#fc43 fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writetheidea · 4 days ago

Text

Too Much to Be Enough - part 2

Hi, I wrote the second part of this fanfiction while juggling my thesis, so I apologize if there are any mistakes. Please feel free to point them out in my DMs or asks—I'd really appreciate it. I couldn't bring myself to just write pure fluff without adding a bit of angst. As I mentioned in the story, rebuilding trust isn't a straightforward process. I hope you enjoy it!

Part 1

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: after deeply hurting his girlfriend, Franco learns how hard it is to rebuild their relationship, learning that trust, once broken, is a delicate and painstaking process to restore.

Tag: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3178

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

Franco had always been a man of control. On the racetrack, precision wasn’t just a skill; it was survival. Every turn, every decision, required complete mastery over chaos. Off the track, he wasn’t much different, carrying that same calculated demeanor into his personal life. The way he managed his career, his relationships, even the smallest aspects of his daily routine, all reflected his need to remain unshakable. Control was his armor, his identity. But this—watching the woman he loved drift further away because of his carelessness—was a storm he couldn’t navigate.

He had made a mistake. A single moment of thoughtlessness, a few careless words, the laughter that followed, had been enough to tear open the foundation of trust they had spent years building. The memory replayed endlessly in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless tide. He could see it all too clearly: the way her face fell, how her voice quivered when she confronted him. She hadn’t screamed or shouted; she hadn’t even cried at first. She had just gone quiet, her silence heavier than any words could have been. It spoke of wounds too deep for words, a disappointment that no apology could touch.

At first, he had thought the tension might dissipate after a day or two. He had underestimated the depth of the wound he had inflicted. What followed was a purgatory of silence. She didn’t leave outright, but her presence was a ghost of what it had been. She avoided his touch, his gaze, even his attempts at conversation. The vibrant, warm woman he loved so fiercely had become a shadow, navigating their shared spaces like a stranger. Franco’s every attempt to bridge the gap between them fell flat—flowers went untouched, her favorite pastries remained uneaten, and the small notes he left for her disappeared without acknowledgment. It was as though she was erasing him piece by piece, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The silence was unbearable. He missed her laughter, the way she would light up when she spoke about her favorite books or dreams for the future. He missed the way she would reach for him instinctively, as though he was her safe harbor. Now, he felt like a trespasser in his own life, each moment with her a painful reminder of what he had broken.

On the third night after the fight, Franco found himself sitting on their couch, his hands clasped tightly together. The room felt impossibly large, every corner of it carrying memories of better times. He could picture her curled up on the other side of the couch, her laughter filling the space as she recounted some silly anecdote or read him a passage from one of her favorite books. Now, the silence was deafening. He had spent hours going over what he might say to her, how he might begin to repair what he had broken, but words failed him.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I can’t stand this. Tell me what to do—tell me how to make this right.”

She didn’t even look at him, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. “What’s the point?” she said quietly. “You’ve already shown me what you think of me. You agreed with them, Franco. You laughed at me like I was a joke.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Franco felt the full weight of her hurt settle over him. “That’s not true,” he said desperately. “I wasn’t thinking—”

“No,” she interrupted, finally turning to face him, her eyes flashing with rare anger. “You weren’t thinking. But that doesn’t change what you said. Or what you did.” Her voice cracked, and for the first time, Franco could see just how deeply he had hurt her. “Do you even understand how small that made me feel? Like I was some kind of joke? Like I’ll never be enough for you?”

She paused, her face now showing the pain she had been harboring beneath the surface “What else do you want me to say, Franco? That I’m hurt? That I feel like I’ll never be enough for you now? You already know that”

Her words cut deeper than any insult, the quiet resignation in her voice tearing him apart. “You are enough,” he said fervently, reaching for her hand. “You’ve always been enough. I was stupid, careless—I didn’t mean what I said.”

“But you did,” she replied, pulling her hand away. “Maybe you didn’t mean for me to hear it, but you meant it. And I can’t unhear it, Franco. I can’t forget the way you agreed with them, the way you laughed about me like I was some… inconvenience.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Franco felt his chest tighten, guilt clawing at him like a relentless tide. “I love you,” he said desperately. “I love everything about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t lose you.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find some trace of the man she had once trusted so completely. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “And right now, being with you… it hurts.”

His throat tightened as he searched for words, but there was nothing he could say that would undo the damage. “You are everything to me,” he said finally, his voice raw. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if I have to.”

-----

But words weren’t enough, and he knew it. That night, she moved to the guest room, leaving their bed and a gaping void in his heart. He lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment he had failed her, every time he had taken her love for granted. He thought of her kindness, her patience, the way she had always believed in him, even when he doubted himself. And now, when she needed him most, he had failed to be the man she deserved.

The next morning, he woke to find her gone. A note on the counter said she was staying with a friend for a few days. He stared at the words until they blurred, his chest aching with the realization that she needed space from him—that being near him caused her pain. He couldn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear.

He threw himself into trying to make amends, even if she wasn’t there to see it. He cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, cooked her favorite meals, and set the table with candles and fresh flowers every day, hoping it might offer a small measure of comfort when she returned. The evening when she finally walked through the door, she paused, her eyes scanning the room before landing on him.

“What’s all this?” she asked, her voice wary.

“I thought we could have dinner together,” he said, his voice hesitant. “I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I thought… I just wanted to do something for you.”

She hesitated for a moment before sitting down at the table. They ate in near silence, the tension between them almost unbearable. He tried to ask about her day, her friend, anything to fill the void, but her answers were curt, her gaze fixed on her plate. By the time they finished, Franco felt more defeated than ever.

As she stood to leave, he reached for her hand, his grip gentle but firm. “Please. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said. “Just tell me how to make this better.”

She looked down at him, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “I don’t know if you can,” she said softly. “But if you want to try, then stop looking for shortcuts. This isn’t about flowers or dinners. It’s about showing me that I matter to you—not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard. It’s about showing me—every day—that you love me for who I am, not despite it.”

-----

From that moment on, Franco dedicated himself to proving his love, not through grand gestures but in the quiet, unremarkable moments of daily life. He began paying attention to the things she cared about—remembering the books she mentioned wanting to read, making sure her favorite tea was always stocked in the pantry, and taking over chores she usually handled so she wouldn’t have to. He didn’t push her to talk or try to force her forgiveness; instead, he gave her the space she needed, even when it hurt to keep his distance.

The process was slow and often discouraging. There were days when she barely acknowledged his efforts, her walls still firmly in place. But there were also small victories—like the time she laughed, a soft, unguarded sound that felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Or the day she found a note he had left in her book that simply said, “I see you. And I love you.” She didn’t say anything about it, but later that evening, she made them tea and sat beside him on the couch, the silence between them no longer quite so heavy.

-----

Franco thought he was making progress. Slowly but surely, she was beginning to let him in again. The walls she’d built around herself were still there, but they had started to crack. She smiled a little more often, lingered at the dinner table to talk about her day, and once, when they were watching an old movie on the couch, she leaned into him without pulling away. Each small step felt monumental, and Franco held onto the hope that one day, she might fully trust him again.

But trust, he learned, was fragile.

It happened at a party—a glamorous event hosted by one of Franco’s sponsors. He had been reluctant to go, worried about the strain it might put on their delicate truce, but she had insisted. “You shouldn’t have to give up your life because of me,” she said. He had taken her words as a sign that things were improving between them, a sign that she was ready to be part of his world again.

The evening started well enough. She looked stunning in a sleek, dark dress, her hair framing her face. Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her, and for a moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the room. They mingled with the crowd, exchanging polite pleasantries with sponsors and fellow racers. She held her own beautifully, her sharp wit and quiet confidence earning smiles and laughter from everyone she spoke to.

Then came the moment that undid everything.

Franco had stepped away to get them drinks, and when he returned, he overheard a group of men making crude jokes about her. The words were vile—reducing her to nothing more than a pretty accessory, a trophy to be paraded around. Franco’s blood boiled, but instead of stepping in to defend her, he froze. He laughed awkwardly, muttered something dismissive, and walked away.

What he didn’t realize was that she had overheard, her expression a mask of disbelief and hurt as she stood just out of view.

Later that night, as they drove home, the tension in the car was suffocating. She stared out the window, silent, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Franco tried to fill the void with small talk, but each word felt hollow.

Finally, she turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, though he already knew.

“I heard them, Franco. I heard what they said about me. And I heard you laugh. Again.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean what? To defend me? To show them that I’m more than the joke they made me out to be?” Her voice cracked, and she turned away, shaking her head. “I thought you were different. I thought you respected me.”

“I do respect you,” he said, his voice rising. “I didn’t know what to say—I panicked.”

“Panicked?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “I was standing there, Franco. Listening to them degrade me, waiting for you to have my back. And you panicked?”

The argument spilled into their apartment, growing louder and more painful with each passing moment. By the time it was over, she was packing a bag, tears streaming down her face as she threw clothes into a suitcase.

“Please don’t do this,” Franco said, his voice raw. “Don’t leave. We can fix this.”

She stopped, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the suitcase. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said, her voice shaking. “This isn’t just about tonight. It’s about every time you’ve made me feel small, every time you’ve chosen your pride or your reputation over me. I can’t do this anymore.”

And with that, she was gone.

-----

The months that followed were the darkest of Franco’s life. She didn’t answer his calls or texts, and when he went to her friend’s house to see her, he was turned away at the door. For the first time, he had to confront the possibility that he might have lost her for good.

Franco threw himself into therapy, desperate to understand why he kept sabotaging the one thing that mattered most to him. His sessions were grueling, forcing him to confront parts of himself he had long ignored—the insecurities he buried beneath his arrogance, the fear of vulnerability that drove him to push people away.

He also began writing her letters, pouring his heart onto the page in a way he had never been able to do in person. He didn’t know if she would ever read them, but it was the only way he could process his feelings.

Months passed. Slowly, Franco began to change—not for her, but for himself. He realized that he couldn’t ask her to come back if he wasn’t willing to become the man she deserved.

Then, one day, he received an unexpected text.

“Meet me at the park tomorrow at 2.”

His heart leapt, but he forced himself to temper his expectations. When he arrived, she was sitting on a bench, her posture stiff, her expression guarded.

“I got your letters,” she said, her voice quiet.

“And?” he asked, his heart pounding.

“They were… honest,” she admitted. “But honesty doesn’t erase what happened.”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me—not yet, maybe not ever. But I want you to know that I’m trying. I’m working on myself, and not just because I want you back. I need to be better, for me. For whoever I become, with or without you.”

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “I don’t know if I can trust you again,” she said finally. “But I’m willing to try. Slowly. On my terms.”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-----

True to her word, she made Franco work for her trust. There were no shortcuts, no grand declarations that could fix what was broken. If he wanted to be in her life again, he had to earn his place every single day.

Their relationship became a fragile thread, held together by small, cautious interactions. They started meeting once a week for coffee, their conversations polite but distant. She kept him at arm’s length, her walls firmly in place. Franco didn’t push; he simply showed up, week after week, ready to prove himself.

One day, as they walked through the park after coffee, she turned to him abruptly. “Why didn’t you stand up for me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The question caught him off guard, but he didn’t shy away from it. “Because I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid of looking weak, afraid of being judged. But mostly… afraid that if I stood up for you and got it wrong, you’d see me as a failure.”

Her eyes softened, but her expression remained guarded. “And now?”

“Now I realize that failing you is worse than failing in front of anyone else,” he said. “If I ever get the chance again, I promise you, I won’t let you down.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “We’ll see.”

The weeks turned into months, and their connection began to deepen again. She started sharing more of herself, though cautiously, and Franco matched her vulnerability with his own. He told her about the therapy sessions, about the childhood insecurities that had shaped his need for control and approval. It was a side of him she had never seen before, and while it didn’t erase the past, it gave her hope that he was truly changing.

