ⓘ things they do that you pretend to absolutely hate, but secretly love.
feat. lando norris, oscar piastri, charles leclerc, max verstappen ⨾ est. relationship, fluff, 1.7k wc ノ 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞
LANDO NORRIS . ˚ You hated being in the passenger seat when Lando was driving.
Absolutely “hated” it.
Because the second you got in the car, he suddenly seemed to forget every speed limit in existence, like road signs were just optional decorations and not actual instructions meant to be followed.
“You’re doing it again,” you said, already gripping the seat a little tighter.
“Doing what?” Lando replied, far too casually for someone who was definitely up to something.
The car accelerated—on purpose, of course. Not a mistake. Just Lando deciding that normal driving speed was, in fact, deeply offensive to his character.
“Lando.”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. The worst kind of grin—the one that already meant he had decided to ignore whatever you were about to say.
“You know we’re not on track, right?”
“I’m aware,” he said, far too calm for someone currently treating a normal road like a qualifying lap.
“Then why are you driving like we’re fighting for pole?”
His grin only widened, like that was exactly the reaction he wanted.
And there it was. The reason.
He was showing off.
Like a twelve-year-old boy with a brand-new bicycle, desperate for someone to watch.
“You know I’m not impressed by this,” you said, trying to sound firm, even as you kept your eyes on the road ahead.
“Really?” he asked, glancing at you briefly, grin still there.
“Really.”
The car took the next corner just a little too fast—completely unnecessary, completely intentional.
You immediately grabbed the door handle.
“Lando Norris!”
He laughed under his breath, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “We’ve been dating for too long for you not to be used to my driving, baby.”
What he didn’t say—but absolutely knew—was that you were used to it. That you did think it was a little impressive. That you hated how much you secretly liked the confidence, the control, the way he made everything feel a bit too fast and a bit too exciting.
And that was the real problem. Because he knew it.
“I am used to it. I just value my life,” you said, still holding onto the door handle like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
“Some people would kill for having an F1 driver as a chauffeur, you know,” Lando said, glancing at you with that smug little half-smile that meant he was enjoying this far too much.
You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Maybe I should drive next time.”
The smirk on your face made it worse.
Lando went completely still for half a second—then slowly turned his head toward you like you’d just suggested something deeply personal and deeply dangerous.
“Absolutely not,” he said immediately.
You raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“I value my life too,” he replied, way too quickly.
That made you laugh, because for all his confidence on the road, the idea of you behind the wheel clearly terrified him more than any corner at high speed ever could.
“Interesting,” you said softly, leaning back into the seat. “So you trust yourself with my life… but not me with yours?”
“Exactly.”
OSCAR PIASTRI . ˚ You breaking your phone should not have been a big deal.
In theory.
In reality, it absolutely was.
One second it was in your hand, the next it was slipping, hitting the floor, and lighting up one last time like it was saying goodbye before completely dying.
“No—no, no, no,” you gasped, crouching down immediately. “Are you serious right now?”
You pressed the power button. Nothing. Again. Nothing.
“Oh my God.”
Oscar looked over from where he was sitting, your panic barely registering on his face yet. “What happened?”
“My phone just died,” you said, voice rising slightly. “Like properly died. It’s gone. Everything is gone!”
“It’s fine,” he said calmly.
“It’s not fine,” you snapped instantly. “There are photos, messages, everything—this is literally my whole life.”
Oscar stood up, walked over, and gently took the phone from your hands like it wasn’t currently a disaster.
“Calm down,” he said simply. “We’ll buy a new one.”
“That’s not the point!”
He glanced at the screen, then back at you. Still completely unbothered. “It kind of is the point.”
You stared at him. “How are you so calm right now?”
Oscar shrugged slightly, like the answer was obvious. “Because it’s just a phone.”
That made you stop.
Just for a second.
Because to you, it felt like everything crashing at once. To him, it was just… a thing that broke.
He reached for your hand without making a big deal out of it, tugging you slightly closer.
“We can back it up,” he added. “Get a new one. Nothing’s actually ruined.”
You wanted to argue.
You really did.
But the longer you stood there, the more your breathing slowed to match his. The more your panic felt a little… too big for the situation.
And that was the thing with Oscar.
He never made your feelings feel stupid.
He just quietly showed you when they were bigger than reality.
Later, when you had a new phone and everything was fine again, you still thought about it.
How he didn’t panic. How he didn’t make it worse.
How he just stayed calm until you could be calm too.
And annoyingly enough…
You loved that about him.
