#maxverstappenfluff

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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.

Max’s POV

The hum of engines filled the paddock, a familiar yet electrifying sound that coursed through Max Verstappen’s veins. Race day. It was a sensation he never got used to; the adrenaline, the anticipation, the pressure. He thrived on it. He was at the top of his game, the youngest world champion, leading Red Bull with precision and grit. And yet, amid all the controlled chaos of the F1 world, there was one thing — one person — who could make him feel more alive than the thrill of racing.

You.

You were unexpected in every way. A PR consultant initially, brought on board to handle the escalating media frenzy around his rising fame. You weren’t starstruck; if anything, you seemed immune to the glitz of the F1 world. No, you were sharp, quick-witted, and completely focused on your job. But Max had a way of breaking down barriers, and it didn’t take long before you were spending time together beyond just the track. He’d find reasons to hang around the media center, just to catch a glimpse of you juggling journalists and managing Red Bull’s image with effortless grace.

The morning of the Italian Grand Prix was no different. Max was already dressed in his race suit, helmet in hand, and ready to get to work, but his eyes scanned the paddock, searching. When he saw you, phone to your ear, clipboard in hand, he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. You caught his gaze and rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Focus, Verstappen,” you mouthed, a playful challenge.

“Always,” he mouthed back, though he knew his focus was already split.

Y/N’s POV

You hung up the call, trying to maintain your professional facade as you made your way through the throng of engineers, drivers, and media. Working with Max was unlike anything you’d expected. The guy was a force of nature on track, but off it, he had a way of drawing you in with that intense stare and unguarded charm.

It had started innocently enough — late-night debriefs that turned into long conversations about everything but racing. You found yourself laughing more, lingering in his motorhome even when your job was done. Max was magnetic, and resisting him felt impossible.

The paddock was bustling, everyone operating on a tight schedule as the race loomed closer. You found yourself watching Max more than you should, captivated by the way he moved with a casual confidence, like he owned the place. And maybe he did. He’d made it clear he was the one to beat this season, and his rival, Charles Leclerc, was hot on his heels.

Your heart beat a little faster as you watched him step into his car, every movement precise and deliberate. He looked up and caught your eye one last time before the helmet went on, a silent promise in his gaze.

You wanted him to win. Not just because it was your job to ensure Red Bull maintained their stellar reputation, but because you wanted it for Max. You wanted to see that victorious smile that reached his eyes, the one that was just for you when the cameras weren’t looking.

The lights went out and the race started, cars darting off the line with a deafening roar. You were on your feet in the garage, eyes glued to the screens as Max surged ahead, taking the first corner with the precision of a master. It was a tough race — Leclerc was relentless, the Ferraris faster on the straights, but Max was tenacious, finding grip where there was none, pushing his car to the absolute limit.

A collision on lap 38 had everyone holding their breath. Max and Leclerc side by side, neither willing to back down. You bit your lip, watching as Max held his ground, the two cars nearly touching at 300 km/h. Your heart pounded, fear mixing with exhilaration.

Max’s POV

Max could feel the pressure mounting. Leclerc was right on his tail, and the Ferrari was fast, too fast. But Max wasn’t about to let this one slip away. He had the inside line, and he was going to use it. They were wheel-to-wheel through the chicane, and for a moment, it felt like everything slowed down. He could hear his engineer in his ear, but it was white noise. This was it — the moment of truth.

Leclerc made a desperate lunge, but Max held firm, squeezing him just enough to make his point but not so much that they’d both end up in the gravel. It was aggressive, it was bold, but it was clean. He was through, and as he glanced in his mirrors, he saw Leclerc had backed off, finally conceding.

Max’s heart was racing as he crossed the finish line, the checkered flag waving above him. He did it. Another win. But as the adrenaline began to fade, his thoughts immediately drifted to you. He parked his car, the victory cheers filling the air, but his eyes were searching the garage, looking for you.

Y/N’s POV

The garage erupted in cheers, but you barely registered it. Max had done it. He’d held off Leclerc and crossed the line first, and you couldn’t contain the rush of emotion that surged through you. Relief, pride, something else you couldn’t quite name but felt every time you saw him.

