A series of fanfictions based on the songs of the Lana Del Rey album Ultraviolence.
warnings: 18+, mature content and language, toxicity, groveling, mutual pining, a lots of angst (and no I do not believe in sad endings!)
this is all a work of fiction
Ultraviolence- MV1
part 1
part 2
"He hurt me but it felt like true love
Jim taught me that
Loving him was never enough"
Fast cars, reckless hearts, and a love that hurts too deeply to let go. She gave him all her sunshine, and he burned it down, only to beg for the warmth he once scorned.
Old Money- CL16
"But if you send for me, you know I'll come
And if you call for me, you know I'll run
I'll run to you, I'll run to you"
In a world of money and fame, he is untouchable. Until her light pierces through his carefully guarded heart. He can't accept this weakness. She can't let him go.
Pretty When You Cry- GR63
"Don't say you need me when
You leave and you leave again
I'm stronger than all my men
Except for you"
Their love burns in secret, hidden from everyone. He gives her everything and nothing, and every glance feels like it could be the last.
Cruel World- LN4
part 1
"You like your women and you like fun
And I'm so happy, so happy now you're gone
Got my little red party dress on
Everybody knows that I'm the best
I'm crazy"
He thought she'd be there no matter what. She got tired of his games. When she finally walked away, he realizes his own cruelty and the depths of the love he once overlooked.
West Coast- OP81
"You pull me close, I push away, I'm feeling hot to the touch
You say you miss me and I wanna say I miss you so much
But something keeps me really quiet"
He was quiet, charming, and impossible to read- until she watched him fall for someone else. Now, she's left with wounds that ache deeper each time their eyes meet."
Shades of Cool- CS55
"You are unfixable
I can't break through your world
'Cause you live in shades of cool
Your heart is unbreakable"
He's reserved and cold. She's affectionate and warm. But no warmth is enough to melt his carefully constructed mask of stoicism.
I can add more drivers if there's requests that catch my eye. This is the first time I am publishing something on Tumblr so we will see! I really love groveling and angst but couldn't find many on Tumblr so I came to deliver!
DESCRIPTION: Fast cars, reckless hearts, and a love that hurts too deeply to let go. She gave him all her sunshine, and he burned it down, only to beg for the warmth he once scorned.
WARNINGS: 18+, mature themes, past trauma, strong language, minor pining, sexual tension, more
After her intense interaction with Max, Y/N felt physically and mentally exhausted. She was packing her belongings to leave the paddock when she suddenly noticed a chip on her nails, the beige of her bare nails peeking through the carefully painted dusty pink left an unsettling feeling in her stomach.
It was just a chipped nail to others. But to her, it was a crack in her perfectly constructed persona. An unveiling of the damaged girl she kept buried beneath her confident, welcoming exterior.
She clenched her jaw tightly as she made a mental note to fix her nails as soon as she returned to her hotel room. She approached the PR team she had grown so close with, especially Isabel.
“Hi guys, I’m done for the day. I’ll be going back to the hotel.” She announced with a warm smile.
“You’re not coming out tonight?” Olivia, a new PR intern asked.
Y/N smiled before responding. “No, I think I could use some rest. You guys have fun and be safe.”
“You always say that girl.” Isabel sighed as she went in for a hug. “You stopped wearing your perfume?” She asked.
“Oh yeah, I did. It was too much.” The lawyer responded as she gave a small smile to the woman she’d gotten close with over these past months.
“What? Not at all! It smelled so good, whoever said otherwise is bitch.” Isabel stated matter-of-factly.
Just as Y/N opened her mouth to respond, she was cut off by no one other than the very man who had ridiculed her scent to begin with.
“Isabel is right. It was a nice scent.” Max commented smoothly, as though he hadn’t been the one who made her abandon it, as though he hadn’t torn open the scars she had so carefully hidden, all with a single word merely hours ago.
The woman blinked in shock. “Thanks.” She curtly offered before saying bye to the team once again and leaving the paddock.
Two weeks passed smoothly without any PR nightmare, which the exhausted lawyer was grateful for. Now it was time for the Canadian Grand Prix. Tensions were high everywhere in the RedBull motorhome, especially for Max who was determined to make a comeback from the P10 he’d ended with at the Barcelona race.
Y/N knew better than to be around Max. She couldn’t allow him to deepen the cracks he’d created. She kept telling herself that she wasn’t the little girl who’d break down the moment she was reminded of how useless she was. She had stopped being sensitive years ago. She wasn’t going to regress years of hard work she had put into creating this strong and confident persona because of the words of an angry man.
She was looking over some paperwork regarding the sponsorships when she suddenly felt a presence behind her.
“Hi, I was hoping we could talk.” The Dutch man in front of her calmly said as he kept his gaze on her eyes, trying to read any emotion.
“Right now? If it’s about the sponsor that-” She began explaining but was cut off by him.
“No, it's not about anything like that. It won’t take long. Can you just come to my driver’s room?” He asked as he continued reading the woman’s expression.
She looked around her surroundings before nodding.
When they entered his driver’s room, he closed the door with a click as he came in front of her.
She looked up at his blue orbs, waiting for him to start explaining why he had pulled her in for this non-work related chat right before the race was about to begin.
