#iloveneteyam

[naomikuuromi]

im deciding whether or not to become a writer even though i dont know how to do shit when it comes to writing. 😍

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt4}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: hinting at past trauma Word count: 1.8k Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life  @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz  @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora 

Part 4 of the Mamma Mia series

All things considered, it’s not a long drive; before you know it, Lewis exits the motorway and drives along the shoreline of a large body of water further up north. You keep your eyes on the window, the sky now tinged with deep shades of oranges and pinks, drowning the mountains in a darker shade of lavender.

“We’re at Lake Como?” you ask, spotting the many boats in the harbours below. Lewis hums an answer, flicking his gaze to you before focussing back on the road. It’s not long before Lewis parks the car at a small little restaurant, sitting at the southernmost point of the lake. 

“Thank you,” you murmur as Lewis opens your door and helps you out of the car. He keeps holding your hand as he locks the car and walks you inside.

“Ah, Lewis!” a woman in her mid-fifties greets him, her arms outstretched to hug him. Lewis laughs and allows her to pull him in, receiving two kisses on his cheeks.

“Good to see you too Alice,” Lewis replies, still chuckling and trying his best to pronounce her name the Italian way.

“Come, come, I made sure to keep your favourite table available.” 

“You didn’t have to-..” Lewis tries to say but the woman interrupts him.

“It’s not everyday you bring someone besides Roscoe. So yes, I did have to. You need to make a good impression on this lovely girl,” she says, patting his cheek before continuing her route out onto the terrace. Lewis looks almost bashful and shrugs a shoulder as if to say I guess. You can’t help but chuckle at the exchange and allow him to lead you to a table tucked away a little bit behind some greenery but the view is what makes you stop in your tracks. From this spot you have an unobstructed view of the lake and you can see how the lights of houses and businesses alike reflect on the water. Lewis pulls your chair out and scoots you closer to the table before sitting down himself. Alice hums approvingly, looking at the both of you with a glimmer in her eyes you can’t quite decipher. 

“I know Lewis doesn’t drink, but we have a great selection of wines.” 

“Oh. Uhm.. I-.. That’s very kind but no, thank you. I would love a San Pellegrino though if you have it?” 

Alice smiles and nods, “We do, would you like limonata, aranciata or aranciata rossa?”

“The last one, that’s blood orange, right?” The woman nods again. “Then I’ll have that one, please.” 

“Excellent,” Alice replies and hands you both a menu before walking away.

“You come here so often that she knows your drinks order by heart?” you joke, looking up at him. Lewis chuckles and nods. 

“I’ve been coming here for a couple of years now. The view is great and they serve some of the best vegan food I’ve ever had.” You hum in acknowledgement and peruse the menu once more. 

At first the conversation flows a bit awkwardly. It’s all fine and dandy to discuss the menu and decide on what to get, but after that nerves get the better of you.

“Hey,” Lewis says softly, pulling you from your thoughts and steering your gaze away from the lake, “talk to me. What are you thinking?” 

You sigh, putting your fork down. 

“It’s just-.. It’s a lot, you know? Finding out I’m pregnant to having to tell you and expecting the worst... Seeing Mark again, talking to Kev.. Suddenly going from being single to having three men interested… What happens if this gets out… It’s overwhelming..” you all but whisper. 

“It’s understandable that you’re feeling overwhelmed. And I can only imagine how it must’ve been for you to see Mark again after what happened in 2013, but baby, please listen to me; I care deeply about you. All three of us do. We just want to show you that you are worthy of being loved unconditionally. And fuck what people say, societal norms are impossible to conform to anyway so why bother. The best form of revenge is to thrive while they hope for your downfall,” Lewis replies, resting a hand on yours. You’re quiet for a moment, mulling over his words as he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. You feel conflicted; on the one hand you want nothing more than to take Lewis’ words at face value and allow any of them to love you fully, but look at where that has gotten you: still heartbroken a decade on and so set in your ways that alone is better that you don’t allow anyone to even get close to you –not romantically at least.  

“I don’t think I can Lewis…” you whisper, “but I want to try.” You look up at him once more, swallowing down a lump in your throat. 

“Baby, that’s all we ask,” Lewis replies, smiling softly at you. 

After that conversation, the atmosphere lightens and the both of you reminisce about your shared time in Formula 1.

“But did anyone actually show up to that hotel room?” you ask, trying to catch your breath after laughing so much your stomach hurts, remembering the twinkle in the German’s eyes as he gave away the name of the hotel most of the drivers were staying in during that grand prix weekend in Russia.

“No idea, Seb just gave random numbers I think,” Lewis answered, still chuckling.

“He always had the best one liners during the press conferences, always flirting and teasing,” you comment with a chuckle. 

“Oh that man was the biggest flirt in the paddock. Remember how he always got McKenzie flustered?” Lewis laughs before taking another sip of his drink. You can’t help but laugh at that and finish your own drink. Both of you are quiet for a moment, lost in memories. You don’t even notice Lewis getting up to pay for dinner, too lost in the view and your own head. It’s so easy being around him. You know this, the two of you have been friends for almost a decade at this point so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise. But perhaps that familiarity is what scares you most; you can so very easily picture your future with him, picture him as a father to this baby. He would make such a good dad, so loving and patient. You know for a fact Lewis would spoil his children having seen how he treats his nieces and nephews. The image of him dressing the baby in mini versions of his paddock outfits makes you smile. Can it really be this easy, you wonder to yourself, letting someone love you?

“I hope you’re being honest with him, cara mia,” Alice’s voice breaks through your thoughts. You look up at her, confusion apparently written all over your face.

“I have known him for six years now and not once has he brought a woman here. That boy is absolutely smitten with you. Both of you,” she clarifies, pointedly looking at your stomach as she hints at your pregnancy. You look down, only now noticing you had rested your hand there. You quickly drop it into your lap. 

“I-.. I don’t…” Alice just smiles at you.

“Ah, but it’s scary, no? Letting someone in? Keeping your heart shut like this, it’s safe but also lonely. He’s a good man, if you allow him in, he will treat you right –both of you. But you have to allow him first.” 

It shocks you, how she has read you like an open book from the moment you set foot in her restaurant.

“Cara mia, I see the way you look at him. Not all is lost yet. Come, before my husband bores that poor boy to death,” Alice says. You can’t help but chuckle and follow her inside where you spot Lewis in an animated conversation with a man who looks to be in his early sixties. Alice interrupts her husband, firing off a comment in rapid Italian.

“Carlo, please let this poor boy go home. He had a race today, I am sure both of them are tired. Oh look, that table could use some more wine, please help them,” she switches to English before pushing Carlo in the direction of a table in the back. Carlo rolls his eyes, but you can tell there’s no annoyance behind it as he kisses his wife’s cheek and does as he’s told. Lewis hugs Alice goodbye, letting her kiss his cheek again and promises to come back soon. The older woman pulls you into a hug, whispering he’s worth it in your ear before letting you go. You give her hand a squeeze before following Lewis outside. 

It doesn’t take long for the exhaustion to hit you full force on the drive back to the hotel. You try your hardest to stay awake, but it becomes increasingly more difficult to keep your eyes open.

“Sleep baby, I’ll wake you when we’re in Monza,” Lewis murmurs, giving your thigh a squeeze. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, and let sleep pull you under. It feels like seconds but when you glance at your watch you see that you’ve been out for a good 30 minutes when you wake up again as Lewis exits the motorway into Monza. He effortlessly parks the car in the garage and helps you out of the car once more. Again Lewis keeps hold of your hand as you make it into the lift to your floor. Alice’s words replay in your head as your stomach twists in knots. When you arrive at your room, you turn around, needing to lean against the door.

“Thank you for dinner. I had a great time, tonight,” you all but whisper, fidgeting with your key card.

“Mm, I did too,” Lewis replies, smiling this cheeky smile that sends your heart into overdrive. 

“I-.. Lewis, I would hate to give you the wrong idea about us. I know I said I want to try and let you in –any of you, but I don’t-.. I have no idea how this will pan out and it would kill me if I lead you on. It’s a lot, I’m a lot right now so please don’t feel obligated in any way to-..” Before you can finish your sentence, Lewis presses his lips against yours. It’s not hard, just the gentlest touch, but it’s enough to shut you up and for your brain to stop whirling.

“Baby, I will gladly take that risk if there’s a small chance that I can call you mine at the end of it. For you it’ll be worth it, no matter the outcome,” Lewis murmurs in the space between your lips.

“Okay,” you whisper, not knowing how else to respond to him. Lewis smiles again, giving you another quick kiss before wishing you a good night, leaving you standing in the corridor with the ghost of his kiss on your lips and your thoughts. 