-----

It wasn’t a single moment that brought them back together, but a series of small ones—acts of kindness, vulnerability, and unwavering support. Franco became a man she could rely on, not just in words but in actions. He stood up for her, prioritized her needs, and made her feel seen and valued in every aspect of their lives.

There were moments when he doubted himself, wondering if he was fighting a losing battle. And there were nights when he lay awake, haunted by the memory of her tears, the sound of her voice breaking as she told him how much he had hurt her. Through it all, he held onto the hope that one day, she would see how much he loved her—that she would believe it, not because he said it, but because he showed it in every action, every choice he made.

One rainy afternoon, he decided to try something different. He pulled out a cookbook she had always loved but rarely used and flipped to a page with a recipe for her favorite cake. He was hopeless in the kitchen, but he wanted to try—to show her that he was willing to make an effort, no matter how small. When she came home and found him fumbling with ingredients, the sight stopped her in her tracks.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tinged with incredulity.

“Trying to make your cake,” he said, holding up a whisk like it was a weapon. “It’s probably going to be terrible, but I thought—”

She interrupted him with a soft laugh. “You’re going to burn the kitchen down.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “But I figured it was worth the risk.”

She stepped toward him, closing the distance that had felt insurmountable for so long. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her tone was warm, her eyes soft as she reached for the whisk. “Let me help you.”

As they cooked together, bumping elbows and laughing at his mistakes, Franco felt something shift. It wasn’t complete trust—not yet—but it was a beginning. And as he watched her smile, he realized that this was what love was: not grand gestures or perfect moments, but showing up, every day, and choosing each other even when it was hard.

349 notes · View notes

harrysfolklore · 1 month ago

Text

what's a soft launch? - fc43

summary: fraco's girlfriend wants him to soft launch their relatioship but franco has no idea of what a soft launch is. based on this request

folkie radio: ANOTHER FRANCO SMAU !! i'm currently working on a long franco fic so consider this a little treat while i finish that one👀 i hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | PATREON

liked my francolapinto, yourbff and 378 others

yourinstagram im the proudest girlfriend in the world because my boy is officially F1 DRIVER !! 🥹 go crush it my love 💙

view all comments

yourbff cuties 😍😍

username1 vamos franco !!

username2 ahhh congrats franco

username3 you’re officially a formula 1 WAG now how cool

username4 don’t forget me when you become the next alexandra saint mleux

username5 yaaayy for franco

username6 my favorite couple before you get viral

francolapinto te quiero hermosa 😍😍❤️

↳ yourinstagram 🥰🥰😚

liked by alex_albon, yourinstagram and 701,628 others

francolapinto VAMOS! excited for my first race in monza this weekend 🇮🇹

view all comments

username1 YAAAS

username2 hello ???? he’s gorgeous

username3 UMMM i was sad about logan but look at THIS

alex_albon 👏👏👏 Welcome !

landonorris let’s have some funnn

username4 IS HE SINGLE????

↳ username1 from what i’ve gathered, he has posts with a girl from last year but nothing recent (the girl’s account is private)

↳ username2 HES SINGLE WE WON

williamsracing 💙

username5 I HAVE MY NEW GRID CRUSH

yourinstagram 😍😍🤤 my man

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by francolapinto, yourbff and 375 others

yourinstagram cheering on my baby from home 🥺💙 VAMOS FRANCO !!

view all comments

yourbff YAYYY💘

username1 vamosss franco

username2 get your paddock passes girl

username3 gorgeous 😍

username4 we need your WAG debut

username5 🙌🙌🙌🙌

username6 i need that hoodie !!

francolapinto 😍😍😍

francolapinto i miss you so muchhh i love you

↳ yourinstagram love you forever

liked by yourinstagram, pierregasly and 587,638 others

francolapinto Que dia inolvidable… thank you so much for this opportunity 🇦🇷🤍💙🥹

view all comments

username1 KING

username2 franco colapinto consider me your fan

username3 HES SO DAMN HOT

williamsracing VAMOS 🙌

username4 LET ME BE YOUR WOMAN

username5 i can’t believe a man THIS hot is single

charles_leclerc Welcome 👌👌

username6 i bet he’s on raya and i’m not giving up until i find him

username7 both him and lando being single.. paris is my favorite city

username8 FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

username9 how long until he starts dating the journalist that kept flirting with him

yourinstagram 😍😍😍

yourinstagram mi amor ❤️

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

francolapinto im only yourssss bonita, always

↳ yourinstagram 🥹

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by francolapinto, yourbff and 398 others

yourinstagram a few days of rest and relaxation with mi amor 🥰

view all comments

username1 cutiesss

username2 my favorite anonymous WAG

yourbff my babies <33

username3 😍😍😍

username4 girl when are you going to the paddock?

↳ yourinstagram sooon

username5 i’m your biggest fan

username6 couple goals

francolapinto I love youuu😘😘😘

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 3,987 others

f1gossip During Williams' latest podcast episode, Alex Albon joked that Franco Colapinto's superpower was "his ability to charm all the ladies everywhere", Franco said that no one is charming him because he has a girlfriend 👀

view all comments

username1 HUHHH

username2 franco is so strange

username3 i know his ass is lying

username4 WHAT HAPPENED TO THE ORIGINAL PLOT OF THE MOVIEEEEE

username5 sometimes i don't understand what's up with him

username6 watch him flirt with all the interviewers tomorrow tho

username7 NOO FRANCO YOU'RE SINGLE

username8 he's lying his ass offffff

username9 pics or didn't happen

liked by francolapinto, lilymhe and 402 others

yourinstagram my first grand prix weeked. no biggie im ready

view all comments

username1 yayy about time girl!

yourbff HAVE FUN and don't forget to send me pics 💕

username2 my favorite WAG

lilymhe welcome to our silly world 💙

↳ yourinstagram love you already !

carmenmmundt So nice to meet you sweetie!

↳ yourinstagram likewise 🥺

username3 you're going to change us for your new wag friends

↳ yourinstagram neverrr

lilyzneimer 🤩

francolapinto My girl and now everyone will know 😉

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by francolapinto, yourinstagram and 865,088 others

williamsracing Love is in the air in Austin 💙

tagged: francolapinto, yourinstagram

view all comments

username1 OMFG??

username2 NOT WILLIAMS EXPOSING HER INSTA

username3 WAIT i saw pics of franco tagging her BUT I DIDN'T THINK THEY WERE A COUPLE

username4 AHHH HER INSTA IS PRIVATE

lilymhe ��💕💕

username5 franco colapinto is the coolest driver the grid had seen recently

username6 GET FRANCO A SEAT

username7 they said fuck a soft launch

username8 THAT SHOULD BE ME

francolapinto 😍😍

yourinstagram 🥺

liked by username1, username2 and 5,099 others

f1gossip "My girlfriend is over there, she said she wanted to do something called sub lunch, or what was it called? Soft launch, yeah that. No hablo ingles no se que es, I just brought her with me so everyone can see I'm happily taken" - Franco for Sky before the race 😭😭

view all comments

username1 FRANCO OMFG

username2 hes so unintentionally funny

username3 him saying that he doesn't know what a soft launch is bc he doesn't speak english was me ROLLING

username4 franco the man that you are

username5 I CANT DO THIS 😩😩😩

username6 i need him bibically

username7 HES SO MESSY

username8 i need this or nothing

yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

lilymhe where have you been all my life?

↳ yourinstagram in the junior formulas 😂😂

yourbff my favorite WAG

francolapinto hermosa 😍😍

↳ yourinstagram love you so damn muuuch

username1 feed the people put the instagram public

↳ yourinstagram maybe...

liked by francolapinto, lilymhe and 348,099 others

yourinstagram he didn't understand the concept of a soft launch so we had to do this in the middle of the paddock 😅 love you so much mi amor @/francolapinto

view all comments

username1 AHHH

username2 HER INSTA IS PUBLIC NOW

username3 all the boyfriend content here im going insane

lilymhe cuties 💕

↳ alex_albon We need to step up our game

↳ lilymhe definitely

↳ username1 i love them sm

username5 THIS SHOULD'VE BEEN ME

username6 franco colapinto being a simp in a long term relationship wasn't on my bingo card

username7 can we talk about how pretty she is tho?

username8 THANK YOU FOR LETTING US IN BESTIE

francisca.cgomes my new bestie actually!

↳ yourinstagram love you already 🥺

↳ username2 AHHH BEST WAGS

username9 scrolled all the way down and she has the cutest posts about franco i cant

username10 IM SO JEALOUS

username11 franco not knowing what a soft launch is PEAK COMEDY

francolapinto love you hermosa 😍

↳ yourinstagram 😙😙😙

liked by yourinstagram, alex_albon and 1,022,379 others

francolapinto what's a soft launch?

view all comments

username1 FRANCOOOOO

username2 i love him so bad

username3 HOW TO MAKE A FORMULA 1 TEAM FOR FRANCO COLAPINTO FROM SCRATCH

username4 this man is so messy i cant help but love him

oscarpiastri I didn't know what that meant either, don't worry

↳ username1 LORD HELP ME 😭😭

olliebearman 🙌

username5 FRANCO LET ME BE YOUR WOMAN 😩😩

username6 franco is really a SIMP and not a fuckboy like everyone thought WE WON

williamsracing We love to see it💙💙

username7 wiki how to have franco's gfs life

username8 CRYING

username9 franco don't you ever gatekeep her from us again we need her at every race

yourinstagram i'm the luckiest ever 💕

↳ username1 AND YOU ARE

↳ francolapinto love you forever hermosa

3K notes · View notes

afterglowsainz · 2 months ago

Text

don’t smile | franco colapinto

pairing: engineer!reader x franco colapinto

summary: after franco signs with williams to finish the 2024 season, your relationship takes a punch

fc: different girls from pinterest

a/n: as you can tell, i just love a good star-cross lovers trope

—

liked by yourusername, bizarrap and others

francolapinto i’ve had the happiest two years next to you amor, happy anniversary ❤️

tagged yourusername

view all comments

username they’re so cute 🥹

username they’re the true williams it couple

username crying screaming not jealous at all

username if you look closely you can see me crying in the corner

username they’re so lovely together 💗

yourusername i love you! ❤️

francolapinto i love you more, i’m the happiest man ever ❤️

liked by francolapinto, zak.osullivan and others

yourusername ready to make car number 2 go vroom vroom 🏎

view all comments

username icon!

username i need that hoodie immediately, thank you

francolapinto the most talented �� (liked by yourusername)

bffusername you’re so smart i love you 😭

yourusername miss you! ❤️‍🩹

username she really is everything ✨

username y/n pleaseee give me just ONE chance i’m begging

liked by yourusername, logansargeant and others

francolapinto imola was nice to me 🇮🇹

view all comments

yourusername THE SPRINT RACE WINNER 😭❤️🇮🇹

francolapinto ☺️☺️

username +1000 aura points

username great race!

username OBSESSED

williamsracing vamos francooo 🇦🇷

username insane!

liked by bffusername, lilymhe and others

🔒yourusername 🌊

view all comments

username ohhh so beautiful

username where’s franco 🥺

username why is her account private now?

username bestie your boyfriend is about to debut in f1 and you’re taking sad pictures at the beach? 😭

username so rude and for what

bffusername the prettiest💗

yourusername ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

username the view 😍

liked by williamsracing, alex_albon and others

francolapinto a dream come true 🥹

view all comments

username congrats franco! best of luck

username amazing work!

username amazing to have new young drivers on the grid 🙌🏽

username love this but is missing someone 👀

username no because where is y/n 😭

username i was so excited that we would get more content of them together and now they don’t event interact with each other

username did they forgot they were dating or what 😩

liked by bffusername, carmenmmundt and others

🔒yourusername in my short n’ sweet era 💋

view all comments

username so don’t smile type of short n’ sweet okay i see 😔

username noooo they unfollowed each other it’s over 😭

username why do hot people have to suffer

username no but don’t smile is a crazy song to relate to

username how awkward is it going to be working at the same place 😬

username why would they broke up in the first place 😭

bffusername lucky for you i’m also in my short n’ sweet era

yourusername twins!

