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totothewolff · 1 month ago

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Season of Love (10/?) [New chapter]

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? 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 smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

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The Sebaffäre Arc Chapter 10: Finding Our Grip.

Japan

The sun slips through the cherry blossom trees, their soft pink petals floating gently in the spring air over the streets of Shibuya as you, Sebastian, Mick, and Millie walk, soaking in the vibrant energy surrounding you.

Laughter spreads as you explore the bustling district known for its trendy stores, eclectic street style, and, of course, the undeniable Kawaii culture for which Millie lives.

“I saw on Instagram a new pop-up cafe with capybara-themed everything! We have to go!” Millie exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Sebastian chuckles while pulling her a little closer, wrapping a relaxed arm around her neck, their height difference being noticeable. “If it has cute animals and desserts, just take me there,” he jokes.

Mick, is already scouting for the ultimate kawaii stuff for Millie. “Look! They have those giant plush toys over there!” He points toward a shop filled with oversized snack plushies.

Your heart fills with joy as this hangout feels more like a family trip.

“Millie, this one is so you!” you point out, holding up a pink dress adorned with frills and one little cat paw. Millie squeals in delight as she slips it on, twirling in front of the mirror, you are now inside an all-pink extremely chic fashion store.

After some bags of apparel are added to your purchases, you head toward the Capybara café.

As soon as you step inside, you are greeted by the most adorably fluffy residents lounging around.

"I'M GOING TO EXPLODE" Millie squeals out.

After some iced Taros, fruit cakes, and playful interaction with the capybaras, you notice something shiny in the corner, a photo booth. “Oh, we have to try it!” you ask the group, eyes sparkling with glee.

Inside, you each squeeze tightly together, giggles erupting as you try to fit in. “Okay, everyone! Let’s do a silly one!” Mick suggests, posing with a goofy expression. You all follow suit, Sebastian squishes his cheeks together, Millie tosses her head back, and you cross your eyes, with the camera flashing in a series of snaps. When Millie suggests doing one series more but "with free poses" Seb doesn't let go of the opportunity to place one kiss on your cheek.

As the pictures print out, you can't help but think about how wonderful it would be to have these moments with a family of your own.

“Check this out!” Sebastian says, pulling the first picture from the stack. The photo reflects the perfect blend of laughter, silliness, and an undeniable bond, the four of you together.

“Let’s each take one copy and place them on our dressing room's mirror” Mick suggests and everyone agrees.

You three had the most fun time that day, so much it passed by at an alarming speed, and soon Seb offered to take you back, leaving you at the door of your hotel room, with just one shy and sweet goodbye kiss on the palm of your hand.

And that's all, he tries for.

He doesn't want to rush things, he feels luck is on its side this weekend.

He is just waiting for that special momment.

It's race day and Matthew and you navigate to your team's place on the grid - by the front - among the big bustling, and packed Suzuka track, it's kinda hard to walk around, this time they overdid the number of people allowed in there.

You two take your time to reach the place where the cars sit still but are soon ready to roar to life as the orchestra prepares for the national anthem, adding an air of ceremonial anticipation.

Just as Matthew turns a corner, you stumble into Toto with Susie, also hand in hand. The moment freezes as you lock eyes, both of you caught off guard.

"Ah, Toto! Nice to see you! Ready to eat our dust once more?" Matt opens the conversation, stopping in front of them.

You bite your lip, half-wincing. Matthew playfully jabs to push Toto’s buttons. The Austrian raises an eyebrow, letting out a short laugh, though you can tell the jab stings, he remains grinning, his charm on full display as he answers, "Well if it isn’t the power couple of the F1! Dust? I’m here for the victory champagne, my friend."

Susie appears momentarily oblivious to the smoldering tension. She smiles wide, all enthusiasm as she greets you. "It’s a perfect clear night for a race, air is good, isn’t it? I can’t wait to see how it all unfolds!"

You can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you watch her holding him, effortlessly radiant, completely unaware of the awkward undercurrents swirling around you all.

Her joy in the moment only amplifies the tension, and you battle with the frustrating realization that you wish you could enjoy it as innocently.

Forcing a smile, you answer her. "Yes! Perfect!"

This is the closest Toto and you have been for a while. Your heart races, and you feel a blend of excitement and guilt as memories of your passionate encounters fill you back.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on you.

Matthew interrupts your stares. "Good for you, Toto, victory champagne tastes extra sweet when it's been a while without you tasting it" his smile is big and bright, and Matt snaps back all innocent looking, his hand fondling your hip tenderly but visibly. "Isn’t that right, sweetheart?" he places a soft and sensual kiss on your lips.

Toto shifts and clears his throat, visibly tense, and with that, Susie’s curiosity peaks. She shifts her gaze between the two of you, eyebrows furrowing slightly before forcing herself to smile brightly again and with genuine confusion, she asks, "Are you boys always this competitive?"

You gulp, unsure whether to laugh out of nervousness or shrink. Matthew chuckles, clearly enjoying his mind games, while Toto plays it off with a casual shrug.

"Oh, it’s just a bit of friendly rivalry! Susie, it's not like something else was going on" Matt emphasizes the last words. Much to both your dislike.

Fuck, he knows. HOW?!

Is he surveilling you? Oh, you gotta have a word, well, no, let's better not.

Then orchestra starts to play and you all glance at the stage, feeling the tension ebb with the music. The national anthem begins, and with it, your interaction reaches an end.

Neither Williams nor Mercedes gets to sip that champagne. Seb finally makes it to the highest of the podium, and you cheer your lungs out for him along with George and Millie standing next to him.

The miracle happened, lucky bastard indeed!

In the middle of that celebration, Seb turns mischievously your way, shaking that bottle most menacingly, before you can even react you are soaked, and everyone around you runs away as the rivers of champagne fall in.

Seb jumps down the podium stage and reaches you, among pats, hands, and shoulder shakes, loud cheers following him along.

He screams into your ear, and yet you can barely hear him, the crowd and music so loud. "Maybe this sounds absurd, and perhaps is the worst moment, but I can't deny what I feel for you. If you give me a chance, could I take you out on a date?"

"WHAT!?" This takes you by surprise.

Seb looks at your reaction a bit embarrassed now, the red of his uniform blending up with his face, and expecting a massive rejection on his way.

"So you don't mind that I'm married?! You don't care about my past and all that's going on around me!? Are you serious?!" you look utterly shocked.

"No, I don't! I like you the way you are," he says, earnestly.

FUCK.

"But what about the press!? If they found out... WAIT, and your reputation!? Seeing us together could be damaging for your career..."

"Oh no problem about that, we won't hide"

"WHAT?!" your face is a poem.

"I'm never hiding... ever again. I'm going to love you freely and fuck the world" he smiles brightly, drops coming down his hair and big eyelashes.

"But... If you regret it?! And by then the damage is done, you need to think..."

"I don't care, honestly, but do you?" he captures your hands, which were going all over, like an Italian man illustrating something but on steroids, and caresses them.

"Well... I'm done with the hiding too"

"So we could... You know... try it?" his eyes spark, and he looks at you as the most precious being walking on earth.

He is crazy, this is crazy, you are crazy, but for some reason, you nod in agreement.

Mathew did not make that long travel to Japan just to join you at the GP, he wanted to give you the long-awaited news that finally you got Lenkov to go on trial in between happy tears, both hugging real tight.

Seb becomes your companion for this entire arduous and bitter process.

He even helps you practice your testimony acting as if he were the lawyer and judge questioning you.

That man has watched too much TV and movies.

"Where's my Emmy?" he asks you, papers in hand, dropping himself on the couch next to you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You chuckle.

Seb begs you to let him join you in person at the Lenkov's trial which will be held in a courthouse in Zurich, Switzerland.

He wants to be there for you when you have to face the man of your nightmares for the first time since you were a kid. You know that moment would take a toll on you.

But you say no, due to his protection and safe-being, you don't want to expose him.

You look astounded when you spot him among the court audience, feeling a bit mad at him at first but soon he becomes your rock during those three challenging nights.

Especially when he holds you in his warm embrace as you crash down in your hotel room, surveilled by security, after exchanging words and holding your own with Lenkov after years.

Going out on dates with Seb feels almost organic, natural, easy, and relaxed, there's no intimacy yet, not even a kiss, just tenderness all over, some cuddles, and nights spent together talking.

He is giving you the time you need, allowing you the space to heal, and it's exactly what you needed, who you needed, to pull you out of that void.

With Seb, there are no doubts, no secrets, just honesty and love.

The intrusive thoughts of Toto start to fade away, he slowly transforms into a distant memory.

Qatar

Nowadays, everywhere you go Sebastian is there by your side, at trips, galas, in corridors, at meetings, during breaks, at lunch and people are taking note of it.

Especially during the fancy party the Qatari organized due to their GP's anniversary.

You walked inside that luxurious open venue under the skylight, arm-in-arm with Seb, the two looking so comfortable with the lack of personal space between you.

As the party progresses, he, ever the charming gentleman with his warm smile, turns your way. His blond hair is tousled just enough to give him an air of carefree elegance; he looks radiant in his tailor suit while leaning closer.

