の拠点でした。日本は 260 年間 (1603 年から 1868 年まで) 鎖国していたことに注意してください。この期間は、徳川軍事政権下の江戸時代として知られています。

1854 年にアメリカ、イギリス、ロシアとの友好条約が終了しました。函館は対外に開かれた港湾都市となり、1858年に通商条約を締結し、翌年には商業港となりました。武田久三郎はヨーロッパに留学し、イタリアの星型要塞で訓練を受け、1864 年に要塞の建設を完了しました。

source/ソース:photos internet/写真インターネット

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amethvysts · 7 months ago

Note

meio que o topico do simón finalmente levando uma namorada p apresentar pra familia me pegou demais. fiquei pensando NELE conhecendo a familia da namorada, todo nervoso no começo pq nunca passou por isso antes. no fundo ele ta morrendo de medo do pai dela nao gostar dele e achar que ela merece coisa melhor 🤧🤧🤧 ela achando graça tentando acalmar e ele todo "po nao ri amor eh serio!!!!"

ele trocaria de roupa umas dez vezes antes de vocês saírem de casa, e faria questão de te mostrar todos os looks até vocês entrarem em um consenso sobre qual agradaria mais os seus pais.

“simón, só coloca a tua camisa do flamengo e vamos,” você insiste, revirando os olhos ao acompanhá-lo entrar no quarto mais uma vez. “é o que você gosta de vestir mesmo, e o almoço não é nada demais”.

“tá maluca, garota?” a voz indignada do seu namorado preenche o ambiente, antes dele jogar a camisa descartada bem em cima de você — mais um jeitinho de te irritar. “imagina se eu aparecer na casa dos teus pais parecendo eu. teu pai vai me odiar”.

“ele já deve odiar mesmo,” e aí você recebe outra camisetada na cara, te fazendo soltar uma risada.

“para de rir, porra. não tá vendo que o assunto é sério, meu anjo?” a voz sai repleta de manha, enquanto o rapaz quase bate o pé bem na sua frente. é engraçado vê-lo em estado de pânico, até porque, geralmente, a situação sempre é invertida. quando é você que está toda desesperada, soltando fogo pelas ventas por ele não estar te levando a sério, simón só te ajuda em piorar. “vai, me ajuda a escolher. camisa do united ou do real madrid?”

vai deixar o maço de cigarro em casa e se recusar a beber pelo resto do dia — e quase tem tremelique de abstinência quando vê seu pai tirar uma cerveja redondinha do isopor. mas tudo em nome da boa impressão! que, aliás, simón consegue causar sem fazer muito esforço. consegue participar de todo e qualquer assunto que seus pais puxam, com um jogo de cintura invejável e um timing ótimo pra fazer piadas. como eu já disse, ele tem síndrome de vereador e consegue desenrolar qualquer pessoa no papo (o bichinho é geminiano, né), então não foi difícil fazer com que sua mãe se tornasse a mais nova integrante do fã-clube.

o almoço termina com o seu pai o convidando pra sentar no sofá e assistir algum jogo da premier, pedindo que você vá buscar uma cerveja pra eles dividirem juntos. simón vai ajudar sua mãe em tudo o que ela precisar: desfazendo a mesa, colocando o feijão que sobrou no pote de sorvete e lavando os pratos (mas tem que ser com você secando e fazendo o tetris no seca-louça porque ele tem medo de quebrar alguma coisa).

“enganou teus sogros direitinho, hein?” você provoca, e o sorriso só aumenta quando ele joga a água da pia bem em cima de você.

#⋆ ࣪. amethvysts ۫ ⁎#BOM DOMINGO DIVAS #⭒ ݁ . you've got mail!#simón!br #lsdln #◟♡ ˒ anon

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coachtfd · 2 years ago

Text

“Vamos, vamos.” - Lisandro Martinez after United beat Leicester City ❤️

bonus (him eyeing the trophy before his turn):

#lisandro martinez #world cup 2022 #manchester united #premier league #soccer #football #vamos vamos argentina #vamos #argentina mnt #argentina #mufc

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magicalonsomanydances · 5 months ago

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In preparation for the Spanish Grand Prix I feel I must give my ranking of my top 10 on the Grid as some way to soothe the frustration that I have no way to watch the race.

Carlos Sainz Vazquez de Castro Cenamor Rincón Rebollo Birto Moreno de Aranda de Anteriuga Tiapera Deltun absolute king of my heart and the reason I got into this sport. The prince charming of Spain who's so classy and gracious and just such a good teammate no matter where he is at. With his powerful tractor beam big brown eyes. Long live the smooth operator! Vamos Carlos!

