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fightertown-usa · 2 years

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mamma mia! (i) ( top gun x reader )

rooster x fem!reader; bob x fem!reader; hangman x fem!reader

synopsis: its basically mamma mia 2 au but top gun remix; uhm reader sleeping w three diff guys, youll get the gist. also i started like quoting random lyrics bare w me i got carried away

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mamma mia?reader being sad bc her friends r somewhere else; also unedited bc i dont like reading my writing lol

notes:

tagged: @viscountesskatesharma HERE WE GOO

support your content creators! likes are always appreciated, but comments and reposts help tremendously! mwah!

part two - coming soon!

—

after graduating top gun, the cold, hard truth hit you: you were bored. you were stationed somewhere in nevada, and nothing had come in for you, you had no excuse to go hop in a multi million dollar fighter pilot and go kick some ass. instead, you spent your days at the base, bored, and your nights at the nearby bar. and on this fine evening, you headed down to the nearby bar, sadly dubbed “middle o’ nowhere”. you didn’t bother to change out of your basic uniform, some straight leg khakis, a crisp white shirt, and you threw your flight jacket on for good measure, your call sign adorned on it, it read: dynamo. (yes like donna and the dynamos, i know what im doing w this !)

another sad truth, was that you missed your two best friends, rosie and tanya, who were off stationed in the middle of the pacific. god, you missed them. you were supposed to meet up with them in greece soon, but soon seemed so, so far away from today. so, here you were, walking into the middle o’ nowhere, ready to down a few drinks and wallow in your own lonesomeness. or, so you thought. you’d spend your last day before being shipped off to california drowning in vodka, or whatever you could get your hands on.

lost in your thoughts, you were suddenly snapped out of them when you ran into a stranger, knocking you back slightly, but not hard enough to send you falling. he instantly reached out and grabbed your forearm to steady you, as he starting spewing apologies, apologizing that he hadn’t been looking where he was going. you finally looked up at him, and were met by piercing blue eyes, and you froze as you studied his face. he was easy on the eyes, that was for sure. his aviator glasses gave him some boyish charm, and his hair was parted to the side and slicked back, giving him a clean look. you suddenly remembered to respond when he asked if you were okay. “yeah, it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you said cooly, but the blonde refused your apology. “captain l/n, i’m so so sorry, is there anything i can do to make it up to you,” he said again, and you wondered how you’d never seen this guy before. maybe you’re time in the middle of nowhere wouldn’t have been so bad if you had actually looked around at your colleagues.

“yeah, lt. floyd, you can buy me a drink,” you said smugly, catching him by surprise as he realized you’d read his name tag, and by the fact that you, one of the most reserved people in the nevada station he’d ever met, actually wanted him, a lowly lt. to buy you a drink. he’d never even seen you talk to anyone unless it was business related, and despite the fact of being three doors down from your room for the past year, he’d never even seen anyone go in or out of it besides you. “oh-okay!” bob said, a little dumbfounded which made you chuckle as you led him to the bar.

a few drinks in, you had explained to bob how you had plans to go to greece with your friends, how you loved to play the guitar, which led to bob telling you you could have his after he gave up on trying to were. you made sure to leave out how you were leaving the next morning for california, slightly hoping maybe he’d make a move tonight. the truth was, bob had fallen under your spell. he had always thought you were gorgeous, and actually being able to talk to you just showed him how much of a great person you were. it didn’t help that you managed to look so damn fine in your plain white t-shirt and khakis. and for the first time in a while, bob actually had some confidence that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance with you.

with waterloo by abba playing in the background, you began humming along, smiling as you listened to it. to say you were a big abba fan was an understatement, and who knows, maybe someday you’d face your waterloo. right now, bob was pretty sure he was facing his right now.

waterloo, knowing my fate is to be with you

it was hard to resist him, and your loneliness wasn’t helping how the more you kept looking at him, the more you realized how absolutely gorgeous bob was. he seemed sweet and nerdy at first, but you could only imagined how ripped he was under his khaki uniform. was it bad you were already fantasizing about you begging for him to ruin you? probably. did you care? no.

bob, on the other hand, hated how fast he was falling for you in the moment. poor bob, he was just a hopeless romantic searching for love, and you, well, you were searching for a night you didn’t have to spend by yourself. as the two of you walked back to your quarters, bob suddenly asked you a question out of the middle of nowhere. “could you maybe, i dont know, move your bag to your other shoulder?” he inquired, and you gave him a puzzled look. “weird, but okay?” you responded, shifting your bag to your other shoulder. “sorry, i just, makes it easier for our hands to brush up against each other, and i might, spontaneously take your hand or something like that,” bob spoke, earning a laugh out of you. “or you could just ask to hold it,” you said, and he gave you a sheepish look. “that was my backup plan,” he said as he took your hand, as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you approached your quarters.

“what if i spontaneously invited you in,” bob said quietly.

“i’d have to accept,” you responded, and bob felt his face flush slightly, as he fiddled with the keys, before pushing open the door.

you didn’t even give him a second to breathe, you were quick to push him against the wall right outside the door, as you attached your lips to him, urgency and need poured into his lips as you kissed him. he was quick to attach a hand to your waist, pushing the door closed with his other, as he internally freaked out that you were actually kissing him. and he hoped, just hoped, that maybe, you’d actually talk to him after tonight.

when he woke up the next morning, he wasn’t surprised to find his bed empty, your scent still lingering on his pillow. he groaned as he stretched his back slightly, wincing as he felt the scratch marks you’d left on his back, and a wave of sadness fell over bob as he realized you hadn’t wanted anything more then a one night stand. (guys this is so painful to write i love bob i dont want to hurt i apologize)

dear bob, in our fleeting time together, i've learned about your dreams, and your ambitions. also that you can get it, but that's besides the point. sorry for leaving you here but, you'll know where to find me, if you want to.

best, dynamo

—

your superior had informed you that you were no longer needed in california, and your leave had been approved by your superior, and you instantly phoned rosie and tanya to tell them the good news. youd arrive a week or two earlier and them, but you didn’t care, you were off! you soon cursed your arrival, as you fifteen seconds late before your boat took off, heading to one of the smaller islands you were planning to stay on. “shit!” you exclaimed, annoyed as you then realized your trunk was open, half your clothes you’d pack littering the dock.

“it’s a whole wardrobe out here, seems to be my lucky day,” a voice came from behind you, causing you to turn around, as you came to face a tall, hot, blonde stranger. not another one. it didnt help that he was in a tight, navy shirt and some swim trunks. his green eyes sparkled as he looked down at you, holding a bikini top of yours up to his chest. “i think this’ll do just fine,” he said, causing you to laugh, as he helped you get your clothes together, as you shoved them back into your bag. “where are you headed to, gorgeous,” he spoke smoothly, shooting you a blinding smile that made you weak in the knees. “the little island, but my boat just left, about five minutes ago,” you said, pouting slightly. “well, no need to fear, i happen to own this fine boat to our left,” the blonde stranger spoke, and you smiled.

“cptn y/n l/n, but a lot of people call me by my call sign, dynamo,” you said, holding out your hand for the blonde stranger to shake. “lt. jake seresin, hangman,” he said, taking your hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing it lightly, sending a wink your way. “i wouldn’t mind bringing you to the little island,” he said, and you smiled at him as he helped you bring your luggage onto the boat. after you’d situated yourself and hangman had gotten the boat coming, he waltzed on over to you, as he sat down next to you, captain’s hat on his head, and toothpick in between his teeth, as you felt his thigh press against yours. “you know, it just seems so sad, how heartbroken i’ll be after you leave my boat, my lonely, sad heart, may collapse!” he said dramatically, putting his hands on his chest, before slowly putting one hand on your thigh, causing you to roll your eyes. you stood up, putting a hand on your hip. “so, you’re one of those, are you?” you said, rolling your eyes. “there are two kinds of seducers, first, the one that doesn’t actually like women so he wants to assert his power over them, but the second, and far more dangerous, is the guy who genuinely falls in love every evening, only to fall out if again the next morning,” you spoke as you paraded around his boat. you could tell he wanted to sleep with you desperately, based off how touchy he’d been as soon as you’d met him, but he also seemed to have more depth to his character, but you didn’t know if you could do another bob situation, as he still lingered in your thoughts ever since the other night.

“give me a chance, dynamo, let me show you,” he spoke, and you gave him a pointed look.

it’s only natural, but why did it have to be me

“nights can be empty and nights can be cold, so you were looking, for someone to hold,” hangman sung out as he spun you around, the two of you dancing around on his boat, music blasting in the background.

but baby, believe me, it’s better, to forget me

little did you know that standing at the same dock you had been standing at less than an hour ago, stood bob, luggage in tow, sadness in his eyes as he watched the two of you dancing on hangman’s boat, as you danced in the pink hues of the sunset behind the two of you, as you sailed off.

men are the toys in the game that you play

when you get tired, you throw them away

that’s only natural,,,

“but why did it have to be me,” bob said softly, before turning around and walking away, defeated.

as hangman dropped you off at the dock to the little island, he handed you your luggage. “i’ll be back in about two weeks,” he said, grin on his face as he studied your face, taking in your features as he watched you. “i got a boat race, but don’t worry dynamo, i won’t be gone for too long,” he said with a wink, to which you rolled your eyes at. “goodbye, hangman,” you replied, as you left him there at the dock, his eyes never leaving your figure until he couldn’t see you anymore. he’d come back for you, he swore to himself he would.

falling in love with a woman like you

happens so quickly, there’s nothing to do

that’s only natural, but why did it have to be me?

you managed to lug your bags up the many steps on the island, until you finally came across the run down hotel that you recognized that you were supposed to stay at. you dropped your bags off at the front, telling yourself you’d search for someone later, too taken by the beauty of the place. a crash of thunder shook the building, as you began to hear something struggling from the flight of stairs nearby you, and you quickly ran down to see a horse trapped in, and the rain started pouring down on the both of you. suddenly, the roof of the side building you had wandered into collapses before the horse, and you quickly ran out to go find anyone to help. everyone seemed to have fled the area, taking refuge from the storm, but you refused to give up, screaming out for someone to come help you. you ran down a path, until you saw a motorcycle come up on the path. you waved your hands out, trying to make out the figure in the rain as the stranger came to a stop. upon seeing his face, you almost forgot that rain was pounding down onto the both of you. his brown hair stuck to his forehead, tousled and flattened down by the rain, his deep, brown eyes looked back at yours as you both froze for a second, the instant attraction striking you first. it didn’t help that his mustache only added to the fact that he looked like a greek god. his white shirt was soaked, leaving little to the eye.

“there’s a horse,” you finally choked out, half shouting. “it’s trapped, please, please help me free it,” you spoke, clasping your hands together in hope that he would. he instantly nodded and motioned for you to get on the back of his motorcycle as you directed him through the rain. the two of you rushed into the building, and you couldn’t help but notice the electricity you felt when his hand made contact with your waist as he helped you over the debris from the roof. the horse reared up on its hind legs, neighing as the two of you slowly approached it. you continued your slow approach, before you were able to calm it down, as it let you stroke its face until it calmed down, and the rain seemed to stop as you did so. the brunette looked over at you and smiled, and you returned it. “you wanna, go for a walk maybe?” he asked, and you nodded your head, smiling.

“we’ve walked this whole island, and i’ve yet to see where you live,” you stated, as you and lt. bradley bradshaw, callsign: rooster. conversation flowed easily between the two of you, as if you both had been friends for years, and were just now reuniting. something about him just touched your soul, he was kind, and he was gentle.

andante, andante,

go slowly with me now

“in a shackle on a hill,” rooster replied, as the two of you wove through the trees as you made your way up the island. “and what the hell are you doing there?” you asked, and he stopped for a minute. “running away, i guess, back home, everything was lined up for me. my whole life was mapped out. i wanted to take a break before i signed up to it.” he replied, and you tilted your head to the side as you took in every single one of his words, “how ‘bout you,” he responded, and you shrugged. “i have absolutely nothing mapped out, i guess i chose to come here to just get away from the uniform life i’ve been living. i was stationed in nevada, but never got called for anything so, i got approved leave to come out here, see if there’s anything for me on this island. enough talking, let’s ride.”

andante, andante,

and let the feeling go

it was safe to say riding on the back of rooster’s motorcycle, hands around his middle, leaning into his shoulder as the scenery of the little island flew by the two of you had reached your top five favorite things of all time. the two of you rode peacefully in the warm summer air, as you soon reached the town square, where numerous shops were set up, and as you hopped off his bike, you heard music coming from a nearby tavern. “let’s go!” you exclaimed, pulling rooster along with you, who only smiled, entranced by you. some guy was singing a song called kisses of fire, and as rooster brought you both your beers, you put your hand down on the table, “god i love this place, i’m never leaving!” you exclaimed and rooster chuckled. “your mom wouldn’t miss you?” he asked and you shook your head. “not that kinda mom,” you replied and he quickly apologized, but you brushed it off. “not a big deal, we’ve just never been too close, you know,” you replied, and he nodded. “i wish i could stay here forever,” he said, muttering with you under his breath, but you didn’t catch it.

