#professor!sainz

[thisismeracing]

Literature lovers | CS55 (patreon exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: Professor!Sainz x TA!reader (she/her) ― Warning: implied age gap (reader is in her mid-twenties, Carlos in his mid-thirties); mentions of food and alcohol; graphic description of sex (p in v, oral –fem receiving, dirty talk); Use of Cassio Sanchez instead of Carlos Sainz for known reasons. (5.1k words) ― Summary: One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”, deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you. Of course, it was dangerous grounds, but things clicked, and as he said so himself, destiny guided you together.

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Growing up, you always heard about how you had to be the best, had to run twice as fast as others, train more, and still hear how lucky you were. It was something that tired you once college came around. Yet,  it was almost like second nature to you, doing things as close to perfection as possible. That’s how you ended up getting into your master's right after graduating, that’s how you turned out being a teacher’s assistant to one of the most famous professors on campus, and coming to think about it, you guess that’s how he ended up recommending you to everyone.

That’s the reason he recommended you to Carlos Sainz, the Spanish Literature professor.

Your professor, English literature specialist, George Russell, was a posh Englishman who would occasionally forget some of his materials and schedules, always having a book on his nose and talking about it. You and he hit it off quickly. You were his favorite student, and when you became his assistant, he was even happier because you were just so organized, and punctual.

When George told you he was “lending” your teacher’s assistant’s services to another professor, because he was off, and his colleague had a few conferences that month, besides taking over his classes, you accepted. George knew you loved Spanish language literature, and he knew you and Carlos would work well together. At least that’s what he told you before sending you Carlos' work e-mail and handing you a copy of the uncensored version of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a book you had been trying to get for months but hadn’t been able to find that particular edition.

While setting some of your things for the first day with Carlos, you stared at his e-mail for the hundredth time. You didn’t know him. Your Spanish Literature classes were all completed during an exchange in Colombia, and the University was big enough for you not to know every professor by name or face.

Still, you took a deep breath and wrote an e-mail to Professor Sainz about some of your ideas for the upcoming semester, well aware that you had accepted the role and you would make it work. You liked to think that you could have denied George's request and could have told him about a personal project you’ve been working on, but you said yes.

One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”. Deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you.

***

He keeps his eyes on your face, and you smile after swallowing a bite and finally opening yours.

“I take it, you liked the dish?” His amused, yet provocative tone made you shiver the slightest.

“It’s perfect, Carlos. Now I’m feeling bad I bought a cake from a bakery, instead of making our dessert myself,” you complained, taking another bite. Carlos caught the joke in your tone and smirked, eyes finally wandering down your body, or what the table lets his big brown orbs see.

The V-neck dress was not scandalous per se, it has sleeves that go to your wrists, and it’s not form-fitting, but rather loose around your body. It showed the right amount of skin. And Carlos couldn’t have loved your choice more.

His eyes found yours after a few seconds, it’s almost like he’s making sure you’re comfortable with his gaze, and the way you lean slightly on the table giving him the perfect view is answer enough.

“Don’t worry about dessert, you know we have it covered.”

“Do we?” You add to the tension, and Carlos chuckles.

“Oh, we sure do,” he nods, taking a sip of his wine. “In fact, how do you feel about skipping the whole meal and going straight to dessert?”

“It sure sounds tempting.”

“Do you want it?”

He was still sitting and hadn’t made any move indicating he was about to go your way. You knew this game you were playing and knew that the way he was throwing the questions your way was Carlos studying you, making sure you were comfortable with the outcome. He wanted you to be comfortable. He always wants it, and you can tell from the small details.

No pressure.

Never pressure.

He wanted you to want him.

And oh, how you do!

“I want it.”

He smirked. You heard the scrape of the chair against the wooden floor and watched as he walked barefoot to you. The first few buttons of his white button-up were undone showing you his tan skin where a few dark strands of hair peek out on what you can tell was a remarkably toned body.

Carlos pushed your chair back, turning it to him. He parted your thighs the best he could with your dress and kneeled between your legs. From this angle, he looked even hotter.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this sneak peek! This piece has been on Patreon since last month, but I forgot to add the sneak peek here hihi <3 I wanted to write for Professor!Sainz for a while now, and finally found the inspo to finish this piece, and the time to finish editing the last details. A huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon) and Dee (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading this, and to K (@dancininseptember) for suggesting the TA!reader when I posted about writing this (Ily, guys!).

If you liked this sneak peek and want access to the exclusive content, subscribe to my patreon!💘

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©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[leclercskiesahead]

Cuuuuute

[alexturntable]

ScuderiaFerrari “Pitstop. Tyres!” 😅​ C² explaining how wheel guns work as simply as they can 🍿

[iimplicitt]

HELLGIRL PT.1 | CL16

pairing: prof. charles leclerc x sainz’s younger sister/student

summary: when a body is found in the snow on campus there’s a ripple of unease that floats over the university of london. dr leclerc always considered himself a rational man. however, that all came crumbling down when someone he believed to be dead showed up in his office doorway.

warnings/topics: slight age gap but both are of age, secret relationship, eventual smut, mentions of death, depictions of violence, stalking, obsession, potentially paranormal, religious allusions, controversial prof!xstudent! relationship, mentions of certain mental conditions such as borderline personality disorder, narcissism, antisocial, etc.

songs for this series

a/n: first, anything from charles’ pov is based in the present. anything in sister! sainz’s pov is in the past. second, this in no way shape or form is based off reality or charles’ personality. this is an au with darker themes and it’s all for the plot. i already had a similar idea going but i recently had to write a paper on the association between stalking and a diagnosis of BDP and/or narcissistic traits or disorders (this does not mean they’re correlated), so i was feeling motivated. this is also not meant to romanticize anything, i purely find it interesting and challenging to write. i also feel it goes without saying that this sibling of carlos is completely fictional

enjoy <3

Charles

When they found her body in the early hours of that morning, a heavy sense of trepidation fell over the campus. Making the snow and wind seem just a bit more bitter than usual, nipping at any exposed skin as if microscopic needles were shooting through the air. It was still so early, the police tape freshly put up, taught against the winter weather and the snow was multicoloured as it soaked up the Christmas lights strung up around the university. The crowd was small at the moment, those who got to campus far too early were the only ones standing by the perimeter set by the police.

“What’ve they found?” Dr. Adlterton asked as her boots came to a stop next to his as they crunched through the fresh snow, steam billowing out from the lid of her to-go coffee cup as she raised it to her lips.

Charles looked down at her briefly, brows furrowing a bit before forcing his eyes forward again as the police began setting up a tent over a spot in the snow. “A body, I believe.”

His colleague’s hand froze just as she was about to take a sip, blinking rapidly before trying to crane her neck higher to get a better look, but the police were making quick work on privatising the crime scene. He bit the inside of his cheek as he observed her, finding her curiosity a bit macabre but he understood. Everyone standing out in the snow at that moment was curious. Clearly a tragedy had happened, but the mystery around who exactly tended to cloud any sympathy for the poor thing lying in the snow.

“Do they have any idea who it is? What might’ve happened? Who found the body?” The questions tumbled out of Dr. Alderton’s mouth, her coffee returning to her lips as she finally took a sip and he watched as her red lipstick stained the lid.

Charles sighed, running a gloved hand through his now damp hair as snow began to soak into it. “I don’t know, but you don’t seem very concerned. What if it was a student or a faculty member?” She rolled her eyes at him and he bit the inside of his cheek again as he looked down at her. He wasn’t overly fond of the woman. If she wasn’t able to dissect something she didn’t tend to be a fan of it. Much less spend any time in its company.

“Dr. Leclerc, of course I’m concerned. But what do you expect from me? I run the crime science department. This is an excellent learning opportunity–”

“Someone’s demise is a learning opportunity?”

She waved him off. “All of you in the arts are so touchy. It’s part of my job to compartamentalise.” She raised up on her toes one more time in an effort to get a look but it was no use. The tent was up and closed, police filtering in and out as more arrived along with investigators and the forensics division. She sighed and took another drink of her coffee. “I’m sure there will be an email about this. See you around.” She patted him on the shoulder before walking off.

