Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
If you are doom scrolling, do me a little favor. Take a big deep breathe. Take two more. Look up and at your surroundings. Pay attention to the light, the objects, the sounds. You are here in this moment. The infinite world accessible through your phone is simply too much for your mind to handle all the time. You deserve peace of mind and soul. Bring yourself back to the present, and set your phone down.
Everytime I am about to have a panic attack, or even when I feel my anxiety creeping up on me in general, I put on Supernatural and my heart rate immediately slows down. What is it about this show and these men that takes away my anxiety? And yes I am tagging wincest because obviously I gotta find my people 😥🥺🩷
for the hurt comfort promt thingy: Helsknight or/and Tanguish suffering from the aches of living (getting sick, having a migraine, panic attack, painful cramps, etc) and enjoying the others company whilst suffering.
It hits at odd times, but once, before every match, inevitably, Helsknight has a panic attack. The funny thing was, he never really knew that's what they were for the longest time. There was a disconnect between his mind and the reactions of his body. He would think about the match. He would think about losing. He would think about how that could come about, what would most likely happen. All the terrible little scenarios. It probably started as something more productive, running bad cases through his head and trying to imagine ways to counter them. Then the shakes would start. And the buzzing in his ears. The sudden, blinding desire to break something, or pace in circles. The inability to move to vent the reckless energy.
The sudden, piercing silence of mind; the resounding, thoughtless emotion of danger.
This one happened at another odd time. A quiet time. A time he should have been at peace, but wasn't. He was sitting in his cell, writing. Carding through words and phrases. Not a speech, just possible rebuttals for Red, when they inevitably shouted their grievances across the sand.
The thought struck him: [Would he say something if he was wounded? Dying, maybe, if he could feel that coming? Should he prepare something for that?]
Helsknight scratched a few quick tally marks on the page, doodling neat rows of lines as he tried to think of something worthwhile to say, in the event Red got the upperhand.
The thought struck him: [What would it look like if Red won?]
Helsknight was a vicious fighter, confident in his skills, and EB had engrained in him the necessity of fighting dirty. Not dishonorably -- no kicking sensitive places or punching stab wounds. But sometimes one had to give in to the necessity of ugly violence for survival's sake. Biting, clawing, wrestling.
Red would have to disarm him somehow. If Helsknight had a weapon in his hand, he would find a reason to fight. Once, he killed a rampaging hoglin with just the broken half of his sword. Granted, it had [thankfully] shattered with a sharp end, so it was mostly an unwieldy dagger, but still. It hadn't been a real weapon anymore, and Helsknight had used it.
So, disarmed. Maybe literally. There were a lot of things Helsknight could fight through, but dismemberment was one of those he didn't like his chances against. Losing a hand in the Colosseum had a way of halting the momentum of a fight quickly. Helsknight did not think he would just lay down and die though. Probably Red would stand over him with that massive ax -- Helsknight could see it in his mind's eye, the way Red squared up to people like they were a tree he was proud to fell.
[Red never aimed for the neck. He thought beheadings were cruel, given necks were thicker and more tenacious than most people gave them credit for, and blades had difficulty when bones needed severed. It would be a swing that came for major veins and arteries. His shoulders. His chest. His legs.]
There would be a lot of blood. There might be less blood, if Martyn was still up when it happened. He would spare Red the kill, and his knives were keen and his aim was good. The throat, the eyes, up beneath the ribs, if he could find a parting in Helsknight's armor. And then...
... Nothing.
Respawn, maybe.
Or. Maybe not.
[What would it feel like, when he went back to Wels?]
It would feel like... Nothing. Because there would be nothing left of him to feel. It would be dark. It would be quiet. Logically, it would be like sleep. Timeless nothing, with no dreams and no waking and...
Nothing.
The End of Everything.
It was silly to be afraid. He could not feel fear in oblivion. There would be nothing left of him that could feel fear.
[What would Nothing feel like?]
[Nothing.]
[It would...
[it......
[
[
"Helsknight?"
Helsknight blinked. And he blinked again. His eyes felt dry and itchy, like he was staring too long. His notebook was still open to a half-written page.
His mind was watching an ax swing.
Tanguish's weight was suddenly on his shoulder, arms crossed, looking over at his work. The touch reminded Helsknight, in no uncertain terms, where he was. Not on the sand. Not on the broad end of an ax head. He was in his cell, writing, and Tanguish was here.
"You've been staring for a while," Tanguish observed, his voice quiet and close. He had a habit of talking softly into prolonged silence, like he was afraid of trespassing on someone else's thoughts. The rise and fall of his chest against Helsknight's back reminded Helsknight to regulate his breathing. One deep inhalation after another.
"Do you not like what you've written?" Tanguish persisted.
"No," Helsknight answered, his voice hoarse and strangled in a throat constricted with baseless fear. "I don't like it."
Tanguish watched him, a frown twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Are you alright?"