And there you have it, date number 1! Massive thank you to @curiousthyme and @szobosz for being my beta readers for this one

Feel free to let me know what you thought; your comments, tags, and likes mean the world to me 💜

(also, 10 gold stars if you can figure out which Taylor Swift song influenced/inspired this date 👀)

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt3}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of sexism/double standards Word count: 978 Taglist: @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life  @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @vellicora 

Part 3 of the Mamma Mia series

The one thing none of you had considered was how to explain all of this to your bosses. You were fairly sure Lewis would make sure you couldn’t lose your job over this, but somehow the idea of losing Toto’s respect felt worse than that. So as soon as you entered the paddock, you went to find Toto to ask him to call a meeting with the Haas team principal. Looking at your watch, you see that you have another fifteen minutes to go before Steiner gets here. Resting a hand on your stomach, you breathe through another wave of nausea. 

“Here,” someone to your left says as they hand you your favourite mug with ginger tea. 

“Thanks Mick,” you offer weakly, taking a careful sip. Mick smiles and sits down next to you. 

“So, George wasn’t lying,” he says, looking over to where Lewis, Kevin and Mark are standing, deep in conversation. 

“No, he wasn’t,” you admit. Both of you are quiet for a while. 

“I do wanna say thank you. For making life more stressful for Steiner. Just wish it didn’t have to include me knowing you slept with two men I look up to,” Mick breaks the silence. You can tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he is mostly joking. You nudge him with your shoulder.

“Gotta look out for my Micky, don’t I? Even if it leads to feeling like a lamb being led to slaughter..”

“Toto won’t think any differently of you. You’ve been here for all of Lewis’ scandals with women. He’d be a hypocrite.” 

“He would be, however, the standard for women is different. Especially in this sport. I have worked with Toto for 10 years now so logically I know he won’t hold it against me. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared of what will happen next,” you say while looking at the ginger floating in your mug. Sighing you get up, signalling to Lewis that it’s time. Despite knowing Mick is right, you can’t help the feeling of absolute dread at needing to come clean about your predicament.

“Now that that’s over and done with,” Mark starts as the four of you make your way back outside of the motor home after promising both team principles to handle this like adults and stay out of trouble, “Lewis, Kevin and I were figuring out logistics for our plans of wooing you.” 

“Oh great..” you mutter, “So what, you’re gonna rock, paper, scissors this?” 

“Something like that,” Lewis chuckles, “Can I take you out to dinner after the race on Sunday?” 

“After the race debrief you mean? I-.. Yeah, okay.” 

“Great,” Lewis says, a fondness to his eyes that catches you off guard, “Just wear something comfortable, we’re not going to a fancy restaurant.” He gives your arm a squeeze before getting whisked away by one of the Mercedes press officers. Mark and Kevin also say goodbye, and you can tell both of them would love nothing more than to show more affection towards you than you’re ready for right now. In the end both of them settle for a hug before leaving you alone with your thoughts. You quickly make your way into your office to gather the data you need for the meeting with the engineers ahead of qualifying.

The rest of the weekend passes in a blur. Making sense of the cars’ performances during the three qualifying sessions keeps you busy enough to refrain you from even thinking about Sunday evening. It’s not until you’re back in your hotel after the race debrief that you remember you need to get ready for dinner –for a date. 

“I don’t even know where we’re going,” you mutter as you dig through your suitcase for something that isn’t Mercedes branded. Thankfully you find a patterned skirt you had thrown in to travel home in, the bloating you are beginning to experience making trousers uncomfortable sometimes. You get out the ironing board and let the iron heat up while you freshen up, getting ready in record time. You hear a knock on the door as you finish tying your laces.

“Coming!” you call out, getting up from the chair. You quickly let Lewis in while you gather your phone and wallet.

“This is the best I could do with the clothes I brought, hope it’s okay?” you say, as you put your belongings in a tote bag, not having brought a purse this weekend.

“You look beautiful,” Lewis says, taking in your outfit. You decided to pair the skirt with a plain cropped t-shirt and your trainers. “You always look beautiful,” he adds. You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze and awkwardly clear your throat.

“Thanks. You look good, too,” you reply, trying not to stare at the way his white t-shirt clings to his muscles. He gives you a wink that only makes you more flustered. Get it together, you scold yourself, he’s a friend. You follow Lewis out of your hotel room and let him lead you down to the garage where he opens the car door for you of the Mercedes he was driving all weekend. You murmur a thanks and let him help you in, the warmth of his hand comfortable as it holds onto yours. For a moment you feel 16 all over again, getting swept off your feet when your crush would hold the door for you. Lewis gives you a smile and closes the door before rounding the car, giving you a second to take a deep breath. The two of you are silent as he pulls out of the garage and onto the streets of Monza. 

“Where are we going?” you ask as Lewis merges onto the motorway.

“You’ll see,” he replies with a smile. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his secrecy and settle in for the drive.

A shorter chapter this time, but the next one will make up for it! Gearing up to the dates now 🙊

Feel free to let me know your thoughts! Your comments, tags, and love for the previous chapters meant the absolute world to me 💜

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt5}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: talk of pregnancy, mentions of a past relationship, Mark being a dick Word count: 2.5k Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora

Part 5 of the Mamma Mia series

Despite the fact that you had just had the summer break, not having a race weekend after Monza comes as a welcome breather. It allows you to catch up on tasks you had been neglecting. You finally managed to clean your flat and had just finished the last load of laundry that morning. It also allowed you time to finally schedule an appointment with a clinic to get a scan done. It had felt surreal, getting the black and white confirmation of the pregnancy. You’re still not sure if having a baby is the smartest move right now, but the relief you felt when you saw that the pregnancy was where it’s supposed to be and the heartbeat left you feeling even more confused about the whole situation. Trying your hardest to push all of that to the side, you change into your workout clothes and roll out your yoga mat. At this point you just need 15 minutes of not thinking about anything and you had found yoga to be a great help. As you centre yourself, focussing on your body and breathing through the poses, you begin to feel calmer. Taking another deep breath, you move into the next pose. The calm energy is rudely interrupted by your phone ringing. For a second you consider just letting it go to voicemail but the sound of the phone buzzing on the table is too much of a distraction to ignore. Huffing in annoyance, you get up from the floor.

“Hello?” 

“Hello to you too, sweetheart. Am I interrupting something?” 

“Yes, my workout,” you retort, rolling your eyes at Mark’s tone.

“Mm, if you need a hand let me know,” he says and you can just picture the look on his face. Smug son of a bitch.

“For fuck’s sake..” you mutter, “Get to the point or I’m hanging up.” 

“Oh sweetheart, I’m only teasing.” 

“Mark, I’m not doing this. Again, get to the point or I will hang up,” you reply.

“RIght, yes. I’m in your neck of the woods this week for some meetings and I was wondering whether you’d like to come over for dinner on Thursday? I know typically you’d take a girl out on a date, but I think there’s a few things that have gone left unsaid for far too long.” 

“I-.. I’d like that very much, Mark.” Despite his constant flirting, you’re grateful that he offers the both of you an opportunity to talk.

“I can pick you up if you want or you can drive so you have an out if you need it. I don’t-.. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You can hear the sincerity in his voice and it breaks your heart a little bit that this is what is left of the relationship you once had with him. 

“Thanks Mark, I don’t mind driving. Not because of the reasons you named, but I don’t want to inconvenience you by having to drive this way twice. Just text me the address and a time and I’ll be there.” Your phone buzzes against your face, indicating you have received a new message.

“You should have it now. Okay, I’ll let you get back to your workout.” You both say your goodbyes before hanging up. You put the phone down on the table and stare out of the windows in your living room, lost in memories. 

Mark and you met in 2012, while he still drove in Formula 1. You had just graduated university with a degree in Mathematics and Engineering, and your thesis had somehow made its way to the desk of Christian Horner. And so, there you were: 23 years old and bright eyed, using the tool you had developed for your thesis to analyse simulator data and translating that into adjustments needed to the set up of the car to extract its maximum potential. While you mainly worked on Sebastian’s side of the garage, you often bumped into Mark during race weekends, always ready with a comment that should’ve gotten him written up. Mark was everything you needed in a man at that point in your life and it felt so good to feel wanted, to feel desired. And then 2013 happened. 

You have to physically shake your head to stop going down that rabbit hole, only now noticing how hard you’re gripping the back of a chair. Exhaling deeply, you let go, flexing your fingers to get rid of the tension. Despite knowing you need to have this conversation before either of you can even think about second chances, you’re not looking forward to reliving how it all fell apart. 

+

Thursday approaches a lot faster than you had anticipated, work keeping you busy even if there wasn’t a race. Having already showered, you’re now standing in front of your wardrobe trying to decide on what to wear. The old you would have gone for something frilly and short. Mark loved seeing you in these tiny summer dresses, and you loved how his hand felt on your bare thigh, allowing him to easily slide up under your dress while you were out for team dinners and tease you mercilessly. Chewing your bottom lip, you peruse your options. Despite it being September, it’s still a balmy 22 ℃ although it will probably cool off during the course of the evening. Feeling the need to reclaim a part of you that Mark stole from you, you decide to go for a dress. Even if you no longer wear those short, cutesy dresses, you still love how dresses make you feel. There’s a femininity that you sometimes feel out of sync with because of your job. It feels empowering, dressing up in a world built for men. Your eyes fall on a recent purchase –a flowy midi length dress in a gorgeous burnt orange. Slipping it on, you brush your fingers over the soft linen fabric, admiring the way the gold buttons catch the sunlight. It’s casual enough for tonight, but it gives you that little boost of confidence that you know you will need to make it through Mark’s relentless flirting. Closing the door of your wardrobe, you slip on a pair of sandals and grab your purse before heading out. 