“Shall we?” he asks you, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. It is a simple invitation that sends a cascade of feelings coursing through you.

With a playful pull, he leads you toward the empty dance floor, you walk shyly at first. Almost instinctively, people turn to see. You can feel their eyes on you, curiosity brewing as if you were an unexpected plot twist in a story.

As the live orchestra starts a new song, the smooth voice of the singer pours from the speakers, wrapping the room in a sweet, melodious embrace. “Sway,” begins, the gentle beat inviting you two to move closer.

Vettel pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist, his touch igniting heat. “Just focus on me,” he murmurs noticing your nervousness, his breath brushing your skin.

With a confidence that is uniquely his, he guides you into a gentle sway, your bodies moving in harmony with the sultry rhythm. You could feel the mix of surprise and judgment hovering at the tables, specifically the Ferrari and Mercedes ones.

Even from a distance, you caught sight of Toto's furrowed brow, eyebrows almost meeting in disapproval; Lewis watching with his arms crossed, shooting glances that said it all.

"Y/N" Seb sweetly calls your name, asking for your attention back. You look into his eyes, those deep pools of sincerity that are becoming so difficult to resist. Suddenly, your worries melt with each passing note, every sway bringing you closer to a reality where you can love freely.

His steady embrace encourages you to lean into him further, to bury yourself in his warmth, placing your head on his chest, and your entire group of friends gasp in complete disbelief.

"WHAT THA FUCK?!" Lando lets out, almost spilling his drink. "WHY?!"

Oscar and Samantha laugh at his reaction but are as surprised as him.

By the end of that night, you feel lighter as if finally you were liberated from constraints that had once shackled your heart. Maybe you were reaching several closures as a person.

USA

"Howdy partners!? PHEW! PHEW!" Charles greets Sam and you wearing the world's most insane cowboy outfit, barrell fake gun and all.

"You look like a cow with those spotted leather chaps!" words burst out of your mouth as an instant reaction, not even a hi first.

"Where did you leave Bob SquarePants?" Samantha asks him, howling with laughs. "It's giving Patrick Starr"

"PERFECT!" Charles seems way too cheerful about that.

It turns out Leclerc is dressed like this for a sponsor's charity event made in collaboration with Nickelodeon.

Families with kids are everywhere on the grounds and installations were created on the circuit's fields for the special event, Carlos is the first of the gang to join you there, still healing from his accident.

No one dared to ask you about your thing with Toto, even when something was clearly going on between you two, although not as clearly as it is with you and Seb, Toto was notifiable only if you paid attention.

But this time around it was impossible to ignore the elephant in the room, especially when the elephant was holding hands with you in public right now.

"So are you two..?" Mick asks with half a smile already forming on his lips.

"Yes." comes in unison from you.

They don't need to know more. They don't ask more.

After eating a delicious grilled burger, you observe the parents interact with kids, Everywhere you look around there are families and you wonder what that would be like.

Sam seems to read your mind and reaches you to hold your left hand, and then you feel Millie holding your right one, also getting a sense of what is going on, now you are in the middle of a Dobrev sandwich.

Then Normani holds Millie's hand, and finally, Seb joins in, adding "I don't know what is happening, but I just wanted to hold hands with you girls." he smiles big and bright, closing his eyes and taking in the sun rays feeling them on his skin.

It's George's birthday. And it goes the most awkward possible that can go.

Just by start, he is so freaked out about getting old, that much so he doesn't want to throw a party at all and refuses the group's many texts and invitations to go out.

So you guys being... YOU GUYS.

Plan a small gathering for him at the hotel bar, just a Casa Blanca-inspired night, something simple, not too over the top but old-timey and fun enough as his style is.

You all show up in your best tuxedos and gowns.

Hanging around in the same small space, with Seb by your side and Susie by Toto's feels awkward as fuck at first, but as the night progresses you come up with good terms at completely ignoring each other.

Even if you try to black it out, you are utterly aware of the "Wait isn't she married?! And those two know no shame!" vibes coming from people.

When you reach closer to greet Bono, hanging with Lewis as usual, you move to embrace Hamilton and he pulls you away, making your jaw drop and your heart sink. For the rest of the night, you seem keen to address it with him, you want to know how to fix it and understand fully what's going on.

But he doesn't allow you the chance.

For much that a visibly hopeless Niki tries to bring you, Lewis, and Toto closer, creating dumb excuses for you to interact.

Nothing succeeds.

Until Sam calls for a few rounds of "Cards against humanity" almost by the end of the party when it's just "the OGs" remaining as she and Charles love to refer.

And Toto drops a "Slap me____" card and you can't resist it for your life.

Answering "Like one of your headphones", making him and everyone laugh like idiots and steal away the points for you.

He bumps you playfully with his shoulder, smiling brightly.

For the first time in a while, it feels like it used to be.

Maybe the two of you could become friends?

Yeah, puff, who are you kidding!?

Mexico

During the Mexican Grand Prix, it was almost Halloween and Day of the Dead.

So you texted in advance on the group chat, weeks before, that you all should show up wearing costumes. Hey, dressing up is always fun!

So you arrive at the paddock, excited to see what the others pulled.

Your meeting spot is the usual, behind the medical wing, near the ambulances' entry, where you all have more privacy.

You get there along with Mick and Michael (who showed up in versions of their Williams uniform but like they were basketball and baseball players).

You went dressed as Niki - red cap hat, silver headphones on, plaid oversized shirt with an exaggerated size access badge hanging from your neck - rocking those denim dad's jeans, and a ridiculous and enormous flip phone along with like four walkie-talkies attached to your black belt.

"Goodness! HA, HA" George tells you, smiling big at you when you reach him; he was the first to get there, with Angela and Roscoe.

"Pow!" You throw him a pose, "Pow!" a turn, and another pose, "Pow pow!" you point to your orthopedic sneakers, it was all in the details.

"Wait till he sees you. He will love it, Oh, I need my Merc shirt in this version" George greets you while grabbing the fabric on Schumi's shirt. "This is so cool, mate!" They get caught in a conversation about Jordan, Kobe, and the old guard and prime of players while Mick and you play with Roscoe (who hates his costume and keeps taking it off, God knows how Angela was able to get him into his tootsie roll candy suit).

Lewis is not around there until a couple of minutes later, acting still cold at you, he just waves a hand your way and that's it. When George approaches him smiling and stands by his side it's when you fully appreciate their outfits; George is the fish, and Lewis the chips.

"Niki has a better ass!" Sam tells you, looking you all up and from all angles and slapping your left asscheek, she arrives dressed as Ocon's FIA time penalty charts, many large cardboard signs attached over a form-fitted black dress. Enough penalties to cover her to the knees.

And Millie arrives after with what turns out to be your favorite costume of the day as "Lewis lost-projected to the skies all worn-out tire from the Miami GP" It has you all rolling on the floor and gagging.

"Oh, It's so fucking good!" Sebastian tells the group looking like a cute Toad, and Millie pats his cute puffy mushroom head hat. "You can punch it and still I will not feel a thing. That's how puffy it is" he says, and four immediate slaps come on Sebastian's way. Big mistake.

After him comes Charles dressed as "Charles Brown", with an oversized t-shirt and shorts, but instead of a yellow one, it's a Ferrari's red zig-zag stripe one along with a tiny horse plushie popping out of his shorts pocket. His version of Snoopy.

You hear a sexy "Sum sum" to your left and turn around to be greeted by a Lando leaning sexyly on the wall in his censored naked Sim outfit.

"Argh! It's so genius!" Millie lets out.

Last but not least, Checo shows up dressed as a Catrin, which impresses you with how artistic and cool it is, with Carlos by his side wearing a Transformer version of his car. Everyone squeezes in the selfie before Angela takes a proper group photo. You feel ready to break the internet that day!

Smiles, chats, and laughter fill the place as usual when you are all together. But you are missing one, a very important one for you.

Where on earth was Toto? He is in the group. The idea of him in a silly outfit got you curious and eager for days.

Around 20 minutes later, Carlos notices a cameraman in the distance, then photographers start to snap pictures and get closer. You all try to ignore them and get them to go away.

You succeed but then, 10 minutes later, an FIA steward calls you to their offices.

You returned after a while, and now the group was forced to hang inside the W hospitality, since the fans and press found them, demanding photos and selfies, Michael saved everyone inviting them in, so you all are having nonalcoholic drinks, and food there.

"Guys the FIA wants us to get rid of our outfits, and change for quote on quote proper clothes, costumes are not allowed, apparently, "Makes us look unserious and cartoonish," they told me" You go and imitate a boring middle age man voice, "and it goes against the FIA dressing code, I had no idea there was a dressing code" you rub your chin, like thinking.

"Well, it's not like we are planning to race in these!" Checo adds as a reply to the absurdity. "Besides, it's super early! Of course, we will change, but not now. Well, I'm not. I don't know you guys?"

A lot of me neither are heard.

