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In your first year as the first female F1 driver, you had done the impossible.
Standing on the 1st place of the Monaco Grand Prix podium, adrenaline pumping through your entire body, you looked down at everyone who had ever doubted you. Team principals, drivers, mechanics.. years of resisting attacks, sexist remarks and the constant need to prove yourself, you felt like you could finally breathe. You no longer had to sit still and hear those insults quietly, you were officially a winner.
By your side, stood two of the greatest drivers the sport had ever seen, Lewis Hamilton, your teammate, in P2, and Max Verstappen, in P3. Both seemingly very excited to be a part of this moment, something you'd never forget.
As your country's anthem blasted throughout the streets of a cramped Monaco, your eyes wandered through the vast crowd that chanted your name from below, searching for the man who had made it all possible.
Torger Christian Wolff, your boss. The first man who took you seriously, who saw a potential in you, who believed in you.
Ever since you knew you wanted to be a Formula One driver, you also knew that that meant giving up a lot, facing a lot, and having to prove yourself constantly. If they were good, you had to be great. Being a woman, you had to impress them to get anything out of it.
That started to change when you were in F3 a few years ago.
Paul, your teammate at the time, had told you that some Formula One team principal would come to watch the race that day, and although you kept telling yourself to not get your hopes up, every single attempt to do so went down the drain when you saw Mercedes' Team Principal walking through the paddock like he owned the place.
Toto carried himself so nonchalantly, like he didn't have a worry in the world. He enjoyed this, the business-y part of the sport, serving as a scout, field work.
To you, Mercedes was everything. Besides being one of the most modern teams, you also came to realize soon enough that Toto was probably the most open-minded out of all the other principals on the grid.
It was sad, of course, having such a little percentage of people who would be happy to see a woman in a position that was so dominated by men, but still, it lit up a flame in your chest, a string of hope you clung onto whenever you felt like giving up your dream.
That day, with him on the bleachers as you drove fearlessly around Spa-Francorchamps, you won the F3 championship, putting you on a watchlist of drivers that could get into F2.
Ever since that day, the austrian had kept an eye on you.
He saw how fiercely you fought to have a place, to have a voice and to be heard in a space ever so dominated by the opposite sex, and it didn't scare him, not one bit, he admired it.
When your eyes finally meet his, he's already looking at you, not bothering to hide a smile, taking pictures and videos and chanting your name with the rest of the team as Lewis and Max sprayed the ridiculously expensive champagne on your back as you laughed.
Even hours after winning your first ever F1 race in your first year in the category, he still couldn't get off the high he was on.
He had finally gotten the confirmation he so desperately needed, not because he didn't believe you could do it, but because he was eager to prove everyone else wrong, to rip the smugness out of every single man who told you you didn't belong there. At least that's what he had told you earlier through the radio before the lights went out, prove them wrong.
He just didn't know you fought to hold a sob as you tried to concentrate in the lights that stood just above the Albert 1st Boulevard.
Now, Toto's eyes scan every single corner of Jimmy'z searching for you, only to find you on the dance floor, pornstar martini in hand as you sway to the beats of Empire of The Sun's We Are The People.
You have a smile on your face that could lit up a whole room, and he couldn't be prouder.
Soon enough, your eyes meet his and you chuckle, making a peace sign to point at your eyes and then at his as the line 'got lost in your eyes' blasted through the club's speakers. Even at distance, you could see him rolling his eyes and chuckling at your playful gesture, but still, he comes closer, until the only thing in his field of vision is the visibly drunk version of you.
"You look happy." he leans down and forward to yell in your ear, making himself heard even if though the loud music made it hard to.
You squirm at the proximity, but brush it off by taking another sip of your drink. "I'm on top of the world, Toto. I don't think I've ever been happier." You yell back and he resists the urge to fight back a smile, presenting you with his pearly whites.
As the neon lights hit your face, he's forced to take in all of you. The version of you you'd put up whenever he'd tell you he had an important meeting he needed you to attend, or whenever you were needed to put up a show, like today.
You wore a black strapless dress, the one you'd seen a few weeks prior to the Grand Prix at Elie Saab's display window while you were on your daily night walk through Monaco. It was mesmerizing, with a shimmery type of fabric that would definitely make sparks fly if a bright light shined over it. You had thought of buying it, for days, really, but decided against it because party dresses were never a much needed piece of clothing in your wardrobe.
Well, that until you told Lewis about the dress, and when you arrived at your apartment a few hours after the race, there it was, on a hanger hanging on the curtain rods.
As much as your looks prevented Toto from thinking about anything else, he couldn't help but notice how huge your pupils were, so big that it felt like your iris' were long gone. That and the fact that your sclera had shifted from white to a more reddish color.
