#maylovesf1

The stadium lights went dark so suddenly that seventy thousand people screamed before the music even started.

Then came the bass.

Deep. Loud. Shaking the entire arena.

A single spotlight hit the center of the stage, revealing Y/n standing there in a glittering silver bodysuit and thigh-high boots, her microphone sparkling under the lights. The sold-out crowd exploded immediately, deafening chants echoing through the stadium.

And from the VIP tent at the side of the stage, Max Verstappen couldn’t stop smiling.

Beside him, Lando Norris was filming the crowd with his phone while Charles Leclerc laughed. Even Oscar Piastri looked genuinely impressed.

“Mate,” Lando yelled over the noise, “your girlfriend is insane.”

Max only smirked proudly. “I know.”

The giant screens flashed red.

Smoke cannons exploded.

And then Y/n grinned into the microphone.

“GOOD EVENING, BABY!”

The crowd screamed louder somehow.

The opening beat of WHERE IS MY HUSBAND? blasted through the stadium.

“Baby- Where the hell is my husband?

What is taking him so long to find me?”

Y/n strutted down the runway stage dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as dancers surrounded her. The audience screamed every lyric back at her instantly.

She laughed breathlessly.

“Oh, you guys know this one?”

The fans practically shook the earth with their response.

During the chorus she danced wildly with her backup dancers, hips swaying perfectly with the beat while fireworks burst behind her. Cameras kept cutting to Max in the VIP area, his face pink from smiling too hard.

The internet would lose its mind over that later.

Especially when Y/n pointed toward the VIP tent during the lyric—

“I would like a diamond ring on my wedding finger”

—and winked directly at Max.

Lando nearly collapsed laughing beside him.

“Oh my god, she’s flirting with you in front of seventy thousand people.”

“She does that,” Max said casually, though the blush on his face betrayed him completely.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Three songs later, the stadium somehow had even more energy.

Y/n had changed into a short sparkly pink dress for Busy Woman and then transitioned into House Tour.

The second the playful intro started, the crowd already knew they were about to lose their minds.

“TAKE YOUR SHOES OF”

Y/n danced across the stage with a teasing grin, spinning around one of the dancers while fans screamed every word. She pointed at different sections of the stadium dramatically as if actually giving them a tour.

At one point she climbed onto the piano platform, singing:

“I just want you to come inside”

before dropping into laughter when the crowd screamed the next lyric louder than she did.

The cameras flashed to the drivers again.

Charles was covering his face laughing.

Oscar looked traumatized.

And Max?

Max looked completely in love.

Not even embarrassed anymore. Just gone.

Y/n noticed it immediately on the giant side screens and giggled into the mic.

“Baby, stop staring at me like that, I’m trying to perform.”

The crowd screamed.

Max just shrugged dramatically from the VIP section.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Later in the show, the atmosphere shifted softer.

Purple lights flooded the stadium as Y/n sat at the piano.

“Okay,” she smiled softly, tucking hair behind her ear, “this one means a lot to me.”

The opening notes of Lover echoed gently.

The crowd immediately lit up the stadium with phone flashlights.

“Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?”

Y/n’s voice softened beautifully as she sang, emotion clear on her face.

And instinctively, her eyes drifted toward the VIP tent.

Only—

Max wasn’t there anymore.

Her smile faltered slightly.

She glanced again while still singing.

Nothing.

No Max.

No orange cap.

No familiar blue eyes staring at her.

For a second she thought maybe he’d gone to get a drink.

Or maybe Lando dragged him somewhere.

Still, something felt odd.

But the show continued.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Near the end of the concert, Y/n stood center stage in a flowing white dress while the first notes of Love Story started playing.

The reaction from the crowd was immediate chaos.

“Oh, you guys LOVE this one,” she laughed.

The giant bracelets around the stadium turned golden, making the entire venue glow like stars.

“We were both young when I first saw you…”

Fans screamed every lyric before she even sang them.

Y/n smiled brightly, running down the long runway stage while waving to different sections. But halfway through the second verse, her earpiece crackled.

“Y/n,” her stage manager whispered urgently, “go to center stage. Now.”

Her brows furrowed slightly.

Technical issue maybe?

Still singing professionally, she slowly walked toward the middle circular platform.

“Romeo, save me…”

Then suddenly—

The massive back wall of the stage began opening.

The crowd erupted instantly.

Not cheering.

Screaming.

Y/n blinked in confusion, still facing the audience.

“What’s happening?” she mouthed silently.

But the fans only screamed louder.

Some were crying already.

Phones everywhere shot into the air.

Completely confused, Y/n turned around—

—and froze.

Max was walking toward her.

The entire stadium exploded.

Y/n’s mouth fell open.

Actually open.

And because she was still a professional, somehow she kept singing while staring at him in total disbelief.

Max looked nervous for maybe the first time in his entire life.

But he kept walking toward her slowly.

The song reached the bridge.

The crowd was already hysterical.

Y/n laughed breathlessly into the microphone, tears immediately filling her eyes as realization hit her.

“No way,” she whispered.

Then she sang the lyric.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring…”

And Max did exactly that.

He dropped onto one knee.

Pulled out a ring.

And seventy thousand people absolutely lost their minds.

Y/n covered her mouth with both hands instantly, crying and laughing at the same time while the crowd screamed so loudly the music nearly disappeared.

The band kept playing softly in the background.

Fans sang the next lyrics for them.