Helsknight cleared his throat uncomfortably. He felt... Shaky. The need to shiver crawled up his back, and he had to set his jaw to stifle it.
He realized his jaw hurt. Had he been grinding his teeth?
"I'm." [He could not lie.] [He could not admit he was panicking over nothing.] [He didn't want to talk, when nausea suddenly made any emotion leaving his mouth a perilous task.] "Having a hard time coming up with things to say."
His quill was still in his hand. The last few tally marks he has traced on the margins of his page were noticeably jittery. Trying to pick them out from the crowd suddenly had all the little lines blurring together, dancing over top of each other. His heartbeat was too fast beneath his breathing, and he could feel every beat like they were done with intention, like if he stopped thinking about it, the muscle would slow to a stop like any other unused limb. His fingers twitched.
"Have you tried rereading your old work?" Tanguish suggested helpfully, he leaned forward on Helsknight's shoulders, reaching over to the book and turning to a random page nearer the front. "You probably have a dozen good lines here you've forgotten about."
The page Tanguish had opened to was a poem, written a few weeks ago when Helsknight had been idle. He let out a breath, cold against the back of Helsknight's neck, delighted.
"Is that one new?"
"New-ish."
"Can I read it?"
Helsknight laid his fingertips flat against the desk, trying to calm the shudder in his hands. If Tanguish noticed, he didn't say anything.
"It's best if read aloud," Helsknight said, because he realized, somewhere in the back of his mind where rational thought was slowly crawling its way forward, that Tanguish's voice was grounding. Forcing him to recognize the moment, and stay there, and away from perilous thoughts. "Give it a shot."
Tanguish chewed on his bottom lip, suddenly nervous. His tail flicked, a motion that Helsknight felt in the jerk that traveled up Tanguish's spine. He eyes Helsknight's cramped handwriting, and let out a long breath. Helsknight let his breath out too, unaware he'd been holding it.
Tanguish read the poem aloud, wandering through stanzas with reckless abandon, ignoring punctuation like it didn't matter for meter and time. He read the poem like it was prose, one word after another, inflectionless, besides his own reactions to the alliteration.
Helsknight sighed, and welcomed the relief when his hands stopped shaking.
"You're good at that," he said, when Tanguish was done. "Read another?"
Tanguish smirked, aware of his own fumbles. But when Helsknight turned the page with hands that no longer shook, Tanguish humored him.
fluff, little bit of angst, anxiety attacks, mentions of depression, 3500 words
balled my eyes out to black fridays by tom odell and then this was birthed.
blurb:
your a rookie on the lionesses squad, who suffers from anxiety and when you stop taking your meds after learning you are starting a game in the euros everything goes downhill for you.
i am so sorry for how vague this was lol i’m writing this and publishing at 2:30 in the morning
I’d never liked gamedays. Everything felt different, all the feelings and emotions heightened. The pressure was insurmountable, especially when you are playing for your nation. Especially when you are one of the youngest, one of the least experienced, one of the youngsters. Today, we were playing Norway, my first game as a Lioness where I was a part of the starting line-up. It was a must win game, the stakes were high for us to win these Euro’s, especially considering it was a home euro’s for us. If we wanted to progress to the finals we couldn’t lose, the pressure was on.
I’d understood that as soon as I’d been notified that I was to start the match, understood that everything changed as soon as you were actually on the pitch. Our one point win over Austria had been great, but we were all hungrier for more, hungrier for the points that we needed to get us ahead in the competition. Sarina knew that there was an expectation for us to win, we all knew that.
I’d been feeling it all week, feeling the anxiety thrumming through my veins as we practised and went about our normal routine for the week. Something was different, it was my first year as a senior Lioness and I’d never been named as a starter. That was a big deal, a really big deal. That was all I could think about. What if I fucked it up? What if I messed up and they told me that I wasn’t going to be welcome back. What if Sarina saw me on the pitch and thought that I was worthless, useless, bad. That was all I could think about as we were standing in the tunnel getting ready to walk out. I was sandwiched in between Lucy and Beth. My hands shaking in my pockets and my breath quickening subconsciously. If I wasn’t aware of it then apparently the defender behind me was, because just as we were about to walk out I felt one of her hands fall to my shoulder, pulling me back into her just enough for her to be able to press her mouth to my ear and whisper,
“You’ve got this amore, you’re going to do perfectly fine,” Lucy’s voice was so strong, but so comforting. She was like an older sister to me, and had been since my first day at training camp. She had been the first person to believe in me besides my Arsenal teammates, the first person to really advocate for my future. She was also the first person on the Lionesses team besides Leah to learn about my struggles with anxiety, adhd and depression. She’d been a light in my life, texted me to make sure I was keeping up with my medication, or just to check in.