It turns out that Mark lives a lot closer to you than you had expected when you first looked at the address he sent you. You park the car on the paved driveway in front of the detached house in the outskirts of Oxford, taking in its grandeur. You remember Mark telling you about how his family would come over for the holidays sometimes and so the extra bedrooms make sense. As you slam your door shut, you spot Mark in the door opening.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets you and you let him pull you into a hug.

“Hey,” you reply softly, following him inside. Mark leads you to a large open kitchen-dining space before offering you something to drink. 

“Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to eat outside or not,” Mark says as he hands you a glass.

“Might as well make the most of this warm weather,” you reply with a smile. Mark returns your smile and takes you outside through the large French doors in the kitchen. 

“Dinner’s almost ready. Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll join you in a moment.” 

You do as he asks, taking in the landscaping from your spot on the patio. It doesn’t take long for Mark to start bringing out the dishes, refusing your help. 

“I might’ve gone a little overboard,” he admits sheepishly as he brings out the final dish. The grilled asparagus should’ve been a giveaway, but you can’t help but feel touched when Mark places a lamb roast on the table.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” you say, throat closing with tears.

“How could I forget? It’s not every day you find a pretty girl crying quietly in the corner of the garage after a race –which we won by the way– because she missed her nan’s Sunday roast. She always made lamb, right?” Mark says. You nod and try to swallow back tears.

“Thanks Mark, this-.. This means a lot to me,” you whisper. Mark smiles softly and gives your hand a squeeze. 

During dinner, the conversation mainly revolves around catching up. Mark tells you all about managing McLaren’s rookie driver and how he’s finding it to work at Channel 4 with David. You update him on your appointment, showing the little sonogram picture. 

“So everything’s okay with the baby?” he asks, an anxious look in his eyes.

“Uhu, so far so good. They estimated that I’m about 7 weeks along now.” Mark looks back down at the picture on your phone, a large finger tracing it gently as he smiles. Seeing him so enamoured by the tiny blob on the sonogram brings up a mix of emotions for you; it warms your heart to see him like this, but it also terrifies you that those feelings for him never went away and how easy it is to fall back in step with him. 

“You’d look so hot in those maternity dresses,” Mark comments, his tone flirtatious, “You always look hot in a dress. I still dream about that pink one with the hearts you wore to dinner after Silverstone. You looked so innocent in that dress, but we both knew you were anything but.” 

And then he goes and says shit like that, and it all comes tumbling down like a house of cards. 

“I no longer dress for you, Mark. You lost that privilege a long time ago,” you retort, voice even but there’s an edge to it. You remember the dress he is talking about, remember what he is referring to. Before your food even arrived at the table, Mark had dragged you into the bathroom. He had made some comment about how pretty you looked but how you’d look even prettier on your knees with your mouth wrapped around his cock, and so that’s what you did. That was how your relationship worked: Mark would make a suggestive comment and you would obey without a second thought. Of course he always made sure he took care of you; he was the one who helped you discover you could experience multiple orgasms, would always clean you up afterwards and run you a bath. But despite all this, he always took what he wanted from you first. You wish you could have protected your younger self against the heartbreak that was headed your way, against the feeling of being lost at sea after Mark left you alone in that hotel room with nothing more than the remnants of his fingerprints on your skin. After the dust had settled, you had promised yourself never again; you would never allow yourself to be in that position again. 

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, breaking you from your spiralling thoughts, “for- I’m sorry for how it all went down, how I treated you. You deserved so much better than that,” he adds, referring to the note he left you after that final race in Brazil. 

“Why did you leave me?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Because I couldn’t drag you into my mess. You had your entire career still ahead of you while I needed to get out. That last season was a shitshow, despite the fact that Seb won the Driver’s and RedBull the Constructor’s. I was sick and tired of how the team favoured Seb. I had nothing left to give..” 

“You shut me out, I thought we were in it together.. Or was I just a means to get back at Sebastian?” It’s impossible to not sound bitter, hurt evident in your tone.

“No, Jesus, no sweetheart. You know it started out as a way to annoy him, but my feelings for you were genuine; I loved you, and in many ways still do.” Regret is written all over his face when your eyes meet his. You know your relationship back then was complicated. Of course there was the age gap –Mark is a good 13 years older than you– which somehow trickled into the bedroom where he showed you things that made your previous boyfriends look like clueless little boys by comparison. And as every naive 20-something-year-old with daddy issues would have done, you fell head over heels in love with him, giving him your heart and your body. 

“You broke a piece of me that day that I might not ever get back,” you whisper.

“And I will spend the rest of my life regretting the way I handled things. You’re right, I should’ve been open and honest with you instead of walking out on us,” Mark says, taking your hand in his.

“I’ve spent ten years avoiding you. The ghost of you haunted me in that garage and so when Mercedes called, I took it with both hands. I was a mess those first years, somehow still hoping you’d come back for me. And then it became painfully clear you weren’t and I mourned the loss of you all over again. I hated you for what you did to me, hated myself even more for ever allowing you to get close enough to hurt me, for still being in love with you despite it all. The last ten years I’ve spent building up walls so I wouldn’t have to feel like that version of me again, and look where that’s gotten me.” You laugh humorlessly, biting your lip to stop the tears from falling. “I have become the very definition of a cliche, entangled in a love square and too scared to let any of them in.” 

Before you really know what’s happening, Mark pulls you out of your seat and into his lap. Your legs dangle over the arm of the chair and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. 

“I need you to listen carefully, okay sweetheart? If anyone deserves to take the blame for what happened, it’s me. And if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how worthy of love you are. I know all three of us will. You might have a hard time letting us in right now, but baby you need to know that we’re all in if you are. You are worth waiting for.” You take a deep breath, inhaling his cologne. The scent of it helps to calm you down, it reminding you of the lazy mornings spent in bed cuddling. 

“You’re the second person to tell me that,” you mumble as you look up at him. Mark smiles, brushing away your tears with his thumb and cradles your cheek in his palm.

“Then it must be true.” 

You smile back at him, albeit timidly and snuggle into him once more. Alice’s words from a week prior echo in your head. “Keeping your heart shut like this, it’s safe but also lonely.” You’re beginning to wonder whether the cost has been far greater than the benefits of keeping romance at bay. Doing so hurt a good man; had you been able to allow Kevin in completely, you know he would have made you feel safe and loved. You also know Kevin deserves better –hell, you deserve better, but knowing and doing are two very different things, and right now you’re not sure if you’ll ever be ready for this level of love –from any of them.  

Welp, there you have it. Date no.2 🙊

Again, a massive thank you to @curiousthyme and @szobosz for being my beta readers for this chapter, and a shoutout to @monzamash for helping me with figuring out the details for this date

Please feel free to let let me know what you think; your comments, tags and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜

I'm gonna take the holidays off from posting this fic to just relax (and maybe get some more writing done, who knows?), so the last date will be posted in the new year on the 6th. Wishing you all a merry Christmas and all the best for the new year!

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt2}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and one night stands, Mark being a tease and a flirt, discussions surrounding pregnancy Word count: 1.2k Taglist: @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @vellicora

Part 2 of the Mamma Mia series

By the time evening rolls around, you’re exhausted. You somehow managed to make it through the rest of the day without losing your job or murdering George since he was smart enough to stay away from you. A few of the screenshots had made their way to you, and if it wasn’t you they were gossiping about, it would’ve been funny. Dressed in a pair of sweat shorts and a baggy T-shirt, you fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling until a knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. Sighing, you get up to open it.

“You’re the first one, come on in,” you say, stepping aside to let Lewis in. 

“Got you some sweet treats,” he replies, handing you a box that smells divine. It has your stomach growling with the realisation you skipped dinner. 

“Thanks,” you offer, feeling touched he went out of his way to get this for you. You place the box on the desk, taking the lid off to peruse the selection of baked goods. 

“So Kevin knows, huh?” Lewis asks as he takes a seat on one of the chairs. 

“Sort of?” you say through a mouthful of muffin. Before you can answer any more of his questions another knock sounds. Opening it, you’re greeted by a grinning Mark Webber.

“Oh sweetheart if you wanted a mouthful, all you had to do was ask,” he says instead of a hello. You roll your eyes as you swallow.

“You’re such a filthy man, get your mind out of the gutter.” 

“Baby, you love me filthy.” You groan at his comeback and wave him through. You can hear him exchange pleasantries with Lewis behind you while you wait in the door opening when you spot Kevin making it out of the lift. 