And Max looked up at her with the softest smile she’d ever seen.

Quietly—so only she could hear—he sang along with the song.

“Marry me, Y/n… you’ll never be alone…”

His voice shook slightly.

“I love you. That’s all I really know.”

Y/n was crying too hard to answer immediately.

The giant screens showed tears streaming down her face while the crowd chanted:

“YES! YES! YES! YES!”

Max laughed nervously. “Please say yes before Lando faints.”

Somewhere in the crowd, Lando was in fact screaming louder than everyone else.

Y/n dropped to her knees in front of Max immediately.

“Yes,” she cried. “Of course yes.”

The stadium exploded.

Fireworks shot across the sky.

Max slipped the ring onto her finger before pulling her into a kiss while the entire crowd sang the final chorus around them.

And for a moment, under golden lights and screaming fans and fireworks lighting the night sky—

it felt like the whole world stopped.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The rest of the night turned into complete chaos.

Happy chaos.

Y/n finished the concert wearing Max’s Red Bull jacket over her stage outfit because she “needed emotional support.” The fans screamed every single time they looked at each other.

The drivers stormed the stage afterward.

Lando tackled both of them into a hug.

Charles immediately demanded to see the ring.

Oscar kept repeating, “I can’t believe this actually happened.”

And backstage, while champagne sprayed everywhere and everyone celebrated around them, Max pulled Y/n close by the waist.

“So,” he murmured against her forehead, “guess you finally found your husband.”

Y/n burst out laughing.

“You are so annoying.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The first time Max met you, he nearly dropped a weight on his foot because he had been too busy staring while you walked across the training room with a clipboard tucked under your arm and an expression that looked deeply unimpressed by his existence.

You glanced at the screen in front of him before lifting an eyebrow. “Your form is awful.”

Most people would probably hesitate before insulting Max Verstappen within thirty seconds of meeting him, but you clearly didn’t care about his championships, his reputation, or the fact that half the world seemed intimidated by him.

Instead of getting annoyed, Max laughed under his breath and rested his arms against the machine. “Do you always bully your clients this quickly, or am I just special?”

“You’re the one destroying your shoulders because your ego is bigger than your common sense,” you replied while making a note on your clipboard. “So yes, maybe you are special.”

That should have been the moment he decided you were impossible.

Unfortunately for you, it became the moment he decided he liked you.

From then on, training sessions turned into a constant battle between your professionalism and Max’s inability to stop flirting with you every chance he got.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“Dinner tonight?” he asked casually one afternoon while you adjusted the weights on the cable machine.

“No.”

“Coffee after training?”

“No.”

“You know, rejecting me this often has to qualify as emotional damage.”

You barely looked up at him while tightening the strap around his wrist. “Finish your set before I give you another twenty reps.”

Max only grinned at the threat because nothing seemed to discourage him. If anything, your annoyance entertained him even more.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

At first, you genuinely thought he would eventually get bored.

Athletes flirted all the time, especially famous ones, and you had learned years ago how to ignore it without letting it affect your work.

Max, however, refused to act like every other client you had ever trained.

He remembered tiny details about conversations you barely recalled having.

He always asked whether you had eaten after long training days. Whenever you looked stressed, he somehow noticed immediately, even when you tried hiding it behind clipped answers and professional distance.

Somewhere along the way, things became dangerous.

Because once you stopped seeing the public version of Max and started seeing the person underneath, resisting him became significantly harder than you wanted to admit.

You noticed the way his entire face softened whenever he talked about his family.

You noticed how gentle he became around nervous staff members despite the reputation the media loved giving him.

You noticed how he always searched for you first whenever he entered a room, almost automatically, as if his body had already decided where his attention belonged.

The worst part was realizing you had started doing the exact same thing.

“You’re distracted today,” Max commented one morning after catching you staring blankly at your notes for several seconds.

“I’m not distracted.”

“You counted wrong twice already, so either you’re distracted or you suddenly forgot basic math.”

You rolled your eyes, although he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Focus on your workout instead of monitoring me.”

“I am focused,” he answered easily. “Focused on you.”

Your stomach betrayed you immediately with an embarrassing little flutter that made you irrationally angry.

Max noticed the reaction at once because of course he did. His grin widened while he leaned back against the bench, looking far too pleased with himself.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That look tells me I’m finally making progress.”

“You’re delusional.”

“And yet you’re blushing.”

Heat rushed to your face almost violently.

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

You hated how attractive he looked when he smiled like that.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Over the next few months, the tension between you became impossible to ignore. The flirting stopped feeling harmless, mostly because you started catching yourself thinking about him outside of work.

Sometimes you would replay conversations while driving home. Other times you would open your phone after dinner and wonder whether he would text you before immediately getting annoyed with yourself for caring.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Then Max started asking you out more seriously.

Not joking comments thrown into conversations anymore, but genuine invitations delivered with a confidence that somehow felt softer than before.

“Go out with me,” he said one evening while you cleaned equipment after training.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my client.”

“You’ve used that excuse before.”

“It’s not an excuse. It’s a fact.”

Max stepped closer until your pulse immediately sped up despite your best efforts to stay calm. “One date,” he said quietly while watching your expression carefully. “If it’s terrible, I’ll stop asking.”

You folded your arms, mostly because suddenly you felt too aware of him standing so close. “You promise?”

A laugh escaped him softly. “Probably.”

That made you smile before you could stop yourself.

