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totothewolff · 5 months

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Grand Prix Elite Academy (2/10) +18 | professor!Toto x reader fem!futuredriver, sewiss, carlos x reader

Summary: Your life turns 360 degrees after receiving your acceptance letter for the Grand Prix Elite Academy, the most exclusive and prestigious Formula One college designed to shape the future drivers of the motorsport world. You will try to navigate your new life among the Monaco elites, survive the campus dynamics and rivalries between the university faculties, and try to win this year's cup to beat an undefeated Mercedes while trying to befriend your eclectic driver classmates, join the wild Red Bull parties, have a couple of make-outs under the racing circuit benches, lose your v-card and get over that stupid crush you have on professor Toto. Will you make it alive to graduation? Drive to Greatness! Genre: Romance, smut, and comedy. Author's note: This is a Formula One college AU fanfiction set in an elite academy in Monaco, where the F1 Teams are Faculties, their Team Principals are professors, the FIA is the college board, and all the grid drivers are your classmates. You are accepted under a scholarship program that supports young, talented girls, having lots to catch on to after years of putting your racing dreams on hold and becoming the new girl in class, which is always challenging, especially when all of you share one campus. Masterlist: all chapters here

Chapter 2: Gone with the Wolff

The sun starts to ascent over Monaco's luxurious skyline in the early hours of the day, casting a golden glow over the buildings.

As you go through the security checkpoint at the campus gates, you feel an intoxicating mix of nerves and excitement brewing in you. Besides feeling like an alien, being the only one there arriving on foot as you watch the endless line of expensive sports cars and SUVs with chauffeurs drive past you and the parking gate.

Today marks the beginning of your journey at the Grand Prix Elite Academy, a heaven where speed and ambition merge.

—You got clearance, miss Y/LN —the muscular security man tells you; stepping out of the security booth, he has a cold and formal attitude and way of speaking. —They need you at the Student Affairs offices. It's on the first floor in the main building —he points towards the large facility down the entrance road. —You need to wear this at all times, no excuses, till your new ID and student badge are ready —he instructs you, handing you a metallic purple "visitor" access badge.

—Oh, thank you.

Stepping for the first time onto the campus grounds, you can't help but feel in awe by the magnificence surrounding you as you pay attention to all the details.

The buildings' architecture combines Monaco's classical style blend with modern facades full of massive glass walls facing the different gardens.

There are many lanes for pedestrians, bicycles, and electric scooters. Beautiful palm trees, flowers, and acres of perfectly maintained green grass complete the view.

The campus is full of energy and student life. People read and work on their computers and tablets in the different sitting areas, which are filled with picnic tables and expensive outdoor furniture. Others lie on the grass, chat in groups, or walk fast to somewhere. People get in and out of the buildings, and many line up in the Starbucks inside campus.

—Y/N! Carlos calls your name from a step on the main building's ample stairs, sitting beside Esteban. Judging by all the students sitting on them, the stairs look like a popular gathering spot.

You start walking on their way while Carlos rushes down to welcome you with a hug, his prince-charming hair flowing in the wind as he reaches you. You two became good friends after spending the Homecoming Gala dancing your asses off and partying with the rest of the group.

—Are you an early bird, too? —you ask him as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells sweet and floral.

—Not really! Mattia scheduled our faculty meeting in the auditorium at 7 a.m. That Italian is insane! I swear he is constantly testing our sanity, so if you pick "Motor Vehicle Engineering" as a subject, expect those kinds of tricks from him.

That explains why almost everyone on campus right now is wearing red. —How did it go? They didn't ask for my assistance, so I guess I can cross Ferrari off my list —you ask.

—The usual "Winning can't wait! Blah blah, we need to defeat Mercedes, blah blah, I'm not accepting B grades, no exceptions blah blah" sabes? Well, you don't, actually; you are new, haha —he answers, a bit bored.

You laugh at his faux Italian accent as he makes his best Mattia impression. —Very Mario Bros of you. —You joke with him while admiring his expensive-looking Ferrari uniform, a crisp red blazer perfectly tailored to accentuate his fit silhouette, with Ferrari's insignia delicately embroidered on the breast pocket.

Complementing his blazer is a classic white shirt crafted from the finest cotton. Carlos' trousers, also tailored from a deep grey fabric, are paired with Italian leather brogue shoes.

"Gosh, he is so handsome!" You think.

—Still no news, cierto? —he asks you, glancing you down. He notices you are wearing the grey faculty-less, GPEA rookie uniform, as most newbies are.

—No! —you pout. —Have you heard something? The red uniform sure looks beautiful.

—I could ask around; maybe Sebastian can give us info; he is in Student Affairs this year!

—Oh, great! I will ask him myself. I'm about to meet him there. I have to pick up my badge, sign lots of stuff, and get my dorm access.

—This is my number —Carlos bumps his phone with yours. —Text me when you learn who your roommate is! I will give you the receipts and tea.

—Oh! Thanks! Let's hope for the best!

As you make your way inside the main building to the administration floor, you admire the elegant blend of class and innovation.

The hallways hum with the chatter of fellow students, their gossip muffled by the occasional roar of a passing racing car on the nearby track, where free practices occur. That sound makes your blood rush.

Once you arrive at your destination, you knock on the glass doors, which is a bit dumb because they can see you before you step in.

The staff points you to a cubicle, where you find Sebastian Vettel sleeping in his office chair under an Aston Martin jacket. The room's air conditioning makes it feel like a freezer.

You pinch him on the ribs, teasing and waking him, making Seb jump, you little shit!

—Oh, you made it here! Hi! —his kind smile greets you.

—Hi, lazy ass! Ow, did I wake you? —you joke.

—Where is your sorority? We sisters must stand together. Seb gets on his feet and goes to find your badge inside a giant blue plastic container with tons of those. —I also need to take your biometrics, but you must read and sign these first. It's for the use of personal data, etc.

—Sure —you answer as he prints the papers and hands them to you.

—Take your time—he drops himself back on the chair and slides near you.—Did Lewis give you rookies the campus tour yet?

You deny shaking your head.

—Oh! That man! —Seb rubs his forehead, exasperated. —I love him, but he drives me crazy sometimes —Vettel picks up his radio and tries to reach him. —For sure, Carl is still at the gym instead of doing his job! I desperately need to hire him an assistant, he almost forgot his mom's birthday the other day. Thank God I bought her the present in advance! —Seb pushes the signal button once more, waiting for Lewis to pick it up, and he turns to whisper to you. —I heard the new trainer is fucking hot —Vettel raises his eyebrows up and down suggestively several times while grinning.

A couple of beeps come before he starts speaking. —You are still at the gym, aren't you?

Lewis's distorted voice comes through the radio. —Yes, I told you I'm trying this new workout for you, remember? Longer, more lifting required, less cardio. Our hardcore sessions are working wonderfully, my love. Didn't you tell me you love my muscles as much as you love my coc…

—Woa, woa, Y/N is here; she is listening! —Seb quickly interrupts him, and you start to laugh.

—Sorry about that —Seb tells you, a bit red.

—No worries! I feel a little jealous, tho. I wish I had someone; you guys seem very in love.

—You will soon! This place is full of hot and horny people and too many parties and alcohol. Oh! In my good ol' slut days, I used to hook up a lot and be given blowjobs under the benches at the racing circuit.

—I'm still here! —Lewis interrupts, quite amused.

—Lewis, please hurry! This place is enormous, and I have no idea where anything is! I need to pee! Where are the bathrooms?! —you talk to him on the radio before Seb takes your fingerprints.

Your orientation activities begin half an hour later.

Lewis shows up and gathers you rookies in the main lobby, where the collection of trophies and awards of the Academy are displayed in a fancy museum way, as he welcomes you and tells you about the campus and the glorious history of this institution.

You are not surprised to see only ten new students beside you. This place's tuition is so fucking expensive, and it's a niche business.

Soon, you discover that only some people want to become racing drivers; the rest want to be part of the motorsports world and teams. The GPEA curriculum is so vast that it covers everything from team management, aerodynamics, engineering, sports marketing, finances, and more.

Lewis takes you all on tour, on foot, where you dazzle at the display of facilities, from the incredibly modern library, full of study stations, desks, and immersive display computers, to the massive sports center, the place where future champions are getting in shape, it looks like the Olympics inside there; it's a state of the art huge physical training center with the newest and most tech pieces of equipment as well as an extensive swimming pool and a complete wellness center with an upscale spa, massages and sauna included.

Almost all classrooms have ocean views, luxurious and comfy seating, ample desks, and smart boards; everything looks pristine, trendy, and bright.

