#Team Mariposa

[paul-islam]

Skate Mariposa: Pleased to announce that Olympian Mitch Islam is joining the leadership at Mariposa School of Skating by taking on the Director of Dance role from his father David Islam, co-owner of the school. . "I grew up skating at Mariposa for over 20 years and from the beginning, I've learned from the sport's most elite athletes and their coaches. Who I am today as a coach is a result of this environment. After years of training and competing at the highest level, I've developed an undeniable passion for the ice. My drive to help today's skaters realize their potential as athletes and as humans is what motivates me." Mitch . Since beginning his coaching career, Mitch has attended Junior Grand Prix’s and Internationals, Junior Worlds, and Canadian Nationals as a coach, and he is excited to be apart of taking Mariposa into the future! Competitive accomplishments: . -2014 Olympian -2014 World Championships – 10th -2011, 2014 and 2015 Canadian National bronze medalist -2010 Junior World Championships – 2nd -2010 Junior Canadian Champion -Qualified for 2006 Junior Grand Prix Final (with Joanna Lenko) -3x Junior Grand Prix medalist (with Joanna Lenko)

[swampskullsz]

📺🔪🦩🌹

first two artfight attacks this year, both for my bf <3

[silentmagi]

Lady Mariposa AU: (Chat Noir x Mariposa x Team Miraculous) in "Venting"

It was time to teach Chat Noir the appropriate means of reacting to your parent being a magical terrorist holding your mother's dead body in a glass coffin under the manor.

It was one thing teaching him to swear, it was another when he heard Lady Mariposa chain them into a two minute tirade. The peeling of the paint around her was... scary.

The chaos compels.

If you want to write one of these, please just link me

[calder]

In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

[theemporium]

Cece babyy...can I request a violent purple drink(gonna pause right here to say you're just sooo talented and creative!!!) with Carlos and butterfly when she tells him she's pregnant?🥲🥲🥲 With "You just have this glow about you." And maybe if it fits"Your body feels like home to me." ?? Thank youuuuu

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

42. “You just have this glow about you.” 

series masterlist

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You had been racking your brain to find the perfect moment to tell him.

You didn’t like keeping secrets from Carlos, quite the opposite if you were honest. Your relationship with Carlos brought a lot of realisations and firsts for you, including such open and honest communication. It was something that was severely lacking in your previous relationships, familial and platonic and romantic. 

But with Carlos, it was different. 

You never went to bed angry with each other, always determined to talk it out and get your feelings out on the table even if you needed a few hours apart. You wore your heart on your sleeve and he returned the gesture, never hiding his emotions from you. And you never kept secrets. Not because it was some rule between you but because you and Carlos genuinely didn’t keep anything from each other.

And now you felt like you were holding the biggest secret from him and you felt like your whole body was going to explode. 

You had taken the test on a whim, frowning when you looked at the calendar and realised you were a few days late. It was nothing too concerning, you were used to your cycle being a bit off with the constant travelling and stress of work. You don’t even know what pushed you to take the test, just a random gut feeling that you ultimately thought would lead to nothing. 

Until you found yourself staring at a positive test, alone in the bathroom with Carlos hundreds of miles away in Maranello for some team meetings. 

You had a few days to work out how to tell him, to figure out some sort of plan and speech to give when you told him you were pregnant. But all of it went flying out the window when he arrived last night, cowardice taking over as you kept your mouth shut and tried to act like everything was completely normal. 

“Did you change something?” 

You blinked, lifting your head from the screen you had been helplessly staring at for the last fifteen minutes to look at Carlos by the stove. “Hm? What? No. I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

“No?” Carlos hummed as he turned to look at you over his shoulder, smiling knowingly. “You just have this glow about you. It suits you.” 

“Glow? Pfft,” you waved him off, feeling your stomach churn a little. “I think the sleep deprivation is getting to you. Maybe you should take a nap after breakfast.” 

“Really? Maybe I’m affected by pregnancy hormones too,” he commented casually.

“That’s not how—” You paused, his words hitting you properly for the first time and your lips parting in surprise. “You know?!” 

Carlos could only laugh as he turned off the stove, rounding the counter so he could settle between your legs and cup your face in his hands. “I saw the test last night. You didn’t hide it very well, amor,” he mused, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. 

“And,” you swallowed, your hands resting on his chest. “How do you feel about it?” 

“I will support you in whatever path you want to choose,” Carlos whispered with a sweet smile. “You are my first priority, always. And I will back you up no matter what.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, your tears welling up because even after so many years, you couldn’t quite grasp how you got so lucky with him.

“Yes, mi mariposa,” he murmured with a grin, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. “It’s you and me before anything else.”

.

[vetteltea]

Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back. 

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously. 

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll. 

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters. 

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around. 

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic. 

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing. 

He simply cannot stand for that. 

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement. 

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features. 

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks. 

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles. 

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about. 

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp. 

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that. 

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket. 

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health. 

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly. 

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital. 

Love is a scream for your name. 

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome. 

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in. 

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital. 

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving. 

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife. 

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.” 

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married. 

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside. 

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes. 

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now. 

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight. 

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further. 

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about. 

Love is notes left on a coffee cup. 

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up. 

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men. 

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake. 

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.” 

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him. 

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care. 

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital. 

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe. 

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman. 

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.” 

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.” 

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust. 

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come- 

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that. 

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial. 

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him. 

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible. 

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him. 

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too. 

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more. 

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose. 

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch. 

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks. 

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is. 

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall. 

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up. 

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise. 

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid. 

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy. 

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you. 

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. 

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item. 

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding. 

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you. 

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of. 

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed. 

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric. 

