π pairing : Daniel Riccardo x Verstappen!Sister!Reader
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10
ποΈ summary: he was the honey badger with a grin that could silence storms, and she was max verstappenβs little sisterβalways there, always watching, never saying too much. theyβd spent years orbiting each other, but after singapore'24 when daniel quietly stepped away from formula 1, everything shattered. now sheβs left wondering if he was ever just a friend or the great love she let slip through her fingers without ever saying a word.
themes : fluff, flirting, angst, over protective brother, anxiety, emotional, slight smut in a few chapters, overshadowing, loneliness
The house hunting was failing. The houses were too small, too far away from the office or had a creepy landlord. Y/N was losing hope and her will to stay in that hotel room for longer was fading. Daniel had made her a cup of tea while discussing options.
The plates from dinner are still on the table, half-empty glasses of wine, soft music humming in the background. Y/N sits curled on Danielβs couch, picking at a thread on her sleeve, clearly distracted.
Daniel leans against the counter, watching her with that mix of nerves and resolve heβs been carrying since Max left. He finally blurts it out.
βWhy donβt you just move in here?β
Y/Nβs head snaps up so fast she nearly chokes on air. βIβm sorryβWHAT THE FUCK?β
Daniel shrugs like itβs the simplest thing in the world. βYeah. Move in. Problem solved.β
She stares at him, wide-eyed, hands flying. βAre you insane? Thatβs the worst idea youβve ever had. No, scratch that, itβs the worst idea anyoneβs ever had.β
Daniel laughs, hands up like heβs bracing for impact. βEasy, tiger. I didnβt meanβ¦ you knowβ¦ like that. I meant roommates.β
βRoommates? ROOMMATES?β Y/N throws a cushion at him. βDaniel, youβre literally you. And Iβm literally me. That would be a disaster.β
βWhy?β he asks, catching the cushion with a grin.
She shoots up from the couch and starts pacing. βBecause youβre messy. You leave socks everywhere. You probably snore. Andβoh, my godβyou always leave the fridge door open.β
Daniel folds his arms, following her with his eyes. βCorrection: I sometimes forget to shut the fridge because Iβm in a rush. And I do not snore.β
βYou totally snore.β
He smirks. βYouβve never slept next to me long enough to know.β
Y/N freezes, cheeks heating, and glares. βDonβt even start.β
Daniel steps closer, voice softer now. βFine. But youβre still running out of time. Youβve hated every flat youβve seen. And Max isnβt here anymore to bully landlords into being nice. Youβre stressed out of your mind.β
She crosses her arms tight. βBecause this is supposed to be my thing. My independence. I canβt justβwhat? Move in with you? Thatβs the opposite of standing on my own two feet.β
Daniel tilts his head, eyes softening. βOr maybe itβs just smart. Youβd save money. Youβd be safe. Andββ his grin edges back, crooked and boyish ββyouβd have me around to make sure you actually eat instead of just drinking coffee all day.β
Y/N huffs, but her lips twitch. βThatβs not fair. You canβt throw the food card.β
βDeadly fair,β Daniel says smugly. βPlus, think of it this way: youβd have built-in pest control.β
She raises an eyebrow. βPest control?β
βYeah. Any spider, cockroach, random flying thing? Iβll handle it. No questions asked.β
Y/N bites her lip to stop from laughing. βThat isβ¦ weirdly compelling.β
Daniel takes a cautious step closer. βSo? Why not, Y/N? You donβt have to keep fighting me like Iβm trying to chain you down. I justβ¦ want you comfortable here.β
She sighs, looking down at her hands. βYou make it sound so easy. But itβs not. Living with you would beβ¦ complicated.β
Daniel swallows, his voice quieter now, honest. βItβs already complicated, isnβt it? This doesnβt change that. It justβ¦ makes it a little less lonely.β
For a long beat, she says nothing, the silence thick between them. Then she mutters, βYou really donβt snore?β
Daniel grins, triumphant. βNot a peep. Cross my heart.β
Her groan fills the room. βI canβt believe Iβm even considering this.β
βConsidering? Thatβs progress,β he teases, and she throws another cushion at him.
This time, sheβs laughing.
-
She returned to her hotel room that night, excited, confused but happy. The room was dim, the bedside lamp casting a warm glow against the cream walls. Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, laptop propped open in front of her. The ringing tone ended, and suddenly Max and Kellyβs faces filled the screen.
βHey babe!β Kelly beamed, waving. Max sat beside her, arms folded but eyes soft.
βHi, you two,β Y/N said, a tired smile tugging at her lips.
Y/N sighed, rubbing her temple. βIβ¦ might have an option. But donβt freak out.β
Maxβs brows rose. βWhat did he do?β
βNot him,β Y/N said quickly, then hesitated. βWellβ¦ kind of him. Daniel asked me to move in.β
There was a beat of silence. Kelly gasped like it was the best news in the world, while Max looked like he might combust.
βWHAT?β Max said, leaning forward at the camera. βAbsolutely notβno way. Y/N, thatβs insane.β
Kelly smacked his arm. βMax, shut up! That actually makes perfect sense. Sheβs been running around for days looking for a place, nothingβs worked, and heβs right there. Heβs safe. Heβsββ
βHeβs Daniel,β Max interrupted. βWhich is exactly the problem.β
Y/N laughed. βSee, this is why I didnβt want to tell you Max.β
Kelly leaned closer. βY/N, listen. Itβs temporary, and youβll save yourself so much stress. I think itβs a great idea.β
Max shook his head. βNo. No, no, no. Do you two realize how messy that could get? What if things go sideways? What if heββ
βMax,β Kelly cut in firmly. βSheβs not a kid. She can handle herself. And honestlyβ¦ maybe this is exactly what they need.β
Y/N cut in a bit harshly, "Maximus I just want to mention that you pushed Daniel back into my life, making him my fucking guardian or something, so you have to be okay with this."
Max groaned, dragging a hand down his face. βYouβre impossible.β He turned back to Y/N. βLook, I donβt like it. Butβ¦ if it means youβre safe and not stuck in some shady rental, fine. Iβll deal with it. Justβ¦ promise me youβll be careful, ja?β
Y/Nβs throat tightened. βI promise.β
Kellyβs expression softened, her voice dropping to something gentler. βYouβre still in love with him, arenβt you, babe?β
The words pierced the room like glass shattering. Y/N blinked fast, eyes watering as her chest tightened. She let out a shaky breath.
βYeah, Kel,β she whispered, her voice breaking just slightly. βBut loving him feels like holding my breath under water. I canβt tell if itβs keeping me alive or if itβs drowning me.β
The line went quiet, Kellyβs eyes glassy and Maxβs jaw tight as he looked away, clearly fighting his own emotions.
-
In the next few days Y/N agreed to move in. And so it began, the constant boxes arriving from Monaco with endless clothes. Daniel pulled up outside the hotel, stepping out of his car with a grin that was just a little too wide to be casual.
He offered to grab Y/Nβs bag, but she waved him off, hugging it close like armour. They didnβt talk much during the drive, the hum of the engine filling the silence, but every so often their eyes would flicker toward each other.
By the time they reached his place, the air between them was a cocktail of nerves and unspoken things. Daniel carried her smaller suitcase into the second bedroom, watching her wander the space like she wasnβt sure how to exist there. She fussed with the curtains, adjusted the pillows, lined her toothbrush up on the sink like she was trying to claim territory.
βFeel weird?β Daniel asked softly from the doorway.
βA little,β Y/N admitted, forcing a small smile. βButβ¦ thanks, Dan. Really.β
He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. βDonβt mention it.β
Hours later, after unpacking what little she had, Y/N padded into the bathroom for a shower. The steam clung to her skin as she wrapped a towel tightly around herself, tugging another through her damp hair. She felt⦠lighter, until she opened the laundry bag and realized.
βOh, for fuckβs sake,β she muttered. βEverythingβs in the wash.β
She groaned loudly, smacking her forehead with her palm, then froze. She didnβt want to, butβ¦ she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door just enough to peek her head out.
βDaniel?β
He was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but the second he heard her voice, he looked up. His gaze snagged on herβhair dripping against the towel, bare shoulders, flushed cheeks. His ears went pink instantly, and he blinked hard, like he was trying not to stare.
βUhβyeah? You okay?β
She shifted uncomfortably, tugging the towel higher. βIβ¦ donβt have any clothes. Theyβre all in the laundry. Can Iβ¦ maybe borrow something?β
Daniel shot up so fast the phone nearly flew out of his hand. βYeahβyeah, course. Um, give me a sec.β He bolted into his room like the place was on fire, muttering under his breath as he tore through drawers. Sweatshirt, shortsβsafe options. Definitely safe.
When he came back, he was holding them out like they were some peace offering. βHere. These should work. The shorts have a drawstring, so they wonβt fall off.β
Her cheeks heated as she took them. βThanks.β
Moments later, she emerged again, swimming in his clothes. The sweatshirt hung past her thighs, the sleeves covering her hands, the shorts cinched tight at her waist but still far too big. She looked small. Comfortable. Unbearably adorable.
Daniel bit back a smile, rubbing the back of his neck, a blush taking over. βWell, guess youβve officially joined the βwearing Ricciardo merchβ club.β
Y/N rolled her eyes, tugging at the hem. βTheyβre huge.β
βOr,β Daniel said, eyes twinkling, βyouβre just tiny.β
She shot him a glare, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her with the smallest curve. Danielβs chest tightened, because seeing her like thatβin his clothes, in his homeβfelt like something heβd imagined one too many times. She looked like... his.
And when she brushed past him to curl up on the couch, leaving behind a faint trace of her shampoo, he thought, God help me. Iβm so screwed.
Warnings: smut, filth, blindfold, threesome, the cuck chair's grand return, choking, some lawblad for the girlies, I'm dubious about this but fuck it just take it
One of the Boys Masterlist
Four Redbull cars in the top 10 at their home race... now that was worth celebrating.
And you didn't regret it for a single second.
That night the four of them showed up (upon invitation of course) at your hotel, and you opened the door in nothing but a skimpy little number that was dark blue and red.
Max's favourite.
Arvid, Isack and Liam were very appreciative of it as well obviously, unaware of why you chose it, and they crowded you while Max watched.
At some point you were blindfolded, and you were then unaware of who was doing what to you.
Still standing between the boys, your legs were pushed apart and various hands roamed your body. You let yourself be felt up and admired.
Someone pulled your underwear to the side and you heard someone drop to their knees in front of you and nose along your inner thighs.
Another pair of hands was slipping under your bra to hold your breasts, gently thumbing at your sensitive nipples.
"Feeling good, so far?" Max asked from somewhere to your left.
"Yeah" you breathed, leaning in to the touch of whoever was standing behind you.
"Good"
You were gently moved, onto your hands and knees on the soft carpet, and one person settled behind you, gently fingering you open to prepare you.
In front of your face, you heard a zipper and the sound of clothes being removed and then a hand came to cup your jaw. You gladly opened it, anticipating the taste of whoever was going to fuck your mouth.
He wasn't gentle. Your hair was pulled back into a pony tail and immediately a cock pushed past your lips. He didn't go too deep, thankfully mindful of your gag reflex, but he was pretty rough with his thrusts.
You were barely able to keep up with what was happening behind you, but you were apparently ready because someone else was pushing against you, and just the tip was stretching you out enough for your mind to go blank and your back to arch.
You choked around the man fucking your mouth and he moaned. It sounded quite high-pitched to you, but you couldn't dwell on it because mystery guy number two slammed into you harder and made you choke again.
They took turns being sadistic, and making you gag and squirm between them.
You were getting wetter, and the two men were getting sloppier, moans mingling with yours as their orgasms mounted.
"M'gonna come" someone groaned, and you were filled from behind, vaguely aware of it dripping down your thighs when he pulled out.
"Your turn" you heard Max say, and the man in front of you moved away, and judging by the shuffling around, he was settling behind you, and the third mystery man took his place in front of you.
He was more gentle, he was also noticeably thicker, and took great care with how he held you in place while he slowly slid in deeper on each thrust.
The other one was just as rough with your cunt as he had been with your mouth, and you almost collapsed when he gripped your hips and went to town on you, pulling you back against his thrusts like he wanted you to still feel them in a week.
Max was giving them instructions on what you liked, not that you were capable of listening to anything but the obscene noises coming from the three of you.
Soon enough, the build-up inside you reached its boiling point, and you tightened around the cock bullying your pussy. You came together as he filled you up again and slumped over your back.
The last one had the decency to let you breathe while it happened, and you realised why as he then positioned himself behind you as soon as the other one was gone. He was on edge so he fucked you quickly, only his pleasure in mind, until you were filled for a third time.
Before you could fall flat on your face in exhaustion, your blindfold was removed by Max, and he helped you onto the bed to make you more comfortable.
You blinked in the light, glancing around at the men around you.
If you had to guess, Liam had come first because he was already hard again and ready for another round, and Isack had come last because he was still breathing harder than any of them.
Which meant Arvid... Arvid had been the one to fuck you like he hated you, and he was probably the reason you were going to be sore tomorrow.
Not a complaint, just an observation...
You all sat there for a minute, soaking in the afterglow before Liam spoke up for the first time.
"You gonna suck me off, then?"
To your surprise, the question seemed to be directed at Arvid, and all eyes turned to him.
The young brit was red in the face, but obviously not completely against the idea as he stared his teammate down defiantly. "Okay" he gritted, Liam smirked and motioned for him to kneel at his feet.
They seemed to have some sort of previous agreement, you decided it was better not to ask.
You looked at Max. "Enjoyed the show?"
He smiled. "I did. But the show isn't over yet"
Before you could ask him what that meant, Isack pawed at your thigh. "Can I?".
You lifted a curious brow at him. "Can you what?"
He whined, feeling his cock slowly hardening again. "Can I kiss you?"
That's not what you were expecting him to ask but you let him, of course, and kissed him until he was gasping, desperate for air.
"Can I fuck you?" He panted and you giggled and lay down slowly, spreading your legs invitingly. Isack took one look between them and groaned loudly, having to squeeze around the base of his dick to stop this from ending too soon.
"It's so messy" he grunted, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.
You barked out a laugh. "What is it with you french people and being obsessed with come?"
He tilted his head like a confused puppy. "Is that a thing?"
"Well Pierre has it, Charles has it, and I'm pretty sure Esteban would go nuts if he was sitting in your place"
Isack gulped, eyes trailing down your body. "I don't know. Maybe it's just you."
Ooh... good answer.
You smiled and pushed him down onto his back, straddling him eagerly. "Ready?"
His hands went to your hips automatically. "This is bringing back memories."
You chuckled, thinking back to the first time you had Isack like this nearly two years ago. "Sure is." You positioned him at you entrance and sank halfway down, swallowing his moans in a sloppy kiss.
When you bottomed out completely, his hands gripped you so tight you yelped and he profusely apologised before you made him put them back.
He helped you maintain a steady rhythm, bouncing you on his cock with a wet slap from the amount of come that it was dragging out of you.
Liam was struggling to maintain any sort of composure when those big brown wet eyes were staring up at him like that.
Arvid looked like an angel that was being corrupted, and it didn't take much for his hands to tighten in his hair and he spilled down his teammates throat with a wanton moan.
Arvid made a face of disgust, and Max laughed at him. "You'll get used to it"
Arvid flipped him off.
Liam was fully spent, and had places to be, so he took one last opportunity to watch you bouncing on Isack, then departed quietly.
Arvid was rock-hard and needy, so he sat down next to Isack to watch you while jerking himself off.
You really were beautiful, he thought. Back arched with your hands tangled in Isack's curls while the RedBull driver's mouth was busy with your tits.
Your moans too, they sent spikes of arousal down his back and when you noticed his presence you leaned over to kiss him, more tongue and spit than anything but seeing you come undone was enough to get him to the end faster than he'd ever care to admit.
And Isack was so overwhelmed he came with a muffled shout against your shoulder, and the three of you let out matching satisfied sighs.
Arvid and Isack got cleaned up and left, after a hearty kiss each, and finally you were left alone with Max.
He was still sitting on his chair, cool as a cucumber but for the obvious tent straining his uncharacteristically loose jeans.
"Ready for your treat?"
Max grinned and stood up before making his way over to the bed, taking his clothes off on the way there.
"I'm guessing I shouldn't go too hard if you're seeing George and Kimi after?"
You stretched out like a cat on the bed, accentuating your curves for him and doing an amazing job of making his head spin.
"You can do what you want to me, Max. I guarantee those two will take very good care of me"
"In that case..." he growled, and dragged you to the edge by your ankles.
In a second he was on you, throwing your legs over his shoulder haphazard and thrusting into you like a man on a mission.
You gasped and squirmed, but his firm hold on you didn't let you go far. Then he wrapped a hand around your neck, holding you still while he pounded his cock into you so hard you saw stars, and your legs went completely numb with pleasure.
"Max" you tried to gasp, but it came out garbled.
"Look at me"
Your eyes opened and Max looked possessed, completely overwhelmed by the need to take everything from you. His impressive stamina kicked in, and he didn't stop until you were screaming his name as you came, more than once, just like that under him while he fucked you through each increasingly mind-numbing orgasm.
The bed was soaked, and you weren't entirely sure how you were going to manage to get to the airport to catch the jet with George and Kimi, but you had a few hours to spare, and for now at least you were happy to let Max take care of you.
He carried you to the shower and helped you wash, which reinvigorated you a little, and then he ordered some exquisite room service to build back some of your energy for later.
"You're too good to me, Max" you groaned through a mouthfull of perfectly sauced pasta.
You didn't notice the way his cheeks reddened, but he smiled and slipped a hand under your fluffy bathrobe to squeeze the meat of your thigh.
"I do try... you do a lot for us, I'm just returning the favour"
"You don't have to though. None of the others do much"
Your eyes met and the deep blue of his completely entranced you for a second.
"Guess I'm just better than them"
The two of you giggled and clinked your glasses together. "Hear, hear!"
Hopefully this race was a sign of good thing to come for Red Bull.
summary : You're on the hunt for an unsub who's forcing his victims to perform carnal acts or die. What you don't know is that he's set his sights on you and your colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid.
tags/warnings : no use of y/n, dead dove do not eat, fuck or die, noncon/dubcon, nonconsensual filming, kidnapping, voyeurism (additional tags on individual chapters)
CHAPTER ONE : like machines do : spencer and our leading lady find themselves in a tricky situation
CHAPTER TWO : you know you're better than this : things start to heat up between our stars.
CHAPTER THREE : too late to stop : our pairs on screen chemistry is tested.
CHAPTER FOUR : and you look half dead half the time
GENERAL: this list is for formula 1, with a focus on oscar piastri, charles leclerc, george russell, and lando norris. reader is afab, with use of some gendered pet names. each day will be queued to post at 12 AM CST.
β οΈ this masterlist contains 18+ CONTENT. i am not responsible for the content you consume, but if you are under the age of 18 please be smart and consume adult content with discretion!!! <3
π€ OCTOBER 1: want want | charles leclerc
β€· tags: daddy kink/masturbation
β€· synopsis: he asks you to show him what you do when you're alone.
π€ OCTOBER 2: play along | oscar piastri
β€· tags: exhibitionism
β€· synopsis: you've always wanted to try something in public. you just never thought he would actually take you up on it.
π€ OCTOBER 3: to be good | lando norris
β€· tags: orgasm denial/subspace
β€· synopsis: he knows compliments and praise make it hard for you to obey. but losing only makes it worse...
π€ OCTOBER 4: midas touch | charles leclerc
β€· tags: breath play/marking/semi-public
β€· synopsis: "i like this necklace much better on you."
π€ OCTOBER 5: bite me | oscar piastri
β€· tags: blood/marking/vampire!oscar
β€· synopsis: you ask him to bite you during sex.
π€ OCTOBER 6: adult education | george russell
β€· tags: first times/virginity/best friends
β€· synopsis: he's always made fun of you for your hopeless romantic side, but he's more than willing to offer you a helping hand.
π€ OCTOBER 7: double trouble | lando norris/oscar piastri
β€· tags: humiliation/spit roasting/gags
β€· synopsis: double the degradation, double the stimulation, double the fun.
π€ OCTOBER 8: you were meant for me | oscar piastri
β€· tags: soft & slow/vanilla
β€· synopsis: you've been feeling a little under the weather. he just wants you to feel good.
π€ OCTOBER 9: bravado | charles leclerc
β€· tags: public humiliation/edging/sub!charles
β€· synopsis: who says you can't have a little fun at company dinners?
π€ OCTOBER 10: the boy is mine | oscar piastri
β€· tags: muscle worship/praise/mirror
β€· synopsis: he deserves a reward for all his hard work.
π€ OCTOBER 11: dandelion | charles leclerc
β€· tags: choking/corruption
β€· synopsis: he learns you like it when he's a little bit mean.
π€ OCTOBER 12: comin' home, baby | oscar piastri
β€· tags: cockwarming
β€· synopsis: after a long day, sometimes he just wants a little company.
π€ OCTOBER 13: i want a dog | george russell
β€· tags: pet play/collaring/sub!george
β€· synopsis: one of the few times you dom him. with a collar. and a leash.
π€ OCTOBER 14: compress/repress | oscar piastri
β€· tags: pegging/hair-pulling/sub!oscar
β€· synopsis: he likes to make you his. this time it's your turn.
π€ OCTOBER 15: run your mouth | lando norris
β€· tags: degradation/spitting/dacryphilia
β€· synopsis: your misery is his pleasure.
π€ OCTOBER 16: daydreaming | charles leclerc
β€· tags: tights/lingerie
β€· synopsis: he loves the way your stockings dig into your skin.
π€ OCTOBER 17: juno | george russell
β€· tags: breeding kink
β€· synopsis: he's always his most vulnerable when he's inside you.
π€ OCTOBER 18: honeymoon ave | oscar piastri
β€· tags: honeymoon/camera
β€· synopsis: safe to say, you can never show your parents the film from this trip.
π€ OCTOBER 19: hot lap | lando norris
β€· tags: road head
β€· synopsis: he just looks so good like that all relaxed in the driver's seat. he's practically asking for it.
π€ OCTOBER 20: kiss me through the phone | charles leclerc
β€· tags: phone sex/masturbation
β€· synopsis: you miss him so you call him. it doesn't help his voice is all raspy with sleep...
π€ OCTOBER 21: sativa | lando norris/oscar piastri
β€· tags: high sex/friends with benefits
β€· synopsis: note to self: don't get high around friends you find ridiculously attractive
π€ OCTOBER 22: southbound | oscar piastri
β€· tags: mutual masturbation
β€· synopsis: sometimes it's more fun to make him watch.
π€ OCTOBER 23: pretty baby | george russell
β€· tags: ribbons/sex toys
β€· synopsis: you're as pretty as the day you got married. but this time with less clothing.
π€ OCTOBER 24: threeβs a crowd | oscar piastri/lando norris
β€· tags: audience/auralism
β€· synopsis: it's best to turn off your phone before having sex.
π€ OCTOBER 25: dress to impress | charles leclerc
β€· tags: formal wear/corruption
β€· synopsis: you look like an angel. unfortunately all he can think of is ruining it.
π€ OCTOBER 26: archangel | george russell
β€· tags: roleplay/heirophilia
β€· synopsis: you've always wanted to fuck a priest. or something like that.
π€ OCTOBER 27: all tied up | oscar piastri
β€· tags: bondage/face fucking/spidey!osc
β€· synopsis: being spider-man certainly has its perks.
π€ OCTOBER 28: aphrodite | george russell
β€· tags: body worship/praise
β€· synopsis: you've been feeling self-conscious lately. he wants to change that.
π€ OCTOBER 29: winner takes it all | lando norris/oscar piastri
β€· tags: cuckolding/jealousy
β€· synopsis: he wins the season and all the glory. he just doesn't get to win you.