In the wake of the Euro’s I’d stopped taking my anxiety meds. I took Lorazepam, which worked really well for me, but it also tended to make me really drowsy and fatigued. Things that are not ideal when you are training and playing almost everyday for your country. It had positive effects, I definitely found it a lot easier to train and play my hardest, but there were a lot of negatives. Like how I was feeling right now. Like my heart was going to beat out of my chest, my hands getting clammy with sweat and shaking non stop like I’d just shot up on steroids. The sound of the crowd at Brighton didn’t help either as we walked out onto the pitch. I struggled to get through the national anthem and the pre game pleasantries, my chest and body hurting from the anxiety that was building up inside of my body.
I was grateful but also not to step out on the pitch properly. It felt like I was on a different planet, my senses overly heightened and my brain short circuiting almost everything.
I could feel Leah’s gaze on me as we all lined up to start the game, she worried about me, a lot. I was also her Arsenal teammate and she’d taken me under her wing beyond football, we’d become very close in our time spent together. I ignored her sidewards glances though, tasking myself with showing our nation that I deserved to be where I was and some jitters weren’t going to affect that.
My first half was rocky, normally with the mixture of adrenaline and endorphins my anxiety subsided when I started playing but this time I must have been too far gone, too much pent up anxiety built up for it to just fade away. It reflected in how I was playing, but our forwards had been flawless, slotting in six goals which put us in a lead that was pretty much untouchable. Clambering into the rooms at halftime was a charade. Everyone besides myself seemed ecstatic and hyped about our lead, I was on the inside but I was also wrapped up in my own bubble. I took a seat on the floor of the change rooms, taking in Serena’s speech about keeping our heads and just continuing what we were doing. I allowed Lucy to pass me a drink bottle, obliging her request for me to hydrate myself. She could tell something was up, she’d been hovering around me on the pitch, covering me. When one of the Norwegian girls had taken my feet out from under me she had immediately been at my side, pulling me up and then yelling at the umpire about how it had clearly been a foul if not a yellow. Leah had to pull her away just to ensure Lucy wouldn’t get carded herself, all whilst I stood there absolutely helpless as result of the amount of effort I was having to put into not collapsing from the amount of pain in my chest.
Leah kept it pretty brief after Serena, sticking to what she’d said and putting an emphasis on a few things before we headed back out. She managed to snag a grip on my jersey though as I trailed with the girls at the back of the group.
“Are you okay?” There was a little bit of captain in it, but it was mostly gentle, her voice a little bit rugged from the amount of yelling she’d done on the field.
“I’m fine.” Her facial expression was enough to tell me she didn’t believe a word I was saying.
“I’m telling Serena to sub you off, you clearly don’t look well enough to be playing.”
“I told you I feel fine Cap, I can play out the rest of the 90, please let me play it out.”
Leah looked conflicted, conflicted with what to do and how to react to my plea. I wasn’t one who begged very often, I didn’t see the point in it.
“Fine but y/n, as soon as anything happens out there, you put yourself in danger or someone else in danger you are going off, understood?”
I didn’t have any other option but to nod at Leah.
“Yes, captain.”
My voice had held some sarcasm as I tore her hand from the bottom of my jersey and started jogging back up the tunnel to catch up with girls that I’d previously been chatting to.
The last ten minutes of the second half was when bad transitioned to really not good. My body began to catch up with my over exertion and every second on the field became a battle. It was a blessing that the ball wasn’t really travelling down my end, Less and Toony had both been substituted in and were having a field day in our forward half kicking it back and forth to run the clock down. The Norwegian girls were giving it their best but you could tell they knew it was over. As the minutes passed though and we went into extra time I could feel my body really starting to get heavier, you could blame it on the lack of hydration and the english heat that we were playing in but I knew it was my body betraying me. I’d been denying my body for too long and it was catching up with me. I didn’t even know how many minutes of extra time we had, my vision was slowly blurring, my steps becoming wobbly and the pain in my chest becoming overbearing.
I could hear my opponent, I think it was Maren, or was it Guro? Asking me if I felt alright. I didn’t really comprehend it though, I couldn’t hear anything properly, it felt like I was underwater, my ears ringing out and my vision blacking over as I fell face first into the turf. Maren managed to catch me before I fully face planted into the grass, helping my limp form down to the ground before starting to yell out for help. It was then of course that the whistles blew and the match ended. I could make out the sounds of the crowd going nuts, maybe even my teammates on the sidelines yelling in triumph. I couldn’t open my eyes though and I definitely couldn’t make out the voice of Maren on the ground beside me trying to ask me questions and attract the attention of a medic. It was all mellowed out as my body succumbed to a coma like state that I’d forced myself into.
Leah and Lucy were the first two from my own team to locate me, passed out on the ground with Maren trying to provide as much privacy for me as possible whilst also pressing her hand to my throat to make sure that there wasn’t anything seriously wrong. It was Maren, Guro had been subbed off at the 84’ minute mark. I remembered that because I’d silently been wishing at the time that Serena would do the same, but she’d made her final changes and taking me off apparently hadn't been one of them.
