Summary : After moving to Madrid as Real Madrid's new photographer, Nicky can’t seem to take her eyes off the pretty face Misa Rodríguez. But how will she handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her contract strictly forbids dating players?
WC: I don't know, way too much
TW: at some point angst, smut +18, but still a lot of fluff
PS: French writer / I wrote this story during the 23/24 season, that explained some of the players are not in the team anymore. Anyway, it's a parallel univers so I do what I want.
Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought
Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope
Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking
Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico
Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and Peaks
Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique
Chapter 7 ➺ In the Haze
Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions
Chapter 9 ➺ The same struggle
Chapter 10 ➺ A place for words
Chapter 11 ➺ Not a cloud in sight
Season 2
Summary: A new season begins for Nicky, the newly promoted photography director of Real Madrid. Navigating her new responsibilities while maintaining her secret relationship with Misa is not easy on a daily basis, especially when the unpredictability of life keeps making things even more complicated.
WC: don't know yet
TW: angst, smut +18, but still a lot of fluff
PS: French writer / this season is based on the real previous season 24/25, with some changes and accommodations
Chapter 12 ➺ Better and bitter
Chapter 13 ➺ Dangerous steps
Chapter 14 ➺ The fall
Chapter 15 ➺ Broken nights
Chapter 16 ➺ Winter lights
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Blow my whistle
Misa Rodríguez x Leila Ouahabi x Reader
+18 pure smut with, I hope, a little bit of fun.
[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]
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MISA FIC REC
A Poorly Planned Escape by @skalfy
A Reputation for Good Taste by @skalfy
You Can't Talk No Sh*t Without Penalties (Misa Rodriguez x Marta Cardona) by @copper-16
Just Let Go 1 2 3 4 5 by @girlgenius1111
To the brink by @girlgenius1111
No one speaks to you like that by @girlgenius1111
ibiza holiday, part2 (leila ouahabi & misa rodríguez) by @a-pute11as
swipe, like, love, misa x reader by @starrynights-sunnyskies
a clash to keep her by @starrynights-sunnyskies
mine to save by @starrynights-sunnyskies
mine to protect by @starrynights-sunnyskies
One night in Ibiza (Misa Rodríguez x Hermoso!Reader) by @pitchsidestories
Tough & Hard by @helen-with-an-a
Compliments by @helen-with-an-a
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The hottest dating show of the summer has arrived: The Ultimatum. One partner in every duo is issuing the crucial ultimatum: get married or break up. They will de-couple and trial marriage with a new partner to help give them clarity before ultimately coming back together and deciding to get married or go their separate ways.
Five couples enter – how many will exit?
Wordcount: 9.8k
Warnings: 18+
Masterlist
Part 2 -> Part 3 -> Part 4
Welcome back to The Ultimatum!
Last week saw our couples dissolve and the single mingle train leave the station. Some tempers flared as the women had to watch their beloveds start the process of sussing out who they'll want to match with come next week.
Our gracious host, Patri, helped along the bonding with a very informative game of Never Have I Ever.
We learned that Lucy and Ona appear to enjoy some company in the bedroom.
Alba is a terror behind the wheel.
Marta has never left the country, even for a vacation.
Misa's flirt game extended to a past training client—oops!—getting her fired from a job.
Alexia was the first to tap out, downing her drink faster than anyone else. Maybe there is some spice lying behind that closed off exterior.
Ingrid and Jenni were the only ones left at the end with liquid still in their cups. And ultimately, Jenni came out on top, winning a one-on-one date with a woman (not Alexia) of her choosing.
The lucky lady she chose was…Misa!
Let's jump back into the fray and see if these two utilize this date to connect on a more, ahem, private level, if you catch the drift.
This week will also bring about another dating game challenge and the chance at a second date to be won as we head into the home stretch of choosing a new partner for trial marriage.
Get to work, ladies! You only have a few more days to make new connections and decide who you want to saddle yourself with for the next three weeks!
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[Secluded beach front - Jenni/Misa]
"So why did you pick me?" the surly personal trainer asks with her arms crossed over her chest.
Jenni takes in her posture, the defensiveness obvious. She cocks her head to the side.
Misa fidgets slightly. Eyes shifting to the left the longer Jenni stares in silence.
The architect's lips quirk up briefly. Five minutes one-on-one with the woman and the entire air of nonchalance falls away. Misa is uncomfortable, her usual barbed tongue quiet as she shifts in the lingering quiet.
"What?" she finally asks, eyes squinting in suspicion.
Jenni chuckles. "You're all bark and no bite, aren't you?"
Misa scoffs in irritation. "I am not!" she exclaims defiantly.
"Oh, you definitely are," the older woman counters, leaning forward to pour them both a drink from the champagne bottle left by production to encourage the date along.
The personal trainer huffs out a sigh but accepts the flute offered to her without further comment.
"So, tell me why you're here," Jenni states casually.
Misa groans, head tipping back. "I wish people would stop asking me that," she grits out behind a clenched jaw. "Clearly I'm not here by choice."
"It's all a choice," Jenni states calmly. "And the sooner you stop acting like a martyr about it, the sooner you can actually lean into why you said yes to coming on this experiment."
"You're just saying that because you're on Leila's side. She got into your ear first and now you pity her and are ready to paint me as the villain."
"I see no villains here. Do you?" the architect replies with an arched eyebrow. "I see people trying to navigate a hard time in their relationships."
"And you're one of them," the personal trainer snarks in an effort to wrestle back some leverage, some control.
Jenni sighs, eyes falling to her glass of champagne, watching as the bubbles fizzle out slowly the longer she leaves the drink untouched. "I am," the dark-haired woman states softly. "Which is why I know you're not a villain, even if you're trying very hard to appear like one to Leila."
Dark, searching eyes stare back into the older woman's vivid green.
The stillness in the personal trainer's posture is all the confirmation Jenni needs that she's touched on the truth.
The silence lingers, and the older woman lets it.
"I don't want to hurt her," Misa finally whispers, voice tight. "But I can't give her what she wants."
"Why not?"
"Because imagining the future with her, marriage and whatever that comes with, makes my chest tighten like I can't breathe. And that can't possibly be what you're supposed to feel when thinking about that kind of commitment to your girlfriend, right?"
Jenni's head tilts in consideration. Is this what Alexia feels when they talk about marriage? The woman has never said so. But then again, her girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend—has never been one able to willingly able to share her feelings without Jenni carefully helping unravel the ball of emotions she stuffs deep down in her chest.
"Like is that how you feel thinking about marrying Alexia?" Misa asks, eyebrows knit in contemplation.
"No," Jenni answers immediately. "I feel at peace. Like it's the easiest decision of my life to want to marry her."
"Exactly," Misa murmurs, eyes no longer sharp with an edge about them but softened by the truth finally spoken aloud to someone. "That is why I can't marry Leila. Because it doesn't feel right. And I have no clue why that is or what to do about it."
Jenni offers a sad smile. She misread Misa earlier. She isn't a fuckboy. The younger woman uses her charm and an air of cool distance to keep from showing the hard truth that she's scared and uncertain just like everyone else.
"Fuck," the personal trainer mutters, running a hand through her hair. "How do you get people to open up like this? I thought you either were going to pummel me on behalf of Leila's honor or seriously ask for me to set you up with a workout regimen—which you clearly don't need," she adds, eyes lingering at the firm muscles underneath Jenni's open shirt, her black bikini doing little to conceal the abs there.
"I was contemplating the first one," the architect teases. "But I think after talking to you, and despite being on opposite ends of the ultimatum situation, we actually probably have a lot in common."
"Yeah? Like what?"
Jenni's eyes twinkle dangerously. "I think this group could use an infusion of fun, no?" she answers with a smirk.
Misa smirks in response, mind moving away from the dangerous topic of marriage and her relationship with Leila to simpler thoughts. "Ooo, you thinking something fun? Like a prank war?"
"We're going to get along just fine," Jenni replies, dimples popping out as she grins. "Let's start with Mapi, shall we?"
The younger woman laughs loudly, her face brightening at the prospect of causing some mayhem. She looks down at her watch, a fancy gold thing that originally aided in the illusion of her promiscuous ways. Misa catches Jenni staring at it.
"It was my grandfather's," she murmurs quietly, a hand tracing over the watch face reverently.
"You were close to him?" Jenni asks softly.
"Incredibly," Misa replies.
"When did he pass?"
The younger woman looks up in surprise, the question shining through in her gaze.
Jenni shrugs in reply. "Alexia lost her dad," she offers in response. "She traces things of his like that sometimes. Like her fingertip is rewinding time and replaying a memory all in one go."
"Yeah," Misa replies, head nodding. "It's exactly that," she answers softly, further thawing to the older woman. Her defenses were up in the beginning, watching Leila and the dark-haired architect fall into a long talk right from the onset of the direction to mingle by the host, Patri. But she understands it a bit better now.
They weren't bonding over bashing their exes to each other.
Jenni just is one of those people who draws you in and gets you to admit things nobody else has access to see.
The personal trainer has seen how even the older woman's ex, Alexia, can't keep her eyes off the dark-haired architect, gaze stretching across the space no matter where either of them end up just to find that sense of home.
And Misa wonders what it feels like to be someone else's gravity like that.
We ended last episode with obvious tension between Leila and Misa. Jenni stepped in to support the dark-haired editor who appears to have become a fast connection and then surprised everyone by choosing Leila's ex, Misa, as her date for winning the game. I think I speak for everyone when I say that the last thing I expected out of these two was a heart-to-heart conversation. No villains exist here on The Ultimatum. Just humans trying their best to salvage or walk away from relationships they've given years of their life to. Only time will tell which relationships are destined for matrimony and which will punch their tickets to the broken heart club.
Let's get into it this week!
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[Ibiza Resort]
"Good morning, chicas!" Patri exclaims with enthusiasm as the morning sun raises the following day. The host is in a light tan linen set today, sunglasses perched on her face and an easy smile hanging off her lips. She looks every bit the epitome of a vacation in Ibiza.
The small talk that had taken up residence as the crew waited for filming to start for the day dulls to nothing, attentions front and center.
"We are quickly closing in on Decision Day," the brunette informs the many eyes on her.
Most of the girls nod in understanding. They next phase of the show is fast approaching: trial marriage with what is essentially a chosen stranger.
"But before that happens, we have some more mingling to do," she states with a grin. "And another competition to forge new connections with one lucky winner getting to choose her plus one for a private date! That'll come later in the day. For now, grab your drink of choice and start a conversation with someone new!"
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[Poolside Couch - Alexia / Ona]
Alexia sighs heavily, arms crossed over her chest as if the frown on her face doesn't convey enough by itself how much she hates this.
Ona plops gracefully onto a cushion two down from Alexia, giving the consultant space while still being present.
"Hello," the lawyer states calmly.
Alexia appreciates the lack of fake cheer. She nods.
The younger woman raises her eyebrows in silent exclamation.
Sighing lightly, Alexia answers with words. "Hi Ona."
That brings a small smile to the lawyer's face. "So how are we feeling about this whole thing?"
"We?" Alexia asks with a snort. "We hate it," she emphasizes.
Ona grins. "Really? I couldn't tell!" she exclaims sarcastically.
The older woman rolls her eyes but can't stop the small smile from emerging. Ona understands her humor. And the woman's calm is exactly the kind of energy Alexia could use right now.
"You gave Lucy the ultimatum, didn't you?"
Sighing, Ona nods. "I did."
"Why?"
"Because it felt like she wasn't listening to my words anymore, just the story she has spun in her head of how I'm supposed to feel, how I'm supposed to live," the lawyer says softly, eyebrows furrowing as her head sorts through months of them talking past each other. "She overthinks things sometimes."
Alexia watches, recognizing a sort of kinship with the pain she finds in those eyes. There's a thread of commonality here between all the couples, a similar pain being navigated at its core, even if this argument around marriage can feel at times like it is solely hers.
Ona's gaze lands on the business consultant, wise and present and searching in its own way for that connection of understanding.
Alexia gives it to her, eyes open and understanding where before they were closed off and barbed, trying to give off an air of 'leave me alone'.
"So I tried to break her out of all these assumptions. But things weren't landing like I hoped," Ona adds. "We just kept circling. And I'm tired of the dance of miscommunication. So I pulled the only trigger left: a big action. Something she would stop and take notice of in a way she doesn't during the daily drum of our life together."
Alexia feels her brain stuttering to pull out a thread of memory that has perked up at those words. Her fingers almost grasp at it before it sputters away. All she knows is it was something she tucked down and away. Which usually means it is not only something important but also something she does not want to face head on—a dangerous combination."
"It sucks to feel like you've been backed into that position, backed into uttering an ultimatum to make the person you love the most actually stop and listen to you."
The lawyer sucks in a breath, chest rising and then falling in exhaustion over verbalizing her last year of pain into something as simple as a few sentences.
"It's like we're speaking different languages on this topic in particular when we've always been in step all the rest of the time. And I'm starting to lose hope that she will ever learn my language."
That speaks to Alexia.
"Maybe it's not about teaching your language to her," she murmurs, eyes landing on Jenni across the space. Her heart clenches painfully in want. She wants the architect. She has always wanted her. And always will.
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe it's about learning hers instead."
Ona looks at Alexia thoughtfully.
"Maybe we all could benefit from not listening to solve the problem but listening to understand their perspective instead."
Silence takes over the space as both turn that thought over in their head. Each are on different sides of these ultimatums, but both have found common ground in the pain those ultimatums have created.
Young Ona is wise beyond her years, isn't she? It's no surprise to us that she's the first one to break through Alexia's icy walls. Is there a spark there? The common ground they just found today could be the perfect situation to start a slow burning connection between these two!
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[Cabana 2 - Alba / Lucy]
"Hiya," Alba states cheerfully, plopping down on the couch under the covered cabana next to a wide-eyed Lucy.
"Um, hello," the general contractor murmurs, eyes flicking anywhere but where the younger Putellas' breasts sit on full display in her barely there bikini top.
Lucy can feel her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at almost letting her gaze linger on an area it definitely should not land on a woman who isn't Ona. It isn't proper. She would much rather be a fly on the wall until which time the younger, bubbly woman decides to interact with someone else.
Alba seems to instantly understand this.
She chuckles lightly and pulls on a cover-up, lowering Lucy's stress levels considerably.
The general contractor blows out a breath, relaxing back into the couch.
"I think you'd get along really well with my sister," the teacher says conversationally as she sips on her cold, fruity-looking drink.
"Why is that?" Lucy asks curiously, taking a sip of her own drink.
"Because you'd both rather talk to a wall than a pretty girl," she states with a smirk.
The older woman splutters, her drink spraying out of her mouth in disbelief.