π€ OCTOBER 30: down low | george russell
β€· tags: thigh-riding/dry-humping
β€· synopsis: he wins, you reap the benefits.
π€ OCTOBER 31: beggin' | lando norris
β€· tags: impact play/brat taming
β€· synopsis: the first time he hits you during sex it activates something in you both.
Main kinks:Β medical kink
Other kinks:Β humiliation, observation
Word Count: 1.8k
πͺ Day 20 β Franco Colapinto
Main kinks:Β mirror sex
Other kinks:Β dom!reader, innocence, praise
Word Count: 1.3k
β³ Day 21 β Oscar Piastri
Main kinks:Β cockwarming
Other kinks:Β dom!reader, denial, mental torment
Word Count: 1.2k
π§ Day 22 β Yuki Tsunoda & Pierre Gasly
Main kinks:Β cum play
Other kinks:Β humiliation
Word Count: 1.4k
π Day 23 β Alex Albon & George Russell
Main kinks:Β sensory deprivation, DP
Other kinks:Β restraint, edging
Word Count: 1.2k
π Day 24 β Carlos Sainz, Rebecca Donaldson, Charles Leclerc & Alexandra Saint Mleux
Main kinks:Β multiple doms, overstimulation
Other kinks:Β face sitting, bondage
Word Count: 2.7k
π« Day 25 β Arthur Leclerc
Main kinks:Β food play, chocolate
Other kinks:Β praise kink
Word Count: 800
π Day 26 β Andrea Stella
Main kinks:Β face sitting
Other kinks:Β breath play, squirting
Word Count: 1.1k
π€ Day 27 β Pierre Gasly & Kika GΓ³mez
Main kinks:Β toy play
Other kinks:Β cum play, degradation
Word Count: 1.6k
π Day 28 β Lando Norris & Max Verstappen
Main kinks:Β dom!you, punishment, degradation
Other kinks:Β humiliation, orgasm control
Word Count: 2.3k
πΊ Day 29 β Toto Wolff, George Russell & Kimi Antonelli
Main kinks:Β free use, heavy breeding kink
Other kinks:Β DP, cum stuffing
Word Count: 2k
π΅ Day 30 β Liam Lawson
Main kinks:Β escort, transactional sex
Other kinks:Β overstimulation, mirror play
Word Count: 1.2k
π€ Day 31 β Esteban Ocon
Main kinks:Β squirting, lingerie play
Other kinks:Β overstimulation, praise, degradation
Word Count: 1.8k
𧑠Iβll also be running aΒ taglistΒ for this β if youβd like to be added, please let me know through comments, asks, or messages before October 1stπ€
α― the walking dead βΈβΈ kinktober 2025 masterlist
i donβt really write much and iβve never posted any of what i have written, but the thoughts were swarming so i figured why not. happy october to all the perverts out there!
day 1 βΈβΈ masturbation . . daryl dixon
day 2 βΈβΈ kidnapping . . rick grimes
day 3 βΈβΈ threesome . . rick and daryl
day 4 βΈβΈ voyeurism . . rick and shane
day 5 βΈβΈ finger sucking . . daryl dixon
day 6 βΈβΈ outdoor sex . . daryl dixon
day 7 βΈβΈ chastity . . rick grimes
day 8 βΈβΈ bloodplay . . shane walsh
day 9 βΈβΈ cum licking . . rick grimes
day 10 βΈβΈ punishment . . negan smith
day 11 βΈβΈ handcuffs . . rick and shane
day 12 βΈβΈ kneeling . . negan smith
day 13 βΈβΈ somnophilia . . shane walsh
day 14 βΈβΈ choking . . daryl dixon
day 15 βΈβΈ semi-public . . negan smith
day 16 βΈβΈ gunplay . . rick grimes
day 17 βΈβΈ messy sex . . negan smith
day 18 βΈβΈ intoxication . . daryl dixon
day 19 βΈβΈ creampie . . negan smith
day 20 βΈβΈ dubcon . . shane walsh
day 21 βΈβΈ forced orgasm . . shane walsh
day 22 βΈβΈ quiet sex . . negan smith
day 23 βΈβΈ anal sex . . negan smith
day 24 βΈβΈ noncon . . rick grimes
day 25 βΈβΈ double penetration . . rick and daryl
day 26 βΈβΈ cuckholdry . . negan and rick
day 27 βΈβΈ hair pulling . . daryl dixon
day 28 βΈβΈ multiple orgasms . . daryl dixon
day 29 βΈβΈ breeding . . rick grimes
day 30 βΈβΈ degredation . . shane walsh
day 31 βΈβΈ free use . . rick grimes
also if anyone wants to be tagged, pls comment and let me know!!!
A/n im letting yall know the content early.. so if yall want some changes, lmk.. also, I will try my best to be punctual with the love loss stage lights series, too..
But yeah, im giving you the set list a month in advance!!
someone to hold me down ΒΉ βΈ» lando norris x reader .
featuringΒ landoΒ norrisΒ ,Β loveΒ islandΒ auΒ ,Β strangersΒ toΒ friendsΒ toΒ loversΒ ,Β slowΒ burn
twΒ cheatingΒ (inΒ theΒ loveΒ islandΒ sense)Β ,Β slightΒ carlosΒ sainzΒ slanderΒ forΒ theΒ plot
wordΒ count 17.8k (part one)
authorβsΒ noteΒ yeahΒ onceΒ againΒ iΒ haveΒ literallyΒ noΒ excuseΒ forΒ thisΒ oneΒ .Β probablyΒ THEEEΒ mostΒ selfΒ indulgentΒ ficΒ iβveΒ everΒ writtenΒ asΒ iΒ amΒ proudlyΒ theΒ worldβsΒ biggestΒ loveΒ islandΒ fanΒ .Β duringΒ myΒ catchupΒ onΒ loveΒ islandΒ ukΒ thisΒ yearΒ ,Β iΒ startedΒ thinkingΒ aboutΒ thisΒ interviewΒ andΒ thenΒ theΒ ideaΒ ofΒ landoΒ onΒ loveΒ islandΒ justΒ burrowedΒ intoΒ myΒ brainΒ andΒ refusedΒ toΒ leaveΒ meΒ aloneΒ . this is part one of two and since i've made you all wait so long part two will be coming tomorrow, monday august 25 !! asΒ alwaysΒ letΒ meΒ knowΒ whatΒ youΒ think ,Β andΒ myΒ 1kΒ celebrationΒ isΒ stillΒ openΒ ,Β soΒ ifΒ youΒ likedΒ this pleaseΒ feelΒ freeΒ toΒ sendΒ inΒ aΒ requestΒ !!Β titleΒ isΒ fromΒ cameΒ hereΒ forΒ loveΒ byΒ sigalaΒ Β !
playlist listen to nothing beats a jet2 holiday here !
Youβve officially been a Love Island contestant for about five minutes, and youβre already questioning every life decision that led you here.Β
You didnβt even sign up for this. No, that was the work of your friends back home, a completely twisted group response to your bad breakup cooked up over one too many mimosas at a brunch youβd missed because you were crying too hard. When they told you they submitted an application for you, you laughed. You had a real job, one that involved spreadsheets and quarterly reports and tasteful business casual sets. Youβd spent most of your adult life trying to avoid situations involving tequila-fueled meltdowns and catfights over semi-pro footballers with clockable hair transplants. You didnβt even watch the show.Β
And yet here you are, standing outside a Mallorcan villa in your nicest bikini with a mic pack strapped to your ass and your heart pounding in your throat.Β
βThink weβve still got time to run?β Lily says as the two of you walk up the driveway together. The way sheβs widening her eyes makes her look even more like a Disney princess, if thatβs possible. You only just met the girl when the two of you stumbled out of matching Jeeps, but something about her sensible wedges and the way sheβs clutching her suitcase like a lifeline make you feel a little less out of place. Itβs comforting to know thereβs a kindred spirit here, assuming neither of you bolt before the producers usher you into the house.Β
You glance down at your own white-knuckle death grip on your suitcase. βNormally, Iβd say we could make it to the gate before security tackles us, but not in these heels.β
She laughs, a bright sound that does absolutely nothing to hide the nerves beneath. βGuess weβre stuck humiliating ourselves in HD.β
βGuess we are,β you reply, smiling. When you walk through the doors, you catch your reflection in the sliding glass, and it looks more like youβre baring your teeth for battle.Β
The villa stretches out in front of you, an imposing monstrosity of cobbled limestone and manicured gardens. Producers have clearly been studying the Instagrams of people much cooler than you, because everything here looks like it was designed to be photographed for a brand trip. The infinity pool gleams, jewel-like, in the center of the backyard, those stupid expensive flamingo floats that seem to crop up like a rash at every hen party youβve ever attended bobbing lazily on its surface. Bright magenta and yellow beanbags are dotted strategically over a lawn so green it can only be artificial, leading up to the infamous white marble firepit.
In the distance, the ocean sparkles, Photoshop-perfect. You think absentmindedly that somewhere under all the cheeky neon signage telling you to eat, sleep, crack on, repeat! and the garish fluorescent photo panels the producers have slapdashed together, it's probably a beautiful house.
βOh my god, the last girls are here!β a high-pitched voice screams from behind you, and without warning youβre swept into a swarm of tanned arms and blinding smiles and a cloud of coconut sunscreen so big it could probably melt the ozone layer all over again.Β
Names come at you rapid-fire; youβre confident youβll remember absolutely none of them in ten minutes. Thereβs Samie, a bubbly blonde primary school teacher who gives you a terrifyingly firm hug. Then George, a financial analyst from Norfolk who seems to have lost his shirt the first second he could. Oscar hangs back from the crowd a bit, flicking his swoopy bangs out of his eyes like he canβt quite decide if he wants to say hello to the two of you, but Gemma, a stunning brunette girl with a full sleeve of tattoos up her arm, bats her lashes and starts chattering away like youβve known each other for years.Β
And then thereβs the smile.Β
Itβs the kind that stops you in your tracks, bright and boyish, almost too big for the face it comes on. A nice face, objectively β tan, deep dimples, eyes the color of seaglass framed by the kind of lashes that men never appreciate enough to deserve.
βHey, Iβm Lando,β the face says, extending a hand thatβs warm when you shake it. You realize itβs not just the smile: thereβs something disarming about him, the way he seems genuinely curious about you rather than just sizing you up as a potential couple option.Β Β
βNice to meet you, Lando,β you say, surprised to find you actually mean it. βWhat do you do?β
βContent creator,β he says cheerfully. βMostly travel and lifestyle, but yβknow, a bit of this, a bit of that. Nothing too serious.β
It feels like the words flip a switch inside you. Of course he is. You can just imagine him in the fluoro room where youβd filmed your intro clips, smiling into the camera with that same ridiculous grin: Hi, Iβm Lando, Iβm twenty-five, Iβm an influencer from Glastonbury. My type isβ¦ a girl who doesnβt take things too seriously. Iβm looking forβ¦ a bit of fun this summer, and weβll see where things go.Β
βSounds fun,β you lie politely. But youβve dated fun before β fun just broke your heart, actually. Fun is messy, unpredictable, has you riding high until it leaves you when the going gets tough. Fun is not the plan this summer. No matter how nice of a smile it has.Β
βWhat about you, then?β he asks, eyes twinkling. If heβs seen your walls go up, heβs not showing it. βLet me guess. Something that requires actual qualifications instead of knowing which ring light angle makes a hotel breakfast look most appetizing?β
You smile despite yourself. βSomething like that.β
βBrilliant,β he says, with no trace of irony. βLet me guess. Spreadsheets? Data? Proper grown-up stuff, I reckon.β
βAs opposed to your improper not-grown-up stuff?β you ask, the words coming out more teasing than you intended.
He grins. βExactly. Though Iβll have you know I take my not-taking-things-seriously very seriously indeed.β
Heβs charming, youβll give him that; thereβs a kind of effortlessness to his chat that probably works wonders on most girls. But youβre not most girls. Not anymore.Β
Youβre opening your mouth to respond when you hear it β the familiar ding! of the Love Island phones. βIβve got a text!β Lily cries, pulling out her newly issued villa phone. βIslanders, itβs time for your first coupling ceremony. Please gather around the firepit immediately. Hashtag love at first sight, hashtag crack on,β she reads.Β
βHere we go,β you mumble under your breath, glancing around nervously at the other islanders. Half of them you havenβt even properly spoken to yet, and ten minutes from now youβll be coupled up with one of them.
βWell, it was nice to meet you,β Lando says, grin still playing at the corners of his heart-shaped mouth. βMay the odds be ever in your favor, and all that.β
βBit dramatic. This isnβt the Hunger Games,β you reply, even though your heart is thumping heavily in your chest.Β
Heβs already walking away, but he turns, flashing you that devastating smile one more time as he calls over his shoulder. βIsnβt it?β
The firepit looks even more intimidating up close. Theyβve arranged you on stone benches that look like they were nicked from the worldβs most expensive spa, boys on one side and girls on the other. The host struts in, eerily gorgeous in a shimmery dress that probably costs more than your rent with a smile that manages to be welcoming and predatory all at once. You canβt look too hard at her; you find yourself scanning the shadows, instinctively hunting for the cameras you know are lurking somewhere. From across the fire, Lando waggles his eyebrows at you before jutting his chin at a bush, where you finally catch the sun glinting off a barely visible lens.
βHello, my beautiful islanders!β the host trills, and you snap back to attention. βHope youβre all settling in nicely to your new home. But before you get too comfortable, we should tell you we thought weβd shake things up a bit this year.β
Your stomach drops to your ankles. You thought you knew what to expect, but of course thereβs a twist. Thereβs always a bloody twist.
βThis year, instead of choosing your own couples, youβve been matched by our experts based on your applications,β the host continues. βTheyβve analyzed your answers, your partner preferences, and your relationship histories to create the perfect matches.β She pauses, clearly relishing the collective anxiety rolling off of the ten of you in waves. βSo letβs see who youβll be sharing a bed with tonight, shall we?β
She pulls out the first card with theatrical flair. βGemma, your perfect match isβ¦ Charles.β One of the guys you didnβt get the chance to speak to steps forward, a tall brunette with the kind of messy hair that tries to look effortless but probably took forty-five minutes and half a tub of pomade to achieve. He murmurs a hello with an accent you canβt quite place and she meets him with a bright smile, looping her arm through his as the host continues.
βNicole, youβll be paired with George,β the host says next. A stunning redhead with perfectly contoured cheekbones practically glides across the decking like sheβs walking Paris Fashion Week. George lopes towards her, what he lacks in grace made up for in enthusiasm. They shake hands with awkward politeness, standing next to Gemma and Charles.
βLily, your perfect match is Oscar,β the host reads, and you squeeze your friendβs hand tightly. She shoots you a quick glance, something almost like relief flickering over her face as she walks carefully around the firepit. Oscar gives her a shy smile, and they hug quickly before standing together. Even across the deck, you can see the identical pink creeping up both of their cheeks.
βSamie, youβll be paired with Lando.β The blonde practically bounds off the bench, beaming at Lando. He smiles back with the same ease you already recognize, and she links her arm through his.
βWhich leaves our final couple, you and Carlos,β the host says, smiling kindly at you. When you look across the firepit, the boy youβll be sharing a bed with for at least the next week is already walking towards you.Β
You send a mental thank you to your friends, because heβs exactly what you would have imagined if youβd filled out the application yourself β tall, tan, dark hair, big brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles warmly at you. βHello,β he says as he reaches you, and you catch the hint of a Spanish accent that makes the simple greeting sound like poetry.Β
βHi,β you manage, suddenly very aware of the camera in the bush and the idea that your first conversation with a cute guy is going to be replayed on national television tomorrow night. He pulls you into a brief, respectful hug, your cheek brushing against his linen button-up.
βDonβt you all look cozy,β the host says, clapping her hands together. βNow, youβll have some time to get to know each other. But remember, this is Love Island,β she adds, mischievous glint in her eye. βSurprises might be coming sooner than you think.β
Sheβs gone before you know it, producers trailing out behind her, and the group begins to disperse. βSo,β Carlos says, hand resting on your back comfortably as he speaks in a tone low enough that it sounds like itβs saved just for you. βThis is a bit odd, yes? I have never had my love life decided by people I have not met.β
You laugh as he leads you over to a daybed. βDefinitely weird. Though I have to say, they could have done worse.β
βCould they?β He raises his eyebrows as he sits, something playful in his expression. βYou do not even know me yet.β
When he pats the mattress next to him, you sit, legs crossed. βSo tell me about yourself. Letβs see how well the relationship experts did.β
He launches into an introduction, leaning forward and talking with the kind of eye contact that makes you a little bit dizzy. Heβs an architect from Madrid, living outside of Oxford; heβs athletic, the kind of guy who bikes to work every morning and plays padel matches with his coworkers. Heβs smart, close to his family, reliable. You can already tell heβs the kind of man your friends will approve of and your mother would love. You glance away for just a moment, eyes scanning over the lawn. Lily and Oscar are deep in conversation by the pool, and in the kitchen, Lando is trying to teach Samie an elaborate handshake, waving his hands wildly through the air as she giggles.Β
βAlready scoping out the competition?β Carlos says, following your gaze with an amused smile.Β
βWhat? No,β you protest, cheeks pink. βJustβ¦ people watching. Occupational hazard.β
βWhat is your occupation, then?β he asks, tilting his head.Β
βMarket analytics,β you explain. βI spend my life figuring out what people want before they want it themselves.β
βAh,β he nods, leaning back on his elbows. βUseful in here. So you are studying us all like lab rats.β
βMaybe a little,β you grin. You're surprised by how easy it is to talk to him already, the way the conversation flows despite the knowledge that every word is probably being recorded. He asks all the right questions, admires your ambition in a way that feels genuine, doesn't glaze over when you get a bit too passionate about your work. His English is almost perfect, but there's something charming about the way he occasionally pauses to search for the exact right word, the slight Spanish inflection that makes even mundane topics sound more interesting. You barely realize how much time has gone by until the sun starts falling over the infinity pool.
βI hate to say it, but I think the experts might know what they are doing,β Carlos says, brushing his shoulder against yours.
βDonβt jinx it,β you scold, smiling as you say it. βI have to admit, itβs going better than I expected.β
He gasps, putting a hand to his heart. βYou wound me.β
βYou know what I mean,β you say gently. βItβs mental, isnβt it? To get matched up with a complete stranger on a reality TV show and expect it to work out?β You glance around the villa, cameras winking at you mercilessly from the shadows. βBut somehowβ¦β
βSomehow it might work,β Carlos says softly, slipping his hand into yours. His palm is stable, steady, the kind of touch that feels like a promise. Itβs all exactly what you wanted.
You think.
About a week into villa life, you begin to understand why people sign up for this.
Itβs not just the endless sunshine, or being surrounded by beautiful people 24/7, or the fact that your biggest decision every day is whether to wear the blue bikini or the orange one. Thereβs a strange instantaneousness to everything that you love. Every moment feels weighty and important. Conversations that would normally take months surface over breakfast, and you find yourself genuinely caring about people you met five minutes ago.Β
Your relationship with Carlos has been nice. Really nice, actually. He makes you cafe con leche every morning, a tradition youβre starting to enjoy even more than the simple mint tea you used to prefer. He cuddles you at night, holds your hand during dinner. Youβre taking things unbearably slow, in Love Island terms β you havenβt even kissed yet, outside of pecks during challenges. But he never pushes you for more than youβre comfortable with; thereβs something refreshingly mature about the way he approaches things, like heβs letting you take the lead. Itβs still early days, and youβre trying to let yourself trust again after the disaster of your last relationship. Somehow, in the safety of him, you think you might get there.Β
But itβs the friendships that have surprised you the most.Β
You knew you and Lily would get along, but sheβs become more like a sister over the past week; the two of you had hidden out on the terrace together in the middle of Charles and Gemmaβs third screaming match of the week, and spent the evening giggling and trading dry one-liners. The two of you have been attached at the hip ever since β that is, when sheβs not wrapped up in Oscar. The two of them are almost sickeningly sweet together, and you can tell that the dreamy look he gets on his face every time she even glances his direction is going to melt her heart before long.Β
Samie was more of a wild card, but youβve become fast friends too. Sheβs got an infectious energy that makes everything fun, even mundane villa chores. But sheβs also the one who found you crying in the bathroom during a particularly homesick moment and sat with you for an hour without asking any questions. She has the purest heart, which is why it makes you ache to watch her try to make things work with Lando when itβs not quite clicking.
Which brings you to the biggest surprise β the boy who has turned out to be absolutely nothing like you expected.
βTwenty quid says Charles and George get distracted halfway through and start showing off for G,β Lando says, poking you in the side. Youβre both sprawled on one of the daybeds near the pool while the boys line up at the edge for a race. Georgia, the new bombshell in question, is sitting close by, long legs swishing in the water.Β
βNot taking that bet,β you respond, rolling onto your stomach as you watch Carlos adjust his position, all focused intensity as he prepares to dive. βThose two share one brain cell. And itβs on holiday, too.βΒ
βSomewhere very far away,β he agrees solemnly. βProbably got a budget flight to Koh Samui with its other brain cell lads. Gonna have a proper fiesta, maybe meet a nice nerve ending and have a summer flingβ¦β
You cackle, loud and unfiltered. βStupid,β you say, wiping a tear from your waterline, and Lando smiles like making you snort with laughter was his entire agenda for the day.
βReady, set, go!β Georgia calls then, and the boys dive in. Well, Carlos and Charles dive β George plugs his nose and jumps, so heβs already half a lap behind by the time he surfaces.
Carlos starts pulling ahead almost immediately, arms cutting through the water in clean, efficient strokes. βCβmon!β you call, cupping your hands around your mouth as he swims towards your end.Β
βShowing off for his girl, isnβt he?β Lando says lightly, bumping his shoulder against yours.Β
βHeβs just competitive,β you say, but you canβt keep the smile off your face. βBut yeah. Maybe a little.β
βGood for you,β he says, and when you look over his eyes are glued to the race like itβs the Olympics. βCarlos, I mean. Heβs good for you.β
Your stomach twists at the flatness of his tone. Youβre not sure what to say, how to be grateful for your own connection without feeling like youβre rubbing it in the face of two of your closest friends here. Itβs not Lando and Samieβs fault things havenβt clicked between them.Β
βThank god I didnβt take the bet,β you say instead, bumping his shoulder back and pointing to the pool. Charles has started showboating, doing a stroke that is definitely not regulation as he passes Georgia.Β
Lando looks over at you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries not to smile, and then like clockwork the two of you dissolve into giggles. βOh my god. Called it,β he wheezes, watching as Charles realizes heβs fallen behind even George and swiftly tries to course-correct. βWhat an absolute muppet.β
βNah, look at Gemma,β you gasp through your giggles, tilting your head across the lawn towards the gym where the brunette is doing an increasingly aggressive set of burpees, pretending not to stare murderously at Charles in plank position. βSheβs actually going to kill him.β
Lando grins. βDo you think his murder will make Unseen Bits?β he teases, just as Carlos touches the wall, hauling himself out of the pool. Heβs grinning triumphantly, water streaming off his body in rivulets.Β
βDid you see, cariΓ±o?β he calls out, slightly breathless as he jogs over to the two of you. βI won!β
βWe saw, champion,β you tease, tossing him the towel heβd left at the bottom of the daybed. βBeating Dumb and Dumber. Very impressive.β
He ignores the towel, picking you up and sweeping you into a damp hug that makes you shriek. βMi premio,β he says to Lando, grinning smugly.
βCarlos, ew, stop, youβre all wet,β you protest, wriggling in his arms.Β
βWorth it for the win,β he corrects, kissing you on the temple, and you beam up at him. From the corner of your eye, you see Lando look away.