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto one shot #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fluff #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one #formula one x reader #franco colapinto x y/n #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto fanfic #fc43 #smau #franco colapinto smau #f1 smau #formula 1 smau #social media au #sabrina carpenter

2K notes · View notes

taasgirl · 28 days ago

Text

i like me better - franco colapinto

summary: franco and driver!reader seem to be getting closer, through their shared social media interaction. once y/n gets her first fp1 drive, everything falls into place.

a/n: everything is fictional, and there is no face claim! enjoy :)

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, and 563, 982 others ynusername trading four wheels for two this weekend 😉

mercedesamgf1 Please get off the bike y/n

lilymhe IS THAT A BABY Y/N PIC I SEE

ynusername hehe maybe

landonorris I know toto died seeing you post this liked by ynusername

motogp Fancy a weekend with us?

ynusername OH MY GOD I THOUGH YOU'D NEVER ASK team_toto_wolff No Y/n.

lewishamilton 🩷

ynusername hey dad!

liked by francolapinto, oscarpiastri, and 3, 872, 440 others landonorris Summer break you will be missed

danielricciardo Mate you're so ugly

landonorris Smd old man

mclaren Pls tell us that you didn't actually go dirt biking

landonorris Don't worry I was with y/n mclaren That makes it worse

ynusername I'm on a mission to take the whole grid on a dirt biking adventure, who's next bitchessss

francolapinto Me me me I volunteer landonorris Someone's eager 😏

view ynusername's story...

caption: track limits at turn 7 stewards go get their asses

liked by francolapinto, lewishamilton, and 711, 923 others ynusername excited to take lewis' car out for a spin in fp1 #justiceforreservedrivers

lewishamilton Don't pull a Kimi

kimi.antonelli What the hell Lewis

landonorris awww baby y/n

landonorris Still hasn't achieved her goals of racing in f1 hehe ynusername just for that i'm running u off track tomorrow xx

francolapinto Congratulations Y/N! I'm excited to see you out there

ynusername thanks franco!!

patriciooward I agree #justiceforreservedrivers liked by ynusername

liked by ynusername, lewishamilton, and 5, 720, 816 others mercedesamgf1 Celebratory hugs between Y/N and Lewis following Y/N's superb FP1 drive!

tagged: ynusername & lewishamilton

ynusername Maybe like I can replace the dinosaur or something aha...

francolapinto My favourite driver as a child and my favourite driver as an adult together 🤗

ynusername wow thank you franco! landonorris Boy you are NOT slick

lewishamilton The 🐐

lewishamilton And Y/n.

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, and 142, 674 others ynusername some funny photos from a very fun weekend

francolapinto Come on you post my teammate but not me?

ynusername maybe you should visit me often then 🤷‍♀️

georgerussell63 Is that Toto...

ynusername affirmative

landonorris Trust in y/n to expose the grid hmmm

alex_albon Wow @/georgerussell63 looking sexy

lilymhe Stop hitting on GEORGE

lewishamilton ⭐ liked by ynusername

francolapinto Penalty for eating ice cream during race week

ynusername booooo someone throw tomatoes on him

user53 DOUBLE FRANCO COMMENTS

liked by alex_albon, ynusername, and 1, 448, 925 others francolapinto Good weekend 😁

tagged: williamsracing & alex_albon

alex_albon Mate does not live up to the hype sorry Franco

ynusername what the actual hell are you doing to that car in the second photo

francolapinto I can show you later if you'd like This comment was deleted

ynusername also you expect me to post you but you don't even post me smh

francolapinto You go first then

landonorris holy shit I saw that comment franco

williamsracing We're pretending that we didn't!

view ynusername's story...

caption: fine I'll go first @/francolapinto

view francolapinto's story...

caption: She clearly doesn't like paparazzi

liked by oscarpiastri, paularon, and 2, 630, 727 others francolapinto I might fall off but at least a pretty girl can give me CPR

tagged: ynusername

landonoriss FUCKING FINALY

lewishamilton I'm keeping my eye on you Franco

francolapinto 😅

ynusername awww you think I'm pretty?

francolapinto I'm happy to repeat myself francolapinto You are the prettiest girl I've ever met

williamsracing Please do not fall off

view ynusername's story...

caption: how is he a formula one driver and still so uncoordinated

how did we like this guys? ALSO why the hell are there no new photos of franco on pinterest like damn. Let me know if you like this and as always reqs are open!

1K notes · View notes

wethotcrazy · 23 days ago

Text

CAN'T CONTROL IT

pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 739

just something a little short and sweet for franco colapinto. also i think the can't control their mouth and can't control their face would suit him well?! idk bro

The F1 social media team had a new favorite hobby: catching YN's reactions to everything Franco Colapinto did.

It started during pre-season testing in Bahrain. Franco, fresh in his Williams racing suit, had spun on his installation lap – a rookie mistake that had the paddock chuckling. The TV director, whether by instinct or divine intervention, cut immediately to YN in the Alpine garage.

Her expression was poetry in motion: eyes rolling skyward, lips pressed together to suppress a smile, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I can't believe this" and "that's my idiot" in one fluid movement.

The clip went viral within hours.

"Have you seen this?" Franco bounded into the Alpine hospitality area, phone already extended. "'Every Time YN Dies Inside Watching Franco Colapinto: Testing Edition' – they even put sad violin music over your faces!"

YN didn't need to look. She'd already seen the compilation – a masterfully edited collection of her various reactions to Franco's testing adventures. Her personal favorite was the slow-motion zoom on her face when he'd described his first F1 car as "spicy."

"I'm starting to think you do these things on purpose," she muttered, but her treacherous face was already softening at his enthusiasm.

"Maybe I just like seeing your reactions," he winked, dropping into the seat beside her. "Remember in F3 when you said your face wasn't that expressive?"

"Remember in F2 when you said you'd learned to think before speaking?"

His laugh echoed through the hospitality area. "Some things never change, no?"

The Australian GP brought new material for the ever-growing collection of "YN Can't Control Her Face" content. As Alpine's reserve driver, she was in the garage when Franco scored his first F1 points – a remarkable P8 in a chaotic race.

His radio message was pure, unfiltered Franco: "P8! P8! YN, are you watching? Better than that time in F2 when you said I'd never score points because I was too busy talking!"

The cameras found her instantly: pride blooming across her features before she could school them into professional neutrality.

"Every time they show your face, the comments explode," Esteban teased later. "I think you've got more screen time than some of the actual drivers."

YN groaned. "Don't remind me. Someone made a TikTok trend out of my different 'Franco Reactions.'"

"At least you're not 'Can't Control His Mouth' Colapinto," Pierre chimed in. "Did you hear him in the press pen? He spent five minutes explaining how you once bet him he couldn't qualify top 10 without talking on team radio."

"Did he mention he lost that bet?"

"No, but your face when they asked you about it said everything."

Monaco was where things reached new heights. Franco, running in P6 during practice, had been providing commentary that somehow always circled back to YN:

"YN's watching, no? Tell her this is how you take the hairpin properly—" Franco spoke through team radio confidently before scraping through the hairpin. "Ah. Maybe not like that."

The camera cuts to YN's perfect face-palm, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I knew it" and "why am I even surprised" in one swift motion.

The resulting clip went viral on Tiktok and became F1's most-watched social media post of the weekend.

"You know what I think?" Franco asked one evening, as they shared takeaway in the quiet of the paddock after everyone else had left. The cameras were finally off, but YN's face was as expressive as ever in the dim light.

"That's a dangerous start to any conversation with you."

He grinned, nudging her shoulder. "I think you like that I can't control my mouth."

"And what makes you say that?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral.

"Because every time I talk about you, you make this face – like you're trying not to smile but can't help it. It's my favorite one."

"I do not have a special face for when you talk about me."

"Si, you do! You're making it right now!"

She threw a napkin at him, but her smile – soft and genuine and completely uncontrolled – gave her away.

The next day, during the drivers' briefing, Alex caught Franco staring at YN with an expression that mirrored all of hers – soft and fond and entirely unguarded.

The photo went viral with the caption: "Looks like neither of them can control anything anymore 💕"

1K notes · View notes

teenagedream21 · 21 days ago

Text

masterlist

° FRANCO COLAPINTO °

(fluff)

The secret´s out!

Alameda

Post-Race Snuggles

Mi bonita

Plus one

Crush!

What´s a soft launch?

(angst)

Don´t smile

(smut)

Halloween bakery

(series)

(masterlist)

rafeyybabyy

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto smau #franco colapinto angst #williams f1 #f43 #fc43 #fc43 x reader #fc43 x you #fc43 imagine

230 notes · View notes

wisteriagoesvroom · 2 months ago

Text

sunshowers

🧢 🔶 a franco colapinto x lando norris fic 🌆 a sunset, from franco's pov ✏️ 2.1k words, rated g 🔗 read on ao3

preview

Lando, for his part, seems content to study the horizon. He used to talk so much, in every video, haphazard energy to fill the silence. These days, it seems he is happier to play the part of a wizened, if a bit eccentric, sage. “How are you finding it? Like. Everything,” Lando asks. Franco does not look at him, but they are both looking at the clouds. “It is… a lot. It’s everything I ever wanted. And it’s all happening so fast.” “Completely understandable. It’s like, it’s normal, and you’re nobody, until you’re… not? And everyone wants a piece of you. And it’s nice, people, like, knowing your name and stuff. When it’s new. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.” “Do you still like it?” Franco glances over at the other driver. Lando doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans back on his palms, and tilts his face upwards as if to soak in the surreal, sundrenched sky.

and! thank you @ocontraire for the readthrough !!

taglist for those who wanted to read it... @rigmarole-07 @redbulldotgov @lovelylotusf1 @jusst-you-race @lyslsstuff @daughter-of-aphrodite

#lando norris #franco colapinto #ln4 #fc43 #norapinto #norpinto #frando #f1 rpf #f1 fanfiction #franco colapinto x lando norris #formula one rpf #formula one fanfiction #formula one fanfic #wiz.writing #this was meant to be fluff but whatever i do it ends up vaguely in the direction of wistful so idk #but hey that's the Wiz Special idk #let me be #trust a rarepair to yank me back to writing eh #IT'S MOSTLY HAPPY THO !!!!

105 notes · View notes

purinfelix · 17 days ago

Text

ok before i hit the books again just wanted to come here and say that i cannot stop thinking of dorky STEM student franco who's just so smart but also so annoying because he KNOWS how smart he is. like the kind of guy who rocks up to a final exam late and without a pen and still walks out 5minutes early and aces it. and maybe reader bracing themselves and finally asking him for help - to review their chemistry notes or read over the code they've written and he's just so smug and teasing about it but you're too busy fretting over your grades that you don't notice the soft way he looks at you or the fact that he too has been waiting for you to ask him for help for ages.

#like jess mariano vibes lowk #just thinking about that one old williams video when he said he wouldve liked to study engineering or arts #i think i cant rlly remember #purinfelix #jet rambles 𖦹 #formula one #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto oneshot #franco colapinto #fc43

72 notes · View notes

ikneowitu · 11 days ago

Text

do i publish it when it's done??

#franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto smut #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto fanfiction #fc43 x you #franco colapinto x you #fc43 imagine #fc43 x reader #i need opinions

48 notes · View notes

sociallyrepressed · 2 months ago

Text

season of the witch

Salem always glows this time of year. As soon as the first leaf departs from its tree, the residents line their lawns with plastic figures and blown-up monstrosities. The neighborhood children gather to bake Halloween cookies and carve pumpkins. Stores open for the flow of tourists hunting ghost stories- which is very lucky for Franco considering half of his business is guiding ghost tours during the busy season. The other half of his job is selling antiques while coming up with creative stories about how the previous owners still haunt them.

