ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ/ʙᴏᴅʏ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ

ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ

ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘᴏɪɴᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ

ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛ

ᴍɪʟᴅ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

(Y/n) stood in front of the bathroom mirror, one hand supporting her lower back, the other resting on the gentle swell beneath her shirt. It wasn’t dramatic, not yet, but it was no longer subtle either. The days of disguising it with oversized jumpers or artfully draped scarves were over.

She turned slightly to the side, frowning as she studied herself. Her body felt foreign, like it was writing its own script without waiting for her to catch up. There was a new weight to her steps, a tenderness in her hips, and every now and then, a tug in her abdomen that reminded her everything was changing, even the shape of her own silence.

Lando walked in without knocking, stopping when he saw her. “You’re really starting to show.”

She gave a dry laugh. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean… it suits you.” He stepped behind her, placing his hands lightly on her waist, then moving around until one rested gently on her belly. “You’re beautiful.”

She didn’t answer at first. Just let his hand linger. It was the most stable thing in the room.

“I feel huge,” she mumbled.

“You’re growing two people. That’s badass.”

She gave him a sideways look. “You’re not the one who cried last night because we were out of the ice cubes shaped like stars.”

“I offered to go out and find more,” he said, grinning.

“And you came back with frozen peas.”

“They were star-adjacent.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned into him. The truth was, it was getting harder to stay emotionally level. The hormones twisted everything, turned little things into tidal waves. Lando tried, but sometimes even his gentle optimism felt like too much to carry. Sometimes she just wanted someone to sit next to her and say: yes, it’s overwhelming. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s terrifying.

“Have you told your parents yet?” she asked quietly, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Lando hesitated. “No.”

She pulled back a little, eyes narrowing. “Why not?”

“Because… I didn’t want to tell them over the phone. And I haven’t had time to fly to the UK. And also…” He trailed off.

She waited.

“I’m scared,” he finally admitted.

The words hung between them. Raw and real.

“Scared they’ll be disappointed?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. Scared they’ll think I’m not ready for this. That they’ll look at me like I’ve ruined my life. Or like I won’t know what to do. And maybe they’d be right.”

She nodded, slowly. “That makes two of us.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. “I always thought I’d have more time. To prepare. To get older. To… figure myself out.”

She joined him, resting a hand on his arm. “You’re doing okay.”

He gave her a look. “You slapped me the first time we met.”

She smiled faintly. “And now you’re going to be the father of my children.”

A beat passed.

“Plural,” he said.

She raised a brow. “Twins, remember?”

He groaned and flopped back on the mattress. “Don’t remind me. I’m still processing one.”

She lay down beside him, the ceiling above them a blank canvas of everything they hadn’t yet figured out.

“Do you want to know something weird?” she asked after a moment.

He turned his head. “Always.”

She hesitated, then lightly pressed her palm to her belly. “I think I felt them earlier. Not kicks, not yet. But this fluttery thing. Like bubbles. Or a brush from the inside.”

He blinked. “Seriously?”

She nodded, smiling faintly. “It only lasted a few seconds. I was drinking tea and just… felt it. I almost thought I imagined it. But it’s happened twice now.”

Lando shifted closer, propping himself up on one elbow. “Can I feel it?”

She gently took his hand and placed it over the center of her stomach. “You won’t be able to feel anything yet. Not from the outside. It’s too early. A few more weeks, maybe.”

He kept his hand there anyway. “Still. I want them to know I’m here.”

(Y/n)’s breath caught slightly. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him—sarcasm, nerves, maybe even a light joke to break the heaviness of everything. But instead, he stayed quiet. Reverent.

“I want to know every little part of this,” he said softly. “Even if it’s just you feeling something weird while sipping tea. Don’t keep me out.”

“I won’t.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “And when they start kicking for real—like football-level chaos—I’ll be ready.”

“You’ll probably regret saying that.”

“I doubt it.”

She looked at him, eyes tracing the growing tenderness that had settled in his voice, the change that had started quietly but steadily taking root. He wasn’t perfect, he was still panicking some days, still shutting off his phone when it buzzed too much. But he was here. And that was starting to mean something.

They lay like that a little longer, his hand still resting where life was quietly, slowly, beginning to make itself known.

To be continued... 🧡

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 22: ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʟᴀʀᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ 🧡

📝 Note from the Author: This chapter is soft. A little scared. A little scattered. Kind of like real life.

There’s no press conference here. No race cars or scandalous headlines. Just two people figuring out what it means to hold something bigger than themselves, and choosing to stay.

If this one made your heart ache a little (in a good way), drop a 🍼 or 🌙 in the comments. I’ll be right there with you.

Also… this is the last post for today, Alarwynnites 🧡 Thank you for being here, especially in the quiet chapters, where the real love settles in.

Don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow for more stories in the future. The best (and the messiest) is still to come.