#franco colapinto x you

[purinfelix]

doctor's orders ₊˚⊹♡ - franco colapinto

summary: as if your hospital placement hasn't been stressful enough, you're thrown a new challenge - an injured biker, and his big mouth w/c: 1.7k words

a/n: u ever see a man so beautiful that you just want to patch up all his injuries and kiss him on the forehead and tell him it'll all be okay? ( ALSO LOOK I WAS PLANNING ON POSTING THIS BEFORE I FOUND OUT ABT ALL THE DRAMA BUT ITS TOO LATE NOW SO HERE WE ARE ENJOY THIS ANYWAYS SDJFKS)

"Sorry, but am I in the right place?"

If it weren't for his half-torn jacket and pleading eyes, you might've punched him in the face out of frustration right there and then. You just didn't have time for this, not now, when the emergency room was as full as ever and you were rushing back and forth making sure everything was under wraps. You weren't sure why - you were only a nursing student after all, but your advisor had said something about "real world experience" before slinking away for his lunch break, over an hour ago. Leaving you here to deal with this chaos. And now, a very good-looking man with some very bad-looking injuries.

"Yeah, please just have a seat and fill out this form, I'll be with you in a minute sir," you rattle off your pre-practised phrases hurriedly, shoving a clipboard into his arms and pacing off somewhere else. Behind you, you hear the shuffling of his boots as he returns to his chair in the waiting room, the one next to him occupied by his helmet.

It's a while before you talk to him again, at least half an hour, but the way he talks to you definitely doesn't reflect the time he's been waiting - or the amount of pain you're assuming he's in.

“Hello,” you pause, scanning the form he’s filled out with his details for a name, “Franco.”

“Hello Doc,” he smiles at you atop the hospital bed you’ve got him sitting on. 

“Biking injury?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he gestures to his helmet and scuffed racing jacket that are piled on the stool in the corner. 

“How bad?” 

“Not that bad, you should see the other guy,” he jokes, and even though it’s corny you offer an amused smile. 

“Right, okay then Franco, I’m going to have you take off your shirt.” When you look up from your clipboard, he’s posed comedically with his hands over his chest, donning a shocked expression.

“Woah, so forward doctor! At least take me out to dinner first.” 

“I need to see your injuries,” you sigh, and he only offers you a sly smile as he hops off the bed to do as you say.  

As a nursing student, you’d definitely seen your fair share of gross things - one only needed to look back to you lesson on pressure injuries to see that. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the gory mess that revealed itself as he peeled off his shirt, which was already caked with dried blood. 

“Holy-“ you start, before stopping yourself in the name of professionalism - but it’s too late and he whips his head around with a concerned look.

“What? Bad?” 

“Some would say so,” you try to steady your voice and sound as convincing as possible, already setting aside your clipboard to gather the things you need. You’re not sue if you should be doing this, or whether you even have the qualifications to - but you’re pretty sure waiting any longer might put him in danger. 

You pat the top of the bed to signal for him to sit on it again. “I need you to stay still for me, okay?” you say in the softest, most comforting tone you can manage. 

He nods and does as you say, and for the first time in the somewhat short period you’ve known him, his mask of confidence slips - revealing a slight vulnerability, and even a hint of fear. 

“It’s going to be okay, I’ll be quick,” you continue to reassure him, and he nods again. “This is going to sting a little though,” you warn as you reach into your side tray for a cotton pad soaked in iodine. Touching it gently to the smallest of his cuts, he lets out a hiss of pain, his back straightening up as he jerks away. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, though you continue to dab at his wounds. “Do you want to tell me how this happened?” You’re hoping the conversation will at least distract him as you work, or at the very least give you some information to fill his file with. But he only shakes his head reluctantly. 

“Aright then, what should we talk about?” 

There’s a beat of silence before he responds. “You?”

“Well, who’s the forward one now,” you joke, though the weak laugh he lets out tells you he’s far from kidding. If he were any other patient, in any other situation, you’d be prepared to refuse this request as per hospital guidelines. But from the shaky tone in his voice and the sight of his injuries, you can tell just how much he needs this - and so you oblige. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Let’s start with,” he pauses to let out a pained groan as you continue cleaning his wounds, “your name?” 

With one hand holding the cotton ball to his back, you lift the other to tug the lanyard holding your student ID off your neck and into his line of sight. 

“Nice photo,” he laughs as he takes it, pointing out your less-than-flattering headshot. 

“Don’t,” you threaten, though you feel comforted at the sound of his laughter, a more genuine one this time. 

“It doesn’t do you justice, you’re a lot better looking in real life.” 

“Alright, remind me to check you for a concussion later as well.” 

“No, I’m being serious!” 

“Just be quiet will you,” you huff, and he does as you say - giving you time to toss away the soaked-through cotton balls and reach for your bandages. 

“Student?” he pipes up again, eyes scanning your card. 

“Yeah, I’m here on placement.” 

“So you’re not a nurse?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but shouldn’t an actual doctor be doing this? Or at least, I don’t know, watching you?” 

“It’s been really busy this afternoon so my supervisor is,” you pause, trying your best to come up with a sensible excuse, “helping other patients. 

“Right,” he hums. 

“Why, am I not doing good enough?” 

“No I  didn’t say that!” You let out a laugh at his defensive tone, and the way he whips around to look at you apologetically with round eyes. 

“I’m kidding, though if you would feel more comfortable I can get you an older doctor.” 

“No, definitely not! I like you,” he blurts out, and it’s clear he hasn’t thought his words completely through by the way he continues to ramble a second after. “I mean, you know, an older doctor would probably like give me a lecture on road safety or something,” he follows up. As he turns around you can see the slight red tinge at the tips of his ears, causing you to let out an amused hum in agreeable as you finish patching him up. 

“Wait since you’re not a proper nurse yet,” he pipes up again a sly expression on his face, “do you still have to follow all the rules and things like that?” 

“Well, yes, I’m basically working here,” you reply, a little concerned. 

“So does that mean it’d be unprofessional for you to give me your number, you know since I’m your patient and everything?” 

This is the first thing he’s said that’s managed to actually catch you off guard, and even years of medical school isn’t enough to help you come up with an answer. “Wh- well, anyways I’ve done the best I can but you have gotten knocked up pretty bad,” you say, opting to switch the topic, “so I’d probably recommend staying overnight just so we can keep an eye on you.” 

You turn to pack up the equipment you haven’t used and grab his clipboard to make a couple notes. Behind you though, he lets out a pained groan - piquing your interest. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll just be for one or two nights and we’ll try our best to make it as comfortable as possible.” 

“I know doc, it’s just that-“ he starts, turning around to face you. 

“Why, got a girlfriend to get home to?” 

He lets out an amused scoff, “as if, I just have other things to get to.” 

“Right, well,” you clear your throat, a little embarrassed at having made a wrong assumption, “we physically cannot let you go, not in this state - consider it doctor’s orders.” 

He sighs again, though his tone is less annoyed now, and slightly more nervous. “I’ve just,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “I don’t know, hospitals kind of creep me out.” 

You spin around, a newfound tenderness in your expression as you look at him, “Oh, I see.” 

“I know it’s embarrassing, you know, since I’m a biker or whatever but-“ 

You take a couple steps closer to him, eyes scanning over his bare chest and up to his right collarbone which dons a thick scar which you can tell is from a surgery a long time ago. You gesture to it with a gloved hand, “That got anything to do with it?” 

His expression turns a little shy as his hand comes up to feel at what you’re taking about, “partially.” 

“Don’t worry, they used to freak me out too but, I-, we, will make sure it’s as comfortable for you as possible.”  He still looks a little reluctant but slips his shirt back on and heads to grab his things. The two of you walk out of the emergency room and out into the hallway. The hospital seems to have quietened down a little, the chaos from earlier being replaced by a sort of serene quiet as patients and doctors shuffle around. The two of you make your way up to the inpatient unit, where you manage to find Franco his own room for the night. 

“Plus, this way we’ll have plenty of time for you to fill me in on the details of how you ended up like this, and maybe how you got that lovely scar if I’m lucky enough.” You say as you gesture for him to go inside the room that’ll house him for the next day or so. 

“And if I’m lucky enough, maybe time to talk you into giving me your number,” he laughs as he sits down on the bed. 

You shake your head as you let out a soft laugh, already walking out of the room, “Goodnight Franco.” 

“See you tomorrow, Doc.” 

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@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[trashytracktales]

Adrenaline state of mind | FC⁴³

𐙚 summary ──── After a long, eventful Sunday in São Paulo, Franco finds himself sharing an unexpected ride back to his hotel. What starts as a casual conversation about racing and dreams, slowly turns into something deeper, as the quiet intimacy of the night pulls them closer.

𐙚 pairing ──── Franco Colapinto x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of racing incidents (Franco's crash in Brazil), swearing, suggestive/flirty behavior, unprotected shower sex (pull out game strong lol).

𐙚 word count ──── 4.6k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 17, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Every single time I open my silly writing app I'm thinking, this is the day I'll go for pure smut & no build-up, and every single time I fail miserably 🤍

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FRANCO KNOWS IT could've been much worse. So, he's done overthinking for the night. After a chaotic race that ended with a crash on Lap 43, all he wants is to go back to his hotel room and wash the day off.

The adrenaline is still there, giving him random rushes throughout his body every time he remembers his error. The rain made it all difficult, of course, but he can't blame the weather — that's what amateurs do.

The impact was jarring, even from the angles the cameras caught. But for Franco, being inside the car while it was happening — it scared him. And he's now too scared to admit that he's scared. He’s spent hours afterward in the paddock, walking the line between shaking it off and dwelling on it, and still, he can't help but coming back to the same feeling. Again and again.

It's past midnight now, and most of the lights in the paddock have dimmed. The Brazilian night is humid, shadows stretching out beneath a heavy, damp sky. The sounds of engines are quieted for once, replaced by the murmur of distant voices and the occasional clash of closing garages. There aren’t many people left — just a handful of team members gathering last equipment, and a few scattered mechanics.

And her.

He knows her only through Alex. She’s the friend he’s seen around a for a couple of races — in Italy first, then US, and now here. Formally, they met in the Williams garage, after qualifying in Monza. They didn't talk much, but enough for him to remember her name. And her smile.

She’s leaning against a barrier near the Red Bull hospitality area, shielded from the light shower while scrolling on her phone. The light that comes from the screen is softly reflecting on her face, Franco noticing the little frown between her eyebrows and how focused she is, for some reason. Her head is tipped forward, strands of hair falling loose around her face, and he finds a softness in her expression that catches his eye the second he gets closer.

“Thought you left already?” he says with a thick accent, but it sounds more like a question in the end.

She looks up, a little startled, but then her face lights up in surprise. “Oh, Franco. Hey. No, just… I'm actually trying to find a ride. Alex and Lily took off right after the race. Probably should’ve left with them,” she says with a small laugh. “Caught up with some familiar faces and I lost track of time,” she explains, moving her weight from one foot to the other.

There’s a faint tension behind his easygoing demeanor, but he holds her gaze with a calm confidence. “Want to come with? We’re at the same hotel, no? I was just heading there.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, her eyes widening in recognition. “That’d be nice, actually.”

“Of course.”

They start walking together, cutting through the raindrops, neither of them looking very bothered by it. The crisp smell of rain blends softly with her sweet, floral scent, making Franco's mind wander, and he realizes too late she just asked him something, only because the space between them went quiet for a bit.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

She puffs a little chucke out, “I asked how are you feeling, but just got my answer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Franco shrugs, “Could've been worse,” he finally says it out loud.

“Still. It looked pretty intense on the screens.”

His heart clenches, but tries to keep a neutral tone, “It was. Maybe a bit too much,” he laughs dryly. “Felt like it happened in slow motion, honestly.” Franco glances down at her, half-smiling. “But I survived.”

She hums softly, nudging him gently. “Guess that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Crash, pick up the pieces, do it all again?”

He shrugs, “Pretty sure I’m supposed to try and not crash at all.”

He didn't even try to be funny, but she finds it hilarious the way Franco emphasizes the words, as if he pours his passion into each one of them. Her hands wrap around her own body as they walk, their footsteps the only sound echoing in the quiet paddock. He notices it immediately, taking off his Williams jacket and draping it over her shoulders.

“Cold?” asks Franco, smirking, without looking in her direction.

She blushes at the warmth that instantly wraps around her, the faint scent of his cologne somehow comforting. It's not intoxicating, or too strong. Just a slight trace of cardamom, followed by an unexpected freshness.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, wrapping the jacket close around her.

THE RAIN IS still falling lightly when they get back to the hotel, the sound a steady rhythm against the roof of the car. None of them kept quiet the entire drive — they started off boring, agreeing that the capricious weather was a real pain in the ass throughout the weekend, but their conversation took off, flying like ping-pong balls from one topic to another.

Now, the tension between them is like a subtle current that neither is rushing to acknowledge, but it's buzzing just beneath the surface.

Who would've thought they have so much in common?

“You up for a drink?” asks Franco, taking even himself by surprise.

She has to think about it for a while — it can't be a good idea. He's had a long weekend and needs rest, and she desperately needs to dry up. However, her pulse starts racing just at the thought of being around him more.

Her lips lift in a small smile. “ Alright. Just one,” she agrees, raising a finger in the air to accentuate her determination.

One drink turns into two.

Then three, each sip bringing them closer, the conversations drifting from track tales to late-night jokes, then back to stories about his unexpected rookie season. She listens intently, her laughter genuine, her gaze warm and focused, like he’s the only one she’s interested in hearing from. There’s a depth to her that Franco can’t look away from, a curiosity and calmness that makes him feel understood; he didn't know he needed that until now.

“So,” says Franco after taking a sip of his fourth drink. “Can I ask you something?” his gaze is observant, yet gentle, as he decides to take the conversation to a more personal tone.

“Shoot,” she nods once, just starting on her third Negroni.

“You seem to know a lot about the world of racing, and the people involved in it. But you’re not part of it. Why?”

She smirks in his direction, “Yet. I mean, there is no school to prepare someone for the position I want, but I hope I’ll get to be in front of the monitors one day. To tell your engineer when is the optimal time to pit or what tires to use in order to gain competitive advantage, maybe, ” her voice is lost in reverie, like she's been dreaming about this for a long time.

He cocks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her answer, “You want to be a race strategist? That’s quite unique, no? Most people,” adds Franco, pointing at himself, “Dream of being racers.”

“I work better with my brain than my body. Plus, it's too late for me, even if I wanted to do something about it,” she says, a tint of nostalgia embracing her by the shoulders. “I've also seen Alex training before,” she continues, shaking her head while laughing, “Nope, thank you.”

“So then, brains over brawn, huh?”

“In my case, yes. Something like that,” she agrees, catching the little hint of interest in his eyes.

He studies her for a moment as if he tries to figure her out, because he knows there’s more to her than what meets the eye; their interaction so far proves that. It's a pleasant surprise for him, because it means there is a chance he'll get to see her around the paddock more frequently. And the thought makes him happier than it should.

Franco leans back, a playful smirk on his lips, “I see you, mystery girl. You seem to be full of surprises.”

“What about you?” she challenges him, copying his body language. “Who’s Franco when he’s not in the car?”

He grins, amused by her question. He takes one more sip of his drink, swirling the amber liquid around, stalling for a moment before he decides on his answer.

“Gonna sound cringey if I say I’m just a regular guy?”

“Oh, dear God,” she laughs, and Franco's eyes light up at the sound of it.

“I mean, I like the simple things, you know? Hanging out with my friends, music, enjoying good food… and drinks,” he continues in a suggestive manner.

“And drinks,” she repeats, nodding at his insinuation.

She looks back at him through her eyelashes, realizing for the first time since they bumped into each other tonight how late it must be. But, somehow, time seems to stay still when she catches him staring, her heartbeat fastening.

Franco’s gaze darkens slightly, the tension between them becoming suddenly palpable.

