Toto Wolff X Female!driver - Tumblr Posts
xiii. show the world - t.w.
pairing: female!driver x toto wolff
word count: 2.7k
warnings: cursing, angst, lots of angst to be completely honest, pining, age gap relationship, toto being down bad per usual, two idiots in love but won't admit it, yadayadayada
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“be honest with me. are you seeing someone?”
daniel brings a wine glass to his lips, tilting it back as you sit across from him, your fork clattering against the table. heat radiates off of your cheeks, flourishing into your neck as your eyes snap away from his intense stare.
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
the sun was starting to set over the water, casting a tangerine glow across its surface. fluffy clouds float along, the sky bursting with lavender, fuschia, and cerulean hues. yachts drifted along, their lights beginning to glimmer as the sky grew dimmer and dimmer. on your left, it was almost like the city was given its first breath of night life, locals strolling along the streets, their conversations and the growl of engines as they zoomed along the streets merely white noise.
it was truly a breathtaking view, distracting you for just a moment, taking your focus away from the conversation at hand.
yet, you remember he’s awaiting your answer, arms folded across his chest, brows knit together. scrambling to formulate some sort of response, you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, shoulders slumping.
“what if i told you i was?”
“hmm,” daniel hums, downing the rest of his wine, “then i would say good for you, i guess.”
“oh come on,” your regain your composure, frustration brewing in the pit of your stomach, “i thought we consensually agreed that we wouldn’t explore a relationship because we needed to keep things professional.”
“i did that because that’s what you wanted,” daniel swivels his head, glancing out at the water, “i never agreed to that. i only respected your wishes because that was what you wanted. i never wanted that. i wanted you.”
“but you never told me,” you protest, absentmindedly picking at your ratatouille, “that night in jeddah, i vividly remember you telling me that you never acted on your feelings because you knew that it was one-sided.”
daniel huffs, shaking his head, “i didn’t think i would’ve had to spell it out for you. i was under the impression you knew that i had feelings for you. and actually, i thought you reciprocated those same feelings. thank you for reminding me of the cold hard truth. i feel so much better about this. thanks for that.”
“you’re not being very mature about this. what happened to staying emotionally mature about the matter?”
“i was doing that until i heard from alex that you were dating someone,” daniel retorts, his tone seething with fiery anger, “you couldn’t just tell me yourself? also, how long were you going to keep that from me? were you just not going to mention it until i found out?”
“i didn’t think it was important,” you shrug, shrinking in your seat as pairs of eyes sear into you, the stares becoming more and more prominent as daniel’s voice carries throughout the patio.
“starting a relationship with someone isn’t important?”
“daniel,” you hiss, desperately wishing you were wearing a cap or some sunglasses, “people are starting to stare.”
“okay and?” he cocks his head, “i don’t give a fuck. you have no fucking idea how heartbroken i’ve been these last few weeks. i feel like my entire world has been turned upside down. meanwhile you’re frolicking around with some douchebag from st. louis. obviously the dick is must have you in a chokehold because you’ve been a completely different person.”
“daniel, please,” the notes in your tone raise an octave as your lower lip trembles, “stop, please. people are listening. can we talk about this some other time–”
“well luckily for you,” daniel inhales sharply, rising to his feet, “i don’t want to discuss it any further. i’m done here. see you around, america’s princess.”
tossing his napkin on the table, the australian snatches the keys to his rental, muttering under his breath. you remain at the table, people resuming back to their previous conversations as the waitress comes by, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“is everything all right, madame?”
“i just need the check please,” you mumble, tears threatening to spill over as you reach for your purse, “i’ll pay for it all. i am so sorry about that.
“no worries madame,” the waitress chirps, “would you care for a free dessert for your troubles?”
you know what? free dessert didn’t seem too bad after all.
“oui, s’il vous plait.”
at your response, the waitress’ lips curve into a wide grin, “tu es le bienvenu.”
letting out a shaky breath, you wipe away a tear, pulling your phone out of your purse. swallowing the lump in your throat, you message the one person you needed most.
i hope things are going well on your end tonight. is there any chance you can come by my hotel room, or i swing by yours? it would be later tonight. i want my sexy, smoochable, handsome boyfriend. :’(((((
the moment you send the message, three little bubbles appear, signaling that he had received it, and was crafting a reply.
i take it the dinner didn’t go well? what happened, meine liebe? ich vermisse dich auch.
wrinkling your nose, you highlight the text, tapping the copy option. thumb gliding across the screen, you click on the google translate app, pasting it into the textbox.
what happened, my love? i miss you too.
i can explain more later. you type, are you busy?
never too busy for you. remember, we’re in monaco. i own a place here. 😘 you can just come by whenever you need. i’m at home. do you need the address?
yes please. i’ll be there as soon as possible.
i can’t wait to see your beautiful face. here’s the address. i’ll be waiting impatiently.
the second you type his address in your phone, the waitress comes by your table, a box in one hand, billfold in the other. placing the box on the table, you anticipate her to do the same with the check. yet, she doesn’t keeping it in her grasp.