Charles frowned at the spot she had touched him, feeling even colder than before despite the sun finally rearing its head and peeking out through the dense clouds. He shivered, the cold feeling different all of the sudden, almost as if someone was hovering over him and casting him in a shadow of frost.

He shook his head but his bones felt stiff regardless. Giving the area one last look himself, he turned on his heel and left as more people arrived, mostly students at that point.

His polished leather shoes clicked along the pavement as he walked with expertise on avoiding ice, nodding and smiling at those who greeted him. Most of the student body he was sure had no idea what was taking place in front of the Royal Holloway building. He was sure it would be leaking into the press any minute, however.

Charles tried to go on with his day as normal, death was a common event that happened every minute around the world. However, the fact it was simply so close was off putting. Bodies weren’t found on university campuses, at least not often. Especially not here.

He had gotten done with his third lecture for the day and was walking back to his office when he noticed people were beginning to look at him a bit different. Faces looking forlorn and unsure how to approach him. The complete opposite of how people typically acted towards him. Usually he was a magnet for socialisation. People lit up when they saw him because Charles was someone who always knew how to make good conversation. He knew how to make people feel important. He knew exactly what to do to make someone feel needed, and that was one of the most important things in the world. People needed purpose, and he was perfect at giving them one.

When the fifth person looked at him in that off putting way, courage must have gripped them because they came to a stop and whispered, “I am so sorry.”

“Pardon?” He blinked at the boy who was in one of his French Literature classes. Surprised to see him given they didn't have their next class for two more days. Only a few of his students actually liked to linger or catch up with him on course work. Although he was well liked, he wasn’t exactly easy on the workload he handed out.

The boy rubbed at his neck, not meeting Charles' eyes. “You don’t know?”

Charles lifted one shoulder in a partial shrug but his brows creased as he took in how nervous his student seemed to be. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s her.” He finally blurted. “The body they found, it was that Sainz girl.” The boy’s voice shook as he finally got the words out and Charles froze. Something cold and sickly crawled up his spine and was weaving through his vertebrae, making his nerves itch and he rolled his shoulders. Trying to make his skeleton feel right inside of his body but everything was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

“What?” Was all he managed to get out, his voice cracking and his tongue feeling too heavy for his mouth.

He stood still as the boy stepped forward and gave him a hug. In any other scenario it would’ve been awkward, but Charles felt reality disconnect for a moment. Not sure what else was said to him as he continued to stand in the hallway long after he was left alone.

Regret was an odd, painfully human thing. Sure, animals may have the sense of knowing better. Learned aversion after facing certain consequences. But the rotten feeling in his chest as he felt his lungs start to move again was purely human and simply awful. He pinched the bridge of his nose and he tightly shut his eyes, willing the pit in his stomach to go away.

God, what was he supposed to say to Carlos? He was sure he would be getting a call at some point. Or should he call first? Perhaps the former was better, letting his best friend come to him when he was ready.

Mourning had no timeline, he knew that. And everyone handled it in different ways, he just hoped whatever creature comfort he could muster up would be sufficient enough to abate any storms of curiosity. He didn’t have to feign any heartache, though.

She was everything to him.

That’s funny.

Charles’ head whipped around as chills ravished his skin, the reaction so sudden it nearly hurt as his flesh prickled up at the sound of the voice. Her voice. He blinked rapidly down the hallway but it was empty and well lit, nothing was lurking in the shadows. Not that there would be. That would be ridiculous.

Trying to shake some sense into him, he turned around but stopped short at the figure leaning against the doorway of his office. All too familiar, yet foreign. His breath was ripped out of him along with his ability to speak as he stared at her in horror. His eyes couldn’t adjust as she wavered. Steady but not quite right all that once.

She smiled slightly, those lips of hers pulled back in the coy smile he had adored so much. Her eyes though, they were off. Empty almost, yet equally heavy with a weight of something more. His own eyes flicked down, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Taking in her torn tights and her askew sweater hanging lazily over one shoulder. The pretty red one he had bought her for Christmas last year. Charles’ gaze danced over her necklace and landed on her slender neck that was coloured a faint, translucent vision of blues and purples.

He couldn’t quite remember if he had put them there in lust or in violence.

Is there really a difference?

Her voice swirled around in his head as they left her mouth and echoed, his ears began to ring as he stumbled away from her and slid to the floor. “How-” he finally managed to choke out, staring up at her and frightened he was having some sort of psychotic break.

She sighed, though no air was disturbed and she leaned down to meet his eyes, her dark hair falling over her shoulders and just barely brushing against his skin. Not quite touching but he could feel it. Feel her. She was so cold. Her eyes danced between his, her lips tugged downward and brows furrowed. Even now he was completely taken by her, looking as if she was personally crafted by God just for him to admire.

What have you done? She finally asked him, her voice soft yet chilling as her words sunk through his skin, making his bones shiver in a damp chill again like they had earlier this morning. Had that been her?

Before he could even fathom some sort of response a door opened down the hallway and she looked up towards the direction of the sound. Not a moment later she was gone. As if a screen glitched and she fizzled out. Charles could still sense something, though. As if something was now tethered to him. Feeling heavy on his lungs and he was freezing.

Ghosts weren’t real.

They couldn’t be.

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy (if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!)

[ildiavoloro55o]

Just realised if Carlos goes to Williams, he’d be following Alain Prost’s career path (minus the wdcs).

Alain also went from Renault to Mclaren to Ferrari to Williams.

[amethvysts]

ACABOU DE CHEGAR EM MEUS OUVIDOS que o carlos sainz alem de ser formado em historia da arte, também pode atuar como professor se quiser e algo no meu cérebro se alterou permanentemente após essa info…

pq SIM ele tem cara de ser Aquele professor que toda garota tem que faz você AMAR a matéria, mas no fundo você sabe que é só pq você acha o professor bonito e não pq vc gosta de estudar sobre napoleão bonaparte 😭 e hear me out!! durante a pandemia, com certeza ele deixava os cachorros passarem na frente da câmera durante as aulas e era um anjo com todos os alunos. mas escaralha todo mundo na hora da prova sempre colocando questões com “justifique sua resposta” no final.

also!!! não quero ser a aluna do professor sainz, mas sim a colega de trabalho que tem um pé atrás com ele pq COMO alguém pode ser tão bem quisto dentro do ambiente de trabalho (principalmente pelo 3b que é APAIXONADO por ele e pediu pra que o carlos fosse o paraninfo da turma na formatura). E NÃO SÓ ISSO!! mas você não suporta ele, e aparentemente ele fala muito bem de você pra todo mundo?? tipo assim, irmão, se manca!! e uma vez quando você tava saindo de sala e ele entrando, você escutou um dos alunos reclamar que sua matéria é muito chata, e o carlos só responde um, “ah, gente, tenham paciência com ela. a professora é nova, e nem é tão ruim quanto vocês acham…”

todos os alunos pensam que vcs têm um caso no off, e se não têm, passam a torcer pra que vcs tenham 😭 principalmente pq veem que o professor carlos é caidinho por você

[drspleenmeister]

Knowing that it’s photoshopped doesn’t make it any less dangerous…

[artemispt]

The title of the video was: “Carlos hard at work” 👀

[sisididis]

Inspired by @maximumfonzarelli's adorable drawing of Carlos and Charles.

[bonbonly]

i keep writing collegeau!f1 drivers, and honestly that has me thinking: (carlos, charles, max, lewis, daniel, lando and oscar! and this is sfw surprisingly lmfao)

→ carlos sainz is always out playing sports with his friends, but after a quick shower he will meet up with you in the library to study. he genuinely is really good about locking in, even if it's only for a few minutes and he manages to soak up all the information pretty fast. he's always willing to help you out, even if chooses to endlessly tease you if you get something wrong. he'll point out your mistakes, giving you more practice problems or drawing something on a board to visualize it for you. and while you do appreciate his help, it's hard to focus on the board when his hair shines like that under the light. you mutter some curses under your breath and get back to studying unaware that he secretly enjoys it when you get frustrated at him.