He shifts on his feet, unaware of how to proceed. Were you.. high? Was that even a thing between sportspersons? Deciding on it being a matter that shouldn't be handled in front of the city's most congested place as of today, he mutters a "come with me" in your ear, putting a hand on your lower back as he guides you away from the crowd.
When he finally stops, you find yourself in a more private, smaller room with a few sofas and armchairs. He then proceeds to ask you "You've taken something. What is it?"
You laugh at his sudden concern. The answer was clearly a big red yes written in all caps, but part of you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed at yourself. You weren't sober, yes, but now you felt sort of guilty, because the last thing you wanted was to damage his or the team's image. You shake your head, trying to to keep those thoughts away. It was just a party, a party for you, with only selected people being allowed in, it wasn't like you'd wake up to your name on the news.
"Come ooon.. don't be such a party pooper!" Your words come off slurred.
Toto was shocked by your reaction, part of him wanted you to celebrate as you wished, after all, you had just fulfilled a dream, but the other part, the responsible boss part craved an explanation didn't want you to cause any harm to your already fragile media image.
"Are you serious? You're the star of the entire team today! We have thrown a party just for you and you're high?" He says, lowering his voice on the last word as he crosses his arm.
"It's just a blunt, Toto. I swear I'm fine." Your laugh echoes throughout the small room as you grab his big arms, uncrossing them. "Don't get so serious on me." You look up at him through your lashes.
Toto gives you a stern look before a smirk creeps up on his face. The anger and seriousness fades away in an instant as he realizes the situation wasn't that serious. He sighs and looks at you with a sly, yet curious look. "How many? One, right?"
"Just one, sir." You say mischievously, holding your pinky finger up before kissing it to symbolize a promise.
Toto is taken aback as you kiss your pinky finger in a sarcastic manner, although he doesn't say anything. He looks at you with the same sly look as before. "I see... and have you done this before?"
"Who hasn't, duh?" You furrow your brows, flashing him a backward smile. 'He hasn't, of course. That's Torger Wolff we're talking about' you think to yourself as you look up at him. The soreness of your muscles and the pain of being on your feet for so long getting to you.
Sometimes it was kind of annoying having a conversation with your boss due to the fact that you had to look up the entire time, and countless were the times you found yourself with neck pain after hours of chatting. This conversation would surely be added to that imaginary countless list of yours, because even today, with high heels that could make you look six feet tall, he was still way too big.
Toto chuckles before getting a playful look on his face. "Oh, yeah? I highly doubt the star of my F1 team has ever smoked a blunt before." He moves closer to you, looking down at you as he speaks, his voice low and husky.
You wonder if his neck ever went through the same problem yours did when you two talked, causing you to chuckle.
"I do?" You lift one eyebrow, narrowing your eyes. "Well, I must say.. the star of your precious F1 Team has done a lot, Mr. Wolff." It comes off more flirtatious than you intended, but you pay no mind to it. You try to take a step back, but end up slipping on the hem of your gown, the high getting to you later than ever.
Toto immediately rushes to you and catches you mid-air, wrapping his arms around your torso. "Is that so?" Toto says, his voice now raspy and face close to yours.
You exhale deeply, relief from not having made an absolute mess out of yourself filling your body. Had you fallen, your dress would probably be completely torn apart and headlines would have a field trip day with it.
Then, realization sinks in. He still has his arms around you, eyes glued on yours. It's.. intimate and new and you feel safe. His hands are strong, and by now they start burning on your back.
"Yeah.." You close your eyes, getting away from Toto's embrace as you come back to reality, regaining balance and straightening yourself.
Toto steps back when you do. He doesn't want to cross any lines by himself, but there's an internal battle to reach out to hold you again. Instead, he settles for engaging on more double entendre conversations with you.
His eyes are full of admiration, your body is more visible in this dress than it has ever been, and he makes a mental note to thank Lewis for the gift. He recalls the moment you two shared a few minutes ago, the way you swayed and jumped with the music like you were the only person in that dance floor would never fail to amaze him.
"You truly do look like a notorious celebrity in this dress, don't you?" He finally says, a hint of shyness in his tone, although the look in his face is stern while his eyes roam through your body.
"You could thank your other driver for that." You joke, trying to hide the butterflies that swarm in your stomach.
"I certainly will." he smiles, gaze softening as his eyes meet yours. They're still red, but it starts to grow on him.
Looking at you like this, completely wasted, happy and carefree, he couldn't help but remember the afternoon you two had met, when he started to be so sure you'd be by his and Lewis' side on a race weekend one day.