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet. 

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours. 

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days. 

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature. 

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present. 

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly. 

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough. 

 “Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife.  At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’ 

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence. 

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress. 

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another. 

“And Mrs. Leclerc?” 

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you. 

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything. 

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again. 

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.” 

He needed to speak to you. 

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend. 

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard. 

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault. 

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore. 

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor. 

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.” 

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds. 

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint. 

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you. 

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much. 

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared. 

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too. 

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing. 

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps. 

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues. 

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.” 

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer. 

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now. 

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?” 

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting. 

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes. 

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

surprise! ( greg sanders x reader )

There were very few cases that didn't leave a lasting impression on the team, but this case exceeded all the brutality that the team had worked on and even when you were at home in your apartment, your mind was working on the case, making it impossible to go to sleep.

The moment you found out you were pregnant, you changed your old habits, never skipping a meal, sneaking a snack or two, and starting to take vitamins, however, this case made you feel queasy and it was easy to fall into old habits, and so you skipped meals, forgot to take the vitamins and didn't get the rest your body desperately needed.

After five days of neglect your body was feeling the effects and you did your best to shrug off the nausea and exhaustion as you continued to run tests in the lab.

"Please, please, please, be good news." You muttered as you walked to the printer, picking up the results.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" Nick asked. "Got the results yet?"

"Just got 'em." You replied, turning to him with a smile. Your brow furrowed when your footing wobbled and Nick looked at you worriedly, stepping forward.

"Hey, hey, you okay?"

You shook it off and handed him the results. "Ballistics on the gun were a match. The test I ran on the sample from on the sole of the boots revealed that Hodges was right. Desert Mariposa Lily."

You walked to the desk to fetch the photos you had taken to show the bullets matched the gun Nick and Catherine had found at the crime scene, running a hand over your forehead which felt hot to the touch.

Nick heard the clatter of test tubes hitting the floor and rushed over to your side, rolling you gently onto your back. "Y/N! Y/N!" He looked at the doorway, "I need some help in here!"

Hearing the commotion, Catherine, Ray, and Greg rushed into the room and your boyfriend quickly knelt beside you, glancing at Nick.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. She just collapsed." Nick moved aside to let Ray take a look at you and Greg looked at your cheek and forehead which had small pieces of glass from the broken test tubes embedded in the skin.

"It's likely that she fainted, but she should have woken up by now. She must've hit her head on the way down. She needs to go to the hospital." Ray explained, looking at Greg whose eyes widened, nodding his head.

He picked you up off the floor, and Nick followed him when he carried you out of the room, "I'll come with you."

The two CSIs raced through the streets of Las Vegas to the nearest hospital and Nick helped hold doors while Greg carried you inside. "We need a doctor!"

Greg was instructed by a nurse to place you down on a bed a few moments later and walked down the hallway with the nurses as Nick recounted what happened.

"Are you family?" One of the nurses asked as a doctor walked into the room.

"Colleague," Nick replied.

"Boyfriend," Greg answered, looking over her shoulder to watch as the doctor listened to your heart, checking your pulse, instructing the three nurses around the bed.

"You'll have to wait outside then." She smiled apologetically and Greg opened his mouth to argue, but the nurse interrupted him, "Please, we'll keep you notified if we find out anything."

Greg and Nick reluctantly made their way out of the room and the former ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the wall. Nick's cell phone rang and he informed Greg it was Catherine, before answering it.

For over an hour, the two CSIs remained outside your room while the doctor and the nurses came and went and Greg grew more restless. Nick left down the hallway to find coffee and returned with two cups, holding one out to Greg who thanked him.

"She's a tough one. She'll be fine." Nick reassured him.

As evening turned into night and night became early morning, Greg was approached by the doctor who informed him of the various tests he had done, and their results.

"Pregnant?" Greg echoed.

The doctor nodded, "Almost seven weeks. It's been over twelve hours since she last ate, that's my best guess anyway. When she fainted due to exhaustion and malnourishment, she hit her head pretty hard. We're gonna monitor her for a concussion. But all signs say the baby is healthy. Just make sure she keeps hydrated and eats something."

Noticing Greg was in a state of shock, Nick thanked the doctor, shaking his hand before he left. He looked at Greg when he lowered his gaze to the floor contemplatively.

"Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"Odds are she planned to and given the work that we do, never found the right time." Nick reasoned. "Doc says she's awake."

Greg nodded slowly, heading towards your room before turning to Nick, and thanking him.

"I'll leave you two to it." He grinned before walking away.

Greg entered the room and you turned your head, the glass removed from your skin and closed with butterfly closure strips. You looked at your boyfriend as he approached the bed, smiling softly.

"Hey," You greeted timidly.

"Hey," Greg flashed a smile, "How are you feeling?"

"Like an idiot."

He shook his head, "Don't be. I know what it's like to get wrapped up in a case. But I wasn't eating for two."

Your eyes widened for a moment before you realized the doctor must've told him. "The doc told you."

"Yeah." He reached out to move your hair away from your forehead, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to!" You sighed, "I had a big surprise planned, a nice dinner and a present. I special ordered this hat online that said CSI in training on it."

Greg smiled, feeling a weight off his shoulders. "I thought that you didn't say anything because…well, of me."

You shook your head, taking his hand. "I just wanted it to be special, you know?"

Greg ran his thumb over your hand, "If it helps, I was surprised."

"A happy surprise?"

"Very." He smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

You placed a hand on his cheek, running your thumb back and forth along his cheekbone. "I love you. And I'm sorry for scaring you." You knew how you would react if you rushed into a room and he was unresponsive and felt guilty for the worry you had caused him and the team.