Max’s entire face lit up with victory. “You smiled. That means I’m winning.”

“You’re unbelievably annoying.”

“But you’re thinking about it.”

Unfortunately, he was right.

The problem wasn’t that you disliked him. The problem was that you liked him far too much already, and agreeing to a date felt dangerously close to admitting it out loud.

Still, after months of resisting him, your resolve had started crumbling piece by piece every time he looked at you like you were the most fascinating person he had ever met.

Eventually, you sighed in defeat. “One date.”

For once in his life, Max actually looked speechless.

“You’re serious?”

“I’m already regretting it.”

His smile became almost unfairly attractive. “Friday at eight?”

“You already planned this, didn’t you?”

“Obviously.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

By the time Friday arrived, you had changed outfits four separate times and hated yourself a little more after every single one.

It’s one date, you kept reminding yourself.

One date with Max Verstappen, unfortunately, felt capable of changing your entire life.

When the doorbell finally rang, your heart started beating hard enough to make you genuinely irritated.

You opened the door and immediately forgot every coherent thought in your brain.

Max stood there wearing dark jeans and a black button-up with the sleeves rolled slightly up his forearms, holding a bouquet of flowers while looking unexpectedly nervous beneath his usual confidence.

“You brought flowers?”

For the first time since you had met him, Max actually seemed uncertain. “Was that too much?”

The fact that he cared enough to worry about impressing you nearly melted your heart on the spot.

“No,” you answered softly while accepting them. “It’s sweet.”

Relief flashed across his face before the familiar grin returned. “Good, because I spent twenty minutes trying to choose them and the lady at the shop looked ready to kill me.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The dinner lasted so long that the restaurant around them slowly began emptying without either of you noticing.

At some point during dessert, the staff started stacking chairs near the back of the room while soft music played quietly through the speakers, yet neither of you made any effort to leave because talking to Max had somehow become absurdly easy.

That surprised you more than anything else.

You had expected confidence and flirting and maybe a little arrogance because that was simply who Max was, but you hadn’t expected this version of him. The quieter version. The one who listened carefully whenever you spoke and remembered tiny details you mentioned hours earlier.

The one currently leaning back in his chair with the softest expression you had ever seen on him while you talked about your childhood.

“So you always wanted to do this?” he asked after taking another sip of his drink.

You nodded slowly. “Pretty much. My dad was obsessed with sports, so I basically grew up in gyms.” A laugh slipped from you. “Most kids learned cartoons after school. I learned muscle anatomy.”

Max smiled immediately. “That actually explains a lot.”

“Oh really?”

“You yell at people professionally.”

“I motivate people professionally.”

“You threatened to make me do lunges until I collapsed.”

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

You rolled your eyes, although you were smiling too much to make it convincing.

God, this was dangerous.

Everything about tonight felt dangerous because somewhere between arriving at the restaurant and now, you had completely stopped thinking about this as a mistake.

Instead, you kept catching yourself staring at him whenever he looked away.

You noticed how his eyes crinkled when he laughed properly. How he absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table whenever he listened. How warm his voice became whenever he talked about things he genuinely cared about.

It felt unfair that someone who spent most weekends driving at terrifying speeds could sit across from you looking this soft.

Eventually, the waiter arrived with the bill, placing it neatly beside Max before either of you could reach for it.

You immediately grabbed your purse. “We’re splitting it.”

Max looked offended by the suggestion. “Absolutely not.”

“We are absolutely splitting it.”

He was already handing over his card. “No chance.”

“Max.”

“You can pay next time.”

The words slipped out casually, but both of you froze for half a second afterward.

Next time.

Not if there would be another date.

When.

Heat rushed into your cheeks immediately.

Max noticed, of course he noticed, and suddenly his grin turned almost unbearably smug.

“There’s that blush again.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Sure.”

You pointed a warning finger at him while standing from your chair. “Don’t ruin your moment.”

“I’m enjoying my moment actually.”

Unfortunately, his happiness was weirdly adorable.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Outside, the night air felt cool against your skin after the warmth of the restaurant. Lights reflected across the dark water beside the harbor while distant conversations and quiet music drifted through the streets around you.

Max walked beside you slowly, close enough that your shoulders occasionally brushed together.

Neither of you moved away.

For a while, the conversation stayed light and teasing, but somewhere along the walk it shifted into something softer.

More honest.

“You ever get tired of it?” you asked quietly while watching the boats move gently against the docks. “Everything being so public all the time?”

Max stayed silent for a moment before answering. “Sometimes.” His hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket while he looked out toward the water. “I got used to it a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean it’s normal.”

You glanced at him carefully.

The media always painted him as untouchable somehow. Confident. Sharp-edged. Impossible to shake.

But standing beside you now, he looked strangely human in a way you thought most people never got to see.

“It must get lonely sometimes,” you admitted softly.

A quiet laugh escaped him, although there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah,” he answered honestly. “It does.”

Something in your chest tightened immediately.

Maybe because you understood the feeling better than most people realized.

“You know,” you started carefully, “people always assume being surrounded by others means you can’t feel alone.”

Max looked at you then, really looked at you, and suddenly the world around you felt quieter somehow.

“That’s exactly what it feels like.”

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard.

For several seconds, neither of you spoke.

Then his hand brushed yours accidentally.

At least you thought it was accidental at first.

But instead of pulling away, Max slowly intertwined your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your heartbeat stumbled instantly.