“Promise me no punching. I will explain everything, but please…” you warn him when he’s in front of you. You can see the muscle in his jaw tick when he hears two male voices coming from inside the room but he nods before walking inside. You close the door behind him and lean against it. 

“And to think I have to have this conversation sober..” you mumble. Taking a deep breath, you walk back into your hotel room where you find Kevin on the other chair next to Lewis and Mark on the desk chair. 

“Okay,” you sigh as you sit down cross legged on the bed, “Before I explain why all three of you are here, I need you all to refrain from making comments. Whatever derogatory term you’re thinking, know that my self-worth has already called me all of them.” You look up at all of them, seeing very mixed reactions. Kevin looks apprehensive but nods, Lewis gives you a soft smile while Mark just smirks. 

“So,” you start, picking at a loose thread on your shorts, “After Spa a couple of things happened. Kevin and I had an argument about my loyalties with regards to our… situationship.. So instead of celebrating my team getting a podium, I was drowning my sorrows in the hotel bar where Lewis found me, which led to flirting, and kissing and… And to me sleeping with him. Oh Jesus.. I was still so angry at Kevin for some of the things he said and so when I bumped into Mark in the hotel lobby the next day, I just.. I guess I fell back into old habits? Sadly for me, Mark is my worst habit and I swore I had given you up when you walked out on me in 2013 but my pussy is a traitor, what can I say?” You take another deep breath and find the courage to look up. “And then later that same day Kevin and I talked things through, put all the cards on the table. We decided to give us another go and celebrated accordingly, even though we then decided to call it quits at the end of the summer break. So yeah, one of you is the father and I have no idea who, but none of that matters anyway because I am not keeping it.” They’re all quiet for a moment as they take in this information. The three men share a look that you can’t place.

“Why don’t you want to keep the baby?” Kevin asks you, and you see the hurt in his eyes. One of the reasons you decided to call it quits was your vastly different timelines for starting a family; Kevin wanted nothing more than to be a father but you didn’t want to put your career on hold just yet despite knowing that at 33 time was starting to run out. 

“Being a single mum is hard enough, but being a single mum in this industry? With all the travelling? And then the financial responsibility.. I can’t in good conscience bring a child into this world knowing I can’t give them what they deserve.” 

“What if you didn’t have to do it alone?” Lewis asks, leaning forward. You scoff at that. 

“I’m being serious, My. What if?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe? But who’d date a woman who has turned her life into the plot of a Mamma Mia prequel?” 

“I would,” Lewis, Kevin, and Mark manage to say as one. 

“What?” You’re pretty sure the exhaustion is playing tricks on you and you mistook their answers.

“Sweetheart, we are all smitten with you. Who wouldn’t be? You’re smart, funny. Sexy,” Mark adds with a wiggle of his eyebrows that has you rolling your eyes.

“So, what? We’re gonna play house together?” You are genuinely so confused. How is this ever going to work out? Surely you can’t date three men at once, that’s ridiculous.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘play house’,” Lewis says, looking at Kevin and Mark, “but yeah. Let us prove to you that we can make this work.” 

“You’re all insane. When this gets out -because it is when, not if- the media is gonna have a field day. I can only imagine the headlines, “Paddock whore slept her way to the top”. Yeah, no. No way,” you scramble, panic rising in your throat. 

“Fuck what the media says. Nine out of ten times it’s bullshit anyway,” Mark says. 

“Leave all of that out of the equation. Would three men taking you on dates really be the worst thing?” Kevin asks you. You groan and bury your face in your hands. You know the answer to this, you know they know you know the answer to this. 

“I guess not..” you mutter.

“So let us woo you. Give us two months and if by the end of it you genuinely don’t feel a spark, no hard feelings,” Mark offers, leaning forward.

“Yeah, you can still decide then whether you want to keep the baby,” Kevin adds. You mull this over as you fidget with the hem of your T-shirt. Two months would give you until the end of the season to decide, but it would also mean having to continue with this pregnancy that you’re still unsure of is a good idea. 

“One month. And I will cancel the appointment.” 

“Deal,” they once again say in unison. The only thing going through your head is oh God, what have I done? 

Yeah, Kevin is going through it rn, poor man

Let me know your thoughts! Your comments, tags and likes mean the world to me

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt9}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks, hints at religious trauma Word count: 1514 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @hiireadstuff @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora @ystrolllll 

Part 9 of the Mamma Mia series

Mark somehow manages to get your body to move, speaking to you in hushed tones. The words aren’t even registering at this point, but the sound of his voice helps calm you down. You hear Mark talk to someone, and looking up you spot Mick who shoots you a concerned glance, before nodding and rushing off into the garage. 

“Okay sweetheart, let’s get you inside okay?” Mark murmurs and guides you to the hospitality building. The aircon feels nice after being outside in the heat and you slump down onto the nearest seat. Mark hands you an opened water bottle, instructing you to take slow sips. He looks up at something outside before crouching down.

“I will be right back, but I need to talk to someone okay?” You nod, before taking another sip. Mark presses a kiss against your temple before going back outside. You feel eerily calm now that you’re back indoors. No panic, no sadness, just.. Nothing. Logically you know your brain is protecting you by shutting down any and all emotions. Taking another sip, you look outside and see Mark in deep conversation with Toto and Lewis’ engineer, Bono. You frown a little when Bono follows Mark inside to where you are while Toto goes back to the garage. You can see Bono’s mouth move as he talks to you but it feels like you’re underwater.

“... Looks like he’ll be back for Austin.” 

“Wait, what?” you ask, fighting the urge to shake your head to clear the fog.

“Kevin and Lewis are in the medical tent. Sweetheart, did you hear me? They’re alive.”

“They-..” The rest of the words get caught in your throat as Mark’s words echo in your head. Relief floods through you as it sinks in that both of them made it out of their cars. However, that relief is quickly joined by the realisation that you need to talk to them, need to tell all three of them how you feel about them –truthfully this time. 

“Can I go-.. Can I see them?” you ask, eyes moving from Bono to Mark. Mark nods, holding out his hand.

“I’ll take you.” 

Taking a deep breath, you follow Mark into the medical centre. It looks more impressive than it is; while there are a few doctors on sight, it essentially functions as a more aesthetically pleasing version of the first aid tent you’d find at any festival. Mark easily navigates the two of you to the wing where the drivers would be taken to, tucked away to avoid paparazzi from taking photos. Anxiety simmers under your skin, like an itch you can’t scratch. You can’t help but keep going over the what ifs –what if you bare your soul to them and they say no? You know it’s not fair to them to hope they will still want you, not after the hell you put them through, but at the same time you wonder if you can take it if they refuse you. Only one way to find out, you hear Jasmine say as you round the corner. Your breath gets caught in your lungs as you see Kevin and Lewis lounging on the hospital beds, chatting with Mark who already entered. 

“Oh thank god,” you sigh, relief washing over you a second time. Your legs feel weak but you force yourself to keep moving. A part of you wants nothing more than to walk straight into their arms but you can’t. Not before you tell them everything you should have said weeks ago. You can feel their eyes on you, Mark shooting you a worried glance and moving to comfort you. Biting your lip, you shake your head. 

“No, I-.. I need to say something first.” You wrap your arms around yourself as you look at the ceiling. 

“When I saw the crash I feared the worst. For a long moment I thought I had lost you and that I would never get to tell you-.. Tell you that- that I lied. I lied in Suzuka. I said that I feel nothing but that’s not true,” you start, unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Tilting your head, you look at the three men before continuing. “Because it’s easier –safer to be alone and to not admit to my feelings because if I admit that I not only have feelings, but that I am in love, that opens me up for the worst kind of pain. And then I thought you had died and somehow that felt even worse than any potential heartbreak ever could feel. So, I am in love. God, I am so in love with you, all three of you and that terrified me because I can’t. That’s not how romance novels work and so I lied because how can I choose? How can I love three men at once? I shouldn’t, and yet I do and how- how can you love me? How can I ask that you-... I feel like it makes me a terrible person because it’s greedy but I can’t- I can’t choose. Please, don’t make me choose.” You know you’re rambling now, probably repeating the same thing over and over again. Your heart is hammering against your chest and as fear sinks its claws into your body, it becomes increasingly more difficult to catch your breath. It’s quiet for all of a heartbeat before Mark takes you in his arms, and something breaks while simultaneously being put back together, which is a confusing emotion to experience. You had expected the worst, as you so often do when it comes to love because that’s the default; it’s all you’ve known ever since you first heard your parents shout at one another yet stay together in loathing because divorce was never an option in the eyes of the church. 

“Breathe, baby. In and out, slowly.. There you go, sweetheart,” Mark says, brushing your tears away with his thumb as you take slow breaths. Mark keeps your face cradles in his hands as his eyes search yours.