“when do you go back?” you inquired, and a tug at your heart strings gave way to a wave of sadness to slowly creep up and over you. “to your mapped out life,” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “i have a week,” he said, a smile breaking out on his face at your attempt at a joke. he then knew he needed to tell you, so he spoke up, “look, there’s something, about what’s waiting for me back home,” he said, but you were quickly distracted as the band that was playing ended, and you got up to cheer for them. even though you had joined the navy and had become one of the best pilots of your generation, you still had a passion for music and performing, which was showing through right now.

you turned back to the woman working at the bar, “excuse me, are you the owner?” you asked. “my son is the owner. bought this bar because no other place would let him play,” she said with a laugh, before her son sat down at your table. “hello, how may i help you?” he asked with a thick greek accent. “well firstly, you’re all awesome!” you exclaimed, and the man smiled. “and second, i’d be honored to perform here with my makeshift group, my friends arriving in a few days, and we’ve always dreamed of being able to perform together,” you said. “you have a good voice?” the son asked, and rooster, nodded, “like sugarcane,” he said, and you gave him a glare, before smiling at him as the man pulled you away from your chair, and rooster shot you a good luck thumbs up as the man handed you your microphone. boy, were you in over your head for this man.

the next few days seemed to go by in a flash, the closer you became with rooster, the more and more you realized that you wanted to stay on this island for good. and with him. you wanted to stay with him on this island for as long as you could, live in paradise with the man who seemed to have capture your attention so quickly. and you knew that when he finally kissed you outside the shack you had grown to love to spend time in with him, that you had never wanted anything more than for him to stay on this island with you. and when he kissed you breathless every time, you knew even more in your heart that there was no one else who’d ever captured your heart the way bradley bradshaw had.

and as you skipped through the orange trees to pick fresh oranges and bring them back before bradley woke up from his sleep, you hummed to yourself, still unbelieving that your current reality was your current reality. everything felt so right, and you had never felt more alive and in love than you had right then and there. nothing could compromise the moment, or so you thought. it wasn’t until you were searching for a knife to cut open your orange, that you stumbled upon a brown leather notebook, with a photo sticking out of it. well, curiosity killed the cat, and it crushed your heart as you pulled out the photo, only to see an engagement photo of the man you’d fallen in love with, with a gorgeous woman, with a sparkling ring on your finger. coincidentally, rooster had walked over to you, a lovesick smile on his face, until he saw the photo you had on your hands, and he knew he had fucked up. it was just, every time he had tried to tell you you kept on getting distracted by the wonders of the island.

you looked at him, pain in your eyes as he tried to explain himself, but you just ran. you ran far away from him, running back to town, but bradley refused to stop running after you. “y/n! please, please just hear me out, as he caught you on the stairs in the hotel you were originally supposed to be staying at. “fine! fine bradshaw, answer three questions for me, are you engaged to that beautiful woman?” you asked, and he nodded, “yes,” he said, as he watched your body rack with a sob clawing up your throat. “and did you tell me about it?” “no,” bradley spoke, his voice breaking and tears flooding his eyes as he watched you.

“and do you seriously think i could ever forgive you?” you asked, your last question ringing out, before you turned around, continuing up the stairs. “y/n, please!” bradley called out, begging you to turn around and let him say more. “that’s enough listening, go!” you screamed at him, before running up the rest of the stairs, sobs racking your body as you made it to the room you had yet to spend more than thirty minutes in. you slammed the door behind you, before collapsing into the bed, your heart burning with pain as you couldn’t stop the picture of bradley and his fiance from popping back into your mind.

breaking up is never easy i know, but i have to go

knowing me, knowing you is the best i can do.

the next day, you had never been more thankful for your friends, rosie and tanya, for finally showing up. but as happy as you were to see them, your slightly puffy and red eyes gave you away. they were quick to console you as you explained what had happened over the past two weeks, unaware that a familiar boat was slowly coming into view. and on that boat, stood jake seresin, praying to any god that you were still on this island you had been so set on. luckily your mind was quickly taken off bradley bradshaw as the bar owner was ecstatic that your friends had finally showed up, as he quickly got you dancing, singing, and smiling again. and as jake heard your voice, he rushed into the bar, breathless as he saw you up there singing. and when you two locked eyes, he really hoped you didn’t notice just how much he’d missed you.

mamma mia, now i really know

my, my, i should not’ve let you go

it didn’t take long for you to fall back into the arms of jake seresin, and while your mind was still very preoccupied with the thoughts of bradley, and when you did have to catch his name from slipping out of your mouth as jake had you pinned down on his bed, headboard knocking against the back of his boat, you still knew that the guy above you loved you, not the same, but almost on the same level that bradley had.

and bradley, he had come back for you. he’d called off his engagement and came back to the little island as soon as he could, only to hear from your friends that you were off with the sex icon of the seas, and that he could never compare to him.

but your quick time with jake soon ended as he ended up getting called back to a station in the atlantic, needed for a mission. you couldn’t say you weren’t relieved, as your heart was still broken from bradley. but you were still greatful jake had taken your mind off him for a while. your friends left the island soon after, promising to write to you and to visit you once a year, when you told them you were staying on the island, helping out the mother of the bar owner with her hotel. but it seemed you wouldn’t be staying alone, as not soon after your friends had left, did you throw up, and then realization struck your face.

you were pregnant.

mamma mia!

—

“you all are the best of the best, or at least the best we could get ahold of,” cyclone stated, before introducing maverick to the pilots, and maverick surveyed the pilots that were considered the best. he recognized almost all the faces from the earlier debriefing about who all he’d be training, but his eyes fell to an empty desk, and then it hit him. “where’s dynamo? has captain l/n not arrived yet?” he asked in confusion, swearing he had seen your face on the screen of pilots they were asking to come back to top gun. “sorry maverick, she said she was quote preoccupied with family issues unquote,” cyclone replied, and maverick nodded, before continuing

however, three heads perked up at the mention of your name, and memories flooded back over three pilots, suddenly unable to focus on what maverick was saying. rooster, hangman, and bob all began reliving their memories with you, and cursed themselves for letting you go.

and maybe the other reason why rooster went after maverick was because he knew you weren’t waiting for him back at top gun, and he had nothing more to lose.

---

taglist: @n3ssm0nique @alluringshawn @lt-b-rooster-bradshawbradshaw @tayrae515 @luckyladycreator2 @lunamoonbby @altheadarling @marie1115 @americaarse

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #top gun x reader #hangman imagine #rooster imagine #mamma mia x reader #mamma mia au #mamma mia 2 au #bob imagine

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cherrysfanfics-ily · 7 months

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☆ Mamma Mia ☆

♡ Sophie Sheridan

♡ Sky

♡ Donna Sheridan

♡ Sam Carmicheal

♡ Harry Bright

♡ Bill Austin

♡ Pepper

#mamma mia #mamma mia 2 #mamma mia x reader #mamma mia 2 x reader

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astonmartinii · 8 months

Text

no more ace to play [mamma mia part two] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso and jenson button

the investigation was fruitful but now y/n has a handful of drivers and a bucket load of criticism

general note: i answered an ask about this but i thought i'd reiterate here, this is a no wives or kids au, so seb and jenson's wives and kids do not exist in this !! thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on the last part, hopefully i remembered to tag everyone who asked x

part one | masterlist | ko-fi

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.405,605 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel, jensonbutton

yourusername: so i guess it's kinda real now and they're all lovely x

view all comments

user4: i know the bitter old people are going to find this now but i for one think it's fucking ICONIC

user5: the guys are way too chill for the situation

user6: they've not said anything, so how would you know?

user5: idk reeks of babytrapping

user7: be for real y/n doesn't need to baby trap anyone she has her own career?

yourbff: debrief needed STAT

yourusername: literally on my way to yours right now get the non-alcoholic wine READY

landonorris: do i like get a prize for my hand in this?

yourusername: here's a gold star ⭐️

landonorris: i was hoping for some monetary rewards

yourusername: ur literally a millionaire ?

landonorris: and?

user8: are any of them gonna like comment or?

user9: very odd considering they wouldn't shut THE FUCK UP on their own posts

user10: for real they were very proud of their 'accomplishments' but now it's the consequences of their actions and theyre silent ?

user11: have yall considered the fact that finding out you might be a dad is a bit of a shock, let them all process it?

jensonbutton

liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel and 302,889 others

jensonbutton: back to see the old rides

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user12: SPILL JENSON PLEASE

user13: so like what team is this kid going to support they've got so much to choose from?

user14: if they have any taste, ferrari 💅

user15: i mean their momma clearly has taste so ....

oscarpiastri: nice to meet you jenson!

jensonbutton: by how much mark talks about you i could've sworn i'd already met you

aussiegrit: bold of you to send shots my way considering your current predicament

user16: mark saying this like they aren't lucky to be with y/n ?

user17: bro we all saw that you met up with y/n and the baby daddy squad... wanna maybe share some thoughts?

user18: why would he want to publicise that he got with a slag?

user17: i know you're not calling y/n a slag when we're talking about f1 playboy JENSON BUTTON ?

user19: i have complete faith that this mamma mia summer WILL have a good ending but i NEED these men to maybe actually talk about it so people aren't just out here coming for y/n ?

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,209,677 others

yourusername: got myself a sweet treat and did some meditation (i.e. listening to asmr roleplay) because life is crazy and morning sickness is a bitch

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user24: not to be sappy but i am emotional watching y/n go through this, she's been on the internet for so long i feel like i've watched her grow up, idk anything about f1 but i hope they're good for her

yourbff: gosh who knew you getting pregnant would lead to us having to go to the bakery every single morning

yourusername: but but but they have such good croissants and SHUSH I BUY YOU YOURS EVERYDAY

yourbff: i know you're like my sugar mama, please still buy me pastries when you have your actual child

user25: i think we're all being a wee bit dramatic about the whole "they haven't said anything" business. yes, they probably should say they're fine with it so people stop accusing y/n of baby trapping them but ALSO we don't know what they do everyday, maybe we should just let the adults go about their business

charles_leclerc: i am basically seb's kid so i shall be a character witness: that man is an ANGEL and believe me that took a lot for me to say in public lol

yourusername: why thank you charles, i have heard a lot about you. in fact on his "provisional dad cv", sebastian directly named you, some guys called max verstappen, mick schumacher and lance stroll as fatherly experience

maxverstappen1: LOL I KNEW SEB LOVED ME BUT WTF IS A DAD CV

sebastianvettel: this is a serious matter and i wanted to show that i'm serious about fatherhood

mickschumacher: soz max, charles and lance i think WE all know who his favourite is

lancestroll: i'm just happy to be recognised tbf

yourusername: well i kinda hope this real child will be his favourite...

charles_leclerc: boring 🥱

alexalbon: well i'm gonna nominate myself as jenson's grid kid and woah that guy is great 👍

jensonbutton: sounds kinda sarcastic but thanks for the effort alex

carlossainz55: seeing as we're all here i'll say that nando is the best grid dad sorry not sorry

yourusername: you're all here but idk who you people are ?

fernandoalo_oficial: chilli have i ever told you how proud i am of you?

stoffelvandoorne: do i mean nothing to you old man

user26: wtf is going on here

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 1,403,677 others

fernandoalo_oficial: what a race! thankful to finally be back on the podium this weekend and i'd like to dedicate this race to the soon-to-be new addition and my new family, here's to our future ❤️

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user27: HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO CUTE

user28: i'm sorry the THUMB IN THE MOUTH CELEBRATION ARE YOU KIDDING?

jensonbutton: proud of you, come home quick x

user29: i'm sooooo chill about this

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll make sure to tell the team that THE jenson button wants the meeting to go faster

sebastianvettel: do i mean nothing? that's literally my old team name drop ME

yourusername: just tell them i've gone into labour

fernandoalo_oficial: you've not even been pregnant two months yet...

yourusername: they don't know that

astonmartinf1: this is a public instagram comment section...

maxverstappen1: maybe when the little one is actually here i'll let you win for once

fernandoalo_oficial: how kind of you?

maxverstappen1: i need the little one to know that at least one of you is cool and that i should be their favourite god father

lewishamilton: now that is a bold assumption

danielricciardo: i have been quiet on this topic but if anyone is prime god father material YOU'RE LOOKING AT HIM

yourusername: you'll all receive an email and a god father application in the coming weeks

charles_leclerc: is this another seb idea?

yourusername: maybe... but idk yall so i think it's a good idea

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher and 1,509,874 others

tagged: jensonbutton, fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel

yourusername: welcome to the crazy house

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user33: so we've confirmed the poly? yes or no?

user34: i'm gonna say yes but with them you literally never know

georgerussell63: so we all sent them a jellycat?

alexalbon: speak for yourself george that sick ass rocking bunny is all albon

user35: not to be weird but this kids is literally going to have the hottest parents of all time

user36: no cause if i'm a teacher and all of them walk in for parent's evening i'm passing out

jensonbutton: oh wow what a lovely crib i wonder who put that together

fernandoalo_oficial: don't you dare take all the credit

sebastianvettel: as if anyone other than the WOOD WORK KING put that together

yourusername: guys they are lying the delivery guy put it together and they all stood around watching like dads at the airport

jensonbutton: "like dads" so still getting the experience in

danielricciardo: so who is responsible for this grandpa ass nursery aesthetic?

yourusername: well this is awkward i thought it was cute

fernandoalo_oficial: it is don't worry honey, it matches seb's overall grandpa aesthetic

sebastianvettel: you guys agreed to move to mine don't switch up on my aesthetic now

jensonbutton: oh seb we all love your certain affinity for tartan and plaid

sebastianvettel: i'm not feeling this love right now :(

yourusername: cuddle pile incoming

note: ahhh okay this was very highly requested so i hope it met expectations. i'm thinking this could defo be a longer series (i am also working on into the arms of another dw) following the whole family if yall would like that? i'm gonna try and tag everyone who requested that, i am sorry if i missed anyone x

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x you #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #jenson button instagram au #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #mamma mia au #astonmartinii

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togrowoldinv · 7 months

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*Y/n finding out everyone knows she’s pregnant*

Y/n: I only told Natasha because she’s my wife!

Natasha: I only told Yelena because she’s my sister.

Yelena: I told Kate because she’s my best friend.

Kate: I just told Clint because he’s like a father to me.

Clint: I told many, many people.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel incorrect quotes #source: mamma mia #yelena belova #kate bishop #clint barton

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iluvmattsbeard · 12 days

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what have you done to me? (c.s)

master list

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: swearing

preview: you and Chris have been friends for a long time. everyone has teased how good of a couple you'd be. but Chris has always shot down the rumors. you never looked at him that way. but Chris on the other hand? he's been acting off.

a/n: I love mamma mia and obviously I love chris, so I have decided to write this inspired by one of the scenes from the movie. but with my twist of course. hope you enjoy! - L 🤍

you wake up with the light hitting your face from it peeking through the curtains. you rubbed your eyes as you grabbed your phone. to see a text from Nick.

nick sturniolo

y/n wake up! you have to help us prepare for today!

you lay your head back smiling as you reply. today the triplets have planned a trip to the beach. inviting a bunch of people from school. it wasn't really your thing but Nick, Matt, and mostly Chris convinced you on going.

y/n

i'm sorry for waking up so late. I was up all night tossing and turning. i'll be there as soon as I finish getting ready!

you get out of bed as you walked over to your bathroom. you do your morning routine. brushing your teeth, washing your face, and you ended up shaving your legs. you don't remember the last time you've been to the beach. to be completely honest, you didn't even know how to swim.

you go to your closet as you scrummage through your drawers trying to find a swim suit. after a minute of searching, you find a flattering blue two piece where the top is strapless. you put it on as you stare at yourself in the mirror. it complimented your body very well. you smile a bit before putting on ripped shorts and a crocheted cover up top. you packed your tote bag with extra clothes. just in case you actually go in the water.

you pick up your phone wondering why Chris hasn't texted. he usually is the one texting and blowing up your phone. but he didn't today. "that's odd." you whisper to yourself.

