#sewiss

[wonderfulwonderrful]

Season of Love (2/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you told Toto, "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That was the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong. Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader team principal. Genre: Romance, comedy, and some good drama. Author's note: Thank you for reading and supporting my delulu fic!

Dances with Wolff Arc Chapter 2: Lights out, and away your feelings go!

Australia By mere luck, Toto had one of those sponsors' events in the afternoon, and he was wearing a Tom Ford tan suit with a white shirt, a classic ensemble, instead of his usual Mercedes kit.

And you, well, you looked so chic wearing a romantic Saint Laurent satin mini dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline paired with ribbon bowtie Jimmy Choo stilettos up to the occasion.

You wave Sam goodbye as she enters the car and returns to the hotel. And then Toto and you stay standing there, not knowing what to do next.

—So, at what time is the reservation? —Toto asks you.

—In two hours, it is downtown.

—Good. We are getting there on time, right?

—Oh yeah, we can go on my c... —You look at the empty space where your Lambo was parked - well, where Michael parked it, now empty and immediately take out your phone, shit! You left it on airplane mode. All messages and missed calls start to appear, red dots everywhere. Your assistant asked if you needed the car or if they had moved it to the hotel hours ago. Later, she sent the chauffeur to pick you up, but he couldn't reach you. He waited for you a long time and left.

—My team took my car, so...

—No worries. I can take us there.

"For sure you can!" you thought. Jesus, why were you so horny lately?

Toto then texts his chauffeur, and on your way, you two go; it was a quiet ride for a bit.

—So...

—So...

You both laugh at the back of the car.

—So our minds are connected, huh? —you joke, referring to your tendency to talk at the same time.

—It's becoming a bad habit, yes —Smiles. —I was going to ask you where have you been existing. Everyone close to me seems to know you, but they never mentioned it before; I feel left out; somehow, I have no idea who you are —Toto tells you.

—First of all, I take serious offense that neither Niki nor Sam mentioned me before; how dare they? And to answer your question in Belgium. I met Niki recently and Sam forever ago but she is pretty private so I guess that's why.

—Umh, I thought Sam and I had something special, but I'm calling it quits —Toto says. —She keeps secrets from me —putting on a fake sad face.

—Welcome to da' club. She's all Lewis's now.

-

Then, at the restaurant.

Toto and you were greeted by a blond supermodel-looking hostess who took you to your booked table. You entered the historical building - big old brown bricked walls, high ceilings with restored wooden beams, and dark marble tile floors - barely lit with just a couple of lights strategically placed reflected on the walls. The tables were small and intimate, and all the furniture was statement pieces - wooden carved and expensive textiles - the silverware and china were spectacular. The place was a printery back in the day, and it ended up in the middle of downtown and has now turned into a Michelin-starred restaurant.

The hostess acted extra caring with Toto, taking all the time to tenderly adjust his blindfold and explain every single step and detail of the dining experience. Since he couldn't see her, she went all handsy, relying on touch a bit much, and for obvious reasons, she tied your blindfold too tight. Really, girl?! Sorority like in where?

—So it's crucial for the experience when you give the food to each other, slowly savor the flavors and then start a conversation about each dish, what it made you feel, what reminded you of, what you thought it was, taking turns —she tells you two as she takes each your hand and makes you feel the space where a single plate full of finger food where to be placed - on top of a marble "lazy susan." —Please let me know if you need me —a lot of emphasis on "need me" and more addressed to Toto than you.

Wait, what?! Give each other the food?! What on earth?! You are so glad Toto isn't able to see you because, for sure, you are tomato red. Then you hear the hostess walk away.

—I frequent high-cuisine restaurants all over the world, yet I haven't dared with this one. It has so many mixed reviews —Toto tells you.

—I met the Chef at an auction gala for charity. He sat at our table and sold us the idea, which sounded exciting and intrigued me, so I told him I would stop by when in Melbourn —you add. He never mentioned that we had to feed each other during the experience.

A moment later, the dish arrived, and the experience began. Your hands were shaking a little bit. Your days went from ignoring Toto's bare existence to placing food into his mouth now.

—By all means, you go first —He offers you. Why did he have to be a gentleman?!

—Sure, thanks —You don't know where to start, so you pick a bite and stay there frozen when Toto notices it softly grabs your hand to guide you to his mouth to avoid you pocking him an eye with the food. Many "Oh god, oh god" fill your mind. You could sense him slowly biting the food from your fingers, his warm breaths on your skin, while hearing soft crunch noises.

He munches. And you wait, hand now resting on the table.

—Soft skin —he says.

—That is what it tasted you like?!

—No, of course not —Toto softly chuckles. —You have soft skin. The bite tasted like, amh, some sort of Gnocchi, but it wasn't. I'm not a big fan of this one and its flavor.

—So you like Italian cuisine?

—Everyone likes Italian cuisine, duh.

—Excuse you? That attitude, Sir! —you flirt, I mean, joke with him.

—Yes! I used to spend the summers in Italy with my family. It is a country that reminds me of my father. Cinque Terre has a special place in my heart.

—You miss your dad —You say before thinking, shit! Now he will assume that Sam and you gossip about him or think you Googled him. Shit! You are supposed to not know anything about him. Lol, if he knew. —It must be hard being away from family all the time with this busy schedule —Smart girl... Good save..?

He looks at you, a bit confused. —Ahm, yes. I miss my dad.

—Okay, it's my turn! —you shift topics quickly and naturally.

Toto picks up a small bite, and you wrap your hand around his wrist, guiding him to your mouth. Your thumb finger could feel his pulse, which weirdly relaxes you. You bite the food slowly, and your lips make a bit of contact, brushing the skin of his fingers.

—What does it taste you like? —he asks you. You try your best not to have dirty thoughts.

—Feet? God, this is awful —you answer while trying to chew the fucker.

Toto almost chokes on his water. Who calls feet a signature Michelin-star dish?

—I'm so hating this! I can't with pretentious places, to be honest. Uptight people are the worst!

—You tell me I live surrounded by those, but you will be fine. Why did you mention the uptight people?

—Send tips. Because there is no way an average person could have come up with this idea and this type of food! What are these flavors, honestly?!

—You are hilarious.

—Aw, thanks. What am I to you, a clown? Well, every circus needs one... I'm glad to help! Why do you keep laughing, stop!

—You are so right; F1 can be a circus! —Toto admits.

—So, what's your job at the F1 circus? No, seriously, don't laugh. TOTO STOP. Do you juggle or what? —You two keep reaching closer over and under the small table, knees now touching.

—Highly accurate! Or I could be that one guy on the tightrope! —He waves his arms.

—So meta. Listen, for us girls being the ones stereotypically called "catfight-ty," you guys...

—You have no idea! And it is just starting...

—Does the drama get too good? You are getting me excited! Don't play with my heart, Torger.

—I won't —Somehow, it sounds more profound and meaningful. Silence.

—Can we go back to the food, please? We are getting distracted from its delicious flavors —you say amidst giggles. —What? Don't you believe me? This dish is so good, "Latifi good".

Chuckles. Then you notice Toto left his right hand on top of yours this whole time.

With your free one, you pick up another portion. —Oh, you are going to love this one. Smells, uhm, so good. Wait for my soft hands to come closer —you tease Toto.

He loses it. People around you start judging you two; you are being "noisy."

—Why suddenly I don't want to open my mouth? I'm not helping you get there anymore. Find your way; if you miss it, then I'm so sorry.

—Oh, don't you worry, "Tots". I can always ask for more of these.

—Oh god, no.

The dining experience ended on the sixth small bite, thank Jesus. You two never walked out of a restaurant that fast, and none of you felt like staying to experience the drinks part, judging by the food.

But were in desperate need of refreshers. The night was now fully set, and the air was fresh. You two walk almost hand in hand on the sidewalk under the clear skies, choosing to explore the city, looking in the surroundings for a pub. You were lured by a very busy one - with live music - three drunk girls burst out of the door in a great mood, and it looked packed; then it must be good!

It was. —Do I ask to pour you a pint, too? Or are you on a diet or something? —Toto offers you on his way to get drinks. A great cover of "Your Love by The Outfield" played in the background. The singer had great vocals, and the guitarist was so talented.

—On a diet? God, no. I'm not that fit! Who gives that excuse? Who's that picky?

—There are people —Toto answers, a bit sad. You wonder if Sussie behaved like that. Of course, you don't dig.

While he goes on his mission, you find the last free table for yourselves. The place was what you pictured when someone said "pub". A classic, extensive wooden bar, tap beer, and tons of bottles on display. Small round tables, bar stools, and many empty frames hanging on the wooden panel walls mixed with art deco posters. It's nothing fancy but eclectic and cool.

As time passed, you two got drunk and the beers, too. You talked and talked and talked about everything. At least what you two wanted to share, obvious subjects were avoided. Toto didn't mention Sussie the whole time, and you chose not to reveal much about your "situation." The two of you formed a bond and had such chemistry none could explain. You were feeling so comfy with each other. He looked so happy and having a blast, and you were, too.