CHARLES LECLERC . ˚ You didn’t even notice it at first.
It started small.
Harmless, almost.
You were sitting nearby when Charles was on a call with one of his sponsors, speaking in that smooth, professional tone you’d only ever hear him use in interviews.
Everything about him looked serious. Focused. Perfectly composed.
Until you heard it.
“Yeah, it’s been a busy week,” he said into the phone, nodding slightly. “Me and Y/n went to dinner after training, it was… nice.”
You blinked.
Me and Y/n?
You weren’t even part of the conversation.
You were literally just sitting there drinking water.
The call continued, and you tried to ignore it. Maybe it was a one-off thing. A slip. Nothing weird.
It wasn’t.
“Me and Y/n were in Paris last weekend actually,” he added later, like it was completely relevant to business strategy. “She loves it there, you know?” You slowly lowered your bottle.
Excuse me?
He smiled slightly at something the person said on the other end, completely unaware that your soul was leaving your body in real time.
It became a pattern.
Work interviews. Sponsor calls. Random media bits you weren’t even present for.
Somehow, everything circled back to you.
“How do you handle pressure?” “Honestly, it helps when I’m with Y/n”.
“What do you do to relax?” “Usually just spend time with Y/n.”
You finally confronted him about it one night.
“You know not every answer has to include me, right?” you said, leaning against the counter as he scrolled through his phone.
Charles looked up, confused. “Why not?”
“Because sometimes they’re asking about you.”
He frowned slightly, like that concept didn’t really compute. “But I am me and you are part of my life.”
“That’s not the point,” you muttered, trying not to smile.
But he just shrugged, completely unbothered. “It’s honest.”
And the worst part?
It was.
Because when he wasn’t talking about racing, or sponsors, or anything else in his world…
He was thinking about you anyway.
Always you.
So eventually, you stopped fighting it. You just accepted it and eventually started loving it.
MAX VERSTAPPEN . ˚ You had barely survived the week.
Emails, deadlines, mistakes you didn’t even make but somehow had to fix anyway. By Friday you were exhausted in a way that made even sitting on the couch feel like effort.
So when Max asked how it went, you just sighed.
“Bad week,” you said simply. “Everything went wrong.”
You didn’t think much of it after that.
Max nodded once, like he’d registered the information, then pulled you into his side without saying anything else.
You assumed that was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Two days later, he came home and handed you a small box like it was nothing. No explanation. No warning. Just that calm, unreadable expression he always wore when he’d already decided something.
You opened it.
And froze.
A diamond necklace.
Not subtle. Not small. Not remotely casual.
“What is this?” you asked immediately, sitting up straight. “Max—no. This is too much.”
“It’s fine,” he said, already taking off his jacket.
“This is not fine,” you shot back, still staring at it like it might disappear if you blinked. “This is a necklace for a major life event. Not a… not a bad week at work.”
He glanced at you, completely unbothered. “You had a bad week.”
“Yes, so I get like—chocolate. Or takeout. Not… jewelry that looks like it belongs in a museum.”
Max shrugged slightly, like the scale of it made perfect sense in his world. “It’s just a necklace.”
You stared at him.
“It is not just a necklace.”
But he was already walking past you, like the conversation was done in his mind.
And that was the thing with Max.
He didn’t do small gestures when it came to you.
There was no mental scale where “bad week” sat at “reasonable comfort.”
To him, if something made you tired, annoyed, stressed—he fixed it in the biggest way possible.
Like anything less wouldn’t be enough.
You looked back down at the necklace, then toward him.
“You know,” you muttered, “normal people get flowers.”
Max paused. “Do you want flowers as well?”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands.
Because of course he would take it literally.
And of course, tomorrow there would probably be both.
You looked at him again, still holding the box like it might suddenly become less expensive if you stared at it long enough.
“Thank you, Max,” you said softly. Then, a little more serious, “I love you, but you really don’t know what to do with your money.”
Max just shrugged, completely unbothered, like that wasn’t even a problem worth solving.
“Does this mean I can buy another sim?” he asked, a faint grin forming as he leaned back against the counter.
You blinked at him.
Of course that was where his brain went.
“Absolutely not,” you said immediately, but you were already laughing despite yourself. “Not even a little bit.”
His grin widened like he’d at least tried his luck and was satisfied with the answer anyway.
— 🪷 lils speak ! hi hello!! i got inspired by few blogs on here so I decided to start writing too… so here i am! be kind to me world 🫶🏻. english is not my first language so please bear with me! see you on my next work ❤︎
