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kissingmilfs · 2 months ago

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⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 | 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

18+ minors please dni ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙content warnings: somno, cnc, scissoring, pervert!sevika

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧

the sheets rustled as sevika groaned herself awake. she awoke in a cold sweat that made every piece of fabric cling on any patch of skin it could find. sevika has never awoken from such a disgustingly, filthy dream. but the longer she’s awake the further the dream slips away from her. the last affects of the sex dream remain though. her clit achingly throbs like a second heart. somehow throughout the night you had rolled into sevika’s chest and tucked your leg between hers.

sevika didn’t necessarily want to wake you for the sole purpose of getting off. but if she rolls her hips right—maybe she can get enough friction to come without rousing you. sevika’s arm secures itself tighter around your back. your breathing remains steady. sevika gradually shifts and rotates her hips until she’s positioned her pussy on the apex of your thigh.

burying her nose in the messiness of your bed hair—sevika takes a deep sniff. you smell like hers. cautiously sevika drags her hips tentatively across your thigh. she holds her breath—not knowing if you’ll wake. but you remain still. such a perfect little doll, sevika thinks. the metallic fingers of sevika’s prosthetic angles your thigh even more against her cunt. the pressure is almost enough. her hips heavily grind down again. no, that’s not it. it felt better dragging herself the length of your thigh. she opts to try that method again.

sevika’s body produces more of a sweat from her attempts to get off. it’s starting to frustrate her. but she needs you. sevika knows she cannot simply roll over and rub one out. her body craves you. sevika feels the beginning of an idea sparking. she carefully rolls you on your back, brushing some hair out of your face. her fingers pause mid stroke when you mumble. but nothing more happens.

humming to herself in contentment, sevika diligently parts your legs wider before kneeling between them. tonight is one of those nights sevika’s fucking grateful you sleep without underwear. she cannot even fathom why she argued over something as banal as this. her mouth waters at the sight of your pussy in the moonlight. blinking away the distraction, sevika wiggled her boxers off her hips. she sits down quickly to tugs them off and toss them somewhere.

sevika returns to her former position kneeled between your spread thighs. her hands soothingly run up the soft skin of your thighs. marveling at how remarkable still you are in your sleep. if sevika’s clit wasn’t so distracting the woman would take the time to get you properly ready. but she’ll have to make do.

shifting on her knees sevika widens them enough where she can easily reach her own cunt. her fingers thickly skim down her folds and she hisses at how sensitive she is. sevika isn’t thrown too off guard with the sheer amount of mess coating her fingers. she felt it when she peeled off her boxers. her fingers shine in the dim light graciously afforded by the moonlight through the sheer curtains. sevika didn’t even really need to prep you. her own wetness would be enough. but she cannot resist. sevika crotches forward. one hand, her metal one, sinks into the mattress while the other slowly drags her soaked fingers up the length of your pussy. she all but trembles with the sinful action. and the only reaction that comes from you is tiny whine. it’s not even enough to convince sevika your sleep conscious mind registered the sensation.

regardless sevika eagerly plunges her own fingers back into her overly sensitive cunt and only pumps them in briefly. she gathers, scoop one might say, a generous amount of her own slick once again. it’s far more than the first time. sevika’s fingers return to your pussy. it takes a few passes through your folds and over your hole for all of sevika’s mess to transfer. your legs only twitched once.

sevika hums her satisfaction. “you’re so perfect, baby.” she utters softly. “and i’m so sorry…but i have to. i need to.”

she positions her body opposite yours. her left leg slotted over your right. sevika’s fingers curl into the sheets as she wills her body to stop fucking trembling. sevika feels desperate. insatiable. her senses have never driven her to such extremes. never once awoken from a dream and sweating out the fever of a lost orgasm. she wishes desperately her fingers would work. but after years owning your heart, body and soul—sevika can never take herself there alone.

and it’s exactly why she’s angled her cunt parallel to yours. sevika knows within minutes of sensually grinding her pussy against yours she’ll be released from this agony. she holds back the groan of approval housed in the depths of her throat. you’re warm and still covered with sevika’s juices. and it seems her few passes made you wet on your own.

“my needy girl…” sevika whispers out as she finally begins moving her hips.

it’s not entirely the easiest orgasm. usually sevika can hold your hand or thigh for leverage. or position your legs wider or higher. but sevika can make do. especially when each brush over her swollen clit against yours sends a heated spark in sevika’s stomach. she can feel herself dripping out and making a mess of you. her hand eventually circles your thigh—bending your leg. and it works. sevika’s strength can easily hold this position. it gives her more breadth and her clit freely glides against yours.

sevika’s body builds up the familiar sensations of her orgasm. her toes curl and uncurl. the muscles in her abdomen almost hurt from coiled tension. then she hears your tiny whimpers. sevika’s ears cannot differentiate if it’s whimpers of pleasure or if you’re slowly waking.