Chris' POV

today I woke up with a thought in my head. which i've been having these past days. me and y/n have been friends for years. she practically looked at me and my brothers as her own siblings. but I couldn't push the thought out of my head. I could hear my heart pounding when I thought about it.

i put a pillow over my face as I laid there and sighed. Chris you're being delusional i said in my head. I took the pillow off my face and reached for my phone. I clicked on her contact, going to text her, but, I stop myself. I shake my head as I put my phone back down. I need to stop with the thoughts. she's my best friend. nothing more. despite what everybody says.

"Christopher! have you texted y/n? it's already 10 a.m!" nick yells out at me. "no I have not." I said stepping out my room. he looks at me while shaking his head, "why not? she has to help us out." he says grabbing his phone, "I have to do everything myself like always!" he continues on. Matt lets out a laugh as I roll my eyes walking to the bathroom.

End of Chris' POV

you grab your keys as you head out the door. you get into your car and buckle up pulling out your phone to connect your music. the triplets lived 10 minutes away so you texted the group chat saying you were on your way. you drive as you hum to the music playing.

Chris' POV

"she's on the way!" nick yells out practically jumping. "at least I'd finally get some help." he continues as Matt and I roll our eyes.

as time passes by, we hear the door bell ring. shit. it's her. Nick runs to the door and opens it with a big smile. "finally!" he screeches out. they both hug as I lock eyes with her. they pull away from each other and she walks up to me hugging me. "why haven't I heard from you?" she says curious. "I didn't have time to text. I was busy getting ready." I lie with a small smile. "Chris your hair is still a mess and you're in your pajamas. i'm pretty sure you're not ready." she says laughing.

i roll my eyes before replying, "whatever. you don't need to know everything." she smiles going to hug Matt. "so... what is the plan for right now?" she says grabbing a water from the fridge. "well we have to head to the store and buy a few things. I told everyone to bring whatever they want." Nick says. "then what are we doing standing around?" she says with a smile, "lets go!" she shouts happily. "wait! I'm not ready." I say. "then go Christopher!" Nick shouts at me. Matt and y/n laugh at Nick's words. I ran to my room and got ready.

End of Chris' POV

as you guys waited for Chris to finish up, you sat on their counter thinking. why did he lie? a very obvious lie. he's acting so strange. he couldn't even keep eye contact with you. you shrugged it off. it bothered you because he was your best friend and you wanted him to tell you everything. Chris finally finishes getting ready and you guys put your shoes on heading out the door.

you all take the mini van with Matt driving, Nick in the passenger seat, and you in the backseat with Chris. you all buckle up as you hear Nick speak, "here we go!" you giggle at his enthusiasm. as Matt starts driving, you glance at Chris trying to read his face. he was too busy on his phone. he looked normal even though his actions said other wise.

you guys finally arrived at the store. you guys get out of the car, walking inside. you see Nick gasp right away. "fruit platter!" he exclaims. showing you guys, holding it like a prize. you laugh as Chris joins. "nobody wants a fruit platter Nick. come on, head towards the chips aisle." Matt says, walking past Nick grabbing him by the shirt lightly. Nick pouts jokingly. you hold in a laugh. you all follow along. you guys grabbed a few bags of chips and grabbed some candy, along with some cans of soda. Pepsi, Dr pepper, and Sprite.

Nick ended up paying for everything. “thank you for helping me carry these bags y/n. since these two couldn’t do it” Nick says in a sarcastic tone. “didn’t seem like you needed help.” Chris says as you giggle at the response. “yeah no problem Nick.” you say with a smile, putting the bags in the back seat, in between you and Chris. after the store, you guys finally start heading to the beach. it was already close to 1 p.m.

y/n's POV

the car ride wasn't mostly quiet. the only thing quiet was between me and Chris. usually, he's the one talking the most, being the loudest. but he was so glued to his screen not even looking at me. it's starting to worry me. I decided to tap him, but by the time he looks at me, the car stops and Matt says, "we're here!" I turned to look out the window, "oh wow. looks like we're late to our own party." I say looking at the group of people messing around. there was people dancing to music, people in the ocean, and a group of people just sitting around talking. i went to turn back to Chris but he already was in the middle of getting out the car. i sighed as i got out myself. Matt and Chris carried all the bags because they were told to by Nick since they didn’t help at the store. we all walk up to a free spot. i unfold the blanket from my tote bag and lay it out. Matt and Chris lay down the bags on top of it. “i’m going to go greet people!” Nick says with a big smile as he walks off with Matt. Chris looks at me, “you okay staying here?” he says. i nod with him nodding back walking away to a group. I stand there looking around as I see one of my friends come up to me. Grayson. he was tall and muscular. i'm not going to lie, I find him quite attractive but, it wasn't anything more. "hello y/n" he says flashing a smile at me. “hello grayson” i reply with a smile. we decided to talk while he passes me a drink. “what is this?” i ask swirling the cup looking into it. “beer” he responds. but before he answers i was in the middle of taking a sip. i swallowed making a bitter face. he takes the cup away from me, “okay not your thing i see.” he says letting out a chuckle.

we both laugh together as he asks me if i want to walk around. i nod and we stand side by side just chatting. “i never see you at these type of things.” he says. “well because it’s not my type of scene. i’m only here because of the triplets.” i respond with a smile. he smiles nodding, “oh yeah. you guys are pretty close.” “yup” i say.

Chris' POV

as I was talking to a group buddies from my lacrosse team, I couldn't help but catch something with my eyes. there she was. y/n talking to Grayson. usually it didn't bother me but with the thoughts i've been having? I couldn't help but feel something. I wasn't the jealous type or the possessive type. so this was new.

i continue to take glances at them talking. glances until in a second my eyes stayed on them longer as I see y/n take off her cover up and her shorts. I tense up poking my tongue to the inside of the side of my mouth. I couldn't even look at her because I was too busy looking at Grayson look at her up and down. it infuriated me. something inside of me almost walked over there but my thoughts were interrupted by one of my team mates, "you staring won't stop them from talking Chris." he says. I roll my eyes as I just continue to sip my drink as the rest of the team laughs.

Y/n's POV

"let's get in the ocean?" Grayson says while holding his hand out. I looked at his hand and then at the ocean. “uh i don’t know. i wasn’t really planning on it.” i say trying to make an excuse. I don't know how to swim. but I didn’t want to blurt that out there. I looked at Grayson and he responds, “come on. it’s better than standing around. plus you have a bathing suit on. clearly you were going to go in.” I grabbed his hand, “okay fine but only my feet.” i say with a smile. he smiles back as he drags me closer to the water.

Chris's POV

i put my drink down as I see y/n and Grayson walk towards the water. holding hands. was she trying to drive me insane? she probably doesn’t even know what she’s doing. i mean i have been trying to avoid her today. which was stupid of me because maybe if i just talked to her she would be holding my hand. not his. it was getting harder to keep my composure. why am i being like this?

End of Chris' POV

as you and Grayson make it to the water, you let out a small yelp when your feet submerges. it was freezing. Grayson lets out a small laugh when he sees your face. as you both stand there you spoke up, "it's really cold" you let out a nervous laugh. “there’s only one way to get rid of the cold.” he says. “which is what?” you respond curiously. “by getting all the way in with no thought!” he says. next thing you know, Grayson carries you by the waist and runs with you more towards the water. you let out a playful scream. which catches Chris' attention. you hit Grayson's arms softly asking him to let you down laughing. Chris had enough. Chris walks towards the both of you and shouts, "put her down!" you and Grayson whip your head around towards Chris standing there clearly bothered. "Chris?" you say as Grayson puts you down, "what's your problem?" you continue.

"does he know you can't swim?" he says. “well no he doesn’t.” you respond with a nervous laugh. “well i don’t want to be the one having to save you so…” holding his hand out, "come on." he says seriously. Grayson steps forward a bit, "dude she's just trying to have fun." he says but Chris ignores him waiting for you to grab his hand, "lets go y/n." Chris says. but before you say anything, Chris just grabs your arm pulling you away from the muscular boy walking the both of you away from everyone.

"Chris!" you yelp as you try to get out from his grip. "let go of me!" he listens and lets you go. he's avoiding eye contact. "what is your problem?!" you say in a frustrated tone. "you barely talk to me all morning and now you want to get in between me having fun?"

"fun?" he says with a scoff, "wouldn't have been fun if I were to run into the ocean saving you if his dumb ass continued to push you more in the deep end." you scoff, "that would've been my choice! i wouldn’t need your help." you say.

Chris' POV

she can't be serious. she's mad at me for just trying to be a good friend? even though my reason for dragging her away from the situation was just because it was making me angry staring at them. because it should’ve been me and her laughing and having fun.

"answer me Chris" she says, snapping me back into the moment. "look, the truth is I couldn't stand it. I couldn't take it anymore." I stepped closer to her, "I don't know what's happening.. but you did something to me. I don't fall easily and you know this. when you're not near, I get this sudden urge of yearn. when I saw you with him? I couldn't keep watching you waste your emotions on some stupid idiot who clearly doesn't know you. this is all new to me and i’m confused. confused why all of the sudden i feel like this. but it’s you! you are making me like this. so me seeing you with him? was enough for me.” I practically shout. my heart was beating fast. anticipating for her response. she looks away and lets out a small sigh but I decided to hold her cheek making her look into my eyes. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. i was just trying to figure this all out.” i say.

"Chris..." she whispers putting her hand on my cheek as well. before she had the chance to say anything else, I pulled her in and kissed her softly but passionately. she wraps her arms around my neck kissing back. I pull away as I rub her cheek softly, “so what are you trying to say exactly Chris?” she says with a smile. all i could do was let out a nervous laugh and respond, “what i’m trying to say is… you’re my best friend and i love you. i love you more than just a best friend.” and next thing you know she jumps on me wrapping her legs and arms around me hugging me. she giggles, "i love you too Chris." she exclaims happily. I smile pulling her back in for another kiss. this is the happiest i've been. all the worries and fears left my body as soon as she laid all her love on me.

our kiss was interrupted by a familiar voice, "finally!" we pull away to see Nick shout. me and y/n looked at each other laughing as I kiss her again. feelings butterflies in my stomach. oh what have you done to me y/n?

a/n: if you get to the end where you can read this, thank you for taking the time to read! likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! leave a follow if you like my content! I will continue to upload more imagines and post random shit about the triplets. I can't wait to write more like this. make sure to check my master list. I will try to upload as much as I can! - L 🤍

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #imagine #x reader #mamma mia #fluff #christopher sturniolo fluff #Spotify

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bobfloydssunnies · 2 months

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mamma mia au! | "july 17th what a night..." "august 4th what a night..." "august 11th - turned up out of the blue and I said I'd show him the island..."

#jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #bob floyd #tgm moodboard #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bob floyd x reader #I had this idea the other day and couldn't get it out of my head but I don't want to make it a fic #tbh I am scared to make it a fic and mess it up I love mamma mia so much #collage creations [aimee's moodboards]

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percervall · 3 months

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all I've learnt has been overturned

pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader words: 958 warnings: fluff

In which Agnes has learnt from the best

You’d think that with four parents involved, it would be easy enough to look after three children, but nothing could be further from the truth. Your youngest was easy enough, at five months the little boy was either in a stroller or a baby carrier, but with all four of you working this weekend, it becomes difficult to divide and conquer for your two oldest children. Mark is looking after Agnes who, at four years old, is fluent in three languages: English, Danish, and sass –thanks to your genes and the influence of her uncle Nano. Your middle child, Margot, is a spritely 2-year-old and the spitting image of her dad, Lewis, and currently hanging out with her godfather Sebastian, while Lewis and Kevin get ready for the race. Which leaves you with your 5-month-old son, Luke. Just like his sisters, he will sleep peacefully through the hustle and bustle of the paddock while you get ready to go on air. When Lewis joined Ferrari, you stayed at Mercedes, but it became increasingly more difficult to balance your career and motherhood. And then Jenson approached you with an opportunity to go into commentary for Sky Sports. At first you weren’t sure whether you’d be the right person for the job, but Jenson and your husbands were quick to dispel that concern. The biggest selling point was the flexibility; you could pick which races you’d attend as part of the media team meaning you and Mark had an easier time splitting the main responsibilities during race weekends. And now that the lead producer for the F1 broadcast is a woman, it was even easier to be a working mum because it was no problem to bring your baby and be on air with them in a baby wrap strapped to your chest. Although you have a feeling that being the wife of also helped in getting this privilege written into your contract.

You’re in the middle of analysing the interesting pit strategy from Alpine post race when you spot your oldest running towards you. Mark shoots you an apologetic look from where he’s on air with Channel 4, but all you can do is shrug. It’s the Monaco Grand Prix and having grown up here, Agnes feels more than comfortable in the paddock. Jenson is quick to scoop her up, hoisting her up on his hip while you finish.

“What was your favourite part today, princess?” he asks her, moving the microphone in front of her.

“The ice cream at Ferrari. Mr Fred always has sprinkles. Oh, and when daddy got wet!” Agnes replies, clearly prioritising the treats over Lewis’ podium finish, much to the amusement of your colleagues. Jenson segues easily into discussing his thoughts on the race while Agnes waves at some of the drivers passing by. You’re slightly on edge having her on air. Last year during the Monza GP, the little girl was caught on camera telling Nico Hulkenberg suck my balls when she and Kevin walked past him. Of course the clip went viral; how could it not with the girl repeating her father’s comments to his teammate. You can’t lie, it was very funny to hear those words come out of your then 3-year-old’s mouth.

You’re nearing the end of the broadcast and you relax slightly until your daughter spots one of her uncles and brother’s godfathers.

“Oh no,” you mutter, but there’s nothing you can do now Agnes sees Fernando.

