la princesa

Mapi and Ingrid keep the fact that they are dating private from anyone they know for a month. They figure that a month is a good enough time to tell if they are compatible a little bit (spoiler: they are).

When they finally hit the one month mark, Ingrid nervously asks Frido to get coffee, deciding to start by telling her. She can only hope that her friend will be happy for her, because if she isn’t the Norwegian isn’t entirely sure what she is going to do with herself.

Ingrid walks at the speed of light to the little cafe she’s meeting the Swede in, her palms sweating. She wipes them off on her pants before she walks over to Frido, who is sitting at a little table with what looks to be a latte in her hand. The brunette is so anxious she can’t even bother to take the time to order a drink and wait for it to be made.

She plops down opposite Frido, sitting down heavily in her chair. The blonde looks up at her curiously, instantly picking up on the nerves that the Norwegian is practically radiating, but she decides not to say anything.

“Hey Frido, how are you?” Ingrid asks, doing her best to act normal, but her voice is about two octaves higher than normal and the Swede decides that she actually can’t wait to say anything.

“I’m fine, but are you? Don’t take this the wrong way but you seem…a little nervous,” Frido said carefully, looking at the brunette with a raised brow. The midfielder deflates at her words, her noble quest to remain calm and collected having apparently gone out the window.

“Ok fine, I have something to tell you,” Ingrid starts, her words slow and careful.

“Me and Mapi well…we’re dating,” Ingrid said quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth before shutting it, her eyes widening at the directness of her statement.

Frido furrowed her eyebrows, a confused look appearing on her face.

“What? Is something wrong” Ingrid asked gently, nerves dripping from her words, wondering why that was the forward’s response. The Swede shook her head gently, a small smile appearing on her face.

“No, not in the slightest. I just…well I assumed you guys had been dating for awhile now,” Frido said honestly, shrugging slightly. It was the midfielder’s turn to furrow her eyebrows, confusion flashing across her face at Frido’s words.

“You…you already thought we were together?” Ingrid repeated, her words lifting into a question.

“I mean…yeah. The whole team kind of did…” the Swede continued, and the brunette’s eyebrows shot up practically into her hairline in surprise.

“The whole team?!” Ingrid repeated, and Frido chuckled gently at the green eyed woman’s parroting, nodding.

“Yeah, the whole team. You guys aren’t exactly subtle, not with the way you look at each other,” the blonde explained, and the brunette shook her head slightly, entirely taken by surprise at her friend's words.

“Ok, I’m definitely following up on this later at practice,” Ingrid said with a furrowed brow, while the forward laughed lightly at her friend.

Which was how Ingrid found herself standing up on the bench in front of her locker just a few hours later, clearing her throat to get everyone's attention. Mapi looked up at her with big, surprised eyes, having not been really listening when her girlfriend had explained her plan earlier.

In her defense, the taller woman had been changing into her training kit while she had been talking, and the Spaniard’s attention had been focused on other things when Ingrid had been explaining her plan.

“Alright, I just wanted to let everyone know that Mapi and I are dating. We’ll be civil, of course, and it won’t interfere with work or the team or anything, but we just wanted to let everyone know,” Ingrid said confidently, only to be met with a sea of half confused, half guilty looking faces.

The midfielder surveyed her teammates for a moment, before she looked over at her Swedish friend, who was looking at her with a face that read nothing but I told you so.

“Ok seriously, did all of you already think that we were dating?” Ingrid asked, her tone just slightly suggesting annoyance.

When she was met with more guilty looking faces she sighed, a step away from her palm meeting her forehead.

A hand shot up, and Ingrid looked over to see it was Keira, who was standing next to Lucy, her face light.

“I for one, did not know that you two were dating,” Keira offered up helpfully, and it’s Lucy who connects her palm to her forehead, while Ingrid’s entire facial expression drops.

“Keira, you’ve been on the team for a week, how on earth would you know that,” Ingrid deadpans, and the English midfielder just shrugs in response, unable to offer much of an answer.

When Ingrid looks around and realizes that nobody is denying it, she shrugs, looking over at Mapi.

“Well, lovely to see that we’ve met expectations. I hope everyone has a lovely night!” The brunette announces, stepping off the bench and over to the defender, who is chuckling to herself at the turn of events.

Ingrid smacks her lightly on the arm, but she softens when she sees Mapi’s happy expression, taking her girlfriend's hand and leading her out of the locker room, hand in hand.

If only she had any idea about the barrage of teasing that was going to become a common occurrence after her announcement.

(She’ll never admit it, but she kinda loves it.)

—

Ingrid and Mapi had been dating for two months.

Two. Months.

Two months of slowly heavier and heavier and heavier makeout sessions, just on the border of more. The Norwegian manages to get the amber eyed woman out of her shirt once for a glorious ten minutes before the blonde is shifting away, slipping back into the muscle tee that she had been wearing and leaving Ingrid hot and bothered beyond belief.

Ingrid doesn’t quite know what to make of it. She also has no idea who she should talk to about it, because the thought of telling someone else sounds beyond crazy, but the thought of talking to Mapi about it sounds so much worse.

The Norwegian has a lot of fucked up parts about her, she knows that. But this part? Definitely not broken, and she wasn’t sure if Mapi understood that or there was just something else going on that she didn't realize.

She would come to find out, sooner rather than later, that it was definitely the latter of those two options.

The night that it was finally addressed, the two had been to a bar. Both Mapi and Ingrid enjoyed going out, the thumping pulse of the music and everyone laughing and happy. It was unusual for the two of them to be out by themselves, and earlier in the night they had Keira and Lucy with them. But the two had left with a flimsy excuse that Lucy wasn’t feeling well, all four of them making eye contact and snickering at one another under their breath knowing the real reason why the English women were leaving.

Neither of them had really drank anything, just one beer each, and they had spent the last thirty minutes grinding on each other until they were both hot and breathless. Mapi danced back into Ingrid, the sight almost too much for the brunette, who had been trying to stave off her own desire. It was easy when they were busy with work, traveling for games, but there had been a lull in the schedule recently that had left them with more free time.

The midfielder had assumed that more free time between the two would lead to…you know. But so far, no luck. The blonde seems to be on the same page as her tonight though, dancing with reckless abandon, her skin hot and her eyes dark.

Ingrid had nearly drug the Spaniard out of the club, thanking whatever god above that Mapi’s apartment building was only a block away. As soon as the defender has the door closed and locked behind her, the brunette is back into her space and kissing her again, not harshly necessarily but with clear purpose.

Mapi’s mouth against her is hot and heaving, her tongue slipping into Ingrid’s mouth as the Norwegian’s body presses her back into the wood of the front door. The taller woman’s hand slips up to the center back’s neck, cupping the soft skin there while the other grips her hip tightly. The blonde groans as Ingrid rolls her hips into hers, her tongue fighting against Mapi’s. The Spaniard feels weak in the knees with the midfielder pressed against her, and it’s almost entirely the Norwegian holding her up against the door. But then Ingrid is pulling back and looking at Mapi, at the way that the blonde’s hair is tousled and her lips are swollen and she can’t imagine taking her anywhere other than the bedroom.

It’s all Ingrid grabbing Mapi’s hand and leading her back into the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door behind them. But it’s the defender who surprises the midfielder, flipping her around and pushing her back onto the bed, coming to stand over her.

And then Ingrid is looking up, her green eyes staring up at Mapi with reverence, and the blonde has to bite her lip to hold back the moan that threatens to rip its way from her lips.

The entire scene is music to Ingrid’s ears, honestly. She was starting to wonder if the Spaniard just didn’t find her attractive for some reason, or didn’t think that she was strong enough to handle this or something. She hadn’t been in many relationships, just a handful really, but she had never had one that was so…celibate…for so long.

