Nate Jacobs NSFW Alphabet
⚠️: Smut, Nate Jacobs x Female Reader, slightly switch!Nate, mention of cnc.
A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
Nate isn't the aftercare biggest fan, he only cares about it if you're already in real relationship. He'll probably lie in bed with you, watching a random movie on TV while cuddleing you against his chest, or massaging your shoulders and feet before you fall asleep.
B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He's very proud of his muscles. He worked hard to have a body as attractive as that, so he definitely brags about it a lot. He also knows he's lucky to be so tall.
I think Nate's an ass guy. It doesn't matter if your ass size, he loves squeezing and biting your soft skin. But in non-sexual context, I think the part of you he loves most it's your eyes. If you give him that puppy dog eyed... Girl, this man will become even more madly in love. The innocent vibes it's everything to him (even if you're not and he knows it).
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)
Remember what I said about Nate loving your ass? If you're taking it doggy style, you can bet he'll take his cock out first just to cum on your ass.
If you're giving him head, he'll wanna cum on your face. He loves the feeling when he sees your pretty cheeks covered by his cum.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Nate'll never admit it if you ask, but he LOVES being choked and slightly degraded. He'll wanna make you jealous on purpose, just to see you to get on top, riding his cock and grabbing his throat with your little hands, cursing him with anything your angry brain can think of.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
It's kinda obvious, but Nate's VERY experienced. He has already fucked so many girls from that city. Sometimes it gets depressing for you, knowing how many your classmates have already been fucked by your boyfriend in the past.
HOWEVER, you're the first girl who has really able to explore his switched/submissive side. Before Nate dating you, he never let anyone sexually dominate him (even gently).
F = Favorite Position (Pretty self explanatory)
Doggystyle. This guy loves feeling you so small under him, his whole big body covering yours as he fucks your pussy, so rough and listening to you whining. If you start moaning too loud, he might grab your throat or cover your mouth with his hand (we know Nate's hand it's REALLY big, so don't be surprised if he ends up covering your face too much).
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)
Well... Nate's very serious. He has anger issues and lives with a dark mind, in addition to having his own character deviations. So let's say that he uses sex as a way to de-stress and let out all his frustrations. Often.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)
No hair. Nate's obsessed with his personal hygiene, to the point where he thinks his own pubic hair it's disgusting. As time goes, maybe you'll be able to convince him this is nonsense, but he'll still get sullen and probably shave it all off the moment the brown hairs starting show up.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)
We know Nate's more aggressive. He's not very romantic during sex and you already knew what you were getting into before you started dating him. But if you have a rough day, maybe he'll take it easy and try to be more soft. However, don't expect the romantic aspect being a routine.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
Curiously, Nate doesn't jack off that much. Before he met you, he always got some random girls to distract him. Now he has you, he doesn't have to worry about that. But he keeps some pictures and amateur home videos that you two made so he can use it as motivation for moments when he's alone and needs cumming.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
As I said before: choking, giving and receiving.
Spanking, he loves spanking your ass, your face... Any part of your body you allow.
He really likes degrading you, especially if he's jealous. He calls you an attention whore and says you're just a stupid whore... If he's in a good mood, he's a little less rude or uses a more soft voice (maybe calling you "MY stupid little whore, MY attention whore...)
Breeding kink AS FUCK. Nate fucks you and talks dirty about getting you pregnant. So considering that... he has creampie too, it's obvious. Despite his fucked up Daddy issues, I think he likes being called Daddy in sex.
Things like pulling your hair and spitting on your mouth and face too. Draciphilia's also his kink, your tears flowing while he fucks you and humiliates you make you even hotter.
A light CNC/rapeplay too, but he doesn't know how telling you that, so he'd rather just picturing it for a while. But if he ever tells you and you consent and set your limits, you'll discover an even darker side of your boyfriend.
L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)
Party bathrooms and his truck. He loves taking risks, the idea of someone seeing you in a vulnerable moment like that makes him fucking jealous and turns him on even more.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
The moment Nate starts feeling jealous, he becomes aggressive and horny. AND HE'S ALWAYS JEALOUS!
Your innocent and worried look at him when he's angry about his personal issues their also things that turns him on a lot. He knows he NEEDS to fuck you at that moment.
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Nate won't share you. He's been totally against threesomes since he started dating you. Even though he was a huge womanizer, nowadays he still wouldn't feel comfortable seeing a woman touch you either.
