#Childcare Assignment Help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nursingassignmentshelp · 9 months ago

Text

Nursing Assignment Help Writing Service: A Lifeline for Nursing Students

Nursing students face rigorous academic challenges, from attending clinicals to managing complex assignments. In this intense environment, many students struggle to keep up with their academic requirements, and that’s where nursing assignment help writing services come into play. These services offer a valuable lifeline, helping students manage their coursework, meet deadlines, and ultimately, succeed in their nursing programs.

Introduction

The nursing profession is one of the most respected yet demanding fields. Students pursuing nursing degrees are required to master a wide range of theoretical knowledge and practical skills, from anatomy to patient care techniques. This journey is tough enough on its own, but when you add in the numerous assignments, essays, case studies, and research projects that students must complete, it becomes even more overwhelming.

Nursing assignments play a crucial role in a student’s academic journey. They test not only their knowledge but also their ability to think critically, apply concepts to real-world scenarios, and communicate effectively. However, juggling clinical practice, exams, and assignments can lead to immense stress. Fortunately, nursing assignment help writing services can ease this burden.

Why Nursing Assignments Are Challenging

Complexity of Nursing Concepts

Nursing is a multifaceted field that combines science, technology, and human compassion. Students are required to understand difficult concepts such as pharmacology, physiology, and healthcare ethics. Many nursing assignments require in-depth research and a solid grasp of these challenging topics, which can be overwhelming, especially for new students.

Time Management Issues

Time management is a critical skill in nursing education. Between attending lectures, participating in clinical placements, and studying for exams, students often find it hard to dedicate enough time to complete their assignments. Writing high-quality nursing papers can take hours of research and drafting, time that students may not always have.

Balancing Clinical and Academic Responsibilities

Nursing students have to split their time between hands-on clinical training and academic learning. This balancing act can be exhausting. Clinical duties often demand long hours and physical stamina, leaving little energy to focus on assignments. This is where the need for professional assignment help becomes evident.

The Growing Demand for Nursing Assignment Help

Pressure of Academic Excellence

Nursing programs are competitive, and students are constantly pressured to achieve top grades to secure their future in the field. This pressure can lead to burnout and stress. As a result, many students turn to nursing assignment writing services for the extra support they need to maintain high academic standards.

Increasing Workload and Stress

The workload in nursing schools is notoriously heavy. Between multiple assignments, clinical duties, and personal commitments, students often feel overwhelmed. The ability to outsource their assignments can significantly reduce stress levels and give them the breathing room they need.

Language Barriers for International Students

International nursing students often face language challenges, which can hinder their ability to produce well-written academic papers. For these students, professional assignment services provide not only writing assistance but also language support, ensuring that their ideas are communicated clearly and professionally.

What Is a Nursing Assignment Help Writing Service?

Definition and Explanation

A nursing assignment help writing service is a professional service designed to assist students in completing their nursing-related assignments. These services provide students with access to expert writers who are knowledgeable in nursing and healthcare. Whether it's an essay, research paper, case study, or reflective journal, these services offer comprehensive writing support.

Types of Assistance Available

These services cater to a wide range of academic needs, including:

Essays

Case studies

Research papers

Literature reviews

Clinical reports

Each assignment type has its own set of requirements, and professional services are equipped to handle them all, ensuring that the final product meets academic standards.

Key Features of Professional Nursing Assignment Services

Expert Writers with Nursing Backgrounds

The best nursing assignment services employ writers who have a background in nursing or healthcare. This ensures that the writer understands the complex terminology, concepts, and standards of the field, producing work that is accurate and relevant.

Customized and Plagiarism-Free Work

Professional services guarantee that every assignment is tailored to the student’s specific requirements. They also provide plagiarism-free content, which is essential for maintaining academic integrity.

Timely Delivery and Deadline Management

Nursing students often have tight deadlines, and reliable assignment help services pride themselves on delivering quality work on time. This allows students to review the work before submission and request revisions if needed.

24/7 Support and Confidentiality

Many services offer round-the-clock customer support, allowing students to place orders or ask questions at any time. Additionally, confidentiality is a priority, ensuring that the student's personal and academic information remains private.

Benefits of Using a Nursing Assignment Help Service

High-Quality Work by Experts

When students seek professional help, they can expect assignments that meet high academic standards. The writers are experienced, know how to approach the topics, and provide well-researched, articulate work.

Stress Reduction and Time Savings

One of the primary benefits is stress relief. With a service handling the assignment, students can focus on other important tasks, such as preparing for exams or gaining clinical experience.

Improved Grades and Academic Performance

Using professional services often leads to improved academic performance. Well-written assignments not only fetch better grades but also provide learning resources that students can refer to for future studies.

Assistance with Understanding Complex Topics

For students struggling to understand certain nursing topics, assignment services can be a valuable educational tool. Many services provide explanations and resources to help students better grasp difficult concepts.

How to Choose the Best Nursing Assignment Writing Service

Check Writer Qualifications and Expertise

It’s crucial to select a service that employs qualified writers with nursing or healthcare backgrounds. This ensures that the work is accurate and up to the mark.

Look for Reviews and Testimonials

Before committing to a service, check for online reviews and testimonials from past clients. These provide insights into the quality of the service and customer satisfaction.

Assess Customer Support Quality

Good customer service is a sign of a reliable writing service. Ensure that the service offers responsive and helpful customer support that is available 24/7.

Ensure Confidentiality and Data Security

The privacy of your personal and academic information should be a top priority. Always choose a service that guarantees confidentiality and has a solid data protection policy.

Common Nursing Assignment Types and How Services Help

Case Studies

Nursing students are often required to complete case studies that demonstrate their understanding of patient care. Assignment help services can guide students through the complex process of analyzing cases and writing reports.

Reflective Essays

Reflective essays require students to introspect and write about their clinical experiences. Professional writers help students articulate their thoughts and align them with academic standards.

Research Papers

Research papers are a key part of nursing education. Assignment help services assist with everything from selecting a topic to conducting research and formatting the final document.

Literature Reviews

For literature reviews, students need to analyze and summarize existing research on a specific topic. Professional services help students navigate the research process and present their findings coherently.

Clinical Practice Reports

Clinical practice reports are detailed accounts of a student’s experiences in clinical settings. These reports must be accurate and reflective of the student’s learning outcomes, a task that professional writers are well-equipped to handle.

Steps to Using a Nursing Assignment Help Writing Service

Sign-Up Process

The first step is to create an account on the service's website. This usually involves providing basic information such as name, email, and academic level.

Placing an Order

Once registered, students can place an order by providing details about the assignment, including the topic, word count, and deadline. Many services also allow students to upload any specific instructions or guidelines.

Collaboration with Writers

Most services allow students to communicate directly with their assigned writer. This collaboration ensures that the assignment is customized according to the student’s needs.

Review and Revision Process

Once the assignment is complete, students can review the work and request revisions if necessary. Most services offer free revisions to ensure complete satisfaction.

Ethical Considerations for Using Assignment Help Services

Is It Legal?

Yes, using an assignment writing service is legal. However, students must use these services responsibly and ensure that the work is used as a reference or guide.

The Fine Line Between Help and Cheating

There’s a fine line between getting help and outright cheating. It’s important for students to use the services ethically, making sure they understand and learn from the work provided.

Academic Integrity and the Role of Assistance

Academic integrity should always be maintained. Using assignment help services can be a valuable learning tool as long as students use the provided work to enhance their own understanding and skills.

Case Study: How Nursing Assignment Services Help Students Succeed

Real-World Example of a Student Overcoming Challenges

Consider the case of a nursing student struggling with multiple deadlines. After using a professional writing service, the student was able to submit assignments on time, reduce stress, and improve grades, all while focusing more on clinical work.

The Positive Impact on Stress Levels and Grades

By alleviating the pressure of assignments, nursing students can focus on learning and clinical practice, leading to better performance both academically and in practical settings.

The Future of Nursing Assignment Help Writing Services

Growth of the Industry

With increasing academic pressures and the need for high-quality assignments, the demand for nursing assignment help services is expected to grow. The industry is becoming more competitive, with services offering better features and more affordable pricing.

The Role of AI and Technology in Assignment Writing

Artificial intelligence and advanced technologies are likely to play a bigger role in nursing assignment help services. From AI-assisted research tools to automated formatting, technology will streamline the writing process and improve service quality.

Tips for Students to Improve Their Own Writing Skills

Time Management Techniques

Good time management is key to improving academic performance. Students should prioritize their assignments, break tasks into manageable chunks, and avoid procrastination.

Study Resources for Nursing

Using study resources like textbooks, online tutorials, and academic journals can help students stay on top of their nursing knowledge, making assignments easier to handle.

Writing and Research Skills Development

Improving writing and research skills takes practice. Students should read widely, take notes, and draft multiple versions of their assignments to hone their abilities.

Conclusion

Nursing assignment help writing services provide a valuable solution for students facing overwhelming workloads, tight deadlines, and challenging topics. These services offer professional guidance, high-quality work, and the support students need to succeed in their academic journey. However, it’s important for students to use these services ethically, ensuring they contribute to their learning rather than replacing it. With the right balance, nursing students can achieve academic success while managing the many demands of their education.

FAQs

Is using a nursing assignment help service ethical?

Yes, it is ethical as long as the service is used responsibly for guidance and learning rather than for submitting someone else's work as your own.

How do I know the service is legitimate?

Look for reviews, writer qualifications, and secure payment methods. A legitimate service will have positive feedback and clear policies.

Can these services help with urgent assignments?

Most services offer urgent assistance for last-minute assignments, though they may charge extra for faster turnaround times.

Are nursing assignment services confidential?

Yes, reputable services ensure confidentiality and data security, so your personal and academic information remains protected.

What kind of assignments can these services help with?

Nursing assignment help services can assist with various types of assignments, including essays, research papers, case studies, reflective journals, and clinical practice reports.