Esteban Ocon. Am I aware that this is like loving the problematic lead in a film or book just cause he has babygirl energy? Yes. Is that gonna stop me? Hell naw! I like his backstory, disarmed by his squishy little face, and I vowed to defend him from all harm like the minute after I watched him analyze Cars as being an accurate depiction of various racing aspects. Plus he's from the same region of France as where my family originates. So while Carlos is my F1 husband Estie is like my F1 baby bro. I will call him "teapot" it's a long story feel free to send me an ask about it. I will also call him Esteban "Can Do No Wrong" Ocon. Yes I'm fully self aware of how delulu I am about this man having no flaws (he does I've just elected to ignore them in favor of being charmed by the innocent face)

Daniel Ricciardo - I'm from Texas, I'm an extrovert, I'm legally obligated to stan this man to the moon and back. The Honey Badger is my spirit animal. Not the actual creature, just chaos gremlin Daniel. His energy is infectious and he brings the party and he loves my state. How could I do anything but support him?

George Russell - he was probably the second crush I got in F1 and I kinda love how in spite of his posh model energy he actually isn't from some moneyed or legacy background and he's so delightfully clueless at times "goat, sorry?" And the videos of him with kiddos he's so sweet and attentive to them

Checo - the Mexican minister of Defense. The down to earth friendly dad energy. He's just so solid and sweet and I love what he does to help mellow Max just by ya know being the chill dad Max never had. Also he an authentic Mexican, endorsed Tex-Mex so obvs I'm gonna love this man and wanna get tacos and drinks. He has that approachable energy and given the US's one driver might not even have a seat next year I gotta support our neighbor Mexico's driver cause I sure ain't supporting the Canadian nepo baby

Fernando Alonso - this mainly has to do with sex appeal let's be real. He's got that edgy bad boy kinda external vibe in some ways but then he's backstage arranging flowers and it's like "I could fix him and make him settle down" he's got charm style and is basically an immortal and foxy as hell. Let me try to domesticate this man please!

Charles Leclerc - sweet, I would vote him most likely to be true even while he's traveling abroad being swooned over and having fans handing him marriage licenses. He's just a little too type A for me to love him like I do my golden retriever energy chaos creatures and chill guys of the previous 6. But he's great and it's because of him and Carlos in the C² videos that I got roped into this sport so he's gotta make it. Plus after all the loss he's experienced he's a real inspiration in staying kind in spite of the pain of life

Max Verstappen - speaking of inspirations my traumatized ass can't help but support one of my own. He's an icon of breaking cycles. Yes he's definitely had his issues but he's matured in some ways and while I don't care if he wins or not on the track I'm very invested in him winning at life which him being a doting stepdad to Penelope is the kind of healing that helps me heal too. Children of hard ass dads who didn't realize their childhood was fucked up, unite! Plus he's an absolute goofball and that's endearing

Logan Sargent - I'm american, independence day is literally my favorite holiday, I have to have this man in my top 10 and I genuinely do think he's a classy guy (especially considering he's from Florida) and I can't help but love how the one American driver is just so painfully American looking. He looks like Captain America fucked an apple pie. He looks like scientists designed an American in a lab. He looks like the Beach Boys had a grandson with the descendants of Betsy Ross. He looks like a team scoured frat parties for a year to find the most American looking guy in the country. He is Logan Sargent and he is Kenough.

Valterri Bottas - his absolute self confidence and zero fucks given. He does not take himself too seriously and he is wholesome AF. He also has practical guy energy. Like if I hand to rank drivers on Most Likely to Pull Over and Help You Change a Tire he's definitely in the top 3. He seems like getting his hands dirty is something he's not too good to do and he seems like a good dude. Plus he's hilarious. He's as chaotic as Daniel in some ways he's just a little less boisterous about it. Calm chaos vs 5 year old given 16 energy drinks in an hour Ricciardo energy

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dantakeyoman · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 | 𝐣. 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡

♡ 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 "𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐩" 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐱 𝐦𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧! 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ * "𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓, 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆. 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂𝒆 '𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏' 𝒇𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚." *

♡ 𝐚/𝐧: 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐨-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚, 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐨-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐳 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝...

♡ 𝐚/𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐳 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠 (𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭), 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐳 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

♡ 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬

"𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 a seat," Graves ordered, roughly shoving Valeria into a chair before turning to you, "All right, how do you two know each other?"