“sev?” sevika for sure knows you’re awake. your voice is faint and whiney and she could almost miss it. sevika cannot fully see your face but she knows you’re sporting that confused pout. the one where your lips are so damn kissable and your eyebrows bunch in light whisper.

her hips don’t come to a full stop. sevika cannot bring herself to. “shh…it’s okay, baby. i’m almost done. i promise. i’m so close.”

your body barely registered sevika’s actions at first. you were waking up from a warm dream. a warm and tingly dream. your body had never felt so relaxed. you called out sevika’s name only because you hadn’t waken in her arms. it is only after sevika coos at you did the realization set in.

“mm..sev…” you whine out again. not in distress but because now you’re inappropriately horny. it is clear your body did not receive any release.

“i know, doll. i know. let me handle it, baby. i’ll make you feel good. i promise.”

#sevika #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #arcane #sevika arcane

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moonlightwritingf1 · 2 months ago

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Shattered Trust | LN4

𐙚 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N discovers that she is pregnant with Lando's child. Instead of confiding in him about the unexpected news, she decides to keep her pregnancy a secret and, overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty about the future, she chooses to have an abortion without telling him. Eventually, Lando learns about her decision.

𐙚 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

𐙚 word count ━━━━━━━ 7.3k

𐙚 warnings ━━━━━━━ pregnancy, abortion, angst

Based on this request.

It was a Friday evening when it happened: Y/N returned to her apartment, coat still damp from the drizzle, her heart racing with a nameless dread that had been building for days. Standing in the glow of the kitchen’s overhead lights, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the black glass of the microwave door. She set down her purse and a small paper bag—an banal bag to anyone else, but to her, it held a possible turning point for her entire life. Inside were two pregnancy tests.

She had worked her usual shift that day, trying in vain to ignore the persistent knot in her stomach and the unfamiliar heaviness in her limbs. Something felt off. She made small talk with colleagues, forced a few polite laughs, and drank coffee like her life depended on it, but nothing helped chase away that apprehension. So, during her short walk home, she had ducked into a pharmacy, heart pounding, and bought the tests. The moment she walked out, she wanted to turn back and return them, to pretend none of this was happening.

But it was.

Steadying herself against the kitchen counter, Y/N drew in slow, shaky breaths. Every mental pep talk she had rehearsed on the way home slipped away like leaves in a storm. Even though she and Lando had been together for two wonderful years—two years filled with laughter, shared secrets, and stolen glances—this was not what she wanted right now. Not what she had planned. She couldn’t be pregnant. Not at this point in her career.

In the small bathroom adjacent to her bedroom, she carefully unwrapped the first test. Her hands trembled. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, illuminating the pale tiles, her own frightened face in the mirror, sweat glistening on her brow.

She took the test, set it on the counter, and hovered over it like it might spark and burn. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped she was overreacting. Perhaps her period was just late. Maybe it was stress. But the truth stared back in a painfully short amount of time: the telltale cross, positive.

It felt as though the world held its breath. She scrambled for the second test, praying the first was a fluke. But the second test told the same story: positive.

“No… oh God, no,” she whispered.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she sank onto the cool tile floor, back pressing against the wall. The tests rolled away from her trembling hands. A wave of panic descended, bringing with it a vivid vision of an entirely different future—her career hopes overshadowed by an unplanned pregnancy. She closed her eyes, tears stinging, her mind a whirlwind of images: Lando’s laughter, Lando’s bright smile, and the way his eyes might light up at the idea of a baby. But in the next moment, her imagination shifted to her own tears, her own sense of being trapped, her career halted or derailed. She couldn’t do it. She felt certain she couldn’t.

That night, she barely moved from the bathroom floor. Eventually, she dragged herself to bed, the pregnancy tests stuffed into the little paper bag. She didn’t sleep; she just stared at the ceiling, numb, thoughts darting in every direction. When she finally drifted off, it was to restless half-dreams—nightmares of crying infants, undone deadlines, and a future she had never planned.

By Saturday morning, Y/N could think of only one way forward. She did not want this pregnancy. She wasn’t ready—not emotionally, not mentally, and certainly not in terms of her career. Lando’s always away, she reasoned. Even though he spent a lot of time in the UK, he still traveled constantly for Formula One, his life under perpetual media scrutiny. She felt certain the responsibility would fall entirely on her, and she wasn’t ready.

So, she decided: she would get an abortion, and she would never tell him. A trembling kind of finality sank into her veins as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror that Saturday. She hoped her reflection might look resolute. Instead, she looked terrified.

She turned on the shower, letting scalding water cascade over her tense shoulders. She practiced what she might say if a coworker or friend asked about her weekend—little lines like I’m fine, just busy with some errands. A lie, but one she felt she had no choice but to tell.

The weekend dragged by in a haze of secrecy. She thought about calling her parents but dismissed the idea almost immediately; she didn’t want them to worry or, worse, to try to dissuade her. By Monday, her resolve had hardened.

During her lunch break at work, she locked herself in an empty conference room, phone in hand, voice shaking as she prayed no one was outside listening.

“Hello, yes, I’d like to book an appointment,” she whispered. The person on the other end asked for details: earliest availability, whether this was her first time. She swallowed hard at that question, her heart hammering as she confessed that yes, this was the first. They offered her a Wednesday slot.