But the lab! Oh! The lab! It's a wet dream! It's full of the highest-tech simulators, which are to die for. It's the most immersive and authentic experience you've ever seen.

The cafeteria has become your second favorite place. It's the most fabulous room, full of culinary experiences and areas. It's enormous, with high-end restaurants, many to-go options, and several bars serving vegetarian food and healthy snacks.

There is even a juice therapy concept zone that looks interesting!

The nap pods, comfy puffs, slides, lounge areas, and lots of art installations make it an eclectic and chic place.

You also visit the race circuit, garages, and the Mechanics building, where you feel at home. This hallowed ground is where legends are born.

You stand amidst the sleek machines, their vibrant colors and flawless designs are testaments to the craftsmanship and skill that define the racing world.

In that moment, you sense a deep connection forming, a kinship with the machines that would become your companions on this exhilarating journey.

You wish Lewis would let you spend more time there, but he takes you to the dorm buildings, which are basically 5-star hotels.

Your "shared rooms" are bigger than your house. You would describe them as luxurious apartments for two.

The dorm buildings are next to "the social hub," a compound of several establishments (bars, restaurants, and a social club, obviously) located near the marina and harbor. Yatch culture is big there, too!

As Lewis wraps his speech once back in the main lobby, Horner reaches him, whispering something to his ear, patting his shoulder, and then walking towards you.

Your hands shake slightly as he politely lets you know Red Bull is not the faculty for you.

A bit bummed out, you take the elevator up to the last floor, where the main lecture hall is. It's the largest one, and it is reserved for subjects that students of different years and careers share.

It's your first class of the day, and you are in awe of the panoramic view that greets you as you step in. To your left is a sweeping vista of the sprawling race track at a distance, impeccably maintained and stretching toward the horizon. You observe it through the floor-to-ceiling clear crystal panel windows.

As you settle into your first lecture on "Electrical Engineering," conversations flow effortlessly, fueling your collective enthusiasm and igniting friendships as Professor Otmar delivers an exciting class.

Almost by the end of the class, your phone buzzes on your desk as you write memos on your iPad; Leandra texts you to meet them at the "Turn 17 Lounge" in the marina after classes.

Soon, you find yourself surrounded by laughter and the clinking of glasses inside the vibrant, contemporary lounge. It's packed since most students finished their schedules, and it's the first day back.

You sit in the pricey furniture beside your new friends near the chic bar area while enjoying the panoramic waterfront views.

The place's ambiance is lively and energetic. A trendy playlist sounds in the background as you are handed a menu with a range of innovative and Instagram-worthy cocktails and appetizers.

You look at them, shocked at the prices and amused at the pompous names, and resign yourself to ordering just a Coke with ice or a Coke on the rocks, according to the carte.

You find out the lounge hosts themed events, live music nights, and interactive experiences to cater to the preferences and desires of the student crowds.

—What up, babe?! —Leandra greets you. She is wearing her faculty activewear. Her gym shirt is crafted from breathable red fabric, showcasing sleek black accents, while the Scuderia Ferrari emblem is proudly displayed on her chest. Her gym shorts are designed for optimal movement and feature a mix of black and red detailing. —I don't feel my legs, not in the sense I would like!

You laugh at her comment.

—Pippa Gasly, Y/N —She introduces you two. A cute blue-eyed French girl waves her hand at you sitting across the coffee table; she is Yuki's girlfriend; you witnessed them devouring each other at the Gala. —The new coach is so fucking hot; the rumors are true, I stretched way too sluty for him during his training, and he stared me down. Should I give him a private tour of the dock area? —Leandra gossips you two.

—The dockyard has a very secluded lighthouse. It's the perfect spot to discreetly fuck or hook up with someone if you don't want the entire campus to find out —Pippa explains.

—I heard it was under the benches —you add.

—Not anymore. Security parol those now. Thank you, Lando!

—I'm proud of my legacy! —he and Max join you.

—I fucked a very loud girl in there and got caught by security —he admits to you, shrugging his shoulders. —Massi made me publicly apologize in the commencement speech that year. Can you believe it?! Far worse things have happened, and he didn't even bathe an eye then! But he made an example out of me. But, in the end, he knew he needed my parents' money and donations, so he stayed in his lane.

—Where the fuck is Charles?! —Max addresses Leandra, looking a bit concerned. —He is not answering my DMs.

—Still with his grandpa, he will arrive soon; all his things arrived at our dorm today.

��Talking about that, I have a roommate! —you notify the group, and all eyes set on you.

—WHO?! —everyone asks at the same time.

—It's a girl, thank God, her name is Naya Lauda.

Their eyebrows go to the roof. Lando's face is a poem.

You look at them, feeling now concerned. —What?! You guys, WHAT?!

—This is about to get awkward —Lando speaks while sipping his beer. —She is a persona non grata.

—Don't mention it to Lewis —Pippa advices you.

You look at Leandra with a "please explain!" face. —Naya is best friends with Nico Rosberg; he is the mean girl of this school, a total douch, and also Lewis' ex; those two were THE thing back in the day, the most popular and prodigy couple on campus, but in reality, they were highly toxic and harmful to each other —many nods come in response as she explains.

—All this before Lewis came to his senses! —Pippa adds.

—He changed a lot for the better once he started dating lovely Sebastian and split from those two —Leandra resumes explaining. —Naya took Nico's side on the divorce, annihilating his friendship with Lewis in the process.

Lando then interrupts to give you more input. —To Toto's displeasure, the whole thing fractured Mercedes' unstoppable all-star team! The three of them used to be inseparable and insufferable.

—Yeah, they only talked to each other and pushed away anyone who tried to get close or be friendly with them. Including old friends —Max joins the explanation.

—Talking of which… —Pippa adds.

—Oh yeah, I forgot about the Toto thing —Lando mentions.

—Naya is also Toto's protege; she is exceptionally talented, intelligent, and top of the class… —Max says.

—And fucking hot —Leandra admits.

—And..? —you instantly ask, sensing there is more.

The group exchanges a couple of looks.

—There was a rumor. Leandra brushes your arm. —But it's just a rumor; nothing has ever been proven.

—That Naya was the reason why the Wolffs split. Those two have a weird dynamic, to be honest —Pippa finishes. —She is a bit possessive of him, and seeing them by their side on and off campus is usual.

—They go everywhere together —Leandra bluntly corrects.

—Also, Max has been in love with Naya since childhood. He used to gift her bouquets after every karting race, always cheer for her at the benches, and even let her win while driving against each other, which in Max's language is a "Will you marry me?" —Lando declares, and Max huffs. —Don't pretend you don't!

—Fine! YES! I did, but that was in the past.

Oh boy.

After taking a relaxing bath and washing away all the nerves and stress of your first day, you get comfortable on the cozy sofa in your dorm's living room. On your way there, you grab a bag of chips and place your laptop on your legs. You are wearing the GPEA oversized T-shirt, tiny shorts, and your hair wrapped in a towel, thinking you are there alone.

—Filling up your schedule? Choosing your core classes? —you hear a velvet voice behind you, making you jump a little.

—Yes, any suggestions or tips? —Naya gets closer to peek at your screen. She is a gazelle, a very sexy and gorgeous girl who exudes confidence and grace in her every movement.

Her magnetic gray eyes capture, and her great posture commands attention effortlessly, while her impeccable style embodies sensuality and elegance, provoking an unforgettable impression on anyone who crosses her path.

You get why she got Toto's attention; you feel like a troll beside her. Until now, Naya seems kind and polite but not very social or talkative.

—"Aerodynamics I," "Thermodynamics I," and "Materials Science" are perfect for your entry-level. "Mechanics II" is quite advanced, are you sure? —Naya tells you, and you nod. —Your optional elective classes, "Data Science" and "Strategy and Leadership," are both hard to get into, especially Torger's!

—Wish me the best, then! —you say as you hit the submit button.

—How on earth did you get accepted into Toto's class?! —Sebs looks impressed as you two finish breakfast at the cafeteria while he reads your assigned schedule, giving it the heads up!

You feel slightly cocky and proud of the accomplishment.

Then Seb glances at his smartwatch. —Better be leaving, Y/N! You don't want to be a second late for it. Toto is extremely picky; he got Lance expelled from the subject for being two minutes late once. Forget about missing class or not delivering a report!

—Oh shit! —your eyes go wide as you grab your things and rush there.

You walk inside the luxurious lecture hall on time and out of breath; for sure, your hair looks like shit now.