He sighed before he started speaking. “Look, I’m sorry. For everything. I’ve been a piece of shit towards you ever since you started working here.” He breathed out, all at once as he ran a hand through his light brown locks.
The woman who got paid to speak didn’t know what to say at the words of the man in front of her.
She let his words hang in the air, her heartbeat steady but her mind spinning. She had expected excuses, maybe arrogance—but not this.
“You’re not a piece of shit, Max,” she said softly, surprising even herself. “You’re… complicated.” Her lips curved into a small smile, almost teasing but warm enough to disarm him.
His brows knitted, almost suspicious of her gentleness. “After the way I’ve treated you, you can still say that?”
“That’s the thing about words,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “They hurt, but they don’t define who someone is. If they did…” she trailed off, her throat tightening, memories of “useless” echoing in her mind, “…I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Something shifted in him then. His shoulders softened, and for the first time, he looked at her not as an opponent but as someone he could lose himself in.
A beat of silence stretched.
Then she smiled again, lighter this time. “Anyway, apology accepted. Don’t make a habit of it.”
That earned her the faintest laugh, and for once, the tension wasn’t sharp—it was magnetic.
Max wasn’t necessarily satisfied with his P2, especially not compared to George Russel’s win. But the team was because this was the perfect excuse to go all out and celebrate in the intoxicating atmosphere of the Quebec clubs.
He was talking to his race engineer as he slowly twirled the drink in his hand, his posture relaxed but straight, radiating his usual aloofness.
All of a sudden, his eyes caught the sight of the woman he felt inexplicable emotions towards. She walked into the club with her usual friendly confidence, a warm, genuine smile on her glossed lips as she chatted with Isabel.
She wore a crimson tube top with a neck tie, a mini black skirt, and heels higher than the small ones she’d wear around the paddock. The tube top she wore showed just the right amount of cleavage and he couldn’t help but imagine what his hands would look like around her neck rather than the flimsy piece of fabric she had wrapped.
The engineer in front of him, Liam, noticed Max’s attention had shifted somewhere entirely different. He turned his head and saw the very sight that almost left him drooling.
When the Dutch man shifted his gaze back to the engineer in front of him and saw him practically salivating, a wave of possessiveness rushed through him. He clenched his jaw tightly as his eyes looked at the man in front of him with anger.
Liam began speaking, oblivious to the daggers being thrown at him by Max’s intense stare. “Holy shit, I knew she was pretty but wow. She’s beautiful, smart, and she’s got a body like that. How could she not be taken?” the man sighed as he shifted his gaze back up to the driver.
Max felt a pit in his stomach. “She has a boyfriend?” He asked as he kept the unintrigued facade up despite the fire he felt.
“Appereantly, a few guys on the team asked her out but she always kindly rejected them.” Liam explained as he took a sip of the bitter alcoholic drink in his hands.
Max gripped the glass in his hands tighter as he glanced at the girl. This time, she noticed the blue eyes on her as she looked up at him from the dancefloor, offering him one of those rare sincere smiles.
He couldn’t help but realize he was becoming addicted to the way her lips curled and her eyes glimmered.
Later in the night, her friends had abandoned her one by one for the charming Canadian men in the club. She was sitting alone at the bar as she drank a pink overly-sweetened drink.
“Can I get a gin and tonic please?” Said the man who had been clouding all her thoughts lately as he took a seat next to her. “Hopefully you don’t mind?” He added as he shifted his gaze to her.
She quickly hid the small ping of excitement she felt as she replied, “Of course not.”
Max thanked the bartender who gave him his drink, taking a sip before he began speaking. “Do you have a boyfriend Y/N?”
The girl choked on the sugary cocktail as she responded, “What?” she choked out.
“I asked if you had a boyfriend.” The man calmly repeated, his blue eyes fixated on her face.
She took a deep breath before answering. “No, where did that even come from?”
“The guys on the team said you rejected them because you apparently had a boyfriend.” He shrugged.
Her cheeks flushed as she sighed. “One of them was very persistent, so I had to tell him I was seeing someone to not make it awkward.” She mumbled as she looked away, embarrassment evident in her face. She felt like this white lie that she found harmless back then made her seem too cocky.
Max let out a chuckle.
A confident yet warm one.
“So it is true.” He commented.
“What is?” The girl asked as she finally looked at him, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion, the small amount of alcohol in her system making her more expressive than ever.
“Lawyers lie.” Max teased, an amused smile apparent on his lips as he took in the relaxed state of her.
“Oh come on!” She huffed out. “Then, it’s true that all you F1 drivers are cocky players!”
Max smirked at her comeback, his fingers lazily circling the rim of his glass. “Cocky players, hm? That’s the best you’ve got?”
She raised a brow, her lips curving. “Best? That was me being nice.”
“Nice?” he echoed, amused. “You must be a terrible lawyer if that’s your version of nice.”
“Or maybe I’m just saving the real cross-examination for later,” she shot back, emboldened by the warmth of the alcohol in her veins.
His chuckle was lower this time, quieter, meant just for her. The noise of the club seemed to fade, the flashing lights and music thinning around them. “I’d almost believe you’re flirting with me.”
Her heart stuttered. She lifted her glass to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “And if I was?”