She wrote down the clinic’s address and instructions on a sticky note, then tore the note to pieces in a wave of paranoia. She would memorize it. No evidence. She was certain Lando must never find out.

The rest of Monday passed in a blur. She forced her usual smiles, tried to gather her scattered thoughts in a marketing meeting, but her mind spun in circles around what was to come. By day’s end, she felt wrung out—physically and emotionally.

Wednesday dawned gray and drizzly, the sky mirroring Y/N’s mood. She had taken the day off, feigning sickness. It wasn’t entirely untrue; nausea churned in her stomach, her nerves coiled tighter than springs.

The clinic’s waiting room was smaller than she expected—quiet, almost too quiet. She filled out the forms with trembling hands, avoiding looking at the other women who were also waiting. Each had her own story, her own reasons, her own heartbreak.

When they called her name, she followed a nurse with shaky legs. The procedure itself was a blur of instructions, bright lights, and a suffocating mixture of relief and sudden, sharp sorrow. She told herself she was certain. She reminded herself that this was what she wanted. Still, flickers of doubt gnawed at the edges of her mind.

Afterward, the pain was more intense than she had braced for. Her lower abdomen cramped viciously. A nurse told her to rest, to avoid strenuous activity, and to call if anything seemed amiss. She forced a weak smile, nodding mechanically, all the while wanting nothing more than to disappear into her apartment.

She stumbled home, barely registering how she made it through the front door before collapsing onto her bed. The moment her body hit the mattress, a sharp, searing pain shot through her abdomen, making her curl in on herself instinctively. The cramps tore through her like knives, relentless and punishing, far worse than what the clinic had warned her about. She pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to breathe through the agony that wracked her body, waves of pain rolling over her in cruel succession.

But it wasn’t just the physical pain that consumed her. The emotional weight of it all settled heavily in her chest, raw and suffocating. Not because she regretted her decision—she didn’t. She knew with certainty that this was the right choice for her, for her future. But as she lay there, body trembling from exhaustion, the loneliness crept in like a shadow she couldn’t escape. She had done this alone. She had made this choice alone. And now, she had to suffer through the aftermath alone.

For a fleeting moment, she considered calling her mother, just to hear the soft, familiar voice that had once soothed her through scraped knees and sleepless nights. But she knew she couldn’t. She knew what her mother would say—how the disappointment would lace her tone, how she might try to convince her that she had made a mistake. And then there was Lando. She thought about what he might have done if she had told him. Would he have been angry? Hurt? Would he have begged her to reconsider? Or would he have just held her, wiped her tears away, told her that no matter what, he would be there?

But none of that mattered now. She had made her choice, and she refused to feel ashamed of it. She had been terrified that if she told anyone, they would criticize her, judge her, tell her she had done something wrong. And so she had kept it to herself. This was her burden. No one else could know. No one else should know.

Still, as she curled deeper into the blankets, pain wracking her body, she wished—just for a moment—that someone was there to hold her through it. But there was no one. So she gritted her teeth, wiped her tears, and endured the consequences.

Thursday and Friday, Y/N forced herself to return to work, ignoring the stabbing pains whenever she moved too quickly or twisted in her seat. She ran on frayed nerves and adrenaline, quietly popping painkillers to get through meetings. She told coworkers she had a lingering stomach bug, which explained her fatigue and occasional winces. Thankfully, they seemed to believe her.

All day Friday, she counted the hours until she could crawl under the covers and rest. But fate intervened. Late that afternoon, her phone chimed:

Lando: Hey, love, you busy tonight? I’m in London—surprise! I want to see you. Text me when you’re out of the office. x

Her stomach dropped. A flicker of warmth passed through her, a reminder of the comfort his presence usually brought. Then panic seized her. She didn’t know if she could hide her pain for an entire evening, and she certainly hadn’t expected him.

Still, she forced a casual tone in her reply:

Y/N: Surprise indeed. Sure, come over. We can have dinner in.

He replied with a string of heart emojis and “Can’t wait.” She took a shaky breath, promising herself she would manage.

By the time Y/N let Lando into her apartment, the sun was slipping behind the skyscrapers. He arrived with a casual jacket, jeans, and that familiar, excited glow on his face. In his hands was a plastic container that smelled richly of pesto and parmesan.

“Hey, baby,” he said gently, leaning in to press a warm kiss to her forehead. The instant his arms circled her waist, a twinge of pain shot through her abdomen, making her tense. He noticed.

“You okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice as he pulled back to study her expression.

“Just a bit tired from work,” she answered, forcing a smile. “Long week.”

He nodded but still looked worried. “I brought dinner, so you don’t have to lift a finger. Just relax.” He held up the container. “My mum’s recipe—pasta with creamy pesto sauce. I promised you I’d learn how to make it one day, remember?”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at her heart. “That’s sweet. Thank you, Lando,” she murmured. A surge of guilt lanced through her—he had no idea that she’d had an abortion just two days before.