“I need you to hear me okay? There is nothing that could make me not love you. I have loved you for a decade, and I will love you for every decade that’s yet to come. This doesn’t change that.” 

“I love you too,” you whisper, watching how his lips curl up in a smile as his eyes soften with adoration at your words. Mark presses a kiss to your forehead before letting go of your face. 

“Like I said in Copenhagen, I picture us when I picture my future. I didn’t expect that to be the four of us, but it doesn’t change my feelings for you,” Kevin says, making you turn to look at him. 

“Oh, Kev, I love you too,” you reply, making your way over to where he is resting against the pillows. Kevin smiles up at you as you give him a quick peck. 

“And like I said, as long as I get to call you mine, it’ll be worth it. I don’t love them the way you do, My, but it also wouldn’t feel right not to share this with them,” Lewis adds, taking your hand before pulling you down so he can kiss you. Mark joins the three of you, resting his hands on your hips as he lets you lean against him. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to process all of this. 

“What’s gonna happen next?” you whisper.

“Right now, I am going to take you back to Mercedes so you can get your stuff and then I am taking you to the hotel for dinner and a good night’s sleep. And then in the morning we are going to sit down and figure out next steps, how does that sound?” Mark offers, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. 

“Like a plan,” you reply quietly, still feeling overwhelmed by this revelation. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow, elskede,” Kevin says, pulling you closer for a proper kiss. As soon as he lets go of you, Lewis takes you in his arms to give you another kiss. By the time you’re headed out the door, you feel a little light-headed by all the love and affection. Mark chuckles, taking your hand in his.“Better get used to it sweetheart, I have a feeling we’ll be all over you to make up for lost time.” Somehow the prospect of the three of them wanting to show how much they love you doesn’t fill you with anxiety the way it used to. If anything it makes you feel giddy. For a brief moment you allow yourself to ignore the logistics of dating three people at once who barely spend enough time in the same country to go to dinner once a week, how this is going to be a PR nightmare for the teams involved; all of that can wait till morning. Right now you just want to enjoy the fact that you’re so disgustingly in love, and what’s more: they love you too.

I know for sure that there's one person not best pleased with this outcome. Are they all idiots for forgiving her? Maybe. But I never said love is rational

Massive thank you to @curiousthyme for being my beta reader once more 🥰

Feel free to let me know your thoughts! Your comments, tags and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜

Just one more part and an epilogue left now, I can't believe this fic is coming to an end already

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of worries surrounding motherhood Word count: 1375 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @hiireadstuff @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora @ystrolllll

Epilogue to the Mamma Mia series

One year later 

To say the past year has been a whirlwind would be an understatement. It’s the final race of the season and for once you’re not working. It’s odd, being in your own garage without having your trusty iPad in your hands with the latest data sets. You’d be lying if you said that you don't feel a little lost, almost in limbo between the two worlds of motherhood and your career. Lewis comes up to you, smiling when he sees you fiddling with your jewellery.

“Feels wrong, huh?” he asks.

“Not wrong, just-.. Just weird. Being here as a WAG will take some getting used to for sure,” you reply. Lewis takes your hand, pulling you closer so he can give you a kiss.

“For what it’s worth, I love having you here, whether that’s as a data engineer or as my fiancée.” You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at that. During the summer break Kevin, Lewis, and Mark surprised you with a trip to Sanremo. They had thought of everything; they even invited the nanny who had been there since the moment you had given birth to take care of the baby for an evening so the four of you could go for dinner followed by a walk on the beach. And there, as the sun began to set, the three of them went down on one knee and asked you to marry them. 

“Can’t wait to get married next year,” you whisper, looking down at Lewis’ thumb brushing against the gold band that held three small diamonds: one for each of them. 

“Neither can I,” comes a voice from your left. Looking up, you see Mark smiling at you, the baby carrier strapped to his chest. He leans down to give you a quick kiss, which you happily accept even if there’s plenty of cameras pointed at the three of you.

“This little lady wanted to give her daddy a good luck kiss,” Mark says, his words being followed up by a giggle from your 7-month-old daughter as she kicks her little legs. For someone who’s never been to an F1 race, she is enjoying all the attention she’s getting for sure. 

“Is that so?” Lewis coos at her, quickly undoing some of the straps so he can lift her up. The little girl happily goes with her dad, babbling away, much to the amusement of the engineers. Lewis kisses her little face all over, making her laugh. Despite them all reassuring you it didn’t matter to them who the baby’s biological father is, you were still worried they wouldn’t bond with her. Your concerns couldn’t have been further from the truth; little baby Mercedes, as fans had dubbed her, has all three men wrapped around her little finger. 

“Have you been to Haas yet?” you ask Mark as Lewis straps your daughter back into the carrier. You quickly learnt that she loves being carried, strapped safely to the chest of her favourite people. 

“No, came here first. Wanna come with?” Mark asks. You nod, giving Lewis another kiss before taking Mark’s hand to go over to the Haas garage. Kevin is quick to spot the three of you, giving you a kiss.

“Agnes wanted to give her far a good luck kiss,” Mark says, accepting the side hug from Kevin. 

“I will always accept those,” Kevin says with a smile so tender it makes you fall in love with him all over again as he, too, lifts your daughter out of her carrier. Agnes happily lets him, giggling when Kevin tickles her. From the moment she was born, it became pretty clear whose genes the girl had inherited with her blond hair, and so it made sense to go with a Danish name for her. That was the deal: whoever’s DNA won got to pick a name. 

Leaning into Mark’s body, you watch Kevin and Agnes as they make their way around the garage. After last year’s ordeal with Gene, you’re still not entirely comfortable standing here but you’d do anything to support your partners. Kevin gets the signal that it’s time to go for warm up and he brings Agnes over, the girl reaching out for you, and tucking her face into your chest when you settle her on your hip. Kevin gives his daughter a final smooch before leaning over to give you a kiss.

“Love you. Be safe,” you murmur. Kevin smiles, giving you one final kiss before following his trainer outside. Mark takes your hand once more and you make your way into the paddock.

“Are you on commentary today?” you ask as you spot the Sky camera people getting ready for Martin’s grid walk.

“No, just the post race interviews. We have all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You’re quiet for a moment, taking in the hustle and bustle that happens during a race weekend. Something has been gnawing at you from the moment you entered the paddock this morning, when you realised just how much you missed work. 

“Do you-.. Do you think I’m a bad mum for wanting to go back to work, for looking forward to it?” you ask quietly.

“I think this is a conversation we need to have with all four of us, but no, I think it’ll make you an even better mum. You’re showing our daughter that she can become whoever she wants to be,” Mark says, quick to shut down your worries. You give his hand a grateful squeeze as you walk back to the Mercedes garage.

“There she is!” you hear from behind you. Unable to stop the laugh that’s bubbling up, both of you turn around to see Oscar jogging over, half in his race suit already. He has truly become almost like a son to you, and in turn, a big brother to Agnes. Your daughter loves her dads, but Oscar is her favourite person besides her uncle Mick. Because of Mark being his manager, Oscar comes over quite a bit during the season and even stayed at your place during the Monaco Grand Prix. 

Agnes squeals when she spots the Australian driver, kicking her little legs and she makes grabby hands. 

“Hey Roo,” Oscar says softly, brushing her cheek with his finger. Agnes babbles happily, leaning forward so Oscar really doesn’t have a choice but to pick her up. 

“Can I show her the car?” he asks you, and you can’t help but feel touched at his enthusiasm.

“She’s 7 months, mate,” Mark comments.

“Please? I got her a pair of ear defenders and I will hold her the whole time,” Oscar pleads.

“Alright then,” you give in, chuckling as he beams at the both of you before heading into the McLaren garage.

“Come on, Roo. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll show me your F1 car,” you hear Oscar murmur to your daughter as you follow him to the garage. Leaning against Mark, you watch Oscar and Lando fuss over Agnes as they show her around. You can tell your baby is getting sleepy when she sucks her thumb into her mouth, leaning against Oscar’s chest. Mark waves the Aussie driver over and makes quick work of strapping her back into the carrier, facing him this time around. Within seconds she’s out like a light despite the noise and chaos around her. Agnes will happily spend her entire nap there, snuggled safely against her dad. You quickly wish Oscar good luck with his race, making him promise that he’ll come over for dinner in the new year, before heading back to Mercedes. If anyone had told you two years ago you would find yourself in this position, with a baby and so many people in her life to love her and you, you would have called them crazy. And yet here you are, engaged to three Formula 1 drivers with the most perfect daughter and a semi-adoptive son. All those years you spent keeping people at bay and now you have managed to create a village for your little girl to thrive and be so incredibly loved by all her dads and uncles. And seeing that heals a part of you that you never thought would heal. 

It only felt right for Kevin to be the biological dad, not that it matters in the grand scheme of things, but the poor man has been through the wringer. This was also written before shit hit the fan and I am choosing to ignore it in this fic, at least for now.

When I shared this dream with my two besties over discord, I had no idea it would end up snowballing into 16k worth of fic, but it has been so much fun plotting and exploring these characters.

