Hi so i have a request its like this toto wolf daughter is in the miss universe pageant and he invites the whole grid to watch and her situation was like pia wurtzbach when she won in 2015 and yeah i’ll let you imagine the rest hehehehehe 🥹✌️
The Universe And Other Trophies - TW
pairing: dad!toto wolf x fem!daughter!reader synopsis: Y/N wins the crown, the F1 grid crashes the Bellagio afterparty, and Toto gets a new pin for the next Team Principals meeting. wc: 2.2k
note: sorry for the delay, hope you like it <3
The tension in the VIP suite was thicker than the air in the Singapore paddock. Toto had rented out a massive private lounge just off the Vegas strip, equipped with a theater-sized screen, an open bar, and enough catering to feed three entire pit crews. He had invited the entire F1 grid—drivers, team principals, and mechanics—to watch the Miss Universe finals.
No one dared decline an invitation from Toto Wolff, especially not when his daughter, Y/N, was the reigning Miss Austria and the heavy favorite for the crown.
Toto was pacing exactly like he did during Q3. Lewis was leaning forward in his seat, looking impeccably stressed in a designer silk shirt, while George sat rigidly, analyzing the stage choreography like it was telemetry data. Across the room, Max and Lando were stress-eating popcorn, eyes glued to the screen. Even Laurent was there, trying to look nonchalant but clearly swept up in the drama of the evening.
"She looks flawless," Lewis murmured, watching Y/N glide across the screen in her evening gown.
"She has excellent flow in that dress," George agreed completely seriously.
Toto stopped pacing and crossed his arms. "If she doesn't win, this entire pageant is rigged. I will appeal to the FIA. I mean, the Miss Universe Organization."
On screen, it was down to the final two. Y/N and Miss Colombia stood at the center of the brightly lit stage, grasping each other's hands. The host stood off to the side, clutching the envelope.
In the VIP lounge, you could hear a pin drop. Charles Leclerc was holding his breath. Toto gripped the edge of the glass table so hard his knuckles turned white.
"The new Miss Universe is..." the host's voice boomed through the surround sound speakers. A agonizing pause. "...Colombia!"
The VIP suite deflated instantly.
A collective groan echoed through the room. On the screen, Y/N handled it with absolute pure class. She smiled radiantly, squeezed the winner's hands, and stepped back to graciously applaud as the crown was placed on Miss Colombia's head.
Toto stared at the screen, completely shell-shocked. He looked like he had just witnessed a double DNF on the final lap. He unbuttoned his crisp white shirt at the collar and collapsed onto the leather sofa.
"Unbelievable," Toto muttered, rubbing his temples. "Absolutely unacceptable."
"She did incredibly well, Toto," Lewis said gently, patting on his shoulder. "First runner-up is a massive achievement. Y/N is a champion."
"It's just bad luck, mate," Lando called out from the back, tossing a piece of popcorn into Max's lap. "She drove a great race."
Laurent took a slow sip of his drink, suppressing a tiny smirk. "Tough break, Toto. Better luck next time."
On the television, the celebration was suddenly interrupted. The host was walking back toward the center of the stage, looking incredibly pale and holding the envelope up to the camera.
"Folks, I have to apologize," the host stammered.
The entire F1 grid leaned in. Toto slowly sat up, his eyes narrowing.
"The first runner-up is Colombia," the host announced, his voice trembling slightly. "Miss Universe... is Austria! Y/N!"
For two full seconds, the VIP lounge was dead silent as twenty elite racing drivers and high-strung team principals processed the information. On screen, Y/N looked utterly bewildered, her hands flying to her mouth in shock as the realization set in.
And then, the room erupted.
It was pure, unadulterated chaos. Toto leaped from the sofa with a deafening roar, slamming his hands down on the glass table with such force that it rattled the champagne flutes.
"YES! YES! HAHA!" Toto bellowed, throwing his arms in the air.