"From now on, you will never miss a meal. I will sit and watch you if I have to." A small smile formed on his lips as he leaned in to kiss you tenderly, pulling back moments later to whisper, "And for the record, I love you too."

When you returned home to your apartment the next afternoon, you revealed the spot you hid your gift for Greg and his eyes lit up when he saw the tiny hat. He brought you into his arms as he kissed your head, telling you how much he loved you. He couldn't imagine embarking on this new chapter of life with anyone else.

You returned to work a few days later and were greeted by the team congratulating you on your pregnancy. The case was closed and soon you found yourself immersed in another. Catherine was always checking in with you, making sure you had eaten and even bringing you snacks from the vending machine. Nick refused to let you carry anything heavy, even if it was a dusty box of old forensic files.

You believed things would settle down in a week or so, but it only got worse throughout your pregnancy. Ray was a godsend when the morning sickness hit and when you were working long hours he always made sure you got plenty of rest.

When your baby was born you knew that they was going to be surrounded by a group of hardworking CSIs who would love them dearly. As you looked around the table as everyone reviewed old files, you recalled the moment you suspected you were pregnant, leading to you taking a test at home while Greg was watching a movie. You had been dating for a little over a year, working together for three years, and it shocked you when it came back positive. You believed it would spell the end of your relationship, or be the reason you broke up further down the line. But as you looked at your boyfriend as he read a case file, you knew this was how it was meant to be - that you two were meant to be.

Little did you know that Greg had a hiding spot of his own. A ring box was stashed away until it was time for your date. He had made reservations at one of the hottest restaurants in town, booked months in advance, and he couldn't wait to surprise you.

[judgementdaysunshine]

I know I sent you one about Chyna not too long ago but can you also so a Rhea Ripley one where she's secretly dating someone and when the girl that Rhea is dating comes up to the Judgement Day to ask where Rhea is the Judgement Day makes Rhea's girlfriend cry cause they scream at her and Rhea is furious

☺️

I will not hesitate

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Fem reader

Description: You see your girlfriend on RAW and when you ask her friends where she could be it leads to an incident

You cheered as your girlfriend and her friends made their way to the ring, you decided to surprise her by going to the stadium for her match. Every time she was in the ring during the tag team match, you cheered and yelled even though she didn't hear you since she hadn't waved or smiled at you, waiting to surprise her after the match is done feeling over the moon at her and her team winning as you walk through the crowd until you find a security guard asking him to take you to her showing him the VIP pass you wore on your neck following him backstage sharing a hug and small talk with Liv who was overjoyed at you being there before she left to get ready for her match as you see the boys outside the locker room. You feel a bit nervous as you walk up to them, you hesitate to reach your hand out to gently tap one of them turning when you hear a yell from a pumped up Sami Zayn before turning back around to see three pairs of intense eyes looking at you making your heart stop as you take a breath "Do you know where Rhea is?" you feel your nerves go into chaos as one circles around you with a cold stare turning your head back after watching him only to be face to face with the tallest man who practically towered over you in a terrifying way "What business do you have?" You gulp while squeezing your hands to try and hide the shaking that began "Personal...I came to see her" they stare you down slowly backing away as they each walk towards you. "If you can't explain or prove why you want to see her THEN GET OUT OF HERE" you fall on the ground in fear not noticing a stunned Kevin Owens and a shocked Becky Lynch a few feet away who heard the yelling and saw you on the ground as you crawl away and run until you stopped bursting into tears "Are you okay what happened?!" they both see red while liv is talking to you immediately banging on their locker room door just as rhea walks up to them "The hell do you two want?" as the door opens and kevin glares at them and becky scoffs "You didn't plan what the fuck happened? The poor girl on the floor who ran halfway through the building until liv practically grabbed her to stop her!?" rhea stares confused as becky flips the boys off as rhea follows after her until she stops seeing you sobbing as liv sits beside you "Baby! What are you doing here? What's wrong?!" you tightly hug rhea as she holds you "I was...looking for you and because I wouldn't tell them why they just yelled at me and I thought they were gonna harm me" her eyes widened before seeing red telling liv to stay with you as she practically speed walks back to the boys who were still in the door way of their locker room "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THREE DO?! I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU HARMED HER" they all jump and look confused at her "Are you talking about the girl who was harassing you?" she stares angrily at Finn before grabbing and shoving him in the hall. "THAT WAS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND YOU ASSHOLES! SHE WANTED TO SURPRISE ME BY COMING TONIGHT!" they all stare in shock as she walks away, pulling you in her arms as you walk around to find her laying your head on your shoulder and quietly whimper when you see Dom walk up to you "I will not hesitate to beat your ass if you're gonna be a dick" he shakes his head as she watches him "I'm sorry for that i thought you were a reporter" you nod before jumping when you see finn and eyes widened when damian towers over you like earlier. "Sorry Mariposa I didn't have the patience like I normally do" you nod again before grabbing a marker and drawing an anime face on dom that looked like him making him laugh and hug you before doing the same for the other two until you were all laughing and heading out for drinks and dinner.

[dduane]

First things first, Fairytopia (and Barbie in general) is a big part of my childhood, and I have to thank you for being involved in the creation of some of the best movies of the Barbie franchise that brought me so much joy :)

Now, know this is a potentially silly question, but since you worked in the Fairytopia movies, I gotta ask: since Mariposa is based off of Spain (or takes place in Spain), and since it "borders" Fairytopia, some people say that Fairytopia is meant to be in Portugal, or at least be a fairy version of it. Since I don't see a lot of names/cultural elements from Portugal in the movies, I was wondering if that's true, and if not, did Fairytopia have a "culture" in mind like Mariposa? Or is it just based off the common fairy tropes (most of which are based in the british isles)?