"Know is a strong word," you scoffed, turning your back on the woman, not wanting to look at her.

"Las palabras fuertes son importantes. Nuestras palabras son nuestras valor, no?" She smirked.

She'd gotten on your last nerve.

"Cállate la puta boca, eres una pedazo de puta mierda! Te mataré!" You shouted, storming over to attack her.

"(y/n)-" Soap and Rodolfo quickly ran over, holding you back from the woman while she smiled in your face.

"Tranquilo, commandante," Rudy tried to sooth, already predicting where this conversation was going to head.

"I'm cool! I'm cool!" You shook their arms off, taking a few steps back.

Graves brought Valeria back to the Los Vaqueros base, where you, him, Soap, Ghost, and Rodolfo were to interrogate her.

But it was abundantly clear to everyone there that you were in no condition to even be in the same room as that woman.

"Vamos," you spat, resting your hands in your vest, "Tell them."

"I don't take orders anymore," she denied, unphased, "Even the dogs in Las Almas know not to bark at me."

"Este puta perra--She's ex-military," you scoffed, "We served together."

"Different squads, same unit," she sneered, leaning back in her chair, "You were the wild ones, eh? Los Vaqueros."

She rolled her eyes..

"My squad was clean cut señores y señoras..."

"Until the raid on the son of La Araña...te recuerdas?" You smiled, sarcastically.

"Yo recuerdo perfecto," she smiled right back.

"Her team was told to cordon off the city to keep out La Araña's enforcers and prevent the bloodshed," you explained for the others in the room.

"That's exactly what we did," she cooed.

"You kept out his enforcers, because you were his enforcers, eh?" You snapped, brows furrowed.

"He was escorted to the mountains without incident," she taunted, "Also to prevent bloodshed."

"He was supposed to go to prison," Rodolfo corrected.

"So you killed him..." Graves roughly gripped her shoulder, walking around behind her, "...and then you took over."

"I created a power vacuum...and I filled it," she spat, "Las Almas needs me."

"Las Almas needs soldiers, not sicarios," you growled, squatting down to her level, "Y usted? You disgrace all of our fallen brothers and sisters."

She rolled her eyes, her bored and uninterested face only fueling your anger.

She was one of you.

Maybe not a Vaquero but part of the army, and she condoned the slaughter of her fellow brothers and sisters in arms.

It was something you couldn't stand for.

Something you wouldn't stand for.

"Why're you doin' this?" Graves asked, crossing his arms at his chest.

"You tell me..." She turned to face him, "You're the contractor, no? What you don't do, your competitors will."

"You're a narco harboring a terrorist," Ghost corrected.

"Terrorism is good for business. It's insurance," she clarified.

"The fuck does that even mean?" You angrily scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Puede sacar a la puta cabeza de culo por un segundo!" She shouted, "Puta madre, (y/n)!"

She stared you dead in the eyes, her gaze cold and hardened.

"As long as there is a war on terrorism, there will be no real war on drugs. To find your so-called terrorist and your missiles, you need me."

Her dead stare suddenly shifted into a patronizing pout.

"To prevent bloodshed."

'Nope.'

"I'm not doing this," you denied, grabbing your gun, "She's out of her fuckin' mind."

"(y/n)-" "No, Rudy!" You exclaimed, pointing at the devil in the chair, "You know we can't trust her! She's gonna fuck every single one of us over!"

Valeria tutted, not hiding her amusement in the slightest.

"Pobrecita," she cooed, "I don't think you realize that you don't have a choice..."

You shot her a deadly glare, and she pressed harder.

"Like I said before, amiga....you need me."

You were so angry, you couldn't speak.

You were so angry, you had to physically turn yourself and start walking before you pounced on her.

"Tell Rita I said hello...."

"That's enough, Valeria! You've made your point!" Rudy exclaimed, his sentence punctuated by the slam of the door.

'I'm gonna kill that bitch.'

"𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 on the rig..." Soap reported, the large oiler coming into view through the fog.

"All right! That's our target. Shadows 1 and 2, push to your hook points," Graves ordered, "Let's invite ourselves in."

"All stations, ship is visual," Ghost added through comms.

"Copy, prep for assault. Stay on comms," Graves confirmed.

The Americans were quick to trust Valeria's word, her intel pointing towards an abandoned oil rig in the middle of nowhere.

The cartel was using it as a cargo dead-drop, and offered up space to Hassan to store his missile.