→ charles leclerc is awfully quiet at first and only shows up to piano rehearsals if you're there. he's very shy at first about his talent, but slowly opens up and let's you accompany him to classes and even recitals! he likes to laugh to himself if he messes up some notes, and loves when you'll lean forward to correct his fingers on the piano, his face just inches from yours. he just wishes you'd finally turn around to meet his expecting gaze, lips aching to be on yours. he plans on kissing you after his first major recital.

→ max verstappen and you both game regularly on the basis. whether it's in the computer lab, or at each others' dorms. he sometimes wishes you didn't just come to his dorm to hop on a game, but he appreciates every second he gets to spend time with you. when it comes to studying, both of you start off trying to lock in but it quickly turns into the both of you talking about how awful your professors are, or some funny story that happened to his friends. he likes to see you laugh, because it's when you really are yourself.

→ lewis hamilton likes to tag along with you when you're at karaoke events with your friends. he insists he can't sing, choosing to shy away from the spotlight. but after a couple drinks, and the way your hand wraps around his arm, tugging him to your warm body, he eventually gives in. the two of you spend most of the night screaming lyrics at each other and giggling hysterically when either of you mess up a line or two while singing. lewis swears he would love to live the rest of his like this with you.

→ daniel ricciardo ends up in your cooking class that you took solely because you needed a free elective. most of the class however is spent with dealing with his antics. he's tossing the flour at you, cracking the most awful jokes while cracking eggs (don't even ask) and all you can do is sit there and groan out loud. however, after a few classes, you realize that the class genuinely was boring and daniel was the only good thing about it. you'd sometimes grab his finished dishes and munch on it, which only causes him to lunge at you and now the both of you are on the ground laughing trying to explain to your professor why your casserole is now on the ground.

→ lando norris unfortunately decided to work at the university's daycare since all his money was going down at the clubs, and you show up to help him because you knew he was going to get overwhelmed. he was currently tackling a 3 year old who refused to let go of his curls, and you laugh out loud before running over to help him. when you manage to calm down the toddler and sing a few lullabies, lando's gaze softens and he can't help but secretly dream of having kids with you after you both graduate, having a small lovely family.

→ oscar piastri sits in the front of the class besides you. it's a hobby for the both of you to listen to the answers your peers give you, and turn around to give the nastiest side-eye ever. outside of class, the two of you laugh about what some of the responses were and you sometimes ask him if he ever judges you like that. he shakes his head, and says no. deep down, he wants to tell you that he thinks the world of you, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. what if you end up judging him instead?

[thisismeracing]

"is not that awkward and shy behind closed doors" MA'AM IMMA NEED TO KNOW MORE ONTO THAT🫣🫣

in the meantime I'm going through a migraine now a kiss from him or mick would heal me pretty well

-🌻

hihihi that's just the energy of the pic!! but here's a small headcanon hehe

+18 (suggestive content)! minors DNI!

professor!sainz who wears glasses and s wool pullover sweater, and always has his brown leather messenger bag.

professor!sainz who has the most delicious accent ever and always uses words in Spanish whenever he gets too deep into the topic.

professor!sainz who pays great attention to every little detail, especially when it's about you.

professor!sainz who cooks for you the first time you go over to his place. he's wearing his classic black dress pants, but there are no wool sweaters around, and his button-down is pushed up to his elbows. his veiny and strong elbows.

professor!sainz who's actually a good flirt. or at least good at throwing double-meaning sentences your way.

professor!sainz who wasn't even a little bit shy about taking off his shirt, or pressing your body to his, or talking dirty to your ear while fingering you. yeah, he wined and dinned you real good.

ps. Hope you feel better soon, sunny!!! 💛 make sure to take your meds and lots of water *mwah*

[leclercskiesahead]

HE’S JUST HOLDING A WATER BOTTLE HOW IS HE SO HANDSOME

[totothewolff]

Grand Prix Elite Academy (5/10) [NEW CHAPTER]

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto(professor) x reader(student, future F1 driver)][👨‍❤️‍👨Lewis x Seb][💘Romance][🥵Smut][🎀Age-gap][❤️‍🔥Wild parties][🏫College AU][🌈Queer/Fem Seb][✍️WIP][⏳Long read]

Summary: Your life turns 180 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 faculties, and try to win this year's Elite Cup to beat an undefeated Mercedes, all while befriending your eclectic classmates, join the wild 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? Race to Greatness! Author's note: This is a Formula One college AU fic 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 called WomenOne and have lots to catch on to after years of putting your racing dreams on hold. Becoming the outcast new girl is always challenging, especially when all of you live on one campus.

After Bonfire Night ended, Carlos invited Charles, Lea, and you to stay at the Sainz's beach house for what was left of the weekend. It was next door to where the party took place.

Their house was a masterpiece of concrete and glass, a stark contrast to the gentle curves of the beach below, it had so many terraces that overlooked the endless sea, and every room you stepped into - in complete awe, glancing all around, eyes wide - was designed with minimalism at heart, the focus on the sweeping vistas rather than ostentatious decor. And it was S-T-U-N-N-I-N-G!

You had never seen something like it before. This was another one of your, embarrassingly frequent, "jaw-dropping experiences", and your friends started teasing you about it as soon as they noticed it too, those fuckers!

But to be real, your entire house fits inside their living room.

This unexpected escapade at the Sainz’s suited you perfectly since Toto sailed back to Monaco in the Stroll's yacht, like most of their guests, and you were left unable to spend more time with him or even talk about what happened between you two.

Well, at least he said goodbye to you with that deliciously long and passionate kiss.

All of this still feels like a fever dream, like you were supposed to wake up soon. How has this world become your life now?

Yacht parties, running errands on Ferraris, weekends at beach mansions? WHAT?!

-

The following afternoon the sun shimmers on the crystal-clear water, casting rippling reflections on the poolside tiles.

Laughs come and go as you chill with your friends at the Sainz's massive pool, you start to notice the tan lines forming on your sun-kissed warm skin, your legs lazily dangling in the cool water while wearing a relaxed smile, even though your mind is elsewhere, stuck on the night at the beach with Toto, a secret too fresh to share.

Carlos approaches you, his easy grin as disarming as ever. He offers you a glass of something cold and fizzy. "You look like you need this," he says.

You accept it with a polite nod, and he sits close to you, too close, his shoulder brushing yours, his fingers almost touching yours.

"So, what’s keeping you so distracted today, eh?" His dark eyes set on you.

Instead of answering, you just slide off the edge of the pool in one smooth motion, sinking into the fresh water and splashing Carlos.

He chuckles, watching you from above.

"Maybe I just needed to cool off," you answer, without lying as your mind kept replaying those intimate moments with Toto.

-

On Sunday, you arrive back to your dorm, late at night.

Thank god for Oscar! He was kind enough to pick you up from the port on his way back to campus, after spending his weekend with his sisters.

Oscar was getting down the jet when he read your texts in the group chat asking for the campus pin location.

Charles had to leave you in a rush, to once again visit his grandpa after another health scare. Lea offered to take him to the IC unit at the Hospital Saints Pères as soon as you docked in Monaco, knowing the city like the back of her hands, leaving you on your own.

This situation with Charles' grandpa was the reason why he arrived late at the beginning of the school year and why he sometimes missed classes.

You had no idea about it, till it got discussed in front of you, as Charles was on a call with his mom, and now you were left feeling anxious for him, Charles seemed so close to his grandpa, but he promised to keep you updated on the situation whenever possible.

-

As you are about to reach your dorm - down the now desert and quiet luxurious hallway - you notice a massive card box sitting next to the door. It is addressed to you, to your complete surprise.

Thank you, Naya, for not dragging it inside! How sweet of you!

Fuck! This shit is heavy!

And so you have to push it all the way to your room.

It seems Naya is already asleep, all the lights inside are off once you close the door behind you, and you fight your urge to bump the box against something to make things fall off, just to wake her up with the noise.

But you aren't that of a bitch. I mean, you should... after what she pulled on you, but you believe in karma, so you let it be... for the moment.

Of course, she had been sleeping for hours; even 9 p.m. is "late" for her. And of course, she missed all the fun at the Bonfire Party. You guys were everywhere, and not once did you spot her. At this point, you start wondering if she was even invited.

Brain, set a reminder to gossip about this with Seb.