“And pretty girls,” he adds, lifting the glass and emptying it in one go, without breaking eye contact.

The warmth blooming in her chest catches her off guard, spreading from her neck to her cheeks as she shifts slightly, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze. She tells herself it’s just the alcohol, of course. But then his lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and her heart stumbles again in a way she can’t control it.

It’s not the alcohol, she realizes; it’s him.

It’s the way Franco looks at her like she’s something worth getting lost in, and she’s not sure she knows how to handle that.

He puts the glass back on the table and leans in slightly, as his eyes flicking from her lips to her eyes, and back again.

She looks at him, intently, feeling the warmth, and the way his breath hitches. It’s not just what she finds behind his gaze — it’s the reflection of her own desire, the undeniable pull that could easily make her lose it, if she's not careful.

And the realization is overwhelming.

“I think… we should call it a night?” she does not sound confident in the slightest.

“Probably a good idea,” replies Franco, studying her expression for a moment.

By the time they get to the elevator, the tension settles over them like a heavy blanket. He stands close, his hand brushing against hers as they walk inside, their gazes meeting in the reflective walls of the elevator the moment the doors close.

“Can you press 7 for me?” she asks, stepping back and waiting patiently.

He smirks, leaning over to do so, then he presses his own floor, just a few levels up.

The faint hum of the elevator is the only sound that surrounds them, but it barely registers over the rapid beating of her heart. Franco’s scent surrounds her from every direction, remembering the same unique smell from earlier.

His eyes catch hers in the mirrors again, and the look is almost unbearable, even through the reflection. They both know that, whatever this is, it's begging to snap. And it will. It's just a matter of when.

Every nerve in her body is dancing on the edge of patience — or lack thereof — and when he finally turns to look at her, slow and deliberate, she can't help but smile.

He takes it as a sign.

After that, Franco doesn’t think anymore — he just acts, leaning in, bringing his hand to her cheek as their lips meet in a soft, lingering kiss that deepens gradually, both of them feeling the weight of the night hanging heavily on their shoulders.

The kiss is experimental at first, like he asks a gentle question to which she answers to with a soft press of her lips on his. Then suddenly, they both start to feel the adrenaline of being in each other's space like that — so close and heated up, that it makes them wonder what contributed to the state they're in.

Aside from the alcohol, of course.

The elevator feels way smaller when Franco's free hand finds home on her waist, his fingers pushing the jacket away and then her blouse, gripping her warm flesh. The air gets heavier as they kiss, the oxygen becoming a secondary need for them, after tasting each other.

The soft ding of the doors opening goes almost unnoticed. But then she pulls back, stepping away, just enough to put some distance between them. Her lips are tingling with the aftertaste, mind so dizzy that her legs are currently made of jelly. She's about to step out when Franco's hands pulls her back to him by the edges of the jacket, their bodies colliding halfway.

So are their lips.

“That was me,” she manages, whispering against his mouth, her voice shaking slightly.

“Not tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low as he attaches his lips to hers again.

They stumble together, barely registering the way the doors close again to take them up to his floor. And by the time they reach his room, her back presses against the door as he fumbles for the key card, their mouths never straying far from each other.

Inside, the dim light of the room casts a golden hue, welcoming them as if it's not the first time.

“We walked through rain,” she reminds Franco, flushed as she catches sight of both their reflections in the mirror that’s hanged on the wall in the hallway. “Shouldn't we shower first?” she asks with a nervous laugh.

Franco smirks, his accent thick with the heat of the moment, “Ahora eso no me importa nada, bebita.” (I don't care about that at all now, baby.)

“No… vamos a ducharnos, por favor,” she cuts him off, “I feel dirty.” (No… let’s take a shower, please.)

Franco freezes for a split second, his eyes snapping to hers with a mix of surprise and something deeper, more intimate. He feels as though she has cast a spell on him, leaving Franco unable to resist doing everything in his power to fulfill her every desire, right here, and right now.

“¿Hablas español?” his voice is tinged with a boyish curiosity, as if her understanding of his language has just unlocked another layer between them.

It makes his head spin.

And that makes her smile.

“Un poquito,” the Spanish words roll off her tongue effortlessly, and he can’t help the slow grin spreading across his face.

“This just got even more dangerous,” he admits with a chuckle.

She lets out a breathy laugh as he steps back, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Her pulse quickens at the sight of him, the lean definition of his torso illuminated under the soft light. Franco follows, finally ripping off her — his — jacket, then her blouse, revealing her smooth skin.

Each piece of clothing dropped on the floor is another barrier that’s falling away, leaving a messy trail to the bathroom.

His hands roam up and down her body, frantically, kissing slopply until they get inside. Franco lets the shower run, stepping back for a moment, his breath catching as his eyes take her in completely, as if he just realized they are completely naked — no barriers, no hesitations, no inhibitions, just them.

It overwhelms him. The way the light skims over her skin, highlighting every curve and line. It reminds him of the first time he jumped into an F1 car and how each of his senses was somehow heightened up to the max, his pulse quickened by the gravity of what he was about to experience. He was over the moon then, and he’s over the moon now, though this time around, everything feels infinitely more personal.

“You're staring,” she notices his lingering eyes, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

Instead of contradicting her, Franco reaches for her hand, guiding her toward the shower. The steamy air envelops their bodies, giving them a sense of comfort and safety. She steps in first, letting the water cascade over her. He follows closely, pausing just before the spray to watch her tilt her head back, the droplets tracing paths down her body.

Franco swallows hard, parts of him awakening at the sight of her, while the heat soaks into his skin almost as quickly as the feeling of her presence does. His hands find her waist instinctively, pulling her in while his chest presses into her back.

The steam cloaks them in a moment that feels completely detached from reality.

He brings his hand up to tuck her hair out of the way, then he leans down to press his lips on her neck. She closes her eyes for a short moment, admiring his tenderness, but something tells her that it's him who needs it more. She turns around in his arms, finally facing each other again, her heart picking up the pace once she sees his hooded eyes filled with nothing but want.

“Turn around,” she tells him, managing to get a confused expression in return.

However, he doesn't question her, complying, while she stands on her tiptoes to reach his hair. Her fingers start threading through it with care, massaging shampoo into a lather. At first, it’s easy — an act of intimacy that’s supposed to bring them closer. But then she notices the way Franco’s shoulders sag under her touch, the tension radiating from him like a silent cry for help.

Her movements slow down, “Franco…?” she says softly, stepping closer.

He exhales sharply, his head tilting forward, “It’s fucking stupid, I don’t know why it scared me so much,” he murmurs, the words raw and heavy.

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate — she doesn’t need to. Everyone saw the state his car was in after the crash; of course it scared him.

She remembers holding her breath, the way time seemed to stop until she saw him climb out unscathed.

“It’s not stupid,” she assures him, her hands sliding down to rest on his shoulder blades, placing a tiny kiss between them, “You’re okay, Franco. It’s all that matters.”

He turns around, slowly, the water falling over his face, his expression torn between vulnerability and something deeper, something he doesn’t know how to name. It's not shame, but it could be.

Her hands rise to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his wet cheekbones. As a response to that, Franco leans down, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths blending in the warmth of the shower.

“How did I come across you…,” he whispers thoughtfully, feeling her hands sliding down his chest, slick with water and soap.

As her touch grounds him, something shifts between them in an instant.

The vulnerability melts into something else entirely — a need, urgent and impossible to ignore. When their lips touch again, her back presses against the cool tile behind her, the contrast making her gasp as his hands find her waist, drawing her closer. The water pools around them like it's simply forgotten, as the intimacy of the moment consumes them both to the point it washes away the fear and everything else in between, leaving behind only one thing — the present moment. The now.

“I know we're both un poquito tipsy and the alcohol would be such a pathetic excuse tomorrow morning, but you have to understand that I've wanted you since we were in the car, and I wasn't drunk then.”

His confession makes her heart tighten, smiling up at him.

“Okay,” she says, giggling while looping her arms around Franco's waist to bring him closer to where she wants him.

Franco chuckles, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she repeats, feeling his hands cupping her breasts, making her whimper as a result.

He pauses for a moment as he looks at her reacting to his touch. “Are you sure?”

She nods, arching more into his touch.

To cover her sounds, his lips attach back to her mouth, moving against hers with increasing fervor, the weight of the day dissolving into the way she kisses him back. Her hands slide up his chest, water-slicked skin beneath her fingertips, and she presses closer, desperate to erase the lingering fear she can still feel surrounding him.

“Franco…” she whispers his name against his lips, her voice shaky, but laced with want. “Let me help?”

He doesn't need words to reply, instead he's deciding on tilting her chin up to deepen the kiss. The other hand wanders all over her body, mapping out her curves that fit against him as though they were always meant to. Her head falls back, resting on the wall as his lips move from her mouth to her jaw, then lower, tracing a line along the column of her neck, discovering her sweet spots for the first time.

“Is this good?” he asks, reaching her thighs, brushing the pads of his fingers between them and pushing his hand further, gently opening her.

“Yes…” she agrees, moving her hips against his hand, forcing his fingers inside her.

Her moans sound like they are accompanied by a choir of drunken angels, encouraging him to find a pace, fucking his fingers in and out until he feels her squeeze him tightly.

Her arms are draping around his shoulders, pulling him towards her tightly.

“Franco,” the girl gasps his name into his wet skin before she lowers her head to watch his fingers slipping free of her.

“Joder. You're so sensitive, cariño,” he figures, widening his eyes at her.

She looks back at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, “That turns you on?”

“Sí...” he responds gruffly, taking a small step back, his eyes not leaving her body, drinking in every curve.

“Do something about it,” she urges, raising one leg up on his thigh.

Franco gets the memo, lifting her in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, the motion pulling him even closer. For a moment, everything else disappears — the crash, the weight of the day, the entire world. There is only her, her touch, her breath, her whispered name for him that sends his heart racing faster than any race car ever could.

She grips his shoulders tightly as he hovers above her. His dark eyes lock onto hers with an intensity that leaves her breathless, and Franco can't be sure either of them are breathing as he guides his cock to her entrance, hissing at the contact before sliding inside.

“Ay, fuck,” he breaths hard, feeling her body welcome him in, warm and wet.

She can't help but moan at how full she feels once he's all in.

Franco lets out another low grunt, his body responding to hers. He's struggling to hold back, to control the need that's consuming him. But soon, he realizes he can't resist the feeling of being inside her. So, he starts moving, slow at first.

“Feeling you so thight around me,” he mutters against her skin, “Fuck, there you go, cariño,” he ends up proppting a hand on the wall next to her head, to steady himself when he feels her fucking back against him.

“Franco, please,” she whimpers, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, breathing heavily at the sweet stretch.

Franco lets out a shaky breath, sliding all the way inside her, again and again, until his brain turns into mush. “You're so good, bebé. So good, unbelievable,” he rambles, his thrusts so slow and gentle, that make her see little white dots all around.

His mouth finds hers again, kissing her intently while fucking her so painfully slowly. It bothers her, but she knows it's about him right now; she doesn’t want him to rush. Franco's had enough of that today; enough speed, enough chaos. He doesn’t need to race toward the finish this time.

If he needs it slow, then she can take him that way.

She cups his face in her palms, forcing his eyes back on her — such a rookie mistake. The sight of him looking through wet eyelashes and glossy lips makes her pussy clench involuntarily around his cock, aggravating the need for him, causing a string of moans out of her mouth.

“Fran…” she loses her head, squeezing her eyes closed and rocking her hips harder against the wall to meet Franco halfway.

The way she molds to his rhythm, grounding him in the here and now, sends Franco to a completely different universe, where everything is pleasure. He needs it. Not to escape, but to rebuild himself.

They move together, each of his thrusts a reminder that not everything has to be fast to be meaningful, or to take your breath away — she's never been this close to coming from such a slow fuck before. His cock is hard and demanding inside her, though, throbbing against her walls the second he decides to pull all the way out, so he can fuck back in, finally setting a more alert pace.

“So good for me, aren't you? Letting me have my way like this?” asks Franco, his tone high and breathless. “Even though it's not how you like it, no?”

He's so close to the edge, too. She can sense it in the way his breaths are ragged and erratic.

“Talk to me, bébé. What do you want?”

“Mhm… more,” she manages, her body so close to collapsing in his arms.

That's all Franco needs to hear. His control snaps, the need and the pressure taking over as he lets out a low moan, “Sí, cariño... I've got you.”

He grabs her hips firmly, his fingers leaving indents on her skin as he slams into her harder, the feeling leaving her gasping for air. Franco smiles, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her wet skin.

“God, Franco. Don't—yes, don't stop.”

“So tight, and pretty, and hot, and—fuck, you're not real, bébé,” he's muttering in between deep thrusts, his words half-incoherent as he moves inside her, giving in to the primal lust, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

He can hear how wet she is, knowing it's just a matter of time until she finally lets go. So, he rises his head slightly, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, his voice raw and rough.

Franco's grip on her hips tightens, and it's almost painful, but then he suddenly stops, his body stilling inside her, the pleasure receding just slightly as he feels her come all over his throbbing length.

It takes everything in him to stop himself from following her, thrusting a couple more times to prolong her high. Then, he pulls out completely, guiding his cock between their bodies and pressing into her until his cum starts leaking onto her stomach. For a few seconds, it leaves a hot, dense trail before the water washes it away.

“Oh, my…” she breaths heavily, struggling to find her words.

As Franco finally releases his hold on her thighs, her legs falter beneath her, the strength utterly sapped from them. The slippery tile meets her feet, so unsteady, her body still trembling from the intensity her orgasm. Instinctively, her hands grip his arm, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping her from falling.

“Tranquila, bebita. ¿Estás bien?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, while turning the water off. (Easy, baby. Are you okay?)

She lets out a soft, shaky laugh. “Sì.”

Franco chuckles softly, his grip on her tightening slightly.

For some reason, he feels the need to hold her, as though he’s afraid she might slip away — not in the shower, but from him.

“Have you ever been to Argentina?”

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[wethotcrazy]

STEADY

pairing: Franco Colapinto x Reader

word count: 1366

fact: i am filipino— this being said if you're familiar with the oa x nonchalant trope this is exactly that. if you aren't familiar this is just franco being dramatic and reader being calm.

Franco Colapinto was nothing if not a romantic. Over the years, he’d become well-known not only for his talent on the track but also for his unrelenting passion—and nowhere was that passion more evident than in his relationship with Y/N. Their dynamic had become something of a legend in the racing world: Franco was the dramatic, endlessly affectionate boyfriend, while Y/N was his steady, nonchalant counterpart who, even after all this time, kept him grounded.

For fans and fellow drivers alike, watching them was like witnessing a rom-com in real life. Social media ate up every affectionate gesture, every over-the-top declaration he made, all countered by her quiet, unflappable responses. To Franco, she was his luz de mi vida—his light, his steady anchor in a world of chaos. And even though she wasn’t the type to mirror his theatrics, everyone could see the love in her eyes, hidden in those private smiles she only saved for him.

It was a race weekend, and the paddock buzzed with its usual pre-race energy. Franco spotted Y/N talking with one of the engineers, her calm and attentive demeanor at odds with the chaos around them. His heart flipped; even after all these years, just seeing her could make his day.

With a grin, he sauntered over, slipping his arms around her from behind. “Mi amor,” he purred into her ear, not caring if a few people saw. “Did you know you’re the reason my heart races faster than my car?”

She barely blinked, glancing up with that same unbothered expression he adored. “Is that so?” she replied, eyebrow raised slightly.

“Claro,” he said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “Without you, I’d be lost, mi vida.”

She sighed, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere, then.”

Franco’s grin only widened as she shook her head at his antics, and he caught sight of a few crew members watching them with amused smiles. They were used to it by now—Franco being hopelessly enamored while Y/N grounded him with just a look.

In between practice sessions, Franco kept sneaking glances at her, and when he caught her eye, he’d send a playful wink or blow a kiss, mouthing “Te amo” across the garage. She’d merely give a small, almost imperceptible nod in return, but that slight smile she gave him was enough.