Then, the drinking contest started, and you sent your best knight to battle. You ended up sitting cross-legged on top of the bar with your short dress going up with your every move, surrounded by a group of people watching the spectacle - as well as the other couples of contestants - with Toto on his feet right next to you, resting one of his hands on your thighs. At the same time, you poured the beers directly into his mouth. The first one to finish a row of four pints with no pauses and successfully do "the loaded twirl" - four fast spins - then walk to ring the bell at the end of the counter - without falling - could leave not paying a penny, and win a cool metal medal too.

Toto sounded the bell first. And the place went fucking nuts.

By the end of your night out, you two couldn't even walk straight as you were being playful on the sidewalk on your way to meet your driver. At some point, you lost a heel while dancing, you knew how to move and rhythm was natural to you. Toto carried you around until a good soul gifted you his flip-flops; the poor unknown hero was so into you. Fantastic pubs and guys on flip-flops, thank you, Australia.

While rocking the stranger's flip-flops with your Saint Laurent mini dress, you were singing and throwing some moves on the street at the sound of "Notorious by Duran Duran" - it was the last song you heard the band played before leaving and got stuck in your head - it was around 4 a.m. by then.

Toto had his medal wrapped around his head, looking all stupid and hot. There is no sight of his suit jacket. He must have lost it when you took him to the bathroom - of course, you waited for him outside. He was too drunk to get there alone - or when you two started dancing, burning some of the alcohol in your systems.

There is something about him that makes you feel so many things, and you don't want the night to end. And you wanted to spend more time with him, listening to his voice, hearing his laugh, looking at his eyes, having his body near yours. You find him so attractive.

—I don't remember the last time I had this much fun; it must have been ages ago! —he says, way too loud and drunk.

—Me too! We should do this again! Are you sure it's here? —you reply, looking around. No cars in sight.

—Yes! I'm not that drunk. Here is where the pin marks —he says, looking too closely into his phone. His nose almost touched the screen, looking at the map.

—Let me see.

—Nein —He raises his phone, extending his arm, placing it out of your reach. You jump to grab it, failing miserably. You ended up bumping him instead. Balance isn't a thing for any of you at the moment. And you both get closer. At some point in the night, you two started to behave like magnets, unable to keep away from each other, all handsy. Toto places a hand on your lower back to steady you.

You aren't sure if the sensation you are feeling is the alcohol in your system or the butterflies in your stomach.

—You are so carefree. Zero pretentious. So fun. So captivating, so... —Toto says in such a dangerous voice, staring at your lips with his fingers, placing your hair behind your ear.

You two get closer.

—So..? —You beg him to continue, staring at his lips too. You take the lead and start closing the distance between you.

It's been a while since either of you had sex in your lives.

Or love.

He looks at you with desire and affection but without moving an inch. Then Toto decides to take a step back.

That distance feels like miles, and the car arrives. Ending an almost perfect night.

You feel ashamed since you overstepped and carried yourself away. None of you mentioned what just happened on the ride back to the hotel.

-

Spending time with you starts to feel like a necessity to him now.

Toto is standing there, left shoulder leaning against the bar wall near where the band is playing, sipping his beer, watching you dance with some strangers, glowing and smiling, and having fun among those girls while he admires your curves and body movements. You have the magic to make him forget about the rest of the world, its people, and its problems. Going out with you tonight felt like healing, like self-care. 

After days of being heartbroken, Toto called things off with Sussie, which was not an easy choice. She was the love of his life, or so he thought, and after spending a significant portion of your life with someone, saying goodbye to that person is never easy.

Even if tonight was great and felt like a lucid dream, he couldn't escape reality forever. This Cinderella story had an end.

Of course, he notices the way you look at him. The attention you pay to his every word, your excitement every time you make him smile, or how you lean closer to his touch whenever the two of you make accidental - or not - contact.

But he wasn't ready for you. Of course, he would love to make a move and enjoy the whole of you, explore your every corner, trace your hips with his hands, and feel your body beneath his, making you release sounds he would love to hear. He wanted to fuck you badly, but you weren't just for a one-night stand.

You deserved someone who could fully admire you. That worshiped you. And Toto wasn't able to be that guy at the moment. He felt wounded and needed time for himself.

So, when you had the courage he lacked to make the move, knowing that if he accepted that kiss, you would wake up tangled in his sheets, he stepped back.

Seeing your surprised, embarrassed, and hurt reaction spiraled him into coming days of somber mood and turned into a quiet ride back to the hotel.

-

Once you reach your destination, the driver opens the car door for you, and you step out of it, praying your balance has returned. After that fiasco ending of the night, all the alcohol in your system seems to have evaporated thanks to that emotional gut punch Toto gave. You glimpse Toto catching your step, walking now as normal as you.

You two may be walking seemly normal now but your looks scream drunks, loud and clear! - messy hair and clothes, not to mention your flip flops, a thing that made you smile as you remembered the now distant memory - as you passed by a floor-to-ceiling mirror on the way to the elevators.

The bellboy pushes the buttons to open the elevator doors for you.

—On which floor is your room? —he asks.

—Oh, no, we aren't...

—Eleven —you answer a little deadpan, interrupting Toto.

—Fourteen —he mumbles.

As you two go up, you start saying goodbye, also wanting to cut the tension a bit. —It was a fun night, "Tots"! My liver may disagree, but we'll see —you smile.

—Yeah, yeah, it was, except for that horrid food —he replies.

—Let's not, let's bury that part.

He nods with a small smile. The door opens on your floor. You smile at him one last time and head out.

Toto wants to say, "Wait!" or follow you down that corridor, inviting himself to your room and bed, but instead, he remains just standing there, and the elevator goes up.

-

You take your time to walk down the corridor, hoping there is still a chance, till you hear the sound of the elevator's doors closing and following it, total silence, no footsteps, no movement. So you let out a sigh and get inside your room.

You are left facing a feeling of emptiness and solitude as you walk across the empty and dark suite with your surviving heel in hand, and then you toss it across the room on the carpet. You enter the shower and start washing your make-up and body off, letting your mind wander to the idea that the two of you could be there right now.

So, a bit defeated by not having Toto's naked and wet body before you, you send yourself to bed, struggling to fall asleep and shut down your brain; after a while, you feel yourself drifting away in the arms of Morfeo - and sadly not Toto's.

-

—He thinks I'm captivating and have soft hands —you say while giggling like a teenager, adding sugar to your Chai at the end of the counter. Already in a better mood, trying to look at the bright side of things.

—Soft hands??? —Sam replies, making a silly face and grabbing a napkin.

You two meet on your way to get Starbucks, located two buildings away from the hotel. You are still hungover and need fuel before stepping into the paddock.

—You know, never mind. I don't want to know —Sam adds, biting her bagel.

—Oh, wait. No. Nothing like that happened —you wave your hands in concern.

—Calm down; you know he and Sussie are in the middle of a time-off. Nothing wrong if it had happened. He has been in such awful moods lately that I think he needs it to happen. This time, their breakup seems real.

—Really!?

—Can you at least don't sound that excited? Oh god, you are smiling. I hate love —Sam sips her black coffee, rolling her eyes at you.

—Leave me live my fantasy, alright? —praying sign, you joke.

—Now you will be all weird around him, won't you?

—Nooo, well, maybe a little. What? Like you don't ship us.

—Puff —Sam lets out.

—Oh, you fed me way too many details about him for years and set us up last night just because, huh?

—Okay. Fair. I sold you the idea. Am I clever, or what? Listen, I care about you two a lot, and frankly, I think you are great for each other.

—Ooh, so Sam Dobrev has a heart.

—Shut up! Please don't make me regret it —she replies, all done with life.

-

—Hi, big guy —Sam pops her head inside Toto's office, simultaneously knocking on the open door.

—You owe me one —Toto answers deadpan. Concentrated, looking straight at his iPad, not bothering to look at her.

—Why?

—That restaurant you made me go to was horrible.

—Well, I didn't pick the place, so no whines to me, but at least the company was fantastic, right?

—Umhju —Toto mutters, still looking at the screen. Then silence.

Sam interprets that answer as I'm not telling you anything else.

—Since you are here trying to gossip. Aren't you busy? If you have free time, you could help me with several things.

—Jeez, that mood. I'm not here to gossip. Here, sign this. Niki needs it.

Toto reads the paper Sam just gave him and picks up his phone. —I need to make a call. Would you mind closing the door on your way out? Thank you.

—Okay —Sam answers slowly and exaggerates the "O" while doing what was asked. Even she knows messing with a somber Toto wasn't a good idea.

Unfortunately for you, no gossip or insights of your night out were obtained from Toto.

-

It was a Grand Prix victory for Lewis. And a third place for Mick, but since it was his first podium, you guys celebrated as if he had just won the race. Sadly, Millie got pulled out of the track for a technical issue with the car.