Max leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers as though by accident, but his eyes betrayed the deliberate nature of it. “Then I’d say you’re doing a damn good job of it.”
Her breath caught, the sweet drink suddenly tasting sharper on her tongue. She forced herself to laugh it off, setting her glass down. “Careful, Verstappen. You’re starting to sound like one of those persistent teammates of yours.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully, his smirk never fading. “The difference is… you wouldn’t need to lie to get rid of me.”
She leaned back against the bar, her confidence flickering between defense and temptation. “And what if I don’t want to get rid of you?”
That pulled the smallest reaction from him—a flicker of surprise that quickly melted into something far more dangerous. His eyes held hers as he swirled the ice in his glass, the sound almost hypnotic under the thump of bass around them.
“You should be careful saying things like that,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that she caught the crisp bite of gin on his breath. “I might start to believe you.”
Her laugh was softer this time, betraying the nerves skittering beneath her skin. “You’re impossible.”
“Or maybe,” Max said, lowering his voice until it was nearly drowned by the music, “I’m exactly what you’ve been trying not to want.”
Her drink suddenly felt too sweet, too heavy. She set it down, caught in his gaze, knowing she should look away but unable to.
Before she could come up with another witty retort, Max straightened, finishing the last of his gin and tonic. He glanced at the packed dance floor, then back at her.
“You look like you’ve been hiding here too long,” he said, standing and extending a hand toward her. “Come on.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You? Dance?”
His grin widened. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I can’t picture it,” she teased, though her pulse picked up at the thought.
“Then let me prove you wrong.” He kept his hand outstretched, gaze steady, daring her.
Against her better judgment—and maybe because of the liquid courage—she slipped her hand into his. His palm was warm, grounding, even as he led her through the crush of bodies and into the flashing lights.
The music swallowed them whole, bass vibrating through the floor, and when he pulled her closer, the space between them vanished. She could smell the cologne clinging to him, sharp and clean against the haze of sweat and smoke.
“See?” he murmured against her ear as they moved in sync, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. “Not so bad.”
Her laugh was lost in the music, but the way her body instinctively leaned into his told him enough.
The music pulsed around them, lights strobing in neon bursts as he pulled her closer. Their bodies moved without thought, the crowd pressing in but making the space between them feel even smaller.
She tried to joke, tried to defuse it. “You’re actually not bad at this,” she teased, her voice light but shaky.
Max’s hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, anchoring her in place. “Told you,” he said, his words grazing her ear, low enough to send goosebumps up her arms.
She swallowed hard, every nerve hyperaware of how close he was. His cologne mixed with the scent of gin and sweat, intoxicating, dizzying.
“You’re dangerous,” she said, breathless, but she wasn’t sure if it was meant as a warning or confession.
Max’s grin was there, but softer now, almost vulnerable. “Only if you want me to be.”
For a moment, the music, the crowd, the entire club disappeared and there was only the press of his hand, the weight of his gaze, and the undeniable pull between them.
The lights flashed over his face, shadows cutting sharp angles across his jaw, and for a split second she wondered how she’d ever managed to avoid falling into this before. His hand held her steady, his grip firm but unhurried, like he was giving her every chance to step away.
She didn’t.
Instead, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling herself just an inch closer as though the crowd had pushed her, though they both knew it hadn’t.
Her pulse raced with the music, too fast, too loud. “This… this is a bad idea,” she whispered, barely audible above the pounding bass.
Max bent his head, his lips brushing close enough to her ear that his words trembled down her spine. “Then why does it feel so good?”
Her breath caught, the line between sense and want dissolving under the heat of his body against hers. Their movements slowed despite the frantic beat of the song, the rhythm bending to something that belonged only to them.
Her gaze flicked up, blue eyes, unwavering, burning into hers. And then his attention dropped, almost imperceptibly, to her lips.
The universe seemed to still.
The music throbbed in the background, the lights painted them in fleeting bursts of red and gold, but all she felt was the pull, the way the air itself seemed to spark as he leaned closer.
Her heart screamed to close the space, to let it happen, but some stubborn shred of control held her back. Inches apart, their breaths mingling, suspended in that dangerous, breathless almost.
“Max—” she started, voice shaking.
He smiled faintly, as though he already knew how close she was to breaking. His thumb brushed once against her hip, feather-light, deliberate.
“Don’t say it,” he murmured.
And for a heartbeat, she didn’t. She looked down at where her hand was plastered on his chest, then back up at his lips, her grip on his shirt instinctively tightening as she gulped.
“Fuck, god… stop…” he groaned, voice rough and ragged, as if her touch was unraveling him from the inside out.
She shifted her gaze to his eyes, looking up at him through her lashes as she kept her hold on his shirt. Her eyes had a glint in them, as if she was daring him to do something.
She looked up at him through her lashes, fingers clutching his shirt as a spark danced in her eyes, daring him to cross the line she was already tiptoeing along.
Her steady, daring gaze held him in place, fingers clutching his shirt, and Max’s composure finally cracked. His jaw tightened, eyes darkening with raw need, and the words he tried to hold back fell away.
Her steady, daring gaze held him in place, fingers clutching his shirt, and Max’s composure finally cracked. His jaw tightened, eyes darkening with raw need, and the words he tried to hold back fell away.
