I love the winter weather, (cause I got my love to keep me warm)
mapi león x ingrid engen
ingrid is home alone for the holidays, mapi comes, fluff ensue slight yearning cause ingrid is a bit pathetically in love at the beginning but oh so much fluff. i don't know how i feel about this fic, but i havent written in a while and i missed it + the internet is always better with one more mapingrid fic<3 2990w
The tinder slowly caught on fire as Ingrid held a match to ignite it. The green eyed woman watched as the small flame flickered, giving a soft orange glow to the fireplace. The roughness of the log under her fingertip quickly followed by the burnt wood smell let her know the fire was finally done.
The warmth gradually heated up her body, and she reached her hands forward trying to get rid of the cold feeling in her fingers. It was the 18th of December, and the norwegian weather wasn’t lenient on her parent’s old traditional house. The snow had fallen on Trondheim some weeks ago already, painting the area white and turning the roads icy. It didn’t really bother her, but Ingrid had gotten used to the Barcelona temperatures. So she found herself doing what she did as a teenager, sitting in front of the fireplace, a blanket on her knees and a book in hand.
She dropped down to sit on the rug, a sigh escaping her mouth. Ingrid couldn’t help it, the earthy tones of the fireplace made her think of Mapi, whose eyes had the same mahogany colour she liked to get lost in. She knew it wasn’t fair, but she felt slightly crushed to not have her lover with her. They’d spent the first two weeks of December together, they’d decorated their apartment in festive christmas decors and had put up a beautiful tree. But it was between the training, and the media days to make content for the club. The couple had started dating at the start of the year, so this should have been their first christmas together, except, they weren’t together. Mapi had stayed in Spain to spend the holidays with her family, and Ingrid understood it, really, she had done the same after all, deciding to go back to Norway for the two weeks of vacation they were given.
It had only been a few days without the Spaniard and Ingrid deeply regretted her choice. Her parents had gone to visit extended family and she had chosen to stay home, which led her to feel lonely, and in those moments, everything made her think of Mapi. The warm atmosphere of the house similar to how she felt in the Spaniard’s embrace, the smoked wood aroma which smelled like Mapi’s perfume. She reached for her phone, having sent a text a few hours ago which had gone unanswered, without surprises. The Spaniard had warned her holidays were hectic in her family and she’d likely not be able to chat much. Ingrid frowned, her shoulder tense as she fidgeted with the phone. Until she realised Mapi was busy and bothering her wouldn’t change much to her desperate state anyways. She let her back hit the ground with a loud thud and a dramatic sigh.
The green eyed woman didn’t want to speak with the Spaniard, she wanted her to be here, to be able to hold her and eat Smultringers and take her to all of her favourite places. Norway during Christmas was such a beautiful place, and living in Spain had only made her cherish precious norwegian winters more. Ingrid discarded her phone, throwing it on the side before getting up with a sharp movement. With determination, she decided she’d go take a walk outside, that would be much more productive than sitting at home moping about missing her girlfriend, or pretending to read even though she’d been stuck on the same page since she opened it. She grabbed her biggest coat, rolled her neck in a scarf and went outside—before trailing back in the house to grab her phone. Ingrid was willing to distract herself, but she would not miss her lover’s text, if it ever arrived at some point.
The crisp winter air was freezing her face, her lips slowly going numb and Ingrid swore she could feel frost slowly accumulating on her eyelashes. It was snowing, which wasn’t surprising for a Norwegian winter, really. Ingrid paused, closing her eyes and raising her head toward the sky, letting snowflakes scatter on her face. She inhaled deeply, the cold sending a slight tingling in her nostril.
There was something so special about being back here. That bittersweet feeling knowing she didn’t live here anymore. A life she had taken for granted when she was a kid. In Spain, the streets weren’t full of colored wood houses, winter wasn’t synonymous with white landscapes. In some ways, the air was different too, the trees didn’t smell the same. Here everything brings her back to her childhood, where the cold and dark months would be spent sledding and building snowmen. When she’d bring home good grades, her parents would take her to a frozen lake so she could ice skate. Although she was quite certain she wouldn’t be allowed to do this anymore as a professional athlete anyways.
Ingrid wouldn’t really describe that feeling as “home” anymore. No, home had been replaced by a cozy apartment, and Mapi drinking coffee on the couch, reading, while Ingrid was curled right against her, being lulled to sleep by the brunette’s steady breathing. Bagheera, that cheeky little black cat who had stolen a piece of Ingrid’s heart like her owner would generally be found lounging on the top of the couch. Or on top of Mapi, making Ingrid fight for a small space to rest her head on, and Ingrid would not have it any other way. Home was in small moments where the Spaniard would ramble about something she had learned and Ingrid would listen; until she couldn’t hold back and would lean in to kiss her. It was these mornings where Ingrid would be woken up by the sun, beaming through the window and on her lover’s face. She would lovingly gaze at Mapi’s face, trying to memorize how every freckle was lit up by the golden glow.