You were hoping to chitchat with Toto at the podium ceremony, make him laugh a little, and watch his beautiful smile. Well, you hoped that the entire day, actually. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Until you spotted him in the distance, there was no casual way to start a conversation with him that way, and you didn't want to be perceived as pushy or desperate going straight to him. So you let the idea die. There was no rush.

If something was meant to be, it will happen without forcing things.

Right?

-

Azerbaijan

On the paddock in Baku, Toto chose to behave the opposite of that night in Melbourne. Serious, professional, and borderline unfriendly - but still polite.

That caught you off guard, and it was so confusing. After spending that great time together, you thought you two were on your path to becoming friends or more if luck was on your side. You didn't get the sudden change, and it was a bit hurtful when you went to say hi to him - all warm and smiling - and he gave the cold shoulder with a blunt "Good morning" and kept on walking.

You stood there looking a bit stupid, wondering if you did something to bother him or if he was acting Austrian. Maybe Toto was feeling really uncomfortable by how you approached him at the end of that night. Damn, drunk you!

But then, a couple of hours later:

"Unknown" is typing...

—Darci told me you left your office to have lunch. But I'm here outside your hospitality and don't see you - Toto.

Your assistant gave him your number. —Hi!!! Yes, I'm here having lunch.

—Where? I'm wearing my good glasses, and I'm sure you are not that bald guy eating a salad.

—Sandro is a very nice guy. Look up, grandpa!

—The rooftop? What are you, a pigeon?

No joke in reply, just an honest: —I like the view from here. It's peaceful! Bonus points for being private. No one bothers me here or intrudes. It's my secret special place. Do you want to join?

Toto finishes climbing the ladder and goes to greet you, kissing you on the cheek. As he does so, a crazy thought crosses your mind: What if you turn your head? Is stealing a kiss considered harassment? But you don't.

You two share your homemade Yakimeshi - you love cooking even if you have a private Chef, and you are damn good at it, well, according to everyone that has eaten your food, so you ask the hotel to get you the fresh ingredients you need - while talking about the day, sharing ideas, throwing shade, and enjoying each other's presence.

—What a diva! —you reply, grabbing a portion with your chopsticks.

—I know. I expected better, but engineers... you know —Toto shrugs.

—Ye! —you agree. Sometimes, they acted, well, a little bit challenging.

Toto was acting so relaxed and casual as you expected him to be, and not what was going on in the morning. You wonder so badly why there is a change in ways, but you don't dare to ask.

"What if he has bipolar disorder?" a question that came to your mind at some desperate point during your day. Not that there was something wrong with that.

The sun is setting, and you two enjoy the view, sitting next to each other - no space in between - He places his arm around you, palm resting next to your left hand, but without making physical contact.

This becomes a routine for you two, lunching together on the rooftop of the W hospitality, away from the rest of the world, in your private little bubble. It becomes your favorite moment of the day. And Toto's, too, even if he swore he would never like routine.

-

Miami

—Excuse me, excuse me, how did the tire taste you like? —you tease a very solemn Lewis walking past you on the paddock while you pretend to hold an invisible mic at his face, acting like a reporter. An instant smile forms on his lips.

—Roscoe attack! —Lewis commands.

Roscoe stares at him for a second and then wanders to sniff a palm tree, not caring.

—I think your trick didn't work —you get closer to greet him with a hug.

—He is too lazy for that —he tells you while embracing you.

—You are too cute; don't listen to that man! —you say with a silly voice, addressing Roscoe, letting Lewis go, and flexing to pet the dog, rubbing around his ears, which Roscoe seems to enjoy.

It was a Qualy of hell for Mercedes. Lewis's car's back tire flew out into the air before bouncing on a safety barrier at speed, almost hitting him back. Plus, George's car ended up in the gravel after losing power.

In contrast, Williams did great. Mick was one with the car, achieving the day's fastest lap.

—Feeling better, sweetie? —you ask Lewis with honest concern, after seeing the incident unfold and how he made it out of the car really distraught.

Although you must admit that even though that whole thing wasn't funny, the memes were pure gold, so you texted Toto your pick: the one where the tire hit the space station with a photoshopped explosion, the one with Lewis's face photoshopped on a baseball player hitting a home run, but instead of the ball it was the tire and your favorite, the one with photoshopped Toto, Lewis, and George riding the tire to the sky.

—Yeah. I'm good. A positive mindset always helps, thanks.

—I think I just saw you kicking, crying, and screaming in the bathroom, Mr. Positive Mind Set —Sam joins the conversation, teasing him.

—HA HA

—So, what's the plan for tonight-A? —she asks.

—Noone human says tonight like that. Not even Michael Jackson on drugs —you tell Sam.

—We are in Miami, chica! Aren't we clubbing?! —she replies.

—Are you high?

—I will if we go out...

—You realize we are here for work, right? —Lewis asks her.

—Like we haven't done it before. What's the worst that could happen? Toto finding out? You losing the race? Toto, finding out you lost the race because you went out clubbing with us?

—Yes! —you all answer at the same time. —To all of that —you add.

—Well, not if Toto comes with us...

Lewis starts laughing like a madman. —Sam, are you suggesting convincing Toto to go clubbing with us the night before the race so he doesn't get mad if he finds out we went clubbing?

—I got lost, mate —George arrives, earing that last part, trying to figure out what the hell.

—Well, I'll not be convincing him. Y/N is.

—ME?!

—If you really love me, you will —Sam pushes you toward the Mercedes' motorhome.

Gaslighting a bit much?

-

How am I supposed to do this? I'm going to sound so unprofessional. Although, technically, you two went out pub-ing?? and got drunk the night before the race in Australia. Okay, that made-up word sounds terrible; let's never use it again, so there may be a slight chance to relive that.

At least you needed to practice your words before going in there since "Hi, Toto, wanna go clubbing?" wasn't an option but destiny was a bitch; you two crossed paths before you had the opportunity to rehearse. Toto was on his way back to his office; he left his badge access on his desk. He seemed surprised to see you there; you were far away from the Williams' grounds. So you are forced to improvise.

—Are you looking for Sam?

—No, not really, not this time.

—Oh. Niki?

—Nope.

—Lewis?

—You.

Toto was now standing right before you with his hands in his pockets, all tall and handsome. You liked him even more when he wore his reading glasses.

You start a bit shy; Toto has a powerful presence. —I heard Miami has excellent places, and because last time I made you join me for that awful dining experience, I thought maybe we could go out and have a good time but in a better establishment.

—Tonight?

He sounds slightly judgy. You go on: —I was talking with the guys, and they mentioned "Floyd." It sounds great...

—The guys?

—Sam and Lewis, and George...

—Ooh, they sent you? Sam!

Oh boy.

—The cocktails sound goo...

—I'm not taking my drivers drinking or to a nightclub before the race or allowing it. It's ridiculous —Toto interrupts you again.

You look at him, now slightly nervous and bummed out.

—None of us is going; it's not happening —Toto adds firmly.

Yeah... He was a pro at the top of his game. Of course, he cared about discipline, mindsets, and winning races and titles; what were you thinking?!

You nod apologetically. Your eyes look a bit sad, well, because... You don't need to explain why. Just start turning around to head back and tell them the news.

—Wait! We could go to "Basement", which has a bowling alley and a DJ. But no drinking! Not even a drop for anyone; we must return to the hotel at a reasonable hour. Do you like that? That makes you happy?

—Sounds perfect to me —your smile is big and bright. Did Toto change his mind to please me?

-

To make things even, you end up bringing Millie and Mick. You wanted to make clear you weren't playing unfair tactics with your opponents. You earnestly desired to spend a good time with the people you began to care about.

The place was all for yourselves. It was a club slash bowling alley with colorful neon lights reflecting on the lanes, varying intensities and colors to the DJ's beats. It was a dope place.

Lewis invites Seb. They two took bowling seriously and had a years-long competition. They show you a list of their scores on Lewis's iPhone going back to the dark ages.

Bono also shows up, and Carlos and Lando, too, God knows how.

Lando starts stretching right in front of you, warming up, and making eye contact with you while doing his poses in a bit too sexual and exaggerated way. Samanta and you start laughing at him for acting all idiot. You two sit on the bowling benches while drinking Coke and eating popcorn.

—Every group needs a slut —you tell Lando.

—I don't think you are impressing her, man —Carlos joins, watching the spectacle, on his feet.

—It reminds me of when little children warm up before jumping into the pool —you kill Lando with your words.

—You have never seen legs like this —he tells you, overconfident. All of you laugh. —But, I will fight for your heart, malady. Is there another knight brave enough to face me in a bowling fight to the death?

—But what's the prize?! —Seb screams across all lanes.

—A NIGHT with the princess —Lando claims.

—Keep dreaming, sweetie —you reply.

—A KISS from the princess —he backtracks.