“Fuck…” he growled, voice rough and ragged, before closing the final distance. His lips slammed against hers with a fierce, consuming force, hands tangling in her hair and at her waist as if anchoring himself to her.
She gasped into the kiss, startled by the intensity, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed closer, matching the urgency, letting the heat and tension between them ignite. Every motion, every gasp, every stolen breath pulled them further into a world where nothing existed except the fierce, all-consuming kiss that left them both undone.
When they finally parted—barely—foreheads pressed together, breaths ragged and mingling, the club around them seemed to dissolve. The flashing lights, the pounding bass, the crowd, all of it faded into nothing.
Max’s lips curved into a smirk, raw and unrestrained. “Damn,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “You—fuck—you’ve completely undone me.”
Her own laugh was shaky, exhilarated, a mix of triumph and surrender. “Good,” she whispered, her fingers still gripping his shirt, heart pounding like it might burst.
And in that suspended moment, neither moved, neither spoke. Just the heat between them, the lingering taste of desire, and the undeniable truth that whatever had started as a game had become something far more dangerous, far more consuming, and completely unstoppable.
a/n: guys... what do we think... do i make it spicier for the next chapter?
yesterday i saw a guy wearing a redbull shirt (one of those hollister f1 shirts) so i knew i had to update but dang these take SO LONG to write!
DESCRIPTION: He thought she'd be there no matter what. She got tired of his games. When she finally walked away, he realizes his own cruelty and the depths of the love he once overlooked.
Usually, the boyfriend would plan the dates, pick his girlfriend up, and put more effort into the relationship. Unfortunately for her, her boyfriend had much important matters to deal with.
Such as his F1 career.
After dating for 3 years, she grew accustomed to the way he slowly resigned from the relationship. After all, she was dating an F1 driver, who was she to expect him to dedicate all his attention to her?
So, for 3 years she continued to make do with the bits of him left to her. She would attend all his races no matter what, hoping the bits of time they spent together in his garage would make up for the dates he'd missed.
She missed the attentive and charming boy she once had but "beggars can't be choosers" she often reminded herself whenever she felt like his efforts weren't sufficient.
She was sitting at a cafe in Silverstone with Kelly, sipping her latte as she pretended to be interested in whatever fashion trend the brunette in front of her was talking about.
"Y/N, are you okay? I can tell your mind is wandering off somewhere else." The woman asked with concern written all over her face.
"Yeah, of course. Sorry, I haven't been feeling very well. I've been very tired and nauseous lately. No clue why." She sighed as she forced a small smile.
Kelly's eyes widened. "That sounds like something I went through twice..." She breathed.
"What! No way, don't worry we're good with protection and stuff." The girl responded with a laugh.
"You never know. You should get tested." The wiser woman added as she leaned back into her seat and took a sip of her coffee.
She was sitting in her hotel room as she sipped her tea, hoping the abdominal pain would go away. Tomorrow was race day and she wanted to make sure everything went smoothly at her boyfriend's home race.
The man on the other side of the bed was talking about the race, not paying attention to the pained expression on his girlfriend's face.
After some time, he drifted off to sleep as she kept tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.
The next morning, the typical race day endeavors followed. She took painkillers and ignored the way the sharp pain in her abdomen worsened by the minute. She chalked it up to her period coming after missing it from stress for the past few months, it had always been irregular.
So, she wore her best outfit, did her hair and makeup perfectly. She always made sure to look presentable next to her boyfriend. The online comments about her appearance and the way her boyfriend would be extra friendly with women always bothering her despite her efforts to ignore them.
She would never tell her boyfriend, not after the countless times he dismissed her, saying she "needed to accept him and the lifestyle his career brought".
So she did.
She accepted that no amount of effort, no perfect outfit or flawless hair, could make him see her. She accepted that his charm was reserved for everyone else, that the attention he gave to others was the only attention he’d ever truly know how to give.
She never complained.
He continued to believe everything was perfect. He knew-he always knew- that she bent herself around his life, ignored her own needs, swallowed her frustration. But it didn’t matter. He shrugged it off, smirking like it was her problem, not his. She’ll accept it, he thought, she always does.
After Lando won his home race and completed all his media duties, the night was reserved to party and celebrate, of course.
Lando was chatting with a female fan who had approached him at the club they’d went to as Y/N sat with Rebecca, Carlos too busy talking to Charles about some race strategy. She pulled out the painkillers from her bag and grabbed as many pills as she could take without exceeding the daily dosage.
Rebecca looked at the girl with a puzzled expression. “You haven’t been well today. What’s up with you? Are you okay?” She asked fondly.
“I have really bad abdominal pain. It’s been going on since last night. Must be my period coming soon. I’ll be fine.” The girl explained with a forced smile.
But Rebecca knew better than to ignore her friend’s discomfort.
“Did you tell Lando?” The blue eyed woman asked, already knowing the answer.
“No, I didn’t want to ruin this day for him.” Y/N replied, her hand on her stomach.
“Well you shouldn’t have to tell him. He should notice it when your hands been on your stomach all day with that pained look on your face. Get up we’re going to the hospital.” The brunette declared as she got up from her seat at the bar.