βAm I interrupting?β a honeyed voice says from behind you, and when Carlos spins around with you still in his arms, Georgiaβs standing there, perfectly posed and undeniably gorgeous in a way that makes you acutely aware that this is the third time youβve worn this bikini already. βJust wanted to pull Lando for a chat.β
Lando flicks a glance from you and Carlos to Georgia. βYeah, alright,β he says, sitting up straighter. βShall we?β
She smiles and grabs his arm, pulling him toward the beanbags in the center of the lawn. You realize with a sinking feeling sheβs positioning the two of them directly in Samieβs eyeline; you can see your friend frowning all the way from the kitchen.
βGood for Landito,β Carlos mumbles against your neck, but youβre only half-listening, watching as Georgia throws her head back laughing at something Landoβs said. He hasnβt actually made a joke, if the polite and slightly overwhelmed expression on his face is anything to go by.Β
You hum noncommittally in response, motioning Samie over, and she bolts from the kitchen, ducking into the house and taking the long way around so she doesnβt look too obvious.Β
Carlos sits the both of you down, finally loosening his grip, and you roll off his lap to face him. βYou do not like Georgia,β he observes. Not a question, a fact.Β
βI donβt not like her,β you lie. Youβre not confrontational, and the villa is far too small for outright warfare, but thereβs something about Georgia thatβs rubbed you the wrong way since the moment she stepped in the villa. You donβt trust someone so calculated, someone who treats people as either obstacles or opportunities. And you definitely donβt like exactly how clear sheβs made number one on both those lists.Β
Carlos raises an eyebrow at you, and you sigh. βOkay, fine. Thereβs justβ¦ something. I donβt know. Sheβs very strategic.β
βMost people here are.β
βNot like her,β you say, watching Samie emerge from inside just as Georgia leans closer, resting her hand on Landoβs thigh.Β
To her credit, Samie manages to keep her face from crumpling until she makes it to the daybeds. βYou two enjoying the show?β she says as she sits down next to you. Her voice is carefully controlled, but you can see the hurt flashing in her eyes.
βYou okay, hun?β you ask softly.Β
She lets out a hollow laugh. βBrilliant. Just brilliant. Why does Georgia get more than friendly bants out of him? God, what am I doing wrong?β
βIβm going to go,β Carlos whispers, clearly uncomfortable with the girl talk heβs about to be swept into if he stays. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he gets up, wandering over to George and Charles, and Samie sniffles as she watches.Β
βAw, Sam,β you sigh, sneaking a look over at the beanbags again. You can see Lando glancing around like heβs trying to see if anyone is watching the conversation, but heβs engaging nevertheless, giving Georgia that easy, charming smile of his. βYou havenβt done anything wrong.β
βI keep thinking maybe if I just try harder, or give it more time, something will click,β she says, and thereβs an unsteadiness to it that makes your chest ache. βBut he treats me exactly like he treats everyone else. Like a mate.β
βHe cares about you, hun,β you say gently.
βI know,β she sighs. βI just donβt think itβs the way I want him to.β
Youβre about to respond when Georgia squeals from the middle of the lawn. βIβve got a text! Islanders, itβs time for a challenge thatβs all about following your heart. Girls, youβll be blindfolded. Boys, youβll enter one by one and kiss the girl youβre most interested in getting to know better. But hereβs the twist: we wonβt reveal who kissed who. Hashtag love is blind, hashtag secret admirers!β she screams, voice rising to a fever pitch.
The reaction is immediate and completely chaotic: Gemma declaring loudly that she better get a kiss, which you suspect is entirely for Charlesβ benefit; Oscar wrapping an arm around Lily and whispering something in her ear that makes her blush; Georgia pulling out a tube of gloss and coating her lips, loudly smacking them together to blot them. From across the lawn, Carlos sends you a wink, and you feel a surge of relief to be with someone so uncomplicated.
βWhat if no one kisses me?β Samie whispers, face bloodless.
βThen theyβre idiots,β you say fiercely, throwing your arm around her shoulders. But your stomach is already twisting again with anxiety for her, because you can see exactly what she's seeing: the way the coupled-up boys are already gravitating toward their partners, the way Georgia is practically radiating confidence, the brutal mathematics of five kisses for six girls.
You think this might be the moment that breaks everything wide open.
The setup is ridiculous and dramatic, which you suppose is sort of the point. Theyβve arranged the girls in a circle on the lawn, and the six of you stand at attention as they slip gold headphones over your ears and a ridiculous silk eye mask over your eyes. The world goes dark, and for a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your own heart. Without your sight, it feels like every other sense is heightened; you can smell Gemmaβs coconut sun cream from across the lawn and the faint scent of jasmine from the trees outside. Even with the headphones on, before long, thereβs an unmistakable sound of someone settling tentatively in front of you, feet scraping against the grass.
He leans in slowly, hand cupping your face and thumb brushing gently over your cheekbone before soft lips meet yours. Itβs a nice kiss, sweet and warm, and you can just hear the small sound he makes as he presses more firmly against your mouth. His other hand rests lightly on your hip until he pulls away, brushing his lips over your forehead before he disappears.Β
You barely have time to process the kiss before thereβs another set of footsteps weaving their way through the circle. Youβre expecting them to keep moving, to hurry past you.Β
Youβre not expecting a second kiss.Β
Thereβs no hesitation this time. Whoever it is, heβs on you immediately, lips crashing against yours with an urgency that nearly knocks you off your feet. Thereβs something about the kiss β not just technique, though the guy clearly knows what heβs doing. Itβs something deeper, something that sparks through every nerve ending in your body. You find yourself pressing closer, pulling him into you, and the way he sighs and threads his fingers into your hair in response sends heat burning straight through you.
When you finally break apart, youβre both breathing hard. His forehead rests against yours, just for a moment, and you have to resist the wild urge to pull him back in again, to lose yourself in him. But like a flash, heβs gone, leaving you literally and metaphorically in the dark.
It had to have been Carlos. The passion, the spark β that was him showing you how he really feels, when youβre not holding back from him. The way your body responded to him, the electricity, is exactly how you imagine it feels to kiss the right guy, the magical, elusive one for you. It felt like falling off a cliff and coming home, all at the same time.Β
You barely register the rest of the boys making their way around the circle. All you can think about is The Kiss.
When you pull off the blindfold, the afternoon sun is blindingly bright. You blink rapidly, letting your eyes adjust as you begin to catch expressions around the lawn. Thereβs Carlos giving you a soft smile, eyes sparkling. Lily, cheeks pink and looking absolutely radiant. And devastation on Samieβs face as she squeezes your hand like sheβs trying to hold herself steady and whispers, βI didnβt get any kisses. Not a single one.β
βWhat?β you breathe, the words snapping you out of your daze. While you were basking in the magic of that second kiss, your friend was getting systematically passed over by every single boy in the villa.
βItβs fine,β she says quickly, bottom lip trembling. βI just β just need a minute.β
Sheβs gone before you can stop her, walking towards the villa with her head held high and shoulders shaking.Β
βBloody hell, sheβs dramatic,β Gemma says, not bothering to lower her voice.
Lilyβs by your side before you can say anything in reply. βDonβt. Letβs just go check on her,β she says gently, and you nod.Β
The two of you find her in the glam room, staring into her vanity mirror and aggressively applying concealer under her eyes. βSam, weβre so sorry,β you say, sitting next to her and wrapping your arms around her.Β
Lily sits to the other side, rubbing her back. βTotally,β she agrees.
βItβs fine,β Samie says, voice tight as she drops the Beautyblender. βI mean, itβs not, but it is what it is, right? Canβt force someone to fancy you.β
βIt doesnβt mean they donβt fancy you,β Lily says quickly as the other girls start filing in. βMaybe they were being respectful. Or maybe they were nervous, or ββ
βLily,β Samie stops her, gentle and firm, classic kindergarten teacher tone. βYou donβt have to make excuses for them. Iβm a big girl. I can handle the truth.β
βWell, the truth is that theyβre idiots,β you soothe, petting her blonde curls. βAll of them.β
βI didnβt get one either, Samie,β Nicole says quietly from the other side of the vanity tables, and the room falls into an uncomfortable silence. You can feel the divide immediately β those who got kisses and those who didnβt, and the guilt of being on the other side of that line.
βWait,β Georgia says suddenly, mascara wand stopped midair. βIf two people didnβt get kissed, then someone got more than one. Who got kissed twice?β
Thereβs silence, and you can feel the heat creeping steadily up your neck. What would be worse: to tell the girls a truth you know will hurt, or lie right to your friendsβ faces?
βI did,β you say finally. The admission hangs heavy in the air, Samieβs shoulders tensing under your touch.
βLucky girl,β Georgia says, smiling just a little too sweetly. βIβm pretty sure I know who mine was. Very familiar energy, if you know what I mean.β
βGeorgia,β Lily says, cutting a glance between Samie and Nicole, who are both studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone.Β
βWhat? Iβm just saying, itβs nice to be properly appreciated ββ
Samie stands, grabbing a towel and storming out of the room. The door slams shut behind her as Nicole lays on the ground, groaning and holding a pillow over her head.Β
βAwkward,β Georgia sing-songs, finally applying her mascara.Β
βOh, bore off, G,β you bite out before you can think better of it, leaving the room to follow your friend.
Dinner is more subdued than usual. Youβd finally managed to calm Samie down enough to get her dressed and ready for the evening. She and Nicole both put on brave faces, but thereβs something brittle in both their expressions that makes your chest tight. Youβd pulled Georgia to apologize for snapping at her, too; she seemed mollified by your groveling, but thereβs still a tense veil drawn over all the girls. Itβs as if someoneβs liable to explode if you put a foot wrong, so youβve all just decided not to speak much at all. The boys are completely oblivious, of course, making jokes and chattering on about football as if they didnβt turn the villa upside down hours earlier.
As night falls, youβre about to go check on Samie when Carlosβ arm sneaks around your waist. βCan I pull you for a chat?β he teases, pinching your waist. βJust us?β
You smile, relieved. In all the chaos, youβd almost forgotten about the good part of the challenge, the way Carlos had tilted your whole world on its axis with that kiss. βIβd really like that,β you say, leaning into his touch as he leads you over to the firepit.Β
You sit beside each other, and itβs quiet as you listen to the soft sound of the water lapping against the pool walls. βQuite a day,β he says finally, thumb stroking over your knuckles.Β
βDefinitely,β you sigh, relieved he broke the silence as you rest your head against his shoulder.
βHow was the challenge for you?β he asks, and thereβs a note of nervousness to his voice that thrills you a little.
βIt was alright,β you reply coyly.
βJust alright?β he laughs, wrapping his arm around you. βI was hoping for a better review.β
βIt was a nice kiss,β you smile. Understatement of the year. When your mind wasnβt occupied by the drama of the afternoon, you havenβt really stopped thinking about it.
Carlos tilts his head. βJust one kiss?β he says, curiosity in his voice.Β
βYup,β you hear yourself say, and youβre immediately confused by your own words. Why did you just lie?Β
Carlos hums, wrapping his arm around you. βGeorge is not saying who he went for, in the challenge,β he says, leaning in conspiratorially, like itβs all a fun game. βI thought maybe he had kissed you.β
βNo, just you,β you repeat, doubling down. Your heart is beating faster now, and not in a good way. βNothing too dramatic for me. But really nice.β
He smiles, and itβs so genuine and warm that your guilt feels like it doubles in size. βI was thinking, cariΓ±o, maybe we could have our own little challenge here,β he says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and the butterflies erupt in your stomach.Β
βI think Iβd really like that,β you murmur.Β
βGood,β he whispers, cupping your face in his hands as he leans in. βBecause Iβve been wanting to do this since the moment I met you.β He leans in and finally, finally presses his lips to yours, and β
You should be melting into him. You should be burning from the inside out. But as his lips move against yours, sweet and tender, realization crashes over you like youβve just been launched headfirst into the pool.
This is the first kiss. The perfectly pleasant, entirely forgettable one. Which means the person who set your world on fire wasnβt Carlos at all.
When you break apart, Carlos is already smiling, eyes twinkling as he looks at you. βWhatβs your review? Better than the challenge?β he asks.Β
You manage a smile, mind still reeling. βMuch better. This was real.β
βExactly,β he says, pulling you into his side. βNo games. Just us.β
You focus on the warmth radiating from his body, trying to process what just happened. It was a lovely kiss, really β genuine and romantic. It wasnβt The Kiss, but thatβs okay, isnβt it? Maybe youβre overthinking it. Butterflies die eventually; this is steady, reliable, what youβve always wanted. And you like Carlos, you really do. Heβs kind and handsome and patient, and thereβs something there. You know there is.Β
If you think about that second kiss and who gave it to you all night, nobody needs to know.
When the text comes the next morning declaring a recoupling on the horizon, youβre not shocked. Itβs been nearly a week, and there was enough drama stirred up by the challenge for the producers to know theyβll have good material to work with. Whatβs surprising is that Lando listens to George read out the announcement, and instead of celebrating with the other boys on the lawn, turns on his heel and promptly disappears back into the villa.
You find him on the terrace, remembering something heβd said about how he used to hide out in the treehouse his dad built him when he was a kid and figuring the higher you could go, the better. Heβs curled into the corner of the sofa, hands pressed to his face, looking like he hopes the pink and purple throw pillows will swallow him whole.Β
βPenny for your thoughts?β you say gently.Β
He looks up at you, and the expression on his face is so pitiful it makes your heart twist. βThink youβre overpricing them.β
You sit, folding your legs beneath you, and go for a teasing tone. βYou really are a drama king, arenβt you? Built for reality TV.β
βOi,β he pouts exaggeratedly, throwing his feet into your lap. βBe nice. Iβm emotionally fragile right now.β
You raise an eyebrow when he plays along, a surge of pride rushing through you at managing to make him feel slightly less horrible. βWhy are you stressed? Itβs boysβ choice. And youβve got Samie and Georgia both desperate to couple up with you.β
βThatβs the problem. I just ββ he blows a gust of air out of his cheeks, flopping backwards onto the couch. βI know no matter what I do, Iβm going to disappoint someone. And theyβre both great girls. I just donβt know what I want.β
βOkay, then what do you not want?β you say, shrugging your shoulders.Β
He pushes up on his elbows to look at you. βHuh?β
βMarket analytics, remember?β you explain. βSometimes itβs easier to rule out the bad options.β You lean back against the pillows, the afternoon sun warming your skin as the rumblings of a classic Charles and Gemma fight begin below. βFor example: I definitely donβt want that,β you say, pointing a finger down through the bougainvilleas on the railing.
Lando snorts. βDonβt think anyone wants that. Even them.β
You smack him lazily on the shoulder. βCβmon,β you say. βTry it.β
βI donβt want to hurt Samie,β he says. βSheβs sweet, and a great girl, and she deserves the world.β
βGood. Thatβs good,β you confirm, as encouraging as you can muster when thereβs so obviously a but coming down the highway thatβs liable to turn Samie into romantic roadkill. βWhat else?β
Landoβs quiet for a moment, fidgeting with the throw pillows. βI donβt want to pick someone because itβs safe, or because everyone else thinks I should, or because itβs convenient. Thatβs not what Iβm here for.β
βWhat do you mean, convenient?β
βYou know, the easy choice,β he says, pushing his sunglasses off his face into his unruly curls. His eyes look impossibly green against his tan. βSomeone whoβs obviously interested. Someone who fits what everyone expects.β He squints, even though the sun is behind him. βSomeone who wonβt make things complicated.β
βSomeone whoβs right, not someone whoβs easy,β you echo.
He sits up. βExactly. I dunno. Iβm scared Iβm just convincing myself into a choice because itβs what I should want. Not what I actually want.β
Youβre quiet for a moment, thinking about Carlos and his smile and the way he holds you at night, like heβs afraid to break something so precious. βSometimes the easy choice and the right choice can be the same thing.βΒ
His eyes donβt leave your face. βWhat if theyβre not? What if you know theyβre not?β
Thereβs something in his voice, vulnerable and almost aching, that makes you hesitate, heart beating hard in your chest. βThen I guess you have to decide what youβre willing to lose.β
βRight,β he says, jaw tightening. βYeah. Makes sense.β
βIs this about Georgia, specifically?β you ask tentatively. βBecause honestly, Lan, if you want my opinion, I think Samie ββ
βItβs not ββ he interrupts, like he canβt hold the words back, and then catches himself mid-sentence, straightening his spine and smiling too stiffly to be real. βNah, I think youβre right. Good points, mate.β He slides his sunglasses back on, and you have the strangest feeling that behind the lenses, heβs looking right through you. βI should get ready. Boys have been bugging me to help them with their recoupling speeches.β
You wince. You can picture Charles and George down there, complete messes. You donβt even know who theyβre going to pick, and honestly, they probably donβt either. βYikes,β you say, feeling grateful you have Carlos.Β
βYeah,β Lando says, standing before you can say anything else. βGood luck tonight. Not that you need it,β he adds hastily, disappearing through the sliding door.Β
By the time evening rolls around, thereβs a nervous energy humming in the air, and itβs not just you whoβs feeling it. Lily curls and recurls a strand of hair, biting her nails even though she has to be the safest girl in the villa. Gemma sprays her perfume over the entire glam room, claiming itβs her emotional armor for the ceremony. You take your time with your makeup, more to have something to do with your hands than anything else.Β
The air feels heavier than usual around the firepit. You stand between Samie and Lily, squeezing both their hands.Β
βItβs gonna be okay,β you whisper to Samie.
She smiles ruefully. βEasy for you to say, hun.β
The hostβs voice cuts through the air with her trademark mix of warmth and gravity. βIslanders, tonightβs recoupling will be boysβ choice. One by one, youβll step forward and choose the girl you want to couple up with. The girl not chosen will be dumped from the island immediately.β She smiles at the six of you before turning her attention to the boys. βOscar, youβre first.β
Oscar stands, clearing his throat. βRight. Uh, I want to couple up with this girl because this whole thing is sort of mental, but she makes it feel like the most normal thing in the world. Sheβs kind and smart, and itβs only been a week, but being with her feels like Iβve known her forever. Iβm excited to spend more time with her. So the girl Iβd like to couple up with is Lily,β he finishes with a soft smile, as if anyone is surprised. Lily practically floats over to him, absolutely glowing.Β
βCarlos, youβre next,β the host says, and he stands. Youβre not nervous, really; you know heβs going to pick you.
βI would like to couple up with this girl because she has been lovely to get to know this week,β he says softly. βFrom the moment she stepped into the villa, sheβs been one hundred percent herself, good and bad, whether itβs checking in on people when theyβre feeling down, or getting cranky before her coffee in the morning. Sheβs funny and passionate and real. And stunning, obviously. All the small things add up to a perfect package.β
When he says your name, you walk around the firepit to him, and when you lean up on tiptoe to kiss him, your heart jumps promisingly. The two of you sit, Carlosβ arm resting around your shoulders.Β
βThe speech was good?β he whispers to you as the host starts speaking again, inviting George to stand.Β
You nod, something warm blooming in your chest. It really was a nice speech β you had no idea he was paying so much attention to the details in here. βPerfect, actually.βΒ
βIβm glad, cariΓ±o,β he says, dropping a kiss to your hair and giving Lando a subtle thumbs up.
Halfway through Georgeβs speech, which is (of course) a paragraph longer than everyone elseβs, you realize itβs not about Nicole. You actually gasp out loud when Gemmaβs name falls from his lips, bracing yourself for a tirade, but she actually looks somewhat pleased as George ducks his head to kiss her cheek.Β
Charles, on the other hand, is clearly fuming. When heβs called next, he canβt stop cutting glances at George, and his speech is filled with entirely perfunctory statements about how the girl he wants to pick is βnice to chat toβ and βseems like a good person.β He picks Nicole, and if nothing else, the two of them are striking together. Youβd whisper a joke to Lando about how their hypothetical children would be the worldβs first baby supermodels if he didnβt look positively queasy staring across the fire at Samie and Georgia.
βLando, youβre up,β the host says softly, and you know this is the moment the producers are counting on, the chance for the first real drama of the season.Β
Lando shifts, rubbing at the back of his neck. βIβd like to couple up with this girl because sheβs made things feel different since she came in. Sheβs sharp. Funny. Surprising. And proper fit, too. Someone told me earlier to make the right choice, not the easy one,β he says, voice soft now, and his eyes dart to you for the most infinitesimal, blink-and-youβll-miss-it moment. βAnd I guess this girl is the right choice, right now. So the girl Iβd like to couple up with isβ¦ G.β
Georgia beams, practically launching herself into his arms, but youβre not really looking. Youβre staring at the girl standing alone across the firepit, watching her heart shatter in real time.
βSamie, as you have not been chosen, you are now single and have been dumped from the island,β the host says gently.Β
The blonde swallows hard, nodding. βRight then. Itβs been a lovely week, guys,β she says, a slight wobble to her voice. The next few minutes blur together: thereβs tears as she packs her bag, hugs, phone numbers written with eyeliner exchanged on scraps of tissue paper. Samie handles it with grace, emotion kept simmering beneath a placidly beautiful surface.
βIβll miss you so much, hun,β you sniffle, throwing your arms around her as she finishes zipping her suitcase.
βLove you, babes,β she whispers back, returning the hug. βDonβt let these boys mess you about. Just β follow your heart, βkay?β
The other islanders are gathered at the bottom of the stairs when sheβs finally ready to go. Samie starts making her way down the line, hugging and chatting with everyone as she tugs her suitcase behind her. You find your way back to Carlos, heart heavy at the thought of losing one of your first friends here.Β
βShe will be okay,β Carlos says, squeezing your shoulder. βSheβs a tough girl.β
You watch as Lando hugs her and she whispers something in his ear. His cheeks go slightly pink, eyes wide, and then he nods, ruffling her hair with a sad smile. βYeah, she is,β you say, though your chest feels tight as you wave her out.
The doors slam shut behind her, and for a moment, even with Carlosβ arm around you, the villa feels just a little bit colder.Β
You find them lounging on the beanbags, bickering like brothers.
βIβm telling you, mate, you canβt just eat the green ones and leave the rest,β Lando says, chucking a grape at Carlos. It bounces off his chest, skittering across the lawn towards the pool.
βWhy not, cabrΓ³n? They taste better,β Carlos says, plucking another off the stem and tossing it into his mouth.
The banter is easy, practiced, like theyβve been friends forever instead of three weeks. βSwear youβre spending more time with Carlos than I am, Norris,β you interrupt, flopping onto the beanbag between them. βDo I need to be worried?β
Carlosβ hand finds yours immediately as he laughs, wide and warm. βHe has his hands full with Georgia, I think.β
βOoh. How is that going?β you ask, waggling your eyebrows as Carlos takes another grape and feeds it to you. Itβs not like you donβt know β you all share a bedroom and Georgia's a loud kisser. Plus, you spotted the suspicious bruise where his neck meets his jaw as soon as you sat down, but you want to hear it from him.
Landoβs ears go pink. βItβs good,β he says cheerfully. βNice girl.β He pauses. βCarlos only brought G up so youβd distract us from the actual argument. Which I was winning, by the way. If you only eat the greens, it leaves these half-eaten grape carcasses behind. Youβre ruining the aesthetic of the fruit bowl, mate.β
βSpoken like a true influencer,β you say teasingly, and something passes across Landoβs face like an errant cloud in the endless blue sky above.Β
Carlos squeezes your hand, eyes sparkling with mischief. βNot Landito. You know he does not just run around taking pretty pictures. He has a whole business.β
Lando groans, tipping his head back. The sun floods his face. βDonβt start ββ
βItβs true,β Carlos says, looking far too pleased with himself. βStaff, sponsors, contracts. Everything. His job is more complicated than mine.β
You watch Lando, the way he seems to be actively trying to disappear into the beanbag rather than be the center of attention. βSeriously?β
βItβs not that big of a deal,β he mutters.Β
βNot a big deal?β you echo, laughing in disbelief. βLando, thatβs so impressive. I thought you just, like, messed about in front of a camera.β Something shifts as you study his face, the picture youβd painted in your mind of a charming, polished surface tilting to make room for something messier, deeper, more real.Β
He gives you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. βYeah, most people do.β
βGuess Iβll have to start taking you more seriously, then,β you say, voice low. His eyes flick up to yours, quick and uncertain, cheeks going pink under your gaze.