They’re not actually haunted- he checks them personally after he got in trouble with Lando for gifting him a potted plant that attempted to eat one of his students. Which is really Lando’s fault for not checking, because why did he put the plant in his classroom without even testing it for magical conformities? Anyways, it led to a traumatic series of events in which Lando had to wipe the child’s memory and tell her parents she got a concussion for misusing the monkey bars, and now Franco checks for traces of spell or curse residue before he sells them.

His thoughts are interrupted by the man himself.

“Are you going to help me put the lights up or not?” Lando’s leaning against the doorframe, hip cocked and eyebrow raised.

“If you tone down the sass I will think about it.” He ducks as his favorite mug is lobbed at his head- bright pink with black letters that read “witch, please”. It came in a matching set; Lando’s is dark gray with bright green letters that spell out “witch bitch” . Franco flicks his fingers to stop its momentum, protecting it from shattering on the floor. “Why do you not use magic to put them up? Clearly it is not above you.”

“Because we have to keep appearances for the neighbors. And also I thought it might be fun.” Lando pushes off the wall and disappears into the back hallway, returning with a bundle of lights and their cat darting around his heels, trying to get at the trailing ends. They are most definitely tangled, Franco sighs.

“You could not get them untangled.”

“Nope. And also made it worse,” he looks entirely unapologetic as he dumps the lights onto the carpet in front of Franco, plopping onto his knees. He pulls Lucky Bastard (affectionately dubbed by Lando when they rescued him as a sopping pathetic little thing during a storm) into his lap, away from the lights, and pats the space next to him in invitation. And who is Franco to deny his- admittedly incompetent- witch. When Lando doesn't reach out and start tugging at the loose ends, Franco realizes his intended role. “But maybe you could work your magic.” Lando’s got this wide cheesy grin on his face, gap tooth on display. It’s the one Franco likes most because of how unguarded it is; it’s the one Lando weaponizes the most because he knows this.

“Ay, Lando, you are evil.” He still closes his eyes and reaches into his own soul, imagining a bright tangle of lights. He imagines it coming apart, pulling into organized pieces. The magic crackles in the air, and he knows in the silence Lando is watching, enraptured.

He has his own talents and spells, but he always seems so captivated when Franco uses his magic- he’s been accused on more than one occasion of using some kind of enchantment, until Lando realized the reason for his interest was due moreso to his own feelings than any magical influence.

It takes a few minutes to completely disentangle, if only for the reason Lando did, in fact, make the knot worse. By the time he opens his eyes, there are long strips in front of him and Lando is leaned forward on his knees, braced on his hands. His eyes are bright and excited, mouth curved into something happy. Lucky Bastard is already attempting to ruin the lights. Franco allows himself to tip forward just enough to press a light, fluttery kiss to the corner of Lando’s lips. He doesn't linger, instead pulling back and laughing as Lando tries to chase his lips and ends up faceplanting right into the lights. He’s scowling when he pushes himself back up, but Franco doesn't feel intimidated when there are imprints of bulbs across the side of his cheeks and temple.

“I thought you wanted to go put them up.” He stands and grabs one of the strings, making his way towards the front door.

“I hate you!” He hears it echo in the foyer, but he can also hear the hasty rustling of Lando getting up and grabbing a different strand.

“Ah, if only that were true.”

“You are not funny, amor. It was not so funny the last four years, and it is not funny this year.” Honestly, Franco doesn't know how he puts up with so much. Lando thinks it's hysterical that he dresses up as a witch for the school’s celebration of All Hallow’s Eve. Witches are common costumes, but he’s still going to get in trouble with the local coven for some kind of appropriation. Last year, it was because “witches don't have ugly warts on their noses or cackle loudly”. (In Franco’s opinion, that describes the pompous witches in the coven perfectly.) Luckily, this year he’s toned it down to a dramatic black velvet robe, a scraggly wooden broom, and an offensively pointed hat that looks like it could genuinely hurt somebody. He’s put on a light layer of makeup to accentuate the shape of his eyes and make him more glow-y, which shouldn’t be doing it for Franco as much as it is.

“All the kids love it, plus I think it’s better than being a vampire.” He cocks his head to the side. “But that's probably because you’re pale enough to look like one already.” Lando reaches around and smacks Franco on the backside, and he can feel some heat rise to his face. “Oh, there’s your lively color!”

“Do not start something we do not have time to finish,” Franco pushes Lando out of his face by convincing the car keys to collide with his cheek.

“Hey!” Franco is already turned out the front door and in the car before Lando can retaliate. “Cheater.” When he catches up he slinks into the passenger and drops the keys into the cupholder.

“Oh, baby, do not be such a sore loser. One day you will be fast enough to keep up,” he leans across the center console and kisses him. Contrary to what he said before, he’s the one to initiate their make-out session in the car. He has not always been so great with self-control, and Lando is looking at him with winged eyes and glossy lips pulled into a pout. He never actually stood a chance. They don't separate until Franco commits a transgression of the highest degree- he runs his hand through Lando’s hair and tugs a curl until it loosens. He squawks and jerks back, pulling down the passenger side visor just enough to see the top of his head so that he can fix his hair even though it's just going to get covered up by the witch’s hat anyway.

Franco laughs and he keeps rustling different curls the whole drive (“Stop it! Focus on driving.” “Ah, my love, my eyes are on the road, I am not even thinking of you. I promise I am not doing anything.”). As they’re pulling into the parking lot, Lando is finally once again at peace with his hair. It’s a shame Franco’s one goal in life is to continually cause chaos.

He turns and reaches out again to grab Lando’s face, pulling it in. His pretty eyes are narrowed in suspicion as he leans his own face closer. Franco can feel him shiver when his breath ghosts over his ear, “your lipgloss is smudged, my love.” Lando shoves him away again and smacks his shoulder.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

“You have said this already multiple times, yet I do not believe you anymore now than I did earlier.” Lando pauses his movement just long enough to send him a stink eye. He opens his mouth to say something but Franco cuts him off, “oh, look. The party has started, and we are now late.” The lights in the gymnasium are flashing greens and pinks, some type of loud music permeating the otherwise quiet night.

His witch snorts but gets out of the car, straightening his costume. When Franco moves to get out, his door locks. Everytime he unlocks it, it relocks.

“Lando.” He sends some leaves to flutter around Lando’s head. Suitably distracted trying to protect his hair from further assault, Franco gets out of the car. When they actually get inside of the gym, a group of middle schoolers all flock to Lando, chattering excitedly. He’s content to stand to the side and observe, but one of the kids sees him and points.

“Mr. L, is that your boyfriend?” Lando sputters for a few moments, both to the amusement of the kids and Franco. But when he looks at Franco with wide eyes, he decides to step in and introduce himself.

“Yes, I’m Franco. His boyfriend.” Witches don't usually do the whole dating and marriage thing. When they’re born, their souls are split into fragments, and one of the fragments is used as a courting gift that binds with a soul fragment of another witch. It’s far more intimate than the courting rituals of regular mortals. He does not explain this to the kids. One girl that looks vaguely familiar stares him down, a frown on her lips.

“He may be your boyfriend, but he’s our teacher. So we get to have him tonight since we’re at school, plus we want to win the pizza party.” Franco raises his eyebrows, but Lando’s got this glint in his eyes that can only spell mischief.

“Audrey, Franco is really good at games. He can help us win.” He’s not really listening to Lando because it clicks into place- this is the girl the plant tried to eat. Now he’s obligated to help them win the pizza party since he’s the reason she almost died, even if she doesn't remember.

“Yes. I will help you all win.” The kids cheer and storm through until they get to the side of the gym housing all the carnival games. Franco and Lando trail behind. “You are an evil, evil man.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. Come on, we have to win. I’ll be damned if I ever hear George talking about how superior his class is just because they got a pizza party again.” Franco rolls his eyes, but links their fingers together and they wander over to play games.

Later, they’re back in their house, in their bed, curled around each other. Lucky Bastard is on top of Lando’s chest, purring loudly. Lando presses feather soft kisses to the side of Franco’s face, and he can feel their soul fragment glow warm and soft.

#norapinto #frando #witch norapinto #what was intended to be <500 words became 1800 words #whoops #warning: inconsistent writing style and no plot #lando norris #ln4 #franco colapinto #fc43 #happy halloween #take some witch fluff #also peep my LSoH reference #Lucky Bastard is a black cat btdubs #writing tag #for myself

26 notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 16 days ago

Text

Rumour Has It

Franco Colapinto x Princess of Norway!Reader

Summary: you’ve never heard of Franco before and Franco has certainly never heard of you … but when gossip magazines decide to set you two up, Franco realizes that he wouldn’t mind making the rumors a reality

“Have you seen this?” Noora says, bursting into your study with a tablet clutched to her chest, her eyes wide and frantic.

You look up, half-expecting the sky to have fallen or for Oslo to be under siege. “Seen what?”

Noora slams the tablet down on your desk, and your face is met with a tabloid headline in bold, obnoxious letters: Norway’s Princess Caught in Secret Romance with Argentinian Racing Prodigy Franco Colapinto!

You blink at the screen, then back at Noora, and then at the screen again, as if maybe the headline might rearrange itself into something more sensible. “Sorry, who?”

“Franco Colapinto!” She says, exasperated. “The Argentine driver — the rookie! In Formula 1!”

You tilt your head. “I don’t know who that is.”

Noora gives you a look that’s somewhere between sympathy and horror. “Okay, well, apparently you’re dating him. And half of Norway seems to think so too, thanks to this article.”

“Dating? Noora, I’ve never even heard of him, let alone met him! And this … this is nonsense!” You shove the tablet back at her, feeling your cheeks flush. “How did this even happen?”

Noora sighs, sliding the tablet away. “It’s the internet. They don’t need facts to build a story — they just need a blurry photo and a wild imagination.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling sharply. “And why didn’t anyone tell me sooner? It’s not like we don’t have a whole team for this.”

“Well, to be fair, it only surfaced last night,” she says, crossing her arms. “But now it’s all over social media, and your name is attached to his. People are actually talking about you two as if you’re the new royal couple.”

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. You’ve spent years cultivating a careful, respectable image — a modern princess who’s still traditional enough to respect the expectations placed on her. And now, you’re supposedly dating a race car driver?

“What exactly are they saying?” You ask, your voice quieter, laced with dread.

Noora hesitates, but you give her a pointed look until she relents. “They’re saying you met him at some secret event in Monaco and that you’ve been hiding your relationship to avoid the media frenzy. Apparently, he’s been visiting Norway on his off-days just to see you.” She snorts. “It’s absurd, really. But people are eating it up.”

You stare at her, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “This cannot be happening.”

“Oh, but it is. And the comments …” She trails off, biting her lip.

“Out with it, Noora.”

She sighs. “Some are saying it’s refreshing that you’re dating someone so … I don’t know, normal. But others …” She winces. “Others think it’s irresponsible. That you’re … well, neglecting your duty for some glamorous fling.”

You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “Neglecting my duty,” you repeat, more to yourself than to her. “Because I’m apparently sneaking off with some Formula 1 driver I’ve never even met.”

“I know,” she says, reaching out and giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “But it’ll pass. A few days, maybe a week, and they’ll have moved on to the next scandal.”

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to imagine it blowing over. “And what if it doesn’t?”

“Then we get PR involved. Make a statement, deny everything.” She pauses, eyeing you with a wary smile. “Or, you know, we could just arrange a very public appearance with you and someone else. Nothing quashes rumors like a little royal romance with a suitable partner.”

Your eyes snap open. “Noora.”

She grins, unphased by your glare. “What? It’s an option.”

“I’m not going to parade around with someone just to make the tabloids happy,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Well, that leaves us with the boring option: addressing it head-on, squashing the rumor, and hoping it dies quickly.”

“That will just make it worse,” you sigh resignedly. “The press will think any denial means we have something to hide.”

Noora nods, still eyeing you cautiously. “You could always lean into it a little — make it sound mysterious.”