Alba cheekily smiles. "Got you," she teases.
Lucy chuckles, wiping a forearm across her chin. "You are a menace."
"But a very cute one, no?" the younger woman asks with faux innocence.
"I'm not going to survive this conversation, am I?" the older woman says with a nervous laugh.
"Probably not!" Alba exclaims cheerfully. "I suppose it depends on the topic though, doesn't it?"
Lucy groans. "Okay, what are we talking about then?"
"I want to know more about your threesome adventures with Ona," the younger woman states with a wicked smirk. "I am veryyyy intrigued."
"Why is that?" the general contractor replies, cheeks flushed pink and voice tight. It's one thing to own it in a quick round within a drinking game and another entirely to discuss openly during a one-on-one conversation.
"Well, because you're both insanely hot," Alba says, face showing how Lucy should obviously understand that is part of her reasoning. "And I'm curious how that hasn't blown up your relationship," she adds seriously. "You both seem down bad for each other, even in the middle of this chaotic show. How do you find a love like that and protect it from degrading when you add a third person in the middle?"
Lucy pauses, eyes scanning and finding sincerity in Alba's question.
"I love her," the older woman replies simply. "And she loves me. Not in a performative way. Not in a conditional way. So I put her first while she puts me first. We have rules for the instances we invite another woman into our bed. And we constantly check-in before, during, and after. If either of us use our safe word, it ends. No questions asked."
"How does a couple that sounds like they have such great communication end up on this show?" Alba asks curiously.
Lucy frowns, gaze going stormy as she contemplates the answer to a question she's never once stopped to ask herself. If she and Ona have been able to communicate their way through so many other difficult conversations before, what's different about this one?
The general contractor sits back in her seat, mind churning over the hows and whys and whats, needing to get to the root of the difference. She won't know peace until she answers that question for herself. It might be the key to solving this whole ultimatum business between them.
Alba came in hot and provocative, but seemed to instantly read exactly what shy Lucy did (or rather did not) need in order to loosen up. But, uh oh, it looks like that last probing question into her relationship between the young lawyer has Lucy brooding even more than before!
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[Pool - Ingrid / Mapi]
"Hi beautiful," Mapi states confidently as she casually swims up to the pool float holding the brunette model with the gorgeous eyes.
Ingrid snorts and raises an eyebrow as her gaze sweeps from the cheeky grin on the tattoo artist's mouth down her sternum to some impressively perky tits.
Mapi chuckles. "Keep looking," she directs with a smirk. "I'm getting off on the attention."
The darker brunette laughs openly at that. "You're very bold."
"You like it," the older woman teases lightly.
"I do," Ingrid confirms with a smirk.
"Your ex doesn't seem the type, though," Mapi fishes lightly, curious about the relationship there and how the two came to be on this show. She hasn't spoken to Marta yet and her exposure to Ingrid so far has been limited to across the room glances and a heat of attraction when their eyes do meet.
Ingrid is definitely her type on paper.
Now to suss out if there is depth to that attraction.
"She's not," the dark-haired model states with a shrug, gaze holding Mapi's.
The tattoo artist raises an eyebrow.
"So tell me what else you're looking for that you haven't had in your last relationship."
Ingrid cocks her head in appraisal. She may know that her thing with Marta has run its course, but she's not verbalized it. And doing so now so openly in front of cameras she can't help but noticed out of the corner of her eye has her leaning down into Mapi's space. Her lips find the curve of the older woman's ear.
And if the tattoo artist gasps softly when her lips glance across the sensitive skin there?
Well, Ingrid stores that away for later.
"I want the kind of attraction that sends a shock through my core from across the room," the model whispers low enough for the cameras to miss. "I want the kind of passion that leaves me breathless just at the promise of what's to come."
Mapi pushes further into the pool float, feeling arousal flood her system at both Ingrid's provocative words as well as her proximity. This might be the hottest thing she's experienced while not being touched.
"I want fire and laughter and someone who turns me inside out in the best way," the younger woman murmurs.
"And that isn't Marta?" Mapi mutters back quietly, aware Ingrid's volume dropped for a reason, even if she's not entirely sure what that is.
The model respects how the older woman just slips right into her rhythm without needing the details or the specifics. Things don't flow like this with Marta despite their years together.
What connected them at one point has slowly aided in the divide that separates them now.
Marta is orderly and sweet, so sweet. She's considerate and kind and a quiet love that wraps you up in a pleasant warmth. Sort of like friendship.
That has become Ingrid's sticking point. Marta feels like just her best friend these days, not her lover. And while marriage should absolutely include a basis of friendship at its core, the model is worried about the absolute dread she feels in her chest when she imagines forty more years of the same.
"No," Ingrid whispers, voice breaking slightly as she finally vocalizes it out loud.
Instead of a cocky smirk, Mapi throws her a gentle, knowing look. With a squeeze of her forearm, the tattoo artist murmurs a quick, "be right back" before navigating over towards the swim up portion of the bar.
She returns shortly with a frozen margarita in hand, offering it to Ingrid.
"Here," the older woman states. "Heartbreaking realizations deserve some comfort."
Ingrid snorts. "And that comfort is a margarita?"
Mapi grins. "Well, I asked if they had chocolate but sadly they're only serving us drinks today in the hopes we'll give them some good lesbian drama once we're all drunk."
The dark-haired beauty laughs as the joke loosens the tension of the previous moment.
Her eyes stay locked on Mapi as the woman smiles to herself at the sound before leaning back into the water and floating effortlessly with her eyes closed and face turned up towards the sun.
Ingrid bites her lip as her eyes take in the view.
For the first time in a long while, she feels something hotter than lukewarm.
Wow! The chemistry of these two is off the rails. Anyone with eyes can see the clear spark between them. Could this attraction lead to our first trial marriage couple?!?
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[Buffet Table - Misa / Marta]
"Hello," a soft voice greets from the left of Misa.
The personal trainer jolts out of her head, thoughts of her life back home and journey here with Leila pushed away in favor of turning her head to stare down whoever dared to intrude on her solitude, eyebrow already cocked at the ready.
Marta tucks a piece of hair behind her ear shyly, a tentative smile on her face. "Sorry," she murmurs, "I didn't mean to interrupt your thoughts."
Misa's lips quirk up into a returning smile unconsciously before she catches the action, dropping back into her frown.
The director seems to think twice at her decision to boldly say hi to the brooding and intimidating woman. Something she'll lay blame firmly on the three drinks she's already downed without eating prior.
Marta drops her gaze to the still empty plate in her hand, trapped in the buffet line by an unmoving Misa who got to the second hot plate and stopped in her contemplation.
That seems to push Misa out of her silence, her gaze tracking Marta's empty plate, her own, and the line of food she's blocking in front of her.
Misa clears her throat, stepping back and gesturing to Marta to move past her. "Sorry," she states gruffly. "I was lost in thought."
Marta smiles tentatively at the words, deciding to take them as an offer to continue the conversation instead of a dismissal.
"Hope it was a good conversation," she states lightly.
That pulls a bark of a laugh out of the personal trainer, her lips clamping shut shortly after like she never meant for it to happen.
Marta giggles as she starts spooning fruit onto her plate, watching as Misa's face goes through an entire spectrum of emotion. "You don't talk much," the older woman states softly.
"You don't seem very chatty yourself," Misa replies with a grunt, slowly trailing down the buffet line after Marta, body automatically mirroring the other woman's food choices as her thoughts fill with only observations about the director.
When they get to the end of the line, the older woman walks towards one of the covered tables. And Misa finds herself following on default sliding into the seat across from Marta.
The director only smiles and takes a bite of her food, eyes diverted downwards.
Misa blinks once, twice, and slowly comes back to herself, realizing she somehow has ended up with a plate of food she didn't intend on making and sitting across from the quiet, but curious, ex of that tall model.
Huh.
"Do you have siblings?" Marta asks softly as she spears a piece of watermelon with her fork.
The personal trainer isn't quite sure what keeps her seated.
Maybe it's the lilting cadence of the older woman's voice. It's comforting and nice to listen to.
Maybe it's the woman's eyes that are somehow a deep, rich color but also carry a lightness that leave Misa mesmerized. She isn't sure she has even seen brown eyes so pretty before.
Maybe it's the way that for the first time here on the show the personal trainer's shoulders have dropped, tension loosened and defenses soothed back into calm. Marta is calm. And it seems to have seeped into Misa as well.
When Misa replies without snark or a quip or a closed-off eyebrow raise, Marta is caught off guard. But a bright smile quickly takes over her face as she listens to the personal trainer speak more sentences talking about her sister than the director has ever heard the younger woman utter prior.
And if Misa finds herself opening up in a way that is so very unlike her usual restrained self, well, it must be the alcohol. Right?
Well now…it seems we may have stumbled onto something worth following here. Misa has finally dropped the too cool for school act. And sweet Marta looks optimistically hopeful at both the attention from the personal trainer but also the honesty. Is something deeper brewing here? Sometimes you just know at first meeting that a person is meant to be in your orbit. But do these two have enough oxygen on board to get them safely through to the next phase of this experiment?
---------------------------
"How is the mingling going?" the host, Patri, asks with a wink as the girls gather around her near the idyllic pool front overlooking the ocean.
A smattering of laughter fills the air.
"I know this situation is different and can be a touch uncomfortable," the host continues sympathetically. "Dating in the same pool as your ex, where you both have to see connections being sought out, has to be incredibly difficult."
A few nod. Some murmur in agreement.
"And it probably feels like there isn't enough time to properly meet everyone, right? Well, our competition today will hopefully help that. After all, none of you want to go into the selection tomorrow for your trial marriage partner without overturning every stone first, right?"
Alexia warily eyes the host. She does not like the sound of this at all.
"Production has been here every step of the way. Which means they know who you all have talked to extensively. And who you haven't," Patri drawls. "So for this competition you will be split up into predetermined pairs to open yourselves up to new connections not yet tried out."
Jenni's head cocks as she listens.
"The couples are based on who you haven't yet had time to have a significant conversation with," Patri reaches into her pocket and removes a slip of paper. Grinning, she raises her eyebrows at the women in front of her. "Are you ready to hear who you all are with for today's game before I dive into the rules?"
Lucy snorts.
Misa rolls her eyes.
Alba whistles.
Patri laughs and unfolds the note. "Okay, when I call your names, please stand together here in front of me. Our first pair is Mapi and Alexia!"
Mapi cackles in delight. Alexia makes a formidable partner for any competitive game.
Alexia immediately declares loudly, "No!" her eyes wide with betrayal. Mapi is one of her oldest friends. The woman is dating—or rather dated—her little sister for years. Years. Being paired together feels wrong on so many levels, not to mention Alexia would likely physically strangle the woman from pure annoyance if they ever dated.
Patri smiles sympathetically, "Sorry chicas, you are a pairing for the game. Please move to stand next to each other."
Alexia frowns with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, displeasure radiating off her. She slowly moves towards the spot the host indicated.
Jenni can't help but smirk. Her girl is stubborn to the core. "You two definitely know each other well," she murmurs to her passing ex. "Maybe you'll win the game and a private, cozy date together," the architect jokes just to provoke the younger woman a little more.
It is a funny idea to the architect. Mapi and Alexia together. Production clearly doesn't realize how chaotic those two will be in such close orbit. They fight more than Alexia and Alba, which is saying something.
The consultant groans in response to the dark-haired woman's ribbing, running a hand over her face in despair.
Jenni laughs.
"Our second pair is Ona and Marta," Patri announces.
The two move to stand together without any fuss, unlike the first couple.
"Jenni, you'll be with Lucy as our third duo."
The dark-haired woman moves to stand next to the contractor, giving her a small smile and a quiet, "hello".
Lucy nods in return but doesn't open her mouth to say anything.
"Misa with Marta, please. And for the record, production would like it noted that this pairing came prior to your little excursion together at the buffet line," the host says with a wink.
Marta blushes but moves to stand should-to-shoulder with Misa.
The personal trainer's neutral stare softens minutely as she offers a quirk up of her lips to the older woman.
"And that then leaves Alba and Ingrid for our final pairing!" Patri exclaims with a clap of excitement.
Her gaze pans around to the newly created pairings.
Alexia is still frowning like she is being tortured.
Mapi looks like she is trying valiantly to not laugh at the absurdity of both the situation and her friend's dramatic response.
Marta and Misa keep covertly throwing a glance at the other, their rhythm of looking but then quickly pulling their gaze away so in sync that neither realizes the other has been doing the same.
"You all will have twenty minutes for a quick get-to-know-you chat. Though, I do caution you to not stay surface-level on your questions. You should dig deeper. Because after time is up, we will move onto trivia!"
Ona boos.
Jenni groans.
Alba claps her hands delightedly. She loves trivia!
"Go ahead and disperse. We'll start the timer and meet back here in twenty minutes!"
The pairs section themselves off to various locations around the pool deck, each finding somewhere to settle down and complete the world's fastest get-to-know-you. Well, except for Alexia and Mapi.
Mapi tries to initiate conversation. "So, Ale, what's your idea of a perfect dat—"
"Don't."
"Come on, Alexia. This isn't as bad as you're making it out to be."
"No. Just, no, Mapi."
"You are so stubborn!" Mapi exclaims in frustration, hands throwing up into the air. "I can't imagine how hard of a time Jenni had in cracking through your shell."
That earns her a hard glare from the catalana.
"Well, good thing we know each other so well, eh? No way any of these couples will beat us!" Mapi boasts, choosing to ignore the other woman's sour mood.
The gears in Alexia's head start turning, because the very last thing she wants is to earn a romantic date with her sister's girlfriend. Gross.
When Patri calls attention back to the center, the women all gather around for the next part of the challenge.
"Okay, gals," the host starts, "now for this next part, you'll need to nominate one person from each pair to step forward."
Mapi looks at Alexia.
The consultant crosses her arms and nods her chin forward, indicating that will be Mapi for their team.
The tattoo artists exhales through her nose before rolling her eyes.
"Those of you who have stepped forward, please follow Julia here."
The five women follow the production assistant back towards the resort.
Alexia watches as Jenni follows Mapi into the building.
She sighs heavily.
She hates this fucking show.
Once the group is out of hearing distance, Patri continues, "We will find out who learned their new partner best when we put those of you remaining to the test with our trivia round!"
"Shit," Lucy mutters under her breath.
Alexia shakes her head. She knows more details about Mapi than she has ever wanted to know just from general life and both the woman and Alexia's own sister, Alba, being big talkers when they really should shut up.
"You will have five answers to choose from for each question—one from each of the women who left moments ago. You will need to decide which is the answer given by your partner. The pair with the most correct at the end will win a special prize," Patri states with a wink.
Alexia shudders in disgust.