As they walked to the hospitality area for lunch, he took her hand, twirling her as if they were in the middle of a dance floor instead of a crowded paddock. “Mi reina,” he declared, loud enough that nearby drivers like Logan and Ollie couldn’t help but overhear and laugh. “You grace me with your presence.”

“Franco,” she chided softly, letting him twirl her before steadying herself again. “People are watching.”

“Let them watch,” he said with a grin, leaning in close. “Let them see how much I love you, mi cielo.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and she rolled her eyes, but he caught the faint blush rising on her cheeks.

Ollie strolled by, chuckling. “Franco, you’re gonna give the fans a heart attack with all this.”

Y/N smirked at him. “You think it’s bad now?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Try keeping up with him off-track.”

Franco gave her a wounded look, placing a hand over his heart. “Ay, amor, you make me sound insufferable.”

“Only a little bit,” she replied with a straight face, earning a round of laughter from the others. But the way her hand stayed in his, even as she teased him, spoke volumes.

By evening, clips of the day’s interactions were circulating all over social media. Fans were in love with the way Franco couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her, and with the endless endearments he showered upon her. A trending clip showed Franco dramatically proclaiming, “Sin ti, soy nada” (“Without you, I am nothing”) as Y/N deadpanned, “Well, you’d better make it to the grid anyway.”

Fans loved it, with captions like, “Franco being a literal novela character while Y/N keeps him grounded = ultimate couple goals” and “Y/N’s poker face is elite but we all know she’s just as in love as he is 🥺.”

Later that evening, back at the hotel, they were alone at last. Franco was sprawled on the couch, his head resting in her lap as she scrolled through her phone. He sighed contentedly, reaching up to brush his fingers along her hand.

“Te quiero mucho, mi corazón,” he murmured, his voice soft and without the dramatics he usually used in public.

She looked down at him, finally letting her cool façade melt away. Gently, she ran her fingers through his hair. “I know, mi amor.” She leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, her voice barely a whisper. “I love you too.”

He closed his eyes, basking in the rare intimacy of her words. “See, you have a romantic side,” he teased, cracking one eye open to look at her with a smile.

“Only for you,” she replied, giving his shoulder a playful squeeze.

The next day, Franco was back to his usual theatrics, performing for the cameras as he waved at fans and blew kisses from the pit lane. Y/N stood by the wall, watching him with an amused look, arms crossed over her chest. Franco, catching sight of her, immediately bounded over.

“Mi ángel, did you come to bless me with your presence?”

She looked at him, unimpressed. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t get too carried away,” she replied, though her gaze softened just a bit as she added, “Cariño, remember to focus.”

“Siempre,” he replied, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “But I need my good-luck kiss first.”

Knowing he wouldn’t back down until he got what he wanted, she sighed and leaned in, giving him a brief but sincere kiss. He grinned as if he’d just won the championship and bounded off, practically glowing.

During the post-race celebrations, Franco was in his element, celebrating with his team and soaking up the energy around him. But even in the crowd, his eyes kept seeking her out, and when he finally found her, he made a beeline toward her, sweeping her into his arms despite her small protests.

“Franco—” she started, but he only lifted her up, spinning her around with a laugh.

“Eres la razón de mi felicidad,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek as she tried to keep a straight face. “My champion, my queen.”

“I think you’ve had a bit too much champagne,” she remarked dryly, though she didn’t pull away. Instead, she rested her head against his shoulder, letting him hold her.

The other drivers watched with a mixture of amusement and fondness as Franco carried on, whispering affectionate phrases into her ear.

“Don’t ever change, Franco,” Logan called out, grinning as he passed by. “You’re a hopeless romantic, and she keeps you sane.”

Franco just winked, giving Y/N another kiss. “Hopeless? No. Hopeful,” he corrected. “Because I get to spend my life with mi alma, my soulmate.”

Y/N finally gave him a rare, soft smile, the one she saved just for him. “Good,” she murmured, her voice quiet but full of feeling. “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

The fans went wild over the day’s events, every interaction dissected and adored online. A particularly viral post captured Franco kissing her cheek and whispering, “Mi amor, mi vida, eres todo para mí” (“My love, my life, you are everything to me”), to which she’d replied with her usual calm, “I know, Franco.”

For days, the internet buzzed with adoration, calling them the ultimate balance of passion and calm, of drama and stability. But in private, away from the cameras and the crowd, Franco and Y/N didn’t need any declarations or dramatics. In those quiet moments, it was simply them—two people who loved each other in ways big and small, grounded and steady, dramatic and nonchalant.

And as he lay beside her that night, holding her close, Franco smiled, knowing he had everything he’d ever dreamed of.

[may-stuff]

nsfw alphabet - fc43 edition

tw: i mean, many things related to sex but nothing too extreme. afab!readr. also, typos and grmmatical mistakes as always because english isn't my first language.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. He doesn't mind where you are; if you're in the comfort of your room or in a secluded area at some party/event or whatever, it doesn't matter, he will find a way to hold you in his arms and caress your skin, whispering sweet words in your ear, asking you if you're okay. He will only stop once he’s completely sure you’re fine.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands. Also, his arms. The force he has in them allows him to manhandle you however he pleases, which he thinks it's great.

He likes everything about you, every detail, every imperfection is a wonder in his eyes. But your breasts are his favorite part of your body. Doesn't matter their size or shape, he absolutely loves them and loves to play with them. Have you heard the legends about women having great orgasms by only having their tits and/or nipples played with? He'll give you that. He'll play with your tits and suck on your nipples until you're cumming hard.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes it messy, so... He'll cum wherever you allow him to, but his favorite place to cum is obviously inside of you. Watching as his own seed drips out of your beautiful cunt? Amazing. He's hard again in seconds.

Also, he loves pinting your tits and/or face with his cum. Additionaly, he loses his mind when he cums in your mouth and you drink up until the very last drop.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Honestly, he doesn’t have secrets because he never shuts up and has this chronic need to tell you everything. So, if he discovers something new related to his sexuality and the way he lives it, he’ll tell you right away.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I honestly feel like Franco isn't that experienced. Sure, he had girlfriends before and has had sex, but it's not like he fucked every single hole that got in front of him.

Either way, he knows what he's doing. He's very perceptive and naturally talented in everything he does/tries so I feel like, even if he isn't sure, he'll figure it out in seconds and will make you feel so good. It's totally a plus if you learn more together.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I feel like he has a top three: cowgirl, doggy style and missionary. And he can't choose only one because he fucking loves all of them. But if we take his love for your tits into consideration, then we could say that cowgirl is his favorite because he can see and play with your tits all the time.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the context. If you're doing it first thing in the morning or after chilling on the couch together, the mood is more relaxed and he can be goofy about it. He never shuts up so I can totally see him saying funny stuff while fucking you and you're both moaning like crazy and laughing. It'd be weird but fun.

If it's one of those times where he's jealous (or you are) or you had a fight and are making up, then he's all serious and dominant.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well groomed. He feels like it’s more hygienic that way. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be very romantic in his own way. Again, it depends on the context. Spending time in your arms, feeling your skin against his, whispering love words in your ear… he loves it, it makes him feel alive. Sometimes he’ll take more time worshiping you in a romantic way than with his cock inside of you. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Unfortunately, you have to spend several days apart from time to time, due to work most probably. You try to be together as much as you can, but when you're away he jacks off pretty often. He can't help it. He thinks about you all the time, and when you aren't there with him he just needs to touch himself, otherwise he'd go crazy.

He loves recording himself or taking pics and then sending them to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dirty talk - I’ve already said this a hundred times: his dirty talk is elite, both in Spanish and English. But so is yours. Every time you say something dirty while he’s pounding into you, he becomes feral and won’t stop until he makes you literally scream his name.

Praise kink - He loves it when you compliment him while you’re having sex, especially when you’re on top of him, riding him and telling him how good he makes you feel, how much you adore his cock (again, he loves dirty talk) 

A bit of breeding kink - Listen, he’s young and doesn’t want to be a father right now, but the idea of getting you pregnant? He gets hard at the thought of it. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your own bedroom will always be his favorite place to have sex with you, but if the situation requires to do it in any other place, he'll do it without hesitation. He's a menace and nothing will stop him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Everything aboout you turns him on, but when you bite on your lower lip, looking at him in the eyes, it's over for him. Also, those doe eyes of yours, pretending innocence, it stirs something in him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that involves you getting hurt. He'll enjoy some spanking and maybe squeeze your neck a little while he fucks you, but nothing beyond that. I feel like pain doesn't turn him on.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves both equally. The sight of you on your knees, struggling to get all of his cock inside of your sweet mouth is as addictive as burying his face between your legs and eating you out.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, it depends on the context. He's slow and sensual when you're doing it first thing in the morning or maybe after a long day, after a hard race. He needs to feel you but doesn't have too much energy in him to make it fast and rough. He is fast and rough in other circumstances, maybe after a few days without seeing you, he's desperate and needs to ruin you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not opposed to a quickie when the situation requires it, but it isn't his favorite thing ever. He prefers to take his time with you. For him, spending the entire night together is better than a hundred quickies during the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves to take risks, I mean, look at him. He's bold enough to try anything that crosses his mind, much more if it's something you ask for. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Great stamina. He's an athlete after all. As long as you give him a few minutes to recover between sessions, he's at it again in almost no time. Also, everything makes him horny so…

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don't think he owns toys, at least not during the first months of your relationship. Maybe you're the one who introduces him to toys and, as we said, he's in for anything (as long as it doesn't include hurting each other) so he won’t complain. He does prefer to make you cum only with his dick, fingers or mouth, though. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I mean, I shouldn't even have to answer this. He loves to tease, his favorite thing to do in the whole world. 

From something small like touching your arm or waist when you're doing chores around the house, to something so much bigger like sending you dirty texts when you're having dinner with your family/friends. He loves to feel how you tremble in his arms every time he touches you even if it's innocently; and when you're all flustered in public, trying to hold yourself back? A work of art in his eyes.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I feel like he isn't the loudest but he definitely makes some pretty, quiet sounds when he's inside you. He can't help it. 

I already told you all that I don't see him as extremely dom, I feel like he's a switch and he goes into the sub area pretty often so I bet he moans quietly and whimpers your name every time you’re on top of him, taking control and setting the pace. He’ll moan and beg you to move faster or let him cum. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

We stated that he isn’t the biggest fan of quickies, but he may have fucked you in some secluded area in Williams’ garage after some hard race that left him fuming with anger. The press, his managers, the entire team where looking for him, wondering where the hell he is, while he’s fucking you mercilessly i some bathroom or closet.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Normal, maybe slightly above average. It’s 7 inches alright? I feel like it’s thick, though. And he knows how to use it, which it’s actually the only thing that matters.

I feel like he has a pretty cock, like those that are nice to look at. It looks delicious when he’s hard; all veiny and with a nice, thick head that gets impossibly red...

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High as fuck. We already said that you have to spend some days apart from time to time, so he knows he won’t be able to be with you all the time, thus he always has his hands on you and gets horny pretty easily. All you have to do is bat your eyes at him or bite on your lower lip and he’s ready.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

We said he’s the king of aftercare, so he won’t fall asleep until he’s sure you’re completely done and ready to go to bed. He’ll take a bath with you and help you to change the sheets. There’re times, though, where he’s so exhausted that he will fall asleep with you in his arms, but it isn’t something he pretends to do all the time. 

a/n: hello, my darlings. hope you had a little fun while reading this! i know it isn't much, but it is something!

[katiascraft]

˚⋆𐙚｡“Pueden más que el amor y son más fuertes que el Olimpo” | FC43𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚

Parings: franco colapinto x argentine!female!reader.

Sipnosis: Dating Franco Colapinto as an Argentine university student is like riding a rollercoaster with your best friend: exhilarating, unpredictable, and occasionally terrifying. And was also never part of her life plan, but somehow it feels like it was written in the stars—or perhaps on a chaotic karting track. From laughing at his chaotic personality to sharing mates in the pitlane, their relationship is a blend of silliness, deep connection, and shared Argentine pride.Their bond is a mix of unfiltered laughter, deep admiration, and that unmistakable Argentine fire. From awkward family dinners to heartfelt moments away from the spotlight, their chemistry shines in every interaction. Here’s how their love story unfolds, the chaos they bring to the F1 paddock, and why she’s become the favorite WAG for her wild energy that matches Franco’s unhinged antics.

Your bond is bigger than love and stronger than the Olympus. ᯓᡣ𐭩

Now playing: “11 y 6” by Fito Paez.

Word count: +3k.

Warnings: dialogues in Spanish but translated. Language. Argentinian slang. Just fluffy fluff I’m not good at writing smut but I guess I’ll have to try someday. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Face claim: Tuli Acosta.

Author’s note: okay i'm stuck with this trope. I AM SORRY NOT SORRY ACTUALLY. but i hope you like it and enjoy it <3. MAYBE it doesnt make any sence but IM TRYING. There will be mentions of artists/people from Argentina if you wanna look them up. Don’t forget to like, reblog or comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

A Bond Beyond Words

From the beginning, you instantly had this electric connection. At 16 years old everything is intense but not at this level you thought. It's an indescribable feeling. almost as if you were two magnets pulled together by fate. Franco, with his unshakable optimism and cheeky smile, is the perfect foil to your grounded but equally fiery personality. Growing up together since you were kids, realizing when he was gone in Italy how much you loved him, how traveling during the summer breaks was heartbreaking knowing you couldn't see him until the next recess of the year - 4 months in the future. And when you get to university it gets a little bit more tricky but you try to make it work. No one in the world was more than worthy of your sacrifice studying anywhere at any time just to spend even a few hours with him on the other side of the world.

One night, after a long day of university classes and Franco’s sim racing practice, you decide to call each other. Where he was, it was winter, where you were, it was still summer. He was freezing and you were too hot. When he answered you could see him getting cozy on his bed with the heat on and the hoodie you bought him at a Tan Bionica concert you attended last year. You loved that band. You wanted to cry in that moment of how much you missed him. When he saw you on the other side of the world, in your home, surrounded by books and the sunset illuminating your gorgeous face, he wanted to cry. He missed you like crazy. You looked so beautiful, he only thought about kissing your whole face. You were drinking mate and eating facturas while studying on your balcony in Buenos Aires city. He missed his country so much, especially you and his family. While talking about your days you see his sister in the background that has arrived from paddle practice. His little sister Martina joined the conversation. He felt so full at that moment. How natural it was for you to blend with his family. How deeply and vulnerable and intimate that was to him. He trusted you blindly.

“Sabes que?, [you know what?]” Franco says, getting comfy on his bed, a little sleepy, his voice deep, “yo sería un desastre en la facultad. Como haces para memorizar todo eso?” [i would be a disaster at university. How do you do to remember all that stuff?]

“Probablemente no soportarías ni cursar 2 horas en esta materia o en ninguna en realidad,” [probably you wouldnt last a day] you reply without looking up in a smirk. “Pero lo bueno es que no lo necesitas. Y además, estás demasiado ocupado manejando a más de 250 km por ahora así que” [but good thing is that you dont need to. You are too busy driving cars at 250km per hour so] you finally meet his gaze through the screen. You hear him giggle between his sheets and pillows. He looked so cute. You heart felt so happy and full in that moment. You couldn't be more in love with him.

“igual,” his voice softer, “Sos incredible amor. Like... verdaderamente increible. Que puedas balancear tu vida con el estudio y mi locura de agenda, mi terrible talento en la cocina—” you giggled at his comment flustered". [You are amazing love. The fact you can balance your life between my agends and your university schedule, and my terible talent for cooking-]

You interrupt, smirking. “Y terrible asador. Muy decepcionante la verdad. Esperemos que no se filtre a la prensa porque te van a cancelar por decepción a la patria.” [you are the worst at cooking barbecue. Very disappointing for this country]

He laughs, resting his head on the pillow wanting to rest it on your chest and give you a tight hug. Distance was absolute shit. He couldn't wait to see you again in 2 weeks in Las vegas. “Bueno bueno ya se entendió. Pero posta, no se como haces y/n. Tengo mucha suerte de que me ames y me elijas y me soportes.” [alright alright. But for real, I don’t know how you do it. I’m really lucky that you love me and choose me and that you keep up with me] His eyes were hearts and his smile was bright. You blushed by looking at him. You adjusted the laptop. “Te amo fran” you knew, and he knew what those words ment. “Y la verdad que es fácil soportar esto, Franco. Porque sos el amor de mi vida. No importa los malabares que tenga que hacer para que esto funcione. Se que vos harías lo mismo en mi lugar. Ya quiero verte. Que sigas persiguiendo tus sueños. Cómo podría no amarte amor? Te admiro muchísimo, loquito. Estoy muy pero muy muy orgullosa de vos. Me encanta verte brillar y ser feliz. No importa lo que tenga que hacer, lo haria mil veces más si puedo verte ser lo que siempre soñaste y ver como te brillan los ojitos de felicidad” [and ti be honest, it’s so easy to keep up with you. Because you’re the love of my life. It doesn’t matter how much juggling I have to do just to make this work. I know you would do the same for me. How could one not love you? I admire you so much. And im really proud of you. I love to see you shine and be happy. It doesn’t matter what I have to do. I would do it a thousand times if I can see you be the thing you dreamed about and see you shining]

“Te amo boluda, me haces llorar” [I love you, you make me cry] he said teary and even dropping a few tears making you giggled completely down for that man. But how could you not? He is the most amazing person you know.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

yourusername made a post

liked by francolapinto, landonorris, yourbff, marcolapinto, and others.

yourusername: me reporto desde el mundo universitario triste y lleno de estrés para decirles que estoy bien pero quisiera estar como franquito la verdad (te extraño mucho @/francolapinto 😭)

[here I report myself from the university world very sad and stressful to tell you I’m okay but I would really like to be like franco to be honest (I miss you so much franco)]

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francolapinto: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

francolapinto: no podes hacerme esto no ves que recién me levanto y ya estoy llorando otra vez 😭😭😭😭 lo que te extraño lpm [you can’t do this to me. Don’t you see I just woke up and I’m crying again? I miss you so much god]

↳ yourusername: fran 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

francolapinto: Veni dale no seas mala no hace falta que estudies yo te mantengo!! [come with me. Cmon don’t be mean. You don’t need to satisfy I can spoil you!!]

↳ yourusername: ya tuvimos esta conversación 🙄 [we already had this conversation]

↳ yourusername: déjame ser independiente así después soy yo la que sea millonaria en nuestra relación let me spoil you babygirl 🫦 [let me be independent. So I can be the millionaire one and spoil you baby girl]

↳ francolapinto: hace falta que me expongas públicamente????? Te recuerdo que tu Instagram es público!!?!?! [is it necessary that you expose me? Do I have to remind you your Instagram is public?]

↳ yourusername: upsi

marcolapinto: Venite a casa reinita que te cebo unos mates mientras escuchamos María. Dale que aprobas!!! 🕯️[come home queen that we will drink mate while listening to Maria becerra. You’re gonna do good!]

↳ yourusername: 🏃🏻‍♀️

user366: I must say you are GOALS wtf ur so pretty wtf wtf

user890: FRANCO CAN U FIGHT??????

anibalcolapinto: ❤️

landonorris: hola mujer bonita, cuando vuelves al paddock? Che boludo quiero un mate

↳ franstan: omg not again

↳ y/nstan: the no rizz guy is back

↳ francolapinto: DELETE THIS

↳ georgerussel: I’m sorry bro he just a kid

↳ francolapinto: kid las pelotas [he is not a kid]

lewishamilton: my fav couple

↳ yourusername: KABSKXOHWJSODNS WTF LEWIS TE AMO WTF WHAAATTTTTTTT

↳ francolapinto: conmigo nunca te emocionas así ????? [you never get this excited about me]

↳ yourusername: ACASO SOS 8 VECES CAMPEÓN DEL MUNDO??????? Y TE LLAMAS LEWIS HAMILTON?????? [are you an 8 time world champion called Lewis Hamilton?]

↳ maxveratappen: he is a 7 world champion

↳ yourusername: OMG MAX I DRINK RED BULL EVERYDAY 🧎🏻‍♀️

↳ francolapinto: I can’t take you out anywhere 🤦🏻‍♀️

landonorris: WHY I AM BEING IGNORED GHOSTED BURRIED ALIVE ??????

↳ oscarpiastri: bro

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Chemistry and Admiration

Their chemistry between you two is palpable, and it’s the kind that makes people stop and take notice. You don’t just laugh together— you challenge each other, push each other to be their best. And to be fair, that's what makes you both so obsessed with one another. The love you felt for each other was like a drug. 

At the Williams hospitality building, during practice days your older brother playfully teases Franco about a mistake he made during his last race.

“Boludo, que paso en la curva esa? Te dormiste para frenar. Cuando quieras te reemplazo, en los kartings siempre ganaba yo” [bro, what happened in that corner? You slept on breakers. Whenever you want I can replace you. I always used to win in go karts in our time, anyway] you rolled your eyes at his tease. He was the reason you met franco in the first place back in summer 2019.

Before Franco can reply, you jump in. “dejate de joder. No te das cuenta que la skills de pro se las reserva para ganarte al truco?” [fuck off. Don’t you realized that his pro skills are reserved to win you at truco?]

your brother laughs, but Franco takes your hand under the table, squeezing it. He was laughing as well. Your brother can be a pain in the ass sometimes. 

Later, when you were finally alone, he says, “gracias por cuidarme y defenderme incluso cuando la cago y merezco que tu hermano se cague de risa de mi en mi cara” [thanks for protecting me and defending me even when I fuck up and I deserve your brother making a joke out of me] he says funny and exaggerated. You laugh, shaking your head.

“Para eso estoy fran, la única que se puede meter con mi hombre soy yo misma” [that’s what I’m here for. Me and only me can joke around about my boyfriend] you reply teasing, making him giggle but bring you closer by your waist planting a kiss on your lips. “ a veces te odio” [sometimes I hate you] he joked in your lips making you giggle once more like all the time you are together. “creo que asi funciona, no?” [that’s how it works, right?] you told him to stroke his hair with your fingers wrapped in his arms. You looked at him innocently making him laugh and kissed your cheeks with a million little soft and full of love kisses.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

francolapinto made a post

liked by yourusername, anibalcolapinto, espn, alexalbon and others.

francolapinto: pese a algunos errores obtuvimos un gran resultado. Gracias a todos por bancar como lo hacen,están sorprendiendo al mundo! Orgulloso de ser de donde vengo 🇦🇷 momento de festejar y enfocarse en la siguiente carrera! Vamoooosss

[even tho we committed a few mistakes we got a solid result. Thank you everyone for the support, you are surprising the world with your passion! I’m so proud to come from where I come from. Time to celebrate and then focus on the next race. Let’s go!]

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yourusername: mi país mi país mi país 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

yourusername: podes parar de ser tan perfecto???? Dios lo que te amo 😍 [can you stop being so perfect? God I love you so much]

↳ francolapinto: vos sos perfecta mi amor te amo gracias por apoyarme y acompañarme siempre [you are perfect my love. Thank you for your support always]

↳ yourusername: siempre juntos [always together]

↳ francolapinto: siempre [always]

williamsracing: vamos franco!!! was a pleasure to have you @/yourusername !!

↳ yourusername: my pleasure!! You guys are so cool!! Next time we need to play some duki songs! You’ll love them!!! Great to work out!! Like a bad bitch!!! 🤪🥵

↳ williamsracing: 😳

↳ wandanara: you soy una bad bitch!!! Te adoro nena!!! [I am a bad bitch! I adore you girl!]

↳ yourusername: OMG WANDA TE AMO

↳ francolapinto: el crossover del año [the crossover of the year]

↳ yourbff: y vos porque no la estás escuchando gritar me voy a quedar sorda [you wouldn’t believe how loud she is screaming because of this. I will be deaf qny sec]

↳ francolapinto: she’s just a girl

↳ yourusername: girls just wanna have fun!!!!

dukissj: flow carbon el tuyo amigo [serving looks bro]

↳ francolapinto: gracias jefe aprendí de vos [thank you boos. I learned from you]

↳ dukissj: a ser el mejor de todos los tiempos? [to be the best one of all time?]

↳ francolapinto: a ser un novio gansta [to be his gangsta lover (Emilia mernes: novio gangsta)]

↳ yourusername: te amo mi novio gangsta 😍

↳ emiliamernes: 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

↳ dukissj: 💀

landonorris: if I comment will I still be ignored?

↳ oscarpiastri: bro

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

University Chaos and Long-Distance Struggles

Franco is your biggest cheerleader just like you are of his. He always remembers your exam dates - you didnt know how but he did - always making sure to send you a good luck message and asking how it was whenever he can take his phone back after a really busy day at the simulator. Long distance is not easy at all but somehow you make it work. You know that when you two see each other again it will be all worth it. 

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

yourusername uploaded a story

[transcription: fisically here]

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francolapinto: mentalmente pensando en mi y en cómo te podría hacer sentir si no estuvieras del otro lado del mundo [mentally thinking about me and how I could make you feel if you wouldn’t be on the other side of the world]

yourusername: POR QUE TENES QUE HACERME ACORDAR DE ESO CON LO QUE TE EXTRAÑO FRANCO COLAPINTO [why do you have to do this to me knowing how much I miss you?]

francolapinto: definitivamente necesitas de mi magia para relajar, estás muy estrasada bb [definitely you need my magic to help you relax, you’re so stressed babe]

yourusername: te odio [I hate you]

francolapinto: 😇

francolapinto: cuando vengas tráeme 10 paquetes de don satur dulces y otras 10 saladas. Y pan dulce!!! Sin fruta y con chips de chocolate [when you fly here could you bring 10 packs of sweet don satur cookies and 10 salty ones? And brin pan dulce!! Without fruit I like it with chocolate chips]

francolapinto: NO ME DEJES EN VISTO FLACA [don’t leave on read girl]

yourusername: ESTOY ESTUDIANDO FLACO [im studying bro]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Chaos in the Paddock

When Franco made his way to F1, you became an instant hit among the other drivers and teams. Unlike the polished, camera-ready WAGs typically seen in the paddock, you're refreshingly candid, often seen wearing jeans and an oversized Boca Juniors or the Argentinian national team of football jersey. Your style was just relax and at some point not giving a fuck about royalty and money and status. You felt so much more beautiful with your vans on and baggy clothes. 

But you didn't only stand out because of your “so different” style. Reality was you were as unhinged as your boyfriend. You became the favorite WAG on the internet and the paddock as well. You were sweet to all of the fans and received all of the gifts for Franco you could take in your hands. Always sharing mates with everybody who wanted to join. Taking pics to social media and being hilarious roasting your boyfriend in front of the world. But that was just the way you showed love to each other. It was your code secret language. After the jokes vanish, only love remains between you two. Everyone was obsessed with your interviews just as any fan of the sport. People loved you because you read everything on social media regarding not only your boyfriends but the rest of the drivers. You became an f1 wag voggler on your instagram stories. 

All people at the paddock loved you. You were always there for everyone and anyone who needed a hand at anything. You liked to listen to people when they needed to. Franco knew he had the best comforting person in the world next to him and that made him feel really proud of himself. 

Also, you became a sensation when you started taking to races your pomeranian son called “polito”. You joined Alex and Kika at wags and mothers of dogs. You loved being part of the gang to be honest. 

All of the drivers' girlfriends were so welcoming and fun to be around. You always felt scared to not fit in his world or this world. You were a really private person but you pushed that aside the moment franco got into f1. You wanted nothing but supporting him and if that came along with being not so private anymore you’d take the risk anyway. And so far it worked out perfectly. You feel really comfortable with the life you have now. What scared you it didn't anymore. You were happy. 

One infamous moment happened during a race weekend. You were caught on camera yelling at Franco over team radio after he missed a breaking point in practice. Of course, it went viral.

“¡Qué hacés, boludo! Are you driving or playing Mario Kart?!” You were so competitive as well. You grew up watching and being involved in karting. You desperately wanted Franco to do more than good and that pressure and anxiety also made you iconic for people watching at home. 

The radio went silent before Franco’s sheepish voice replied, “Sorry, babe.”

The fans dubbed you the “Queen of Roasts.” Even Lando Norris couldn’t resist chiming in on media after the race:

“Franco, mate, you’re getting roasted harder than my starts.”

To which Franco replied teasing him, “At least I have someone to roast me, Lando.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

yourusername made a post

liked by bizarrap, francolapinto, yourbff, dukissj and others.

yourusername: Era mi crush y ahora está conmigo, amor platónico. 'Toy robando, qué afortunada soy. Nunca tuve un novio tan hegemónico. Nadie me hace sentir esta satisfacción. Espero que mi padre nunca escuche esta canción 🎶

[he was my crush and now he’s with me. Platonic love. I’m really lucky I got him. I’ve never had such an hegemonic boyfriend. No one makes me feel this good and satisfied. Hope my dad doesn’t listen to this song]

tagged: dukissj, francolapinto

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emiliamernes: se juntaron nuestros novios gansta ‼️ [our gangsta boyfriends reunited!!]

francolapinto: yo te quiero presumir. nunca nadie me ha querido así 😍 desde que la conocí le cure la cicatriz por que ella es mi novia gansta 😍 [I want to show you off to all the world. No one ever loved me his way. Since I met her I healed her wounds because she is my gangsta girlfriend]

↳ yourusername: TE AMO

user752: omg OMG they are so cute 😭

User1: I must confess I don’t like her at all

user67: clout chaserrrrr zzzzzz

yourbff: que fácil me cambias por ese chiruzo 😔 [you replaced me so easily with that muppet]

↳ yourusername: nunca te cambiaría MI REAL [I would never you’re my real one]

↳ yourbff: nunca nadie te va a amar como yo [no one ever is gonna love you like I do]

↳ francolapinto: ??????? Queres que compitamos? [are you proposing a competition?]

↳ yourbff: como te gusta arruinar momentos felices 🙄 [how you love to ruin good moments]

↳ francolapinto: ya perdiste xd [okay, you already lost]

mariabeccera: con lo que te quiero diría que VOS sos la verdadera NENA DE ARGENTINA bonita [in my opinion you are the real it girl of argentina, babygirl. I love you]

↳ yourusername: dm asap

↳ francolapinto: inviten [invite me]

↳ rei: 🤨

bizarrap: el príncipe y la princesa de argentina 🇦🇷 [the prince and princess of argentina]

↳ yourusername: te amamos gonza ❤️‍🩹

y/nstan: where’s the no rizz at all guy?

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Other Drivers Weigh In

The F1 grid is both entertained and baffled by your relationship. Max Verstappen once remarked, “They’re like a Netflix comedy special. You can’t take your eyes off them.” in one interview. You became the sensation of formula one. It was odd but you followed along just having fun with it.

Charles Leclerc added in his interview after qualifying, “She’s the only person who can keep up with Franco’s energy. Honestly, she’s scarier than his driving.” making the reporter laugh.

Meanwhile, George Russel took every opportunity to tease them. After one race where Franco crashed out, G joked, “Bet she’s gonna give him a lecture in the paddock. Poor kid’s already sweating.”

Yeah we can say you were really passionate and Franco absolutely adored it. 

In another race Oscar Piastri was asked about you as well “well, she is a really good teacher to be honest it's really nice to have her around”

“What did she teach you, oscar?”

“Che boludo, me das un mate? I don't remember what it actually means but something around mate” his accent made the interviewer laugh. Franco, who was being interviewed next to him, laughed so hard. 

“It sounded amazing mate. I will tell y/n to congratulate you” he teased making oscar roll his eyes. 

“And they are both a pain in the ass,” Lando said, coming out of nowhere on Oscar's mic, making everyone laugh.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Family Dynamics

Your families are an integral part of your relationship, and it’s clear that love and respect flow both ways.

Your parents were skeptical at first. A racing driver? That lives on the other side of the world? Really? But Franco won them over the first time he showed up at their house with flowers for your mom and a bottle of wine for your dad. He even attempted to join in on their family’s Sunday asado tradition—though his lack of grilling skills became a running joke.

“A esto le llamas asado?!” [this is what you call barbecue?] your father had laughed, shaking his head as Franco sheepishly handed over the tongs.

“Okay, okay, me dedicare solamente a correr, ya entendi!” [alright, I’ll stick to racing I got it] Franco replied, earning laughter from the whole family.

On the flip side, you’ve become a favorite among Franco’s family. His mom adores you, often calling to check in on your studies or sending care packages from home. His younger sister thinks you’re the coolest person alive and is always pestering you for fashion advice.

“creo que tu mama me ama mas que a vos”, [ I think your mom loves me more than she does love you] you tease one evening.

Franco grins, wrapping an arm around you. “No la culpo. Es impossible no amarte la verdad. Mira esa carita” [I don’t blame her. It’s impossible not to love you. Look at that pretty face] he said grabbing your face and squiz your cheeks playfully.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

francolapinto made a post

liked by yourusername, sangrejaponesa, bocajuniors, and others.

francolapinto: argentina, boca y mi mujer pero en el orden inverso 😇

[argentina, boca and my woman but the other way round]

tagged: yourusername, bocajuniors

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bocajuniors: gracias por venir franco! Te esperamos de vuelta! Vamos piloto! 🫡 [thank you for coming franco! We wait for you to come back! Let’s go!]

yourusername: 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦

yourusername: BOCAAAAA BOCAAAAAAA

user34: que hace la china acá???? 🚩🚩🚩🚩 [what is la china Suarez doing here??]

user54: que suerte que tiene esta mina [how lucky she is]

landostan: BEST WAG TO EVER EXIST

cavani: franquito te esperamos!!! Dale campeón!! [franco come back!! Let’s go champion!]

↳ francolapinto: LPM TE AMO

↳ yourusername: gracias por cumplirle el sueño al nene 🥹 [thank you for making the kid’s dream come true]

la12: chifla que te pasamos a buscar!

↳ yourusername: 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

↳ francolapinto: 🙃

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

yourusername uploaded a story

[transcription: he doesn’t like his smile but for me it’s the most beautiful smile in the world]

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francolapinto: boluda me haces llorar 😭 no me quiero ir mañana lpm te voy a extrañar muchísimo [baby you make me cry. I don’t wanna go tomorrow I will miss you so freaking much]

francolapinto: vos para mi sos la más hermosa del mundo [to me you’re the most beautiful girl in the world]

francolapinto: te acordas cuando me traías flores para cuando ganara las carreras? 🥹 sos la más linda del mundo. Siempre fuiste la más linda del mundo para mi [do you remember how you always brought flowers for me at the race kart just in case I won? You’re the prettiest]

francolapinto: podes salir de la clase y venir a darme un abrazo? Estoy sensible [ can you get out of that zoom meeting and come and give me a hug?? I’m sensitive]

francolapinto: te amo mucho [I love you so much]

francolapinto: TE NECESITO MI MUJER 😭 [I need you my girl]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Moments of Quiet Connection

Behind the loud laughs and teasing, there’s a deep, quiet love that anchors your relationship.

After a particularly tough race weekend where Franco didn’t finish, he’s unusually quiet. Back in your hotel room, you find him sitting on the bed, staring at the floor.

“Hey,” you say softly, sitting beside him. “Queres hablar, Fran?” [do you wanna talk?]

He sighs. “Siento que decepcioné a todos. Al equipo, a los fans… a vos” [I feel I let everyone down. The team, the fans… you] his voice shaky and his eyes teary.

you take his hand, squeezing it. “Franco, no decepcionaste a nadie. Y Menos que menos a mi Fran. Está bien equivocarse y tener días de mierda. No siempre se puede ganar y hacer todo bien. Es mejor darse contra la pared mil veces que ganar siempre. Lo que paso hoy solo te va a hacer más fuerte. No te presiones, ser perfecto es aburrido. Ya vendran dias mejores. El talento está en vos y eso es todo lo que importa, si?” [franco you didn’t let anyone down. It’s okay to commit mistakes and have shitty days. It’s not about winning all the time and be perfect. Better is to lose so you can learn from it and keep growing. I know the better days will come. You have talent and that’s all that matters okay? You’re good my love]

He looks at you, his eyes glassy more than before. “Solo quiero que se sientan orgullosos de mí. Que te sientas orgullosa de mi, no quiero decepcionarte” [I just really want them to feel proud of me. I want you to be proud of me, I don’t wanna let you down]

“Amor, estoy mas que orgullosa de vos, no digas eso” you say, voice steady. “Desde el momento uno. Todos los días de mi vida. Me explota el corazón de orgullo por vos franco. ¿Viste dónde estás? Este es tu sueño y lo lograste. No hay sentimiento mas grande que sienta que el que siento cuando te veo en ese auto. Cada vez que te pones ese traje y tu nombre sale en la pantalla. No tenes idea de lo orgullosa que estoy de vos y de lo que te admiro y te amo” [babe, I’m more than proud of you. Since day one. Have you seen where you at now? This was you’re dream and now it’s your reality. There’s not a bigger feeling in me than the one I feel every time I see you get in that car and drive, every time you fit yourself in your suit. You don’t really know how proud I am of you and how much I admire you and love you fran] his face now with tears. His arms wrap around you in a tight hug hiding his face in your neck looking for comfort that you gave for sure.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

francolapinto made a post

liked by marcolapinto, yourusername, anibalcolapinto and others.

francolapinto: feliz cumpleaños a la persona más hermosa que la vida me presento. Gracias por existir y encargarte de hacerme el hombre más feliz del mundo, cuidarme y asegurarte de que estoy bien. Gracias por apoyarme en esta locura de carrera que elegí. Gracias por entender y no juzgarme, por escucharme y limpiarme los mocos cuando lo necesite. Por ser tan empatica y amorosa. Nunca dejes de ser quien sos y de brillar más que el sol. El mundo tiene mucha suerte de conocerte, de que hayas nacido, de que ames como amas. Gracias por ser la mejor mamá que nuestro hijo polito podría tener jamás. Para mi sos la mejor del mundo. Tu calidad humana supera cualquier estándar. Te amo con todo mi corazón y/n. Espero que tengas un día lleno de amor y risas. Y que te den los mil abrazos que yo muero por darte pero no puedo. Gracias por aceptar las bases y condiciones de mi vida y aun así hacer que lo difícil parezca tan fácil. Gracias por subirte a cada avión y estudiar en los hospitalities. Gracias por las flores que me llevas desde que nos conocemos. Quiero que seas la más feliz del mundo porque es lo minimo que te mereces. Gracias por ser lo amorosa que sos con toda mi familia, con mis amigos, con cualquier persona que se te acerque. Sos increíble. Te amo te amo te amo te amo. Ya quiero abrazarte. Prontito nos veremos mi amor. Feliz cumple

[happy birthday to the most beautiful person life brought me. Thank you for existing and taking care to make me feel the luckiest man alive, looking after me and make sure I’m okay. Thank you for supporting me in my crazy career. Thank you for understanding and not judging, for listening and be the shoulder to cry on. Thank you for your compassion, sympathy and warmness. Don’t ever stop being so you and shining more than the sun. The world is really lucky to have you in it. We are all so lucky you were created, born, and by the way you love. Thank you for being the best mum our son polito could ask for. To me you are the best in the world. You human quality as a person breaks any standar. I love you with my whole heart y/n. Hope you have a great day filled with love and laughter and the million hugs I’m dying to give you but I can’t. Thank you for accepting me and making the longs distance shit be so easy. Thank you for the flowers you always bring for me. I want you to be the happiest in the world because that’s the minimum you deserve. Thank you for being so lovely with my family and friends and any person that meets you. You are magical. I love you. I want to hug you so bad. We will meet soon again my love. Happy bday]

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername: FLACO 😭 lo que te amo no lo puedo ni expresar. Gracias por amarme como lo haces. Con vos soy la mas feliz del mundo ❤️‍🩹 [I can’t not even express how much I love you. Thank you for loving me the way you do. With you I’m the happiest in the world]

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‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

How Franco Talks About Her

Franco is unabashedly in love, and it shows in how he talks about you —whether it’s to his family, teammates, or the press.

During a team dinner, his engineer jokes, “How does she even deal with you, Franco?”

Franco grins, not missing a beat. “She’s the only person who can out-chaos me. And trust me, that’s saying something.”

In interviews, his admiration for her is evident.

“She’s my anchor,” he says, his voice tinged with pride. “I can have the worst day on the track, and she’ll find a way to make me laugh or remind me why I love racing. And the way she balances her own goals? It’s inspiring. I don’t know how she does it, but she makes me want to be better—on and off the track.”

Everyone was in love with him. But fortunately, he was only yours.

And you were the best team of the paddok.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

The Future

Though your lives are hectic, you’re already dreaming of the future. Over mate on a quiet Sunday morning back in argentina, Franco muses, “un dia, cuando todo esté sentado, me encantaría quetengamos una casita acá cerca de mis papás y tus papás. Para estar tranquilos. Podriamos darle un hermanito a polito tambien. qué te parece?” [one day, when everything it’s already settled, I would love to have a house here close to our parents. You know, a place where we can relax and be ourself, what do you think?]

You look at him, your heart swelling and smiling widley. “Obvio que sí. Pero yo decoro, tu depto si no fuera por mi podria ser una sala de enfermeria” you tease. [of course I would love to. But I will take care of designing and decorating because if it wasn’t for me your apartment could be a nurse room]

“dale,” he says, grinning. [deal]

Your love is a testament to the beauty of finding someone who matches your energy, celebrates your victories, and holds your hand through the challenges. For Franco and you, life isn’t about the finish line—it’s about enjoying every chaotic, beautiful lap together.

Your love is bigger than love itself and stronger than the olympus and everyone could see it.

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hope you liked it guys! if you have any ideas just send them straight into my inbox! thanks for reading. Feedback is always very welcome!

mwak mwak mwak 💌 -cate

[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” ~ Pt 7 Franco x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, angst, cheating, arguments.

Summary: In the glitz and glamour of Vegas, Y/N’s carefully balanced secrets come crashing down when Lewis confronts her, forcing her to face the consequences of her betrayal.

The restaurant was stunning, even by Vegas standards—dimly lit with sparkling chandeliers that looked like they were dripping with diamonds. Everything about it screamed exclusivity, from the pristine table settings to the whispered voices of waiters who moved gracefully between tables. I sat across from Lewis, dressed impeccably as always, his sleek black suit practically gleaming under the soft light. He looked like he belonged here, a man who could command any room, any conversation, without even trying.

Me? I felt like a fraud, like I was sitting under a spotlight that only I could see, the guilt simmering in my chest. My heart pounded as I stared down at my phone, scrolling through Twitter, where the screenshot of Franco’s liked tweet had gone viral.

The tweet: “Y/N is so pretty, Lewis can you fight?!.”

The like: Franco Colapinto.

The internet had exploded. Fans speculated wildly—some thought it was cute, others joked that Franco was crushing on me. A few even suggested something more, which only made my stomach churn harder. I’d been avoiding Franco’s texts for days, but now this was out there for everyone to see. It was impossible to ignore. And worst of all, I had no idea if Lewis had seen it.

I scrolled a little further, skimming through comments. “Franco’s brave lol.”

“Y/N and Franco would make a cute couple though…”

“Lewis has some competition 👀.”

My phone slipped slightly in my hand, and I quickly locked the screen, placing it face-down on the table. My pulse quickened as I looked up, meeting Lewis’s gaze. He was studying me, one eyebrow raised in that way he always did when he was suspicious.

“You good?” he asked, setting his fork down and crossing his arms. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “You didn’t eat much.”

My face flushed, and I felt like I was on the verge of breaking into a sweat. Did he know? Was he just waiting to bring it up? I forced myself to smile, desperate to keep my cool. “Oh… no, I mean yes. I’m fine. It’s just… the food’s not that good.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.

Lewis didn’t react, but his eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. He wasn’t buying it. “Okay,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you need to eat something.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already waving down the waiter. “Yes, sir?” the man asked, his tone polite and professional.

“Would you mind taking this back? And she’ll have the cappelletti,” Lewis said smoothly, gesturing to my untouched plate. The waiter nodded and whisked the plate away.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed and stressed, and it all came out directed at him. “I didn’t need a whole other plate of food, Lewis,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended.

He didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor irritating me further. “Well, just have some of it,” he replied softly, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a gesture that usually calmed me but now made my stomach twist with guilt. “What’s wrong? You’re acting all jumpy.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess I just had too much caffeine today.” I offered a weak laugh, hoping it would lighten the mood. To my relief, he smiled, but it didn’t feel entirely genuine.

“Mhmm,” he said, sitting back in his chair and letting go of my hand. He crossed his arms again, his expression unreadable. Then, casually, he added, “I saw something funny today.”

My heart stopped. “What was it?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

He paused, letting the silence hang for just a second too long. “It was about you,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. “And Franco.”

My stomach flipped, heat rushing to my face. I forced myself to look at him, feigning confusion. “Hm? Me and Franco?”

“Yes. You. And Franco,” he repeated, sharper this time.

“What about me and Franco?” I asked, shifting in my seat, trying to sound indifferent.

Lewis leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “It’s stupid,” he said, a strained smile on his face. “But he liked a tweet. That said you were pretty.”

I let out a small, nervous laugh, hoping it would seem natural. “Oh? That’s interesting,” I said, pretending to brush it off, but my chest was tight, and my palms felt clammy.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Interesting? Why is that interesting?” His voice was still light, but his gaze was anything but.

I shrugged, my mind racing. “Uh… because… I don’t know, it’s just funny, I guess.” I took a sip of water to distract myself, but I could feel his eyes watching my every move.

“It’s funny?” he asked, his tone losing its playful edge. “You think it’s funny that he thinks you’re attractive?”

I looked at him, forcing a confused expression. “Lewis, come on… what do you want me to say? He liked a tweet. Big deal.” I leaned back in my chair, trying to appear nonchalant, but my voice betrayed me with a slight tremble.

Lewis’s face hardened, his expression unreadable. He picked up his napkin, placed it on the table, and stood up. “Let’s go,” he said curtly.

I blinked, confused and panicked. “But… my food?”

He motioned for me to stand as he held out his hand. “I can get you food at the hotel. Now, come on,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

I hesitated, but the look on his face left no room for argument. I stood, grabbing his hand as he led me out of the restaurant. He handed the waiter some cash on the way out, apologizing for the abrupt departure, but his grip on my hand was tight, almost possessive. My mind raced with anxious thoughts. Does he know? Does he suspect something more than just the tweet? The tension in the air was suffocating.

The ride back to the hotel was painfully silent. I glanced at him several times, trying to gauge his mood, but he didn’t look at me once. Even the elevator ride up was filled with an unbearable tension. By the time we stepped into the luxurious suite, my nerves were frayed.

Lewis closed the door behind us and slammed it shut, the sound echoing through the room and making me jump. I turned to face him, my heart pounding.

“Lewis?” I asked hesitantly.

He stood there, his expression cold and unreadable. “Give me your phone,” he said calmly.

My heart dropped. “What? Why?” I asked, forcing a laugh to mask my panic.

“Y/N. Don’t do this,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Just let me see your phone.”

I smiled, trying to deflect. “Lewis, baby… what? Why? What’s wrong?” I said sweetly, stepping closer to him.

His eyes softened for a moment, like he was begging me to prove him wrong. “If you don’t show me your phone, I’m going to assume you have something to hide,” he said, his voice low and filled with quiet intensity.

I froze, my mind racing. Oh god. He knows.

I froze, my mind scrambling to find a way out, my heart pounding so hard I thought he might hear it. “Lewis,” I started, my voice faltering, “what… what are you even talking about? I don’t have anything to hide.”

His eyes narrowed, and I could see the hurt beneath the coldness in his expression. “Then show me,” he said softly, but there was a sharp edge to his tone, like this was his final offer. “If there’s nothing, show me your phone.”

I tried to smile, to ease the tension, but it came out all wrong—strained, almost guilty. “Lewis… this is crazy. You’re being paranoid.”

“Am I?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. He stepped closer, and I instinctively backed up, bumping into the edge of the bed. “Because for weeks now, you’ve been acting different. Distant. Nervous. Like your mind is somewhere else. And now this—Franco liking a tweet about you? And you think I’m paranoid?”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, guilt and panic crashing over me in waves. “Lewis, stop. You’re making this into something it’s not,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Then prove it,” he said again, his tone firmer this time, his jaw tight. “Prove to me I’m wrong. Because right now, Y/N, it feels like you’re lying to my face.”

I shook my head, swallowing hard. “This isn’t fair. You don’t trust me, and now you’re demanding to see my phone? Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”

He let out a sharp laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “You’re deflecting. Again. You think I don’t notice? You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve stopped calling me ‘lovie,’ how you barely look at me when we’re together?” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I know you, Y/N. Better than anyone. And I know when something is wrong.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. My defenses were crumbling, and he could see it. His eyes softened for a brief moment, like he was giving me one last chance.

“Please,” he said quietly, his voice almost breaking. “If I’m wrong, just tell me. Tell me I’m imagining things. Show me there’s nothing to worry about.”

I stared at him, my throat tightening. Every excuse, every lie I had ready to say felt hollow and wrong. My silence only seemed to confirm his worst fears.

His face changed—his expression hardening, his disappointment cutting deeper than any words could. “Y/N,” he said, his voice low and dangerous now, “if you don’t tell me the truth right now, I’ll assume the worst. And I’m not the kind of man who tolerates being disrespected.”

I felt the tears spilling over, hot and stinging as they ran down my cheeks. “Lewis…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

He stepped back, crossing his arms, his gaze cold now. “Did you?” he asked simply, his tone flat. “Did you sleep with him?”

My heart shattered at his words, the weight of my guilt suffocating me. I wanted to lie, to deny it, to do anything to make this go away, but the truth was written all over my face.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Oh my god,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You did. Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I stammered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “It just… happened. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“You didn’t mean for it to?” he interrupted, his voice rising with anger. “What the fuck does that even mean? You accidentally ended up in bed with him?”

I flinched at his words, my tears falling freely now. “Lewis, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his voice raw with emotion. “Don’t stand there and tell me you love me after what you’ve done. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

I felt my legs weaken, my body trembling as I tried to hold myself together. “Lewis, please,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do anything to fix this. I don’t want to lose you.”

He looked at me then, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disgust. “Fix this?” he repeated, his voice dripping with bitterness. “You can’t fix this, Y/N. You can’t undo what you’ve done.”

He turned away, pacing the room as he ran his hands through his hair, his frustration palpable. After a moment, he stopped, his back to me as he spoke. “Pack your things,” he said quietly, his voice steady but cold. “I want you out of here.”

“Lewis, no,” I cried, stepping toward him. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, spinning around to face me. His eyes were red, his jaw tight. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. I gave you everything, Y/N. I loved you more than anything. And this… this is how you repay me?”

His words hit me like a blow, and I felt my knees buckle as I sank onto the edge of the bed, sobbing. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice broken. “I’m so sorry.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his face unreadable, before turning and walking toward the door. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said without looking at me. “Be gone by then.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and I felt my entire world collapse around me. The man I loved—the man who had been my everything—was gone. And it was all my fault.

I sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door, my sobs the only sound in the vast, luxurious hotel suite. My mind was a whirlwind of guilt, panic, and heartbreak. The weight of everything crashed down on me all at once, suffocating and inescapable. What have I done? I kept asking myself. What have I done to him? To us? To myself?

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I just sat there, my tears soaking the fabric of my dress, my chest heaving with silent cries. Lewis was gone, and this time it felt permanent. There was no reassuring hand on my back, no soft “angel” whispered in my ear. He was done with me. And I couldn’t even blame him.

I forced myself to stand, my legs shaky and weak as I dragged myself to my suitcase. The silence in the room was deafening, save for the occasional hiccup that escaped me as I tried to pull myself together. My hands trembled as I packed my things, throwing clothes and shoes into the bag without any care or thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go.

Halfway through, my phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sudden sound cutting through the heavy stillness. I froze, staring at it, my breath catching in my throat. For a split second, I thought—hoped—it was Lewis. Maybe he was coming back, maybe he wanted to talk, maybe there was a sliver of a chance to fix this.

But when I picked it up, the name on the screen made my heart sink and flutter at the same time.

Franco.

I stared at the phone, debating whether to answer. Part of me wanted to throw it across the room, to shut it all out and figure out a way to mend things with Lewis. But another part of me—the part that was still drawn to Franco, even in the midst of this chaos—needed to hear his voice.

I hesitated, then swiped to answer. My voice was weak and broken as I said, “Hello?”

“Hermosa,” Franco’s familiar accent filled my ear, soft and comforting. But as soon as he heard the tremble in my voice, his tone shifted. “Y/N? Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The dam broke, and I sobbed into the phone, my voice shaking as I tried to explain. “He knows, Franco. Lewis knows…”

There was a pause on the other end, the line heavy with his silence. “He… knows?” he finally said, his voice low and filled with concern. “Knows what? About us?”

“Yes,” I whispered, choking on the word. “He asked for my phone, and I… I couldn’t lie anymore. He figured it out.”

“Y/N…” Franco’s voice softened, and I could hear the guilt in it, the same guilt that had been eating away at me for weeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I—” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

I looked around the room, at the suitcase half-packed on the bed, at the door Lewis had slammed shut behind him. “I’m in the hotel,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But… he told me to leave. He doesn’t want me here.”

“Where are you going to go?” Franco asked, his voice urgent now. “Hermosa, you can’t just be out there by yourself. Come to me. Please. I’ll take care of you.”

I hesitated, the weight of my situation pressing down on me. Part of me wanted to tell him no, to handle this on my own, to somehow find a way back to Lewis. But the thought of being alone, of facing this heartbreak by myself, was too much. I needed someone. And Franco was there.

“Okay,” I said quietly, almost defeated. “I’ll come.”

The relief in his voice was immediate. “Good. I’ll send you my room number. Just… get here as soon as you can.”

The Uber ride to Franco’s hotel was a blur. My tears had mostly dried by then, leaving me feeling empty and numb. My suitcase sat awkwardly at my feet as the car weaved through the bright lights of the Vegas strip. The glitz and glamour of the city felt like a cruel joke, mocking the disaster my life had become.

When I finally arrived at Franco’s hotel, I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I made my way to his room. The hallway was quiet, and I counted the door numbers until I reached his: 505. I knocked softly, my heart pounding in my chest.

The door opened almost immediately, and there he was. Franco stood in the doorway, dressed casually in a T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy and his eyes filled with concern. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me, taking in the tear-streaked makeup and the exhaustion written all over my face.

“Hermosa…” he said softly, stepping forward to pull me into a warm hug. His arms wrapped around me, and for the first time that night, I felt a small sense of relief. I let myself sink into his embrace, letting him hold me as I fought back fresh tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured against my hair, his voice heavy with guilt. “This is all my fault.”

I pulled back, shaking my head as I looked up at him. “No, Franco. It’s not just you. I made choices too… bad choices. And now… I’ve lost him.”

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the stray tears on my cheeks. “You didn’t lose him because of me. You lost him because you weren’t happy, Y/N. You know that.”

His words stung, but they also rang true. As much as I loved Lewis, as much as I wanted to believe we could work through anything, there had been cracks in our relationship long before Franco came into the picture.

“Come inside,” Franco said softly, taking my suitcase with one hand and leading me into the room with the other. The door clicked shut behind us, and I felt the weight of the world lift just slightly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as Franco set my suitcase aside. He turned back to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name yet.

“You’ll stay here?” he asked gently, sitting beside me. “With me?”

I nodded, my voice too weak to speak. “Please,” I finally whispered. “I don’t know where else to go.”

His lips curved into a small, soft smile as he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “Then stay,” he said simply, his voice soothing. “You’re safe here.” He says as he sits down next to me.

For the first time that night, I felt a glimmer of hope, even as the guilt and heartbreak lingered in the background. Franco was here. And for now, that was enough.

Franco moved closer, his hands resting lightly on my knees as he sat in front of me. His presence was grounding, his gentle touch reminding me that, for better or worse, I wasn’t alone. I felt fragile, like a cracked vase barely holding together, and he seemed to sense it, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was afraid I might break.

“You’re exhausted,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “You’ve been through too much tonight, hermosa.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, the ache in my chest still too raw. My gaze dropped to his hands, which were warm and steady against my knees, the opposite of the chaos swirling in my mind. I thought about everything—Lewis, the fight, the tears—and felt my throat tighten again. But before I could spiral further, Franco’s voice pulled me back.

“You deserve better than this,” he said, his accent curling around the words in a way that made them feel softer, more tender. “Better than feeling like you’re walking on eggshells. Better than being so unhappy.”

I looked up at him, my brows furrowing slightly. “It’s not that simple, Franco,” I murmured. “I hurt him. I ruined everything. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for what I’ve done.”

He shook his head, his hands sliding from my knees to gently take mine in his. His fingers brushed against my knuckles, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down my spine. “You made a mistake, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “But maybe… maybe this was always going to happen. Maybe things weren’t as perfect as you thought they were.”

I blinked at him, his words hitting closer to the truth than I wanted to admit. “I loved him,” I said softly, the words catching in my throat. “I still do.”

Franco’s jaw tightened for a moment, and he looked down, like he was fighting with himself over what to say. When he lifted his gaze back to mine, his expression was both tender and determined. “I know you do,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But do you love him the way you’re supposed to? The way that makes you happy? Or do you love him because… you think you should?”

His question hung in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable. I stared at him, my mind scrambling for an answer I didn’t have. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, unable to form a response. He leaned in slightly, his dark greenish-blue eyes locking onto mine.

“You’re here, Y/N,” he said softly, but there was a hint of something darker in his tone, something almost possessive. “You chose to be here with me. That means something.”

I swallowed hard, feeling my heart race under the intensity of his gaze. I wanted to argue, to tell him this was just a temporary refuge, a place to catch my breath. But deep down, I knew there was more to it than that. I didn’t just come here because I was kicked out—I came here because I wanted to. Because Franco had become the only person I could turn to.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It just… it got so complicated, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Franco reached up, brushing a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. His touch lingered, his hand cupping my face as he leaned in closer. “Maybe it’s not complicated at all,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “Maybe this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

I felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pull I felt toward him, the way his words wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. He leaned in further, his lips ghosting over mine, and for a moment, I let myself fall into him, into the warmth and safety of his presence.

His lips brushed mine softly, then again, firmer this time, and I melted into the kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, deliberate, like he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss, and I let him, too tired to fight the part of me that wanted this—wanted him.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his fingers still holding my waist. His eyes searched mine, and there was a flicker of something in his expression, something that made my stomach twist.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice laced with an almost smug satisfaction, “I’ve been waiting for this moment. For you to be here. With me. Just us.”

His words made my breath catch. I blinked at him, trying to process what he’d just said, but he didn’t give me a chance to respond. He leaned in again, his lips finding mine, his hands sliding up to cradle my face as though I were something precious he couldn’t bear to lose.

For the first time, I saw it clearly—the way he looked at me, the way he touched me. This wasn’t just about comfort or attraction. This was something he’d wanted for a long time, maybe longer than I’d realized. And now, with me here in his hotel room, he had exactly what he wanted.

I felt Franco's lips press against mine once more, his kiss deepening as his hands slid up to tangle in my hair. My fingers gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as I lost myself in the sensation of his mouth on mine, the taste of him filling my senses.

He leans me back ok the bed, never breaking the kiss as he laid me down gently on the plush comforter. His body hovered over mine, one hand brushing strands of hair from my face while the other trailed down my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I arched into him, desperate for more of his touch. My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin. He groaned softly as I explored him, his hips pressing against mine with a promise of what was to come.

Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress me, his eyes never leaving mine as he revealed inch after inch of my bare skin. I trembled under his gaze, feeling exposed yet cherished, like the most precious thing in the world. When he finally removed my bra, he took a moment to admire my breasts, his fingers ghosting over my nipples until they pebbled beneath his touch.

"Perfect," he breathed, lowering his head to take one into his mouth. I gasped, arching off the bed as pleasure shot through me. He lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, his tongue swirling and his teeth grazing until I was writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

His hands slid down my body, pushing my panties aside as he explored my most intimate places. I was already wet, already aching for him, and he groaned against my skin at the discovery.

"So sweet," he murmured, his fingers teasing my entrance. "So perfect."

He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my navel before settling between my thighs. I tangled my fingers in his hair.

His tongue delved into me, and I cried out, my fingers tightening in his hair. He explored me with a thoroughness that left me breathless, his mouth and tongue working in tandem to bring me closer and closer to the edge.

Just as I thought I couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, licking his lips. He kissed his way back up my body, his hands caressing my skin until he reached my face. He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my kiss-swollen lips.

"I want to be everything you need," he whispered, his eyes searching mine. "I want to make you forget him, forget anyone else but me."

With those words, he claimed my mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep as he pressed his body against mine. I could feel the hard length of him against my thigh, and I ached to have him inside me, to be filled and claimed by him completely.

He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. With a single, steady push, he entered me, stretching and filling me in a way that made me see stars.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against my shoulder. "You feel incredible."

He started to move, his hips rocking against mine in a steady rhythm that had me gasping and clutching at his back. Each thrust seemed to go deeper than the last, hitting a spot inside me that made my toes curl and my vision blur.

I lost myself in the sensation of him moving inside me, in the heat and the friction and the delicious pressure building within me. He changed the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly I was seeing white, my body tensing and quivering as my orgasm crashed over me.

"Yes, hermosa" he panted, his own movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. "Come for me, Y/N. Let me make you feel better." He coos.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside me, his body shuddering as he found his own peak. I clung to him, my nails digging into his skin as I rode out the waves of my climax.

After we both caught our breath, Franco rolled off me, pulling me close so that my head rested on his chest. His fingers stroked through my hair, the gentle touch sending aftershocks of pleasure through my body.

"That was amazing," he murmured, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. "You're amazing, Y/N."

I snuggled closer, relishing the warmth and security of his embrace. He offered me the use of his shower, and I gladly accepted, disappearing behind the closed door to wash away the evidence of our lovemaking.

As I stood under the hot spray, I could still feel the ghost of Franco's touch on my skin, the memory of his kisses and caresses. My mind was hazy with pleasure, my body still tingling from the intense orgasm he'd given me.

Wrapped in one of his shirts after my shower, I emerged to find Franco waiting for me, his eyes soft with affection as he took in my appearance. The shirt hung loosely on my frame, the scent of him enveloping me like a comforting blanket.

He pulled me down beside him on the bed, his arms encircling me and drawing me close. We lay there for a long time, just holding each other, exchanging soft kisses and gentle touches.

"You're special, Y/N. You're the only one I want, the only one I need."

His words were like a balm to my wounded heart, soothing the ache that had been there for so long. I realized that he was right. I'd never felt this kind of connection with Lewis, this sense of being cherished and adored.

As I lay there in Franco's arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I knew that I was exactly where I was meant to be. All thoughts of Lewis faded away, replaced by a growing sense of rightness, of belonging.

But as much as this moment relaxed me…. The intrusive thoughts of the days to come filled my mind with anxiety.

———————————

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works. 💜

l hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

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Xoxo

Princess

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

people you know | franco colapinto

🏵️ synopsis: You’re trying to move on after your ex, now a Formula 1 star, becomes famous, but seeing his face everywhere makes it harder than you expected. tags: jealousy, angst, trying to move on after a break up. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 1.2k words)

part 1

You're sitting in your kitchen on a humid late-summer evening, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram while waiting for the pasta water to boil. Your timeline is the usual: vacation photos, friends’ engagement announcements, and a few cat memes – until a familiar face stops you cold. You blink, suddenly focused on the screen. It's a post from Formula 1’s official account: “Breaking News! Franco Colapinto to replace Logan Sargeant for the remainder of the season with Williams Racing!”

It’s him: your ex. The same guy who used to fumble with his old beat-up car keys in your apartment hallway, who hated public speaking, who once told you over cheap beer that he'd "never give up" on his dream of making it to Formula 1. 

Your heart stutters. The boiling water spills over, hissing against the stovetop, but you can't look away. 

You swipe to his Instagram account, which has exploded to millions of followers; his latest post has hundreds of thousands of likes. 

There’s something in your chest that feels tight and uncomfortable. Not jealousy exactly, but the uncomfortable sense of having your own little piece of history – the memories only you two shared – thrust out into a space where millions of people could now claim a part of it too. 

He’s no longer just a face in old Facebook photos or an occasional memory triggered by a song; he’s public, untouchable, and no longer yours in any sense of the word.

A notification pops up on your phone: your best friend has sent you a screenshot of the announcement with a simple, incredulous message: “Did you know?”

part 2

Weeks pass, and your life starts to feel like it’s caught in a loop, a strange orbit with your ex at the center. The usual silence in the office kitchen is now broken by someone asking, “Did you see the race last weekend?” and even if you don’t reply, even if you keep your head down and sip your coffee, you know they’re talking about him – the person who used to sit with you in the mornings, groggy and half-awake, arguing over who had to make breakfast.

It’s like the world is suddenly obsessed. Your friends casually bring him up during brunch, mentioning how wild it is to see “someone you kind of knew” becoming famous. Someone at work even asks if you ever went to school together when they catch you scrolling through an F1 article during your lunch break. You laugh it off, saying “No, not really,” and then immediately wish you could take it back because technically it’s true, you didn’t go to school together, but you knew him better than any random old classmate.

His success is everywhere, suffocatingly present, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to scream, “I knew him before all of this.”

One night, you’re out with friends at a noisy bar, the type of place where conversation is half-shouted over the music. The conversation inevitably turns to him, with someone pulling up an Instagram video of his post-race interview on their phone, shoving it across the table for everyone to see. You feel a knot in your stomach as his face fills the screen. 

“Can you believe it?” someone says, and there’s a wave of excitement, admiration, fascination at the table. You force a smile, nodding along, barely hearing the rest of the conversation. 

Back at home, you collapse onto the couch, the sound of the bar chatter still ringing in your ears. You open Instagram, and before you can stop yourself, you’re scrolling through his stories again. His follower count ticks up again. A notification pops up – this time from an old mutual friend: “Crazy about Franco, right? Who would’ve thought!”

Who would’ve thought? 

You close the app, toss your phone to the other side of the couch, and let out a sigh. The world might be captivated by his meteoric rise, but to you, it’s a reminder of what you left behind – what you chose to leave behind – and why it’s harder than ever to look away.

part 3

You didn’t think you’d run into him again, at least not like this. Sure, he’s everywhere now: plastered across national TV, splashed all over the sports headlines, and, yes, even appearing in ads on your Pinterest feed. You’re not going to lie, you did click on his name when you saw it trending on Twitter last week. It was just... curiosity. Nothing more. At least, that’s what you told yourself. So, no, it’s not like you imagined you’d never see his face again.

But you didn’t expect to see him in person.

It’s your sister’s pre-wedding dinner. A simple, cozy evening meant for close friends and family. Nothing overwhelming. It’s supposed to be safe.

And yet, there he is.

You’re standing in your parents’ backyard, glass of wine in hand, just enjoying your sister’s friends laughing and chatting around you. You’ve finally let your guard down, the tension of seeing his face everywhere slipping away for just a moment. Then you hear his voice, unmistakable, from just a few meters behind you.

Your heart stutters, and you freeze, the easy laughter around you turning to white noise. You turn, and the person you’re staring at is different now. More polished. More put together. You wonder if that’s what success gets you: smoothed out rough edges, glossier, shinier, a little less of that boy laughing too loud about nothing in particular.

Before you can even decide how to react, your sister is there, smiling so brightly you’d think he’s the guest of honor. She’s introducing him like he’s always been part of the family, like this moment isn’t turning your world upside down. And, of course, he is family, related to her fiancé, so you curse yourself for not even considering he would make it.

You nod and smile, feeling your face stretch into something polite and practiced, hoping it looks normal. You can barely register the introductions, just fragments: “Remember when he used to talk about racing?” “And now look! He’s actually in Formula 1!” Your sister’s fiancé laughs, as if it’s some incredible, impossible feat. And you want to tell him that yes, you remember it all. Every late-night conversation about impossible dreams, every frustrated rant when things seemed out of reach. You were the one who heard it first, who knew the struggle when it was real and uncertain.

But now he’s here, larger than life and far from you, and you feel like you’re standing in some alternate reality – watching him turn into everything he promised he’d become, without you there to see it.

You didn’t even expect to see him tonight. Honestly, why would you? Your sister never mentioned he’d be here. Later she’ll tell you she assumed you’d know, just like she assumed he’d be there. After all, back when you were still together, the four of you had talked about the wedding a lot. Back then, the idea of him not being at her wedding would have been laughable.

You’ll just nod, swallowing hard, forcing a smile. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.” 

When you text your best friend, all you write is: I think I hate him.

And even as you press send, you know that’s not true. 

You stare at the message, watching the three dots dance as your friend replies: You don’t. You’re just hurt.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

A race for love p.14

Hii guyss, I hope you enjoy this part. If you've missed part 13 or the other parts you can find them on my masterlist :)

Formula 1 is all about speed, but in this story, the real race isn't just on the track. Read on to find out who will win the ultimate race-for your heart.

- Spa 2023 -

The night at the arcade is a whirlwind of laughter and friendly competition. You, Oliver, and his friends jump from game to game, trying your luck at everything from basketball hoops to air hockey. The lights flash around you, and the constant sounds of clinking coins and game tunes fill the air, adding to the fun.

After several rounds, you all find yourselves at a game that requires playing in pairs. Naturally, you end up teaming with Oliver, and the two of you make a pretty strong team. As the game gets more intense, you're both on edge, laughing and teasing each other with every move. With a final victorious shot, you and Oliver win, beating the others by a small margin.

"Yes!" you shout excitedly, unable to contain your excitement. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around Oliver in a celebratory hug. He stiffens for a split second, clearly taken by surprise, but then quickly returns the hug, his face flushing slightly.

"Good teamwork, huh?" he says with a shy smile, his cheeks still a little pink when you pull away.

You don't notice his blush, but you do notice how happy he seems, and that just adds to the fun of the night. You continue playing different games with Oliver's friends, feeling more and more comfortable with them as the evening goes on. Each game is filled with laughter and playful banter, making it one of the best nights you've had in a while.

At one of the claw machines, you watch as Oliver tries to win something. After a few failed attempts, he suddenly lights up when the claw finally grabs a plush toy—a cute stuffed animal. He turns to you, holding it up with a proud smile.

"Hey, look what I got!"

You can't help but grin. "Oh, Ollie, it's so cute!"

Oliver holds out the stuffed animal to you. "It's yours."

You blink, surprised. "No, I can't take it, Ollie."

He insists, pressing the toy into your hands. "Come on, take it. That way, you'll remember tonight—and how much fun we had."

His voice softens as he says that last part, and he steps a little closer to you. There's a brief pause, and you notice his gaze lingering on you, almost like he's about to say something more or... get even closer. The moment feels a little different, a little more intense than the playful vibe you've had all night.

But just as he's about to step closer, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and the moment is interrupted. You glance down at the screen and see Franco's name flashing across it. "I'll be right back," you say with an apologetic smile, stepping outside to take the call.

Oliver watches you go, frustration flickering in his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair. He'd been so close to saying something, so close to... maybe taking a step forward with you. But now, the chance was gone, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance as he watched you walk out of the arcade.

Outside, you answer the call, leaning against the wall. "Hey, Franco."

"Hola," Franco's voice is warm on the other end, immediately lifting your spirits. "How's it going? You having a good time?"

"Yeah! I'm having a great time. Oliver and his friends are a lot of fun." You smile as you look around at the bustling street outside the arcade. "We've been playing games all night, and I think I'm actually winning for once."

Franco chuckles softly. "I'm glad to hear that. I just wanted to check on you, make sure everything was going well."

"Aww, that's sweet of you." You twirl a strand of your hair, feeling a little flutter in your chest. "You know, I was thinking... we should all hang out sometime. You, me, Oliver, and his friends. They're really cool, and I think you'd like them."

There's a brief pause before Franco responds. "Yeah, sure. We can do that." You can tell there's a bit of hesitation in his voice, but then he adds, "If you trust him and think he's a good friend, then I'm in."

Your smile widens. "I do, Franco. I think it'd be fun. Anyway, I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Sí. Have fun tonight, cariño."

After hanging up, you head back inside, oblivious to Oliver's lingering frustration. As you walk back into the arcade, you tuck the stuffed animal under your arm, a smile on your face as you rejoin the group.

The night at the arcade had been a blast, and by the time you and the group have played through every game possible, it's time to head out. As everyone says their goodbyes, you find yourself walking toward Oliver's car. The air has grown colder, and you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly.

Oliver notices right away. "Here, take this." Without hesitation, he pulls off his jumper and hands it to you.

"Oh, no, I can't—"

"Come on," he insists with a smile. "I'll get it back tomorrow."

Reluctantly, you accept, pulling the oversized jumper over your head. It's warm and smells faintly like him, comforting in the chilly evening air. Oliver, meanwhile, is trying not to stare. You look gorgeous in his clothes, but he keeps that thought to himself.

As you both climb into his car, you glance over at him, your heart still light from the fun you've had. "Tonight was really great, Ollie," you say, feeling a genuine sense of warmth and happiness. "I'm so glad we met. You've really made me feel welcome in the paddock these past few races."

Oliver glances at you quickly, his heart skipping a beat at your words. "I'm really glad I met you too," he says, his voice softer than usual. "You're important to me, you know? I've missed you around the last few races."

You feel a smile spreading across your face. "We should definitely hang out again at the next race."

Oliver's grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly as he fights to keep the excitement from showing too much. "Yeah, I'd love that."

"And maybe we can invite everyone again," you suggest, remembering how much fun you had with his friends. "Tonight was so much fun."

He smiles, but there's a flicker of disappointment in his eyes that you don't notice. "Yeah, sure. That'd be great."

As you drive back to your hotel, there's a comfortable silence between the two of you. You hug Oliver's jumper closer, feeling its warmth while gazing out the window, your mind still buzzing with everything that happened tonight. You had a wonderful time, and it's clear that Oliver's presence made it even better.

When you finally arrive at the hotel, you unbuckle your seatbelt and look at him with a grateful smile. "Thanks for tonight, Ollie. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely," he replies, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual before you step out of the car.

As you walk toward the hotel entrance, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby window, wearing Oliver's jumper, and it makes you smile. The night had been full of fun, laughter, and a sense of ease that you hadn't realized you needed. Little did you know, though, Oliver was driving away, thinking about how much he wished it had been just the two of you the whole night, and how he was already looking forward to the next time he'd get to see you.

Tag list: @hs2016, @a-beaverhausen

[ikneowitu]

do i publish it when it's done??

[harrysfolklore]

Could you do nailea devora as a face claim? Please and thank you<3

mi bonita - fc43

summary: franco can't stop flirting with a pretty journalist. he has no idea she's lando norris' sister folkie radio: MY FIRST FRANCO FIC!!! that little argentinian man completely charmed me and now i'm obsessed with him. i hope you like this!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer and 178,530 others

ynnorris summer break was nice, now let’s get back to work 😁

view all comments

username1 SO PRETTY

username2 whats up with the norris genes

username3 she’s pretty, she has a journalism degree and she’s lando norris’ sister, it girl

iamrebeccad 😍😍😍

olliebearman Miss youuu

↳ ynnorris you’ll see me every weekend next year, formula 1 driver

↳ username1 their friendship >>>>

username4 the superior norris for real

georgerussell63 Ready to be terrorized by you in the media pen for ten more race weekends

↳ ynnorris you love me

↳ username2 HEEEELP 😭

landonorris Let’s gooo

↳ ynnorris no one knows you

↳ username3 best siblings ever

liked by olliebearman, ynnorris and 328,638 others

francolapinto Empieza el sueño 🥺 @williamsracing Can’t wait to bring it to Monza

view all comments

username1 VAMOS

username2 okay i like him already

username3 i still miss logan but im so happy for him

williamsracing 💙💙

alex_albon Welcome mate 🙌🙌

username4 HES SO CUTE HELLO

username5 another latino is just what the grid needed

username6 I STAN

username7 most of you are new to the franco colapinto agenda but i’ve been here for a long time y’all are not ready

↳ username1 i can’t wait for people to realize he’s a menace

ynnorris welcome to f1 😁😁 see you at the media pen!

↳ francolapinto That’s what I’m looking forward to the most 😉 see you hermosa

↳ username1 HELP????

↳ username2 WELL THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

↳ username3 DOES HE KNOW THATS LANDO’S SISTER

↳ username4 oh i can’t wait to see how this unfolds

liked by francolapinto, landonorris and 182,378 others

ynnorris monza time 🇮🇹🇮🇹

view all comments

username1 STUNNING

username2 it girl

carmenmmundt Pretty girl ✨✨

username3 this is how you nepotism

username4 drop the skin care routine queen

yukitsunoda0511 You’re the only one allowed to interview me ever

↳ yourinstagram 😭😭 love you

↳ username1 HEELP

username5 oh to be her

username6 lando and yn norris are the moment

francolapinto 😍😍😍😍

francolapinto Can’t wait to meet you bonita

↳ username1 FRANCO 😭😭

↳ username2 seriously does franco know this is lando’s sister

↳ username3 franco is such a menace and his first race hasn’t even happened yet

↳ username4 SOMEONE MEDIA TRAIN THIS MAN

↳ ynnorris 😚

landonorris ????

↳ ynnorris what’s your deal

↳ landonorris I don’t get some of these comments

↳ username1 THEY’RE SO 😭

↳ username2 yn lives to piss lando off

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[la mas bonita= the prettiest] [no hablo ingles= i don’t speak english] [lo siento mucho = im so sorry]

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by francolapinto, lilyhme and 187,638 others

ynnorris does anybody know a good spanish teacher?

view all comments

username1 HEEEELP

username2 IT GIRL FR

alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍😍

username3 she’s going to give lando a heart attack

username4 SHES JUST AS MESSY AS LANDO

redbullracing We see a Redbull 👀

↳ ynnorris omg don’t tell the mclaren admin

username5 @francolapinto go for it dude

maxverstappen1 The drink >>>>

↳ ynnorris don’t let it get to your head

landonorris Carlos and Fernando can teach you no need to look for tEaChErS

↳ username1 HEEEEELPPP

↳ username2 THIS IS SO 😭😭

landonorris or Checo

↳ username1 YOU KNOW ITS BAD WHEN HE SIDES WITH CHECO

ynnorris choosing to ignore my brother thanks !

francolapinto I volunteer 😍😍😍😍

↳ username1 FRANCO 😭

↳ username2 that’s my boy

↳ username3 HE GOT BALLS

francolapinto La mas bonita 😍

↳ ynnorris 😚😚

↳ username1 LANDO IS GOING TO THROW UP

↳ ynnorris i blocked him

liked by ynnorris, alex_albon and 398,736 others

francolapinto Ready for Baku 😉

view all comments

username1 BARKING RN

username2 his first f1 points incoming

username3 how is this man so hot

williamsracing 💙💙💙

username4 ready to watch him rizz yn again

↳ username1 i don’t think he’ll do that again lando already called him out 😭

username5 DONT EVER LEAVE THE GRID

olliebearman 🙌

username6 hide from lando

carlossainz55 See you there

↳ username1 HELP IM PRETTY SURE LANDO TYPED THIS

landonorris SEE YOU

↳ username2 HE IS SO ANNOYING 😭😭😭

↳ francolapinto 😅😅😅

ynnorris Bonitooooo

↳ username1 PAUSE

↳ username2 SHES AS MESSY AS HIM

↳ francolapinto My heart just stopped 😍

↳ username3 GET A ROOM

↳ landonorris I think both of you should get different jobs

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[the prettiest interviewer wished me luck so i should do good]

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked my francolapinto, lilyzneimer and 194,368 others

ynnorris baku ! let’s have some fun 😚

view all comments

username1 PRETTY GIRLLLL

username2 she’s wearing blue for williams i don’t make the rules

f1 ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux prettiest ❤️‍🔥

username3 FRANCO COLAPOINTS COME ON

username4 she has the coolest job ever

olliebearman 🙌🙌

username5 notice that lando didn’t like this she fr blocked him 😭

username6 ready to watch franco rizz her left and right again

username7 FRANCO YOU BETTER SCORE POINTS

username8 drop the haircare routine queen

francolapinto 😍😍😍😍

francolapinto La mas bonita

francolapinto This is my new lockscreen

↳ username1 FRANCOOOO

↳ username2 HES SHAMELESS

↳ ynnorris 🥰🥰🥰

carlossainz55 I showed this comment section to Lando

↳ ynnorris and now you’re blocked too!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by oscarpiastri, ynnorris and 401,278 others

francolapinto What a day in Azerbaijan! Huge thanks to the entire team for their incredible work and strategy. This is just the beginning - we're coming for more! 💪

P.S. Special thanks to @/ynnorris for the motivation 😉 and @/landonorris for the... err... brotherly encouragement? 😅 Turns out scoring points is easier than navigating Norris family dynamics

view all comments

username1 FRANCO COLAPOINTSSSS

username2 ICONIC

username3 NOT THE NORRIS SHOUTOUT

williamsracing Great day 🙌🙌

username4 NOW HIM AND YN NEED TO GO ON A DATE

alex_albon Let’s gooo 💪

username5 YN NORRIS AND FRANCO COLAPINTO WORLD DOMINATION IDC

username6 if they don’t go on a date istg

username7 THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

username8 franco colapinto let me be your woman

landonorris You’re still on my watch kid

↳ username1 HEEELP

↳ francolapinto 😩😩

ynnorris sooo when are we going on that date?

↳ username1 OMFGGGG YES YES

↳ username2 WE CHEERED

↳ francolapinto I’ll pick you up tomorrow bonita

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ynnorris has added to their stories

francolapinto has added to their stories

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux and 201,378 others

ynnorris he’s a cutieeee what can i say 🤏

view all comments

username1 AHHHHH

username2 IT COUPLE ALREADY

username3 lando is not going to like this 😭

lilymhe 🤍🤍

username4 IT HAPPENED

username5 franco is proof that with rizz and a dream you can get anyone

georgerussell63 👀

username6 THIS MENACES TOGETHER IS THE BEST THING EVER

username7 SOMEONE CHECK ON LANDO

carlossainz55 Lando kindly asks that you unblock him

↳ username1 HEEEELP😭

↳ username2 DONT UNBLOCK HIM YN

↳ ynnorris NEVER

francolapinto Mi bonita 😍😍😍

↳ username1 that’s his nickname for her 🥺

↳ username2 LOVE THEM

↳ ynnorris 😚

[wcters]

𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘

pairing: franco colapinto x fem!singer!reader, ex!lando norris x fem!singer!reader

summary: a year after the breakup between y/n and lando, daniel and alex set her up with someone new

warnings: some angst, fluff, some swearing, pda, only some bad guy lando, pretend that some of the things that happened in 2024 happend in 2023, | faceclaim is gracie abrams, this is for my alrx and daniel fans (aka me)

taglist: @landorris, @bellsboops, @a-beaverhausen, @seasonswinter, @rosalie-mae, @saythename-sm, @nataliambc, @sarahsobsession, @awritingtree, @kawaiifurychaos, @batman7sworld, @dying-inside-but-its-classy , @mbioooo0000, @xo100, @charlotte-xoxo, @theonottsbxtch, @iamred-iamyellow, @willowpains, @sunny44, @caroto-porta-world-blog

do not answer ‼️

do not answer ‼️

hey, can we talk?

about what?

what is there to talk about?

do not answer ‼️

i didn’t want it to turn out this way

YOU’RE the one who cheated, not me

i am fully entitled to react the way i did

and it could’ve been worse

do not answer ‼️

i know, it was shitty of me

i was just lonely and drunk

i didn’t mean it

that is such bullshit lando

you’re away 24/7 and not ONCE did i do what you did

don’t do this now

i’m moving on. you should too

what would your girlfriend think of this?

do not answer ‼️

i miss you, y/n

don’t do this, lando.

you’re going to regret it

do not answer ‼️

i regret doing this to you

it’s not the same with her

nothing will ever be enough for you lando

the only things i ask of you is to leave me alone and treat your

girlfriend right

don’t text me anymore. delete my number

i really do hope you find someone to settle down with

even if you don’t deserve it

you’ve blocked this number!

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 114,025 others

f1gossip a little over a year after the breakup between lando norris and singer y/n y/l/n, y/n was seen hanging out in the williams garage with new driver franco colapinto at the italian grand prix. is a new romance budding?

view all 347 comments

user1 this is unexpected but not unwelcome

user2 they would be so cute together

author pretend it’s franco in the pictures 😭😭

user3 did y’all see they way he was looking at her??

↳ user4 they are both down bad

user5 daniel or alex probably set that up

↳ user6 oh for sure, they’re y/n’s biggest fans

user7 it’s nice to see her looking happy with someone new

lilyswag

liked by totallynotdaniel, yourspam, and 37 others

lilyswag going for a sweet treat with daniel after we successfully played matchmaker

view all 21 comments

totallynotdaniel feeling accomplished 😘😘

professionalchili okay queens

yourspam girl what

↳ lilyswag i thought i made it so you couldn’t see this….

↳ yourspam 🤨🤨🤨

artsyfartsyalex a well deserved sweet treat

ilovedaniel NEW SONG NEW SONG

↳ totallynotdaniel max…. you are so right

↳ totallynotdaniel NEW SONG NEW SONG

yourspam y’all better have gotten me, lily, and heidi something 😐😐

↳ lilyswag on the way to you now

↳ yourspam merci 😌😌

↳ artsyfartsyalex okay bilingual queen

↳ yourspam date me 😍😍 get rid of charles

↳ justaninchident girl what-

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, alex_albon, and 426, 972 others

yourusername p9 and p13 for my boys! mama’s so proud 🥺🥺 thank you for bringing me along 🤍 even though now i know your true intent (you too lily and heidi)

view all 1,255 comments

user1 i love their dynamic so much

alex_albon 🤫🤫🤫🤫

user2 WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

danielricciardo #masterminds

↳ alex_albon where’s our pay check

user3 they totally set her up with franco

francolapinto encantada de conocerte ❤️ (lovely to meet you)

↳ user4 this man is on a mission

user5 did you see the way franco was always looking for her??

↳ user6 his face LIT UP when he would talk to her

↳ user7 full on giggling n shit

lilymhe we definitely had no idea what was going on

↳ heidiberger_ 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

unknown

unknown

hey, is this y/n?

who are you?

unknown

oh sorry, it’s franco

i got your number from alex

ohh

that makes sense

well what’s going on franco?

franco

i really liked hanging out with you

i was hoping maybe we could do it again?

we could stay a couple days after the azerbaijan grand prix and explore the city

i don’t know…

franco

i’m not like him

please, just let me have a chance

if you don’t like it then we can never speak about it again

if you do, maybe we could go on a date

you can bring bernie

deal.

f1gossip

liked by user1, danielricciardo, and 123,973 others

f1gossip y/n y/l/n and franco colapinto seen walking her dog bernie and holding hands out in baku, azerbaijan after the azerbaijan grand prix. is this further conformation of their relationship?

view all 1,054 comments

user1 daniel?? what are you doing here

user2 they look so happy together, i hope they’re together

↳ user3 she deserves happiness after her last relationship

user4 the father who stepped up 👏👏

user5 bernie is so cute 🥺🥺

lilyswag we did it y’all

↳ user6 ALEX??

↳ lilyswag 🤫🤫🤫

yourspam

liked by lilyswag, artsyfartsyalex, and 37 others

yourspam AHHHHH

view all 26 comments

artsyfartsyalex happy for you belle 💗

lilyswag IT WORKED

lilyswag YIPPEE

totallynotdaniel alex and i are literally geniuses

ilovedaniel new songs coming??

↳ yourspam maybe…

professionalchili alex literally yelled yippee out loud

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, danielricciardo, and 802,647 others

yourusername loading . . . .

comments have been turned off

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,573,025 others

yourusername !!!!!!!!!! my new ep gasoline comes out in a week with the tracks so american, bed chem, risk, so high school, gasoline ft. HAIM, and am i okay ft. megan moroney!

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user1 y/n y/l/n and megan moroney?? my two worlds have collided

megmoroney 💙💙

user2 this are all about franco i just know it

danielricciardo max just squealed in delight…. and so did i

↳ maxverstappen1 I DID NOT

↳ user3 it’s okay max, we all know you did

alexandrasaintmleux will be streaming on repeat 💗💗

user4 I’M NOT READY

lilymhe pre-tournament playlist??

user5 THEY DID IT, I JUST CAN’T PROVE IT

francolapinto muy orgullosa y mucho amor ❤️ (very proud and much love)

↳ user6 AHHHHH

francolapinto

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 1,246,013 others

francolapinto thank you to all the boys you’ve loved before ❤️

comments have been limited

yourusername :’) 🤍

user1 the balls this man has to diss you know who

alex_albon where’s our dedication song??

danielricciardo yeah, where’s the “thank you and i love you alex and daniel?”

↳ yourusername in the works, trust

heidiberger_ 💗💗

lilymhe you guys deserve this!

user2 thank you y/n for introducing him to taylor swift

[purinfelix]

oh my god academic rivals but with Franco?!?!? Plsplspls

ᯓ★

a/n: i will never pass an opportunity to write academic rivals BUT this is super super short just cus im trying to clear out my drafts - hope u enjoy anon!!

"You got question three wrong." Even though it comes from above you, you don't even have to look to know who it belongs to - you're fairly sure you'd recognise the annoying overconfidence in it anywhere.

"And how are you so sure about that Franco?" you huff, continuing to work on your assignment, refusing to entertain him.

"Because I handed mine in already, got full marks, and had a different answer to yours."

You pause, dropping your pen to turn and look him in the eye. He has one hand on the table beside you and the other on the back of your chair, effectively trapping you as he looks down at you with a mocking smirk.

"Want some help, sweetie?"

"Piss off, I'm fine," you spit, turning back around to your work trying your best to ignore how hot your face feels knowing he's so close.

"Well from the fact you also got questions five, nineteen and twenty-four wrong I'd beg to differ."

You're silent for just a moment, weighing up your options but before you realise it he's already pulling up the empty chair next to you, and scooting as close as physically possible.

As he begins to explain your mistakes and what formulas to use, you're surprised at the fact that he's shed his teasing tone and instead seems to genuinely want to help you. And maybe if you were less concerned with getting your assignment done you would've also caught a glimpse of the soft, almost endeared, gaze he watches you with.

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[afterglowsainz]

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

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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 🏎

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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 🇮🇹

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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!

[goldsainz]

#FC43 — THE SECRET’S OUT !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ your boyfriend is a flirt by nature, but he only has eyes for you.

002. NOTE !

franco has actually taken over my heart. that sauber seat better be for him or i’m throwing hands idc (anulo cualquier mufa). ignore the people who aren’t franco/juana after so many smau’s it’s hard finding the right pics😔😔😔 i also tried to include some translations for the longer spanish bits because i’m kind like that😊😊😊

francolapinto updated their instagram stories!

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francolapinto La (única y verdadera) dueña de mi corazón

translation : The (only and true) owner of my heart)

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yourusername mi amorrrr 🥹❤️

⤷ francolapinto Divina 😘

francofan1 WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

francofan2 not even mad cause she’s so pretty

user1 how do f1 drivers all manage to pull 10s

bizarrap Pero buenooo

translation : well alrighttt

⤷ francolapinto Aclarando algunas cositas por las dudas…

translation : Clearing up some things just in case…

francofan3 was not expecting this

ynfan1 you are all late to the party

francofan4 okay and if i say she’s the prettiest wag

⤷ francofan5 YOU’D BE CORRECT!

liked by lissiemackintosh, lilymhe and 107,463 others

yourusername MY boyfriend 🤍

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francolapinto Que te haces la gringa

translation : Why are you acting like a gringa

⤷ yourusername asi me entienden todos😊

translation : that way everyone understands me

francofan21 LILY LIKED ‼️

francofan22 i fear this is iconic

ynfan21 “i love my super hot girlfriend” okay slay

alex_albon Lily is asking for a double date

⤷ lilymhe and by double date i mean yn and me, and you two just tag along

⤷ yourusername SIGN ME UPPP

⤷ francolapinto Guess we’re going 🫡

francofan23 williams thank you for blessing us with this

ynfan22 lost my wife to a man (he knew her before me)

francofan24 they’re my parents now idc

[theonottsbxtch]

EL COQUETO | FC43

an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request

summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.

wc: 7.6k

The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.

He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.

“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”

She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”

His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”

She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.

“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sí?”

She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.

“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”

His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.

“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”

She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”

“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”

Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.

“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”

She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”

He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”

“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.

“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”

He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”

It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.

“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”

Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”

She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.

“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”

“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”

Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.

One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.

When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.

From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.

As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.

She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.

“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.

She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.

When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.

When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”

Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”

He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”

With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”

She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.

She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.

“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.

She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”

“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”

She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”

“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”

“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”

“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”

Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”

She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”

“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”

She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.

“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”

“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”

She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”

Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.

The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”

She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.

“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.

Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.

With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.

Francolpainto has sent you a message.

She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.

Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.

Her: Yes, I am.

The response came almost immediately.

Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?

She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.

No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.

Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.

She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.

Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.

Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?

A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.

Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.

Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.

She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.

Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?

She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”

Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.

A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.

Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.

Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.

A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.

Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.

She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.

Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?

His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.

Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.

She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.

Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.

The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.

“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.

She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”

She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”

A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”

His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”

She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.

As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.

She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.

“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.

Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.

He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.

By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.

She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.

As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.

Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.

She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”

He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”

Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.

“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”

A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.

“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”

He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.

She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”

He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.

Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.

Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.

Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?

She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.

Her: Room 914.

Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.

Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.

Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.

Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.

“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.

A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.

She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.

She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.

Her: Cute.

It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.

Franco: Oh? You find me cute?

She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.

Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.

A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.

Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?

She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.

Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.

A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.

Franco: Okay.

She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.

Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.

Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.

Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.

“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”

She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.

As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”

And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.

She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.

By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.

Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”

The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.

When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”

He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”

The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.

Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”

She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.

As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.

She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.

She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”

His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.

She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.

Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.

She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”

He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”

Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”

She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.

She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”

“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”

She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.

For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.

Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.

She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.

When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.

“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”

She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.

Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.

Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.

“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

Maybe he was worth the wait.

the end.

[katiascraft]

Would you read it? It’s written and smau all in one!!

Lmk what you think 👀