So you, 141, and Shadow Company split into four teams, each taking a different angle at the rig and additional ship.

"You all reit, hen?" Soap asked, voice low so he didn't alert the others.

Your mind was off somewhere else, thinking, quite intently if he took the tightness of your face as any hint.

But being distracted like that, especially out here, was a death sentence.

He smiled, tapping his finger on your forehead, "We need that head doon 'ere."

An easy guess would be it's about Valeria, but he wasn't one to pry so a guess is what it would have to stay.

You spared him a small smile of thanks, giving a firm nod and getting your head back in the game.

"If Valeria told the truth," Graves started up, completely oblivious to your exchange, "we board, clear, and disarm that missile."

"And if she's lying?" You cocked a brow.

He scoffed, smiling, "God help her."

"God help us all," Soap agreed.

"Be ready for anything..." You warned, turning to glance at the rig, "This could be a trap."

The boat suddenly came to a choppy halt, the team finally reaching the hook points.

Graves and a Shadow shot up the grapples, you and Soap keeping your guns trained on the overhead in case of an ambush.

"Good hooks," Graves approved, turning to you and the Scot, "Up and at 'em."

The two of you clicked in, pressing the button to get pulled up the rope.

'Que Dios nos ayude...'

When you touched down on the top, Graves had already taken out a guard, and the four of you proceed to clear two rooms full of them before making it to the center of the rig

"We need to move fast," Graves directed to comms, "All Shadows, force out! I want eyes on that container, now!"

"Two copies. Moving!" A Shadow answered.

"Hostiles on the bridge!" You reported, shooting at the guards on the other side.

Now that they knew you were here, it looked like it was going to be a fire fight.

"We gotta roll!" Graves exclaimed, quickly moving down the steps to the main deck.

Suddenly, a huge, red flare shot into the sky, exploding with a huge boom while sirens blared on the rig.

A huge container was revealed on the helipad, its top slowly opening.

"Shadow-1, Ghost, visual on flares from the rig! What's your status, over?" Ghost called.

"Ghost, they're signaling the ship! They're gonna launch that missile!" Soap shouted, the two of you ducking behind a large crate.

"It's first stage! There's still time!" Graves exclaimed, "All Shadows, all Shadows, missile is on the helipad!"

While Soap provided some cover, you turned and shot at the gas tanks on the deck above, blowing up everything within the vicinity.

"Soap! (y/n)! Hit the stairs! Flank 'em!" Graves ordered.

"Grenade!" He shouted, quickly grabbing you by your vest and yanking you to safety.

Your eyes went wide as he dragged you away, an explosion going off right were you once stood.

'Holy shit...'

That could've been you.

"Thanks," you panted, repaying by taking out the two guards coming up on his six.

"Always a pleasure, bon," he grinned, plowing a path up the staircase.

The two of you made it up to the third deck , taking out the four guards stationed there, when Graves came up behind you two.

"Actual, this is Shadow-1," he held his comm, "Rig is secure. Moving on the container now."

"Rodger that. Confirm when the objective is neutralized," Shepard affirmed.

"Out the door ahead should be a stair to the fourth deck," you reported.

"Then, let's get on it," Graves nodded, taking up the front and leading you two back outside.

The three of you went up to the next deck, the container sitting dead in the center, nice and pretty.

Soap moved on it first, opening it to reveal that it was empty.

'Por Dios...'

"Where are th'controls?"

"On that damn ship," Graves cursed, walking over to the railing that overlooked the ship below.

"Actual, we got a problem. Missile is armed, and the controls are somewhere on the ship."

"You have your orders, son...Stop that launch."

Graves sighed, turning to the Shadow that just ran up to join you.

"3-1, take overwatch," he ordered, attaching a hook line to slide down, "Soap, (y/n), you're with me. We're moving to that ship."

"Yup yup," 3-1 affirmed.

"Ladies first," Soap stepped to the side, leaving the rope to you.

You rolled your eyes, gripping it tight and crossing your legs before sliding down, landing in a speed boat.

"All stations! Visual on the missile controls!" Ghost exclaimed as the two touched down in the boat, "I say again, missile controls are on the bridge!"

"Copy that!" Graves confirmed, moving to alert the driver, "Let's go! Let's go! Let's move out!"

He grabbed his comm, "Ghost, this is 0-1! Back in the water, inbound to your position."

"Solid copy! We're taking effective fire! The LZ will be hot!" Ghost affirmed.

"Rodger!" He turned to you and Soap, "Once we're on deck, we push to the bridge fast! We secure those controls. We stop this missile!"