A grin creeped on Ingrid’s face as she mindlessly fidgeted with the little bracelet she had been obsessively wearing. The brunette had handmade the bracelet, the red “M” bead standing out amongst the white pearls. The urge to check her phone crept back in, and she tried to fight it for some minutes before giving up. It seemed Ingrid had been out for so long that her phone had run out of battery, and Ingrid sighed, making smoke appear in front of her. She really needed to get herself back together, her family would come back in a few days and she refused to be in a pathetic mood.
The snow on the ground made crunchy sounds as Ingrid dragged her feet back to her parent’s home. Her eyebrows creased and a frown set on her face as she stood in front of the driveway, someone was standing in front of the door, obviously waiting. Her parents hadn’t mentioned anyone would be coming over, she knew it wasn’t family, as none of them were around Trondheim, and Ingrid profoundly wished for them to leave, not in the mood to deal with strangers.
She leaned on the fence about a hundred meters away from her porch, and waited a few minutes. When it seemed clear the person was not going away, instead knocking and waving at windows, Ingrid slowly started making her way to the door. Maybe it was an emergency, she told herself. Squinting to decipher what was going on, she realized it was a woman standing there, arms wrapped around herself as if to protect herself from the cold, her sweater not enough to fight off the Norwegian winter. Ingrid’s frown deepened and her pace quickened, enough to make noise, startling the stranger in the process. Which is when the woman turned around and—.
“María?” Ingrid asked bewildered. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but the brunette was still right in front of her, shivering and grinning, with that warming smile only Mapi had. As if she had stolen the Spanish sun and taken it with her.
“God Jul!” Mapi screamed full of happiness, arms wide open and eyes sparkling. She was obviously very proud of her surprise.
The Spaniard had just enough time to finish speaking before Ingrid ran up the stairs and pulled her into a bone crushing embrace, making both women stumble on the porch before Ingrid steadied them. She raised her lover from the ground, leaving Mapi’s feet to dangle in the air the way Ingrid knew the brunette liked. It left a faint blush on Mapi’s freckled cheeks, who was both glad and embarrassed about having admitted some weeks ago that she really liked it when Ingrid would pick her up.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” the dark haired woman told her, tears forming in her eyes. She put her hands on each side of the brunette’s face, as if she needed proof that Mapi was truly here, softly rubbing her thumbs over the Spaniard cheekbones. Under the already dark afternoon sky of Norway, Mapi’s golden eyes were sparkling with Christmas magic, reflecting the street lights. And Ingrid swore time stopped right then and there, as she took in the sight of her lover she had missed so much.
Ingrid didn’t think she could get any happier until she leaned in, her mouth meeting the cold lips of Mapi. Which is when she realizes her girlfriend must be really cold. She pulls back with a squeal.
“You must be freezing” she exclaims, grabbing Mapi’s hand, unlocking the door as fast as she can and dragging her inside the house.
Mapi’s face was flushed red —again— though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the weather or because of the Norwegian caring attitude. She knew coming to surprise Ingrid in Norway would make her happy, but perhaps she hadn’t quite realized how much.
The Spaniard had spent some day with her family, and for her defense, she was certain she had done a good job at hiding how much she missed Ingrid, until her abuelita had pulled her aside. The old woman had seen how her granddaughter seemed distraught, and had quickly convinced her to take a plane flight. And so, Mapi was waiting in the airport line when something struck her. She realized she didn’t know where exactly Ingrid lived, which led to an express call to Gudrun—Ingrid’s mother—, while the poor airport agent was chastising her for holding up the line. But Mapi had a mission, and it had been successful, the whole hassle had been worth it, really, because she was with Ingrid again, and that's all that mattered.
“You idiot, why are you dressed like we’re in Zaragoza?” the Norwegian half shouted as she forced Mapi to sit on the couch, wrapping her in a bundle of blankets without letting her speak.
“And you didn’t even warn me! I was out, with my phone without battery, you could have stayed hours in the cold,” Ingrid was ranting incoherently, throwing more wood in the fireplace, hoping her lover wouldn't lose fingers to frostbite, or worse, lose her ability to play football! She could already see the headlines “Sapphic Winter Disaster For Maria Leon!”, no, this wouldn’t do.
“...and you really need to wear more clothes, the cold is danger— AH!” Ingrid was abruptly interrupted by a tug, Mapi had pulled her into her lap, stopping her monologue.
Ingrid wanted to be bewildered, wanted to tell Mapi off again, maybe. But Mapi was laughing, oh that sweet laugh that the Norwegian had missed so much, embarrassingly, Ingrid was sure she had even dreamt of it the previous night.
So the green eyed woman relaxed in the embrace, letting all the weight lift off her shoulders, “You’re here…”
Mapi smiled, kissing Ingrid softly, both smiling like kids on a christmas morning in the kiss.