Once again, I apologize if this is a weird question 😅

It's not weird at all. (And thanks for the nice words before it!)

When I was writing the Fairytopia project bible, I remember inquiring of the creative team's supervisor as to whether references to "real world" places were going to happen, or were even going to be desirable. They said "No, we'd prefer to avoid that." And so I avoided it.

If there's been some more recent reference since then to real-world places, then plainly things have changed. But that doesn't strike me as a surprise. There's no rule saying that creatives working on a series can't change stuff around from how they stood in the series bible, if that's what they and the producers want to do.

As for a culture inside Fairytopia, we never really got into the details of that. My job was to lay a basic groundwork, with the understanding that other things could and would later be built on it. When I'd laid that groundwork, I wrote the first draft script (with the understanding that it'd probably go through rewrite after I'd moved on), cashed the checks, and went off to complete work on Wizards at War.

So as regards Fairytopia's "actual" location, or Mariposa's for that matter... these days, your guess is as good as mine. :)

HTH!

[choccy-zefirka]

We previously had a whole Discourse Session about x reader fic on this blog, but I just saw this in visual form on my dashboard (Blorbo hugging/kissing a greyed-out silhouette instead of the artist's OC), and I am back to thinking how being expected to insert my OC into the author-prepared slot is not my thing (and makes me a bit sad, actually) because... all my OCs fall for their love interest, even if it's the same person, for different reasons.

Isk and Wyll are childhood friends who keep being torn apart by circumstances but inevitably find each other. Mariposa and Wyll are gender-swapped Beauty and the Beast; he is the radiant guiding light that inspires her to rise above her Dark Urge. Wilhelm is a classic sad dad, so his partners Wyll and Karlach help him find joy and whimsy in life again. Or, for example, Alyrr stirs Halsin's heart because she is kind to him, while Cinder falls for Halsin because he is kind to *her*; same goes for Niamh and Zevlor vs Dee and Zevlor.

Likewise, in other fandoms, Azelma Cadash and Blackwall initially despise each other because she thinks he's a boring straight-laced fuddy duddy, and he thinks she's a spoiled princess luxuriating in her father's crime spoils and wearing a Stop Being Poor T-shirt, but as their friendship progresses, each discovers that the other is a more nuanced person than their first impressions might suggest. While Naali Adaar teams up with him as Protector of the Small, and Adiba Adaar turns his head with her incredible Nerd Powers (Nana Lavellan is somewhere at the intersection of that, because she is both a nerd and a professional babysitter in her clan). Thraer Aeducan bonds with Morrigan like a golden retriever excitedly following her around; and Revas Mahariel sits across the room from her like they are a cat and she is also a cat, slowly getting accustomed to each other. Nella Amell gets to Zevran with her sweetness and faith in people, and Zevran gets to Brianna Cousland with his roguish charms, even as she appears to have hidden herself behind a wall of ice and grief.

Alisa Shepard is a neurotic perfectionist, Natalie Shepard is an enthusiastic, confident space adventurer; Garrus loves each of them. And in my newest obsession, Cyberpunk, my current rough and tough but secretly artistic street kid V is going to employ different tactics when convincing Takemura to ditch Arasaka through the power of love (shhh, let me have my headcanon) compared to a hyper-stressed, disillusioned corpo V and a happy-go-lucky nomad V I also have planned. And so on and so on and so on.

Can all these different love stories truly be expressed through x reader fics? Even if x reader is mostly focused on smut, I am not sure how much maneuvering you can do while leaving it generic. Again, going back to my own OCs, Arryn Lavellan, a hot-headed 20-something Dalish First, is a virgin who pretends to be sexually experienced to win Respect Points, and then learns the lesson that he did not have to do that; while Elgara Lavellan, a Circle mage and ex-Tranquil, is also a virgin due to her life circumstances, and her lesson is that there's no shame in having a "first time" after 40. Cinder the Tav is a half-Orc, half-Tiefling, used to being fetishized by intimate partners because of her appearance, so she gets her mind blown when Halsin worships her body as a great gift of nature. Laulu the Tav is a half-Orc, half-Halfling, a humble farm girl with dreams of someone who will love her for her, not her glamorous elf bard persona (courtesy of Disguise Self), so she gets *her* mind blown when Gale takes her, the real her, on a journey through the stars. But Amaya, a full Halfling this time, is a vengeful paladin who used to be married to an evil wizard that entrapped her in illusions of love and bliss in order to manipulate her to do his bidding, so she opts for the humble tryst in the woods, blowing *Gale's* mind this time as he realizes that he can be wanted for more than his magic. So for all of them, even smut will flow differently.

Some anons I got argued that inserting your OC into a love story focused on a canon character is too self-centered; you have to give other people a chance to imagine *their* OCs in this blank spot! And I guess it works for some people (a lot of people, in fact), but I would rather write stories and make art about specific OCs and read stories and admire art with *your* specific OCs and all the endless ways they can kiss that Blorbo.

[paul-islam]

(x, October 15 Story) 

Mariposa Ice Dance: A golden weekend for both Olivia & Elliott and Dana & Nicholas!! 🥇🥇🥇🥇 Congratulations to all, including coaches, support team, and families. Feet staying firmly planted on the gas pedal as we approach the second half of the season. On and up!!

[myloveforfanfictonisendless]

So one commented saying they want to see MEGATRON'S reaction....and I am like sure why not

This is the original one

Now lets see how Megatron is getting to know that his child is sparked by his nemesis.

It is happening after the war has ended and after the unicorn mess left Megatron's body. Everyone on team prime is on their edge and Optimus is on his knees, exhausted, tore down.