0 notes

theonottsbxtch · 21 days ago

Text

NO BABYSITTER NEEDED | LN4

an: i have this delusion that i could 100% change his bad habits because i work as a personal assistant and have experience in childcare. so enjoy this. also if you struggle with mental health, always know im here to talk <3

summary: lando norris, f1 golden boy who hasn’t slept properly in months and lives off protein bars gets assigned a carer by max who reminds him to eat, sleep, and maybe feel something other than anger or guilt. she brings flowers into his sterile flat and hides his gym clothes so he’ll actually rest and he lets her. and somewhere between her gummy vitamins and his races, he realises he doesn’t just need her, he wants her too.

wc: 10k

“ABSOLUTLEY NOT.”

Lando stood in the middle of his sparsely furnished flat, arms folded, jaw tight. The overhead light flickered once, as if in protest too. Max, seated on the battered grey sofa with a cup of tea he’d made himself, simply raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve not eaten today, have you?”

“I had a protein bar.”

“That doesn’t count, mate.”

Lando’s eyes flicked to the side. He knew Max was right. The protein bar had been from the stash he kept in his gym bag, a dry, tasteless thing that barely passed as food. Still, admitting that would mean giving ground, and he wasn’t in the mood.

“I don’t need a bloody babysitter,” he muttered, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. “I’m not eighty-five.”

Max sighed, setting down his tea with the sort of calm that only long-suffering best mates could master. “She’s not a babysitter. She’s… a carer. Technically.”

“Oh, brilliant. Even worse.”

The silence that settled wasn’t comfortable. Outside, the steady hum of Monaco traffic drifted through the slightly ajar window. Somewhere below, someone shouted about bin day. Lando raked a hand through his curly brown hair and paced towards the kitchen. Max didn’t need to follow him to know what he’d find.

The fridge opened with a creak. Lando grimaced. A carton of milk two weeks out of date. Half a wilted bag of spinach. One lonely caprisun.

“See?” Max called from the living room. “You need someone to help.”

Lando shut the fridge, harder than he needed to. “I’m not broken.”

“I didn’t say you were. But you’re not exactly in one piece either.”

That one landed. He leaned against the counter, exhaling slowly. His eyes were tired, darker than usual, with the tell-tale puffiness that came from pushing through sleepless nights. After a bad race, it was always the same: the silence, the self-punishment, the long hours in the gym until his arms shook, or the empty buzz of late-night gaming until sunrise blurred into morning.

Lando wasn’t cruel, not to others. But he was brutal to himself.

Max stepped into the kitchen, soft-footed. He opened the cupboard, plucked a cereal bar, and tossed it to Lando. “Just give her a week. One week. If it’s hell, I’ll back off. You can go back to forgetting to eat and dying slowly. Deal?”

Lando caught the bar, didn’t unwrap it. He stared at it like it might explode. After a long moment, he gave a non-committal grunt.

“Fine,” he said at last, eyes flicking up. “But just a week.”

The doorbell rang at exactly ten o'clock.

Lando was on the sofa, one leg slung over the other, arms crossed, face unreadable. He hadn't shaved that morning. Or the one before, probably. Max, already halfway to the door, shot him a look.

“Try to smile, yeah?” he muttered.

Lando didn't answer. Max opened the door.

“Hiya,” came a warm, bright voice. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure which buzzer it was. I guessed.”

“You guessed right.” Max smiled, stepping aside. “Come in.”

She stepped over the threshold with a kind of lightness Lando noticed but didn’t comment on. Trainers, jeans, a canvas bag slung over one shoulder. She didn’t look like a carer, whatever that meant. But then again, what did he expect? A clipboard and scrubs?

Her eyes flicked to him on the sofa and lit up with a friendly smile.

“You must be Lando.”

“I must be,” he said, dryly.

Max shot him a warning look. She didn’t seem fazed, though. Just walked in like it wasn’t a battlefield.

“I’m here for the trial week,” she said cheerfully, pulling out a small notebook. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take over your life. Just nudge it in a slightly healthier direction.”

Lando snorted. “Great. Can’t wait to be nudged.”

Max coughed to hide a laugh.

She sat on the armchair across from him, perching rather than settling, like she didn’t want to assume too much. Lando appreciated that. A bit.

“So,” she said, flipping open the notebook. “What’s your usual routine, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Train. Race. Gym. Repeat.”

“And food?”

He shrugged. “When I remember.”

“Sleep?”

Another shrug. “When I can.”

She smiled, scribbling something down. “Right. Noted.”

Lando tilted his head. “You’re very… upbeat.”

“Would you rather I was miserable?”

“No, just…” He waved a vague hand. “You’re in a flat with a stranger who clearly doesn’t want you here. I’d be a bit put off.”

“Well,” she said, closing the notebook, “I’m not easily put off. And you don’t scare me.”

That surprised a breath of laughter out of him, more exhale than anything, but it was the closest he’d come to smiling in days. Max looked between them, pleased.

“She’s good,” he said to Lando. “Give her a day. You’ll be grateful by tonight.”

Lando leaned his head back on the sofa, eyes half-closing. “We’ll see.”

She stood up. “I’ll pop to the shop, then. I’m sure the fridge is crying for help.”

Max dug into his pocket, handed her twenty euros. “Get whatever you think he won’t argue about eating.”

“Right,” she grinned. “Crisps and biscuits, got it.”

She left with a wink. Lando opened one eye, watching her go. Max gave him a look that was both smug and fond.

“You like her.”

Lando didn’t reply.

But he didn’t protest, either.

He didn’t last long after Max left.

He didn’t announce it, didn’t say goodbye, just grabbed his keys, mumbled something about “needing air” and left her alone in the flat. It wasn’t meant to be rude, not really. He just didn’t know what to do with her being there, so full of smiles and softness and trying. It made his skin itch in a way he couldn’t explain.

So, he went to the gym. Again. Even though his arms still ached from last night. Even though he’d barely slept. He didn’t care. Pushing himself until the edges blurred was easier than sitting in silence with a stranger who was supposed to fix what he wouldn’t admit was broken.

He stayed out longer than he planned. Took the long way home. Wandered a bit, hoodie pulled up, sunglasses on despite the fading light. He even stopped off at the corner shop and bought a bottle of water he didn’t want, just to delay the inevitable.

But eventually, the sun started dipping below the Monegasque skyline, and he had no more excuses.

When he opened the door, he paused.

The flat looked different.

Not massively, not like she’d moved furniture or painted walls, but nicer. The blinds had been tugged all the way open, letting the warm orange light of evening spill in. The windows had been cracked open too, letting out the stuffy, lived-in gym-sweat air he’d become nose-blind to. On the kitchen counter sat a small bunch of flowers in an old pint glass, cheap daffodils, probably from the shop down the road, bright yellow and unapologetically cheerful.

And she was cooking.

He blinked.

She hadn’t heard him come in. She had music playing quietly from her phone and she was humming under her breath as she stirred something on the hob. She’d tied her hair up, sleeves rolled, apron on that definitely wasn’t his.

He hovered at the doorway like a ghost.

“I won’t eat fish,” he said, voice flat.

She jumped slightly, then turned to him with a grin, unbothered. “Good thing I’m not making fish then.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“I know,” she added, casually flipping something in the pan. “And you don’t like raw tomatoes. Or coconut. Or mushrooms unless they’re chopped so small you can’t see them. I did my homework.”

He folded his arms, suspicious despite himself. “Homework?”

“Max told me what he could, and the rest I found in old interviews. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

He had no idea what to do with that. “Right.”

She nodded towards the side counter. “There are some vitamins over there if you fancy. They’re the gummy ones, so they’re fun to eat.”

Lando turned his head slightly. Sure enough, there was a bottle of multivitamin gummies sitting next to a clean glass of water. He squinted at it like it might bite.

“You think that’s going to fix me?”

“Nope,” she said, flipping off the hob and plating something. “But you’ll taste strawberry and get a vitamin boost, and that’s two good things. Two’s better than none.”

He watched her carry the plate to the table, proper food, he realised. Real stuff. A bit of grilled chicken, roasted potatoes, some sort of green that didn’t look like it came from a packet. She’d even set out cutlery.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered, but his voice had less edge than before.

“No, but your fridge did. Loudly.” She smiled. “Sit down, Lando.”

It was the first time she’d said his name. It startled him, how easily it came out of her mouth, no weight, no judgement, just lightness.

He didn’t move right away. But the flat smelled warm for the first time in… he didn’t know how long. It smelled like food, and flowers, and something gentle he couldn’t place.

Eventually, he sat.

And he took the bloody vitamin.

He started eating without saying much, though to be fair, the food shut him up quickly. It was annoyingly good. Not fancy, not trying too hard, just cooked well. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until the first bite, and now his fork barely paused between mouthfuls.

While he ate, she moved around the kitchen, wiping down surfaces that were already pretty clean, rinsing the chopping board, putting away the little packet of daffodils that had come with the flowers. She was humming again, soft and almost tuneless, like it was more for her than anything else.

He watched her from the corner of his eye.

After a few minutes, he frowned.

“What about you?” he said, voice low. “Are you not going to eat?”

She looked up from where she was drying a mug. “I eat after work.”

He stopped chewing. “That’s weird.”

She laughed, not offended. “Not really. I’m used to it. I don’t like eating in other people’s homes unless I’m invited to.”

“Well… I’m inviting you now.”

Her eyes softened a little. “Thanks. But I’m alright, honestly.”

He stabbed a bit of potato. “Can you at least sit? You’re making me feel like I’m in a restaurant.”

That seemed to surprise her. She blinked, then nodded, pulling out the chair opposite him.

“You’re on edge,” she said gently, not like she was accusing him, just stating it.

He didn’t deny it.

She leaned back in the chair, folding her hands on the table, not trying to fill the silence with too much. Just being there. He hated how much of a relief that was.

After a beat, she tilted her head. “So… do you actually enjoy racing? Or is it just something you’re brilliant at?”

He looked up, fork halfway to his mouth.

“No one’s ever asked it like that before.”

She smiled. “Well, everyone knows you’re brilliant at it. But enjoying it that’s something else.”