She does not want a romantic date with Mapi. And she sure as hell doesn't want Jenni going on another date with someone else.
The consultant can't control whether Jenni and Lucy win, but she sure can ensure she and Mapi are far from the winner's circle this competition at the very least.
Production sets up the area for all the contestants as Alexia watches closely.
A stool for each of them
A board with their team pairing hastily printed across the top
And judging by the wagon set off to the side of the cameras, five rounds of answers to wade through to post your partners up on the board correctly.
Alexia smirks. Well, she won't be choosing Mapi's answers, that is for sure.
She lets her eyes flick down to where Alba now sits on the last stool, wondering if she'll know which answers are Mapi's too.
That is when the idea forms.
Lucy is the one left behind for her pair. Which means Jenni answered all these questions too. And if there is anyone in that group who Alexia knows even better than she knows Mapi, it is Jenni.
This game keeps trying to drive them apart, but Alexia is going to subtly show her girl that isn't a reality for them. At least not one she's willing to accept.
Patri steps up into the view of the camera, waiting for the signal. "Welcome back to The Ultimatum," she exclaims to the lens. "Let's bring out the half of our duos who left to answer the five trivia questions earlier. They will be sitting behind their partners where they can watch the chaos unfold as we launch into our trivia game."
The producer from before now leads the line of five women back onto the pool deck, indicating for them to take the seats directly behind their partners for the game.
"Welcome back ladies! Now, please, take your seats and although it may be hard," Patri states with a grin, "no helping. You are silent observers here. Feel free to let your faces do all the talking because the camera will definitely be watching!"
Alexia snorts under her breath.
The camera is always watching.
"We are going to kill this!" Mapi whispers loudly from behind Alexia's right shoulder.
The consultant's lips curl slightly in disgust. They definitely are not winning this. Because the catalana wants no candlelit dinners with the woman who has been fucking her little sister for the past three years.
Alexia truly tries to never think of that point, but this show seems insistent on forcing her to confront that truth head on time and time again.
Nope. No more. Not when Alexia has the control on how this game today ends for them.
They are losing. Epically. Alexia plans on getting not a single question correct.
"Ladies," the host cheers from the front. "Let's begin! I will read off a question. You each have a bucket in front of you with five different answers—one from each contestant in the group who left earlier. You'll choose the one you think your partner said based on your knowledge about them and place it on your board. The team with the most correct guessed answers at the end will win a special prize," Patri states with an eyebrow wag.
Mapi cheers.
Alba murmurs quietly at the implication of another private date being offered to the winners.
She wants a pampered moment. And this sounds like the perfect opportunity.
"First question," Patri says with a smile. "What did your partner say is her ideal date?"
Alexia pulls out the five answers, carefully reading each.
Lucy swears under her breath next to where the consultant sits.
"Wow! That was fast! Alba already has her selection on the board."
Alexia frowns, gaze snapping to the other end of the line where her little sits with a smug smirk.
This is not a game you want to win she reminds herself to temper the competitive urge flaring up her spine.
Looking at the options, the consultant has a pretty good guess which is Mapi's answer. It's rather obvious really.
Drinks before going to a concert or club and ending the night with churros and a tattoo!
Alexia snorts, throwing it back in the bucket.
Her eyes land on the one below it.
It's Jenni's ideal date. Because Alexia had surprised the older woman with a night filled with all these things on their third anniversary.
Her fingers reach for it before her brain catches up.
"Oooo, it looks like Alexia has narrowed down to her guess. Let's see if she puts it on the board," Patri narrates.
Alexia freezes at that. She hadn't thought of which answers she would choose past them not being Mapi's.
She smirks.
What better way to fail this game and send a message to Jenni than to fill her answer board with all the madrileña's own words?
Alexia snaps Jenni's answer onto her board.
Mapi cheers like they've won, unable to see the board from her spot behind Alexia.
The consultant's smirk grows because the tattoo artist will be in for a surprise when her selection is revealed.
"Ten seconds, ladies," Patri states cheerfully.
Marta scrambles to place an answer on the board, the last of the group to choose.
"And time!" The host exclaims. "Okay, let's go down the line. Alba - we'll start with you. The question again was what did your partner say was their ideal date. And Alba you chose the answer A bite to eat and a walk through nature afterwards. Now, what made you think this was Ingrid's answer?"
"When we chatted," the youngest Putellas stated with a grin, "I asked Ingrid something that would surprise most people about her. And she answered that she escapes to nature any chance she can get because it is where she can truly breathe."
"Ingrid, was that your answer?" Patri asks the dark-haired woman sat behind Alba.
"Yes," the model confirms with a smile. "That was my answer!"
A few in the crowd murmur. Both at Alba getting the answer correct and Ingrid apparently being a huge nature lover.
Marta's eyebrows scrunched together, confused when her and her ex drifted so far apart that even she is surprised at that answer.
"Alba and Ingrid are on the scoreboard with a point!" Patri cheers. "Marta, you're next. Talk us through your selection process and what answer you chose for Misa."
"Well, she has a lot of tattoos. And seems like the kind of woman to be in demand, so I chose: Drinks before going to a concert or club and ending the night with churros and a tattoo!"
Mapi hisses out a "yessss," practically in Alexia's ear. That is her answer. Not Misa's. And any miss gets her and Alexia that much closer to winning.
"Sorry, Marta. That is not Misa's response."
"Misa, care to share with the group what you said instead?"
The personal trainer clears her throat, gaze hardening in anticipation for some ribbing. "I said a movie and cuddling on the couch."
Leila groans loudly.
Patri's eyes sweep to the answer board for the dark-haired woman. "Ah, tough luck, Leila! Clearly it isn't right since it is Misa's answer. But what made you guess that for Ona?"
"Because her and Lucy are clearly disgustingly in love. And only a sap would answer with that."
Misa grunts in response and glares at the back of her exes head.
"Misa hates movies," the older woman states. "So, her answer is fake."
"I hate movies with you," the personal trainer grits out. "Because you talk through the entire thing."
Jenni smoothly slides into the middle of the conversation that is clearly escalating. "Leila! No! You're a talker during movies? Our plan to binge watch all The Fast and the Furious movies is officially off!"
Leila laughs. "Oh, you definitely talk through movies too, Jenni! Admit it!"
"I admit nothing," the architect replies with a grin.
"Alexia," Leila states, interrupting the consultant's internal frowning at Jenni once again coming to this woman's rescue.
"Hmm?" she mutters, unsure why the editor is addressing her.
"Does Jenni talk during movies?"
Alexia turns to catch the eye of her ex-girlfriend over her shoulder.
The architect raises her eyebrows suggestively as she smirks.
"Her mouth is usually too occupied to talk when we watch movies," Alexia replies coolly. For some reason or another, movie nights always end prematurely with significantly less clothes for them.
"Oh shit! You dog!" Mapi cheers at the madrileña a seat away.
Misa snorts but eyes the dark-haired woman up, impressed at how confidently Jenni sits there as her ex airs their affairs in public.
Jenni isn't embarrassed in the slightest. She is thoroughly enjoying this possessive side of Alexia.
The catalana's cheeks look a touch flushed at admitting something about their sex life willingly, but her gaze doesn't drop.
Patri chuckles, bringing the attention back front and center. "Well, maybe we will need another round of Never Have I Ever to get the fulls scoop there, but for right now, Ona, can you share with us what your answer actually was?"
"I said my ideal date was something active like a hike or bike ride, and ending with dinner on the beach."
"Ah, a Barcelona girl at heart," the host chuckles knowingly. "You can't beat a sunset on the water with a pretty woman next to you, eh, Ona?" Patri asks.
The lawyer shrugs but a coy smirk pulls up her lips.
"Okay, moving on! Lucy, which answer did you choose for Jenni?"
"I know I flubbed this one, sorry partner," the general contractor states apologetically to the dark-haired woman sat behind her. "I chose Mapi's quote too."
"Mapi, your answer is rather popular," Patri states with a grin. "What about that answer had you thinking Jenni?" she asks Lucy.
"You know, the whole tattoo bit. Jenni has quite the collection."
"That she does! Okay, so far only Alba and Ingrid have a point. Let's see if our last pair can get on the board too. These two have known each other a long time—"
"Unfair advantage!" one of the other contestants jokingly states off camera.
Patri laughs. "Maybe so. Let's see! Alexia, what is Mapi's ideal date?"
The consultant turns to look at her little sister's ex-partner.
Mapi grins at her.
"I chose Grabbing coffee at my favorite local spot where the brew is amazing and the croissants are fresh before heading to the beach to sink for a while."
"Ooo, are you a morning girl, Mapi?"
The tattoo artist's forehead wrinkles in confusion. "No. I'm not. And Ale knows that."
Jenni gasps softly.
Alexia's gaze is already stuck on her.
Understanding seeps onto the architect's face. Alexia picked her answer. Alexia knew it was her answer and that is precisely why she chose it. As a message. As a way to honor their connection in this game that is actively trying to drive them apart.
Alba ever so helpfully chimes in from the end of the row, "Jenni is a big morning person, though!"
All eyes flicked to where Alexia and the dark-haired woman are still locked in a non-verbal conversation, eyes doing all the talking.
Patri clears her throat after a moment to break the staring contest. "Well, sorry, Alexia, no points for your team this round. But there is always question two!"
Rounds two, three, and four follow in hilarious fashion.
Alexia intentionally guesses Jenni's answers each time, something the others clock onto by the third question.
Jenni finds it amusing.
Mapi is simply fuming.
Alba and Ingrid continue to top the leaderboard, clearly more in sync than the other couples.
Alexia ignores Mapi's increasingly angry hissed complaints from behind her shoulder. She instead muses that her sister and Ingrid dominating this game makes sense. Alba is a trivia nerd. And a model and fashion-loving Alba? It's a recipe for friendship right off the bat there, even if winning this game wasn't in the equation.
"Okay, chicas, we are down to our final question," Patri states as the production team passes out the new round of answers. "What is your partner's biggest fear? Good luck on this one ladies! If Alba and Ingrid get this one correct, they'll win the game today. If they don't, it opens up the door for Misa and Marta to slide in and tie, forcing us to a tie breaker!"
"We've got this," Alba replies confidently, eyes sweeping over the five answer options.
Alexia beats down her competitive side once again, ignoring Mapi's hiss to fucking answer correctly for once.
Instead her eyes hone in on the one that has to be Jenni's answer. It just has to be. And her chest aches at the words she reads.
Patri begins the countdown to get answers in.
With trembling fingers, Alexia clutches the answer in her fist. Her entire game board is a shrine to Jenni if anyone looks deep enough and all her wrong answers.
"Okay, Alexia, we're starting with you this round. What is Mapi's biggest fear?"
The consultant doesn't reply verbally, just turning her board and sliding it into place.
"That I will never be able to fix the pain in her heart created by a ghost who left before I ever entered. And when she finally realizes that, I will really lose her—wow, that's a heavy statement, no?" the host states softly. "Mapi, do you have a ghost standing in the way of your happy-ever-after?"
Mapi is oddly quiet despite her earlier vocal angst at Alexia choosing ever answer that isn't hers despite the other woman definitely knowing the correct answer to at least two of them. Now, though, she's quiet.
The tattoo artist knows Alexia just as much as the woman (pretends to not) know her.
This isn't Mapi's answer. It's Jenni's.
And that is why Alexia looks so pained. Not because they have spectacularly bombed this game with zero answers correct. But because the consultant is the her referenced in the quote, the one wrapped up in Jenni's biggest fear.
The architect heard the question and instead of deflecting with a joke answer, she put her broken heart out there, fractures and all.
Four of them here know the history that has led to this.
Alexia
Alba
Jenni
And Mapi
Most will assume the fear is a reference to a past girlfriend who still lingers between them. But the four of them know it's a type of loss so much deeper than a break up.
Mapi has had to navigate a similar path of grief in her own relationship with Alba. But the loss of a parent definitely hits the oldest child differently.
Alba lost her father.
Alexia lost that and her youth in one fell swoop. Even Mapi is aware enough to know the catalana managed that devastating hole by closing herself off to the feelings of it all.
Alba took the opposite path, talking about her feelings more often than felt necessary to Mapi. But at least the weight of the ghost of her father never joined them in their relationship.
Mapi smiles sympathetically at Jenni who sits next to her, eerily still as Alexia's eyes find her.
"I do not," the tattoo artist finally answers Patri's question. "My biggest fear is spiders," she states, shivering at just the visualization the word conjures up in her mind. The devil's pet they are.
"Fuck," Lucy groans next to Alexia, her answer board clearly showing Mapi's answer instead of what should be her partner's answer.
"Looks like you two don't know each other all that well," the host says with a chuckle. "Zero out of five. Better luck next time, ladies!"
And Mapi's frown is back firmly in place, her competitive side irate with Alexia losing on purpose for their team.
"We know Lucy's answer is now wrong too. But hey Jenni and Lucy, at least you gals walk away with a respectable one answer right!" Patri exclaims cheerfully to soften the blow of defeat.
Lucy shrugs.
Jenni huffs out a laugh, although it sounds more brittle than anything.
"Leila, did you guess Ona's answer correctly?" Patri questions.
"I think so. We actually talked about this during our chat" the dark-haired woman says with a smile.
"Yeah? Who asked the question?"
"Ona of course! You know lawyers—they always want to know exact details."
The woman in question chuckles, a soft, raspy thing.
Lucy smiles unconsciously at the familiar sound.
"Ona, is That the life I've always dreamed about is slipping through my fingers your biggest fear?" the host asks.
Lucy's smile falls.
"Yes," the lawyer answers softly.
The contractor turns around in her seat, gaze finding her ex-girlfriend. Lucy's hurt eyes meet Ona's sad ones.
"Point for Leila and Ona! That has you two ending with two correct. Great job ladies!"
"Look at us!" Leila states cheerfully from where she's turned around in her seat.
Ona's eyes glance away, breaking her stare with her ex. "Good job, Lei," she states softly, offering a small smile.
Lucy slowly turns back around in her seat, face troubled and chest heavy.
Alexia glances sideways at her, in her own version of emotional hell at the moment. But she offers Lucy a quirk up of her lips in solidarity. Looks like she's not the only one drowning.
For a game intended to bring lightness and fun to the day, all the consultant wants to do now is crawl into her bed—specifically her bed back home in the apartment she shares with Jenni—and sleep until this nightmare ends.
Alexia started this week in a disagreement with Jenni on their timeline but solid in the knowledge that she had found her forever, even if they perhaps disagreed on the idea of marriage needing to be an integral part of that future. And now she sits here realizing a very big hurt has been slowly building around that disconnect that she has been blind to.