She led him to the small dining table near the windows. He portioned out the pasta, adding a sprinkle of grated cheese while she poured water into glasses. She tried to appear normal, but each time she shifted in her seat, her body reminded her of reality.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Lando asked partway through the meal, setting his fork down. His concerned gaze roamed over her. “You look… stressed.”

“I’m fine. Really,” she lied, mustering another smile. “Just a lot going on at work.”

He exhaled, reaching across the table to take her hand. She flinched slightly; the brush of his thumb over her skin stirred a rush of conflicting emotions—remorse, sadness, love, and anxiety, all tangled together.

“Hey,” he said softly, “you can tell me anything, you know?”

Her throat tightened. “Of course,” she whispered, dropping her eyes to her plate. She couldn’t… not this. Not now.

They finished dinner in relative silence. When the plates were emptied, she rose to collect them, but Lando stopped her, moving them himself to the sink. “I’ll rinse off,” he insisted. “You go sit on the couch, okay? I’ll join you in a second.”

Relieved to have a moment alone, Y/N slipped onto the sofa, pressing a hand to her aching lower abdomen. She heard the sound of running water in the kitchen, the faint clink of dishes, and let her eyes drift shut.

Moments later, Lando dropped onto the cushion beside her. “Done,” he announced, a small grin lighting his features. He placed a hand on her thigh. “I missed you,” he confessed, voice low. “You’ve been distant. Hardly texted me all week.”

She offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve just been in my own head.”

His brow furrowed. “Right. Just promise me if something’s bothering you, you’ll tell me.” He paused, swallowing. “I love you, you know. I hate seeing you like this.”

His simple words—I love you—nearly undid her. Her eyes stung with tears, and she struggled to keep them at bay. If he only knew.

He noticed her reaction and tried to lighten the mood. “Wanna watch something in bed?” he asked. “Movie night?”

She nodded, her voice tight. “Sure.”

Hours later, having half-watched a comedy on Netflix, they decided to turn in for the night. Y/N, braced by painkillers, made her way to the bathroom first. As she washed her hands, she remembered the pregnancy tests.

A jolt of panic coursed through her. Oh, God. Where are they? She had thrown them in the bathroom trash, but had she fully disposed of them?

She left the sink running, peering into the small bin under the sink. It was mostly empty, just a tiny plastic bag and some balled-up tissues—except for that faint flash of white plastic. Damn it. She grabbed the bin, intending to quickly transfer its contents to a bigger trash bag in the kitchen, but she heard Lando’s footsteps approaching.

“Hey, babe,” he began, stepping into the doorway, “do you have any—?”

She froze, bin in hand, looking guilty. “Uh, nothing, sorry—”

He frowned, spotting the white plastic in the bin she held. In a disastrous stroke of timing, one test fell out, landing on the floor with a soft clink. Instantly, Lando recognized what it was. He bent to pick it up.

“What’s this?” he asked, curiosity turning to shock as he saw the tiny window indicating a plus sign. “Oh… Wait, is this—?”

His eyes snapped to her, excitement and confusion mingling in his expression. “You’re pregnant?” he murmured in disbelief. “Is that why you’ve been so… off all week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing emerged. He looked at her, a hundred emotions warring across his features—hope, wonder, fear. But he seemed happy, above all.

“Are we having a baby?” he asked, voice hushed.

Her mouth went dry. She could only shake her head. “No,” she managed hoarsely. “No, we’re not.”

He glanced at the test again. “But… it’s positive. I don’t understand.”

She swallowed hard. “It was positive,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes.

“It was?” His brow furrowed. “I still don’t—”

She realized there was no escape. The truth would come crashing down on them both. “Lando… I had an abortion,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath. “On Wednesday. It’s gone.”

Silence saturated the small space. Lando’s complexion went ashen, his jaw falling slack. Slowly, he set the test on the counter. His eyes, now shimmering with tears, lifted to her face.

“What?” he rasped, hardly able to form the words. “You were pregnant and… you…” He couldn’t finish. His breaths came in uneven gasps as disbelief gave way to deep, staggering hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her head dipped, shame burning in her cheeks. “I was scared,” she admitted, voice quivering. “I didn’t want it. I was terrified you’d try to force me to keep it.”

“Force you?” he repeated, stepping closer, heartbreak etched on every line of his face. “Why would you think that?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You love kids, Lando. You always say you can’t wait to be a dad. You get that look whenever you see children at the track. And I… I couldn’t do it. Not now. My career is just taking off, and you’re traveling so much. I felt like I had no choice.”

He let out a shaky exhale, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t believe you kept it from me,” he said, voice cracking. “We’ve been together two years. Did I ever make you think I’d force you to do something you didn’t want?”

She sobbed openly, tears glistening on her cheeks. “No… but I was scared. I thought you’d beg me or persuade me otherwise. And I wasn’t strong enough to say no if you did.”

The anger, heartbreak, and confusion on his face were almost tangible. He placed the test on the counter, turning back to her with tears rimming his eyes. “What was right for you…” he echoed bitterly. “So I didn’t even factor in?”

She tried to speak, but words stuck in her throat like stones. Finally, she managed to say, “That’s not fair. It’s my body, and I had to make a choice.”