“Mysterious?” You echo. “No, Noora. I want it gone. I don’t even know this man!”

“All right, all right,” she concedes, hands raised in surrender. “But you know, you could at least look him up.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Because people are going to be asking questions. You’re the Princess of Norway. If they think you’re dating him, it would help to know who he is.”

You open your mouth to argue, but she’s already pulling out her phone. “Just … humor me, okay? It’ll take two seconds.”

She taps her screen, and suddenly a series of photos pops up — images of a young man with dark hair and a serious expression, usually in some variation of a racing suit, often holding a helmet. He’s smiling in one photo, a faint smirk in another, but the confident gleam in his eyes is unmistakable.

“He’s twenty-one,” Noora says, scrolling through some text. “Started karting young, worked his way up. Got his big break with Formula 1 this year.”

You try not to look interested, but it’s hard to ignore the pictures flashing by. He has a kind of easy charisma, that much is obvious.

“And look,” she adds, holding up a picture of him on the track, eyes focused, mouth set in a determined line. “He’s pretty talented, apparently.”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to look away. “None of this matters. Because I don’t know him, and I’m certainly not dating him.”

Noora smirks. “Doesn’t matter. The media thinks you are, and as far as they’re concerned, that makes it practically true.”

You groan, sinking back in your chair. “So what do I do?”

“For now? Sit tight, let PR work their magic. But you might want to brush up on your Formula 1 knowledge, just in case anyone asks.” She grins, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Wouldn’t want you to sound unprepared.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for the tablet and skimming the article’s ridiculous details. “He brought me roses on the first date?” You mutter, incredulous. “We had a secret dinner at a villa on the Côte d’Azur? Do they just make this up?”

“Pretty much. And it’s only going to get worse if people keep sharing it.”

You rub your temples, trying to banish the lingering image of Franco’s cocky smile from your mind. “Fantastic. Just what I needed — a fake romance with a twenty-one-year-old race car driver.”

Noora pats your shoulder sympathetically. “Could be worse.”

“How, exactly?”

“It could be real.”

***

Franco is hunched over his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his notifications as he waits for his PR briefing to start. The Williams headquarters is bustling this morning, and he barely notices when the door opens until Abbie, his PR officer, strides in, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Franco, we need to talk,” she says, folding her arms.

He glances up, one eyebrow raised. “Am I in trouble already? That’s got to be a record.”

Abbie sighs. “No, you’re not in trouble. But you’re in … let’s call it a situation.” She pulls up a chair across from him, lowering her voice as if sharing state secrets. “Have you seen the news?”

“Can’t say I have,” he replies, half-interested. “What, did Carlos suddenly decide to retire and I get to keep my seat for next season?”

Abbie doesn’t laugh, which is a bit worrying. Instead, she hands him her phone, showing a screen filled with a tabloid headline. Princess Y/N of Norway in Secret Romance with F1’s Newest Rising Star, Franco Colapinto!

His brows furrow as he reads, slowly, taking in the headline, the photos, the fabricated “romantic details.”

“Wait … I’m dating a princess?” He says, breaking into a grin. “And nobody thought to tell me?”

Abbie sighs. “Apparently. They’ve got edited photos, fake details — everything.”

He leans back, intrigued. “Princess Y/N,” he muses, tapping his chin with a thoughtful smirk. “Of Norway?”

“Yes, of Norway.” She leans in closer, her expression serious. “This has gone viral, Franco. Everyone’s talking about it.”

He can’t resist; he grabs his own phone and taps out “Princess Y/N of Norway.” The first few links are about her background, her position in the line of succession. “So, she’s next in line to be queen or something?”

“Second in line,” Abbie corrects. “After her father. She’s a pretty big deal over there.”

Franco’s eyes sparkle with interest. “Second in line. And she’s what … like, forty?”

“Not even close,” Abbie says, exasperated. “She’s around your age, I think. She’s twenty-something.”

Franco looks at her, skeptical. “Twenty-something? And a princess?” He scrolls through images of palaces, state functions, and some photos of you smiling politely at dignitaries. She’s dressed elegantly, impeccably, not a hair out of place.

Then, finally, he finds one candid shot, and he stops scrolling. You’re laughing in the photo, a little windswept, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, your smile bright and entirely un-royal. He smirks.

“All right, all right,” he mutters to himself, still looking at the photo. “She’s pretty cute.” He taps back to the headline with a glint of amusement in his eye. “But still not a MILF.”

Abbie groans. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugs, still looking delighted. “Come on. You know my type. I like them older. But …” He trails off, grinning wider. “I could certainly do worse.”

“You’re not actually considering this, are you?” Abbie says, horrified. “Franco, this is a fake rumor. You’re supposed to be distancing yourself from it.”

“Oh, I know. I know.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “But it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? Me, a royal boyfriend?” He leans back, arms crossed, still smirking. “I’m almost flattered.”

Abbie sighs and taps her own phone, clearly typing something in response to the rest of the Williams PR team. “Look, flattered or not, you need to be careful. She’s a public figure. If you say the wrong thing, it’ll just fuel the fire.”

“Oh, please,” he says, waving a hand. “What are they gonna do? Put me on trial?”

“Maybe not you,” Abbie replies, giving him a warning look, “but she has an image to protect. This isn’t just gossip for her — it’s her whole life.”

He lets out a low whistle, thinking. “Must be hard, huh? Everyone expecting you to act a certain way. Not much room for fun.”

Abbie eyes him, her expression softening a bit. “I’m sure it is. Which is why we need to treat this carefully.”

Franco glances back at the photos, his smile fading a bit as he considers. He may not know you, but he can picture the situation well enough: the relentless tabloids, the public judgment, all the expectations.

“All right, fine,” he says, finally. “What’s the plan?”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll be working with her team to prepare a statement. The usual ‘there’s no truth to these rumors’ line. But until then, keep it low-key.”

He raises a brow. “Low-key? Since when have I ever been low-key?”

“Then try for once.” She gives him a pleading look. “It’ll help her out. Trust me.”

Franco nods, though there’s a spark of amusement still flickering in his eyes. He can’t help it — he’s never been one to turn down a little excitement, and this whole thing is exactly that. He glances at Abbie. “So … if someone were to ask about it …”

She narrows her eyes. “Franco. Don’t even think about it.”

He chuckles. “Relax. I’ll be good.”

But as he heads back to the simulator, he can’t resist a smirk.

***

The meeting room is far more understated than you would’ve expected for something of this scale, tucked away in a discreet corner of a private suite in a London hotel. But it’s neutral ground, and it’s quiet, and no one outside this room will ever have to know about this awkward collision of worlds.

You’re early, of course. You’ve been pacing for the last ten minutes, scrolling through every frantic email your team has sent since this ridiculous rumor broke, trying to make sense of the tabloids’ spiraling narrative.

Franco arrives with a small entourage, though it feels like the entire room shifts the moment he steps in. He looks relaxed, perfectly at ease — too at ease. He catches your eye almost immediately, smirking as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this absurd situation to unfold.

“Princess,” he says, as if the word is a private joke just for the two of you. He holds out his hand, that ever-present glint of mischief in his eyes.

You don’t take it, instead clearing your throat and nodding a polite, “Mr. Colapinto.”

He drops his hand, unfazed. “Mr. Colapinto? Ouch. I thought we were past formalities, what with the whole secret romance thing.”

You stare, unamused, but he only laughs, taking a seat at the conference table across from you. He leans back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, entirely too comfortable.

Abbie enters behind him, followed by Noora and two more of your advisors, who exchange a brief look with you before giving Franco a wary glance. The room feels divided: your side tense, professional; his side relaxed, as if they’re here for afternoon tea.

Noora clears her throat. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to discuss … the situation between Her Royal Highness and Mr. Colapinto.”

Franco raises his hand like a schoolboy. “Just Franco’s fine.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I think it’s important that we treat this with the gravity it deserves.”

“Right,” Franco says, his tone playful. “Like a royal summit.”

Ignoring him, you turn to Noora. “What’s our best option? A joint statement? Something definitive?”

Noora nods, producing a folder from her bag. “Yes, we think a mutual statement from both parties would be the most effective way to dispel the rumors. The tone should be clear, respectful, and leave no room for interpretation.”

Franco grins at you. “So, no room for romance?”

You bite back a sigh. “Exactly.”

He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand as if studying you. “Pity. I thought we made a pretty good pair.”

You shift in your seat, folding your hands tightly in front of you. “This isn’t a joke. It’s an issue of public perception, protocol-”

“Protocol,” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “Can’t say I’m big on protocol. Haven’t you heard? I’m dating a princess now. Practically makes me royalty, right? Protocol doesn’t apply to me.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Protocol applies to everyone.”

“Boring people,” he counters, grinning wider. “Which, by the way, you are not. I don’t buy it.”

You feel your cheeks flush. “I don’t think you understand the stakes here.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. But, come on …” He gestures to the small group of advisors around the table. “Look at this! Two teams acting like we’re two PR disasters waiting to happen … it’s ridiculous. You would think we were in the middle of an international scandal.”

“We are in the middle of an international scandal,” you say, exasperated. “People think we’re dating. It’s a breach of public trust for both of us-”

He snorts. “You’re talking like I’m some kind of international criminal. Come on, Princess. It’s just a rumor.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, struggling to keep your voice steady. “This rumor reflects on me, on my family. On Norway.”

He watches you, head tilted, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And do you care?”

You frown, feeling that flush creep back to your cheeks. “Of course I care.”

“No, I mean, do you care about it — us? I mean, the rumor?”

There’s something disarming in the way he says it, like he’s testing you. You can’t help but hesitate, your well-rehearsed words slipping just out of reach.

“It’s my duty,” you finally say, straightening your shoulders, “to uphold my family’s reputation.”

He doesn’t seem impressed. Instead, he shakes his head, a bemused smile on his lips. “You’re so serious. Makes me think I really did pick the right princess.”

Noora coughs, clearly eager to refocus the meeting. “Let’s discuss the actual statement, shall we?”

You nod, relieved to move on, but Franco holds up a hand, eyes still locked on yours. “I just want to say, for the record … I don’t think I’d mind the rumors, if they were true.”

There’s a moment of silence, thick and uncomfortable. You can feel the curious stares of your team, the surprise on Noora’s face, the quiet snickers from Franco’s side.

“Mr. Colapinto,” you say carefully, “this is neither the time nor place for that kind of … remark.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Who decides that?”

Noora jumps in. “We do. And as such, we have a preliminary draft we’d like to review with both of you. It’s brief and to the point, which is important.”

Abbie leans in, already reading over the statement. “The recent reports of a romantic relationship between Princess Y/N and Franco Colapinto are entirely false and without merit. Both parties are focused on their respective roles and responsibilities and have not been involved in any way that would support these rumors.” She looks up, pleased with herself.

You give an approving nod, glancing at Franco. “Short and factual. Perfect.”

Franco frowns, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a little … cold, don’t you think?”

“That’s the point,” you say flatly. “We’re supposed to be shutting down the rumors, not fueling them.”

He lifts an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “How about something more like … while I have great respect for Princess Y/N and have enjoyed our time together, I can confirm that we are, unfortunately, just friends?”

You look at him, horrified. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.” He gives you a devilish grin. “It’s all about the narrative, Princess. People want romance, intrigue. You’re literal royalty — give them a little fairytale.”

You feel your cheeks burn, and it takes everything you have not to snap back at him. “This isn’t some soap opera, Mr. Colapinto.”

“Franco,” he corrects, eyes still dancing with mischief.

Noora clears her throat again. “I think it’s best we stick with the original statement.”

He gives you a mockingly solemn nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

You give a small, exasperated sigh, looking back to Noora and Abbie. “If we’re all agreed, can we proceed?”

Abbie glances between you and Franco, as if gauging the tension in the air. “Yes. We’ll finalize the statement this evening and have it released tomorrow morning.”