—Fine! Everyone, write your names here! —Sam takes a Post-it and a pen out of her purse - an assistant's habit - and passes them around.

—WHAT?! What are you doing?

Sam starts folding the papers and mixing them up. —The council calls Sir Hamilton to the pit!! Please choose your horse and weapon for the fight (lane and bowling ball) —Sam reads Lewis's name from the paper she picks up, and then she selects another one. —Warrior Dobrev to the fight! —cheers are heard, and Mick and Carlos pat Millie on the arm and back; Vettel massages her shoulders when she stands by her approach area. —Knight Wolff to the pit! And last but not least, Warrior Bonnington, too! —there were only five lanes. —You all brave souls are to fight buffoon Norris for a kiss of the Lady. Lord Vettel and I will oversee the combat.

—Hey! —Lando complains, pouting. Then, George starts motivating him, and they start making stupid grunts and jumps before the bowling round begins.

—The battle commences now! —Sam calls.

—You really need to stop watching House of the Dragon —you tell her.

—It's official: Bono is the worst player I have seen —Vettel interrupts, watching Bono be the first to get disqualified. —Is it okay if I leave you a second? If I don't go and bother Lewis every time to time, I get anxious —Sebastian sweetly tells you.

—Go, honey —You pat his hand and let him go. You two were watching the competition unfold together.

Lando, Lewis, and Toto were really good at it, but Millie was in a league of her own.

—How can someone so tiny have such a steady grip? —Lewis tells her she was in the lane next to his.

—Lew, I gladly would share with you all my secrets if I wasn't determined to win this —Millie replies.

—So you really want to kiss her? —he is curious, and a little smile forms on his lips.

—Look at Y/N, I wouldn't mind, but I don't want to. I think all five of us here hate losing... or love winning. Well, except for Lando, I believe he truly wants to kiss her.

"Not just him," Lewis thinks, looking in Toto's direction. After years of being teammates, he could read him like a book. It isn't just Sussie who has him shifting moods. Since you appeared, Toto began to act all weird. When Lewis noticed the looks you both exchanged, everything made sense to him.

And another fantastic strike from Lando.

Millie was almost right. Lewis loves winning and hates losing, but not when friends or feelings are in the middle. A lesson Sebastian taught him. So Lewis prepares and throws the worst shot he has ever made. His bowling ball bounces, hits the gutters, and invades the next lane, instantly disqualifying him.

Hisses and laughs fill the room. Lewis turns around, shrugs, smiles, and goes to take a seat. A minute later, he feels a thumb rubs his neck, caressing it. —Sir Hamilton, my good Sir, you sure are an honorable and respectable fellow —Sebastian tells him with his best Shakespearean voice.

—Stop talking like that, please.

—It doesn't please you how this low-grade peasant talks, good Sir?

The face Lewis gives him is priceless. Vettel laughs, and Lewis slides closer to him on the bench.

A loud "AAARGGH" comes from Lando as he dramatically throws himself to the floor. Wooff, what an awful shot.

—Luck next time, Lando! —Sam teases him as Carlos and George pass by, carrying him to the benches, one grabbing him by the legs and the other by the arms. Out of the competition, he was.

Now, it was a Dobrev vs. Wolff clash.

—Make our house name proud, niece! —Sam yells at her.

—You are having too much fun, aren't you? —you tell her.

—Sorry —Sam covers her face with her hands, monkey emoji-like. —Your knight made it to the final. Good for you, girl, but Millie is ruthless, so...

—I know! I can't watch any more. I'm too nervous! I feel like I will puke if Toto wins or if he loses.

—...she misses.

—WHAT?!

Okay, okay, this wasn't happening. Oh God. Sam turns to you and gives you a smile The Grinch will envy.

—Knight Wolff wins the battle! And takes the princess! —Sam announces. You shoot her a dead glare. —...'s kiss

Cheers are heard. Then everyone gets on their feet and starts chatting and bowling. Laughs and mocktails fill the room.

You pass Lando, still lying on the bench, on your way to get a drink. Now you need tequila in your system. —Oh, I'm so wounded! Only a kiss on the lips would heal me —he tries, offering his arms to you. The kid has the material to be an actor.

—Carlos!! Lando needs you!! —you joke back in answer, smiling at him. Lando gets on his feet in less than a second. —All good, I feel better! —he tells you, chuckling.

Toto is there when you reach the bar, sipping a whiskey on the rocks. —Not a drop of alcohol, you said? —you mock him.

—And you are here to ask for a Coke, right? —he teases you.

—A Paloma, please —you ask the bartender. —You could be a professional bowling player —Please let that become a meme, you think, and an image of a Toto in a complete bowling outfit surrounded by a group of senior citizens with white hair comes to mind.

—You picture it; that's why you are smiling.

—Nooo...

He arches an eyebrow.

—Fine. I admit it! —you sit on the bar stool next to him and rest an elbow on the bar counter, smiling like an idiot and gazing at Toto until he notices it and gets on his feet. 

—I haven't seen you play, let's go! —he tells you.

—Oh, if this really were the old ages and it was me who had to fight for your hand, consider yourself single for the rest of your life...

-

You all arrive together at the hotel and walk inside the lobby, making a lot of noise.

—Shuusshh!! Zack doesn't know I'm not in my room! —Lando whispers, looking around.

—Sure, he is hiding behind that plant, Lando. That old fart is so fucking asleep in his bed, mate! Calm down! —Vettel adds.

—Hey! You haven't kissed Toto yet —Lewis recalls and addresses you.

—Right! Give him his prize! —Mick adds.

You feel your cheeks turning red. —Are you all going to stare and make it all weird?

—YES! —everyone answers.

—You guys suck! —you complain, pretending to be annoyed at them.

—Not as much as I would like to. WHO SAID THAT?! —Millie dirty jokes, looking around.

—Millie Alexandria Dobrev! —Sam shouts, shocked. —I can't believe you...

Between giggles and two Croatians fighting in the background, you kiss Toto for the first time.

With your left hand, wrap Toto's bicep and rest your right on his chest as you reach his lips on your tiptoes. The kiss is brief, delicate, more like a brush of lips, but it is enough to make the butterflies in your stomach go wild and to still be on cloud nine when you reach your room.

-

Monaco

You were so excited to be officially living in Monaco. It was your first week there, and you had never lived on your own before. And since Sam also resided there, you spent lots of time together. You two were enjoying the break and touring the city around.

Miami went terrific, and that kiss still made rounds on your head.

Sam and you were walking in the area close to your new place when you turned the corner and were greeted by this scene: A furious Monegasque girl screaming at the top of her lungs in French words that did not sound nice at all and throwing objects out the window while a man on the street was trying to picking them up and reason with said girl. Some people were staring, and others were rushing to pass by.

—Is that Charles?! —Samanta asks you, stunned, pointing to the guy crouched and picking up what looked like a pair of Jordan's.

Yeah, that was Charles Leclerc. You two look at each other concerned and rush to help.

—Hi —Sam shouts among the screams in French.

—Oh, hey, Sam —Charles looks pretty embarrassed.

You quickly offer him the almost empty tote bag you were carrying and speed walk to grab an open, worn-out cardboard box from the greengrocery next door. The three of you start getting his things inside while avoiding getting hit by the last objects thrown out.

—Thank you —he says to you. —My girlfriend went mental.

All of you hear a loud bang and look up; she shuts the windows dramatically. "More like ex-girlfriend now" you think.

—Merde —you hear Charles say. —My keys and wallet are inside there, fuck!

You can't avoid feeling bad for the guy. He looks so done with life right now.

—Ahm, Charles, if you want to join us, we are grabbing lunch. We can grab some cocktails, too; I'll treat you guys. You seem in desperate need of alcohol and a chat.

—You're right, I need alcohol, thank you. I would love to.

The three of you walk your way to a restaurant Charles loves. It was pricey, but you agreed to let him pick the place since you were spoiling him and trying to lift his spirits.

—Huff, why are all the streets in Monaco inclined? —you complain after climbing the fourth hundred stairs of the day. —On the bright side, tho, I just need to live here to skip leg day at the gym.

Charles laughs. That's good!

The face the hostess makes when you three arrive and place the second-hand cardboard box with Charles's things on the fancy counter - clothes, some books, sneakers, a Funko Pop of Charles himself for some reason, and what looks like Xbox controllers, a man's most prized possession - makes it worth it almost losing your legs to get there.

—Good evening. Table for three? Right this way. Terrace, as usual, Mr. Leclerc? —she asks.

—Yes, please.

You are led to your table. It was a sea-inspired high-cuisine restaurant. The ceiling of the place had a breathtaking art installation: A whale made from bamboo wind chimes. —The waiter is on his way; here is the food and mixology carte —she offers you. It takes you a long time to read the entire selection.

—Ask for whatever you guys want; the check is on me. Don't hold back —you offer them.

—Great, then! It would be two spritzes instead of one, please! —Sam gestures with her fingers at the waiter, who is already taking your order. Sam seems so happy and excited; for someone who grew up that rich, she loves getting stuff for free.