"What do they plan to do? If we don't comply, I mean. Penalize us all? It's stupid!" Sebastian comments, getting visibly annoyed at them, but in his usual calm and soft voice, resting his elbow on Checo's shoulder, he was on his feet, and Checo was sitting on the high stool, enjoying french fries.

Penalties for everyone. That's what they indeed did.

"Weirdly, Christian was the team principal who took it better when he got the notice" you gossip with Charles.

He even told me: "You should have let me know! I lost my opportunity to show up as Ginger Spice!" he joked with you when you both crossed paths on your way to the garages.

Your relationship with him is weird but good. He's a little shit and so annoying regarding work and his schemings, but he's an enjoyable person offside tracks. One day, you ended up sharing breakfast by chance, and he turned out to be different from what you expected, you spoke about life and so on.

But with Toto, the news of getting a penalty on their way due to your dummy ideas went bizarre pretty fast, you recall.

"What happened to your costume? Did the dog eat it?" you tease Toto, looking at his plain Mercedes uniform that night in Mexico.

"I'm a team principal. I thought it wouldn't be a good look, and judging by the fine resolution, it wasn't," he answers you deadpan, arms crossed, both leaning relaxed against a wall near their motorhome.

"So, you do care about how you are perceived?"

"Not precisely, but I take my job, and my position here seriously."

Your eyebrows go up. "Thanks, man. I'm a joke, then"

He didn't mean it that way. But, hey, at least now you two are talking, instead of ignoring each other existence.

"Just because one has a little bit of fun while doing its work doesn't mean it's not professional" you defend your point.

"Shit, then, I should have shown up dressed as Roger Federer as I planned" he winks at you and enters his garage, ending the conversation right there.

Bringing you back to the present, Charles replies: "That's why I don't get them. Why do they create those stupid meetings promoting sportsmanship and building relationships to burn all bridges? It's absurd, no?" The three of you are in pajamas and getting facials since it was the end of the day.

"Toto was pissed. He truly hated you a bit." Sam informs you, in her insides even though she is happy you are with Seb, there's still in her this doubt about where you are truly regarding Torger. She thousands of times would prefer he was with you instead of back with Susie.

"Oh, that man takes his job too seriously! Could be bad for his health!" you hint no more.

"Not just him, you won't believe what Mattia warned us?! He pulled me and Sebastian to the side after a team brief, by the way, he hates Seb even more now that he's with you, and told us that we needed to get our mind straight, that you don't win championships by being the friendliest on the grid, and that we should stay aware of those so-called friends' real intentions" Charles spills the tea as the violet light of the mask on his face goes off.

"Imagine what would do to him if he found out you two live together?!" Sam starts to laugh maniacly.

"They are getting so paranoid! And that's Christian's job, and he was so chill" You roll your eyes, as the esthetician turns off your mask and pulls it away.

"Well, Millie and Lewis got added seconds, which is an advantage for his team and Max. So... I get why he be chill with it"

"Of course, he is going to be chill!" Charles agrees.

"I don't know guys, I'm not with you on this one! I think he meant it."

"It's just that we know him more." They both nod.

"Years, yeah, years," Sam states.

"I'm going to be more careful from now on, to avoid you guys' trouble, I'm still so sorry." you sound a bit sad.

You apologize for the hundred times on the group chat and you receive lots of "fuck them" replies.

"You do you. I don't care what the FIA says, you are the glue, I don't remember a near time when everyone was interacting like we are now and it's all because of you, you are the glue." Carlos expresses.

Those words warm your heart.

Before the race starts you tap Vettel's helmet tenderly, it's Morse code for the word love. He is inside his car already in formation.

Toto watches from a distance, but he turns away immediately as he gets caught by your eyes.

Yes. This could have been us if you had chosen me.

Lewis' car is right behind Seb's. He watches the full scene unfold before his eyes. You tried again to address things but he gave you no chance, he seemed so disappointed with you somehow.

After the race is over a furious Lewis intercepts Sebastian at the parking lot gates, as Vettel is close to his bike.

"You are a cheater, now?" takes him by surprise.

"It's not like that," Seb replies calmer, closing the gap. Lewis is wearing a gorgeous LV email leaning on an SUV.

"For real..." he rolls his eyes, angry, and shakes his head, hands entering the front pockets of his denim-pattered luxurious jacket.

"Lewis," says almost whispers, tender.

"You know I always held you so high." Hamilton bites his lips, not wanting to scream or cry.

"You trust me?"

"I don't know..." this seems to visibly hurt Seb, "If I do that anymore." he finishes saying.

"Why?" Sebastian sounds wounded.

"I don't comprehend who this is." Lewis gestures to him. "Who is this version of you? My Sebastian is a kind person and would never deceive anyone or hurt."

"Lewis, I am still that same person."

"Listen, don't mind me, you do you." Lewis moves his feet on the parking lot gravel, softly, he keeps his composure well.

"Lewis, it's not my place to tell you." Seb sounds hopeless.

"To tell me what?" Lewis for the first time, looks him straight in the eyes.

"The whole picture. Why don't you talk to her?"

"You are who I care about" his answer is fucking honest, "I just wanted to remind you that it never ends well, that you get burned when you play with fire, and that's all." Lewis shrugs his nose, sniffing a bit, the night air is as cold as this conversation.

"She cares so much about you, as well as I do, you know I love you. And I know you do, too."

"Well, as a person who got deeply hurt, almost annihilated, by a serial cheater, I don't feel like having business with someone of the same kind."

Sebastian knows Lewis means well. It is just his trauma and not understanding the whole picture talking.

"The truth always comes out," Seb reassures him. It is a phrase both faced in their lives.

Lewis always reacts weirdly when Sebastian has a new partner boy or girl. It was the same for him when Lewis introduced Miles to him. He just needs time.

"But, I hear you loud and clear," Vettel adds.

Lewis nods and gets inside the black-tinted car.

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

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its-avalon-08 · 10 months ago

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

chapter 7: we crashed and burned

warnings - none at all

series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

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

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

leave a like! leave a comment! reblogs are appreciated!

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lewishamiltonstuff · 2 years ago

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

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

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lesharl-eclair · 1 year ago

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sobbing, part 2

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

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singsweetmelodies · 2 years ago

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

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

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

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killa-trav · 2 years ago

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Dreaming of a Sewis reunion this year...

baku coming up 👀👀

#imagine we get a sewis reunion in baku #full circle fr #sewis

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jusst-you-race · 4 months ago

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hey bug! hope you're having a great day! 😊 Um, I was wondering if you'd be willing to do a convo between Lewis and Seb established Sewis or even Jenson and Nico with established Princess Cake? Anyways, love this idea and catch you later! 😊

hi lovely! thank you! just for you, here is both of those things <3 honestly i'm having too much fun imagining this bunch, it' great! for the ccc snippet prompts

Lewis and Seb

Seb Remind me when you are back from your trip?

Lewis Wednesday

Seb That’s so many days away

Lewis It’s only three

Seb So many

Lewis I left yesterday

Seb A ridiculously long time if you ask me

Lewis I miss you too

Seb I never said I miss you

Lewis Very funny

Seb Got me

I do miss you

Tell work you can’t do trips anymore

Lewis It’s quite important that I go to these fashion shows Seb

Seb Well then they shall just have to do all the fashion shows here

Lewis I’ll let them know I have a very pushy boyfriend whose needs they have to cater to

Seb Good

I don’t like sleeping alone

Lewis Well I do

I’m getting so much sleep without you snoring in my ear

Seb I do not snore!

Lewis Hmm I dunno…

Seb I don’t!

Do I?

Lewis If it helps, they’re very cute snores

Seb That does not help

Why have you never mentioned this before

Lewis I’m just teasing you man

You don’t snore

I miss sleeping with you too

Seb Oh Lewis 😏

Lewis Not what I meant and you know it

But well

It’s not untrue

Seb You can’t just say that when you aren’t back until Wednesday

Now I’m going to be thinking about all the sex we aren’t having

I am going to die

Lewis You’re insatiable

I’m away less than a week

Seb Far too long

This might be the end of me

Lewis You’re such a drama queen

Seb You love me though

Lewis That I do

Seb ❤️

Jenson and Nico

Jenson what do you think about dinner tonight?

Nico What sort of question is that?

Ask properly

Jenson difficult…

would you like to come over for dinner tonight?

I’ll cook

Nico Hmm depends

What are you cooking?

Jenson does it matter?

do I have to beg to get you to come round or something?

Nico It might be nice

I’m very high maintenance you see

Jenson don’t I know it…

Nico Oi

Jenson alright princess

please come over tonight and I will cook you whatever you want

Nico I guess I could do dinner

Jenson jeez tone down the excitement there

Nico I don’t want to give you any ideas

Jenson what sort of ideas might I get hmm?

Nico Naughty ones knowing you

Jenson like you were oh so pure the other night

Nico I don’t know what you’re talking about

Jenson oh I think you do

don’t you remember what you were saying when I had you on your knees?

Nico Yes fine okay

That’s enough of that

I’m at work

Jenson that’s never stopped you before

Nico I’m in a meeting

Lewis is here

He is already giving me looks

Jenson 😂

alright alright

so tonight?