The consultant knows why she feels the way she does. She can't articulate it properly, but she knows where the hesitation stems from. And it sure seems if she can't figure out how to put that into words to explain to Jenni that her hang-up around marriage is around the idea and absolutely nothing to do with the woman herself, then Alexia might wake up one day and realize someone else is getting to live in that forever she thought was hers.
"Marta, let's see if you and Misa tie Alba and Ingrid right here with three correct answers," Patri exclaims, jolting Alexia back to the present.
Oh right. The game.
"Misa, is your fear Gaining weight and losing your six pack…" Patri trails off with an incredulous laugh. "Oh, come on now, that is hardly fair. That was very clearly a Misa answer!" the host states with a teasing grin.
Marta smiles.
Misa shrugs unapologetically. "Yeah, that was me."
"Well then, Misa and Marta you're officially tied for first place!" Patri states with excitement. "But Alba and Ingrid still have a chance to sweep the win. Alba—how are you feeling about your guess?"
"I'm confident," the teacher states with confidence. "Ingrid and I really connected. We have similar interests and the conversation flowed really easily."
Ingrid nods from her spot sitting behind the youngest Putellas. "We have a lot in common and just instantly gelled," she confirms with a smile.
"Good to hear," the host replies. "Now, let's see if that translated to another question correct! Ingrid, is your biggest fear Being out in public and experiencing a fashion disaster?" Patri asks with a laugh.
"Ugh, some of these were so easy," Leila grumbles. "I could have guessed that one was Ingrid."
Patri shrugs. "That is how it goes sometimes. Now, Ingrid, you have me curious. What constitutes a fashion disaster?"
"So many things," the model replies. "Pants ripping in public. Your top clashing horribly with the backdrop. A heel breaking on the catwalk."
Alba's eyes glint in mischief. "Let me tell you about the time—"
"No, Alba," Alexia responds loudly and firmly.
Lucy jolts from next to the woman, surprised at the yell.
Alba smirks and opens her mouth.
"Do you want me to share the cheese story?" Alexia challenges.
The teacher's mouth snaps shut.
The older woman nods in satisfaction, leaning back into her seat now that her little sister has been put back in her place.
Patri chuckles. "Well, those all do sound like emergencies, Ingrid, so the fear seems valid."
The dark-haired model smiles in agreement.
"Now, that means with this question correct, Alba and Ingrid have the most points on the board and win this challenge!"
Polite applause sounds from the other women as the two high five in celebration.
"Now, onto the prize for you two trivia champs," the host states. "With two winners comes some options."
Alexia tilts her head. She assumed it would be an automatic date between the two members of the team.
"You each get the opportunity to choose a lucky woman for a private date."
"If I knew the date could be with someone other than Mapi I would have tried to win," Alexia mutters quietly.
Apparently she wasn't quiet enough.
"What???" Mapi hisses from behind her.
The tattoo artist completely misses how Ingrid's eyes glance to her upon learning from Patri that she can choose whoever she wants (outside of Marta) for her date.
Seeing the woman's angry face and tensed jaw has the model frowning. Maybe their time in the pool was a one-time feel-good moment.
Ingrid felt a spark there. But she's not one to push a situation where the other party seems uninterested in the same.
Turning back to the host, the dark-haired woman finds Alba grinning at her.
"Should we continue our bonding with some champagne and a private beach view?"
Ingrid can't help the easy laugh the woman pulls from her mouth. The teacher is funny. And the banter with Alba eases the frown that had formed about whatever seems to be fizzling out between her and Mapi.
Why not lean into the connection that feels easy?
Alba might not elicit that swooping in her stomach like Mapi.
But she's chill and cute, and they do get along really well.
Ingrid smiles and nods.
"Clearly we are a dream team," Alba jokes to Patri, "so I choose Ingrid."
The host grins. "And Ingrid, do you choose Alba too?"
"I do," the model smirks.
"Careful now," Patri jokes, "save those words for the altar!"
Mapi glowers. Her anger at the situation—both Alexia intentionally losing this competition for the both of them and seeing her ex-girlfriend joke with the only woman here that the tattoo artist feels a pull to—bubbles like hot acid.
She tries to swallow it down and appear unaffected, but she knows she is wholly unsuccessful when Leila whistles under her breath and scooches her chair a few inches closer to Misa to avoid the heat coming off Mapi in waves.
She hates this day.
Judging by the faces of both Alexia and Lucy, the tattoo artist is in good company on feeling that way.
Whew! We end here with some new connections blossoming right before our eyes in Misa and Marta and Alba and Ingrid. But we're also seeing the toll appear as these women navigate the delicate and uncomfortable road between the relationships they brought with them and those they're being encouraged to explore now with new faces.
Some are responding to that task much more open than others.
Don't think we didn't notice how all of Alexia's answers aligned with her ex, Jenni, instead of her game partner, Mapi. The tattoo artist seemed to understand near the end the betrayal of her partner for trivia intentionally throwing the competition.
And that is an underlying theme you may want to keep your eye on as we look forward to next week and the selection dinner: the motivation behind why each woman is here on this show.
Tune in for hard decisions, hurt feelings, and uncomfortable truths next week on The Ultimatum!
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it's been 5 years since the first time you met misa. you've yet to figure out your own mind, and its time for your first euros.
✢ pairing: misa rodriguez x reader, barca femeni x teammate!reader, lionesses x teammate!reader
✢ wc: 6.0k
✢ a/n: set during 2022 euros. pls dont hate me for how long this took...and s/o mani for dealing w my ass
collab w/ @holyblonded !
5 years had gone by since that night in Madrid.
You’ve had 5 years to work out your feelings towards that night, and you’ve yet to make any progress.
Mainly because, by the time you think you’ve moved on, or carefully folded up any memory of the Spanish goalkeeper and placed it in an isolated corner of your brain, another Clasico is looming on the horizon. They seemed to multiply in number every season.
It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to meet up in the years directly following the first night. Recently, though, you were lucky to get a text.
The lack of physical interaction and conversation didn’t make it any easier to see her, though. Phantom touches burned on your neck and thighs, stealing your focus as you watched her adjust her gloves, those few nights stuck in your memory like you were a branded cow. Branded by Misa, by her touch.
No one knew about any of the nights you shared. You had convenient excuses every time you disappeared in Madrid or denied plans after a home Clasico.
And you thanked the stars every chance you got that you had been able to keep the secret.
Jenni liked to tease. Jenni liked to tease you, and even Alexia could only do so much to alleviate it. You once went on a date with a boy you knew from La Masia. It went fine, you think. You don’t remember much of what he talked about, just that he didn’t shut up and you were too focused on not chewing on your straw and keeping your legs from bouncing to listen to any of it. He had dropped you off at your door with a kiss on the cheek. You had closed the door in his face.
The next two weeks at training were relentless, and you hadn’t even kissed that guy. You don’t even want to know what would happen if anyone found out what you’d done, with a Madridista, with Misa of all people.
So, even as you felt her eyes burning in the back of your skull every time you scored on her–which was a lot, you counted your blessings.
Atleast no one else knew.
Atleast you didn’t have to deal with Jenni’s teasing.
Atleast you didn’t have to explain it to your parents.
Your parents.
Your mom was born and raised in the heart of London, as traditional and conservative as they come. Your dad had grown up in Kailua, a coastal town on Oahu. You weren’t sure how your dad ended up in England or how they met. You never asked. Though, even you could see that they didn’t get married because they were in love. You knew that your dad slept in his office most of the time, and that on the rare occasion you spent time with them, they were never around each other for long.
They both worked within the British government. Again, you didn’t ask, and they didn’t talk about it. All you knew is that they made enough money to sign you up for the fanciest academy in London, to send you to all the best personal trainers, and to buy you new boots every Christmas, even if you didn’t like how they always felt different from your old ones.
And when the offer from La Masia came, just a few weeks after your 15th birthday? They couldn’t get you on a plane quick enough.
You were alone, off to a country where you didn’t speak the language, didn’t know a single soul, and your parents were probably at some cocktail party bragging about their daughter playing football in Spain.
It didn’t get easier for a long time.
The football was amazing–of course it was. It was La Masia. It was Barcelona. Barca’s playing style was just an intricate series of the same patterns again and again. You liked it, and you fit in on the pitch fairly easily. Off the pitch, you had a lot more trouble. You didn’t understand anyone. The bed in your dorm didn’t feel right under your back, and the socks they gave you as part of the kit felt wrong inside your boot. Everywhere you turned there was a new person, introducing themselves in a language you didn’t understand, expecting a handshake or atleast a polite greeting. You managed it, because you didn’t want to be an outcast, but it drained you. Some days you could make it back to the dorms and under your covers before you exploded or shut down. A lot of days you barely made it out of the locker room, darting around the building and finding a spot in the back where the grass came up to your knees and you were sure you wouldn’t be seen before letting the dam burst.
No one ever saw you. Or at least that was what you thought.
What you didn’t know yet was that just around the corner from your spot, on the side of the building you didn’t come from, was a walking path that the first team often used to get from their parking lot to some of the farther training pitches.
You were having a particularly bad day, chest heaving and hands shaking as the emotional and mental exhaustion of masking hit you with full force.
“Ale, escuchas eso?” [Ale, do you hear that?]
“Hm?”
“Parece que alguien está… llorando? Espera aquí!” [It sounds like someone’s…crying? Back here, wait!]
Jenni peered around the side of the building and saw you, crouched down in the tall grass, training top still on, sobbing into your hands. Her heart shattered, immediately.
“Qué pasa?” [What’s going on?]
“Shhh! Es una de las chicas de Masia… pobrecita.” [Shh! It’s one of the Masia kids…poor thing.]
“Cuál? Estaba viendo un vídeo de la sub-16 y-” [Which one? I was watching some film from the under-16s and-]
“Ale, shhh! Creo que es una nueva internacional inglesa. La delantera?” [Ale, shh! I think she’s a new international from England. The striker?]
“Oh, es muy talentosa! Recuerdo haberla visto. La ayudamos?” [Oh, she’s really talented, I remember seeing her. Should we help?]
Jenni knew she probably shouldn’t disturb you, but she just felt horrible. She couldn’t imagine being so young, practically a baby, being so far away from home, and still being expected to perform well.
“Nena? Are you okay?”
Your head whipped up, your feet immediately moving to try and run away, but the overload of cortisol and adrenaline had you stumbling instead.
“Wait, it’s okay!” Jenni waded into the grass and weeds, trying to look as unintimidating as possible.
“I- uh-” You racked your head for any Spanish word to say, but you got nothing. It only made another sob rip from your chest.
“Nena, it’s okay. Come here?”
You stopped trying to get away, because even mid-panic attack, you were inclined to listen when Jenni Hermoso asked you to do something. Tentatively, you took a step closer, eyes downcast, arms wrapped around your torso, trying to control your breathing and quiet your hiccups; the distraction had temporarily distracted your overactive nervous system.
“That’s good, it’s okay. Do you want a hug?”
You shook your head no. Jenni chuckled to herself.
“Okay, that’s okay. Let’s breath together, si?”
She made a show of taking a deep breath in, holding for a few seconds, and breathing out.
“In for 8 seconds, vale?”
You nodded. In for 8 seconds, out for 8 seconds. It was nice, and it calmed you down alot. Whether it was the eights or the breathing, you weren’t sure. Either way, it worked. You managed to look up, make eye contact for a few seconds before focusing back on the ground. There was a bee on one of the weeds and you watched it.
“That’s better, good job nena. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
You shrugged. “T-tough day…that’s all.” You tried to make your accent less obvious; you already felt enoguh like an outsider without even opening your mouth.
“I get that, I’m sorry. You train with La Masia, si?”
Your tongue wanted to say no, wanted to explain that you played for an academy based in London, the same one you always had. But that wasn’t the crest on your shirt anymore. You weren’t even in the right country. So, even though it felt all sorts of wrong, you nodded.
“I heard you were new. It’s really tough, moving away from home. Have you talked to your mami recently?”
“On Sunday.” That was the rule your mother had decided on. One call per week. Every Sunday afternoon, right after church. You liked the routine of it all, so you did it.
“Sunday? That was 4 days ago. Why don’t you call her tonight? It might make you feel better.”
“Can’t,” you shook your head, “Only on Sundays.”
Jenni was more than perplexed, but she didn’t want to argue with you. “Oh…okay then. Well, have you had dinner? Me and Ale were just headed to grab something, neither of us feel like cooking tonight.”
You played with the hem of your top, twisting and untwisting again and again. You usually went to the cafeteria, sat at the same table.
“It won’t take too long! We’ll have you back in your dorm with plenty of time before curfew.”
You weighed your options, but you ended up nodding. Jenni was nice, and she was speaking English.
That dinner was the first time you had properly laughed since you touched down in Spain. Alexia’s English wasn’t great, and it made for some funny moments. Jenni didn’t stop talking the entire time, whether it was translating or telling some insane story, and she had you constantly laughing into your bowl of outrageously spicy curry.
From then on, Jenni and Alexia made sure you were okay. Jenni helped with the language barrier, speaking in a weird kind of Spanglish that helped the words feel more familiar in your head. Alexia helped in other ways, making sure you always had food or offering to have a kick about after training.
They became something familiar, safe, and constant in a world where nothing seemed certain to you anymore. Football got easier as well; your teammates seemed like nice people, though you weren’t sure you would call any of them your friends yet. Except maybe Ona. She sat with you during lunch and didn’t talk, just let you exist in silence. It was nice, and you sat with her again the next day too.
A few Sundays after the first time you met Alexia and Jenni, you mentioned them to your mom on the phone.
“And I went to Alexia and Jenni’s place and-“
“Alexia and Jenni? Who are they?”
“They play for the first team. They’re really nice.”
“So they’re adults? And they’re roommates?”
“Well, they’re roommates technically, but they’re dating.”
“What? You’re hanging out with lesbians?”
“Mum-“
“Isla, do I need to bring you back home? I didn’t know they had lesbians in Spain..”
“No, mum, it’s fine. I- I won’t talk to them anymore, okay? I’m sorry.”
“You better not, young lady.”
That was the last time you mentioned any of your new teammates to your mom.
You didn’t mention your drunk night out in Madrid to your parents. You didn’t mention your text chains with the keeper. You definitely didn’t ever mention your plans after a Clasico. Your conversations were kept to football, match results and training milestones you hit. Not that she really cared about any of that, just that you were doing well in training and not embarrassing her and the family name.
But you remembered that one conversation with your mother, low in your chest, whenever you were with Alexia and Jenni, or listened to Ona talk about the girl she had went on a date with.
The pressure of her words made it hard to breathe when you thought too long about what you were doing with Misa.