“Cabrón!” Agnes shouts, and makes a little heart sign with her hands. You cover your eyes, groaning while Jenson laughs. To make matters worse, Fernando jogs over.

“Are you causing chaos again, preciosa?” he asks her while Simon hands him a microphone.

“Uhu!” Agnes replies, looking very pleased with herself.

“How about we go find your dad before you cause any more, hm?” Fernando says and lifts her onto his shoulders. The girl holds on to his head as she chatters away about how she got ice cream with sprinkles, and did you know that orange sprinkles don’t taste like oranges? Isn’t that so silly uncle Nano?

“I swear we raised her better than that,” you manage to utter as they walk away.

“Fernando’s teaching her all the important things,” Jenson chuckles, “She’ll be able to hold her own once she gets to F1 if she chooses to follow her dads’ footsteps.”

“And on that note,” Simon says, “here’s what’s coming up today on SkySports.”

“It could’ve been worse,” Kevin says while giving Luke his bottle. You’re all sat at the Ferrari hospitality before he and Lewis are needed for the debrief. You look to where Agnes is playing football with Charles and sigh.

“True, she could’ve flipped him off,” Lewis adds, handing Margot a couple of crayons and her colouring book.

“Don’t remind me,” you groan. It had taken the four of you weeks to get her to stop doing that.

“As if Fernando would’ve complained, he’s the one that taught her in the first place,” Mark chuckles.

“Will you please ask him to stop teaching our children all the naughty words? And I mean that for any and all languages,” you ask him. Mark presses a kiss against your temple.

“Of course. He’s coming to dinner tonight and I’ll speak to him about it.” Every year since the four of you moved to Monaco, Mark organises a BBQ after the Monaco Grand Prix. It’s a large undertaking, feeding most of the grid plus a couple of the former drivers, but it’s nice to see everyone relax. It always serves as a reminder that family is made and chosen. You know your children will grow up surrounded by so much love, and that alone is worth the stack of dishes afterwards.

I was meant to be writing a Carlos smut fic. Oh well 🙈

Agnes' personality was inspired by this TikTok. Like, she is her father's daughter. Oh, and because I have a feeling people will ask:

Agnes - 4, Kevin's biological child Margot - 2, Lewis' biological child Luke - 5 months, Mark's biological child

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags, and likes mean the world to me 💜

#f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfic #mark webber fanfic #kevin magnussen fluff #lewis hamilton fluff #mark webber fluff #kevin magnussen x reader #kevin magnussen x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #mamma mia fic

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artytaeh · 1 month

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listen. i am slighlty obsessed with mamma mia— which means i adore abba's songs. so just yesterday i decided to listen to the songs from the movie.

and, because i'm in a huge harry potter brain rot, guess what: amanda seyfried and dominic cooper's duets could so easily be you, reader, and the weasley twins singing with you, because they know just how much you love listening to abba.

· · · · · ·

so yes, to the point where you, fred and george know every single line. and on karaoke nights? the twins know by heart when it's their turn to sing.

i feel like fred is the most enthusiastic about it. lay all your love on me gets more tension between you, staring into each other's eyes, feeling every line:

no, fred wasn't a jealous man at all when he met you! but yes, every man fred sees now is a potential threat, trying to take you away from him — usually, he lifts you up on his arms, looking around with a serious look, as if to watch out of his best-friend-slash-love-of-his-life thieves.

george is possessive! which isn't nice. he uses his fingers to pretend that he was holding a cigarette, blowing air like a smoker would, because now he has another obsession, a bigger vice: you!

now all of this isn't true. now everything is you— and this is when both twins make their way to you, crowding, surrounding you, leaving nowhere to run.

all that the cheeky twins have learned as overturn: so they beg of you, george kneeling on the floor, fred pointing at his bleeding heart, making you laugh everytime.

you get to sing the other part of the song freely, with even more enthusiasm as them, knowing every low and high of the song, and the twins can't help but smile everytime you are this happy.

on the chorus, though? the three of you are screaming, yelling your lungs out.

unironically, i feel like at least one of the twins finds out they're in love with you here. fred, probably because he feels the song too strongly, feeling selfish of you, wishing all of your love to be layed on him— george, on the other hand, realizes how insanely in love he is for you. how (healthily. he hopes.) obsessed he is for you, and all of the moments you spend together.

however, one of us gets a playful yet theatrical vibe, exchanging smiles and dramatic expressions, as if you and them really had just argued. as if you're a couple on the verge of breaking up, as if you were rotting on bed, wishing to be on george's arms or listening to fred's schemes— at the burrow, a place that feels like a second home to you, because it's where fred and george are on their most domestic displays.

once the music starts, the three of you get a neck ache, snapping your heads to stare at each other, grabbing any cylindrical object to be your microphone.

you have enough seconds to change your goofy, enthusiastic smiles into sorrowful expressions, frowning as if this was a painful truth to be sang.

you sing. you point at them, accusing them of breaking your heart— everytime, george looks at you, offended that you think he'd do such a thing! fred, on the other hand, nods as if he was accepting his fault.

they sing together the lyrics, fred finishing with ''waiting for a call...'', looking at you a little too lovingly— secretly, fred hexed a box with all of your letters, which he reads during vacations and holidays that you're far from him, dearly missed by him. every morning does fred weasley wake up in hopes that mixed with arthur's work letters, harry's letters to ron and ginny's friends giftcards, there's something written by you to him.

they sing together a few more words, because this time, it's george who finishes the chorus by himself: ''wishing he had never left at all...''; a feeling he remembers all too well, every single time he has to leave your company to go to his own classes, classes that you don't share due to belonging to different houses. that little heartache, of seeing you turn your back and leave, after waving him goodbye— you live in different houses, sometimes too far for him to chase your company in the middle of the night, or to straight up tell you something stupid he just remembered.

deep down, everytime this song is so passionately sang by the three of you, the twins wish to never get to feel exactly as the song proposes. the feeling of things getting so bad, that one of you has to leave.

being the most patient and more of the "good" twin of the duo, george is hopeful that being on no-speaking-terms wouldn't happen, and if it did, only lasts a few hours. george is hoping that you and him are such a good match, a match made in heaven and hell, never fight this hard.

however fred, the "bad", 10% more devilish of the duo, fears that his impulsive words might hurt you so much one day, that he'll be laying on his bed and wishing to be with you instead, knowing he messed up.

at first, the twins frowned at your music taste. sometimes abba's songs are frequent on dorms' parties, fred too focused on dancing and jumping amongst the other students' enthusiasm. george, however, is a little more observant of the others' fun, watching his friends dance and other boys trying to make a move on the girls they fancy— which means, watching is baby brother ron trying to get a dance with hermione.

it gets them a little effort to like abba as much as you do. george is the first to learn the lyrics, making an effort for you and to sing a long on car drives. fred struggles at first, but gets surprised when his voice naturally sings along.

when did he learn the full song? the full album, even? he accuses you of bewitching him.

( truthfully, fred becomes a bit of a bigger fan of abba than george, now that he gets to dramatically and theatrically sing the songs with you. )

· · · · · ·

pretending that you're a little younger and flirting with him on does your mother know?, or you singing it out of spite when the twins mess up, when you just know that they will, sooner than later, listen to molly weasley's wrath for what they did.

all brotherly and stupidly supportive, being the one who remembers to sing chiquitita of all songs, fred starts the famous ''chiquitita tell me what's wrong...'' when you're sad about a low grade or crying— yes, this makes george wheeze his voice out everytime even though he tries so much to take your problems seriously.

waterloo is a song you feel... personally. because everytime you are defeated— fred and george won the war: convincing you to join their schemes, silly pranks, and future plans. the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself: you, fred and george at the crime scene once again. you promise to love fred and george forevermore— fred teases that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to (mf is tall, has long legs and is capable of running FAST after you); george, on the other hand, assures that he knows, fred knows, you know that your fate is to be with them.

going to detention, fred opens his arms to you, and soon george gets what his (slightly) older twin is about to scream: "can't you hear me? SOS!"; when you're gone, though they try, how can they carry on? detention is a little more bearable when you're caught red-handed with them, and so, you, fred and george have a date later at evening, to clean the great hall or other part of hogwarts. "and the love you gave me, nothing else can save me, SOS!" is a lyric you know all too well, because if you decide to be a little more sarcastic, slightly cold to them, george wraps your shoulders with his arm and tilts his head to look at you and sing it to you, meanwhile, fred shows up in front of you with a forearm on his forehead. a true damsel in distress, now that he sees the little sassy monster he and george created.

super trouper is a core memory to you, the twins, and dear ginny weasley, once again crying because of her first unrequited love on harry potter. something only you know, because you and ginny wouldn't want poor harry to suffer too much with fred and george's pranks. this time, each of your hands pull one twin to the side, then you point at ginny, who's a little more calm after crying her eyes out, and sing the first part of the song. fred thinks it's a good idea, honestly, since you always laugh at chiquitita, and for a second george seems to regret this friendship. because, are you serious? but then, when ginny smiles and accepts your invitation to join the spectacle, george decides that super trouper is a favorite of his— specially because he and fred know that somewhere in the crowd, you'll be there. and they'll be there when you arrive. always. forever, if fate allows them.

on valentine's day, george is the one to start this whole abba epidemy you're having. take a chance on me starts shyly with george, because you haven't received any letters or chocolates despite your popularity (which is cough more of fred and george's fault cough after effective threats on any funny little guy who fancies you). fred laughs incredulously, because as bad with seriously sweet words as he is, he doesn't believe that is identical twin is starting this conversation with an abba song. but of fucking course. and if you're wondering, yes, it did work. you took a chance on them.

voulez-vous is sang by you, the twins, and everyone else at the hufflepuff's party, when the team wins against slytherin. it's then that fred, if he wasn't an official fan of abba, admits that you have a good taste— because it's easily one of the funniest and enjoyful moments of the party: if there were students outside the dance floor, with voulez-vous, everyone is standing up and crowding hufflepuff's common room. layers of circles of students move to the left, the layer behind to the right, and so on. the whole time you're singing to fred and george, and when it's time to your students' circle to move again, fred gets on your left so george stands on your right, making sure that the enthusiasm of other students don't push you to the ground, or hurt you unintentionally. even when they're having the most fun, fred makes sure you're in the middle of them— for the first time, being the slightest responsible twin.

and yet, when you're being the kindest soul to help the weasley twins decorating their shop, money money money is the mandatory song to attract good business, good luck, and good clients for them. it'll be a rich man's (men) world indeed, when weasley's wizard wheezes starts getting so famous, that fred and george promptly have a jar of savings— money to be spent with you, on you, for you. to spoil their best-friend-slash-love-of-their-lives.

· · · · · ·

should i make a series?

73 notes · View notes

goldustwomun · 2 years

Text

take a chance on me (b.b.)

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x ex! mother! reader

summary: your daughter stumbles upon a photo of you and a mysterious man, immediately noticing the similarities between him and her. nothing good can come from revisiting the past, especially one you’d hoped to avoid because you’d never gotten the courage to tell him, the man from the photo, that he’s a father.

warnings: major rip-off of the mamma mia! plot but this was purely for enjoyment so xxx; angst angst angst; swearing; allusions to sex; a lot of exposition so sorry ‘bout that

wc: 9.2k+

note: had so much fun messing around with this request (thank you by the way!!). listening to the mamma mia! soundtrack the whole time and now yearning for an island romance<3

ps. reader’s age is slightly hinted to being over 30 but that’s only if you do the math and i left the daughter’s age ambiguous (she’s a teen, over sixteen at least); also, daughter’s name is poppy!

pps. i probably won’t be writing a second part to this because i love the ambiguous ending; let your imagination run free lovelies :))

more of my work x

The summer heat was thick and just about everywhere, like sticky honey you can’t wipe clean off your fingers after spreading it onto a piece of too-burnt toast.

You were on the verge of giving up, trekking back home and collapsing onto the sofa with a stand-up fan aimed at your sweat-slick face.

Maybe the dungarees hadn’t been your best idea when it came to thirty-degree weather, but the utility of them, their pockets filled to the brim with spare screws, a cylinder-shaped glue for the hot glue gun you’d lost in your storage room a week back, a few hair ties for when the one currently holding yours up snapped for the third time that day.

Practicality over comfort, as was your motto for the past over-a-decade of your life. As it had been, since you’d found yourself pregnant after a one-night-stand (turned many, many night-stand) you’d yet to shake yourself free of).

You were never one to ask for help, and when it came to raising your child, things hadn’t changed. No matter how desperate you were, working two jobs on an island you didn’t speak the language of, an infant perched on your hip, whaling in your ears whilst you simultaneously cleaned the rooms of the little bed-and-breakfast you’d landed a job at.

When you weren’t taking care of your kid or working, you were thinking about one of those two things, or both.

And it wasn’t like you hated it entirely; she was the best thing to ever happen to you, could have arrived at a more opportune time, but she was your best friend if you’d ever had one. So saying she was a mistake or something you regretted– it was an unfathomable thought that had only crossed your mind once, sat in the doctor’s waiting room, pregnancy test wrapped in toilet paper, clutched tight in your trembling hands.

“Ma’!” she yelled now, your little Poppy with her chocolate-brown curls, sun-kissed skin from all the time spent at the beach. Remarkably like her Father, but you’d never tell her that.

“I’m here, I’m here!” you answered in a similar, exasperated fashion, bent over a crack in the intricately tiled mosaics that covered the floor of the plaza.

You still worked at that bed-and-breakfast, though now it was yours and had expanded to a vast number of the buildings at the centre of the island. Everyone helped out, whether out of kindness or a small fee, and you were grateful for the community, the small army, you had behind you, catching you every time you stumbled (far too often than you’d ever admit).

“Need help?” Poppy asked, amused, hands perched over her white-tiered skirt clad hips, looking like the stubborn replica of her mother, of you. Her head just about obscured the sun from beating down on you anymore than it already was, framing her with a halo of gold that tinted the edges of her hair.

“I’m alright, love,” you assured, heaving yourself straight with a pained groan. Poppy crowded you, arms going around your shoulders to help you up. “Why don’t you go help Esme. She’s in the storage room, looking for the hot glue gun.”

“Still haven’t found that thing?”

