🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8: ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴛ ʟᴀɴᴇ 🧡
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ
⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:
ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ (7–8 ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ)
ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴄʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ
ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ꜱʜɪꜰᴛꜱ ɪɴ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄꜱ
ᴏꜰꜰ-ꜱᴄʀᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ/ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ
ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ (ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴛɪᴛᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇꜱ, ᴀᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴꜱ)
ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʜɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ
ꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ
ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴜɴᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴛʏ
It had only been a few days since that drive, but everything had shifted.
Not dramatically. Not publicly.
But quietly, under the surface, in the way gravity shifts just before a storm.
(Y/n) was back at the boutique, folding linens and refitting mannequin displays with trembling hands she tried to disguise with careful precision. Carla was nearby, flipping through hangers while shooting her the occasional smirk. And Amara, as always, kept a watchful eye while pretending to steam a rack of dresses.
“You okay?” Amara whispered, catching her during a restock.
“I’m fine.”
“You haven’t touched your smoothie.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Amara didn’t press.
Because the truth was, (Y/n) didn’t know what she was anymore.
Somewhere across Monaco, Lando was gearing up for the next round of training and simulator work, showing up to press duties and team meetings with that usual grin, but even his team had started to notice cracks in the polish.
He was late to strategy debriefs. Quieter during engineering huddles. And more than once, his trainer caught him glancing at his phone between reps, thumbing the screen as if expecting a message he couldn’t ask for out loud.
At McLaren HQ, the murmurs started in low tones:
“Has he been off to you?”
“Little distracted, yeah.”
“I asked about tire compounds and he looked like I’d said something about aliens.”
Even Oscar noticed. “You good, mate?”
Lando shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much. I’m alright.”
He wasn’t.
Because he was caught in this strange in-between of wanting to do something, and not knowing what that was yet.
He hadn’t told anyone. Not his team, not his family. Not even Max, who would’ve given him hell and maybe good advice all at once.
It felt too raw. Too fragile.
But he had her number now. Saved under Y/n – Monaco. He’d stared at it more than once, thumb hovering above a message he couldn’t quite bring himself to send.
You alright? Do you need anything? How do we do this?
He didn’t hit send.
Back at the boutique, the lull of a quiet afternoon stretched long and slow until Carla broke it with a sing-song voice.
“Sooo… any new celebrity drop-ins today?” She leaned against the counter with a grin, eyes flicking between (Y/n) and Amara.
(Y/n) gave her a look. “Don’t start.”
Carla shrugged innocently. “I’m just saying. I still can’t believe Lando freaking Norris came strolling in here like he was picking up dry cleaning.”
Amara rolled her eyes. “You’ve already told that story twice.”
Carla ignored her. “I mean, I get it now. The stares. The weird scarf folding. The mysterious ‘smoothie diet’—girl, you’ve been living in a soft-launch phase!”
(Y/n)’s cheeks burned. “Carla.”
“What? I’m supportive,” she teased. “Shocked, but supportive.”
Amara laughed. “Supportively loud, maybe.”
Carla winked. “Don’t worry, I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Girl code.”
Later that evening, when the boutique lights dimmed and the last customer had drifted out, (Y/n) sat in the staff room with her head leaning back against the cool wall, phone clutched in one hand.
It buzzed.
Lando: Saw the clip going around. You okay?
She stared at it for a moment.
(Y/n): I’m used to hiding. Just didn’t expect the internet to start guessing.
Lando: We can figure something out. You shouldn’t do this alone.
(Y/n): We already agreed. No press. No noise.
Lando: I know. But that doesn’t mean nothing.
The words lingered.
She didn’t reply again.
But for the first time in a while, she didn’t feel entirely alone.
Somewhere in this mess, between the silence, the stolen glances, and the threads unraveling in every direction, there was something slowly being stitched back together.
Not a solution.
But maybe, just maybe, a start.
To be continued... 🧡
🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9: ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴꜱᴇᴇɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱꜱᴜʀᴇ 🧡
📝 Note from the Author: It’s another day today HAHAHA and somehow… we’re already on Chapter 8?? 😭 Time’s flying when there’s drama, secrets, and accidental pregnancies involved.
Alsooo I was thinking, what if I call you all Alarwynnites(?) 🤔 If y’all like it, great! If not… well, I’m still calling you that anyway AHAHAHAHA. Y’all are stuck with it now 💅🧡
As always, thank you for reading, crying, laughing, and spiraling with me. Your support means the world, don’t forget to like, share, reblog, and comment if you’re enjoying the chaos 💌
With love, me 🧡