I want to thank everyone who participated in the many polls, you helped mould this fic. There's a few people in particular I'd like to thank: @emilielfc and @curiousthyme, this fic would not exist without both of you, thank you for listening to me plan the whole thing over discord. And once it became clear this would be an f1 fanfic, @szobosz also got subjected to me needing to think out loud, so thanks for listening to me ramble babe. @seafoampearlygirl your knowledge on Mark Webber has been invaluable in the writing of this fic, so thank you again for taking the time to write an entire post on it. @monzamash and @monzabee, girls your unwavering support every time I second guessed this fic means more to me than I could ever put into words

The fic might be finished, but I love these characters too much to give up on them. If there's a specific scene that you'd like to see, please feel free to drop it in my ask

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt10}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of homophobia, hinting at religious trauma Word count: 1479 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @hiireadstuff @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora @ystrolllll 

Part 10 of the Mamma Mia series

As promised, the following morning the three of them show up to your hotel room with breakfast. You gratefully accept the take away mug Mark hands you as you let them in. It reminds you of that first conversation you had with the three of them at the beginning of September and you can’t help but feel a little emotional at how far you’ve come since then. 

Sitting down at the small breakfast table in your room, you accept the smoothie bowl Kevin hands you. It’s a little cramped, but all four of you fit around it. Lewis and Kevin catch you up on how their teammates and some of their closer friends on the grid fared during the race while Mark fills in the gaps with what he’s heard from DC and Jenson.

“I can’t believe the FIA ever thought this weekend would go without a hitch. The fact that Pirelli set very strict pit stops windows tells you all you need to know, really,” you say, shaking your head. 

“I’ve heard rumours that they’re looking at moving it later into the season to avoid these high temperatures,” Mark adds.

“That’s the least they can do. Greedy vultures,” you reply, muttering the last bit under your breath, earning a chuckle from Lewis.

“Wait,” you say, a realisation hitting you, “if we’re really doing this, does that mean I am also adopting an Australian rookie?” Mark laughs, head thrown back.

“I guess so. Hope you’re alright with that?”

“I mean, Mick has become like a little brother. Him and his family are the closest I have to one. Him and Jasmine; she’s my oldest friend. I-.. I cut contact with my parents when I was in my early twenties. They’re very religious and it got to a point where it became detrimental to my mental health to allow them access.” Even remembering their disappointment when you went into engineering and not pursued a career in teaching –which was deemed much more suitable for a woman by your parents– makes you feel about two inches tall. It was impossible to live up to their standards and their constant meddling in your love life to find you a man so you’d settle down and become the perfect little house wife messed with your perception of love a lot more than you even realised. 

“That’s also why I completely panicked when I realised I am in love with all three of you,” you continue, pushing through the uneasiness of the memories, “A relationship is meant to be between one man and one woman according to them, and while I have done a lot of unlearning over the years, this took me by surprise.” 

“Thank you for trusting us,” Kevin breaks the silence that follows. He rests a hand on your knee, giving you a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’m trying. When you’ve been on your own for so long it’s hard to let people in. But I want this to work, not just for me but also for this little peanut,” you say, putting a hand on your stomach. 

“We’ll follow your lead, sweetheart,” Mark says, to which Kevin and Lewis nod in agreement. 

“I know we will have to let at least our teams know about what’s going on, but outside of that can we hold off until the end of the season? I hadn’t considered the logistics of dating three people and it’s a little overwhelming.” 

“Works for me,” Kevin nods, “and how about we try to have a proper sit down dinner with the four of us at least once a week? We can think about next steps after the season, but that way we’ll at least see one another outside of the track.” You mull this over. It’s not a bad idea, even if it might prove difficult to get everyone in the same place without living together.

“I’d like that,” you reply.

“I don’t mind us using my house in Oxford for that. It’s got plenty of space for everyone,” Mark offers. You shoot him a thankful smile; staying in the UK as much as possible while you figure out next steps does make it a lot easier for you with regards to your responsibilities at the factory. The anxious flutter you had felt from the moment you had woken up is slowly disappearing, and in its place a calm washes over you. You know that it is not going to be easy, navigating this relationship with so much media attention and different moving parts, but you also know you owe it to this baby to at least try and make it work. There are five races left this season, and with the triple header coming up, you know it is going to be mayhem. 

“Wanna call Toto together?” Lewis asks you, bringing you back to the present. You nod, but bite your lip.

“I just-.. Before we do, I just need to know that you’re all okay with raising a child that might possibly not be yours by blood. I know how Kevin feels, but..” you trail off.

“As long as they’re healthy and happy, I don’t mind. I just know that I am looking forward to doing this alongside you,” Mark says, pressing a kiss against your temple before getting up to go phone his boss. 

“Same here baby. Family is more than just blood. I can’t wait to be one of three dads for peanut and spoil them and you,” Lewis reassures you.

The phone call with Mercedes went about as painless as could be. After what happened and your reaction on Sunday, Toto had his suspicions that the two of you had begun dating. The fact that Kevin and Mark were now also part of that didn’t seem to phase him whatsoever, or if it did your boss had the acting skills to not let it show. You did have to promise him to give Susie a call whenever you felt like you needed a girly chat. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Lewis muses, pulling you against him. You hum in agreement, content to just stay like this for a minute when the peace is rudely interrupted.

“No. No, you listen to me Gene,” Kevin seethes as he paces the length of your hotel room, “Do you genuinely think they are spying on Haas? We are dead fucking last, what kind of delusion are you smoking?” Kevin looks up and locks eyes with you. Without a moment's hesitation you get up from the couch and cross the room. Kevin holds out his hand and visibly relaxes ever so slightly when you lace your fingers together.

“Guenther had no issues with this relationship. What difference-..” He’s quiet for a moment as he listens to the team owner. Whatever excuse Gene is giving him, it’s the wrong one; Kevin’s eyes flare in anger as he clenches his jaw. A quiet fury simmers through your veins at the way Kevin is being treated. The magnitude of this feeling takes you by surprise, this notion of how you’d go to war for him –for all three of them. You know Kevin doesn’t need you to fight his battles, so instead of taking the phone from him to tell his team owner just what you think of him, you squeeze his hand. 

“No, let me stop you there. I know my sponsors well enough to know that this won’t change anything financially. And even if it did, I am sure that there are plenty of brands who will gladly take their place if it means they can boast about their so-called diversity pledge. And if you talk about my family like that ever again, I quit.” Before Gene can even respond, Kevin hangs up and throws the phone onto the dining table. You take his face in your hands, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone before pulling him closer for a hug. Kevin wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You alright, mate?” Mark asks. Kevin nods, taking a deep breath before straightening up. 

“Steiner was no issue, surprisingly. Gene is a different story. Guenther had forwarded the information because it involves an employee of a rival, just out of courtesy. That fucking idiot first insulted my intelligence by saying how they are using me for information on Haas, and then began some rant about how this would cost the team money, and then came for me personally with some homophobic slurs I don’t feel like repeating.” 

“I’m sorry man. If there’s anything we can do,” Lewis offers. Kevin nods gratefully. 

“I’ll let you know.” You can feel your nose prickle with tears at how ready they are to help one another. The fact that Kevin referred to the four of you as his family isn’t lost on you, and it fills you with so much love and gratitude that despite everything, you have found a home in these three men. 

I can't believe it's almost over, I have been working on this fic since October. There's an epilogue left which will come next week

Again, biggest thank you to @curiousthyme for being my beta reader. I would be lost without you babe 😘

Please let me know your thoughts, your comments, tags, and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt7}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: heart break Word count: 1022 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @topguncultleader @vellicora @ystrolllll

Part 7 of the Mamma Mia series

They really weren’t kidding when they said ‘let us woo you’. The next two weeks fly by in a blur of data streams, flights and more dates, each getting more elaborate as time goes on. Mark takes you out for crazy golf while in Singapore, a suggestion by Oscar and undoubtedly Lando, although you wonder whether they suggested the murder mystery themed one. Lewis spoils you with a hot air balloon ride to watch the sunrise when you’re in Suzuka, the sight leaving you breathless, and Kevin treats you to a picnic after a bike ride through the park. You love seeing their own personalities reflected in the activities they plan for you, but also in the way they show their affection for you: Mark takes care of you, driving you to and from the paddock, making sure you eat by bringing you lunch. Kevin and you managed to keep your promise to spend more time together; he will often just come hang out at the Mercedes hospitality and chat with the mechanics or with Mick while you get some last minute bits of work done. It’s nice to have him beside you, to have the weight of his hand on your thigh every so often just to let you know he is still there. And then there’s Lewis who is so observant and spoils you in different ways. You mention once how your sunglasses broke and the next thing you know a new pair sits atop your desk. He even gifted you monogrammed loungewear embroidered in his colours after he overheard you talking about how your travel clothes are just no longer comfortable. It’s a clear display of his wealth and not something you’re used to, but seeing him smile as you use his gifts has your heart skipping a beat. It quite literally feels as if you’re in a romance novel, but while those usually end in a happy ending, you’re having a hard time believing that that could be you. Because romance novels and relationships are usually between two people and not four. Because no matter how hard you try not to, you’re falling in love in a way that terrifies you. It breaks your heart to know you are once again hurting them, but what other options do you have? There is no way that this, that a relationship can work because that would mean having to choose and you can’t. You cannot choose between them nor can you allow yourself to live in the delusion that there is a possibility that you don’t have to. It’s impossible, the choice feels impossible, so you make the only one you can; you’d rather live with the heartbreak and the knowledge that you hurt them, than choose between Kevin, Lewis, and Mark. And so you do what you have always done: you very slowly begin to withdraw yourself, rebuilding the wall the three of them had painstakingly brought down over the past four weeks. 

