🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴇᴘɪʟᴏɢᴜᴇ: ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ, ᴀɢᴀɪɴ 🧡
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ
Their home in Monaco sat nestled on the cliffs, an old estate passed down through generations of (Y/n)’s family, high-arched windows, limestone terraces, and iron-gilded balconies that overlooked the Mediterranean like watchful guardians of time. The moment you stepped inside, it was obvious: this was old money. A chandelier that looked like it belonged in a royal ballroom hung above a sweeping staircase. Oil paintings framed in gold leaf. Antique mirrors taller than the average man. Even the air smelled like heritage, clean, expensive, timeless.
It didn’t matter to Lando. He would’ve lived in a shoebox with her and still been the happiest man alive.
But somehow, the universe had given him all of this.
And more.
(Y/n) stood in the garden just past the courtyard, barefoot in the grass, watching their twin boys chase butterflies with the same manic energy their father brought to the grid.
“They’re not blind, you know,” she muttered.
Lando blinked, glancing up from his seat under the umbrella. “What?”
“They’re carbon copies of you,” she said with mock exasperation. “It’s like I carried them for eight and a half months just to make a couple of mini yous.”
He grinned, smug. “Strong genes. Sorry.”
“Rude.” She picked up one of the boys, Leo, or maybe Anders, and kissed his messy curls. “I just wanted one baby with my nose.”
“We can try again,” he said, sidling up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.
She leaned into him. “Funny you say that.”
Lando pulled back slightly to look at her. Her eyes sparkled, mischievous, warm, full of something else.
“What do you mean?” he asked slowly.
“I mean,” she whispered, taking his hand and placing it low on her belly, “we’re getting a new family member soon.”
For a moment, he just stared. And then, everything lit up.
“You’re pregnant?”
She nodded.
Lando laughed, the kind of laugh that bent him in half. He dropped to his knees in the grass, arms wrapped around her hips, forehead pressed to her stomach.
“You’re… you’re serious?”
“As a heartbeat,” she whispered, her fingers combing through his curls.
He looked up at her like she’d hung the stars.
“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking a little. “I love all of you. Always.”
And this time, she didn’t cry. She just smiled.
Because somehow, in the wildest, loudest, most unplanned way possible, they had become a forever kind of love.
And there was still more to come.
🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ꜰʟᴀꜱʜ-ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ: ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴜʀɴ 🧡
📝 Note from the Author: You really thought I’d leave you on a podium kiss? Please. This is me we’re talking about.
The Norris family in old-money Monaco, chasing butterflies, making babies, and still being chaotic in the softest, most emotional way? YES. You deserve luxury, barefoot garden confessions, and surprise pregnancies with zero warning. I am your local drama dealer, after all.
Also, let’s take a moment to appreciate:
Lando, unbothered by chandeliers worth more than his car
(Y/n), still trying to get one baby with her nose
The twins? Running the household already
That one quote: “As a heartbeat.” 💔🩷
Second epilogue? You know it’s coming. Stick around, Alarwynnites. We’re not done making you sob just yet. Leave me a 🏡🍼🦋 if this epilogue made your heart combust gently.
With love, me 🧡