“Y/n, can you open your eyes for me? Or squeeze my hand?”
I could feel Leah’s own hand fall into mine and I squeezed it as best as I could, it was enough for me to tell her that I was conscious enough to make out what she was saying to me.
“Good y/n/n, the medics are about to be here, can you try and open your eyes and talk for me?”
I tried my hardest to crack my eyes open, when I did finally muster up the will to open one of them I was met with the brightness of the stadium lights. I groaned almost immediately, being forced to take in my surroundings. I was surrounded by our trainers, who were draping different towels over my body in an attempt to cool me down and cover me. My cleats had been removed from my feet and someone was soaking my socks in cold water, something that I was not pleased to be awakened by.
“Good sweetheart, stay focused on me yeah, eyes on me.”
My eyes snapped back up to Leah, who was crouched above my head, Serena and Lucy’s heads were beside her own, staring down at me.
“The medics are going to come look at you and you are going to let them, okay?”
I almost immediately shook my head at Leah but she kept her jaw clenched and her stern face up.
“I’m not asking y/n, you just passed out on the field, you need to be assessed.”
I shook my head again and Leah rolled her eyes at me.
“An-n-xiety.”
I could hardly make out my own words in the stadium full of noise and the words themselves made me realise how much I was struggling to regulate my own breaths.
Leah nodded knowingly, suddenly everything seemed to come into perspective for her.
“You stopped taking your medication, didn’t you?”
I gulped and nodded at her, trying to block out all of the distractions that were happening around me. She looked annoyed at me, I cowered a little bit with the glare that she was giving me. After the last time I went on a sabbatical from my medication I swore to Leah I would never do it again.
As the medics crouched down next to me I shut my eyes again, it all becoming too much for my head. I let the medics fuss over me, I blacked out somewhere in between them putting me on a stretcher and getting me off the pitch.
I reawakened with sweat dripping down my body, all of the oxygen depleting from my body and my chest aching like it never had before. I choked a little bit as I sat up from my spot, gasping for air to enter my lungs. It took me a few seconds to recognise where I was, sitting inside the makeshift medical room at Brighton. My head was pounding and my whole body was aching.
“Y/n, look at me, you're having an anxiety attack, deep breaths.”
“Wh-what.” The words came out in a gasp as I struggled to take in any air, looking at Leah for guidance.
“We’re at Brighton, we just played Norway, you had an anxiety episode on the pitch. You’re having an attack right now, I need you to take deep breaths, follow me, in and out.”
I watched Leah as she exaggerated some deep breaths, if it hadn't been for the circumstance I probably would have laughed at her.
As I slowly started to take in more air she tried a different tactic.
“Good y/n/n, your doing so well my good girl. Can you tell me five things you can see?”
It was deflection, something that Leah had picked up on from her therapist.
“Serena, you, the light, Lucy and a drink bottle.”
Leah nodded at me encouragingly, rubbing slowly up my back as she continued.
“Good, you’re doing so well, how about four things you can feel?”
“Your breath, the scratchy blanket, my wet socks and I don’t know.”
My words were still choken as I used up whatever oxygen I was taking in to get the words out.
“That’s okay, that’s good, you are doing so well for me angel, how about three things you can hear?”
I tried to focus fully on Leah, on her words, her rubbing my back, her breath against my neck.
“Serena tapping her shoe, the heart monitor and the music from the changeroom.”
It was faint but if you focused in enough you could just hear the sound of my teammates in the change rooms, getting up to god knows that with the absence of their captain and manager.
“Perfect, you are doing absolutely perfectly. How about two things you can smell?”
“Antiseptic and your perfume.”
“Good, last one, one thing you can taste.”
I could feel my breath and body evening itself out, it felt like I was a piece of linen that was slowly but surely being ironed out, all of the crinkles and creases leaving my body.
“I don’t know.”
“Last one y/n, I know you can do it.”
“Metal, the iron taste from blood.”
Leah nodded at me, plastering a kiss on my forehead. Her words and actions being enough to bring me back down to earth fully. I very slowly took in my surroundings properly, Serena, Lucy and Keira were all sitting at the end of my bed, watching as Leah did her thing. I was hooked up to a few different things, cords and wires poking out of my extremities. A saline drip, heart monitor and another machine that I wasn’t sure the purpose of.
“Hey my girl, you back here with us now?”
I pushed my head into Leah’s chest, trying to hide from the world that I was now a participating member of.
“No hiding, not here,”
I groaned as Leah pushed me out of her chest, annoyed by the loss of contact and the confrontation of having to be put in front of some of the people I respected most.
“You gave us a fright back there, I think you came close to killing Maren.”
I gulped nervously, hanging onto every word that left Serena’s mouth, just bobbing my head in agreement because what else was I supposed to do.
