la princesa

Mapi remembers the first time that she saw her. She had known from locker room chatter that two new players had signed contracts with the club, a Swedish forward and a Norwegian midfielder, but she couldn’t remember their names exactly. She wasn’t entirely sure she really cared, hadn’t paid enough attention to really give a shit. 

It had been three weeks since she and Ana had split up, since she had her whole world flipped on its head. 

Mapi had thought that it was love, but the more time she spent thinking about their whole relationship the more she realized how manipulated and used she had felt about the whole affair. Her kindness had blinded her from realizing that she was being used, and nothing felt like it really mattered anymore, somehow. 

She went to practice, she played and did her best to joke with her teammates like she always had, and then she went home, and it all still felt as empty and numbing as it had the moment that Ana had uttered the words “it's over,” and everything in Mapi’s life had been upended.

She was always the happy one, always upbeat and positive. 

And she was doing everything to keep that, but it felt entirely empty now. There was no real joy behind it, so she used it as a shield to try to hide how much pain she was actually in. 

So no, the news of the transfers hadn’t really been at the top of her mind. Or anywhere in her mind really. But she was already out on the pitch for practice when she heard Patri whispering, pointing toward the tunnel, as three figures made their way out toward the pitch. She knew immediately that one of the figures was Aitana, but the two others were mysteries to her, the new transfers, supposedly. 

She examined the blonde first, roving her eyes over her entire body, noting her relaxed body language, confident smile, the sheer elegance she held. She was tall with a bright smile, looked naturally friendly as she laughed with Aitana as though she had known her for her entire life. 

But the other girl? She looked younger, and she didn’t say a word as she silently walked onto the pitch beside them, but her gaze was alert as she looked between the two, clearly following the conversation easily and keeping her head turned toward them. Her entire body was tense though, poised as though she was ready to flee at one wrong word, one foot in the door and one foot out the door. 

And then she turned her head, looking out on the field, and it took everything in Mapi not to let her jaw drop in shock, because the quiet girl was absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. 

She had long brunette hair that was pulled into a high ponytail and flowed down her back, swishing back and forth as she walked. Her eyes were light, jade green and piercingly focused, and when her eyes met Mapi’s, the blonde felt like time stopped right there, as the two looked at each other. The expression on the brunette’s face was entirely unreadable, but she held eye contact with Mapi for just a second too long, as if she too, was intrigued by the person she was looking at. 

It took the blonde a second too long to realize that they were headed directly her way, and she blanched as they approached, trying to reorganize her thought process to actually speak to these two. 

“Hey, Mapi, Patri! It’s the new girls,” Aitana said cheerfully, and both Spaniards stepped forward to greet the new girls. Mapi did her best to smile and look friendly, but the brunette continued to look at her with the most unreadable expression, her face not exactly a grimace but by no means a smile either. 

“Hi, I’m Fridolina,” the tall blonde offered, reaching out to shake the two players' hands. 

“I’m Patri, and this is Mapi,” Patri explained to the blonde, who nodded at Fridolina as she shook her hand, trying her hardest not to stare at the brunette standing next to the Swedish player. 

“And this is Ingrid,” Fridolina said after a moment, and Ingrid reached forward, extending her arm to shake first Patri’s hand, and then Mapi’s. 

“Nice to meet you, both,” Ingrid answered, her voice clipped and polite, but she quieted over the last word as Mapi’s hand wrapped around hers, and the blonde sucked in a breath at the feeling of the Norwegian’s soft hand in her’s, and the weird familiarity of it. 

“Nice to meet you too, Ingrid,” Mapi responded, her voice quieter than she really intended, but still appreciating the way that the Norwegian’s name rolled over her tongue. Ingrid glanced at her for a second, her expression guarded, before she turned and moved to greet some of the other girls. 

She seemed uncomfortable, and a little unfriendly to most of the girls, but there was something about the Norwegian that intrigued Mapi, that suddenly made her just a little more invested in focusing on the present as opposed to staying waded in her murky, painful past. 

—

For weeks, Mapi watches her when she is positive that Ingrid isn’t looking. 

To the other girls on the team, Ingrid is a bit harsh. She’s rough around the edges, she doesn’t socialize, she’s incredibly serious and crass. She is incredibly invested in football, endlessly devoted to the work, and doesn’t seem interested in making friends, or even taking the time to be friendly to the others. 

And her teammates tend to see her for what she isn’t. 

But Mapi…well Mapi tries to see her for what she is. And she finds that the more she watches the Norwegian, the more she’s positive that they have all wildly misunderstood her. 

Because Mapi watches the way that she looks at the other girls. At the care and compassion in her eyes, at all the little gestures. She sees the way that Ingrid smiles when someone makes a joke. It’s under her breath, it’s not noticeable in the slightest unless you’re looking for it, but it’s there. 

She sees the way that Ingrid always hands the first water bottle to someone else, or moves around to let the others get to each other easier. How she always moves herself to the back in huddles, trying to take up less space. 

How she’s always the first to flag everyone to stop when someone gets hurt. How she always makes sure to stand on the perimeter of the scene, never impeding it, but still focused on whether or not her teammate is there. 

Mapi saw her stop in the parking lot to pick flowers once, one day when she had stayed late after practice. There shouldn’t be anyone there that late, and it seems that the Norwegian knows that, shedding her prickly armor and grinning brightly at the sight of carnations that bloomed out of the ground proudly. 

And Mapi sees it. 

She sees all those little moments. All those times, when nobody else is watching that the Norwegian lets her guard down, and lets herself enjoy life. Mapi finds herself more and more intrigued by the brunette, although she tries not to be. She doesn’t want to pry, but it also gives her even more of a reason to get out of bed, to have something to look forward to. 

It’s strange, because when Mapi first met Ingrid, the way that she acted almost reminded her of Ana. 

Mapi quickly course corrected, but at first glance, the two appeared to be quite similar. They had the aura of being cold, calculating people who would do anything to get to the top. 

The very difference between the two, though? 

Ana really was that person, something Mapi had experienced firsthand. But the more the blonde watches the brunette, she realizes that Ingrid might appear to be that way, but she really couldn’t be more different. 

Ingrid is kind and compassionate. But something happened, somewhere along the line, something messed the brunette up, causing her to feel like she needed to hide that part of herself. 

Mapi’s not sure if she’s ever related to anything more. 

Just because her mask was a happy one, joking with everyone and acting like herself, didn’t make it any less of a mask. 

The Spaniard wonders if Ingrid feels as broken and numb on the inside as she does most days. 

She finds that she feels almost…protective of her. The other girls know not to say shit about Ingrid because Mapi will get angry, snapping and saying that they shouldn’t be gossiping out teammates.

Because it’s Mapi who sees all the moments that she softens and becomes someone else, all the little glimpses of where the world hasn’t corrupted her. There’s something under that harsh exterior, Mapi is sure of it. 

The midfielder just has to let her get close enough to work it out. 

Mapi will figure her out, that she’s sure of. She’s not ready to give up just yet. 

—

When Mapi looks over and sees someone talking to Ingrid at the bar the first time they go out, at first glance, her mind thinks nothing of it. But as she is looking away, the blonde realizes two very distinct things. 

One, the person talking to her is a man. And Mapi knows for a fact that Ingrid is not attracted to men, so that immediately grabs her attention. 

And the second thing? The second thing is that everything about Ingrid’s body language reads discomfort, even though Mapi can only see her back, and suddenly alarm bells are ringing in the defender's head, as it dawns on her that she needs to do something. 

The Spaniard panics for a second, realizing she doesn’t have long to help this situation, so she simply starts walking toward the two, without a thought or a single plan in her mind except to help Ingrid. 

Looking back on it, the defender is so nervous by the time she gets up there that she practically blacks out when she finally begins speaking. 

She remembers walking over. 

She remembers sliding her hand around Ingrid’s back to rest at her side. She remembers the warm, soft skin she finds there, and how her hand just seems to mold into Ingrid’s side like it belongs there. 

She remembers feeling the Norwegian lean into her, just slightly, barely an inch, but suddenly her body is pressed into Mapi’s, relaxing into her in relief, and it’s everything wonderful that the blonde never knew she needed until right that very moment. 

She definitely remembers pressing her lips lightly to Ingrid’s cheek, letting her eyes flutter shut at the sensation before she pulls back, trying to keep her pounding heart from beating out of her chest as she opens her mouth to speak. 

Everything after that is a bit of a blur though, and honestly, Mapi is kind of glad. She spends days thinking about what little she does remember, breaking down every single moment and running it through her mind on an endless replay. 

She also remembers Ingrid asking her on a date though. 

Ingrid asked her. On a date. 

A real date. 

Yes, you read that correctly. She still can’t quite believe it, but it’s real somehow. Which is how Mapi found herself standing here, at Ingrid’s doorstep, ringing the bell of her door. 

To take her out on a date. 

When Ingrid threads her fingers through Mapi’s for the first time, something about it just makes sense. Her hand is gentle but sure in Mapi’s, and it just…fits. Like a puzzle piece that has simply been missing for all of this time, and was somehow stumbled upon and put into place, years later. 

Ingrid seems to be a bit shy and timid when it comes to sharing about herself as they sit down for dinner, but Mapi doesn’t mind the chance to talk one bit. And when given the chance, as dinner goes on, the brunette starts to share more and more about herself, giving Mapi tiny glances into her life.  

And the blonde was right. Nothing about the Norwegian is cold and calculating, or harsh and standoffish. 

She’s shy, more nervous than anything, and it simply comes across the wrong way to people sometimes. Mapi knows that there’s more to the story, but that’s all she’s got for now. And it’s enough for her, for now. 

And when Ingrid tells her about her past relationship, the Spaniard’s thought process is only confirmed. This is a sweet, carding human being, someone who is kind and compassionate and a gentle person, but one who hasn’t been dealt the best cards. 

It’s a good thing that Mapi really doesn’t give a flying fuck. She can already tell she likes Ingrid, more than she probably should, and she doesn’t think of her as broken goods needing to be fixed.

Maybe she’s just someone who needs a little bit of kindness and love. Maybe Mapi just needs a little bit of kindness and love. 

Mapi doesn’t know a single person on the planet who doesn’t need that. Sometimes though, some need it more than others. 

And there is nothing wrong with that. 

When she calls her mi princesa, it just sticks. It feels right. 

She just feels right. Being with her, it feels right. 

—

She’s cresting over her final orgasm of the night, stars erupting behind her closed eyelids as Ingrid’s fingers curl inside of her just right, sending her over the edge yet again. 

Mapi couldn’t believe they had waited so long to do this. Couldn’t imagine that she had made Ingrid wait that long to do this. Clearly, the blonde has had plenty of time to think up exactly what she had wanted to do to Mapi in bed. 

The pleasure comes in ways the blonde couldn’t have even imagined. She had always suspected that Ingrid was more dominant in bed, just in the back of her mind, in the quiet before she went to sleep. It was always the least obvious ones, Mapi had found, that in reality were often the most dominant in the bedroom. 

Ingrid seemed to be no different, but it was in an entirely different way than Mapi expected. With people in the past, the domination had been about whoever she was with feeling that pleasure. It was never about Mapi, the blonde was always just a means to an end. 

But the pleasure of the Spaniard seemed to be all that Ingrid cared about, herself. Mapi can only imagine, if the roles were reversed, how incredibly turned on she would be watching Ingrid have orgasm after orgasm after orgasm as her night had been. Waves and rolls of pleasure like she could have never imagined, with a partner more skilled than even she could have expected. 

The brunette however, seemed entirely devoted to the blonde’s own pleasure, her mind on one singular track. 

But what really surprised Mapi was not how Ingrid acted while they were having sex. What surprised Mapi was everything that happened after. 

As Mapi was coming down from her orgasm, she tried to reach over, to return the favor for Ingrid. Exhaustion was pulling on the edges of her mind, everything hazy with pleasure, her limbs feeling like jelly, but still at the forefront of her mind was the thought that she didn’t want Ingrid to be left unsatisfied. That maybe she would leave, or she would get mad at Mapi, or there would be some large repercussion. 