For obvious reasons, you tried your best to put on a decent-looking outfit and even makeup, which you aren't a fan of, lol girl, as he will notice you, let's say you aren't the most stereotypically called "girlie girl," lacking the mom's touch and being raised among mechanics, not to mention that all beauty products are damn expensive.

This hall is entirely different from the one at the top of the building. It is smaller and intimate but way fancier, with opulence and functionality blending seamlessly.

The hall boasts plush, leather-upholstered seats with individual desks, offering maximum comfort to each student.

The walls are modern and sleek, and large screens display live feeds of races and analyses with cutting-edge audiovisual equipment and an advanced sound system that provides an immersive learning experience.

The spacious layout ensures an unobstructed view of the front podium, where Professor Toto is about to impart his class. He looks crazy hot in that white fitted rolled-up sleeve shirt and tight beige pants, which he is wearing while adjusting his earset microphone.

Toto starts his class by presenting a rather complex and compelling study case, grabbing the attention of the small group in just a couple of minutes.

—You must solve the problem, minimize the impact, and land the new course of action —he explains, walking around the room. —In real life, you would only have a couple of minutes to discuss with the entire team and command the driver to follow the needed change in strategy. There's no safety net. How would you solve it? Let's start with you, Mr. Rosberg.

You all give different input until a proper answer is formed, and then Toto moves to theory.

You try your best to concentrate and absorb the knowledge he is sharing and not get lost on his attractive backside, that back, those shoulders, and veins.

While you pick up your things as the class is dismissed, you catch his gaze set on you.

—Miss, Y/N —fuck, your name sounds hot in his mouth. —You are so tempting —your mind goes to another place while he bends in front of your seat, forearms on the wood surface, his muscular arms flexed, leaning closer to you over the desk. —You had the most impressive start! You can be an exciting addition to our faculty, but I need you to answer some questions first. Could you join me at the campus bistro on Thursday?

—Oh, y-yes —you barely answer.

—Good, see you there at 7 p.m —he smiles at you and exits.

WHAT?!!

Since your arrival at the Grand Prix Elite Academy, the excitement of the first days had begun to dull into the routine of classes, homework, and training sessions.

As you step in, the bistro buzzes with chatter and laughter, and the scent of freshly prepared meals fills the air. Amidst the chaos, you spot Toto sitting alone at a table.

He is wearing a navy blue blazer that perfectly hugs his lean frame and a crisp white shirt neatly tucked into matching slacks.

He gets on his feet to greet you as you reach the table and waits for you to sit; he is a total gentleman. He orders two glasses of sparkling water as he hands you the menu.

—Let's start with some appetizers, shall we? —he suggests, smiling. —There's a delicious caprese salad, and the fish cakes are to die for.

You inspect the menu, scanning the unfamiliar dishes listed. Most of them are exotic delicacies, some requiring ingredients sourced only from the farthest reaches of the globe. But that's part of the charm of attending such an exclusive institution: the exposure to cultures and experiences vastly different from yours.

—Caprese salad sounds perfect —you decide, handing the menu back to Toto. He nods approvingly and waves down a passing waiter.

—Two caprese salads, please —he instructs. —And bring us some bread, too. Oh, and a bottle of that Pinot Grigio, would you?

You study Toto closely as you wait for your food. He is commanding, yet his mannerisms hint at a softer side. When he speaks, his timbre is soothing, and his choice of words is deliberate.

He has something magnetic, a quality that draws people in, regardless of how guarded he initially appears. You listen to him intensely as he shares anecdotes about his racing career and the highs and lows he has encountered along the way.

His contagious laugh echoes in the dimly lit restaurant. It's almost disarming, making you forget the nervous tension that had built up inside you.

He glances at you occasionally, his eyes dancing with mischief. You can sometimes sense his interest, a silent invitation to reveal more about yourself.

Yet, you remain cautious, guarding your vulnerability under layers of carefully chosen words. In return, Toto offers tantalizing tidbits about his life and motivations.

—So, Y/N, tell me about yourself —Toto asks gently as the waiter places your dishes on the table. A fragrant medley of tomatoes, basil, and fresh mozzarella floats upwards, causing your stomach to rumble audibly.

Toto smiles knowingly, motioning for you to dig in. The juicy tomatoes burst with sweetness, harmoniously mingling with the creamy cheese. Each rich mouthful sends shivers down your spine like the flavors are awakening sensations long buried beneath your consciousness.

—Where did your love for racing originate? —Toto starts between bites.

—Well, it started when I was barely four years old. My father watches Grand Prix races religiously, and eventually, I joined him. We'd sit together on the couch, our hearts pounding in sync and in awe, as the drivers navigated tight bends and straights; that's when I fell in love with the sport, the thrill of watching them push their limits, the suspense of waiting for the checkered flag to wave.

—Sweet —Toto responds. —It's incredible how the love for racing can manifest itself in someone so young —He pauses, reaching for your glasses of wine and offering you a sip. You gladly accept, relishing the crisp taste of the pinot grigio as it slides smoothly down your throat. You could feel the warmth spreading through your body, melting away the nerves.

—Do you have a favorite driver? —Toto asks, swirling the contents of his glass thoughtfully.

—My favorite driver is Senna. I admire his raw talent and aggressive driving style. His determination to win is inspiring and captivating.

Toto raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your answer. —Ah, Senna, quite a classic —he echoes, giving a knowing nod. —He's certainly an interesting character; he's got the guts and skill to make a lasting impression. His smooth driving style and natural grace make him stand out in a generation of aggressive competitors. You're a traditionalist, aren't you? You appreciate the artistry and elegance of the sport.

—Yes —you admit.

—Senna embodies the essence of racing, displaying a combination of raw talent and refined technique. He was an extraordinary driver —you add.

—A true gentleman on and off the track —Toto concludes.

Your conversation flows effortlessly, weaving in and out of topics ranging from the intricacies of car engineering to the nuances of team dynamics. Toto's insights and expertise are fascinating and provide valuable perspectives.

As you listen attentively, you notice the subtle change in Toto's demeanor; his posture becomes more relaxed. Yet, you can't shake off the feeling that Toto is deliberately testing you.

—So, Y/N, why suddendly quit? —he leans closer, truly curious. —Why stop such a promising career so suddenly?

—My mom's sickness and, after her passing, a lot of debt. I'm here on a scholarship. I'm not wealthy.

—I see. And were there no other options for you to be able to continue?

—Well, I don't know. I felt lost for a while; depressed is the word, so yeah, I stopped racing.

—I see. How has your experience at the Academy been thus far? —Toto switches topics; a twinkle in his eye suggests that he already knows the answer to his question.

—I must say, things here are pretty competitive —you admit, after a brief pause. —Everyone seems driven by ambition, constantly seeking to prove themselves. It's an environment that demands excellence.

Toto nods. —Indeed, the Academy is known for fostering a culture of competitiveness and exceptionalism.

—I feel overwhelmed by the pressure to perform and excel. It feels like everyone around me is doing everything possible to reach the top —you add, with a hint of concern creeping into your voice.

Toto leans back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. You can't help peeking at his biceps. —Well, that's precisely the nature of this place, Y/N. The environment is designed to challenge you in a way you don't think possible. After all, the ultimate goal here is to nurture champions. To achieve that, we need to create a breeding ground for fierce competition. It's crucial to foster resilience and adaptability in our students.

—I feel privileged to be here —you add honestly and smilingly.

Toto pauses to take a sip of his wine. —We all want you to succeed, but you must realize it takes a village to raise a champion.

—Yes, I agree —you reply, shifting in your seat. Despite Toto's reputation as a tough-as-nails professor, he exudes a calm demeanor.

—So, have you considered your goals for this term? —he asks you.

—I've been thinking about improving my handling of high-speed situations and refining my understanding of aerodynamics. I'd also like to enhance my ability to work effectively under pressure.

Toto's eyes widened. —Those are ambitious goals. We have some excellent resources at the Academy to help you achieve these objectives. I highly recommend you check out the advanced simulations. Not only does it teach you how to handle extreme speed, but it also gives you a safe space to experiment with your techniques.

—Thank you! Your advice means a lot to me.

—No problem, he replies. —Don't hesitate to ask if you ever need assistance. I believe in your potential, and I'm confident you'll achieve great things here at the Academy, but not with Mercedes; our faculty requires a different mindset to accept you.

—A different mindset?

—Yes, you don't have the mindset we are looking for. You gave up your dream too quickly. Quitting is not a trait at Mercedes; we believe there is always another option or way to achieve a goal. You appear to be drawn to a more traditional approach, and we are trying to innovate and push forward the sport. You struggle with pressure, and this is an environment full of it. Your starting point is behind the other rookies for the hiatus you experienced. If you don't perform well, there is also the high risk of losing your scholarship, and our investment in you goes nowhere —Toto answers, shifting his attitude from the charming "I'm your friend" facade to the version of him everyone told you about.