Y/N tried to protest but she knew how persistent the Scottish woman was.
She glanced over at her boyfriend. He was leaning down into a blonde girl's ear, sharing a conversation as they laughed together.
Rebecca followed her friend's gaze and sighed at the sight in front of them. "I know you love him but he's such a shit boyfriend. Come on, let's grab Carlos, he'll drive us." She sighed as she gently tugged at her friend's arm, trying to stray her attention away from the man flirting with another woman in front of them.
The girl ignored the way her chest tightened and got up from her seat, no longer able to find the words to disagree with her friend.
When they found Carlos and Charles, the two men were both worried about the woman in front of them. Carlos didn't need to hear a word from his girlfriend as he gave a curt goodbye to Charles who offered to come with them, saying it wasn't necessary.
By the time they reached the hospital, the pain had sharpened into relentless waves. Y/N clutched her lower abdomen, breathing shallowly as Rebecca guided her through the doors, Carlos close behind with a concerned expression.
At triage, the nurse asked routine questions, but Y/N could barely focus, each contraction of pain making her flinch. “It feels… worse than a period,” she muttered, her voice tight. Her stomach twisted in knots, and a cold sweat broke out across her forehead.
Rebecca pulled out her phone. “Do you want me to call Lando?” she asked quietly. Y/N shook her head, but Rebecca’s expression left no room for argument. She dialed anyway. The phone rang… once. Twice. Then straight to voicemail.
Y/N’s chest tightened, a bitter, hollow knot forming where her heart was. He knew. He knew she was in pain. He knew she might need him. And yet, he didn’t pick up.
The doctor arrived, calm but quick. After an exam, he said, “We need to do an ultrasound and some blood work to see what’s going on.” Y/N tried to nod, but the cramping made her head spin.
The ultrasound screen flickered, and Y/N watched, confused and terrified, as the doctor’s expression stayed neutral but serious. “It looks like an early miscarriage,” he said gently. “You may not have even realized you were pregnant.”
Y/N froze. Her stomach sank, the pain now mingling with a heavy, hollow shock. She hadn’t known. She hadn’t expected this. Rebecca held her hand firmly, murmuring reassurances, while Carlos stayed by her side, quietly steady.
Through the haze of pain and disbelief, a slow, bitter clarity began to settle in. She had spent so much of herself trying to fit into a life that didn’t care about her. And now, in this moment of vulnerability, she realized she didn’t need anyone who ignored her needs.
Because this, this was much more serious than all the important dates he'd forgotten or all the plans he had canceled.
She sat in her hospital bed as she waited for Rebecca and Carlos to return from fetching her suitcase at the hotel room she shared with Lando.
She told the couple she didn't want to go back and they went to grab her stuff without asking her any questions. She told herself she would grab the rest of her stuff from the apartment in Surrey when she felt better.
When Lando arrived back to the hotel with Oscar's aid, he paid no attention to the the missing belongings of his girlfriend- or the fact that the girlfriend in question wasn't even in the room. He was too gone to notice anything.
He didn't even need to be drunk to overlook his girlfriend.
He just always assumed she'd be there.
So, when he woke up the next morning with a raging hang over, he was shocked to find her side of the bed empty. He quickly glanced around the room and noticed her belongings were missing. In a hurry, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, finding missed calls from Rebecca and Carlos.
Nothing from her.
He called her but it went straight to voicemail. He called Carlos, impatiently waiting for the Spaniard to pick up.
He hurriedly spoke when he heard an accented "hello" from the other end of the phone. "Carlos, where's Y/N? You and Rebecca both called me last night but I was too drunk." Lando explained, just slight panic in his voice.
The man on the other end of the phone loudly sighed before speaking. "Look man, you really fucked up this time." Carlos wearily said.
"What? What do you mean mate?" Lando asked bewilderedly.
He heard Rebecca's voice in the background but he was unable to make out what she was saying.
The Spaniard sighed once more before explaning. "This goes beyond me. Sorry. " He simply stated before hanging up.
Lando sat there in utter confusion, trying to process what had just happened. Suddenly, he remembered to check her location. He remembered that she had shared hers "just in case" when they first began dating.
Lando hadn't ever bothered to check it- or share his own.
When he clicked on the app, he realized it said "no location found".
"Fuck!" He frustratedly yelled as he slammed his phone on the soft mattress.
Unexpectedly, he felt his phone vibrate. He quickly picked it up, hoping it was a message from her. And he was right. She had finally texted him.
"I am fine. I need space." The text read.
The man that had been worried just moments ago scoffed in annoyance as he slammed his phone on the mattress once again, not even bothering to question her whereabouts or even respond to the message at all.
He ignored the small panic he felt. After all, she had never done something like this.
Not when he forgot their anniversary.
Not when he was hours late to the family dinners.
Not when he couldn't even bother to show up to the birthday party their friends had planned for the girl on time.
She will come back, surely. He thought as he got up from the bed.
A week had passed since the day Y/N told him she needed space. She was devastated but not surprised at the fact the man hadn't even bothered to send her a single message.
She began to wonder if she was really that worthless in his eyes.