Monday is a hell of a day for all students, and Naya obviously can't fail at being the perfect one. She's the blueprint of all high achievers, the perfect scholar, the bookworm, the always-on-time, the "knows it all".

You have seen Naya talk briefly here and there with other students, ones who get all excited when she addresses them, nervous or in awe under her stare, always with her good manners showing but it never goes more than a brief exchange, usually for something she needs or is required to do, she seems to only willingly spend her time around Nico and... Toto.

Jealousy strikes you as you recall the rumors about them and how close they truly seem. She is always close when he is around.

Brain, add another reminder to gossip about this with Seb.

-

The next morning a delicious smell sneaks from the kitchenette as you finish brushing your hair in front of your vanity's mirror, inside your bedroom, your stomach roaring as a response to it makes you dare to pop your head out of the door to see what was going on, not minding not being presentable yet.

You needed fuel, desperately.

And it looks like Naya cooked breakfast for two as a peace offering, maybe. The round table near the kitchenette's island is set beautifully, is impossible to deny she has good taste and lots of skills.

The fact that Naya is too perfect makes you a bit bitter, but those are your own insecurities. You fully get why all people, especially men... and why Toto... would find her extremely appealing.

"Morning," she greets you, looking already flawless, dropping a pancake on a plate, hair shiny and perfect, uniform pristine, face card on point.

"Hi," you reply, in baggy clothes you sport as pajamas, face fresh from the shower, not wearing the cleanest sleepers. You feel her intense gaze eyeing you down, disappointment creeping in the corner of her lip, subtle yet clear.

-

The first part of your breakfast goes in silence, just a few nods at "Could you please pass me this and that?" It's borderline awkward, till she dares to break ice.

"He asked me to give you this," Naya's hand goes inside her cute black cardigan's pocket. She hands you a business card with Toto's phone numbers, business and personal. She looks incredibly uncomfortable doing it.

"Toto seemed... extra happy this weekend..." Naya starts going.

You tense immediately. Oh, here we go.

"With me, because I fetched Mercedes 'Goodyear' backing for this year's Elite Cup. Are you ready to hit the track? I heard you were doing fantastic in the simulator," she lowers her gigantic cup of tea.

Pheww. That was close.

"I'm excited but I don't feel 100% ready yet. It's been tough, you know! Getting back in shape, working the extra mile, I was so rusted," that last part comes out a bit overdramatic, your shoulders go up as you confess.

You don't appreciate the amount of vigorous nods Naya gives you, agreeing.

"Good for you, this time we'll have two extra Free Practice sessions than usual before Quali starts, and now that you know which faculty's car you will be driving, it'll be easier for you to picture how things could go," she points with her thumb toward your room door, showing curiosity.

WHAT?

You look at her with a blank expression, slowly bathing your eyelashes, sitting additionally straight.

"The box?!" Naya heightens and gives you a 'duh' expression.

You still don't get it.

"You only get deliver one of those massive boxes when you were accepted into a faculty," she explains. Now she is the one who looks confused, how is it that you aren't aware of it?

"Oh, shit! I was so tired yesterday that I went straight to bed. I haven't opened it yet" you reply, eyes on your bedroom door now.

You feel your feet beneath the table moving, eager with excitement, ready to run back inside there, but at the same time you are as perplexed as Naya at the moment.

You didn't receive any email or DM on the GPEA app informing you of this. From which faculty it was? You were dying to find out.

-

It turns out to be a Williams' "Welcome to our class" package.

This has to be a joke, this must be a mistake!

You didn't even apply for a place at Williams, aware of the rumors, and from the start knowing you wouldn't be able to get in, they were totally out of your league, of almost everyone's leagues, to be fair.

Could this be Nico and Naya pranking you?

But as you start to pull out items, they seem legit and all clothes have your name beautifully embroidered on the inside labels. Everything is custom-made and tailored to you, now it makes sense why Student Affairs asked for your measurements when you enrolled.

After trying out another beautiful blazer you move to pick up from the box the stunning letter envelope that was beneath, feeling with your fingers the rich texture and quality of the paper before breaking the regal-looking Williams' blue wax seal on it and reading the exquisite lettering inside.

It is with my utmost pleasure and profound respect that I extend you a warm and gracious welcome to our distinguished faculty.

We hope for your presence to enrich our academic achievements and we expect you to embody our time-honored traditions and practices, the ones that constitute the very ethos of the Williams legacy.

Our commitment to nurturing intellectual curiosity and practical prowess inspires our alumni to reach their fullest potential, and it is our privilege to support you in this ambitious endeavor.

With warmest regards,

Claire Williams.

Dean of the Williams Faculty.

Along with the handwritten letter comes a coffee table book, which looks damn expensive and is HEAVY! It's about the history of the faculty, on the pictures inside are just too many legendary faces of the F1 world to point out.

Damn, the last names on that alumni list are insane!

The blue branded folder that comes with it is full of papers you need to fill out and sign, and attached is a trifold explaining to you in steps, all you are required to accomplish on your first day at Williams.

You are instructed to be at their common rooms in about two hours, which sets you in a rush, also it informs you that your driver's suit and helmet are waiting for you at their front desk.

You better move.

-

Naya has already left by the time you come out of your room wearing your new skin, ready and eager to walk the hallways as a Williams student.

-

"Is that… real?" you hear someone whisper as you pass by them.

"No way. She must’ve bought it for clout," another one says, voice tinged with jealousy.

A guy leaning against a locker stares in slack-jawed awe. "Williams? Her? No way…"

Walking past the Starbucks on campus, you notice a girl clutching her drink tightly, glaring at you with barely concealed disgust. "Wasn't she here on a scholarship? This can't be," she hisses to her friend, who nods.

You feel more gazes on your every step, some admiring, some envious, others sharp with denial or happy for you, a couple even cheering you up, rooting for the underdog, some already predicting you would be the dark horse of this season.

As you reach the main building's outdoor stairs, you feel Nico's eyes burning on you as he is sitting there with some handsome male friends.

-

"Congratulations, Madam Williams!" Charles greets you with a funny bow, you cross paths in the hallways of the main building.

"Congrats, bae!" Lea comes to hug you. She was a few steps behind, they were coming from Ferarri's hospitality.

Ferrari's majestic common rooms are one of the oldest and first ones built in the GPEA, as the years went by, they got eaten by the overgrown campus and now ended up located in the weirdest spot, inside the main building. It is usual to see lots of red coming, and going in those corridors.

Monday for them meant faculty meetings, and Mattia didn't allow anybody to be late so they arrived hours before you.

"It's extremely difficult getting in the Williams cult, I mean faculty, it's so hermetic. Any chance you have a link with the Williams family?" she looks honestly surprised and even a bit worried, which makes you feel uneasy.

An unintentional baff comes out of your mouth, "Me knowing THE Williams? Girl, bye. Maybe it's due to Claire being in charge? I have no idea, you are the knowable of the two, you tell me, maybe it's a girl's girl type of situation, or maybe because of my WomenOne scholarship she gave me a shot?"

"Sounds so unlikely," Charles agrees.

"To be accepted or invited there, is usually the second, either you have to be close to their family, aka old money rich, bonus points if you grew up among the Monaco or British elites, or be part of the Formula One royalty, like Mick who's a Schumacher, basically" Lea explains.

"Not always, they rejected Naya, and she's a Lauda!" Charles corrects Lea. "Also, a stellar reference could open those doors for you, look at Mansell, that's how she got in" he adds.

"You know that was because of Frank and Niki not letting things go," Lea addresses him, rolling her eyes at Charles and giving you a "this guy!" face. "Any chance Alain Prost wrote you a recommendation letter as he did with Mansell?" she asks you.

You shake your head while putting a pouty mouth. "I just pray it's not Nico pulling me a joke."

"Please don't say that name, he could Beetlejuice here! God forbids!" Charles makes you burst into laughs.

-

You make it to the doors that lead to the common rooms or "hospitality" - as the kids say - of the Williams faculty, which turn out to be more than mere gathering spaces for the small and select group you now form part of.

Under your total stupefaction, this place looks like a set of a life soaked in privilege and tradition, every detail screaming wealth and legacy.