He was paying attention to your every word, wasn't he?

—You have a bright future ahead of you. I will be thrilled to witness your progress, Toto says, draining the last drops of wine from his glass and gently setting it down on the table. —Don't get me wrong; I wish you the best —he adds, feeling the conversation is over and preparing to leave.

Of course, this meeting was pure business; what were you expecting? Not to be judged and scrutinized? To make a friend?

—Losing a parent is not easy —you add, getting on your nerves at the lack of empathy.

—It's also not an excuse. In this career, you will face many adversities and problems. You are not the first or last driver to lose a family member. You are still spineless and lack emotional intelligence.

—You don't know me.

—You aren't that difficult to read. Just a simple and honest conversation like this is getting under your skin. I'm hardly ever wrong.

—I have proven wrong your kind before.

—My kind?

—Judgmental and entitled rich men with big opinions.

—Holy shit! You didn't call Toto THAT! —Leandra almost spits her orange juice the following morning as you two settle down on the grass beside Carlos. You lean on his shoulder while he gives you soft pats on your back, comforting you. —Bitch, you play no games, huh?

You shrug, a bit sad. That introduction with Toto went sour.

—Sharl is here! —Carlos says, looking to your left.

You see Leclerc jogging towards you.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; let me know! Merry Christmas, Wolffies!

114 notes · View notes

its-avalon-08 · 27 days

Text

hearts intertwined (hamilton x sister! driver!rosberg) p7

chapter 7: we crashed and burned

warnings - none at all

series masterlist

The Silverstone crowd roared as the grid lights went out. Y/N, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, launched off the line with a blistering start. Having lived in the UK for most of her life, it was her home. This was it. Her home race, her first real shot at a win.

However, qualifying hadn't been kind. A gearbox glitch had left her in P4, frustration gnawing at her. Up ahead, Lewis, the ever-dominant force, sat comfortably in P1. The radio crackled in her ear, Liam's voice calm and collected. "Keep your head down, Y/N. We'll get our chance."

Y/N gritted her teeth, focusing on the race ahead. From the very first corner, she displayed her aggressive driving style, surgically carving her way through the pack. A risky overtake on Bottas here, a daring move on Ricciardo there – Y/N was on a mission.

By lap 15, she had clawed her way up to P2, breathing down Lewis's neck. The tension in the air crackled, the crowd sensing a brewing battle. Y/N pushed her car to the limit, matching Lewis turn for turn.

Lewis, frustrated by her relentless pursuit, made a critical error in judgment. He pitted early, a gamble that backfired spectacularly. Y/N, seizing this golden opportunity, stretched her lead. The Red Bull garage erupted in cheers as she crossed the finish line, checkered flag waving, a first-place victory secured.

The champagne shower was bittersweet. Yes, she had won, but the joy was tinged with a sense of unease. A clip of Lewis's furious radio message, broadcasted after his failed pit strategy, had gone viral. "What a stupid fucking move! She's a cheat, just like her brother!"

Y/N's smile faded. Her phone buzzed incessantly. Twitter was a storm of angry comments, fueled by Lewis's outburst. Tears pricked at her eyes. This wasn't how she'd envisioned her first win. The Lewis she'd known, the playful boy she'd shared video game afternoons with, was a distant memory.

The other drivers, sensing her distress, gathered around her, offering congratulations and words of encouragement. Max, ever the blunt one, scoffed. "Don't listen to that loser, Y/N. You earned that win fair and square."

Lando chimed in, his voice gentle. "Lewis will get over it. He just hates seeing someone else on the podium."

Y/N forced a smile, her voice choked with emotion. "Thanks, guys." But the victory felt hollow. The playful rivalry she'd secretly harbored a spark for had morphed into something toxic and consuming. As she walked away, a single tear rolled down her cheek, a silent testament to a shattered dream.

Fury simmered in Nico's eyes as he stormed into Y/N's garage. The radio message, the hateful words Lewis had spewed – they were a declaration of war, not just on Y/N, but on their entire family. He found Y/N huddled with Max and Lando, a brave smile plastered on her face.

"Y/N," Nico's voice was a low growl. "That message…"

Y/N waved him off, her smile faltering. "Don't worry about it, Nico. Lewis is just… Lewis."

Max scoffed. "Just Lewis? That was disgusting! You drove brilliantly, Y/N. You deserved that win."

Y/N offered a weak smile. "Thanks, Max. I appreciate it."

Across the paddock, Lewis watched the interaction unfold. A pang of guilt twisted in his gut as he saw Nico comfort Y/N, wiping away a stray tear that escaped her determined facade. The playful banter, the shared laughter of their childhood – it seemed a lifetime ago. He had let the rivalry consume him, turning a sweet memory into a bitter enemy.

Later that evening, Y/N exited the restroom, her face drawn. Lewis, who had been washing his hands, froze. He knew he owed her an apology, a genuine one. He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N brushed past him, ignoring his presence altogether.

"Y/N, wait," he pleaded. "I need to apologize for what I said. It was…"

Y/N stopped, her back stiff. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. The dam broke when Lewis spoke again.

"It was unprofessional and disrespectful," he continued, his voice low. "You are a phenomenal driver, Y/N, and you deserve every bit of your success."

She spun around, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "Don't you dare," she choked out. "Don't you dare act like you fucking care now. You and Nico… you fell out, you started hating each other so deeply that... you stopped being in each others lives. And I had to watch him lose a best friend, and in the process, I lost you. I cried for days when you stopped talking to him, Lewis. And you know what? You didn't even call or text me one time. Not when everyone on Twitter called me a nepo baby, not when I got into that crash in F2. Not when the entire racing community said that I didn't deserve a place because i was a woman. You were part my whole world. My. Whole. Fucking. Universe. And it was so easy for you to leave and cut me out. So no Lewis. I'm not giving in this time because as much as you claim to be Mister. Nice Guy I know your reality and it is the fact that you didn't care one bit."

Lewis felt the floor drop out from under him. He had no right to be surprised. He had pushed Y/N away, collateral damage in his war with Nico. The pain etched on her face mirrored the forgotten ache in his own heart.

"Y/N…" he stammered, his voice heavy with regret. But the words died in his throat. He had hurt her, pushed her away, and apologizing now felt hollow in the face of his past actions.

Y/N wiped away a tear, her voice laced with a steely resolve. "Save it, Lewis. The damage is done." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Lewis alone with the weight of his remorse.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @xoscar03 , @torossosebs , @jajouska , @lindsayjoy444 , @barcelonaloverf1life

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lewishamiltonstuff · 11 months

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Seb missed Lewis so much that he decided to become a surgeon for him so they can play the doctor operation together 😭🌚

#they both got a wild imagination #now they can play the doctor operation #they can put the pipes down pipes downnnnn yeaah 😭😭😭😭#sewis #my one true otp #the only true couple to exist #toto and Susie who!??#seb is becoming a surgeon for lewis #lewis hamilton #sebastian vettel #f1 #f1*#pls dont cancel me

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lesharl-eclair · 7 months

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sobbing, part 2

#f1 #formula 1 #sebastian vettel #lewis hamilton #the sewis is real. the sewis is so much more real than i imagined #essentials

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vzttel · 1 year

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MY FAVOURITE MAN IN EARTH IS SEWIS

#i love that they sat next to each other #im in pain #imagine lewis #he is denial like me fr #i still think about it so much #they look so happy there #i wanted this to be like that forever #sebastian vettel #f1 #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #sewis

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wettyres · 2 years

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on mexico's track high altitude in the middle of a thunderstorm that causes a tornado, lewis gets struck by lightning in the middle of a race held on the winter solstice which opens a rip in the space time continum which he drives through on impulse, into a parallel universe where everything is the same except he and seb are married

#we need more weird scifi!#seblewis #fic prompts #and its an angst fest because au seb and au lewis have a deep history lewis doesnt know #and he wants his seb back. but likes what the other lewis has #and au seb wants his lewis back (imagine au lewis in og lewis' world wanting to go back too)#convoluted comic book ending where the lewises flip universes. but first have a chat in some middle zone #...lets say that mirror lewis video gave me ideas lol #sewis

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singsweetmelodies · 11 months

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Best shit ever i adore you. Also. Brocedes spiral? 👀😌😏

OH BESTIE I AM GOING THROUGH IT TONIGHT 😭😅🥲😃 but i adore you tooooo <333 ALTHOUGH, i do notice that you very carefully avoided any mention of my lovely carlando tags... smh 😔 i thought i was so funny for that fr