…
The mechanical whirring of the recovery boots filled the air of the room, inflating and deflating in a perfectly recurrent cycle. You counted 8 runs, then 8 more. The Lioness crest was plastered on the wall behind you, on your shirt, on everyone’s shirt, actually. You felt the weight of it, right over your heart where the decal was placed on the vest top.
You played your first ever European Championship Quarterfinal tomorrow. After a light session in the morning, everyone had been ordered to recover their bodies as much as possible; for you, that meant the boots. Every other recovery tool was a stimulatory nightmare, but the encompassing pressure of the boots was a sensation you were actually quite fond of. It ever-so-slightly quieted the anxiety that had been ever-present since you were named to the roster. England was set to play Spain, and everyone knew it wasn’t going to be an easy match, even with the absence of Alexia Putellas courtesy of her ACL. For you, it was eerily familiar and extremely terrifying. You knew better than most how good most of those players were. Though, your experiences gave your team a much deeper insight than any scouting report could ever provide.
You knew from hours of finishing practice how Pina angled her hips slightly differently when going for a high-driven shot, giving the England keepers an extra half-second to get a jump on it. You could teach them the Catalan terms for different things, so they were all on the same page when Irene dictated play out of the back line.
You could also tell them how their backup keeper’s fingers felt inside of you, what she smells like after sex, and what scent of shampoo she uses, but you kept that to yourself.
Well, she was their backup keeper.
“Keke, translate this, will you?”
You had a second to react before Ella Toone’s phone was flying into your lap. On the screen was an Instagram story from Spain’s account. Medical Release.
It took you a few seconds to read over and translate, then another few to process what you had read.
“What’s it say kid?” Leah was interested now. You shook yourself out of it to answer your skipper.
“Um, Paños is out. Ankle injury in training.”
“No shot, their keeper is injured? Now?”
“Who’s gonna start?”
“This is good for us, hope she’s not too badly injured though..”
Your teammates voiced their opinions, wondering out loud how this would effect our game plan for the next day, and what this meant for Spain’s defense. Your thinking was done inside your head, though. Because now all you could think about was that you were going to have to face Misa.
You had never played each other at the senior national level. Misa had just recently broken into the senior team, and had only made a few appearances. You knew it had to piss her off, always being on the bench, but you also knew that being a goalkeeper demanded a kind of patience and acceptance of second place that you didn’t possess.
Tomorrow would be a different form of the same rivalry that had always defined your relationship with Misa. The kits would be different, but it was all the same in what mattered. You needed to score on her, and score on her alot. You needed to make sure this match ended just like it always did when you faced eachother: Misa full of rage, and your name on the scoresheet.
You suppose the stakes were a bit higher than usual this time, the Eurocup being a bit bigger deal than the Spanish Supercopa. Although every Clasico felt the same to you, if not more intense each time you played one. Alexia said it was the Culer in you growing to take up more space in your brain, but you knew it was actually Misa squirming her way into every free crevice of your body.
“Well, Keke knows her pretty well, don’t you?”
“What?”
Georgia snapped you out of your thoughts and back into the real world.
“I said you know Misa well, you’ve played against her a bunch, right?”
“Oh, um, yeah I guess I have.”
“Yeah, and she’s scored on her like a million times!” Lucy and Keira high-fived from the ice bath.
“You’ve scored in every El Clasico you’ve ever played in,” Beth added from the massage table.
“I have? How do you know that? Why do you know that?”
“No reason.”
“Alright, alright. Keke, you know how to score on Misa, right?”
You shrugged at your captain, but you suppose your record spoke for yourself.
“Good enough. Strikers, get together tonight and get Keke to share her notes on her, alright?”
A resounding chorus of “yes ma’am”s sounded among the room, and the pit in your stomach grew. Now you were responsible for the entire attack unit? Having to recall every detail of your teammates’ lives in earlier meetings was bad enough, and now you’re tasked with deconstructing the playing style and forming the offensive strategies against your…Misa…
You weren’t one to ignore an instruction from your captain, though, so you complied, pulling a whiteboard into one of the lounge rooms and sketching notes and diagrams. It wasn’t difficult; all you ever thought about was football, and you’d spent a considerable amount of time analyzing Misa, whether in a productive manner or otherwise. So you spat out your jumbled thoughts onto the board, offering haphazard explanations when your teammates couldn’t decipher your handwriting.
“I thought your handwriting was good, Keke? It was always neat in your film notebook.”
“Brain’s going too fast, my hand is too slow.”
“Oh, got it.”
Alessia shut up, having learned quickly to not try to understand your brain too much. You preferred it that way, usually. You wished Lucy was in the striker’s group. She always understood your football brain. And your brain in general. It was refreshing.
You talked about her tendencies in the box, how she set up her defense for a free kick, how she moved during a corner. You broke apart the way she created play out of the back. You even spent some time discussing her tendency to be a hot head, and how you could use that to your advantage.
Misa was on your mind when you went to sleep, when you woke up, while you ate breakfast.
You took your pre-match walk, taking a few minutes to say hi to your teammates and friends, made eye contact with Misa once, twice, three times before you went off on your own, music blasting loud enough in your headphones to block out the rest of the world.
Like most game days, pregame and warm ups were a blur of the same routine it always was. Suddenly you were at center pitch and the referee’s whistle pierced through the air, signaling the start of 90 minutes of your personal hell.
The match was everything you expected. Heated, fast-paced, high level football between two world class teams with too much personal interconnection.
Halftime came with no score, not without a lack of trying on your end. You, Beth, Hempo, Lessie, all had been doing everything you could to break through Spain’s defense. You had gotten a few shots off, but nothing that Misa couldn’t handle. You were impressed that she was able to keep a clean sheet thus far, but you knew you couldn’t let her keep it. You knew you needed to find another gear and send them home.
10 minutes into the second half, Esther Gonzalez opened the scoring for the match. It shook the squad, a stark reminder of how easily things could go. To you, it doubled your expectations for yourself.
Deep breaths, 8 in and 8 out as you walked back to center position, and you were ready to go. Ready to break through Spain’s press, through their backline and right through their keeper. At this point, it wasn’t personal. It wasn’t your friends, teammates, mentors, or your…Misa…on the other side of the pitch. It was just your enemy.
It took until the 84th minute for Ella Toone to make it happen. And it took you 10 more minutes to cement your name in history as well.
Extra time was ticking down, and no one wanted to go into overtime. A last ditch effort, a final run, and a shot that contained all the power left in your exhausted body.
You weren’t going to celebrate, but you were thrown around so much by everyone else’s chaos that you didn’t even need to try. And maybe a smile grew on your face for a second or two, but you didn’t know anything about that.
Although your happiness was short lived. It killed you to see the teammates that had become your family so gutted about being eliminated. You made your rounds, skipping out on the celebrations with your team to make sure your people were okay. You pulled Ona and Laia up from the grass, tackled Aitana in one of your rare hugs that she loved, and let Leila ruffle your hair without complaining. And then you ended up face to face with Misa.
“Buen partido.” [Good game.]
“Eres un peligro.” [You’re a menace.]
“Lo siento. Que tengas que volver a casa.” [I’m sorry. That you have to go home.]
Misa scoffed, and fought the urge to roll her eyes. “De todas formas, el clima es mejor allí.” [The weather is better there anyways.]
You nodded. That was true, even if it was summer in England.
Misa’s eyes held onto yours. The eye contact lasted longer than you could usually handle and then stretched another few seconds. You didn’t feel the pull to look away like you always did.
You both got pulled away by your respective teammates, and you weren’t even 20 feet away before you felt the pit in your stomach and the weight on your chest.
After successfully bypassing media and getting back into the changing room, your hands moved without input from your brain, tapping her contact and typing without thinking.
Can I see you before you go back to Spain?
Celebrations raged around you. You had just won the Euros, after all. Sprays of champagne and beer splashing your face, screaming on someone’s Instagram livestream, sweaty bodies of your teammates constantly in contact with your skin in hugs and arms thrown around shoulders–it was all mud in your brain though, every neural connection leading back to the goalkeeper that has infested your mind.
You checked your phone ever 5 minutes for the next three days to see if she would text you back.
You didn’t. She had left you on read.
…
You were a European Champion.
You lifted the trophy on your home soil, taken all the pictures, watched everyone get too drunk at the afterparty, and yet all you could think about was the Read on 7/20/2022 in your text thread with Misa.
Moreso, you couldn’t stop thinking about why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Why the pit in your stomach hadn’t gone away since you had broken eye contact after the match.
Why her eyes haunted your dreams and woke you up in the middle of the night, keeping you awake until you satisfied the ache she left behind yourself, soft whimpers of her name escaping into the darkness of your room.
The lingering craving kept steady through your summer break, although you wouldn’t exactly count it as much of a break. You didn’t like to take vacations. You were forced to spend a few days with teammates in Ibiza before gratefully settling back into a routine in London for the few free weeks you had before preseason.
You trained with Lucy–who you were thrilled would be joining you in Spain, by the way–and whoever else you could convince to join you, took long walks around the city, and avoiding your mother at all costs.
“You know, I think it’s time we start looking for a husband for you, dear.”
“Mom! Ew.”
“What? You’re not getting any younger, and your father and I have received plenty of offers from our friends. There are lots of nice boys willing to court you, even with the football nonsense you insist on.”
“Mom, I- I don’t want to be sold off like a cow.”
“You aren’t being sold, dear. You get to pick.”
“I don’t want any of them,” you mumbled, standing up and making sure to push in your chair before storming out of the dining room.
You wanted to throw up at the mere thought of the boys you had grown up around, snooty and spoiled and used to getting everything they wanted–including women and their bodies.
It was the unfortunate reality of higher society. Assault, rape, harrasment, it was all disturbingly normal behavior both for the business and politicians who ran the state and their sons that you shared a school with.
Thankfully, your interest in football and clear disinterest in any of them had deterred them for most of your life, although there had been an increase in attempts once you became a professional athlete.
Even the thought of those boys was enough to make your stomach turn most days. The thought of being made to marry one though? It made your skin crawl.
That was a truth. Well, part of the truth.
Your nausea didn’t just have to do with the idea of being used as a wife to a rich London boy. It had everything to do with the image of Misa’s face that crossed your mind every time your mother mentioned a boyfriend or a husband. You checked your messages again. Still on read.
You sighed, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands, only fantasizing Misa’s long, thick fingers spread over your skin instead.
…
It wasn’t until November that you saw Misa again.
You were over it, atleast that’s what you told yourself.
Even you, and your very limited knowledge of healthy relationships, knew that whatever was going on wasn’t sustainable or healthy. Especially after the months of radio silence between the two of you.
And the fact you hadn’t stopped dreaming about her.
So you were done with her. And there was no reason in particular that the air before the first Clasico of the season seemed extra charged. You couldn’t have been more excited to score on her. And you did, along with Patri, Aitana, and Frido.
Needless to say, Misa was thoroughly frustrated by the ending whistle.
Post-match formalities ensued as usual. You weren’t planning on talking to Misa, but she found you in the tunnel, pulling you away from your conversation with Pina.
“My place, tonight. You still have the address?”
It took your brain a few seconds to catch up to the whispered words. Once it did, you didn’t hesitate. You nodded once and walked away.
“What was that all about?”
“Stupid banter. I hate Madrid.”
“Tell me about it.”
…
Your leg bounced uncontrollably as the Uber took you closer to the address that you couldn’t help but remember.
The team had started the drive back to Barcelona that night. You made some bullshit excuse about having a last minute sponsership meeting in Madrid the next morning, and promised to catch a flight that would have you home in time for the late afternoon recovery session. No one asked too many questions.
You didn’t need to knock. Misa was already at the door when you arrived.
Without a second spared to exchange casualties, her lips were up against yours. Her perfume invaded the air around you, making you drunk off her scent. She was everywhere, all at once. Her lips, incessant on yours. Her hands, mapping your curves like she was trying to quickly reacquaint herself with your body. Her breath, her weight, her heat. The thump of her heartbeat against your chest.
All your senses, consumed entirely by Misa Rodriguez.
She seemed determined tonight to ruin you, if her unforgiving grip on your hips was anything to go by. Stumbling, she blindly led you back to her bedroom, her lips never ceasing their attack on your face. Your fingers found the nape of her neck, trying desperating to keep yourself grounded. You were ridiculously turned on, the slick, uncomfortable feelings between your thighs already threatening to pull you out of the moment.
Luckily, Misa’s apartment wasn’t huge and before you knew it, your back was connecting with the plush comforter that covered her bed. She was on top of you immediately, hands pushing underneath your t-shirt and quickly removing the offensive article of clothing.
You pulled away from her hungry mouth, only because you felt faint from lack of air, and helped her in removing the rest of your clothes. Only when you were bare did you remember that Misa needed to be undressed too, and you hurried to correct that.
The sigh you let out at seeing her body didn’t go unnoticed by either of you, based on the cocky smirk that took over Misa’s face.
“Missed me, Keke?” she murmured, close enough for you to feel her breath on your lips, but not closing the gap.
You didn’t trust your words, so you pulled her down by the back of her neck and tried to show her how much you missed her.
Her wandering hands didn’t stop, moving to carefully knead the flesh of your breasts. She shifted her weight so her thigh slotted carefully between yours. The first touch of friction against your soaked cunt was electric, sending sparks through your body. Your strangled gasp made Misa smile against your mouth, as you fumbled to keep your hold on her shoulders.
Your hips worked in tandem to match the gentle rocking motion she set. She flexed her quad and the pleasure multiplied; your kisses became sloppy as you struggled to split your focus. The victorious spark was obvious in her eyes when she pulled away. It seemed that she had achieved her goal of taking you apart, and you had only been here for, what, 20 minutes?
“Mari-” you choked out, feeling the now-familair tightening in your lower belly. You whined when she pulled away.
“Come on, superestrella, we both know you don’t like to come like that. And how many times I gotta ask you to call me Misa?”
You had to admit she was right, the one time you had come grinding on her ridiculously sculpted thighs hadn’t been a great orgasm, even if it was hot. As for the other thing, you shook your head. You liked Maria Isabel just fine.
All you could do was pout as she shifted from being on top to the side.
“Don’t look like such a kicked puppy, bebe. You know I’m going to make you come.”
“You better.”
“I better? Who told you you could start ordering me around?”
“Maria,” you whined, leaning over to kiss her, immediately allowing her tongue into your mouth to resume its explorations.
“Shh, I know,” she pulled away, far too soon for your liking, but the serious look on her face had you sitting up slightly. It was different than you had ever seen her. Her normal intense, confident gaze had fallen away, and she seemed almost nervous?
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah…yeah, all good. I want to try something tonight, thought. You can say no, of course, but I’d really like to fuck you with my strap.”
You had yet to get used to Misa’s crude mouth, and you were left speechless for a few moments. Misa misread your surprise as hesitation, and immediately started again.