The moment you cross those large cedar entrance doors, the air changes. It’s quieter inside, the high vaulted ceilings humble you with their gorgeous skylights, ones surrounded by intricate moldings gilded with real gold leaf, letting in the natural light and the rays of sun reflecting on the spotless chequered marble floors.

Despite all this splendor, the first thing you notice as you set foot into the foyer - the one that leads you to the grand stairs that go downward to the study room - is THE helmet.

Encased and lit like a museum relic, Ayrton Senna’s iconic yellow helmet sits inside a glass case, radiating a quiet, untouchable power.

Your breath hitches as you get closer, your reflection wavering in the glass. It's the room's centerpiece, a clear "welcome to our iconic faculty".

You knew that helmet by memory down to the detail as the F1 nerd you were raised to be, its vibrant colors, the bold stripes of green and blue, the emblem of a legend.

But seeing it there, in person, was something else entirely. It felt like stepping into a shrine, and the sunflowers students leave around it as offerings to pass a test or to get a pole position make it feel more so.

The plaque beneath reads, "Ayrton Senna: Champion, Visionary, Alumnus," followed by the years he spent at Williams and the generation he graduated from.

Your throat tightens. It is absurd to think that someone like him had walked these very same halls, and sat in these same rooms. He was a mere "mortal", like you are, trying to navigate life among these aristocrats too, and yet, here was proof that he had once been just a rookie too.

You wonder if he had ever felt so out of place at first, as you do now, or if confidence had always been his companion.

You hear footsteps behind you and stiffen, suddenly self-conscious. A couple strolls past you, their laughter low and effortless, their glances sliding over as if you were part of the decor.

You follow the sound of the students' voices down those regal stairs, landing in the study room, where people lounged with effortless grace on the leather armchairs and Persian rugs, under that breathtaking chandelier.

You had seen places like this in movies or glossy magazine spreads, but not in the flesh, and certainly not as a space you were meant to inhabit.

You swallow hard, nervous to face all these new people, fixing your hair as a natural reaction, feeling the faint scent of drugstore shampoo clinging to you.

The group of three sitting by the fireplace completely ignore you as they are immersed in their laptop screens, close is a girl with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and a last name that also echoes through the history records, she is sitting by her own and absentmindedly tapping a Montblanc pen against her lip as she writes notes on her textbook. You know who she is, everyone does, she is one of the most popular persons on campus, Pavla Stewart.

Across the room from her, is another student whose nose is almost touching the iPad he is holding which hides his face, you are only able to glimpse the massive headphones he has on.

Interspersed between some floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are gilded frames containing portraits of alumni holding in their hands or arms the most desired Elite Cup, students whose names are synonymous with motorsports, success, or scandal.

Beneath their watchful gazes, your current generation carries their lives in this space where time seems suspended, where the outside world feels almost vulgar.

As you notice the tea served in the porcelain teacups present on almost all surfaces a striking figure with long, hazel, wavy hair cascading gracefully down her back, a true Latina beauty seems to be the one to notice you.

Ah! So I haven't become a ghost?

Her skin gleamed, accentuated by the delicate curves of her form, wrapped in a perfectly tailored Williams' sporty uniform, a white, short, fitted tennis dress with a polo collar, and a flouncy full skirt.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm María José Montoya. It's an absolute pleasure to welcome you to our revered and much-loved faculty. I'm delighted to acquaint you with our common rooms and exclusive facilities, a true sanctuary for our scholars." she gives you a handshake. "As the head of our "Trainee Performance Program", I have the privilege of guiding our new talents," José gifts you a warm smile, her teeth are so white and perfect. "Which is also a nice manner of acquiring those additional credits I need to graduate, you see," she winks an eye at you.

You like her already. And, she does have class! Can I be like you when I grow up, please?

"A senior student, then? Are you friends with Sebastian Vettel?" you don't know what else to say.

"Hamilton's charming other half, correct? A sweetheart, indeed. Oh! Mick wanted to join me on your welcome committee but he's at the simulator, his schedule changed. He shared with us the most delightful praises regarding you."

"How sweet! Shit, it when over my head for a minute he is in Williams too!"

"Oh, we do not employ that language here, Claire loathes it. We are rather... orthodox in our expressions, and in.. all, traditions, traditions, traditions, "That's very Williams!" is an expression you soon will get acquainted with," a smirk forms on her lips. "Perhaps it would be best to reserve that for our mechanics when you meet them" she gently scolds you, with a lot of diplomacy and politeness.

"Me and my potty mouth, I'm so, so sorry," you go all red, yet she offers you a cordial dismissing gesture.

"Don't be too self-critical, you just arrived. It's quite natural to feel overwhelmed at first. However, it would be wise to familiarize yourself as soon as possible with our particular customs and protocols, ones that will be essential to ensuring your success and, indeed... your survival within these halls," her eyebrows go up at that last part, which may imply something that makes you feel anxiety.

Survival? She said?

-

After a complete and detailed tour of the place and a two-hour welcome training course, you are left with some free time to hang in the study room before you meet with Keke, head of the faculty.

As José and you cross past the foyer once more you dare to ask about THE helmet.

"Good heavens, no, one doesn't simply become accustomed to it as it was merely a decorative piece of artwork adorning a wall," she gently touches your arm with a delicate gesture, her warmth and friendliness radiating.

During the tour, María José introduced you to numerous fellow Williams students, which relaxed you enough to not panic at being left alone with them.

"Keke is engaged in a most important conference call with one of our sponsors, he will receive you soon. I'll return shortly, Alois, Delon, behave yourselves." José sends them a look as she leaves you in their company.

The Villeneuve twins nod in sync, to your left, spread on the large Chesterfield leather sofa, the enigmatic duo exuding an aura of elegance and composure. Their tall and slender yet athletic figures, porcelain features, angular cheekbones, and full lips, make them irresistibly handsome.

Their dark hair styled perfectly and their uniforms impeccable, they put to work their charming façade and address you speaking with soft, melodious, French accents that are as sweet as honey.

However, you notice their striking blue eyes appear icy and detached, with an air of aloofness that's unsettling, who knows what lies behind their cold, dead stares but you are a bit curious to find out.

As soon as María José fades, Alois fires first.

"Pray to tell, where do you come from?" he pulls the most charming fake smile you have ever witnessed - if you weren't an expert on those you would have fallen for it.

How is someone this pretty?

"In Monaco like most of you, but in the suburbs"

The look of shock on their faces is priceless.

"Is it indeed such an unsafe place?"

"What?! No!"

"So, you socialize with the common folk?" he keeps the questions coming.

"The what?" you look a bit baffled.

He wouldn't dare...

"The lower class," Alois heightens, nonchalant, stretching on the sofa.

He dared...

"I identify as working class," you inform him, now sure of what he meant, you saw it coming but wanted to be sure.

The previous look of shock on their faces becomes horror, which doesn't feel as priceless now, it's awkward.

"Surely, you must be the new scholar who obtained that help?" even with his extra effort to make his voice charming, you pick the disdain in his words.

"Here on a scholarship! That's me!" you wave him a small hello with your hand.

"Then, is true no member of your family has partaken in Formula 1?"

You nod your head. "Not even me," and shrug not giving a fuck.

Woah, owing this kid is easy.

"That's not very Williams," Delon exclaims, aghast, speaking for the first time. "But you must hold such talent to make it here. Congratulations," he sounds genuine, with none of that "let's charm you" game his brother was playing.

Okay, that at the end was unexpected.

"Thank you" you gift him a smile.

"Are you aware we at Williams are renowned for our reluctance to socialize much with other faculties scholars? I have seen you in the company of that black kid and his peculiar group of fanatics" Alois inquiries again.

"Lewis and his friends, you meant," you feel the instant impulse to snap back. "And yes, I have heard the rumors about the Williams' students being very close-knit."

You don't feel like dragging Mick into this, but he was part of that very same group Alois referred to. And he is a Schumacher as in S-C-U-H-M-M-A-K-FUCK! You messed it up!

"It appears I have misspoken," Alois places a hand over his chest. "My highest respects for Lewis" he paths his pec and adds. "I just... forgot his name..."

Was that supposed to be an 'oopsie' face? And nah, you didn't, YOU TWAT!

