The Speed of Love
Max Verstappen X Y/N
Y/N POV
The hum of engines filled the air, vibrating through my chest. The sun beat down on the streets of Monaco, casting long shadows between the narrow alleys and gleaming off the luxury yachts moored nearby. The Monaco Grand Prix—the crown jewel of Formula 1. A perfect blend of speed, glamour, and danger.
I adjusted my lanyard, the one that read VIP with Max Verstappen’s name under it. It still felt surreal being here, not just as a spectator but as someone close to Max—closer than the world knew.
I wasn’t just here for the race; I was here for him. The reigning world champion, Red Bull’s finest. But to me, Max was more than that. He was Max, the guy who made me laugh after long days, the guy who called me at odd hours from different time zones just to hear my voice, the guy who looked at me like I was his entire world even with millions of fans screaming his name.
Our relationship wasn’t public. Max wanted to keep it that way—out of the spotlight, away from the media frenzy. And honestly, I didn’t mind. In fact, I preferred it. It was a lot easier to be “Y/N” rather than “Max Verstappen’s girlfriend.”
I slipped into the VIP lounge, a little early for the race, the excitement thrumming in the air. The usual suspects were all here—other drivers' families, sponsors, and some celebrities. But my eyes kept flicking toward the pit lane, where I knew Max was getting ready for the biggest race of the year.
As I watched the screens showing the chaotic energy in the paddock, my phone buzzed.
Max: “You in the lounge?”
Me: “Yeah. All set for your victory?”
Max: “Always. Want to see you before the race starts. Meet me near the garage?”
I felt my heart skip a beat. Even though we tried to keep it low-key, moments like these made it clear how much he cared. Glancing around to make sure no one would follow me, I made my way through the crowd, passing the Red Bull hospitality area and the rows of sleek, gleaming cars.
As I approached the garage, I spotted him—leaning casually against the wall, helmet in hand, looking like the calm before the storm. His eyes lit up when he saw me, that signature crooked smile spreading across his face.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low but warm as he closed the distance between us.
“You shouldn’t be distracting yourself before the race,” I teased, though my heart was racing.
“Couldn’t help it,” he murmured, eyes tracing my face. “You’re my good luck charm.”
“Really? Haven’t I been around for a few races you didn’t win?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep it light.
He laughed softly, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray hair behind my ear. “Maybe. But today feels different.”
There was a fire in his eyes—one that spoke of more than just his love for racing. There was something unspoken between us, the weight of his words lingering in the air.
“Good luck out there,” I whispered, resisting the urge to kiss him. There were too many eyes, too many cameras nearby.
“I’ll see you after the race,” he promised, voice husky as he pulled back and slipped his helmet on, instantly transforming from Max to Verstappen.
Max POV
The roar of the crowd was drowned out by the sound of the engine beneath me. Monaco. There was no room for mistakes here. One slip and it could be all over. But that’s why I loved it. The adrenaline, the precision, the danger. It’s what made me feel alive.
But even as I steered through the narrow streets, threading the car through barriers with millimeters to spare, my mind kept drifting to her. Y/N. She had this way of grounding me, of making the chaos of F1 fade into the background, even if just for a moment.
She was my escape, my reason to keep pushing harder, to keep winning. Because when I crossed that finish line first, it wasn’t just for me—it was for her.
The race was tight—Ferraris and Mercedes breathing down my neck, the pressure building as the laps ticked down. The walls seemed to close in, but I didn’t waver. I couldn’t afford to.
Lap 67. A yellow flag came up—some debris on the track after a crash behind me. I could hear my engineer’s voice crackling through the radio, but I barely registered it. My focus was singular. I could almost picture Y/N waiting in the paddock, her wide smile the moment I stepped out of the car.
The last corner approached. My tires screamed, the G-forces tugging at my body as I navigated the final hairpin. The finish line was in sight.
I punched it, every ounce of power surging through the car as I crossed the line first. Victory.
Y/N POV
The explosion of noise was deafening as Max’s car crossed the finish line. He did it. Again.
The rest of the world erupted in celebration, but all I could think about was seeing him. I hurried down from the lounge, making my way through the throngs of fans and team members. The Red Bull garage was a frenzy of high-fives and champagne, but I stayed on the outskirts, waiting for him.
And then I saw him. Helmet off, sweaty, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Max was enveloped by his team, but his eyes scanned the crowd until they locked onto mine.
Without thinking, he pushed through the crowd and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a corner, away from prying eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine—fast, hungry, full of adrenaline. I could taste the sweat and champagne on his lips, but I didn’t care.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and he was breathing hard—not from the race, but from the intensity between us.
“I told you,” he whispered, still catching his breath. “You’re my good luck charm.”
Max POV
Her lips against mine—it was the only thing I needed after that race. I could feel the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, but it wasn’t from the win. It was from her. She had this way of making me forget everything. The noise, the pressure, the world outside. When I was with her, it was just us.
But there was something more tonight. Something I couldn’t put off any longer.
“Y/N,” I started, taking her hand in mine as I led her away from the chaos, toward the back of the paddock. “I’ve been thinking…”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but also a little cautious. “About what?”
“This,” I gestured between us. “I don’t want to hide it anymore. I don’t want to keep you a secret. You’re more than just someone I care about. You’re…” I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “You’re everything.”
Her eyes widened, and I could see the emotions warring inside her. But before she could say anything, I pressed on.
“I know it’s a lot—the media, the pressure. But I don’t care about that anymore. I want the world to know you’re mine.”
Y/N POV
I was speechless. Max Verstappen, the man who had kept our relationship out of the spotlight to protect me, was now saying he wanted to go public. I knew what it meant—the scrutiny, the paparazzi, the endless questions. But looking into his eyes, full of certainty and love, I realized something.
I didn’t care either. Not anymore.
“I’m in,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the distant cheers. “I’m all in.”
Max smiled, that rare, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat. “Good,” he said, pulling me close once more. “Because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”
As the night of celebrations continued, we slipped away from the crowd, the world beyond the paddock melting away. Max and I walked down to the harbor, the twinkling lights reflecting off the calm water.
“Race you to the end of the dock?” he teased, that competitive glint back in his eye.
I laughed, already running before he could finish. Max caught up to me in seconds, his laughter mixing with mine as he scooped me up, spinning me around.
In that moment, there was no pressure, no danger. Just us.
And for once, it felt like I had won the race.
The End