#asks & answers #akira tag 😻 <333 #and about the brocedes spiral.... do not speak to me. do not PERCEIVE me #i am first and forevermost a sewis girlie BUT #brocedes appeals to me HORRIBLE amounts when i am feeling a certain type of way #actually it's THOSE FOUR. them fucking four #by which i mean lewis nico seb jenson #months ago i never would have been here #but by GOD #these days #that narrative HITS THE DAMN SPOT #and brocedes? AUGH #it kills me in a way other ships just can't quite manage #half the time i hate them with everything in me; half the time i love them to the point of insanity #exactly as i imagine they feel about each other...#but anyways!! enough about THAT #ily and of course i have to bully you ahahahaha #plz go give me attention for my carlando-ish tags i really am SO FUNNY mwahahaaa #:DDDD 🥰#😘

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rosyjuly · 2 years

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i’m actually going to cry at ur lewis and seb in the prince au bc it’s not something i thought would happen but it did and i’m so so so glad for u expounding on them!!! i love it so much i hold them so close and dear to my heart… thank you thank you thank you

thank you all for asking about it!! i don't have that fic/installment written yet so it wouldn't have come out for another few weeks at least but i'm so excited to talk about them. truly one of my favorite side plots in prince au. like i just sent this pic to gabby

and i was like "obviously lewis has been out for ages and rolls up to charity galas with his husband sporting a mustache straight of the 80s" and look at us now :)

#i imagine the charles/pierre girlies (gn) will also like parts of the au #but i'm no expert on them unfortunately #i think we have a few pairings in there at least mentioned... very self indulging. god bless #also if anyone has that photo in better quality or without the watermark... you know where to find me #rosy.ask #prince au #prince au sewis

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heliads · 1 year

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Where I Can't Follow

Lewis Hamilton isn't sure that he wants to retire yet, but when the rest of the world seems so sure of the opposite, it's hard not to feel his confidence shrink. In times of stress, then, is it really such a surprise that he would go to Seb for help?

masterlist

Lewis Hamilton has been thinking. About a lot, actually, but mostly about expectations. Everyone in this strange alternate shade of reality known affectionately as Formula One have started to shift their expectations for him. It started when he didn’t win a single race in all of 2022. It started when his car suddenly wasn’t crushing everyone else by leagues.

There has been an undercurrent of whispers in the paddock about whether or not Lewis will continue his contract with Mercedes at the end of the 2023 season. It was never in doubt before, or not as much in doubt as this. If there were whispers before, Lewis always made sure no one’s doubt was strong enough to influence him.

This is different, though. Lewis can feel his age in a way he never has before. He thought that time could only ever bring him maturity, knowledge, maybe even that humility people used to encourage him to develop– but he props it up with every step now. Aching bones, twisted back. He is not as young as he once was, and that is both for the best and for the worst.

Fernando was about 37 when he retired for the first time. He returned, of course, but he took a break anyway. Michael Schumacher was 37 too, also had a comeback. Sebastian– Sebastian is 35 and gone somewhere Lewis can’t seem to find him. Lewis would like to see him here again, but useless hopes don’t bring back friends or rivals or the strange sort of both that happened to him and Seb.

So where does that leave Lewis, then? On the outskirts of infirmity? This whole thing is sort of ridiculous– Lewis is 38 now, far from decrepit and elderly, yet everyone’s treating him like he’ll break a bone if he’s pushed down the stairs. Maybe that was why Fernando came back, both boredom and also the hesitance to make it seem like his best years were already behind him.

Lewis supposes he could go and talk to Fernando about the retirement dilemma, but that feels like giving up, in some weird way, so he keeps his mouth shut. There is, of course, the one person that Lewis would really like to speak with, but Sebastian is quite far away from him at the moment.

Sebastian. Of course Lewis is lying awake at night and thinking of Sebastian of all the rivals he’s had over the years. Lewis has had the pleasure and curse of meeting many a young upstart with something to prove, but for some reason Seb is the only one who’s ever stuck around in Lewis’ head long enough to make an impression.

The preference goes both ways, actually. Lewis is the only driver on the grid with Sebastian’s personal phone number, he’s the only one who can show up unannounced and expect Seb to both be there and happy to see him.

The thought of visiting Sebastian out of the blue does something strange to Lewis when it’s actually a possibility. It makes him think of one time last year when Lewis had actually taken Seb up on his offer of an open welcome instead of brushing him off.

It wasn’t as idyllic a trip as Lewis’ nostalgia for the past will let him believe. Lewis had offhandedly mentioned that he was travelling away from his place in Monaco for a bit and Sebastian had offered for him to drop by if he was in the neighbourhood. Lewis wasn’t remotely close, but something in Sebastian’s tone made him switch around a flight or two and then there they were, out on Seb’s back porch like they’d known each other from their cradles to the present day.

Sometimes, Lewis wants them to have been friends for longer, even beyond the tumultuous string tying them together before they got over themselves and started liking each other properly. Lewis lingers over photos of a teenaged Seb taped up on the refrigerator and wonders how he forgot how sharp that grin used to be, too many teeth showing for one smile and all that. The expression has softened on Sebastian now, it fits better in between the skin of his cheeks, but Lewis misses the infuriating adolescent Seb had been anyway.

They’ve known each other for decades now, but Lewis wants more. He cannot help it, the wanting is in his blood: the need to win a race, the urge to keep his career moving forward, and now, the most recent want of all, this all-consuming desire to keep Seb with him for as long as Lewis can physically manage it.

Comparing the Polaroid with the genuine article just down the hall, Lewis feels an unruly monologue crash through his head, heavy with wanting and twice as burdensome on his heart. There's a kid that you're supposed to know, I think. He was supposed to have been me. We were meant to grow up together, but if you ended up being born several countries out of reach, that can't be held against you. All the same, I’m certain that it was supposed to work out better than it did.

Then again, maybe it was for the best that Lewis had not known Sebastian as a child. Look what he did to Nico, after all; look how he fucks up the best parts of his life. Still, Lewis gets the feeling that it might have been different had Seb been the snarky boy by his side instead of the junior Rosberg. Did they not survive their rivalry? Did they not survive it all?

Sebastian comes to get him soon enough, chastising Lewis for getting caught up in someone else’s photos (if you want to stalk me, Lewis, there are enough pictures out there on the Internet already, at least have some style) and gesturing for Lewis to join him out back. Lewis watches the sun progress through the sky, and just when his guard is finally lowered, Sebastian slips a knife in between his ribs.

When Lewis first hears Sebastian form the words, he thinks it must be the start of some awful joke. I think I’m going to retire at the end of this season. He almost starts to laugh. See, this is the sort of thing Seb would have done, eyes sparking with malicious humor from underneath a Ferrari cap, maybe even a Red Bull. Lewis would have rolled his eyes and told Sebastian to stop trying to scare him like that. Maybe he would have even threatened to tell the tabloids so Sebastian would have to keep talking about it in press conferences until the beaten horse had long since died.

But they are not young men anymore, and Sebastian is no longer grinning down at him from the top step of a podium, and so Lewis knows with a glum certainty that he is not joking. The truth of it sits lodged at the base of his stomach, heavy and cold and terrible.

Seb looks over at him. “Say something.”

Lewis can’t. Sebastian sighs, and for a brief, fleeting moment, Lewis can imagine exactly how the other man must see him: stubborn, morose, an old sap unable to accept the terms of his own world grinding on without him. For once, Sebastian would be in agreement with the media, and that breaks Lewis’ heart more than he expected.

And then Seb’s face splits in a self-satisfied smirk, so goddamn Seb-like that Lewis’ throat closes up, and he tells Lewis that he’s glad of it. “That just means that you’re not sick of me yet,” Sebastian says, a touch of self-deprecating humor lancing through the words just sharp enough to startle, “and that’s good news to me, I suppose.”

Lewis had tried to argue this, meant to ask Sebastian to name one instance Lewis had been sick of him (except perhaps Baku, although they are both satisfied with that result by now) but Sebastian had interrupted him, encouraged Lewis to finish his drink before the ice melted, and so he did. After that it was easier. The necessary words did not have to be spoken to be understood.

Lewis had wondered for weeks afterwards if he should have said something after all. If Lewis had known the right thing to tell Sebastian, would it have stopped him from retiring? The rest of the visit had been more than good, but at the end, it had been an excuse for Sebastian to tell him that truth, and they both knew it. Sebastian had still left. Sure, it would have been worse to find out from that depressing Instagram post like everyone else, but Lewis feels no better off with his knowledge. It just meant he had to sit with that sadness for longer.