It all comes to a head after the race that Sunday in Japan. Your emotions are all over the place, flitting between happiness and pride at Mercedes’ performance and bagging some much needed points to hopefully be able to secure that second place in the constructor’s championship, and absolute dread at having to have this conversation with them. And so you find yourself outside the Mercedes motorhome, the three men sat in front of you.

“Now that the month is almost over I thought it best to have this conversation now,” you begin, looking down at your mug. Your stomach is in knots and for once it’s not the morning sickness that’s making you nauseous. 

“I’m really sorry but I can’t do this. I- I don’t have feelings for you. For any of you. I’m sorry for stringing you along and getting your hopes up, I really am,” you continue, voice barely louder than a whisper. The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t dare to look up because you know once you see the look on their faces your resolve will crumble like a house of cards. 

“Bullshit,” Kevin says, his frustrations clear in his voice. Your heart breaks at the ice in his tone, but keep your eyes on your mug while holding back tears. 

“Kev-..” Mark tries to placate him, but to no avail.

“No, don’t you Kevin me. This is her M.O. God, you can’t even look at us while you tell us you feel nothing for any of us.” 

“We did tell her it would be up to her,” Lewis adds.You look up at both him and Kevin through your eyelashes, watching them share a look you can’t decipher. You watch Kevin’s shoulders slump before looking back at you. Quickly you avert your eyes, trying to keep your face neutral. 

“Fine,” Kevin sighs, the dejection and resignation in his voice cut deeper than any knife possibly ever could, “forget it. See you around the paddock I guess.” And with that the Danish driver leaves. 

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper, throat thick with tears.

“So am I, sweetheart,” Mark says, pressing a kiss against your temple before getting up as well. Lewis gives your hand a squeeze before following the Australian into the paddock for the final round of interviews, leaving you behind with the remnants of your shattered heart. 

You somehow manage to hold it together until you’re back in your hotel room, catching a ride with another colleague to avoid having to see Mark again. Throwing your bag on a chair, you make a beeline for the ensuite, turning on the shower while silent tears roll down your cheeks. Stripping out of your team gear, you step under the hot water, wrapping your arms around your chest as sobs wreck through you, afraid that you might fall apart even further if you don’t hold onto yourself. You know that this hell is your own doing but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less, doesn’t make the pain any less. Little do you know, the heartache that is already all consuming is about to become so, so much worse.

Maybe the secret fourth option was choose pain? I can already hear someone throw her phone against the wall. Love you @szobosz

Again, the biggest thank you to @curiousthyme for being my beta reader, love you so much ives

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

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt8}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: angst, descriptions of a crash, mentions of religious trauma Word count: 1246 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount@doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @topguncultleader@vellicora @ystrolllll 

Part 8 of the Mamma Mia series

After Japan, you operate on auto-pilot, the days all blurring into one. At work, your colleagues leave you be, however, your best friend sees right through you, especially after you cancel on her for a third day in a row. So Jasmine does what any best friend would do: she lets herself into your apartment with the key you had given her, only to find you curled up on the couch, staring into space as the sun sets, drowning you in twilight. She forces you to get changed out of your work clothes while she puts the kettle on.

“Talk to me. This is not like you,” Jasmine says, putting a mug in front of you.

“I don’t even know where to start..” you mumble.

“Start with what’s got you so heartbroken that you’ve become a recluse,” Jasmine offers. You shrug, feeling another wave of tears threatening to spill.

“I broke my own heart. I should never have agreed to their plan,” you say. You tell her all about the last couple of weeks, about the dates they had been taking you on. About how you tried so very hard to not fall in love.

“But I did. I fell harder than I think I ever have.”

“How does that lead to you breaking your own heart? Shouldn’t you be over the moon and disgustingly in love with your man?” Jasmine asks you.

“How can I be happy when I love all three of them?” you throw out, a sob wrecking through your body as you bury your face in your hands, “I am such a greedy whore for wanting all of them,” you whisper.

“No. Stop that right now,” Jasmine says, moving her chair next to yours and pulling you against her chest.

“Sometimes I really curse your parents for the religious trauma they subjected you to. Babe, we’ve talked about this. There is nothing wrong with being a slut or a whore, as you put it, as long as it is your choice to be called that term. Nothing wrong with a little consensual degradation in the bedroom. But loving more than one person does not make you a whore. It makes you polyamorous,” Jasmine responds, rubbing a hand down your back. 

“P-poly-what now?” you ask as you look up at her.

“Polyamorous. Oh babe, for someone with a double master’s degree, you really are clueless sometimes. It means someone who’s in a relationship with more than one person at a time. It just means you love differently than the heteronormative norm.”  

You’re quiet for a moment, letting your friend’s words sink in. She’s hit the nail on the head with her comment about your parents. You went no contact years ago, but your religious upbringing sometimes still haunts you even now that you’re an adult and no longer believe in the church as an institution. A tiny spark of hope flickers alive in your heart at the knowledge that there is a world in which you don’t have to choose between them, before it gets squashed by the realisation that you might have burnt that bridge before you even got to cross it. 

“What if it’s too late?’ you voice your biggest worry out loud, “What if they don’t want me anymore?” 

“Unfortunately there is only one way to find out. You gotta talk to them.”

Jasmine made it seem so easy, but finding the time to do so is proving difficult during the next race weekend. Due to the sprint race, the weekend is even busier than normal. By the time Sunday comes around you are convinced it won’t happen. Kevin seems to be avoiding you —and you can’t blame him for that—, Lewis is busy preparing for two races, and Mark is filming for Channel4. You throw yourself into your work, trying your hardest not to think about how your chest constricts every time you catch a glimpse of any of them on the screens in the garage. It’s not until Sunday’s race has well and truly started that you can’t use work as an excuse anymore. The latest bits of sim data have already been analysed so you really have no reason to stay in your office. You hide away in the back of the garage, out of sight for most of the cameras but you have a clear view on the screen with the F1 world feed. Your chest feels tight with anxiety for this race; the heat has been brutal for everyone involved and the tyre management put in place by Pirelli doesn’t fill you with confidence either. 

The first 30 or so laps go by relatively smoothly, but just as you allow yourself to exhale for the first time in what feels like an hour, things go horribly, horribly wrong. Logically you know the whole thing won’t have lasted for much longer than several minutes, but it feels like everything slows down as you watch one of the RedBulls collide into Lewis’ car while trying to overtake in the straight between corners 15 and 16, sending the latter spinning into the barrier on the right before getting bounced to the other side of the track like a ping pong ball before it comes to standstill against the wall. The RedBull tries to correct its own course but can’t help losing control again and sends the Haas that was behind them into the gravel where something seems to snap from the back of the car, causing the driver to lose complete control and slamming sideways into the barriers. Miraculously, the RedBull remains on the track, although it’s obvious the car has some major front wing damage, and makes it into the pitlane without much of a fuss. You keep watching the screen breathlessly, hoping for any signs of movement while you vaguely hear Lewis’ engineer ask Lewis if he’s okay. Instead of confirmation, it remains quiet. Your chest feels too tight to catch your breath as panic claws its way up your throat when you realise that the Haas currently in the barriers is Kevin. Ripping your headset off, you make your way outside and into the pitlane. Air, you need air. Leaning against the wall, you inhale deeply, trying to use the breathing techniques from yoga to calm down. They’re gone, your brain very unhelpfully supplies and you cover your mouth with a hand to stifle the scream that’s threatening to come out. You hear someone talking to you but the words don’t register as his body blocks you from view. Looking up, you see Mark’s concerned face looking back at you and the realisation that Lewis and Kev got hurt hits you all over again. A sob wrecks through you as your knees buckle.

“I’ve got you,” Mark murmurs, pulling your body against his. “They’re gone and I-.. I will never get to tell them-.. Mark-..” you sob into his chest. Mark rubs a hand down your back, letting you cry into his shirt as he tries to sooth you. You thought the heartache you felt after Suzuka was bad, but nothing could have prepared you for this. You can’t breathe, can’t think; the only thought going through your head is how this baby will never get to see their dads, how you lost the loves of your life and that you will never even get the chance to tell them that, how it’s all your fault. And that thought rips you apart all over again.