“madame, your meals have been taken care. a gentleman called, inquiring if he could foot the bill. he stated he did not want you to worry about anything else this evening. is that all right?”
your heart flutters, “did he say a name, by chance?”
“no madame,” the waitress flashes you a quaint smile, “again, i am so sorry if your evening has been ruined in any sort of way. i hope the dessert helps in some fashion!”
“thank you,” you reciprocate the gesture, “and again, thank you for the dessert.”
“it is no problem,” the waitress dips her head, “have a great evening, madame!”
rising to your feet, you push in your chair, ensuring that you don’t forget the plain white box that was placed on the table. carrying it under your arm, you pull up your maps app, feeling a grin form.
maybe tonight will not end as poorly as it began.
you could thank toto wolff for that.
ever since miami, you felt as if the weight of the world was off your shoulders. the stress was alleviated, dissolving almost completely. you could go about your day without that ever-present thought in the back of your mind, gnawing away at you.
however, there were more mountains to climb. more obstacles to face.
you had yet to sit down with james, alex, or anyone else really, to discuss your decision to depart from williams at the end of the 2024 season.
toto was the only one who knew.
and for the time being, you were okay with that.
but you were running out of time. the days were soaring by. you would blink and suddenly it would be time to board that flight. it would be time to get behind the wheel, adrenaline coursing through your veins. it would be time to step on that podium, raising that gleaming trophy above your head, your team roaring below.
with four grand prixs wins, three of which were back-to-back, you were unstopabble.
a force to be reckoned with.
max tried to catch you, he really did.
but you were too fast, fueled by the thrill of victory.
it was intoxicating, sending an electric, exhilarating buzz throughout your entire being every time you breezed across that finish line.
and with a man like toto by your side, how could you possibly lose?
with the monaco grand prix on the docket for the weekend, you were preparing for a challenging race. the circuit was extremely tight, the track interweaving through the buildings and sights the city. it was an infamous track, known for its rich history and well, the accidents.
additionally, there was little to no room for overtakes. so if you wanted to be on that podium on sunday, you had to execute a stellar qualifying lap. with that added pressure, you were a little apprehensive for what was to come.
yet, you couldn’t let that anxiety creep in. you had to maintain your composure. it was crucial that you kept a calm, cool outlook on the race.
and as you found yourself at that massive gate, pressing the button to your left, you couldn’t help but feel peace of mind.
you could thank toto wolff for that as well.
with every moment spent with the team principal, you couldn’t help but shake this aching, nagging feeling.
it was a pure, innocent feeling. one that filled you to the brim with bliss, a cozy warmth blossoming in your chest, your heart swelling with joy. one that had you beaming from ear to ear, your once gloomy days now shining with this golden, rich light.
you were in love with him.
hopelessly in love, your whole heart resting in his tender hands.
you couldn’t tell him that though. you couldn’t bring yourself to.
at least, not yet.
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
“all right,” james’ sucks in a breath, his head swiveling from side to side, taking in the commotion all around.
“are you ready?”
“come on,” you wave a hand, “you know the drill. i was born ready.”
“i know,” the team principal’s lips twitch as he fights a smile, “but this is a pretty significant race. there’s a lot of history and heartbreak on this track.”
“are you saying that you don’t think i can win?” you tease, your voice muffled slightly by the thick exterior of the helmet, “james, i can do this. believe me, i can do this.”
“there’s a lot at stake here,” he places a hand on the top of your head, patting it, “just remember, whatever happens, i believe in you. always.”
i believe in you. always.
your lower lip trembles, and in that moment, you want to confess right there. you almost blurt out the words that had been lingering on your tongue for weeks now.
james, after this race, we need to to talk.
however, you don’t. you simply nod, drumming your hands against the steering wheel, “i’ll make you guys proud, i promise.”