But the Norwegian very gently pushed her hand away, quietly whispering to Mapi that they could get to her later. Mapi accepted it more easily than she would have liked, but she was too tired to put up much of a fight. 

What surprises her though, is the way that after everything, with Mapi left spent and sated in bed, Ingrid moves to rise. Mapi’s hand, which had been resting over Ingrid’s bicep, tightens as she lets out a noise that sounds far too similar to a whimper, already missing the loss of warmth and wondering where the midfielder could possibly be going. 

Ingrid says nothing as she gently pries Mapi’s hands off her arm, leaning forward to press a kiss to Mapi’s forehead before she walks away, leaving the defender confused and slightly cold in her absence. 

The midfielder wasn’t gone long though, and Mapi felt just minutes later as the mattress dipped again, the brunette climbing back into bed. The blonde’s eyes were closed though, and she jerked just slightly when she felt a rough warmth against the skin of her abdomen, relaxing as she opened her eyes and looked down, realizing that it was just Ingrid running a washcloth over her, helping her to clean herself up. 

Oh. 

Ingrid brought her a washcloth to help clean herself up. 

Mapi watches in utter confusion and surprise as Ingrid worships her body in an entirely different way. Watches her as she runs the washcloth over every single part of her partner, leaving light yet somehow firm kisses in her wake. 

Tears sting the back of Mapi’s eyes as Ingrid continues her slow, careful ministrations, running the washcloth over everything before she tosses it off the side of the bed and onto the floor to be forgotten about until morning. 

Mapi reaches for her before she can really stop herself, burrowing herself into Ingrid and her smell and warmth and gentle, quiet, compassionate care. It’s warmth, it’s light, and it’s an entire juxtaposition to what she has come to know about sex. 

She’s never been more grateful for the care of another human being than in this moment. 

—

The minute that Mapi realized that it was Alexia behind the door of her hotel room in Alhama, she felt her blood run cold, everything in her freezing. 

Not just the fact that it was Alexia behind the door. It was Alexia behind the door, looking absolutely petrified. The blonde midfielder was one of her oldest friends, but she rarely showed emotion in this way, so Mapi immediately knew that something was wrong. 

She also knew, for a fact, that Alexia was Ingrid’s roommate. It was only because Mapi was supposed to be the one rooming with her, and Alexia had told her that. The midfielder had then proceeded to tell her that she had requested that they switch for that trip before Ingrid had any time to find out. Mapi had nearly sagged in relief, unsure of how exactly to compose herself in front of Ingrid in that type of an intimate setting. 

A choice she is now apparently regretting, as Alexia shoves her room key into Mapi’s hands and sends her out the door with a vague explanation of Ingrid needs you, before she’s out the door and half walking-half running to the next door over, hitting her key card against the door and slipping into the room. 

She finds it’s the exact same layout as her own room, except mirrored. Ingrid was on the bed with her head between her hands, sobs wracking her body, and Mapi was over there in an instant, comforting the brunette. 

It took a while, but the defender managed to get the Norwegian calmed down, helping her get tucked into bed. 

It’s when she’s holding her finally, finally that Mapi feels herself relax, feels relief washing over her in waves. Ingrid’s breathing next to her own is steady and sure, the rise and fall of her stomach under Mapi’s fingers rhythmic and balanced as she sleeps surely, wrapped up in the defender. 

Mapi was determined for them to figure this out. She struggled with feeling like she didn’t have a lot of control over the situation. It’s a bit of a shit show, she knows that, but it’s still half her shit show, and she’s determined not to let this fail if she has any say in it at all. 

But at the same time, maybe that was exactly what love was. Putting yourself out there, putting your love out there, and trusting someone enough to honor that, because they hold the other half of that love. One cannot exist fully without the other.  

Mapi can only hope that Ingrid will let her love her, in the ways that she both wants and needs to. 

The last thought that the defender has before she drifts off to sleep is that only time will tell. 

—

She loves her. 

Standing there in their driveway, rain pounding over both of them. 

Mapi’s pretty sure this is the exact opposite of having an out-of-body experience. 

Every part of her feels here, right here in this moment. She can feel every drop of blood that courses through her body, driven by her erratic, quick-pounding heart. She wants to bottle this feeling, to keep it forever, to hold it close. 

She loves her. 

Ingrid loves her. 

Ingrid loves her. 

Maybe when she looks back at this moment, at this part of her life, she will come to realize that perhaps she sort of already knew that Ingrid loved her. 

It feels like for the past several months, the blonde has been working on a jigsaw puzzle. 

This is the final piece. The final thing, set into place, is only done by Ingrid’s choosing. 

Everything out on the table. Every raw, horrible, wonderful, cruel emotion laid bare for both of them to see. 

She still wants Ingrid. And the brunette still wants her. 

It’s a liberating feeling, to be loved by someone so recklessly in the face of everything that could bring them down. 

In a world that reminds them over and over again that it does not consider their love natural, or right, or as perfect as Mapi knows it to be. 

Her love for Ingrid is the most natural thing that she knows, and that is something she is not willing to give up so easily.

Present Day

It’s one of the final practices of the season, and with the tight race for who will win the league and the weight of the Champions League Final, there is a lot of pressure weighing heavily on all of the girls as they head in for a Tuesday practice. 

Mapi and Ingrid were running late, having run into some bad traffic trying to get into the training facility. It puts an already tense morning even more on edge, with Mapi’s hands gripping the steering wheel harder than it should ever really need to be gripped while Ingrid nervously taps her foot against the floor mat. 

Neither of the women says a word, both choosing instead to keep their nerves to themselves, but it’s not as if they don’t realize the other is nervous. 

They are both just aware of the fact that no productive conversations are going to be had when both of them are this tense and stressed, with practice starting in five minutes while they are still ten minutes away. 

It normally wouldn’t be that big of a deal, with neither of them particularly worried about their tardiness, especially Mapi. But with the added stress of the end of the season, the final, and the limited amount of practice time they have between all their games, it’s getting to both the Spaniard and Norwegian more than either of them would care to admit. 

When they finally pull out of traffic, Mapi is speeding away, stepping on the gas as Ingrid holds on tightly to the car door, cognizant not to say a word. Mapi doesn’t exactly love how fast she’s going, but there’s not much that can stop her brain after she looks at the clock quickly, before looking back at the road. 

They fly into the car park at a breakneck speed, Mapi pulling into a spot and throwing the car in park. Ingrid opens her door before the car is even in park, pulling the two identical Barca duffle bags that belong to her and Mapi out of the trunk in a hurry as Mapi turns the car off, slipping out and toward the changing room, with Ingrid running after her at a rapid pace. 

Ingrid wordlessly tosses Mapi her bag, while the Spaniard starts slipping her slides off and throwing her shirt off quickly, chancing a look at the clock on the wall as she begins changing. So far, they are only two minutes late (on account of her slightly terrifying driving), and it’s only another minute for the two to throw their clothes on, grabbing their cleats and sitting down to lace them wordlessly. 

Mapi stands first, having finished tying her boots, and she waits the fifteen seconds it takes Ingrid to finish lacing hers before they both turn and run out of the tunnel, immediately going to join the girls for practice. 

Mapi noticed as she was running that her shirt felt like it was hitting lower on her body than she was used to, but she didn’t really have any time to ruminate on the thought as she jumped right into a drill that the team was working on, weaving in between cones and doing different acceleration drills. 

The Spaniard notices the girls giving her knowing smiles all throughout practice, with absolutely no context or pretense. It’s only when she looks down after Alexia smirks at her (and the captain never did that), that she realizes that she has on a training top with Ingrid’s 23 on it instead of her own training top, dawned with the number 4. When she looks over at Ingrid, she realizes quickly that Ingrid is wearing her shorts, complete with the 4 pressed onto them and everything. She laughs silently to herself, and the innocent glance that Ingrid sends her lets her know that she is none the wiser. 

As they scrimmage, Mapi watches as Fridolina goes up and talks to Ingrid, confusing the brunette more. Frido looks over at Mapi with a knowing look, and the blonde can’t help but smile back, practically melting at how adorable Ingrid is, all confused about the joke that everyone else seems to be in on. 

At the end of practice, they huddle quickly with the coaches before they head over to huddle just as a team, with Alexia saying a few words. 

“Alright girls, we’ve got two more practices before the final, so I want everyone to get some rest and be ready to put in 100% for those practices, okay?” Everyone nods easily, agreeing perfectly with their captain's thought process. 

“And just as a note, I would like to remind everyone to, if possible, wear their own clothing to practice. Some of us are still single and don’t need the reminder of all you lovesick idiots showing up to practice all day,” Alexia teases, throwing a glance over at Ingrid. 

Mapi watches as Ingrid looks down and realizes that she’s wearing Mapi’s shorts, and looks over to see that the defender is wearing a training shirt with her number on it. Ingrid immediately flushes red, and everyone bursts out into laughter, which she quickly joins. 

“Really, nobody decided to let me in on that?” Ingrid exclaimed, trying desperately to catch her breath. 

“Hey, they make your ass look fantastic,” Claudia called out lightly, and Patri immediately smacked her on the head with a scoff, shaking her head as the shorter woman rubbed the spot she whacked with a mock-hurt expression. 

“Alright, keep it in your pants Pina. And you too Mapi, Jesus, your eyeballs look like they’re about to turn into hearts,” Alexia emphasized with a disgusted tone, and Mapi immediately froze, smiling guiltily. 

“Sorry?” She offers, trying to make a small consolation. 

“No, you’re not,” Alexia immediately responds, her face deadpanned. 

“No, I’m really not.” 

—

Mapi and Ingrid were driving in the car on the way back from practice one night, driving in comfortable silence. They are almost home when Ingrid blurts something out, startling Mapi as she drives the two toward home. 

“Do you remember that one practice, way back when it was my first couple of practices here?” Mapi looked over at Ingrid in surprise, entirely unsure of what the brunette was talking about. 

“Uh…could you be a little bit more specific?” Mapi asks with a laugh, and Ingrid covers her face with her hands, laughing along with Mapi as she realizes how poor her question was framed. 

“Sorry, yes, yes. It was before we really knew each other, and we were scrimmaging, and Irene took me out on a slide tackle? And you came over to me, and then absolutely took her out a few minutes later?” The brunette explained, and it began to dawn on Mapi, her mind drifting back to the memory, all those months ago. 

Months before Ingrid and Mapi even became friends, much less dating, it was only two weeks into the brunette’s time at the club. 

It’s a normal practice for Mapi, running drills, chatting with her teammates during water breaks. 

But practices somehow feel different now. Before, it felt more…perfunctory. Mapi would be the first to admit she was a little depressed, a little out of wack after everything that she had been through. She had been treading water for the past few months. Hell, for the last few years even. 

If she was treading water then, she was swimming now. The blonde looked forward to coming to training now, not just for the football but because she had something else to do. 

Watch Ingrid. 

Okay, not in a creepy way, more in just a curious way, almost as though she’s trying to figure the brunette out. 

She wasn’t sure where along the line it became something that she did at every single practice, but she couldn’t seem to stop it now. The blonde was entirely intrigued by the mysterious brunette, who everyone seemed to think was cold and standoffish. 

But Mapi saw hints where that wasn’t the case. 

Fridolina and Aitana both seemed friendly with her, and Mapi had known Aitana for a long time. She trusted the judgment of the forward, and knew that if Aitana liked Ingrid, that maybe there was more to the story than the midfielder was letting on. 

She saw the way that Fridolina looked at Ingrid, the sympathy and concern in her eyes. How she always spoke in quiet, soothing tones to the brunette, as if one wrong move would cause the Norwegian to crack or break. 

And then there were her own observations, quick glances at the midfielder when she was sure she wouldn’t be looking. 

Ingrid was analytical and watchful, but also surprisingly caring. She was just quiet in her care, and most of the other girls were too loud to notice. 

Mapi wondered if maybe the world was just too loud to notice. 

They were scrimmaging that day, and Mapi’s heart secretly flutters when she realizes that she is on Ingrid’s team, walking over behind the Norwegian to the huddle, as Marta begins explaining their plan of attack. 

