how f1 drivers react
when they notice you haven't been eating enough (requested)
drivers mentioned: MV33, LN4, OP81, AA23, CS55, CL16, LH44, GR63
-> tw: obviously references to ED behaviours and not eating, reader discretion is advised if this is a trigger for you!
max verstappen
You thought you were being careful. Smiling while he cooked. Saying you were full from lunch and moving the food around your plate just enough to make it seem like you’d eaten more than you had. You knew it was wrong, you should say something, but couldn't find the words.
You thought you were getting away with it.
Then one night, after a particularly long, stressful day, while the two of are getting ready for bed, Max quietly hands you one of his redbull hoodies. It feels like a peace offering. He's silent for a moment, like he too is struggling to the the right words.
“You’ve lost weight.”
You freeze with your arms halfway in the sleeves, eyes wide and aimed at the ground. “What?”
His tone is neutral, forcibly so, but his eyes aren’t. They’re serious. Studying your reaction.
“I can feel it when I hug you,” he says, blunt and truthful. “You’re smaller. You're tired all the time. You barely touched dinner. Not the for the first time, either”
You try to deflect. “I’m fine. It’s just stress...work’s been a lot—”
“I’m not judging,” he interrupts softly, hands on his hips. “But don’t lie to me. Not about this, schatje.”
You stare at the floor, guilt swirling and pooling in your stomach. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing over your hips as if to emphasize what he already noticed. He leans in just enough that his forehead touches yours, leaning against eachother softly.
“I know you think it’s not a big deal. But it is to me,” he murmurs. “I don’t care if it’s small meals, snacks, whatever... but you need somehting. I need to know you’re okay.”
Then, after a long pause, “Please don’t shut me out. Your hurting the woman I care about, I can't let you do that.”
He doesn’t push after that. Just holds you tighter that night. Makes breakfast the next morning and doesn’t say a word when you take the plate. Just smiles a little when you pick up the fork.
lando norris
You’re lying on your stomach across your bed, scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when Lando flops down beside you with a sigh. You laugh at his sudden, unexpected appearance, but it dies out when he you don't hear him join in.
“I’m gonna say something, and you’re not allowed to get weird about it.”
You glance over, up your phone down, suspicious, but trying to lighten the tone. The sudden seriousness leaves you uncomfortable. "Hm, ominous."
He gives you a look, one that says he's not joking for once.
“You haven’t really eaten today. Or much yesterday. And I don’t think that’s nothing.”
You open your mouth to deflect, but Lando cuts in, gentler now.
“I’m not mad. I just… I want you to know that I notice these things. I don't want you to hide this stuff. I'm a... a bit hurt that you thought you had to.”
"I didn't mean to it's just. It's hard to talk about this stuff," you try to explain.
"I know that. Of course, I know that. But we spend hours talking about how I'm going, where my head is at, and that's not a one way street, love."
He nudges your shoulder lightly when you you can't find the words to say. “Let me take care of you, yeah? We’ll order something...anything you want! You don’t even have to leave the bed.”
And when you nod, he grins and kisses your cheek like it’s no big deal...like loving you includes this, too.
oscar piastri
Oscar notices something's off before you say even say anything.
You're out running errands together and get dizzy out of nowhere in the middle of the store. You hand grips his as you try and blink away the blurry spots. He's quick to put a hand on your back to help you stay up right, and even quicker to ask whats wrong.
You try to brush it off , I probably just need water or something, but he doesn’t buy it. The crease between his eyebrows deepens.
“You’ve been lightheaded more than once this week.”
You blink at him, surprised, heart suddenly beating faster than before. “No, I haven't.”
But he nods like you've said the opposite. Eyes searching yours for... something.
“I’ve also noticed you keep skipping breakfast a lot. And lunch, probably, if I'm not home with you. And you’re ‘just tired’ every night.”
Oscar isn’t dramatic about it. He just says it plainly, as truth, fact. But that just makes it harder to brush off.
“I’m worried,” he admits, voice quieter, hand holding yours tightly. “You don’t have to explain it all right now. But I need to know you’re okay... I need to know if you're not.”
You murmur that you're not sure what's going on, and it's the truth. Oscar doesn’t press.
“Let’s get head home. Have something easy. And if you don’t want to talk, we can just sit.”
"I'm sorry," you whisper to him, unsure of what to say.
"Please don't apologise. I love you. I want you to be well."
carlos sainz
You’re on your apartment balcony together, lounging around after a long morning sleep in. Carlos offers to make you breakfast, but you tell him not to bother. You’re not hungry.
He pauses mid-step, one foot inside, one still on the balcony. Looks at you, slightly offended on your behalf.
“No desayuno? Why not?”
You shrug, trying to keep your tone light. “I don’t know. I just… don’t feel like eating, I guess.”
Carlos doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches you. But the crease between his brows deepens, and then he's moving toward you, slowly, like he’s approaching something fragile. Maybe he is.
“You’ve skipped too many meals this week, mi vida. I’m not blind.”
His voice is quiet but firm, that kind of gentle stubbornness you’ve learned not to argue with. The kind that comes from a place of love, not discipline. You look down, suddenly finding it too hard to look Carlos in the eyes, but he doesn’t let the moment slip by so easily.
He finally steps right behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist lightly, and resting his chin on your shoulder. His voice is softer now, words whispered right into your ear like a sweet secret for just the two of you.
“I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to take care of yourself.”
His fingers rub little circles into your sides, grounding and steady.
And before you can come up with a deflection, he’s pulling away just enough to kiss the side of your temple and mutter, “I’ll make something light. You don’t have to finish it. Just try.”