Nico Yes I will come over for dinner

Jenson I’ll see you at 6:30 then?

Nico 6

Jenson six it is gorgeous

Nico 🖕

Jenson 🥰🥰🥰

Nico 🙄❤️

#i have to be honest... it's hard keeping it somewhat pg13 with this lot #princess cake in particular #hope this is alright though!#sewis #princess cake #fic: condominium community #condo snippet

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bwoahtastic · 7 days ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/bwoahtastic/774396313561415680/also-tiny-drivers-but-it-just-being-max-reverted?source=share

Omg can you imagine Charles got tiny as well but wants to stop Jos. And while big lewis is arguing with Jos he secretly sneaks lewis' phone and calls seb. And then seb prances in all his red bull glory and eviserates Jos while Charles and max look at him with starry eyes and lewis is just grinning like yeah thats my ''fia's nightmare'' seb. Team sewis!

Oh plss!

Lil Charlie holding Max's hand as Max hiccups he doesn't wsnt to go with his father!

Lewis trying to fix it but Charles knows who is reslly needed to help out and hr toddles over to grab Lewis's phone to call seb!

And no one knows how seb makes it there so fast but he is and he is stomping over ready to throw hands if needed to protect the pups and Lewis is just smirking because Seb has that wild edge to him today that means he will take no shit and scare everyone if needed (not thr pupsies tho)

And ofc Seb snuggles the pups after and Max conks out in his saviour's lap!

#asks #tiny drivers

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amazing-lovers-fic-fest · 8 months ago

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Coming soon...

Big things are happening...

Hold on to your Perple energy drinks!

This is a project I've been wanting to create for a while now. It's probably already been done before, but I'm trying to make this one as unique and accessible as possible. I think the world deserves more Seb orientated fic fests, don't you think?

I was inspired by the concept of the F1 Big Bang fanfic event, and thought I'd put my own spin on it. But this time, it will be different. I will be centring this event around Sebastian Vettel and his many boyfriends. Pairings such as Martian/Sebmark, Simi, Sebson, Sewis, Sebchal, and the like. I'm including rarepairs as well to give people more accessibility and to let their imaginations run wild with creativity. Fanfic writers and artists will have free rein to pair Seb up with anyone from the motorsport world, including ROC, Moto GP, WRC, Nascar, and any of the Formula categories. You could even add Seb's Red Bull engineer Rocky and pundits such as Lee McKenzie and David Coulthard. Plus, you can put them in any situation you like; AU or otherwise. Go crazy!

So, if this sounds like your cup of Perple- I mean hot chocolate- I mean tea, then give this account a follow for updates on how you can get involved as a fanfic writer or as an artist or a bit of both. Reblogs are appreciated to help spread the word.

I'm so excited to get this project started. I hope things go the way I intend them to go using these platforms to advertise this upcoming fic fest. 🙏🏻

Stay tuned!

Yours truly,

Gemma (aka @avida-heidia-5)

{Profile icon and banner created by the amazingly talented @argentinagp}

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heliads · 2 years ago

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Where I Can't Follow

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seb looks over at him. “Say something.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

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

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f1incorrectquotess · 2 years ago

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

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

Daniel: Probably “road work ahead”.

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

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totothewolff · 1 year ago

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Grand Prix Elite Academy (1/10)

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

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

Chapter 1: Hi, Society

Everyone in Monaco, they say, is filthy rich.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There's also the working class, the ones who keep the yachts polished, the mansions spotless, and the restaurants bustling. But you live far from their sea-view penthouses and the sprawling estates. On the outskirts, near the border with France, where the mountains rise behind and your family resides, from where the world-famous Monaco marina looks like a tiny little ant in the distance.

You’re part of a middle-class household of three: you, your dad, and your dog.

It’s a life of early mornings and long commutes. Between school and the family’s run auto parts and components store, your days are a blur of movement. But you’ve always found comfort in the rhythm, even if it’s not the glamorous Monaco dream.

You had the misfortune, now you call it that, of having a childhood shaped by your dad’s obsession with motorsports. He’s the kind of madman who’d call Formula 1 a religion, and your home, by extension, was practically a shrine to it. Posters of Senna and Schumacher lined the walls, and the TV never missed a race. To your dad, Monaco wasn’t just home, it was sacred ground.

Your dad’s a middle-aged man with an easy smile and charming persona. He’s the kind of guy women flirt with, and some men too. But despite the attention, he’s stayed single, ever since your mom passed away. You’ve encouraged him to date, even pleaded at times, but his devotion to work and to you has left little room for anyone else.

Okay, he's a good person with a sense of humor and is in shape, you get it now!

He is a hard-working mechanic/manager/business owner, who invested his inheritance into building the family business: a repair shop and an auto parts store, located just a stone’s throw from each other. It was a gamble, but one that paid off with years of sweat and perseverance.

And yes, you’ve inherited his passion for cars.

Yes, yes, you are a "daddy's girl."

It's a bit embarrassing, but he's your hero.

By the time you were in elementary school, you could name every part of an engine and explain its function. By high school, you were helping rebuild them. By senior year, you were racing cars.

Daydreaming has always been your escape. Your therapist calls it MaDD, or maladaptive daydreaming, a coping mechanism born from the need to find solace in a life filled with cracks.

When you were little, you’d loved to sneak into the driver’s seat of the luxury cars that came into the shop for repairs. The leather, the smell of high-octane fuel, it was intoxicating... literally.

But you’d close your eyes, gripping the wheel, imagining transforming into the fastest racing car as the engine's roar took you on sharp corners in a Formula 1 track.

Of course, you always won the race! That if none of the mechanics or your dad got you out of the unit before time.

When you turned eight, your family scraped together enough to take you karting. It was more expensive and demanding than anyone expected, besides heavy on the body. But you loved it, more than anything on this Earth, your dog was a close second.

You lived for the burn in your muscles after practice and the exhilaration of Sunday races. Your natural talent shone, collecting trophies on your way up, and soon enough, sponsors noticed.

You rose through the ranks with grit and determination. Formula Renault came first, then Formula 4. Victory after victory, you poured your heart into making your dream a reality, and by that point, you were body and soul invested in your racing career.

And then, one sad September, everything changed. Your mom got sick.

After her passing, nothing was ever the same, and your racing dreams got buried along with her.

Dealing with the aftermath of her departure left your family emotionally shattered and financially drained. Medical bills piled up, and the dreams you’d worked so hard for slipped through your fingers.

The racing world moved on without you, and you without them.

“Time heals all wounds.”

Another half-lie people tell.

You learn to go on with the ache, but it never truly leaves. Grief lingers in your bones yet you learn to live your life the best way possible, and try to find joy, after it.

In the years that followed you enter the second half of your teen years with a reset, as if your life started over, as if someone else lived your past.

You start helping more with the family business, the one your mom ran, as you witness your father getting more tired and stressed day by day, wanting to be for him.

The track became a memory, and the store became your life. After school, now you go there instead of the circuit to practice.

The shop is located in an old part of town, it once used to be a cheap neighborhood, but not anymore, still not the most luxurious area, but very centric, just a block down from Monaco's main avenue.

As the business grew, the shop underwent several refurbishes and improvements. All made by your uncle Marco's construction company, he's your late mom's brother and also your godfather.

He's as "young" as your dad and mom. Your parents married during their college years and had you pretty soon after.

Now thanks to the work Marco has done, the store is modern and bright, and thanks to you it looks clean and organized. It has tall white walls with blue product racks, ones you helped paint, and shelves that gleamed with products, neatly organized, and neat grey polished concrete floor where you can almost see your reflection, pendant lights hanging from the ceiling, and large promotional posters giving the place character.

Your days were spent behind the counter facing the entrance, balancing stock management, doing customer service, and your own schoolwork, even watching Netflix on slow days. 'Diesel', your old basset hound, was always by your side, wearing his shop-logo bandana like the unofficial mascot he was. Customers adored him, some came back just to see him.

It wasn’t racing, but it was something.

The store's most recent and exciting acquisition is a set of automatic sliding doors and a welcome custom floor mat with the store's logo.

Jesus! How fucking boring has your life become?! From the trills of racing, and the high adrenaline of winning to spend your days inside a shop.

But still, you are so grateful for those small acquisitions. Before, the sliding doors came, during busy days you wanted to tear your ears off at the nonstop sound of the bell atop the door every time it opened and closed.

The store is at the very corner of the street, and your dad's large workshop is two buildings away, across the road, pretty near and pretty convenient for your commuting.

In Monaco, if you want anything you need a good appearance. Both your businesses are different from your 'usual' mechanic's spots.

Yes, there is still oil in some parts... but this is Monaco, after all.

Your dad lives and breathes inside that workshop. Your household is one of those that leaves the family home very early in the morning only to return at night to sleep.

When you turned eighteen, things started looking up, and financially healthier after some pretty rough years.

Business stabilized, and your dad and godfather surprised you with a gift. After working hard they’d revamped the store’s attic into a small apartment just for you.