—I would like a Tequila and Tonic with two tequila shots, please —you finally choose.

—A margarita and two shots of tequila for me. To start —Charles orders.

The drinks arrive quickly. At the same time, you hear everything about Charles' toxic relationship, giving him the space to spit it all out; as more alcohol makes it to the table, the more details you get.

After a good couple of hours of free therapy, high cuisine, drinks, relationship advice, and tragic love stories, it got dark.

—Well, it was a damn good chat! I'm glad we were able to help you, my friend. But we better go —Sam says to Charles. —I'm walking you back to your place —she addresses you. —I have to wake up early tomorrow. Toto wants me to join the Mercedes' Zoom call at 7 a.m., and I don't want to see his annoying, angry face at me.

The thought of an angry Toto makes you bite hard the tiny chocolate cake you are eating as dessert.

—Oh, no worries! It's just all the way down the street; I will get there without problems —you say while savoring the remains of your cake.

—Are you sure? —She inquires. You forgot how protective of you Samanta was, even if she was younger than you.

—Yeah, go, go. It's never a good idea to make an Austrian guy angry —You joke.

Charles choked on his drink, laughing. —Sweet Lord.

Sam giggles, hugs you two goodbye and waits for her Uber.

—It's late, I'll walk you. There are plenty of good hotels near your building and the marina; since I'm not going home, I need to book a room —Charles mentions.

—If you don't mind, you can crash at my place; there's not much furniture yet, but you are welcome to stay —you tell Charles. He seems relieved.

Charles sees what you meant with "not much" - just a small table with no chairs, one kitchen counter stool, a mattress in the bedroom, another on the living room floor, and some boxes, making the place look way bigger - as you two enter your apartment.

—I just got the keys —you excuse yourself.

—Oh wow, this view reminds me of my grandparents' apartment view from growing up —He reaches the balcony fast. —Oh, look, you can see the old side of Monaco from here! Good memories! —He ignores your comment, not caring much about the furniture or decor.

He seems in a better mood than before.

—Well, let me know if you need anything. Sleep well! —you say, on your way to your bedroom.

—Thank you, good night!

You hear noises outside your bedroom's open doors a few minutes later. Charles moves his mattress nearer the plug on the wall and connects the charger you lent him to his phone. With that change in the arrangement, you are both placed facing each other in different rooms and with distance in between.

Since none of you seemed able to fall asleep that night, you better keep chatting, each of you resting your back against the wall, relaxing, and him crossing his arms behind his head.

—So you are besties with Sam?

—Yes, she was one of the first people I met when I arrived in Belgium —you answer and look out of your bedroom's massive floor-to-ceiling window to the beautiful sea and the tiny-looking lights of Monaco. He stays silent, waiting for you to continue.

—So, how was growing up here? —You ask him and were sincerely curious but also want to switch the subject of conversation from you to him.

He tells many anecdotes of his childhood and buzz about some of the high society Monegasque families. He seems to enjoy gossip, and you are here for it.

Until you feel your eyes shutting down and fall asleep with the sound of his voice.

-

Two weeks later, Charles was still staying at your place; there was no furniture yet, however. By the third week, you arrive home, and all of Charles' things are filling the space. He moved "his bed" to one of the guest bedrooms and packed the living room with boxes. His piano starts serving you two at your dining "table." You always ate there, sitting, standing, taking turns: breakfast, Charles, lunch, you, etc.

He is just one box away from officially becoming your roommate. Of course, you don't mind. After many years of feeling alone, you desperately needed a friend and its company.

Charles' wireless speaker is the most significant addition to the apartment; it was never turned off, both of you being obsessive music maniacs, constantly introducing new music and artists to each other.

It is your turn to pick a song, and you want to lift the spirits while unpacking boxes and arranging things, so you turn the volume all up and hit play. Bad Bunny's "Yo perreo sola" started blasting.

You start singing and dancing to the beat, shaking it, and then Charles joins you in the chorus, singing the lyrics perfectly and throwing some great dance moves. You two start twerking.

—You know this song? Wait, you speak Spanish?! —you ask loudly, almost screaming. The music is so loud.

—My mom is Colombian. Didn't I mention that? My dad is the Monegasque one. I know my reggaeton and merengues by heart —he screams back. —I know all the good clubs in the city with this type of music, we should go and dance our asses off.

—Oh, for sure we are!

Another level of friendship is unlocked.

-

The three of you are inseparable. It is the weekend, and Charles took you and Sam on his boat sailing to an excellent spot to take a swim. Coronas, good music, sun, and fresh water fill your day.

You came up with a competition to see who jumped out of the boat the funniest way because you three were dumb. Charles wins by jumping and agitating his arms and legs like an old cartoon falling or very Gaga at the Super Bowl. Your stomach hurts from laughing, and your face from smiling.

After that, you all lay flat on your stomachs like iguanas under the sun, getting tan atop the boat; you don't remember a day nearby when you felt so happy. You felt at home with those two by your side.

-

It was around 4 a.m. and pitch black when Charles was suddenly awakened by sorrowful sounds coming from your bedroom.

He rushes and quickly opens the door, not caring to knock. He finds you crying, curled in your bed; you look like a total mess with red eyes, messy hair, and softly shaking, and Charles reacts like a headless chicken, pacing frantically around the room before getting to his senses and starting supporting a very troubled you.

—I got an idea that could help you feel better! —he tells you.

—Yeah?

—You trust me?

You nod.

—Let's go! —he offers you his hand and leads you out.

You take the lift to the basement parking lot, where Charles' Ferrari is all poorly and crocked parked outside lines of your apartment's parking spaces - that man was a great driver but terrible at parking - next to it is his powerful Ducati Panigale black motorbike is waiting for you.

Soon, you two are on his bike, crossing the streets of Monaco at full speed. Getting further away from the city and into the road. You tightly wrap your arms around him as he tells you you are entering the highway, and he begins to speed, pushing the bike's engine.

You could feel the fresh nightly ocean breeze hitting your body and entering your pores, every time more violently as you moved and Charles kept speeding up. You could see the full moon reflecting on the ocean waters. It was a clear night, with no stars in sight.

You love the rush and adrenaline of this speed ride. Charles speeds even more, and you hear the violent roar of the motor, the bike reaching its maximum. Then, in that brief moment, you get why all drivers are passionate about F1. Now you get it. Your sad tears become happy ones. You have never experienced something like this before, and it makes you feel so alive. The air feels so cold and harsh at the speed you are going that you almost feel it cutting your skin. It is a sensational feeling.

Charles then starts to slow down till he parks the bike and turns the engine off, helping you get on your feet, and you two lay on the grass after arriving at the destination.

—What a view! —you let out. The two of you are far away from the city, and you can see Monaco at the distance from the cliff you are on top of.

—This is my secret spot. I have been coming here since I was young when I felt I needed to clear my mind or wanted to escape everything. This view humbles you and calms you down at the same time —Charles confesses.

—Thanks for sharing it with me —you say to him, extremely grateful.

—It's the least I can do.

You can hear the waves hitting the cliff rock below you, and you admire the infinite ocean in front of you. The two of you sat there for a long time.

—Whenever you feel ready to talk about it. To open up about your past, who you are, or why you cried tonight, I will be here to listen —Charles offers you, breaking the comfortable silence. He is a kind and sweet person, a good person. And you aren't used to that.

He places his hand on top of yours just briefly, and you feel so happy to have a friend, to have him, no love feelings, no desire in between, just genuine friendship and honest support. 

He deserves the truth, and you want to let him know, but you are afraid of the repercussions. You don't want to get judged or, worse, to lose him.

-

Charles has been paying attention to you these past weeks and has noticed how you avoid or change subjects whenever your past or private life gets mentioned.

Every day that passes, he gets to know you more. It is just a matter of time before the truth comes out.

To be continued... - Masterlist | Next Chapter

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 fluff #toto wolff x y/n #seasonoflovefic #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff #toto wolff x team principal reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #mercedes fanfic #sewiss #charles leclerc x you #lewis hamilton x you #formula 1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader

[vanhelsingenthusiast]

What’s the Quincey x Seward ship called. Morward??? Sewiss?? Himbos??

#dracula #Quincey Morris #jack Seward #I prefer morward sewiss sounds weird

[wonderfulwonderrful]

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!

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #mercedes fanfic #formula 1 fic #toto wolff imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #formula 1 au #formula 1 college au #formula 1 school au #sewis fic #f1 au #carlos x reader #carlos sainz x reader #toto wollf x oc #toto wolff x occ #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #mercbros

[wonderfulwonderrful]

Grand Prix Elite Academy (3/10) +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 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.