He shut his eyes, tears spilling onto his cheeks. “Of course it’s your body,” he said, voice shaking. “But we’re together, aren’t we? You didn’t even give me a chance to be there for you, to help or… or just hold your hand.”

She choked out an apology. “I’m so sorry, Lando. I never wanted to hurt you. But I was so afraid of losing everything I’ve worked for. I panicked.”

He sank onto the edge of the bathtub, tears still falling freely. She had never seen him cry like this. “When did you find out?” he asked quietly.

“Last Friday,” she admitted. “I found out alone, here, after work. I called the clinic Monday and got an appointment for Wednesday. I was in so much pain afterward, and… I kept it from everyone. I didn’t want to risk anyone telling you.”

He let out a hollow breath. “Days… you spent days alone, in pain, not telling a soul.”

He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shuddering. Y/N felt her heart break at the sight. Ignoring her own discomfort, she knelt on the tiled floor and rested a trembling hand on his knee.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, voice raw. “I didn’t want to break your heart. I… I just couldn’t handle what a baby would mean right now.”

He lowered his hands, eyes red. “Afraid… were you afraid of me?” he asked, voice thick.

“I was afraid of letting both of us down,” she answered, tears hitching in her chest. “Afraid I couldn’t stand by my decision if you pleaded with me. I know you love me, but I felt cornered.”

He let out a shaky sigh, wiping his tears with frustration. “I thought we trusted each other,” he whispered. “We’re supposed to be a team. And now…” He trailed off, voice cracking. “I can’t explain how much it hurts to know you went through something so huge, so painful, alone.”

Her hand found his, and he didn’t pull away. “I know,” she murmured. “It wasn’t about distrusting you. I just… I didn’t trust myself.”

He inhaled sharply, tears still falling. “I’m sorry you felt that way,” he said brokenly. “But God, it hurts. We could have had a baby. And now… we don’t. And you never even told me.”

A fresh wave of guilt crushed her. She inched closer, wrapping her arms around him. He froze for a moment, then sagged into her embrace, the two of them sobbing against each other. The heartbreak was palpable, a heavy weight neither knew how to handle.

Eventually, they pulled away from one another, both of their faces streaked with tears and their eyes red from crying. Lando stood first, then gently helped Y/N to her feet. His voice was rough with emotion as he said, “Come on. You need to rest. We can’t just… stay on this bathroom floor all night.”

She nodded mutely, allowing him to guide her into the bedroom. He arranged the pillows so that she could sit back comfortably, then frowned at the harsh glow of the overhead lamp. With a few quick steps, he switched on the softer bedside light instead, filling the room with a gentler warmth.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Y/N could sense the storm of emotions roiling behind Lando’s eyes: hurt, anger, sorrow. Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice still trembling. “When exactly… did you do it?”

Her breath hitched. “Wednesday,” she confessed. “I pretended to be sick at work and went in the morning. I was home by noon, just… in pain.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, eyes shutting as anguish pinched his features. “You came back… alone?” he echoed quietly. “No one knew? No one drove you?”

She shook her head, shame creeping over her. “I took a cab. I told no one,” she whispered.

Lando grimaced, running a hand over his face in an attempt to steady his breathing. “God,” he muttered, voice raw, “the thought of you going through that all alone—” His voice cracked, and he let out a shuddering exhale. “I would have been there for you. Even if I disagreed, even if we argued… I would have been there, if you’d just told me.”

Tears slid down Y/N’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Truly. I wish I could change it.”

He inhaled sharply, still fighting the turmoil in his chest. “I’m devastated,” he admitted, meeting her gaze. “Not because you chose to have an abortion—I get that it’s your body, your choice. What kills me is knowing you went through all that alone, and worse, that you thought so little of me that you believed I’d try to force you to keep the baby. That you hid this from me… It hurts more than anything.”

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she reached for his hand. “I was terrified,” she said brokenly. “I was worried about how it might affect your career, mine… everything. I thought if you knew, you’d beg me to keep it, and I wouldn’t be strong enough to say no. I never wanted to lose you or disappoint you.”

“F1 is huge,” Lando acknowledged softly, tears escaping down his cheeks. “But it’s not bigger than you—or the family I hope we can have someday. But only when you’re ready.” His voice trembled as he continued. “I’ve pictured marrying you, Y/N. I’ve thought about us having kids… not now, but eventually. I never—” He broke off, swallowing hard. “I never wanted you to think you couldn’t come to me. I never wanted you to go through something like this alone.”

A trembling breath escaped her. She blinked, her vision blurring with tears. “I didn’t know,” she admitted, voice cracking.

Silence settled over them as each grappled with the weight of their mutual insecurities. At last, Lando reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek. “We both messed up,” he said thickly. “But please… don’t hide something like this from me again. I would have supported you, no matter your decision. I would have carried you out of that clinic myself if that’s what you needed.”

“I won’t,” she promised, tears spilling anew. Her voice wobbled as she added, “I’m so sorry I misjudged you.”