The shop's second floor used to be a storage space and now it has become a tiny and simple but cozy flat, an open-floor concept, a one-bedroom with a kitchenette and a counter bar for two stools, plus a sitting area with a bulky love seat and a TV.

You asked for a study desk to be placed not that far from the skylight window facing the street, and your queen-size bed with a nightstand completed the space, along with a door that leads to the world's tiniest bathroom.

You love this rabbit hole so freaking much, even more than your actual home, a bit more spacious two-and-a-half-bedroom apartment with a small balcony on the outskirts.

Your dad and godfather allowed you to choose the decor style, so you furnished it with minimalist boho touches, creating a space that felt uniquely yours.

It wasn’t a mansion on the hills, but it was home. And you loved it.

With each passing year, you took on more responsibility at the store. From managing social media to convincing your dad to expand online, you became the backbone of the business. You knew every part on the shelves, every bolt and washer.

At this point in your life, fluent in the language of mechanics, you used to joke should be listed as a skill on your CV, due to growing up and still living surrounded by them.

When you revisit your childhood photo albums, depending on the picture, you may smile or laugh. There are too many photos from your birthday parties, all held at the workshop.

Where in them, you appear surrounded by groups of the most alpha males you could imagine, with tattoos, beards, and muscles all wearing girly birthday props as you blow candles off a Barbie-inspired cake or with whatever theme was trendy with girls back then.

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

But they can't get it any more wrong!

While you excelled at work, your personal life remained empty. You’d never had a boyfriend, and the idea of romance felt as distant as your racing dreams.

Not that you were uninterested, quite the opposite. You don't recall when or how, but you started developing an attraction for MEN.

Not boys, but older guys.

No seniors, but that dangerous middle-aged group of males that make your knees quiver and for to you beg, "Please, Daddy, run me over with that sports car," as you stare at them driving past across the store's big windows facing the street.

You had a weakness for them, but those fantasies sadly were just that: fantasies.

Those guys remain totally out of your league, and well, you don't have enough of a social life for somebody to introduce you to a man of that type.

And let's not talk about the fact you have never had action of any kind. To your dad's peace of mind, you imagine, you remain a virgin. Maybe it's due to your shy nature or your insecurities, who fucking knows?

Fast forward a year and you are only a couple of days to graduation, the end of high school years brought you a mix of hope and dread, many universities showed up at your school to promote their college programs in a sort of 'Open Day'.

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

And they know it too!

You can tell by the looks of their extremely hot model-looking 'Student Affairs' promoters give you as you succumb to the temptation to peek into their fancy stand.

You nervously approach it without saying a word and leave after they unwantedly hand you a booklet with all the information about their college, programs, tuition, scholarships, and more, knowing you weren’t their target demographic.

They looked a bit annoyed to be there, to attend a school without potential or preferred clients.

Back at your loft, you remove your shoes by the entrance and drop your stressed tote bag on the couch before getting cozy as you gather the courage to hurt yourself by daring to flip through their booklet.

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

Our programs are exclusive bachelor's degrees designed for aspiring Formula One drivers and those who dream of pursuing a career in professional racing or the motorsports world.

Our racing driver program offers unparalleled training and mentorship from seasoned professionals, personalized coaching from world-class racing experts, and access to state-of-the-art facilities and cutting-edge simulators, opening you the doors to the world of F1 through our networking opportunities with industry leaders.

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

Drive to Greatness. Race with us. Go Elite"

After reading the entire booklet a hundred times and scanning all the pictures, you take a look at the degree's subjects, hollering at the tuition prices attached to it.

To enlist in all classes and enroll for JUST ONE school year! Pay for the accommodations, materials, and equipment required plus the maintenance fee and your health care/nutrition plan/insurance you needed for your dad to sell the house.

You can't help but be miserable, feeling the burden of your life dream getting crushed, and you cry till you fall asleep.

Your dad goes up to your loft, looking for you, worried, after three missed calls and sending several texts to your number, getting no reply.

The day was over, and you two should be heading home already to avoid traffic. He always texts you when it's time for you to leave, usually, you rush downstairs to the sidewalk by the store's exit to wait for him to pick you up in the car.

On this occasion it went differently, he comes closer to the sofa to wake you up, instantly noticing the GPEA booklet now spread on the floor next to your hanging hand from the edge of the couch.

He perceives the puffiness and redness of your eyes, you have been crying! That makes him feel a bump in his throat, he gets it, he knows why, then he releases a heavy sigh as bends to pick it up and place it inside his satchel.

He doesn't mention anything to you about it as you share dinner once you are home.

Graduation came and went, and your dad and his team of mechanics cheered and sobbed louder than anyone else in the audience as you went up the strand to receive your diploma, their little girl soon to be a college freshman.

And with that, the summer break officially arrives!

You applied for several engineering bachelor's programs within your budget, in town, or nearby like San Remo, aiming to carve out a path in the motorsports world, even if it wasn’t behind the wheel.

The morning the acceptance letters were due to arrive drew closer, and with each passing hour, your nerves grew. You crossed your fingers, silently hoping that rejection wasn’t waiting for you in a crisp white envelope.

When the day came, three out of four programs welcomed you, and for the first time in years, you felt a glimmer of pride.

Fuck yeah!

A part of you wasn’t surprised. You’d worked hard for this, acing admission tests and nailing interviews. Your grades had always been stellar, you were a nerd, after all. Still, the validation felt like a warm light after years of shadow.

But that same afternoon, the postman delivers something unexpected as you stare at him perplexed. He handed you an envelope, its heavy paper embossed with the Grand Prix Elite Academy’s prestigious crest. You froze, staring at it, trying to process it.

You tore it open, hands trembling.

It's good that your dad is sitting across from you at the shop’s counter, sharing a quiet lunch at the exact moment this unfolds, to clarify your doubts.

"What is this?!" your voice pitched higher than you intended as you hurried over to him.

"Listen, don't get mad at me," your dad puts down his fork and stops eating for a moment to face you. “And wait! Don’t get your hopes too high just yet,” he added, noticing your breath coming faster. “Read it first.”

"WHAT?!!"

"Y/N, breathe, easy..."

You quickly scan the letter's content.

"AH!" a funny scream comes out of your mouth, and you look at your dad with eyes so wide before pulling him into a tight hug, brusquely. "I GOT IN! I GOT THIS YEAR'S SCHOLARSHIP!! THIS CAN BE FUCKING HAPPENING!! HOW!!?"

"Language," he scolds you. "I applied for you, well, I wrote them an email pretending to be you. I hated it, by the way. I had to channel my inner annoying teenage girl,” he added with a mock shudder, rolling his eyes playfully. "Then, I sent their college board a long ass mail explaining them about our situation, I told them about your story, about your talent. I didn’t think they’d actually say yes," he looks a bit embarrassed at his confession. "Good thing I documented your entire and promising racing career as if were to be streamed on Nat Geo."

"HEY!" you protest at his hint of your doc belonging to the animal network.

"I knew... I know... how important this is for you. I'm so sorry that we cannot afford it on our own. I know my girl has the talent, after what we have put you through, you deserve a place in that college more than any of those rich kids. Thank God they went all charity on your ass and gave you that full scholarship!"

You laugh it off as happy tears run down your face. Your dad hasn't seen you this happy, not since your mom was still with you.

"OH GOD!" you exclaimed suddenly, scanning the rest of the letter.

Your dad’s heart skipped a beat. “WHAT?!” he asked, his brows knitting in concern.

“It says here I need to register ASAP on their virtual classroom platform since I missed the in-person summer program they just held!” you explained in a rush. “I just got in, and I’m already behind!”

Without waiting for a reply, you bolted to your laptop, fumbling to set it up. Before you opened it, though, you paused and glanced back at your dad. "Dad, I love you, you have nothing to apologize for, you have done more than your very best."

The countdown to the start of the academic year begins, and with each passing day, your anxiety levels increase. While your dad, watching your growing hysteria, began second-guessing his decision.

Billions of thoughts flood your mind.

What if they don’t like me? What if I fail? Am I even good enough? Will they welcome me? Shit, I have nothing to wear. For fucks sake this attire list is so pretentious. What the hell is "smart-casual" supposed to mean? Do I really need four cocktail dresses? I think I have something that fits the formal requirements but I don't own any black or white tie gowns. Aren’t we supposed to wear those beautiful, preppy private school uniforms?

OH, LORD!

Then, one morning, a heavy box arrives, addressed to you.

You tear the seal open, heart pounding, only to be met with a sight so luxurious it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. Inside lies your Grand Prix Elite Academy welcome package, elegantly folded, pristine, and undeniably expensive.

Several sleek grey blazers, impeccably tailored. Blue, grey, and striped cashmere sweaters along with their matching pleated mini skirts that scream sophistication. And more, so many meticulously branded items, all designed by none other than Thom Browne.

You run your fingers over the fabrics, soaking their significance. This is real.

Enclosed is a note outlining the dress code: This uniform is to be worn temporarily, a neutral identifier until you earn a place in a faculty, each faculty has its distinctive liveries.