You pushed through the throng of team members and media, making your way to where Max was climbing out of the car. He was surrounded by cameras, microphones thrust in his face as reporters fired off questions. But then his eyes found yours, and the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

He pushed past the reporters, striding toward you with purpose. Before you knew it, his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. For a moment, you didn’t care who was watching. It was just you and Max, and the unspoken connection that had been building between you.

“You did it,” you whispered against his ear, feeling the tension in his body slowly release.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. There was something there, something beyond the rush of victory. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours, the kiss hard and fast, filled with the pent-up energy of the race and something more.

It wasn’t until you pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, that you remembered where you were. The cameras were still flashing, the reporters still talking, but none of it seemed to matter. Max’s thumb brushed against your cheek, a small, intimate gesture that made your heart flutter.

“Guess the secret’s out,” he said with a chuckle, glancing at the cameras.

“Seems that way,” you replied, trying to catch your breath.

Max grinned, his hand still on your cheek, and for a moment, you saw the boyish charm that lay beneath the fierce competitor. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. “I’m tired of hiding how I feel about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the vulnerability in his voice something you hadn’t expected. You nodded, unable to find the right words but knowing exactly what he meant. This wasn’t just a fling, or a distraction. It was real, and for the first time, you let yourself hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding on to.

Max’s POV

Max didn’t care about the cameras or the questions that would come later. All he cared about was you, and the way you looked at him like he was more than just a driver, more than just the face of a team. With you, he felt seen — truly seen. And as he held you close, he knew one thing for certain: this was just the beginning.

With you by his side, he could take on the world, both on and off the track. And as the crowd cheered and the cameras flashed, Max Verstappen, the fierce, unrelenting racer, found something he hadn’t even realized he was missing.

Home.

With you.

Max Verstappen x Y/N Fanfiction

Y/N POV

The roar of the engines was deafening as the cars flew past, the vibration of the circuit reaching the soles of my shoes, even though I was standing far from the track itself. The stands were packed, fans cheering as their favorite drivers raced by, but my eyes were fixed on just one car—Number 1, Max Verstappen.

It still felt surreal. I wasn’t just another fan admiring him from a distance anymore. A few months ago, I could have never imagined my life would change so much, and in such a whirlwind fashion. Now here I was, standing in the paddock as his girlfriend.

How did this even happen?

Flashback, six months earlier:

It had all started when I went to a Formula 1 race in Monaco. I was attending with my best friend, a journalist covering the event. Being around the paddock wasn’t new to her, but it was a whole new world for me. The exclusive vibe, the glamour, the loud roar of engines—it was intoxicating. Then, during the practice session, Max Verstappen had come over to where we were standing, exchanged a few polite words with my friend, and offered a smile that had taken my breath away.

Later that evening, at a post-race event, I found myself standing near the bar, awkwardly nursing a drink. Max had approached, and for a moment, I thought he was mistaking me for someone else.

“You were at the paddock earlier,” he said, his blue eyes piercing and confident. “You’re friends with that journalist?”

“Yeah, she covers the races,” I had replied, trying not to sound too starstruck.

We exchanged small talk, which quickly turned into longer conversations. Before I knew it, we were talking about everything from travel to racing, to how strange it was for someone like me, who didn’t know much about motorsport, to be so enthralled by it all.

By the end of that evening, he’d asked for my number.

Present Day, Y/N POV

The last few months had been a whirlwind of jet-setting between races, trying to balance my life with his. It wasn’t easy dating one of the most famous drivers on the grid. There were media obligations, travel schedules, and the constant fear of him getting hurt on track. But when Max was with me, none of that mattered.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned to see Max walking toward me, wearing his Red Bull Racing uniform. His hair was tousled from his helmet, but his face lit up with a wide smile. Despite the race weekend intensity, Max always made time for me, something I loved about him.

“You nervous for today?” I teased, knowing full well that Max didn’t get nervous anymore.

He laughed, “Me? Nah. But you? Maybe.”

“I’m fine,” I smirked. “But you better win.”

He gave me a quick, playful kiss on the lips, before stepping back, looking down at me with that intense gaze of his. "I always do better when you’re watching."

Max POV

The lights went out, and I immediately jumped into the action, the sound of engines screaming around me. There’s always that moment, right after the start, where you can feel the tension between every driver. It’s electric, like we’re all holding our breath, waiting for someone to make the first move.