He leaned in, pulling her carefully into his arms. Even in his own pain, he was gentle, cradling the back of her head. She felt his heartbreak in every shaky breath, but she also felt his unwavering love.

“I’m so angry and sad,” he murmured into her hair. “But I love you. I can’t just leave you over this. I just… need time to process it.”

She pressed her face to his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt. “If you need space,” she began, voice muffled, “I understand.”

Lando shook his head, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “I don’t want space. I just want to figure out how to move forward.” He pulled back enough to meet her gaze. “Are you still in pain?”

“A bit,” she admitted, wiping her cheeks. “Cramping.”

His face twisted with concern. “Let me get you something—a hot water bottle, painkillers?”

She offered him a watery smile. “A hot water bottle would help, yeah.”

He stood up, quickly returning with the hot water bottle and placing it gently over her lower abdomen. Then he climbed onto the bed beside her. She nestled against him, tears falling quietly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice catching in his throat. “Even after all of this, even though I’m hurting. I don’t want to lose you.”

She looked up, eyes swimming with guilt and relief. “I love you too,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I broke your heart. If I could redo it… I’d tell you right away. But I still wouldn’t have kept the pregnancy,” she added, her voice trembling with a fresh wave of emotion. “I’m sorry that hurts you.”

His breath shuddered. “It does,” he admitted, “but I’d never want you forced into something you don’t want. I just wish I’d known. I wish you’d trusted me enough to let me be there for you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, the regret so palpable she could barely speak. “Me too,” she whispered, taking his hand and squeezing it.

A lingering pause enveloped them. At last, Lando spoke, his voice quiet. “Do you still see a future for us? Maybe a family one day, when we’re both really ready for it?”

He looked at her with fragile hope, grief etched in every line of his face. Y/N felt her own tears threaten again. “I do,” she murmured. “Just… not right now.”

His shoulders slackened, a relieved breath escaping him. “Okay,” he said, voice unsteady. “That means a lot.”

They sat there, the bedside lamp casting a warm glow around them, an island of soft light in a sea of darkness. Eventually, she rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She wondered if they could ever get back the easy laughter and carefree moments they once knew. But for now, she focused on the steady thump beneath her cheek—the sound of him staying, of him loving her through the pain.

And despite the sorrow, it was a comfort she clung to with all her heart.

Sleep was fitful for them both. The weight of everything that had been said, everything that had been revealed, settled over them like an unshakable fog. Around three in the morning, Y/N woke from a restless doze, her abdomen throbbing, cheeks still damp with tears. Lando’s arms were around her, holding her close even in sleep, though his grip occasionally tightened as if, even subconsciously, he was afraid of losing her.

She shifted slightly, wincing as another wave of pain rolled through her. The physical ache was still overwhelming, a sharp reminder of what her body had been through. But the emotional turmoil lingered too—the knowledge that she had believed, deep down, that Lando would have forced her to keep the baby if he had known.

As if sensing her discomfort, he stirred, blinking blearily before his gaze immediately found hers. He brushed a thumb across her damp cheek, voice still thick with sleep. “You okay?”

“It still hurts,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “All of it.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, the gesture so heartbreakingly tender that it made her chest tighten. “I know,” he murmured. “I hate that you’re in pain. I hate that you thought you had to go through this alone. But I’m here. Let’s hold on to each other tonight.”

She nestled closer to him, craving the warmth of his presence, even as her heart ached with the realization that this—this moment of fragile vulnerability—was what she had feared. That he would love her despite it all. That he wouldn’t abandon her, no matter what.

His scent—soap, faint cologne, something unmistakably him—brought back memories of better days. Lazy weekends tangled up in his sheets. Impromptu dates that always ended in laughter. The way he would tease her, endlessly, just to see her roll her eyes and fight back with that fire he adored.

She clung to those memories, hoping they could anchor her through the storm still raging inside her.

They drifted in and out of sleep until the early light crept around the blinds. Y/N stirred, blinking up at the ceiling, only to realize Lando was already awake, watching her. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between sorrow and quiet determination.

She turned her face away, self-conscious, but he gently pulled her back, fingertips brushing her chin. “Hey,” he said softly, eyes searching hers. “I’ve got you.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m scared,” she confessed. “Scared you won’t look at me the same.”

Lando exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if the thought physically hurt him. When he opened them again, they were glassy with emotion. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he pulled her even closer, his lips pressing to her forehead in a lingering, silent reassurance.

“I won’t lie,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “This changes things.”

Her breath hitched.

Not because she regretted what she had done—but because of how deeply she had misjudged him. Because she had truly believed he wouldn’t stand by her. Because she had been so convinced she was alone.

Lando pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his fingers threading through hers. “But not in the way you think,” he continued. “Not because of what you did. Not because you had an abortion.” His thumb brushed soothing circles over the back of her hand. “It changes things because now I know how much you believed I’d try to control you. That you thought I’d take away your choice.”

Tears burned at the edges of her eyes again.

He shook his head, jaw tightening. “That kills me, Y/N. But I need you to hear me when I say this—I will always support you. No matter what.”

She let out a trembling breath, the weight of his words settling into her bones.

