🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: ᴀ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴛᴏᴜʀꜱ 🧡
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ
⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:
ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ɴᴏᴛ ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ)
ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ʟᴏꜱꜱ
ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ
ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ, ᴄᴏɴꜰᴜꜱɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ
ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ
(Y/n) had always believed that Monaco would be the place she could finally breathe. A postcard-perfect paradise filled with glitz, speed, and the Mediterranean sun, it held a sort of magic, especially for someone like her, who had grown up watching it from afar. She’d left everything behind in her home country to chase a new beginning. No more noise, no more family expectations, no more chaos. Just her, a suitcase, and a job offer from a secondhand boutique tucked away on a quiet street.
The thrift shop wasn’t glamorous, not like the luxury designer stores a few blocks away. But it was hers. She loved the smell of old books, the racks of vintage coats, the steady rhythm of opening boxes, steaming fabrics, arranging displays. The work was simple, grounding. The tourists came and went, and the locals who knew her name brought her coffee in the mornings.
She often walked home after closing, weaving through alleyways that shimmered in the dim amber glow of old streetlamps. Monaco, despite its luxury, still had shadows. But she never felt unsafe, until that night.
It had been a long shift. A rude customer, a broken receipt printer, and a delivery that never arrived had left her exhausted. As she locked up the shop and slung her canvas bag over her shoulder, she didn’t notice the group of drunk men until it was too late.
At first, they laughed and joked among themselves. But then one called out to her. Another stepped in front of her path. The air turned sharp with adrenaline. Her heart pounded.
She tried to walk faster, her keys gripped tightly in one hand, her other hand fishing blindly for her phone. But it slipped. Someone grabbed her wrist.
Panic. Then, nothing.
When she woke up, it was like surfacing from underwater.
Her mouth was dry. Her head felt like it was caving in from all sides. Light poured in from the window, far too bright. She blinked, disoriented, trying to sit up.
And then she saw him.
A man in her bed. Shirtless. Tousled curls. A face she had seen a hundred times on race broadcasts and magazine covers.
Lando Norris.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She was naked.
The bedsheets were tangled around them. Her clothes were strewn across the floor. Her chest tightened.
She didn’t remember getting home. She didn’t remember... this.
As if sensing her stirring, Lando shifted and opened his eyes. They locked eyes for a moment, and confusion crossed his face too, followed by realization.
He sat up slowly, brushing a hand through his hair.
"This... shouldn’t have happened," he mumbled, almost to himself.
Then, without warning, he reached for his wallet.
(Y/n) stared, unable to move.
He pulled out a few folded bills and held them out toward her, not meeting her eyes.
"Look, let’s just forget this. Here. For... whatever."
Something snapped.
(Y/n) slapped the money out of his hand.
"Are you serious? You think I’m…what, a mistake you can pay to disappear?"
Her voice shook, not from weakness, but from fury. Humiliation burned through her veins.
"I’m not a slut. Get out."
Lando’s jaw clenched. For a second, he looked like he might say something. But he didn’t.
Instead, he gathered his clothes, pulled his hoodie over his head, and walked out without a word.
The door slammed shut. Silence fell.
(Y/n) curled up in the mess of sheets, holding herself tightly. Her body trembled, not from the cold, but from everything else. She didn’t know what happened that night. But whatever it was, it had shattered the quiet, peaceful life she’d tried so hard to build in the city of dreams. To be Continued… 🧡 🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴜᴛɪɴᴇ 🧡
📝 Note from the Author: I just want to say thank you to everyone who’s reading, reblogging, or even just silently vibing with Unplanned. 🧡 Your support means more than you know.
I’ll try to update as soon as I can (real life and chores are currently tag-teaming me 🧼🧹), but I promise I haven’t forgotten about this story. It’s just getting started.
Thanks for sticking around. You’re the best.
With love, me 🧡