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #mercedes fanfic #formula 1 fic #toto wolff imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #formula 1 au #formula 1 college au #formula 1 school au #sewis fic #f1 au #my fic writing #carlos x reader #carlos sainz x reader #toto wollf x oc #toto wolff x occ #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #mercbros

[wonderfulwonderrful]

Grand Prix Elite Academy (1/10) +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 1: Hi, Society

"Everyone who lives in Monaco is filthy rich."

Well, that's a half-lie that people say; the working class also lives there, and the families and people who work for the rich are on the outskirts of town near the border with France. 

Yours is one of those: a middle-class family of three (you, dad, and your dog). So, a chunk of your day goes to commuting downtown to attend school and help with the auto parts shop, your family-run business.

You had the misfortune (now you call it that!) to be raised by a hardcore motorsports madman in what you consider one of the most F1 households of all time in the most F1 city in the world. 

That madman is your dad, a middle-aged man who is apparently good-looking (judging by the attention he gets from female customers; okay, he is in shape; you get that part) but has remained single for the longest time.

He is a hard-working mechanic who invested all his inheritance in opening an automobile repair shop and a twin business, an auto parts and components store located on the same street, which seems logical. 

You are one of those households that loves everything related to cars and motorsports, a trait you inherited in your cells from birth.

Yes, yes, you are a "daddy's girl." It's embarrassing, but he's your hero.

Thanks to him, you were that "weird" little girl at elementary school who could name all the parts of a car's engine and their exact functions. You could explain the mechanics and physics behind a motor by high school, and you were able to repair and customize cars and motorbikes by your senior years. 

-

Daydreaming was a fundamental part of your childhood and still is, but nowadays, the therapist calls it MaDD or trauma coping. 

Back in the day, you loved sneaking into the driver's seat of any of the expensive sports cars the clients took to the workshop for repair. You imagined it morphing into a racing car as you drove it to high speeds on a race track. 

Of course, you always ended up winning the Grand Prix! And that fantasy lasted until either one of the mechanics or your dad got you out of the unit.

-

By the time you turned eight, your family made an effort to take you karting. It's expensive, way more complex than you expected, and heavy on the body!

You always ended up exhausted after practice or racing, but you didn't care because you were killing the game, impressing people along the way, and winning piles of trophies!

After several years of success, you got sponsored and made it to Formula Renault, where winning was also a regular thing.

Then, you continued to Formula 4, where you started to succeed, too. By that point, you were utterly emotionally invested in your racing career, working hard to make your dream come true and make your parents proud.

But that sad September, your mom got sick. 

-

After her passing, nothing was quite the same, and your racing dreams got buried along with her, leaving you and your dad an emotional and financial wreck and with a lot of debt in the bank due to her treatments.

-

"Time heals everything," 

That's another half-lie people tell. 

You never get over a loss of that kind, but you learn to live your life the best way possible and find joy after it.

-

So, as you go through your teen years, you feel your life is starting over as if someone else lived your past.

You choose to help more with the family business after noticing your father is tired and stressed every day and wanting to be there for him.

You take full responsibility for running the auto parts and components store. After school, you go there every day, and that's where you practically live. 

The shop is in an old part of town. It used to be a cheap neighborhood, but not today. It's still not the most luxurious town area, but the location is excellent nowadays. 

As the business grew, the shop underwent several remodels, more like improvements made by your uncle Marco (your late mom's brother) and your godfather, who works in construction.

The store is bright, clean, and organized. It has tall white walls with blue accents (the ones you helped paint), neat grey polished concrete floors where you can almost watch your reflection, and pendant lights in the ceiling over the aisles full of product racks. Several pennants and large posters give the place character. 

Most of the time, you are behind the large counter with the cashier and computer by the entrance, where you run the stock, attend customer payments, do your homework, and watch Netflix (on slow days).

Next to you is always your dog, with his bed and bowl, and behind you is an entire wall of shelves with premium products.

The store's most recent and exciting acquisition is a new set of automatic slide doors and a large welcoming rug with the business logo. 

God! How boring is your life?!

Still, you are grateful for those; on busy days, you want to tear your ears off at the nonstop sound of the bell atop the door.

The store is at the corner of the street, and the large workshop is two buildings away across the road. 

Both are different from your usual mechanic's spots; yes, there is still oil in some parts, but this is Monaco, after all! If you want to attract clients in this city, you must look nice.

Your dad lives and breathes at the workshop. 

Your household is one of those that leaves the family home very early in the morning and returns at night to sleep. 

-

As things get financially healthier again, your dad and godfather work hard to renovate the shop's attic slash old storage space into a tiny apartment for you.

It's a simple but cozy open-floor concept: a one-bedroom with a kitchenette and counter bar for two stools, a sitting area with a bulky love seat and a TV.

Your desk is next to the bay window, facing the street and sky; this is your favorite spot to study. 

A queen-size bed with a nightstand completes the space, along with the door leading to the world's tiniest bathroom. 

You love this rabbit hole so much. Your dad and godfather allowed you to choose the style of decor and furniture (you went for minimal and boho), and you love it more than your actual home (a more spacious two-and-a-half-bedroom apartment with a small balcony nearer the mountains).

-

As you grow older and reach legal age, you start doing everything at the shop by yourself, saving the money spent on extra hands. 

From cleaning to stock control, acting like a sales lady and the store influencer, posting social media content, updating the website once you convinced your dad to sell online, and taking care of your dog, now the business mascot.

People love him! He always gets pats on the head from customers, and some return just for him. He is a lazy old basset hound named "Diesel."

You must ensure that Diesel wears his bandana with the shop logo daily, as it is his official employee uniform. He is your childhood dog, and the idea of losing him makes you anxious.

-

By this point, you speak fluent "Mechanic" which should be considered an entire language thanks to growing up surrounded by them. 

Depending on the photo, you can't avoid smiling or laughing when you open up your childhood photo albums. 

There are many pictures from your birthday parties held at the workshop. In them, you appear surrounded by alpha males with tattoos, beards, and muscles as you blow the candles off a Barbie-inspired cake with the entire place decorated in glittery pink party decor. 

That's your life in a nutshell.

Nowadays, since you are a full-grown woman in their eyes, they act overprotective of you, especially when a boy your age tries to flirt with you while buying something with their parent's credit card. 

But they get it so wrong! You don't recall when or how, but you started to get attracted to men, not boys, older men. 

That middle-aged group of guys that make you beg, "Please run me over with your sports car," as you stare at them driving as they pass across the big windows facing the store's street. 

You love the roaring sound of the engine, but you love the view of a handsome man driving it even more. 

Still, it's just a fantasy; those guys are completely out of your league, and well, you don't have a social life and have never had a boyfriend.

-

In the last couple of days before graduation, many universities show up to promote their college programs at Open Day. 

You avoid the Grand Prix Elite Academy people like they have the plague, knowing that's a dream you can't afford. 

And they know it, too! 

You can tell by the look the extremely hot model-looking Student Affairs ladies give you when you succumb to the temptation to get closer to their stand.

You nervously step in front of them without saying a word and leave after they rudely and unwantedly hand you a brochure with all the information about the program, costs, and more.

They both look annoyed at their employers for making them attend a school without potential clients.

-

When you arrive at your loft, you remove your shoes and drop your bag on the floor. You muster the courage to read the brochure as you get cozy on the bulky, puffy couch.

"Grand Prix Elite Academy is the ultimate path to success in the world of motorsports.

Our program is an exclusive Formula One college degree designed for aspiring drivers who dream of pursuing a career in professional racing. 

This program offers unparalleled training and mentorship from seasoned professionals, personalized coaching from world-class racing experts, access to state-of-the-art facilities and cutting-edge simulators, and networking opportunities with industry leaders. 

This degree aims to cultivate the skills and mindsets of future champions. It's the ultimate platform for developing the aptitudes, knowledge, and connections necessary to reach the pinnacle of motorsports.

Drive to Greatness. Race with us."

After re-reading the entire brochure a hundred times and eyeing all the pictures, subjects, and prices attached, you can't help but cry out until you fall asleep.

-

After several texts to your number and no reply, your dad goes up to the loft to look for you, now a bit worried. 

The day is over, and you two should head home soon to avoid traffic. He always texts you when it's time to leave, and you rush down the street to get in the car.

As he moves closer to the sofa to wake you up, he notices the "GPEA" brochure on the floor and picks it up. He doesn't say anything about it later.

-

The summer break begins, and soon, you will become a college freshman. 

You applied for several engineering college programs that are within your budget. 

You still want to work at Formula One, and if you can't get a driver's seat, you aim for a team chair.

-

You have been nervous the entire week, knowing the acceptance letters will soon arrive. You are crossing your fingers they aren't rejection ones. 

You get accepted in two out of four!

However, when the postman shows up at the store again, you look at him perplexed as he hands you a fancy envelope. 

It's good your dad is having lunch with you at the counter at that exact moment to clarify your doubts.

—What is this?! —your voice goes all high as you walk fast and nervously to him, showing him the Grand Prix Elite Academy logo stamp on the envelope.