Y/d: Sire!? *Runs towards Optimus after seeing his father in that state*

Y/n: Optimus * chases after her daughter due to the fear of Megatron's presence*

Megatron's audio receptors are still functional enough for him to hear himself correctly. A sparkling calling Optimus sire. But more importantly his eyes can't loose focus from the person infront of him. He is in shock to see his own daughter in front of him .

Y/d: sire.....*starts sobbing as she can sense his father' s pain through thier bond*

Optimus: I am alright my little Mariposa. Rachet will fix me in no time. It will be fine, don't cry *takes her hand in his but his optics are closely observing yours and Megatron's interaction*

Megatron: *perplexed as if he is seeing an illusion*..... I thought you were dead *wishes to touch you to verify your presence isn't a trick but is too hunted to even try* but how?

Y/n: *cautious* with honesty, I am not aware of how or when I was online... My memories are still fussy but Autobots were the first one to find me.It took a while to get over the amnesia and unwrap my origin connecting with you*too scared to make eye contact*

Y/d: *sense your discomfort* Carrier?

Y/n: I am alright love *send comfort and reassurance*

Megatron: *shocked* carrier? Why did she just call you her carrier..wait she called Optimus sire as well a while back didn't she?

Y/n: yes..*gently tone* she is our child and your granddaughter*looks into Megatron's eyes* if you wish to be a part of her life. You don't want to continue this meaningless war now do you? *Hesitates* sire...

In Megatron's mind: My child... she has grown so much. I missed her and that I am grandfather But wait she has a child of her own with Optimus prime?!... My rival, my one time friend less brother......*realisation hits* THAT AUTOBOT Firetruck DARE TO OBTAIN THE AUDACITY TO NOT ONLY HAVE INTERCOURSE WITH MY LITTLE PRINCESS BUT ALSO SPARKED HER!!!I SHALL BEHEAD HIM RIGHT NOW FOR EVEN MAKING HER HIS CONJUEX ENDURA!!!

Y/n: Sire.....

After a moment of silence,Megatron shifts his head and squints his eyes to peer at y/d. The more he catches the resemblance the more his mind is frothing in rage.

He takes a deep breath and lets his feet stride towards where the child is standing with Optimus.

Megatron: what's your name? young one *sternly Lowers his head at y/d*

Y/d: *Babbled* Y/d... *Scared of due to size difference*

Megatron: *get on his one knee*

Optimus:*flinches and tightens his grip around his daughter tentatively as precaution *

Megatron: *scoffs at Optimus's action but decides to ignore it* do you know who I am to you?. If not allow me to introduce myself to you, my name is Megatron-ous and I am your carrier's sire... young one.

Y/d : Carrier's sire...means you are my grand sire?*innocently*

Megatron: Indeed *gently caresses y/d's helm and smiles*

The tightness in the air loses up a bit but with scepticism in mind everyone is keep watching the interaction. The display of Megatron's smile is strong enough to make many to put Holy water in their optics. Special Rachet

Megatron: Optimus....*glares at him*

Optimus: *looks back*

Megatron: Get up on your feet so that your medic can start treating you *extent his hand* old friend

Optimus: *conflicted but decides to take the hand and gets up slowly*

Megatron: Afterwards we will have a chat like old times....we have a lot to catch up... I can't wait to hear all about the granddaughter I didn't know even existed from her beloved sire and my long term friend.... wouldn't that be a lovely chat prime *venomously smile* like old times.

Optimus: * understanding where it is going, mentally accepts his upcoming death with a painful smile* ofc old friend it would be my honor.

Megatron: Get well soon prime... *Turns around and giving him one last glare over the shoulder* will be looking forward to our next chat *walks away*

Rachet: *approaches optimus* I am having a sheer intuition that you will require some what those humans used to say to us...ahh good luck.. after your recovery.

Optimus: *impassive* yes.....you are quite right in that my friend.

Ratchet: *shrugs and supports him to walk steadily towards the teams*should I take this as my cue to be prepared with another med-bay for you? In advance? Just after your current recovery?*heard everything as he was close by*

Optimus: *nods* that would be highly appreciated.

He definitely needs some luck but well at least the war is over.

@cyberrose2001 @compaculaaa @tfp-enthusiast @techni-cal-writing

[silentmagi]

Lady Mariposa AU: (Chat Noir x Mariposa x Team Miraculous) vs Gabriel Agreste in "It's Over"

As the transformation magic fades, and the faint hope that Chat Noir was wrong flickered out. Mariposa leveled her cane an inch from his nose. "It's over, surrender."

She could make out the team forming a defensive wall in front of Chat, knowing that she had this.

The chaos compels.

If you want to write one of these, please just link me

[findingnemosworld]

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @sunnysideup478

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬' 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐃'𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!!

The harsh reality is, that dating when you're both public figures is never a facile things; the whole world judges every move you make be it good or bad, each word you utter is twisted into their perception and you cannot risk to show any sign of vulnerability, luckily for them, they were able to dodge any tell tale signs, only ever referring to one another as 'close friends' which sparked irony given that they were the captains of the rival Madrid sides, her being Atletico Madrid's captain; him being Real Madrid's captain, and the pair both being assigned as co captains of the national team.

Their friendship had started rather comically, at a pre season event in which both the men's and women's teams were present, she wanted nothing more to ditch the entire thing, avoid any and all interactions as she was still recovering from a very public split with her ex boyfriend when of all people to collide into, she collided into him; despite her better judgement, the pair ended up chatting in a corner far away from the crowd, confiding in each other about their personal struggles despite barely ever conversing over the course of the years they've known one another.