Now, there you were, in front of him, with a trophy standing somewhere back in your apartment.
"I'm so proud of you." he finally says, not because he thinks you should hear it, but because it's all he wants to say to you after today.
You look away from him, shyly. You had heard it before, specially from him, but every single time feels like fireworks in your belly. Him being proud of you was capable of putting you on cloud nine, it wasn't like any other feeling, it was just another signal that you had made it, that you had proved you were capable, even to those who were always so sure you definitely were.
You try to hide a smile as you mutter a simple thank you, because in this state, visibly high and drunk, staring at the man who had made it all possible, it's all you manage to say.
He smiles back at you, and your mind almost short circuits when he steps closer, not stopping even when you can feel his breath close to your face. That's when you realize he's about to hug you, and you just let him.
It's genuine and simple, yet abnormally meaningful. His big hands rest crossed on your lower back as he pulls you closer, making your cheeks rest on his suit covered chest. You feel like crying, because how could you not? You had it all now; a place in the sport you so desperately craved to succeed at since you were a kid, a win, an amazing teammate and an even more amazing boss, who believed in you through your entire career.
"You did it." He says quietly as if you're a wild animal that would run away at any abrupt movement or sound. "I can't even imagine how you feel."
On cloud nine, that was the most appropriate answer.
"It's like nothing I've ever felt." you say, arms hugging his chest. "Thank you for always believing in me, you have no idea how much you've done for me." you sniff, clearly on the verge of tears.
"It's nothing compared to what you deserve. You're one of the greats, Y/N. The whole world's gonna know you name." he says, causing the tears you so eagerly fought to keep off to fall rapidly on your cheeks. You sniff, opening your eyes to see that a small wet circle had formed on Toto's shirt.
"Shit! Sorry." You laugh awkwardly as you take a step back, desperately trying to dry your tears with your fingers before they ruined your makeup too.
"Hey, it's fine." He steps closer again, bringing his thumb to your face as he takes on the role of drying the tears you had shed. Once he's done, his hands linger there for a bit longer than they need to, stroking your cheeks. You thank the Gods for whatever the hell he was on today. "You look pretty when you cry." he chuckles. "Though I must admit I prefer the way you look on top of a podium, with champagne drenched hair and a first place trophy in hand."
You roll your eyes, as if it was possible to fall even more in love with him. It had become stupid at this point, really. Clearly the two of you had something special, to say the least, going on, but none of you were courageous enough to come clean about this.
"You aren't a bad view from up there as well." You shoot back, earning a grin in return.
The shameless and obvious flirtation to whoever watched from outside continued for a few minutes, until Toto insisted that you should go back to your party, and although at this point you had decided to give up the celebrations to look at him for the rest of night, there he was, once again with his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowd back to where he initially had seen you.
Doesn't take long for you to get lost in the music, dancing like there was no tomorrow. Toto had excused himself to greet other team members and sponsors, fulfilling the ultimate boss role even at parties, but always stealing glances from you every now and then while talking to someone.
A few drinks later, the club was getting emptier by the minute, the clock close to hitting 4:30 a.m. Your makeup was smudged, black Louboutins long gone in the corner you once laughed with your friends. As you thanked the remaining people for coming, Toto showed up again, startling you as he came from behind, putting his right hand in your shoulder.
"Seems like the party has reached an end." he says, making you look up at him. His face was fairly red, and by the way he slurred his words, you could tell he was somewhat drunk. His hair messier than earlier and the tie that was once a fancy bow was now untied, resting around his neck, a nice combination to his slightly unbuttoned shirt. Seeing him so relaxed, so calm and carefree made something light up in your chest.
You could get used to this. You allow yourself to think and indulge in the fantasy for a brief moment.
"Unfortunately. I hope you had fun, though." you reply, turning your attention to shake some of your guests' hands.
"It's always fun with you around." He says as he smiles to the same people shaking your hands. You crookedly smile, turning around to walk to your table. As you do so, he follows.
"Do you need a ride? I saw you coming in with Bradley, but he already left," He watches you as you walk through the empty club, employees cleaning the floor of what was once the party of a lifetime, "guess parties aren't really his thing." He chuckles.
"I don't wanna make you take me home now, it's late and you're probably exhausted."
"Oh, please, it's Monaco. Not like I'm going to be driving for hours." He replies, earning you a laugh. You and Toto lived pretty close to each other, but you'd drive past his building before getting to yours, so you truly didn't want him to make a huge detour just because of you.
"Fine," you smile, grabbing your sparkly clutch, "just please tell me you came with the 300sl roadster." You say and he chortles, rolling his eyes.