The team disperses, everyone going to their respective position on the pitch as Patri kicks the ball into play for their side, and everyone is off, sprinting after that ball, trying new formations, working on their communication. It’s early in the season, so it’s back to the basics as they work on gelling as a team. 

The game is supposed to be light-hearted and just a dry run, but in typical professional football, even in practices, things started to get intense and competitive. 

Mapi is watching as Patri dribbles the ball over on the right side of the field, posing as though she is going to send it into the top half of the pitch, when suddenly she turns on a dime and sends the ball to her left, directly toward Ingrid, who is in the center-right of the field. 

The Norwegian is ready though, shifting in preparation for the ball, when out of nowhere, Irene slides in for a tackle that isn’t clean in the slightest, instead entirely going for the midfielder's ankles, one of which she crunches in her poor attempt to get the ball. 

Ingrid is down in a second, a yelp of pain escaping her lips as she curls in on herself, clutching her ankle. 

Mapi has absolutely no agency in this situation. 

She and Ingrid aren’t friends. 

She’s not the captain of the team, or in charge of her teammate's safety. 

She’s not even the closest person to Ingrid, but damned if that doesn’t stop the Spaniard from immediately sprinting over, the first to reach Ingrid as she kneels down next to her. 

Mapi places her hand on Ingrid’s side, encouraging the Norwegian to open up slightly so she can see if she’s alright, and Ingrid shifts slightly to open her body up slightly to look at Mapi. 

Evidently, though, she wasn’t expecting Mapi to be the one standing over her, as the Spaniard watched as she looked up, her forest green eyes locking with Mapi’s brown ones, widening slightly in surprise. Her forehead is scrunched in pain, discomfort written into the set of her jaw. 

“Are you okay, Ingrid?” Mapi asked gently, her hand just ghosting over Ingrid. The brunette was quiet for a moment, staring at Mapi, but just as she opened her mouth to respond, there were suddenly more people flocking over them, and her mouth clamped shut, looking at Frido and Caroline, who were now standing over her. 

Mapi stands back, letting Fridolina take her place, but she doesn’t walk away, standing there over Ingrid. 

There are medical trainers, and people standing over the Norwegian, but every once in a while, she will look over, sneaking a glance at Mapi, almost to make sure that she is still there. 

Ingrid manages to get up with the help of the trainers and Frido, hobbling off the field with as much dignity as she can appear to muster. 

She takes one further glance back at Mapi, her forehead still scrunched, wrinkles appearing in the soft skin there. It cracks something in Mapi’s heart, and she’s suddenly incredibly upset at Irene for going at a tackle as reckless as that. In practice, no less. 

Maybe it's justified because Irene’s tackle was not necessary at all. Maybe it’s not justified, because Mapi hardly knows Ingrid at all, so to be upset about it for her is a little out of character for the defender. 

Especially considering Mapi’s reputation for being an easygoing, laid-back teammate in a general sense. 

So when the scrimmage resumes, Ingrid and Frido are still standing on the sidelines, as Ingrid continues to get checked out. It comes out of nowhere really, but Mapi feels a sudden anger flare up inside of her. She’s not a forward, but all of the sudden Mapi is watching as Irene gets the ball, running it up the field, and she sees her opportunity. 

Mapi goes in for the ball, and she manages to get it, while in the process she shoves Irene to the side, practically sending her sprawling out onto the grass of the field, turning with the ball and passing it off to Caro. 

“Hey, easy León! We don’t need injuries!” Jonatan calls out, crossing his hands over his chest. Mapi nods, but she looks over at Ingrid as soon as he finishes his sentence, noticing the surprised expression that has graced the midfielder's face. 

It makes her heart jump into her throat, to see the brunette look at her in that way, her face open and her eyebrows lifted practically into her hairline. It doesn’t happen often, to see the Norwegian’s expression so unguarded, but when it does, the blonde has found that it makes her heart pound harder in her chest, in an almost erratic way. 

Almost. 

There’s a light smattering of blush on her cheeks as she ducks her face, but Mapi still sees it. 

She knows that everyone is wrong about the brunette. She’s sure of it. 

She just needs a little more time to prove it. 

Both Mapi and Ingrid miss the way that Frido and Aitana look at each other knowingly, both shrugging before they move on, going back to the scrimmage silently, thoughts forming in their mind about the Spaniard and Norwegian. 

“God, yeah, I actually do remember that. I had completely forgotten I had done that…” Mapi responded, her sentence trailing off as she thought back on the memory, losing herself in her reaction, surprised that she would have done something like that. 

“Yeah…” Ingrid said, a response and yet not really a response, her voice trailing off at the end of the word. 

“What made you think of that?” Mapi asked, looking over at her girlfriend from her spot in the driver's side of the car. 

“I’m not sure, honestly. I just remember that being the first time I really noticed you, how protected and startled I felt that day. It was strange, knowing that you were looking out for me. It was a relief and it was panic, all in one? I’m not sure if that makes any sense, but I’ve always appreciated it, and I never told you that. So I guess I’m telling you now,” Ingrid explained, working through her thought process out loud. 

Mapi looked over at Ingrid for a second, before she was forced to bring her eyes back to the road. 

“I remember that. You looked so surprised to see me when I got to you when you were down,” Mapi stated gently, her words drifting through the silence of the car. 

For a moment there was nothing but silence between the two, the sound of the tires beating against the pavement, the warm Spanish sun shining through the windshield of Mapi’s car. 

“I guess I was just surprised someone cared. I was so horrible to all of you back then, so rude and standoffish, that I couldn’t imagine anyone liking me other than Frido and Aitana,” Ingrid said quietly, her voice barely audible. 

A lump had appeared in Mapi’s throat suddenly, sadness pulling at her like a child tugging its mother's coat. 

“I always cared,” Mapi revealed, and the brunette looked over at Mapi sharply, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“You…you did? But I thought you didn’t notice me…” Ingrid murmured softly, almost as though the words were more for herself than they were for Mapi. But the blonde shook her head, pulling off to the shoulder and throwing the car into park. 

“No Ingrid I…I never told you this because I didn’t want you to think differently of me, but I always cared. I noticed you from the first time you walked onto the pitch here. I was just, I was so incredibly intrigued by you, honestly. I knew there was more to you than what you were giving us, and I just had to find out for some reason. You were a puzzle I needed to solve. I think maybe somewhere, deep down, my body and soul knew that I needed you before I ever consciously acknowledged it.” Mapi blurted out, her own eyebrows raising in surprise at her sudden outburst. 

“Mapi…” Ingrid shifted, her entire body turning to look at the blonde, who kept her hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead and not moving a muscle. She can’t decide if she’s embarrassed about her outburst or not, but she refuses to look at Ingrid, whose eyes she can feel boring into her head. 

“Mapi,” Ingrid says again, with more conviction this time, her hand coming out to turn Mapi’s chin, forcing the blonde’s face to turn to meet hers.

But what Mapi is met with isn’t any sort of judgemental stare that she’s expecting, but instead it’s warm, pillowy soft lips meeting her’s, pressing into her softly. 

Ingrid kisses Mapi like she means it, like it’s the best and last thing she’ll ever do. It’s all consuming, reckless and loving, everything wonderful and perfect about this world. 

When she finally has to lean back slightly, the Norwegian keeps her face close to the blonde’s, her lips just centimeters from Mapi’s. 

“I love you,” she mumbles, her mouth brushing against Mapi’s as she opens and closes it, and it makes the Spaniard shiver all over, warmth flooding her body. She presses her lips to Mapi’s again, a simple closed mouth kiss before she leans back for real. 

“Take me home?” Ingrid asks innocently, and the blonde is turning her eyes back to the road in an entirely different context, warmth flooding into her stomach at the statement.  

—

It was nearing the end of the season, and Barcelona was fighting to be the team that came out on top of the league. There was just one club standing in their way: Atletico de Madrid. 

A team Mapi was most familiar with, having played there for the better part of three years. She still knows a lot of the girls, and is familiar with the club and their playing style. 

And honestly, she feels the need to prove herself. To prove that her trade was worth it, that she came out on top after everything had gone so horribly wrong. 

She knows she shouldn’t. It’s not very sportsmanlike of her, but she’s not entirely sure she can bring herself to care. Her leaving Atletico Madrid had been an absolute and utter mess, of the highest regards. There were so many ways in which the whole situation could have been done correctly, and yet none of that happened. 

Instead, it was just a shit show that left her feeling guilty and upset, draining what felt like all of the love that she felt for football right down the drain. She knows that it isn’t all on Atletico Madrid and their management, and that she holds some responsibility in this situation, but it took her months to recover her love for the sport again.

She had been lucky that the girls had been so kind and welcoming when she had first started at Barcelona, or else she probably wouldn’t have made the turnaround as fast as she did. 

Maybe that’s why Mapi always noticed Ingrid back at the beginning of the brunette’s time at the club. Maybe there was a small part of her that knew that for most players, transfers were messy, filled with emotion, and not always as joyful as the fans perceived them to be. 

In fact, most of the time they weren’t that way. Oftentimes the negative tends to outweigh the positive when the two were brought side by side. But it was a part of playing football, and it was just something you had to deal with. 

Mapi knew that first hand, knew that oftentimes joy was mixed with anger, or hurt, or even sadness. One couldn’t exist without the other, really. 

So maybe Mapi’s need to prove herself is less about this warped sense of vengeance and more about the sadness and hurt that she still, to this day, feels about leaving Madrid. But she doesn’t have time to unpack all of that today. She has a game to play. 

Ingrid isn’t in the starting eleven with her today, instead on the sub bench waiting to come in if need be. The eleven starting players have one final huddle before they all run out to their respective places on the field. 

Mapi begins to head for her left center back position before she decides at the last second to veer off, running toward the bench, waving wildly for Ingrid, who hasn’t yet sat down, to come and join her. 

“Ingrid!” Mapi called out, gesturing for Ingrid to come join her. The brunette quickly jogs over in her green penny, looking at Mapi with a confused expression. 

The defender eagerly holds her hand out for the little handshake they had made all those months ago, and the Norwegian’s facial expression immediately breaks out into a big smile when she realizes what Mapi is trying to get her to do. 

The blonde reaches her hand forward, the motion more muscle memory than her actually thinking about it, and she watches as Ingrid’s smile reaches up her face and into her eyes, filling her face with a light expression all over as Mapi turns on her heels, running to go back to her position on the field to start the game. 

On her run back, she glanced back over her shoulder to find Ingrid standing there, still looking at her as she shook her head, and it only made Mapi smile even harder. 

As soon as the blonde got herself to her position, she worked to refocus herself, pushing any and all thoughts of the brunette to the back of her mind, to be considered once they got this game out of the way. 

The match starts out alright, with Barcelona immediately going for dominance of the ball, same as Madrid. The game is clean but scoreless for the first half, but by the time the second half rolls around, both teams are starting to get antsy, going for questionable tackles and fouling more than expressly necessary in their quest to get a goal, any goal really.  

The tackle that stops the game really is again, one that is not necessary, not in the slightest. It’s useless, and that’s what's even more frustrating about it. 

Mapi had pushed up to get the ball from Patri, sliding forward into the midfield as Irene flanks behind her, and she’s shifting to pass the ball through to Keira when it happens. 

The defender doesn’t even recognize what is happening before it’s too late. When she looks back on it she’ll take blame, that she wasn’t as prepared as someone should be for a slide tackle. Those around her will chide her, saying that she’s a defender, that’s not her job and therefore it’s understandable, and that it was a reckless and pointless tackle in the first place. 

Regardless, one moment Mapi is moving to kick the ball, and then next her legs are being kicked out from under her, someone's body colliding with her leg and sending her knee out at an awkward angle as she goes sprawling to the ground, a sharp stab of pain shooting up her leg. 

Ingrid, from her spot warming up, doesn’t see the exact moment that Mapi goes down. 

But what she does hear is the scream of pain that Mapi lets out, and she immediately knows that it’s the blonde, and she can practically feel her heart leap into her throat as she turns around, looking over to find the blonde on the ground clutching her leg, her face pressed into the ground and her teammates huddled around her. 