If accepted into one of their rookie driver programs, you might even secure a seat in one of their cars and maybe, just maybe, a shot at competing in the Elite Cup.

A shiver of anticipation courses through you.

But first, you were asked to do your faculty assignment process. Student Affairs made it clear: You must apply for two. If neither selects you after reviewing your curriculum and conducting interviews, you’ll have one final chance, an invitation from a faculty willing to take you in. If no invitation comes, you’ll remain within the general GPEA faculty, waiting for another chance next year when you are allowed to apply again or switch faculties.

You spend hours researching each faculty, poring over their legacies, leadership styles, philosophies, values, and ethos. You examine the pictures of their exclusive common rooms referred to as ‘hospitalities’—where only their alumni can gather and enjoy their exclusive facilities and where their special lessons take place. After careful deliberation, you submit applications to Mercedes and McLaren.

At the bottom of the box, you find additional paperwork, an extensive checklist of tasks to complete before your first day on campus, the official dress code handbook, and, at the very end, your scholarship details.

Your sponsor is ‘WomanOne,’ a global charity dedicated to supporting young women in higher education.

Reading their brochure, you’re flooded with a mix of awe and gratitude. The stories of resilience, ambition, and success ignite something within you, something fierce.

You swear, right then and there, to prove yourself.

Your grades. Your performance. Your reputation. Are crucial for them.

No pressure, right?

Study hard. Ace your subjects. Win the Elite Cup. Easy peasy!

Two weeks later, another envelope arrives, this time bearing an invitation to the Homecoming Gala, a luscious extravaganza, themed event hosted annually by GPEA to welcome their alumni.

How is everything they send so ridiculously luxurious?

The gala is scheduled two nights before the academic year begins, set to take place in their grand ballroom on campus.

It’s mandatory. The thought makes you laugh, you’ve never been demanded to attend a fancy party before.

Following instructions, you download the GPEA app and begin filling out your student profile. What should have been a simple task turns into an ordeal, costing you blood, sweat, and nearly a tear or two. It takes a million snaps before you finally capture a photo of yourself that you like and also meets all their strict requirements.

White background, check. Proper lighting, check. Face visible, check. Wearing the uniform, check. Medium-shot framing, check. A picture where you actually like how you look? Eh… close enough.

You did what you could, adjusting angles, fixing your hair, and trying to smile just right. You wanted to look perfect. You wanted to look like you belonged.

Four days later, a push notification pings on your phone. Inside the GPEA are two new messages in the ‘Drivers Market’ tab.

Your breath catches as you open them. The Ferrari and Aston Martin faculty principals have invited you for video interviews.

Without hesitation, you tap ‘accept’ on both invitations. Instantly, two new events are added to your iCal—different dates, different times, all set.

Shit just got real!

“Y/N is rather sweet for this brutal jungle. I hope she survives,” Lewis says, lounging in nothing but a pair of tight, white trunks that leave none to the imagination. He holds his beloved Seb in his arms, both of them sprawled across Lewis’s bed in his campus dorm, the same one Sebastian moved into, a decision that surprised no one. As he peeks at Vettel’s MacBook Air.

This year they were volunteering at the ‘Student Affairs Department’ to obtain the mandatory credits they need to graduate.

Well, Sebastian applied, and as always, he dragged Lewis along for the ride.

He was scrolling through the student profiles on the GPEA platform, their eyes landing on yours. As part of admissions, Seb inputs your details, and copies them into the student ID template on Canva, preparing the credentials for printing, the new student's credentials need to be ready soon.

“Is Y/N available in the Drivers Market yet?” Lewis asks lazily.

“Yes,” Sebastian murmurs, still focused on his screen. “All faculty principals have received her profile, but so far, only Ferrari and Aston Martin have booked interviews.” Seb angles his neck to tell Lewis, and places a sensual kiss on his lips while both his hands travel down Lewis's muscular thighs. “Guess what? She applied for Mercedes.”

“Interesting,” Lewis replies, his voice a murmur as he begins placing gentle kisses on Seb’s lips with each word.

“So,” he whispers, pressing another soft kiss to Seb's mouth, letting the warmth linger.

“Any,” another kiss, this one deeper and more playful, as he pulls back to meet Seb’s gaze, a hint of mischief in his eyes, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along Seb’s inner leg.

“News,” another kiss, teasingly slow, savoring it.

“From,” a suggestive bite on the bottom lip arouses them both.

“Zack?” he continues, slipping his tongue into the kiss, making Seb’s breath hitch in surprise and excitement.

“Toto hasn’t mentioned anything to us, has he?” Lewis ends the passionate kiss with a satisfied smile, pulling back slightly to examine the flustered expression on Seb's face.

Seb blinks, trying to gather his thoughts, “But you know how it goes my scholarship god. I have a feeling we’re about to find out soon enough,” he replies. Lewis tightens his hold around Seb’s waist, shifting his attention to the inviting skin of his collarbone, his lips trail down sucking his soft milky skin.

“Y/N looks so promising, such a talent with a raw story. Feeling nervous about it? She could take away your ‘full scholarship prodigy’ title,” Seb teases, his fingers dancing playfully over Lewis's chin. Without waiting for an answer, he flicks his laptop aside, the device bouncing slightly as it meets the soft mattress.

With a swift motion, he shifts onto Lewis, chest to chest, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him closer, enjoying his warmth.

“You wish!” Lewis laughs, delivering a playful but hard slap on Sebastian's asscheek before pulling him in tighter by his thighs, enjoying the softness of his skin beneath his fingertips. “I’m used to it, you know? Seems like everyone’s always after my titles anyway... and also my good looks,” he continues, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Feeling a tad nervous, then?”

With that, Lewis lets his hand slide lower, his touch deliberate, teasing, going inside Sebastian's tiny, lacy baby pink panties, igniting a low moan from his lips.

“You wish, no one gives you what I give you,” Seb moans out, rolling his hips into Lewis’s hand grip. “And this, baby," he pauses, his voice thick with desire, his gaze darkening as he slides his hand wrapping Lewis’s half-hard cock, “This is all mine, mine only.” He breathes heavily, his arousal palpable as he rubs against him, stroking Lewis completely erect.

“My dearest, would you care to remind me exactly what it is you give me that’s so unique?” Lewis flirts with a dangerous grin.

Sebastian tilts his head, a slow, knowing smirk creeping onto his lips. “Oh, love,” he murmurs. “Let me show you.” and slowly goes down on top of Lewis' body.

The Grand Prix Elite Academy is so far from your home that commuting daily would be a nightmare.

You’re beyond grateful that your full scholarship includes on-campus housing, securing you a dorm room within the prestigious institution.

With Waze as your guide, you now know exactly how much time you’ll need to reach the academy tomorrow, ensuring you arrive on time for the Homecoming Gala.

That night, sleep eludes you. Anxiety hits you as you think about the unshakable fear of standing out for all the wrong reasons. You whisper a quiet prayer, hoping that you’ll fit in.

From your Uber’s window, you watch as moonlight dances upon the shimmering waters of Monaco’s coastline. The car winds its way up the long, two-lane road leading to the luxurious and massive campus, hidden behind towering cypress trees and formidable stone walls that shield it from the outside world, standing there as a bubble of its own reality.

Tonight, the GPEA hosts the most glamorous Gala you ever attended, to mark the commencement of a new school year. As your Uber rolls past the security checkpoint, the scene before you is one of sheer excess and splendor.

Dorothy, we're not in Kansas anymore!

Lights swirl and flicker against the façades of the campus buildings, painting them with vibrant colors, while a video montage of legendary ‘Elite Cup’ moments plays across the academy’s main structure. Your breath catches as you recognize a young Lauda and Prost in the flashing clips.

The gardens are nothing short of breathtaking, with perfectly maintained green grasses, towering palm trees sway gently under the warm Mediterranean breeze, their leaves illuminated by strategically placed lights that cast a colorful glow on them.

The campus's modern and Monagesque architecture seamlessly blend, screaming money, modernity, and classical elegance. This place looks like an oasis adorned with meticulously manicured stances, flowers, fountains, walking lanes, scooters, and bicycle paths.

The architecture is a seamless blend of contemporary sophistication and Monégasque heritage, money, modernity, and classical elegance mixed in one. Wide, manicured walkways wind through manicured stances, flowers, ornate fountains, and cycling and scooter paths, every detail exuding wealth.

The soft sounds of water cascading bring you a sense of tranquility, soothing your nerves, though it does little to drown out the deep bass of the DJ’s set pulsating from inside the ballroom.

Your car slows, caught in the long procession of vehicles parading up the gravel driveway to the grand rotunda entrance. Ahead and behind you, the most luxurious cars, gracefully chauffeured guests who descend with elegance, women draped in breathtaking designer gowns and men clad in impeccably tailored tuxedos descend radiating effortless glamour.

You glance down at your dress, crossing your fingers that you’ll blend in.

This gala looks like something straight out of Gossip Girl, though it also carries the grandeur of the Met Gala just with fewer photographers screaming names.

As you step onto the red carpet, the intoxicating scent of thousands of fresh roses envelops you. The floral installation serves as both a breathtaking backdrop and a statement piece, adorned with the GPEA logo.