Lewis had not understood why Sebastian would want to leave their ring of exactly 20 glorified car jocks for a quiet afterlife, not even after last year, but he thinks he’s starting to get it now. The urge to tear down his legacy like ripping up construction paper keeps flickering through Lewis’ head. They want him gone, don’t they? They have since the start. He might as well give them a show while he’s at it, it’s what they’ve always wanted.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself reaching out to Sebastian again. Seb gave him a warning when he left, Lewis found it right to do the same. Some part of him mainly just wants someone to shake him around the shoulders and tell him to get his head in order. Seb could do that too. Sebastian can do a great many things. The hold he has on Lewis is astonishing. That would explain why Lewis spent so much time last season talking about how Sebastian would most certainly come back. He could not find it within himself to accept the loss otherwise.

I am going to destroy myself, Lewis decides in the middle of the night to an imaginary Sebastian, I am going to destroy myself and all I have created, and I want you there to see my castle burn. You do not have to put the fire out. I just want you to know that it was me who did it and not anyone else.

The warning would be right, after all. If Sebastian suspected foul play, he would never let it go, and if this retirement is truly what he wants, who is Lewis to take that from him just because he needs an ally? Of course Seb would release a statement or ten if it seemed like Lewis was under fire. He is good like that, good in a way that makes Lewis want to never let him go.

Lewis types out one text message, makes it as inconspicuous as he possibly can. Sebastian responds within the hour, a screenshot of an upcoming flight to Lewis’ location. Lewis wonders if Seb can see through him as plainly as he did with Seb last season.

And then Lewis is opening up the door to his place and Sebastian is grinning at him, making fun of his wallpaper or something gloriously simple like that, and it is like no time has passed at all. Something relaxes in Lewis’ chest, a muscle he hadn’t realized he was contracting. It’s okay. Sebastian still wants him. This. All of it. Even without the forced proximity of the track.

He pours drinks, and they idly talk about small news and whatnot before Lewis poses the question that’s been burning on his tongue, well, for months.

“How did you know, man?” Lewis asks, “How did you know it was time to leave?”

Sebastian tilts his head back, blows out a low breath. “That’s a tricky question. Why?”

Lewis studies the glass in his hand very carefully. “Just. You know. You wonder sometimes.”

Lewis can practically sense Sebastian sitting straighter, the suspicion growing. “You only wonder if you’re thinking about going. I thought you weren’t interested in that.”

Sebastian is wonderful at fighting the world. He'd spit in anyone's eye so long as it was right, and doubly so if it was wrong, too. Lewis doesn't want someone to defend his honor, though. He just wants someone to listen.

That might have been harder at the start, back when they were just a few years past the end of boyhood, but they are older now, more prone to contemplation. Sebastian kicks up his feet on a nearby ottoman (he had the grace to take his shoes off at the door, Seb has learned by now how Lewis gets about stuff like that) and he listens to Lewis’ injustices turn from a well-organized and repeated mantra to rambling complaints.

At last, when Lewis pulls quiet back over himself like a favorite piece of clothing, Sebastian purses his lips thoughtfully and carries on. “Are you going to leave, then?”

Lewis blinks in surprise. He hadn’t thought that Seb would even name that as an option, Lewis had always been so adamant about staying until his eighth world championship win at least. He supposes he had been hinting at it all this time, and of course it is what everyone else is wondering, so it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that Sebastian wants to know, too.

“I don’t know, really,” he says at last, “I think I want to keep going, but that depends on who’ll have me. Contracts, you know.”

Sebastian, of all people, knows how contracts can go. Lewis still tastes a smattering of anger on his tongue whenever he passes Mattia Binotto in the paddock. Seb taps his finger against his glass like he’s summoning a dinner party to a toast, then sets the vessel down on one of Lewis’ nearby coasters. Recycled wood. He tries when he can.

“Don’t retire,” Sebastian says, “Not quite yet. It won’t be the right time.”

Lewis wants to ask if it was the right time for Sebastian, but he doesn’t know that either of them would be able to come up with an adequate answer.

Instead, he sighs, turns his head towards Seb again. “Do you miss it?”

It’s a ridiculous question, and were it asked by anyone except Lewis at this moment in this place, Sebastian would probably despise him for it. Seb knows Lewis enough to recognize the lack of condescending tone laced within the question, though, so he smiles and gives him a good answer this time.

“Parts. Some of it I’m glad to leave. Others were harder.” Sebastian pauses, then admits it, what they’ve both been wanting to hear. “I missed you most of all.”

An impatient part of Lewis makes itself heard before he can stop himself. “I’m here now, though.”

“I know,” Sebastian says softly, “I know.”

Lewis knows it too. That will make it okay when he has to leave, when they will both be pulled to their respective corners of the earth once more. At some point, he will be able to come back, and they will be the same as always. Nothing has changed. That heals Lewis more than he thought possible.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

#sewis #sewis imagines #sewis oneshot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton oneshot #sewis fics #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel imagines #sebastian vettel oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 oneshot #f1 sewis #f1 sewis imagines #f1 sewis oneshot #f1 sewis fics

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f1incorrectquotess · 1 year

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Lewis: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Sebastian: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Daniel?

Daniel: Probably “road work ahead”.

Valtteri: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

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totothewolff · 17 days

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Grand Prix Elite Academy (3/10) +18 | professor!Toto x reader fem!futuredriver, sewiss, carlos x reader

Chapter 3: Know Your Frenemies

When you finally make it back to your dorm room after a physically exhausting day, fuck that new workout class sure is intense!

To your dismay, you find the place in total chaos: expensive-looking designer clothes everywhere and a group of stylish people occupying all the space. Shoes, makeup kits, bags, and more are on all available surfaces.

Who are these people, and what are they doing here? You have NO IDEA.

But, gosh! You only wanted quietness to rest and decompress, not this circus you are surprised with when you open the dorm's entrance door.

Soon, you find out it's Naya's glam squad. They are polishing the details for her upcoming Teen Vogue photoshoot.

The two of you couldn't be more opposite.

One of their team members confused you with a delivery person as you walked in since they ordered takeout, which is rude!

Then Naya introduces you to them, but no one seems to pay you more attention than necessary as you close the door and cross the common ground to your room; not even a nice meeting you! gets exchanged.

Fucking rude, they are the intruders here!

About an hour later, you sense Naya sliding the large glass door to the balcony where you are, the one facing the sea.

You are sitting on one of the patio armchairs, enjoying the nightly fresh ocean breeze, finishing your "Further Math" essay, and enjoying a snack to help you not fall asleep. It indeed was a long day!

—You shouldn't be eating that crap! —Naya scolds you and gives a judging look at your bag of Cheetos as she pulls it out of your hands and into the bin, leaving you with just one in your hand. —If you want to make it into one of the good faculties, you need to stop eating this shit and start getting in shape!

Ouch, that last one hurt.

—Anyways, sorry about the chaos —Naya gives you the world's slightest smile. Human emotions aren't her thing, apparently.

—I get it. You are a superstar, so no worries.

—and I'm sorry about your mom; I lost mine too, in a different way, divorced parents; I never see her —Naya continues.

You get taken out by that comment, and by your clueless expression, she adds: —Torger told me about it —Naya explains. —Also, the part where you called him entitled rich man —a silence break comes along. —Girl!

—He was acting pretty rude!

—Maybe you took it to heart. Of course, it's a delicate subject, but Torger understands. He lost his father in the same way. He is just a very straightforward person!

—It doesn't give him the right. Please don't justify him.

—Maybe you are still too thin-skinned. Would you prefer it if Torger had told you mid-fly that the plane would crash or warned you beforehand? He did what he considered best for you.

—To act like an asshole?

—To be open honest with you. Frankly, it's a rare value around here.

—So I should be thankful to him, then? —you look at Naya and are now annoyed at her, too.

This is none of her business.

—No, I'm just saying you should think more before opening your mouth next time. It's just friendly advice; not all principals are as patient as him; under a scholarship, you don't want a report or get in trouble —Naya finishes the conversation with that before fondly patting your shoulder and informing you she is going to bed.

The breakfast buffet at the cafeteria is the most impressive one you have ever seen. There's just so much food!

Since it's about 6 am, Charles is sleeping, sitting next to you, head on the table, wearing a red dri-fit hoodie, not being hungry at all.

After around fifteen minutes of sharing breakfast with your new friends at the long table, you are impressed to see how much Lewis eats.

—How many more avocados are you going to eat? —you ask him with wide eyes.

Lewis mumbles something, mouth full of food that you interpret as "three more."