It’s not about food. Not really. It’s about how he wants you well. Wants you cared for. It's about showing you you are loved, and deserve to be taken care of.
alex albon
You're facetiming while he’s away, talking about qualifying, how the pets are doing, your plans for tomorrow, what you did earlier that day, when you offhandedly say, “I had a granola bar today, that counts, right?”
He laughs at first, caught up in your cute rambling. Then stops suddenly, all the humour draining from his face in a milisecond.
“Wait, that was all you had? Actually?”
You realize too late how that sounds. You can't take the words back now, and you can't find it in you to play it off as a complete joke. Part of you wants him to know.
Alex's expression shifts immediately. “Babe… You need to eat. No excuses.”
He leans in closer to the screen, voice suddenly quieter.
“Are you alright? Seriously.”
You start to downplay it, words coming out quickly to cover yourself, you weren't that hungry today, you were busy, you would eat later to make up for it, but he shakes his head gently at each excuse.
“Hey, hey. You don’t need to explain if you’re not ready. I’ve been there, I get it. But I wish you’d told me. I would’ve sent you like… twenty reminders. Or ubereats meals.”
Despite the worry, he smiles at you, soft and sweet, with the kind of look he always has before he leans in to kiss you.
“Okay. We’re ordering food together, right now. Virtual dinner date? I'll get room servivce, order something to the house for you. Yeah?”
You laugh, tear up a little, and agree. He smiles bright at your agreeance, beaming with pride.
charles leclerc
You're halfway through slicing vegetables for dinner when you say it. You'd been tossing up the right words to say all day. Deflecting is an art.
“I’m not really hungry tonight, but you go ahead.”
Charles doesn’t respond right away. Just finishes stirring the pan in front of him, sets the spoon down carefully, and, without another word, switches the stove completely off.
You glance up, confused and stunned. “What are you doing? That's not done yet.”
He simply shrugs. “If you’re not eating, then we’re not cooking.”
There’s no edge in his tone. No accusation. Just quiet finality, as if he had anticipated you not wanting to eat.
You blink, confused. “Charles, that’s ridiculous. You shouldn’t skip dinner just because—”
“Because you are?” he says gently, stepping away from the stove and closer to you. “No, I shouldn’t. But I’m not going to sit here and act like I haven’t noticed what you're doing”
He closes the space between you, wiping his hands on a dish towel before setting it aside.
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, chéri,” he says quietly, searching your expression for the truth of the situation, but coming up empty. “I just want you to take care of yourself. And if I can help, even just a little, I will. If this is what it takes for you to know it is unhealthy, then I will do it.”
Charles reaches out and pulls you gently into his embrace. One hand on your back, the other smoothing your hair behind your ear. When he speaks again, his voice is soft against your skin. “Even if it’s just toast and juice. Even if it’s small. I’ll eat with you.”
You nod slowly, not because you’re convinced you can finish a whole meal, but because the idea of sitting across from him, even with something simple, suddenly feels like something you can do. Something you want to try. For him.
So he kisses your temple, rubs his hand down your back once again, and then says, “I’ll make tea. You pick the bread. Oui?”
lewis hamilton
You’re pacing around, trying to get stuff done, arms filled with knick-knacks you should have put away ages ago, when Lewis gently intercepts you. Hands on your upper arms, holding you still.
“You’ve been running nonstop all day, love. Did you eat yet?”
You wave him off. “I haven’t had time.”
That makes him stop cold. He exhales, long and hard, then walks over and takes your hands in his.
“That’s not okay.”
You go to respond, but Lewis lifts a hand. Gently, calmly stopping you.
“I’m not upset. But I also… don’t think this is the first time you’ve let yourself forget about food. And it’s scaring me a bit.”
“It’s not like that… I promise,” you reply in a hushed tone.
His thumb traces small circles over your knuckles, constant and soft.
“Ok, and I trust you to know if it was like that you could tell me. But I’ve seen what burnout looks like. What forgetting to take care of yourself does. I won’t stand by and watch it happen to you too. I love you too much to watch you crash and burn.”
"Lewis—"
He takes all the clothes and cups from your arms and places them on the table, leaving your hands empty and your heart beating fast.
He leans in and kisses your forehead, hushing you. “Let’s start small. Something warm. Something easy. Please? Gotta make sure my girl is taken care of.”
He doesn’t ask for more. Just reminds you, with every soft word and touch, that you’re worth taking care of, even on the days when you forget how.
george russell
You're lying in bed together when George brings it up for the first time.
"Love, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. Please?"
When you turn to look at him, his face is dead serious, his undereye bags heavy and dark like something’s been worried about something for a while.
"You haven’t been eating enough." He says it quietly, thumb brushing just beneath your cheekbone like he’s afraid he’s already said too much.
"That’s not a question," you reply, a little too fast. A little too defensive.
George doesn’t take the bait. He just watches you for a second, gaze steady but soft. There’s no judgment in it, only worry.
“I know,” he says. “But I’ve been holding it in, waiting for you to come to me, waiting for the right time, and... I guess there isn’t one, is there?”
You sigh, low and long from the weight of everything you've been feeling. He shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.
“I’m not angry. I don't want you to think that. I just...noticed recently. And I didn’t want to corner you, or make you feel.. attacked, but I love you, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t see what’s happening.”
You rest your forehead against his chest, and his hand runs gently up and down your back.
“You don’t have to explain anything right now,” he murmurs. “Just let me help. We can start slow. A good breakfast tomorrow. I’ll make tea. We can talk about it, if you'd like. One thing at a time. Yeah?”
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, none of that. This isn't something you need to apologise for. I got you. We got this."
You nod against him, curling tighter into his soft hold. George presses a soft kiss to the top of your head like a promise. One that says: you’re not doing this alone.
lowkey inspired by both the anon request and the quote "i love you, i want us both to eat well" <3