“oh, you already do,” his eyes glimmer, bursting with pride, “you’ve made us so fucking proud these last few weeks. and you know what? i know you’re going to continue to make williams racing proud. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.”
fuck.
that conversation was going to absolutely destroy you, splitting your heart into two.
you couldn’t think about that, though.
the race was about to start.
on the grid, you were behind charles leclerc and oscar piastri. it wasn’t terrible positioning, but with the limited space, you knew that getting ahead would be nearly impossible. it would be a miracle if you were able to cross that finish line in first place.
yet, you were more than willing to take the risks involved to get to that position.
all you needed was a little bit of luck.
which, these days, it seemed like you were full of it. like you were carrying a four leaf clover in your pocket at all times.
as rays of sunshine filter through the clouds, a gold streak of light dances in your peripheral vision.
nestled on your wrist was the charm bracelet toto had gifted you that fateful night in jeddah. the charm gleams, reminding you of two things.
one, your very first grand prix victory.
two, that he was always with you.
perhaps he was that good luck charm you were desperately searching for.
maybe. just maybe.
in about seventy-eight laps, you would have that answer.
“and she has done the impossible! she has shattered yet another record! miss america has won monaco! she has won her fifth grand prix!”
“fuck yes!” you shout, “we won! we won monaco!”
“brilliant fucking job,” james’ voice trembles, thready with excitement, “bloody good job!”
euphoria crashes over you like a tidal wave, leaving you speechless as it sucks the air out of your lungs. burying your head in your hands, your shoulders shake as you sob.
never, in your wildest dreams would you have expected to have made it this far.
never would you even imagined racing as a little girl, let alone racing at this caliber.
and winning races? five of them?
little you, cheesing with her toothy five-year-old smile, standing next to a kart, helmet under her arm, wouldn’t have ever dreamed of this moment.
you had improved miles upon miles from the driver you were last season. you made history. time and time again. you had shattered records, obliterating barriers in the world of formula one racing as a twenty-two year old woman.
and fuck, you weren’t even done yet.
you still had a world title to chase after.
“holy shit. holy shit. holy motherfucking shit.”
stepping out of the car, your heart races, your team nearly sprinting to congratulate you. picking out james, you flash him a thumbs up. the crowd raves, whooping, whistling, and hollering your newfound nickname.
“miss america! miss america! miss america!”
cameras appear out of thin air, recording as you step down, james and alex swathing you with their embrace. alex rattles your helmet, james’ grin shining bright as the cameras flash.
“what a bloody brilliant day!” james shouts, a glossy sheen over his eyes, “what a fucking day!”
“what place did you finish, alex?” your voice rises above the noise, “what did you get?”
“ninth!” he chirps, “two drivers in the top ten? that’s a pretty fucking good day!”
“a very fucking good day,” laughter rises in your chest, spilling out, “fuck, that nearly took everything out of me!”
“well you better shape up,” alex pats your back, “because you have a podium that’s calling your name.”
as the team gathers, making their way to the finish line, your heart yearns for one thing. well, one person.
toto.
pursing your lips, your eyes scan through the garages, attempting to make out the mercedes paddock. yet, there is too much movement in your line of sight as the crew members assemble, circling around their respective drivers.
the euphoria lingers as your step onto the podium, the crowd below applauding. there are shouts that rise above the clapping, yet you can barely make them out.
surveying the mass, your heart skips a beat as you locate him.
his eyes lock with yours, pure, radiant adoration painted across his features.
that’s my girl. he mouths, dimples apparent with every word.
a few strands of hair flutter in his face, the top button of his shirt un-done, the fabric slightly wrinkled from the chaos of race day.
yet, he was as gorgeous as ever.
as charles and oscar pop open the champagne, you hesitate, fingers trembling as they wrap around the neck of the bottle.
you know what?
fuck this.
“hey!” charles calls out as you step down from the platform, “where are you going?”
there’s a brief moment of confusion from the crowd, a few gasps ringing out as you shoulder your way down the stairs, muttering numerous apologies as you accidentally elbow several people along the way.
there was only one thing on your mind as you nudged your way through the throng of people gathered beneath the podium. although your skin burned beneath your suit, sweat clinging to every part of you, there was this tugging sensation at your heart. it urged you to keep going. to keep searching.
you were face-to-face now, his brow furrowing with concern, arms folded across his chest as you take another step forward.
“what are you–"
that’s when toto wolff found your lips colliding with his, the entire world crumbling away as he found himself lost in you.
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
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