“No, I– fuck. Everything disappears around here. Swear we’ve got a ghost or something, the only logical explanation.” Poppy nodded along, taking your finger-pointing at the supernatural with a deathly seriousness.

“Makes sense if you ask me, ghost with a hankering for rusty tools,” she agreed, voice solemn. “Aaaand you’re sure I can’t help you here?” she asked again, murky brown eyes baring right into your soul. You brushed her off, nudging her in the direction of the sweet old lady, Esme, with her wonky English accent and pastries to die for.

“If you see anything you like, put it to the side!” you called after her retreating figure, shaking your head as she chucked a ‘thumbs up’ behind her back.

Not only was she the spitting image of her Father, or rather, the man who got you pregnant as you called him in your head, but she walked and talked with that same air of breezy confidence that got him into your pants in the first place.

You’d hoped a few more of your mannerisms (and none of your risky mistakes) would have brushed off on her as she grew up, but other than your resolute anger and little patience, she was nothing like you.

Always headstrong, sometimes teetering on the precipice of arrogance, but she usually relented and bugged you with her incessant chatter until you forgave her.

Would stare up at you, all watery and doe-eyed, hair curling around her chubby cheeks still splotchy from her tantrum, near ready for tears again until you were shushing her with a carrot stick coated in hummus (her favourite but you worried she’d turn into a chickpea or something close to it).

Even if she was part-chickpea, you’d love her forever.

Named her Poppy after the bunches of wild, scarlet-red flowers you’d seen breaking through the stones of the Acropolis when you were pregnant and needed a break from the island. Your Poppy was a lot like that; able to push past even the most inconceivable of hardships, past whatever unmovable stone that might be surrounding her, threatening to cage her in, until she was illuminating the world around her. Painting it a little brighter for everyone to enjoy.

Your very own field of flowers.

Poppy could admit that even with having grown up on the island, she could never get used to the heat or the muggy feeling of her clothes sticking to her like a second layer of skin. But she persisted, finding Esme with a cloth tied around her head as a make-shift hat in the barn they used for storage.

It was… falling to pieces, and still, that was an understatement.

The blue doors looked more grey than anything ocean-like, the junk crammed inside, stacks on stacks of unlabelled cardboard boxes she worried had a family of something disgusting in at least one of them. The ceiling had caved-in in places, allowing beams of sunlight to penetrate through, and acting as a door for the birds to fly in and build their nests.

So yes, the barn was falling to pieces, the entire hotel was, actually. But what worried her the most was that her Mother seemed close to the same fate despite being so young, so she’d persist where she had to.

“Little girl, come help me with this box would you!” Esme ordered from somewhere within the labyrinth of boxes. Poppy picked her way through, using the groans Esme exerted as a homing-beacon and eventually bumping into the older woman. She was caked in dust and dirt, but didn’t seem to care all that much if the grin on her face was any hint of her mood.

Esme was rather grumpy a lot of the time, so a smile like that, one that screamed mischief, and her eyes beaming with that all-knowing look she got sometimes after visiting the psychic on the other side of the island… Well, something told her this couldn’t be good.

“What’s in this particular box, May?” Poppy questioned, huffing as she pushed it onto the ground.

“You’ll see in a moment–” Esme tssked at her impatience, patting her back so Poppy would move into the light so they could see its contents more clearly. When it was in place, Poppy looked-up at her from her crouched position on the floor expectantly, still unsure of where this was headed.

“Don’t give me such a dumb look, little girl, open it!” she scolded, frowning so deeply Poppy worried her mouth would be stuck that way permanently.

Sometimes she thought it already was. “Okay- Okay– Stop calling me that,” she added under her breath, pulling back the hole-ridden flaps and immediately rummaging through, wondering what all the fuss was about.

“This just looks like a bunch of old junk, May. I don’t think the glue-gun is in here.”

“Keep looking,” she insisted, peering over her shoulder. It was only a few minutes later that her hand came down on Poppy’s shoulder, gripping tight enough that Poppy stopped shuffling things around, hand stuck on a tattered journal she’d never seen before. “That one– take that out.”

“This?” Poppy asked inquisitively, lifting it from the box and standing up so Esme could see.

“Yes, this,” she nodded with a relieved sigh, flipping open the first page. Inside, Poppy admired the elegant script, eyes widening at the name inscribed on the first page.

“This was Ma’s?”

Esme held it out to her, confirming her wild thoughts, doing little to halt the curiosity currently poking at her mind. “This was your Mother’s when I first met her. Maybe… younger than you, or the same age, I’m not sure. But she was beautiful, and hardworking, and very, very pregnant.”

A forced laugh stumbled past her lips, disbelieving as she carefully turned to the next page. A stray photo, not stuck down like the others, flew out of the bottom. Poppy scrambled to pick it up, not wanting it to get lost amongst the piles of stuff they desperately needed to sort out.

In it was her Mother, looking radiant with her head tilted back in laughter, flowers in her hair, an arm around her waist that belonged to an unfamiliar man. “And– this guy, who’s he?” Poppy’s heart was hammering now, knowing the answer before Esme could even respond.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown. And something about him, the fluidity in his shoulders, the ease with which he carried himself, the look on your face. It couldn’t be…

“I’m not sure. I never knew his name but he was following your Mother around that summer, like a lost puppy. Very cute,” she murmured appreciatively, gaze fixated on the photo in your hand.

Poppy’s heart sank, hating the lack of answers, the not-knowing. She needed to know, could feel the fire stoked in the pit of her belly that would keep her up until she found out more, more, more.

You wouldn’t say anything. You were tightlipped about the ingredients in your famous pasta sauce, so anything about Poppy’s potential Father would be a no-go, a dead end she couldn’t get herself stuck in and clue you in on her snooping.

“What happened to him– the puppy man?” Poppy did nothing to hide her curiosity, knowing deep down that Esme had lured her to this box for a reason.

Everyone could see how you were wearing away, working yourself to the bone everyday for a dream that seemed just about unreachable. You needed someone, anyone, to help you, and Poppy wouldn’t always be there to do just that.

She knew you didn’t need a man, bursting into your life and fixing your problems. It’d have you biting at his heels until he was running off into the sunset. But a partner– a companion, maybe, who could support you when the job was brutal and rough and you were nearing a breakdown like no other– you deserved, at the very least, that.

Poppy would make sure of it. It didn’t take long for her to do the calculations, nine months minus her birthday and she had an approximate date to look for. She thumbed through the journal, marking the pages that mentioned any indication of when you’d written in it, and shoved it into the back pocket of your denim shorts to search through later.

She’d find him if it was the last thing she’d ever do.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be, but she needed to see you smiling like you had in that picture. And Poppy had an inkling, a feeling, a certainty like no other, that the answer to all of your problems, maybe her’s as well, would be found with the man with the funny moustache and wicked grin.

The internet was a powerful machine, and one, Poppy thought decidedly, she’d be forever grateful for. It didn’t take long to hunt down the mystery man from the photo. She smiled, somewhat maniacally, really, at the screen as she read through the email she received from the United States Navy.

She’d gotten the idea after noticing the dog-tag around his neck, nestled against his bare chest. It was hard to see at first, what with the obnoxious printed shirts he wore in every photo, but Poppy was nothing if not thorough, meticulous, error-free.

Anyway, it wasn’t like the Navy had actually responded to her far-fetched cries for help, but she did find a help-centre that was rather effective in hunting down men who had gotten someone or the other pregnant while deployed internationally.

Poppy wondered how often this kind-of thing happened that they needed a whole department for it, suddenly trying to burn the image in her mind of a few more miniature him-with-the-moustache-s walking around the Earth.

But it couldn’t be, not with the way he had stared at you in that photo. And you’d kept it, all these years, so it had to have meant something.

Bradley Bradshaw. She scoffed, what a dumb name. And his callsign? Somehow worse– Rooster. She hoped eternally her maybe-Father wasn’t a proper moron now, and could still live upto the photos she had of him (of which she found many more hidden between pages in your journal).

He was quite attractive, almost two decades earlier. And you– well, even today, you were ethereal in Poppy’s eyes. Carefree and determined.

“Pops– hun, I’m going down to the post office, need anything mailed?” you asked from the other side of her bedroom door.

“Yeah! One sec,” she replied, frantically shoving all of the post-it notes and pictures back into a drawer in her desk, doing one last scan of her room to make sure she hadn’t left anything lying around before snatching up the letter– to Rooster– from beside her laptop.

Poppy opened the door to see you resting against the door frame, flipping through the letters (bills, probably) you had clutched in your hand. You held out your hand, waiting for her to drop it in your palm, but she quickly yelled out, “No!” which had you looking up from the dreaded envelopes with a raised brow.

“No…?” you asked, confused at her unusual outburst. “So you don’t have any mail?”

“No,” she repeated, dumbly, mouth forming words that never made it out. “No– I have a letter, but I’ll come with you. Drop it off myself,” she explained eventually, nodding along as if she was trying to convince herself.

You relented, sending another curious look towards your daughter but stomping down the stairs, creaks following, to the car. “I’m leaving now so put your shoes on!” you sang.

She sighed out of relief, shoving her feet into her trainers and barreling past you into the front seat of your Jeep. “God, Poppy– what’s gotten into you? Acting like a five-year old, I swear,” you grumbled, irritated and lethargic enough to have her wincing with guilt.

This was a good thing, right? Sure, you’d be angry– scratch that, furious, murderous, down-right irate, when you found out, but you’d understand. She was doing this for you.

“Sorry,” she appeased, kicking her feet onto the dashboard that earned her another withering glare from you. It did little to dissuade her as she continued talking. “Just giddy, that’s all.”

“Giddy? About a letter?” Poppy hummed in agreement, watching the ocean and mountain-side trees rush by, painting an array of abstract strokes across her vision. “Is it for a boy?” you asked, teasingly, side-eyeing her before returning to concentrating on the winding road ahead.

“Mmm, funnily enough, yeah,” she giggled, loving how you were entirely clueless.

“Interesting,” you murmured, then reaching across the console to squeeze your daughter’s bare knee. “Be careful, yeah?”

Poppy’s eyes flashed, chest-clenching painfully as she worried her lip between her teeth. Her hand moved to rest across yours. You’d never opposed her love-life, of her having one, but Poppy had always wondered why your own dating history was so sparse, time spent, instead, taking care of her or, later on, the hotel.

“Always, Ma’, you know that,” she made sure with a tight grin, praying you missed how it didn’t reach her eyes.

This was a good thing, she reminded herself. This was for you.

Poppy was jumpier than usual, like a skittish cat, you observed silently. Slamming doors and screens shut when you walked by. You didn’t necessarily care what she was up to until she was rambling off, a mile a minute, going on about an excuse you hadn’t asked for.

You were a good mother, one that didn’t pry or push when you wanted the gossip and highlights of your kid’s life. Had built a relationship, a friendship, even, with your daughter where she voluntarily shared the information without you ever needing to bat an eyelash.

So you tried not to worry, to let the mishaps distract you from the seemingly never-ending list of work you had tugging your attention elsewhere.

But that was another thing about being a mother; worrying was second nature, a muscle that unknowingly worked itself sore whenever your daughter was out of your sight.

She’d go off during the day, by the beach with her friends, at the dock helping with shipments or sailing into the late afternoon, returning only when the sun was sinking into the horizon and the sky was all shades of purple, pink, a burning orange.

She’d give you a soft, routine kiss on your cheek as you sat on the dinner table, skin sticking to the plastic cover you’d laid on the surface to protect the wood. Spew details of her day, who said what, who kissed who– though always failing to mention the letter from a month ago, the unknown boy she was secretly buzzing about was still unknown.

You hadn’t forgotten the letter, not recognising the address, some small town in America with little significance to you.

Poppy sat across from you now, talking around a mouthful of the sandwich you’d made the both of you with the leftover baguette from the bakery across the street, one that hadn’t sold that day so was priced cheap.

“--and then, you’ll never guess, but Dom was changing on the boat and basically flashed everyone. Tony and Riley included. I felt so bad, almost pushed the boys overboard and she was so red for someone who, basically, never got embarrassed.”

You snorted, stopping mid-bite. “Just because someone doesn’t make their emotions obvious doesn’t mean they don’t feel them. And I hope they’ll apologise to her.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” she agreed enthusiastically, eyes wide as if digesting every single one of your words. “And they did right after I threatened them. It wasn’t awkward for long, they’re not a bad bunch or anything. It was an accident, Dom said so herself.”

“That’s good,” was all you answered, now distracted by a letter in your hand you’d pulled from the pile as Poppy talked. She was watching you intently, burning a hole through the paper, and, being her Mother, you already knew she was dying to know who it was from.

“It’s for you,” you said eventually, putting her out of her momentary misery as she squealed and snatched it from your hand. You watched discreetly, touched by the sight of her mouthing the words as she read the letter. “Is it from that American boy of yours?”

“American?– what– I mean, how do you– how do you know he’s American?” she stuttered messily, mouth agape and ready to argue.

You reflexively held up your hands in surrender. “Hey, love– I just saw the sender’s address, that’s all,” you assured.

She collapsed back into her seat, mumbling an apology for getting all worked up.

It was now or never, you decided, finally sick of the anxiety coursing through your veins these past few weeks.

“Poppy, you’re… alright, right?” you asked, struggling to find the right words and sighing, forehead resting against your palm while the other crossed the table, holding your daughter’s hand, grip light and featherlike, in comfort.

“I mean– you’d tell me if you were in any trouble, or anything. I wouldn’t judge or–”

“Ma!” she scolded, sounding appalled by your line of questioning and roughly pulling her hand out of your grasp.

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Pops. You’ve been going mental for weeks now! I’m allowed to fret, I’m your Mother!” you retorted, standing up abruptly, chair screeching against the linoleum tiles as you dropped the plates into the sink.

“It’s nothing, I swear–”

“Is it drugs?” you asked suddenly, turning around to face her.

She looked completely aghast, arms crossed against her chest defensively and, what was likely subconsciously, pouting at you. “If it’s drugs, Pops, we can get help. I’ve got money saved up and I know a decent doctor on the mainland. I’ll get you an appointment tomorrow if you let me–”

“Ma!” she screeched again, parroting your earlier movements, walking right up to you, holding your shoulders firmly, and shaking as she spoke, or rather, yelled. “I’m not on drugs, don’t be stupid!” You scowled at her, pushing her off of you.