βAre you actually serious right now?β Gemmaβs voice carries through the air, and Lando bumps your shoulder and points across the pool to where sheβs standing with her hands on her hips. George is lounging on a daybed with Max, one of the new bombshells, looking entirely unbothered.
βWhat?β he shrugs. βYou asked what I thought about your story. I told you. Would you rather I just nod my head and agree with everything you say?β
Gemma opens her mouth, and you brace for an impact that doesnβt come. Instead, she tilts her head, studying George with sudden interest. βActually, no.β
βGood,β George says. βThatβd be awfully boring.βΒ
She actually laughs, and you watch the way their faces transform with unexpected softness. If you were to guess the story here, itβd be this: local girl meets her match.
βI give them two days before they start trying to drown each other in the pool,β Carlos pronounces.
βNah,β you and Lando say at the same time, and he gives you a delighted smile before he continues. βTheyβre sort of weirdly perfect together.β You nod, feeling a strange sort of pleasure in being the only two in the villa tuned to the same frequency, like two stars aligning.
After that, the chat falls into the easy rhythm youβve developed over the past few weeks; Lando starts talking about a trip to Madrid, and Carlos lights up about his hometown. From there, itβs all how perfect the weather will be, the places he wants to show you, the restaurants he wants to take you to when you visit.Β
Except somewhere in the conversation, visit becomesβ¦ something else entirely.Β
βMy family has a beautiful place in the city,β he says, eyes bright. βThereβs such incredible energy in Madrid. You will really love living there.β
You blink hard. βWhat?β
βYes,β Carlos says patiently, like heβs speaking to a child whoβs not quite catching on. βI am not planning on working for Vowles Designs forever. Someday I will go home. And it is not like you have anything tying you down to London.β
Lando goes very still on the beanbag next to you, watching the two of you with careful eyes. βI ββ you start, then stop. Carlos is your type on paper; the kind of guy who makes perfect sense. So why are you hesitating? βI guess we havenβt really talked about what happens after the villa.β
βShe is overthinking,β he says to Lando breezily, reaching for your hand. The touch feels safe, comfortable, easy. βDonβt worry, cariΓ±o. Weβll figure it out as we go. But Madrid is perfect for us.β Something about his certainty itches, like sand catching under your bikini straps. Does he really think itβll be that easy for you to leave your world behind, to reshape your life entirely around him?
βI got a text!β Charles yells then, cupping his hands around his mouth, and for the first time the words feel like a relief.
You flip over on the beanbag so you can see him, sipping from your water bottle as he begins to read at the top of his lungs: βIslanders, itβs time to get each otherβs pulses racing in tonightβs challenge, Hearts on Fire! Please head to your dressing rooms to choose an outfit to participate in. Hashtag fanny flutters, hashtag heartstopping!βΒ
Selecting outfits is more cutthroat than youβd anticipated; no oneβs really taking the time to rifle through the rack that mysteriously materialized in the dressing room sometime in the past half hour, instead just grabbing whatever they can get their acrylics around. Youβre nearly the last there, spotting what looks like a French maid outfit and horrifiedly grabbing whatever the other one is before Nicole can. It turns out to be a naughty nurse costume, emphasis on the naughty β itβs barely a scrap of fabric, designed to be unbuttoned halfway down your chest. At least thereβs props, a stethoscope and thermometer to hide behind.Β
βTrade me?β Georgia wheedles Gemma, whoβs got a two-piece teal costume thrown over her arm. βI always wanted to be a cheerleader.β
Gemma tilts her head, considering Georgiaβs costume, which is definitely meant to be a cat but is really just a skintight black leather bodysuit with a pair of Party City ears and a tail. βFine,β she shrugs, shoving her pompoms at Georgia. βIβm more of a cat person, anyway.β
Lilyβs pulling a comically large pair of wings and a halo out of a bag, as Molly, the other new bombshell, unearths sparkly red horns and a tail from an identical one. βGirl, weβre matching!β she giggles, pointing her pitchfork at Lily.Β
βFitting,β Nicole smirks from the other side of the room, clearly aiming for teasing but putting just a little too much bite into it.Β
βLilyβs an angel?β Georgia laughs, peering over at the costumes. βOscarβs gonna cream his jeans.β
Lily splutters. βGeorgia! Oh my god. Thatβs not even ββ
βBabe, please, itβs a good thing,β she continues matter-of-factly, teasing her hair and puckering her lips in the mirror. βThe whole innocent, βI look like woodland creatures dress me in the morningβ angle clearly does something for him.β
Lilyβs cheeks go red, covering her face with her hands, and you decide to jump in before things get any more ridiculous. βAnyone got any ideas on how to wear this?β you ask, waving the dress through the air. You know Georgiaβs a sucker for any opportunity to style someone, and sure enough, it diverts her attention long enough for Lily to tuck the costume out of eyesight and give you a grateful smile.
The producers have decided the boys will go first, which on one hand means more time thinking about all the ways you might embarrass yourself on national television, but on the other hand means you spend less time in the costume, so itβs basically a wash. They promptly whisk you all out to the firepit, which has been completely transformed, red roses covering every available garden surface and cascading down the sides of the benches.
βStay calm, ladies,β Gemma instructs, but next to her, Georgiaβs practically vibrating in her seat.Β
βBring out the boys!β she chants, clapping her hands, and honestly, the whole thing is so nervewrackingly ridiculous that you canβt help but join in. She shoots you a surprised look that morphs into a pleased smile as the rest of the girls follow your lead.Β
Some bass-heavy song starts pouring through the speakers, and Charles trots down the stairs in what looks like a leather skirt and a cape, a plastic sword in hand. You have no idea what heβs supposed to be, but heβs pulling it off. The firelight reflects off his skin, and you suspect the producers have subjected his chest to a fair amount of body oil.Β
βAre you not entertained?β he calls when he gets to the edge of the deck, and it clicks. Gladiator. βBecause Iβm ready to enter your arenas.β
You burst out laughing. Youβre not sure whether youβre hoping no one else will do an entrance line that cheesy, or everyone will.
Charles makes his way around the circle, moving with the confidence of someone who knows he looks incredible and has lost the ability to feel shame. His routine for you mostly involves moves with the sword and hip thrusting, neither of which set your heart racing too much, but you scream joyfully when he twerks for Molly, grinds against Gemma, and kisses up Nicoleβs neck in quick succession.Β
He bows when he leaves, and Molly fans at herself as you all giggle. The song changes, something with more of a sultry beat, and George jogs across the lawn in a pilotβs outfit, all starched tight white shorts and a short-sleeve button-up.
βWelcome aboard Russell Airways,β he says, grinning at you all. βPlease fasten your seatbelts, because youβre about to experience some serious turbulence.β He promptly rips the shirt open, shimmying his long limbs and bare chest towards the six of you. Heβs both more nervous and less coordinated than Charles, who is whooping from the balcony; he mostly focuses his attention on Gemma, picking her up as she wraps her legs around his hips. When he kisses her, you all cheer, and it seems to spur him on, pressing her down into the couch. He retreats up to the balcony after that, but not before he places his hat slightly askew on Gemmaβs head.
βWhat a dork,β she mutters, but youβre surprised to see a blush coating her cheeks as she touches the brim gently.Β
Max comes out next to a rap song youβve never heard, dressed as a construction worker in a fluoro mesh vest, hard hat, a pair of distressed denim shorts, and work boots. βGet ready girls, Iβve got all the tools to get your hearts racing,β he calls, flexing his biceps. Itβs all a little on the nose for a scaffolder, but he just about makes it work.Β
He basically skips over Molly, since they canβt couple up, but from the moment he reaches Gemma, you can tell heβs bringing it with a higher level of intensity than the two that came before him. He takes her hand, dragging it down his chest, before he leans in and kisses her neck. βSomeoneβs grafting!β Nicole cheers delightedly, and he clearly takes it as encouragement, lifting her into the air before he sits, reversing their positions. She straddles him, squealing as his hands roam her curves.Β
He makes his way down the line, approach more raw confidence than finesse. You have to hand it to him for trying with every girl, even if Lily looks like she wants to melt into the floor from the attention after he practically swings her around like a ragdoll. When he gets to you, he makes you hold the prop hammer above your head, swiveling his hips against yours without breaking eye contact. The whole thing is a bit much; you can feel your cheeks burning as you silently thank God that Carlos isnβt watching. When he jogs up the stairs to the balcony, you scan the couches for reactions, and smile when you see Nicole looking genuinely flustered.
The song changes again, some house music track this time, and Oscar makes his way down the stairs in a cowboy costume. βHowdy, ladies,β he says, and you can already see the blush on his cheeks.Β
βYou know what they say: save a horse, ride a cowboy,β you lean over to tease Lily.Β
βShut up,β she whispers back, but sheβs watching Oscar run across the lawn in his chaps like itβs primetime television.Β
For someone who is clearly mortified by the entire ordeal and looks like heβd rather die than dance in public, Oscar does a surprisingly okay job. He keeps it respectful, all two-steps and hat tipping, and when he clasps your hand in his and do-si-dos you around the firepit, you sort of just want to give him a hug. He saves Lily for last, and actually attempts some proper moves, scooping her into his arms and spinning her around before dipping her into a kiss.Β
βSo sweet,β Molly coos in a tone just this side of condescending as he leaves. You donβt think Lily notices; sheβs watching him go like he just lassoed the moon for her personally.Β
The music shifts, smooth and sensual, and you already know whoβs coming next. This could only be Carlos, and when he appears at the top of the stairs, you know youβre in for it. Heβs a firefighter in tight black shorts, red suspenders, and work boots, and even the ridiculous plastic hat canβt make him look anything less than incredible. βTime to turn up the heat,β he calls, and you whoop joyfully in your seat.Β
He keeps things respectful with the other girls; maybe he can feel your gaze on him, bright and burning against his skin as he moves. He picks Lily up effortlessly, throwing her over his shoulder in a classic firemanβs carry and toting her around the fire. Itβs Georgia next, skipping over you; he eases her to her feet and grinds against her briefly. Then he moves to Nicole, giving her a lap dance that has her fanning herself frantically. With Gemma, he goes playful, letting her grab the suspenders as he rolls his hips. By the time he gets to Molly, itβs a slow body roll, her hands sliding down his chest as he moves to the beat. Thereβs no lingering contact, no kisses β just enough heat to remind everyone he could have them wrapped around his finger if he really wanted.
Finally, he comes back to you, and it feels like the world narrows to just Carlos and the way heβs looking at you, raw with want. βYouβre looking a little overheated, cariΓ±o,β he smirks, hands finding your waist, pulling you up from the bench and holding you close as he moves against you, slow and deliberate and absolutely filthy.Β
When he finally kisses you, itβs desperate, aching, your hands tangling in his hair as he presses himself against you. The effect is overwhelming; youβre dazed when he pulls away, a satisfied smirk on his face. The boys on the balcony are whooping so loudly you can barely hear yourself think. You know youβre biased, but youβre not sure how anyone could top that.
Then a Megan Thee Stallion song starts blaring from the speakers, and Lando struts out of the villa in taped-up glasses, a sleeveless button-up shirt with a plaid bowtie, and suspenders holding up the tiniest pair of plaid shorts youβve ever seen.Β
βWhatβs up, ladies,β he grins, adopting a ridiculously dorky lisp, and you can feel the smile spread over your face before you can stop it. βWho wants to see my PHD?β
The boys are already laughing from the balcony, and Landoβs eyes sparkle as he approaches the firepit, the sound seeming to spur him on. He goes for Lily first, ripping the shirt buttons so the linen flutters loose around him and making her touch his abs. When he pretends to adjust his glasses and winks at her dramatically, she lets out a giggle.
Youβre next, and Lando pulls a calculator from god knows where, approaching you as he types something with exaggerated concentration. βCheck out my latest formula,β he grins, wiggling his eyebrows as he turns the device around so you can read the screen: 80085.Β
βYou are actually twelve years old, oh my god,β you say as he comes closer, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, but youβre laughing so hard you can barely get the words out.Β
He rolls his hips against yours, leaning forward to whisper in your ear: βHaving fun yet?β
Youβre so close you notice heβs wearing his actual glasses, with costume tape wrapped around the nose bridge, and something about it makes your heart thump in your chest. βAlways with you,β you whisper back before you can stop yourself, and the smile he gives you in return is absurdly bright.
The moment is over quickly; he kisses you on the cheek and jumps up, skipping Georgia and moving on to Nicole. He hands her the calculator like itβs a reward before straddling her and grinding against her so exaggeratedly that it has her shrieking with laughter. Gemmaβs next, and he keeps leaning into the bit, spinning her up from the bench with a playful tug and then shimmying his body down hers, the bowtie straining around the muscles in his neck. Molly gets a full show of body rolls, and itβs clear that heβs being totally unserious about it, but thereβs something about his confidence that makes it all tick.
He finishes by doubling back to Georgia and lifting her effortlessly off the bench as she wraps her legs around his waist. When he kisses her, bouncing her against him with her hands tangling in his hair, you cheer with the others.
βRight, girls, time to return the favor!β Charles yells from the balcony as the boys jump around, high-fiving and chest bumping each other.Β
Fifteen minutes later, youβre on your way to a panic attack.Β
Like the boys, youβll be going out one by one. Youβre smack in the middle, which suits you fine. Youβre already freaking out β going first or last would up the stakes exponentially in a way you know you definitely canβt handle. You can barely even look at yourself in the mirror; the short white dress hugs every curve dangerously and the red lace push-up bra has your tits sitting somewhere around your collarbone.
Lily goes first. Gemma follows her, wielding her tail like a whip. Then Nicole. You canβt see their performances, but you can hear the cheers, the laughter, all the boyish exuberance from outside as each girl dances, and it makes your palms sweat against the plasticky fabric. How are you going to compare?
βYouβre up,β one of the producers says as you hear the music start back up and the moment youβve been dreading arrives. They practically have to shove you out the door, but as you walk down the stairs on shaking legs, a thought occurs to you: Lando was silly and didnβt pretend to be sexy. He was completely himself, and it completely worked.Β
You can do that. You think.
You saunter slowly across the lawn, swinging the stethoscope above your head like a lasso. βHi, boys,β you say, popping the buttons one by one down your chest, and they whistle and howl accordingly, hyping you up. βI hear youβre in need of some medical attention.β
Carlosβ eyes are wide as you reach the firepit, raking over you unabashedly, but you head to the other side of the benches first. You have to make him wait, even if it kills you.Β
Your decision means George is up first. βThe love doctor has arrived,β you grin, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck and planting one foot next to his lap. You wind your hips, using the prop to pull him closer, and he splutters with surprise.Β
Oscarβs sitting next to him, but thatβs a no; itβd be like grinding on your awkward younger cousin. You blow him a kiss as you go by on your way to Max, and he gives you a little salute in return.
You sit on Maxβs lap next, his hands encircling your waist as you pull the thermometer out of your bra and place it on his tongue. You wait a moment before taking it out of his mouth, winding your hips as you pretend to read it and affect a gasp. βOh my god,β you say, small grin on your face as you fan yourself. βIt looks like heβs got the hots for me.β
The boys absolutely lose it. Lando lets out a cackle, covering his mouth with his hands, and George literally doubles over, clutching his stomach as you move on to Charles. βWhatβs my diagnosis, doctor?β he says cheekily, grinning up at you with an eyebrow cocked.Β
You grin, bracing your knees on either side of his waist, and his breath hitches. βBreathing seemsβ¦ irregular. I think it might be terminal,β you say, pouting as you roll your hips. You glance over at Carlos; heβs staring, eyes fixed on you, and a current of something electric zips beneath your skin. βBut donβt worry, Iβm very experienced with bedroom β I mean, bedside manner.β
You kneel in front of Lando next, pulse racing under Carlosβ gaze. Taking the stethoscope from around your neck, you slide it from his heart down his abs to his hips. βSeems like Iβm getting your blood pumping,β you grin, crawling up and bouncing your body against his in time with the music. To his credit, he moves his hips in time with you with a smirk on his face, eyes bright. βOr maybe something else pumping.βΒ
The firepit erupts, and you swear you can hear Gemma screaming from the balcony. βAbsolutely ridiculous,β Lando says fondly as you straighten up, kissing his cheek.Β
When you turn to Carlos, his eyes are molten.Β
βMy star patient,β you say, voice low and actually sultry in a way that surprises you as you reach your hand out to him. He immediately tangles his fingers with yours, something possessive and hungry in his touch. You pull him to his feet, and his hands immediately go to your hips, so close to you that you can feel your skin prickle. Once youβve walked him back to the other side of the firepit, you place a hand on his chest and push, just slightly, and he falls back, hitting the deck and looking up at you as you drop slowly to the ground in front of him.Β
βI think he looks a little sick,β you say, eyes glittering as you look towards the other boys. βWhat do you think? It looks like he might need mouth-to-mouth.β
The cheers are deafening as you slide on top of Carlos, straddling his hips. His chest rises and falls rapidly as his hands find your waist, gripping onto you like itβs the only thing keeping him on this planet. βFeeling better yet?β you tease as you lean down, lips just brushing over his.
βNot even close,β he murmurs, pulling you into a searing kiss, hands sliding up your back as you roll your hips against his. When you finally break apart, breathing hard, thereβs something wild in his eyes, and you know youβve put on a good show. You blow him a kiss as you get up, walking slowly across the lawn, and he holds a hand over his heart.
Carlos is still lying on the deck when you emerge onto the balcony, breathless, and the girls pull you into a hug. βYou killed it!β Gemma squeals against your hair.
βOh my god, I think I blacked out for the whole thing,β you giggle, letting the adrenaline of the moment drain out of your body. βHow did yours go? Anything exciting?β
βIt was kind of fun, actually? George looked absolutely gone for Gemma, as per. Thought he might have a heart attack. And Nicole was proper brilliant,β Lily chimes in.Β
βYou looked quite cozy with Charles there,β the redhead sniffs, ignoring the younger girlβs compliment as she turns her focus on you.Β
Before you can tell her youβre very happy with Carlos and arenβt going to get your head turned by a guy who hasnβt cleaned his water bottle once in the three weeks youβve been here, the music starts pounding through the speakers again. Georgia goes cartwheeling across the lawn, straight into a split that has the boys yelling before she even hits the deck. Sheβs got dancerβs confidence, all hair flips and effortless rhythm as she winds her hips in a way that makes your stomach twist. Molly follows with even more bravado, living up to her costume as she dances for everyone, even Oscar. By the time she makes it to Carlos, dropping her hips to the ground and sending him toppling back against the bench, hands behind his head, you feel ridiculous for ever thinking you could compete. Youβll be lucky if you even raised Carlosβ heart rate the most.
Once Mollyβs finished, the producers summon the rest of you down to the firepit again. The air is buzzing with nervous anticipation; you find Carlos at the end of the benches, and the second you sit down his arm slides around your waist, grip tight as he pulls you possessively against his side.Β
Georgeβs phone buzzes and he pulls it out. βTime for the results. George, your heart rate went highest for Gemma,β he reads off his phone, and you clap, giving Gemma a thumbs up.
βYour heart rate went highest for Lily,β Oscar reads. βNo shock there,β he adds with a grin.Β
Max is next, and since heβs single you find yourself genuinely interested in who itβll be. βYour heart rate went highest for Georgia,β he states, flicking a sheepish glance at Lando.Β
βFair play, mate, she killed that,β Lando replies, a wide, unbothered grin on his face.Β
βYour heart rate went highest for Molly,β Charles says next, and Nicole goes deadly still. βWell, she was last!β he tries, but she doesnβt look at him, just keeps staring into the fire.
Lando unlocks his phone when it buzzes. βLando, your heart rate went highest for ββ He stops, blinking down at the screen like the words have gone fuzzy. βUh, you,β he says, the tips of his ears going pink as he looks directly at you.Β
Carlosβ arm tenses around you, and you laugh, a high-pitched, uneven thing. βWell. Thanks, Lan,β you say, voice hoarse. He just nods in response, rubbing the back of his neck.Β
Itβs back to the beginning, then: Gemmaβs heart rate goes highest for George (which he seems immensely pleased by), Lilyβs for Oscar, and both Molly and Nicole for Carlos.Β
βThree out of six?β you whisper to him. βSave some sexiness for the rest of us, yeah?β He grins bashfully, and the tension in your chest loosens.Β
Georgia goes next, and her heart rate went highest for Charles. Lando keeps a smile on his face, shrugging his shoulders like he couldnβt care less. Then your phone buzzes, and you read out loud: βYour heart rate went the highest for Lando.βΒ
Wait. What the fuck?
By the time the words process in your brain, the firepit has already erupted into chaos. Carlos doesnβt say a word, but the way he pulls his arm away from you feels like a statement in itself. Your cheeks are burning; you can barely stand to look at Lando, but when your eyes flick his way heβs already staring at you, eyes wide.Β
βInteresting,β Georgia snarls, smile razor-sharp as the rest of the islanders thin out across the lawn, eyes pointed anywhere but the four of you.
You laugh nervously, heart rate higher than itβs been all night. βItβs just a challenge, G.β
βIs it though?β she says, eyes narrowing as her gaze bounces between the two of you.Β
βCβmon, Georgia,β Lando says, low and soothing. βIt doesnβt mean anything.β
βRight, of course it doesnβt,β she snaps, hand tightening around his arm possessively as she yanks him up. βBecause nothingβs ever serious with you.β
You think youβre probably the only one who sees his expression crumple. He barely has time to shoot you an apologetic look before she pulls him away from the firepit, voice going shrill and carrying all the way across the lawn until they enter the villa.Β
Itβs just you and Carlos then, and the ache on his face makes you wonder how such a silly challenge could make everything so complicated. βSo,β he says, posture rigid as he sits next to you. βLando.β
You sigh. βCarlos. You went right before him. My heart rate was probably still going mental from that kiss. And Landoβs my friend, and he made me laugh. Thatβs it. It was just β weird timing.β
βTiming,β he echoes, voice hollow.Β
βExactly,β you say, tugging at his hand; he lets you intertwine your fingers with his, but thereβs a vacancy to the act that makes you even more determined to convince him. βThe whole thing is stupid anyway. You know thereβs nothing between me and Lando. I bet those monitors arenβt even accurate.βΒ
You can see how badly he wants to believe you. But thereβs still something stubborn in his expression, a suspicion that makes your chest tight with frustration.
βItβs just a game, Carlos,β you say softly. βIβm with you. One challenge result isnβt going to change that.β
Heβs quiet for a long moment, staring into the darkness. The fire casts strange, angular shadows across his face. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. βSorry. Iβm being stupid,β he says, resting his head against your shoulder.
βYou arenβt,β you reply automatically, even though part of you kind of thinks he is. βI get it. But you donβt need to worry. You know that, right?β
He nods, skin warm against yours, and when he lifts his head to look at you thereβs a hint of a smile on his face. βI know.βΒ
βGood,β you say, smiling back. βNow stop being daft about this stupid challenge and kiss me properly.β
He leans in obediently, and you meet him halfway. The kiss is soft, sweet, built to reassure. But even after everything, you can still taste the doubt on his lips.Β
βWeβre good?β you mumble into the kiss.Β
He pulls away, but not before pressing one more kiss against the corner of your mouth. βWeβre good. Bed?β
βYou go,β you say, waving your hand. βJust gonna sit for a bit.β
You stay out long enough for the night to stretch, for the fire to turn to embers and die under your gaze. As you make your way back towards the villa, you catch a glimpse of movement in the kitchen. Landoβs standing at the stovetop with his back to you, shoulder tense as he watches the kettle boil.Β
βHey,β you whisper as you pad into the kitchen.Β
He turns, and youβre surprised to see his eyes are rimmed red. βHey.βΒ
βIβm sorry,β you start hesitantly. βAbout earlier. I shouldβve said something to G, I think. Or to you. The whole heart rate thing was ββ you pause, not exactly sure where youβre going. βI feel bad.β
He grabs another mug without asking, placing it next to his on the counter as the kettle begins to whistle. βNothing to be sorry for. Not your fault the monitors are mental.β
βHow are you holding up?β you ask, hopping onto a stool.