Mapi knows that she is not the kind of person to try to prolong when she gets hurt, but the way that the Madrid player, Kenti Robles it seems to have been, is leaving Mapi doubled over in pain, pushing her face into the ground in a vague attempt to push through the pain. 

She can feel Fridolina standing over her, along with Caroline and Mariona, but she can’t bring herself to get up. Pain is radiating up from her knee, clouding her mind and causing all thoughts of standing to be eschewed at the present moment. 

This could be…bad. Mapi is trying to get up, but she can’t even turn over, and everywhere hurts. 

Mapi can hear Caro calling for the medical team, and she tries to explain that she doesn’t need it, but it ends up coming out as more of a groan than anything else as she finally falls to her side, her hands still clutching at her knee. 

The medical trainer, Hannah, is at her side, her hand pressed against Mapi’s cheek for a moment, and the Spaniard feels minisculely comforted, even as the grimace on her face persists. 

“Can you walk off, Mapi?” Hannah asks gently, and everything in Mapi wants to say yes but her leg is screaming no at her, and she shakes her head just imperceptibly. Hannah nods calmly, before she turns and stands, gesturing for the stretcher to come out as she moves down to examine Mapi’s leg with her colleague. 

On the sidelines, Ingrid and Alexia are standing, waiting for Mapi to come off, and both watch with increasing alarm as the dreaded orange stretcher comes out, both looking at each other with concern and fear melting into their expression. 

“Engen! You’re subbing on for Keira, go get warm!” Jonatan called out, and Ingrid cursed under her breath, Alexia looking over at her in surprise, not used to such brash language from the brunette. 

Alexia watches like a hawk as Hannah and the other athletic trainer stabilize Mapi’s leg, and they help shift her over to the stretcher. Mariona begins walking with her before the Spaniard on the stretcher gestures for her teammate to go back to the game, trying her hardest to keep her temper in check. 

She’s never been one to handle pain well, it always turns her a little more mean than she intends to become, but by now most of her teammates know this and give her the space she needs to just be injured and get through it. 

The blonde tries her hardest to put on a smile as she leaves the field, but she can feel the unshed tears building up in her eyes as she grits her mouth, trying her absolute hardest not to cry from the sheer pain radiating from her ankle. 

Ingrid is running back and forth on the sidelines as Mapi gets taken off, and she begins to run over, intending to stop by Mapi and say a few words to her before she gets subbed on. But the blonde watches as the Norwegian jogs toward her, only a few steps away, when Jonatan calls out for her again. 

“Engen, we need you in, now!” He yells, and they can both tell that the man means business. Mapi shakes her head slightly, her gaze connecting with Ingrid’s, and she silently mouths “Go,” knowing that the brunette really does need to get onto the field. 

Mapi has never seen more regret on Ingrid’s face, but she watches as the brunette steels her expression, jogging around the stretcher carrying the Spaniard and over to the substitution card. 

Alexia steps up to fill the empty place left on the stretcher left by Mariona’s absence, and wordlessly falls into line in taking her friend back to the medical room. 

Mapi’s stretcher is deposited on one of the beds in the medical room, and they help the defender to shift off of the offensive, hard plastic that she had been lying on. 

“Alright, Elliot you stay, everyone else out,” Hannah instructs, and everyone who had been helping to carry the stretcher filed out of the room quietly, trying their hardest to be respective. The door wasn’t even closed before the first tear fell from Mapi’s cheek, hitting the pillow without a word from the Spaniard’s mouth spoken into the room. 

Alexia doesn’t say a word, just silently sits beside her friend while Hannah works quietly, doing her best not to move the defender’s leg unless absolutely necessary. Mapi lets out a quiet hiss of pain anytime her knee is touched, the offending limb already starting to swell far beyond what a knee should be doing. 

“I need to get an x-ray of it, so I’m going to bring in the x-ray machine and get a few pictures, okay?” Hannah says gently, and Mapi nods in response, swallowing thickly. She’s desperately hoping that it’s not broken, or an ACL, that it’s less serious than it feels right now. 

Alexia stays for the x-ray, even if she should probably leave, but the blonde is grateful for it. Hannah leaves the two in peace after the x-ray, letting them know that it will be a while before they get the results back, likely an hour at least before they get a response and Mapi can be sent home. 

“Can I get you anything?” Alexia inquires softly when Hannah slips out of the room, and Mapi shakes her head automatically, not wanting to inconvenience her friend. 

Honestly? All she really wants is Ingrid. And to go home. Preferably in that order, and as soon as physically possible. 

But it seems that neither will be the case anytime soon and so she looks over at Alexia with an unconvincing smile that looks more like a grimace than anything else. 

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you want?” Alexia asks again, and Mapi thinks for a moment before she shakes her head yet again, her expression still questionable. 

“Hold on, just give me one second,” Alexia stated simply in the quiet room before she stood and slipped out of the room with little preamble. The blonde is unsure of exactly where her friend went, and she tries to keep herself preoccupied with the thought of where she could have gone in an attempt to distract herself from the pain. 

Alexia reappears five minutes later with a neutral expression and a bottle of water in one hand. 

“It took you five minutes to find a bottle of water?” Mapi asks in a confused lilt, and Alexia looks down at the bottle in her hand before she glances back up at the defender, shrugging slightly. 

“Uh…yeah?” Alexia explains inconclusively, and Mapi nods slowly, accepting the bottle from her friend, taking a slow drink from it before she screws the cap back on. 

She’s not sure when the game will be over, and then the entire team has to shake hands and do the post-match meeting, which will likely take a while, given the aggressiveness and slight mess the game had been. Mapi can only hope that it has gotten better in her absence, but she has absolutely no clue how long there is left in the game. 

“How long is left in the game?” She questioned, turning toward Alexia for guidance. 

“You got subbed off in the 72nd minute, and there was 10 minutes of added stoppage time. I’m willing to bet they’ll be done any minute now, but Frido just scored a few minutes ago, so we should take the win,” Alexia ventured, and right as she finished her sentence, she turned her head toward the door, her eyebrow raised in a silent question. 

Mapi turned her head toward the door too, confused as to what her friend was looking at, when suddenly she heard it. 

It was someone running, it sounded like. But not just someone, someone who was wearing boots. The clacking noise that they made in the concrete tunnel was a distinct sound that Mapi would know anywhere. 

“Who–” Mapi started, only for the door to open abruptly, causing both Alexia and Mapi to jump despite the fact that they both heard the footsteps coming. 

Ingrid is standing on the other side of the door, and she looks between them both with wide eyes, before she steps forward, walking over to the other side of Mapi’s bed that Alexia is not currently sitting on. 

Ingrid looks down at Mapi with wide eyes, her forehead scrunched adorably in concern. She brings her hand up, running it over Mapi’s forehead and back behind her hair. 

“Hey,” she murmurs softly, brushing Mapi’s baby hairs away gently. 

“How are you? How’s your knee?” The Norwegian looks up from Mapi’s big eyes to glance at Alexia for a moment as she speaks, before she focuses back on Mapi, her eyebrows furrowed as worry drips from her expression. 

“How did you get out of the end of game huddle?” Mapi asks, hating how tiny her voice sounds in the big room. Alexia stands, bringing her chair over for Ingrid before she slips out, muttering some excuse about needing to talk to Keira about something. 

Ingrid ignores the chair, but she does reach down to grab Mapi’s hand, lacing their fingers and roving her eyes over Mapi, stopping when she gets to the blonde’s leg. The defender watches as she grimaces at how swollen it is before she looks back up at Mapi’s eyes, shaking her head slightly. 

“Alexia came out and said they needed me for something, but honestly regardless I wasn’t going to wait around for some huddle to come and find you,” Ingrid insisted, and the first tear out of Mapi’s eye fell without permission, and the Norwegian immediately is there, brushing the tear away with the back of her fingertips and holding Mapi’s cheek in her hand gently, her other hand tightening its grip on the defenders. 

“Sh, sh, min kjære, it’s okay, it’s going to be alright,” Ingrid soothes gently, and Mapi leans into the contact, her lungs stuttering as she fights to take in air calmly. 

“We’ll bust you out of here, get you home, get you anything you want,” Ingrid offered, and Mapi shook her head, looking up at Ingrid with tear-stained, wet eyes. 

“I just want you,” Mapi whispers, and Ingrid does her best to swallow the lump that has apparently appeared in her throat. 

“Well, that’s good because you’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere,” the brunette reaffirmed, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the Spaniard’s forehead as she rubbed soothing circles onto the back of Mapi’s hand. 

The two stay like that for who knows how long, before Hannah comes back in to administer pain medication to Mapi, making her incredibly loopy but pain-free. Ingrid feels like she can take her first real breath of the night as Mapi’s head lolls to the side, her entire body language relaxed and comfortable. 

Hannah brings in a picture of the x-ray, holding it out for the two to see. Mapi leans forward groggily, cocking her head to the side in confusion as she tries her hardest to examine the picture that is being held in front of her. 

“It’s not fractured or anything with the ACL, but there is a lot of swelling, a decent sprain it looks like. It’s more dramatic than it actually is, and I don’t think it’s going to be anything of concern on a long-term basis. I’m going to go ahead and wrap it, and I want you guys to keep it wrapped and iced. I’m going to give you a brace to wear, and I’m putting you on crutches for this first week. We’ll calm the swelling down, then get your rehabbed. Shouldn’t be out more than a few weeks, three at the most, I suspect,” Hannah explained, and Mapi was looped out of her mind on drugs but even she could understand that it wasn’t as bad as they thought, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you so much Hannah,” Ingrid commended softly before she turned her attention back to the blonde, who was trying to sit up. 

Ingrid managed to get Mapi up, wrap her knee up in a brace, and get her into the car without a hitch. Alexia came in halfway through to help, thank god, and quietly told Ingrid that she would help get the two of them home. 

Mapi doesn’t really remember much of the car ride home, sitting in the passenger side looking out the window as the Spanish city rolled by outside of her. But she does remember pulling up to the house, the way that the brunette came around from the other side of the car, the kiss she placed on Ingrid’s cheek that made her break out into a smile, and her gentle yet nimble fingers moving Mapi’s legs gently, turning her around so that she can get out of the car. 

She has Ingrid on one side and Alexia on another to get into the house, and neither her girlfriend nor her best friend having any faith in her to use the crutches when she’s this exhausted and out of it from the pain medication. 

The two get her set up in bed before they make their way back into the living room. Alexia glances around at the little house, and Ingrid watches as her gaze lingers on the mirror for just a moment too long. 

“She replaced it,” Ingrid whispered quietly, cognizant of the fact that Mapi was still in the other room, even if the blonde likely wouldn’t be paying that much attention. 

“Of course she did,” Alexia responded with a soft smile, looking back at Ingrid with a knowing look. 

“I’m not going to screw this up,” Ingrid blurted out gently, entirely off topic from Mapi’s injury, but needing her girlfriend's best friend to know that she doesn’t plan to break her friend's heart. Alexia’s eyebrows raise in surprise at the comment before she shakes her head gently, looking up at the Norwegian. 

“I know you aren’t going to. And even if you do, I know it won’t be on purpose. I trust you Ingrid, we all do. And you’re human, and humans make mistakes, but you’re a good person. You’re good for her. And she loves you unlike anything I’ve ever seen from her before,” Alexia responds simply, watching as Ingrid blushes at the reassurance, nodding gently as she fights a smile. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay? She can be a bit of a pill when she’s hurt, but she doesn’t mean it,” Alexia offered, and Ingrid nodded automatically, following the midfielder as she walked toward the door. 

“Thank you so much, Alexia,” Ingrid called out as the blonde walked down the driveway, back to her own car. 

“Anytime Engen!” La Reina called back, waving her hand in a friendly gesture before she climbed into her car, the engine roaring to life as Ingrid closed the door quietly, clicking the lock shut. 

Ingrid quickly grabs some crackers and water, bringing them into the bedroom and setting them on Mapi’s bedside table. She also grabs one of the rocking chairs she has in the apartment, setting it down right next to Mapi and climbing into it with a book, intent to watch the defender until she falls asleep and then read her book, staying up in case she needs anything. 