He glanced down briefly before looking back at you with the smallest smile. “Tell me if you want me to let go.”

The terrifying part was that you absolutely didn’t.

So instead, your fingers tightened slightly around his.

Max’s smile softened immediately after that.

And somehow that tiny moment felt more intimate than everything.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

By the time you reached your apartment building, your stomach already hurt from knowing the night was ending.

Max stopped beside the entrance while the city lights reflected softly across his face.

Neither of you spoke right away.

You suddenly understood why people wrote songs about moments like this because there was something unbearably romantic about standing beneath streetlights after midnight with someone you were trying very hard not to fall for.

“I had fun tonight,” Max admitted quietly.

You smiled. “Even though I bullied you the entire evening?”

“I like when you bully me.”

“That sounds concerning.”

“I’m willing to live with it.”

A laugh escaped you softly before the silence settled again.

This one felt different though.

Heavier somehow.

Max stepped slightly closer, his expression gentler than usual. “So,” he murmured, “does this mean I finally convinced you I’m charming?”

“You’re still incredibly annoying.”

“But charming?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment before sighing dramatically. “Unfortunately, yes.”

His grin immediately returned.

God, you were in trouble.

Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.

The second you pulled back, Max looked completely stunned.

Actually stunned.

You couldn’t stop smiling at the expression on his face.

“Goodnight, Max.”

For once in his life, the man seemed genuinely speechless while watching you step toward your apartment door.

Then finally, still looking slightly dazed, he laughed quietly under his breath.

“Yeah,” he said while touching the spot where you kissed him. “I’m definitely never leaving you alone now.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The problem with kissing Max Verstappen on the cheek was that it completely destroyed the balance between you.

Because before the date, there had still been some kind of invisible line separating trainer and client. Thin and unstable maybe, but still there.

Now?

That line had completely disappeared.

Especially because Max walked into the gym Monday morning looking unbearably smug.

“There she is,” he announced dramatically the second he spotted you near the treadmills. “My favorite person.”

You looked up from your clipboard slowly. “You say that like you weren’t complaining about me torturing you with planks last week.”

“You can ruin my life and still be my favorite person.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

Max immediately pointed at you with victory shining in his expression. “You’re smiling already. That has to be a new record.”

“You’re very confident for someone whose legs almost gave out after Bulgarian split squats.”

“They did give out,” he corrected. “You watched me suffer.”

“And it was inspiring.”

He stared at you dramatically for a second before placing a hand over his chest. “Wow. So cold.”

Something had changed between you after the date.

The teasing felt easier now. Softer. Less like a battle and more like a game the two of you secretly enjoyed playing.

The dangerous part was how natural it felt.

Max followed you toward the weight area while shaking his head. “You know, most people become nicer after taking someone on a romantic date.”

You glanced over your shoulder innocently. “Maybe your date just wasn’t charming enough.”

He looked genuinely offended.

Then suspicious.

“Wait,” he said slowly. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

You gave him your sweetest smile. “Maybe.”

The effect was immediate.

Max Verstappen — world champion, media-trained menace, professional flirt — completely lost his train of thought.

You actually watched it happen in real time.

His mouth opened slightly before closing again while faint pink spread across his cheeks.

Oh.

Oh, this was fun.

“You’re blushing,” you pointed out casually while adjusting weights like you hadn’t just mentally destroyed him.

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“That’s crazy,” he muttered while avoiding eye contact for the first time since you’d met him.

You nearly laughed out loud.

The realization hit you instantly: Max loved flirting when he was the one in control, but the second you returned the same energy, he became surprisingly easy to fluster.

Which meant you were absolutely going to abuse this information.

For the rest of training, you kept catching him staring at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

Every single time, you smiled sweetly until he looked away first.

By the end of the session, Max looked personally victimized by your behavior.

“This feels unfair somehow,” he complained while wiping sweat from his forehead.

“You survive Formula One races every weekend, but me complimenting you is too much?”

“You called my arms attractive.”

“They are attractive.”

He looked offended by how easily you said it.

“You can’t just say things like that casually.”

You tilted your head innocently. “Why not?”

“Because then I stop functioning.”

Your smile widened immediately. “That sounds like a you problem.”

Max stared at you for several seconds before laughing helplessly under his breath.

“I created a monster.”

“You started this.”

“And now it’s backfiring horribly.”

The terrifying part was how much you enjoyed seeing him like this.

Not cocky or composed.

Just flustered.

Real.

Cute.

God, he was cute.

“You’re staring again,” Max murmured softly.

You blinked before realizing he was right.

Unfortunately, he noticed the exact moment you became embarrassed.

“There it is,” he teased quietly. “Finally got you back.”

“Don’t get too excited.”

“Too late.”

Your eyes met for a second too long.

The air shifted immediately.

That happened constantly now.

One second you were teasing each other, and the next suddenly everything became heavier somehow, like there was too much tension sitting between you to ignore.

Max stepped closer slowly, his expression softer than before. “Go out with me again.”

You crossed your arms, mostly to hide how quickly your heart started beating. “You say that like the first date didn’t already inflate your ego enough.”

“It definitely inflated my ego,” he admitted easily. “But I still want another one.”

“And if I say no?”

“You won’t.”

The confidence in his voice should have annoyed you.

Instead, warmth spread through your chest because somehow he sounded less arrogant than certain.

Certain about you.

You sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

His grin appeared instantly. “That easy?”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“I’m trying very hard not to.”