He chewed, swallowed, shrugged. “I used to. When I was a kid. I’d sit in front of the telly with my dad and pretend I could hear the engines. I used to think the drivers were invincible.”

Her smile didn’t fade, but it did soften into something more thoughtful. “And now?”

“Now I know they’re not,” he said simply. “Now I know I’m not.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Didn’t rush to fix it or tell him he was, in fact, invincible. Just let it sit there.

He liked that more than he expected.

“You know,” she said after a quiet moment, “I watched last year's Brazil race before I came. The one where it rained.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “That bloody race.”

He didn't think of it fondly, until she spoke again.

“You made that turn like it was nothing. Everyone else looked like they were wrestling their cars, and you just… glided.”

He looked at her properly for the first time that evening. “You watched it for research?”

She nodded. “Had to see what I was dealing with.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re very strange.”

“Thank you,” she grinned. “I take that as a compliment.”

He picked up the glass of water next to his empty plate, holding it in both hands. He didn’t know how to name the feeling in his chest, tight and loose at once. Like something had shifted half a centimetre to the right.

He didn’t say thank you.

But he didn’t ask her to leave, either.

The flat had gone quiet again and before he knew it, he’d finished his food and she’d taken the plate.

Lando sat there a while after she’d gone to tidy up again, not quite ready to move. His limbs were warm and heavy with food, his stomach full for the first time in, God, he couldn’t remember. The corner of his eye still caught the flash of yellow from the daffodils. Even the clutter on the coffee table had been gently rearranged, like someone had lived here instead of just existed in it.

He stood eventually, dragging a hand through his hair.

He didn’t say goodnight. But as he passed her, kneeling to organise something ridiculous like the cereal cupboard, he gave her a small nod.

“Night,” she said softly, like she knew he wouldn’t say it first.

By the time he got to his room, he felt it creeping in, the kind of sleep that didn’t come with punishment. Not exhaustion, not collapse. Just rest.

He changed half-heartedly, dropped into bed without bothering to pull the duvet straight.

And for the first time in what felt like months, he didn’t lie there for hours staring at the ceiling.

He didn’t toss or turn or drag himself back up to check his phone, or throw on joggers and go for another run he didn’t need.

He just closed his eyes.

And slept.

Deep. Still. Undisturbed.

He was that comfortable with his sleep he hadn’t even heard her leave.

The trial week came and went, and with that came his little scheduled meeting with Max.

“So,” Max said, leaning back in the café chair, hands wrapped around his coffee. “How’s life with Mary Poppins?”

Lando rolled his eyes, sipping slowly from a mug of hot chocolate that was somehow still hot.

“She doesn’t float in with a brolly, if that’s what you mean.”

“But she’s working, isn’t she?”

Lando didn’t answer straight away. He watched a dog trot past outside the window, nose down, tail wagging. The streets of Monte Carlo were busy with the usual Sunday bustle, people with tote bags full of veg, couples bickering gently over directions, someone playing guitar near the kerb.

He shrugged. “It’s less shit.”

Max smirked. “That’s the highest praise I’ve ever heard you give anyone.”

Lando looked down into his tea. “She’s just easy to be around. Doesn’t treat me like I’m a problem. Or fragile. She just makes dinner and talks about stupid things and leaves vitamins on the counter like it’s no big deal.”

“And you like that?”

“I don’t not like it.”

Max grinned. “So you’re keeping her?”

Lando huffed. “She’s not a goldfish.”

“You know what I mean.”

He didn’t answer at first, and Max let him have the space. There was something behind Lando’s eyes, quieter than before, but still guarded. Except now, the edges weren’t quite so sharp. He looked a little less hollowed out. A little more present.

Lando stirred the drink absently, then said, “I think she’s staying another week.”

Max didn’t say I told you so, but he smiled like he’d already said it a hundred times.

Over the next week, a rhythm began to form.

It wasn’t a schedule, exactly, Lando hated those, but there were now patterns. Gentle ones. He’d wake up to the faint clatter of pans and the smell of food. She never made him breakfast outright, but there was always a plate of something on the side, covered with a tea towel, like it had just happened to be left there.

He’d find his gym gear washed and folded in the same place on the sofa each morning. Not spoken about, just done. Vitamins still by the sink. Her music always low. The flowers in the pint glass had been swapped out for fresh tulips.

He didn’t say thank you. But he noticed.

And he started sleeping better.

Not every night, but more than before. Enough that the dark under his eyes wasn’t as heavy. Enough that the fridge had actual food in it now, and it wasn’t all hers.

By Monday night, she was packing up her bag to go home like usual when he spoke up.

“I leave for Barcelona tomorrow.”

She looked up, bright as ever. “Yup, I know. Made you an airport snack.”

She reached into the fridge and pulled out a tupperware container, sliding it across the counter towards him. The lid was already labelled in biro, ‘Do not open until bored at terminal gate’.

He raised an eyebrow. “You know I fly private, right? They’ve got catering.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “And what are the odds you didn’t reply to the email asking about your dietary preferences?”

He paused.

She grinned.

“Thought so. It’s just a wrap and some fruit. No tomatoes, no weird mayo, no drama.”

He huffed, but he didn’t push it. He picked it up and tucked it under one arm.

“Oh, and,” she added, wiping her hands on a tea towel, “I put a few things on your bed. Clothes you might consider packing. You don’t have to. Just thought I’d save you standing in your pants tomorrow morning wondering what the weather in Barcelona will be, and yes I know you like to dress warm.”

He let out a proper laugh, low and unexpected.

“You’ve done two of my most hated tasks in one night,” he said, eyes warm for a moment. “That’s impressive.”

She shrugged, light as always. “It’s what I’m here for.”

He stood in the doorway, still holding the tupperware, gaze lingering on her longer than he meant to. She didn’t make anything of it, just smiled and went back to packing her bag.

Race weekends were always a blur.

Even after years of doing it, Lando never really adjusted. The heat, the noise, the cameras, the pressure. Spain in May was dry and heavy, the kind of heat that sat on your shoulders and made your helmet feel three sizes too small. Qualifying had been a disaster, traffic, a lock-up, something just off with the rear grip. He was starting further back than he liked. Further back than the car deserved.

He hadn’t spoken to anyone on the cool-down lap.

His engineer had been cautious over the radio, Max had texted a brief ‘rough one. you’ll fix it.’ and that was about it. Lando stayed in his suit too long, helmet off but gloves still on, sitting at the back of the garage with his jaw clenched and a bottle of water sweating in his hand.

Later, after media duties and a cold shower and a half-hearted poke at some pasta, he was lying on the hotel bed, one leg still on the floor, staring at the ceiling when his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it out of habit.

It was a photo.

She was in a little French bar somewhere, low lights, strings of flags, telly mounted high on the wall with the F1 coverage paused mid-graphic. He recognised his own face in the corner, frozen mid-interview. She was holding up a pint of something cloudy, face half in frame, smiling like she’d just bumped into an old mate. A bowl of crisps sat in front of her.

The caption followed a second later:

That quali looked tough. Make sure to have enough electrolytes or a banana.

Lando stared at it for longer than he meant to. Something tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She hadn’t asked how he was.

Hadn’t said you’ll get them tomorrow or you’re still the best or any of the usual platitudes.

Just, looked tough, take care of yourself.

Simple. Uncomplicated.

He let out a small breath of something that might have been a laugh. His thumb hovered over the screen for a second, then tapped out a reply.

They only gave us oranges.

A few seconds passed.

That’s alright. Oranges are just citrusy bananas in disguise.

He shook his head, grinning now, properly.

There was still noise in his chest, frustration, the echo of tyres locking up, but it didn’t feel quite so loud anymore.

And for the first time after a bad Saturday, Lando didn’t feel like running from it.

The flight back to Monaco was uneventful. He slept for half of it, sprawled inelegantly in the reclined seat, his cap pulled low and earphones in with no music playing. His body was tired in that hollow, post-race way, blood still buzzing faintly, muscles tight, but his brain was quieter than usual.

P2 wasn’t bad. Not a win, but solid points. Still, it ate at him.

He arrived home just after midnight. The flat was dark, blinds drawn, the sea outside nothing but soft black noise.

Lando dumped his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes. It should have felt like relief, home, bed, no media duties, but it didn’t. It felt still.

He flicked on the light in the kitchen, expecting nothing.

Instead, there it was on the counter.

A piece of white printer paper, creased slightly down the middle, folded like a school certificate. Hand-drawn, with glitter gel pen of all things.

P2 – WELL DONE, CHAMPION

Underneath, in all-caps block letters, it read:

REDEEM THIS FOR 1 (ONE) FAVOURITE CHOCOLATE BAR, TO BE EATEN IMMEDIATELY.

And there it was. His favourite. Not the obvious one either, the one he used to buy from the corner shop when he was fifteen and couldn’t afford imported Swiss stuff with his pocket money. He hadn’t had one in years.

He picked it up, staring at it like it might disappear.

Beside the certificate was a folded note, written in her loopy handwriting:

I figured you’d want some space after the weekend, so I’m giving you the night off from me.

BUT. Your favourite meal is in the fridge. I expect to see the container empty when I’m back at 7am. I will be checking the bins. I’ve taken the power cable for your PC and hidden your gym clothes, so don’t bother looking. Please sleep. Properly. You’ve earned it x

He read it twice, then once more for good measure.

There was no teasing smile in the room, no hum of music or smell of herbs in the air, but her presence was there, in every corner. Quietly looking after him without needing him to admit he needed it.

He opened the fridge. The meal was there, labelled, still warm enough to be reheated. He didn’t even question how she knew it was his favourite. He just took it out, turned on the oven, and sat at the counter with the chocolate bar already half-eaten.

The flat was silent.

Normally he hated the silence. It stretched and scratched at him until he had to fill it. TV, weights, anything. But tonight it was different.

Tonight, the silence felt... safe. Like something was waiting just out of frame.

And though he’d never say it aloud, not even to himself—

He missed her. Slightly.

Just enough that 7am didn’t feel all that far away.

The first light slipped through the half-open blinds, soft and pale against the dark wood floor.