“Then what is it because I’ve been wracking my brain for what could possibly have my child on fucking edge and–”

“I found a journal!” she interrupted, voice loud and exasperated. You whipped around, pinning her down with a stare you’d mastered over the years. She froze on the spot, likely shocked she’d let it slip in the first place.

“You found a– a journal? Where? Who’s?” you asked succinctly, hiding your shaking hands behind your back.

“Uh– it was– Esme, she– it’s her’s, and she wanted me to help her find the name of this guy who’d visited her when she was younger. I reached out and it’s a letter from him, that’s it. I was excited for her,” she explained, but the way her voice wavered made you certain that wasn’t the whole story.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?” you reasoned, still unbelieving. It was too convenient of an explanation.

“Because she told me not to! You’re– you’re a bit harsh, sometimes, a bit cynical when it comes to love,” she said, hesitantly, mouth twitching with a smile at how you were now the one pouting. “Anyway, you’re always telling me to butt out of people’s business so I thought it’d be best to just keep it to myself.”

The two of you, mother and daughter, stood in silence for many long minutes, bathed in the nauseating yellow glow of the kitchen lights, flickering bulbs casting ugly shadows across your faces. But it was home, the one one you knew, so you never complained, at least not out loud.

Not when Poppy was around to hear you. “Okay, I believe,” you relented, returning to the dishes, though Poppy nudged you out of the way.

“Why don’t you let me do this, huh? Go sit down for a bit, I’ll finish tidying up.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Poppy was quick to give you a look– the look. Same one you’d mastered after many years of dealing with her fits, and evidently, she seemed to have learnt it as well. You acquiesced reluctantly, hands raised for the second time that night, and fell back, fainted more like, onto the sofa.

Poppy stood, hunched over the sink, and you watched her from your position in the living room.

Something– a nagging feeling you couldn’t quite get rid off– poked at you, at your brain in all of its aching, slimy glory– that the story she fed you was just that– a story, fictional. But you trusted her, unlike some other mother’s who’d lecture you over the cabbages in the market about how you were too lenient with Poppy, how she’ll end up just like you.

You griped internally. She’d be lucky if she turned out anything like you. Your gaze returned to her, shoulders moving as she scrubbed at the dirty dishes.

Okay. Maybe not exactly like you.

He arrived on an assuming Tuesday, a single bag strapped to his back, all brown skin and smouldering looks hidden behind decade-old sunglasses. Poppy couldn’t believe it, not one bit, as she greeted the stranger while working at the pier.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely, lips pulled into a frown to hide the urge of flinging herself at him with no explanation at all.

“Yeah, I’m looking for this address–” he fumbled with a piece of paper, pulling it from his back pocket. It was a letter, her letter, and he jabbed at the address, her address, on the front of the creased envelope. “--or if that’s not familiar, Poppy? She said her name was Poppy. Do you know anyone like that around these parts?”

She snorted. What were the chances?

She’d almost bailed on her shift, persuaded by Ben and his pretty smile to sneak out to the hidden beach on a nearby island. You’d managed to coerce him into going another day, mumbling an excuse or two in between kisses as you rushed down to the dock.

And then there he was, looking a lot like the lost puppy Esme had described to you. He still had the same odd facial hair, though it fit him a little better, having aged well.

“Poppy? Yeah, I know her,” Poppy mused, pulling at her bottom lip in faux-thought, eyes darting between the letter and the confused man holding it.

“Right, well–” he cleared his throat, shifting his weight between his feet. “Can you direct me towards her?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded vehemently, hoping he couldn’t see the grin threatening to take over your features.

He sighed defeatedly after waiting for you to continue, and after you failed to expand on the information, he shoved the paper back into his pocket. “Okay, thanks for the help”-- sounding not the least bit thankful.

Better put him out of his misery, she thought eagerly, looping an arm around his shoulder, having to lean up on the tips of her toes to reach. “It’s actually you’re lucky day, Bradley–” you began, that same grin winning its battle.

“How do you know–” he cut you off, then stopped himself, pausing as he turned to face you. “Oh…”

“Oh!” she mirrored, though a lot less like she’d had some sort of epiphany. more mocking and exaggerated.

“So you’re Poppy?” he asked, stupidly, bashfully, shaking his hair out of his eyes. They were slightly longer, the strands, than in the photos, but he had that same boyish charm you’d sensed.

“The one and only,” Poppy enthused..

“So you’re–”

“Her daughter? Yeah, that’d be me,” she finished for him, teetering towards something more serious, more solemn, bracing yourself for the moment of realisation as the both of them walked up to the road, identical gaits and hair and noses, where Poppy’s Jeep (or the one she’d borrowed from you) was parked.

It never came.

“And your Dad?”

You choked on a breath that never made it down the right pipe, halting in your steps. “My Dad?” you asked, bemused.

“Yeah– is he around? Would love to meet him, your Mother as well, of course. I was really surprised by the letter but I think–”

“My Dad isn’t around. Never met him,” she explained slowly, frustrated by how he really wasn’t understanding. Had she not been obvious enough?

Shit. Would she give him a fucking heart attack if she told him now?

She looked him over, deciding he wasn’t so old that an unannounced confession would kill him.

“I’m sorry about that, men can be real dickheads,” he stated, as if knowing from experience, not bothering to censor his language, and she liked him just a bit more for it.

He was perfect for you.

Poppy watched, unspeaking, as he settled into the passenger seat, admiring the interior of the car– probably the one thing you owned that wasn’t ripping at the seams. “So, where are we headed?”

“The hotel Ma’ owns, it’s at the–”

“Centre of the island?” he interrupted, staring distantly out at the unwavering landscape.

Bradley-- Rooster let out a shaky breath, one she tried not to notice, understanding that the two of you, meeting after all these years– it wasn’t going to be easy. Not when there was a significant part of his life he didn’t even know existed, one that came in the form of her.

“You remember,” you pointed out, surprised and sounding more like a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, I mean– I remember everything. How could I not?” There was something beneath his words, a weight to them that had her shifting uncomfortably in her seat, foot colliding with the accelerator as they hurried home.

“So you’ll be staying here,” she announced, shoving her shoulder against the barn door and coughing at the dust that attacked her senses once she managed it open. Bradley– or Rooster, as he’d told her to call him– followed close behind, cautious with every step as he took in his dilapidated housing.

“Here?” he questioned out loud, pushing at the bunches of hay lining the floor with the toe of his combat boots. He was sweating like it was no one’s business and Poppy giggled to herself, finding amusement in his unspoken disgust.

“Yeah, here. The hotel’s all booked up–” a lie, she just couldn’t have you stumbling upon him before she’d planned how it’ll all go down. “So this was all we had left. I’ll find a spare mattress for you, and the bakery across the road– owned by a sweet, old lady–” another lie, it was Esme and there was nothing sweet about her. “--who can help you with showering, food, all the necessities.”

He stared intensely as she spoke, as if not really listening to a word she was saying.

“What is it?” she asked eventually, breaking free from his gaze as she busied herself, distracted herself, with collecting the boxes into a corner, out of the way to allow him some more room.

Rooster shook his head, convincing himself to look elsewhere, and smoothed his hair back.

“Nothing, sorry. You just– you’re so much like your Mother. It’s crazy, really.” She beamed at him, suddenly sitting on the floor opposite, and he joined her amongst the dust and hay.

“Really? You think so?” He nodded, laughing at her eagerness. “She said once, I don’t think she knew I was awake and I was really young, or younger,” she amended then continued. “She said I reminded her of my Dad, but I couldn’t ever tell you if it’s true or not.”

“Can’t say I knew him either–” Brilliant, it was all just brilliant. “--but you’re as… fiery, I guess would be an appropriate word, as she was.”

“And what was she like?”

He was ready to answer, not needing even a moment to think his response through, but your voice from outside the barn had Poppy’s eyes widening with fear, heart sinking low in your chest.

“Poppy! You in here?” You struggled with the door, pushing all of your weight into the crumbling wood.

“Fuck–” she cursed. “You need to– you need to hide, like– now.” He watched, perplexed, opening his mouth to question the sudden turn in events but she held up a finger, shushing him like he was a child and not her Father-who-didn’t-know-it.

“I’ll explain later just– please,” you begged quietly, urging him deeper in between the organised junk and out of sight.

She inhaled, exhaled, steadying her thrumming heartbeat. “Ma’! Y-yeah, I’m here, one second.”

Poppy pulled on the handle, hauling it open but the circular, metal ring broke-free from the door.

“Another thing to fix, I guess,” you noted, nodding at the rusted metal in her hand. “What’re you doing in here?” you asked, as if only now aware of where the both of you were.

“Here? I’m just– glue gun, yanno. Esme still couldn’t find it so I thought I'd try again.”

“Alright you flaky weirdo. I swear, you wouldn’t even need drugs to act all high and jittery, manage it just fine all by yourself,” you mumbled, dismissively pushing past her and heading straight towards the area Poppy had, moments earlier, shoo-ed Rooster towards.

“You can't go there!” she burst out, holding out a hand in front of you that you glowered at.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” you asked, voice tight and ready to pull the Mother card you never really enjoyed playing. You’d earned it, sure, but it was a little demeaning considering how old your daughter now was.

“Because– Because–”

Shuffling footsteps alerted your attention towards the disarray, squinting between the piles, searching for where the noise originated from. “Is there someone else here?”

“Yes! There is!” Poppy admitted, and your stare returned to her. She could see, right past your head, where Rooster was stepping into the light, assuming she was about to explain his presence, but she shook her head imperceptibly– not yet, go back, go back

You stared expectantly, waiting for a response. “It’s Ben,” she blurted, not sure, even herself, where she was headed. “And he’s– well, you see– he’s naked. Yeah, we were about to have sex and you walked in and he’s all embarassed.”

You sputtered, all but sprinting towards the door and unable to look behind you so you missed how Poppy relaxed minutely. “Oh– wow, okay. Just– that’s not what I was expecting,” you stuttered, palm shielding your eyes. “I mean, firstly– not here, gross, that sounds unbelievably unhygienic. And secondly– use protection.”

You didn’t stay any longer, escaping to the outside, and Rooster appeared beside Poppy almost immediately.

She turned, ready to barrage him with excuses and explanations she hadn’t thought of yet. “I’m so sorry, she’s–!”

“She doesn’t know, does she? That I’m here?” he asked, though he didn’t need you to respond to know the answer.

He groaned into his hands, bending at the hip and breathing raggedly. “Okay, so– I’m gonna go before she does find out. It was nice meeting you Poppy,” he said, all in one go with no room for you to interrupt.

“No you can’t– she’s just–”

“No, I really, really need to leave,” he bit out, not facing her as he strapped his bag to his back.

“If you just give her time–”

“You don’t understand!” he exploded, eyes fluttering shut as he visibly attempted to calm himself. “The last time she saw me– it wasn’t– it wasn’t good. And I left the next day, without a word of apology or justification or–” Rooster sighed as if he’d had this argument with himself countless times before. “--so no, I can’t imagine she’ll ever come around.”

He stopped at the boundary of the door, calling behind him. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Then he left, again.

At least he apologised this time, she thought bitterly.

You were stepping down from the hardware store, or hole in the wall, really, when you saw him.

A flash of saturated colour, mind-numbing prints, and broad shoulders. You gasped, frantically searching around yourself as if questioning if anyone else had seen a ghost from their own past.

No. They seemed to be going about their day as usual– Johnny sweeping at the cobblestone directly in front of his store, Mia laying fresh fish on ice, ready to be sold, her six-year old daughter tugging on the bottom of her dress with tears in her eyes.

No one was phased, except you. You looked back to where you’d seen him, but he wasn’t there anymore, only an empty street corner with nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

What the-- You rushed forward, intent on finding out the truth as your boots slapped loudly against the pavement, dodging busy workers and locals, all, now, staring at your wild movements.

“Child– where are you in such a hurry to?” Esme yelled, head poking through her bakery window with a scowl at the abrasive noise you were making in your pursuit.

“I’ll explain later, May!” you hurtled back, not stopping despite the burning in your legs, your chest.

Still, you carried on, making it all the way to the edge of the city centre, rushing to a stop as you stared across the abandoned gravel road. There was no one there except you, and you panted, exhausted and head-pounding, as you scolded yourself for such a stupid daydream. The heat had never gotten to you like this before.

It felt so real, him.

“Hey,” a voice greeted, cautiously, from behind you. Your eyes closed, hands clenched at your side, before you turned to face the tentative owner.

“Hey yourself,” you answered, surprising yourself at how civilised and steady your voice sounded to your own ears.

Bradley fucking Bradshaw. It was real after all.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hurrying towards you and letting his bag drop to the ground between the two of you, pulling out a water bottle and holding it out in front of you. A peace offering of sorts.

You only stared at it, like it’d bite you if you got any closer. “Take it, sweetheart. It’s fucking miserable out here.”

The endearment had you flashing your eyes at him, fire or rage or something somehow hotter– the sun had nothing on you in that moment, but he stumbled back, remembering himself.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded between gritted teeth, chin turned up at him.

“Sightseeing,” he said simply with that reaching grin that had you melting years earlier.

You scoffed impatiently. Poppy really had gotten her knack for lying, or royally sucking at it, from him.

“That’s bullshit. Why are you really here?”

There must have been an edge to your voice that had him spilling the truth, because you were stunned when he explained.

“Poppy– you met Poppy?” you asked, forcibly nonchalant, arms no longer dangling stupidly at your side but rather picking at the straps of your dungarees, loose threading growing longer as you pulled at them.

“Yeah, she’s a good kid,” he said, nothing giving away– not in his words, his body language, the look on his face– that he knew. Knew she was his.

He sat on the edge of the pavement, right by your feet, and patted the burning space next to him. You blew at a strand of hair tickling your nose, hating how you listened, even then, and sat right next to him, shoulders brushing the slightest bit and you were scampering to put some more distance between the two of you.

He smirked, quiet, leaning his arms on his bent knees, and his head on top, turned towards you as he watched you fight yourself.

“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, waiting, patient, all things you could never be.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled dryly, accidentally meeting his eyes, Rooster’s smirk deepened, before darting away. “You?”

The mid-afternoon heat bared down on the both of you, colouring your shoulders darker and doing nothing to help the heavy thumping against your skull, like a jackhammer or a fucking normal hammer– whatever. It just hurt bad.