Much less a man. He would rather be killed than let another man touch you, his girlfriend, only his.
If you dare suggesting something like this, you can be sure that will cause one of the worst arguments in your entire relationship.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
As good as Nate's at eating you out, I feel like he'd rather you give him head. He loves taking control of this situation, making you kneel and take his cock to the back of your throat. He grabs your hair and forces you trying to fit every inch of his member into your mouth, also controlling the speed.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc)
Nate likes fast and rough thrusts, to the point where the noises of your hips clashing and your loud moans echo throughout his house. Therefore if you're having sex in secret in a public place, he covers your mouth to avoid interruptions and trouble.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)
Nate's the real biggest fan of quickies. Anywhere it's time. Are you at a party? He just drags you to the bathroom and fucks you there.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)
He takes a lot of risks, especially due sex in public places.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)
Because of his athletic body and because he's already used to very rough training routines, Nate can last a long time, so you're sure cumming many times. As for the number of rounds, I think he cums twice. Although he's not really tired and can keeping going if both of you want, it ends up not being so euphoric.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
There aren't so many toys for you two using... Who needs them when you have those huge hands or his own belt spanking you if you're being a brat? But... Let's say that sometimes he likes using some dildos and a Hitachi Magic Wand on you, seeing you crying and overstimulated, dripping for him.
U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)
Nate loves teasing you, he wants seeing you beg for him, begging for his cock. He may deny your orgasms or let you feeling overstimulated until you need to use your safe word.
But don't you dare tease him back when you're on top, it won't end well for you after sex.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
When Nate's dominating you, he barely makes sounds other than dirty talk. Just some low growling and swearing. But when he's punishing you or rapeplaying, he won't mind yelling at you as many times as he wants.
When you're dominating him, he's more vocal and really likes whining for you.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
When Nate loses a football match, he gets angry easily. He pushes himself too hard and ends up taking it out on you, yelling that you distracted him from his goals or something like that. But all of this always ends after angry sex. Once, you were so tired of his explosive behavior that you decided he needed learning to use his mouth to something more useful.
You knew that behind that angry and aggressive facade, your boyfriend was just frustrated with himself, so you needed to show that you weren't disappointed with him. It wasn't long before he was lying on the bed, you on top of his face using it to rub your pussy while he swallowed your juices and jerked off his own cock, rubbing his nose against your clit and whining muffledly, as you moaned loud and called him a good boy.
X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)
I think his cock it's about 7.5 inches, quite rosy and thick enough to always makes you scream by pain and pleasure when he gets inside your pussy roughly. Sometimes you literally can see the shape of his cock marking the soft skin of your stomach as he fucks you.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Very high. He's Nate Jacobs, don't expect anything less that from him.
Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
It takes a while for him to start feeling sleepy, so you can be sure that you'll sleep well before he does.
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𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕
✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader
✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before.
Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.
✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU
✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I’m truly sorry for this sad excuse of an update.
(Fanfic masterlist)
(support me on my ko-fi)
°•. ✿ .•°
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬
(<<< part one)
“I can’t believe you’re doing this again” Jane’s voice rang through the phone as you walked down the streets towards your desired coffee spot.
You also couldn’t believe you were doing that again. You tried your best to live your life with no regrets, but men made it very hard.
“Have you seen him since he fled the crime scene?”
“Stop calling it a crime scene” you snapped.
“Well, have you?”
Your silence was enough of an answer. No, you had not seen or heard from Jungkook since he ran away from your bedroom in the dead of night, leaving behind only the smell of cologne and, funnily enough, a single sock. When you woke up that day to an empty bed, sheets crumbled and a mattress indented on the side where he had slept, all you could muster was a tired sigh of disappointment.
And to be completely honest, you were disappointed with yourself, not Jungkook. You expected nothing less than a quick escape of him. But you should’ve known better than to hope for anything. Despite everything, you were still an idealist at heart and you thought that maybe just this once…
You shook your head obstinately. You had learned early on that no good would come from moping around for men who would never once feel any regret for their thoughtless actions and if your pain were to be always one sided, then it was better not to feel any at all. Not to dwell on it, move on, learn from it and be better. Or be worse, sometimes, as self-improvement was not always your goal.
Sometimes, you chose to listen to the tiny revengeful angel on your shoulder - who kind of sounded like Taylor Swift - that screamed for violence and vindication.