Lando was already up.

He didn’t mean to be. He’d woken sometime in the small hours, restless, but then the smell of coffee brewing pulled him from the blur of sleep. He found himself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, the warmth of the oven still humming softly nearby.

The meal was gone. The container clean.

He smiled a little to himself, small victory, at least.

The kettle clicked off, and she appeared in the doorway, hair tied back loosely, eyes bright but gentle.

“Morning,” she said quietly, like she was trying not to wake the flat.

He met her gaze, caught in the calm.

“Morning.”

She reached for the coffee pot and topped up his mug, then poured one for herself.

They stood there for a beat, just the two of them and the quiet hum of the morning.

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

Lando shrugged, but there was something different in his tone. “More than I usually do.”

“That’s good.”

He nodded, watching her move around the kitchen with that effortless ease, putting the chocolate wrapper in the bin, tidying the dishes.

He felt it again. That small, stubborn flicker of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel before: contentment.

She looked over her shoulder, catching his eye.

“Race weekend’s done,” she said softly. “You’re home now.”

He gave her a crooked smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes just yet, but was close.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

She blew on her coffee, then glanced over at him with a curious tilt of her head.

“So what do you usually do on days like this? After a race?”

Lando paused, mug halfway to his lips.

“Usually?” he said. “Try not to think.”

She gave a small nod, like she understood exactly what he meant.

“Right,” she said lightly. “So why don’t we go to the beach?”

He blinked. “The beach?”

“Yeah. You know, sand, sea, a bit of fresh air. It’s 27 degrees, the water will be decent. You’ve done all the not thinking bit, now you can do the part where you feel like a person again.”

Lando looked at her like she’d just suggested skydiving. In the rain. Naked.

She met his stare head-on, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile.

“I’m not saying we have to go swimming,” she added. “Just sit. Maybe with a drink. Or ice cream. I’ll bring snacks if that helps.”

He huffed a small laugh. “You’re relentless.”

“I prefer the term optimistic.”

He glanced out the window. The sun was already climbing, a shimmer of gold across the buildings. Monaco in May didn’t waste time. It was exactly the kind of day he’d usually spend in a dark gym or glued to his screen with a headset on.

And yet.

“Okay,” he said at last, surprising even himself. “Yeah. Sure. Why not.”

Her smile lit up, bright and immediate. “Brilliant.” He turned to head for his room. “I’ll grab my stuff.”

“I’ll meet you back here in thirty,” she said, already halfway out the door. “Just need to pop home, get a few bits.” He nodded. “Alright.”

And then she was gone, the flat felt quieter without her, but not in the lonely way. More like a held breath, waiting.

Lando glanced around, bemused at himself.

The beach. On a Monday.

He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “What am I doing?”

But he was already reaching for his sunglasses.

When she came back, the sun was even higher in the sky and so was something in Lando’s chest. He’d opened all the windows while she was gone, and the breeze drifting through the flat was warm and salt-tinged.

He heard the door go and turned, halfway through stuffing a towel into a backpack.

She stepped into the kitchen in a light summer dress, sunglasses perched on her head, a bag slung over her shoulder. It was nothing dramatic, just something simple and floral, but it suited her. She looked soft, golden in the sunlight, like she belonged exactly in that moment.

Lando’s brain hiccuped. He didn’t say anything but he looked, really looked, and quietly thought to himself.

God, she’s pretty.

She caught his gaze, raised a brow. “What?”

He blinked. “Nothing.”

He slung the bag over his shoulder and nodded towards the door. “We’ve got to go somewhere that’s not Monaco, though.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “People’ll see. Paparazzi, fans, someone’ll clock it. Me. Us”

Her smile curled. “Us?”

“I just mean—” he started, but she was already grinning wider.

“I know what you meant, so where then?” “We’ll have to drive into France,” he said, completely serious.

She laughed.

He looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing, sorry,” she said, still smiling. “Just the way you said it like it was just us popping down to the shops.” He gave her a look, lips twitching. “It sort of is.”

She shrugged, following him down into the garage. “Alright then, France it is.”

The garage was cool and dim after the heat of the morning. Rows of sleek cars sat like sleeping beasts under soft overhead lights. She slowed as they walked, eyes wide.

“Bloody hell,” she murmured. “Is this all you?” He chuckled, unlocking one of the quieter looking models. “Some are mine. Some are team perks. Some are just there.”

She ran a hand along the bonnet, clearly impressed. “Not bad for a day at the beach.” They set off, the coast unfurling beside them like a painting. The drive was easy, winding roads and open skies, her hair dancing in the breeze as music played low from the speakers. She sang along quietly to bits she knew. He didn’t join in, but he listened.

And he smiled.

The beach was quieter than expected, a little cove tucked away from the road, shaded by cliffs and speckled with driftwood. They laid their things on the warm sand, and she kicked off her sandals with a sigh.

Lando was laying out the towles when she pulled her dress over her head in one swift motion, revealing a bikini underneath.

He didn’t stare, or at least he told himself he didn’t.

But he did definitely notice.

Something in his stomach dipped for a second, caught between admiration and the very sudden awareness of who he was and who she was.

She stretched like she’d been waiting all day to do it, hair tied up now, skin kissed golden by the sun.

Lando barely had time to take off his own shirt before she looked over her shoulder, grinning wickedly.

“Race you!”

And before he could respond, she was already sprinting towards the sea, feet kicking up soft clouds of sand.

He blinked, startled, then swore under his breath, grinning.

“You little—”

He chased after her, heart thudding, not from the sun. Something lighter than adrenaline, freer than pressure. The breeze bit at his skin, the salt stung his eyes, and the sound of her laugh carried over the waves.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt light.

The sea was warmer than he expected, cool at first touch, then refreshing against his sun-warmed skin.

She was already thigh deep when he caught up, turning to glance over her shoulder with a grin that said you’re too slow.

Lando launched at her.

She yelped, laughing as he caught her around the waist and they both stumbled deeper into the water, waves breaking around them.

“Alright! Alright! Truce!” she shouted, breathless.

But he didn’t let go, just held her steady against the current for a second too long. She looked up at him, cheeks pink from the sun and smiling so wide it almost knocked the breath out of him.

Then, without warning, she dunked him.

His head went under with a surprised splash and he surfaced with a splutter, hair slicked to his forehead and eyes narrowed.

“Oh, you’re done for,” he said, grinning through the water dripping from his lashes.

They splashed and shoved and laughed like children, the kind of silly, harmless chaos that left his chest aching, but not in the bad way.

Eventually, soaked and smiling, they drifted into a quiet stretch of the cove, water up to their waists, the sun casting long golden streaks across the surface.

They talked a bit, nothing too heavy. Favourite ice creams. Embarrassing childhood stories. He learnt she hated the sound of polystyrene, and she learnt he once fell asleep in a bin lorry by mistake during a school trip (real story from me lol).

Time stretched in that slow, delicious way that only seemed to happen when he was with her.

The rest of the day passed in sun-drowsy contentment.

They dried off on the towels, eating snacks and reading bits from a tatty magazine she’d brought on how to impress your manager. She dozed for a while with her arm flopped across her eyes. He sat beside her, knees pulled up, watching the tide roll in and out, trying not to overthink how much peace he felt in that exact moment.

Later, on the drive back, they stopped for ice cream from a stand near the harbour. She ordered something fruity. He got mint choc chip, mostly so she’d stop teasing him for being too grown up and choosing something like coffee.

By the time they were halfway home, the sun had dipped below the hills and she was fast asleep in the passenger seat, head turned gently towards him, mouth parted slightly.

Lando glanced at her, then back at the road. His grip on the wheel softened.

When they got back to the flat, he didn’t wake her.

Instead, he slipped out of the driver’s seat, came round, and unbuckled her gently. She stirred slightly as he lifted her into his arms, warm and still faintly smelling of suncream.

Her head dropped to his shoulder. He didn't say a word, he didn't even breathe.

The lift ride up was quiet. His flat even quieter.

He nudged the door open, padded through the hall, and carried her straight into his bedroom. The sheets were still crisp from the morning, untouched.

He laid her down carefully, brushed a bit of hair from her face. She sighed softly, turning into the pillow like she belonged there.

Lando lingered for a moment.

Then he backed out, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

He crashed on the sofa, limbs heavy but heart oddly light. His damp curly hair pressed against the cushion, and for once, the silence didn’t bother him.

He could still hear her laugh echoing in the waves.

The following morning she woke with a start.

It took her a second to realise where she was, the unfamiliar softness of the duvet, the crisp linen, the faint scent of him on the pillow. Definitely not her flat. And definitely his bed.

“Shit.”

She sat up quickly, heart thudding, scanning the room for her jacket or bag or anything that proved that she hopefully hasn’t slept with him.

The flat was quiet except for the faint sound of something clattering in the kitchen. Not exactly a disaster, but not quite peace either.

She pulled a random hoodie over her head, ran a hand through her tangled hair, and padded out into the main room, bracing herself.

He was in the kitchen. Barefoot, curls a mess, concentration furrowed into his brow as he flipped a pancake that looked… questionably thick.

The pan hissed. The pancake landed mostly where it should’ve.

She crossed her arms, trying not to laugh. “Are you… cooking?”

Lando turned, startled. His cheeks were flushed, not from embarrassment, more from the warmth of the kitchen and the fact he hadn’t expected her to be awake.

“Sort of,” he muttered, glancing down at the half-stack on the plate. “They’re edible. Just about.”

She looked at him, messy-haired, in an old hoodie, trying to figure out if the one in the pan was burnt or just dark golden.

She couldn't help it. She smiled.

“I’m meant to be the one looking after you,” she said, shaking her head.

He rolled his eyes but there was no bite to it. “You fell asleep. I wasn’t going to wake you just to supervise me making average pancakes.”

“Below average.”

“They’re fine,” he defended, lifting one with the spatula. It folded in half on itself. “Okay, they’re character-building.”

She stepped closer, nudging him with her shoulder. “Look at that. First meal you’ve cooked yourself in how long?”