This year’s theme is "La Vie En Rose," and ahead of you, students glide through in couture floral-patterned gowns and tailored suits, both with vintage-inspired cuts, embodying the evening’s romantic aesthetic.

The row of photographers ahead flashes their lenses in rapid succession, capturing the splendor of the event. The electric buzz of the crowd is contagious, setting the stage for what promises to be an exhilarating night.

It looks like it's going to be a wild night!

And you were right. As the evening unfolds, champagne glasses clink louder, laughter grows uninhibited, and the party takes on a life of its own.

The room is filled with impossibly beautiful, impeccably dressed students, their effortless confidence radiating a sense of superiority.

Despite your best efforts, despite how striking you feel in your dress, you can’t help but feel a little out of place. Your look is elegant, but standing beside these elite attendees, it suddenly feels less.

You roam through the grand ballroom, taking in the opulent décor. Round tables draped in crisp linens, Tiffany chairs arranged with precision, students dancing, some drunk, some already making out, others whispering secrets beneath the crystal chandeliers that catch and scatter light like a kaleidoscope. Neon lights pulse against the tall walls with gilded moldings.

At the far end of the hall, a stage was built for the occasion, and hosts a world-renowned DJ, his beats blasting so hard that the champagne in your glass quivers.

Then, your eyes land on him.

Toto Wolff.

Standing just a few feet away, his presence commands the room in an instant. A wave of sensation crashes over you, striking you to your core.

Dressed in an impeccably tailored Brioni navy-blue tuxedo, he exudes effortless charisma. He’s surrounded by a group of students, all enraptured, clinging to his every word. They watch him in awe. And so do you.

Towering, striking, magnetic. The sheer presence of his striking features, towering height, and muscular body makes you ache for him.

Is this what love at first sight feels like?

You try and fail, to stop yourself from openly staring, mesmerized by his physical features and confident persona.

That’s a MAN.

He is pure eye candy, and you feel like a computer crashing by the overflow of emotions.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot her, a stunning blonde with striking features, witnessing you lusting for Toto, and in a millisecond, you go all red.

She smirks knowingly.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she says, stepping closer. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. That’s just the typical reaction to Toto. We’ve all been there,” her voice is smooth, rich with amusement. She extends a hand. “I’m Leandra de Vries. Ferrari sophomore. Haven’t seen you around before.”

You take her hand, still mildly flustered, Lea is a stunning, busty, lean but fit girl with legs for days and perfect hair and white teeth greets you.

So that's having a face card?! Her nose is to die for, Jesus, those eyes!

She looks tan as if Lea spent her summer at the beach, her skin silky, and shiny. I need to moisturize!

“I’m Y/N Y/LN,” you introduce yourself quickly. “And that gown is absolutely gorgeous.”

“Call me Lea. Leandra is my grandma,” she laughs. “And thank you! Vintage Dior. They just don’t make them like this anymore, right?”

As if you’d ever owned anything Dior...

Then she proceeds to showcase her dress, extending her long, athletic leg. She's wearing a stunning pink vintage Dior chiffon A-line gown with a seethrough effect that cascades elegantly to the floor, with intricately embroidered flowers on the whole attire.

“You look good, though,” she says, glancing at you. “Even in that…” she gestures vaguely at your dress before flashing you a playful grin. “Thing you’re wearing. No offense.”

You instantly look down at yourself following her hand movement.

“You better get used to these kinds of comments,” she warns, raising a perfectly manicured finger. “This place requires thick skin. And, preferably… a thick ass, too. My advice? Never take it personally.”

"Oh, thank..? you, I guess?!" you softly bump her with your shoulder.

You both laugh.

Lea leans in conspiratorially. “Is it from Zara?” she whispers, as if the brand name itself is scandalous as if it were something that shouldn't be heard, scrunching her nose, curious and disgusted at the same time, but with comedic timing. Nothing mean-spirited.

“Yes,” you whisper back, barely holding in a giggle.

She gasps dramatically. “We need to fix that. Remind me to get you into my wardrobe, I have some pieces that would fit you perfectly,”

You pretend to think about it, then grin. “Help me, please.”

She links her arm through yours with a smirk. “Done! But first, let’s take a walk around. Let the guys witness us.”

With a dramatic lift of her chin, she guides you into the glamorous chaos of the night.

So far, you like Leandra. She may have the striking beauty of a classic 'mean girl,' but her warmth, empathy, impetus, boldness, and honesty set her apart. She doesn’t hold back, and that’s exactly the kind of friend you need.

As you walk together, she tells you she transferred here a year ago from GPEA’s Italian campus after her older brother’s tragic and polemic crash at Monza, her parents wanting to leave the past behind and start fresh.

“Well, in reality, they were running from it,” she admits, her voice steady. “I’m a tough bitch. I faced it. Do I miss my brother? Like you’d miss breathing. Did I let it break me? No fucking way.”

She recounts how difficult it was to gain acceptance among the elites here, even with her wealth and family ties to the sport.

“The social circles here are airtight,” she explains, guiding you toward the bar. “I don’t want you to go through what I did.”

Then, with a dramatic flair, she waves her hands. “This place thrives on gossip, loves it, breaths it,” she warns. “And right now, my dear Y/N, you are the hottest topic, the ‘charity baby’ who got the ‘Lewis’ scholarship.”

She rolls her eyes, ordering drinks as you absorb her words.

Across the room, a conversation unfolds.

“Is she ‘Charity Baby’? She's kinda hot!”

“WHERE!?” Lando's head pops up from behind Oscar, eyes scanning the crowd.

“There, with our very own Lea,” Oscar nods. “Our girl loves picking up stray ones, doesn’t she?”

"How does that woman get even hotter every year?! Fuck, look at those tits, shit," Lando undresses Leandra with his eyes, almost at his feet.

"Already getting a hard one this early?! That's a new record, even for you," Max teases, smirking at Lando’s lusting for her.

Lea leads you toward their group, completely unaware of the conversation unfolding before you arrive. The group is gathered in a luxurious sitting area near the bar, where you overhear George leading a conversation as you approach.

“She’s still so out of your league, mate,” George quips, earning a round of laughter. “But how did it go with Arabella?”

“Oh, she was delicious, we had fun in the spa’s pool. Her ass felt terrific!” Lando lets him know the gossip.

“Arabella is the redhead with the great ass?” Max inquires.

“No, no, that was the Mercedes girl, the one I fucked within the old library,” Lando corrects, grinning smugly.

“You did Bonnie too?!” George’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“And the librarian,” someone adds dryly.

Lando nods, clearly unbothered.

“And my trainer’s assistant.”

Another nod.

“And that Human Resources MILF he got fired.”

The group continues listing off names, each addition met with amused howls and knowing looks.

“You better brace yourself for Lando’s disappointing dick game,” Carlos suddenly jokes, his gaze flicking toward you as he addresses you for the first time as soon as he notices you standing there in complete silence.

The entire group turns in unison, their attention now on you.

Your face heats instantly.

"Nothing is disappointing about my dick, I assure you, and if you’d like, I'm available tonight,” Lando shoots his shot, shamelessly flirting with you and reaching for your hand to place a kiss on it.

He takes your hand, pressing a playful kiss to your knuckles, his shameless flirtation earning a mix of laughter and exaggerated groans from the group.

“And welcome! Officially,” Sebastian chimes in, comfortably perched on Lewis’s lap, sharing the chair, as he watches the exchange with amusement. “Nothing screams Grand Prix Elite Academy as Lando pulling moves on you,” he adds.

“Lando, you truly fuck everything that breathes,” Yuki states, impressed, as he laces his fingers with his girlfriend Pippa.

“It’s all due to my INCREDIBLE dick game, to Carlos' jealousy,” Lando teases, winking.

Out of nowhere, you sense someone standing beside you. Turning slightly, you find Lance watching you with mild curiosity.

“I heard you come from a low-class family and got here on the full scholarship Lewis got, but with years without racing. All true?” His tone is sweet, almost innocent, but his words land like a slap.

“I told you, they live for gossip,” Lea interjects, rolling her eyes.

You swallow, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Yes, I’m from a working-class family,” you reply, your voice steady despite the attention now on you. “We own a car repair shop and an auto components store. I work there.”

Lance’s jaw nearly drops, his expression a mixture of shock and fascination. Sebastian, noticing both his reaction and your discomfort, steps in without hesitation.

“Lance, you can’t just ask that!” Seb scolds, shaking his head. “Unlike you, some people actually work for a living. God, you’re so out of touch. Excuse him,” he adds, giving you an apologetic glance.

“That’s my people’s princess,” Lewis murmurs fondly, stroking Seb’s cheek before shooting you an amused look as if to say, See what I deal with? He follows it up with a playful wink. “Lance doesn’t mean it badly, he’s just… not great with words.” Lewis clarifies the situation.

Lance rubs the back of his neck, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he mutters.

“Welcome, Y/N! I’m L—”

“L—ewis Hamilton,” you finish for him. “Yes, I know. Legend.”