“M’ sorry, didn’t mean to, just wanted to prove that I deserved to be here.”
Serena’s face held a kind of understanding, like she’d seen girls before me who had been the same, willing to die to prove their worth to the dutchwoman who we all regarded so highly.
“You wouldn’t be here in the first place if you didn’t deserve to be. It’s one thing to push yourself but to the point where you black out on the field is another thing. If it ever happens again y/n y/l/n then I can swear to you now that you will be benched, am I understood.” I nodded meekly at Serena,
“Yes ma’am.”
She nodded at me, she’d gotten her point across.
“Leah tells me this happened as a result of you not taking your medication?”
I pushed my head back into Leah’s chest, grunting at her when she pushed me out of it. I couldn’t do much else but nod at Serena.
“I get side effects ma’am, it makes me drowsy and sleepy, I didn’t want it to affect my game.”
Serena was very quick to fire back at me,
“You take medication to ensure that you feel well, there is no shame in that. If you are having a problem with side effects then you are to bring it up with one of our doctors, not boycott your medication entirely. From now on I am going to be responsible for your medication, you will come to me everyday to take it so I can ensure that you are receiving the correct doses so something like this does not occur again, is that understood?”
I gulped and nodded at Serena. She smiled at me knowingly in return.
“You are an elite athlete y/n, it is imperative that you care for your body. Or something like this happens, something with such magnitude that it can’t be overlooked. Your health and wellbeing comes first, always.”
I nodded at Serena once again, allowing her to give me a hug before leaving the room to give us some privacy. As soon as the door closed behind her I shed a few tears, I hated confrontation, it was one of my biggest fears.
“She’s right y’know, this could have been a lot worse, what if you’d put yourself in a really dangerous position because you were in a bad headspace and ended up seriously injured, you can’t just stop taking your medication randomly y/n, it’s not safe.”
Leah’s voice was murmured against my forehead, her lips staying plastered to the oily and cold skin.
“No one else on the team relies on medication to function, I thought I would be fine, I feel so stupid always being the one having to rely on shit to get through the day.”
I could feel Leah rolling her eyes from above me.
“No one else on the team struggles with intense anxiety and depression like you do, we are all different, we all function differently. There is no shame in needing medication y/n/n, Lucy uses an asthma puffer, does that make her stupid?”
I looked over at Lucy, it was different.
“No but it’s different.”
“How?”
Leah’s answer was fired back at me and I struggled slightly to recover from her sudden reply,
“Lucy has a physical problem, mine’s just in my head.”
“What you went through today seemed pretty physical to me.”
I was stumped by that answer, looking across at Kiera and Lucy who nodded along with what Leah was saying.
“You struggle with your mental health, there is no shame in that. You rely on medication. So what? Good for you for listening to your body and acknowledging that you need that to help you make it through the day. Y/n, there is absolutely nothing wrong with using medication to help you. If I felt sick, with the flu, and I needed antibiotics or whatever, would you think that I was weak for using them?”
I shook my head at Leah almost immediately, the question was a no brainer for me,
“Exactly, because I’d be taking the medication needed to keep me well and functioning. All you are doing is the same thing y/n, keeping yourself alive and well.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The Octonauts accidentally found out about Peso and Shellington having panic and anxiety attacks when they found Peso hyperventilating in his room and Shellington crying in the lab
Summary: Oscar joins Lando’s family for his sister’s birthday before they travel to Spa together. Lando’s not dealing with the whole paparazzi incident very well, and needs a few reminders that he has people in his corner.
Rating: T
Word count: 3.2k
Notes: I sent @81-op a prompt about Landoscar arriving at Spa together and then they actually walked into the paddock together, so naturally I had to write it too! 🥰🛩️
This then might have turned into me getting angry about the whole paparazzi thing, especially after seeing Lando’s words about how he felt about it. So, sorry in advance 🧡
Warning for Lando’s anxiety.
Read on AO3 | or read below 👇🏼
~
Lando can’t resist his eldest niece when she begs him to race in the other electronic car that is absolutely only meant for kids her age. She’s lucky it’s not his first rodeo, however, as he manages to squish his limbs in, flashing his cheesiest grin at Osc, who has his phone out beside Sav.
His youngest niece squeals from Flo’s shoulders as she’s twirled around, Siskin filming them all with his camera he’s letting her use for the weekend. Birthday privileges, much to Flo and Oli’s disappointment. (He’ll let them have it at some point so they can get some footage of the birthday girl, but for now it’s more fun to side with his baby sister).
They’re tucked away on a private estate in the Scottish Highlands, secluded and far far away from civilisation so they won’t be disturbed. It means they can actually relax and enjoy themselves, and don’t have to look over their shoulders for the fucking paparazzi. Because that’s a thing now.
“I’m catching you!” she screams.
“You’re gonna beat me!”
“Then Uncle Oscar can give us the trophies while Daddy sprays the lemonade!”
