🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10: ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ᴡᴀʟʟꜱ, Qᴜɪᴇᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴘꜱ 🧡
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ
⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:
ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ
ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛ
ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴘᴀᴛᴇʀɴɪᴛʏ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ
ᴜʟᴛʀᴀꜱᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀᴘᴘᴏɪɴᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ
ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ, ɢᴜɪʟᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
ɪɴᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴇxᴘᴏꜱᴜʀᴇ & ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ᴘᴀᴘᴀʀᴀᴢᴢɪ/ɢᴏꜱꜱɪᴘ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ)
ꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʟᴇᴀᴅꜱ
ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏ-ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴ
ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀᴍᴇ
ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴍɪꜱᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢꜱ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ɪɴ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ
The rain came softly.
Not the dramatic kind that made headlines or ruined press runs, just a hush over Monaco’s cobbled elegance, giving the city a muted silver sheen.
Lando sat in the backseat of a blacked-out SUV, phone face-down on the seat beside him, ignoring the incoming messages piling up from his press liaison, his assistant, even Will.
They’d noticed. Of course they had.
He wasn’t as sharp during debrief yesterday. Didn’t join the others for the sponsor dinner. He’d asked to delay the morning sim session.
When he walked into the McLaren paddock earlier, two junior engineers fell quiet mid-conversation. Even Oscar had given him a long, squinting glance before saying casually, “You alright, mate?”
The PR team had noticed too.
Lando wasn’t reckless with media attention, but he was consistent—and lately, he’d broken that pattern. No grid walk banter. No post-race Instagram captions. No stories.
Just… silence.
And silence always made people dig.
He checked his phone again. A notification blinked up from an F1 gossip account: “Who was Lando Norris seen speaking to outside the McLaren truck? 👀👀” A blurry photo. Her profile barely visible, head down, hair tucked behind one ear. It was definitely her.
He muted the account.
When the car finally pulled up to the private clinic, he stepped out quietly, cap low, hoodie zipped. No logos. No McLaren orange. No fanfare.
(Y/n) was already there.
She stood near the entrance in a simple black coat, holding a small umbrella, her face unreadable as she spotted him.
Neither of them said much as they stepped inside.
The reception was discreet, the staff well-practiced. No questions, no cameras. Just soft beige walls and the low hum of indoor jazz.
He let her fill out the forms.
When the nurse called her in, he hesitated. “Do you want me to come?”
Only her eyes moved. “Only if you’re going to believe me when it’s over.”
His chest ached. “Then maybe I should wait here.”
She gave a faint nod and followed the nurse down the hall.
Lando leaned forward, hands clasped. He stared at the floor for what felt like years.
He didn’t want to doubt her. He didn’t want to think about Luca or the night she left without saying goodbye. But the fear, that tight, irrational fear, had crept in the second he learned about the baby.
He couldn’t afford another scandal. He couldn’t afford to trust blindly, not when the entire world scrutinized his every move.
But when (Y/n) came back, ultrasound photo in hand, something shifted.
Her hand didn’t shake as she offered it to him.
“It’s real,” she said simply.
He took the printout.
It wasn’t much, just a flicker on paper. But somehow, it hit harder than a podium. He couldn’t tear his eyes from it.
“I didn’t lie to you.”
His throat tightened. “I know. I panicked. I’m sorry.”
She nodded, but her eyes didn’t soften.
They stepped out into the drizzle, their silence carrying more weight than words.
At the car, he stopped. “I want to help. But I don’t know what that looks like yet.”
She folded her arms. “Then figure it out fast, because I don’t have the luxury of waiting.”
Her words weren’t cruel. Just tired. Honest.
Lando looked at the photo again. “I’m not asking to fix everything. I just… want to be there.”
“Then stop accusing me of things.”
“I will.” He paused. “Do you want a ride home?”
“Only if you don’t ask me again whether it’s yours.”
That made him flinch.
“Fair.”
They got into the car.
Not as a couple. Not as enemies.
Just two people, half-estranged, half-connected, racing quietly against time and headlines.
To be continued... 🧡
🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11: ᴛᴇʀᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴꜱ 🧡
📝 Note from the Author: Hello my lovely Alarwynnites 🧡 Can you believe it’s already my fifth day here on Tumblr? Time flies when you’re lost in drama, secrets, and emotionally unstable F1 drivers 😭 The story just keeps getting better and better, and I truly hope you're still with me, still reading, still feeling all the chaos alongside me.
Sooo, I’m thinking of scheduling 3 posts per day from now on since I’m almost done writing the whole book (YES, 42 chapters total, and two of those are juicy epilogues AHAHAHAHA). I really, really hope you’ll all love where this is headed 🧡
Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog, and comment again if you're feeling extra 😭 If you love my stories, follow for more, because the drama’s not slowing down any time soon 😌
With love, me 🧡