Her mind drifted off to the words of the doctor, "It seems like you've been pushing yourself too hard, physically and mentally. Your iron levels are very low as well as your blood sugar. You need to be extra careful to recover well."
She took a deep breath as she put her hand over her stomach, her grip tightening around the lose fabric of her shirt.
She promised to change.
She promised she wouldn't allow him to walk all over her ever again.
It had been three weeks since the British man had heard from his girlfriend. Each day, he convinced himself she would come any moment now. He'd even texted her and called her multiple times. She hadn't even bothered to respond.
Oh how the tables had turned.
He put his phone down with a sigh as he glanced around the room. The gala was bussing with chatter and the soft clinking of glasses. Suddenly, he saw Rebecca and Carlos enter.
This is my opportunity to get information about her. He thought excitedly.
His excitement was cut short as his breath hitched at the sight in front of him.
Y/N walked into the room, alone.
The red dress hugged her in all the right places, bold and elegant. Every step was controlled, every movement deliberate. Her hair fell perfectly around her shoulders, lips painted just enough to catch the light without asking for attention. Her eyes scanned the room with calm confidence, and it was impossible not to notice.
The whispers followed immediately.
"She came separate from Lando?" someone murmured.
"I've never seen her so confident." another added.
She held her head high as she followed Carlos and Rebecca's path, stopping to chat with friends on the way.
Lando couldn't believe it.
How could she ghost him and come here acting as if he never existed to began with?
He wanted to approach her and ask her all the questions that had been eating at him for the past few weeks.
But he didn't.
The man couldn't risk his image. How could he approach her when he had never had to before?
So, the stolen glances would have to do.
Because he couldn't jeopardize his ego.
Like always.
Lando would never look at gossip pages. He deemed himself above that.
Unfortunately for him, social media caught on fast. Short videos, photos, and candid clips were uploaded and shared.
“Y/N in red alone. Finally letting go?” one caption read.
“She looks untouchable. Lando, are you seeing this?” another tagged him.
“Glow-up of the year. Independent. #RedDressQueen” began trending within the hour. Comments poured in. Some celebrated her confidence, others bashed her for no apparent reason.
Did she always receive so much hate? He wondered as he began searching the gossip pages for her.
He came across a photo of Y/N behind him, looking a bit uncertain as she walked behind him. He clicked on the comments.
“She’s literally trailing behind him like a lost puppy… he doesn’t even want her lol.”
“Poor girl, can’t believe she thinks he’s into her still.”
“Why is she even there? He’s clearly over it.”
“She needs to get herself together, honestly. This is embarrassing, even for her."
“Someone tell her he doesn’t want her lol, this is sad.”
A sinking feeling settled into his stomach. Did she really think he didn't want her? Surely, there has to be good things about our relationship on these pages. He thought as he scrolled down further.
He came across a photo from the surprise birthday party their friends had planned for her. In the picture she was wiping a tear away as her friends were trying to comfort her.
"He’s late again? She’s crying and he can’t be bothered. Pathetic.”
“Someone needs to tell her he doesn’t care about her feelings at all.”
“LOL typical. He’s probably somewhere flirting while she’s sitting there crying.”
“She’s so dumb for staying with him after all this.”
“Can’t believe she thought he’d actually show up. Embarrassing.”
He froze, thumb hovering over the screen. Each comment was a sting, a mirror reflecting what he had ignored for weeks, months, even years.
He forced himself to scroll further. This time he came across a photo from the Silverstone Grand Prix, Y/N was holding her stomach, her expression clearly pained as Lando smiled at something someone around them was saying.
“He’s laughing while she looks like she’s in pain… wow, cold."
"She's clearly faking it... talk about an attention seeking whore."
"Her expression describes how Lando feels when he has to be with her, lol."
"Literally when does she look happy around him?"
His breath hitched as he read the last comment. Was she unhappy in their relationship? There was no way. She would never complain about anything.
He forced himself to scroll further, each swipe feeling heavier than the last. More photos, more clips, all framed the same story: her in discomfort, overlooked, ignored. Lando’s chest tightened.
Comments scrolled endlessly:
“She’s holding in her pain while he laughs… unreal.”
“She’s way too patient for someone who treats her like this.”
“He doesn’t even notice she’s suffering. She’s a ghost to him.”
“How is she still with him? She deserves better.”
His stomach knotted as he read each one. They were strangers, yes, but their words rang painfully true. He had been blind. She had been hurting, and he hadn’t even seen it.
For the first time, he realized the truth he had spent weeks ignoring: she wasn’t just upset about small things-she had been struggling, and he had been absent. His phone buzzed with notifications, all tagged with her name, showing more posts of her walking alone, laughing with friends, glowing in ways he had never noticed before.
The weight of it hit him: she had moved on emotionally. She didn’t need him, and for weeks, she had been living her life without waiting for him to realize what he had lost. Lando scrolled past another photo, her in that red dress, standing tall, untouchable. Comments celebrated her independence, every tag reminded him how far she had come without him.
And he knew, with a sinking certainty, that nothing he could do now would undo it because years of damage couldn't be undone so easily.
a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this part. feel free to let me know any suggestions or ideas. i publish the moment i finish writing so i am open to ideas about upcoming parts!