His heart and cheeks warm at the Uncle title, something his niece has been doing for a short while now. She even demanded a hug from Osc in the garage before every session at Silverstone, just like she did with Lando. His partner had been shy about it at first but obviously endeared at the same time.
Lando can only beam and wave at him, standing beside his parents, brother, and sister-in-law.
Like he belongs.
~
That afternoon, he has the golf course all to himself. Osc isn’t a fan, despite the number of times Lando’s tried to get him to play, so his partner is teaching the girls cricket (with sponge balls and plastic bats) for the afternoon while he has the Highland cows for company.
He takes his time, mostly because he can, but also because he’s been craving this peace and quiet for weeks. Some precious hours of solitude to truly ground himself after the overwhelm and panic that has had him in a chokehold.
While, of course, being surrounded by his family, celebrating his baby sister’s birthday, getting to hold Oscar’s hand, kiss him and cuddle him openly was everything he needed, a huge reason to come out here was all the wide open space. No built up cities, no traffic, no crowds. Endless greenery, the protective mountains, miles away from his usual haunts.
In that moment, it’s just him and the golf course, fresh air, and the occasional moo.
He didn’t mean to nap on a bench and get sunburnt. His mind running clear, ears soaking up the bird song, and his face caressed by the gentle breeze. It’s like his body can finally rest. Safe. Nobody to jump out at him, no camera flashes, no unfamiliar cars tailing him back to their country house. Nothing on social media about where he’s spending his time. Where his loved ones are.
Exactly how it should be.
When he returns to his family, Osc greets him with a kiss and a long hug, no words needed. Lando’s grateful that he gets it, even if he does get a soft lecture about using sun cream. Closing his eyes, gentle fingertips brush over his nose and cheeks.
He sits with Siskin, her head on his shoulder, as they watch Osc and Flo play hide and seek with the girls. Oli’s youngest is remarkably good at it and keeps winning, much to her older sister’s adorable frustration. They’re great kids, and he can’t help but smile as Oscar looks so at home with them.
He dotes on his three younger sisters so he’s not at all shocked, and he’s always been good with Flo and Sis. It’s more that Lando’s looking at him hold Athena on his hip while Mila clings to his leg as they try to find their missing auntie, that he’s hit with the clear image of Oscar and his own kids.
Theirs.
Someday.
“Do you think you’ll marry him?” Sis whispers to him.
He nods. “Eventually. Or at least it won’t be public, but I wouldn’t even know how we’d ever keep it quiet. Not with the vultures following us around all the fucking time.”
She interlinks their hands and gives them a squeeze. “Get Max to officiate. You know he’d do anything for you two.”
His throat closes up and he can’t say anything else as they watch Osc and his nieces check the room for the tenth time.
Once Flo is found and they all collapse in a giggling pile on top of Lando and Sis, his nieces babbling about Narnia as Osc cuddles up to him, he can’t help but feel such an explosion of adoration.
He’d give up everything for his family. To keep them safe like this.
~
The bubble has to burst eventually.
Not fully, as Nicole and Hattie are flying into Belgium, but they do have to get back to racing. It’s summer break in two weeks where they can reunite again, but for now, it’s back to reality.
His family are staying in Scotland an extra few days, so after tearful goodbyes, Lando and Oscar are alone on the helicopter back to the airport. They both have their home comforts, needing a few days back at the apartment before they head over to the racetrack on Thursday.
He sits with his back cemented to the seat, hand squeezing Oscar’s within an inch of his life as the helicopter feels far from safe. The door is rattling, vibrating through the cockpit, and he hates these flights on a good fucking day. Osc encourages him to breathe, but he still whimpers every time his stomach swoops with the swift changes of direction.
Back in Monaco several hours later, they make sandwiches and salad to avoid cooking, before Lando’s dragging Osc to bed with him. The hairs on the back of his neck had been standing up since they landed, his chest constricting as he fidgeted in the car, terrified they were being followed.
Monaco wasn’t London, with its strict paparazzi laws, but apparently his anxiety didn’t give a fuck. He buries himself beneath the sheets, pawing at Osc as he tries to soothe him. His mind won’t stop replaying the vivid white flashes from the club, the shivers crawling down his spine once he realised he was being tailed.
He’d debated turning back and crashing at Max’s, but he’d pepped talked himself into continuing because he’d wanted to have a normal night out with his mates. Like your average guy in his mid-twenties tends to fucking do.
“It’s okay, you’re safe, baby,” Oscar’s soft Aussie accent breaks through his spiral. “We’re in our home. We’re in our bed. I’m here with you.”
Lando tries to sync his breathing with his partner’s, concentrates on the gentle hand through his hair, soft fingers across his back. He’s leaking tears all over his chest, but Osc doesn’t seem to mind as he lies there with him, forever his safe place.
As exhaustion overwhelms him, he thinks about their time in Scotland, safe with his family, the love of his life so integrated they might as well be married.