Lando scoffed, but the back of his neck went pink. “Dunno. Ages.”

She tilted her head, eyes soft with something he couldn’t name. “Domesticity looks good on you.”

He froze for a second but he felt the words settle somewhere in his chest.

Domesticity.

Her, here. His hoodie. Pancakes. Morning light.

He looked at her, really looked, and for once didn’t feel the urge to run from the quiet.

Instead, he flipped the final pancake with a slightly smug smirk. “Told you I didn’t need a carer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “One half-decent breakfast doesn’t mean you’re cured, sweetheart.”

He smiled despite himself. Sweetheart.

And just like that, he knew the rest of his day was going to be warm.

She grabbed a plate and scooped a pancake onto it, then passed it over with a cheeky grin.

“Here, try not to burn it.”

Lando took it, biting into the warm, slightly uneven stack. It wasn’t bad. Actually, it was pretty good. The kind of good that made you forget about the mess of your last few days.

He looked up at her, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

“Not bad for a carer’s breakfast, huh?”

She laughed, sitting down at the small kitchen table. “I might have to upgrade you to sous chef.”

He shook his head, but the smile stayed. “You sure you want to get stuck with a bloke who can barely boil water without a minor disaster?”

She reached across the table, nudging his hand lightly.

“I think I can manage.”

There was a pause, comfortable and easy. The sunlight caught her eyes, making them shine in a way that made Lando’s chest tighten just a little.

“So…” she said softly, “how are you, really?”

Lando swallowed, the question catching him off guard. Usually, he brushed it off or changed the subject.

But today, he let it hang in the air.

“I’m… better than I was,” he admitted, voice low. “Being with you, well, it’s different. Less noise upstairs.”

She smiled gently, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the table.

“That’s good,” she said quietly. “You deserve that.”

He met her gaze, a flicker of something like hope stirring beneath the usual mess.

Maybe this was the start of something, not just a routine or a distraction, but something real.

He didn’t know what it was yet.

But for the first time in a long time, he felt like he wanted to find out.

A few days passed in the way only good days do, quietly, comfortably, and all at once.

They fell back into their routine with ease. She was there every morning, bright and soft and organised, keeping him on track without ever making it feel like a chore. Meals appeared when he forgot he was hungry. She swapped out the expired yoghurt in the fridge without saying a word. She scribbled reminders onto post-it notes and stuck them in ridiculous places. On his phone, the bathroom mirror, his steering wheel.

And somehow, despite everything, he was sleeping again for more than 4 hours.

The flat no longer felt too quiet.

He met Max at their usual café down in the port the morning before he flew out to Austria.

Lando slumped into the chair opposite him, hoodie pulled up, sunglasses on despite the overcast sky.

Max gave him a look. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. You dress like a celebrity in hiding but show up to the same café every time.”

Lando smirked, pulling down his glasses. “Creature of habit.”

Max took a sip of his coffee, eyeing him properly now. “You look better.”

Lando blinked. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not half-dead,” Max said bluntly. “You’ve got colour in your face. You’ve shaved. I don’t see a Monster can fused to your hand.”

Lando huffed a laugh. “Thanks, mate. Proper confidence boost, that.”

Max grinned. “So she’s working, then.”

Lando paused. Thought about the pancakes. The post-its. The quiet sound of her humming in the kitchen. The way she made the flat feel like something more than just a place he slept in between breakdowns.

“She is,” he said, nodding. “More than I thought, actually.”

Max raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Told you. She’s got that stubborn kind of sunshine thing going on.”

Lando looked out at the boats bobbing gently on the water. “It’s weird. I don’t feel like she’s fixing me. It’s just… I want to keep up. For once.”

Max leaned back in his chair, smiling like he already knew.

“You’ve got someone in your corner now,” he said. “And you like it.”

Lando didn’t answer straight away.

But he didn’t deny it either.

Austria should’ve felt like business as usual.

The team was buzzing, the garage busy, the hotel sleek and sterile in that forgettable sort of way. He’d done this so many times he could go through the motions with his eyes shut, briefings, media, gym, sleep. Repeat.

But something was different this time.

His room was too quiet. His meals, though catered, tasted like cardboard. He’d forgotten to bring his vitamins, and the note she’d once stuck to the inside of his wash bag, remember to be a person, not just a machine, was no longer there.

He missed her. Not just her reminders and routines, but her. The way she’d talk at him while he made coffee, narrating her morning like it was the most important story on earth. The way she hummed while folding laundry. The way she looked at him, not like he was a driver, or a mess, but just… him.

The ache surprised him.

By Saturday night, he was holed up in his hotel room, lights dimmed, race prep done. But instead of watching footage or scrolling, he stared at his phone.

Then, almost on a whim, he opened their chat.

Would you ever come to a race?

Three dots appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then came back.

That’s quite a question. Is this your subtle way of inviting me to Austria?

He smiled. Tapped back.

Austria’s a bit mad. But Silverstone’s next. Thought you might like it. Home race and all that.

The typing bubble came and went again. Then,

We can talk about it when you’re home.

And there it was, that word.

Home.

He stared at the screen longer than he meant to.

It did something to him. Knocked something loose. Not because she’d said it. But because she meant it. Like his flat wasn’t just a stopgap anymore. Like him being away wasn’t permanent.

They’d talk when he was home.

He stared at her last message a moment longer, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

I’d like you to be there when I get back Sunday night. If you’re free, I mean.

He regretted sending it immediately. Read it back twice. It looked desperate. Or worse, uncertain.

But a reply came a few minutes later.

I’ll be there.

That was it. Simple. Certain.

He smiled. Couldn’t help it.

And for the first time on a race weekend, he couldn’t wait for it to be over, not for the result, but because it meant he’d get to see her again.

Sunday night came fast.

The flight was smooth, the car from the airport quick, but Lando felt that weird tug of nerves all over again as the lift doors slid open to his flat. His bag thumped against his leg. The hallway smelt faintly of fresh linen and vanilla.

She was there.

He could feel it even before he saw her.

When he stepped inside, the lights were low, and something warm flickered in the corner of the living room, a couple of candles, set along the windowsill. The blinds were open, showing off the Monaco skyline in soft golden hues.

She looked up from the sofa, dressed in cosy joggers and a big jumper, her hair tied up, a bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap.

“There you are,” she said, smiling like he hadn’t just spent three days thinking about her.

Lando stepped in, shrugging off his jacket, suddenly very aware of the domesticity he'd walked into. A blanket was draped across the back of the sofa. Two mugs sat on the coffee table, one clearly his, already filled with hot chocolate.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of mood you’d be in,” she said, shifting slightly to make room, “so I picked three films. Comfort, distraction, or dramatic sobbing, dealer’s choice.”

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked around at the quiet little world she’d built for him in his absence.

His shoulders dropped.

“This is nice,” he said, finally. “Really nice.”

She grinned. “Well, I figured if I’m going to keep pretending to be your carer, I might as well offer full post-race recovery packages.”

He laughed, genuinely, the kind that shook a bit of the tension from his chest.

She patted the seat next to her. “Come on then. Sit down before your hot chocolate gets cold.”

And he did, just like that. Kicked off his shoes, slouched onto the sofa, and let his body fold into the warmth of it all. Her shoulder brushed his as she pressed play, and he didn’t move away.

He hadn’t realised how much he needed this.

Not just the quiet, but her quiet.

And as the film played and her head gently tipped onto his arm, Lando let himself enjoy it, just for a while.

Home.

It really did feel like that now.

The following morning he woke with a crick in his neck and the faint scent of her still clinging to the blanket draped over his chest.

The telly had switched itself off at some point in the night. His hot chocolate was long cold. And she was gone, left sometime after the credits had rolled, quietly, without waking him.

But the flat didn’t feel empty.

It felt like she’d just stepped out.

He pulled the blanket closer, burying his face in it for a second longer than necessary. Lavender and laundry powder. Familiar. Her.

Later that morning, she came by as usual, letting herself in with a chirpy “Morning!” and two coffees in hand.

He was already up for once, hair still rumpled from sleep, hoodie creased.

“Sleep on the sofa?” she asked, amused.

“Mm.” He took the coffee gratefully. “Didn’t make it very far after you left. Blanket was too warm.”

She gave him a knowing look but didn’t tease.

They settled at the kitchen table, a shared croissant between them, her notebook open to a new page.

“So,” she said, flicking the cap off her pen, “Silverstone. Talk to me.”

Lando took a slow sip of his coffee. “I meant what I said. I want you there.”

She glanced up, smile tucked in the corner of her mouth. “I know. I just didn’t want to assume.”

“You never do,” he said, honest and quick, before he even realised it.

That earned him a small look, soft, appreciative.

“So,” he continued, shifting slightly in his seat, “you’ve got two options. I can get you a pass for the paddock, proper team kit, blend in, pretend you belong.”

She raised a brow, amused. “Pretend?”

He smirked. “You’re bossy enough, you’d fit right in.”

She grinned. “Flattering.”

“Or,” he went on, “you can watch from the grandstands. Might be a bit calmer, but I’ll know you’re there either way.”

She looked at him properly now, pen stilled in her fingers. “And you want me there even if it’s chaos?”

He shrugged, suddenly a bit shy. “I don’t know. Just when you’re around, it feels like less of a mess.”

That quiet settled in again. Not awkward. Just true.

She nodded, scribbling something in her notebook. “Alright. I’ll come. You’ll have to get me a kit that doesn’t drown me, though. I’m not showing up looking like I borrowed it off a rugby player.”

Lando laughed. “Deal.”

And as she tucked her notebook away and moved to put the kettle on, he watched her like he was seeing the start of something he hadn’t quite had the words for yet.

But he knew this much.

He didn’t just want her there.

He needed her there.

They flew out on the Thursday morning.

Private jet, naturally, something Lando barely registered anymore, part of the machine that came with the job. But watching her take it all in was another story entirely.

“Wait,” she whispered as they pulled up onto the tarmac. “This is yours?”

He shrugged, smirking. “Well, not mine mine. But yeah. Team flight.”