Franco pushes back his chair, rising to his feet. “Well, I suppose that settles it, then.” He glances down at you, his gaze lingering a bit too long. “Shame, though. This could’ve been fun.”

You fold your arms, giving him a pointed look. “We have very different definitions of fun.”

“Clearly,” he says, his smirk deepening. “But tell me, don’t you ever get tired of all this?” He gestures around at the meeting room, the stacks of paperwork, the solemn faces of your advisors. “The rules, the protocol. Doesn’t it get … dull?”

You purse your lips, resisting the temptation to give him a real answer. “It’s my duty.”

He tilts his head, his expression softening just slightly. “I get duty. But where’s the fun?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. And for a second, just a second, you wonder if he has a point.

Franco’s gaze sharpens as he watches you struggle to respond. And then, to your utter shock, he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours. “Here,” he says, with that sly, teasing smile.

Before you can pull away, he lifts your hand, bringing it to his lips in a slow, deliberate gesture. His eyes hold yours as he brushes his mouth over your knuckles, lingering just long enough to make you feel the heat creeping up your face.

“I promise,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, “the next time I kiss you, Princess, it’ll be somewhere much more pleasurable.”

You pull your hand back, heart pounding, but he only grins, unbothered, and gives you a playful wink.

“Until next time, Your Highness.”

***

The bar is dimly lit, tucked away on a quiet street where no one knows who you are and, more importantly, no one cares. It’s the perfect place to slip away from the weight of your title, from the headlines, from the rules and the statement that your team is probably drafting up at this very moment. For once, you just want to sit here, nursing a drink, and pretend you’re anyone else.

The whiskey burns as it goes down, but it’s a welcome distraction. You let out a breath, easing back against the bar, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders release. For the first time all day, no one is watching, no one is whispering. You’re just … here.

Until a voice slides into the quiet like a warm breeze. “Didn’t think I’d find royalty in a place like this.”

You don’t even need to look to know it’s him. You don’t turn, but your grip on the glass tightens as Franco slides onto the stool beside you, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, not bothering to mask the exasperation in your voice.

“Me?” He says, all innocence. “Just having a drink. Same as you.” He signals the bartender. “Tequila,” he says, then nods at your glass, smirking. “And whatever she’s having.”

You sigh. “Of all the bars in London, you had to pick this one?”

He grins, shameless. “Maybe I just have good taste.”

You roll your eyes. “Highly doubtful.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “Come on, Princess. I know you’re thrilled to see me.”

“Thrilled isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

He leans in, his voice dropping low enough that it feels like a secret. “What would you use, then?”

You pause, taking a sip of your drink as you consider. “Mildly inconvenienced.”

He laughs at that, a warm, genuine sound that catches you off guard. You try to keep your face impassive, but there’s something disarming about his laughter, something that makes you wonder why it feels like he’s always able to unravel you with so little effort.

“Fine,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar, mirroring your posture. “Then I’ll just sit here, mildly inconveniencing you until you admit you’re enjoying yourself.”

You scoff. “That’s not going to happen.”

His whiskey arrives, and he raises his glass, clinking it lightly against yours. “Care to bet on that?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you always think everything’s a game?”

“Only when it’s fun,” he says, his gaze dropping to your lips. There’s something undeniably bold about the way he watches you, something that sends a little thrill down your spine despite yourself.

You hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here?”

“I thought that was obvious,” he says, his voice turning softer, more intimate. “I’m trying to get to know you.”

You snort. “Get to know me? I’m pretty sure you just want to use this as an excuse to fuel the rumors.”

“Maybe the rumors are more interesting than you think,” he counters smoothly, sipping his drink. “Or maybe I’m just curious.”

“Curious?” You echo, lifting an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About what a princess does when no one’s watching.” His eyes flash with that familiar glint, and he gives you a lazy, unapologetic smile. “And so far, you don’t disappoint.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “If you’re trying to charm me, it’s not working.”

“Oh, I don’t need to try,” he says, his voice soft but self-assured. “I just do.”

You shake your head, determined not to let him win this little game. “I don’t think you’re as irresistible as you think you are.”

“Maybe.” He tilts his head, studying you with an infuriating level of focus. “But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your retort dies on your lips as his hand moves closer, resting just on the edge of the bar, fingers inching toward yours. It’s subtle, but it sends a pulse of awareness up your arm, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is, the warmth radiating from him, the intensity of his gaze as it lingers on you.

You straighten, clearing your throat. “So what’s your endgame here, Franco?”

“No endgame,” he says easily, but there’s a promise in his tone, a flicker in his eyes that makes it hard to believe. “Just wanted a drink with a pretty princess.”

You almost laugh. Almost. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Is that why you’re smiling?” He asks, leaning closer.

You hadn’t realized you were. You quickly straighten your face, but he’s already noticed, that knowing smirk widening as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Relax, Princess. You’re allowed to have fun, too.”

“Define fun,” you say, though you’re painfully aware that you’re actually enjoying this little back-and-forth. It’s dangerous, exhilarating — two things you never let yourself indulge in.

“Fun?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Fun is you, sitting here, pretending you don’t like me, while secretly hoping I’ll keep talking.”

You roll your eyes. “Delusional.”

“Maybe,” he says, and his hand moves again — this time, resting casually on your thigh under the bar. The touch is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch, enough to make you momentarily forget the carefully constructed boundaries you’ve set.

“Franco,” you warn, though your voice is less steady than you’d like.

He raises an eyebrow, his fingers tracing a slow, almost absentminded circle against your leg. “Problem?”

You don’t answer, but he takes your silence as permission, his fingers edging just a little higher, teasingly close, as if he’s daring you to stop him. And you should. You know you should. But for some reason, you don’t.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me to stop, Princess. And I will.”

Your mind races, every sensible thought colliding with the thrill that’s building inside you. You swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze, the heat of his touch.

“Why would I tell you to stop,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper, “if I don’t want you to?”

He grins, satisfied. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Before you can respond, he’s closing the distance, his hand slipping higher under your dress, his thumb brushing slow circles that make your heart race. It’s reckless and wild and nothing you’d ever thought you’d do — but in this moment, it feels impossible to resist.

The next few minutes are a blur of whispered words and stolen glances, your resolve slipping with every soft touch, every cocky grin he throws your way. You barely register the decision to leave the bar until you’re outside, standing on the quiet street, the night air cool against your flushed skin.

“Your place or mine?” He asks, his voice a playful drawl.

You hesitate, a thousand reasons to walk away tumbling through your mind. But when you look at him — at that unrelenting confidence, the challenge in his eyes — you feel your control waver. Just this once, you tell yourself. Just this once, you’ll let yourself break the rules.

“Yours,” you say, surprised at the steadiness of your voice.

He doesn’t waste a second, taking your hand and leading you down the street, his grip warm and solid, grounding you even as your heart races. You follow him, pulse pounding with each step, until you’re standing outside his hotel room door, the reality of what you’re doing hitting you in a rush.

But then he’s looking at you again, that mischievous smile softening into something more intimate, and your doubts fade. He opens the door, and you step inside, feeling as though you’re crossing some invisible line.

The room is dim, the city lights casting a faint glow through the windows. He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent, and for a moment, you see a different side of him — something softer, deeper.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. But instead of answering, you lean up, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that’s tentative at first, then deepening as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

And for the first time in as long as you can remember, you don’t think about duty, or protocol, or anything else. In this moment, there’s only you and him and the quiet thrill of finally letting go.

***

francolapinto

Liked by f1wagupdates, royalwatchers, and 714,925 others

francolapinto all the rumours are true

View all 3,816 comments

pintobean everyone called me crazy for believing the articles but look who’s laughing now!

coca-colapinto because as much as i love franco, there’s no way i was about to believe he could’ve pulled a whole ass princess

pintobean this is a lesson not to underestimate his rizz

coca-colapinto please never say that unironically again

f1wagupdates pray for their PR teams, whatever they’re earning is not nearly enough 🙏

gridgossip franco had exactly nine races to turn the paddock upside down and boy did he not disappoint

f1wagupdates who needs an f1 seat in 2025 when you can have a throne?

***

The morning arrives far too soon, sunlight streaming through the hotel curtains and casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. You barely have time to blink yourself awake when a loud, frantic banging rattles the door, shaking you out of the haze of last night.

Franco groans beside you, his arm lazily draped over your waist. “You expecting someone?”

You’re too comfortable, too wrapped up in the warmth of his skin and the lingering bliss to even think straight. “Not … exactly.”

The pounding persists, and then voices — urgent, unmistakable voices — filter through the door. “Franco! Y/N! Are you in there? It’s urgent!”

Your eyes widen, a flash of panic cutting through the sleepiness. Franco doesn’t seem fazed. He barely lifts his head off the pillow, his hand lazily running down your spine as he mutters, “They’ll go away.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” You push yourself up slightly, glancing over the bed, finding discarded clothes and a vague sense of regret somewhere on the floor. The pounding grows louder, and finally, Franco sits up, rubbing his eyes, his hair adorably disheveled.

He stretches, glancing at you with a lazy grin. “What do you think? Just a few more minutes or …”

“Open the door!” Comes a familiar, exasperated voice from the hallway. You recognize it immediately — Noora.

Franco’s eyes meet yours, amusement glinting there. “Looks like we don’t have a choice.”

Reluctantly, he pulls himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of pants from the floor and slipping them on with a casual ease that only makes your heartbeat quicken. He tosses you a smirk over his shoulder before heading to the door.

As he opens it, a whirlwind of people floods into the room — Noora, Abbie, and a few more members of both your PR teams, all of them looking like they’re seconds away from losing their minds.

“Oh my god,” Noora gasps, her gaze darting between you and Franco, her face turning several shades of pink. “This … this is-”

“Completely reckless!” Abbie finishes, giving you a look that’s half shock, half scandalized admiration. “What were you two thinking?”

Franco crosses his arms, unfazed. “Good morning to you too.”

One of Williams’ other PR officers steps forward, looking ready to faint. “Franco, do you have any idea what you’ve done? Those photos … your Instagram …”

Franco grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What, people are talking?”

“Talking?” Noora squeaks, her voice an octave higher than usual. She glares at you, her eyes wide, almost pleading. “This is a disaster! Do you understand what you’ve done to our schedule, our statement plan? And the … the-” Her gaze flickers to the faint marks on your neck, and her knees buckle. Abbie reaches out quickly, guiding her to a chair.

“Maybe we overreacted,” Abbie mutters, though she doesn’t take her eyes off you. “Or maybe we didn’t react enough.”

You feel a rush of heat flood your face as everyone’s gaze lands on you. Franco catches it and gives you a cheeky wink, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s created.

“Look,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “maybe we got a little carried away, but it’s … it’s not like we did anything wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” Noora says, her voice faint as she studies the marks on your neck again. “You … you have no idea how this looks, do you?”

Franco, completely unfazed, strolls over to the mirror above the dresser. He takes a long look at his own reflection, tilting his head to admire the scratches and darkening bruises scattered across his skin. “Looks like a good night to me.”

Your PR teams collectively groan, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. Franco catches your eye in the mirror, and the mischievous spark there makes it impossible not to crack a smile.

“Franco, this isn’t a joke!” One of his managers snaps, practically pulling at his hair. “Do you know how many calls we’ve received since you posted those photos?”

Franco shrugs, giving them a lazy grin. “Then turn off your phone. Worked for me.”

Another round of exasperated sighs fills the room, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for your PR team. Not enough, though, to actually feel bad.

Noora steps forward, hands on her hips, looking at you with an expression that’s somehow both sympathetic and stern. “Your Highness, this is … unprecedented. We need to issue a statement immediately, clarify this situation-”

“Or not,” Franco interrupts, his tone far too nonchalant. He turns away from the mirror, crossing his arms. “Honestly, I think the people like a little mystery, don’t you?”

Noora gives him a look that could wilt flowers. “This isn’t about what the people like, Mr. Colapinto. It’s about protecting reputations.”