“If you aren’t comfortable with it, we don’t have to do it, obviously. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, Keke, never-”
“I want it. Please.”
“Y-you do?”
You nodded. Sure, it would be your first time with something like that, but the mental image of Misa on top of you, snapping her hips and keeping herself up on her forearms, breathing heavily and never breaking eye contact, overruled any reluctance you may have had.
“Shit, okay. I wasn’t expecting you to say yes, honestly.”
“How come?”
Misa shrugged, swinging her legs off the bed and heading for the closet. In the few minutes it took her to strap up, your mind wandered a bit, some of the initial doubt creeping back in. It had been months since you had last seen her, and yet it felt like no time had passed. You two seemed to have this natural rhythm whenever you were together. Everything felt correct, and you didn’t remember to panic like usual. You breathed in and out for 8 seconds, getting through 2 rounds before Misa returned.
You couldn’t stop your eyes from bugging out of your head at the sight before you. The harness seemed to accentuate the chiseled lines of her abdomen, drawing your eyes to her groin and the ridiculous piece of silicone attached to her hips.
“See something you like?”
Even in the dim light of the room you could see her amused smile as she approached the bed again.
“It’s, uh-”
“Big? You think so?”
She crawled onto the bed, gently pressing back your shoulder so you were laying against the pillows and she could crawl on top of you. Her lips found yours, then your cheek and your jaw. They lingered, contemplating, before retreating. No marks allowed.
You jolted at the first swipe of her fingers through your folds, the amount of accumulated slick bordering on ridiculous.
“Joder, you’re soaked.”
Misa’s ring and middle fingers slid in without resistance, immediately setting a considerable pace and curling forward, searching.
You stuttered out her name, hand shooting down to her wrist, not to stop her, but to try and ground yourself.
“You wanna come before I fuck you?”
How inconsiderate of her to ask you a question while putting you in this state, but alas you managed an answer.
“N-no, no wanna c-come on you-”
“Wanna come on my cock, superestrella?”
All you could do was nod, her fingers only speeding up. Your mewl was her warning to pull out, ripping a whine from your throat before you could stop it.
“Maria- please-”
“I got you Keke, breath for me, okay? In, and out. Good, again. In, and-”
On your exhale, she lined up the plastic sunk in just the tip. You cursed, already feeling more of a stretch than Misa’s fingers had ever been capable of.
It was agonizing, how long Misa took, pushing in just an inch at a time. She just wanted to make sure you were comfortable, she said, but your brain was fried with anticipation after Misa had already edged you twice that night. All you felt was a deep, animalistic urge for Misa to fuck you until your brain leaked out of your pussy.
As soon as she bottomed out, she looked you in the eyes, searching for signs of discomfort, but all she saw was hunger. She knew she had been a little mean with the edging, and knew it was time to give you what you wanted.
Being a professional athlete came with plenty of perks that you were already familiar with. You learned a new one that night: Misa’s stamina with a strap.
She clearly knew was she was doing. She wealded the silicone like a professional, ramming the tip into your sweet spot over and over, overloading your brain with pleasure.
You came apart, your vaginal muscles spasming around the silicone no less than 3 times before you both tapped out. You managed to give Misa one of her own with your tongue before collapsing into the blankets wrapped around her, the sun already peaking above the horizon.
“That was awesome,” the keeper breathed out, gently tracing patterns on your bare back.
“I have a flight at noon,” you managed to croak out before succumbing to sleep, head pillowed on Misa’s lap and at the most peace you’d felt in months.
A/N: Either I sit on this for another month, or I give it you. Prelude to actual fic. 3k-ish, getting back into the swing of things. Ideas from a comment exchange with @2truthsand1lie on this post.
Tags: Mafia AU, mentions of guns, NO SMUT WHO AM I (lead up to smut).
Sequel(ish) to Till There's Nothing Left. This won't make sense unless you've read that. Please read that first, or the dynamic swings in this are going to be a bit crazy.
Ever since that night, things had spiralled.
The morning after, you'd been roused by Alexia’s low murmur. “I should have your hand cut off for that.”
It took a second to register that she was across the room, not the heat pressed against your back.
The fingers curled around your hip twitched.
“Don’t move.” Alexia breathed, “She’s sleeping.”
You most definitely weren’t. But when the door clicked shut and Misa nuzzled into the back of your neck, it was easy to doze again.
The house arrest almost went unspoken that morning. You, too afraid to ask. Misa, making the coffee she’d usually insist on paying for in a cafe. Travel cups in hand, she'd gently suggested a walk in the garden.
It wasn’t till you were sat in the shade watching the bees sweep from flower to flower that she sighed.
“I know it’s between you and the boss, and I don’t want to…” A quick glance confirmed that she had become fascinated by the curve of her hands around her own cup. Her knuckles had been covered in fresh gauze that morning.
“Go on,” You replied.
Another breath. “Last night, you were sure you wanted to be a part of it.”
You turned back to the bees, pulling your knees up. It was quiet out. Quieter than it ever was in the city. “I want to be with her. And you. And I don’t have anyone else now.”
And after last night, I have no choice.
It sat between you, unsaid but ever present.
“Once you’re in, there is no way out. I don’t want you to regret it." She sighed.
It was hard to fathom what you were signing up for, your own perception skewed by muffled conversations overheard as a child and films watched as a teenager. You knew that your own knowledge was limited, yet walking away from Alexia wasn’t even a possibility.
You chose carefully, keeping your tone light. “Do you?”
“No.” She replied instantly. “Never.”
You hummed back, sipping from your cup slowly.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but it stretched.
Eventually, Misa leaned forwards and rested her elbows on her knees. You watched her profile look out over the garden, stretching all the way to the high wall.
“In that case,” she began, “I know you’ll have questions about… everything. I think you should save them for Ale. She knows more than me. Knows how she’d want things answered. But she wants you to learn how to shoot. You need to know how to defend yourself properly. And if you’re certain about staying, I’ll teach you.”
You processed slowly, no pressure from her posture nor her tone. After a while, you replied, “I’m certain.”
Her smile was slow and lazy when she stretched back against the bench. “Maybe after lunch, then?”
Nodding a little, you nudged your shoulder against hers. “Lots of time to practice. I don’t suppose I’m going to be allowed to leave here anytime soon?”
She snorted, pressing back. “Count yourself lucky Ale hasn’t locked you inside.”
You tried to suppress your sigh as you rolled your neck to stare at the leaves and listened to the gentle twitter of birds overhead. You'd expected as much, but the confirmation was still painful. “Can I ask you other things, then? About you. Not you know… work related?”
“Of course. Anything you want.”
And so it went.
Slowly.
Slowly.
Slowly, the days slipped into a gentle kind of torture.
First, the shooting lessons. The dark-lit range under the garage which was straight out of a Batman film. Misa, bright and alive when she enthusiastically explained the difference between bolt-action and break-action. Her fast-moving fingers dismembering her piece just to show you how it fit back together. The hard press of her body behind you while she readjusted your grip, your angle, your stance.
Second, Misa’s non-negotiable gym time. Her goofy grin if she caught you looking between exercises. The snap of fresh tape against her knuckles which would last exactly one and a half sets before she’d rip it off and let her wounds be bare. The devastating cut of her physique, covered in sweat and stronger than it had any right to be. And you, trying to ignore the way every quiet grunt made its way into your lizard brain and demanded to be played on repeat until you were undeniably turned on.
Third, the information your carefully curated questions would work out of her. The way she’d smirk but wouldn’t make eye contact when you’d bring up her past. Then her half-assed answers, which started short and then lengthened with each passing day. It took three of those conversations before you finally blurted out the thing which had sat at the front of your mind since that night.
“Can I ask you a question?” You’d rationalised that it deserved a little warning.
Though you could tell it took everything in her not to point out that you just had, Misa raised her eyebrow and kept her mouth shut.
"You and Ale," You’d started, "Romantically..?” It wasn’t until the word was out of your mouth that you realised you hadn’t given her a question at all.
She did a bad job of keeping her face straight, smirk creeping through her apparent indifference. “Less romance, more… physical.”
“Often?”
Misa folded her arms, but there was nothing tense about her. “Are you going to pretend Ale hasn’t already told you?”
You ignored her, pivoting fast. “And Jenni?”
Misa chuckled, reverting to her usual shortness. “It’s complicated.”
“And with Lucy too?”
“Lucy and Ona are a package deal.”
“But you’ve slept with them both?”
Misa’s eyes narrowed. It was like mental chess, trying to work out why she was being so evasive when Alexia didn’t hold anything back. “Any reason you want the details of my sex life, doll?”
“It involves my girlfriend.” You'd reminded, since you could hardly blurt out that the memory of them kissing had been playing on repeat in your head for days. “It happened a lot?”
Seemingly placated, Misa shrugged. “With Ale, not since you came around.”
“Sorry.”
She laughed at that. “Don’t be sorry. She’s happier now.”
And that was sweet enough to make you drop the subject, because that was the final pain point.
For her promise of no more secrets, Alexia was always gone. Some mornings you’d wake to her and Misa’s whispered conversations, the latter’s body entwined with your own, the former already half-way out the door. Others, you’d miss her entirely.
Each night, with Alexia and the others yet to appear and time ticking on, Misa would grow tired of trying to entertain you, then grow tired of watching you trying to keep your eyes open.
“Time for bed?” She suggested the first time.
“Yeah,” You’d breathed back, though your heart hurt, “But I wanna-”
“Come on then. I’ll stay until Ale gets back.”
But Alexia wasn’t back. At least, not before you fell asleep. Night after night, whatever bleary-eyed glimpse of her you caught in the morning was as much as you'd get.
Her sporadic texts weren’t nearly enough with the number of questions marinating in your mind. The gentle rejections to FaceTimes and phone calls were an everyday occurrence. If you did catch her, it was just a check-in, less than five minutes before she’d be called away to something else.
You knew Misa could see it. While you had been isolated before, you'd at least had the freedom to shop and eat in the city, talking to strangers if only to order from them. Alexia had been available, and the others were around far more often. Now, it was just Misa and the perimeters of the admittedly large villa.
By the fifth morning, your heart stuttered when their gentle whispers roused you awake.
“You're taking your bodyguard role very seriously, Mis.” Alexia’s bemused lilt carried.
You could feel Misa’s head pressed against your neck, her arm around your waist, her thigh stretched over yours. Her chest rumbled husky when she spoke. “I’m being a human shield.”
Alexia muffled her amusement before her tone lowered. “Hmm. Guard her any closer and we’ll have to have a talk”
With a pout, you forced your eyes open to find her across the room. She pulled on her jacket before noticing your alertness. You half-hated her for leaving so easily. For waking up and sneaking out. For teasing when she was meant to be jealous.
The other half desperately wanted her to come back to bed and stay.
You spoke before she could, curling your arm around to keep Misa close. “So what, you get to fuck her, but I can’t even have a cuddle without comments?”
Alexia hardly hid her surprised giggle. “You’re awake, cariño?” Her whole face lit up as she walked over, then gently kneed her way onto the bed. Her hand stroked back the wild flyaways of your hair before she leaned in. Her soft kiss made your heart hurt. Asking her to stay was on the tip of your tongue, but you already knew what the answer would be. You’d text each other enough ‘I miss you’s’ to know the response to that too.
Instead, you soaked in the worshipful caress of her fingers. Another kiss. Then one to your cheek. Alexia pulled away, just a cheeky smile before, “You can fuck her too, baby.” Another kiss. “Be safe.”
She turned and pressed her lips to Misa’s wild hair. Then, she left without turning back.
That comment played around and around in your head all day.
When Misa stood over the stove, sleep-rumpled and cooking breakfast.
When she readied herself for your walk in the garden, sliding her gun into her jeans.
When she stood behind you in the shooting range, strong hands correcting your own while her hips pressed against your ass.
When she stripped her shirt off before even starting her workout, then again when her sweat made her skin shine.
When she lingered at the door of the bathroom, eyeing how you settled on the bed to wait for her since she wanted you close.
And then again, when you could hear the shower's drone next door and know that she was hot, naked, and dripping under it.
You opened your phone to entertain yourself in the meantime. Flicked between the Lucy-approved weather app, your messages, and your contacts list a few times.
You tried to ignore the changing of the water patterns, then the quiet as it turned off. You tried to ignore the door left ajar in her paranoia. Tried to ignore the slithers of movement you could see through the crack.
Weather app, messages, contacts.
The hairdryer turned on.
Weather app, messages, contacts. Then back to messages. Impulsive perhaps, but Alexia’s was the first thread. Without overthinking it, you typed:
[13:56] You: Were you serious
[13:56] You: What you said this morning
Immediately, the read receipt lit up. Then:
[13:56] Alexia: ?[13:56] You: About Misa
[13:57] You: And what I can do
Then, instead of three dots, just silence. You stared at the thread for a few seconds, then went through the app rotation for good measure. Still nothing.
You half-expected your phone to light up with an incoming call, but instead, your focus was stolen by the hairdryer shutting off.
The silence stretched, no movement in the bathroom, no notifications on your phone. You’d opened the text thread again and started typing by the time the door crept open.
Immediately, you felt the heat. Misa stepped through, bare feet on the carpet, short shorts hardly hiding the line of her piece, the lines of her tight stomach exposed under a fresh sports bra.
She tilted her chin and leaned against the doorframe. “You okay? Ale said you needed something?”
You’d hardly registered the phone in her hand till she raised her eyebrows at your silence.
“I…” You sat up, staring at your own unanswered thread, “She texted you?”
“Sí, just now.”
Your stomach fluttered. You tried to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, shifting around to pick up your phone again. “I don’t need anything, I just wanted her to text me back.”
You deleted the half-written text, opting instead for the simple message:
[14.02] You: I hate you right now
And then right after, because you knew that a good old guilt-trip was an effective tool:
[14.02] You: I thought you were mad at me :(
But instead of your phone’s vibration, it was Misa’s which chimed. She lifted the screen, immediately grinning.
“Is that Ale?” You asked.
Misa’s gaze flickered to you, her smile confirming.
Defiantly, you crawled your way to the edge of the bed and schooled your expression to confidence. “Can I see?”
Instead of answering, Misa shook her head, her amusement grinding against your thinly-veiled embarrassment.
A new tactic, wide eyes and pouting lips. “Please? She won’t text me back.”
Misa was still for a second. She glanced down at her screen again, then straightened up and stepped over the plush carpet in front of you. She handed you her phone while you registered how good she smelled.
You tapped the screen to brighten, then scrolled to the top of the most recent messages in the thread.
[13:57] Alexia: What are you doing right now?
[13:57] Misa: Shower. Was at the gym. She’s in the bedroom on her phone. I can see her.