She stared up at the sleek plane like it had dropped out of a film set. “Right. Okay. No big deal. Totally normal. Not freaking out.”

Lando chuckled as he grabbed her bag from the boot. “You’re allowed to be impressed, y’know. You don’t have to be cool all the time.”

“I am cool,” she insisted, following him up the steps with wide eyes. “Just also wildly unprepared for this level of luxury.”

Inside, she settled into one of the leather seats like she was afraid she’d break it, eyes darting around at the polished surfaces and perfectly folded blankets.

He sat opposite her, grinning like a fool.

“You alright there?”

She looked at him over the rim of her paper cup. “Lando, they offered me a mimosa and I said no because I panicked. I’m not alright.”

He burst out laughing, tipping his head back. “You’ll get used to it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

By the time they reached Silverstone, her nerves had settled into excitement.

The team garage was already buzzing, and when she stepped out in the McLaren kit he’d had waiting for her, a proper fit, not some oversized leftover, Lando had to look away for a moment just to get himself together.

She fit in effortlessly.

Wearing the colours, she didn’t look like someone tagging along. She looked like she belonged.

And it was oddly comforting, more than he’d expected.

She was laughing with one of the engineers before he’d even finished debrief. Swapping notes with his physio. Keeping a watchful eye on the water bottle in his hand like it was her full-time job.

And for once, when he walked through the paddock, he didn’t feel like he was floating above it all.

He felt anchored.

Between sessions, she found him sat outside the motorhome, cap pulled low, headphones around his neck.

She passed him a banana and a look. “Don’t roll your eyes. You skipped breakfast.”

Lando took it, peeling it slowly. “You just like bossing me around.”

“Absolutely,” she said brightly. “Now eat it, number four.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You calling me by my driver number now?”

She grinned. “Only if it motivates you.”

And as she sat beside him, cross-legged and chatting like they were just two mates at a park somewhere, Lando realised this didn’t feel like chaos.

It felt… right.

Later that day, the two of them found themselves in the motorhome again, half-drawn blinds, casting warm strips of light across the small lounge space. Lando had pulled off his boots and fireproofs, now in team joggers and a loose t-shirt, legs stretched across the sofa while she sat on the carpet in front of him, back resting against the edge of the seat, her hair still slightly windswept from being trackside.

His hand dangled loosely near her shoulder. Not touching. But close.

She was humming, some random tune from the playlist she’d put on while he cooled down, and carefully peeling the corner of a protein bar wrapper for him.

“Do you know you hum constantly?” he said, watching her with that quiet, lopsided sort of amusement.

She glanced up. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Like, properly. All the time.”

“Well, maybe you’re just always around now.”

He smiled, then laughed softly when she tossed the protein bar at him without looking.

They fell into that easy silence again, the kind that didn’t need filling. She reached up to tug a hairband from her wrist, redoing her ponytail absentmindedly. His gaze lingered.

“You alright?” she asked, craning her neck slightly to look at him.

He nodded. “Yeah. You just make all this feel

less mental.”

That earned her softest smile, the kind she didn’t even have to think about. “That’s the job, isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her like he wanted to say more but couldn’t figure out how.

Then the door creaked open and Oscar stepped in with a knock-knock gesture and a raised brow. “Sorry, didn’t realise this was occupied.”

Lando blinked, quickly sitting up, hand retreating behind his head like he hadn’t been close to her at all. She turned slightly, offering Oscar a warm, unapologetic smile.

“Hi,” she said, chipper as ever. “Nice to meet you, I’m Lando’s carer.”

Oscar grinned, clearly amused. “Oh yeah?”

Lando shrugged, slumping back into the sofa like it was no big deal. “Yeah. She cares so I don’t have to.”

Oscar snorted. “Nice work if you can get it.”

She laughed, then added, “To be fair, he’s more work than a pensioner with a sugar addiction, so I earn every bit of it.”

Oscar shot Lando a mock-sympathetic look. “She’s got you nailed, mate.”

Lando just shook his head, lips tugging into the smallest of smiles as Oscar backed out of the room with a wink and a wave.

Once the door shut again, she turned and looked up at him from the floor.

“Too much?” she teased.

He leaned forward, still smiling. “Not at all.”

And for the rest of the hour, with her back pressed to his knee and the quiet buzzing of the paddock beyond the walls, everything felt settled.

Like maybe this was becoming the new normal.

Race day came with its usual noise and nerves. The low thrum of engines in the distance, the hiss of tyres on tarmac, the sting of adrenaline thick in the air.

Silverstone buzzed with the kind of energy only a home race could bring.

And Lando had never driven better.

Every lap was clean, calculated, ruthless. No mistakes. No self-doubt. Just grit and instinct and a car that, for once, felt like an extension of himself.

When he crossed the finish line in P1, the roar from the grandstands felt deafening. Team radio crackled with cheers, engineers shouting down his ear, someone nearly in tears.

He barely heard it.

All he could think, where is she?

Pulling into parc fermé, he yanked off his helmet and looked around like a man on a mission.

“Where is she?” he asked one of the mechanics, already half out of the car.

The guy blinked. “Who?”

“Uh” He gestured vaguely. “My uh carer, she’s in the team kit, she was in the garage earlier. Has anyone seen her?”

Shrugs. Shaking heads. No one knew.

His jaw tensed, nerves he hadn’t felt all race prickling in now like static. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. All of this meant less if she wasn’t here to see it.

Still, he went through the motions: hugs with the crew, the sweaty TV pen interviews, the slow walk down the corridor lined with monitors and back-slaps. The moment was his, but it felt a bit empty.

Then he stepped onto the podium.

The crowd was thunderous. British flags everywhere, people chanting his name, flashes going off like strobes.

And there, down below, tucked between a few McLaren pit crew, cap pulled low and grinning up at him like he’d just done the impossible, there she was.

Her face lit up when he spotted her, and the tension in his chest just dropped.

He grinned, grabbed the champagne bottle, and with precision honed from years of celebration, arced the spray right in her direction.

She squealed, laughing, trying to duck behind someone’s shoulder but getting caught in it anyway.

He laughed too, and when the moment calmed, he looked down again and caught her eyes.

She mouthed something at him, something small, like ‘well done’, and he mouthed back.

Go back to the motorhome.

She gave a little salute, still smiling, and disappeared into the crowd.

And suddenly, the day felt complete.

The moment the press duties were done, Lando didn’t waste a second.

Still damp from champagne, hair sticking to his forehead, race suit tied at the waist, he all but jogged back through the paddock. Past cameras, past well-wishers, barely nodding as people tried to offer congratulations.

He needed to see her.

The motorhome was quiet when he pushed open the door, the rest of the team still caught up in the chaos outside. But she was there, sat on the sofa, McLaren cap now off, holding a bottle of water and staring out the window like she was waiting for him too.

“Hey—” she started, but didn’t finish.

Because he was already across the room, already scooping her up into a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of both of them. She gave a soft little laugh of surprise, arms winding round his neck as he held her like he’d just won her.

Which, in a way, he had.

“You were incredible,” she said against his shoulder.

“I didn’t care about the win,” he murmured, voice muffled in her hair. “Not until I saw you.”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, eyebrows drawing in. “Lando…”

“No, I mean it,” he said, heart racing now for entirely different reasons. “When I crossed the line, I should’ve felt everything. But I couldn’t think about anything except the fact that you weren’t there. Not at first. It felt, empty.”

Her expression softened, smile faltering at the edges.

“That’s the adrenaline talking,” she said gently, fingers brushing the back of his neck. “You’re on a high, people say all sorts when their heart’s going.”

“No,” he said firmly, eyes locked on hers. “I know it’s not.”

She stilled.

Lando took a breath. “My heart’s been on fire before, after wins, crashes, everything in between. But it’s never felt as empty as it does when you’re not near me. I didn’t know it at first, I didn’t have the words for it, but I do now.”

She blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

“I don’t just want you here when I’m falling apart,” he said quietly. “I want you here when I’m winning. When I’m okay. When I’m tired. When I’m not.”

Silence fell like a held breath.

And then she smiled, soft, shaken, and real. The kind that said she’d been waiting to hear those words without even realising it.

“I was always going to stay,” she whispered.

He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes fluttering shut. “Good.”

They stood like that for a moment, bodies close, breath mingling, the silence between them full of everything that had been left unsaid for too long.

She tilted her chin ever so slightly, and his nose brushed against hers. Neither of them moved beyond that, like they were afraid to disturb something fragile.

Then she whispered, “You smell like champagne.”

He gave a quiet laugh, barely more than a breath. “You smell like bananas and home.”

She smiled at that, small and warm and a little bit shy.

And then, like gravity had finally caught up with them, he leant in.

Their lips met softly, tentative at first, the kind of kiss you give when you’ve been thinking about it for far too long and you want to get it right. It wasn’t hurried, or heavy, or anything like what the world outside might’ve expected from a Formula One driver fresh off a win.

It was slow. Careful. His way of saying he didn’t want this to be over too soon.

Her hands curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, and he held her like she might disappear if he let go. When they parted, barely an inch between them, neither moved away.

She blinked up at him, dazed in the gentlest way.

“That wasn’t adrenaline,” she said quietly, as if to confirm it for herself.

“No,” he murmured, thumb brushing her cheek. “That was me. Just me.”

Her nose scrunched in that familiar way, eyes glinting with something fond. “Good.”

He smiled again, this time slower, fuller. And in the soft hush of the motorhome, with the noise of Silverstone still echoing somewhere in the background, Lando finally felt what peace might look like.

It looked a lot like her.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @geauxharry @hzstry @oikarma @chilling-seavey@the-holy-trinity-l @idc4987 @rayaskoalaland @elieanana@bookishnerd1132

4K notes · View notes

assessmenthelps · 2 years ago

Text

youtube

#Childcare Assessment Help #assessment help singapore #assessment help australia #assessment help kuwait #online assignment help #assessment help canada #art #assignment help #Youtube

0 notes

queercodedangel · 11 days ago

Text

Some quotes from The Gender Accelerationist Manifesto about the material base of gender and the Bugi gender system

"So where does gender’s material base lie? Gender is produced primarily by the division of reproductive labor. Reproductive labor is any labor that helps to produce the next generation, including sex, birth, childcare, and homemaking, and gender is defined by how this labor is divided up, with the different genders being distinct classes which are expected to perform specific sorts of tasks regarding reproductive labor.