"How do we board?!" You asked, loudly, over the rushing water.

"Take the ramp!" He turned to the driver, "Hold tight, you two!"

You ducked your head, bracing for impact as the boat crashed full speed into the ship's ramp, flipping over.

'Fuck me...'

Your entire body was thrown to the ground, but you forced your eyes open, ignoring the buzz in your head.

"Let's have ourselves a gunfight!" Graves exclaimed, jumping on deck.

You and Soap picked yourselves up off the ground, following the commander.

The already pelting rain had began raining harder, and the rocking of the ship was causing the shipping containers to slide all over the deck.

"AQ's movin in!" The comms erupted with Ghost's voice.

"Missile controls are on the bridge! We have to stop the launch!" Graves shouted, "Let's move out!"

Running in, three bullets flew past you, but you were quick to take out its source, which was peeking out from an awning on your left.

'That was close.'

"Containers are the only cover we have!" Soap exclaimed.

"Don't get caught between 'em!" Graves warned.

You grabbed two grenades off your hip and pulled their pins, tossing them over the containers to land in the in-between where the guards were hiding.

It took out a good majority of them.

"Good shit!" Graves commended, pushing forward now that the path was clear.

"Soap, take the ones up on the rail!" You called, shifting left and taking out two stragglers.

"Onnit!"

You took the route closest to the taffrail, which was a straight shot to a staircase that let to the next deck.

"They've close off the bridge entry!" Ghost reported.

"Secure the deck and we'll blow the door!" Graves stated, running up the the right stairs.

Quickly, you made your way up the second set, converging with Graves and Soap there.

You were about to open the door, when Graves handed you and Soap a charge each.

"Check it. Controls are internal."

You nodded, attaching it to the left side, while Soap attached it to the right, and then moved out the way.

"Stand back!" He warned, "This is Shadow-1. Going explosive on bridge entry."

The door was suddenly blown off its hinges, and the three of you rushed in.

Graves and Soap took left and right, completely sweeping the room of hostiles in one go, and meeting up with Ghost in the middle.

Eventually, you all pushed up to the top and final deck, entering the control room.

"All right. Eyes ont he controls, tappin' in," Graves instructed, rushing over to the panel, "C'mon baby, c'mon baby, c'mon..."

But his attempt was unsuccessful.

"Fuuuuck. We can't disarm it."

"Why?" Ghost whipped his head around.

"It's too late."

"Thur's no abort code?" Soap asked.

"Yeah, well the window's closed on that, boys..." He sighed, "Gold Eagle, Actual, this is Shadow-1. Missile's in boost phase about to burn, how copy?"

"Solid copy, Shadow. If we can't disarm, then we detonate."

"Rodger that, Actual. Stand by..." Graves groaned, "Soap, get on the controls. We're gonna have to do this together. Now the clock's tickin' so we gotta move."

Soap gave a firm nod, opening up the control box, "Am in."

"Actual, we're on the con, what's the order?" Graves asked.

"Input the DAL code and let the payload strike," Shepard answered.

"Whot's a DAL code?"

"Detonate After Launch..."

"We're gonna take out the oil rig with the missile."

"The Shadows are still on there," you reminded

"All Stations, clear the rig now. I say again, clear the rig!" Ghost exclaimed, holding his comm.

"Roger. What's the count?" 3-1 asked.

"One minute," Graves answered.

"Copy, on the move!"

"All right, now this..."

Graves and Soap worked together, successfully changing the missile's trajectory from New Orleans to the oil rig

"Here we go!" Graves grinned, "All stations prepare for the BOOM!!"

"Missile away..." Ghost sighed, the four of you watching as it deployed from it's container.

It shot straight up, before changing direction and slamming right into the rig, exploding it a huge, blinding ball of fire.

'Mierda...'

Graves laughed, utterly pleased.

"Look at that big bad beautiful shit!"

"Steamin' bloody Jesus..." Soap stared, amazed.

"Gold Eagle, Actual, Shadow-1. Good hit. Good hit. Missile and rig destroyed," Graves reported.

"Copy that, Shadow-1. Good work. Get off that X and go home. Soap, Ghost, (l/n), thanks for a job well done," Shepard commended.

"Roger that, Actual," Soap nodded.

"We're RTB," Ghost stated, turning to walk out the room with Graves following.

You let out a long sigh, raking a tired hand through your hair.

"I need a drink..."

Soap smiled, tossing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into a tight side hug.