He smiles as he drifts off.
~
They jet pool with George, Jack, and Carlos for the ninety minute flight. He stays cuddled up to Osc while the other two play cards.
Carlos on the other side of the table is listening to his ranting about the paparazzi. His friend and former teammate had been there for him through his first two years in Formula 1, helping him adjust to the scrutiny and exposure that came with his rookie season. Lando’s anxiety had been constant, spiralling and struggling to ignore all of the noise back then.
While he’s gotten much better, that doesn’t mean the levels of privacy invasion he’s experiencing now aren’t affecting him. Sure, being the reigning World Champion was going to level up his exposure around the world, but that shouldn’t mean he can’t enjoy his days off anymore without needing a bodyguard.
“Just fucking sucks all people care about is my fucking dating life.” Oscar squeezes his hand and he takes a breath. “I’m seen with some girls and I must be fucking them! I can’t do anything fucking normal without being followed. Like, I get it, but fucking hell my life cannot be that interesting.”
“They left you alone in Scotland though, yes? Rebe and I were worried about you all once we heard.”
Lando gives him a grateful smile. He’s been staying away from his phone all week so if he had any messages from them, he missed them. “Yeah yeah, family were all good and it was nice. Just going anywhere in London is gonna piss me off now.”
“GPDA will always back you up, you know.”
“Well, I don’t think that is necessary,” Carlos rolls his eyes at George, and Lando agrees with him. “While it is morally wrong of them to do that, I don’t think there is anything we can do.”
“That’s bullshit!” Oscar explodes, and it’s so unexpected that he jumps in his seat. “Harassing him while he’s just trying to enjoy his downtime is bloody disgraceful!”
“Osc, I’m not–”
“–You haven’t stopped being jumpy since it happened.”
Lando sinks into his chair and stares out the window as his partner continues. He knows Osc isn’t angry with him.
“Max asks you to game and you turn him down. You spent more time on your own than with your sister while we were away, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you staying awake at night.”
Okay, damn.
“Maybe this is a conversation for a more private place, no?” Carlos hisses. “You’re upsetting him!”
Lando turns to face him more squarely, reaching up to gently cup his jaw before they can start arguing. “Baby, it’s okay. If it happens again, we’ll sort it then. I can deal with it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” Oscar’s voice is soft and shaky. “And how many journalists today are gonna ask you about it? I just want them to know they can’t keep doing this to you.”
Lando kisses him, his heart thumping in his chest. “Let’s just get through the next two weekends, yeah? I just wanna forget about it.” He rests his head on his shoulder, sending a tired smile at Carlos who’s staring at the both of them.
George asks who wants to play Uno and Lando cannot be more thankful for the distraction.
~
They enter the paddock together, looking like they’ve turned up for two different reasons. It’s not uncommon for them to dress for two different environments, Lando running colder and preferring layers, whereas Osc wears his usual t-shirt and shorts.
They’ve also packed differently. While his partner has managed to fit everything into his backpack, Lando on the other hand, has his backpack plus a holdall with all his shit in. Oscar’s will end up scattered around his room, while he tries to be tidier for the sake of his messy head.
His mum is waiting for him in hospitality, which shocks him because as far as he knew she was supposed to be here tomorrow. Nicole and Hattie are on a brand trip and actually in France for the day with the champagne sponsor.
He dumps his bags in his driver room before melting into her arms.
“Hallo, lieverd,” she says, her Flemish Dutch accent transporting him back to his childhood, and he finds himself on the verge of tears. Next to Oscar, his mum gives the best hugs.
“Hi, Mum,” he sniffs against her neck. She smells like home, and there’s just something about a cuddle from her that grounds him, even when it’s been like two days since he’s seen her.
She cups his face in both of her gentle hands, and he knows she’s taking in every blemish on his face but especially the dark rings around his eyes. “Have you not been sleeping or eating well?”
“Do I look that bad?”
“A mother can always tell, darling. And Cisca might have expressed she didn’t see enough of you at the weekend.”
He groans, stepping away to sit down on the nearest chair. Was this how the rest of the weekend was gonna go with everyone ganging up on him?
“I nearly sent her instead of me,” she continues, “but she thought you’d need me more, bless her heart.”
He sighs. “Fine, I get it. I’ll make more of an effort with her in Croatia.”
“I meant against Nicole, but I’ll make a note of that.”
“Nicole loves me, what are you on about?”
“You’re practically her second son, you think she’s not gonna fuss over you, too? Same as we treat Oscar as our own, darling.” She steps closer to him, a hand stroking though his curls. He closes his eyes. “You have to let people look after you sometimes. You know it doesn’t change how much we love you.”
His eyes are welling up again, breath hitching as he tries to keep himself under control. He has media duties today, he doesn’t need to be crying about everything.
“Oh Lan, come here. Please stop doing this to yourself, lieverd.”