The way gender differs between cultures is determined by how these tasks are divvied up between the genders. The particular characteristics that this produces are what is known as the superstructure. So, while gender is produced by this material base, it also involves an amalgamation of various stereotypes, ways of dress, formal speech, etc in its superstructure which differ how we experience our gender.

And this applies to all cultures. The Bugi people of Indonesia, rather than the two genders of our society, have five genders in total. Calabai and calalai people have biological characteristics that have been gendered as male and female respectively, but they adopt the reproductive labor tasks typically assigned to makkunrai (roughly equivalent to women) and oroané (roughly equivalent to men) which provides them with a different social class.

More interestingly, however, are the bissu, the fifth gender, which fills a role distinct from the other four. They fill special ceremonial religious practices and are said to be a mixture of the four other genders. Whereas makkunrai and calabai take on typically feminine reproductive labor tasks, such as homemaking, and oroané and calalai take on typically masculine ones, such as providing support for their spouse, the bissu transcend this and engage in their own tasks.

The Bugi gender system shows how malleable gender can be, but it also provides us with an excellent example of the material base to gender. The five genders of the Bugi are distinguished by how reproductive labor is divided among the Bugi people. Everything else is produced by this division."

- The Gender Accelerationist Manifesto by Storm & Flores

81 notes · View notes

bethanydelleman · 1 year ago

Note

If the Austen heroines lived today (and had to work outside of the home), what jobs do you think they would have?

If we look at the heroine's relative incomes, it's likely that Catherine Morland, Fanny Price, and the Dashwoods would require professions, as clergyman and naval marine don't pay that well today and the Dashwoods lost their inheritance. Elizabeth Bennet, Emma Woodhouse, and Anne Elliot are all trust fund babies, though Elizabeth and Anne would likely get jobs since their families are blowing all their money and they're not idiots. Emma is the only one who genuinely would not need to work, even in a modern context. I am not going to assign her a profession, I suspect if she existed in a similar context today she would manage her father's affairs, run the family company, and a charity, much like she does in the novel.

Catherine Morland - in university, is in a very general program and has no idea what to do with her life. Ends up in some sort of childcare career because she knows she's good at it but still scrolls through job pages imagining what else she could do. Writes very bad novels on the side.

Elinor Dashwood - public school art teacher, secure career path with a solid pay cheque, never even considered becoming an artist

Marianne Dashwood - concert pianist/piano instructor reluctantly, because piano playing doesn't pay well, failed lyricist. Has a very popular YouTube channel

Elizabeth Bennet - I see lawyer SO OFTEN in fan fiction, but I disagree. This observer of human nature is getting sucked into psychology and becoming a researcher. She'll realize how bad of a judge of character she can be pre-Darcy because now she has evidence. May become a therapist as well.

Anne Elliot - Anne is so intelligent, she can be whatever she wants. She's so good with kids too, maybe a pediatrician? She threw herself into education after the Wentworth thing.

Fanny Price - the Bertrams paid for her university education and she chose the most guaranteed source of income: accounting. Companies will always need accountants and she can help support her family.

Jane Bennet - I can see her also choosing a very practical career but then dropping out of the workforce to be a stay-at-home mom. Charles has enough money to make that work.

#jane austen #question response #modern careers #elizabeth bennet #marianne dashwood #elinor dashwood #catherine morland #fanny price #anne elliot #jane bennet

238 notes · View notes

onlinetutorhelps · 9 months ago

Text

Business Law Assignment Help: Unlocking Academic Success with Online Tutor Helps

#law assignment help #Business law assignment help #Commercial law assignmnet help #nursing assignment help #assignment help #childcare assignment help #economics assignment help #finance assignment help #xero assignment help #online exam help #management assignment help #accounting assignment help

0 notes

hellothetutorshelp-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Cert 3 childcare assignment help

The department of children in health care requires trained staff to treat them with proper care. The scholars enrolled in this course also need to go through an instrument program, that is, Cert 3 childcare, which provides proper training on how to effectively deal with situations where children are substantially involved. Children are veritably sensitive; thus, bear proper attention and special care to entertain them and treat them well. According to the study, there is a shortage of similar staff in health care, which creates the demand for this course. This generates the need for the scholars to get enrolled in this course in the health care sector. What is the literacy level of the Certificate 3 Childcare Course? Originally, the scholars enrolled in this course contributed to the well-being of little babies and youthful children. Growth and development They always help with the literacy of the child's development. Relationship Children are veritably sensitive; thus, the scholars of this course are tutored on how to make a positive relationship with children and how to maintain the same. The study of a child's gestation helps in assaying the conditions of the child in order to make a healthy relationship, which is veritably important in the health care sector in the case of children. Ethical values The scholars are taught the ethical values that they have got to adhere to while on duty. Different people There might be children belonging to a different society, which is why the scholars enrolled are assured to handle every child with the utmost care, irrespective of their society. mindfulness The course provides mindfulness to the scholars on how to work in different situations and treat them with the utmost care. floundering with the assignment? Get professional backing: Are you a nursing student enrolled in a Certificate 3 childcare course? If the answer is yes, you might also be getting assignments to score well for the completion of the course. This assignment helps the professor assess the pupil's understanding of the subject. It also allows the scholars to learn the colorful conception and get in-depth knowledge on the same. The platoon of experts is the most trusted and dependable pen to help scholars with their assignments. The expert pens are largely professional and educated in their field of moxie. With the same,assignmenter.net Australia furnishing Instrument 3 childcare assignment help also provides colorful services to their guests to deliver a great experience similar to 100 Original Contents plutocrat-reverse guarantee Individual Attention Professional Writers 24*7 client service Budget-Friendly Price Unlimited variations A Heavy Deal of Abatements and Offers The below are some of the services offered by assignmenter.net Australia for scholars looking for cert 3 childcare, and their commitment is for which scholars prefer their experts the most. Likewise, showcasing their determination, they also give free services to Free Plagiarism Report Free Reference Generator Was it emotional? Yes, and also, what are you staying for? Snappily connect and let the professionals do the rest.

#Cert 3 childcare assignment help

0 notes

limitedanomalies · 3 months ago

Text

i think being a friend with eddie is really fun cuz, if i get him a childcare provider he's like 'you really did that for me?☺️' and if i save his son's life in tsunami he's like 'you really did that for my son?😢' and if i buy him a smart coffee maker he's like 'you really did that to me?😡' and if i misunderstand the assignment and draw some cute hearts he's like 'you really did that...?🙄' and if i tell him i will help him to find a place in el paso he's like 'you really would do that for me?😌' and if i say i am a renter for his house he's like 'you really did that for me?🥹'

oh his every reaction is so cute i would do anything for him too.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 spoilers

34 notes · View notes

ancha-aus · 1 year ago

Text

RealAgeAU Drabble - Parentalbond Cross

We are back on my BS and selfindulding drabble series, today we are finishing up how all the guys adopted Nightmare!

Last but not least, Cross :D

First Drabble (and original prompt by @spotaus ) Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Okay! No edits and no beta because we don't roll that way 😎😎

But more serious. slight content warning. Cross helps Nightmare bath, wash and clean his wounds and injuries. Poor baby can't take care of his own wounds that well and needs assistance from one of his four dads.

*----------------*

Cross isn't feeling good. Nothing is actually wrong with him but he is nervous.

Why is he even watching Nightmare today?!

It isn't that Cross... it isn't that he doesn't like...

Cross just doesn't feel sure about this.

He just doesn't have that instinct with childcare that the others seem to have. He tried! But he can't help but keep seeing Nightmare as an adult, or old adult? Ex adult?

Even when Dust and he spoke about it. How Dust just compared it with a natural change. Cross just... can't see him as a child.

He knows it is bad. Cross tries very hard to treat him as a child and do it right but Nightmare seems to notice Cross' nervous around it.

Which helps because if Ngihtmare needs anything he just asks Dust or Killer or Horror! Which works perfectly for Cross! How bad of a caretaker is he? That even the child notices that Cross can't handle it.

Cross checks the list again, the list beign something that Dust (and Killer) had put together. Cross would feel bad about needing a list but seeing as the last time he had to babysit he skipped a step or two he knows he deserves this.

Cross nods to himself. Breakfast and lunch were both done. Nightmare had his personal reading time. Nightmare had completed the few assignments Dust had put together for him. They had gone outside for fresh air and sunlight.

Now, the point he had been dreading. Bathtime.

Cross just doesn't get why Nightmare can't do it himself. But Cross had tried that last time only to get Dust to be furious at him, at the time it had also surprised and confused both of Killer and Horror much like Cross.

Since then Dust had refused to let Cross watch over Nightmare. A few days later Killer fully accepted his role as babysitter and caretaker. Which meant that Cross just didn't need to solo babysit Nightmare again.

Which had been fine! Perfect even!

But... well... You always have days were it just doen'st go according to plan. Which leaves Cross today to do all the duties.

Cross sighs and takes out the second list. It is a long list of rules for bathtime.

You need to follow all of these steps! And I mean all of them Cross. No skipping.

Cross rolls his eye lights and reads.

Step 1. Use WARM water. And I mean WARM! If you put your hand under the faucet it should be close to burning you.

Cross turns on the faucet and holds his hand under it to measure the warmth as he continues reading.

Step 2. Fill the bath as Nightmare gets ready himself. He doesn't need help undressed unless he specifically asks. And only then! >:( Tiny boss is specific about when he wants help!

Cross nods before snorting at the extra text. Seems like that Killer also got his hands on this list.

Step 3. Use the soap in the pink bottle and put enough in it to get a few bubbles to appear. NO! USE A LOT! MORE BUBBLES! >:3 No. I am serious. Just a bit is enough.