He shrugs, turning off the burner and pouring the water with a practiced hand. βGβs furious with me. Says I embarrassed her since my heart rate wasnβt fastest for her.β
Your eyebrows knit together. βBut her heart rate went fastest for Charles.β
βBelieve me,β he says dryly, sliding one of the mugs across the counter to you, βI pointed that fact out.β
You take a sip, the familiar mint taste soothing over your tongue. βIβm sure that went well,β you say, lips twitching before both of you lapse into exhausted giggles.Β
βI dunno why she got so upset,β he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. βItβs not like those things are actually scientific.β
βThatβs what I said to Carlos!β you say, and the way he understands you without explanation makes you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time since the challenge ended. βI mean, itβs so ridiculous. They literally design these challenges to stir up drama. I wouldnβt even be surprised if the results were rigged.β
βYou mean reality TV isnβt real?β he says, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. βCouldβve fooled me.β
You laugh, and it hits then, suddenly and without warning β the terrifying certainty that sitting here in the dark kitchen with him, steam curling off your mugs, is the realest moment youβve had in weeks.
βGeorgia will come around,β you say firmly, shaking off the thought. βSheβs going to feel some type of way. The whole challenge is made to mess with peopleβs heads. But youβre good together.β
βYou think?β
βLook, Gβs not one of my favorite people here. But you are. And she makes you happy,β you say, shrugging. βThings will get back to normal.β
Something flickers across his face then, but itβs gone too quick for you to analyze it. βWhat about you and Carlos? You okay?β
You sigh. βYeah. He was like G, taking the whole thing a bit too serious, but we worked it out. He just needed a little reassurance that it was meaningless, you know?βΒ
βMeaningless,β he repeats cautiously, like heβs testing the word on his tongue. βYeah. Right. Well, thatβs good. Glad things got sorted.β
Thereβs silence for a moment, light from the neon signs glowing pink against his cheeks. βIβm glad I have you, you know?β you say eventually, almost a little shy, like youβre unlocking some small part of yourself just for him. βItβs just nice to have a friend here. Someone who doesnβt make everything so complicated.β
He watches you over the rim of his mug, eyes crinkling at the edges as he takes a long sip. βYeah. It is,β he agrees, and the two of you finish your tea in a comfortable, peaceful quiet.Β
βI should probably go. Carlos is waiting,β you say, getting up to rinse your mug in the sink.Β
He nods, letting you brush by him as you turn the water on. βThanks for this,β he says softly.
You look at him, and you can tell he doesnβt just mean for the tea. ββCourse. What are friends for?β
When you slip into bed next to Carlos, he pulls you into him, reassuringly familiar. You turn it over in your head like a mantra: it doesnβt matter what the monitor said. You know where your heart really is.
You just need to keep reminding yourself of that.
It takes you about a half second of consciousness to realize Carlos isnβt where you left him.Β
Your eyes shoot open, and when the lights flicker on, you sit bolt upright in a cold and empty bed, eyes scanning the room in a mental tally. Six girls. No boys. Your friends forced you to watch enough of the show before you left to know what that means.Β
Casa Amor has arrived.
Thereβs a beat of stunned silence, and then everyone starts talking at once β carefree laughter, confused murmurs, groggy protests that itβs too early for this. You push back the covers, adrenaline rising in your chest. Everything is gone. Even Carlosβ name has been scraped off his dresser. You can only hope youβll be more permanent in his mind for the next four days.Β
Neatly folded on your chair is Carlosβ gift: the navy hoodie he always throws on in the mornings, well-worn to the point of softness. It still smells like his cologne, and you smile and hug it to your chest, warm despite the AC blasting through the room. Itβs nice. Nothing over-the-top, of course β thatβs not Carlosβ style β but it warms your heart to know he was thinking of you, especially after all the tension last week with the heart rate challenge. Youβre about to pull it on when your fingers brush unmistakably against a folded piece of paper in the front pocket.
Your heart leaps at the gesture, fingers scrabbling for purchase as you pull the scrap out. But when you unfold it, itβs not Carlosβ neat block handwriting; itβs something messier, rounder letters, script just uneven enough to feel sincere.Β
i know you hate when people leave without saying goodbye, soβ¦ consider this my goodbye 4 now!! donβt spiral too much ya muppet, iβll keep an eye on carlos for you xx - L
You read it once, twice, a third time, warmth spreading through your chest. Trust Lando to remember an offhand comment youβd made at least a week ago about your mum leaving for business trips without saying goodbye, how you hated waking up to find people you cared about gone.Β
You fold it up carefully and slide it back into the front pocket, pulling the hoodie over your head. Today, youβre keeping both your gifts close to you.
You donβt even pretend to entertain the new boys, really. Franco tries to flirt with you, but he rolls his Rβs the same way Carlos does, and you canβt stomach the conversation without feeling like youβre cheating, trying to replace something you havenβt even lost. Lily makes a half-hearted attempt to get to know one of the others, a gangly curly-haired boy named Ollie whoβs awkward in a way thatβs almost charming. But her hands keep fidgeting with her new bracelet, and when nighttime rolls around, youβre both on the daybeds, string lights twinkling above you as you curl up in Carlos and Oscarβs hoodies and hope against hope that theyβre thinking about you too.Β
Georgia, on the other hand, is having the time of her life.
Sheβs flitting between the new boys like itβs the first week all over again. First Yuki the sous chef is making her breakfast, and sheβs giggling as he feeds her bites of pancakes on the terrace. Then sheβs starting a splash fight with Liam in the pool, shrieking when he dunks her under the surface. All of it irritates you more than it should.
You catch her in the kitchen on day three, when youβre cleaning up from dinner. She flounces in, refilling her water from the spigot as you dry the dishes. βSo,β you say as casually as you can, βwhereβs your head at, with all this?β
βExactly where it should be,β she grins smugly. βIβm exploring my options, arenβt I?β
βBut what about Lando?β you say, stacking plates in one of the cabinets.
βWhat about him?β
You flinch, turning back around to face her. βHe really likes you, you know,β you say carefully. βAnd youβre going to get him dumped from the villa if you keep cracking on the way you are.β
She blinks at you, hand on hip. βItβs Love Island, babe. Itβs not like Iβm sending him to the guillotine or something. Honestly, you and Lils act like Iβve murdered someone every time I have a conversation.β
βItβs not about the conversation,β you scowl. βYouβre leading someone on, G.β
Her eyes narrow just a little, and for a second, something colder flickers through her usual bubbly persona. βAnd youβre not?β
You stiffen. βWhatβs that supposed to mean?β
She takes a long swig from her water bottle, then flashes you a saccharine smile that doesnβt quite reach her eyes. βJust donβt get righteous with me, babe. Youβre not exactly the picture of honesty, so maybe worry about your own couple before mine.β
Before you can answer β or ask her what the fuck sheβs on about, since youβve been loyally sleeping on the daybeds all week β she turns on her heel and prances off like the conversation never happened.Β
The words echo in your mind the entire night, long after the lights of the villa go out. You lie awake listening to the buzz of mosquitos and Lilyβs snores, crinkling Landoβs note between restless fingers as your hoodie bunches uncomfortably under your cheek, until the morning sun bleeds golden over the island again.Β
The villaβs strangely tense all day, everyone walking on eggshells like they know the end is coming. When the text comes to gather around the firepit immediately, itβs almost a relief.
Molly goes first, unsurprisingly; she wasnβt coupled with anyone before, so sheβs had her pick this week. She goes with Yuki, whoβs refreshingly outspoken for a Casa boy, enough that youβd wager he actually likes her and wasnβt just going for the only truly single girl. You give her a thumbs up, sending a silent thank you to the universe that you wonβt have to eat any more of Charlesβ sludgy overnight oats now that thereβs an actual chef in the villa. Max high fives her when he comes back with Camilla, a mild-mannered nurse with the prettiest goddess braids youβve ever seen; you like her immediately, as soon as she gives Molly a hug like sheβs known her for ten years instead of ten seconds.Β
Nicoleβs after her, choosing Franco. Apparently the boxers hadnβt helped her remember Charles much at all. Not that he seems bothered, though β he comes strolling through the door with Chloe, a redhead with chic blunt bangs who looks like her natural habitat is chainsmoking outside a Parisian cafe with a sketchbook. They fit together, you suppose as you clap politely.
Gemma gets a text then, and youβre surprised to see her switch to Liam. He doesnβt seem her type, and youβd thought she and George were pretty solid. When he walks back in with someone on his arm, too, a stunning girl named Meg with glossy curls and legs for days whoβs beaming like she just won the whole show, you think you must have misjudged. That is, until George starts staring daggers at Liamβs frosted tips and you clock the way Gemmaβs smile doesnβt quite reach her eyes.Β
Georgiaβs phone buzzes next. She stands up with a slight smirk, clearly reveling in the drama. βIβve decided to switch,β she announces breezily, and you try to ignore the way your heart drops as she links hands with Jack, the Aussie PE teacher whoβd been following her around like a puppy all week.Β
A moment later, Lando comes bounding in, solo. You can see the familiar bright grin on his face from a mile away, which also means you can see the exact moment it falters when he registers Georgia seated next to someone else, the loss rippling through the air like an aftershock.Β
βHappy for you,β he says to the two of them, exceedingly polite, and sits down at the edge of the firepit, knee brushing against yours as he stares straight into the flames.
Lilyβs next, and you squeeze her hand supportively as she stands up. βIβm staying loyal to Oscar,β she says, twisting his bracelet nervously around her wrist. βSome things are worth waiting for.β The pause feels endless, until Oscar appears alone in the doorway with a bashful smile tugging at his lips. She bursts into tears the second she sees him, and he doesnβt even wait for the producers to text their OK before he sweeps her into a tight hug, both of them clinging to each other like thereβs no one else in the villa.Β
And then itβs just you, standing in front of the firepit with shaking hands and a lump in your throat you canβt seem to shake. βI came here to find something real, and I have,β you say, voice steady even if your heart is anything but. Your fingers toy with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, warm over your cocktail dress. βSo Iβve decided to stick with Carlos.β
The wait feels like the longest thirty seconds of your life, until Carlos rounds the corner and even in your panicked state, you can see heβs alone. Relief courses through your body. He stayed loyal. You both β
He turns back, extending his hand. Another figure steps into view beside him, and you discover what it feels like to have your heart break in under a minute.
Sheβs petite, blonde, brilliant blue eyes, a nervous smile that suggests that sheβs overwhelmed by the attention of the moment, uneasy with the way the girls seem shocked and the boys seem entirely unsurprised. Her name is Emma. At least thatβs what you think she said. You canβt quite hear her over the ringing in your ears. Your face feels so hot you think you might genuinely overheat. Itβs not helped by the fact that youβre still wearing his fucking hoodie.Β
The moment stretches, warps, splits at the seams. Youβre only pulled out of your daze by the familiar, cruel ding! of a text message beside you on the bench. You blink hard, not even remembering when exactly you sat down.Β
βThe two of you are now single and vulnerable,β Lando reads off his phone next to you, and you know exactly what that means. Vacation is over, in the most humiliating way you can possibly imagine.Β
You take a deep breath, blinking back the tears gathering at your waterline. You can save them until you leave the villa, at least β long enough that Carlos wonβt see you cry over him, over everything you thought you had before you let the rug get pulled out from under you yet again.Β
And then your phone buzzes in your lap.Β
You unlock it with shaking fingers, eyes scanning over the text. βBut now you have a choice,β you read out loud, voice low and overly controlled. βYou can either leave the villa immediately, or the two of you can stay in the villa as a new couple.β
You can hear the gasps, the low murmurs around you. But all you see β the first person you look to β is Lando.Β
βItβs up to you, okay?β he says immediately, voice low, fingertips ghosting at your elbow. The firepit makes his skin glow golden. βWhatever you need. We can go right now.βΒ
Your eyes flick instinctively to Carlos, across the firepit. Heβs not looking at you, instead staring at the decking under his feet with the level of intensity youβd imagined he would save for the newest copy of Architectural Digest. Lando catches your chin with his hand, gentle, and when you turn back to him his eyes are soft. βHey. Itβs not about him, yeah? Itβs about what you want.β
You shake your head once, almost imperceptible, eyes wide with panic. βI donβt know what I want, Lan.β
The truth is, you never thought youβd be here. Youβd been so sure you were coming back to something steady. To something real. To someone who was waiting for you, too. Not to a beautiful blonde ambush and a man who canβt meet your eyes.
βOkay,β Lando says patiently, thumb grazing your jaw like heβs trying his hardest to keep you anchored into the moment, out of your rapidly spiraling thoughts. βOkay. Market analytics, then. What do you not want?β
The question catches you off guard, words tumbling out before you can stop them. βI donβt want to go like this,β you whisper. βI donβt β I dunno, I donβt want him to think heβs won.β
Something flickers across Landoβs face. At first you think itβs anger, a flash of heat across his boyish features at the idea that both of you have been cast aside like nothing, like losers. But when you look closer, itβs something else entirely. Pride, maybe. Or recognition. Like he sees the fight in you because it lives in him too.
And then he smiles.Β
βGood,β he says, throwing an arm around your shoulders. βBecause I didnβt really fancy the idea of going home just yet.β His eyes are cold as he stares across the fire. βWeβre staying. Think weβve both got some unfinished business here, donβt we?β
Thereβs not much anyone can say after that.Β
The second the ceremony ends, you bolt from the firepit β not knowing quite where youβre going, just trying to make it to the dressing room closets or the shower stalls or anywhere that has four walls and zero cameras so you can let out the tears that have been threatening to fall for the past hour.
Youβre only halfway across the lawn when you hear it, that determined tone that you once found endearing and now makes your stomach twist with panic: βCariΓ±o, wait.βΒ
Your body tenses, heart hammering against your ribs as you keep moving. βPlease,β Carlos says, and heβs right behind you now. You silently curse the fact that you chose to wear stilettos; if you werenβt sinking into the lawn with every step, maybe you could have avoided this confrontation. βCan we talk?β
You would rather suck on Charlesβ musty water bottle straw, actually. βCarlos, I ββ you start, but he already has his hand on your elbow, spinning you to face him. Heβs giving you the look that used to melt you, head tilted just so, softness in those big brown eyes like he hasnβt just stomped over your heart on national television.
βJust five minutes,β he says, voice low. βDonβt I deserve five minutes?β
You freeze, words cutting through you like a knife. Heβs acting like you owe him something, like even after the humiliation ritual youβve been through tonight, somehow youβre the one being unreasonable. Youβd thought youβd gotten used to the weight of a million eyes on you, but youβve never felt so small as you do right now under his gaze.
βEverything alright here?β Your head snaps to your left to see Lando approaching. His demeanor looks calm, but you catch his eyes scanning over the scene with sharp focus, taking in Carlosβ hand on your arm and your eyes, glassy with unshed tears.
βWeβre fine,β Carlos snaps, and you blink in surprise at the shift in his tone β clipped and defensive, nothing like the easy banter youβre used to hearing between them. βPrivate conversation.βΒ
Lando raises an eyebrow, stepping closer to you, and you pull your arm out of Carlosβ grasp. βNot very private, mate,β he says coolly. βSince youβre doing it in front of the whole villa.β
Your gaze flicks between them, realization dawning. Whatever happened at Casa changed something, their fast friendship curdling into something bitter and unresolved.Β
βThis is between me and her,β Carlos says, hand slicing through the air like heβs swatting away a particularly unpleasant gnat. βItβs not your business, cabrΓ³n.β
βFunny thing about that,β Lando replies, positioning himself cleanly between the two of you, close enough that you can feel his presence like a shield. βWhen the girl Iβm coupled up with clearly doesnβt want to talk to you and is trying to get away from you, it becomes my business.β
Carlosβ jaw tightens, hands clenching at his sides. βSheβs a big girl. She can speak for herself.β
βI donβt want to talk to you,β you blurt, surprising yourself with how fast the words come out.Β
He opens his mouth to reply, but Lando pipes up first, voice dangerously calm. βThere you go. So hereβs whatβs going to happen now. Youβre going to respect her decision not to have this conversation. And if you canβt do that, if you keep pushing when sheβs clearly upset, then sheβs going to go inside and us two are going to have a very different talk.β He smiles flatly, something final in it. βAre we clear?β
Carlos stares at the two of you for a long moment, eyes flashing, and you can see the moment he realizes heβs not winning this battle, not if itβs two-on-one. βFine,β he spits, turning on his heel and marching back towards the firepit, posture rigid with frustration.
The second he stalks away, your lungs start working again, and you let out a shaky exhale. Itβs like the whole villa was holding its breath along with you; you can hear the buzz of conversation around you kicking back up, islanders meandering across the grass again like someone hit a restart button on the night. Lando turns to you, all the fight draining from his expression in an instant. βYou alright?β he says gently. βWant me to get Lily?β
You nod in response to his first question, even though youβre not sure itβs true. βJust want to go to sleep, honestly,β you manage. Youβre not so selfish as to interrupt your friendβs happy reunion, even if your own evening has turned into a complete nightmare.
He glances over towards the rest of the islanders, then back to you. βGo,β he says, voice soft. βIβll hold everyone off for a bit.β
Fifteen minutes later, youβre standing in the bedroom in your pajamas, staring at the beds like they might gain sentience and rearrange themselves out of pity. The producers, clearly hoping for some drama, have sandwiched the two of you directly between Carlos and Emma on your left and Georgia and Jack on your right.Β
Theyβre all smiles as they filter into the room, no regard for the emotional chaos theyβre creating as they giggle and flirt in voices that arenβt nearly hushed enough. You, on the other hand, are staring pointedly at the ceiling and calculating the odds of the universe taking mercy on you and striking you down with a lightning bolt.
Lando comes back into the bedroom dead last, hair damp from the shower. You watch as he comes closer, wait for the flicker of pain that crosses his face when he realizes the situation, but it doesnβt come. He just keeps his head down, taking his glasses off and neatly folding them on the nightstand before he clambers in next to you, like a bizarre sort of sleepover.
The lights snap off, and he promptly pulls the duvet up and over both your heads, cocooning the two of you in white cotton as he faces you with a deadpan expression. βAre we in hell right now?β
You exhale, rolling onto your side to face him. βI was thinking the worldβs worst middle seat.β
βIβm going to have to full on pterodactyl screech if I hear another bed squeaking noise in surround sound,β he whispers faux-seriously. βOr if Carlos tries out the sexy Spanish whisper again. Like, itβs not that impressive, mate. We all know how to say mi amor.β
You laugh for real this time, sharp and surprised, tension finally loosening in your chest. You can tell heβs just trying to make you feel better, but it works. You think itβs the first time youβve laughed in days. At least since the boys left for Casa. βRight? Though I think Iβd take cheesy Spanish over a loud kisser. I mean, Georgia, babe. Does the whole room need to hear your lips smacking?β
Lando smiles, pleased and a little triumphant. βThere she is. Thought Iβd lost you for a minute.β
The silence stretches between the two of you for a moment. βDβyou know what the worst part is?β you whisper, flopping onto your back. βI actually thought he was coming back for me. Slept on the daybeds the whole week. How pathetic is that?β
βSβnot pathetic.β He shakes his head, heart-shaped mouth twisting down at the corners. βI get it. Thought Georgia and I had something, you know?β He laughs, humorless. βIt took, what, three days? And sheβs recoupled with someone taller, more muscular, lessβ¦ well, less me, I suppose.βΒ
The defeat in his voice makes something crack white-hot and angry in your chest. βLess of a personality or a working brain, too,β you say, vicious on his behalf, and he musters up a half-laugh. βLan, you canβt start comparing. You canβt do that to yourself.β
βBit rich, coming from you,β he sniffs. βSaw you sizing Emma up from the minute she walked in on Carlosβ arm.β
Landoβs voice is hard. βClearly neither of us did.β
You glance over at him. βWhat do you mean?β
He sighs, tongue poking against the side of his mouth. βAfter seeing him at Casa, I think you mightβve dodged a bullet.β He pauses, shifts on the mattress like he canβt physically sit with the information heβs holding back. βHe kept talking like he could explore and didnβt have to worry, because he knew youβd be waiting. Got in a bit of a row with him about it, actually.β
You picture them on the lawn, the coldness in Carlosβ eyes, the barely concealed disdain on Landoβs face, and the puzzle pieces click into place. Heβd stood up for you. Even when he didnβt have to, even when you werenβt there to hear it, even if it meant heβd lose Carlos.
βThank you,β you whisper, voice choked with emotion. βFor everything. Seriously.β
His gaze softens, and he pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you. Maybe itβs the emotional exhaustion, or the strange intimacy of being the only two people in the world who understand each otherβs situation right now, but you can feel yourself relax for the first time in days. βAlways,β he says, words muffled against your hair. βWhat are friends for?β
βIβm glad itβs you,β you mumble. Heβs warm and solid and steady beneath you, and despite the heartbreak and the humiliation and the hundreds of cameras probably pointed at you right now, you know youβre safe. βReally. Think Iβd be losing it if it were anyone else here right now.β
His arms tighten around you just slightly as your eyes drift shut. βMe too,β he says, voice softer than youβve ever heard it. The last thing you think as you sink into sleep is that neither of you are okay yet, not by a long shot.Β
Summary: Youβre Charles Leclercβs little sister. Off-limits. A little reckless. A little too flirty. Max has always called you trouble, usually while keeping a watchful eye on anyone who got too close. But now heβs the one looking at you like that, and suddenly trouble doesnβt sound like a warningβ¦ it sounds like something he can no longer resist.
8.5k words / Masterlist
The first time you met Max Verstappen you were twelve and hanging upside down from the scaffolding behind the paddock, daring one of the mechanics to race you on a stolen electric scooter. Your brotherβs oversized hoodie swallowed your frame, the sleeves dragging well past your fingertips and both your knees were scraped raw from whatever stunt you'd pulled earlier that day.
You had a devilish glint in your eyes, grinning and fearless.
Max was meant to be focused, already burdened with the pressure of a career on fire. And yet there he stood, helmet in hand, watching you dangle upside down and the only thing he could think instinctively was:
βTrouble.β
He didnβt mean to say it out loud, but it slipped out under his breath, half amused, half exasperated. You flipped upright, spotted him watching and flashed a cheeky grin like youβd just been handed a challenge.
And that was that.
The nickname stuck.
Even as the years passed, as scraped knees gave way to winged eyeliner and dangerous heels, as your wide-eyed chaos turned to sharp wit and flirtatious barbs, Max still called you Trouble.
He said it with a smirk when he passed you in the paddock. With a raised brow when you snuck around different motorhomes. With a warning edge when he caught you talking too close to a driver he didnβt like.
He was older than you by six years and that made Charles uneasy enough, but the real issue was that you never really saw Max as just your older brotherβs friend. You pushed buttons. Challenged him. Teased him in a way that left him biting his cheek and avoiding your gaze. You played it light, always laughing, always teasing, but Max could feel it. The heat beneath it. The line you were daring him to cross.
And Max? He did what he was supposed to do.
He hid behind his loyalty. His self-control.
His internal rulebook that screamed, Donβt touch your friendβs little sister.
Donβt look at her like that.