Rooster noticed, silently offering his water to you again which you reluctantly snatched from him, gulping almost half of it down before he decided it was safe to speak.

“Still get migraines from the heat?” he asked, though it was more an observation than a question. You nodded, placing the now-empty bottle between your feet.

“I’m fine, as well. After I left–” you visibly winced, glaring against the rays of the sun as you willed yourself to look anywhere but at him, not when the tips of your ears were burning, ringing, making you dizzy and woozy and about ready to throw up all over your worn boots.

“--I went back to training and was then deployed overseas for a long time. Been training new recruits for the past few years now. It’s–” he stopped, glancing at you momentarily, but decided to continue. “--it’s nice. Feels like I’m moulding them to be better versions than me because I sure wasn’t picture perfect by any means.”

“No, you really weren’t–aren’t–” you agreed, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know I never said sorry, and it seems pointless now but–”

“Bradley,” you said his name and his heart stopped. He was dead and even though it was you that had killed him, right there with your voice alone, it was also only you that could bring him back to life. “I really don’t want to hear this,” you begged, and you never begged– never.

What had he done to you?

“Please, sweetheart–” Again with the nickname. You bristled beside him, standing up all of a sudden as if you were about to run in the opposite direction of his familiar ruggedness. “I need you to hear this, just a second–”

“No– you don’t,” you growled out of frustration, tugging your hair free and pressing your fingertips into your skull, anything to soothe the ache growing there. “--you don’t get to need anything, you, you– fucking prick!”

He said nothing, baffled, shocked, certain nothing he said now would make this situation any better. It was downhill from here.

“You said you loved me– promised me the fucking world and a ring and a life together, and the next morning, you left! You fucking– you left!” You were yelling now, unafraid, unabashed, uncaring if anyone could hear. They couldn’t, and if they could, they wouldn’t clue you in that they were.

The people of this town loved to know the darkest, most confidential secrets of its inhabitants, all without ever showing their face. This wasn’t any different.

“I had to!” he insisted aggressively, pushing off the rubble and invading your personal space, leading you back, back, back– until you hit a wall. You held him at arm's length, hand pressed against his hard chest, holding him there.

If he got any closer– well, if the past was anything to go by, you wouldn’t remember to stay mad long.

“I had to!” Rooster repeated, desperately. You said nothing, so he went on. “I got a letter– they needed me back, I can’t– I can’t tell you why–” You sneered, typical. “--but, I was going to come back. I swear it.”

His breathing was loud, dense in your buzzing ears. It’s just words, nothing but words– you repeated to yourself, over and over again. Bradley stepped back, giving you space and himself, as well. But his despairing stare– it pierced something inside you, something you hadn’t thought was still there.

“I wrote letters,” he stated.

“I know, I got them,” you retorted acridly, slumping into the wall for support.

“You never responded.” Again, stating facts.

“I was busy.” Being pregnant.

He nodded, unable or unwilling, you weren’t sure, to argue. An emptiness stretched between you and him, the kind you don’t think any words, half-hearted i’m sorrys, or passionate confessions could ever fill.

He bent to pick up his backpack. “Is there anything, and I mean anything, I could say to make you forgive me,” he asked, voice dejected and the rest of him following suit.

You shook your head, words failing you.

Rooster, Bradley– he turned to leave, accepting defeat, and something roared in your chest, urging, begging, pleading for you to stop him.

You don’t know why you did it, or how you thought it would ever be even a half-decent idea, but it spilled past your lips before you knew what you were saying, confessing, like a foot jamming between a door, forcing it open for someone, anyone.

Bradley.

“Poppy,” you said, loud enough for him to hear. He stopped but didn’t face you. “Poppy. She’s– she’s yours.”

His bag– the poor thing had been rattled all day– fell off his shoulder, and he spun, in slow motion, questions discernible on his face but struggling to make it out of his mouth. “How– We didn’t– I used–”

“What’s that thing they say– ninety-nine percent effective.” You shrugged blandly. “Guess we were the one percent.

It was strange having a man in the house, but there he was– Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster, sat right at your kitchen table looking a lot like a man you’d once loved but hoped to forget.

There’s this story you loved to tell Poppy when she was young, dealing with the realities of bullies and snarky kids with nothing else to do but poke fun at her absent Father and questionable living circumstances. It was ironic, really, because it wasn’t like they were exactly well off, but kids were mean and you were sick of seeing your daughter upset everyday when there was nothing you could do.

So you told her the story of Pandora’s Box, or Jar, actually, as she corrected you, having read about it in the library but still entirely enchanted by your way of storytelling. It was like letting her in on a secret only grown-ups knew and Poppy was downright bewitched to be a part of the club.

It was never the whole let-out-everything-awful-and-wrong-with-the-world part of the story that was your motivation for telling it, or her love for hearing it, but rather, the ending.

After all the evil, poverty, greed and general nasties had escaped, tainting the world and the humans that inhabited it– out came hope, fluttering on its weak wings but beautiful all the same.

At the time, you’d believed hope to be this beacon of light, something to keep you going when nothing else could, when the bullies had you down bad.

Now, however, you saw hope as a cruel joke.

That after all of this negativity that had made mankind wrought with sin and selfishness, hope lingers about for no reason other than to yank your chain, keep the wheel of capitalism turning, the public nothing but a lot of pigs with hope dangled in front of them like an out-of-reach carrot.

You’d admit it’s a pessimistic take on the story, but it wasn’t long after Poppy was born that you realised hope was a sweet lie fed to the ignorant.

The proof of it sat right in front of you, looking exactly the same except for the way in which his hair tickled the tops of his ears, having grown out from his previous military-ordered buzzcut.

“Can I get you something? Tea? Water?” you asked, words maddeningly courteous as you yanked the fridge door open, searching for something to offer your guest.

He hadn’t said a word since you’d blurted it out an hour ago, instead, guiding him back into town, to your house, Poppy nowhere insight (likely hiding out until she’s certain you’ve cooled down, though unluckily for her, the very sight of her would have you revved up and raging whenever she dared make an appearance).

Rooster stared at a single tile on the opposite end of the kitchen, fixated and motionless like a statue and nothing like the passionate, begging man from earlier.

“Helllooo?” you asked again, waving a hand in front of his face that snapped him from whatever trance he’d been under. He blinked at you, face blank enough to unnerve you. He should’ve said something by now, right?

“Water would be good, thank you,” he answered eventually, hoarse like he hadn’t spoken in years. You nodded, pulling a glass from the cabinet and letting the sink run into it before placing it on the plastic-topped table in front of him.

You sat down on the only other usable chair that happened to be right next to him, the other two with the unstable legs and missing backrests having only been kept to make your kitchen look a little less incomplete.

You both sat in silence, one that seemed just about never ending and had you gnawing on your lips and nails like a mad man. He looked over at you, noting your anxious state, and pulling your hand away from your mouth. It was infuriating, the way he acted like no time had passed.

Well it had if your daughter was any indication. A whole lifetime had come and gone, for you, at least, and he couldn’t ignore it away, not like the rest of his problems or like he’d done with you. You were about to say as much, going off like you’d been itching to since you’d set sights on him, but he beat you to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wasn’t looking at you, but you didn’t need to see him to hear the distress in his voice, and beneath that, a restrained sort of anger.

“I had nothing to tell,” was all you offered him, and his gaze snapped to you in the blink of an eye, his temper apparent on his features as that one vein at the top of his forehead stood proud, face going scarlet as he held himself back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spit out, unbelieving. “Nothing to tell?” he repeated. “I have a daughter, for Christ’s sake! One I would’ve loved to know about if you’d done me the courtesy of actually letting me in!”

Your hands clenched into tight fists, fingers twitching. “What? Like you were any better when you up and left?”

He was shaking his head at you, unwilling to hear anything you were saying, and you were no different. “It’s not the same fucking thing, you know that. I had to leave. It’s my job, my duty, to my country and to–”

“Well what about me, huh?” you bellowed, reaching decibels you didn’t think were physically possible. Yet there you were, defying all odds. “What about your duty to me? To us? You promised–”

“I know what I promised you, but how could I give you anything– a life, a home, a family, a future– if I was broke and unemployed. Money doesn’t grow on trees, sweetheart, not here in the real world.”

You couldn’t take it, exploding out of your chair. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, what you’d been through, what you’d fought past. But he followed close behind, grabbed you by your wrist until you had no choice but to face him.

Rooster’s breaths escaped him in hard bursts, and you looked no better with the flush creeping up your neck and the scowl permanently etched to your face.

“That’s pure coming from you, the same man who was throwing away his life to join the army, giving up a paying job, all because his ego wouldn’t let him work for his Dad.”

Bradley recoiled like you’d slapped him.

“You weren’t around to see me working two, sometimes three if I could manage it, jobs– for years, Bradley, years. It was hard, so fucking hard, but I did it because I had someone dependant on me. I wasn’t alone, living like some unattached bachelor. I worked myself to the bone for her– for Poppy.” You were close to sobbing by then, the weight of it all finally registering. “Because if I didn’t, no one would.”

He looked like he wanted to argue more but thought better of it in the end, letting go of his hold on you and moving to lean his forehead against the wall in the living room. You watched, not wanting to move lest he remember you’re still there and end up going for a second round. You couldn’t, yearning for respite of any kind.

And his head turned from where he was, catching the chest of drawers nestled in front of the window with photos of you and Poppy adorning every inch of its surface. He walked over, wordless.

You joined him where he stood, hand brushing against his, by accident, you’d tell yourself later, but when you tried to move away, he slipped his fingers through yours, squeezing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though there was no one else to hear it, no one but you.

You nodded, accepting his apology, then realising he wasn’t looking at you, you said, “Me too. I’m sorry.”

He reached forward, picking up a photo of Poppy at age two, hair in pigtails, chubby knees covered in sand at the beach. It was the first time she’d gone into the water and you wanted to live in that moment forever, freeze it and hold it close to your chest. It had seemed like the biggest milestone at the time, and you remember wishing he was there to treasure it as well.

“I know why you did it,” he admitted, and you faltered from where you stood. “And I’m not going to stand her and pretend like I would have dropped everything, put everything on pause, for the two of you. I can’t guarantee that, knowing who I was back then.” You inhaled shakily, eyes glassy from barely-held-back tears.

Bradley turned to you abruptly, hand sliding out of yours to hold your face instead, close and intimate. Like nothing had changed.

You didn’t fight it, savouring the feeling of being held, of relinquishing control to someone else, if only for a second. “But that’s not who I am anymore. I don’t care about what happened and what didn’t. I’m here now, and, if you’d let me, I’d like to stay. Learn a little more about you, and about– about Poppy, as well.”

You searched his face for any hint of a lie, that innate urge to protect your child at all cost threatening to label Bradley’s confession as pretence. It’d be easier if it was, you thought, if things weren’t so complicated and you could just say no.

But no matter how hard you looked, how long as well, you found nothing, only love and a sincerity you couldn’t possibly fault, even if you were still broken and bruised from years of delayed burn-out.

So you did the only reasonable thing one could do. You nodded, complimenting it with a watery smile he chuckled lowly at.

“Yeah? Gonna take a chance on me, sweetheart?” he asked, needing confirmation but unable to hide his budding rapture.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Okay, okay. I think– maybe, we can work something out.”

He grinned and fuck– was he a vision. No matter how you framed the past, it was all going to be both of yours’ fault for what happened, and how it did. His for leaving and yours for keeping the child you shared a secret.

And it wasn’t like the road ahead was going to be at all easy, you’d accepted your fate already. But maybe, and you might have been overstepping or consumed by an unexpected wave of euphoria that impaired your judgement– but maybe a family was worth fighting for.

After all, the best things in life, the things truly worth having and celebrating, were never meant to be easily acquired, otherwise you’d just take them for granted.

You didn’t take this for granted, and you didn’t let the hassle deter you.

For the first time in a long time, you had hope, and there was nothing cruel or funny about it.

Hope you enjoyed this <3 Reblogs & Comments are love love loved!

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single-travel-paper · 4 days

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https://mary-614.suduso.com.cn/jm/aiRq1fQ

#fatty #mamma mia #james hetfield #aşk sözleri #harley davidson #brenton thwaites #zedd #kpop gg #good vibes #fabien sassier #super junior #atypical #oikawa x reader #fishing #Lauren Wood

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ryeriy · 17 days

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dancing queen | carlos sainz

-> summary: having the time of your life's dancing at your sister's wedding with an oddly familiar face

-> pairings: carlos sainz x fem!reader

-> a/n: this is my first official piece of my mamma mia series and I'm really excited! Thank you guys for all of your support and enjoy! The italics are the song lyrics!

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It was a long night of drinking, dancing, singing, and more. Well, at least for most of the people at Elle and Micheal's wedding. Elle's sister, y/n, seemed to be one of the only people to not be recklessly drinking and partying. Elle noticed y/n sitting down at chair looking alone and bored. "You alright sis?"

"I'm fine," she looked up at Elle smiling softly.

"Sis, it's my wedding day and you look miserable!" Elle exclaims and practically forces her off her feet. "I'll ask the DJ to play some ABBA!" Y/n was never much of a big party person but since it was her sister's wedding, she decided to.

"Fine, only because you're my sister..." y/n sighed and Elle smiled. Elle dragged her sister up to the DJ booth requesting 'Dancing Queen by ABBA' and dragged her back out to the dance floor.

"Micheal knows the perfect person you can dance with just wait here!" Elle enthusiastically says and goes over to her newlywed husband, Micheal to go grab the guy. Y/n let out a sigh as she saw her sister and her brother-in-law grab a guy.

Elle comes back with a face. A face that looks oddly familiar. "Oh my god!" Y/n said looking shocked at the guy in front of her. It was no other than Carlos Sainz.

It wasn't a shock that he was a famous driver, it was the fact he was my ex-boyfriend.

"Y/n?"

"Carlos?"

"You two know each other?" Elle asked as she seemed happy I knew him already.

"You could say that..." Carlos said as he looked at him. Y/n couldn't tell if he was happy, sad, angry, or feeling any emotions at all.

"I'll leave you two to it then!" Elle smiled and patted her sister on the back then walked away smiling.