“Oh, so we’re doing that now?” Franco glances at you, his smile playful. “Funny, last night I didn’t get the sense that the two of us in this room were all that worried about reputations.”

Your face flushes, and you shoot him a look that’s half reprimand, half reluctant amusement. “You’re not helping.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Who said I was trying to help?”

Abbie lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. “Can we at least agree that this … whatever this is, stays here? Quietly?”

Franco raises an eyebrow, looking at you with a smirk. “You hear that, Princess? Quietly. Doesn’t sound like much fun to me.”

You swallow, trying to ignore the way his gaze makes your stomach flip. “Maybe some things should be quiet,” you say, though your voice sounds unconvincing even to you.

Noora, still looking a bit wobbly, clears her throat. “Please, can we just … make a plan?”

Franco sighs, feigning disappointment. “Fine. Make your plan. But don’t expect me to follow it.”

Before anyone can respond, he gives you one last smirk and strides over to the door, pulling it open. “In fact, I think it’s about time we had the room to ourselves, don’t you think?”

The PR teams exchange panicked glances, but they don’t have much choice as Franco gives them a not-so-subtle wave toward the exit. Noora opens her mouth to protest, but Abbie gently ushers her toward the door, casting one last look at you that’s a mix of concern and reluctant approval.

“We’ll be in touch,” Abbie says, but there’s a hint of resignation in her tone, as if she knows that whatever control they thought they had is slipping fast.

Once the last of them has been herded out, Franco shuts the door with a decisive click. He turns back to you, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and before you can process it, he’s crossing the room, closing the distance between you in seconds.

“You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “I think we gave them quite a show.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “We? That was mostly you.”

He laughs softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t exactly object.”

You’re about to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His hands find your waist, and suddenly you’re being guided backward, the mattress hitting the back of your legs as he eases you down. His gaze is intense, his smirk fading into something more serious, more intent.

“Franco,” you murmur, but the way he’s looking at you steals the rest of your words.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “We’re not done yet, Princess.”

Your heart races as he shifts, his hands warm against your skin, his weight pressing you back into the bed. And as he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s somehow both playful and possessive, you realize that whatever the consequences, whatever scandal might follow … right now, none of it matters.

Right now, there’s only him, the quiet thrill of his touch, and the feeling of finally — finally — giving in.

***

The night sky over Las Vegas glitters with a million lights, bright enough to drown out the stars, as the drivers’ parade winds down the track. The grandstands are packed, the excitement in the air palpable even before the race has started.

Franco is perched atop the back of a bus, arms folded, his easy smirk in place as he surveys the flashing cameras and cheering fans. Beside him stands Lewis Hamilton, calm and collected as always, with that practiced smile of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

Franco nudges Lewis with his elbow, grinning. “So, you know we’re both basically royalty now, right?”

Lewis chuckles, giving him a sideways look. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?”

Franco shrugs, looking as if he’s contemplating something serious for a split second, then tilts his head. “Well, you’ve got the knighthood, Sir Hamilton,” he says, drawing out the words with an exaggerated British accent. “And I’ve got, well …” He grins, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. “The princess.”

Lewis laughs, a rich, full sound. “Ah, I see. So you’re actually out here trying to one-up my knighthood?”

Franco clutches his chest dramatically. “Exactly. I mean, not to make it a competition, but I’m basically a prince now. Which, if we’re being technical, puts me a bit above you in rank.”

Lewis lets out a snort, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, man. I’m a knight, not a court jester.”

Franco raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just stating the facts. I’m sure knighthood’s very nice, but I think there’s something to be said for having a princess.”

Lewis shakes his head, trying not to laugh. “So it’s true, then?”

For the first time, Franco’s smirk softens into something else, something quieter. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with an expression that’s unmistakably fond. He’s not looking at Lewis now, or at the cheering fans, or even the flashing cameras around them. His gaze is locked on his phone, where an image fills the screen.

It’s you, cozy on the couch with your Cavalier King Charles Spaniel in your lap, a warm blanket wrapped around you, hair falling casually over your shoulder. You’re looking straight into the camera, a relaxed smile on your face, and there’s an almost surprising intimacy in the photo — the kind that doesn’t come from a staged royal portrait but from a simple, real moment. It’s the type of photo someone only sends to someone they care about.

Franco doesn’t say anything right away. He just stares at the image, his thumb tracing lightly over the screen, as if he’s savoring the private moment before he has to lock his phone away for the race.

He nods, almost to himself. “Yeah. It’s true.”

Lewis studies him slowly, an almost invisible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think I’d see the day,” he murmurs, a touch of amusement there. “Guess you’re growing up, huh?”

Franco finally looks up, chuckling. “Speak for yourself, man. I’m still a kid at heart.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow. “A kid at heart who’s dating a princess? That’s a combination I didn’t see coming.”

“Neither did I, to be honest.” Franco leans back, stretching his arms out along the edge of the bus, still clutching his phone in one hand. “One minute, I’m just minding my business, and the next … boom.” He snaps his fingers. “The entire world decides we’re dating. Didn’t even know her name before then.”

Lewis chuckles. “And now you’re on your phone looking at pictures she sent you. You’ve come a long way.”

Franco glances down at the picture again, a private smile playing on his lips. “Guess I have.”

The parade continues, the roar of the crowd swelling around them as they pass another section of the grandstand, but it all feels distant. The conversation falls into a comfortable silence, and Franco finds himself thinking back over the past few weeks, the whirlwind of rumors and statements, and then … the quiet moments that somehow followed.

Lewis studies him, eyes narrowing in that perceptive way he has. “So … you and her. Is it, like, official?”

Franco lets out a short laugh. “Are you kidding? This is Her Royal Highness we’re talking about. There’s no ‘official’ until we’ve been courting for at least a year. There’s procedure and … what’s the word she loves to use? Protocol.”

“Protocol.” Lewis grins. “That sounds … exactly like what you hate.”

“Oh, believe me.” Franco laughs, shaking his head. “She’s been trying to teach me, but I don’t think I’ve followed protocol a single time. I mean, she actually tried to tell me what utensils I should use at dinner. Like, why does it matter?”

“Didn’t go well, huh?”

“Let’s just say I’ve decided that those tiny forks are optional.” Franco sighs, pocketing his phone. “But that’s her. She takes it all so seriously. Makes me want to take it seriously too, in some strange way.”

Lewis tilts his head, watching him. “I get that. That’s what happens when someone really means something to you.” He pauses, as if weighing his words. “So, she’s watching tonight?”

Franco nods, a flash of pride evident in his smile. “She sent me this right before we went out for the parade.” He taps his pocket, where his phone is hidden now. “Said she’d be watching. Don’t know how she manages to get away with it, with her schedule planned out months in advance, but she’s … creative.”

Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “The lengths you two go to. Like some kind of fairytale romance.”

The bus they’re on takes another slow turn around the parade route, the lights of Las Vegas casting a surreal glow over the scene. The streets are packed with fans, all of them waving and shouting, and Franco finds himself wondering if you’re watching this right now. He imagines you, curled up on the couch with that fluffy little dog of yours, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Franco smiles. “Yeah, I guess it really is.”

2K notes · View notes

sainzsiren · 4 months ago

Text

LIZ'S FRANCO COLAPINTO FIC RECS

FIC REC MASTERLIST

last updated november 26th, 2024

FLUFF

nothing yet...

SMUT

nothing yet...

ANGST

nothing yet...

SMAUS

nothing yet...

#.recs #franco colapinto #fc43 #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto smut #franco colapinto smau #fc43 x reader #f1 #formula 1

8 notes · View notes

mywritersmind · 1 month ago

Note

can i request a Franco ff i just need something cute, fluff, cuddles, playing with his curls, idk i just need him and comfort

COMFORTABLE - FC43

listen up : ughhh so comfy and cute!! franco is soo fun to write for even tho this was short. request more franco stuff and i shall deliver!!

word count : 350

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Franco.” I whisper, glancing at my boyfriend who’s stretched out in his little pod. He stirs in the luxury airplane seat, “Francoooo!” I say a bit louder.

He turns to me, opening his eyes slightly, “Mmm?” Is all I get as a response.

I smile at his tired face as his eyes slowly open, “Wanna watch a movie?” I ask hopefully.

“I was sleeping!” He groans and shoves his face back down into his pillow. He's just got done with his first weekend in formula one and is absolutely exhausted.

I now feel bad for waking him up, “Sorry…” I bite my lip.

“C’mere.” He mumbles, his arms out as I grin. I hop over the small barrier, making sure no one sees me, and snuggle right next to him, “Hmm you smell good.” He wraps his arms around me, nuzzling his face in my neck.

I laugh softly, my hand going to his hair, “Thank you, love.” He pulls the small blanket over the both of us, his cold hands drifting underneath my tank top.

I flinch at the temperature change and feel Franco’s laugh against me, “You can watch a movie, if you’d like. I’ll watch too.” He says as his eyes remain closed and his body stays glued to me.

I run my hand through his hair, playing with his waves that are sticking in all different directions, “That’s okay.” I scoot so i’m basically laying on top of him now.

I know he’s smiling as he speaks, “Comfortable?”

“Very!” I kiss his forehead, “We’re watching shrek when we get home, by the way.”

He kisses my neck and hums, “Home. Thank you for joining me this weekend, darling.”

My hand moves from his hair to his neck, my thumb moving over his jaw, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m a wag now, it’s my duty.” He laughs again, pulling me closer.

I yawn, his sleepiness must be rubbing off on me. I close my eyes, Franco’s hand methodically moving against my back. I breathe him in, he smells good too, like toothpaste and cologne. I wrap my arm around his waist, my body warming with his as he kisses my neck one last time.

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto imagine

727 notes · View notes

afterglowsainz · 27 days ago

Text

gold rush | franco colapinto

pairing: brazilian!vet!reader x franco colapinto

summary: you were used to your boyfriend’s flirty personality, but still every now and then you couldn’t help getting jealous

fc: beca oliveira

request: here

a/n: i haven’t done a written fic in so long please bear with me 😭

—

liked by francolapinto, bffusername and others

yourusername patients of the week 💖

view all comments

friend1 the cutest!

friend2 the way i couldn’t be a vet cause i would just be kissing them all the time

yourusername oh don’t get it twisted i am kissing them 24/7

bffusername dream job

friend3 how does it feel to live my dream 😭

francolapinto los amo😍 (i love them)

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and others

francolapinto ready for another race week 🤩

view all comments

username always with the mate

username ugh just look at him!

username didn’t expect my crush on this man to last this long

username casually serving face on the first pic

username idk how to explain this but he looks like a taylor swift song

yourusername agree

username omg girl hey 💕

—

There was no reason to be angry. No real reason, anyway. Deep down in your mind and at the core of your heart, you knew there was no way Franco was seriously flirting with anyone but you. Your heart on the other hand...

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Since joining F1, Franco had become known for his flirtatious personality and undeniable charm; it was part of who he was, and it had never really bothered you before—you knew what he was like. So why were you suddenly so upset after watching that interview everyone was talking about on Twitter?

The answer was so obvious you didn’t even want to admit it to yourself, but it was staring you right in the face. The reporter was what bothered you. It wasn’t her specifically, of course—you’d seen her a few times and knew she was the picture of professionalism, not to mention charming. But she was completely different from you. It was no secret that Franco had always liked blondes.

—

Damn. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with that single message.

Franco had never really stopped to think about the consequences of his actions. Of course he had seen comments online about his interviews, but he never worried about how his girlfriend might interpret them. He was simply doing his job by giving interviews to journalists. If there was someone his age he could feel relaxed around, he would do so—it was part of his personality. But he would never disrespect his girlfriend by insinuating something more. She was everything to him.

Franco quickly went to Twitter to look up the interview video he had given hours earlier. As he analyzed it, he realized how some of the things he said or the way he expressed himself could come off as insinuations on his part, and he cursed himself internally, imagining his girlfriend watching the same video.