Donβt want her like that.
But you made it so goddamn hard.
Especially now.
Because Monaco was hot and the season was long and tonight⦠you were back.
The club was dark and loud, drenched in red light and bass-heavy music that made the floor feel like it was breathing beneath Maxβs feet. He stood by the bar, nursing a half-finished drink with the detached calm of someone who didnβt want to be recognised. He was planning an early night, a quick appearance, a few drinks, a vague nod to the DJ, but thenβ
βMaxieeee.β
The voice hit him first. Then came the smell, citrus and something dangerously sweet.
Then he saw you, you were back, he hadnβt seen you in months and you were no longer the girl he first met hanging upside down from the scaffolding. Now you were walking toward him with fire in your eyes and a look that said you knew exactly what you were doing.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders without hesitation, pulling him into a hug that was more skin than fabric, more heat than greeting.
He pulled back slightly, eyes skimming over you.
You were wearing something short and black, all legs and skin and intention, red lipstick that made his head spin and that look in your eyes? It was a spark. No⦠an open flame.
βTrouble,β he said on instinct, but it came out lower than he meant. Rougher. Hungrier.
You tilted your head. βHavenβt heard that in a while.β
He tried to smirk, tried to keep it light, but he could already feel the warmth creeping up his neck. βMaybe I thought you grew out of it.β
You leaned in closer, your lips just barely brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, βMaybe I just got better at hiding it.β
Maxβs grip tightened around his glass as he nearly choked on his drink, coughed, then exhaled sharply through his nose, like he could laugh it off, like you werenβt affecting him. But you were, and you both knew it.
βWhereβs Charles?β he asked, grounding himself, like saying your brotherβs name would remind him why this was off-limits.
You rolled your eyes. βIβm a big girl Max I can be out without a chaperone.β
Max let out a slow breath, trying not to look at your legs. βJust looking out for you.β
βOf course you are.β You sipped your drink, eyes locked on his over the rim of your glass. βBut when was the last time you looked at me and didnβt just see scraped knees and bad ideas?β
Max met your gaze then. Held it. And for the first time in all the years heβd known youβ¦ he couldnβt bring himself to look away.
You saw it happen.
The shift.
And you smiled.
An hour later the two of you were tucked into a dimly lit booth in the farthest corner of the club, half-sunk into cracked leather cushions with drinks in hand. The music thumped through the walls, muffled but constant, like a pulse you couldnβt escape but in that little corner draped in red shadows and shared glances it felt like the rest of the world had gone quiet.
Max had stopped pretending a while ago.
No more polite distance. No more carefully averted eyes. His leg pressed against your bare thigh every time you shifted but he never pulled back. His hand sat casually on the booth, fingers twitching close to yours like they wanted to reach but didnβt dare. His expression was unreadable, sharp jaw, tense shoulders, but his body language was cracked wide open.
You threw your head back at something he said. That unfiltered, warm kind of laugh that made your eyes sparkle and your lipstick smudge at the corners.
Maxβs gaze dropped to your mouth.
And without thinking, he murmured it again:
βTrouble.β
You leaned closer, your voice soft but sharp. βStill calling me that like itβs a bad thing.β
Max swallowed. βIt is a bad thing.β
You smiled, slow and wicked. βThen why do you look like youβre enjoying it so much?β
He blinked, jaw tightening.
You watched the exact moment the leash around his control started to slip. The war inside him, crumbling brick by brick.
βYou want the truth?β he asked, and his voice was hoarse now.
You nodded once.
Maybe it was the alcohol or the dark corner or the way you were looking at him, but before he could stop himself he leaned forward, breath brushing your cheek as he whispered, βBecause Iβve been trying not to look at you like this for years,β he whispered. βAnd now that I amβ¦β His eyes dropped to your lips, lingering. ββ¦Iβm fucked.β
You didnβt flinch. Didnβt tease. Didnβt try to cut the tension with a joke like you mightβve once.
You just whispered back, so quiet it made him ache. βSo do something about it.β
His hand moved before his mind did slipping up to your jaw, rough thumb brushing your cheek. He tilted your head just slightly, just enough to really look at you, to make sure you meant it.
You did.
And Max kissed you.
Not like a friend. Not even like someone crossing a line. But like a man whoβd been holding back a hurricane and had finally let loose.
The kiss was slow at first, deliberate like he wanted to memorise the taste of you. Like he couldnβt believe he was finally allowed. Your lips parted for him without hesitation, and his other hand found your waist, anchoring you to him.
You tasted like vodka and heat and everything heβd spent years trying to pretend he didnβt want.
Years of tension unraveled in a single, drawn-out kiss.
His lips moved with more urgency, tongue sweeping into your mouth as a low, guttural sound escaped from deep in his chest. Your fingers tangled in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, bodies pressed flush like the space between you had always been too much to bear.
He pulled you further into him without breaking the kiss, his hand sliding down to your hip, gripping like he needed to leave a mark. You gasped softly against his mouth and it only made him kiss you harder.
You were the one who pulled back, just slightly, lips brushing his as you caught your breath. You were smiling, soft and smug, and so you it made Max feel dizzy.
βTook you long enough.β
He let his forehead fall against yours, fingers sliding gently along your waist, both of you still tucked into that impossible little world of red light.
βCharles is going to kill me,β he muttered.
You grinned. βThatβs future Maxβs problem.β
He laughed as his hand slipped under you pulling you close again.
βYeah,β he murmured, stealing another kiss, βand youβre still trouble.β
This time, it wasnβt a warning. It was a confession.
Max hadnβt meant to take you home.
At the start of the night that wasnβt even a thought, but now, he couldnβt not. He justβ¦ didnβt want the night to end.
Not when you were holding his hand like that. Not when you looked at him like that.
And apparently neither did you.
Youβd clung to his hand outside the club, the cool Monaco air brushing your skin as you leaned into him, shoes dangling from your fingertips, bare feet on the cobblestones. You didnβt say anything when he hailed a taxi. Didnβt let go when he said, quietly, βMine or yours?β
βYours,β you said without hesitation.
And that was that.
Now, hours later, Max was wide awake.
The apartment was quiet. The kind of quiet that only exists in the middle of the night, soft, sacred, suspended.
You were curled up beside him breathing slow and even, your cheek pressed to his chest, one arm flung across his waist like you belonged there. Like you always had.
You hadnβt slept together. Youβd just curled up beside him in a borrowed pair of his pyjamas, warm and quiet, your body pressed to his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He stared up at the ceiling eyes wide open, his fingers tracing light absent-minded circles on your bare arm.
He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his. The taste of your kiss. He could still hear your voice, low and quiet from earlier that night when you had first got back and laid side by side on his couch:
βDo you remember when I tried to set you up with my friend from university because I needed someone to double date with?β
βYeah,β heβd chuckled, βshe asked if I could name three books and I panicked.β
βYou told her your car manual counts.β you giggled.
βTechnically it does have chapters.β
βMax.β
βOkay, yeah, I was an idiot. I didnβt want to be on that date anyway.β
βWhyβd you come then?β
Heβd looked at you, soft and honest. βBecause you asked me to.β
Youβd gone quiet after that. Max had realised that he couldnβt remember a time when you werenβt pulling him into your orbit. A slow, steady gravitational force heβd never quite been able to fight.
And now, lying in bed with you in the dark, heart pounding beneath your cheek, he wasnβt sure he even wanted to try.
He turned his head to look at you. Your lips were slightly parted. One leg had tangled itself between his. Your makeup was smudged and your hair was a little wild and you were so fucking beautiful it made his chest ache.
But then came the weight.
Charles.
Charles who trusted him.
Charles who once glared at Max for an entire day after making you laugh too hard during a press event.
Charles who used to lean on Max for advice about how to protect you from the chaos of this world.
βSheβs always been too fearless,β Charles had muttered once, pacing outside the paddock hospitality lounge. βToo flirtatious. She doesnβt understand what kind of attention she draws. Iβm not blaming her for that but I just want her to be okay.β
And Max had said:
βIβve got her. Iβll look out for her.β
He meant it at the time. He still did.
But this? Was this looking out for you?
He hadnβt meant to let the teasing evolve into something warmer. Hadnβt meant to feel jealous every time you dated some new guy who didnβt get your jokes or understand the way your mind worked. Hadnβt meant to start craving your attention. Your chaos. Your company.
Max let out a slow breath and closed his eyes, letting the memories swirl like smoke, familiar, intoxicating, and far too late to run from now.
There was the time youβd snuck into the Red Bull motorhome with a stolen pass and a grin that could get you out of anything.
Max had spotted you crouched at the snack table, wrist-deep in his stash of gummy bears.
βWhat the hell?β he laughed, already shaking his head.
You glanced up, wide-eyed and unbothered.
βDonβt tell Charles you saw me,β you whispered.
βYou are so much trouble.β
βYou like it.β
And maybe⦠even then he had.
Even if he wouldnβt admit it out loud for years.
One year youβd show up in the garage during testing in Barcelona, bold as ever, notebook in hand.
βDoing research,β you announced, sliding up beside him.
βFor what?β Max asked.
βFuture team principal. I need to understand the enemy.β
βIs that what I am?β
βOnly on paper.β
βAnd off paper?β
βIβll let you know.β
You were always toeing the line. Always keeping him guessing. Always staying just on the edge of something neither of you had the nerve to name.
He remembered another day, one that haunted him right now.
He and Charles were walking back to the paddock after media day. Youβd been in the hospitality suite earlier, charming every single person in the room with your adorable smile and quick wit.
Max had said something stupid, without thinking more amused than serious. βSheβs going to ruin some poor guyβs life one day.β
Charles barely looked up from his espresso. βYeah. Which is why none of you are allowed anywhere near her.β
Max turned, eyebrows lifting. βWhat?β
Charles didnβt smile. βIβm serious.β
Max forced a laugh, trying to play it off. βRelax mate. I was just saying.β
βIf any of my friends touch herβ¦ I think Iβd kill them.β
βIβm sure you would.β Max had laughed it off at the time.
But the truth?
He was already in deeper than he wanted to admit. Already watching you too closely. Already memorising your smile.
Your 21st birthday. Milan.
Youβd dragged Max onto the dance floor, unapologetic and glowing, pulling him into a crowd of bodies and bass-heavy music. You sang into his ear, off-key and smiling, while his hand hovered at your waist, too low, then a little higher, then back again like he couldnβt trust himself to settle.
Charles was watching from the bar. Arms crossed. Always watching.
But you didnβt care. You looked up at him, eyes bright, mouth close, and said:
βOne day youβre going to realise Iβm not a little girl anymore.β
That line came crashing back now as Max looked down at you sleeping peacefully in his bed wearing one of his old T-shirts, your body curled into his like it was always meant to be there.
You werenβt a girl anymore.
And Max?
He wasnβt just your brotherβs friend trying to do the right thing.
He was in it now.
Wrapped up in you, in your laugh, your fire, your absolute refusal to be anything other than yourself.
Heart and soul.
And Charles?
Max sighed, he didnβt know how to face that yet. Didnβt know what it would look like when the truth finally came out, but right nowβ¦ he couldnβt bring himself to regret a damn thing.
Because your leg shifted beneath the sheets, brushing against his. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and even in sleep, you pressed a little closer to him like your body already knew what he hadnβt let himself say.
Max closed his eyes, head tipping back against the pillow.
Trouble.
Yeah.
He was in so much trouble.
The sunlight cut softly through the blinds, painting pale gold lines across the sheets. Max stirred first.
His body was stiff from staying still all night, he felt the gentle weight of your arm draped across his chest, your fingers curling loosely against his side. Your face was tucked just below his collarbone, lips parted slightly in sleep, breathing slow and even.
You were still wearing his T-shirt. It hung loose on you one shoulder exposed where the fabric had slipped. Your legs were tangled with his beneath the duvet, warm and familiar.
He blinked up at the ceiling, heartbeat steady but too loud in his own ears and couldnβt help but think.
What the fuck had he done? Not from regret. Never that. But in the quiet, slow dawning of consequence. The part where morning light made everything feel more real, more fragile, more dangerous.
His eyes drifted back down to your face and something twisted in his chest. You looked peaceful here. Soft in a way he rarely saw. So unlike the whirlwind girl who used to sprint through the paddock with a pocket full of bribes for the mechanics, the girl who on more than one occasion roped Max into βhelping her sneak into Red Bullβs telemetry room for academic reasons.β
He swallowed hard. You were trouble, you always had been, but this, you here, this wasnβt some reckless moment.
This felt real. And that was what scared him most.
His hand hovered near your cheek almost touching you, but not quite. Instead he let his eyes close for a moment as more memories came.
It was summer and you were nineteen, barefoot on the deck of his boat, salt in your hair and wearing a tiny bikini, dancing around with a plastic cup in your hand.
Max sat under the canopy, half-watching, half-annoyed with himself for how long heβd been watching.
Charles stood next to him, arms crossed, jaw tight.
βSheβs not a kid anymore,β Charles said quietly, the weight of it pressing into his voice. βShe doesnβt make it easy. I hate that I canβt always protect her the way I used to.β
Max had scoffed, trying to seem casual. βSheβll be fine.β
Charles looked at him, sharp and serious.
βDonβt pretend you donβt see it. Donβt be fucking stupid.β
Max had said nothing.
Because he had seen it and heβd been stupid ever since.
One afternoon youβd snuck into Maxβs driver room after qualifying, hair still wet from the rain and grinning like you knew he would never kick you out.
βTold Charles I was going back to the hotel,β you grinned, mischievous as ever. βWant to hide from your PR for a bit?β
He shouldβve said no but he let you stay. Let you kick your shoes off and complain about hospitality food. He let you laugh at his expense. Let himself laugh more than he should have.
That was the first time he noticed the way your eyes lingered on his mouth a little too long.
That was the first time he felt the warning bells and chose to ignore them.
Now Max opened his eyes again and looked down at you.
You shifted slightly in your sleep, your fingers twitching against his skin like you knew he was awake. His breath caught in his throat.
You looked so peaceful. So unaware of the hurricane youβd pulled him into without even trying.
He was so deeply, impossibly fucked.
The first thing you felt when you stirred was warmth.
Not the kind from sunlight or blankets but from skin, from a chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, from an unfamiliar scent but familiar enough now to make you smile before you even opened your eyes.
Your eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.
White sheets. Muscle under your hand. A steady heartbeat beneath your ear.
Your brows furrowed in confusion for half a second until the night before came rushing back in one, glorious, slightly fuzzy reel.
Max.
His lips. His hands. His low, rough laugh when you called him Maxie just to get a rise out of him.
And then the hours on his couch. The hours spent side by side, talking, teasing, leaning in, falling in.
You tilted your head up slowly, eyes finding him in the morning light. He was already awake. Had been for a while you realised. His eyes flicked down to meet yours the second you moved, but his face was unreadable. Guarded.
You smiled anyway. βMorning.β
βMorning,β he murmured, voice low and rough with sleep.
βYou watching me sleep Verstappen? Thatβs creepy,β you teased, your chin nudging lightly against his chest.
He huffed, but the smile didnβt quite follow. βYou snore.β
You blinked, feigning offence. βI do not.β
βYou kind of do,β he said, smirking just slightly. βBut it was cute.β
That got a grin out of you. βYouβre weird this morning.β
βIβm good.β
You studied him for a beat, something sharp and instinctive tugging at your chest. βNo youβre overthinking. I can see it.β
You poked his side lightly, playful but not without meaning. βWhat is it? Regret? Existential crisis? Full-blown panic?β
He looked at you then and for a moment his mask cracked, just a flicker, but it was enough.
There was something in his eyes, something raw⦠something that looked a lot like fear.
βNo,β he said, quiet now. βJustβ¦ thinking.β
Your smile faltered not in disappointment but understanding.
You settled your head back onto his chest. βWe donβt have to figure it all out this second you know.β
Max didnβt answer. He just wrapped his arm a little tighter around your shoulders, fingers brushing lightly along the curve of your spine like he didnβt want you to see whatever was going on in his head.
He walked you home later that morning, his hoodie slung around your shoulders, your heels tucked neatly into a tote bag swinging at your side. The streets of Monaco were mostly empty at that hour, quiet, glistening faintly from an early morning rinse of rain.
You walked in silence, not awkward, just aware. Like speaking too soon might shatter the delicate balance hanging between you.
Then, without thinking, you reached for his hand.
Max flinched, not obviously, not in a way anyone else wouldβve noticed but you felt it. The subtle pause. The way his fingers stiffened, uncertain, like he didnβt know what this meant now, what you meant now.
You didnβt look at him but you didnβt pull away. You just kept walking, your hand still wrapped around his and after a beat he laced his fingers through yours and gave a gentle squeeze.
Later that night steam curled thick around Max as hot water poured down his back, but it did nothing to quiet the noise in his head. It couldnβt rinse away the feel of your hand in his, the press of your body or the sound of your laugh in the dark, soft and unguarded.
Youβd been in his bed. His skin on your skin. His arms around your waist.
He shouldβve felt satisfied. Like something long buried had finally been unearthed.
But insteadβ¦ he felt wrecked. Because this wasnβt a one-night thing. This wasnβt something he could laugh off, shrug away, pretend didnβt matter.
This was you.
And Max had known, quietly, stubbornly, maybe even stupidly for a long time now:
There would never be anyone else quite like you.
He exhaled, slow and sharp, leaning his forehead against the cool tile as the water kept falling and once again his mind pulled him backward.
Youβd just broken up with some guy youβd been seeing, someone Charles had actually liked. Thatβs how Max knew the relationship had been real, probably serious.
You showed up at Maxβs hotel room after free practice, mascara streaked and chin trembling. He hadnβt even thought just pulled you into the room and locked the door behind you.
You didnβt say much. You didnβt need to. You curled up on the edge of his bed, knees to your chest, and whispered, βHe said Iβm too much.β
Max sat next to you, quiet for a second, his throat tight with something he couldnβt name.
βYouβre not too much,β he said finally. βYouβre brilliant. Heβs an idiot.β
You looked up at him then lashes still wet, mouth trembling not from sadness now but from hope.
He almost kissed you.
He didnβt. He couldnβt.
Not because he didnβt want to, God, he did but because you were too vulnerable, and Charles wouldβve absolutely killed him. And more than that Max didnβt want to be another person who took advantage when you were hurting.
But he remembered staring at your mouth. The way your breath caught. How close youβd leaned in before you both blinked and pulled back at the same time, like the moment had swallowed you whole and spit you out just before it was too late.
βYouβre the only one who never says that,β you whispered.
βSays what?β
βThat I need to calm down. That I should tone it down. That I need to be lessβ¦ me.β
Max hadnβt known what to say to that so he said nothing.
He just sat there, fists clenched in his lap, shoulders stiff and aching with restraint because he was terrified of what might happen if he moved even an inch closer.
Max turned off the water and braced his hands on the counter, wiping at the mirror to see his own reflection. His jaw was tight. His eyes were tired.
He wiped at the fogged glass until his reflection emerged, jaw tight, brow furrowed, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He looked⦠wrecked. Not physically. Not entirely. But in that quiet, exhausted way that came from feeling too much all at once.
Out of habit he reached for his phone and then paused.
His thumb hovered over his home screen for a second before he opened the photo gallery.
Scrolled.
There it was.
A picture from exactly one year ago.
You sitting on a rooftop somewhere in Paris, knees pulled up, holding a half-eaten croissant in one hand and a wrinkled motorsport magazine in the other with his and Charlesβ faces on the cover. Your hair was a mess, oversized sunglasses perched on top of your head, you were grinning absolutely beaming.
Heβd saved it without thinking.
He looked at it now and something inside his chest twisted.
He swiped.
The next was a blurry selfie taken after a race, the two of you grinning like idiots. Your cheeks were flushed, his cap was backwards, and your fingers were up in a peace sign resting lightly on his shoulder.
Swipe.
Another, this time you were sleeping in the back of the Red Bull hospitality suite curled up in one of the oversized chairs with your hoodie pulled halfway over your head, headphones in. Max had taken it without you knowing, back when he used to tell himself you were just Charlesβs sister. That he was just looking out for you.
Swipe.
You and Charles standing side by side on a yacht in Monaco arms linked. Max wasnβt even in that one but heβd kept it because your smile was softer in that photo. More real.
He stopped scrolling.
Stared at the screen, chest tightening.
Heβd been in love with you for years. He knew that now so plainly it almost hurt. Maybe he always had. Maybe he just buried it under jokes and tension and distance.
But last night had ruined any chance of pretending otherwise because youβd kissed him like you knew. Like youβd always known.
Max dragged a hand through his wet hair, gripping the back of his neck. His skin was still burning from where your body had curled against his just hours ago. Still haunted by the shape of your sigh when you said his name in your sleep.
He looked back at the screen, at that grinning rooftop version of you and exhaled through his nose.
What the hell am I going to do now?
Max didnβt sleep that night, not really, and when he saw you the next day tucked in a quiet corner of the paddock between sessions, coffee in hand, hair pulled back beneath a team cap his chest tightened.
You looked up and smiled when you saw him.
βMorning,β you said, voice light.
βHey,β he said, stopping a few feet away. Too far. Too careful.
You watched him for a beat, frown ghosting your lips. βEverything okay?β Max hesitated too long. Then nodded once. βYeah. Just tired.β
A pause stretched between you, not awkward, just⦠uncertain. Unspoken.
You tried to keep it light. βSoβ¦ are we pretending that didnβt happen?β
Max flinched. Barely, but you caught it.
βNo,β he said quickly. βIβm not pretending.β
You searched his face, reading the change. The retreat already starting.
βDo you regret it?β you asked, quietly.
His gaze snapped to yours. βNo. Of course not.β
But he still didnβt move closer.
You gave a small nod anyway. βGood. Because I donβt either.β
Max opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
And that that was the worst part. You could see the war in his eyes, the guilt already eating him alive.
βI should go,β he said. βIβve got media.β
You smiled anyway, smaller now. βSee you soon?β
βYeahβ¦ soon,β he added, already moving for the door.
You just stood there watching him disappear down the paddock his shoulders tense, his pace too quick like he couldnβt get away fast enough.
Your heart pounded in your chest, not from anger or heartbreak, not yet. Just that creeping, awful feeling in your gut that youβd both done something irreversible.
You noticed the shift before Max could say anything.
It started small.
He stopped texting back right away. The inside jokes dried up. He kept his distance even in the paddock where youβd usually catch him mid-joke or leaning against a wall waiting for you with that knowing smirk.
Now? He barely looked your way and when he did it was too fast. Too careful. Like eye contact might undo whatever wall he was trying to build between you.
And you werenβt stupid.
You knew what this was.
Guilt. Fear. Charles.
You tried not to take it personally, even if it stung. Even if it made your chest ache every time you passed him and he pretended he didnβt see you.
You told yourself: Fine. If he wants to play it safe so be it.
But that didnβt make it hurt any less.
Max told himself he was doing the right thing. That keeping his distance was the only move that made sense. That if he just stayed away long enough both of your feelings would settle. That the kiss, the night you spent curled up together could be dismissed as a one-off. A drunk heat-of-the-moment mistake. Nothing more.
But it wasnβt. And he knew it.
He told himself you understood. That you must know why this couldnβt happen. Why you and him could never be anything. That there didnβt need to be some dramatic, drawn-out conversation, because technically nothing had even happened.
But he also knew that was bullshit.
It wasnβt just fear.
It was loyalty. Guilt. A promise unspoken but deeply understood.
Because no matter how much he wanted you, craved you, Max couldnβt shake the image of Charlesβs face in Monaco. The warning in his voice. The silent trust theyβd built over years of racing, of surviving the chaos together. This would feel like a betrayal. Maybe it was.
Max told himself he was being respectful. That this was him doing the right thing choosing boundaries over desire. Friendship over temptation.
But deep down he knew that wasnβt the whole truth.