—Even his metabolism is fast! —Carlos jokes, finishing his bowl of berries.

As you all catch up about each other's weeks, you tell them about the Toto incident.

—I mean, it is private, isn't it?! Why Naya has to know about it?! It was a private conversation! —you mumble as you violently smash your scrambled eggs around and ask Leandra to pass you the bread before leaving it on the table again. —Why am I eating carbs?! Jesus!

They all look at you with funny expressions. Carlos tries so hard not to laugh. —You look so cute when in a crisis! —he lets you know, smiling fondly at you. Those sweet, damn big Bambi eyes make your mornings better.

—Nothing is private between those two. —Seb lets you know, looking nonchalant as if this is a common thing that happened, and as he bites the slice of avocado Lewis' is offering with his fork to his mouth.

Something clicked in Lewis's head at the sound of Toto's name. Purposely, he ignored the entire conversation and, for sure, the fact that Naya is now part of your life, not precisely by choice.

—Shit, Y/N! Right! What's your student PIN? I'll text you the invite —Lewis asks you suddenly and a bit out loud. Seconds later, after you two exchange information, a new DM pops up in your GPEA app.

It's a link to an IP address website; you enter it, and a fancy and cool as fuck video shoot, professionally shot and styled of Lewis as half a demon and half an angel, shows up along with a digital invite.

Of Saints and Sinners

Which one are you?

A Lewis Hamilton Birthday Party

Saturday 7th, 1:00 am, Buddha-Bar Monte-Carlo

Follow etiquette attached

Admission reserved

RSVP

You download the unique access QR code generated to be admitted to the party. It is attached with an agreement on the dress code for the party and all the logistics info in case you arrive there by yacht, helicopter, or car.

This is a lot! Ordinary people just text you the address and hour of their parties. God, now you are in desperate need of Leandra to hook you up with a nice outfit.

Lewis tells you, in case you need clarification on the website: —My birthday party is next week, and you are invited.

—All his parties are iconic —Leandra adds while refilling her green juice.

—And super exclusive —Lewis takes pride in it. —But I know many people, so don't expect a small gathering!

—People kill for that access QR code he just sent you —Sebastian states.

—Then thank you so much for inviting me! —you say wholeheartedly, and Lewis sweetly smiles back at you.

—Jesus, a lot of me is on display! —you let out as you look at your reflection in the large mirror in Leandra's dorm room while you stare at you behind.

Never in your life have you worn such a short skirt and such high heels. Leandra is thinner than you, so her two-piece white Miu Miu mini-skirt glittery see-through dress is even shorter on you, barely covering your ass, and because you are wearing the tiny matching panties, a lot of skin going on for you.

But she looks so delighted by how you are pulling the outfit.

—What?! You look so good; all boy's eyes will be on you —she reassures you as she continues applying bronzer on your cheeks and doing the final touches.

—Yes, because all of me is out and about!

Your hair looks so voluptuous and shiny, and you are so in love with it! You had no idea it could look like that! The two of you are finishing getting ready for Lewis' party, and "Angel" obviously suits you better.

—Oh, come on! Don't be such a prudest! —by looking at your hesitant and bit insecure look, Lea adds. —But I can give you one of Charles' Rick Owens white pants if you feel more comfortable wearing them on top instead of the skirt; you can slay that look, too.

—Hilarious —you say sarcastically.

—No, seriously, sometimes I wear Charles' pants. He is really petite!

—Oh, good to know in case I have a no-pants crisis!

You both laugh aloud.

—That's it, my masterpiece is complete —she informs you as she slowly steps away and looks you over.

You turn to take a complete look at your outfit, hair, and makeup. You look like a doll in the most flattering and sexy way!

—WOW

—Yeah, wow.

—I feel like I should pay you! I owe you one, bestie.

Leandra waves her refined hand at you, dismissing your comment.

Lea looks like the hottest demon you will not sell but gift your soul to. She is rocking a Vivian Westwood skin-tight, latex, corset mini dress that fits her silhouette perfectly, accentuating her curves, irs bright red with Victorian details, making her boobs look bigger and better than ever, along with iconic platform heels and genuine pearls necklaces; her hair is sleekly style up.

—Let's mother off that party! —she lets out loud and clear as she picks up her purse and starts checking its contents. —CHARLES! WE ARE READY! CHARLIEEE! —no answer came —I hate it when he puts the headphones on; I'm sure he is playing the electric drums again! I will get him!

You two exit her room to their common grounds when you notice you left your power bank at your dorm and want to scream at the clouds.

—FUCK!! Lea, I'm going to my room to pick up my junk!

—WHAT? —she screams at you from afar. —WAIT!

As she returns to your side now with Charles, he looks you up from all angles, nodding his head non-stop. —I approve! —he gives you a thumbs up.

You laugh and blush at this interaction. —I forgot my fucking power bank and didn't charge my phone like the idiot I am; we need to go quickly to my room.

—Sure, that's no problem. We still have time, but move it, people! —Leandra starts pushing you two out and turning off the lights on your way out.

—Let me guess!! Leandra came up with the "Like a Virgin" concept for your outfit. It suits you —Naya tells you from the couch, where she reads a novel in a comfy-looking outfit as you exit your bedroom with a charger and power bank in hand.

Your eyes widen at her words. Shit, she hit a sensible spot. How does she keep doing that?!

She senses you tensing. —Wait! Are you?! Are you still a? Are you a virgin?!

You go red as fuck. Naya looks astounded.

—Oh, I was messing around, I didn't know. I didn't mean it! You look good, Y/N. Well, then, you really need that angel to go down to hell. Have fun!

The desperate need you feel now to ask her, "Hey, you aren't going?" starts to overpower you. Now that she knows an intimate detail about you, you want to know one about hers. But for sure, she already noticed you became close to Lewis; she is not dumb enough to fall for it and spell out what happened.

—I will, thanks. See you!

The limousine Lewis sent to pick up all his GPEA friends stops before you three. You are the last ones to get on it.

The looks everyone gives you as you get in are priceless. Max eyebrows go almost to the roof of the car. —You almost made my nose bleed —he jokes, but he is a bit pinkish on the cheeks. —You look gorgeous.

—You look like a fairy who works as a hooker —Pippa tells you fondly. It's pretty accurate.

To Yuki's amusement, Lando dramatically drops himself on the car floor to pretend to kiss your feet.

Charles throws himself over Max to annoy him and starts messing Max's hair around, acting all stupid before the first round of shots. Dances, alcohol, and Inna's old hits songs turn up the mood of the road trip to Monte Carlo.

When you arrive at the venue, the waiting line of cars for the dropoff point is long, but it goes faster than expected, thanks to the partying inside the limousine.

You already feel a bit tipsy when you all hit the red carpet and start throwing poses and doing group photos.

Then you get the welcoming mezcal shots as one of the hot hostesses greets you.

The place is exotic and chic. The red walls match the décor, which features subtle mixtures of gilded moldings and ancient sculptures. The crowd is on fire as the welcoming DJ's set plays.

You make your way through the many hot-looking angels and devils, hand in hand with Lea, following her around, looking for Lewis to wish him a happy birthday before things spin out of control as the night goes on.

You find him sitting on a lounge sofa near a giant Budha statue with a beautiful blond girl in his lap, instantly making your blood boil, thinking about sweet Sebastian, and you feel you are about to protest when you give a second look and really pay attention.

As soon as she sees you, the girl gets on her feet and welcomes you with a warm hug.

—I'm glad you could make it with such short notice! —Seb greets you.

—Wow, you genuinely are a beautiful angel! No worries! You didn't think I was going to miss this? —you stare at him in awe. His entirely covered-in-crystals embroidered dress is stunning, and the high heels make him look even more like a Victoria's Secret angel. His makeup is on point!

—You look so good that you almost made me feel straight —Seb jokes with you, but he means it.

—Which is a lot to say! —Lewis jokes, reaching you two and wrapping Seb in his arms, placing a hand on his ass. —You look fine —he gestures to you with his hand to spin for him. —Like FINE!

—Happy Birthday! —Leandra and you interrupt him with a hug attack, giving him lots of kisses and throwing around him the golden confetti you brought especially to do this.

—Thank you, my girls! I will meet you later at your table. We still have some things to do, right baby? —Lewis lets you know while placing small and slow kisses on Seb's lips.

You aren't sure if it's sad or honest that the last party you had with these guys was the best party of your life. So naturally, you feel really excited about how the night will unfold.

—Damn, you two look good —Carlos lets out aloud, biting his lip while peeking.