I didn’t hesitate. From third on the grid, I launched the car forward, squeezing between the Ferrari and the Mercedes. I knew Charles and Lewis would be tough to overtake, but I had something to prove today.

And not just to the fans or the team, but to Y/N. Ever since she entered my life, she gave me this strange sense of calm, like no matter what happened on track, I’d be okay once I was with her. But today, I wanted to show her what I could really do.

Lap after lap, I kept pushing harder, chasing down the front-runners. The radio chatter was constant, my engineer reminding me of tire wear, strategy, and the gaps behind me. But all I could think about was Y/N’s face when I crossed the finish line first.

Coming out of the final corner, I saw the checkered flag waving, and with a final burst of speed, I crossed the line.

P1.

The roar from the crowd was deafening, but all I could think about was getting out of the car and finding her.

Y/N POV

Watching Max cross the finish line first sent a wave of excitement through me. The crowd around me erupted in cheers, but I couldn’t hear anything except the sound of my own heartbeat. I ran toward the paddock, past security, and into the arms of Max as soon as he stepped out of the car.

He pulled me in tight, sweat and all, and kissed me with a passion that made the rest of the world disappear. I didn’t care about the cameras flashing around us, or the team celebrating behind us.

“You did it!” I exclaimed breathlessly.

“We did it,” he replied, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “You keep me grounded. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

For a moment, everything was perfect.

Max POV

But things rarely stay perfect for long in my world.

Later that night, we were driving back to the hotel when I noticed a car following us. It had been trailing us since we left the circuit, weaving through the streets of the city like it was trying to keep pace.

“Max… is that car—”

“I see it,” I cut her off, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

I could feel the tension rising. My life had always come with a certain level of risk. Racing at over 300 kilometers per hour on a track is one thing, but this… this was different.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with concern, but she trusted me. "Stay calm," I said, my voice low, trying to reassure her.

Suddenly, the car behind us sped up, getting uncomfortably close. I knew it wasn’t a fan or paparazzi; something felt off. I swerved into a side street, but they followed, their intentions becoming clearer.

“Max…” Y/N’s voice cracked with fear.

Without hesitating, I floored the gas, weaving through the narrow streets, the city lights flashing by in a blur. My heart pounded, but my instincts kicked in, just like they did on the track. I had to get us out of this.

The car behind us tried to keep up, but I knew these streets better. I took a sharp turn, pulling us into an alleyway and killed the engine. I motioned for Y/N to stay quiet as we watched the car speed past, missing us entirely.

My chest was heaving, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Slowly, I turned to Y/N, who was still gripping the seat.

“You okay?”

She nodded, but I could see the fear in her eyes. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. But I knew one thing for sure—I would do anything to keep her safe.

Y/N POV

The next few days were tense. Max and his team tightened security around us, but it was hard to shake the feeling that we were being watched. Something had changed. Max had enemies on the track, sure, but this was personal.

Despite the fear, we stayed together, closer than ever. We had dinner in a quiet restaurant one night, hidden from the public eye. Max kept his hand on mine the entire time, his touch a reminder that no matter what was happening outside, we were stronger together.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he said quietly over the candlelight.

“I’m not scared,” I lied. I was terrified, but I couldn’t let him see it.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

I blinked, taken aback. He’d never said that before. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. But I knew, deep down, I felt the same way.

“I love you too, Max.”

In that moment, I realized something. Life with Max Verstappen would never be easy. There would always be danger, always be risks. But I was ready for it—because I loved him.

Max POV

As I held her hand, the world outside the restaurant felt far away. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time we’d face danger. My life was fast, chaotic, and unpredictable, but Y/N was the one constant that made it all worth it.

“I’m going to win the championship for you,” I said, squeezing her hand.

She smiled, but it wasn’t just her smile that gave me strength. It was the look in her eyes that told me she believed in me, in us.

Racing had always been my life, but now… she was my reason to race.

And nothing, no danger, no enemy, was going to take that away from me.

Hello Girlies,

I'm planning to do a Driver x Indian Actress, Arranged Marriage trope Smau. 

face claim will be Janhvi Kapoor.

[I've already teased her appearance in one of my other series Bad Romance: Max Verstappen]

But now I'm getting nervous if you guys would like it or not 😭😭😭