Hi! Can you please put anything longer than like a paragraph under the read more button? Keep writing! But the long posts clutter the main tags
Hi! First of all thank you so much for the question. I began using Tumblr recently so I am still very unfamiliar with how everything works.
Thank you for bringing this into my attention because I thought "keep reading" appeared on its own due to Tumblr's settings 😅. I will make sure to edit whatever I have published and please do let me know if it's done right!
DESCRIPTION: Fast cars, reckless hearts, and a love that hurts too deeply to let go. She gave him all her sunshine, and he burned it down, only to beg for the warmth he once scorned.
WARNINGS: 18+, mature themes, past trauma, strong language, minor pining, author doesn’t believe in proofreading
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was done perfectly. Her hair blew out in a way that framed her face beautifully. Her nails were short but polished dusty pink. She had just the right amount of accessories- the necklace she always wore, the gold hoops, her bracelet, and her watch. She wore a navy blazer and dress pant set with dusty pink heels to match.
"Nothing else I can do right now to look more perfect" she thought bitterly.
She grabbed her bag and her keys, and left her new apartment.
Once she arrived at the RedBull headquarters, she confidently walked in. But under her bright smile was intense anxiety; the same dark cloud of anxiety that followed her everywhere. She quickly pushed the negative thoughts away as she marched towards the conference room after letting the receptionist know who she was.
She was 10 minutes early. She didn't expect anyone else to be there. When she opened the door, she realized how wrong she was.
Max Verstappen was sitting casually on a chair, phone in hand with an uninterested expression on his face. She'd seen that face on TV countless times, but seeing him right in front of her felt surreal.
She quickly wiped her shocked expression off as she approached him with a smile.
"Hi, I'm Y/N. The lawyer that will be representing you." She introduced herself as she gave him a warm smile and extended her hand.
He looked up from his phone, the uninterested expression on his face faltering just slightly- not enough for her to notice. She began to mentally curse herself for sounding too enthusiastic.
"Hi, I'm Max." He plainly replied as she shook her hand.
Soon after, the rest of the RedBull team joined them and the meeting went smoothly. However, as much as she tried to fight it, she couldn't help the way her eyes drifted over to the uninterested man- or the man she thought was uninterested.
While she wouldn't have minded seeing Max often, she knew it wasn't something that would occur often... or so she thought.
She'd only see him when there were new contracts being signed or PR crises that went beyond the silly bickering and gossip his PR team could handle. Neither of those possibilities would be a weekly or monthly reoccurrence.
Oh how wrong she was.
Max didn't know how to pretend. He wouldn't bother acting interested, and he certainly wouldn't bother keeping himself from saying whatever his heart desired.
His bluntness left his PR team exhausted, unfortunately, his PR team couldn't deal with his intense beef with George Russel or the sponsors threatening to pull out.
While she didn't expect to be at the headquarters this often, she didn't mind it. She remembered everyone's coffee orders, names, special days, and she always looked perfect, with her perfect smile, perfect hair, and perfect outfit.
Max couldn't stand it.
But he couldn't stand the curiosity she sparked more than anything else.
He waited for a crack in her perfect facade. A rude comment, a mistake in her work, maybe even chipping on her perfectly polished nails.
So, he began to push her more. Created bigger messes, made it harder for her with his vague answers and cruel coldness. Still, all he received was a bright smile from her.
Bahrain would be the first race weekend she would attend. She had carefully chosen her outfits and packed her essentials.
On the media day, she was chatting with Isabel, a part of Max's PR team. The quiet chatter in the room was silenced naturally the moment Max walked in.
Surprisingly, the rest of the media day went as smooth as it could go for Max.
She was packing up, about to leave the paddock office when she heard a familiar voice call her.
Max.
"Oh, hi!" She beamed as she turned to him, she was certainly tired. But she would never allow herself to show that to anyone.
He had a puzzled look on his face as if he was daring to see past her "perfect" facade.
"You have to attend a sponsor dinner with me tonight." He stated matter-of-factly.
"Yes, I am aware. Don't worry, I won't be late." She explained with a soft smile.
"That damn smile again." He thought as he kept his gaze on her.
"I will pick you up from you hotel room at 7pm." He commanded as he walked out of the room without giving her a chance to respond.
After arriving at her hotel room, she quickly showered, and began getting ready. She was moving faster than her usual pace, but she still made sure she looked as perfect as possible. She was spraying her perfume as she heard a knock on the door.
"Coming!" She announced as she hurried over to the door.
When she opened the door, she was face to face with Max, wearing dress pants and a button-up shirt. The fanciest she'd seen him. She quickly looked away, glad the crimson creeping up her cheeks wasn't noticeable under her makeup as she greeted him.
She was expecting a "hello"... an embarrassed yet hopeful part of her was expecting a compliment from the stone cold man. But, instead she received "Did you pour the whole bottle of perfume on yourself like you do everyday?" As he looked down on her, his eyes scanning her outfit with a small yet noticeable disgusted expression on his face.
The girl who had looked away from him in a hurry to hide her flustered state now looked at the man in front of her with her eyes slightly wide from shock.
She opened her mouth to respond, to defend herself. This was her job after all, she defended for a living.