The second date happened three nights later.

This time Max picked you up wearing a dark sweater that immediately made you forget how language worked for several seconds.

“You look pretty,” he said softly the moment you opened the door.

You leaned casually against the frame. “Careful, Verstappen. Compliment me too much and I might think you’re obsessed with me.”

His eyes flickered over your face before he smiled slowly. “I think we’re way past that point.”

The worst part was that butterflies exploded violently in your stomach afterward.

Dinner somehow felt even easier than the first date. The nerves were mostly gone now, replaced with something warmer and more dangerous.

Comfort.

You stole food from his plate.

He complained dramatically while letting you do it anyway.

At one point, you laughed so hard at one of his stories that you accidentally grabbed his arm without thinking.

Neither of you acknowledged the fact that your hand stayed there longer than necessary.

After dinner, Max drove aimlessly through the city with one hand resting against the steering wheel while music played quietly in the background.

“You know,” he murmured eventually, glancing toward you at a red light, “you’re very different from what I expected.”

You looked over at him curiously. “What did you expect?”

“A scary gym trainer who hated me forever.”

“I did hate you.”

“No you didn’t.”

A smile pulled at your lips. “Maybe a little.”

“I think you liked me from the beginning actually.”

You laughed immediately. “That is genuinely delusional.”

Max looked far too pleased with himself. “You thought I was attractive.”

“That doesn’t mean I liked you.”

“It means you wanted to.”

Heat crept into your cheeks because annoyingly enough, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

The car eventually stopped near the harbor again, the city lights reflecting beautifully across the water.

You and Max wandered slowly along the path in comfortable silence until he suddenly reached for your hand.

This time, intertwining your fingers together felt completely natural.

“You know what’s embarrassing?” he admitted after a while.

“What?”

“I was genuinely nervous before picking you up tonight.”

You looked at him with surprise. “You? Nervous?”

“Yes, thank you for sounding so shocked.”

You laughed softly. “Sorry, it’s just hard imagining Max Verstappen getting nervous over a date.”

His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. “That’s because you don’t realize what you do to me yet.”

Your heart nearly stopped.

God.

How was anyone supposed to survive him saying things like that?

You slowed slightly beneath the harbor lights while Max turned toward you instinctively.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The tension between you felt almost overwhelming now.

His eyes dropped briefly toward your lips before lifting back to your face.

“You’re staring again,” you whispered softly.

“I know.”

“But this time I think you’re doing it on purpose.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “Yeah,” he admitted while stepping closer. “Definitely on purpose.”

Your breath caught immediately.

Max lifted one hand slowly toward your face, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted.

You didn’t.

His fingers brushed gently against your cheek before he kissed you.

This one felt completely different from any other kiss.

Like both of you had spent days thinking about this exact moment.

Your hands slid against his jacket instinctively while he pulled you closer, kissing you slowly enough to make your knees feel weak.

And honestly?

“They want that yacht life under chopper blades

They want those bright lights and Balenci’ shades

And a fat ass with a baby face

They want it all”

The funny thing about fame is that everyone always assumes she wants more.

More awards.

More money.

More magazine covers.

More attention.

People see her stepping off private jets and walking red carpets and assume she’s still chasing bigger things.

But most nights she’s sitting on the couch beside Max in sweatpants, stealing fries off his plate while a random movie plays in the background.

And she thinks she’s already won.

“They want that complex female character

They want that critical smash Palme d’Or

And an Oscar on their bathroom floor

They want it all”

The industry never stops asking for something.

A bigger tour.

A bigger album.

A bigger accomplishment.

Everyone has a list of things they think she should want next.

And maybe years ago she would’ve wanted them too.

But lately she’s become much more interested in what Max is talking about while cooking dinner than what critics are saying about her latest project.

“And they should have what they want

They deserve what they want

Hope they get what they want”

She genuinely means it.

She hopes everyone gets their dream.

Their perfect career.

Their perfect life.

Their perfect future.

“I just want you”

Because somewhere along the way her dreams changed.

And they all started looking suspiciously like him.

“Have a couple kids, got the whole block lookin’ like you”

The thought always makes her smile.

Little blond kids running through a backyard.

Tiny Verstappen smiles.

Tiny Verstappen attitudes.

Tiny Verstappen stubbornness.

Actually, maybe that last one sounds terrifying.

Max always groans whenever she says that.

Because he knows exactly what she’s implying.

“We tell the world to leave us the fuck alone

And they do, wow”

Somewhere far away from cameras.

Far away from headlines.

No interviews.

No race weekends.

No tours.

Just peace.

Just family.

Just them.

The kind of life most people would probably find boring.

The kind of life she dreams about constantly.

“Got me dreamin’ ’bout a driveway with a basketball hoop

Boss up, settle down, got a wish list”

The image is so ridiculously normal.

A house.

A driveway.

Kids drawing chalk on the pavement.

Max teaching them sports.

A basketball hoop standing slightly crooked because somebody crashed into it years ago.

Nothing glamorous.

Nothing extraordinary.

Just happiness.

“I just want you”

Every version of the future somehow circles back to the same answer.

Him.

“They want that freedom, livin’ off the grid

They want those three dogs that they call their kids

And that good surf, no hypocrites

They want it all”

One afternoon they’re sitting on a beach after a race weekend.

The ocean stretches endlessly in front of them.

Max has fallen asleep beside her.

His sunglasses are crooked.