He lets her pull him to his feet and she’s hugging him again, cradling his head and stroking his back as the dam breaks and he’s sobbing against her shirt.
Shit.
But this is his mum. She’s supposed to be here to lessen his burdens, supposed to be his shoulder to cry on when even Oscar can’t help soothe him. He can allow himself this release before he has to put himself back together for his job. He fucking hates crying, but even he knows once he reaches breaking point it’s useless to bottle it up.
It shouldn’t bother him this much, his private life being invaded. Feeling unsafe just fucking driving around London to meet up with his mates. Feeling anxious constantly, unable to settle because his body reacts like it’s in fucking danger. Wanting to be far away from people.
It was always a risk of becoming an F1 driver, let alone a world champion. An unfortunate side effect of being well known. People wanting all of your life gossip and your constant whereabouts, selling it off for clicks and engagement.
He’s twenty-six, he should be allowed to go about his life off the clock and it not be anyone’s fucking business. He shouldn’t have to keep himself trapped in his apartment like a fucking loser.
So yeah, he’ll take a cuddle from his mum.
~
The race is a proper mixed bag.
He qualifies third, but he’s forced to start thirteenth because he’s out of his allocated power unit parts. His car works, but he’s running the alternate strategy and going long, meaning he misses out on all three safety car opportunities. He makes up positions, but then his pit stop takes eight seconds and he loses out on better results.
Once again, he’s done everything he could with the car, and things out of his control completely ruin his performance.
If he’d have actually started third…
If, if, fucking if.
Osc doesn’t have much more luck from what he hears. Damage from an early clash with Charles (who didn’t get punished) meant he wasn’t able to keep with the front, plus a lot of tyre degradation. But he did benefit from the final VSC.
They’re both pretty miserable, so their mums and Hattie drag them out for dinner before they even think about jumping on a jet. Lando doesn’t mind too much, as the Belgian food is delicious, and there’s always a certain nostalgic feeling to it.
Oscar has to squeeze his hand several times when his eyes drift around them, unconsciously searching for cameras. He’d talked to Jon over the weekend about his anxiety and they had a plan in place for it, mostly to make sure he didn’t become a recluse.
Nicole rubs his shoulder. “Ask me about Basil,” she reminds him. Over the weekend when she fussed over him, she told him to ask about their family dog if he needed a good distraction when he was getting anxious. Like a code phrase, truly meaning to just chat shit about anything to keep his paranoia at bay. She’d mostly talk about Australia, or stories about Osc, and he’d listen with rapt attention.
Then there was Hattie, whom he hadn’t seen in McLaren hospitality as she’d been in another one with her brand trip, who treated him like another annoying older brother. Teasing him and making him laugh, stealing bites of his food and then swapping when he got too picky. Despite being the youngest of the three of them, she could hold her own when they tried to switch back on her with the teasing.
And when they say goodbye the following morning, and she sincerely says he can call her anytime without thinking of time zones if he’s ever in trouble, he hugs her close and kisses her head. He’d already thought he was lucky with his side of the family, but Oscar’s are just as fierce and loving.
And if she messages him about marrying her brother as soon as they’re on the jet back to Nice, then that’s between the two of them.
~
This time when they arrive back in the apartment, it’s Osc who drags him straight to the bedroom. He’s not at all complaining as he napped on the jet, so some blissful fun before they actually sleep is enthusiastically on the cards for him. He figures he needs it, too.
Once they cuddle together afterwards, Lando feeling on top of the world, stealing kisses and tracing shapes across his partner’s chest, he’s genuinely smiling for the first time in days.
Everything is familiar, and Oscar’s arms around him are giving him the perfect amount of pressure, and when he yawns, he thinks he might actually sleep through the night.
“I love our family,” he sighs, nuzzling against his favourite chest.
Osc kisses his head, then moves one of his hands to entwine with his own. “Have you ever thought of–” he cuts himself off, swallowing, and Lando can feel his heartbeat pick up beneath him.
“What?” he whispers.
“Making it bigger someday?”
Lando’s up like a shot, hovering over him and searching his face because he’s so sure he’s heard him wrong. “Say that again?” he croaks, thumbing his cheek as he keeps the eye contact.
“Have you ever thought about making our family bigger someday?”
He’s serious.
“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, Osc, oh my God.”
“Say it back. Please.” His eyes are shining and Lando wants to kiss him, so he does.
“I want a bigger family. All of it. Marriage. Kids. With you. That’s not a proposal! Just putting cards on the table.”
Oscar’s giggling, his cheeks a deep pink. “Good.”
Then Lando’s moving, crawling over him to the other side of the bed and reaching for his phone. Osc rolls with him, planting gentle kisses against his shoulder, fingers rubbing against his hip.
“What are you googling now?” he murmurs against his skin.
Lando flops back onto the mattress, breath hitching as Oscar keeps up his ministrations.