“What are you doing?” Mapi asked, confusion evident in her tone. Ingrid leans forward, running the back of her hand along Mapi’s cheek, feeling the warmth of the blonde’s skin under her fingertips. 

Mapi was having none of it though. She patted the side of the bed next to her where Ingrid usually slept, lost as to why the Norwegian wasn’t climbing into bed like she usually did.

The Norwegian set her book down with a rueful expression, her eyebrows knitted in concern. 

“Mapi, I’m going to bulldoze your knee while we sleep and seriously hurt you,” Ingrid explained her rationale calmly, but Mapi was having none of it. 

“That’s ridiculous, you sleep like the dead. Will you please just get into bed and hold me? Please?” Mapi asked softly, her lower lip jutted out just slightly, doing her best to convince the brunette with as little of an argument as possible. 

It might go down as the world’s quickest argument they’ve ever had, but the blonde is delighted to see that she can identify the exact moment she wins over the Norwegian’s resolve, smiling with delight as her girlfriend stands, walking around to the other side of the bed and climbing under the covers. 

Ingrid brings her front to press against Mapi’s back, snaking her hand around the blonde’s waist, and Mapi snuggles back into her with reckless abandon, her senses overwhelmed with the comforting weight of Ingrid pressed into her and the light, floral, scent of the Norwegian. Her leg is propped up on a pillow, and between Ingrid’s presence and the heavy dose of medication she’d been given, Mapi feels completely fine. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly, after the game,” Mapi mumbled softly into the quiet, silent air of their bedroom. Ingrid leans forward, brushing some of Mapi’s hair aside to place a lingering kiss on the back of the Spaniard’s neck. 

“Always, min kjære. Now go to sleep, you need to rest. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Ingrid absolves, and Mapi does exactly that, falling fast asleep to the overwhelming presence of Ingrid all around her, invading every single sense, the pain in her ankle long forgotten. 

—

“Ah…here she comes! My fully healthy girlfriend?” Mapi smiles wryly at Ingrid’s teasing tone and question as she pulls her key out of the lock, stepping into Ingrid’s house on her fully healed knee, exactly three weeks later. 

“Your fully healthy girlfriend!” Mapi affirms, and smiles widely as Ingrid squeals, walking over and picking Mapi up, spinning her around right there in the kitchen. Mapi lets out a light laugh at the sensation before she claws at Ingrid to let her down, shaking her head at the Norwegian’s playfulness. 

It had taken her three weeks, but the blonde felt back to normal and completely healthy in her knee, thanks to the amazing care of the doctors and trainers at Barcelona, and she felt fit and ready, just in time for the crunch end of the season time frame. 

The blonde had only missed two games, but if you had asked Ingrid, it had felt like a million, having to put up with the impatient Spaniard who would have probably sold her soul to be out on the field instead of stuck on the sideline. 

“I’m just thanking whatever greater power exists out there that you don’t have to sit on the bench anymore,” Ingrid jokes, and Mapi turns immediately, doing her best to pretend like she is utterly offended by that statement. 

“Hey! I was not that bad,” Mapi insists, watching as Ingrid’s eyebrows fly up in surprise for a moment, before her entire face drops, her hand coming up to place itself on her hip. 

“Seriously? You were leaning so far off the bench last game it was a miracle you didn’t fall onto the pitch, right on your face,” Ingrid deadpans, and Mapi has the decency to at least look slightly guilty, rubbing the back of her neck with a weak chuckle. 

“Okay, that might be fair. BUT ANYWAYS, I had an idea I needed to run by you,” Mapi explains, quickly changing the subject to avoid absolving herself of any truth to that statement. Ingrid rolls her eyes playfully back at the defender before she turns, grabbing a water glass and beginning to fill it as she speaks again. 

“I’m all ears, Maps,” she states, and Mapi claps her hands together, wringing them slightly nervously, a mildly anxious smile on her face. 

“Okay – just hear me out,” Mapi starts, and Ingrid looks over with a no bullshit expression again. 

“Not off to a great start–” Ingrid begins, only to be cut off by Mapi. 

“Wouldyouliketogoonvacationtogether?” Mapi blurts out, her words slurring together in an unintelligible babble of noises that Ingrid is entirely unable to decipher. 

“Wanna try that one more time, hot shot?” Ingrid inquires with a smile, and Mapi blushes, clearing her throat before she tries again, slower this time. 

“Would you like to go on vacation together?” Mapi asks again, her words careful and slow. The blonde watches as Ingrid’s face pulls up in surprise before it settles into a kind and wistful smile. 

“That sounds like a great idea! Did you have the place in mind or do I need to do all the heavy lifting in this relationship?” Ingrid states, poking fun at the fact that she could lift more at the gym than Mapi when they went the other day. The defender immediately furrows her brows, unimpressed by the Norwegian’s joke. 

“Really? That again? We’re gonna be 60 and you’re still going to be bringing that up, aren’t you?” Mapi asked, doing her best to sound annoyed, but she cracked easily when the brunette wrapped her hands around Mapi’s waist, resting her head on the blonde’s shoulder. 

“Mhm…probably. But you love me anyways,” Ingrid countered, and Mapi relented easily, turning to kiss Ingrid on the cheek before the brunette had a chance to turn her head, then letting her turn it so she could actually kiss her. 

Ingrid is smiling into the kiss, and it makes Mapi smile too, leaning back and resting her temple against Ingrid’s forehead, everything in her feeling light and at peace. 

“How about Ibiza?” Mapi whispers gently, and Ingrid perks up immediately, her grip on Mapi’s waist tightening.

“Oh, you in a bikini? That is a sight I will happily stare at all day…” Ingrid trailed off, and Mapi chuckled gently, reaching back to poke the midfielder in the stomach so she let the blonde go, before the defender stepped away and began to get some food out to make herself some lunch. 

“Yeah, Ibiza is supposed to be great this time of year! The water is super light and blue, the beaches are amazing, oh my gosh we have to go on one of those sailing boats all the other girls are always telling us about! You don’t happen to get seasick, do yo…” Mapi trails off as she turns back to the Norwegian, only to find her staring off into the distance, her face full of worry. 

“Earth to Ingrid?” Mapi called out from her place still in the kitchen, and Ingrid jumped, turning back to look at Mapi with a startled expression. Mapi narrows her eyes slightly, her brows furrowing together. 

“Where is your head at right now, mi princesa?” Mapi questioned, watching as Ingrid swallowed thickly, clearly nervous about something. Mapi just isn’t entirely sure what that something is, exactly.

“I uhm…I wanted to ask you this a few weeks ago, but I was too scared you would say no” Ingrid starts, and Mapi feels her confusion only deepen, wondering what it was that had been weighing on the brunette’s mind. 

“Would you…would you maybe like to come home with me, meet my parents and brother? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I know it may be kind of a lot and it’s alright if you don’t want to take that step, I just thought maybe if you were open to the idea–” Mapi cuts Ingrid off with a gentle kiss, reaching up on her tiptoes to press her lips to the midfielders, relishing in the way that Ingrid melts into her so easily, relaxing into the kiss. Mapi leans back just enough to be able to speak, her face directly in front of the midfielders. 

“I would love to come home with you, and see where you’re from, and meet your entire family, and the whole bit. Thank you for offering,” Mapi whispers happily, and Ingrid practically collapses into a hug with the blonde, wrapping her arms around Mapi’s neck more tightly than she probably needed to. 

“I can’t wait to show you where I’m from,” Ingrid murmurs quietly, and Mapi is pretty sure her heart doubles in size as she holds the Norwegian impossibly closer. 

“And I can’t wait to see it,” the Spaniard emphasized, smiling as she closed her eyes, relaxing further into the hug. 

—

Ingrid and Mapi stepped out into the streets of Ibiza hand in hand, the warm Spanish sun flowing down over them. Ingrid is wearing a long, flowy, backless white summer dress, complete with little green stitched flowers over it, while Mapi is wearing a tight black top with white pressed pants, and sandals on both of their pairs of feet. 

They had been on vacation for two days, and it was even more relaxed than Mapi had been expecting. 

She had traveled with Ana in the past, but it had always been stressful and had left the defender feeling more wound up than relaxed, oftentimes. There’s a small part of herself that’s been dreading this vacation, wondering if it will be the same with Ingrid. 

Don’t get the blonde wrong, the majority of her is incredibly excited to travel with Ingrid. The defender loves to travel, to see different parts of the world, and experience being in a new place. That was one of the biggest perks of playing for a big club in Mapi’s eyes, at least, was the chance to do what you loved all over the world. 

It was one of the things she missed the most about playing for the national team. 

Mapi knew that she had to step away. And it’s not like she was the only one, there were fifteen of them. That is, when you really think about it, a staggering amount of people. 

And Mapi knew she couldn’t accept the treatment that she received from the management of the Spanish Football Federation. She heard about the treatment that Ingrid got in Norway, that Fridolina got in Sweden, that Lucy and Keira got in England, and knew that it wasn’t normal or human, the way that they were treated. 

But more than anything, Mapi desperately missed playing for her country. 

And to know that she had been singled out, with a few other of her teammates, as especially blackballed by the federation? It stung, and more than Mapi really allowed herself to feel at any given time. 

The reality of the situation was that if the blonde really stopped to think about it, the whole situation made her so incredibly frustrated and upset that she simply had a hard time functioning. 

So, she did her best to push it out of her mind, finding small comforts that she was a part of a group of strong, powerful women who weren’t going to accept less than what they deserved, no matter what that treatment was. 

And it gave her even more time to support her girlfriend on international breaks, the Norway jersey sitting in her closet at home suddenly getting a lot of use despite how little really ties Mapi to the country aside from Ingrid. 

Well, to Mapi, that's plenty enough of a big thing.

The two sat down for their dinner reservations, outside on an open patio, the setting sun a backdrop against Ingrid, creating a golden hour halo around the Norwegian that had the Spaniard so distracted she couldn’t even hardly look at her menu. 

“You’re going to catch flies,” Ingrid whistles quietly, her eyes continuing to graze over the menu, exactly where they’ve been for the last few minutes. 

“What?” Mapi asked, confused as to what she was talking about. 

“You’re staring at me with your mouth open, María,” Ingrid chastises, finally looking over her menu with an unimpressed expression. Mapi slams her mouth shut, raising her menu to block Ingrid entirely from view, even if she can hear the Norwegian chuckling from her spot across from Mapi. 

The two manage to order without a fiasco, Ingrid with a sangria in hand as they wait for their food. 

Mapi is just looking back at Ingrid from when she was examining something in the distance, when out of the corner of her eye she sees the flash of a ball, her head swiveling to follow it immediately. 

Ingrid looks over two, and both the Norwegian and Spaniard are greeted by the sight of a group of girls playing keep away in the square across from them. All the girls are probably about fifteen or sixteen years old, and they’re all joking and laughing as they play together, squealing and running with pure joy on their faces. 

For the next few minutes, Ingrid and Mapi both relax, watching the girls play together. This is what they wanted in the world. For girls to have the freedom and opportunity to do this, whenever they please. 

The only problem that arises is when one of the girls, who looks to be a little on the younger side, accidentally hits the ball on the wrong spot of her foot, sending it rolling directly toward Mapi and Ingrid’s table. 

The Spaniard easily hops up, placing her foot on top of the ball, kicking it up to juggle it for a moment before she sets it back on the ground, and she’s about to send it back when she looks up and finds four pairs of wide eyes staring back at her. 

One of the girls looks like she’s going to be sick she’s paled so much, and Mapi immediately kicks it back to them, an apologetic look filling her entire face. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to take your ball, here you can have it back,” Mapi reassures, assuming that they’re concerned that she was going to steal their ball. It lands at the foot of the girl who kicked it toward them, but she simply stops it with her foot before stepping around it, opening her mouth carefully. 

“Are you…are you Mapi León?” She asks quietly, her voice filled with wonder and awe. Mapi blushes profusely, rubbing the back of her neck with a small smile. Every time she’s sure she’s used to getting recognized, something like this happens. 

“Oh…yeah, yeah I am. And this is Ingrid, my teammate,” Mapi replies, gesturing for Ingrid to come join her. The brunette comes to stand beside her, waving gently to the girls. 