As your failed relationships started to pile up, you did reach a point where you had to wonder if you were the problem, as it was the canonical event of all 20 something women. But observation, therapy, critical thinking and hereditary pettiness brought you to the decision that it was not, in fact, your fault. At least not all of it.
With that in mind, you left only the smallest of time slots in your booked and busy schedule to ponder and grieve over the fickle nature of boys’ interests. You had better, more important things to do, such as mindlessly scroll through Minecraft/AITA videos and save pilates routines that you were never gonna do.
Still, in an experience intrinsically feminine, you allowed yourself a little treat to cope with the slight burn of despondency in the back of your mind.
And so you directed yourself to the bougie coffee house near campus, hoping to drown your sorrows with an aggressively sweet and overly caffeinated drink.
“You should slash his tires”
“Jane, please, we have talked about this.”
“You should totally slash his fucking tires!"
"Saying it louder is not gonna make me agree with you! Jane…"
Suddenly your eyes found Jungkook's across the room filled to the brim with depressed, financially irresponsible students, making you pause and hold back the urge to curl your lips in distaste. It bothered you that even with scared eyes as big as saucers and hunched shoulders to appear smaller, Jungkook still managed to look good.
But you knew better than to let him know how much his presence and pretty face annoyed you. Boys like Jungkook only cared about having an impact on people’s life, very rarely caring if it was good or bad. He wanted a reaction out of you and you learned better than to give those away so carelessly.
So you frowned and looked away, the words practiced on your lips as you said “Some guy is staring at me.”
Jane laughed loudly on the phone “You’re a psycho, you know that?”
“I don’t know who it is, Jane, some dude” you stole a quick glance at him, finding vengeful glee at his shocked expression.
“Send me a pic of his reaction, I’m posting it on TikTok.”
You continued playing your part, ignoring your sister’s interruptions as you usually did “Of course I’m carrying a taser, Jane, I’m not an animal…”
“I’ll give you 5 bucks to tase him.”
“You know what, this coffee is not even worth the visual harassment, God I hate men…”
You walked out of the coffee house, hand empty but with a fulfilled sick sense of accomplishment as you stepped out into the street with a shit-eating grin.
“I hope you know what you’re doing” Jane said and you could hear the smile in her voice. Out of your two sisters, Jane was never the one to tell you to not do something, preferring to let you make your own mistakes.
And boy, did you.
You left your big, beautiful, tattooed mistake behind you, ready to move on to something less prone to disappointment, such as fictional men and your Stardew Valley husband “Dont worry” you told your sister “I don’t.”.
—
“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, left eye twitching slightly at your unbothered expression.
After your confusing exit from the coffee shop and a good amount of jabs from his friends, Jungkook had to hunt you down across campus, finding you sitting under a tree with a book in your hands, looking way too peaceful for someone who just had humiliated him.
You looked down at your book with an arched eyebrow “Kegels, clearly. Why?”
“No, I mean…” Jungkook’s frustration was rising by the second, the vein on his neck jumping out “Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”
You frowned.
“Do I know you?” you asked, face doubtful.
“We have classes together?”
You blinked, impassive.
“We went on a date?”
A head shake.
“We slept together!”
“Nope, can’t say it rings any bells.”
That’s it. Jungkook was actually convinced you were clinically insane.
“How can you not remember?”
“How can I remember something that never happened?”
“But it did! You’re crazy! I chased you for weeks!”
You smiled, a trap.
“So, you're, like, in love with me?” you ask, tone condescending.
Jungkook scoffed and you weren’t sure if it was at the idea of love or loving you. “No, of course not.”
“So in this dream scenario of yours, we had sex but we weren’t together?”
“Trust me, this” he gestured between the two of you “is no dream scenario.”
“Well, aren’t you a charmer” you crossed your arms in front you, defensive “Let me get this straight. You, allegedly, chased me for weeks, but don’t really like me. Then, we had casual, out-of-relationship sex and then what? You banged my head against the headboard so hard I completely forgot about it? Your story is full of holes, my dude.”
You had to fight back the urge to smirk, energy spiking from feeding off of Jungkook’s stupefied confusion.
Nail in the coffin, you shrugged, turning your eyes back to your book “Maybe you weren’t that memorable and my mind deleted you like a childhood trauma.”