His hair is a mess.

And she catches herself wondering if this could be enough forever.

Not the race wins.

Not the fame.

Just this.

“They want a contract with Real Madrid

They want that spring break that was fucking lit

And then that video taken off the internet

They want it all”

Everyone is always chasing something.

Trying to become something.

Trying to prove something.

Meanwhile she’s staring at the man asleep beside her and thinking she already found the thing everyone else is looking for.

“And they should have what they want

They deserve what they want

I hope they get what they want”

She hopes they do.

Truly.

Because she knows exactly what it feels like to get hers.

“I just want you”

Not because he’s perfect.

Not because life is perfect.

Not because love magically fixes everything.

But because every good thing feels better when he’s there.

And every bad thing feels easier.

“Have a couple kids, got the whole block lookin’ like you

We tell the world to leave us the fuck alone

And they do, wow”

Late at night she sometimes catches herself imagining it.

A little girl asleep on Max’s chest.

A little boy wearing one of his oversized race caps.

Family dinners.

School runs.

Birthday parties.

Christmas mornings.

The life nobody sees.

The life she wants most.

“Got me dreamin’ ’bout a driveway with a basketball hoop

Boss up, settle down, got a wish list”

The wish list used to be full of career goals.

Now it’s full of moments.

Small moments.

Ordinary moments.

The kind that matter most.

“I made wishes on all of the stars

Please, God, bring me a best friend who I think is hot”

That line makes her laugh because it’s embarrassingly accurate.

Before Max she thought soulmates were supposed to be dramatic.

Life-changing.

Intense.

Instead she got someone who felt like her best friend.

Someone she wanted to tell everything to.

Someone who made grocery shopping fun.

Someone who made airport delays bearable.

Someone who made every ordinary thing feel extraordinary.

“I thought I had it right once, twice

I did not

But I did not

You caught me off my guard”

She never expected him.

Not really.

She never expected the Formula One driver she’d spent hours stalking online years ago to become the person she couldn’t imagine living without.

Yet somehow he did.

“I hope I get what I want

’Cause I know what I want”

The older she gets, the more certain she becomes.

Success is nice.

Awards are nice.

Recognition is nice.

But none of it compares.

“I just want you”

Simple.

Certain.

True.

“Have a couple kids, got the whole block lookin’ like you

We tell the world to leave us the fuck alone

And they do, wow”

The future feels less scary when she imagines him standing beside her.

Every version of tomorrow becomes easier.

Brighter.

Softer.

“Got me dreamin’ ’bout a driveway with a basketball hoop

Boss up, settle down, got a wish list”

The dream never changes.

A home.

A family.

A life together.

“Ooh

Have a couple kids, got the whole block lookin’ like you

We tell the world to leave us the fuck alone

And they do, wow”

By the final chorus, the memories blur together.

Max carrying her sleeping from the car to bed.

Max waiting backstage after concerts.

Max teaching her how to drive a simulator.

Max dancing with her in the kitchen.

Max laughing so hard he can’t breathe.

Max holding her hand beneath restaurant tables.

Max kissing her forehead before leaving for races.

Max looking at her like she’s his favorite person in the world.

“Got me dreamin’ ’bout a driveway with a basketball hoop

Boss up, settle down, got a wish list”

People always ask her what comes next.

What her biggest dream is.

What she’s still hoping for.

And the answer is surprisingly simple.

Not another award.

Not another sold-out stadium.

Not another headline.

Just a house full of laughter.

A family.

A future.

And Max standing in the middle of it all.

“I know that the bar closes at eleven

I hope you never finish that beer”

The first date had already lasted four hours. The waiter had dropped off the bill nearly twenty minutes ago, the restaurant was empty except for the two of them, and still neither of them moved.

Max kept absentmindedly turning the glass in his hands while talking about racing, about his childhood, about things he usually didn’t tell people, and she remembers staring at him across the table and wishing time would stop. Wishing the beer would never run out.

Wishing eleven o’clock would never arrive because the second it did, she would have to say goodbye.

“You know all the words to ‘Just Like Heaven’

And I know why he wrote them

Now that you’re standing right here”

The streets of Monaco glowed gold beneath the streetlights while Max drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh. The song had come on by accident, and suddenly they were both singing every word at the top of their lungs. Horribly. Loudly.

Laughing too hard to actually stay on key. She remembers looking over at him while he sang and realizing that every love song she’d ever rolled her eyes at suddenly made perfect sense.

“One night I was bored in bed

And stalked you on the internet”

Before she ever knew him, before the first text, before the first smile, she’d been invited to her first Formula One race.

Curious, she’d searched the drivers online. One search turned into another. Then another.

Then suddenly it was two in the morning and she was scrolling through years of Max Verstappen Instagram posts. Photos with his cats. Photos on boats. Photos after race wins. Photos where he smiled so genuinely it made her stomach do something strange.

Back then she would’ve died before admitting how long she spent looking at them.

“It’s feminine intuition

’Cuz I always had a vision of us standing like this”

The room was packed with celebrities and athletes and people whose names belonged in headlines, but she only noticed him. Somehow they ended up standing next to each other near the drinks table, shoulders brushing every few seconds. Nothing had happened yet. They barely knew each other. But years later she would still remember that moment because some tiny part of her had looked at him and thought: there you are.