She pulls her top up and over her head in one fluid motion, throwing it behind herself and into the depths of Mapi’s dark bedroom. The blonde joins Ingrid on the bed, climbing over the brunette until she is straddling her, the taller woman's hands coming to rest on Mapi’s hips as the defender held her shoulders.

But just when Mapi is running her hands over Ingrid’s side, her thumbs brushing the underside of the brunette’s chest and sending shivers down her spine, the defender is pulling her hands away as though she’s been burned by the Norwegian’s skin.

Ingrid finds herself holding back a frustrated groan when Mapi rolls off of her, but it’s quickly replaced with both intrigue and confusion with the center back’s shift in behavior.

Usually when this happens, the blonde laughs it off, stepping away and returning back to normal.

But that isn’t what is happening this time. They had never really gotten this far, but Mapi had seemed into it, like she wanted to continue. In the flash of an instant though, her whole demeanor had changed. Instead, Mapi rubs at her forehead as she moves off of Ingrid, her face scrunched as if in…anger? The midfielder is entirely lost, and genuinely starting to get a bit frustrated at the defender being seemingly allergic to telling her what’s wrong.

“Mapi, is everything okay?” Ingrid asks slowly, trying to exercise as much patience as she can muster as she shifts to turn on the lamp that rests on the Spaniard’s bedside table. The blonde still has a hand over her forehead, shaking her head back and forth as she mutters the word no over and over and over again.

“We can’t do this,” Mapi says simply, to which Ingrid huffs out a short breath in response, feeling her eyebrow raising of its own accord as she stands, taking a single step toward the blonde, who has stopped her pacing and is now staring at the green eyed woman, who is still near the bed.

“Ok, realistically Mapi, why can’t we? Because it’s been two months! Two months, and I think we both know that we’re committed enough to this, at least I am, and I assume you are too. And I know I’ve been having a rough time but I’m not like…sexually broken or anything something–”

“No!” Mapi cuts off Ingrid, her words bordering on biting, her frustration clear in the single word. The midfielder recoils slightly in surprise. It’s not a mean tone exactly, but it’s serious and not something she’s ever heard from the center back before, and she’s both confused and surprised by it. She fights the urge to flinch at the raise in tone, stamping down memories of Maia drunkenly screaming at her.

Mapi is not Maia, and she settles immediately after she raises her voice, taking a deep breath and moving toward the bed slowly, her eyes downcast.

The Spaniard steps around Ingrid, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed next to the Norwegian with a sigh. Ingrid just pivots to watch her, waiting silently for the blonde to move or say or do something, anything.

“Ingrid, you’re not the only one who has past…stuff from relationships,” Mapi starts, and her voice is rough and she sounds so damn sad it rips through the brunette’s heart, just a little bit. She sounds a little bit out of her depth, and if there is one thing Ingrid understands, it is feeling that way when it comes to talking about emotions.

“I–I would run away from my problems with sex when I was younger. It’s blunt, but I used it as a shield, as an escape for dealing with shit. And then when I got into relationships I used it as an escape, and I got used by people and I got hurt and I just...I rushed into things I wasn’t ready for, commitment I wasn’t ready for and then I would mask those problems with sex. I was good at it, and it was easy to run to, and I was young and stupid and easy to take advantage of,” Mapi’s voice crackles over the last sentence, and she swallows thickly, her eyes trained on the floor as she speaks.

She closes her eyes for a moment, shutting them tightly before taking a deep breath, looking up at Ingrid. The Norwegian finally moves, sitting down next to the blonde on the bed and leaning into her softly, pressing her side into the Spanish womens.

Mapi looks over at her, and even in the dark Ingrid can see the sincerity in the defender’s big doe eyes. The blonde was the kind of person who, when she was serious about something, everyone stopped to listen. It was a rarity, but Ingrid knew to pay close attention, giving the defender her full attention, both mind and body.

“You’re not just some girl I want to fuck and then dump Ingrid. I don’t want sex to complicate all of this because you’re…you’re special, and I don’t want to fuck it up like I always do when sex gets involved.”

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you,” Mapi nearly scoffs as she finishes the sentence, as if the thought simply could never be true. She sobers slightly before continuing, “it’s really the opposite of that actually. But this, what we have between us is good and there’s so much of me that doesn’t want to screw this up. You’re special to me Ingrid, and I don’t want to mess this up.” Mapi says with a great sense of seriousness, and Ingrid places her hand over the defenders, threading her fingers through the Spaniard’s. When the Norwegian looks up, her green eyes meet Mapi’s amber ones, and the worry in the defender’s eyes makes her heart clench uncomfortably. She wants nothing more than for the center back to know that everything is alright, that everything is going to be okay.

Ingrid brings their interlocked hands up to her mouth, placing a soft kiss to the back of the Spaniard’s hands before she places their intertwined hands into her lap. She gently rubs her thumb alongside the back of Mapi’s hand, a slow and deliberate yet comforting movement.

“You are one of the sweetest souls I have ever met,” Ingrid starts, and the blonde’s eyes are already wet, a sign that the Norwegian can’t tell is a good or bad thing. “And you have helped me to open up and be more honest with myself these last few months than anyone else I know, except maybe Carmen. You show the people around you so much love and joy, I mean god I’ve never met someone who can make me laugh the way that you make me laugh Mapi, really.”

“And we could never have sex, and I would still want to be right here, because right here is next to you. That’s right where I want to be, because you make me happy, and I truly hope, with everything in me, that I make you happy too,” Ingrid offered, finally lifting her gaze from their joined hands to meet the defender’s eyes again. There’s tears streaming down Mapi’s face, but she has a small smile on her face.

“You make me so happy,” the blonde whispered softly, and when Ingrid leans up to kiss Mapi’s temple gently, the center back leans into the Norwegian simply, letting the tears fall down her face as Ingrid brought her other hand up to hold the other side of the Spaniard’s head.

The blonde had watched Ingrid fall apart one too many times, so it brought a weird sense of relief to the Norwegian that she could comfort Mapi like this. Not that she ever wanted the amber eyed woman to be upset or cry like this. But it was inevitable, simply a part of being human. And Ingrid would take being here for it, sitting in the discomfort and wading through it by Mapi’s side over letting her do it herself.

They stayed like that for a long while, the defender crying quietly against Ingrid while the Norwegian just held her. Eventually, Ingrid leans back, but it’s only so she can wipe the tears from Mapi’s face, her face scrunched in an adorable little pout as she looked the blonde and her tear stricken face over.

“Can I stay, please? We don’t have to do a thing but I just…I want to be here,” Ingrid said, her voice just shy of pleading, but Mapi nodded easily, not having to think twice about the request. The brunette relaxed slightly, running her thumb over Mapi’s forehead before she kissed her on the forehead quickly, standing slowly and giving the center back time to stand as well.

Mapi got Ingrid some loose clothes to wear to bed, letting the Norwegian shower before she went in after, changing out of her jeans into comfortable pajamas. She crawled into bed after she came back, and snuggled into the taller woman’s side. The Norwegian smells like the rosewood body wash that Mapi used, and the scent sticks to her skin as the blonde leans her nose into it, breathing deeply.

The midfielder hadn’t been entirely sure how they were going to do this, but she relaxed as she felt Mapi snuggle into her. She turned on her side, snaking her hands around her girlfriend and pulling the blonde into her, letting her rest her head in the juncture between her neck and collarbone.

Mapi brings her hands up to fist in the fabric of Ingrid’s shirt (her shirt, really), pulling her impossibly closer. The brunette moved without being told twice, her legs tangling with the Spaniard’s under the covers. The midfielder’s body is warm and solid against her, gentle and soft.

“I’ve got you mi cielo,” Ingrid whispered softly, and if it was at all possible, she feels Mapi press more fully into her.

The defender slept better than she had in years wrapped up with Ingrid, the presence of the Norwegian a comfort she hadn’t realized that she had been missing out on.

After that night, it isn’t uncommon to find Ingrid spending the night over at Mapi’s house, or vice versa. When the amber eyed woman suggests that she and Ingrid go to see Carmen together, the Norwegian jumps at the chance. It had actually been the psychologist’s own idea, at her last session with Mapi.

—

The Spaniard was standing by the window, her hand over her jaw as she looked out the window intently. There’s nobody out on the football pitches outside, just sprawling grass fields and the bright Spanish sun. Everyone else had gone home for the day, but Mapi was still here for Carmen, having asked for a session after the events of what had happened just a few nights ago.

“I’m going to screw this up somehow,” Mapi says softly after a few minutes, but Carmen doesn’t seem caught off guard in the slightest, just a slight tip of her head to indicate that she even heard the defender say anything.

“What makes you say that?” She asks inquisitively, and if she’s trying to pull Mapi a little more out of her shell, and she’s doing a good job at it because the bait works. The blonde scoffed at the implication, turning around to look at the psychologist with a withering glare. She’s known Carmen long enough to lose the decorum. She’s known Carmen for long enough to know what she’s doing, but she’s honestly grateful for the prompt, and couldn’t care less about the ploy.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the line of failed relationships staring me back in the face?” Mapi grated out, but Carmen wasn’t about to let her get out of this one so easily.

“And what makes you think you haven’t learned from those relationships?” Carmen asks softly, and the defender’s face scrunches painfully as she walks over to the chair opposite the psychologist, sitting down heavily.

“You know why,” is all Mapi can offer, but Carmen doesn’t let her off that easily. She levels the defender with a look, but Mapi screws her expression tight, and the woman across from her immediately understands.

“Ana?” Carmen asks, but both women know it’s not really a question.

“Mapi, you and I both know that your relationship with Ana was different than this is. You didn’t communicate with her at all, and she gave you nothing. You guys did things backwards, and you ended up getting hurt from it. She used you, you didn’t have the tools or skills to make boundaries in the way that you needed to. From everything that I’ve heard about you and Ingrid? From both you and from her? This sounds entirely different.”

“She lights up when she talks about you Mapi, truly. She clearly adores you, and you’re putting the work in to make sure that this is different. This isn’t Ana, and I’ve known you long enough to know that you know that. So what is really going on?” Carmen asked again, and Mapi sighed heavily, rubbing her hands over her face.

“God it sounds stupid Carmen but she’s…different. It just feels different and it feels like there is so much more on the line now because if I screw this up she’s just…she’s gone and I don’t want her to be. She’s special Carmen, and this isn’t something I can screw up.” Mapi said harshly, her features dark and face serious.

“Ok lets just pump the brakes señorita dramática, alright? For starters, I think you need to put things in perspective a little bit Mapi, and just relax. One mistake is not going to be the be all end of a relationship, unless it’s a really big mistake like cheating or something, and we both know that you would never do that.”

“Now, you are going to mess up at some point in this relationship, but you have to trust Ingrid and trust yourself to be able to get through it! It’s not always going to be sunshine and rainbows in your relationship, but I know that you’re both strong enough to persevere when you need to.”

“Mapi, at the end of the day you need to tell her what’s going on and let her in. She’s starting to let you in, and she’s made great progress because of it, we both know that. You can’t ask her to do something that you yourself won’t do. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but eventually. You can’t keep her in the dark forever, and you need to trust that she will understand.”

“We both know how special that girl is, Mapi. So don’t let her go over something that you can resolve with a tough conversation.” Carmen stated, and Mapi nodded tersely, her hand splayed over her chest as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to overflow.

A single tear escapes down the blonde’s cheek, and she reaches up to brush it away silently as she and Carmen sit there, looking at one another.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what I ever did in life to deserve someone like this. I think I could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve that girl,” Mapi whispers softly, and Carmen shakes her head silently.

“Everything that has happened to you in your life has led you to this moment, Mapi. You deserve each other. I can tell she feels the exact same way about you,” the psychologist says quietly, and Mapi laughs wetly, more tears escaping down her cheeks.

“Ok, I’ll talk to her. Do you think…I mean could we maybe come to see you together if we need to? I just want to make sure I don’t say the wrong thing,” Mapi asked hesitantly, but Carmen nodded easily.

“Of course Mapi, as long as it is alright with Ingrid you are more than welcome to come in and see me together,” Carmen assured, and the Spaniard nodded with relief on her face.

—

When Ingrid and Mapi walk into their session with Carmen, neither is entirely sure what to expect, the Norwegian more so than the Spaniard. The blonde has a lot she knows that she needs to be honest about, and she also knows that it’s not fair of her to keep it from Ingrid like this.

Ingrid isn’t really worried about what Mapi has to tell her. She’s more concerned about whether or not the center back is okay or not. She’s never seen the blonde more upset than she had the other night, and she hated that something like this had caused Mapi so much pain. She knew it wasn’t possible, but there was so much of her that wished she could just take some of that pain, so that maybe the Spaniard wouldn’t have to carry so much. She was hoping with everything in her that this session with Carmen would help things, would take some of the load off of Mapi, to let her get any and all thoughts that she was having off her chest.

It flashes into her mind for just a second that this might be how the defender feels as she watches her struggle. Ingrid doesn’t quite know what to do with that information at the moment, but she resolves to bring it up to herself at a later time when she has time to unpack everything within that.

“Hi to you both,” Carmen says as she starts the session, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook as Mapi and Ingrid walked in. The psychologist had two chairs set up next to each other across from her, and both sat, the brunette looking up at Carmen as Mapi looked over at the Norwegian, trying to gauge how she felt.

“Hi,” the midfielder says quietly, a sentiment that the center back echoes immediately after, turning to face the psychologist herself as well.

“What brings the two of you in today? What are you hoping to talk about?” Carmen asks politely, even though the entire room knows exactly why they are there. Mapi knows this is going to be awkward, so she decides to just bite the bullet and get it out there.

“We’ve been dating for over two months and still haven’t slept together.” Mapi says matter of factly, and Ingrid blanches, her entire face turning beet red, coughing as she nearly chokes on her spit.

“Mapi—” Ingrid chokes out, looking first at her girlfriend and then Carmen with alarm.

“Sorry! Might have been a bit blunt, I’m sorry. But it's true! Might as well get it out there sooner than later,” Mapi mumbles, scratching the back of her neck. The taller woman calms herself and nods, trying to relax back into the chair she’s sitting in next to her girlfriend.

“It’s okay you two, I know that both of what you say here stays confidentially and I am definitely not here to judge. Now, you say this as if it’s a problem, is that how you feel?” Carmen asks, and surprisingly it’s Ingrid who answers.

“It’s not a problem necessarily but I mean like…it’s something I think maybe we could try to work towards? I mean it’s something I would like to do in the future but I’m not like…in a rush or anything,” Ingrid finishes lamely, looking over at Mapi with nervous eyes, trying to gauge how the defender feels about her response. The blonde throws her an encouraging smile before she turns to Carmen, who nods at the pair.

“Ok absolutely. I presume that this is a goal of yours as well Mapi?” Carmen inquires, and upon receiving a nod from the defender she continues. “Alright, so the next step is for us to determine where this roadblock is, what’s stopping the two of you from doing this.”

“It’s me,” Mapi says quickly, her voice full of guilt, and the brunette’s expression immediately flattens.

“Don’t say that Mapi, clearly there’s more to the story than just that. But it’s not your fault,” Ingrid rebutted calmly as Carmen looked on with an approving eye.

“She is correct Mapi, it’s not your fault. This topic is a sensitive one for you, and that is perfectly normal. We all have things we need to work through, they just might look different on every person,” Carmen continued, and Mapi ducked her head as well as offering a small nod, just enough for the two other women.

“You’re allowed to have your stuff Mapi, it’s not just me with problems in the world after all,” Ingrid added in softly, and the blonde looked up, making eye contact with Ingrid for a moment before she nodded once, looking back over at Carmen as she began speaking again.

“Mapi I know you wanted to do this in order to tell Ingrid a little bit more about your relationship history, so I want to give you the opportunity to do that. Only if you would like to though, you do not have to,” Carmen emphasized, but Mapi steeled herself, settling her hands in her lap.

“No I want to, I need to,” the blonde looked over at Ingrid, who smiled softly at her with a concerned look on her face, but there is patience reading through her expression.

“Alright so basically, when I was younger obviously being gay wasn’t really a super great thing for my parents, so I mostly just hooked up with girls, you know? And I was just always pretty good at it, and well I don’t know it was nice, but none of the girls ever wanted to be in a relationship because they all insisted that they were straight, so we kept it a secret. And well…you know how kids can be, people figured it out and then it turned into everyone thinking that I was a bit of a slut, would sleep with anyone and everyone, and nobody wanted to date that, so I just never really ended up going out seriously with anyone when I was younger,” Mapi says with a surprisingly neutral tone, but her words are rushed and Ingrid has to try to keep the bile threatening to rise in her throat down. She hates hearing her girlfriend talk about herself this way, but she lets the blonde continue.

“And then as I started playing football that all fell away really, and I had a few small relationships here and there but they always fizzled out. The sex was good but the foundation of the relationship wasn’t, and it just never worked.”

“And then, well…and then Ana and I started dating,” Mapi explained, and Ingrid’s eyes raised in surprise. The blonde Swiss player had just transferred to Atlético Madrid about a month or two before, and Ingrid knew she was dating some Spanish guy that she had met, according to one of her Norwegian teammates.

“Ana and I, well I fell hard and fast, and Ana fell in love with what I had to offer. And we built that foundation in such an uneven way, but we built it in conjunction with our sex life, and so the minute that something bad happened, we would use sex as an escape, or an outlet or something like that. We didn’t communicate, we just raged at each other, made up with sex and moved on with our lives. I got used, and Ana took advantage, and I let her,” Mapi explained, and Ingrid nodded slowly, finally starting to understand the center back’s hesitancy. This was so much more than what she had expected, so much heavier than she had been imagining in her mind.

“And Ingrid you’re…you’re different than that. You’re not like any other girls I’ve ever been with before. I don’t want to mess this up the way that I messed it up with Ana and I just…I want us to be ready. I want to be ready,” Mapi said quietly, and Ingrid reached out, taking the blonde’s hand in her own.

“Mapi, I want us to be ready, for you to be ready. I’ll wait as long as you want, it doesn’t matter to me either way. I’m just content to be here with you, and spend time with you, and make you laugh and smile so much that my face hurts half the time. You’re special to me too, and I don’t want to jeopardize that over something as minute as our physical relationship. I’m not going anywhere.” Ingrid insisted, and Mapi lifted their interlocked hands to her mouth to press a gentle kiss to the back of the brunette’s hand. Her amber eyes were brimming with tears, but she blinked them back as she smiled softly at Ingrid, at the sincerity that the Norwegian brought to every single thing that she told Mapi.

“I think it’s going to be really important for this to be an ongoing conversation for the both of you. You both need to be honest about where you guys are, and keep talking about this and figuring things out. You’re always welcome to come see me as well, individually or together, however both of you think that I can support you best,” Carmen makes sure to get in, not thrilled at having to ruin the moment but needing to make sure the couple understood.

“Thank you so much Carmen,” Ingrid said with a soft smile as her and Mapi walked out of the psychologist’s office, hand in hand.

—

In the following weeks, Mapi and Ingrid’s relationship blossoms in ways that neither of them expected. They spend more time with each other than they ever have, and it’s intimate, but in a whole entirely different way.

They work on communication, talking to each other about their biggest dreams but also the struggles they have. Ingrid works on opening up to the blonde more, even if she still can’t quite get out the worst of what she’s been through. But she’s trying, with Carmen’s help at least, to share as much as she’s able. And Mapi is right there, communicating with Ingrid and building the foundation of a real relationship, not one just based on her body or ability. The center back falls in love in an entirely new way, one that she never expected was even possible until she met the Norwegian.

They spend most nights at each other's place, and Ingrid is entirely positive that those who know that they are together think they go at it like jackrabbits, but it honestly couldn’t be further from the truth. They’re intimate in a way that goes beyond something like sex, on an emotional level.

It’s a new sensation for Ingrid, but she finds that she really enjoys it. She learns so much more about Mapi in those few weeks, about her past and everything that she’s been through, about her life, her morals and values. The blonde is an amazing person to be around, she already knew that, but she finds that even in moments of stillness, when both of them are doing their own thing, that the brunette loves just being in the presence of the blonde. Her joy and light in life is infectious, and it lifts Ingrid up in the best way possible.

Mapi leans on her in tough conversations, and yet she’s right there when the brunette needs her in times of need. The midfielder is still more fragile than she will ever admit, but Mapi is always there to support and be a sounding board for Ingrid as she heals.

The Spaniard won’t say it out loud, but she knows without a shadow of doubt in her mind that she loves the brunette. Loves how kind and gentle she is, how much compassion she shows the world despite how little it has shown her. She’s a different person than the one that Mapi met just a few short months ago, and it’s hard to find her without a smile on her face anymore.

Mapi knows she’s ready when Ingrid comes home one day, slipping through the door with a smile and a bouquet of red carnations in hand. She walks over to the patio door, sliding it open and slipping into a chair next to the one that the defender is currently seated on, flowers in hand.

Mapi looks up from her book curiously, a smile instantly erupting on her face at the sheer joy and huge smile on Ingrids. The blonde looks down at the flowers before looking back up at her girlfriend, a question clearly displayed on her features.

“Red carnations?” Mapi asked, surprise evident on her face. She loves carnations, but she never remembered telling the midfielder that.

“Yes! I remember you saying that you liked them, and then I was talking to the florist, his name was Manuel, absolutely lovely man but he was telling me that they are supposed to represent deep affection, the deeper the color the deeper the affection,” Ingrid explained in a rush, before she pointed excitedly at the flowers.

“Look how dark they are!” She exclaims, looking down at the red flowers before she holds them out to Mapi with a broad smile, and the Spaniard takes them gently, runs her fingers over the soft petals that the taller woman had picked out for her.

“I love them, thank you,” Mapi said softly, her voice low so that her emotions don’t betray her. She stands, setting the flowers down gently in her seat before she joins Ingrid on her chair, letting the Norwegian wrap her arms around her.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Mapi leaned back into Ingrid’s front, her arms securely around the blonde as they watched the Norwegian’s little backyard come to life, the Spanish sun gleaming over the yard.

“How did you know I liked carnations?” Mapi asked, shifting slightly so she could look back and up at Ingrid. The brunette’s cheeks flush a light pink at the question, and she chuckles, a twinge of nervousness in the sound.

“I uh…well I remember you talking about them my first week on the team. It was actually the first time we ever talked, aside from just saying hello to one another. Someone had gotten Alexia some flowers or something and you two were arguing about whether roses or carnations were better. I was just standing there a few yards away, eavesdropping I guess when you just turned to me, looked me straight in the eye and asked which one I preferred. I said carnations, agreeing with you and your face just lit up, and said the most emphatic thank you before you turned back to Alexia as if my word was the law, clearly very happy that you had won the argument. I’ve remembered it ever since,” Ingrid confessed, and Mapi blinked slowly, racking her brain trying to remember the interaction. She hated it, but she had no recollection of the exchange. As much as she hated the fact, she loved hearing it from Ingrid’s perspective, loved that the Norwegian would remember something like that.

“Well, now I love them even more,” Mapi proclaimed, pressing a kiss to Ingrid’s cheek. The Norwegian leaned into her with contentment, and the blonde sighed happily at the feeling, the solidness and security of Ingrid’s affection. This had always been different than any of Mapi’s other relationships, but this really was different than any feeling she had experienced with anyone else.

She knew she was ready.

—

They’re at a club that weekend when Mapi finally decides to make her move. They had played a game the day before, had recovery that day, and they had the next two days off. Completely free, completely to themselves, no plans or practices to stop or interrupt them.

If Ingrid had noticed that Mapi was more quiet that day, more watchful, she didn’t comment on it, instead getting them their usual drinks before she sat down in their booth. It was a bit unusual to find the couple by themselves, with them usually inviting Aitana, Lucy, Frido, or some of the other girls, but the defender had asked to keep it just the two of them tonight.

Ingrid certainly wasn’t complaining, she loved having the attention of the blonde all to herself. She adored the girls, and all the newfound friendship that they offered, but there was something special about spending time with Mapi, just the two of them. Especially now that she could stare as long as she wanted, her eyes roving over the Spaniard hungrily, even though she knew there was nothing she could do about the want burning low in her stomach.

If only she knew.

As they’re nearing the end of their first drink, Mapi turns to Ingrid. She had this planned out, and knew exactly how she wanted the night to go. They had one drink, just enough to get them both a little tipsy but not anywhere near drunk. Mapi won’t do this if they’re drunk. She wants it to be them, just them, without any heavy alcohol influence.

She had made that mistake once (more like a million times, but it was the first that stays burned in her memory), and she wouldn’t make it again. She’d had enough regretfully drunken hookups to last a lifetime, and she wasn’t about to start one with Ingrid. Nothing in her wanted to regret this.

“Would you like to dance?” Mapi asks, hoping the innocence she’s trying to keep in her tone comes through. It seems to work, because Ingrid nods easily, no sign of anything suspicious in her expression as she accepts the offered hand that her girlfriend holds out, letting the blonde lead them to the dance floor.

The entirety of the time that they’ve been together, Mapi has been holding back, holding off. Keeping little pieces of herself hidden away, trying to keep the ugly and the pain from Ingrid. But the Norwegian kept finding them, and against everything that said she shouldn’t, she kept loving them.

Mapi had loved, and been loved before. But there was something about the love that the brunette showed her, the completeness of it. It didn’t matter to Ingrid that there were ugly parts to Mapi, messy parts that she herself didn’t even like. The brunette just took her for who she was, and that at its core was the intimacy that the blonde craved. Ingrid filled her up in the best way possible, made her feel complete and content with herself when she wasn’t even sure it was something she deserved.

So for the first time, she didn’t let herself hold back this part of herself. She had the emotional intimacy, and now she was ready to add the physical aspect of it. She gripped Ingrid’s hips, grinding the brunette back into her, letting herself feel everything. She could hear the little surprised noise that the Norwegian made, but Ingrid didn’t say anything else, just flipped her hair over her shoulder, dancing back against Mapi, accepting the theoretical offer that the Spaniard is offering.

The song was slow, but the beat was steady and it thrummed up through the floor into Mapi’s legs, filling her with an energy she hadn’t known that she needed, smiling wickedly as the midfielder turned her head slightly to look back at her, her gaze dark and wanting.

But then Mapi is leaning over and into Ingrid, her mouth right outside the shell of the Norwegian’s ear, her breath hot against the brunette’s cheek.

“Can I take you home princesa?” Mapi inquires, her voice sultry and saccharinely sweet despite the husk in it, and then Ingrid is really turning her head around, gaping at the blonde. There is equal parts surprise and caution on her face, and yet a painfully crafted neutrality that Mapi can see right through. Mapi can tell that the Norwegian has worked to be ambivalent these last few weeks about matters surrounding sex. She didn’t want to rush the Spaniard, wanted to allow the blonde to do things on her own terms.

The blonde appreciated it from her, but she didn’t want Ingrid to hold back anymore. She was sure, and she wanted to be certain that the brunette was right there with her.

“That is…if you want to?” Mapi followed with, her words more hesitant as her head tilted to the side slightly, her gaze intently on Ingrid.

“Yes,” Ingrid says, not quite cutting her girlfriend off but getting the word out as quickly as she possibly can. Mapi smiles again, but this time there’s an added layer to it, an almost hungry quality to it, and it makes the taller woman weak in the knees. Mapi offers her hand out to the brunette, an eyebrow raised just slightly, a challenge.

“Shall we?” The center back asks, as if Ingrid would ever say no to her.

—

Here’s the thing: in every relationship she has ever been in, Mapi is what one would consider a complete and utter top. In every sense of the word. She gave everything to whomever she was with, expecting (and often receiving) nothing in return. It just wasn’t the way she did things, in the relationships she had.

She had figured that with Ingrid it would be the exact same, saw no reason to assume that it would be different.

Mapi wouldn’t describe Ingrid as demure because she definitely wasn’t, but the Norwegian was gentle, and nothing about her immediately screamed dominance. Everything about her was light and pleasant, no harsh lines or angles to be found.

She was different on the football pitch sure, but they all were. It was their job, it was a totally different facet of their personality.

Mapi had just, apparently, forgotten to consider that this side of Ingrid could also be a totally different facet of her personality. She’s realizing that mistake as the brunette pushes her against the side of a building just a few blocks from her house, her mouth reckless and hot against her teammate’s.

Ok, so maybe it’s not exactly a mistake. More of a…miscalculation.

One that she’s finding she doesn’t mind all that much, to be entirely frank.

Mapi is by no means passive, but she wasn’t expecting the move from Ingrid, and the surprised gasp that leaves her mouth as her back hits the side of the building is swallowed by the brunette, whose mouth on her is hot and unbridled, her lips smooth and skillful against the blondes.

Mapi feels herself moaning into the kiss, and Ingrid is swallowing that too as she gently presses her tongue into the blonde’s mouth, exploring. She’s almost entirely holding the defender up, who is weak in the knees at the sensation, and the Spaniard is too dazed to do a single thing about it honestly. There is nothing in her mind but a foggy sense of pleasure and lust and Ingrid.

Ingrid is moving her mouth to begin working over the blonde’s throat, her fingers just brushing against the sensitive skin of the amber eyed woman's stomach as they toy with her top when the defender pushes her back. A frustrated noise makes its way up from Ingrid’s throat at the movement, but Mapi looks at her with dark and challenging eyes, trying to gain some semblance of control over the situation again.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish,” Mapi says, and her voice is more deep and husky than she remembers it usually being, and she silently revels in the way that Ingrid’s eyes are roving over her with an appreciative and mildly possessive glint. The Norwegian nods slowly, and she’s stepping away from Mapi, moving toward her house again, leaving the blonde all but scrambling to follow her.

They’re quiet the rest of the walk home, but it’s not the usual calm silence between the two now. It’s charged, practically crackling with energy. When Ingrid slips the key into her front door lock, Mapi is staring at every inch of exposed skin, how it’s not enough.

She wants more.

She wants everything.

Ingrid opens the door slowly, holding it open for the blonde. Her expression is innocent, but her eyes give her away. They’re jet black and ravenous as a small smirk slides onto her face at the look the Spaniard is giving her as she walks across the doorway.

Ingrid simply turns on her heels, walking away from the entryway and into the kitchen, and she’s practically sauntering over towards the refrigerator. Mapi is following her closely, and when the Norwegian pulls the silvery metallic door open, Mapi simply reaches around her to close it deftly, her body closing the midfielder in between her and the kitchen appliance. Ingrid turns slowly, letting Mapi push her back, the cool feeling of the refrigerator against her back a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from the center back’s body.

The blonde pushes up, kissing Ingrid deeply as she presses her back, her chest pressing into the taller womans. The defender lets her hands tangle in Ingrid’s hair, running through the soft brown strands before she pulls just slightly, rewarded with a noise close to a moan that rumbles up from the midfielder’s throat.

Ingrid’s tongue is swiping skillfully into her mouth, and she has to fight to keep her own groan down at the sensation, instead tightening her grip on where they have landed on the brunette’s hips. She pulls back, but only to move down the side of the Norwegian’s face, nibbling gently on her jaw before she kisses slowly down the column of her neck.

Ingrid’s head lolled to the side to give her more room to work as one of Mapi’s hands came up to cup the other side of her throat. The Norwegian let out a delightful mewling noise when the blonde’s teeth scraped against her pulse point, and Ingrid could feel the blonde smile against the side of her throat at the noise.

It made the defender cocky, though, and she reached her hand up to grasp at something less than decent before Ingrid’s hand stopped her cold in her tracks. She clasped her girlfriend’s wrist, Mapi’s indignant and surprised huff of air hitting the side of her neck. The Norwegian leaned forward so that this time it was her mouth right next to the Spaniard’s ear, her voice low and sultry.

“If you think that I’m going to fuck you for the first time against a refrigerator, you’re sorely mistaken. Later? Yes, after I fuck you against every other surface of this house. But right now? No way in hell,” Ingrid breathed out, and just the words had Mapi shivering all over, the thought going straight to her lower stomach, as did the feeling of the brunette gently biting down on her ear, pulling just slightly before letting go. She shifted just slightly, letting Mapi take a step back while she took her hand, leading her toward the bedroom.

The roles were reversed the last time they did this, and they would stay reversed as Ingrid pushed Mapi down onto the bed before joining her, straddling her girlfriend’s lap as she looked down at her, nothing but lust and rapt attention in her eyes while the blonde looked up at her through hooded eyes.

Ingrid’s lips are demanding against Mapi’s, pushing her tongue into the defender’s mouth and running it along the roof of her mouth before she drew back, leaving the center back frustrated and groaning under her. It only made Ingrid smile more, leaning back in to kiss her deeply, nibbling on the defender’s lower lip, her movements eager and skillful.

If there was one thing Ingrid was going to do, it was to take the blonde under her apart.

Again, and again, and again.

It was all she had wanted to do for weeks, for months, but she had kept to herself, content to just be with her girlfriend. Mapi did so much for her, she could do the one decent thing and hold herself off while they worked through this together.

But now she didn’t need to hold back.

So she didn’t.

Ingrid pushed the defender back more, forcing Mapi to lie back on the bed, before the Norwegian brought her hand up to pull at the hair tie holding the center back’s hair back. She pulled it off gently, letting the blonde’s hair splay out behind her, smiling to herself at the sight. Mapi, a heaving and writhing mess under her, a halo of blonde hair around her head. It was so much better than any dream that Ingrid could have, the flush of her cheeks and the rise and fall of her chest and the sheer warmth radiating off of her right now.

Meanwhile, Mapi just stared up at the brunette, at the intent look in her eyes, at her kiss swollen and pillow soft lips, at her long eyelashes that gazed down at her girlfriend.

Mapi shifted upward, her hands coming to Ingrid’s hips to flip her, but the Norwegian shut her down immediately, pushing her own hips down into the defender’s, forcing the Spaniard back onto her bed. She brought her lips down to meet Mapi’s, the kiss slow and sure. She leaned back just enough so that her lips were disconnected from the center backs, but just enough that the blonde could feel them brush against her as she spoke.

“Will you let me do this? Please?” The brunette asked softly, her voice raspy and sure. Mapi’s eyes flickered up from where they had been on Ingrid’s lips to meet her gaze, and all she found was seriousness and sincerity in the eyes of the midfielder.

Mapi nodded wordlessly, and it was all Ingrid needed to see to reattach her lips to the blonde’s, trying to commit the memory of her mouth against hers to memory.

She had kissed Mapi hundreds of times, but this was her favorite by a long shot. It turned from desperate and eager to slow and lavish, back to hungry and hot all in just minutes. Mapi is practically writhing underneath her and she’s hardly done anything, but it has Ingrid nearly preening she’s so pleased with herself.

She pulls back just long enough to grip the bottom of the defender’s shirt, and the blonde is leaning up easily, letting Ingrid pull the offensive material up and over her head in seconds.

While Mapi lands with her back on the mattress, Ingrid is left to see what she has just unveiled.

Tanned, toned skin, the swell of breasts, the curve of sloping shoulders. The scattering of tattoo’s everywhere. Ingrid wants to commit it all to memory, never wants to look anywhere else but at this sight, right here.

“You’re gorgeous,” Ingrid whispers as she straddles her girlfriend, and she’s not entirely sure if she’s talking to herself or Mapi but it doesn’t really matter. She brings just one of her hands down to gently curve a path from the Spaniard’s collarbone, between the slope of her chest and down over her stomach, watching the way that the muscles ripple in the wake of Ingrid’s touch. It sends shivers up her spine, and she wants nothing more than to touch it all.

She’s never been more grateful to have an entirely empty weekend. She’s sure that she’s going to need it. She’s had plenty of time to think up exactly what she wants to do with Mapi, now that she has her right where she wants her.

Ingrid rolls her hips down into the blonde’s as she leans back in, pressing a perfunctory kiss to her mouth before she turns Mapi’s head to the side, with one hand, using her other to run a path down where she’s planning on going, her hand traveling further south.

She brushes the pad of her thumb over the center back’s nipple lightly, smiling into the skin of her jaw when she feels her girlfriend arch into her touch, just slightly.

Reattaching her lips to Mapi’s jaw, she kisses and sucks her way down the blonde’s throat, lingering on all the spots that seem to garner the most reaction from the shorter woman. She sucks the smooth skin of the blondes throat between her teeth, scraping her teeth over the skin before she releases it, running her tongue over the red mark she’s created to soothe it.

Well, hopefully Mapi won’t mind having her hair down for the next few days. Ingrid should probably apologize, but she can’t quite bring herself to care. Not when the defender’s breathing is as heavy as it is, at the way that it hitches whenever Ingrid does something unexpected or pleasurable.

Ingrid moves even further south, her tongue dipping into the divet of Mapi’s collarbone before she shifts back, peppering soft kisses down the Spaniard’s chest until her mouth is right over the nipple of the blonde, and she leans in and sucks hard, reveling in the keening noise that Mapi makes, her hand coming up to grip the back of Ingrid’s head as her back arches off the bed, meeting the Norwegian’s mouth.

Ingrid makes sure to lavish attention to both sides of Mapi’s chest with a practiced precision that the blonde wasn’t exactly expecting but isn’t really that surprised by. The brunette is lethal and precise on the pitch, and it’s not exactly a stretch of the imagination to think she would be here as well.

It’s a strangely wonderful experience for Mapi though. She was always the giver, never the taker, not like this. But Ingrid somehow manages to read her body like it was one of her crosswords, answering questions Mapi didn’t even know that she knew the answer to. The defender never expected to be able to receive such calculating and pleasurable attention in this way, but she finds that she really enjoys it.

The brunette’s hand splayed out over the abdomen of the defender, enjoying the way that the muscles rippled under her touch, Mapi letting out a soft moan. Ingrid hadn’t even touched her yet, and the Spaniard is a mess, almost completely undone.

Ingrid moved further down, and Mapi’s stomach was making somersaults, spikes of pleasure radiating off of wherever the Norwegian’s mouth landed. Ingrid pulled at the center back’s hips, the blonde shifting them up so that the midfielder can quickly tug her pants and underwear down, throwing them off into the dark abyss of her bedroom floor.

Ingrid slid her hand down, right between Mapi’s legs, not suppressing her groan at how wet she finds her. The Spaniard lets out a ragged groan at the feeling as Ingrid slid one singular figure into her, moving incredibly slowly.

She set a slow rhythm, shallowly moving in and out, before Mapi whined softly, her grip on the Norwegian’s shoulder tightening.

“More, please,” Mapi breathed out roughly, borderline begging, and Ingrid relented, adding another finger in and curling gently. The blonde let her head hit the pillow beneath her, a guttural groan leaving her at the feeling.

Ingrid worked her up thoroughly and meticulously, utterly intoxicated by the noises that Mapi made, all of the moans and keening whines that spur her on.

All it takes is another few minutes of careful touches, bringing her thumb up to roll precisely over the center back’s clit for the blonde to tumble over the edge, her hands gripping for purchase in the sheets as her entire body tightens under Ingrid.

It takes her a few minutes to come down from her high, but just when she felt ready to lean back up, ready to return the favor, she felt Ingrid’s mouth come to cover her, sending her flat on her back with a moan that ripped it way through her chest unexpectedly.

“Ingrid,” she grits out, pain mixing with pleasure from the sheer sensitivity after her orgasm. The Norwegian relented, but just slightly, backing up to blow a gentle stream of cool air where her mouth had just been. The blonde sucked in sharply, clenching around nothing at the sensation, her hand gripped tightly in the sheets as she squirmed at the choice.

Ingrid fans out to kiss over Mapi’s hips, sucking lightly at her hipbone before she returned right to where the defender needed her, replacing her mouth and licking through the shorter woman again. This time, the blonde lets out a rough sigh at the feeling, her hips rolling down into the feeling.

After a few minutes, Ingrid slips her finger in, in addition to her mouth's continued ministrations. She works Mapi up, reveling in the way that the blonde gasps, and moans, and whines at the work that Ingrid puts in. It isn’t long before Mapi is going rigid against the brunette, stars erupting behind her close eyes as she lets out a keening, guttural groan again.

And Ingrid does it again. And again. And again. She’s a bottomless pit of hunger, and nothing she gets from Mapi seems to be enough.

At the end of the night, the blonde is left laying boneless on the bed, spent and sated in ways she never expected to be. When she tries to sit up, a vague attempt to return the favor, Ingrid places a gentle hand on her shoulder, pushing her softly back into the bed, curling around her.

“We have forever to get to me. Rest, mi cielo,” Ingrid whispered into the darkness, and Mapi turned into her, holding the midfielder tightly to her as she fell into a deep, peaceful, and restful sleep.

—

When Mapi wakes up the next morning, it’s to the early morning light streaming through Ingrid’s windows, and she feels relaxed in a way she can’t remember feeling in a long time.

She shifts to the side slightly, stretching her legs out under her, when she feels Ingrid cuddle back into her, pulling her back in. The brunette is still entirely clothed, the exact antithesis of Mapi’s current state, and it reminds The Spaniard of exactly what happened last night, along with the delicious soreness she feels between her legs

Which immediately makes her flare with want, and a proverbial need to touch Ingrid that she hadn’t quite been able to get to last night. Not when the brunette was so hell bent on making her point, not that Mapi was complaining in the slightest. She was left entirely stunned at the way the midfielder seemed to understand her again and again and again.

But now, now she wanted to even the scales. Especially when Ingrid turned over in her sleep, leaving her perfectly placed in the golden early morning lighting. Her skin radiates against the golden laced sunlight, her features so close to Mapi that the defender is pretty sure she can point out each individual eyelash.

Mapi felt like every time she saw Ingrid, it was the first time all over again. The Norwegian was simply that beautiful, from the slope of her cheeks, to her perfectly shaped nose, her pink, soft lips.

The blonde reached out, feeling the sudden urge to run her thumb over those lips, and that’s exactly what she did. Ingrid’s eyes fluttered open, the green of her eyes shining back at Mapi as she blinked sleepily at the defender.

“Morning,” Mapi whispered softly, and she both watched and felt under her fingertips as Ingrid smiled back at her, her entire expression softening as the blonde came into focus. She was facing the sunlight, and it lit a halo around Mapi’s head, making her look even more soft and gorgeous than she was expecting.

“Morning,” Ingrid whispered as she sat up, directly into Mapi’s space. Their faces were just inches from one another, and the brunette is sure she looks at Mapi’s mouth first and who's to say who really moves first, but in just a second their mouths are connected.

The kiss is slow and sweet, and everything about it screams softness and gentleness, something Mapi cherishes. It’s a total oxymoron to everything she’s come to know about sex, and she can’t help but love every aspect of it. Especially the slowness like this, a lazy Saturday morning with nothing to do except spend time with her girl.

But then suddenly Ingrid is pulling back, lifting the covers off of her legs and standing out of bed, stretching her arms out as Mapi watches on with an intent gaze. The blonde misses her presence and warmth immediately, wondering where she is going, the question clearly displayed on her face.

Ingrid all but ignores her though, moving toward the bathroom as Mapi makes a surprised noise. She hadn’t expected the brunette to just leave like this, and when the Norwegian looks back at her, there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Ingrid lifts her shirt over her head, still facing the bathroom, leaving her bare back on display to Mapi as she removes the thin garment. The blonde feels her eyebrows lift in surprise at all of the pale, creamy skin that is suddenly on view, the muscles in Ingrid’s back flexing as she throws the shirt into a laundry hamper at the corner of the room.

“I’m going to shower,” Ingrid says nonchalantly as she turns back toward the bathroom, as though they’ve done this a million times. She takes a few more steps toward the room before she turns her head back to look at Mapi, who might be in need of some assistance in case a bug flies into her wide open mouth. The Norwegian smirks, clearly enjoying the power that she seems to have over the blonde in this whole situation.

“You coming?” She asks innocently, stepping into the bathroom before Mapi can even answer, and the defender is rising out of bed faster than she has in a long time, racing after her girlfriend.

Ingrid had barely made it to the bathroom before Mapi caught up with her, her hand on the brunette’s shoulder causing her back to hit the shower door with a loud rattle. The Spaniard smiles at Ingrid, whose eyes are dark as she turns back, her shirt riding up as she twisted and turned, reaching back into the shower to flip the nozzle on, setting it to as hot as it will go.

Mapi takes the momentary distraction on the Norwegian’s part as an invitation to splay her hands against Ingrid’s abdomen, her hands coming into contact with the broad spans of creamy, soft skin she finds there.

The contact causes goosebumps to erupt across Ingrid’s stomach, and she’s feeling a little out of breath, the air in her lungs stolen from her by her girlfriends touch. It’s nothing really, just bare hands on skin, but there’s a possessiveness to it that sends a delightful shiver up the brunette’s spine.

When Ingrid fully turns back, Mapi’s face is just inches from her. The brunette switches from looking between her lips and eyes, can’t make her mind up. It’s a difficult decision when Mapi’s lips look very kissable, but her expression is teasing and dark, making Ingrid feel hot all over.

“Hi,” Mapi whispers against Ingrid’s lips, just far enough away for it not to be considered contact. The midfielder can feel the amber eyed woman smile against her lips as she runs her hands further up Ingrid’s stomach. She bypasses Ingrid’s chest all together, running her thumb along the Norwegian’s defined collarbone, along the curve of her shoulder and down her arm before she comes back up, landing at the brunette’s neck.

Ingrid raises her eyebrow at Mapi, watches as the Spaniard thinks to herself of what to do next, wondering what the midfielder would like. Her eyes rove intently over Ingrid, observing everything about the brunette standing in front of her, her expression, her exposed chest, her taut abdomen muscles.

“Espléndida,” She murmured, stepping in to touch Ingrid more firmly, to connect their mouths again.

Mapi threads her tongue into Ingrid’s mouth with a practiced ease, but she nearly shivers at the whine it produces from the taller woman, a noise the blonde promptly swallows.

Mapi’s hand moves up slightly, her fingers splitting off from her thumb, moving to either side of Ingrid’s throat and squeezing gently, just a light choke.

It does the trick though, just as Mapi hoped it would, and the brunette lets her head fall back slightly, a keening whine pulling from her lips. The Spaniard smiles as she leans forward to kiss the Norwegian again, slowly and securely.

All of these are moves she’s done before, but she finds that she enjoys them now more, the act itself feels more authentic. Before, she enjoyed the act of doing things because she was fed off the praise of the other person. It was the basis of all her relationships, her ability to keep her partner satisfied.

This is different. Mapi wants to satisfy Ingrid, not because she has to in order to maintain their relationship, but because it’s Ingrid and how could she not want to.

Ingrid pushes the blonde off of her just long enough to strip the rest of her clothes, stepping back into the shower and under the stream of water. Mapi follows her just moments later, turning the brunette so the stream of water ran over her shoulders and down her body as the blonde laved attention to everywhere she could find and touch.

Her hands were everywhere and nowhere, over Ingrid’s chest and abs and hips and shoulders and throat. There’s miles of exposed skin for the defender to touch, and finally she could touch and lave and do everything she’s wanted to for months.

Her mouth was everywhere and nowhere, over Ingrid’s chest and abs and hips and shoulders and throat. Everywhere except where the midfielder needed her.

A cacophony of noises were tumbling out of the mouth of the brunette and up into the steam of the water spray, moans and mewls and sounds pulled from the back of her throat that both spur Mapi on and make her weak in the knees with want.

But she wants this to be good, so she takes her time with it. She builds Ingrid up, slowly purporting attention to tease the Norwegian with a practiced ease.

And then, when Ingrid finally thinks she won’t be able to make it and will have to start this herself, the defender backed her up until her back hit the cool tile of the shower, out of the stream of water and back into the steamy air of the shower before she dropped to her knees.

Ingrid thinks that she could probably come from just this, the sight of Mapi on her knees looking up at her with that devilish smile, her eyes vast and hungry, on her knees, all for the Norwegian.

Mapi finally puts Ingrid out of her misery and runs her tongue through the brunette with absolutely no warning, long and slow. The noise that wrenches itself out of the midfielder’s throat is new, but the center back loves it, never wants to hear anything else.

One of the midfielders hand flattens back against the shower tile, and the other lands on Mapi’s shoulders, grasping for purchase against the slippery shower around her.

Mapi works her tongue over Ingrid’s clit in gentle circles before she brings a hand up to slip into the heat at the apex of the midfielder’s thigh. The brunette sighs into the movement, her hips grinding down onto Mapi’s hand and mouth in time with her rhythmic movements.

The Spaniard works her up slowly, just to the edge before she slows again, fanning her mouth out to kiss over Ingrid’s hips and the top of her thigh. The brunette's hand slides up, her fingers tangling in the hair at the base of Mapi’s head, trying to lightly push the blonde back to where she wants her.

Mapi likes this Ingrid, the one who is a writhing mess beneath her, but she also isn’t that cruel, so she returns back to where the green eyed woman wants her after not too long, doubling down with reckless abandon, determined to push the Norwegian over the edge.

Ingrid tastes absolutely intoxicating, and when the blonde’s eyes flicker upward, she’s rewarded with the sight of the Norwegian, head thrown back against the shower tile, flush creeping up her neck and her chest heaving with the effort of keeping up with Mapi’s ministrations.

All it takes is for the Spaniard to slide another finger in, curling just slightly, for the brunette to go rigid against her, everything tightening, her body, her hand on the shower wall, her grip in Mapi’s hair. She’s releasing a guttural moan as she shakes just slightly, and Mapi slows her movements but doesn’t stop them, bringing the midfielder down from her high.

Ingrid has to stand with her back against the shower wall for a few more moments as she tries to catch her breath, and her girlfriend rises, holding her against the cool tile so she doesn’t sink.

When Mapi touches her though, it's soft and sweet, a slowness and appreciation that Ingrid never felt with anyone else. When she kisses Mapi, she can taste herself on the defender's tongue, and she genuinely can’t help the moan that tumbles from her lips.

She leans back, resting her head against Mapi’s shoulder. The blonde slides her hands to Ingrid’s back, rubbing in slow, comforting circles over the long expanse of warm skin that’s there.

“Thank you,” Ingrid mumbles quietly against Mapi’s skin, and the blonde stills in her moment, surprise causing her to freeze.

She’s never had anyone thank her for this before. It was always take, take, take until there was nothing of her left. But Ingrid isn’t like that, and this just confirms it if nothing else did. The sincerity that’s prevalent in Ingrid’s words says that above all else.

“Of course,” Mapi whispers back in response, her voice soft and barely audible above the steady stream of the shower.

—

Later that night, both Ingrid and Mapi are curled into each other, with the brunette’s head laying on the center back’s sternum as they fell asleep, sated and spent. The Norwegian runs her hand over Mapi’s stomach, tracing her fingers along the lines she finds there, the feeling of the blonde’s muscles moving beneath her. She’d spent the majority of the day appreciating the many, many muscles that the blonde had. It was always more fun to touch than to watch, after all.

“Can I ask you something?” Ingrid says quietly, and she feels Mapi shift under her, turning into her more, the hand under the taller woman pulling her into her body more. Mapi’s rosewood and sandalwood scent fills her senses at the movement, and she finds herself relaxing into it even more than she had been just a moment before.

“Always,” Mapi answers back easily, looking up at the white of Ingrid’s bedroom ceiling. The Norwegian was a warm, comforting weight against her, and the midfielder smelled just as lovely, like jasmine and gardenia and something that was just inexplicably Ingrid.

“Did this…I mean I know we waited to do this because of everything, and I just wanted to, well I wanted to check in and see how you were,” Ingrid mentioned, clearly trying to remain casual even if there was more weight behind the words than she was trying to let on.

Mapi exhaled slowly, thinking for a moment before she answered. She wanted to be honest, to give a good answer. One that was deserving of the gentle and kind person laying with her in bed.

“I’m good. Better than I expected to be, honestly. I don’t know how to explain it really but sex with you is just different. I obviously want to please you but it’s not performative, it’s an actual want. I feel like I’m right there with you, and you’re right here with me. It’s nice,” Mapi answers honestly, and she can feel Ingrid smile into her collarbone, content with the answer.

“I’m…I’m really glad,” Ingrid whispers, and Mapi smiles as she places a gentle kiss to the top of the Norwegians head.

“How are you?” Mapi inquired lightly, always wanting to check in on the brunette and make sure that she was feeling alright.

“I’m great,” Ingrid sighed happily, laying her hand flat against Mapi’s abdomen, spreading her fingers out over the tanned skin there. “Always better when I’m with you,” she mumbled sleepily, snuggling into Mapi as she fell asleep.

“Always,” Mapi murmured as she held Ingrid to her as the Norwegian fell asleep. Ingrid falls asleep quickly, exhausted from their long workout of a day, but Mapi stays awake for a few more minutes, carding her fingers through Ingrid’s hair and admiring her as she slept.

When the center back looks up though, there is moonlight shining through the curtains that provides a glimmer of light through Ingrid’s room, out into her living room. Her bedroom door is open, and from her spot in the bed Mapi can see the standing mirror the midfielder has in her living room, a blanket thrown haphazardly over it.

The blonde can just barely see a tiny sliver of one of the cracked and shattered corners, and everything in Mapi is dying to know what happened to that mirror, why Ingrid had kept it, how it got broken in the first place.

Mapi decides that, with her sleeping girlfriend tucked safely into her side, she’s going to replace that mirror, even if Ingrid hates her for it.

The Norwegian deserves to see herself the way that Mapi, and the rest of the world sees her.

Whole, and completely beautiful, both regardless and because of everything that she had been through.