He was being a coward because avoiding you also meant not having to face how badly he wanted you. How much he'd already crossed the line. And how even now part of him didnβt feel guilty about it at all.
The worst part? The distance wasnβt helping.
His feelings werenβt fading, they were sharpening. Taking shape. Solidifying into something dangerous.
Now that heβd had a taste of you, your laugh, your skin, your warmth pressed against him in the dark he didnβt think heβd ever be able to look at anyone else the same way again. You had ruined him for good and he didnβt even think you knew it.
Every time he saw you across the paddock laughing with some PR rep, walking with that signature strut of yours, tiny skirt and lanyard swinging, hair tied up and sunglasses perched on your head his stomach flipped. His pulse skipped.
And the only thought louder than donβt be fucking stupid was:
Mine.
Even if heβd already pushed you away.
Then came him. Some new Ferrari reserve guy young, sharp-jawed, too confident. Max spotted him talking to you near the hospitality unit after qualifying. Max wasnβt trying to watch. He really wasnβt, but then the guy leaned a little too close. Said something that made you laugh, really laugh, and Maxβs eyes snapped to your face.
You looked interested⦠and it fucking killed him.
Then the guy touched your arm. Casually. Friendly. But it was enough. Maxβs grip on his water bottle tightened so hard the plastic crumpled. He wasnβt thinking when he crossed the paddock. In that moment he didnβt care who saw. Didnβt care if Charles was watching from some garage monitor or if someone caught it on camera.
He just knew one thing: You were his⦠or at least you were meant to be.
He reached you mid-conversation.
βHey,β he said, voice sharp.
You blinked, surprised. βUhβ¦ hi?β
The other guy glanced between you two, a little smirk playing at his lips like heβd clocked something.
βCan I borrow you?β Max asked, eyes on you only. βNow.β
You raised an eyebrow. βIs that how we ask nicely these days?β
Max didnβt flinch. βPlease.β
You studied him for a second, saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his throat worked like he was swallowing something down. You hesitated but nodded.
He led you around the back of the building, weaving past the media barriers and hospitality tents until you were both tucked between two transport trucks out of view. The hum of paddock noise buzzed in the background.
You folded your arms. βAlright. What the hell was that?β
Max ran both hands through his hair and started pacing, like he couldnβt keep still. βI donβt know. I justβfuck.β He turned to you. βI canβt do it anymore.β
Your stomach dropped. βDo what?β
βThis. Pretending nothing happened. Pretending I donβt give a shit.β His voice cracked, jaw tight. βBecause I do. You know I do.β
You stared at him, heart racing. βThen why have you been ignoring me for the past week?β
He winced like the words physically hurt. βBecause Iβm a coward. Because I thought that if I kept my distance it would protect us. Charles heβd kill me. And maybe I deserve it.β
You scoffed and looked away, voice quieter. βSo you decided to disappear instead. Let me think I meant nothing.β
βNo,β Max said quickly, stepping closer. βThatβs not it. You mean everything. Thatβs the problem.β
You met his eyes again, arms still crossed. βYou donβt get to say that like it fixes things.β
βI know,β he said, quieter now. βI know I fucked up, but I thought if I gave it space it would go away. That it was just one night, but itβs not, thereβs been so many moments and now every time I see you I feel like I canβt breathe.β
You bit your cheek, hard. βDo you know how long Iβve liked you Max? How many years Iβve had to pretend it was just a stupid crush while you dated models and acted like I was just some kid hanging around Charles?β
His face crumpled. βI know. I know. And Iβm sorry.β
You shook your head, eyes stinging. βIt killed me when you stopped talking to me. Like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.β
βI was scared,β Max admitted, voice raw. βNot just of Charles of you. Because youβre not a fling. Youβre not something I can walk away from if it gets hard. Youβve always been the thing I could never let myself want. But now? After that night? I donβt think Iβll ever be able to want anyone else.β
Your breath stuttered, the words catching you off guard. For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Then, quietly, he said, βI want to be with you. Not in secret. For real. But only if you still want that too.β
You stared at him, long and hard, unsure if you wanted to kiss him or slap him. βIf you do this again, if you disappear on me or push me away because it gets messy or hard Iβm not sticking around Max. I canβt do it.β
βI wonβt,β he swore. βI swear. Iβll fight for it. For you.β
You took a breath. Then another.
And then slowly you stepped forward. βGood,β you said. βBecause I wasnβt kidding. Itβs always been you.β
Max didnβt wait.
His hand slid up your spine, tugging you closer until your chest pressed to his, mouths moving in sync like muscle memory. You clutched at his shirt, twisting the fabric between your fingers as his other hand found your jaw, tilting your face just right. He kissed you like he needed you to know. Like he wanted to make up for every second heβd wasted pretending he didnβt want this.
Your back hit the wall as his mouth dragged over yours, slower now, savouring it.
When he finally pulled back, both of you breathless and wide-eyed, Max pressed his forehead to yours. His voice was rough, low, impossibly tender. βYouβve always been my trouble.β
You smiled faintly against his lips, eyes shining. βTook you long enough.β
You didnβt bring it up right away.
Neither did he.
For a while it was easier to live in the moments between. In hotel rooms between sessions, long flights between cities, sleepy mornings where your bare legs tangled under too-white sheets and Max kissed your shoulder before his alarm went off.
But it loomed. Quiet and heavy.
Charles.
His name wasnβt forbidden, not exactly. You still talked about him, ferrari things, family things, Monaco things, but never in the context that mattered. Never us and him in the same sentence.
You knew it had to happen.
Max knew it too.
The topic finally slipped out during a layover in Zurich, your legs draped across his lap while you shared a sandwich and tried not to draw attention in the corner of the Lufthansa lounge.
βHeβs going to be so fucking mad,β Max muttered, staring at nothing in particular.
Your stomach twisted. βI know.β
He didnβt say anything for a beat.
βHe might not talk to me again.β
You looked at him, heart softening. βWould that change anything?β
Maxβs jaw worked. He didnβt answer immediately. βNo,β he said finally. βBut I hate the thought of hurting him.β
βI do too,β you whispered.
He rubbed a hand over his face, fingers dragging down to his jaw. βI shouldβve talked to him before anything happened. I shouldβve done this the right way.β
βWould it have made a difference?β
βI donβt know. Maybe.β
βHeβs your friend. Heβs my brother. He cares about us both.β
Max gave you a look. βThat doesnβt mean heβs going to care for this.β
βNo,β you agreed. βBut if we want it to be real he has to know.β
He nodded, thumb brushing your knee. βI need to be the one to tell him I think.β
βDo you want me to be there?β you asked.
Max exhaled slowly. βNo. I think I should do it alone first.β
You tried to hide your nerves, but he saw them. Cupped your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye. βI wonβt let this fuck everything up,β he said softly. βI promise.β
And you believed him.
Even if your heart was already bracing for the fallout.
Max waited until after debrief on Sunday night.
Charles was still towelling sweat from his neck, red team polo clinging to his back, jaw tight from a frustrating day. Max approached him cautiously and said, βHey, can we talk?β
Charles looked at him, brows knitting. βNow?β
Max nodded. βYeah. Now.β
They ended up in one of the back rooms of the hospitality unit, the kind used for strategy huddles or quiet conversations with sponsors. It was empty except for the tension that followed them in.
Charles leaned against the table arms crossed. βSo? Whatβs going on?β
Maxβs mouth opened. Then closed. He couldnβt do it casually, couldnβt just drop it like it wasnβt about to detonate everything.
βI need to tell you something,β Max said. βAnd I need you to let me finish before you say anything.β
Charles blinked. That alone was enough to put him on edge.
Max took a breath. βItβs about your sister.β
Immediately Charles straightened. βWhat about her?β
Max looked away for a second. βI didnβt mean for it to happen. I swear. I didnβt go looking for it.β
βMax,β Charles snapped. βWhat happened?β
Max looked up, met his eyes. βIβm in love with her.β
Silence.
Utter, violent silence.
Charles blinked like he hadnβt heard right. Then laughed once sharp and humourless. βWhat the fuck are you talking about?β
βWe didnβt plan it. But it happenedβ¦ it started that weekend when she came back to Monaco. Itβs been building for a long time.β
Charles shook his head, stepping back. βYou have got to be kidding me.β
βI know youβre pissedββ
βPissed?β Charles exploded.
βWe didnβtβ we werenβt planningββ Max stumbled over the words. βIt only became something real recently. I didnβt want to disrespect you, thatβs why I waitedββ
Charles eyes narrowed. βOh you waited?β His voice rose, tight with fury. βYou waited out of respect? You went behind my back, you didnβt say a word, and now you want me to believe this is some selfless, noble act?β
Maxβs mouth opened, but no words came.
βYouβve always liked her,β Charles snapped. βI knew it deep down I just didnβt didnβt want to believe it so donβt pretend this just happened. You knew exactly what you were doing.β
βItβs not like that. Itβs more than that.β
Charles scoffed. βDonβt try to play the good guy now.β
βI love her.β
βThat doesnβt make it okay!β
Max flinched like heβd been slapped. βI didnβt say it did.β
Charles paced, hands fisted. βYou couldβve told me. You shouldβve told me. But instead you, God, Max you know how much she means to me. How protective Iβve always been and you just went behind my back?β
βI didnβt mean to go behind your back,β Max said. βI didnβt mean for any of this to happen but it did and I tried to walk away. I did. But I couldnβt. I canβtβ
Charles stared at him, something breaking in his eyes. βYouβre supposed to be my friend. You were supposed to look out for her.β
Charles turned away, running a hand through his hair before slamming his palm against the wall. βGet out.β
βCharlesββ
βGet out Max.β
And Max did. He walked out into the paddock his throat burning with the words he couldnβt say.
Heβd done the right thing, heβd done everything he could and still somehow it felt like losing.
Max found you sitting in the back corner of the paddock hospitality lounge, fidgeting with a half-empty cup of coffee and trying to look like your heart wasnβt in your throat.
The second you saw his face you knew, he didnβt have to say a word.
βYou told him?β
Max nodded. βYeah.β
You sat back in your chair, shoulders falling. βAnd?β
βHeβs furious,β Max said. βI think I broke something that canβt be fixed.β
You didnβt speak right away just stared down at the table, blinking hard.
Max stepped closer, crouched beside your chair. βHey. Look at me.β
You did.
βI donβt regret telling him,β he said. βI regret hurting him. But not this. Not you.β
You swallowed. βYeah. Well. I didnβt expect balloons and confetti.β
βI justββ He reached for your hand. βI didnβt want to keep hiding. It didnβt feel right.β
You nodded once, then pulled your hand away gently. βI need to talk to him.β
βAre you sure thatβs a good idea?β
βIβm his sister,β you said. βHe deserves to hear it from me too.β
You found Charles behind the Ferrari garage somewhere he always went when he didnβt want to be found. His arms were folded and his jaw was still tight with anger.
He saw you coming and for a second he almost turned away.
βPlease,β you said, before he could walk off. βJust let me explain.β
He didnβt say anything but he also didnβt move, so you stood there, heart pounding, and said, βI know youβre pissed. I know you feel betrayed. I get it. But I need you to understand this isnβt a joke to me.β
He ran a hand through his hair. βI donβt know whatβs worse. If it was casual or if youβre actually in love with him.β
You swallowed hard. βWe didnβt plan this but itβs not going away.β
He turned, paced a few steps, then looked at you, eyes sharp. βDo you have any idea how it felt? Hearing it from him? Watching him stand there and act like he hadnβt just thrown away a decade of friendship?β
βHe didnβt throw anything away,β you said, voice firm now. βHe tried to do the right thing. He walked away from me more than once because he didnβt want to hurt you.β
He turned his face away for a moment like he couldnβt bear to look at you. βYou know what pisses me off most?β he said finally. βItβs not even just that itβs him. Itβs that he promised me. I asked him to watch out for you and he swore he would.β
You blinked, surprised, throat tightening. βHe has looked out for me.β
He shook his head. βLooking out for you doesnβt mean falling into your bed behind my back.β
You flinched. βIt wasnβt like that.β
Charles went on, angry now. βHeβs in the spotlight every second of the day. His life is messy, and loud, and complicated. Trust me I know, and I donβt think he even stopped to think about what that means for you. Or what it does to us.β
βI have thought about it,β you said, stronger now. βWe both have. Every step of this has been messy and confusing and hard. But itβs real. And I would rather deal with all the noise, all the complications, everything, if it means being with him.β
Charles stared at you for a beat. βAnd if it all goes to shit? If it ends badly?β
βThen Iβll be heartbroken,β you said honestly. βBut thatβs my choice to make.β
He ran both hands through his hair, exhaling hard like he didnβt know what to do with the ache in his chest.
βHe didnβt throw away your friendship,β you added gently. βHe was scared to lose it. Thatβs why he didnβt tell you sooner. He thought he was protecting both of us.β
Charles gave a hollow laugh. βSo noble.β
You stepped closer. βHe loves me. And Iβve loved him longer than Iβve even let myself admit.β
That cracked something.
Charles blinked, slow and pained. βYou love him?β
You nodded. βI really do.β
He sighed, jaw tight, then finally said, βI still think itβs a mistake.β
You gave a weak smile. βYouβve always thought most of my decisions were mistakes.β
He huffed, almost a laugh, but not quite.
Silence settled between you.
βIf he hurts youββ
βI know,β you said gently. βYouβll kill him.β
Charles finally looked at you. βI wonβt forgive him. Not yet.β
βThatβs okay,β you said. βBut maybe one day?β
He shrugged. βMaybe.β
And somehow, maybe was enough for now.
You didnβt knock.
He opened the door like heβd been waiting.
βYou okay?β he asked quietly.
You nodded, stepping inside. βWe talked.β
Max shut the door behind you. βAnd?β
βAnd heβs still pissed.β
Max winced. βFair.β
βButβ¦β you smiled softly, toeing off your shoes. βI think heβs starting to understand. A little.β
Relief passed through his face but it didnβt settle. He looked at you like he still didnβt quite believe this was allowed to happen.
You padded closer, tugging gently at the drawstring of his hoodie.
βHey,β you said, eyes teasing. βYouβre allowed to be happy you know.β
βIt still scares meβ¦ how much I feel when Iβm with you.β
βGood. Means youβre not going anywhere.β You winked.
He arched a brow. βYou gonna keep stealing my pyjamas?β
You looked entirely unbothered. βObviously.β
Max shook his head with a soft laugh and wrapped his arms around your waist. βYou know youβre a menace, right?β
You leaned in, your lips brushing his jaw. βI thought I was trouble?β
His breath caught, hands tightening slightly at your hips. βYou drive me crazy.β
βYeah?β you whispered. βAnd you love it.β
βI do.β
He kissed you then, slow and deep and sweet, like he had all the time in the world now. Like you were his finally. When you pulled back slightly breathless you met his eyes.
βWhen I picture the future,β he said, voice low and certain, βyouβre in every version of it. Every single one.β
You smiled, heart pounding.
βGood,β you whispered. βBecause I donβt think anyone else could handle me.β
βI donβt want to handle you,β Max said. βI love you exactly as you are.β
One Week Later
The paddock was buzzing.
Photographers, engineers, drivers, and PR teams darted around with the usual Friday chaos.
You were perched on the side of a pit wall barrier, swinging your legs and laughing as Max stood between your knees, holding your hands and trying very badly to look like he wasnβt smiling like an idiot.
You were mid debate about who was more competitive when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.
You both turned.
Charles stood there, arms crossed, one brow raised.
Max instantly straightened like a schoolboy caught sneaking out after curfew.
You hopped off the barrier, brushing your hands on your shorts. βHey.β
Charles looked between you both. Then finally sighed and extended his hand to Max.
Max blinked, surprised, but shook it.
Charles looked at you, then back at Max, and muttered, βJustβ¦ donβt make me regret not punching you.β
Max gave a small, crooked smile. βWouldnβt dream of it.β
Charles rolled his eyes, already turning to leave. βAnd for godβs sake keep the flirting off the pit wall.β
You couldnβt help but laugh.
As he walked off, Max slid his arm around your waist and leaned in.
βWell,β he whispered. βWeβre screwed.β
You grinned up at him.
βBut at least weβre screwed together.β
Max kissed you quick, certain, like it had always been meant to end this way.
Summary: Y/n's best friend died in an accident, leaving behind a baby daughter. Daniel was also her godfather. Now the two must work together to raise the girl. But this goes beyond tiredness and baby giggles.
Words: 8.6K+
Warnings: Mentions of death (not of the protagonists), Anguish, mourning, friends to lovers, baby, family, cute, romantic.
Author: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling, grammar, and slang mistakes that may be in the story. I LOVE writing for Daniel, but it never gets that many views. If you're also one of the few readers of these stories, share them.β€οΈπ§π·
MASTERLIST
The kitchen was silent, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. Y/n remained motionless, her eyes fixed on her cell phone lying on the marble counter. The dark screen reflected the weight of the last call.
The weight of grief hung like a thick fog over her shoulders. Outside, the overcast sky matched the tightness in her chest, and the wind blew against the windows as if to warn her that good days wouldn't return anytime soon.
Meanwhile, nine-month-old Anastasia rested in her room, decorated with stuffed animals and soft pink hues. She didn't understand the reason for her mother's absence, nor the strange silence that had fallen over the house, but she still had that toothless smile that always warmed the hearts of those around her.
"Ana just fell asleep. She was a little agitated, but she only told a bedtime story and it worked." Daniel entered the kitchen with a low voice and a gentle smile, but also filled with grief.
Y/n looked up and smiled slightly, her fingers tapping lightly on the cold stone countertop. "She must not understand anything, right..."
Daniel nodded, sitting down on one of the stools, letting out a heavy sigh. "Nothing..."
Y/n pursed her lips and looked away into the kitchen, the space where she had been with Liza so many times.
"So what? How was the phone call with Liza's mother?"
"Terrible!" She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back tears. "You know, her family abandoned her when they found out she was going to be a single mother and they haven't been in touch since... it was terrible, Danny... they don't even want to see the baby..."
A sob escaped and the tears, which had been held back until then, began to fall.
Daniel stood up slowly and walked over to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, running his hand over her back in a calm, protective gesture. She sniffed, taking a deep breath, trying to regain control of her emotions, even though her heart was breaking.
They had known each other since their university days, when Liza, always outgoing, decided to introduce her best friend to her Australian friend during a quiet night of pizza and movies.
The connection between Yin and Daniel was instantaneous, a friendship born from silly Instagram memes, random message exchanges, and occasional meetings that, while not very frequent, always felt intimate and sincere.
Because they were so close to Liza, they ended up being chosen as Anastasia's godparents, which meant they saw each other more often.
Now, with their friend gone, this responsibility became even more intense. They needed to be together for Ana. They needed to be her safe haven.
"We'll figure it out..." Daniel whispered, kissing the top of Y/n's head before gently pulling away from the hug.
Y/n nodded, wiping a tear with the back of her hand. "I... I'm going to ask for this week off from work and try to get organized..."
"Hey, count me in on this one too, okay? Ana's going to need us now, more than anything," he said firmly, placing his hand over hers like an anchor.
A few days passed. The news officially arrived at the registry office: they were now Anastasia's legal guardians.
Liza had left everything on record, and with the notarized documentation, there was no doubt. Amidst the conversations and decisions, Y/n and Daniel decided that Anastasia would live with Y/n in her apartment, at least for now, until everything fell into place.
"Hey, what do you think of this?" Y/n gently rocked the baby in her arms, inside the room she had improvised for Anastasia. "It's small, but temporary. Okay?" The baby smiled, laying her little head on Y/n's shoulder, peacefully.
"There. I just brought all of Ana's things here." Daniel appeared in the doorway with boxes and bags.
"Thank you!" Y/n replied with a light smile, turning to him with the baby in her arms.
Daniel blinked and walked over, taking Anastasia in his arms affectionately.
"Everything's different, isn't it?" He said to the baby, looking at her sweetly. "But we promise we'll always be with you. Okay?" He tickled the little one's tummy, and she giggled loudly, drawing another smile from Y/n at the sight.
Y/n and Daniel left the room with Anastasia still babbling sounds and smiling, especially at Daniel's improvised antics.
"Have you decided what to do with her apartment yet?" He asked as he followed her into the living room.
Y/n shrugged, placing one of the baby's toys on the couch before sitting down. "I was thinking about selling it and saving the money in Anastasia's account, for her to use at college or once she's a little older... But I wanted to talk to you about it, what do you think?"
"I think that's great!" Daniel replied without hesitation, smiling at her before placing the baby on the colorful living room rug.
Their eyes met for longer than usual. A comfortable silence fell. Daniel winked slightly, and Y/n looked away, feeling her face heat up, but without letting the evident blush growing on her cheeks show.
She arranged some pillows around the baby and stood up. "Want some coffee? My mom sent some treats over earlier."
"Of course!"
They both went to the kitchen, their eyes always on the little girl who was playing and smiling among the scattered toys.
"How are the nights with her going?" Daniel asked.
"I confess it's a little difficult. She always wakes up a couple of times a night crying... but I think it's because she's missing me..." Y/n replied as she grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and placed them on the counter.
"Do you want me to spend a few nights here? I'll help with her."
Y/n looked up as she poured her coffee. "You don't have to..."
"But I want to!" He gave that smirk, the one that was always so comforting. "I have time. Especially now that I'm out of racing... I can stay with you guys."
She handed him the mug with a calm smile.
Y/n's heart always raced when he used that calm, sincere tone of voice. Daniel had a way of seeing the world that had enchanted Y/n from the beginning.
They'd known each other for years, but it seemed like each day revealed something more beautiful in him. His easy smile, his natural kindness, the way he cared for the baby as if she were his own.
Gosh, he was the perfect picture of a dream husband.
Y/n shook her head lightly, trying to clear her confused thoughts, and began to organize on the counter some cookies and pieces of cake that her mother had sent earlier.
She leaned against Daniel's side, a comfortable silence filling the space between them. Their eyes met for a second before returning to little Anastasia, who sat on the colorful living room rug, mumbling incoherent words to a teddy bear.
The baby, as if sensing she was being watched, turned toward them. Her eyes lit up, a knowing smile appeared on her lips, and she began to crawl determinedly, waving her hand toward the cookie jar.
"Do you already know what a cookie is, little spy?" Daniel said with an amused expression, taking a cookie from the jar. "If you smile...I'll give you this cookie!"
"Daaanny, don't teach her to beg." Y/n hummed, smiling sweetly as she saw the baby sit right in front of them, giggling.
"Too late, look at that face..." Daniel fake-pouted and looked at Y/n, who burst out laughing.
The day went by at a fast pace, like a Formula 1 lap. Y/n and Daniel took turns setting up Ana's new room, taking care of things in Liza's apartment, and, of course, taking care of the little girl who demanded attention and affection every minute.
Later, Y/n was in the living room, kneeling on the floor, organizing the scattered toys after the baby had played there after dinner. Anastasia had fallen asleep among the teddy bears, and Daniel, with his usual calm care, had carried her to the crib with all the gentleness in the world.
"She fell asleep." Daniel appeared in the living room and stopped when he saw Y/n gathering the last of her toys. "And no crying!
"Maybe she's starting to understand that she's safe," she added, and Daniel nodded before sitting down next to her.
"You know... sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we had met at another time," Daniel commented suddenly, his voice lower.
"Like this?"
"It's like... Liza knew what was going to happen and, together with the universe, brought us closer together. She really trusted us to take care of Ana."
Y/n turned her face to him and smiled tenderly. "Yeah..."
Silence returned, filling the space. Y/n kept her eyes on the toys, while Daniel watched only her, with a soft, lingering gaze, without hiding the evident affection.
"Well... I'm going to sleep..." Y/n said, patting his knee twice before getting up. "Do you want to stay?"
"If you want... I'll help with Ana!"