“Together?” she whispered, clinging to that word like a lifeline.

His grip on her hand tightened. “Together,” he promised. And this time, she believed him.

That morning, Lando insisted on taking care of her. He moved cautiously, helping her to the bathroom, making sure she took her painkillers, and bringing her a warm drink. She managed a few bites of toast, and he hovered protectively until she was done.

They ended up on the couch, the morning sun spilling through the windows to illuminate the living room. The hum of traffic emphasised the tense quiet between them. Finally, Lando broke the silence, voice tentative.

“Do you think… we should talk to someone about this?” he asked. “A counselor or therapist, maybe. It feels like something too big to handle alone.”

She fiddled with the edge of a throw pillow. She had never considered counseling before, but the weight of her guilt, his grief, and their mutual pain felt overwhelming. “Maybe,” she agreed softly. “If you’re willing, we could look into it.”

He gave a small, sad smile. “I think it could help,” he said. Then he slid closer and took her hand in his. “I’m still so hurt,” he added, eyes fixed on the carpet. “I can’t pretend I’m not. But we can’t go back in time, and if we just shut down now, we’ll lose each other.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she smiled shakily at him. “I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “I love you so much.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then gently guided her head to rest on his shoulder. They sat like that, taking halting steps toward mending the rift. The grief lingered—a heavy companion in the room—but beneath it, there was love, fragile but steadfast.

Hours crept by in slow motion. Lando stayed nearby, drawing a bath for her, massaging her back when the cramps worsened, handing her tissues whenever tears struck without warning. She apologized again and again; he told her that he forgave her, but also that trust would take time to rebuild.

Occasionally, she caught him gazing at her with tears in his eyes, heartbreak flashing across his features at the thought of the baby he would never meet. Guilt nibbled at her each time, knowing she had kept him in the dark. And yet, he never lashed out in anger. He was gentle, if deeply wounded—proof of how deeply he cared for her. It humbled her and made her chest ache all at once.

By the time night fell again, Y/N was curled on the couch under a blanket, eyes hollow from crying. Lando had stepped away to the bathroom; when he returned, he settled next to her, exhaustion etched on his face.

“Remember when we used to talk about the future?” he asked quietly, eyes distant. “About traveling more, maybe living somewhere else, getting away from the city for a bit?”

She nodded, recalling those late-night talks and the sense of possibility they used to share—how different everything seemed now.

“I still want those things,” he said, turning toward her. “And I want them with you. But I need you to come to me with things—even if you think it’ll upset me or disappoint me.” A tremor of emotion caught in his throat. “I can’t handle being shut out again.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I promise,” she said, voice unsteady. “I promise I won’t ever hide something like this from you again.”

He studied her face for a moment, then nodded, a flicker of relief showing. “Good,” he whispered, slipping an arm around her waist.

She let her head rest on his shoulder, fresh tears slipping onto his shirt. This time, the crying felt like a release rather than a collapse. He stroked gentle circles on her back.

They stared out the window at the glow of the skyline. The silence between them was heavy but not hostile—more like two people trying to piece themselves back together after a storm.

A few minutes passed in silence, the soft hum of traffic below filling the quiet. Then, Y/N cleared her throat, turning to look at Lando with fresh tears gathering.

“I know I keep apologizing,” she began, voice trembling, “but I need you to know something important.”

He watched her intently, his own eyes rimmed with red. “What is it?” he asked softly.

She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t regret having the abortion,” she said, her voice steady for the first time since this began. “I truly believe it was the right decision for me… for us… for now. And I’m so sorry if that hurts to hear.”

His face flickered with pain, but he gave a small shake of his head. “It doesn’t hurt to hear it,” he said, pressing his lips together. “I promise. I’m not… I’m not upset about the decision itself. I know it’s your body, your choice.”

The relief in her eyes was immediate, though guilt still lingered. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed to say that out loud.” Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. “But I’m devastated that I didn’t tell you as soon as I found out. The moment I took that test, I should have… I should have told you. I just—” She paused, swallowing hard. “I was so scared.”

He nodded, his grip on her fingers tightening briefly. “That’s what hurts the most,” he admitted, voice thick. “Not that you ended the pregnancy. But that you believed I’d try to make you keep it.” He exhaled shakily, the corners of his eyes glistening again. “It feels like you thought I’d trap you or force you. That you trusted me so little.”

Hearing the crack in his voice, Y/N felt fresh tears surge. “I didn’t want to think of you that way,” she whispered, “but I… let my fear win. I convinced myself that you’d beg me to keep it, and I wouldn’t be able to stand firm.” She shifted closer, her free hand moving to rest gently on his forearm. “Seeing you like this, knowing how much I hurt you by not telling you—” She broke off, choking on a sob. “I’m sorry, Lando. I’m so, so sorry.”

He swallowed, blinking against his own tears. “I’m hurt because it’s us. We’ve been together for two years, and I thought… I thought you knew me better than that. I would never have wanted to force you into anything, and I would have respected your decision from the start.” His voice wavered. “I would have been there in that clinic, waiting, holding your hand, driving you home. All of it. If only you’d told me.”