A slight left eye spasm was all the reaction you got at first, evolving to the pursing of pouty lips and the clenching of fists.
“You are insane” he said at last after seconds of turning clogs in his barely filled mind.
“Finally you said something true.”
Jungkook was equally bewildered and furious. He didn’t know what your deal was or what you were getting out of this, but your refusal to admit you had sex pissed him off deeply considering how much time and effort he put into getting you together.
“Also, I have to ask” you continued, clearly not done with your pursuit of driving him up the wall “what was your goal with this conversation? Chasing me for weeks to then sleep with me and then come here and tell me you’re not actually interested in me, but being upset when I don’t remember something that didn’t happen… What’s the point?”
Jungkook paused. Truly, he didn’t have much of an end goal in mind, actions fueled only by a bruised ego and a childish, borderline pathological need to prove himself.
When he didn’t answer, you stood up and gathered your things, keeping your head down to hide your poorly concealed satisfaction “I’ll let you ponder on that” you said “Don’t worry about reaching out with an answer, though.”
Finally, you looked up at him, face masked with faux awkwardness. “Anyway. Nice to meet you, I guess? No, actually, not really, this was weird as shit. You seem to have some things to figure out. Get help and take care, my dude.”
And so you left, leaving behind only a cloud of your bergamot perfume and a perplexed Jungkook blinking owlishly.
There was a sudden influx of thoughts rushing through his usually much less busy mind, the general tone of confusion ringing amongst humiliation and frustration.
When Jungkook first set his greedy eyes on you, he had an inkling that you’d be a handful and in the beginning, you truly were. You took pleasure in making everything much more difficult for him, running from his presence like the plague and approaching the whole subject of him like one would the subject of warts - reluctantly and with caution.
And if he were honest, he wasn’t too sure on why he insisted, but one would be surprised at how far Jungkook would escalate things out of spite and resentment.
It was that same sick combination of flavors that drove him insane for weeks, moving him to pester you until you gave him a chance. And he took it, lord, did he take it.
That night, he made every possible effort to please you, cloaked in his best, non-ranch stained clothes and best non-arrogant behavior.
And when morning came and he opened up his eyes before you did, tired out from the epitome of his bestest behavior, there was a moment of quiet as he watched you eyelids flutter delicately, soft arm draped lightly over his waist.
The night before had been… Fun, he thought, even before you had reached your bedroom. You were weird and used a bunch of words he didn’t know, but you also made him laugh and listened to him babbling about his interest without once looking bored, even going as far as asking questions about his farfetched MCU theories.
And despite your many (too many to count, insurmountable really) differences, you had… Chemistry, one could call it. Thick chemistry, palpable tension, pushing you towards each other despite your previous attempts to go the other way.
But no amount of chemistry could break Jungkook’s routine as inertia pushed him out of your bed, practiced steps light as feathers as he escaped your apartment with one last look to your sleeping form and somehow one less sock on his feet.
And as he left, there was an undiagnosed pounding in his heart he tried to chalk off as the result of his Dorito and monster drink based diet, but his eyes kept flashing back to where you rested even when he was miles away.
He tried to make sense of your persistent presence in the back of his mind. You were cool, he’d give you that. Hot too. But it didn’t matter how your body fit his like they were manufactured together or how your passive aggressive way of flirting (or insulting, he had a hard time telling them apart with you) never failed to steal a snort from his lips. And yeah, it was kind of nice when you called him cute everytime he didn’t understand something you said. It brought a blush to his cheeks and wild butterflies to his stomach, because… Well, no one had ever called him cute after middle school. Hot? Yes. Sexy? Once a week. Biggest dick ever? Yes, both meanings.
But not cute. And deep down, under layers of aggressively oversized shirts and muscles… Jungkook kind of liked being cute.
Jungkook shook that thought away. Despite all that, you were a point he had to make.
And he did! Point proven and undisputed, up until you looked at him like he was a silly little kid throwing a tantrum (which he kind of was) and questioned him and his sanity,
But Jungkook was obstinate and, even more, the sorest of losers. He had proven himself once and would again! He was a man on a mission, he decided, watching you walk away from him while mouthing the words “I’ll pray for you!”. And the mission was to either send you into a psychiatric hospital or get you back into his bed.
And if the butterflies in his stomach fluttered excitedly at that second prospect, he didn’t allow himself to ponder on it for a single second.
°•. ✿ .•°
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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.
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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.
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