"Please!" Y/n replied with a giggle.
"Okay. Just bring me a pillow and a blanket and I'll manage on the couch." Daniel started to get up too.
Y/n turned around quickly, frowning.
"What? No, no, this couch is a little uncomfortable to sleep on... You can sleep with me in the bedroom. As long as you don't take the whole blanket for yourself in the middle of the night." She laughed, but soon noticed Daniel's surprised and amused look, his eyebrows slightly arched. "Oh, no, no, no... Of course, you sleep on one side and I'll sleep on the other... or rather, I can see if my neighbor has an extra mattress, the room I had left is Ana's... I'm not trying to pressure you... you might have a girlfriend and that sounded a little weird..."
The words tumbled out, a mixture of shyness and nervousness. Daniel gave a light laugh and moved closer, lightly holding her shoulders.
"Hey, hey, hey! It's okay!" He smiled. "Your offer didn't sound strange, it was very kind in fact... And no, my girlfriend won't mind, especially since I don't have one..."
Y/n let out a breath, half-smiling. Maybe out of relief that the situation hadn't gotten awkward, or because she'd discovered he didn't actually have a girlfriend.
That night, the two shared a bed. One on each side, respectful, even shy, even after years of friendship. The early morning silence was broken only by the soft sounds of the city. But then, a soft cry began to echo through the apartment.
Y/n slowly got up and walked to Anastasia's room. She picked up the baby and began pacing back and forth, trying to calm her down.
Ana squeezed her eyes shut, her little arms restless, searching for something she didn't understand, but missed. Maybe it was Liza's scent, or her lap.
Y/n sniffled, trying to hold back her own tears as she rocked the baby.
Daniel appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding out his arms. "I thought you might need some backup."
"I think Ana misses Liza..." Y/n turned around with Ana in her arms, her eyes watering. "And me too..." She sniffed, handing the baby to him, wiping the tears with the back of her hand.
"We will survive... I'm here. I'll take care of you..."
The days passed with the unpredictable speed of a new routine. Grief was still a constant presence, lingering in the lingering glances, the felt absences, the small details.
But life insisted on going on, and with that, Daniel ended up spending most of his time at Y/n's apartment, helping with everything.
There were days of innocent laughter and baby giggles, but also difficult nights, with intense crying and tired arms. Still, one thing was certain: they were becoming a team. A new bond was forged each day, a warmth that slowly grew in their chests, unhurriedly.
It was morning. Anastasia woke up early, and Daniel was the first to get up. He wanted to let Y/n rest a little longer; after all, she had insisted on taking care of the baby all night.
He settled the baby in her highchair in the kitchen and began making breakfast. With every grimace or antics he made, the baby giggled or babbled as if offering her opinion.
"What do you think... of fruit and pancakes for breakfast?" Daniel asked, cutting strawberries. The baby responded with an excited sound and a toothless smile. "I know, I know. A great idea, isn't it?" He laughed, coming over with the strawberries and sitting across from her. "Okay, Miss Anastasia, our fruit for today is strawberries." He offered a piece, and the little one took it enthusiastically. "Pretty good, don't you think?"
While feeding the baby, Daniel continued his improvised conversations, mixing funny voices and antics. Anastasia laughed out loud, banging her hands on the highchair tray.
"Hey, hey, less noise! Godmother's sleeping, remember?" He whispered, holding back a laugh.
In the hallway, Y/n was already awake. She paused for a moment when she heard Anastasia's laughter and Daniel's low, calm voice. She approached the kitchen door carefully, leaning against the wall, watching the scene tenderly.
Daniel remained seated, offering little pieces of strawberry, while Ana babbled as if they were exchanging imaginary confidences.
Noticing Y/n there, Anastasia became excited and let out an excited sound, her little arms stretching toward her godmother. Y/n smiled, making an amused face, eliciting another laugh from the baby.
It was just another ordinary morning for everyone else. But for them, it was another little piece of family being stitched together.
"What was so funny just now, huh?" Daniel asked with a crooked smile, his eyes locked on Anastasia.
Y/n approached with a small smile on her lips, stopping beside him. "You should put on your resume: former F1 driver and full-time nanny. Because, let me tell you, you're as good at it as you were when you were driving for Red Bull."
Daniel turned to face her, his smile widening. "So, does that mean if I put 'drive cars and change diapers' in my profile, I'll get extra points with you?"
Y/n's face heated at the comment. She looked away, laughing lightly as she approached the baby and kissed the top of her head, who was still babbling happily.
"Hey, my love? How's breakfast?"
Anastasia made a confused sound, as if trying to answer, drawing laughter from both of them.
"I think that was a 'very good', with five stars," Daniel joked, handing another piece of strawberry to the little girl, who accepted without hesitation.
Y/n watched the two, her chest warm, as if she was witnessing something very precious.
"I made coffee... and some pancakes. It's all on the stove. If you want to help yourself, go ahead! I'm just going to finish up here with Ana."
"Thank you!" Y/n replied affectionately, walking behind him and ruffling Daniel's hair with her hand, earning a light laugh and an eye roll from him.
She walked to the stove and picked up the plate of still-warm pancakes. The moment the smell reached her, she stopped. It was lemon and honey. Her favorite flavor.
He served himself calmly, also grabbing a cup of black coffee, but what really warmed his heart was realizing that Daniel remembered.
She remembered the nights with friends, the breakfasts before going out, the jokes he'd made calling her "class grandma" while she'd made faces back. He remembered. Alone.
Once he had served himself, he returned to them, sitting on the stool behind Daniel and taking a sip of his coffee. He handed the last piece of strawberry to Anastasia, who ate it in silence, and then stood up, standing next to Y/n.
"Do you think we're doing this right?" Y/n asked, watching the baby eat.
"I don't think anyone knows how to do it... But look at her. Okay. So, maybe so." Daniel replied, smiling at the baby before looking at Y/n.
"I don't think I've ever loved someone so quickly." Y/n smiled, taking a bite of the pancake.
"Neither do I..." Daniel said in a low tone, his gaze still on her, as she continued to observe the little girl.
Anastasia no longer cried in the middle of the night, as if, little by little, mourning was giving way to peace.
Daniel and Y/n were more connected than ever. The new routine, the care, the decisionsβeverything seemed to flow between them. They were even considering buying a house. A new home to raise Ana together.
It was a sunny Sunday. Y/n and Daniel decided to take Anastasia to the park. The baby was very restless that morning. Daniel carried her in a baby carrier, tightly wrapped around his chest, while she looked around with lively eyes. Y/n walked alongside, carrying a small bowl of chopped fruit to feed her.
"I even stopped by that house you suggested, but I have to say it doesn't look anything like the pictures!" Daniel commented, still walking calmly.
"Really? I liked her so much!" Y/n replied, giving Ana a small piece of melon. "She looked so cozy!"
"Trust me, just in the pictures!" Daniel said, making Y/n laugh.
Anastasia then spotted a dog running ahead and let out an excited squeal. The melon slipped out of her mouth and fell straight to the ground. Y/n and Daniel's eyes widened, but they soon burst out laughing.
"Girl? What was that?" Daniel laughed, holding the baby's little hand.
"Tell godfather it was a surprise melon attack." Y/n said laughing.
"I think it was more of a 'happy melon attack at seeing a dog'!" Daniel replied, adjusting the kangaroo more tightly on his body.
"Okay, let's calm down then!" Y/n joked, smiling at the baby's enthusiasm. Anastasia was still watching the dog with her eyes, enchanted.
"If you're like this with every dog you see, Ana, we'll have to enroll you in doggy daycare." Daniel arched an eyebrow. "Or buy a dog, maybe?"
"Hey, let's take it easy. We barely got you to sleep three nights in a row, little one. Now you want a puppy too?" She pretended to talk to the baby, who babbled loudly. "See? She agrees."
"Agree? That was a 'yes,' 'buy a Labrador tomorrow!'" Daniel said theatrically, his voice rising.
The two laughed together as they walked slowly through the park. An elderly couple passed them smiling, but soon a white-haired woman stopped, enchanted by the scene.
"Oh, what a beautiful family! And what an adorable baby!"
Y/n gave a polite smile. "Ah, we-"
"Thank you so much. Daniel interrupted with a wide, kind smile.
"She has both of your eyes. You make a lovely couple."
Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, but she ended up laughing lightly. "Oh, we're not a..."
"Thank you, she's really adorable. Isn't she, Ana?" Daniel said, interrupting Y/n again, making a joke with the baby.
The lady smiled and went on her way, leaving a sweet perfume in the air, identical to the one Liza wore.
Y/n frowned and looked at Daniel. "You weren't going to let me say anything?"
Daniel tried to hold back a smile, but failed. "And miss the chance to look like an amazing couple on a sunny Sunday? No way."
"You're impossible." Y/n shook her head, laughing.
"Impossible to resist, seriously!" He replied with that amused look.
Y/n snorted, trying to hide her blush, and handed another piece of fruit to Ana, who babbled loudly, excited by the interaction.
"See? Even Ana is on my side. This girl has good taste." Daniel said, rocking the baby lightly, making her laugh out loud.
"You're too stuck up. But okay... I'll leave it at that just because they said she has our eyes. And honestly, we're pretty!"
Daniel arched his eyebrow, his smile softening. "You said it. Now it's engraved in your heart."
Y/n laughed, looking away, her lips pressed together to hide her growing smile. Anastasia reached out her little hand, lightly touching Y/n's face, as if to include her in that moment too.
"Okay, you little snoop..." Y/n murmured, kissing the tip of the baby's little fingers.
Daniel looked at the two of them with a gleam in his eyes that he could no longer hide. "We're a good team, you know?"
Y/n stared at him for a second longer than she should have. "Yeah... we really are."
With each passing day, Y/n became more lost in that new routine. It was like diving into a sea where the waves were made of baby bottles and toothless smiles.
But the sea was not always calm.
There were cloudy days, like that one, when she missed Liza so much, she felt adrift, without ground. On days like that, Y/n would spend long minutesβsometimes hoursβcrying in silence, trying to contain the pain so as not to affect the baby.
Today was one of those days.
Daniel had gone out to finalize the details of the new house they had bought together to live in with Ana. Meanwhile, Y/n had been working on the computer all morning, and now, in the afternoon, she was in the living room, sitting on the rug, trying to distract herself with Anastasia's company.
The little girl giggled, babbled, and waved her arms as she played with the scattered toys. It was an attempt to stave off the grief, at least for a few hours.
"Look Ana, do you like this one? Your godmother's mom sent it to you!" Y/n said, showing a light green turtle plush toy.
The baby let out an excited squeal and grabbed the little animal tightly, hugging it as if it were something precious. Then, she closed her eyes for a few seconds, a pure and calm gesture that made Y/n smile tenderly.
"It's cute, don't you think?"
Anastasia then carefully placed the turtle next to the other stuffed animals, where she was intently trying to stack her cloth "friends." Her little fingers worked steadily, trying to balance them as much as possible.
Until, in a sweet and unexpected gesture, she took the teddy bear, her favorite, and held it out to Y/n with firm little hands, her gaze fixed on her.
"Mama."
Time stopped. Y/n froze. Her eyes widened as the world around her disappeared for a moment.
"What...?" She whispered, almost breathless.
The baby smiled, her eyes narrowed with joy and innocence. "Mama."
Y/n's heart skipped a beat. The air couldn't seem to reach her lungs. A wave of heat rose through her chest, her throat, burning behind her eyes. She tried to smile. She tried to say something. But her voice broke.
"Oh, Ana..." He murmured, almost soundlessly.
The tears came before she realized it. Silent, wetting her eyelashes, falling without permission. She tried to keep up the joke, a trembling smile on her face, but her throat was blocked, and the tears grew heavier with every step. Anastasia still smiled, oblivious to the turmoil she had caused.
Y/n leaned over, placed a soft kiss on the baby's forehead, and carefully placed her in the padded playpen, surrounded by the stuffed animals she loved so much.
"I... I'll be right back, okay? Just a second..." Y/n forced a small smile, her voice weak, and hurried out of the room.
In the kitchen, she sat on the nearest stool and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders trembled. Sobs escaped. That word, so small, spoken so naturally, weighed like a universe.
It was sweet. But it was devastating.
She didn't know if she could hear this. If she should accept it. If it was fair. She was afraid that Ana would forget Liza. That her memory would be erased by the days and replaced by the everyday.
She was falling in love with a life that, at first, wasn't hers. She was falling in love with a baby she'd promised to protect. And, even more complicated, she was loving Daniel.
And that felt wrong.
But deep down. None of it was wrong. It was just unexpected. And incredibly real.
A few minutes passed. Silence still reigned in the kitchen, interrupted only by Y/n's shaky breathing.
Then the apartment door opened.
"Girls, I'm back!" Daniel's excited voice filled the room. He walked into the living room and spotted Anastasia in the playpen. "Ana, you won't believe the papers I had to sign today..."
But when he realized Y/n wasn't around, the smile on his face faded. He heard the muffled sound of crying coming from the kitchen. His body reacted immediately.
He walked over there in silence, finding Y/n sitting, curled up, her eyes covered by her hands and her shoulders shaking.
"Hey... honey?" His voice was low and careful as he approached. "What's wrong?"
Y/n slowly looked up. Her eyes were red and wet, but there was also a vulnerable glint in them.
"She called me 'mama,' Danny said between tears. "She handed me the teddy bear... and called me 'mama.'
Daniel didn't hesitate. He moved even closer and wrapped her in a tight hug, letting her unburden herself there, in the safe space of his arms.
"And I... I don't know if I can accept this." Y/n took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Sometimes I feel like... like I'm betraying Liza's memory. I don't want to be a replacement, I want to show Ana who her real mommy was and how much she loved her too."
Daniel shook his head sweetly, his eyes fixed on her.
"You're not replacing anyone, dear. Ana just realized the love you give, the way Liza did, and that made her call you Mommy." He placed his hands over hers, squeezing with sincere affection. "Liza trusted us both so much... that she chose us to care for the most precious part of her. Do you understand that? She knew. She saw everything you are. And she trusted."
Y/n bit her lip, fighting back the new tears that threatened to come back. Her eyes filled again.
"My feelings are a mess. What I feel for Ana... and for..." She stopped, looking directly at him. The rest of her sentence hung in the air, but it didn't need to be said.
Daniel was silent for a few seconds, but the look in his eyes said it all.
"You might be confused. This is all very recent, very intense. But what we feel... it's not wrong, Y/n." He spoke firmly and softly. "It's just... true... and I know what you're feeling... because I feel it too..."
Her eyes locked with his. There, in that moment, was something that needed no words. There was feeling. There was truth.
"Come here..." Daniel pulled her into a tighter hug, wrapping her around him as if he wanted to glue all the broken pieces back together. Y/n didn't hesitate. She let herself sink there, into his warmth, into his firm chest, into the safe place.
"Thank you..." She whispered against his shoulder, her eyes closed.
"We'll manage. You, me, and now our little one."
"Even when she throws melon in our face?" Y/n murmured, smiling through her tears.
The months passed like leaves blown by the wind of a new beginning. Now, Daniel and Y/n shared a spacious, welcoming home with a generous backyard where the grass grew wild, awaiting Anastasia's first steps.
The house was full of life. Although they always claimed they weren't a family, the truth was clear to everyone. They were. Everyone could tell.
They did too, they just didn't know how to admit it.
On that sunny Sunday, Y/n and Daniel's families, already old acquaintances, had decided to gather for a joint lunchβa true family celebration. And of course, both Daniel and Y/n were excited. Even more so because they were bringing Anastasia, who was now an essential part of everyone's hearts.
Inside the car, parking in front of Daniel's mother's house, Y/n glanced in the rearview mirror. Anastasia was in the car seat Daniel had carefully chosen, watching the world outside with eyes shining with curiosity and joy.
"Are you excited, love?" Y/n asked as she turned around, unbuckled her belt to go and pick up the little girl.
Anastasia responded with an excited squeal, making them both laugh.
"Hey, you'll do great. Our families are lively too!" Daniel commented with a calm smile.
Y/n opened the back door and found the baby already with her arms outstretched, eager to get out. She unbuckled her seatbelt and picked Anastasia up, while Daniel, as always, picked up the baby's bag and slung it over his shoulder with the ease of someone who already had this routine.
"Danny, do you think she won't be cold in that outfit?" Y/n asked, for the third time since they left the house.
"Relax, honey, it's sunny today!"
Y/n stood beside him as they walked up the front steps. "Sure?"
"Yes! She looks like a princess in that outfit! Just like you, I'm serious." Y/n laughed, blushing a little. "You blushed!" Daniel hummed, lightly squeezing her cheek before opening the door to the house.
"Oh, shut up!" Y/n replied with a muffled laugh, walking in with the baby first, while Daniel laughed right behind.
As soon as Y/n walked through the door with Anastasia in her arms, she was greeted by laughter from the backyard, mixed with the smell of spices and the sound of chairs scraping against the floor. Daniel closed the door behind her and, naturally, put his arm around Y/n's backβas if that gesture were already part of their routine, and indeed, it was.
"They must be back there... Let's say a princess goodbye to everyone, Ana?" Daniel smiled, making the baby babble in response.
The glass door led to the backyard, where families were gathered at a large, cheerful table, surrounded by chairs, cheerful voices, and a lazy atmosphere.
When Anastasia appeared, with her little feet dangling and her little eyes curious, everyone stood up in a burst of pure enchantment.
"The star of the party has arrived!" Daniel's mother exclaimed, opening her arms in excitement.
"Look at this cutie! She's getting more beautiful every day!" Y/n's mother commented, coming right behind.
"You guys are impossible... you look like a margarine commercial." Y/n's brother teased, drawing laughter from the table.
"They are even worse."
"And now that they bought a house together? All that's left is to sign the marriage contract." Y/n's younger sister added mischievously.
Y/n widened her eyes, blushing completely, and hugged her family members in greeting, as an excuse to change the subject.
"Guys! We're just sharing responsibilities with Ana!"
"Of course, of course..." Y/n's mother said with a barely hidden smile. "Responsibilities with lots of love, apparently."
Daniel laughed, his cheeks flushed too, preferring to pretend he didn't hear, which only made the situation worse.
"Do you want to come on Grandma's lap, my love?" Daniel's mother asked, opening her arms.
Anastasia stared at her for a second, then smiled, leaning forward excitedly. Y/n carefully handed the baby over.
"I think she recognizes who smells like cookies and a warm lap." Y/n's mother said before kissing the baby's cheek, earning a loud laugh from Anastasia.
"Look at that smile! How I already love this child."
As the new grandparents took turns offering smiles, improvised toys, and delighted looks, Anastasia quickly became the absolute center of attention. Everyone wanted her laugh, her gaze, a second of her affection.
Further back, Daniel and Y/n moved away a little, observing the scene with tender, silent gazes.
"She's really happy." Y/n murmured, with a slight smile.
"She has two entire families drooling over her. And you. And me." Daniel replied, with that calmness that always made her breathe deeply.
Y/n rested her head on his shoulder. "We look like parents..."
Daniel looked away from her and then back at the baby in her new grandmother's arms, a deep affection in his eyes.
"It's because we are now."
Without another word, he leaned down and gently kissed the top of Y/n's head, tightening his arm around her. A small gesture, but one filled with meaning. A gesture that said everything he didn't yet know how to say.
Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, just feeling, without fear.
Later, during the toast, conversations ceased for a moment. Y/n and Daniel's parents raised their glasses with proud smiles. The toast was dedicated to the new family being formed thereβeven if the two protagonists still tried to say otherwise.
But the look Y/n and Daniel exchanged at that moment said it all. There was no hiding it anymore. And honestly, no one there wanted them to.
Anastasia was just a few weeks away from her first birthday, and Daniel and Y/n were immersed in the party preparations, choosing colors, decorations and cake flavors with care.
Amidst invitations and decorations, the feelings between the two grew with every touch, every exchange of glances, every long hug at the end of a tiring day.
There were mornings when one of them woke up with the firm decision to confess what they felt, but halfway through, the words got stuck.
They were in the eyes, in smiles thrown in the middle of the routine, in delicate gestures of care for the other.
Daniel felt as if his chest were too small to hold so much love. And it wasn't a new love; it was something that had been growing for years, silent but ever-present.
Night fell gently over the quiet backyard, and the sky was studded with stars. Anastasia slept in her room, snuggled up after a story told by two voices, her hair caressed and a soft song playing on her cell phone.
On the porch, Daniel and Y/n shared silence and a blanket. They sat side by side on the couch, their bodies close, their hearts even closer. The silence between them was comfortable. The kind of silence of those who have learned to exist together.
Y/n let out a low sigh, staring at the sky.
"Sometimes I think..." Her voice was hesitant, almost a whisper. "What if Ana grows up and thinks we couldn't handle it?"
Daniel turned his face slowly, watching her profile under the warm light of the porch.
"She will know that we tried with everything we had. With all the love possible."
Y/n smiled at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes still betrayed her uneasiness. "I'm scared, Danny.
"Me too." He chuckled softly, a little nervously. "But I have more courage than fear when I'm with you two."
Those words made Y/n look down. Emotions were overflowing. She leaned her body against his, and he welcomed her naturally, but this time, the hug carried more feeling.
"You're amazing with her..." Y/n murmured. "And with me."
Daniel let out a heavy sigh. His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't want to hold it in any longer.
"You know... you're beautiful, right?" He said, turning slightly to her. "And I'm not just saying that. It's just that there are times when you're taking care of her... or just smiling at me in the middle of the day... and I feel like stopping time." Y/n stared at him, surprised, vulnerable, but present. "I think... these months, sharing my life with you, have only made everything grow... In the best possible way."
"Daniel..." She tried to interrupt, but he continued.
"I liked you before. But now... I love you. And I know it might seem confusing, wrong even. We're together because of Ana... but I swear I'm not confusing things." He smiled, but there was pain in his eyes. "I know maybe you're just being nice to me. That you're trying to be strong, for her... But I needed to say it."
Y/n's heart was pounding so loudly she thought Daniel could hear it. She didn't say anything. She just stood up suddenly. Daniel's eyes widened, expecting her to shy away from the conversation.
But she didn't run away. She just leaned in, cupped his face in both hands, and kissed him.
It was an urgent, genuine kiss. A kiss that carried years of silence, of restrained glances, of feelings held back in fear. She allowed herself to feel everything, and Daniel, holding her waist, responded as if he had waited too long.
When they broke apart, Y/n rested her forehead against his, eyes still closed. "I love you too."
Daniel opened his eyes in surprise. "You...?"
"Yes," she confirmed with a small smile. "And I've been blaming myself for it. For feeling all this in the midst of grief, in the midst of confusion. As if I were betraying her memory."
Daniel gently ran his hand over her back, calming her down.
"You're not. Liza trusted us. She chose us to raise her daughter. And somehow... maybe she knew about us."
"She always knew." Y/n let a tear fall, but the laughter remained. "I was just afraid of projecting everything. Of deluding myself. Of loving you and ruining everything."
"You're not kidding yourself, Y/n. I'm here. And if you let me... I'll stay. For you. For Ana. For our little family."
She hugged him tightly, pressing her face against his chest. And there, with the soft lights of the porch and the serene sound of the night, they allowed themselves to love without guilt, without haste, without fear. For the first time in a long time.
The days that followed passed like sweet dreams. The party was organized only for the closestβa small but loving affair. The backyard was colorful, decorated with soft hues and balloons that danced in the wind.
Everything seemed more alive with the sound of laughter, especially when the little birthday girl handed the first piece of cake to "Dada", drawing sighs and tears from those present.
While Anastasia was on her grandparents' lap, proudly showing off her two little teeth and winning over everyone around, Daniel and Y/n were sitting a little apart, hugging each other, looking at the scene with teary eyes.
A couple that was not formed by chance, but by love in its most unexpected form.
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