"...his talents are indeed remarkable, blacks are good at sports, you know?" He keeps going, to your distaste, looking entirely oblivious to the rudeness of his words and the condescending tone they convey.

"...Keke speaks exceedingly well of him. He almost married his son, have you heard?" Alois finally quiets.

His attempts to recover from his tactless comment only serve to further infuriate you, his condescending tone and reduction of Lewis' abilities to a simplistic stereotype make your skin crawl.

Keke's son...?

...Rosberg, of course! Keke Rosberg is Nico's dad.

LEWIS AND NICO WERE ENGAGED?!!

"Why Nico isn't in Williams, then?" you venture, feeling the desperate urge to change subjects before you end up slapping him and getting your ass thrown out. "Not that I wish to have him anyway near," your joke doesn't seem to land with them.

Boohoo you!

"You may feel a certain aversion to Nico but one cannot dismiss his talent. Toto recognized this and extended him the invitation first, one that Nico accepted much to Keke’s disapproval, that strangled their relationship, it had never been the same" Alois divulges you, just in time as Mick drops himself by your side looking exhausted.

Saved by the bell, lucky you.

-

"José, my darling, might we consider the possibility that this was an error? She seems to be a total nobody," Alois asks nonchalantly, rising to his feet, ready to call it a day, the sun was setting outside.

She shakes her head in denial. "Claire received a handwritten recommendation letter from an individual she and Frank hold in the highest regard, talking wonders about Y/N and implying Williams would regret passing on her. Though Claire has not yet revealed to me the identity of this person, I certainly will uncover it."

Those two exchange lethal glances, intrigue passing between them.

"You must. We cannot allow her, or any other, to stain our name. If she fails to meet our criteria, we'll devise means to get rid of her," he asserts firmly.

"We will, my love" she replies with resolute conviction.

-

The following day, Seb welcomes you with a "Hello, Williams!" his arms extended as you approach him swaying your hips, making your pleaded blue mini skirt dance around, showing a little bit more than planned, grabbing the stares of boys inside the old library.

What a shit hole this room was!

Look at you! Acting "very Williams" already, hilarious! No, but seriously, in comper with the rest of campus, this stance was trash, old, and humid.

"Is it true about their rituals down in that cultish million-dollar dungeon in which they clash those nepobaby rings together to make their nepopowers grow stronger?" Seb asks you, with a serious voice.

You let out a big cackle and you two start laughing your asses off till some "shhhs" come your way.

Oh, you totally can picture them doing that sort of stuff.

"COME ON! Half of you have fucked someone in here... somewhere," Seb turns around to face the room, pointing behind the tall bookshelves. "Don't shhh us!" he lets it all out while holding a limp wrist the entire time, much to your amusement.

"Gosh, what I'm going to do when you graduate?!" you bury your head in his shoulder while hugging him, sitting next to Seb, taking a brief break from your "Telemetry" essay as you are four pages in.

"I'll leave you with a photo of me to hang in your locker, light a candle to it when you need me and I shall come to you," Seb teases you, eyes still glued to his computer screen.

"Girl, I wanted to ask you something,"

"Shot ahead,"

"Did Naya was invited to the Stroll's party?"

"Naya? I don't seem to recall her," Sebastian then rocks in his chair to face you. This secluded table was chosen by him since he needed a less popular and crowded place to be able to work today.

His gorgeous Louboutin's brodeback lug over-the-knee boots swing along with him, their leather tone matching perfectly with his Aston's green cute uniform short shorts.

Seb's blonde ponytail a la Ariana Grande was higher than your dreams that day, also swinging along in his movement, "Baby, the bitch has no friends, period. No, Lance didn't invite her," he rushes to gossip before returning to updating student files in the STEM system on his Macbook Air.

Today he had lots of Student Affairs tasks to do. "I do it for the credits! I do it for those goddamn credits!" Seb reminds himself aloud as if he was saying a mantra, trying not to lose it.

"Why are you in such a rush?" you ask, before taking a sip from your Williams' blue, brand-new, Stanley cup.

"We fuck on Tuesdays, I need to be free by 5 p.m., and have all my tasks done by then, Lewis' fitness regime marks additional cardio for this day, and as you already know he was gone for almost two weeks to do those silly Mercedes-AMG promos and he hasn't given me any dick, I need him to rail me so hard I lose consciousness."

"I mean, I feel you," you nod, in agreement.

"Lewis dick has that cocaine hold on me" he discloses. "Speaking of dick, how are things with Toto after your little rendezvous at the beach?"

"Rende-what?!"

"After he docked his yacht in your harbor!" Seb holds giggles as he expresses.

"How you...?" your jaw drops. This bitch has witch powers now?!

Seb gives you a come-on look. "That shirt you got back wearing said it all to me, plus your 'I just orgasmed' glow."

You bite your lips all blushed. "We haven't seen each other or spoken since," you let out a long sigh.

"And what are you waiting for? For him to reach out? That's so old-school, why don't you go look for him? You are dying to do so, don't you? You know where he is..." Seb glances at his Apple watch, "Right now, Toto is about to finish his class in Hall E," his eyebrows go up and down suggestively.

You grab your stressed tote bag from the desk table and toss it into your arm, now on a mission.

"Oh, okay! See you!" Seb shouts, making drama.

You quickly pull reverse on your steps - already halfway to the exit - and give him a quick brush of lips, before exiting to look for your man.

-

As you maneuver to reach the lecture hall - walking in the opposite direction to the flow of students coming out of Toto's class - you start to chicken out and get jelly knees, but you truly want to be with him and share the news of having been accepted into Williams.

Hence, you dare to enter the now empty and quiet hall, rushing down the carpeted stairs to the front of the room where he is, trying not to lose all your courage gathered.

Toto was so focused on organizing his papers, that you could appreciate the movement of his broad and muscular shoulders as he exhaled without being noticed. He's so hot!

Slowly, he raises his stare sensing a presence, and his eyes meet yours. The instant recognition on his face is like a switch flipping, a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something familiar, something he showed you that night.

His lips part as if to speak, but words elude him for a second. He takes some steps forward, to come near you, and a smile, soft yet joyful, spreads across his face.

“Didn't expect to see you here,” Toto greets you with the faintest hint of disbelief.

“I had to see you,” your voice sounds nervous.

His smile widens a little, his eyes soften, and his gaze holds yours, both thinking about the intimacy you shared.

“I’m glad you did,” he murmurs.

"Hey, look!" you extend your arms and shift your body weight to one side, showing him the Williams' uniform on your body.

Toto doesn't look that surprised, but he indeed looks happy. He moves his long finger in a circle gesturing you to turn around for him. You feel his eyes traveling down your body as you slowly twirl, obeying, feeling a bit like a mannequin on a platform, a really horny mannequin.

"I think that skirt is too short on you," he says with a serious voice before playfully adding, "Just as I like it" flirting with you and placing the palm of his left hand on your ass while you enjoy the warmth, pressure, of his right thumb traveling your outer thigh, rubbing painfully slowly your skin in circles, making you feel things in your core.

You take a step closer to brush his body with yours and Toto starts placing soft kisses on your lips.

You return them two, three, four, five times more.

While sharing all about your days and listening very attentively to every word he tells you, being tremendously amused at how interesting his life was. He has done a lot for such a small amount of time since last you saw him.

-

You love being wrapped around his arms, listening to his voice, and sliding tenderly your hands all over his chest like you have been doing for the past hour.

"Now that I have you here..." Toto goes to the pile of papers on the desk, "I have something of yours" he hands you a familiar folder, and you waste no time to check out your essay's rating.

"I think it was worthy of an A but whatever..." you tease him, looking at the B rating he gave you.

"It was not," Toto replies without hesitation.

"Then, with who do I need to sleep to get that A+?" you taunt.

He starts shaking his head but with a very visible grin and some redness on his cheeks. It feels like a small victory for you to make him smile like that, he's so gorgeous.

"Now is it an A+?"

"Well, if I'm sleeping with someone for it, it requires that extra element."

You both laugh.

Then you wrap your arms around his neck and Toto's hands find your waist, his touch sends a shiver down your spine. You look up at him, his eyes full of desire mirror your own hunger.