But when it came to defending herself against a small remark said by the man in front of her, the words wouldn't come out.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize my perfume was bothersome." She managed to get out, her lips curling upwards in the most unnatural way, the hurt evident in her eyes.
But all Max could notice was how the small comment had caused a crack in the flawless face she put up everyday.
He couldn't help but want to completely shatter her faultless facade.
At the dinner, she smiled bright like she always did. No one noticed the way her heavy eyes didn't cooperate with her radiant smile.
But Max noticed.
He also noticed the odd feeling in his chest, but he chose to ignore it.
Soon, she was attending practically every race. The PR team deemed her as their lucky charm. Max didn't cause any PR nightmare whenever she attended a race. No one knew why and no one dared to question it. She simply followed her Horner's instructions.
No one would complain at a chance to attend all the races and network as a lawyer.
She couldn't stand it.
At every chance, Max would throw another subtle, carefree remark at her. Each one crueler than the other yet still said with much nonchalance.
It was race day in Monaco, a particularly hot day. Regardless of the heat, she wore pants.
"Not like I have a choice." She thought.
She was in the RedBull motorhome early, as always. She was on her phone, reading some emails from sponsors when a familiar voice cut through the silence.
“Long pants? In this heat? Seriously?” Max casually said. “You look ridiculous. Are you trying to suffer, or are you just naturally terrible at thinking things through?”
She swallowed thickly as she looked down at her outfit, then back up at the blue orbs staring into her.
She forced out a laugh, the sound insincere and sharp.
Max began to wonder what her real laugh sounded like. Had he even heard it before? Definitely not. He pushes his thoughts aside as he continues with the race day but he can't help but glance at her as she interacted with others.
She was more relaxed than she is around Max. But she was still not entirely acting like herself. There were still some of that facade Max was determined to break through.
The next race weekend was one Max wanted to forget. The 10 second penalty he'd received had placed him 10th, he couldn't believe it.
He had no intentions of speaking to anyone- especially not the media, ready to get on him just to tip him over the edge in front of the cameras for some magazine material.
Y/N knew he was on the edge but the job had obligations that couldn't be overlooked.
She took a deep breath as she knocked on his driver's room door. After hearing a curt "What?" from the angry driver inside, she let herself in.
"Hi, I'm aware right now's probably not the best time for you Max but-" She began speaking, a gin and tonic in her hand, "the sponsors need to meet with you." She finished.
He took in her appearance for a moment. Her hair sleek straight, her makeup done perfectly intact despite the blazing heat in Barcelona, her outfit serious. Worst of all, her glossy lips held a small yet sincere smile- one he hadn't seen her flash before- and he hated the sympathy behind her gaze.
"Why are you even here? You’re not needed, and you know it." He stated.
Her smile fell, she opened her mouth to explain the situation but he cut her off.
"You really think this will make up for being useless?” He declared, eyes pointed at the drink she had brought for him.
The moment the word “useless” left his mouth, something inside her recoiled. It wasn’t just a harsh comment , it was a memory she couldn’t escape.
Her chest tightened, a cold shiver running down her spine. She remembered the nights she had lain awake, hearing the same word echo from her family, over and over. “You’re useless. You’ll never amount to anything.” Every time, it had carved a little hollow inside her, a place where confidence couldn’t grow.
She forced herself to breathe, to stand tall, to push the trembling away. Her fingers tightened around the tray as if holding onto it could anchor her to the present. She swallowed hard, looking at Max, her smile faltering but not disappearing entirely.
“I… I just thought this might help,” she murmured, voice low, shaky only for a moment. Her eyes darted away, ashamed that such a simple word could cut so deep, yet too proud to let him see the full crack.
Max noticed it immediately, the fleeting flicker of vulnerability, the ghost of something deeper. His expression softened just slightly, though his tone stayed cold.
He tilted his head as his eyes studied her. For the briefest moment, he saw it. He saw the way her hands trembled, the way her smile wavered, the almost almost obscure hitch in her breath.
And yet, he said nothing kind.
"Trust me, I don't care about your intetions," he continued, his voice flat, almost surgical as he cut through the wounds she'd desperately fought to heal. "Actions matter more than whatever silly attempts you make."
She pushed the stinging of her heart aside as she forced her jaw tight, blinking rapidly to hold back the anxiety rising in her chest.
"I—” she began, but the words stuck, caught between fear, frustration, and the lingering echo of the past. She placed the tray down with deliberate care, her fingers shaking slightly despite her control.
Max leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes dark and calculating. “Don’t tell me you’re shaking because of me,” he said coldly, though he couldn’t entirely hide the intrigue behind his gaze. “That would be pathetic.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, fury and humiliation battling inside her. She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I’m here because it’s my job,” she said, voice steady but tight. “Not for you, and certainly not for your approval.”
For the first time, he didn’t have an immediate comeback. He’d poked, prodded, and teased countless times, but something in her- the mixture of vulnerability and defiance- held him in place. He could feel it. She was broken in places, yes, but there was fire there too. And that fire intrigued him far more than he cared to admit.
She turned before he could read more on her face, each step purposeful, measured. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, her breath hitched, not from anger alone, but from the old, familiar sting of a word she thought she’d left behind.
a/n: hope you enjoyed! i'll publish the next part in less than 24 hours!