The friendship had lasted for five years, private and barely ever visible unless they were seen during the Euro's and World Cup season; then, in the blink of an eye their friendship had slowly shifted into a passionate affair they'd both agreed to keep under wraps so as to not allow it to interfere with their careers, it wasn't facile given where they stood in terms of their clubs, sure they'd train together often yet had ensured that not a single human knew of the true nature of their relationship, he was everything she could have hoped for in a man, a real man; she was his source of light each time he felt the world was dark.

That evening, the pair were at his hotel room preparing to head to the Ballon d'Or ceremony as she'd been nominated for the women's Ballon d'Or whilst he was invited to present the award to the 2018 men's winner - as she was adjusting the straps of her dress, she hears his footsteps edging closer to the bedroom, she looks up through the mirror and smiles, he stood in the doorway dressed in a three piece dark navy blue suit. " You look handsome "

He beams, walking up to her until he stood behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist then kissed her cheek. " And you look delicious, so delicious that I'm going to be distracted the whole night with the thought of being balls deep inside your pussy, mi amor "

She giggles then tilts her head to meet his gaze with an amused expression. " You have the emotional intelligence of a horny teenager, I swear "

He laughs in response, " When someone like me is blessed with the hottest football player in the world as a girlfriend, you bet I’m going to be a raging wild rabbit "

She swiftly turns around to face him, " Do you think I’m going to win? "

His hands cradle her face, thumbs caressing the apples of her cheek, " Whatever the outcome, just know that I’m so proud of you for the season you’ve had, winning the quadruple isn’t easy but you did it, captaining Atletico into so many wins and winning the World Cup, mariposa " he laughs softly, " If anyone deserves it, it’s you "

His words manage to elicit a soft smile followed by a kiss from her, " I’m so lucky to have you in my corner "

" I’m always going to be in your corner " He grins, pecking her lips before adding. " Let’s go before I say fuck the ceremony and rip this dress off of you "

She giggles, " Alright, just … help me out with the zipper please " she turns around.

‘You minx’ He mutters before slowly lifting up the zipper the proceeding to leave a trail of hot kisses across her shoulder eliciting a whine from her, " I’m going I’m going " he sighs.

They finish getting ready, and were on their way to the ceremony separately so as to not raise suspicion; once they reached the venue, they were lead to the red carpet to pose for the cameras and as they were close to one another, a course of ‘SERGIO, Y/N … PICTURE TOGETHER’ rolls through the crowd as the pair exchange a smile before approaching one another to make it seem as if they met just now.

He leans close to whisper, " Still as sexy as the first time we met "

She smiled to the cameras before offering him a soft smile, they were lead to an overzealous reporter that looked on with a broad smile, " I am here with the very talented, Sergio Ramos and the lovely Y/N L/N … How are you feeling tonight? "

" I’m doing good, excited for tonight " Sergio grins.

" Same here " She nods.

" That’s incredible to hear, now Sergio you’re here to present the Ballon d'Or, how do you feel about that? "

Sergio smiles, " I’m honored, it’s not everyday that we can all gather together to honor the legends of our sports and I’m excited to present the award to whomever the winner is "

" Any guesses on who it could be? "

" I don’t know but I do hope that Luka wins " Sergio chuckles.

" We hope so as well, now Y/N you have had an impressive year yourself, being appointed captain of Atletico Madrid, winning the UEFA Champions League with Atletico, the Club World Cup, the championship and on top of that your accomplishments with Spain, the Euro’s and World Cup, how are you feeling so far? "

She exhaled a soft breath and giggles, " I am still in denial, from being a small girl in Mallorca to achieving all of this, it’s a wild ride but one I’m grateful for, regardless of the outcome tonight, I’m walking out with my head held high "

" And looking quite lovely might I add "

Sergio grins, " I agree "

" Sergio, do you think Y/N is in the race? "

" Absolutely, have you seen her skill set? sometimes I’m jealous of her agility, and a little miffed that she’s playing for the enemy lines " Sergio joked

" Yet you’re here supporting me " She retorts with a smirk.

" You two are just adorable, makes it hard for us to believe you’re just friends "

" Have you seen him? " She jokes, " I cannot be in love with a Madrid player "

" Same here " Sergio laughs.

" Well before we leave you guys to it, any advice to aspiring footballers? "

Sergio hums, " Just follow your dream, don’t let the noise affect you "

" True " She nods softly, " Life is a rollercoaster but as long as you believe in yourself, you can do it "

" Thank you for talking to us guys, enjoy the night "

They were approached by several players upon entering the venue, after brief chats with several players, they were lead to their seats as the event was set to start - She sat next to Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmatí, her national teammates and good friends who had noticed the not subtle gazes Sergio was giving her, Aitana was the first to speak with a playful tone. " I see someone is enchanted "

Alexia chuckles, " You better be careful, Y/N won't admit that she's riding Madrid's biggest cock in existence "

She shot them both a glare, " We're just friends "

Atiana smirks, " Friends? you don’t think we’ve noticed how many times you sneak out of the room whenever we roomed together "

Her cheeks reddened, " I don’t know what you mean "

The two women chuckled before Alexia said with a soft tone, " I mean everyone can see it, I don’t know why you two insist on denying what’s obvious "

She shrugs, " It’s best if we do that then you know … risk the public having more eyes on us, I love him but I don’t want our careers to affect us "

" Aww, I’m sure it won’t " Aitana said.

" Maybe you’re right! " She said.

The event soon began, with several of the most talented individuals receiving the highest level of regards – and then, was the big moment, the women’s Ballon d'Or nominees, Alexia sent a comforting smile to her which she returned; reminding herself that regardless of the result, to be even considered for such an award was an honor in of itself.