Carlos and y/n were never public with anyone. They only dated for two months but that was the best two months of both of their lives. Both Carlos and Y/n decided to call it off due to their work being chaotic. Y/n didn't want to travel all the time for his races and Carlos was gone all the time to visit her. Even though the pair weren't together long, it felt like they knew each other for years.

Friday nights and the lights are low

"So, do you want to...dance?" Carlos asked as he looked around the room and noticed the lights were dimmed as the music started to play.

"You know I was never a dancer." I looked at him and my lips slightly moved my lips into a smile.

He playfully swayed back and forth and snapped while smiling at her. "Come on, this is your favorite part!" Carlos exclaimed as his smile widened. Y/n couldn't help but smile too as she heard the chorus come up. Her too started to sway a bit with him. "Ready for it?" He asked her.

You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen, dancing queen

By the end end of the song, they were both dancing and singing along to the song. Elle and Micheal were looking from afar and noticed how much fun Carlos and Y/n were having.

"Digging the dancing!" Carlos and Y/n both were singing as they laughed and danced with each other. Her hands were around his neck and his on her waist. Both of their eyes look at each others like how they used to when they used to date.

That song reminded y/n of all the times she and Carlos danced together to that song at parties, in the kitchen, sang it in the car, and now danced at a wedding. It was their song. Not everyone could say that a song in their relationship was Dancing Queen by ABBA but that's what made it better. It was unique.

"Oh my, that was fun..." y/n looked up at Carlos' dark brown eyes and got lost in his gaze.

"You know, I missed you," he spoke, "I never wanted to let you go...do you think we could make it work if we tried?"

"You'd really want to?"

"Of course I would! You're always in my head! When I wake up, when I'm driving, when I'm looking at my text messages, before I sleep! It all leads back to you!" He said as he looked at her smiling.

Having the time of your life

Y/n sighed as she looked up at Carlos again. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to try, right?" Without any hesitation, Carlos leaned in to kiss her. The song was fading in the background as they shared this moment with each other.

"I'm so glad I found you again..." He admitted.

"Me too," she smiled at him.

#ryeriy #f1 #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #f1 fanfic #mamma mia

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astonmartinii · 4 months

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if you need me, let me know, gonna be around [mamma mia part seven] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso & fernando alonso

flo has finally given y/n the experience of motherhood, but she’ll never forget about her overgrown kids

MAMMA MIA MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 1,934,033 others

tagged: jensonbutton

yourusername: venturing out from christmas hibernation and adding to the already overflowing collection of teddies. oh, and getting pics like that of jens while he's out "having a job"

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user1: i am a simple woman, i see dilf jenson, i lose all sense of reality

user2: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

jensonbutton: oh wow who is that handsome specimen on the last slide?

sebastianvettel: the man who carelessly abandoned his family !!!

fernandoalo_oficial: a man who couldn't handle that i was the best driver in the family

jensonbutton: what ???

sebastianvettel: i'm sorry... is that the ghost of the man we once knew

jensonbutton: i'm not dead

fernandoalo_oficial: to me you are

yourusername: okay guys ... the bit is up !! we do miss you jense but we're happy you're happy :)

sebastianvettel: sure.... well at least you won't try and worm your way into the crochet club

fernandoalo_oficial: as long as you still come to some of my races :)

user3: glad to see parenthood has not changed these fools

charles_leclerc: why do my selfies never make the instagram :(

yourusername: charlie, if i posted every time you sent me a picture of you crying that's all my instagram would be

charles_leclerc: but ........ i thought i was your favourite

yourusername: you know i don't have a favourite

charles_leclerc: sure if that's what you want to tell yourself

maxverstappen1: we all know you say that to not hurt charlie's feelings because i'm your favourite

fernandoalo_oficial: you people are so dramatic

maxverstappen1: says you old man, i can scroll up you know

sebastianvettel: well you're all second to flo

charles_leclerc: she's disqualified from this competition, she's your actual child you have to say she's your favourite

jensonbutton: it's more who annoys us the least

user4: 2024 and nothing has changed here

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,045,388 others

sebastianvettel: love being miles away, missing my baby and getting a running commentary of how my "grid kids" are terrorising y/n

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user7: seb is on a mission to pick up every dad hobby ever. first beekeeping and now sailing

user8: don't forget the gardening and the crochet

user9: he's collecting the infinity stones of dilfism

yourusername: a full eight hours of sleep looks so good on you

sebastianvettel: so i don't look good all the time 🤨

yourusername: of course you do handsome. me and flo miss you :((

sebastianvettel: don't say that i miss you all so much

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe that's your sign to come home?

jensonbutton: yeah i think you should listen to the universe seb, you like all that crystal and salt of the earth stuff

yourusername: sebbbbbbbbb :(((((

sebastianvettel: STOP

user10: they are so precious to me

yourusername: no but seriously if i have to teach another grid kid how to iron i might lose my mind

charles_leclerc: ummmmm stop blasting me on main?

yourusername: learn to iron then

sebastianvettel: you still don't know how to iron? i thought i taught you in 2019?

charles_leclerc: clearly not well enough !! and y/n please name and shame the others so i'm not alone

yourusername: @landonorris @logansargeant sorry

landonorris: WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU Y/N? I CALLED YOU IN CONFIDENCE

logansargeant: i don't have any excuse, thank you for the lesson y/n :)

jensonbutton: at least one of our kids is well mannered

charles_leclerc: i am well mannered, sorry i love my grid mum and her kid. i do semi-know how to iron but needed an excuse to see flo :(

user11: free my girl from these incompetent men

mickschumacher

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoao_oficial and 921,743 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: thanks nurse y/n and nurse flo for helping me - sorry about your mug

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user12: the plaster :((((((((

jensonbutton: IT WAS YOU WHO BROKE MY I <3 NASCAR DILFS MUG

mickschumacher: sorry !

jensonbutton: nuh uh mister @sebastianvettel sort your kid out

sebastianvettel: mick said he was sorry jenson, leave him be

jensonbutton: but when lando put the rubbish in the wrong recycling he had to go litter picking with you I WANT A NEW MUG

yourusername: you guys know they aren't actually your kids, you can't put them in time out

yourusername: you can barely put your own child in time out

fernandoalo_oficial: she's too cute i don't want to make her cry

landonorris: but it's fine to make me cry?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes. in fact, it's quite fun

landonorris: Y/N!!!!

yourusername: okay, babies let's all put the phones down for this evening.

user13: nooooo y/n please i could watch these idiots argue all day

yourusername: the main thing is that your finger is all okay and that you got a cute plaster out of it

mickschumacher: i very much love my lil cat finger

yourusername: so does flo, i think you might be stuck doing puppet shows for the forseeable future

mickschumacher: anything for miss flo

user14: mamma mia family dynamics you are everything to me

fernandoalo_oficial: why did mick get a kitty plaster and i got told to do it myself :(

yourusername: because you're a grown man and you injured yourself by tripping with darts in your hands

fernandoalo_oficial: mick is a grown man - HE CAN VOTE just because he needs seb's help with the paperwork does not change that

mickschumacher: you said yourself they are confusing !!

sebastianvettel: ignore him mick

fernandoalo_oficial: booooooooo

user15: i know these men provide the best entertainment for flo even if she doesn't understand a word they're saying

yourusername: she finds them very entertaining which then starts a competition to who can make her laugh the most

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,447,734

tagged: alexalbon, lilymunhe

yourusername: sometimes even my most competent grid kid needs some help, happy anniversary alex and lily x

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user16: UGH this is so cute

alexalbon: grid mum or emotional support retail assistant?

lilymunhe: so how much of the heartfelt gift was really you

alexalbon: 90% !!! i swear

yourusername: it was all alex he just needed the support (idk he said that jewellery shops are stressful)

alexalbon: they are !! i don't know how big fingers are :(

lilymunhe: thank you y/n wouldn't want the 27 year old man to get lost at the mall

yourusername: no worries, i somehow gained at least 15 extra children along with flo, i just go with it. he's less hassle than charles and max

charles_leclerc: rude.

maxverstappen1: gasp!

user17: i love how much y/n has really embraced the grid mum life

user18: i don't think she had much choice 😭

user19: the way she's like "oh i'll help you all with anything you need" and takes flo on all of these side missions and the guys just leave them to die 😭

user20: they're such dad's who don't want the cat but end up attached but don't want to show it

jensonbutton: wait which one of us claim alex? is it me? why was i not invited?

alexalbon: ur my williams dad :) and i think this trip needed a woman's touch (and flo's touch obvs)

jensonbutton: rude i give great gifts

fernandoalo_oficial: considering he's one of the least feral and has lily, i want to claim alex

sebastianvettel: i have too many kids you guys can have alex

alexalbon: sebastian! did our gardening afternoons mean nothing ?

lilymunhe: we'll take it nando

sebastianvettel: did you or did you not just make it a competition with george to see who could plant potatoes the fastest and then make a mess of my vegetable garden

georgerussell63: GUILTY

yourusername: soz but you all have to claim all of them, my rules now

user21: y/n and flo going to rule that house with an iron fist

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, jensonbutton and 1,309,244 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

fernandoalo_oficial: glad to be back on the podium, but even more proud to call you my grid kid. we all love you, especially flo :)

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user24: THEY HAVE MATCHING MIFFY PLUSHIES

user25: miffy is dutch so that might be why max got them matching ones :)

yourusername: and flo is surgically attached to her miffy (she has named her maxi, even if she can barely say it)

maxverstappen1: you are one of my heroes and it was a pleasure to share the podium with you. there's no one else in the world i'd love to dedicate my podium to than lil mia x

fernandoalo_oficial: you've got me crying again

maxverstappen1: get it all out old man

fernandoalo_oficial: already back to the old man 🤨 i guess i'll take the nice messages while i can

user26: nando getting all mushy is so cute i can't believe this is where we are

charles_leclerc: let it be known that if i had a car fast enough i would also dedicate a win to flo, but for now she'll have to settle for a song

fernandoalo_oficial: is silvia going to kill you? because seb and y/n might kill me if they get your ass over this

charles_leclerc: but it's true, no?

fernandoalo_oficial: you will not trick me into slandering my old team charlie

maxverstappen1: LOL YOU SNOOZE YOU LOSE

charles_leclerc: YOU KNEW THAT WAS MY IDEA THIEF

sebastianvettel: charles why am i getting a call from silvia?

maxverstappen1: LOL

charles_leclerc: brb just going to lourdes

jensonbutton: lol way to get outshined by your kid

fernandoalo_oficial: at least i was in the position to be outshined by my kid

jensonbutton: ERGH you know you can't bring that up

fernandoalo_oficial: you said that you couldn't wait to get away from us

jensonbutton: oop.

yourusername: my wonderful boys!

maxverstappen1: :D

fernandoalo_oficial: i love you both :)

maxverstappen1: awww thanks nando

fernandoalo_oficial: i meant y/n and flo but sure love you too buddy

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,610,449 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: maxy, this means more than you could know, flo very much enjoyed watching 'blu' go fast :)

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user27: is this family going to make me cry? maybe.

user28: side note, how many animal onesies does flo have they're so cute

user29: she's like a lil teddy bear

maxverstappen1: glad to have officially won the title of flo's favourite brother

charles_leclerc: NOT SO FAST MISTER

maxverstappen1: maybe if you were faster you would've dedicated a win to flo :P

charles_leclerc: LOW BLOW

danielricciardo: don't even get me started on the daniel ricciardo erasure

maxverstappen1: shush daniel let the problem children talk

charles_leclerc: yeah daniel, problem children only

sebastianvettel: should we intervene?

yourusername: no, i'm intrigued as to where this is going to go

jensonbutton: i for one love watching these dummies fight

fernandoalo_oficial: let me get my popcorn

maxverstappen1: are we just entertainment to you?

jensonbutton: yes!

charles_leclerc: the minute flo can talk ASK HER WHO IS HER FAVOURITE

sebastianvettel: sure?

user30: they can never ask that question, one of them might never recover

maxverstappen1: for real though, i love you guys and i love flo. i'll send nando home with the trophy as well :)

yourusername: awwww thank you maxy :) @sebastianvettel @fernandoalo_oficial @jensonbutton new shelf needed please

jensonbutton: i'll leave this one to "the woodwork king"

sebastianvettel: am i the only one who does anything in this house?

fernandoalo_oficial: you can't be called the woodwork king and not do the work

yourusername: you don't even let them help seb

sebastianvettel: UGH.

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 912,774 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

jensonbutton: day 4,000+ of losing our actual girlfriend to our overgrown kids

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user31: PICTURE OF DANNY WITH FLO ALERT ALERT

yourusername: not my fault you guys picked up so many stray cats while in the sport

jensonbutton: i only claim lando and alex, the rest are the others' faults

yourusername: i know you love it really

jensonbutton: not when the little tornadoes hit our house, eat all of our food and steal my baby

danielricciardo: whoops

jensonbutton: and terrorise my pets DANIEL

danielricciardo: they terrorise each other jenson, maybe they aren't as well trained as you thought

yourusername: oh god...

jensonbutton: HOW DARE YOU !!!! BECKETT, SALMON AND CREAM CHEESE ARE VERY WELL TRAINED AND WELL BEHAVED

user32: old men are going crazy we love to see it

sebastianvettel: are we a bed and breakfast?

yourusername: i fear so. you need to run back from whatever ocean you are in we are low on staff now jenson is back racing. flo might be cute but she's a liability in the kitchen

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe we should just kick them out

yourusername: noooo :( not my babies

fernandoalo_oficial: can we at least charge them?

maxverstappen1: you people are the most stingy millionaires i have ever met

charles_leclerc: i pay you in piano sorry

yourusername: don't listen to them boys, flo and i love having you over

user33: so like is there any way we could open the mamma mia bed and breakfast to the public

fernandoalo_oficial: why do the grid kids see our family more than us?

yourusername: come home more often then :(

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm working on it the plane is delayed :(

jensonbutton: personally i would just run home but that's just me

sebastianvettel: i would simply just walk on water

fernandoalo_oficial: shut up. see you later

yourusername: yay !!!!

fin.

note: writer's block has really been beating my ass so there's always mamma mia to get it flowing again. i'm still working on requests, hopefully they'll come along a little faster now! also - i started an instagram for my small business i am opening it's @badlydrawnf1cats, feel free to follow x

edit: mamma mia will return

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