Cross finds the pink bottle in the small basket of bath stuff that Dust had left for him. Cross knows this because there was a note on it saying 'CROSS USE THESE.'. He can't help but ready the bottle and frowns. mild soap for sensitive skin with some antibacterial effects. Cross puts in a little at first and waits. No bubbles so he puts in a little more. a few tiny bubbles appear and Cross puts the bottle back in the basket.

Step 4. Just let the bath fill up until about the midheight. Safety reasons. Yeah we know we don't need air but Nightmare's magic is fragile and if he gets under water and panicks he may not be able to make his magic shape in the way to enable him to handle no air!

Cross hums and keeps an eye on the height fo the water. Turning it off at the right time.

Step 5. Just wait until Nightmare knocks on the door that he is ready. Once he is make sure you stand with your back to the door and bathtub. Nightmare can get in himself and if he needs help he will let you know. <- This.

Cross nods and just waits. He eyes the door and knocks on it, knowing the large master bedroom is behind it. "You okay Nightmare?"

Silence before a huff "I am fine." he sounds slightly out of breath. But Cross doesn't bother to point it out. He sits next to the bathtub and looks through the basket. A pink soap bar and Cross sniffs it. It smells like citrus, the same scent that the other soap had. Mmh. He grabs some of the brushes and feels them. Very soft and hardly any resistence. Weird choise as the harder and stiffer brushes work better with cleanign between bones. Cross spots some of those brushes in the basket as well and organises those as he waits.

A knock on the door "Cross? I am ready... Is the bath okay?"

Cross gets up and takes his list as he stands with his back to the door as ordered "It is ready!" he takes the list out in front of him again as he reads the next step.

Step 6. Whatever you do. Be normal. Please be normal. Don't freak out and remain calm. No sudden movements as you go near and announce your movement and what you do. Try to make some noise as you move! I have notices that that helps!

Cross feels nervous about that but waits. He hears Nightmare shuffle in and the door close behind him. No movement for a while before light steps move towards the water. Some splashes as Nightmare gets into the tub.

More silence before "okay. I am in... I can do this myself you know..." he sounds nervous.

Cross takes a deep breath and reads the text again before he turns, making sure his feet make noise as he moves around on the tiles. A familiar clicking of bones against it. Cross sighs "I know Nightmare. But last time they got annoyed I let you do it yourself and I don't want to risk that." he slowly gets closer.

Nightmare hums as he moves the water around with his hand "Fair enough."

Cross gets to the side and feels himself freeze. His back is a mess. Open wounds nad chips of bones missing. large cracks and bones barely holding together.

Cross gulps and finds his voice "I am going to sit down now, behind you..." fuck. fuck.. This is why Dust was furious. Because these need cleaning. fuck fuck fuck.

Ngihtmare hums that he heard him and keeps playing with the water.

Cross sits on his knees behind Ngihtmare and glances at the list.

Step 7. Once you are behind Nightmare you will start with his ribs. Use the shower body scrub thing for that. I always called it the poof. I am very sure that isn't the name Killer. Well what is the name? .... That is what i thought. Use the shower body scrub and some of the soap bar. Soap it up and move slowly rib by rib. It takes time. As you do this you need to pay close attention to Nightmare. If you reach his limit he will tense up. When this happens you need to pause and give him a moment. Use this time to just clean the scrub and reapply some new soap before continuing. Ha! You sure that isn't a new step? and what call it 7B? no thanks.

Cross glanes around and sees the shower wash thing that they must have meant and were talking about. Cross isn't even sure about the name for those sponge floof things himself. He nods and speaks "I am going to get the scrub ready. You okay? water okay?"

Ngihtmare hums and shrugs. The shrug causes Cross's attention to shift from the back and mess of ribs and the horrific view of the spine to the large bruises and sores all along the clavicle. Who would do this to a child? Why would they hurt a child this badly?! He is just a babybones!

Cross has the shower floof all nice and wet and soapy and moves slowly closer "I am going to start on your ribs now... okay?" A nod is his answer and Cross gets to work. He applies almost no pressure but Nightmare still shivers. Cross moves slowly to clean some of the ribs. He keeps a close eye to make sure nothing gets stuck on the broken and wounded bones.

They are silent as Cross works as Cross is hyperaware of Nightmare and his breathing. it is slow and even. One by one the ribs get cleaned and Cross makes sure to take two breaks to enable Ngihtmare to calm down.

Cross washes out the floof as Nightmare tries to relax, poking bubbles. Cross looks back at his list.

Step 8. Once you managed to finish washing his ribs he will need a moment. Give the scrub to him, soaped up, so he can wash his own legs and pelvis. As he washes this you need to wash his skull and neck with one of the washcloths. There are no wounds there but it is easier if you do it.

No extra comments form Killer this time. Cross does as told and gives Nightmare the shower floof and Nightmare gets to work on cleaning himself without even needing instructions. Clearly already part of the routine.

Cross still gets the right washcloth wet and soaped up as he speaks "I am going to wash your neck and skull in the meantime okay?" a small nod and Cross gets to work. His hands and fingers easily finding the curves and dips as he carefully cleans the babybones. Nightmare actively relaxes as Cross takes care to clean everything.

Cross leans back and grins "There. those are done." he looks at the list.

Step 9. Now the hardest part. the spine. Nightmare knows he needs this but won't like it. But he won't fight you on it. Again, he understands this is needed. So don't even bother to tell him it will be over quickly or not suck. He hates that. For the spine and the many tiny wounds nad the larger cracks you will need to soft soft brushes, you will quickly understand what i mean. It are the softest i could find and we keep them clean and disinfected. Still, one of the two will have the soap as always. the other is to apply disinfectent at the very end. Make sure one of those two stays dry.

Cross puts one of the two soft brushes to the side and grabs the other one. He starts getting it soaped up as the speaks "I am going to start on your spine now." Nightmare immediantly grows tense and hugs himself. floof forgotten in the water. Cross feels terrible "I am sorry. I will do my best to be careful okay? Just slow and steady?"

Ngihtmare hums and nods "okay..."

Cross has the brush ready and sits nearby "Okay. I am going to put one hand on your side to help keep you steady as i do this." Another nod and Cross helps support Nightmare as he nears the spine with the brush. "I am going to start cleaning the wounds now." a very soft brush but Nightmare still shudders and whimpers in pain.

He hates this. How fucking dare they hurt a child like this? To do this and hurt him this badly? And why?! because they are idiots to think he was bad?! That a child was evil??! That a babybones was evil?!

Cross is seething but his hands are steady as he cleans the wounds and deep slashes. No wonder that they need to do this for Nightmare. Ngihtmare is shaking in pain as he cleans the wounds. Nightmare would not have the ability to do this for himself.

Eventually he manages to clean the spine and Cross puts the brush away "there! All done with that!" Nightmare still sits shaking but leans a bit deeper into the water. calming himself.

Cross grabs his list and searches quickly.

Step 10. If you get to this spot you are almost done. We are in the home stretch! Now. Next is to give him a moment to relax. JUst let him sit in the water. In the meantime you can get the scrub soaped up again for the last step.

Step 11. next is the arms and shoulders. And while sensitive they won't hurt too badly in this. Just wash it off with the soaped up scrub once Ngihtmare sits up striaghter again.

Okay. easy enough. Cross starts preparing the floof as he keeps an eye on Nightmare. Nightmare sits back up after a while and mutters "okay... arms next?"

Cross nods as his soul fills wiht pride and... and... he isnt'sure what... instead he ignores it as he speaks "indeed." Nightmare hums but holds one of his arms out, still not looking at Cross. Cross cleans it efficiently but makes sure his touch is gentle. They switch arms and this one gets the same treatment.

Nightmare uses the water in the bath to get the soap off of him and Cross refers back to the list.

Step 11. This one and the next go together. After you got a towel, pick Nightmare out of the tub and just wrap him up. I like to fully burrito him, You know you did it right when he starts to purr.

Step 12. Use a soft towel to get off all the water. Just softly dab- LMAO! DAB! :D okay. My bad. Just softly tap the towel to the areas near the wounds instead of scrubbing it dry. It takes longer but hurts him less.

Cross searches the bathroom and finds some towels that meet his standard of softness. He takes it to Nightmare. Next he carefully picks Ngihtmare out of the tub, Nightmare still isn't looking at him and Cross can spot a small blush on his face. No doubt embarressed. Cross wraps Nightmare in the towel and hugs him close.

Affection. The other thing he had felt was affection and pride. Becuase Nightmare had been such a brave babybones and had been so well behaved. How could he not be proud?

Cross follows the instructions to the letter as he finishes drying Nightmare. He keeps him in the towel and reads the steps explaining how to desinfect the wounds and how to wrap those. pretty basic stuff. He grabs the other soft brush and explains to Nightmare what he is about to do.

It still stings as that is the nature of the desinfectent but Cross finishes up bathtime with wrapping the ribs and wounds all in soft bandages. In the end Cross puts on the hoody and holds their babybones close to him.

Nightmare, still purring softly as he leans against Cross, relaxes further and further and Cross nuzzles the tiny skull "There we go. you did amazing! We will just sit downa dn waits for the others okay?" a glance back at the bathroom but Cross leaves it be for now. He can clean up their tools and stuff when someone else is back to watch Nightmare.

Nightmare hums and snuggles clsoer to him under his chin and Cross starts to purr himself.

Maybe he does know how this whole parent thing works.

*----------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

#utmv #realageau #nightmare sans #deaged nightmare #Team as family #cross sans #Dust and Killer are here in spirit in the notes but that is all lmao #And that was number four in the parentalbond mini series within my series! :D #Does it still make sense?#But yeah. Cross kinda accepted Ngihtmare as his kid about halfway into that drabble #As Horror had said in the previous one. He was close!#But now Nightmare officially has four dads!#congrats. They had adopted and the baby is you #Nightmare is just embarresed and humiliated that he needs help with this #Nightmare: I am a strong independent monster >:(#All four: it is a baby.#Nightmare however is getting used to trusting and counting on them.#And that is it for now!

82 notes · View notes