"You an' me both, bon," he agreed, the two of you walking out side by side.

You could feel the heath of his hand seeping in through your arm, and spreading to that whole side.

He had never done anything like this before.

Passing a cup of coffee and touching your hand? Sure.

Soft shoulder pats every time you get a clean kill? Fine.

Using endearing nicknames on missions? Alright.

Saving you a seat next to him every infil and exfil? Okay...

...

Maybe you were overthinking it.

He's probably just being friendly.

Thinking that way is unprofessional in the first place.

But as the two of you walked out the room, you pressed into his side, you couldn't help but feel like those thoughts had some truth to them.

𝐀𝐒 your jeep pulled up to the entrance of the Vaquero base, it was stopped by a group of Shadows standing as guards.

'Qué coño?'

Rivera and Suarez were supposed to be on guard duty this week.

You stepped out the car, Graves and a couple more Shadows filing out of the one in front of you.

"What's this?" You asked, brow cocked as you stepped forward.

"This is the immediate future," he answered, taking a step towards you, "Now, step away from the gate."

"What?" Soap asked, him and Ghost getting out of the car, as well.

"You heard me."

"Are you serious?" You asked, still in disbelief, "This is my base."

"It's not a base," he corrected, "This is a sizable covert facility. And I admire it....so I'm takin' it."

You cocked your head to the side, shocked by the man's audacity.

"You all have been relieved. Thank you for your service."

"No, no, no, no. I don't answer to you," you shook your head, tone dangerously low.

"Didn't Valeria say that?" He cocked a brow, "Now that makes me wonder what else I don't know about your affiliation with a drug lord?"

"What the fuck did you just say to me, güero..." You spat, tongue in cheek as you took a step forward.

But Soap quickly came over, resting a hand on your shoulder, "You're out of line, Graves."

"Don't do that. Don't...do that," Graves shut down, "No one needs to get hurt here."

"Are you threatenin' us?" Ghost chimed.

"Soldier, I don't make threats. ...I make guarantees. So let's not do this."

"I'm callin Shepard," Soap glared, turning around and walking back to the car.

"General Shepard sends his regards. He told me y'all wouldn't take this well."

"He knows about this?" Ghost asked, surprised.

"He's put me in command of this operation from here on out," Graves answered, "So, y'all need to stand down. It's time to let the pros finish this."

He turned to you.

"And why the hell are we talking like this i some kind of a negotiation? It's not. I've got my orders, and now you have yours-"

"Who the fuck do you think you are, cabrón?" You scoffed, "My men are inside!"

"I'm afraid not," he corrected.

Your cocked a brow.

"Your men have been....detained."

...

'Rita.'

Without hesitation, you went in to attack him, but he held up the butt of his gun, about to knock you out.

Quickly, you weaved his hit, the Shadows behind him taking aim on Soap and Ghost behind you.

"Graves, what the fuck!" Soap shouted, grabbing a nearby Shadow and using him as a human shield.

You dropped to a crouch, taking the man by surprise and sweeping his legs.

His back hit the ground hard, but he was quicker than you expected, and shot you before you could pounce on him.

"(y/n)!" Soap shouted, eyes wide as you dropped.

"Arrgh!" You winced, clutching your side as you flipped yourself over, army crawling under the car.

"Shit!" Graves cursed, "Someone get 'er on the other side!"

A pair of black boots quickly moved to cut you off on the other side, so you pulled out your tac knife, repeatedly stabbing it into his foot.

He screamed and dropped to the ground, and you rolled out the side, much to your agony.

"Fuuuck," you groaned, pressing hard into your side to stop the bleeding.

You could feel yourself loosing blood.

"Johnny! (y/n)! Get outta there!" Ghost exclaimed, noticing that Graves was back up, gun drawn.

You tried to sit up, but gasped in pain, your body lighting up like a live wire.

"Soap, get her!"

Soap pulled you up from off the ground, pressing your back against his chest and crossing his arms over you, throwing himself over a divider to slide down the hill on his back.

Some of the shadows still tried to shoot, but with the two of you now covered by the dark, there was no point.

He hit ground roughly, you tumbling out off his arms.

"Fuck," he hissed, clutching his bloody shoulder as he picked himself up, "C'mon, bonnie. We gotta move."

He pulled you up again, his nerves spiking when he saw just how out of it you were already, barely able to hold up your head.

'Shit.'

"Stay wit' me, bon," he panted, throwing your arm over his shoulder and starting off down the hill.

"Am gonna getchu help."

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