That last sentence sent a wave of guilt crashing over her. She leaned in, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as she cried silently. His arm came around her, holding her close.

When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were red, but there was a fierceness in her gaze. “I know,” she said, voice raw. “And I hate myself for letting fear overshadow everything else. For making you feel like I didn’t trust you.”

Lando eased back against the cushions, tugging her gently with him so that she rested against his side. “I understand why you were scared,” he murmured, staring at the city lights through the glass windows. “But it doesn’t make the hurt vanish. It’s going to take time.”

She nodded, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m prepared for that. I’ll do whatever it takes. I just want you to know I’m not… I’m not sitting here wishing I could go back and keep the pregnancy. I’m wishing I could go back and trust you enough to tell you from the start.”

His gaze slid toward her, sad and searching. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I need to hear that.”

She exhaled unsteadily, dropping her head against his shoulder. “You’re so hurt,” she murmured. “And every time I see it in your eyes… It breaks me. Because I’m the one who caused it.”

He pressed a tentative kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll heal,” he said. “We both will. But you have to promise me, from now on, you’ll come to me. Even if you think I’ll be angry, or disappointed, or anything else. Just… don’t shut me out.”

Her voice cracked when she answered, “I won’t. I swear. I’ve learned my lesson the hardest way possible.”

They stayed like that for several beats of silence, the city’s ambient glow lending a soft halo around them through the windows. After a while, Y/N shifted to look at him directly.

“Do you want anything?” she asked quietly. “Tea? Water? Another blanket?”

He half-smiled, a worn expression. “I think I could use some water, yeah.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before standing. Her steps were ginger; she was still sore, but the pain was easier to bear now that the guilt wasn’t crushing her every breath. In the kitchen, she filled a glass with water. She grabbed one for herself as well.

When she returned, Lando accepted it gratefully, taking a few careful sips. She settled back beside him, drawing a throw blanket over both of their laps.

“I promise,” she said suddenly, “I’ll never lie to you like this again, never keep something so big a secret.” Her voice trembled, but her eyes shone with conviction. “I know it won’t erase what I’ve done, but I need you to know that.”

He nodded, setting his half-finished glass on the coffee table. “I believe you,” he said, “but it’ll take time for that trust to feel… complete again.” He glanced at her worriedly, as though fearing his honesty might wound her further. “Are you okay hearing that?”

She swallowed, tears threatening once more. “Yes,” she said, forcing herself not to look away. “It’s what I deserve. I hurt you, and I can’t expect that to vanish overnight.” She paused, taking a ragged breath. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to show you I do trust you… that you are the most important person in my life.”

He gave a short, pained laugh. “Funny how we both felt we were doing what was best for each other—me wanting to be supportive no matter what, you wanting to protect my career and your own.” He shook his head. “But we ended up hurting each other more.”

She rested a hand against his cheek, wiping away the tears on his lashes with her thumb. “I’m done letting fear guide me,” she said. “I want us to heal, Lando.”

Silence fell again, broken only by the quiet city hum and their unsteady breathing. Finally, Lando sighed, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. “Let’s talk about something—anything else—just for a minute,” he suggested, voice still laced with sadness but carrying a faint glimmer of hope. “Not to pretend this didn’t happen, but… I feel like I can’t breathe if we keep circling the same pain.”

She nodded, understanding. “Okay.”

They sat there for a moment, and she found herself hesitating. Then she mustered a small smile. “I had an idea for a holiday, before all this. Nothing extravagant—maybe just a road trip through the English countryside, or a quick hop somewhere in Europe for a weekend. To get away from the city stress.”

His expression softened. “I remember you mentioning wanting to see the Lake District again.”

She nodded, shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Yeah. Maybe we could go there. It’s calm… quiet. Might give us space to just be.”

He reached for her hand again, a gentler hold this time. “That actually sounds… perfect,” he admitted. “No pressure, no big crowds. Just us.”

They exchanged a tentative smile, the first real glimmer of something lighter passing between them since the revelation.

After a pause, Y/N brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For listening. For not walking away. For understanding that… I don’t regret the abortion. Only how I handled it with you.”

Lando studied her face for a moment, then lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss there. “I love you,” he said, his voice still heavy with emotion. “I wish this had never happened the way it did, but I’m still here. And I still want you… just you.”

She blinked back fresh tears, nodding. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you. You’re the only person I’ve ever truly loved, and I hate that I made you doubt it.”

He squeezed her hand. “We’ll work through it,” he said quietly. “One day at a time. As long as we’re both honest from now on.”

She breathed out, her shoulders slumping in a mixture of exhaustion and relief. “Yes,” she agreed, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. “One day at a time.”

Outside the apartment windows, the city moved on as always—lights pulsing, cars streaming, life going on. But for the two of them, everything felt changed. They hadn’t escaped the storm entirely, but they had survived its fiercest gusts.

Wrapped in each other’s arms on that couch, they found a fragile peace—not because they had forgotten the pain, but because they had acknowledged it, felt it fully, and decided to keep moving forward together.

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