" Ladies and gentlemen, to present this award, we’d like to call upon one of the most talented and acclaimed midfielders, Xabi Alonso "

Xabi steps out to a course of cheers rippling through the venue, he steps up to the podium to begin, " Good evening, 2018 has been an exceptional year for the women in our sport, from winning at club and national level to achieving record breaking statistics that honestly … " he pauses chuckling, " can make any of us jealous, nevertheless it is with great honor that I’m here to honor these talented women so without any delay, let’s take a look at the nominees for the women’s Ballon d'Or "

It seemed to last a lifetime, she’s floored by her own as well as the achievements of her teammates and compatriots, she looks over at Alexia who mouths, ‘relax’ as the video comes to an end.

" And the winner of the 2018 women’s Ballon d'Or is … " Xabi proceeds to carefully open the envelope to widespread tension, he grins upon seeing the name, " Y/NL/N "

The level of surprise quickly wares off as Alexia and Aitana embrace her before gesturing to the stage, she walks up, silently hoping that the nerves she felt were concealed behind her smile, she approaches the podium and is greeted by Xabi who congratulates her before presenting the Ballon d'Or award before he made space for her to stand on the podium.

She is met with widespread cheers; amongst the cheers was an overly excited Sergio who clapped and mouthed ‘proud of you’ to her causing her to blush before the cheers quieted down, the hosts spoke.

" Y/N L/N if we may, you deserve this and then some, captaining Atletico Madrid through to several awards not to mention having the highest percentage of defense across all leagues, winner of the World Cup as well as the Euro’s, how do you feel? "

" I am at a loss of words, this … " She gestures to the Ballon d'Or award, " this is a very high level of appreciation, and something I truly did not consider myself worthy of despite my teammates saying otherwise " she breathes out a nervous chuckle, " I am honored, very honored as if it wasn’t for my family I wouldn’t be here, and I would like to dedicate this award to my teammates, my compatriots who’ve been nominated as well as every woman in our sport because what we have achieved and what we continue to achieve is remarkable, so this isn’t an individual achievement, this is teamwork "

" Before we let you go Y/N, we’d like to take a look over at your impressive career "

A video package began to play, highlighting her childhood from the days she played in Mallorca all the way to joining Atletico Madrid, once the package had ended,

" Where do you see yourself going forward? "

" Hopefully achieve more as an individual and as a unit " She smiles.

" Well, we would like to thank you, and congratulations again Y/N "

She retreats backstage and is soon joined by Sergio who pulls her into a warm embrace which seemed to have lasted for a lifetime before he pulled back and said, " I'm so proud of you mariposa, so proud "

" Thank you " She smiled widely, " I'm still in shock "

Sergio beams proudly, " You best believe it amor, you've done it, I couldn't be more proud of you "

Before she can respond, Sergio was asked to prepare, he turns to her and says, " I'll see you later ok "

She nods then smiles, " Ok "

The ceremony continued; she watched as Sergio proudly presented the Ballon d'Or to the man he considered a friend as well as a brother, she knew first hand just how much Sergio cherished his friendship with the Croatian player; to be able to witness it first hand was truly a sight to behold, around a few hours later the ceremony had concluded with the guests traveling to the venue in which the after party was hosted, she was immersed in deep chatter with Atiana, Alexia and their compatriot Mary when all of a sudden a soft deep voice interrupts them,

" Hola, may I interrupt? "

The women turn to their left to see Sergio standing there, Mary, Aitana and Alexia giggle; then Alexia says, " Of course you can, right Y/N? " she nudged her teasingly.

She blushed shaking her head before she sent him a smile. " You can interrupt " she chuckles.

" I was wondering if you'd like to dance with me " Sergio extends his hand.

Aitana chimes in, " She would love to, come on Y/N "

" Yeah .. she would " Mary grins.

She was as red as a tomato by the time she walked with Sergio to the dance floor, he placed one hand on her waist while the other intertwined with her hand, they danced for the better part of the night to the music while he would send her soft smiles causing her to look down and say, "What? "

" Nothing " He grins, " you're just so beautiful "

There it was, despite the years they've been together - Sergio never failed to make her feel flustered like a lovestruck teenage girl, " I can't with you " she giggles.

He beams, " I’m the luckiest guy out there, got me a Ballon d'Or winner as my girl "

" Oh I see " She laughs as they sway from side to side.

" It’s true, though, talented, kind hearted, sexy and a Ballon d'Or winner, the full package " He said, leaning in to press a kiss on her cheek. " I love you " he whispers in her ear.

A shiver rolls down her spine before she replies, " I love you too "

Suddenly, as though they were the only ones in the room, he decides to throw caution out the window - uncaring of who was watching, home of his hands rests on the side of her neck to give press a tender kiss to her lips before pulling back to rest his forehead on hers and whisper, " Let’s head back to the hotel "

She shyly nods, sparing a glance to the girls who share a unanimous grin and mouth, ‘Go on’ to her; then, she takes his hand to follow him out of the venue into the night, their trip back to the hotel was short, mostly due to the fact that he couldn’t keep his lips away from hers; upon arriving to the hotel, they conclude their night the way they know best, a heated session of searing kisses, lingering touches and a love they only knew best.