You didn’t know what to do with the affection curling in your chest at being brought up unprompted in their conversation.
[13:57] Alexia: She’s horny
[13:57] Alexia: For you
[13:57] Alexia: Do something about it
You were certain your cheeks were bright red now.
[13:58] Misa: Is that an order?
You scrolled down.
[13:58] Alexia: If you want it to be
[13:58] Alexia: If you’d rather stand outside and listen to her getting off, you could do that instead
[14:02] Alexia: I’ll be home late
[14:02] Alexia: Tire her out for me
[14:02] Alexia: I want cuddles tonight
Nothing else came through. Misa still stood in front of you. You could feel her gaze, even if you didn’t want to meet it. Instead, you offered her the phone back, reaching for your own and typing quickly:
[14:04] You: I can’t believe you.
[14:04] You: You’re in so much trouble Alexia
It wasn’t surprising when you were left on read. You sighed just to fill the silence.
Misa didn’t move, still stood in front of you. Her voice was laced with her usual playfulness. “What did you say to her?”
“That she’s in trouble when she gets home.”
Her unrestrained laugh lifted a bit of the tension, as did her weight shifting to sit next to you. “I meant earlier?”
You could see her eyes dart to the phone in your hand. Something about her openness had you handing it over before you’d really thought it through.
She tapped the screen, head tilting like a confused puppy while she started to read. The seconds ticked by.
You were unsure what to do with your hands, anxiety tightening your chest with every passing moment.
Then, Misa held it back out with a snort. “Don’t be too mad at her, princess. She just wants you happy.”
Picking imaginary dirt from your fingernails seemed like the best solution. That, and digging even further. “If she wanted me to be happy, she’d be here.”
Misa tilted her head, a flicker of sympathy in the dip of her smile. “Soon,” She breathed, setting the phone to her side when you made no move for it, “As soon as she can be.”
The quiet sat. You were ready to suggest making a start on dinner despite your very recent lunch.
Misa, on the other hand, with her hair half-dried, half-dressed, half-smiling, was reading you like a book. With a dramatic clearing of her throat, she tapped the outside of your thigh with her fingers. “So… did you want me to step outside?”
The groan was escaping before you could think twice. You lay back, covering your face with both palms. If hell was a place, the ground would have already eaten you up.
As it were, a different kind of torture.
You felt the weight of her shifting as she leaned back on her side.
“No.” You grumbled, torn between hiding behind whatever tattered pride you had left and ogling her body.
“You want me to stay?” She prodded. You could hear the smile in her tone.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“You want something else, then?”
The heat from your cheeks was unbearable. “I hate you. Both of you.”
Misa laughed, shifting to stroke her fingers against your forearms. “Come on. You’re never shy about asking for what you want.”
“Mis,” You sighed, pressing your arms down and out of her reach. She was closer than you expected.
She didn’t pull away; instead, she shifted closer, her shoulder brushing yours. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a playful, knowing hum. “For the record, I would.” Her eyes made a less than-subtle dart down your body. “Gladly. And if you didn’t belong to Ale, I’d have made a move the first time I saw you.”
You froze.
Misa smirked again, exhaling as she propped herself up on an elbow. “Surprised?”
Quite the opposite, in fact. Having confirmation that the weeks of flirting weren’t just proximity and obligation felt a lot like relief.
“You’re a menace,” You deflected, though it lacked any real conviction. In fact, it felt a lot like flirting back. The room felt small all of a sudden.
“I’ve heard worse.” Misa wasn't smirking anymore; her expression had softened into something hungrier, her gaze tracing the line of your throat before locking back onto your eyes. “Now, I’m under strict instructions to tire you out, so either you tell me to leave, or…”
“Or what?”
Misa’s eyes twinkled at the hint of bratiness. “Or you take your clothes off and we’ll see if you’re as smart with my head between your legs.”
You felt your thighs clench, but tried not to let her crudeness throw you. Her tease was familiar, so normal now that it still felt casual.
Misa didn’t look at you like a job she had to complete, but like someone she wanted to serve.
Reverent.
The power was heady. The decision, well beyond made:
“I don’t want you to go.”
“No?” Misa breathed, reaching out to draw the back of her hand against your forearm.
You moved to tangle your fingers together, letting the playfulness curl into your smile. “No," You inhaled just to see her be unusually patient for the next sentence, "But I do want you to kiss me. And maybe more.”
With a chuckle, Misa rolled her eyes and squeezed at your hand. “Maybe? She asks her girlfriend if she can fuck me and now she’s playing hard to get.”
That drew a giggle from you, the absurdity of it all. “Maybe,” You hummed, “Depends how the kiss goes.”
With an athletic grace that caught you off guard, her hand untangled itself and slid across your jaw. Misa leaned in, fast first, then completely still with just a centimetre between you. You could feel the heat of her, suddenly hyper aware of your own body, how your lips had already parted for something she only teased.
You didn’t give her time for whatever smooth comment she was about to deliver. You closed the gap with a stretch of your neck, pressing your lips against hers without fanfare. It wasn’t the soft caution of a first kiss, nor reflective of the blunt hunger simmering inside. Instead, her kiss felt right. Steady with the pressure and rhythm of two people who did this all the time.
But you didn’t do this all the time, and the way she pulled back and made you chase her for another was addictive. She seemed to enjoy that, smiling against your lips when you sighed your frustration. Your hands were trapped too low to keep her close, one stuck against your stomach and the other meeting the hot skin of her waist.
Misa pulled back, “Did I pass?” She purred, stroking her thumb over your bottom lip with practised confidence.
Her smugness was a challenge.
You turned your head, tongue darting out to lick softly at the pad of her thumb before taking it into your mouth.
Misa’s breath hitched, her jaw slackened as you hollowed your cheeks, eyes locked on her reaction. The sound felt like a victory. Her brow creased, pupils blown wide as she watched you suck her thumb against your tongue.
This feel like a delicious starter that left you hungrier than when your stomach was empty 🥵 Main course when? I mean please the poeple are starved, we need the actual smut part 🥹 we need all the parts you’ll be up to write 🔥
Joke aside, kudos on this one, this is my favorite woso au ever !! The characters are so well put together and bodyguard Misa omg I didn’t know an alternative Misa could be sexier than the original one 🤒
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WC: 5K words
TW: explicit sexual content +18
This chapter takes place around Christmas, this is so inappropriate rn lol
Summary: A new season begins for Nicky, the newly promoted photography director of Real Madrid. Navigating her new responsibilities while maintaining her secret relationship with Misa is not easy on a daily basis, especially when the unpredictability of life keeps making things even more complicated.
Chapter 12 ➺ Better and bitter
Chapter 13 ➺ Dangerous steps
Chapter 14 ➺ The fall
Chapter 15 ➺ Broken nights
Chapter 16 ➺ Winter lights
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
Misa called me every day, and I called Misa every day.
We chatted for hours. We never talked about what had happened or about what would happen in the future. We talked about anything else. There was so much I wanted to know. How had she built so much muscle so quickly? Had she continued drawing classes? Or the tattoo course? Misa bombarded me with questions in return about my exhibition. How did I select the pictures? Was it hard? Did my boss complain about everything? As though we were trying to rewind time, we relived the two months we had spent apart and somehow, it felt like we had turned them into one shared story. I rewatched every game Misa played since we had broken up and we debriefed them for countless hours on the phone. I couldn’t stop commenting each save, every dive the young goalkeeper made like it had been her best performance. I couldn’t hide the joy filling my heart back day after day. It was a crazy feeling to build something back with Misa, at distance, without seeing her, without feeling her against me but I could feel it made us miss each other even more. The truth was, a few days later, there was hardly any difference between us and an actual couple, but we avoided mentioning it, and talking about serious business. And that suited me well for now.
The very morning of Christmas, my phone rang at 8’, waking me up with a jolt but I picked it up, my voice groggy.
“Misa! Merry Christmas!“
“Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Próspero año y felicidad Nicky!“ Misa sang. “Put on the video!“
I laughed with all my heart, pressing the camera icon, and kept laughing even louder as Misa’s cute face appeared on the screen, a Christmas hat topping her head and a silly grin on her lips.
She leaned the phone against a wall and stepped back from the camera, revealing she was outside, probably in her family house’s patio, wearing a Christmas jumper matching the hat.
“You like it?“ She asked, showing off her outfit and improvising a few dance steps.
“I love a pretty Christmas clown,“ I said fondly, still laughing.
“Watch out!” Misa warned, grabbing a ball and kicking it precisely just aside the phone.
I rolled over in my bed, “I wish I could play with you, I miss our training. The weather seems so warm at your place!“
“The air is a little fresh in the morning. Only 15 degrees.” She replied, jogging in front of the phone.
I was jealous. The cold air of my bedroom made me shiver, winter was icy this year, especially where my parents lived. “I don’t know how you’re standing training outside in winter back in Madrid!”
“We’re not cold because we’re moving” Misa said, the ball back in her hand and running backward toward the farthest wall of the patio. The hat’s pompom bounced happily as she jogged.
I snorted “I couldn’t. I don’t have the stamina… my cardio’s getting worse than a sloth’s”
Misa chuckled “Es verdad… although, it would get better if you quit smoking!“
“Mis’…“ I warned her. I had explicitly told her the subject wasn’t to be discussed.
“Vale, vale“, she took the phone back in her hand, her face close and adorable. “Tell me about your Christmas’ feast.”
“The starters were the best. Shrimps and crabs rolls… and oysters of course! The main course was good too but my mom made a fuss about it being overcooked and having to hear her complain all diner spoil a bit of my appetite.”
“Jajaja, your mom seems one of a kind” Misa pointed out.
“Yes, you could say that…” I replied. I hoped the bitterness in my voice didn’t show.
I was already remembering what else had happened during Christmas Eve…
“Nicky honey, you look so much better! Is there something you didn’t tell us?” My mum had asked casually as I had smiled absentmindedly, chewing a mouthful of a buttered toast between two oysters.
I had chewed very slowly to give me the time to figure out what I was going to say as the entire family had stared at me, hanging to my lips.
“Errrr, I’m fine.” I had begun.
“You seem more than fine indeed!” My uncle had observed.
“Leave Nicky alone y’all, you’d preferred she stayed depressed?” My father had stepped in.
He had been coming to my rescue but I hadn’t had liked it, nor his allusion about my psychological state.
“It’s okey dad. Actually I wanted to tell you about it. It’s going better between Misa and I. We’re talking again.”
There had been some “Oh” and some “Ahhh” but I hadn’t missed the pleading “Dear Lord…” my mother had let out. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by most of the family, some of them staring at her, some, on the contrary, looking down at their plate.
“That’s great news, Nicky!” My uncle had broken the silence.
“What are you talking about? She broke her heart!” My mother had snapped at her brother before turning to me “Nicky, after all you endured, why?”
“We’re just talking. It feels good…” I said awkwardly.
“If you get back together, it not going to work any better“, My mom had stated calmly, “She left you once, she’ll leave you again.”
I had grasped my towel, my anger rising. I had always hated the way my mother’s opinion sounded like certainty. I had genuinely wondered if she thought she could predict the future.
I had contained the tone of my voice, remaining calm. “Mom, you don’t know Misa, she’s not like that. Besides, we're not bound to make the same mistakes again.”
She had rolled her eyes, “and what about your job? You’ll keep your relationship secret forever…?”
I had breathed out, getting more irritated that my own mother had me thinking about my relationship future when I forbid myself to discuss it with Misa.
“I don’t want to talk about that now. I told you, we just talking.”
“This is so wrong! Nicky, have some sense! You’re thinking of quitting the first job that challenges you, that stimulates you, for a girl who left you right after your accident!”
“Mom, I trust Misa.” I had replied firmly, far less convinced that I had pretended to.
I had swallowed. My mom had just awoken my own insecurities, and the fear of losing Misa again had knotted my guts. She was right about one thing: Misa had dumped me at the worst time, and I still struggled to forget how broken and shattered I had been.
“Darling, leave Nicky alone. Personally, I’m just glad she’s feeling better.” My father had winked toward me.
His words had comforted me that time, and had put an end to the heavy discussion.
Back on the phone, Misa had sensed my trouble, her gaze intense through the screen.
“Azucari?” She called softy, “Que pasa?”
“Nothing, I should get up and join everyone in the living.”
Of course I didn’t convinced her.
“I’m not buying that. What is bothering you? It’s about your mother?”
I straitened up and sat against the bed board.
“she didn't take it very well that you and I are talking again,” I confessed, looking down at my pillow.
“Oh… because of the clause I guess…?”
The contract clause came up again and I felt tired all of a sudden. I wished I could stay silent and that she could come closer to wrap her arms around my shoulders. I didn’t look at the screen when I answered.
“Yes. Plus, my mom think she's an expert in psychology. I feel like she doesn’t trust you anymore.”
“Oh… but… what about you?“ She asked.
I glanced up at the phone. Misa’s mischievousness was gone, leaving her eyes bright and sad. I couldn’t lie to her. I didn’t know what to say and I surely didn’t want to dig inside my painful feelings on Christmas Day.
“I need to hold you in my arms to properly answer”, I said, knowing she wasn’t going to like the lingering meaning.
Indeed, Misa flinched and bit her lip but as she spoke, half a smile animated her lips.
“I guess I’ll have to wait until next year, then.”
I smiled back.
“I’m sure you’ll survived waiting five more days“
***
Against all odds, I was the girl counting the hours, the minutes, the seconds, that kept me away from Misa. I came back to Madrid on the evening of the 3rd of January and went straight to Misa’s place. Her home was only a few minutes’ ride from the airport but those minutes felt longer than the entire two weeks we had spent apart.
When I finally reached the building, night had fallen a long time ago over the Spanish capital. My heavy luggage in hand I took the staircase and climbed painfully. I didn’t want to bother Misa with my claustrophobia and I hadn’t told her I had arrived at her place yet. She was well aware of my irrational fear and would have been waiting at the front door to play the gentlewomen at once. Since the breakup, I was used to handling my phobia on my own. But now, I was suffocating in the freezing cold staircase. My brain was boiling with excitement and a slight hint of apprehension. I felt like nothing was going to be the same after tonight. I wanted to see her, yes, to talk to her, but I couldn’t control how badly I wanted her to hold me in her arms, how badly I wanted to feel her.
I was out of breath when I reached her floor but the physical effort was nothing compared to the desperate longing gripping my heart as I faced the door of her apartment, and I knocked feebly. I heard the lock being unlocked from inside and the door slid open.
Misa didn’t asked, or she couldn’t help herself. She grasped my entire body, pulling me against her, and I was drowning in her scent half a second later. She smelled like love and happiness, which pulled a small tear from my eyes and a strangled giggle from my throat. The giggle lasted as she dragged me inside the apartment, looking exasperated at my big suitcase.