For maximum emotional damage, may I suggest playing Gracie Abrams' Cedar on loop while reading this? Because that song broke me

@curiousthyme this chapter would not be what it is without you, so thank you

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

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt6}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: girly pop having a realisation or two, mentions of a previous (toxic) relationship Word count: 1.9k Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life  @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz  @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stufff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora 

Part 6 of the Mamma Mia series

Early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, waking you from a dreamless sleep. Sighing, you snuggle back into the pillows, not quite wanting to get up yet. Yesterday had been emotional for sure, but it felt good to have it all in the open. Somehow you felt lighter, knowing that Mark could see where you were coming from and at the same time helping you understand why he had felt the need to make those choices. You find yourself surprised at the excitement of what kind of date Kevin might plan for you next. There’s also a part of you that’s hesitant; last night’s conversation about the end of your relationship with Mark and the ramifications of that has made you realise a couple of things about the way you approached your relationship with Kevin. As you get out of bed and turn on the shower, you think back to that night in Spa. Kevin had grown tired of you keeping him at an arm’s length, of your hesitancy to commit. You knew he was right, but him seeing right through you, questioning whether you loved your job more than him, rattled you more than it probably should. Now looking back, you can see it so clearly - the way you had dealt –or more accurately, hadn’t dealt with that break up years prior affected how you approached new relationships. You hate that you had allowed that experience to taint everything else, but more than anything, you hate that, in doing so, you hurt Kevin.

You sigh, closing your eyes as you let the water run over your face. Despite the fact that the two of you decided to call it quits, you still have love for him. Kevin is the complete opposite of Mark: he treated you with such care, giving you an autonomy you had not previously experienced in a relationship. There was a warmth to Kevin that was unfamiliar in the best way, and had never seen reflected in your parents’ marriage. It was Sunday mornings spent over cups of coffees and pastries from a bakery down the road from Kevin’s house in Denmark, going for long walks in the biting cold; he’d always want you to do things together. In the beginning you enjoyed it, but it soon came to feel stifling in a way. You can feel yourself frowning as you think back to those early days. Why did it feel that way? Kevin wasn’t a clingy person at all –if anything he had been so understanding every time you said you needed some time alone until your relationship had been stripped down to nothing more than text messages and hook ups in hotel rooms. At the time you figured it was just down to the both of you living in different countries, but maybe your fear of letting a man become all consuming made you put up a wall so high, nothing could touch you. You single handedly destroyed that relationship. 

That truth sits uncomfortably in the hollow of your chest as you turn off the shower and reach for a towel. A part of you misses those Sunday mornings, misses being made to slow down. If you close your eyes you can still smell the scent of cinnamon mixed with something more earthy, the taste of Danish coffee on your tongue whenever Kevin kisses you. The memory makes you smile, even though the nostalgia tugs on your heart. 

Do I even have a Danish bakery near me? you ask yourself as you get dressed, the memories making you crave the cinnamon buns Kevin would get. When you sit down at your desk with a mug of tea, you remember that Kevin used to live in the UK, back when he drove for McLaren. 

“Worth a shot,” you mumble as you pick up your phone to message him. 

Your teeth drag over your bottom lip while you consider his invitation. It would be nice to get out of the city for a few days and relax before the hectic schedule of a race week takes up all of your time. A quick look online tells you that there’s still a ticket available for tomorrow morning for a flight from Birmingham to Copenhagen. Without giving it a second thought you book the flight and send Kevin a message agreeing to his plan. 

As promised, Kevin is waiting for you at arrivals. 

“Hey,” he says quietly as he hugs you. You relax into his arms, sighing deeply. He lets go of you and takes your suitcase in one hand while the other is stretched out for you to take. You give his hand a squeeze and allow him to navigate the two of you to his car. 

“How was the flight?” Kevin asks as he puts your bags in the boot. 

“It was good, managed to finish the last bits for work so I won’t have to open my laptop until Monday.” You keep your eyes on Kevin as he closes the boot and notice the grateful smile he gives you.

“Do you want to drop your things off first? I don’t know if you booked a hotel or not, but if you feel comfortable, I have the spareroom set up,” he says as he climbs behind the wheel of the SUV. 

“I did, but I’ll gladly take you up on your offer. And if it’s not too much trouble, I would feel better knowing my laptop is safe. I know it sounds silly, but with the amount of data and information on it, I can’t risk getting it stolen.” Kevin nods and while you cancel your hotel room, he drives to his house so you can put your bags inside. 

The drive to the harbour doesn’t take long at all after that. There’s a box from a local bakery on the backseat and the thermos flask you gifted him for Christmas last year is peeking out from the side of his backpack. It does something funny to your heart, seeing him use something you had picked out for him, even after everything that had happened this summer. 

“It’s gonna be chilly out on the water so I brought an extra jumper. You used to steal it all the time, so I figured it’d be a safe bet,” Kevin says, looking at you with half mirth and half tenderness. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, that funny feeling only intensifying at him remembering how much you loved to wear that olive green, quarter zip jumper whenever the two of you did any outdoor activities during this time of year. Kevin parks the car and you help him carry the bags into the cabin on his boat. It’s not long before muscle memory kicks in and you’re helping him with checking the lines. The two of you easily fall into the rhythm of checking everything is in order, moving in synchronicity, and before you know it, you’re leaving the harbour behind you. Sitting cross legged on the deck, you tilt your face up to the sun, letting the wind play with your hair. You’ve always found peace out on the water, and this time was no different. Inhaling deeply, you feel yourself relax, your running to-do list finally being pushed to the backburner –at least for the time being. You feel the boat beginning to slow down as Kevin adjusts the sails and kills the engine. Looking over your shoulder, you can just make out the Danish coast line. This is how the two of you would spend most of his summer break: just floating around in the Øresund with a picnic basket filled with pastries and sandwiches. 

“Here,” Kevin says, holding out two mugs of coffee, motioning with his head to take one. You gratefully accept it, taking a careful sip. Kevin sits down next to you, leaning his body against the railing and sets down the box of baked goods as well. You lift the lid up and pick one of the cinnamon buns. They’re still a little bit warm and the scent makes your mouth water. You can feel Kevin’s eyes on you as you take a bite, letting the taste of cinnamon, cardamom and sugar transport you back to simpler times. 

“Oh, how I’ve missed these,” you mumble around a mouthful before swallowing. Kevin smiles at that, but there’s a wistfulness to his expression. You can tell that there’s an ache in him, and you’re responsible for that. 

“I’ve missed this, missed us,” Kevin says quietly. His admission sits heavy in the hollow of your chest. Placing the cinnamon bun on your knee, you turn to look at him.

“I know,” you reply quietly, “and I realised that I have been unfair to you –that I hurt you for no other reason than that I was scared.” Kevin remains quiet, giving you the opportunity to say what you should have told him months if not years ago.

“You know how Mark and I ended, and I thought I had gotten over him but the reality is that it made me terrified to let someone get so close to me ever again, to let a person take over my life like that. And so I kept you at an arm’s length. Shut you out. I’ve begun to realise that I need to work on that; I want to work on that. Because I know what a healthy relationship can look like –you’ve shown me that Kev, and instead of appreciating you for it, I hurt you. I hurt you by not talking honestly about my fears, by falling pregnant with a 66,66% chance that you’re not the father and I don’t know if I can watch you get your heart broken by me again,” you say, tears now rolling down your cheeks, “How you still want me is beyond me,” you add quietly, looking down at your mug of coffee. You feel Kevin’s hand on your knee, making you look up at him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “this is the openness I need in a relationship. I am sorry that I didn’t ask you about what made you pull away, that I questioned your loyalties. I know how much you love your job and I shouldn’t have made you choose between your Mercedes family and me. I should’ve come up with a compromise so we can still hang out even if work keeps you busy. Because truth be told, I just want to spend time with you, doing whatever, as long as we can be in the same room. And I know there’s a good chance I am not the baby’s father, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be the baby’s dad. A family isn’t determined by biology, a family is made. And when I picture my future family, I picture us –whatever that us might look like, but us. So I will keep holding out hope that you feel the same way about me as I do about you until you tell me otherwise; I will keep loving you, and maybe that makes me an idiot, but I don’t care because I’d rather get my heart broken a thousand times over by you than not have you at all.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, not knowing how else to respond to him. Part of you feels overwhelmed by just how willing all three of them are to simply love you, without any hesitation and a part of you desperately wants to allow yourself to love them in return. But how can you in good conscience do so if that means hurting two of them in the process?

Oh Kev, this poor, poor cinnamon roll of a man 🥺 girly pop has a choice to make, but who will she choose? (Who would you choose? 👀)

Massive thanks to @curiousthyme for being the best beta reader I could ask for

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags, and likes truly mean the world to me and, combined with the engagement on the polls, makes me want to keep writing this fic so thank you 💜