Lewis grins, and for a fleeting moment, you see it, the unspoken understanding between you. He’s the only one here who truly gets it, who understands what it’s like to be an outsider in this world, who gets you.

People like you are rare at GPEA. Full scholarships are rare, and reserved. To think you share that small, elite group with Hamilton and Senna feels absurd.

Everyone knows Lewis’s story. His family worked tirelessly to get him into GPEA, scraping together everything they had before the academy itself finally took notice. At the end of his freshman year, still a McLaren rookie, he was offered a full scholarship, one that would change the course of his life, becoming first the college prodigy.

That's when Mercedes snatched him away, with a very juicy deal, they moved quickly, securing him as their reserve driver for their F1 team. When Michael Schumacher retires, they will honor their promise: Lewis will get a driver's seat in their racing team.

No one in the history of GPEA has won more Elite Cup titles than Lewis Hamilton.

After getting to know the group a little better, you’re caught off guard when Zak, McLaren’s faculty principal, approaches.

“Miss Y/LN, a word, please?”

“Of course,” you say, cutting your conversation with Mick short.

Zak leads you away from the group, making small talk before getting to the point. “I appreciate your application to join our faculty, but unfortunately, it’s not possible at the moment,” he says with professional politeness. “We noticed the long hiatus in your racing career, which puts you behind other candidates. However, we’ll be keeping a close eye on your performance throughout the year. Perhaps you can apply again in the future.”

A polite rejection. A door closed—for now.

“You have a promising future,” Zak adds. “You’re talented. I wish you the best. See you around the track, okay?”

“Bummer,” you reply, forcing a smile despite the sting in your chest. “But I understand, sir. I’ll do my very best. Thank you.”

The group had been watching from afar, reading the interaction like a silent play unfolding in front of them, betting their money it would have a Greek tragedy ending. As you return, their eyes scan your face, waiting for confirmation.

“And…?” Yuki asks first.

“Not McLaren,” you shake your head.

“Their loss,” Mick offers warmly. By far, he seems the most kind and soft-spoken of the bunch. Maybe growing up in his father’s shadow gave him an extra dose of empathy.

“I haven’t heard from Aston or Ferrari yet after my interviews with their faculty principals,” you admit, slightly worried now.

“Give it time,” Seb reassures you. “They’ve got tons of applications to review.”

Across the room, a microphone crackles to life. Lewis groans dramatically.

“Bloody hell, it’s too early to endure Ben’s speech. I’m not wasted enough yet,” he mutters, watching the man take the stage.

“Anyone feeling like powdering their nose before the speech starts?” Lea offers casually.

“Count me in, babe! You coming?” Carlos asks, tilting his head toward you. “Being high as a kite is the only way to survive this.”

“Oh! No, no, thanks,” you reply quickly, shaking your head.

“Guys, don’t go too hard! I brought mushrooms for later,” Max calls out, earning synchronized nods from the duo.

This night is turning out to be nothing like you expected. But so far, so good!

As the dean steps onto the stage, the microphone crackles to life.

“Good evening, esteemed faculty principals, staff, and enthusiastic students. As the dean of this institution, it is my honor to welcome you all to another academic year at the Grand Prix Elite Academy. We are here united by our shared passion for speed, engineering, and the excitement of Formula One racing.

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

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

Thank you."

A lazy round of applause ripples through the crowd. Midway through the speech, Lea materializes at your side, catching you watching Toto once again, who stands among the faculty principals on stage as every year.

“Do you want some tea about Toto?” she whispers, following your gaze.

You nod, perhaps a little too eagerly.

"He's been single for over a year, and fucking girls around. 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 and that he likes it hard and rough, the other girl let me know he has a delicious fat cock, but he hits it and quits it, leaving her begging him for more."

“He’s been single for over a year and has been, let’s say, fucking girls around. Toto has a type: blonde bombshells, the supermodel type, you know, insane bodies. I know two of his conquests personally. One told me he fucks like a bull and likes it rough. The other? She said he’s got a deliciously fat cock but he hits it and quits it, Toto left her begging him to fuck her on another occasion, didn't happen."

Your face burns at her words, something Lea immediately picks up on.

“Oh, and last time I saw him in action with my very gorgeous eyes, he was hooking up with Anitta, the Brazilian singer, at our fancy Ferrari anniversary party,” she adds, grinning. “Girl was all over him. It was a wild night. We all got smashed. I ended up cowgirling Dani so hard in the back of his car, oops.”

You elbow her playfully, glancing toward Ricciardo, who’s laughing meters away. “Daniel is hot.”

“And a moron,” Lea fires back instantly. Then her eyes widen. “Oh, right! Shit, I almost forgot, Toto went through a very public divorce about two years ago. It was the scandal. The talk of town. The elites went CRAZY.”

You glance at her, eager for more.

"His ex-wife is a counselor here so you will see her around. Those two have a weird relationship, I think they still fuck. Toto still looks at Susie like she is a goddess, I don’t blame him; she is one."

"So, then why did they—" you begin, the hint of jealousy in your voice surprising even yourself.

"No one knows for sure," Lea says, tilting her head thoughtfully. "But people believe Toto was cheating on her with a younger girl."

Your eyebrows shoot up.

"Oh, but that’s not even the shocking part, hun!" Lea waves a dismissive hand. "That’s usual in this city. What made it scandalous was who it was with, his goddaughter. One of his students. So, believe it or not, you may have a shot..." Lea returns you the soft elbow on the ribs.

Okay, this is a lot of tea.

"Just a warning," she adds, her voice lowering slightly, "Toto is a very demanding professor. One of the best. His classes are hard to get into, and even harder to pass. But if you manage to pull it off, you’ll earn a ton of respect around campus."

From the stage, Toto’s sharp gaze catches both of your stares set on him as he watches Lea whisper into your ear. For the first time, your eyes meet. There’s a glint of amusement in his expression, perhaps? It may be a knowing smirk just beginning to form in the corner of his lips.

You feel your entire body go Ferrari red as you shift uncomfortably under his stare.

"He has an eye for talent," Lea murmurs. "So think twice before choosing him. Plenty of girls sign up for his class just to get closer to him. Never ends well. He's a dream crusher, don't fall for it,"

She turns her head back toward the stage and smirks. "Oh, looks like we got his attention. Want me to introduce you? I’m one of his favorite students."

"Oh, no, no," you stammer, suddenly feeling like a nervous wreck.

Lea bursts into laughter, watching you spiral into near panic. "So you’re one of those who only likes to stare?" she teases. "How very voyeur of you! But I don’t judge, I like to watch too, sometimes. Especially when it’s two hot boys in front of a naked me." She winks mischievously.

"Shut up!" you laugh, shoving her playfully.

But your gaze drifts back to the stage once more.

And damn, he looks fine. That suit is tight in all the right places.

The gala gets wilder as the night progresses, the alcohol taking its toll on everyone.

Students are entranced by Lando’s impromptu DJ set. At some point, completely inebriated, goes up the stage, shoves the actual DJ aside, and claims the console for himself.

To everyone’s surprise, despite his state, he manages to create an intoxicating mix, one so sensual that couples begin hooking up all around as the lights go so dim and the neon lasers pulsate to the beats setting a perfect alluring mood.

Your body moves in sync with the rhythm, the packed dance floor a blur of shifting figures. Then Max offers mushrooms, and for once, you let go.

Fuck it. I deserve to feel alive.

As the others cheer you on, you take one. At first, nothing changes, you barely notice the effects of the mushroom. But soon, the world begins to shimmer. Everything feels lighter, freer, liberating. Each beat of music seeps into your bones, your inhibitions melting away.

Carlos catches your eye and grins, reaching for you. Before you can process it, he’s pulling you into him, sweeping you to the dance floor, his movements fluid and commanding. But as the song streams, as the effects of the mushroom deepen, something shifts, Carlos blurs before your eyes, morphing into the man who has occupied your thoughts all night.

The one you have been yearning for, Toto.

A rush floods your veins. The man from your future fantasies now stands before you, close enough to touch. You lean into Carlos, Toto in your mind, your body moving in ways you’ve never dared before.

His hand on your waist burns through the fabric of your dress, igniting something primal.

Your body sways seductively, syncing perfectly with the rhythm, lost yourselves in the moment. The neon glow reflects off your skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat from dancing. Your heart pounds wildly, breath quickening as you imagine Toto’s hands guiding your movements, his fingers pressing into your hips, shaping the way you move against him.

Even tho are Carlos's fingers doing it as you press against him, with heat, fervor, and desire.

Drunk on the atmosphere and your uninhibited desires. The alcohol, makes you feel bold and alive. Each bump of your body, sway, and spin, arouses you, amid your intoxicated and euphoric state.

Your dilated pupils lock onto his firm chest, your hands aching to explore further. You feel small beneath Toto's towering height, his intense dark eyes urging you to slide them down and run them around his dark hair.

You needed this, tempting display of youthful freedom. This release from years of sadness, loss, and solitude.

And as you move, completely untethered, you know one thing for certain:

You can’t wait for this new chapter of your life to begin. To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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