While owning your lips with ravenous kisses, Toto pushes your body with his a bit too hard against the desk, which moves under your weight making noise.

Your hands roam his body, exploring his muscular tights and firm ass, one you often admire from afar. You moan softly into the kiss, your body pressing against his, eager to feel every inch of him, feeling his hardness.

He pulls you up from the ground, and you wrap your legs around his waist in a millisecond, your short skirt going up too, revealing a lot of you. His hands start exploring you down there with feverish urgency.

Your breath hitches as his gaze stops at your breasts. Unable to resist your erect nipples, noticeable from under your shirt, he lingers a hand to cup and touch them, aching to feel them. His thumb brushes against those sensitive peaks. You gasp at the contact, your head falling back.

"Fuck, Toto," you breathe, your fingers grasping at his belt. "I need you."

He smiles and slowly places you down on top of the desk. "We'll get there. But not here," his hands trail down your legs, leaving a path of goosebumps on their way to your skirt.

Toto rests his hands on your knees for a second while getting his tongue into your mouth as you kiss, you feel his fingers slowly sliding underneath your skirt, searching for something, exploring for a bit, till you feel the edges of your panties getting pulled, the warm wetness leaving you and pivoting for a cold breeze as he pulls your soaked panties down your legs and into his trouser's pocket, his erection so visible in those you are dying to release it.

"This come with me," he informs you, before giving you one last kiss.

"You're killing me, Toto," you pant, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls away.

-

With no underwear on, you go back to your dorm, placing your hands over your skirt at the smallest wind current, paranoid that you would flash someone.

As you cross the door, a furious Naya welcomes you.

"HOW?!" is all she spits, arms crossed.

Could there be a way she just caught you?

You remain quiet, allowing things to unfold a bit before rushing to open your mouth and fucking things up.

"I never expected you, OF ALL THESE PEOPLE, to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. Oh, you faked it so well! What a masterclass on naiveness, you got me. And that apparent concern, BRAVO!" she claps with her hands, "Oh, 'look at me, I'm all miserable, bwah! bwah!" she adds some crying gestures. "I'm here 'on a scholarship', LIES! 'And no faculty wants me', LIES, AGAIN! All while you knew you had a place secured at Williams the entire time!"

"Naya, what the fuck are you talking about! NO! I wasn't faking it! YES! I'm here on a scholarship," you start getting furious too.

"You know those scholarships are really hard to obtain? It's a very long painful and nerve-wracking process. One is not able to sleep waiting and waiting for the next email to arrive, praying it does. Y/N, some truly need those to support their studies, it's not fair you are here taking the space," she sounds so earnest, like never before, even her voice is different, her real speech pattern coming out as if the curtain just fell.

You tell me...

"NAYA, HONESTLY WHAT THE FUCK!! ARE YOU ON PILLS, BITCH?!!"

"OH, COME ON! No one gets into Williams without previous arrangements, without the courting, without the connections, without the MONEY!" she sounds resentful at the last one. "Be honest, who's backing you? There's no shame in being funded, trust me, I know. For sure is a big name."

"No one is giving me anything! I'm telling you the truth," you try to express yourself as frankly as possible since this is the very truth. "Listen, they were the ones who invited ME, no hints, no exchange, no contact, just a damn box appearing. You even had to explain to me what that meant."

"Oh, please!" she rolls her eyes at your words.

"How could you be so sure? Huh? How can you testify those are the only ways to get in?" now you are fuming.

"BECAUSE I TRIED THEM ALL!" she screams out, losing it.

Silence.

Oh, there it was.

Was Naya truly jealous of you? Oh my god. Okay, this is just impossible, how SHE could be jealous of YOU?

"It didn't even cross your mind for the briefest second that it could be because of my talent?" you cross your arms.

She releases a looney crackle.

"Oh, so you deserved it more than I do, huh? Why? Because of your family's name? Your status? Your wealth? So it should have been you instead of me, instead of a nobody? Well, guess who did get in!" that came out even more rude than intended.

"You don't know shit about me. Just, tell me how you did it, is all I want to know,"

"I told you, I DON'T KNOW! I just got accepted, I'm as shocked as you are..."

"Okay, fine! Don't share it with me. Keep your secrets! If it's due to your out-of-the-charts talents, as you say, let's allow the track to do the talking!"

"Let's fucking go, then!" you look mad and borderline mental at the moment.

You both face each other off for an instant, noses almost touching, before heading to your respective bedrooms, in opposite directions, and slamming your doors shut very loudly and at the same time.

-

That night you have a nightmare where the ghost of Senna pulls you by the hair and tosses you out of the Williams hospitality while everyone laughs at you, as you feel ashamed and cry, screaming at them "I'm not an impostor! I'm not an impostor!"

-

You tell your friends all about that dream during a night out at the 'Port 33' bar on campus - to ease yourself - but you don't mention a thing about your big fight with Naya.

"Once, Senna also came to me in a dream, but wasn't to kick me out, no, no," Lewis smirks while softly rocking his head, nodding several times. "YES! I blew him... if anyone wondered."

"NO ONE DID!" Pippa replies while sitting in Yuki's lap.

"Was he packing?" Lea's eyes sparkled, now Lewis had her full attention.

"Oh, he was," Hamilton adds, smiling like an idiot.

"Please tell me all about that dream, down to the detail," Lea swaps seats, and grabs the one next to him, resting her elbow on the sofa's back, and closing her eyes, to picture it better, as Lewis starts whispering it all into her ear.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

Author's note: We are back on track! I hope you enjoy the chapter <3 By the way, I'm editing previous chapters, just making them better, some were written in a rush, sorry about it, I hope you don't mind :) if you like this story don't forget to leave a heart.

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[rocketinthesky]

Bite Me

-A CarCar vague-high school/college au(?) one-shot, Rated Teen and Up, Enemies who Kiss? Inspired heavilyyy by Sumi’s lovely fanart so everyone please check it out!

-read on ao3

Oscar has had enough.

Now it’s fucking war, the only thing on his mind blood.

It’s the fourth time stupid-Spanish-meathead-Sainz has shoved him against his locker between class break in the day. Four fucking times! Oscar’s human, he’s made of flesh and bone, and said flesh and bone hurt very fucking much when constantly colliding with metal.

That stupid meathead in his stupid football (the European kind) jersey cackles loudly as he walks away, an exasperated Charles shaking his head beside him while he throws Oscar an apologetic frown.

Oscar seethes, balling his fists at his sides so hard he thinks the knuckles might pop out, jaw clenched as he fails to hide his reaction.

Carlos stops just a few meters ahead, doesn’t turn around but twists his head to the side and casts Oscar an ingratiating glance through his eyelashes.

“Baboso.”

Now, Oscar doesn’t know a word of Spanish outside of ‘hola’, but he can pick up on context clues and comprehend that he’s definitely just been insulted.

Normally, Oscar wouldn’t rise to the provocation. He would throw Sainz a nasty sneer, grab his backpack and stomp away to his next class at a very normal pace.

However—Oscar’s already been having a shit day. His English professor just handed them a ten page assignment, his Bio professor assigned a group work and paired him with possibly the last people on earth he’d want to work on anything with, and he accidentally spilled coffee on his white t-shirt during lunch break.

He’s already at his breaking point and four shoves against the locker by none other than the sadistic bastard Carlos Sainz who only wanted nothing more than to see Oscar suffer has tipped him off the proverbial edge.

At least that’s the only explanation Oscar has for why he stomps up to Carlos, teeth bared in anger as Carlos looks unfazed and simply turns around to fully face him—waiting.

It all happens a little too fast—Oscar fisting Carlos’s collars and shoving him back with enough force that it trips him up too, Sainz’s back hitting the nearest locker, eyes wide in shock. Oscar himself is a little shocked, mostly winded—a tad exhilarated—at having done this.

Carlos looks at him, eyes impossibly big from this close. Oscar’s never noticed how long his lashes are until there’s a few centimetres separating them.