“You didn’t take the elevator! You should have called me!“
“I’m a big girl Mis’.”
“Yeah, but I’m bigger” she grinned and totally seduced me.
“I like that you’re bigger…“ I said, taking her thick arms and placing them around my shoulders.
I placed a soft kiss on her lips and she kissed me back with an unbearable gentleness. I lost myself in it, delighted, shrouded. She tasted even better than I remembered and suddenly my tongue ached to taste other places of her body. It had been so long since I had pleased myself. During my time alone, nothing had worked, nothing had excited me. And now, by the way our lips couldn’t leave each other, I was guessing we were about to go beyond another turning point. Neither of us had the elegance of pretending we weren't about to fuck each other right away. I had never hooked up with an ex before, let alone while being still in love with her. At this moment, I felt truly there, something was even more intense than our first night in Paris, like the broken pieces of my heart were joining together and starting to mend.
Barely breaking our kiss, the goalie freed me from my coat, dropping it carelessly onto the floor, and led me backward to the bedroom. When we reached the bed, she pushed me rather roughly and I fell heavily onto it. She stayed standing to undress herself. I watched her, eyes hooded, a burning fire waking up near my pelvis. My eyes never left her as she pulled off her top and pants, unraveling her gorgeous body in light blue underwear, her tan skin standing out in the bedroom dim lights. I thought again she had definitely gained more muscles since I last saw her naked and it sent my core aching to feel her powerful body over me.
All I wanted was to abandon myself completely. My body screamed for her to take control, and I shuddered when she came onto the bed over me. She found my lips again, but even I, hadn’t foreseen the fierceness that inhabited the goalie as she pushed me against the mattress. Sensing her wanting me so much was mind-blowing.
As I wiggled under her, her hands pulled up my shirt and lost themselves along my flanks. I caressed her strong shoulders and felt her muscles hardening under my fingers. I ran them down her back to the waistband of her thong and they sunk into the bare flesh of her ass. I felt myself getting wet before we even began to fuck. Her feverish kiss, multiplied by weeks of sex deprivation, fed my arousal and I worked messily at undressing ourselves completely. The fresh air of the room didn’t cool me down as we lay naked against each other, deepening our kisses and caresses.
“I want you, touch me… Please,” I pleaded, my arousal becoming painful.
“I want to touch you… and I want to feel you too” she murmured, her palm travelling toward my pelvis.
I sighed, mirroring her. Our fingers ended between each other’s thighs to taste our wetness, and we breathed out simultaneously, only to touch more of our unreasonable arousal. Misa yelped my name on my lips, stirring my desire of her in a needy groan. I just couldn’t get enough of her moans, nor I could deal with it when I got what she was about to do as she straightened up to cross her legs over my hips.
Slowly, she angled her hips until her core pressed delicately onto mine. A strangled sound escaped my lips as her own wetness coated my intimacy. She pressed herself more, moaned, and began to rub herself onto me. I grasped the bedsheets, savoring the feel of our shared excitation, her cries resounding loudly when her hips rutted onto my core. Pleasure built in quickly, her clit and lips sliding deliciously against mine, and I was in awe at the sight of the beautiful spectacle she was offering me. She arched, holding her weight onto her arms, her contracted muscles sculpting her toned body. We were getting completely drenched and Misa quickened her moves, closing her eyes, her desperation showing as she seemed unable to finish herself like this. She stopped moving abruptly and swiftly slid backward until my head ended up between her legs.
“Please…” she sighed.
I did not need to be asked twice before I held her powerful thighs to drive her hips lower and pressed my mouth against her folds. I started to lick her eagerly. I could have come like this, with that intoxicated taste of her body filling my mouth, and her needy moans filling the room. But the brunette wasn’t going to let me come on my own. She leaned forward, bowing her head between my legs and for a moment I couldn’t think of anything else but of her tongue.
“Fuck” I blurted out after a particularly well placed lick. I mimicked her rhythm, my tongue sliding widely from up to down, her moans vibrating softly onto my own sensitive area. Warmth grew in my belly, dense and strong, as we ate each other out passionately. But when she added her fingers to the equation, pleasure became unbearable.
“I’m gonna come, baby! Slow down or come with…“
But it was too late. I came suddenly, the coils running through my body with much strength took my breath away. A long whine joined mine, freeing itself from deep inside the brunette, and both our cries filled the cold bedroom for a few seconds. She fell forward just after, her legs shaky and her breathing coming out in rasps.
After a minute or so, Misa heaved herself off me with a low groan.
“Ostia,” She swore, locking her brown gaze into mine. Maybe it was her eyes but my core already felt lonely, a shared feeling, given to the brunette’s reaction when I sat up to find her lips again.
She pushed me back onto the bed, pinning my hands onto the pillow while she settled between my legs to spread them wide.
“Te haré el amor hasta que mueras de placer” she said, lascivious. “Entiendes? You understand?“
Misa gently pressed my clit with her fingertips, and I moaned more than I nodded.
“Bien, I’m going to repeat in English anyway: I’ll make love to you until you die of pleasure.“
“Please!“ was all I could reply.
She slid two fingers inside, snatching an instant cry of joy. Feeling her back there with her gaze heavy with desire, was pushing me beyond happiness. It was one thing to love Misa, and a totally different one to make love with Misa. To experience both in the same time was overwhelming. I felt alive to the fullest, the broken pieces aligning themselves, mending in a straight strong line and dissolving back into bliss.
I did not control the sinful shouts that left me again. I did not control anything anymore. All I was able to do was holding Misa like my life depended on it.
Misa! Misa! Stay! Please don’t go! Please!
"I’m here, Nicky! I’m not going anywhere. I promise!", her soft voice resounded in my ear and I realized I had said out loud the words ringing in my mind between each cry of pleasure.
Embarrassed, I hid my face in my hands as I landed back on earth. I almost felt numb with the release. Everything was very quiet in the room, so quiet we could hear our breathing getting back to normal and our skin brushing against each other. The brunette was holding me close, rubbing her mouth softly against the column of my neck.
“I have to go to the restroom”, she said and I grunted in protest when she got out of bed, leaving me alone and shivering.
With the rush of endorphins, I was drifting off when she returned, a toy and a harness in her hand and a wide smirk on her face. That awoke me at once.
***
I was pulled out of sleep by soft lips brushing my cheek. The smell of her surrounded me, a hint of her sweet perfume lingered beneath the scent of her skin. My first conclusion was that I was still asleep, dreaming she had come back to me like had dreamt countless time before.
Consequently, I didn’t dare to open my eyes. The bedsheets made a rustling noise, punctuated by the popping sounds of her kisses. The air of the room felt icy cold and I sunk deeper in her embrace, my face pressing against her torso to snuggle in her warmth. Her breast felt soft through her large T shirt, contrasting with her broad and hard body. Her arms wrapped me more, trapping me in that other world. I had no idea what time it was, but it felt as though I'd only had a few hours of sleep.
I stretched my legs and realized I felt sore between them. My flesh still bore the memories of the night and they suddenly flooded my mind.
A strap. A moan. A cry. Fingers burring themselves in my mouth. The smell of sex. More cries.
Bliss.
Was it real after all? Had Misa and I really made love all night, until the first lights of dawn had filtered between the heavy curtains? The feel of being unable to get enough of each other filled me back and I remembered we had stopped only because exhaustion had finally caught up with us. I felt strained all of a sudden. My body was nevertheless painfully satisfied, the burning feel between my legs a good reminder of why I feeling so damned sleepy.
Misa pulled my face slightly away to resume her kisses on my cheek. I smiled, realizing the realness of the situation.
“Please don't wake me up. I'm dreaming about Misa Rodríguez.” I moaned.
She chuckled, her lips grazing my jawline “Sounds nice, Sleeping beauty. What is Misa Rodriguez doing in your dream?”
“She’s in my bed, needy as fuck, and I’m loving it.”
I heard Misa snort and pull back. "Who was holding me like a pulpo all night? It’s you Princesa!
“Shhh, you have to choose!“ I said, keeping my eyes closed. "Am I un pulpo or una princesa?“
"Only a kiss will tell…"
I giggled, defenseless against the goalie’s endearing humor. "Okay. As long as it doesn’t wake me up from this wonderful dream…”
The goalie took her time, bending over me, her long hair brushing my face, her lips trailing kisses along my neck, going up my ear, passing on my cheek before falling onto my mouth. My eyes fluttered open to see the young woman peering at me from above, disheveled, a frank smile stretching her lips.
“It worked”, I sighed, taking her face in my hands, "I’m still dreaming“.
I looked at her, and I snuggled back against her body.
“Are you hungry, Princesa Pulpo?" Misa asked.
"Starving, and don’t ever call me that again!“
She giggled, gave me another kiss, and got out of bed, pulling me by the arms to follow her. The air of the room felt freezing cold against my skin, still hot with sleep.
I opened my suitcase, pulling out a few clothes and stuff onto the coffee table until I found the proper outfit for this comfy day at home. We got dressed and went to the kitchen to fix us something to eat. I prepared toasts with the rest of a loaf of bread, while Misa ground us a good coffee. She dressed the table, brung the mugs, and went to pace in the living room.
I finished cooking the food, put the eggs and ham onto the bread and turned off the fire. I discovered Misa, standing up near the coffee table, holding one of the glossy prints from my bag. As I came to drop the plates onto the table, she showed me a photo of herself, lying on her side on my sofa, drowsing. The reddish twilight rays were lighting half of her face when the other was left in a purple blueish shadow.
Muted, Misa peered at more photos: her wandering through a wide street, her laughing wildly in my office, the two of us at the Parque del Retiro, looking at each other with a silly grin on our faces… She looked at them for a long moment, and dropped them one after one on the table.
“You printed them… And kept them… with you, all this time.” Hurt and sorrow filled me again and I couldn’t look at her, even when she took my hand in hers. “Like you kept this”, she whispered, her fingers finding the bracelet attached to my wrist.
I withdrew my hand, feeling the pain of being abandoned, lost and wounded, as vivid as when she left me. But as I did so, Misa held me in her arms, and I struggled to pull away, realizing how much I resented her.
“Let me go!” I shouted suddenly.
However, Misa kept holding me with much strength. “I’m so sorry, Cari!” She pleaded, “Perdón! I should have never left you! I was selfish! Lo siento, Nicky… lo siento mucho…” her voice trailed away in a sob and I stopped fighting, going limp against her. Tears began to roll from my eyes.
“I couldn’t give up on you.” I said. “So it never stopped hurting.”
“It never stopped for me either!” The goalie cried on my shoulder. “I wanted to fix things but you avoided me every time I tried!”
“You seemed better off without me. Plus, seeing you only made the pain worse.”
Misa loosened her hold on me and I faced her. She gazed down, crying silently. She looked so ashamed I felt guilty for having rejected her. I had never been able to bear seeing Misa crying and I took her back in my arms.
“It’s okay…” I said as I kept her close and her sob gradually faded away. My lips found her cheek, salty with tears, and a soft smile stretched her lips when I rested my head on her shoulder.
“I don’t want us to hurt each other.” I said sadly.
“We never wanted to. We won’t again.”
She said it with a serious determination and I couldn’t help smiling, softened.
“I know Mis’ but we did, and eventually it had to come out.” I sensed my eyes prickling.
“Escuchame.” She lifted my face, forcing me to look into her eyes. “I was never better without you. I was so worried! I didn’t know how to handle things anymore. It was never because of you!“
“I know, baby” I said. What else could I say, with her desperate eyes locked into my eyes? My feelings for her were urging me to speak more. “Since we’re talking again Mis’ I feel… at peace. In the same time, the idea of losing you again… I can’t. I’ve been there, I was so down. Sometimes it comes back and I can’t breeze…”
Her eyes became shinier again as I held her gaze. It was true, in her arms, loneliness could not find me anymore, but the ghostly feel of hurt still hovered above us.
Yet I knew that it was time for us to talk, at last, what Misa did, picking up one of the printed photos as she started speaking.
“Since you became photography director, your work always came first. I didn’t think it was really healthy but it seemed important to you, and, it would have been quite a joke to be taught a lesson from a professional athlete working every weekend and going abroad every two weeks… but it was before your accident… Your behavior scared me more than your wounds. I didn’t know what to do. You made me feel like I wasn’t on your side and travelling kept me from looking after you. It was a hard time, Nicky! For me too, it had been hard. I was playing poorly. I was lost, it was too much. But in the end, I felt as though I had run away…“ She let the photo fall onto the floor as fresh tears started to roll down her cheeks. “I do think leaving you was the weakest thing I could have done.”
I was crying too, frozen in the middle of living room, Misa’s words reopening the scares that never healed. Yes I had suffered, but there was so much going on at the time, it was clear that the scars had never been caused by Misa. And now, it was her again who came to hold me back in her arms when we were both trembling. Like I did onto the dance floor, I placed both my hands onto her torso, and took my courage.
“If it wasn’t for the clause, nothing would have stopped us from dating far sooner and nothing would have torn us apart. I know I hurt you and I’m sorry Misa. I’m not saying leaving me was the right thing to do, but I don’t think it was weak. I know you did because you thought it would be better for both of us.”
I exhaled deeply. Yes, everything was clear now.
“And maybe it could have made our lives simpler, but certainly not better… at least not for me.” I continued.
Misa’s intense stare helped me find the strength to fully open my heart again. I took a deep breath. I spent a few seconds trying to find the words and let what they implied about my professional future sink in.
“I don’t want a thriving, creative and ambitious career… without you“
For all answer, the young woman’s cries intensified. She held me tighter than a ball after a penalty.
“Te quiero! Te amo Nicky!“ She sobbed, “I shouldn’t but I’m so happy to hear that” she said, her cries turning into a wet chuckle. "I’ll wait for you, as long as you need to find a new job. I know I need to be more patient…“
We locked our wet eyes again. I wiped the tears from her face delicately.
“You, impatient?” I teased her, sending her smiling apologetically.
I drove Misa to the window, the Ciudad Real Madrid was in sight in the distance.
“I do trust you Mis'” I confessed. I faced her, lowering my gaze to her mouth. “because I love you...”
She approached her face slowly and wrapped her lips around mine as I hugged her without any restraint.
“I love you! You are so….” I began, drunk with her taste.
“Attractive, strong, brilliant, funny… I know, I know.” She cut in, obnoxious.
“Unbearable!” I shouldered her away from me, irritated to still be charmed by her silly personality. “Breakfast's probably colder than a goalkeeper at the Ciudad by now”, I said.
“One keeper can’t feel the cold,“ She replied, kissing me on the forehead.
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