Toto's Mercedes 300SL Roadster was probably your favorite car in his collection. Hell, in anyone's collection. It's such an incredibly classy vehicle, you couldn't resist its charm.
"I did." He says, and you let out a slightly loud yes! as he grabs your scarpins, laughing at your reaction, glancing at you like he could survive on your happiness only.
There it was, that domesticity again. The unspoken words, his acts of service out of nowhere like this was the norm, like it was the expected thing to do. These things were becoming more common by the time, but they never failed to caught you off guard. To anyone else, this had to mean something. To you two, this was normal, because how could you not take care of each other?
The way the smallest things were capable of making you happy always made him smile. Even after closing a multi-millionaire deal with your team, some things would never fail to make you excited, such as being driven home in your favorite car.
The both of you start to walk towards Jimmy'z's exit in a different sort of haze, like the two of you were in your own little world together, laughing and exchanging inside jokes. The dry warm Monaco summer air hits you as soon as you step out, and soon the vallet comes driving Toto's car, opening the door for you to get in.
As the both of you get in, he starts driving, the sound of the car's engine echoing throughout Princesse Grace Avenue. Duke Dumont's Ocean Drive in the radio as your hair flies due to the speed in which Toto's driving. Now and then, he casually glances at you, smiling at the way you still manage to dance even while on the passenger's seat. Despite being a race weekend, the city seemed awfully quiet and empty at this time.
Soon enough, he takes a turn and you're finally in Larvotto, which meant in a few seconds he'd be pulling up at your home. However, before he had the chance to, you saw the sun rising in distance, its warm light gleaming in the sea water.
"Toto, look!" you point to the horizon, and he slows the car down to follow your gaze, but not before it lingering on your eyes. Your shiny orbits that mirrored the sunrise. "It's so beautiful.."
"Indeed it is.." he says, and you can tell by his tone he's got a change of plans coming.
When your attention goes back to him, you notice him parking the car in the shore, exiting the vehicle to open the door for you. "Come on, let me give you a real after party."
You smile, because there was no way the day could get any better. You were sure you'd wake up later convincing yourself this had been a dream.
Taking your hand, he pulls you out of the car, and after you close the door, he runs towards the sea, fingers intertwined with yours.
In this moment, you force yourself to forget about all of the implications and concerns that could come at you. In this moment, it was just you and Toto, not a Mercedes driver and the Mercedes' Team Principal. To anyone else who'd catch a glimpse of the scene, the both of you looked like stupid, reckless teenagers in love.
Sitting on the sand, you try to catch your breath, stomach hurting due to you not being able to stop laughing. You lay your head on his broad shoulders, hands holding his arm.
Suddenly, he feels the need to confess, "I'm always so happy when I'm around you" german accent getting heavier by the minute, as it always did when he was drunk.
You smile, "Me too."
Silence sinks in for a moment, and then, "You're the most amazing woman I've ever known." It comes lower than he intends to, but he's also never felt so nervous around someone like he does now. You thank the heavens for the fact that he's not looking at you, you look like a stupid lovesick teenager.
"You don't need to say that," you sigh. "you've already told me you're proud of me for today."
"I know. I'm not saying it because I feel the need for it to be said, but because I truly believe that." he replies. "Ever since that day in Spa, you've proven to be an extremely fierce, fearless, wonderful driver and an even more amazing woman." You roll your eyes at his compliments. "I mean it, Y/N." He grabs your attention just by saying your name, making it all even more real. You look at him. "Mercedes is extremely lucky to have you, and so am I." he looks at you, his face closer than ever as yours rest on his shoulder.
"You have me?" You say, looking at him through your lashes.
"I like to think I do. Do I?"
"Utterly." You smile, your eyes glowing just by looking at him.
His hands go to cup your face, and the last thing you'd expect from him happens.
At first, his lips brush over yours lightly, as if he's asking for permission, testing the waters to see if he's allowed to go further. When you don't protest, he deepens the kiss, sweeping you off your feet. He tastes like Veuve Clicquot and expensive cigars, and you know it's just for today, but it's a nice contrast to your weed and pornstar martini covered taste buds.
The two of you laugh, and you hide your now ridiculously red face in his chest. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this." you say, feeling his body hairs stand on end.
"You have no idea how long I've waited to do this." he says, and you shed a tear on his partially shirt covered chest. "Are you crying?" He asks, and when he hears you sniff, he takes it as a yes. "Hey, don't cry. Look." he lifts your chin up, making you stare at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes.
The sunrise looks like a masterpiece, with pinkish and yellow tones coloring the sky. Toto puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.
You could now add having him in your list as well.