“I missed you too, you know,” said Mapi, full of cheekyness though when she realized the norwegian was still checking her fingers like they were going to fall off, she added “I’m not made of sugar, Princessa.” She tapped one of her fingers on Ingrid’s nose, making her scrunch it. “And with you on top of me like that, I’ll get warm soon enough” the Spaniard added.
So their laughs and sweet words are drowned in the shadow of the fireplace and the dark afternoon of Trondheim. Until somehow, the moon had come and gone, both of them having the best night of sleep in each other's arms since they had left Barcelona. Mapi was lazily stretching in bed, slowly waking up from the exhausting previous day, but Ingrid was a woman on a mission. Her parents would be back soon, and she selfishly wanted to spend the day showing Mapi traditions and places from her childhood, and it would start this morning, in the kitchen.
“I am telling you, María, this is not a donut, this is smultringer, they are different!” Ingrid said for the fourth time as she flipped more of the sweets in the frying pan.
Mapi squinted, peeking over Ingrid’s shoulder without forgetting to place a kiss on her lover’s skin, she hummed. “But it’s round, and it has a hole? It looks like a donut,” she poked at some of the cooked pastries left to chill on a plate.
“Well, yes, maybe it’s like a donut but it’s not, it’s a smultring, the dough is made with cream and eggs, and it’s cooked in lard, now stop annoying me or you’re not eating any!” Ingrid replied with a stern look, and as a pouting Mapi was about to reply, Ingrid couldn’t do much more than stuffing a delicacy straight into her lover’s mouth.
Ingrid watched as the Spaniard tentatively chewed, and suddenly raised her eyebrows.
“This is so good! Why have you never made that for us back in Barcelona?” she said, mouth full, and reaching to get a second piece. They’d planned to go to a Christmas market later in the morning, and she needed strength, plus she had been stuck in a plane with awful food for too long.
Ingrid couldn't help but watch, enamored, as the love of her life was enjoying one of her favourite traditional foods. It was definitely worth the mess they made in the kitchen, though she wasn't quite sure how they had even managed to end up with flour on the ceiling.
After having eaten, and for Ingrid, sighed many times realizing Mapi came here with her cute face and not much more clothes, they were finally on their way to the market, holding hands.
Mapi had had to borrow one of Ingrid’s coats to fight off the negative temperatures, but Ingrid being taller than her meant she looked ridiculously small in it, feeling like a penguin. Ingrid on the contrary couldn’t quite believe she was lucky enough to witness her girlfriend in this state, face framed by one of her scarves, and sleeves constantly falling on tattooed hands. The Spaniard’s natural hair fighting off the last of the blond dye, in a background of blinding snowflakes, but still somehow with freckles warmed by the sun. Ingrid made a mental note to hide some of Mapi’s coats back home if it meant she got to see her like this again. And as her lips stretched into a smile, she dragged her lover around town, stopping to show her the important stops.
The bench on which she learnt she was called up to a youth national team event. The field she used to train at, and the coffee shop she loved to go to afterwards. The restaurant she told her parents about how she had met and fell in love with her beautiful Spanish teammate—she wasn’t sure if she or Mapi was blushing the most as she told the story. And finally, the market her and her parents would go to every year.
The city center was paved, though the snow was so thick it wasn't visible, the colored houses on each side of the road were all decorated in festive ways, lights, christmas trees, wreaths and garlands. Mapi had trouble believing it, it looked more like a Christmas movie, and less like an actual city. She could feel the Christmas spirit everywhere around her, and she found herself saying “God Jul!” to one too many strangers before Ingrid kindly told her that it wasn’t in Norwegian norms to speak to strangers, or not as much as in Spain, at least.
They stopped at every stand, commenting on pretty art pieces, smelling candles. Mapi tried every biscuit she could find, acting as a fine dining critique, and Ingrid laughed, making sure to remember her favourites. The Norwegian found a snow globe with a black cat in it, strangely resembling Bagheera, so she ran off, proudly showing it to her lover, an early Christmas gift, she said.
“To thank you for coming, even though you could have stayed in Spain,” Ingrid whispered, too emotional to truly look at Mapi. But as time passed, and the object was still in her hand, she felt obliged to look up.
Mapi was standing still, mouth slightly agape, like that tiny little snow globe was the most grandiose gesture anyone had ever done for her. And maybe in some way, it was.
Mapi wasn't sure she had ever felt so much while having so little words to say, so the only thing she could muster up was, “I love you”. And truly, it was all that mattered.
Ingrid wasn’t expecting such emotions from Mapi, and for an instant she pitied every person who had ever looked down on Mapi. Oh, her hot and tattooed Spanish woman, who had eyes made of golden honey and carried such a deep sensitivity in her soul. Ingrid truly couldn’t wish for anything better for Christmas. So she slowly brushed a finger on her lover’s throat, tracing the letters “looks can be disappointing" and leaned to whisper ‘I love you too.”