“All pressed up in the bathroom line

You’re looking like an angel on the walls of Versailles”

There had been a line halfway across the hallway, forcing everyone closer together than necessary. Max stood beside her wearing a simple black suit, one hand in his pocket while he smiled down at something she had said. Looking at him felt unfair sometimes. Not because he was handsome —everyone knew that— but because he never seemed aware of it. Like beauty followed him around without his permission.

“The most alive I’ve ever been”

Every memory after that seemed brighter than the ones before. Laughing until her stomach hurt. Dancing badly in hotel rooms. Racing each other down empty streets at midnight. Kissing between jokes because neither of them could stop smiling long enough not to.

“But kiss me and I might drop dead”

She had been in the middle of telling him a story. Something important, probably.

At least she thought it was important.

Then Max reached over, cupped her face, and kissed her.

The thought disappeared immediately.

Gone.

Completely erased from existence.

When he pulled away, all she could do was stare.

Max looked far too pleased with himself.

“And I feel like I might throw up

Left hook, right punch to the gut

You’re so, so pretty boy

I’m paranoid I made you up”

Sometimes she still looked at him and wondered how any of this was real. How someone could be so stubborn and annoying and infuriating while simultaneously being the person she wanted to tell everything to. There were mornings she’d wake up beside him, sunlight across his face, and spend a few seconds convinced she’d imagined him.

“Yeah I’d love it if you walked me home

If you promised we could go real slow”

The walk back to her apartment should’ve taken ten minutes.

It took thirty-three.

She knew because she checked.

Max never complained when she suddenly became fascinated by random buildings or side streets or things she’d walked past a hundred times before. He knew exactly what she was doing. He just played along because neither of them wanted the night to end.

“Cuz I got chewing gum

And a bunch of stuff I’d like to know”

Those early conversations felt endless. Every answer created five more questions. Favorite movie. Favorite city. Worst childhood haircut. Biggest fear. Best memory. They never seemed to run out of things to ask each other.

“Like, have you ever been to Japan?”

Tokyo at night.

Getting lost together.

Bright neon signs reflecting in puddles after rain.

Max insisting he knew where they were going.

Max being completely wrong.

Both of them laughing so hard they ended up sitting on a curb eating convenience store snacks at midnight.

“Or taken that Eurostar to France?”

The train rocked gently beneath them while countryside blurred past the windows. Max fell asleep halfway through the trip, head dropping onto her shoulder without even realizing it. She spent almost an hour pretending to read while secretly watching him sleep.

“I’ve been dropping hints all night

That I’d love it if you held my hand, goddamn”

She had never been subtle.

Not once.

She brushed her fingers against his.

Moved closer.

Looked at his hand every ten seconds.

Eventually Max sighed dramatically and intertwined their fingers.

“Was that what you wanted?”

She hated how much she smiled.

“And then maybe we could make-makeout

Clothes off and fall to the ground”

There were memories she definitely wasn’t putting into the song.

Mostly because her manager would have a heart attack.

“Let’s go steady

Let’s go out

And tell the whole damn world how”

The first public photo felt strangely terrifying.

Then freeing.

No hiding.

No dodging questions.

No pretending.

Just Max reaching for her hand in front of cameras like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“One night I was bored in bed

And stalked you on the internet”

Years later she still did it sometimes.

Not because she didn’t know him.

But because she loved seeing the person he had been before they met.

The younger version of him who had no idea she existed yet.

“It’s feminine intuition

’Cuz I always had a vision of us standing like this”

Their first apartment together wasn’t particularly glamorous.

There were boxes everywhere.

Half the furniture hadn’t arrived yet.

But standing in the kitchen together, surrounded by unpacked belongings and takeout containers, somehow felt bigger than any stadium she’d ever performed in.

“All pressed up in the bathroom line

You’re looking like an angel on the walls of Versailles

The most alive I’ve ever been

But kiss me and I might”

He still made her feel that way.

Years later.

After race weekends and world tours and airports and arguments and apologies and ordinary Tuesday mornings.

Still him.

Always him.

“Pisces and a Gemini

But I think we might go really nice together

If you let me stay the night

Well I think I might just have to stay forever”

One night became a weekend.

A weekend became months.

Months became years.

And somewhere along the way she stopped thinking about leaving.

Because forever had quietly arrived while neither of them were paying attention.

“One night I was bored in bed

And stalked you on the internet

It’s feminine intuition

‘Cuz I always had a vision of us standing like this

All pressed up in the bathroom line

You’re looking like an angel on the walls of Versailles

The most alive I’ve ever been

But kiss me and I might

Kiss me and I might

Kiss me and I might drop dead”

The last chorus becomes a blur of memories.

Max waiting backstage after sold-out concerts with flowers hidden behind his back.

Max asleep on long-haul flights with his head in her lap.

Max dancing terribly in the kitchen while dinner burned.

Max carrying her luggage even when she insisted she could do it herself.

Max kissing her forehead when he thought she was asleep.

Max laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

Max looking for her first in every crowd.

Max, Max, Max.

A thousand little moments stitched together into one life.

A life that started because one night she was bored in bed and decided to search his name online.

And every time he kisses her, she still feels exactly the same as she did back then.

Like she might drop dead from loving him.

ʚ♡ɞ

may speaks: okay I love this wtfff it was so fun to write

“New York City’s never looked so blue

My friends are smoking blunts in the bathroom

They say that honest love is a cage that makes you feel free”

The city around her never stops moving.

