#copper 16 asks

(The next one has to be read from bottom to top for full effect)

I laugh at the "please call me" at least once a day...I present to everyone my lovely editor @plaguerat2 (no stealing her she's mine)

I totally understand how it can be hard to follow a story when there are long gaps in between chapter being posted, so I hope this is easier to follow along and engage with, by writing everything ahead and posting in a streamline manner. We shall see if this makes it better for you guys as readers, I’m curious as to your feedback! Regardless I want people to enjoy reading it, and if that happens then I am a happy camper, above all else. 

Spotify Playlist for the second half can be found here!

For everyone who is still reading this long ass announcement and have gotten themselves all caught up if they wish, here is the first part of Chapter 8 before it is posted tomorrow 🩵

Ingrid stared down at her phone, shifting nervously in her seat. Mapi sat across from her, the Spaniard’s hands folded on the table in front of her, as she watched the Norwegian closely. 

The dark haired woman sat up more, swallowing roughly. There were a million thoughts going through her head, and she looked up at the brunette with a slightly panicked expression. 

“What if I just went back?” Ingrid asked in a panic, and Mapi tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“Do you actually want to? Or are you simply scared to make this call?” She asked gently, and the full back allowed herself to slouch slightly under the intensity of her—girlfriend? Friend? Person who professed their love to her less than 12 hours ago, and hasn’t had time to put a label on it yet? 

She allows herself to slouch slightly under the intensity of her…of her…of Mapi’s gaze, feeling a bubble of shame rise up in her. The Spaniard is quick to stand, walking around the table to take a seat next to Ingrid as opposed to across from her. 

“I am not asking to make you feel bad,” Mapi reminds gently, gesturing to the phone. “But I know you do not want to go back there, and that you are scared to put your foot down. You need to though, and I promise you will get through it. I will be right here,” she continued, and Ingrid looked over at her skeptically. 

It was such a strange jump, the last twelve hours. Ingrid had returned to Barcelona to pack up her apartment to move, and had almost finished doing just that. There were boxes littered everywhere in her apartment, a fact that Mapi had yet to comment on. 

Instead, they remained where they were at the table as the sun rose in the sky, and Ingrid worked up the courage to call her manager back and explain that she was not going back to Wolfsburg. 

The Norwegian picked her phone up finally, pressing the contact for her manager before she held it up to her ear. Her foot tapped anxiously below her, a reminder of the anxiety coursing through her body even as Mapi sat beside her, looking at her with encouragement. 

“Hello Ingrid!” Thomas said cheerfully into the phone, and Ingrid opened her mouth to speak before she coughed abruptly, which kick started her into speaking.

“H-hi Thomas!” She replied, her voice thready and nervous, an octave too high. If her plan had been to play it cool, she would have been failing miserably. Luckily, her only goal was to get through the phone call in one piece. 

“Is everything alright?” Thomas asked quickly, concern laced into her tone. 

“Yes, yes, everything is okay. I just need to talk to you about something,” Ingrid choked out, even as she felt like her throat might close up. Her free hand lashed out, clamping down on the center back’s thigh with a forcefield of anxiety. 

The brunette, however, didn’t miss a beat, simply peeling the Norwegian’s hand away from her thigh and lacing their fingers together, squeezing softly. Ingrid gripped her hand tightly, and the Spaniard could feel the shake of the full back’s hand in hers. 

“Okay, what did you need to discuss?” Thomas asked, sounding diplomatic. Ingrid took a large breath in, slowly letting it out before responding. 

“I am going to stay at Barcelona. I will not be accepting Wolfsburg’s offer,” The dark haired woman managed to get out, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. Mapi’s thumb was very lightly trailing back and forth over the back of her palm, and she reminded herself very gently to relax her shoulders. 

“You—what?” Her agent spluttered out, clearly caught off guard. 

“I want to stay here, in Barcelona. Tell Wolfsburg I reject,” Ingrid repeated, her voice more secure this time. 

“Ingrid, you would be insane to reject their offer! It is one of the most lucrative deals I’ve had come across my desk for a female footballer, you’d be in the top 5% of paid female footballers. Hell, you’ve already told them you’d accept!” Thomas implored, his voice edging on panic. 

He had promised Wolfsburg that this deal would go through, that Ingrid would accept. She had always listened to him, she had always been easily manipulated when necessary. 

“I gave them a verbal agreement, but no contract was signed. I don’t…I don’t care about the money. Get me more brand deals or something, I want to stay in Barcelona,” Ingrid repeated, standing up for herself as Mapi watched on, growing more nervous as the conversation continued. She couldn’t hear what Ingrid’s manager was saying, but she could tell that he wasn’t responding with a super positive tone. 

“Ingrid, as your manager, I cannot let you do this. You need to get your head on straight,” Thomas replied harshly, and the full back straightened, her nerves washed away and replaced with something akin to anger. 

“My head is perfectly straight,” if it were not for the seriousness of the situation, both women might have laughed at the falseness of this statement, considering the Norwegian’s sexuality. “I am staying in Barcelona.” 

“You’ve told Wolfsburg you’d be there!” Thomas cried, though it wasn’t really true. She had agreed to the deal, sure, but she had never signed anything. She wasn’t obligated to them, she only was because Thomas had tried to make her obligated to them because he knew it would earn himself more money.

“No, you told Wolfsburg I would be there. And why the hell are you pressuring me so heavily? You are supposed to be on my side, not theirs!” Ingrid accused, and Mapi resisted the urge to flinch at the return of the woman she had become acutely used to in the last six months. 

“I am on your side, it’s just that—” Thomas tried, but the dark haired woman was quick to cut him off before he could really even begin. 

“No, you’re not, if you’re trying this hard to push me into something I clearly do not want. I’m staying, that is the end of the discussion!” Ingrid cried, removing the phone from her ear and slamming her finger down onto the ‘end call’ button. 

The Norwegian’s phone clattered onto the table as she breathed heavily, a fraught silence descending between them. 

The brunette was holding her breath, unsure of what was going to happen. Ingrid had been upset on the phone, she had been angry. 

Would it translate into anger toward Mapi? That is how it had always been, but the Spaniard wasn’t sure if that would persist or not. She knew Ingrid was capable of change, but she was unsure if something as triggering as this could lead to anything resembling softness.