—Listen, don't get mad at me. Your dad puts down the fork and stops eating for a moment to face you. —Wait to get your hopes up high yet. He starts to calm you down, noticing how you are hyperventilating. —Open it first.

—WHAT?!!

—Y/N, breath, easy...

You tear the envelope with shaky hands and quickly scan the letter's content.

—AH! —a funny scream comes out of your mouth, and you look at your dad with wide eyes before pushing him into a tight hug, a bit brusquely. —I GOT IN! I GOT THIS YEAR'S SCHOLARSHIP!! —you fucking can't believe it. —BUT HOW!?!!

—I applied for you, well, I pretended to be you; I disliked being an annoying girl —he rolls his eyes at you, joking. —After that, I sent the board an email explaining our situation; now, as your father —he looks a bit embarrassed at his confession. —It's good that I documented your entire and promising racing career. I know how important this is for you. I'm sorry that we cannot afford it on our own. I know you have the talent and deserve that scholarship more than anyone! Thank God they went all charity on your ass!

You laugh, and happy tears run down your face. Your dad hasn't seen you this happy, not since mom...

—OH GOD!

—What?! —your dad's heart skips at your words.

—It says I must register ASAP for the virtual classroom since I didn't attend the in-person summer program. Jesus! I just got in, and I'm already behind! —you rush to the computer, and before logging in, you say: —Dad, I love you; you have nothing to apologize for!

-

As the countdown to the start of the academy year goes on, your nervousness levels increase. 

You get more hysterical each day, and your dad already regrets his actions.

Billions of thoughts cross your mind daily: What if they don't like me? What if I end up failing? Am I good enough? What I'm going to wear? This attire list is so pretentious. What's a smart-casual look? I don't own any black tie gowns! 

OH GOD!

-

A heavy box arrives at the shop by mail. 

It's your welcome package to the academy. Inside, you find a gorgeous and expensive-looking varsity jacket, the college's cashmere sweater, and many more branded items. 

It also contains an extensive list of things you need to start the year, instructions for your first day, and a textbook of rules. 

Your scholarship sponsor is WomanOne, which supports girls around the globe in completing their college degrees. 

You feel so empowered that you swear to do your best and conquer the game! 

Your grades and performance are crucial for them, so you must win the most Elite Academy Cup races you can.

-

Two days later, another envelope arrives; this time is an invitation for the Homecoming Gala; the paper feels fancy as fuck! 

The event is scheduled two nights before the start of the course, and it's mandatory, which you find hilarious. 

You have never been obliged to attend a fancy party before.

-

A few days later, a push notification informs you you have two new DMs on the GPEA app (the official college app they requested you to download). 

After completing your profile for the driver market, the Ferrari and Aston Martin principals want to interview you on the virtual platform.

Shit is getting real!

-

—She looks too sweet for this brutal land; I hope she survives here, Lewis says as he leans closer to peek at Sebastian's iMac screen. 

This year, they volunteered at the Student Affairs Department to obtain the mandatory extra credits. 

Well, Sebastian applied for the job and dragged Lewis along, as usual. 

They both look at the student picture you upload on the platform; then, Seb starts to copy out your data to print your access badge.

—Is she on the market yet? 

—Yes. All the faculty principals have reviewed her profile, but only Ferrari and Aston will interview her. She applied to join the McLaren faculty, though.

—Interesting. So, no words from Zack?

—Not yet. You know how it is, my dear scholarship king. Y/N looks really promising. Are you feeling nervous about it? Now someone wants to take the full scholarship prodigy title away from you —Seb teases.

—By this rookie, you wish! —Lewis tenderly slaps Sebastian's face. —Everyone is after my titles anyway, as well as my sexy good looks. Are you feeling nervous about it?

—You wish! She doesn't have what I give you —it's Seb turn to state.

—Oh, please, could you remind me what you give me? —Lewis teases, a bit aroused.

—Oh, I can show you —Seb gets dangerously close to him, slowly pushing him against the office desk.

-

You are so grateful the full scholarship includes the on-campus living fee and secures you a dorm room. 

The GPEA is so far from your house that commuting there would be a nightmare. Thanks, Google Maps, for the info! Now you know you have to leave tomorrow with enough time to be on time for the Homecoming Gala. 

You struggle to fall asleep. It's the anxiety for tomorrow's party. You pray to God somehow you fit in.

-

As the moonlight dances upon the glistening waters of Monaco's coastline, the college's luxury campus emerges with opulence. 

Tonight, the GPEA is hosting the most glamorous Gala to mark the commencement of a new school year; to your eyes, it's a scene of total excess and splendor. 

Nothing as you have seen before!

Party lights dance and illuminate the facades of the campus buildings, casting vibrant and cool designs on the walls.

The garden's magnificent palm trees sway gently under the warm Mediterranean breeze, their leaves aglow with the enchanting hues of the illuminations. 

The campus's modern architecture, a seamless blend of money and elegance, looks like an oasis adorned with meticulously manicured gardens, flowers, and fountains, where the soft sound of water cascading brings a sense of tranquility amidst the muffled DJ music coming out of the celebration. 

As you are about to reach the building entrance, you notice the long parade of the most luxurious cars, gracefully chauffeuring guests who descend with elegance, sporting breathtaking gowns from renowned designers and dapper men wearing impeccably tailored tuxedo suits. 

-

This homecoming Gala looks straight out of Gossip Girl. 

As you step onto the red carpet, you can feel the electric buzz, radiating a contagious energy that sets the exhilarating tone for the party. 

It looks like it is going to be a wild night.

And you are correct. The clinking glasses of champagne get louder as the evening progresses, and the party ensues.

The crowd consists of beautiful, fit, and effortlessly stylish students exuding an air of confidence and superiority. 

Despite your striking look in a fancy dress, you can't shake the feeling of being an outsider among the elite.

-

As you move around in the ballroom with a glass in hand, you notice a figure that stands out: Toto Wolff, wearing an impeccably tailored suit and exuding charm and charisma. 

His striking features, towering height, and muscular body immediately command your attention. Your gaze draws towards him, entirely captivated by his physical attributes and confident presence among the sea of people. 

You can't help but stare at him; he is pure eye candy. 

"So, this is what genuine attraction feels like?"

You go all red when you notice a stunning set of clear eyes watching you, lusting for Toto.

—No worries. It's the usual reaction Toto gets. We've all been there, I guess. I'm Leandra de Vries! I'm a Ferrari somophore —a stunning, lean girl with legs for days and perfect hair greets you. 

Wow, that's having a face card! Her nose is to die for, and Jesus, those eyes! She looks tan, and her skin is silky and shiny. 

"I need to moisturize!" You think.

—I'm Y/N Y/LN —you quickly add. —That's a beautiful dress, Leandra!

—It's vintage Dior; they don't make them like this anymore —she shows you her breathtaking embroidered gown, extending her long, athletic leg. —You look good, even with that thing you are wearing! No offense; you better get used to this kind of comment. Let's say this place requires thick skin; my advice: never take it personally.

—Oh, thanks, I guess?! —you both laugh.

—Is it from Zara? —Leandra comes closer to whisper to your ear, curious and disgusted at the time, but with comedic timing.

—Yes! —you say, holding a giggle.

—Oh god! Please remind me to get you in my wardrobe; I have a couple of pieces you so desperately need —she smiles at you and intertwines her right arm with yours.

—Please! —you beg and smile her back.

—Let's walk around! —she invites you.

So far, you like Leandra. Although she may look like a mean girl, she is well-intended, kind, and honest. She doesn't hold back, and that's your type of person.

-

—So that's the new "Charity Baby"? She's cute!

—Where!? —Lando pops his head behind Oscar after his comment.

—There, with Leandra —he points.

—How does that woman get even hotter each year?! Fuck, she looks so fuckable in that dress! —Lando undresses Leandra with his eyes.

—Getting an erection this early on? That's a new record for you —Max jokes, staring at him.

Leandra starts to lead you both in their direction. The group gathered around the large velvet sofa in the fancy sitting area near the bar. 

When you arrive at their side, you overhear George leading the conversation.

—She is still out of your league, mate —George mocks her. —But how did it go with Arabella?

—Oh, she was delicious; I fucked her in the gym's pool. Her ass feels terrific! —Lando lets them know the gossip.

—Arabella is the blonde with the great tits? —Max inquires.

—No, no, that's the Mercedes girl, the one I fucked in the library.

—And you also fucked the librarian.

—And the trainer's assistant.

—And the Human Resources lady.

Everyone keeps adding.

—Better be getting ready for Lando's disappointing dick game —Carlos jokes with you as soon as he notices you standing there in complete silence and addressing you for the first time.

Everyone turns their head towards you.

You go all red.

—I mean, if you want, I'm available tonight —Lando shoots his shot, shamelessly flirting with you and reaching for your hand.

—And welcome! —Sebastian jokes from a distance, comfy wrapped in Lewis's arms on the sofa.