“Wow um, well we just wanted to say thank you? We love watching you, both of you, really.” The girl explains quietly, before she looks back at one of the other girls, who walks forward to stand next to her, slipping her hand in quietly to thread her fingers through the other girls. 

“And thank you, for advocating for people who love like us. It means…well it means more than you could ever imagine. So thank you,” the girl finishes quietly, and Mapi can feel her heart crack with emotion at this incredibly unexpected but lovely gesture. 

“Always. I’m really proud of you,” Mapi says, stepping forward to wrap her arms around both of the girls, feeling their arms come to wrap around her waist as they hug her back. 

It’s moments like this that only reaffirm for the Spaniard that she’s doing the right thing. She would never want these girls to go through the abuse and poor treatment that she went through. And it’s her responsibility to try her absolute hardest to make sure that doesn’t happen. 

—

They had been on vacation for three days. 

Three whole days. 

And nothing. 

And listen, Mapi was a respectful person, she was. She would wait, she had waited, and she could wait again. 

The thing was that she didn’t want to wait. 

Especially not with her drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend walking around in…so little clothing at all times. 

The villa they had rented for the week they were there in Ibiza was private, with a private beach and everything nobody around for at least a mile. 

Mapi decided that maybe it was time to take advantage of that exact fact. Ingrid was laid out on the private beach they had, laying on one of the two chairs, clad in a white string bikini that left little to the imagination. 

The Spaniard, personally, was offended by even the tiny garment as she slung her arm into her own swimsuit, a black and red patterned piece that she hoped to only have to wear for the next five minutes approximately. 

The defender is just about to step outside when a plan crafts in her mind, her hand winding up to undo the strap on the top half of her bikini, dropping it on the floor, and stepping out the door, leaving her top back inside the house. 

Mapi walked over to where Ingrid was sitting slowly, leisurely, trying to act as unbothered as she was putting an act on about. 

She slid into the chair next to Ingrid, pulling the sunglasses down from where they had been sitting on the top of her head to rest over her eyes, which she shut without hurry, letting the sun warm her skin as she rested her eyes. 

She’s hoping that Ingrid is looking at her, and she would be rewarded with that exact sight if she had opened her eyes. The Norwegian had glanced over at the Spaniard as she had laid down, and had been forced to do a double take when she realized that the blonde had absolutely nothing obstructing the upper half of the body, it instead laid out entirely for the Norwegian’s eyes. 

Ingrid immediately places her book down silently, standing and walking over until she’s directly at the foot of the chair, blocking any and all sun from reaching her girlfriend. 

Mapi opens one eye experimentally when she feels the loss of the sun, hoping that it’s not just the clouds blocking out the sun. 

But it seems that the universe has rewarded her, because instead she finds that it’s her girlfriend, tanned, toned, and absolutely jaw-droppingly, stunningly, gorgeous, standing in front of her, blocking the sun. 

“Inside. Now.” Ingrid grits out, and her voice is rumbly and rough, and Mapi knows that for once she has the upper hand, right from the start. 

She listens, but she rises slowly, stretching her arms out, pushing her chest out right in front of Ingrid before she relaxes, sauntering toward the door. Ingrid is right behind her, practically breathing down her back, and Mapi feels something coil deep in her stomach at the thought, biting her lower lip between her teeth at the thought. 

Mapi steps through the door, and Ingrid follows her inside, turning around to close the door gently, clicking the lock securely behind her. 

But before the Norwegian can even move to turn around Mapi is there, pressing her into the long glass door, her hands on Ingrid’s hips. The Norwegian gasps in surprise, at both Mapi’s action and the cool of the glass against her entire body. 

Mapi leans forward, attaching her lips to the Norwegian’s back, right at the top of her spine, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the Norwegian’s back, her shoulders, and finally coming to land on her neck, worrying her lips along the skin there, reveling in the feeling of Ingrid grinding back into her, just slightly. 

The blonde has one hand holding the opposing side of Ingrid’s neck as she works a deep, dark mark into the back of her neck, and the other hand comes up from her waist to run over her abdomen, pulling her just slightly off of the glass. 

She traces her hand over the hard muscles she finds there, delighting in the way that the brunette’s muscles ripple under her, her breath catching as Mapi’s finger just brushes under the waistband of her bikini bottoms, and now the midfielder is really pressing back into the defender, until Mapi presses her forward, trapping her own hand along Ingrid’s stomach as she presses her girlfriend into the glass. 

It’s worth it though, for the whimpering noise that Ingrid lets out, and Mapi relents, really unable to tease for much longer anyways, so instead she dips her hand fully into the Norwegian’s swimsuit, into the heat she finds there, slipping her finger into Ingrid. 

The Norwegian’s hips immediately rut down to meet her hand desperately, and Mapi is glad to know that the build up to this had been doing as much to her girlfriend as it had been doing to her. 

Mapi knows Ingrid’s body better than her own at this point, and she gives it just a few more minutes of slow movement, lingering kisses to her neck that have the brunette groaning and grinding into her before she adds a second finger, curling just slightly, just enough for Ingrid to keen forward, one of her hands coming up to hold against the foggy glass in front of her. 

Mapi’s wrist is almost starting to cramp with the angle, but she’s not about to stop, instead targeting a particularly sensitive spot that she remembers on the back of the midfielder's neck, pressing into the brunette and curling her fingers deftly right as she attaches her lips to that exact sensitive spot. 

Mapi only has to spend a few minutes working her up with that aggressive rhythm, laving her acute ministrations to her neck to make the Norwegian tumble over the edge, pressed into the glass door from behind by Mapi in order to keep her from falling as her legs shake beneath her. 

Mapi stays like that for a few moments, letting Ingrid catch her breath. The Norwegian turns her head from where it’s been, shifting from having her cheek pressed into the glass to pressing her forehead to it as she catches her breath, sucking air into her lungs as she regains the feeling she lost in her lower half. 

Mapi is still there, a presence instead of pressing her into the door, and finally, she slips her hand out of Ingrid’s bikini bottoms, bringing her fingers up and into her mouth, just as the Norwegian turns. 

The blonde watches as hungry green eyes track her fingers, at the way that her tongue swirls over them in her mouth before she pulls them out with a pop, Ingrid watching her like a hawk the entire time. 

Mapi feigned innocence, her hands falling to her side inconspicuously. 

“So, lunch?” She asks lightly, enjoying the way that Ingrid’s expression darkens, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve got lunch in mind,” Ingrid grits out, stalking forward, forcing the blonde to walk backward until her back hits the kitchen counter, right at her hips. 

“Here?” Mapi asks in surprise, arousal pooling in her stomach, and Ingrid’s eyes narrow, looking around the kitchen before they look out over the rest of the villa they are staying in. 

“First? Here. Then? Every room in this fucking house,” the brunette vowed, and Mapi both felt and watched in the Norwegian’s eyes as three days of want bubbled to the surface, overflowing as Ingrid leaned forward to capture Mapi’s lips, kissing her aggressively. 

Mapi moans into the kiss, entirely unprepared for Ingrid’s response, but nonetheless thrilled about the Norwegian’s choice. Ingrid pressed Mapi back into the kitchen counter by her hips, her hands immediately finding a home on the blonde’s bare chest, pulling her girlfriend’s nipples into her hand with both her thumb and forefinger of each hand, twisting gently. 

Mapi groans at the motion, her head thrown back in pleasure as the muscles in her stomach tighten, and Ingrid drops down to bring her mouth to Mapi’s chest as her hand travels south, scratching gently across the blonde’s abdomen and the hard muscles and lines she finds there. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Ingrid whispers, the cool air blowing against Mapi’s chest and causing her to writhe, her head coming forward so she can look at her girlfriend as she attempts to respond. 

“A lot coming from you,” She purports, but it has absolutely no kick in it given how utterly wrecked she sounds, and Ingrid just smiles, pressing a kiss to the underside of her girlfriend’s chest before she goes lower, licking across the lines she finds on her girlfriend's stomach and enjoying the noises that it seems to elicit. 

Ingrid stands up when she has decided she’s laved enough attention on that part of the blonde, and she reaches up and lifts Mapi onto the counter easily, her biceps flexing as Mapi is just along for the ride, her body already tense and yet hazy with pleasure and anticipation for what Ingrid is going to do to her. 

Ingrid places either hand on Mapi’s thigh, and the blonde tenses under the tight grip of her girlfriend, clenching around nothing as a whine slips out of her lips. 

Ingrid smiles in front of her, her lips curling up as she loosens her grip on Mapi, trailing her fingers lightly over the blonde’s thigh. Mapi shifts uncomfortably as Ingrid ghosts her fingers higher, high, higher, until she runs them over her hips, plucking the string of Mapi’s bikini playfully. 

Mapi is breathing heavily, so turned on she can hardly think straight, and she forgets everything that isn’t Ingrid around her when the Norwegian finally steps between her legs, pulling on the back of her neck to bring the Spaniard's lips to her. 

Kissing Ingrid is all consuming, and Mapi feels it everywhere, feels the brunette everywhere around her. 

Ingrid nudges her face to the side, kissing down Mapi’s jaw and over the column of her neck, stopping to lave attention to any particular spot that she finds that she deems necessary of her rapt attention. 

So everywhere, basically. 

Mapi is a jumbling bundle of semi-incoherent noises under Ingrid, and she knows that the Norwegian is relishing in the fact that she can take her apart so easily, but she really can’t bring herself to care. 

For three days, this was all that she had wanted. And it’s so much better than she was expecting, so so much better. 

Ingrid returns to Mapi’s mouth for just a second before she places her hand directly on the blonde’s sternum, pressing her back until her back hits the cool countertop, her chest beneath her heaving. Ingrid smiles as she presses kisses to Mapi’s sternum, collarbones, chest, between the swell of her breasts, and down her stomach, until she reaches what will be her final destination. 

Ingrid hooks her fingers around the string of Mapi’s bikini bottoms, helping the Spaniard to lift her hips as she feels Ingrid drag them down her legs, tossing them somewhere into the abyss that is anywhere other than this kitchen counter, right here, right now. 

It’s a bit of an awkward position for the defender to be in, that is until Ingrid bends over at the waist, encouraging Mapi’s legs to come rest over her broad shoulders as she stares down exactly where she wants to be. 

Mapi wraps her legs around Ingrid’s neck, hooking her ankles together as Ingrid blows a cool stream of air right where Mapi needs her, causing the blonde’s hips to jump at the sensation. Ingrid looks up, locking eyes with Mapi as she grins devilishly before she leans in, licking through the blonde with no preamble, causing Mapi to throw her head back onto the counter, her hips jumping up at the sensation. 

One of Ingrid’s hands comes around to hold the Spaniard’s hips down to the counter, not letting them jump to meet Ingrid’s mouth like they want to.

The moment Ingrid’s mouth touches her clit, the Spaniard is letting out a completely shameless moan, her back arching off the counter and into Ingrid, despite the brunette’s attempts to keep her body pressed into the counter. 

Ingrid’s tongue might as well be a packaged dream for the defender, and today appears to be no different as the brunette hits all the correct buttons, reducing her to a writhing, positively dripping mess. She’s letting out keening whines and groans she hasn’t ever heard herself make, and she can feel Ingrid smile into her whenever she makes a noise. 

Mapi can feel herself getting worked up, her entire body flushed and ready, and Ingrid is right there with her, doubling down her efforts as the Spaniard pulls her even closer to her with her legs that are wrapped around Ingrid’s broad shoulders. 

She should have expected her orgasm more, given how worked up she had been. But one moment, she’s on the way, and the next Ingrid is attaching her lips to Mapi in just the right way, and something deep in the blonde’s gut snaps, sending her tumbling over the edge with a cry. 

She crunches in, one of her hands tangling in Ingrid’s hair, holding her right to the spot she’s in, both from that and her legs, which are still somehow wrapped around Ingrid. 