The lights stay on all night, taxis rush through crowded streets, music spills from bars and restaurants, and everyone always seems to be heading somewhere.

But none of it feels exciting when Max isn’t there.

Her friends are laughing in the bathroom at an afterparty, trying to drag her back into the conversation, but she keeps checking her phone for messages from Monaco. Someone jokes that being in love makes people ridiculous.

She thinks they’re probably right.

Because somehow loving Max makes her feel completely trapped by him and completely free at the same time.

“And all the girls at this party are so cool

That’s never been a thing that I could do

But I can’t help but imagine what you’d say when you speak with me”

She watches confident girls glide through the room effortlessly.

Girls who always know the right thing to say.

Girls who never seem nervous.

She’s never been one of them.

But Max always makes her feel like she is.

Whenever she doubts herself, she already knows exactly what he’d say

A quiet compliment.

A teasing joke.

A hand squeezing hers beneath the table.

And suddenly everything feels easier.

“You’re a spark in the dark and my clothes all caught aflame”

Before Max, her life had been good.

Busy.

Successful.

Full.

Then he arrived and somehow made everything brighter.

Like someone turning on lights in rooms she didn’t know existed.

“You should feel how I feel when somebody says your name”

Sometimes she hears his name during interviews.

Sometimes fans ask about him.

Sometimes commentators mention him on television.

Every single time, her stomach flips exactly the same way.

Years later.

No improvement whatsoever.

“I’m a car speeding down the boulevard without a brake”

Falling for Max had never been careful.

She hadn’t planned it.

Hadn’t considered the consequences.

One day they were texting.

The next they were spending every free moment together.

Then suddenly she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

“And I want you more than any stupid song could ever say”

Which is ironic.

Because she’s currently writing one.

And still none of the lyrics feel big enough.

“I’m a heart made of wax and I’m melting in the sun

I’m a thread on your shirt that is coming undone”

The thing about Max is that he makes her softer.

Not weaker.

Just softer.

Around everyone else she feels strong.

Around him she feels honest.

Like all the walls she’s spent years building disappear without permission.

“I feel right, I feel wrong, I feel totally insane

And I want you more than any stupid song could ever say”

Some days loving him feels easy.

Other days it’s airports and time zones and missed calls and schedules that never align.

But even on those days she never questions it.

Not once.

“Walking through the park with my head high

Past all the college girls and the drunk guys”

A rare day off.

No cameras.

No race weekend.

No concert.

Just the two of them wandering through a park somewhere nobody recognizes them.

The kind of ordinary moment most people forget.

The kind she treasures most.

“And if there is a god, he’s the bond that’s between us two”

Because she doesn’t know what force keeps bringing them back together despite everything.

Different careers.

Different countries.

Different lives.

And yet somehow it always ends with them finding their way back to each other.

“Seven nights alone and a skipped meal

I’m sleeping in my dress and my high heels”

Touring is hard.

Especially when Max isn’t there.

Sometimes she gets back to the hotel too exhausted to change clothes.

Too tired to eat.

Too tired to think.

Yet somehow never too tired to call him.

“And I’m too shy to say what I see when I dream of you”

She never tells him this part.

Never tells him how often she dreams about their future.

The house.

The cats.

The quiet mornings.

The life they might build together.

Those dreams feel too precious to say out loud.

“Every night like the one before

Dream of you from like one to four”

There was a point early in their relationship when she genuinely couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Every conversation replayed in her head.

Every smile.

Every text.

Every glance.

Like her brain had become permanently occupied by one Dutch racing driver.

“Positively and truly sure

Nobody’s wanted somebody more”

She doesn’t know if that’s objectively true.

But it feels true.

And feelings matter more sometimes.

“It’s a thing that I can’t ignore

Tell your friends that you’re mine, I’m yours”

The first time Max introduced her as his girlfriend remains one of her favorite memories.

So simple.

So casual.

Yet she’d smiled for hours afterward.

“With a hand on my heart, I swore”

Because from the moment she fell, she fell completely.

No halfway.

No uncertainty.

No backup plan.

Just him.

“I’m going crazy, I’m going mad

I want you, baby, so bad”

The distance.

The waiting.

The airport reunions.

The countdowns until the next race.

The next concert.

The next free weekend.

Being apart never gets easier.

They just get better at surviving it.

“You’re a spark in the dark and my clothes all caught aflame

You should feel how I feel when somebody says your name

I’m a car speeding down the boulevard without a brake

And I want you more than any stupid song could ever say”

By the final chorus, the memories blur together.

Max waiting backstage after shows.

Max calling at three in the morning after a race.

Max asleep beside her on planes.

Max dancing badly in their kitchen.

Max stealing her hoodies.

Max kissing her forehead.

Max finding her hand automatically in crowded rooms.

A thousand tiny moments.

A thousand reasons.

And somehow none of them fit perfectly into a song.

Because every lyric feels too small for what she feels when she looks at him.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

Maybe no stupid song could ever say it properly.

But she keeps trying anyway.

he understands anger like she understands silence.

and for the first time, someone looks at her like she’s more than what she can win.

but some loves ruin you before they save you.

“don’t call me kid,” she says coldly.

max only smirks. “then stop looking at me like you want me to rescue you.”

౨ৎ illicit affairs — a story about ambition, control, first love, and learning that being loved should never hurt.

౨ৎ strangers to friends to lovers

౨ৎ teenage love

౨ৎ social media x real live

౨ৎ full story on wattpad: