#franco responds

[pantry-rats]

Franco I can't sleep.. you wanna cuddle? ♡

"Yous- What?" His forehead would wrinkle in his confusion. Speech sputtering as words stumbled to make it to the front lines of his lips. Franco's cheeks would turn a pink tint from tripping over just what to say back. He huffs like a stressed mutt. "Does it LOOK like I got room here for THREE?" He flicked Lupara at the mannequin placed next to him on the damp blue couch. A well dressed dummy positioned politely with one leg over the other. Across it's forehead was the name "BAGGIO", crudely carved into the glossy and equally dirty plastic. "Get your own damn seat and sit OVER THERE!" Barbi demanded with agitation behind his words. Once again using Lupara as a pointer, gesturing at the similarly blue chair on the other corner of the room.

[barbig1rl]

Her eyelashes fluttered with their shimmery eyeshadow at his silly little expression. Accompanied by a genuinely lighthearted giggle at his approval of her attitude. In spite of how keen he seemed to be at the idea of pulling that trigger.

“Hehe! Oh.. How rude’a me. Everybody’aroun here calls me Lizzy.”

The position of her fingers below the barrel would transition from the pointer she tipped it with to the rest of her digits. Almost giving the gun a… stroke like motion. All the while the packet of drugs was being held against her chest like a school girl carrying a set of books.

“Well, ya caught me red handed.”

Lizzy would be so bold as to bend further forward and give Lupara a small but daring kiss on the tip of the barrel. Lightly leaving the gun metal smudged with lipstick. She even blew on it as if it had been fired briefly, almost like she was sending it to Franco on the other end. Topping the gesture off with a wink.

“But… You wouldn’happen to be the kinda stud that’d let a girl finda glass’a wine before ya’did her in. Would ya, Mister-?” She batted her lashes.

-Elizabeta❤️

Franco, studying Elizabeta with a perverted gaze in his single focused eye, huffed out the breath he was using to puff out his chest - sort of like a bird trying to make itself look more intimidating... or attractive, one of the two,

"Lizzy?"

He snorted, nose wrinkling in amusement,

"Never heard of a whore named 'Lizzy' 'round here..."

Briefly distracted by his own mirth, Franco caught sight of the action to his very gun - his darling Lupara. He didn't feel particularly annoyed at it, perhaps aroused, but countered it by biting his lip with his two front buck-teeth. Eyeing up the lipstick stain hungrily.

A grin formed on his ugly little face and he pulled at his purple collar, further loosening his bow tie,

"Now y' word it like that, miss Lizzy, I wouldn't mind findin' some good old red with you."

[officerresponding]

Ever tried weed, if so then who would you rather smoke with: Franco Barbi or Phyllis Futterman? I personally think that Dr Futterman would be extremely funny high... That goose...

I ain't no hippie, only weed I've ever smoked was when it was burnin' off a criminal's skin. Loved smellin' the afterburn of them fuck-o's.

I'd much prefer that woman, though. Ain't no way in hell I'm willingly spendin' my afternoon with that fuckin' half-sized shit.

[battle-of-alberta]

Nothing serious, I was wandering around Crap Tire the other day and thought of this dialogue. I feel like the main thing Ed and Jo have in common is mundane retail therapy. This is the first thing I've drawn in about of week due to the chaos of travel and family in the hospital, but everything's starting to settle down again and I feel like I can spare the brain space.

My impression is that Jo is always the last to know things because she has a tendency to jump to her own conclusions / overreact / not shut up.

(He doesn't actually appear here but Étienne / MTL belongs to @randomoranges anyway)

Bonus

[s-awturn]

i loved your franco smut drabble!! please please write more for franco, would love something a bit longer too!

I'm glad you liked it, sweetie! This drabble was a test to see if I could develop something interesting that wasn't just about Lewis, Carlos and Toto. And surprisingly, it was a cool result (glory to God)

I'll probably bring more of him in the future, along the same lines as Natural Enemies, don't worry 🫶🏼

[ratfc]

Acabei de me aperceber que o meu baby Trincas vai tar sozinho na seleção de novo...

[yazmarina]

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

-

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

-

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

-

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

[taasgirl]

alameda - franco colapinto

summary: franco and his girlfriend after the Azerbaijan grand prix (also franco and y/n being the honorary leaders of team LH)

a/n: i've been obsessed with franco for so long, i'm so happy that he's getting the recognition he deserves!! (someone give my king a 2025 seat) also yes we jump straight to baku - IM SO HAPPY!!

liked by williamsracing, francolapinto, and 34,810 others ynusername OH MY GOD BOYF IS OFFICIALLY AN F1 DRIVER tagged: francolapinto & maxverstappen1

williamsracing 💙💙

francolapinto Thank you baby 🥰

francolapinto Wait I didn't see all the photos

francolapinto BABY WHY THAT PHOTO

user80 new f1 driver = new wag to be obsessed with

user65 what do ya'll know about y/n???

user77 I swear if they media train y/n, my life is over

user43 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE PHOTO WITH MAX HAHAHA

user21 Franco looks like such a baby there awww

liked by oscarpiastri, ynusername, and 281, 983 others francolapinto I can't wait to begin this journey with Williams Racing as a Formula One driver. I've dreamt of this since I was a young boy, and I'm so grateful to everybody who has helped me along the way.

ynusername WAIT does this mean there will be more edits of you on tiktok 😏

francolapinto Does this mean there will be more edits of you 😏

user22 your honour, they match each other's freak

alex_albon Welcome to the team Franco! liked by francolapinto

user91 such a cute caption, i can't wait to see what he does

oscarpiastri Welcome 😊 liked by francolapinto

view ynusername's story...

caption: sleeping like he just got his first f1 points 🙄 oh wait...

liked by williamsracing, alex_albon, and 327, 971 others francolapinto Perfect weekend with the perfect company. Thank you @ williamsracing for believing in me, I'm so proud to have worked with Alex to have gotten the first double points this season. Here's to more!

tagged: ynusername

ynusername that's my boy!!

williamsracing The star has arrived ⭐ liked by francolapinto

lewishamilton Great job Franco!

ynusername omg wait till franco sees this

ynusername update: he has

ynusername further update: he started crying

ynusername further further update: he's calling his family 😭

francolapinto Thank you so much Lewis! ynusername guys he's trying to act nonchalant...

user60 franco loves y/n so much THEYRE SO PERF

user49 saw the lewis comment and immediately knew franco would freak out

user22 The way that Franco posts more about y/n then he does about scoring points-

francolapinto How can I not when she is so beautiful??

user92 franco we need to know if y/n showed you the memes

francolapinto She has 🤭 you guys are very funny

liked by francolapinto, lewishamilton, and 412, 815 others ynusername well I initially thought franco scoring points was the highlight of my weekend buuuuut THE lewis hamilton signed my shirt and told me that's he's excited to see me around. yeah basically lewis hamilton is my bff

francolapinto I can't even blame you liked by ynusername

user27 HAHA y/n and franco are truly the biggest lewis fangirls

user92 y/n's first and second love (lewis first)

ynusername @/francolapinto hehe

user50 Someone look at me the way y/n looks at lewis

user98 NEW FRANCO AND Y/N PHOTO AWWW

lewishamilton It was great to meet you y/n, I'm looking forward to chatting with you in Singapore

ynusername MAMA I MADE IT

ynusername I hope franco is jealous seeing this

ynusername GUYS LEWIS HAMILTON FOLLOWS ME

view francolapinto's story...

caption: she's pretty AND she can drive

let me know if you guys liked this! requests for other drivers + fics are always open, so drop something in there if you'd like (if i haven't responded send me another!!)

[goldsainz]

# FC43 — DRIVER-IN-LAW !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ a rookie manages to capture the heart of the oldest driver on the grid’s daughter.

002. NOTE !

✯ yes, i know they’d speak spanish to each other but im not about to write everything in spanish and then also translate it. so you’re stuck with bits and pieces of spanish. anyway, please enjoy!

liked by francolapinto, carmenmmundt and 309,247 others

yourusername buenos días, te amo

view all 4,638 comments

fernandoalo_oficial You said it was a girl’s trip. That is a man’s hand.

⤷ yourusername lo siento, papá 😊

ynfan1 need her so bad

ynfan2 IS THAT HER BOYFRIEND?

mumusername How cuteee 🥰

⤷ yourusername thank you, mami 💞

⤷ fernandoalo_oficial Do not condone this.

francofan1 franco liking this… thinking thoughts

ynfan3 crying at fernando going insane

ynfan4 oh to be on a vacation with yn

francofan2 CALENTA QUE ENTRAS FRANCO

translation : WARM UP BECAUSE YOU’RE IN FRANCO

⤷ francofan3 three races is all it took. statement made.

ynfan5 “good morning, i love you” bro i’m so single

yourusername and francolapinto updated their instagram stories!

fernandoalo_oficial responded to your story!

fernandoalo_oficial Cariño, is that a man?

fernandoalo_oficial Upon further inspection, that is definitely a man.

fernandoalo_oficial Come back to Spain.

fernandoalo_oficial Better not be that damn rookie.

yourusername papá, calm down. you’ll have a stroke.

fernandoalo_oficial I’ll be calm when you’re not in the presence of that sabandija.

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and other 871,536 others

francolapinto Recontra recargado y listo para COTA 😁💪

translation : Absolutely recharged and ready for COTA

view all 13,072 comments

fernandoalo_oficial 🤨🤨🤨

⤷ francolapinto hola!

⤷ fernandoalo_oficial No. Adiós.

ynfan21 YN IN THE LIKESJSKS

francofan21 franco tried and failed

ynfan22 LOS AMO

ynfan23 they’re iconic already

bizarrap No me lo puedo creer amigo

translation : I cannot believe this mate

⤷ francolapinto posta que ni yo

translation : me neither

fracofan22 nah franco’s dead bro

ynfan24 I NEED TO SEE WHAT FAMILY DINNER LOOKS LIKE

francofan23 had to stand up and applaud 👏

[julietsf1]

Post-Race Snuggles - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: After an intense Singapore GP, Franco’s idea of the perfect cool down is snuggling up in his girlfriend’s lap; very fluff <3

warnings: possibly incorrect Spanish?

AN - I can't keep lying to myself I think I am not just on here to read anymore lmao, this one is just 1k but I have another longer story coming tomorrow or so! enjoy my lovelies

----------------------------------------------------

The sticky warmth of Singapore’s night air clung to me as I sat in Franco’s motorhome, waiting for him to return. I flicked through some post-race coverage on my phone, knowing how drained he must be after a race like that. The screen showed him smiling during the interviews, but I knew better—Franco’s green eyes gave away just how tired he was.

When the door creaked open, I glanced up and saw him there, looking utterly exhausted, his brown hair messy and damp from the heat. His race suit was unzipped, hanging loosely around his waist. Franco didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. He walked over with heavy steps, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face into my shoulder.

“Hi there.” I laughed softly, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair. It was fluffier than usual, curling slightly from the sweat and humidity. “Tough day?”

He let out a low groan, not bothering to lift his head. “Si…” His voice was muffled, and I could feel the exhaustion in the way his body leaned into mine. “So tired.”

I smiled softly, running my hand down his back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his suit. Suddenly, Franco shifted, pulling back just enough to take my hand in his. His eyes, though heavy with fatigue, met mine for a brief moment, and without a word, he gently tugged me down onto the couch beside him.

With a quiet sigh, he laid back, guiding my body to follow his until I was leaning into him. His head found its way into my lap as he settled in. I felt his hand resting on my waist first, a soft, grounding touch, before it slid down to rest comfortably on my thigh. His thumb moved lazily, tracing small circles, as if he needed to hold onto me even in his tired state.

“You want me to make you something? Mate, or a snack?” I asked quietly, brushing my fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin.

He shook his head slowly. “No, just this. Esto es todo lo que necesito.” His voice was soft, the Spanish slipping out naturally as his eyes fluttered closed. His arms loosened slightly around my legs, his thumb brushing lazily against my thigh, the lightest touch, as if even that small movement required too much effort.

I chuckled, running my hand through his hair again, smoothing it down where it stuck up in odd places. “You did amazing today. P11! I’m so proud of you.”

A faint smile curved his lips. His breathing started to slow, the tension melting away as I continued stroking his hair. This was my favorite version of Franco—the quiet, soft one who didn’t need to be witty or flirty. Just the one who wanted to be close.

Franco’s weight settled fully against me, his eyes were shut now, his messy curls resting in my lap. His thumb continued its slow, lazy patterns on my leg, the sweet small gesture sending warmth through me. His skin was warm from the heat of the race, his hair slightly damp, and I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked, even when he was this tired. His lashes were long, his green eyes hidden behind them, and his lips, parted slightly as he breathed, were soft, with the faintest smile still playing there.

“You looked so good out there today,” I whispered, knowing he probably couldn’t hear me in his tired state. “Fast, confident… and you know, kind of cute with all that sweaty hair.”

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “Most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

I grinned. “Don’t get used to it. I’m only nice to you when you’re too tired to remember.”

His lips twitched into a smile, but he didn’t respond, his breathing evening out even more. The motorhome was dimly lit, casting soft shadows, making everything feel even cozier. The sounds outside—people moving around the paddock, the distant hum of engines cooling down—faded away. It was just us, tangled up in the warmth of each other’s presence.

As I stroked his hair, I could feel him relax completely. His body was fully at ease, and I knew he was almost asleep. He looked so peaceful, his usual spark of energy tucked away for the night. I smiled down at him, my heart full. These moments, after the chaos of race days, were our little slice of quiet, where it felt like the world didn’t exist outside this motorhome.

Franco shifted slightly, nuzzling deeper into my lap. I thought he was fully asleep until his voice broke the silence, soft and raspy.

“Te amo,” he murmured, his eyes barely open, heavy with exhaustion.

My heart skipped a beat. He’d said it before, but hearing it now, with his defenses down, made it feel different. I glanced down, expecting to see him fully asleep, but instead, those green eyes peeked up at me through his lashes, tired but full of something deeper.

I felt a rush of warmth fill my chest. “I love you too,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead again, my fingers gently running through his hair.

His eyes fluttered shut at the kiss, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Más que a nada en el mundo…” he mumbled, his voice trailing off into sleep, the weight of his words lingering between us like a quiet promise.

I stayed like that, holding him close as he drifted off completely, my hand still in his hair, thinking about how easy it was to love him—especially in moments like this.

[pantry-rats]

does franco like coffee? how does he take it?

"I ain't much of a coffee man, but my fatha had them brewin a pot every mornin. Fucks sake I don't even notice the smell'of a hot joe no more. Might be the coke. But I don't need it for nothin." The mobster scoffed and jerked his head to flip a piece of his hair away from his eyes. "Thats what my medicines for."

Barbi tapped his foot with a sporadic rhythm as he stared at the red carpet. Eyes followed the stains of fresh and dry blood, while his gloved fingers tapped against the arm of the couch. Seems he is just reluctant to share even the most basic acts of mundane behaviors in fear it might downplay his authority.

"6 Sugars and lotsa cream. Hah!" Franco cackled and grinned while licking the front of his bucked teeth.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Bad Blood

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: franco colapinto x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: tensions started rising in the williams garage when bad strategies pitted you and your teammate, franco against each other. after spotting him in a bar the night of a race the two of you bonded over your shared bad result. 

♥ one-shot - wc: 1.6k

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, drinking, and vaguely suggestive !!!

♥ a/n: rivals to lovers + forced proximity, go nuts babe. btw there’s some salty team vibes so i just wanna say i love williams (except james) this is purely for the plot lol

“Plan B, Y/n. Plan B,” you engineer said on the radio of your car.

”Is Franco undercutting me?” you asked, shifting down into a corner.

“We think this is the best decision point-wise.”

“You’re joking.”

“Y/n stick to the strategy, you’ll get your time eventually.” they responded.

“No this is bullshit. What advantage are you giving him? He can’t chase down Kmag any better than I can—at least he doesn’t have the pace right now. I don’t see why you’re making him the priority.”

You reached the end of the main straight watching as your teammate exited the pit lane in front of you.

He was on hard tires, an extremely odd choice for the end of this race. You were trying to complete the last 20 laps on softs while your teammate tried to make up positions on the opposite compound. Wait why the fuck would they put him on those tires? If they were aiming for an undercut, they were certainly going to fail with this strategy. 

You dove down into the apex and collided with Franco, who was turning in front of you. You both spun out into the gravel, ending your race. 

It was always like this. Somehow you always found yourself competing against Franco no matter where you went. 

“Fuck,” you yelled on the radio as you threw your HANS device outside of the car. 

“Are you okay?” your engineer questioned.

“Yup, yeah I’m fine.” you responded. 

The Williams team could hear faint breathing from Franco. 

“Is she ok?” he asked. 

“Yes, are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

-

You scrolled through your phone in your driver's room, coming across a couple of posts about the situation.

@fcswife “is she okay?” FRANCO THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 😭❤️

@charlesgf16 she really has zero respect for franco huh?

@francodefender1 how could anyone hate him? 😩

You rolled your eyes and clicked off the device, throwing it onto a different cushion on the couch. You were going to need a drink. 

-

Later that night you retreated to a bar you were unfamiliar with. A couple of F2 drivers in your circle mentioned it in passing and considering you couldn't fluently speak the language of the country you were visiting, you hoped to run into a few people you knew.

The room was dark, loud, and packed. You could hear music playing over the sound of dozens of drunk voices. You pushed your way through the crowd of people towards the front of the bar in order to get a drink.

You spotted a familiar face when you arrived. To your dismay it was the only person you wished not to talk to at that moment. His brown curls were immediately identifiable and if that wasn't enough, the fluorescent lighting illuminated his face, drawing your eyes towards the small mole on his cheek.

You looked around for a place to avoid him, but all the booths were taken and the only open bar stool was the one next to Franco.

Because of course it was.

You sighed and took the seat next to him, trying your hardest to avoid eye contact.

"A bottle of Dom Perignon please," you asked, causing Franco to snort.

“What?” you shifted your gaze towards him.

“Champagne is for winners,” he said, looking you straight in the eye.

It wasn’t like he was incorrect. Champagne was for the podium—but you had a long day and it was time to treat yourself. Regardless, you rolled your eyes at the man’s comment.

Franco waved over the bartender to get a glass and help himself to the bottle of alcohol.

“You can venmo me,” you said only half joking as he poured himself some champagne.

A small tv in the corner of the bar had a replay of the race and press.

”There were a lot of emotions definitely, uhm I think the decisions tire wise for the strategy weren’t great. It’s frustrating to see the prioritization of your teammate but I guess I have no input on whether that goes to me or Franco each race. We had a rough week overall as a team but I hope we can bounce back.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you… you were right. Both our strategies were fucked.” he said referencing your post race interview, “They screwed us both.”

The two of you never really got along, but at least neither blamed each other for the crash. It was just a racing incident and it didn’t have to prevent you from finally having a civil conversation with Franco.

“To screwing us both,” you smiled while raising your glass of champagne, eliciting a chuckle out of him.  

He clinked his cup to yours with a smirk and took a small sip. 

From that point on your distaste for him slowly started to die down and you began to have a mutual understanding.

-

The next race went over far smoother than the last. Franco ended up in P5 with you right behind him in P6; an incredible result for the two of you and the team.

You jumped out of your car and strolled your way over to his. The camera picked up on you patting his helmet and mumbling something.

Of course this was going to be all your media feed would show for the next few days.

-

That night you found yourself at a far more tame pub than the last.

“From the gentleman across the bar,” a server said, causing you to look up from your phone and towards the direction he was pointing. 

Franco was leaning against the counter with a grin. He raised his eyebrows quickly and waved.

You took a sip of the cold blue drink in front of you and waved back. His eyes stayed locked on you as you pulled out your phone and unblocked a number.

You 

is there red bull in this? 

+1800******

yea 

You got a text back immediately, prompting you to change the contact name. 

You

i think that’s a sin

Franco

oh?

You

yea if i can’t drive it i shouldn’t be drinking it  

Franco

i guess it’s too bad williams doesn’t make energy drinks

You

come sit with me

-

Tensions were still high on track between the two of you but the minute race weekend was over it was like someone flipped a switch.

A few weeks flew by and people started to notice your behavior towards Franco. By now there were probably dozens of pictures of you looking very cozy together at parties, but not getting along at the circuits or simply ignoring each other in the paddock.

Of course people were getting suspicious. Maybe this was a ruse to keep your relationship a secret? Maybe it was all staged for Netflix. Or maybe—you two didn’t really know what you were.

-

“Che,” a voice called out to you in spanish, instantly grabbing your attention.

You spotted Franco in a booth at the back of the club. It was far darker in that corner, but with the flashing lights and loud music you were glad he picked a more secluded area.

The building was full with the familiar faces of drivers and team members.

”Look at you,” he said, impressed.

You laughed and did a small spin, showing off your dress. You knew he’d liked it and by the memory you had earlier this evening, it seemed as though a lot of people would.

”Another date with Franco, huh?” Kika smirked while putting on some dangly earrings. “It’s not a date,” you protested. She spun her body around to face you. “This,” she gestured to your outfit. “Is for a date.”

You slid into the booth next to him, setting your black clutch purse beside you.

Franco’s hand firmly grabbed your thigh to steady himself as he shifted closer towards you. Your eyes darted down to the action but he didn’t seem to notice. His grip loosened as he settled and he started rubbing small circles with the pad of his thumb.

A small hum escaped your lips, barely audible over the music and voices, but there was no way in hell your soft noises wouldn’t catch his attention.

”¿Esto está bien?” (is this ok?) he asked in a whisper, causing you to only nod.

His face moved closer to yours, and you wasted no time cupping his cheeks in your hands, and connecting your lips.

You melted into the kiss knowing damn well you daydreamed about this an embarrassing amount.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, tasting the gloss you applied earlier. You opened your mouth to allow him entrance and he dragged his fingertips further up the inside of your thigh.

Franco moved down to your neck leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His index and middle fingers brushed the lace of your lingerie, causing him to smirk against you.

“Stand up,” he demanded. He slipped out of the booth and pulled you onto your feet. You grabbed your clutch as he guided you through the crowd, hand-in-hand.

He opened the chiming door and the two of you stepped onto the wet cobblestone. Your heels clicked on the ground as he guided you to his car in the rain.

He pulled open the passenger seat door for you.

“Wow, we weren’t even in there a couple of minutes,” you stated.

“I think we’ve had enough time to talk… quiero llevarte a casa…” (i want to take you home) he leaned down and mumbled to you.

“O en este caso mi hotel,” (or in this case my hotel) “unless you’d rather go back inside..” he trailed off.

You shook your head in protest to his last works and a light chuckle slipped through his lips.

”Alright then,” he smirked, getting into the drivers seat.

[bunnys-kisses]

a pair of aces

franco colapinto

tags: smut/pwp, williams driver!reader, (somewhat) rivals, clothes sharing, banter & teasing, canadian!reader, secret relationship, body worship, semi- public sex, getting caught, multiple sex scenes, fingering, tim hortons

a/n: the reader is canadian because i said so... also because my brain is tired and it was easier to maker tim hortons jokes.... congrats reader, you are now canadian!

williams was stronger thanks to the hard work of you and franco. you actually made the likes of ferrari and mclaren nervous. even though you and franco were rivals in a sense, it was s unremarkable that the media turned their attention elsewhere. you were both charming, kind in a way that made people drawn to you. even other drivers, only for you to dominate on the track.

but at the end of it all, you pushed franco and franco pushed you. so it wasn't a surprise that you two were something much more than teammates.

franco would lounging on your hotel bed while you were messing with the attire you had on. it was like your driving suit, but you knew it wouldn't pass any standards or testing. it was a costume of a driver's suit, also it was ugly as all hell.

it was a costume for an advertisement, you go roped into doing it for tim hortons during the canadian grand prix weekend. lance laughed when you told his and was thankful that he didn't have to do another one. so much for canadian solidarity!

franco was behind you, amused as his eyes raked your behind. you usual suit was baggy enough to be comfortable and safe. but in this mockery of one, he got a good look at your round behind. you looked good even in bold red and stark white with a flurry of maple leaves printed onto the fabric. he was happily munching on tim bits you had received when some poor assistant gave you the outfit.

"management will have your head is you keep eating those." you looked over to him, "and can you at least save me a chocolate one?"

franco pulled one from the box and looked at you. he smiled, "last one in the box... i wonder who should have it." he pretended to ponder for a moment before he ate it in one bite. you gave him a ,look and he winked then responded, "that's for last weekend."

you turned around to face him fully and he smiled at you. you rolled your eyes and went over to him. you reached for and touched his face.

"you are a pain in my side, colapinto." then leaned in to kiss him on the lips. he melted a little at your touch. he tasted sweet from the snack.

"only for you." he then pulled you onto the bed and he wrapped his arms around you. the near empty box of tim bits fell onto the floor and your teammate all over you.

you moaned into the kiss and threw your arms around his shoulders. chest to chest as the two of you made out deeply.

"don't cum in your pants, franco. they need to photograph me soon."

he undid the zipper and smiled against your cheek, "i'll get mine later, but for now, you'll get to finish first." and then dipped his hand into the suit towards your panties. he got his fingers under the waistband and sunk the digits into your achy cunt. you groaned and arched your back a little.

"fuck, franco." you hissed, you maintained eye contact with him as he fingered you. you squirmed a little and franco pressed more weight onto you. he kept you comfortable against the mattress.

"anything for my teammate." he trailed kissed down your neck and you could feel your pulse pick up. and he could feel it under his lips. if only he could leave a pretty bruise.

he continued to finger you. his fingers felt amazing stuffed inside your cunt. you felt heightened pleasure as he continue to kiss your neck. his breath hot across your skin, it made you run extremely warm.

the pleasure ran hot through you as he played with your sex. it felt dirty to be so intimate in an outfit made for promotional material. you knew you'd never be able to look at it the same again.

he was good with his fingers and it made everything feel intense by a ten-fold. he was skilled in that way, the ways that made you squirm. it came up your body, the kind of want that made your toes curl as you kept working you. he said lowly, "you drive me crazy, even in an awful outfit like this. i want you."

"after." you panted, "qualifiers aren't until saturday, so we have a lot of time after this. just gotta do the stupid ad first." you shifted under him.

you wished you could show franco you city a lot more than you'll be able to do. all the nooks and crannies that you spent time in growing up. but you could barely see your childhood friends before you were out of town and headed to austria.

he left small licked across your neck in place of the bites he wanted to leave. it was all hot and curled in your gut. you laid on last heavy kiss before you tensed up around his fingers. you came with a heavy moaned that was muffled by the kiss. he let out a small moan and slowed his pace to a stop. he took his fingers out and looked at you with his heat spread across his cheeks. he then licked your wetness off his fingers. you swallowed and felt the heat in your ears.

he pressed his forehead against yours soon after and you smiled at him. he draped an arm around your waist and the two of you kissed deeply before you had to leave for the photoshoot.

-

franco lingered around the set because he had 'nothing better to do', he didn't know montreal intimately. the only person you knew from the area was you and a few of the staff for he team. and he didn't mind support his teammate. after all it was your weekend to shine, and franco didn't mind, in fact he wanted you to shine. you were loved in canada, their future world champion. so of course he didn't mind standing to the side while you looked proud in front of a tim hortons location in the city. you were smiling as if you weren't complaining on the car ride over.

it's not even a canadian company anymore!

franco gave you a thumbs up and then a hi-five when you were close enough. the shoot was wrapped up, you did a good job. and while it was fun, you knew you wanted out of the outfit asap.

quickly you went to the trailer with franco trailing close behind. when the door closed to the place. it turned a few heads, and probably sparked for rumors. but, you wanted out of the shit spandex and into franco's lap.

when you were fully inside with the door closed, he wrapped his arms around you for a moment. he pulled you further against him and kissed you deeply. he then got a hold of the zipper to the outfit and pulled it down. he got it off of your shoulders and you melted, your moans got a tad louder.

"you looked good in this. never could race in it, but you can could make red and white work for you." he kissed the side of your neck which made you shudder..

"we have to be quiet." you groaned as you grabbed your breasts as he rubbed his clothed cock up against your backside. which made your heart leap.

"fuck." he groaned against your skin as you managed to kick your sneakers off. and soon you both ended up on the couch with the jumpsuit on the floor.

you grasped him by the front of the williams branded shirt. you got it off of him and he got the tank top off of you that you wore under the costume. eventually you were stripped nude and you did the same for franco. both of you were naked on the couch and the kisses got hotter. you could feel the simmering heat. sometime franco drove you crazy, both on and off the track.

you could race toe-to-toe then end up in bed together. the heated kissed between you two left your core feeling warm. your body heated up and was needy for pleasure. especially after a hard day.

you had enough time to fuck your rival, teammate and lover. franco colapinto was many things to you.

you got onto his lap and spread your hands across his chest. with a little help, you got his cock out his jeans and then sank yourself onto his length. he hissed between grit teeth and then grasped your hips.

"you look even better nothing on and that costume on the floor. i love seeing every inch of you." his voice was smooth. we was so charming that it made you squirm more often than you'd like to admit. you got the most of his charm due to the forced proximity and the nature of your relationship.

you felt the heavy leap in your stomach as he moved against you. he held onto your hips and you really worked against him. he kept in time with you.

he swallowed back the intense emotion through his body. he didn't want to be too loud. he didn't want to draw attention to the trailer. you two continued to move against one another. you grasped softly against him and felt the waves.

"fuck, franco. who made you so fucking hot? it's not fair. you make everyone else look so ugly in comparison." you said in a low tone that made him shudder with want.

"every way i can have you. i'll take you." he dragged blunt nails down your back which made you tense up. you shifted a little and franco also held onto him tighter.

"don't flatter me, franco." you giggled, "i'm a pain in your side. but you love me." you kissed his lips once more as you two moved against one another. the shudder of want between you two as the couch shifted a little under your movements.

he licked his lips and laughed a little. he held onto you tighter as you rocked against him. your thrusts were heavy and he adored it. he did think a lot about you.

most of the time he was thinking about non-sexual situations. if you were doing, did you eat and if you were taking breaks. he continued to move against you, he groaned through his clenched teeth. he tensed up at the sensation of your cunt around his thick cock. and he felt like a dream.

"i'd let you run me off the track anyway. but not without a fight." he trailed his tongue across your sweet, warm skin. you knew that he'd let you. he would allow you to win, he was soft with you that way. but he wouldn't let you gain victory without a fight! you were still rivals.

he'd give you the world without a second thought. except the wdc. you kissed him deeply on the lips, you combed your fingers through his hair and moaned against his lips. he wrapped his arms around your waist as he moved faster against you.

he got the perfect pace to fuck you with. and it made you hold onto him tightly onto him. he was your everything, you two fit so well together. you knew if the press knew about your secret relationship, you two would be a total power couple. both on and off the track.

you held his face and kissed him on those soft lips, it made you excited. you moaned against him, you both struggled to keep your voices down. your pulse quickened and small praises came from your lips as the pace quickened.

franco felt a heat in his body come to surface. the same heat raced through your system as well. you kissed the top of his head before you really worked yourself onto his length.

"i love you." you gasped, "lucky me. to have you all to myself. you make me my best." you said softly, you went in for another heated kiss, your hip bounced against him. as the raging feeling of climax went through your body.

the clench of your cunt around his length only made him match your pace further. he worked hard to fuck with in the shitty trailer, on the couch. your clothes everywhere.

"i need you." you panted as the climax drew through you. you tensed around him. the pleasure hit you perfectly, you arched your back and then were chest to chest with franco.

you made out once more as he moved, roughly fucked you as he tried to achieve his own climax. he groaned through a tense jaw as he quickly came. he continued to fuck you through orgasms and it wasn't until he finished in you that he slowed down to a stop.

there was little time for an after glow, you two had to be out of the trailer soon. you both went to grab your clothes. you had a change of clothes in your bag for after the photo shoot. you grabbed the first shirt you could find. you knew it was branded with the williams logo.

what you didn't realize was that you had franco's shirt on, and franco had you shirt on. you were wearing franco's last name and he was wearing yours.

you learned something important that day as you headed back to the car. secret relationships couldn't stay a secret forever, especially when you were both public figures.

it didn't help your case that you were kissing somewhere so public. there were multiple photos of you two kissing outside the trailer before you headed to the car.

you learned that secrets came out eventually. and now you were on the front page of the news for reasons other than your victory <3

[moviestarmartini]

en la ciudad de la furia. - franco colapinto x reader

me dejarás dormir al amanecer / entre tus piernas / sabrás ocultarme bien y desaparecer / entre la niebla.

summary: franco can't sleep before sunday's race. good thing his best friend is there to help him relax.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: sentences in spanish during conversations, fwb!franco, la ciudad de la furia es baku in this case rip, nsfw (18+), praise, just one (1) degrading word, p in v, unprotected sex (don't. that is a threat.), creampie, happy ending.

A/N: not enough franco fics so i had to pull a thanos and do it myself. enjoy lovelies and shoutout a mi AMIGA PERSONAL @notsomuchtosay for helping me pick the song

now playing... en la cuidad de la furia by soda stereo

Azul.

A sky Franco couldn’t normally look up to even if he tried, settled in different hues of royal blue, similar to the ones in the car he started driving around two weeks ago. The shiny buildings of the city now stood enveloped in a darker hue, the fact it was somewhere close five AM could attribute to that. 

“Hey,” Your hoarse voice caught him off guard. 

Your relationship was something neither of you had sat down to ponder about or discuss. Best friends was where you left it around a year ago. There had been no discussions after the first time you slept together, understanding well enough you wanted to continue with the arrangement… acting as close friends and satiating the thirst that only seemed to grow with time. 

“Nervous?” You asked quietly, walking up to his side and hugging him, your hand pushing his head gently to rest against your midriff. 

“Yeah.” He spoke, his voice coming out deeper than he would’ve thought; he slept for a few hours before sitting by the balcony window, pondering. The mental turmoil swallowed him enough to process the voice inside his head as one from his ownership, speaking into existence the anxious thoughts electrifying every nerve in his body. 

“You did amazing at qualifying, I’m sure the race will be nothing short of great.” Though sloppy, his movements were sly, the arm making your knee joints to fold positioned you in his lap. 

“I hope so.” Franco could only find to respond, not wanting to exhaust you as he did with himself with all the thoughts. He could now formulate your voice against the interim, making him notice how utterly stupid he sounded. 

It would be so much worse if he actually said it out loud. 

“The city looks so beautiful like this.” You commented, turning your head to look where you found him staring. 

“Hermosa estás vos,” Franco replied without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to your cheek. The laugh that bubbled out of your stomach was the reason he went against your orders to stop flirting with you. 

“Baboso.” Instead of shoving him away as usual, you nestled closer to his bare chest, your body covered by just a tank and your underwear. You were still warm from your place under the thick duvet, prompting him to pull you even closer, temporarily promoting you from his friend with benefit to his personal heater. 

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence, the sight of the city sparkling was mesmerizing. You could feel your eyes starting to flutter close, up until you heard him let out a fretful sigh.

“What is it?” You turned back to him. 

“Nothing,” He insisted, but the way his eyes shifted to the side told you otherwise. 

You shifted in his lap, placing a leg on each side in order to turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely. 

“Don’t overthink it.” You insisted, getting another big sigh out of him.

“I’m not,” Yet again his eyes couldn’t stay on yours. From the corner of his eye he could identify the way you looked at him, prodding him for an answer. 

“Es… difícil, ¿sabés? Me ha ido tan bien que no me lo creo y me da miedo cagarla.” It felt a pressure had been lifted off his chest, but the weight of an entire country still rested on his back. 

“Fear is normal,” You started, brushing the light curls away from his forehead. “Todo esto no es ni será fácil, Fran. Lo importante es que estás aquí cumpliendo el sueño tuyo y de muchos. And you’ve got an amazing support system.” The last part came out a bit cheeky, enough to squeeze a genuine laugh out of him, the type that made your stomach tickle.  

By the way he sunk into the chair and embraced you, told everything you needed to know. The sigh he left out was one of relief, contempt. You thought everything was going to be more than alright, and in your mind, you could hear the bed chanting your names again. 

”Honestly I’m still a bit tense,” He spoke up, making you pull away from the place you’d made a home in the crook of his neck.

You found his eyes sparkling with mischief, your replying with confusion, brows softly furrowed adding onto the non-verbal conversation. 

“I think I need a little something to relax,” His fingers caressing your upper thigh made your breath hitch, neither brave enough to break eye contact as they ventured further into the supple skin, the knuckle pressed against the thin cotton provoked a pool of saliva to be roughly swallowed down your throat. 

There was nothing needing to be said. 

What usually infuriated you— how he could talk for hours, but rarely about things that truly mattered— turned into one of your favorite things the second that switch flipped from friends to the benefits side of it. 

The arms loosely around his neck drew closer to attract his lips into yours, and he fell right into that trap. Even with morning breath, he found the taste of your mouth to be so sweet, his fingers tracing their way to the plush skin he liked holding onto a little too much. 

“You can’t expect me to sit still when you’re wearing those panties.” His voice causes goosebumps to form on the wake of his fingers kneading the curve of your ass, the roughness gave you the idea to take initiative and start grinding your hips, cohering a groan out of his lips soon after. 

“Sigue así,” He praised, hot breath against your neck before he started tracing the same kisses he deposited just hours earlier. 

He knew you too well, he could squeeze out moans with just a kiss or a swift touch. But it only motivated you to shift your hips faster, finding relief in grinding against the hard bulge covered by his boxers. 

“Seguro estás toda mojadita ya,” A hand clasped on your jaw, and you knew he wanted a verbal answer. 

“Y-yeah,” You circled your hips, making him throw his head back. You were both so lost in it, he was fumbling around to remove both the items that were a bit too unnecessary. 

Until the chair cracked under you. 

You stared at each other in a panic before bursting out in laughter, not taking the distraction— or warning— as a turn off. He lightly patted your ass, signaling you to get up. 

You took the hint, taking a few slow steps before your body requested you to stretch, a yawn following after. You felt his eyes on you, expecting it to be some non-innocent ogling, until you were swept off your feet and landed on the bed with him on your back. 

“Idiota!” You cackled once you pulled your face away from the mattress, your insult going right over his head from his laughter echoing in the walls of the shared hotel room. 

You turned to look at him, any anger you could’ve withheld disappearing in an instant. If you could, you would wipe out ten cars off the grid so he could be in the points and enjoy more time of his elation. 

“¿Qué pensás?” Franco interrupted you not even a minute later, climbing further onto the bed, kissing your bare shoulder. He toyed with the hem of the tank, and you quickly pulled it over your head. 

To the royal blue was added a gradient to transition into cyan, and you guessed it was nearing six AM, and the sun was preparing its triumphant return with the addition of yellow into the sky. 

“I would do anything to hear your laugh every day.” You admitted truthfully, reaching back to kiss him. 

There was something different about this kiss compared to the ones you shared before. It was slow, careful. It said things you didn’t even want to believe until they materialized into words. 

“You’re the reason for it ninety percent of the time.” He placed more kisses on your shoulder, tracing them down your spine and right back up. 

“You don’t mean it.” You could admit freely for the first time. You knew there had to be more to it. There had to be someone else to it. 

In another element of surprise, Franco flipped you to lay on your back; he usually liked intimacy with you laying on your stomach, the appeal of seeing your ass bounce against his own body overtook every other request either of you might have. 

You watched as he climbed on top of you, pulling you into another of those kisses, making your knees weak. 

“You know you gave me luck today, right?” He whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss on the shell, holding you close to his chest. 

”It’s nothing,” You laugh, watching how his expression dropped ever so slightly at your refusal to accept his advances. “That’s what friends do, right?” 

There wasn’t even time for you to process that, a rough make out session ensued, and he fumbled around to remove his only item of clothing— his underwear. You followed his lead eagerly, thinking all was forgotten and it was yet another thing to be chucked in the pile of things he wouldn’t discuss upfront. 

You let your body do the talking, leaning into his touch, moans leaving your lips with every stimulating touch to that already swollen nub due to your arousal. His hands guided your legs to wrap around his waist, placing them at a perfect angle, one you would find to enjoy when his length slid in easily. 

“Relaxed now?” You sassed, panting before he would start thrusting. Each slow stroke was driving you insane, nails digging into his back, moans filling the room lacking the background noise of an active city. 

“Fran, fran.” You moaned, patting him on the shoulder. “What’s wrong? You’re not saying anything.” 

“Vos sos mía, ¿entendés?” A hand cupped your jaw, your eyes meeting his. “Friends don’t stare into each other’s eyes while they fuck; you’re mine.” 

The correction was rather harsh, he had to be self aware and admit so. Or he believed until he saw a smile rise to your lips, the bottom one tucking between the pearly whites when your moans became more high pitched from the speed. 

You now understood the changes; the change of position, the change in how much passion oozed his lips against yours. It had taken him a while, considering you were clear about your feelings about a month or so of the arrangement. 

“¿Por qué sonríes, eh putita?” He degraded, only making the corners of your smile rise further up your cheeks, moans still leaving from the back of your throat. 

By his frantic moments you could deduce he wasn’t going to last long, but neither would you. The last few days had been exhausting in different aspects, your sexual activity included. 

His face looked stunning under the dim light that shone from the window, highlighting each freckle your fingers could trace. You pulled him into a kiss, your lips doing the talking now. 

He pulled back, an expression of mixed up confusion and hope. You pulled him down, brushing your nose against his before creating enough space to look into each other’s eyes. 

“Te amo. Por ti voy hasta la Antártida a verte correr.” 

The sudden change in pace and attention to detail had you gasping, your mind letting go of the preoccupation of his lack of a verbal answer. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, a hand sneaking down to toy with your clit. 

Your nails dug into his bicep, eyes falling shut from the pleasure. 

“Así, así.” He encouraged you when he felt the warmth enveloping deliciously tighten around him. 

A chant of his name coming straight to heaven— in his books— filled the room, letting you ride out your orgasm before letting your leg back on its original place by his hips, leaning down in the same way you had pulled him just moments ago. 

“Yo también te amo. Por vos corro hasta en la Antártida.” You were back in your right mind to understand him completely, the way you gave him a sloppy kiss proved it.

The revelating feeling seemed to be enough to push him off the edge, panting I love yous and other praises before he collapsed on top of you. 

You kissed his shoulder gently, brushing his hair with a soothing intent. 

“Better?” You questioned after a little while and he replied with obnoxious loud snoring, clearly faked. 

Hopefully in the morning you would actually get to talk about this. But now, you were more than fine to get a kiss on the forehead and have the blinds drawn shut to continue your slumber snuggled up to him. 

[mywritersmind]

hey girl! are you writing for franco atm??? if so I wanted to see if you could write smth like fluff or reader and franco get in a fight maybe bcs of the time zones and races and he surprises her one night before race weekend like he catches a flight to see her but she still won’t budge on talking to him xxx

YELL AND FLY - FC43

listen up : just arguing but ending in comfort. thanks for the request this lowk almost made me cry

word count : 877

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can hear him pacing, the sounds of drilling and tires in the background, “I’m just tired, Franco.” We’ve been like this for an hour, I keep hearing him swear in spanish and making sure everyone leaves him alone.

“You don’t think I am?” he groans as someone tries to speak to him again, “Fuck, obviously I’m tired! You’re not the one working every weekend.”

I scoff and sit up in my bed, the sun not even up yet, “That's unfair and you know it, Franco! I work! I work even more when you’re away!” I say sarcastically, “But I'm sorry that you have to do the job you chose and you love!”

I shake my head as he responds, “I didn’t mean that, love.”

“Yes you did. And that’s fine but don’t push your anger onto me. You always do shit like this.”

“Like what?” His voice raises.

I run my hand into my hair, “You don’t think I support you.”

“Well it’s hard to think that when you’re not here supporting me.” I want to hit him, then myself. How could he think that? After I said I wanted to be there but couldn’t because I was fucking working. He takes it back quickly, “I’m sorry i’m just overwhelmed-”

“Franco. I’m tired.” Tired of this. Tired of waking up so early and staying up late for a ten minute call where we just fight, “we should talk about this later.”

He still sounds angry, “I’m busy all day.”

I stay silent. What am I supposed to say? Cry and tell him to not be? I have no choice but to nod.

“Good luck.”

He sighs, I hear the ruffling of his hair, “I’m sorry. I wish you were here.”

“Me too.” He’s mad at me and I’m mad at him. I’ve been with Franco long before his F1 debut, but us yelling over the phone every weekend isn’t something I expected with the job.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I watched his race, texted him, and logged off social media for the day. He’s off to Mexico but I just can’t leave right now. I’m sitting in the kitchen, eating my cereal and leaning over the counter while listening to Taylor Swift.

There’s a knock at the door, I groan. I’m in the same pajamas as two days ago and my hair is in the messiest bun I've seen in a while.

When I open the door, my jaw actually drops.

“Franco?” I poke him as if I think he’s some figment of my imagination. Have I really gone that crazy that I'm imagining my boyfriend at my door?

“Hi, love.” He’s real. He walks in, shutting the door softly. I want to cry as he slips his arms around me, “I’m so sorry.”

His voice washes over me and I hug him tighter, breathing him in and realizing how much I missed how he smells.

“I’m mad at you.” It comes out as a whisper, my voice broken and sad.

“You can be.” I pull back a bit, his hands in my hair, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Why are you here?” I cross my arms, stepping back.

Franco looks nervous, a bag by his side, “I wanted to see you. I thought you wanted that too…”

“Of course I did!” I sigh dramatically.

He smiles at my anger, “So, I'm here for you.”

I shake my head, going to the kitchen and cleaning up my breakfast. I don’t know how to feel. I’m so happy he’s here. But then what? He’ll just leave again and I’ll watch two second clips of him on the TV?

He follows me into the kitchen, “Love… Let me do it.” I let him because I hate the dishes.

I sit on the counter, watching him gently washing the bowl with his sleeves rolled up. He drys his hands, then looks up at me.

“I’m sorry for being mad.” I look at the floor but he steps in between my legs so I look at him, “It’s just hard.”

“It’s hard for me too. I want you there all the time but I'm so proud of you!” he puts his hands on my outer thighs, “Time Zones suck.”

I laugh, wiping my eyes from the tears that spill down my face, “I’m proud of you too. Shit, you’re so amazing. I hate working.”

“Quit.” He says it so fast.

“Franco!” I swat at his arm, letting out a sort of sob laugh.

“Okay, you can quit when I get a full time seat.” I laugh as he smiles softly up at me, “I know it’s rough right now.”

“We can work through it. We’re us.” His thumbs smooth over my cheeks.

He nods, “We’re us.”

“How long are you here for?”

He frowns, “I leave tomorrow night.” I frown with him, “But I'm here now.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right. I look up at my boyfriend, his hands on me. I know I need to live in the moment now.

I kiss him softly and he pulls me into another hug, his arms around my waist, “I love you.”

I run my hands through his hair, “I love you too. We can do this.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Hidden relationship

Hii guyss, I hope you love this as much as I've loved writing it :) Here's my masterlist if you want to read more stories of mine.

As you walk through the paddock towards your garage, a jolt of shock runs through you as a hand suddenly pulls you between two motorhomes. But the initial surprise fades into happiness the moment your boyfriend’s familiar eyes lock onto yours.

"Franco, this is a very bad idea," you whisper, though you instinctively step closer to him. "You know we can't be seen together."

He flashes you a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with playful intent. "Pero te extrañaba, mi amor," he murmurs, his voice soft yet teasing as he pulls you against him. "An hour without seeing you is too long." (But I've missed you, my love).

"You saw me at the hotel this morning," you counter, trying to stay serious, but your smile betrays you.

"Eso fue hace una eternidad," Franco leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. "Cada segundo sin ti es un castigo." (That was an eternity ago) (Every second without you is a punishment)

Before you can respond, his lips find yours, and the world around you disappears. His kiss is filled with a yearning that makes your heart race, and for a moment, the risk of being caught vanishes. His hand cups your face gently, the heat between you two impossible to ignore.

You’re a driver for Haas, and he’s… well, Franco. A relationship between the two of you is complicated, secretive, hidden from the paddock’s prying eyes. No one can know, which is why these stolen moments mean everything.

When the kiss ends, you stay close for a moment, foreheads touching, your breathing still a bit heavy. "We really can’t keep doing this," you say, although there’s no conviction in your words.

Franco smirks, his hand lingering on your waist. "Nos vemos luego, mi amor," he whispers, giving you a quick wink before you reluctantly pull away and head back towards your motorhome. He watches you walk away, already missing the closeness. (I'll see you later, my love)

The race flies by in a blur of speed and adrenaline, but when it’s over, the real challenge begins—the media panel. You sit beside each other, the tension between you now masked by professional smiles. Reporters fire questions about the race, and you answer coolly, focused and calm, until someone turns to Franco.

"So, Franco, what are your plans during the break?" The question is innocent, but his response is anything but.

Franco’s eyes flicker in your direction for just a moment, his grin devilish as he leans back in his chair. "Well, I don’t plan to leave the bed much," he says, his voice smooth as silk. "Tengo planes más interesantes…" (I have more interesting plans…)

Your heart skips a beat as you feel his gaze burning into you, the meaning behind his words clear. You force yourself to keep a neutral expression, though you can feel the blush creeping up your neck.

The reporters laugh, not fully aware of the hidden meaning, but you know exactly what Franco’s thinking—and it makes your stomach flutter in a way only he can.

Back at the hotel, you slip out of your team's merch and into something more comfortable, the adrenaline from the race still coursing through your veins. The door clicks open, and you know without looking who it is.

Franco steps in, a satisfied smirk on his face as he walks toward you. "You know, you really should watch your mouth with the media," you tease, leaning back against the bed, crossing your arms. "You almost gave us away."

He grins, his dark eyes full of mischief as he steps closer, his presence radiating confidence. "I couldn’t help it, amor. You make it hard to focus on anything else." He leans in, his lips barely an inch from yours. "Besides, I was telling the truth. I don’t plan on leaving the bed much."

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the smile forming on your lips. "Maybe, but you should at least try to be a little less obvious." Your words are playful, not serious, because deep down, you love how bold he can be.

Franco cups your face in his hands, his touch gentle but with a hunger that makes your heart race. "¿Estás segura? Porque me parece que te gusta cuando lo hago," he whispers, his lips brushing against yours, teasing you. (¿Are you sure? Because I feel that you like it when I act that way)

The tension between you snaps as you pull him into a kiss, the passion and need igniting instantly. His arms wrap around your waist, drawing you closer until there’s no space left between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, each kiss deeper and more fervent than the last. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you lose yourself in the moment, the world outside the room completely forgotten.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. His thumb gently strokes your cheek, his eyes soft as they lock onto yours. "I need you," he murmurs, his voice quieter now, filled with a kind of tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

You give him a soft smile, running your hand down his chest. "Well then, maybe we should start your break plan now," you suggest, your tone teasing but filled with unspoken promise.

Franco raises an eyebrow, clearly liking where this is going. "¿Ahora?" His voice drops an octave, the warmth in his gaze turning molten. (¿Now?)

"Sí," you whisper, tugging him back down to you, the words heavy with meaning. "We’ve got the whole night…"

Without wasting another second, his lips crash against yours once more, the kiss deeper, more urgent, filled with every bit of longing you’ve been keeping hidden for so long. The passion consumes you both, and the rest of the world fades away. You’re together now, with no barriers, no secrets, and for this moment, nothing else matters.

And as you fall into each other, the unspoken truth lingers in the air: this is where you belong, in his arms, in this space you’ve created just for the two of you.