The brunette never stops her ministrations, and the blonde doesn’t even get a chance to catch her breath before she can feel herself on the edge again, pain mixing with pleasure as Ingrid pushes her bounds, and with a scream Mapi tumbles over the edge again, stars erupting behind her closed eyes as everything in her tightens for what feels like forever, and then the blonde is crashing back to earth, and back to Ingrid, who is lowering Mapi’s legs from around her and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Fuck,” Mapi says quietly as she sits up, not trusting her legs to hold her if she were to try to stand. Ingrid smiles innocently (a little too innocently for someone who just had her head in between Mapi’s legs, if you asked her), before she steps between Mapi’s open legs, pressing a kiss to the defender's lips. 

Mapi whines into the kiss, the taste of herself still on the midfielder's lips. Ingrid leans back with another smile, more devilish this time, clearly scheming something up. 

“Oh, that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Ingrid assured, stepping away from Mapi, and heading toward the bedroom. 

This girl was going to be the death of her, and that Mapi was absolutely certain of. 

—

After a glorious (and rather single minded) week in Ibiza, Mapi and Ingrid pack everything up and head for Norway, where Ingrid will be reporting to national duty, and Mapi will get the chance to actually meet Ingrid’s parents and all of her friends. 

They land in Norway and are immediately picked up by Frida Maanum and her girlfriend, Emma. Frida is one of Ingrid’s oldest friends, and she and Mapi get along easily right from the get-go, chatting easily back and forth from their spots in the front and back of the car, respectively. 

Ingrid can’t help but look over at Mapi every few minutes, amazed that she is here, that this is real life. She catches Emma looking at her with a small smile in the mirror, and she can’t help but smile back, a rather knowing look on both of their faces. 

Frida and Emma both had a front-seat view of Ingrid’s breakup with Maia and how it tore her apart from the inside out. Ingrid remembers sitting on their couch, sobbing, telling Frida that she wasn’t sure that it would ever be possible to love her. 

Emma had assured her from the beginning that she was worth it, as had Frida, but the brunette had always had a hard time believing her. 

It all felt a little full circle now, honestly. 

Mapi leans over into Ingrid’s seat to look out her window, pointing at the mountains with wide eyes, and Ingrid laughs gently, happy to see how much wonder is in Mapi’s eyes at the natural beauty of her country. 

Frida and Emma drive them to the hotel where they are all staying at. Frida and Ingrid will both be checking in here later this week with the national team, but they have a few days before that happens, and they decided it would just be easiest to stay at the same hotel the entire time. 

Mapi hadn’t questioned it, even if secretly she did wonder why they weren’t staying with Ingrid’s parents. But she didn’t question it, and Ingrid didn’t offer, and they left it at that for now. 

The first day that they’re there, Ingrid shows Mapi around downtown Oslo, taking her into shops and showing her one of her favorite cafes to eat at, as Mapi gets acclimated to being in the country. 

The Spaniard had been working on learning Norwegian, and she used the opportunity to practice the skills she’d learned, communicating in, albeit slightly broken, Norwegian. She appreciated how patient and kind everyone was as she learned. 

Ingrid and Mapi are set to meet Ingrid’s parents, Gudrun and Ørjan, that night at dinner. Ingrid is quiet as the time nears, and Mapi honestly finds herself understanding that sentiment, feeling exactly the same herself. 

She wants to make a good impression on Ingrid’s parents and wants them to approve of her. She has no idea whether or not they liked Maia or not, but she wants them to know that she is not anything like Ingrid’s ex and that she would never do what she did. 

But she also knows, at the end of the day, that she loves Ingrid, and Ingrid loves her, and if her parents don’t like her, then they don’t see how truly happy she makes her. 

Still, the nerves about meeting the parents are ever-present as they walk into the restaurant hand in hand, Ingrid leading the way. The brunette seems to locate her family immediately, and it takes a second but she finds them as well, doing her best to smile warmly as she walks over with Ingrid. She lets go of her girlfriend’s hand so that she can hug her parents, before she shakes their hands, doing her best to seem as friendly as humanly possible. 

“Hi, so wonderful to meet you both,” Mapi says kindly, a warm smile on her face as she shakes both Gudrun and Orjan’s hands. 

“Yes, Mapi, we’ve heard so much about you from Ingrid!” Orjan says politely, a small smile on his face as they sit down. 

The dinner is perfunctory if nothing else, really. Ingrid’s parents are perfectly friendly, but they seem to focus most of their attention on Ingrid, and Mapi doesn’t really enter the conversation much unless Ingrid pulls her into it. 

Mapi is hoping that it’s just been a long time since they’ve seen their daughter, and that’s why they aren’t really all that curious about Mapi. They are kind though, asking nice questions and listening with attention when Ingrid does manage to get Mapi into the conversation. They laugh at her jokes and say all the right things in response to her stories. 

The blonde entirely misses it, but at one point Mapi puts her hand on Ingrid’s arm as she’s laughing about something the Norwegian has just said, and both parents' expressions falter, before they quickly recover. 

Ingrid sees it though, watching with eyes like a hawk, curious as to their behavior. They’re not doing anything wrong, just acting a little strange, and Ingrid isn’t entirely sure why. 

She brushes it off, trying not to let it affect her like she would have when she was younger. 

“I’m going to go use the restroom,” Ingrid announces as their dinner is winding down, the last of the food cleared from their plates. Mapi nods at her, as do her parents, and the blonde watches as she stands and walks away from the table, back toward the bathroom. 

Mapi doesn’t notice it at first, but after a few seconds she realizes that the entire energy of the table has shifted, Ingrid’s parents staying quiet as an uncomfortable silence falls over the table, and Mapi wrings her hands nervously under the table. 

Something is up about this, though Mapi’s not entirely sure what. She can’t tell if the Engens are worried about their daughter, or don’t like Mapi, or they have some sort of bad news they’re waiting to tell? But either way, they’re acting weird even if they won’t say anything. 

They’re looking at Mapi with almost discomfort, their smiles never quite reaching their eyes. The blonde is about to open her mouth to say something when Ingrid is waltzing back in, smiling broadly and immediately bringing the energy back into the table with her. 

Mapi decides at that moment not to say anything, because really, Ingrid’s parents haven't done anything wrong? They’ve been perfectly nice to Mapi, and the blonde doesn’t feel like stirring the pot over nothing. 

Maybe they just need some time to get used to Mapi, to the idea of their daughter dating an older, Spanish woman. That’s probably it, she decides as they say goodbye, Ingrid smiling at her with almost relief. 

“That actually went really well,” Ingrid says as they make their way back into the hotel, and Mapi can’t help but agree readily, even if there’s something pulling at the back of her mind that says otherwise. She’s sure that she’s just being overdramatic, and reading into things too much. 

The two make their way up to their hotel room, both starting to get ready for bed. Ingrid has an early morning the next day, her first day with the national team for camp, and the two are quiet as they get ready for bed. Mapi sits on the bed after she’s changed into her pajamas, watching Ingrid work packing away her things meticulously, placing them in her suitcase.

The midfielder places the final thing in her suitcase, shutting it gently and sitting down beside it, letting out a deep breath she didn’t realize she was even holding. 

Mapi watched as Ingrid looked over at her, and she watched as a question formed in the midfielder’s mind, her head tilted to the side curiously. 

“What?” Mapi asked softly, sitting back on her hands as she looked at Ingrid. 

“Do you think that we would stay together even if we weren’t at the same club?” Ingrid thought out loud, and Mapi’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, not expecting that question. 

“Oh um…” She thinks for a moment, trying to formulate an answer that is both true and complete. 

“I think that,” Mapi started, speaking slowly and carefully, “we would both have to think about things. I never planned to do long distance, I’ve always said I never wanted to do it unless it was with the right person. And I would consider doing it, but I know it would be tough. And I want to make sure that we are both the happiest and best versions of ourselves, and right now that is when we are together.” Mapi answered, curious as to what Ingrid would think in response to that answer. The brunette seems to ponder that for a moment before she nods, shrugging just slightly. 

“That’s a really good answer, honestly. Plus, it’s not like either of us are going anywhere with our contracts, so I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Ingrid responded, and Mapi tilted her head as she examined the Norwegian’s expression. 

“Why did you ask then?” She asks gently, genuinely intrigued as to why the midfielder had brought it up. 

“I guess I was just thinking about my relationship with Maia, how it all felt like it really fell apart when I moved away. And I got to thinking, wondering if that would ever be us, if we would fall apart if one of us moved away,” Ingrid explained, her voice small in their suddenly large hotel room. 

Mapi stood, coming over to Ingrid and sitting down next to her, threading her fingers through the brunettes. 

“That will never be us. I would never let that happen to us, I love you too much,” Mapi promises, squeezing Ingrid’s hand. The Norwegian leans into her, her eyes suspiciously wet, before Mapi turns her head to give Ingrid a kiss on the top of her head. 

“Come on, let’s get some sleep. We have all the time in the world for existential questions, but maybe we can save them for when you don’t have to get up at 6am,” Mapi teased, and Ingrid laughed lightly, climbing into bed and tucking herself into the Spaniard’s side, falling asleep easily with the comforting weight of Mapi against her. 

—

After a successful week of practice with the Norwegian women's national team, Ingrid finally has a day off to spend with Mapi. The blonde insists that Ingrid join her for her training session, and luckily it doesn’t take much to convince her, just the promise that she doesn’t have to lift a finger and that Mapi will buy her a smoothie after. 

The blonde has been going to Ingrid’s old training center for the week, back from when she still lived in Norway before she moved abroad to play. Mapi loved the people there, they were all incredibly kind to Mapi as she stumbled her way through trying to communicate in Norwegian. 

Ingrid watched Mapi work out with what was clearly trying to be a mild interest, but the Spaniard could see the Norwegian side eyeing her while she read her book as the Spaniard did pull-ups on the bar across from her. 

She jumped down when she was finished with her set, smiling at Ingrid mischievously, and the midfielder immediately pulled her book up to cover her face, hiding her blush and smile. 

Mapi shakes her head, moving on to finish her workout, finishing up the last few sets before she grabs her water, walking over to the Norwegian, who is suddenly incredibly interested in her book. 

“See anything you like?” Mapi asked slyly, and Ingrid hummed noncommittally. 

“Mhm…” The brunette shrugged lightly, and her old trainer, Hans, rolled his eyes watching the exchange take place. 

“She’s been walking you like a hawk every time she knows you aren’t looking!” Hans called out from across the gym, and Ingrid swore under her breath in Norwegian, a guilty smile appearing on her face. 

“Thank you Hans, very helpful!” The midfielder called out, as she grinned up at her girlfriend, who was looking at her with the expression really? written all over her face, her hands on her hips. 

“Alright come on, you can ogle me in private if you so really please,” Mapi said with a wry smile, and Ingrid couldn’t help but roll her eyes before she accepted the hand Mapi offered out to her, pulling her to her feet. 

“Smoothie first?” Ingrid asked, and Mapi nodded easily, taking Ingrid’s hand and following her to the elevator that took them down to the parking garage beneath the building. 

The two had just stepped out of the elevator when Mapi clicked her tongue, shaking her head suddenly. 

“I forgot my phone upstairs, I’m going to go grab it real quick,” she explained to Ingrid, who nodded at her and watched as the elevator closed before her. 

Ingrid walked over to the wall next to the elevator, resting back on it as she looked down at her phone, at the home screen wallpaper she had, a picture of her, Mapi, and Bagheera together in the car. It had been such a nice day, and they had taken Bagheera to the beac–

“Well, well, well,” The sound of her voice made Ingrid’s blood run cold in just a second. 

Just like that, she was nineteen, holed up in a tiny apartment in Germany, letting her girlfriend berate her for her choice in dinner, picking the pasta over a salad that always left her craving more. 

She was twenty, screaming back at the beyond drunk individual in front of her, all of the anger and frustration bubbling out of her in hateful words spewed across the living room couch. 

She was twenty-one, letting her girlfriend beat her against the wall over her mistake during a game that had caused the opposition to score a goal. It didn’t matter that her girlfriend wasn’t on the team, because it was Ingrid who had made the mistake.

She was twenty-two, exhausted and worn down, hateful and mean as she listened to her girlfriend complain for the hundredth time about how under appreciated she was. 

It was funny, how all of those people were Ingrid, yet she was such a different person now. 