Carlos is bare-chested and wearing a red harness around his shoulders. His skin is glowing, his hair is messy and wet, and his tight satin red pants suit him nicely.

You can't avoid the tingle you feel at how crazy hot he looks.

—Close your mouth —Leandra jokes with you. —Thank you, Carlos. It's the new squats routine that hottie has made me do; speaking of him, have you seen the trainer around? I'm not losing my off-campus shot with him; I have had my eye on him since day one.

—Yes, he is on that table near the exit —he points Lea where. —He came as the porniest angel you could picture.

—Mmm, delicious, those tiny shorts make him justice —Leandra follows the trainer with his gaze before letting you know she will meet you later.

—We are about to light up some in case you want to join us —Carlos offers you, but you politely decline. —I will meet you at our table then —he kisses your cheek very close to your mouth. You don't protest, and you look him walk his way to Charles and Max.

To your good fortune, as soon as you reach your table, you want to throw yourself out the window. Spread there on the curved sofa, to your delight, is Toto wearing a see-through wine red shirt, leaving non to the imagination, with tailored matching red pants and pointy porny shoes.

Good-ass, expensive men's shoes make you weak in the knees.

That devil turns you into a worshiper.

Toto has his eyes set to the side, looking over the party, looking bored by being alone at the table; it seems you two are the first to arrive.

When you start to feel the need to run away, he then turns his head around, probably sensing your eyes on him, and looks straight at you.

You aren't sure if the welcoming mezcal shots are playing tricks on your mind or if he totally scanned your every corner with his eyes.

You feel your cheeks going red as you shyly try to sit in the opposite extreme, trying not to reveal far more of yourself than you should. You try to sit as far away from Toto as possible, which is not that far since it is a small arched sofa.

—Hi —his deep voice greets you as the waiter in charge of your table approaches you two.

—Can I offer you guys something to drink?

Toto, with a devilish smile on his face, grins at the sexy waitress. —We will have whatever she has been drinking before getting here —he then turns to you.

—Ahem —you look at him blankly, a bit taken out.

—You have a reddish tint on your cheeks, but it's different from when you blush, so it must be the alcohol. I like the other better —Toto says.

That makes sense, but at the same time, it doesn't at all, so he pays you attention, huh? —I have been drinking the delicious mezcal you have been offering around —you answer looking directly at the waitress.

—Mezcal, it is, then —Toto addresses her, and she goes to get the bottle. —Feeling more at home now, Y/N?

—Yeah, it's been unbelievable.

—That's good, you little angel with wings and all.

You turn a bit to give him a better look at the golden sparkling mesh wings Pippa gave you. —It was a last-minute touch; my friend Pippa thought the wings suited me better than hers. She said they are more in-

—More innocent looking, yeah, you have that aura on you.

The waiter then returns, placing the bottle of mezcal on the metallic golden coffee table in front of you, along with a plate with tablespoons of salt and a line of small glasses filled with different juices. You have no idea what all that is for.

Toto then slowly slides on the couch to move next to you and explain, closing the distance between you and offering you what looks like concentrated orange juice.

—These are to spice the flavor of the mezcal. You sip them after drinking the mezcal to create a blend on your palate. Try it.

And you do. You start taking the mezcal and the juice a bit too much, and quickly, Toto stops you, placing his hand on your glass, preventing you from going all in.

—It's just a bit! For to be able to taste it! —He chuckles at the funny "Oh! Fuck!" expression you are doing. —Okay, I will do the same one. I will show you how.

Then, you two move on to the following five, having lots of fun.

To Toto's amusement, the last one tasted way too lemony, and acid made you shrug your nose and make faces. He starts laughing at your expense and showing that he is tipsy, too.

You now are walking on drunk territory.

—Stop it —you say, messing around and hitting Toto's bicep with your hand before your senses return and remember Naya's advice. Oh shit!— I'm sorry —you immediately change your tone and get serious, which he instantly picks up.

He comes closer to whisper in your ear. —We are off campus, don't worry —making all the tiny hairs in your neck stand up.

Then, you two move to the salts.

He places a tiny bit on the back of your hand. —Lick it —he instructs you, and you obey, feeling his eyes burning with every move of your tongue; you can't avoid it and dare to gaze straight at him as you slowly lick the spices.

It feels too intimate.

Then, completely surprising you, he licks the remaining salts out of your hand, his wet tongue making contact with your soft skin so that you don't waste them, and he is able to taste them, too.

And now it is your turn to do so, as he offers you the remaining salts in his hand. You feel Toto's warm skin under your tongue, and you can sense a bit of his knuckles and veins as you slowly slide, letting all the flavors into your system.

Suddenly, the lights dim, pinching your bubble and signaling the start of the much-anticipated live performance.

The guests quickly hush, moving their attention to the stage, where Lewis emerges from laser lights and a cloud of white smoke.

Wearing a dazzling white suit embroidered with rhinestones that seem to glow in the spotlight while wearing a smirk on his face, his brown eyes scan the crowd before grabbing the mic and screaming: —Let's dance this fucker off! —Lewis starts to jump energetically around while Gesaffelstein starts playing his set, making everyone go wild.

—Is that who I think it is? —Mick points out.

—What the fuck is Nico doing here? No way Lewis invited him —Lance answers.

—No way he sneaked in —Mick snaps back.

—You are right, but I can't believe it.

—What? That he had the nerve to show up dressed like an angel? —Mick jokes while rolling his eyes to the blonde.

Carlos comes to your table to steal you to the dance floor. Dancing the mezcal away makes you go back to your senses. As a new track unfolds, and you two move around, you look back at your table and notice Toto enjoying your moves from afar since lots of you is on display with every cadence.

When the group finally gathers, Leandra proudly lets you know she got fucked the hardest she has ever been fuck; the trainer was as good as she expected him to be. For sure, the entire bathroom, if not the whole club, heard her moan.

Then everyone starts to pass around a glass with an almost neon blue liquor, to which everyone sips a bit; you go for it, too.

After that you aren't sure how the rest of the night proceeded.

Still, you know you had a blast, as flashes of you dancing with Mick on top of the sofa, trying Seb's long hair blonde wig in the girl's bathroom while doing poses and snapping pictures with him in the mirror, Carlos telling you you make the hottest blonde, losing a heel somewhere, taking a shot that was placed between Pipa's tits, breaking a fight between two girls over Lando and more happenings come back to you.

At some point in the night, all goes blurry and kaleidoscopic; until you feel a warm embrace, a strong pair of arms picking up your body and feeling it pressured against a firm body as a warm touch in your ass holds your skirt in place, carrying you into the limousine where Charles and Leandra are as unconscious as you.

And Toto's dark eyes, that's the last thing you remember.

The following day, you all feel like trash.

You and Leandra are on Charles' bed, the three of you gathered there with the AC on to the lowest setting and the blackout curtains closed, like vampires rejoicing in the cold, wet dark.

Several empty bottles of electrolytes are lying on the floor in your attempts to hydrate again to feel better.

After sleeping, only God knows how many hours, you hear your stomach roar violently. —We should order takeout —you say in the roughest voice ever.

—Tai? —Lea proposes.

—Like noodles, or what?

As soon as you say that, Charles gets on his feet at the speed of light and storms off to the bathroom, barely making it. You two overhear him puking the life out of him.

Poor baby.

After spending Sunday on total repair, Monday feels like a brutal awakening, back to the routine and classes.

But something feels different this time; as you cross the gardens and navigate the hallways, you sense a lot of gazes set on you on your way to the main hall, making you feel paranoid.

"Okay, you need to calm down, girl."

But when you notice the whispering, you know something is not okay, and you find out what it is as soon as you reach your locker.

A sign welcomes you: "Is the sad rag looking for a sugar daddy? That's not such angelic behavior for this virgin." The sign is printed along with a crop-out photo of you licking Toto's hand. The picture is zoomed in, so there are no faces for the moment, just hands and tiny bits of your costume from that night.

You start to hyperventilate and panic and jump at the contact on your shoulder. You sense Sebastian next to you, reaching closer to comfort you.

—Everything is going to be okay. Easy. Breathe —Seb softly tells you.

When you two turn around to leave for class, you notice the couple of blondes standing by the end of the hallway, looking at you.

—It's always them, isn't it? —you let out between tears and rage.

—Yes —it's all Sebastian lets out, throwing daggers at them.

Great! Now, the entire academy knows you are a sad virgin who longs for an older man. Awesome.

Thank you for your patience and for sticking around! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. By the way, I edited a lot of the previous chapters! If you feel like reading them again, I strongly suggest it. A couple of things changed, but nothing too major, tho. Sorry! This story needed a bit of an edit.

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