Oscar’s breathing wildly now, and he’s not exactly sure if it’s all from the anger. Carlos’s breaths seem to come short, labored, surprise twisting into anger the longer Oscar holds him up against the lockers. Oscar relishes in dragging a reaction out of him—anything other than that infuriating smugness he always seems to carry.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, Piastri?” Carlos nearly growls, hands coming up to wrap around Oscar’s wrists still gripping Carlos’s collar.

The snarl on his face shouldn’t look like…that. It shouldn’t be sending a shiver down Oscar’s spine, the way they’re so close, the way Carlos’s big hands feel like brands where they circle around Oscar’s wrists in a crushing grip.

Oscar falters, tries not to show it, but he must give enough away because in the blink of an eye he’s spun around and shoved up against the locker, back colliding painfully with metal, their positions flipped.

“Carlos, just let him go.” Charles says tiredly from somewhere behind Carlos, but Oscar can’t see him, his field of vision just Carlos—all his senses overwhelmed with the scent of Carlos, the heat of his skin still wrapped around his wrists, the fire in his eyes burning through Oscar’s soul as his breath wafts against Oscar’s face.

“He started it.” Carlos bites back at Charles, still looking straight into Oscar’s eyes.

Oscar tries not to cave in on himself but it’s hard to stand tall with Carlos looming right over him. He’s never noticed how broad he is. They’re about the same height but Carlos manages to look much taller, thick neck curving into broad shoulders. Oscar has the rattling urge to touch them, feel the muscles strain against his grip.

“You shoved me first, Sainz. Four fucking times.” Oscar spits out instead, alarmed at the direction his own thoughts are veering.

They’re both breathing faster now, so close Oscar can almost feel the rise and fall of Carlos’s thick chest against his own.

Fuck him.

Carlos sneers, and Oscar’s hands flex where they’re still gripping Carlos’s collar, unwilling to let go unless Carlos does first.

The expression crawls under Oscar’s skin as if it’s a living thing, burrowing into his flesh and tightening his grip on Carlos’s jersey when Carlos says with levity, “Was just a friendly pat, cabron. It is not my fault you are so weak.”

Carlos’s eyes are glinting with challenge, with mockery, leaning even more into Oscar’s space, and Oscar can’t hold back anymore, can barely process his movements before he feels his lips sting with the force at which he clashes into Carlos.

Carlos makes a surprised sound in his throat, stilling under Oscar’s grip for a split second before his hold on Oscar’s wrists tighten impossibly, kissing Oscar back in earnest.

He distantly hears a squeak—probably Charles—but is too consumed by the plushness of Carlos’s lips, the way he kisses ravenously, all teeth and tongue and dominance.

Oscar can barely keep up, melts in his arms like putty when Carlos lets go of his wrists to instead grip his sides, fingers digging hard enough into his waist that Oscar thinks he might leave bruises.

The fact that they’re very much out in the open, hundreds of other students passing them by, watching the spectacle they’re putting on, is completely irrelevant to Oscar. He moans at a particular swipe of Carlos’s tongue over his palate, bites down on Carlos’s bottom lip and revels in the groan it pulls out.

One of his hands travel from Carlos’s jersey up his neck and into his hair, threading his fingers into the thick locks and pulling.

The kiss is as violent and all-consuming and as hot as Oscar would expect from Carlos.

“Oi, Osc, show me the assignment for Mr. Vettel’s cla—”

Lando stops dead in his approach when he looks up from his phone and finds Oscar and Carlos tangled up in each other. He balks, blinking a few times to check whether he’s seeing clearly or not. He turns his head slowly to Charles who is standing next to him, face twisted in disgust.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Charles shrugs. “Speaks for itself, I think.”

Lando barks out a laugh, a little hysterical. “I knew they’d get here eventually. Just didn’t think it’d be so…public.”

Charles bites back a laugh, patting Lando on the shoulder. “Let’s just leave them alone. I am about to puke if i watch them for long.”

Lando shrugs. “Coffee?”

Charles grins. “My treat.”

Neither Oscar nor Carlos hear any bit of the exchange as they keep kissing, only broken when a professor passing by interrupts them with a pointed cough.

“Gentlemen, I believe classes for the next period have begun?”

They jolt away from each other as if burnt. Oscar looks at Carlos, the way his pupils are blown wide, face a bright red, lips swollen and spit-slick.

He looks ruined—Oscar can’t imagine he looks much better himself.

Omggg i had so much fun writing this IM STILL GOING FERAL OVER @kolbalissh ‘s art guys SUMI UR SO TALENTED AND CRAZY FOR GIVING ME THESE BRAINWORMS AHHH ANYWAYS I HOPE THIS DRABBLE-TURNED-ONE SHOT DOESN’T DISAPPOINT 😭😭

[sequinsandfins]

winter warmers day 15: roleplay | Carlos/Oscar | rated e | 626 words

Oscar is slightly nervous when he knocks on the office door of his Spanish Professor.

“¡Entrar!”

Oscar opens the door and feels his heart rate begin to pick up. Professor Sainz isn’t behind his desk like Oscar expected, instead he’s leaning against the front of it, a heavy book open in his hands. He’s standing right in front of the chair Oscar is expected to sit down in.

“Sorry, er, Lo siento,” Oscar says in a terrible accent.

“Mr Piastri,” Carlos Professor Sainz says and motions for Oscar to sit in the seat right in front of him.

Oscar inhales deeply as he slides into the seat, the Professor is barely half a metre away from him, and Oscar has a direct line of sight to the shape of his dick, outlined by the fabric of his pants.

“Sorry, I uh, I think I might have failed my last test? You sent me a message to come see you about it?”

Oscar tries to keep his thoughts on what he’s supposed to be saying, and not the fact that his mouth is starting to water with the idea of getting Carlos inside.

“Mmm yes, I remember. I’m sorry, I think I may have some bad news.” Carlos shuts the book and straightens up, his dick now closer to Oscar’s face. Oscar tries to maintain eye contact but his hands twitch, wanting to touch.

“I don’t think you’re going to pass my class Mr Piastri.” Carlos is watching him closely and Oscar isn't going to give him the satisfaction of breaking. He instead gasps in shock.

“No, please. I need to pass this class, I’ll do anything, please just tell me what I can do?” Oscar lets his eyes flick down to the now noticeable bulge Carlos is sporting and then back to meet Carlos’ gaze. He smirks.

“Anything?” Carlos takes a step closer to Oscar, he maintains eye contact.

“Anything, sir,” Oscar says, breathy as he leans forward and lets his nose brush against Carlos’ cock.

“Mierda, Oscar…”

“Yes sir?” Oscar’s not going to be the one who offers, he wants Carlos to beg.

“Por favor…”

“You want me to touch you?”

“Your mouth,” Carlos cards one of his hands through Oscar’s hair, ruffling it up.

“And then you’ll change my grade? I’ll pass the class?” Oscar says, mouthing the words against Carlos’ trapped cock.

“Sí, I’ll say you passed an oral exam instead.” Carlos says and Oscar snorts, even as his hands have moved to free Carlos from the tight confines of his pants and underwear.

Oscar doesn’t wait any longer, he’s quick to get Carlos out and sucks the tip of his cock into his mouth.

Carlos groans as he thrusts into Oscar’s mouth slightly. Oscar can feel himself getting hard. Carlos moans as Oscar flicks his tongue around the tip before he swallows as much as he can, lips sealing around the thick cock.

“Fuck, Oscar, I…” Carlos hauls Oscar up and kisses him. Carlos’s hands find their way to Oscar’s own erection and Oscar gasps into his mouth as Carlos squeezes him gently.

“You don’t want my mouth?” Oscar asks between kisses.

“No cariño, I want to fuck you.”

Oscar wants that too but.

“Carlos?” He says pulling back.

“Sí?”

“As much as I love this little, hot for teacher idea, I really want to ride you, in our bed.”

Carlos groans and pulls Oscar in for a kiss, “Sí mi amor,” he’s happy to abandon this little role play, almost, “But why don’t you show me just how desperately you want a passing grade?”

Oscar rolls his eyes but drags Carlos towards their bedroom, he’ll show him.

Carlos ends up rewarding Oscar some extra credit, for the effort he puts in.

[artemispt]

I thought parc fermé it was only the place where they parked the cars 🤦🏻‍♀️ Thanks, professor Sainz!