It was funny, how someone could do so much work to heal, and all it takes is the sound of one person to send them into fight or flight, erasing all of the security in her body. Ingrid isn’t even sure she’s in her body anymore, and there’s a sense of detachment to her movements, something compulsory about the whole thing. 

Ingrid looks up slowly, and sure enough, Maia is standing not five yards from her, a wry, mocking smile on her face. 

“Maia,” Ingrid says plainly, hoping they can leave it at that and move on with their lives. She and Maia had trained here together when they were younger, but that was years ago. She had no idea that Maia still trained here, that Maia was even in town. Last she checked Maia was in Australia, across the globe from here. 

“Back so soon? Couldn’t take the heat in Barcelona?” Maia asked, overly sweet, derisive sympathy dripping from her tone. 

“No, national team duty,” Ingrid attempts to throw back with the same level of contempt, but her voice sounds weak and quiet, and she hates herself for it. She can feel herself slipping away, panic creeping in, her heart rate increasing and her breath coming in faster gasps as she fights to stay calm. 

Logically, Ingrid knows that Maia can’t do anything to her here, in public. 

But the emotional part of Ingrid is drifting, losing a battle to the tsunami of anxiety that is rising in her. 

“Oh please Ingrid, we both know you’re a placeholder on that team, at best. At Barcelona too, it’s not like you hardly play at all. You’re nothing but a glorified benchwarmer, too busy making friends and playing nice to actually put your head down and work hard enough to play correctly.” Maia spat, her works full of vitriol and malice. 

“And I see you back here, flaunting that Spanish whore around like you were meant to be, the Posh and Becks of women's football. It’s really not a good look, and when she’s done using you for whatever she’s found useful about you, you’re going to be just as alone, and worthless, and useless about yo–”

—

Mapi had ridden up the elevator silently, going back into the gym and grabbing her phone from the cubby she had set it in, stopping to tell Hans thanks again for his help this week, chatting for a few minutes before she went down to Ingrid. 

But as Mapi rode the elevator down, even before the doors were opening she could hear noise, the sound of someone speaking harshly, their tone clipped and brash. 

“that Spanish whore around like you were meant to be, the Posh and Becks of women's football. It’s really not a good look, and when she’s done using you for whatever she’s found useful about you, you’re going to be just as alone, and worthless, and useless about yo–” 

“Excuse me?” Mapi was flying out of the elevator the minute the doors were open, taking in the scene in front of her. 

Ingrid was standing against the wall, looking half petrified and one wrong step away from crying, and not fifteen feet away from her stood who Mapi instantly recognized to be Maia. The blonde immediately walked forward, coming to stand in front of Ingrid, facing Maia and crossing her hands over her chest, her lip curled in disgust. 

“Oh, and the fuck buddy decided to show up to protect you! How sweet, just wait until you hear about all the shit she’s pulled. You’ll be running for the hills,” Maia explained, and Mapi heard Ingrid let out a tiny whimper from behind her. 

The Spaniard stepped back, uncrossing her arms and instead reaching one of her hands back, her hand blindly grasping for Ingrid’s. Luckily, the brunette gets the message, reaching forward to grip Mapi’s hand like it’s a lifeline, holding on with everything in her. 

“Ah yes, the fuck buddy who she’s been dating for a year, that’s me! And too bad I already know all of that ‘shit,’ and don’t give a fuck, because I know who she is as a person.” 

“And honestly Maia? You fucked up, you fucked up real bad. Because not only did you abuse and torment an innocent person until she isolated herself from everyone out of fear, but you fumbled the bag, big time.” 

“Because Ingrid is genuinely one of the sweetest, most gentle, and loving human beings I have ever met. She’s passionate, and fun, and she makes me and so many other people laugh so hard our stomachs ache and our cheeks hurt from smiling. She treats everyone and everything around her with the kindness that she deserves, instead of the kindness that she received for so many years, which was so little because of you. So how about instead of sitting here and berating her and making her feel bad about being human and growing and changing, you go pick on someone your own size? A lizard…or a snake maybe? Both incredibly viable options,” Mapi smiled, but it lacked a single ounce of warmth. Maia was standing there staring at her with a shocked expression, and with that the blonde turned and walked away briskly, dragging a half-shocked, half-catatonic Ingrid behind her. 

Mapi opens the car door for her girlfriend, gently pushing her down into the seat and clicking her seatbelt into place before she walks briskly, but calmly, over to the driverside. 

“I need you to hold it together for two more minutes,” Mapi whispered quietly, and Ingrid nodded mechanically as Mapi threw the car into reverse, backing it up and driving out of the parking garage at a painfully normal speed. 

Mapi pulls out onto the road, driving them until she finds an alleyway, turning into it, throwing the car into park. 

Ingrid immediately breaks down into tears, and Mapi dives to get out of the car, lurching over to the other side. 

She opens the door just for Ingrid to practically fall into her, sending them both tumbling down onto the hard concrete. Mapi genuinely couldn’t care less, and she immediately ran her hand through the brunette’s hair, holding her anywhere and everywhere, whispering sweet nothings into her hair. 

It’s okay, I’m right here. 

I’ve got you. 

She shouldn’t have said any of that. 

It’s not true. 

You’re an amazing player, and an even more amazing person. 

Barcelona is lucky to have you as a player. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

Mapi hopes that maybe if she says it enough, Ingrid will choose to believe her. 

It takes a few minutes, but gradually the Norwegian begins to calm, her sobs turning into stuttering breaths against Mapi’s chest, and finally just deep breaths. 

Mapi reaches down, swiping the tears that continue to fall, albeit slightly slower than when she had first started crying in the car. 

“Thank you, for standing up for me in there,” Ingrid murmurs softly, and Mapi shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Always Ingrid. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I wish I could have done more to hel–” 

“You were perfect,” Ingrid cuts her off to say, her words decisive. Mapi’s face calms just slightly and she reaches down to press a kiss to Ingrid’s forehead, letting the brunette sink into her. 

The brunette clings to her, hugging her tightly. And Mapi just lets her. 

There’s not anywhere else in the world she would want to be, anyway. She can feel the Norwegian’s heart rate slow, her breaths evening as everything in her calms, much quicker considering the proximity to the blonde. 

“Can I uh,” Ingrid starts, her voice strong and yet unsure, “can I take you somewhere?” She asks softly, and Mapi immediately nods. 

“Anywhere.” 

—

Ingrid plugged the address into her phone, setting it up on the dash of the car as Mapi pulled back out into the road. 

The blonde placed her hand on the center console, her palm up, a silent invitation that Ingrid immediately took, slipping her hand into Mapi’s and wrapping her hand around the Spaniards. 

They drove in silence, Mapi unsure of what to say, and Ingrid silently thinking. 

The blonde wasn’t sure where Ingrid’s head was at, and she wanted to respect that, giving Ingrid the space to think, to express whatever she felt like she needed to. 

The things that Maia had said had been horrendous, and Mapi was incredibly mad at herself that she hadn’t been there. On a certain level she knew that there was no way she could have known, but the look Ingrid had given her when she had stepped off the lift, the pure fear in her eyes made something twist uncomfortably in her stomach. 

It isn’t a long drive, luckily, not fifteen minutes before Mapi and Ingrid are pulling into the parking lot of what looks to be a football pitch. She parks, turning to Ingrid with a raised eyebrow, but the brunette shakes her head, turning to step out of the car. 

Mapi follows suit, trailing after the midfielder as she walks onto the pitch. 

Ingrid ends up in the middle of the field, sitting down and running her hand through the grass slowly, and Mapi sits across from her, just watching her, waiting for her to say something. 

“This is the place where I was scouted for the first time,” Ingrid starts, and understanding dawns on Mapi, who looks around more, curious about the space. It’s nice but nothing special, with a few bleachers on the side, and a well looked after pitch. 

“And I remember coming home from that game, getting the call from the manager at Trondheims, and feeling just so excited. I was on cloud nine, I mean really. The sport that I loved to play so much, with all my friends, as a career?” 

“I felt like I was on top of this world, like nothing could pull me down. And I loved it so much, and I had so much fun.” 

“And all those years with Maia, I let all of that get taken away from me. I let myself turn into the kind of person who would say those things, let those things be said to her, I let it creep into my life and ruin everything.” 

“When I first came to Barcelona, I felt like I would never get my life back. It felt like the end of the line, some last ditch effort to turn things around. And those first few weeks, it all just fell downhill even further, and I thought I had made a huge mistake, that I should go back to Maia, back to Norway, and just throw it all away.” 

“And then you called me princesa one time and blew my whole life as I knew it apart,” Mapi’s face falls, confused by Ingrid’s specific choice of words, insinuating that the defender had caused even more hurt, which was technically true at the time. 

“And then…and then you fixed everything.” Mapi looks up sharply, her expression full of shock. 

“I don’t thank you for it enough Mapi, but you helped me build my life back up again, and I can never repay you for that.”

“She is…she is horrible, and she should have never said those things, and she should have never said those things about you. You’re not some…whore or fuck buddy or stupid hookup for me. I love you and I love your heart and I love being with you, and that is anything but impermanent.” 

“I love you Mapi. Thank you for helping me build my life back from nothing, for giving me all the love in the world, for believing in me, and for not only fixing me, but helping me to fix myself. You gave me my life back, you gave me that wonder that I felt on this pitch back. You turned back the clock, you saved my career, you saved me.” Ingrid utters, and Mapi’s vision is blurry from the impending tears, and she’s already reaching up to brush them away. 

The Spaniard leans forward, sitting up on her knees and grabbing Ingrid’s head in between her hands, holding her head as if it’s the most precious, important thing in the entire world. 

Because for her it is. 

“And I love you so much, mi princesa. You are so brave and loving, and you deserve every good thing in this world.” 

“I am so proud of you, Ingrid, for everything. You did this mija, and you deserve all the credit. I meant everything I said in there. I love you, and I am so proud of you,” Mapi declared, and a single tear rolled down Ingrid’s cheek as she smiled, pressing her forehead against Mapi’s. 

“Thank you.” 

“Always, mi princesa.” 

—

Mapi pressed post without hesitation, smiling as she swiped through the collection of photos she had chosen. She had just gotten home a few minutes ago and had decided that today was the day to finally post Ingrid on her Instagram. 

The blonde had gotten the Norwegian’s permission several weeks ago to post this, back when they were still in Norway, but she wanted to wait until the moment felt perfect. They had been back from their trip for a few weeks now, pre-season had just started, and everything was perfect. Everything about Mapi felt at peace in this moment, as they began their next, likely to be incredibly dominant season with everyone, and Ingrid, at her side. 

Mapi hears Ingrid’s car pull up, and she immediately perks, shifting in her chair to face the brunette. 

She hears the keys rattle in the lock, the offending juncture turning suddenly, the door pushing in, revealing Ingrid. 

But as Mapi looks over the brunette, she feels her blood run cold. Because Ingrid’s face is red and swollen from crying, and there are already more tears welled in her eyes, and it's a look that is going to haunt Mapi in her sleep. 

“Ingrid, what is it?” Mapi asks quietly, her voice serious and low, cutting through the tension between them like a sharp blade. Ingrid shakes her head, her hand slipping from the doorknob as a fat, bumblebee-like tear slips down her cheek and lands on the floor. 

A million possible ideas are running through Mapi’s head at that moment. 

She’s hurt. 

Someone she knows is hurt or dead or something. 

She’s breaking up with Mapi. 

She saw something horrifying on her way home. 

Mapi can’t make sense of it, but she watches with an increasing heart rate as Ingrid shakes her head, bringing her hand up to scrub the tears from her face before she takes a deep breath and looks up at Mapi. 

The regret and pain on her face is unlike anything Mapi has ever seen before in the brunette. Not when she broke things off with Mapi. Not when she had to leave the hurt blonde. Not even when she finally explained everything about her past to the defender. 

This is something entirely different, and Mapi for the life of her can’t imagine what it could possibly be. 

Unless…

No. There was no way. They wouldn’t do that. 

Would they? 

“Ingrid…” Mapi starts, and the brunette swallows roughly before she opens her mouth, finally letting loose the bomb that is going to change everything. 

“I’m being traded from Barcelona.”