—Lando, you fuck everything that moves —Yuki states impressed.

—It's cus' I got dick game, to Carlos' jealousy.

Out of nowhere, you notice Lance standing right to your left. —I heard you are working class and got here under a full scholarship like Lewis did. Is that true?! —Lance inquires, curious and with a sweet voice, but his wording is not the best.

—Yes, I'm from a middle-class family —you shyly reply. —We own a car repair workshop, and I work there.

Lance's face looks stunned. Sebastian notices his and your expression and doesn't waste time.

—Lance, you can't ask people that! You know some people work to live? God, you are so out of touch! Excuse him —Seb says.

—Yeah, unlike him, the people's people —Lewis mocks Seb, pointing at him and roughly combing his hair, then Lewis gives you a "These guys" face and winks at you. —They don't mean it —Lewis lets you know. —Welcome, welcome! I'm L-

—Lewis Hamilton, yes, I know, you are a legend —you look at him in awe.

He is the only one who gets it, who gets you. 

He is as rare as you. His family famously worked their butts off to get him here before he got offered a full scholarship like yours and became the scholarship program and GPEA prodigy. 

No one has won more trophies and cups in the history of the college than him.

Mercedes already hired him as their reserve driver and offered him a contractor as their future F1 talent, the most expensive arrangement ever for a rookie. They are just waiting for Michael to retire.

-

Principal Zack reaches you after chatting, dancing, joking, and getting to know everyone in that little group. —Miss, Y/LN. Can we have a word, please?

—Of course! —you interrupt your conversation with Oscar and go to him.

After walking around and casually conversing a bit, he informs you: I appreciate your request to join our faculty, but unfortunately, it's impossible for us now. We noticed your career resume has a long hiatus, which puts you behind our other candidates. However, we will closely watch your performance this year, and maybe you can ask again next year —Zack politely kills your dream to drive for them momentaneously. —You have a promising future, you are talented, and I wish you the best.

—Oh, bummer! But I understand, sir. I will do my very best!

You make it back to the group, but since they love to gossip, they all observe the scene from afar and interpret your expressions, betting their money wasn't good.

—And? —Yuki asks.

—Not McLaren.

—I'm sorry, it's their loss! —Mick soothes you. By far, he is the most kind and polite of the bunch. It must be tough to grow up under his dad's shadow; maybe that's why he is so empathic with the outcasts.

—I haven't heard from Aston or Ferarri after my interviews either —you look slightly concerned now.

—Give it a time —Seb reassures you.

—Oh god, it's too early to endure a Masi's speech. No one is drunk enough yet! —Lewis cuts the chat, looking straight at the man getting up on the fancy and tech stage, lit out under professional lightning; a massive state-of-the-art Samsung screen is behind, showcasing the academy and its sponsor's logos.

—Does anyone feel like powdering their nose in the bathroom before the speech begins? —Carlos offers.

—Count me on, babe! Do you want to join us? Being high as a kite is the best way to enjoy this party —Leandra addresses you.

—Oh! No, no, thank you —you quickly denied with your arms.

—Hey, don't go hard! I brought mushrooms for all of us later —Max adds, and they nod in sync.

Okay, this is going nothing like you expected.

-

"Good night, esteemed faculty, staff, and enthusiastic students. As the Dean, I am honored to address you at the start of this new academic year at the Grand Prix Elite Academy. We are here united by a shared passion for speed, engineering, and the excitement of Formula One racing. 

Our college stands as a unique institution dedicated to preparing the next generation of brilliant minds and innovative professionals in the motorsport industry.

This academic year holds incredible opportunities for growth, learning, and discovery, and I encourage each and every one of you to embrace the challenges, cultivate your skills, and push the boundaries of knowledge in this exhilarating field. 

Let us fuel our enthusiasm, collaborate synergistically, and pave the way to new frontiers of excellence together. I extend a warm welcome to all and look forward to an extraordinary year ahead. 

Thank you."

A lazy round of applause comes from the crowd, but minutes before, in the middle of the speech, Leandra went by your side. —Do you want to know all the tea about Toto? —noticing how your eyes wander to him once more. 

He is up on the stage with all the principals from the different faculties. It's nothing new, but you are experiencing it for the first time.

—Well —you hesitate. —Yes.

—He has remained single for a while now, more like fucking around, actually. Toto has a type: blond bombshells, the supermodel type, you know, with insane bodies. I'm friends with two of his conquests, and one told me he fucks like a bull. He likes it hard and rough, and the other let me know he has a delicious fat cock but that he hits it and quicks it; he left her waiting for more.

You blush at her words, which she instantly notices. Before continuing: —Last I witnessed with my own gorgeous eyes, Toto was hooking up with Rihanna at that fancy Ferrari's anniversary party; she was all over him; it was a great party, we all got smashed! I ended up riding Dani on the back of his car, oops. 

You hit playfully Leandra in the ribs with your elbow while looking at Riccardio dancing meters away. —Daniel is hot!

—And a moron, ah, right! Toto went through a very public divorce about a year ago; it was the talk of the town. The Wolff's splitting, OH! The elites went wild! His ex-wife is a counselor here, so you will see her around; they have a weird relationship. I think they still fuck.

Okay, this is a lot of information, but one thing is sure: you are different from his type. 

—By the way, he's a very demanding professor and one of the very best. His subjects are challenging to get accepted into, so think twice before choosing him. Many girls try to add his class to their schedules to get closer to him, but it never ends well. He is a dream crusher. Do you want me to introduce you to him? I am one of his favorite students.

—Oh, no, no —you get all nervous. Leandra laughs at your answer and how you get full panic within seconds.

—So you are the type who only likes to stare? —she mocks you. You softly push her, joking.

Oh, yes, and he looks so fine. That suit is tight in all the right places.

-

The party gets better and wilder as the night progresses, and the alcohol takes a toll on your systems. 

People are dancing to Lando's DJ's seductive set and hooking up everywhere; the lights are dim, and neon lasers pulsate to the beats. 

Bodies move in sync with the rhythm as you gather on the dance floor. Max offers the mushrooms around, and a "Fuck it! I deserve to feel alive!" feeling overpowers you, and you join them as they cheer you in, feeling now more like part of the pack!

Amidst the blur of Carlos' dancing body, your partner for the night, you start to feel everything on your skin: the energy, passion, and thrill. You needed this tempting display of youthful freedom and uninhibited release; you were begging for your inhibitions to fade temporarily.

You can't wait for the course to start and for this new chapter in your life to begin. Please don't let it just be a dream!

Thank you for reading; see you in the next chapter! Let me know if you like this storyline; it is a work in progress!

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #mercedes fanfic #formula 1 fic #toto wolff imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #formula 1 au #formula 1 college au #formula 1 school au #sewis fic #f1 au #my fic writing #carlos x reader #carlos sainz x reader #toto wollf x oc #toto wolff x occ #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #mercbros

[wonderfulwonderrful]

M Y T O T O W O L F F M A S T E R L I S T

Season of Love (5/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you told Toto, "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That was the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong. Genre: Romance, comedy, and some good drama. Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and love. You own the Williams team, but no one knows who you truly are. Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

Grand Prix Elite Academy (3/10)

+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 Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

I'll Be Home for Christmas

+18 | Toto x reader

Summary: Toto asked you in between ravenous kisses if you truly wanted him, even with his busy schedule, fast-paced life, countless nights miles away, and his dominant trait, the one you love to be submissive to, by saying yes you didn't expect it to be this hard! This particular season felt eternal, and you only desire to have him back, wrapped as the world's most alluring Christmas gift on your bed if possible. Genre: Romance and smut. Author's note: This is a one-shot mild BDSM dom!Toto x sub!reader set during Christmas break. It's full of sexytimes ;) Enjoy!

Sparks Fly +18 | daddykink!Toto x reader

Summary: Toto is ready to leave shitty 2023 behind and start the new year the best way possible, and you don't want to spend another New Year's Eve all alone. It's like destiny, and the universe conspired to bring you together. Genre: Smut. Author's note: This is a one-shot daddykink!Toto x reader set during New Year's Eve. I hope your 2024 is full of abundance, health, and great things for all of you!

The Lonely Hearts Party

Fluff | Toto x reader fem!merc!employee

Summary: You have been receiving the most gorgeous flowers at your desk every Wednesday morning for weeks now as a mysterious admirer seems to be in love with you. The entire factory, your besties at work, and you all wonder who he is. Could it be the one you truly wish for? Genre: Fluff and romance. Author's note: This is a Toto x Reader fanfic set at the Brackley Headquarters on Valentine's Day. Happy Valentine's Day to all of you! Send you lots of love.

F O L L O W M E F O R M O R E C O N T E N T!

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #mercedes fanfic #formula 1 fic #toto wolff imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #toto wolff smut #f1 x reader #toto wolff fic rec #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #torger Wolff #Merc fic #mercedes amg petronas #mercedes fanfics #toto wolff blurb #f1 blurb