He had to fix this, and fast.

liked by yourusername, olliebearman and others

francolapinto special gp coming 🇧🇷 (in the country of the most special person)

tagged yourusername

view all comments

username ngl i sometimes be forgetting he has a girlfriend

username THE ABSOLUTE GODDESS

username franco move i’m tryna see y/n

username the hand placement 🥺

username the power couple they are

username in love with them

yourusername okay i guess i might forgive you just this once 🙄

francolapinto i love you (only you) ❤️

2K notes · View notes

katiascraft · 1 month ago

Note

so i thought like reader being williams social media manager and she is also Francos ex girlfriend. And now Franco is coming into f1 and they see each other again? I don’t know if it makes sense hut yeah. Maybe you like the idea. Love your stuff💗

Hey sweetie 💌 ooooooh I love the idea! I love drama and second chances! Hope you like it. Thank you so much for your request! You are the first to do so. And so I wanted to let you know you made me so happy today :3 (sorry if it took a while but better late than ever! And I hope you have a wonderful day as well 🩵)

——————————————————————————————

“But we were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true it would’ve been you” | FC43

Parings: Franco Colapinto x WilliamsRancingEmployee!Reader.

Summary: Franco and you broke up a while ago. You didn’t expect to see him ever again until he starts driving in F1 for Williams Racing Team.

Now playing: “The 1” by Taylor Swift.

Word count: +2,4k.

Warnings: a little angst? And fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: thank you anon for your request again! First time writing about Fran - maybe I could get used to this. Don’t forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were trying to not lose your umbrella because of the wind. It was raining pretty heavily. England was never a city where happy spirits lived. The sky it’s pretty much sad and depressed most days of the year. But you loved it. You loved feeling melancholy. Remembering your past with a smile or tears.

You had something of not overcoming the past pretty fast. It’s really hard for you to let go and deal with deadlines.

You got finally to the bus stop where a ceiling was now protecting you a little from the water. You were heading for the Williams Racing factory where you’ve worked for a few years now. You were the social media manager at Williams. And you had a meeting with the marketing department.

These last few months were really hard on you. And the reason was just one single person. And that was Franco.

You and Franco dated for two years back when he got in F4. You were teenagers. But still he was the guy who made you feel all the butterflies for the first time. The relationship didn’t end pretty well. You didn’t wanna end it but he told you that he had already made his decision. He needed to be focused to be able to jump to F1 and your romance to him was a distraction. That hurt you so much. And it still hurts thinking about it.

You heart stoped for a second when you saw a guy walking towards your same bus stop - you thought it was Franco because he takes the bus to work just like he always did since you two met. But it wasn’t. Though the guy from afar looked a lot like him. You calmed yourself down.

You job got pretty tricky since Franco jumped finally into F1. You were so happy for him. You wanted to talk to him and tell him how proud of him you were but you couldn’t. You were supposed to hate each other. Working with him was a challenge. You just decided to pretend you didn’t even know who he was and treat him as you treated Alex or Logan before. Even though your heart raced so fast by just looking at him, talk to other people.

First time you saw him was back in august when James announced a new driver was chosen to replace Logan. You loved Logan. Such a great guy. But you understood this was also a business and money is top priority. And Williams isn’t a team with many economic resources so each penny counted. James did an introduction to him a day before the race. He said hi to everyone. When you two saw each other just shook hands. You couldn’t even look at him. When you were back home you had a breakdown and needed to call your therapist because you don’t know how the fuck you were be able to deal him every single day. And even post about him most of the time because for your unlucky luck people became obsessed with him. Everybody loved Franco. And you understood why: he was the most charming and handsome boy you have ever met. And he didn’t change a bit after one year of not seeing him - you thought - forever.

Finally you took the bus. You were gonna be late so you texted your co-worker Amanda to let her know it. You sat on the only free seat that there was.

You were preoccupied in revising everything you had to stay and show in your meeting you didn’t realize the guy sitting next to you was actually franco.

After an awkward silence Franco broke the ice “hey… buenos días” he said with a raspy voice. He was nervous. Not sure if you were okay if he even opened his mouth.

You felt colder than the weather when you heard him. You looked at him to check you weren’t dreaming and indeed you weren’t. You give him a little smile. “Oh hi fran” that’s how you used to call him. Your heart sank a bit. “Good morning. Sorry I didn’t see you. I have a reunion and didn’t want to forget anything. You have a workout today?” You just decided to talk to him. A little chat wouldn’t kill you. And you hated pretending you didn’t know him. He smelled just the same. The same perfume. He had his mate bag with him and a boca juniors gym bag. Just as how you remembered him. You licked your lips nervously.

He nodded shyly and you saw his cheeks turning red for some reason. “Yeah I have gym today. And everything’s gonna be fine at the meeting. You always explain yourself perfectly” he said, sending you a sweet smile. His voice was deep and raspy. You knew he was still a little sleepy knowing it was almost 8am. You smiled back at him.

“Thank you” you said sweetly. Another weird silence took place between you two. You didn’t know what to say. You just looked around.

“Are you still mad at me y/n?” He said out of nowhere. The words just jumped out of his mouth. He was still hunted by what happened between you two. You looked at him again, giving him a sad look. You denied it with your head.

“No I'm not… I’m just sad. We were something right? But you know. It was hard to let you go but yeah…” you hesitated in what you could tell him. You didn’t even know what you were feeling right now. He stared at you a few seconds and nodded looking down. He started playing with his fingers.

“Maybe we could talk about all of this when you finish your meeting? I really think we should talk. I… I don’t like when you pretend you don’t know me… like we never knew each other you know? I feel really guilty about it. And… I’m proud of where you are now. It was your dream and you made it. And you’re really good at it. You give fans what they need” he said shyly and sad? He was working hard to show he can be an F1 driver. That he deserves a seat. But also he was really sad because he since decided to end things with you. He already regretted it.

Yes, he was more focused but he didn’t have your support. He isn’t into physical touch but your hugs were his favorites. He would let you touch him forever. He felt empty and really lonely. Even his family had to deal with the grief of not having you around anymore.

Yes, it was worth it for a while when he had James tell him he was gonna drive an F1 car for the end of the season. But when he saw you standing there. More beautiful than he has ever seen you. You looked so happy and profesional. So beautiful. And bright. He hated himself right there. Because you'd have done it together if he wouldn’t have been so selfish. He didn’t think he was in love with you when you broke up. But as the time passed he felt miserable. Getting home and seeing no one. No music. No you playing sims and showing him the sims you created while he was gone. No cooking cookies for tea time or ‘merienda’ how it is called in Argentina. Anyone to share mates with or talk about the day. No one to cuddle on the sofa or to forget about everything in bed. No one to go out and eat dinner. Or day trips to London. There was nothing left.

He was an asshole to you. And he really hated himself for that.

You couldn’t keep on talking because the bus was really where you needed to be. You both got down the bus in silence. And just walked side by side into the Williams factory announcing yourselves at the gate.

You were thinking about his offer. Like you needed it but at the same time you were scared. But you decided to follow your heart.

“See you after the meeting then?” You said when he opened the door of the factory for you. His sad look turned into a very smiley one. He nodded.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll be waiting for you at the cafeteria. Is that okay?” He said walking behind you because you were running late for the meeting. You turned to him a little.

“Sounds good to me Fran. See you in a bit” you said in a smile but feeling really weird at the same time. You didn’t know if that chat was gonna be the end of you or the relief you just needed. You didn’t know. But you knew you couldn’t keep going the way you two were.

You disappeared from Franco's view while you ran up the stairs to the office where the meeting was being held. He just stared there for a few seconds wondering. He didn’t know if talking was the best move but he felt better after you said yes. And he realized how bad he missed hearing you call him Fran. He got into the gym. Everyone was already there so he didn’t have time to keep thinking about you. Now it was time for a great workout. And a pretty intense one.

(…)

You got out of the office 2 hours later. It was intense. You had a headache now and you needed some coffee. You were regretting deciding to meet Franco but it is what it is. Maybe could it be relaxing? You didn’t believe yourself. But you were sure you just had to give him another chance and maybe be friends.

You walked down the stairs and headed to the cafeteria. When you got there you could see Franco sitting alone at one of the tables. There wasn’t anyone. It was just you and Franco and the women at the kitchen. You smiled. You were a little bit more relaxed knowing it was kind of private. First you headed into the kitchen and asked for a coffee. You knew Franco didn’t want one because you saw him drinking mate. The woman handed the coffee politely to you and you thanked her with a sweet smile “have a good rest of the day Amelia” you told her sweetly grabbing your coffee and now walking towards franco.

He saw you and gave you a bright smile. “Hey” he said, moving his stuff so you could sit with him at the table and have space for your coffee and things. He was reading some papers that were given to him by one of the engineers back in the simulator.

You smiled looking at him. He had showered and smelled incredibly good. And he looked so gorgeous by the sunlight that was coming in from the window. “Hey did I make you wait too long?” You said sitting down and getting comfy.

“No no I got here like 30 minutes ago” he said softly and sweetly. You looked so beautiful in your formal outfit. Though he remembered being crazy about you when you wore pajamas. You looked so cute. He missed you. Like crazy.

“Oh okay. Thank you for waiting for me” you thanked him and took a sip of your coffee. And he did the same with his mate.

“So… how are you? How’s your life been?” You said to start talking and leave the uncomfortness of the situation behind and just chill out and be okay with this. Or at least you wished that but you were a bit anxious of this conversation taking place.

“Well… to be fair it just depends on which aspect of my life you ask. In my driving life everything’s been great. Better than I could ever have expected. In my personal life to be honest I’ve been miserable” he said, giggling a little at the last part of his answer. You smiled sadly looking at him.

“Well maybe we aren’t so different. I’ve been miserable too personally. And at work gray. Better than ever. But you know a guy I used to date decided to fuck my life up by just being selfish so yeah - life’s shit” you really didn’t want to go there so fast but you just couldn’t control yourself. You’re still hurt. And you needed to be vocal about it. You deserve it. You could see he got nervous and readjusted himself on his chair.

“Oh yeah I think I remember him. He was an asshole to you. Then he felt empty and guilty and lonely and got depressed. But you know he deserved it for being such an idiot. I wouldn’t have let you go if I were him. You are in fact an incredible woman with the worst sense of humor I’ve ever met. And by worst I mean best.” He said talking in third person funny. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You looked at him nodding.

“Yeah he was a selfish asshole but we can also agree maybe that he looks gorgeous now. If he has another girl then I would be really jealous. He is really a sweetheart. And a professional clown. Very funny. He should do stand up” you followed his way of navigating all of this mess you two created. He laughed and your heart melted. You loved making him laugh. Your heart started racing and butterflies reappeared in your stomach. You felt dumb.

“Oh no he is pretty ugly in my opinion. You were too much for him but like positively. You are fucking sexy and he is just a dude” he said raising his shoulders quirky and funny. You got so flustered.

“Well maybe you're right. I’m not gonna deny I’m on top level” you said joking giggling. He smiled wildly. There you were again. The you he was madly in love with. And the he was. The guy who made you laugh until you cried. The one who made you so happy.

It would’ve been fun if he would’ve been the one. Or maybe does he still have a chance?

“Look y/n I’m really sorry. I really am. I know that saying sorry doesn’t fix anything but I would really love it if we could be friendly and try to figure this out on good terms?” He said more seriously and you nodded agreeing.

“Yeah we can try. Everyone deserves a second chance right?”you told him. You had mixed feelings about it but you knew that maybe this was the best you could do. Try to make things easier between you two will also be beneficial for your work.

“Alright” he said with the biggest smile you saw him having since you saw him again. “You want some?” He asked, offering you mate and you just nodded, smiling at him and agreeing.

Just like the old days.

——————————————————————————————

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have anymore ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

#franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto #franco needs a seat asap #franco colapinto x femreader #williams f1 #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

247 notes · View notes