In the dead of the night, they lie awake, limbs entangled as he decides to break the silence by asking, " You know Luka said something interesting to me "

Her digits draw imaginary shapes across his inked chest, " What is it? "

" He said that we should stop worrying about the press " He said; a ponderous sigh escapes his lips before adding on, " That being on rival clubs shouldn’t be what holds us back from going public "

She remains silent, contemplating the pros as well as cons of going public, not only was she dating a Real Madrid player, she was dating the Real Madrid player, the legendary decorated captain — she had first hand experience of how the media treats female football players despite the success they achieve as oppose to their male counterparts, suddenly she lifts her head up. " I want nothing more than to shout my love for you "

" I know amor " He murmurs, kissing her forehead. " I know you’re scared of how the media will react, I understand but if you ask me, I think we should ignore them, so what if you’re an Atletico player and I’m a Real player, we’re both Spanish in the end, granted from different cities " he suddenly turns to her side, his hand caressing her cheek. " I love you mariposa, more than I can explain into words "

She leaned her face into his touch, smiling at his words before she said. " How about we go public then? just carefully "

" Like a social media post? " He wonders.

She nods, " A simple post "

" I don’t see why not " He shrugs before leaning in to peck her lips, " I don’t care about the world as long as I love you "

" I love you too " She smiles widely.

They fall silent once more before he suggests, " Since we can’t sleep, you want to watch a film? "

" Sure, I don’t mind " She shrugs with a smile.

As the pair settled in comfortably in bed to watch one of the films, Sergio’s phone vibrates violently causing a confused look to appear on his face, he grabs the device to check and a singular message appears to be from Luka.

You might want to check this [ sends link ]

He checks through what was sent; his eyes widen before he says, " Hey mariposa " he whispers.

" Hm " She said.

" Remember how we said we were going to public? " He said.

" Yeah? " She replies.

He shows her his phone screen then says, " I think it’s a bit too late, cause they know now "

Her eyes widen as they look at the screen, she looks at him. " What do we do? "

He grows silent before muttering, " We will figure it out tomorrow " he kissed her forehead. " For now let’s just relax "

[theemporium]

Mayve something cute wjere butterfly doesn't feel well but tries to hide it from Carlos to not worry him? And poor boy gets all worried.

enjoy some wee pre-marriage carlos and butterfly! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

As it would turn out, hiding how you felt from your boyfriend wasn’t easy when you worked for the same team. 

Usually, it was a blessing. When you started working full-time with Ferrari and travelling the world with them, any hope of having a normal relationship went out the window with your weird hours and constant travelling around the world. 

But then Carlos happened. And it was like the universe worked in some weird ways to give you the most perfect person who would understand your schedule because his was even more hectic. 

Yet, it only made it worse in moments like this. Carlos was a driver, and not just a driver but also for one of the top teams. He couldn’t afford to get sick, not when they were actually having a good season for once. You couldn’t afford to be the one to get him sick even if every part of you wanted to just be held by him, you couldn’t let yourself be selfish. 

When you flew in with him, it was nothing more than a headache you thought would pass with time and a nap. But when you woke up from the nap a few hours later feeling like you had been hit by a bus, you knew exactly how shit you were going to feel for the next few days and you knew you needed to keep him away from you. 

However, Carlos was a smart man. A beautiful, stubborn, smart man who worked out pretty fast that you were ignoring him when you didn’t come to his room on Wednesday night. And again when you went out of your way to rush off in between media duties. And again when you avoided his message to meet in his driver room in between conferences. 

But you couldn’t afford to get him sick. And you couldn’t afford for him to know you were sick, so you trusted only the people you knew wouldn’t tell him (aka just yourself). 

Although, what you failed to think about was the fact that your colleagues wouldn’t hesitate to slip where you were hiding when your boyfriend asked. 

“You’re ignoring me.” 

Your head snapped up at his voice, a small wince leaving your lips from the sudden movement. You sat up a little, though the little corner in the Ferrari hospitality wasn’t doing much when you were sitting on the floor with your laptop balanced on your lap. 

“I’m not,” you responded weakly, only for Carlos to give you a look. 

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something else, only to pause when he really took you in. The pale expression, the dark circles under your eyes, the red tip of your nose and chapped lips. You barely had a chance to react before he was kneeling in front of you, your face engulfed by his large hands as he frowned. 

“Mi mariposa,” he murmured with a sad look on his face. “Why did you not tell me you were sick?”

“Because you can’t be near me right now,” you said as your fingers wrapped around his wrist, attempting to pull him away from you but it was useless. “Carlos, you can’t afford to get sick. Racing is your life and if you couldn’t do it because I got you sick—”

“Mi amor,” he interrupted, though his voice was soft and soothing as his thumbs traced over the apples of your cheek. “Racing is my life but you are my everything. Let me take care of you.”

“Carlos,” you said with a sigh, but he cracked a smile when he knew your resolve was breaking. 

“C’mon,” he ushered as he reached for your laptop in one hand and held out the other for you to reach for. “I promise not to kiss you but at least rest in my room whilst I have a debrief with the team. I won’t let my girl sit on the floor like this.”

Your cheeks burned but you nodded, burying your face against his bicep when he chuckled a little. 

“Thank you,” you murmured softly. 

“Always, mi mariposa, always.”

.

[beehiveofblorbos]

encanto dropped some of the hardest lyrics and im still thinking about it what im pretty sure is a year or years later

family madrigal: “this is my family, a perfect constellation / so many stars, and everybody gets to shine”

waiting on a miracle: “i would heal what’s broken / show this family something new / who I am inside, so what can I do? / sick of waiting on a miracle, so here I go”

surface pressure: “the ship doesn’t swerve as it heard / how big the iceberg is”

what else can i do: “what could i do / if i just knew it didn’t need to be perfect / it just needed to be”

dos oruguitas: “ay mariposas / no se aguanten más / hay que crecer aparte y volver / hacia adelante seguirás / ya son milagros, rompiendo crisálidas” (oh butterflies / don’t you hold on too tight / you must grow apart and reunite / you must continue forward / they’re already miracles, breaking their chrysalises (google translate))

all of you: “it’s a dream / when we work as a team / you’re so strong / yeah but sometimes i cry / so do i”