Ricciardo did a literal backflip off a velvet ottoman. Lewis and George were hugging and jumping up and down like they had just secured a 1-2 finish at Silverstone. Carlos started aggressively shaking a bottle of champagne, ready to spray the room, while Max yelled, "Simply lovely!" over the deafening cheers.
Mekies choked on his drink. Toto turned to him, pointing a triumphant finger right in his face. "THAT is how you win a World Championship, Laurent!"
The grid crowded around the massive screen, practically pressing their faces against it as the crown was carefully removed from Miss Colombia and placed onto Y/N's head. She was crying happy tears, beaming brightly as she took her first walk down the runway as Miss Universe, waving to the roaring crowd.
In the suite, Carlos had successfully popped the champagne, spraying it over the back row of drivers. Toto didn't even care about the mess. He was wiping a single, proud tear from his eye.
"Get the jet ready," Toto commanded, pulling out his phone and barking orders into it with a massive grin. "We are going to the afterparty. The drinks are on Mercedes!"
The room cheered again. Y/N hadn't just won the universe; she had given the F1 grid the most chaotic, adrenaline-fueled off-season night of their lives.
-
The convoy of black SUVs pulled up to the Miss Universe afterparty at the Bellagio like a highly coordinated pit stop. The energy of the F1 grid spilling out onto the red carpet was completely unhinged compared to the poised, heavily contoured grace of the pageant world.
Toto led the charge, having swapped his champagne-soaked shirt for a fresh one he somehow manifested on the jet. Behind him trailed twenty of the fastest men on earth, most of whom were still riding the adrenaline high of the most dramatic plot twist they’d seen since Abu Dhabi 2021.
"Everyone, keep it together," Toto instructed, pointing a stern finger at Lando and Oscar Piastri, who were already giggling about something. "We are here to support Y/N. No messing around with the staging, no trying to race the golf carts in the lobby, and absolutely no giving the press a reason to write about us."
"Copy that, boss," Lewis smiled, adjusting his perfectly tailored jacket.
They bypassed the standard press line—Toto had flashed a look at the security guards that immediately parted the red velvet ropes—and stepped into the grand ballroom. It was a sea of glittering gowns, flashing cameras, and towering heels.
And right in the center of the room, surrounded by a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras, was Y/N, wearing the sparkling Miss Universe crown.
The moment Y/N spotted the absolute mob of F1 drivers marching through the ballroom, her perfectly trained pageant smile broke into a genuine, beaming grin. She excused herself from a very confused reporter from E!News and practically ran over in her stilettos.
"Dad!" she yelled over the bass-heavy music.
Toto caught her in a massive bear hug, completely disregarding the fact that he was crushing her million-dollar custom gown. He pulled back, holding her by the shoulders, his eyes shining with pride.
"I told you," Toto said, his voice thick with emotion. "I told you from day one, you had the pace. The strategy was perfect. You executed it flawlessly."
"Thanks, Dad," Y/N laughed, reaching up to secure the heavy crown on her head. "Though I think my heart stopped for a solid minute during that announcement."
"You and me both, mate," Daniel chimed in, stepping up to give her a high-five. "I did a backflip off a chair when they fixed it. Pretty sure I pulled a hamstring, but it was worth it. You look stunning!"
"Wow," Max nodded in approval, offering a polite thumbs-up. "Very dramatic finish. Good entertainment value."
Charles stepped forward, looking entirely out of breath just from being in the same room as so much glamour. "Congratulations, Y/N. You handled the mistake with so much grace. If that were me, I would have been crying into the microphone."
"I was doing the math in my head," George added, leaning in with absolute earnestness. "When they said Colombia, the math just wasn't mathing. Your overall performance metrics were undeniably superior."
Y/N burst out laughing, wrapping George in a quick hug. "Thank you, George. I'm glad my metrics were up to standard."
It didn't take long for the grid to completely integrate themselves into the pageant afterparty, resulting in some of the most bizarre crossovers the universe had ever witnessed.
Valtteri somehow found his way to the DJ booth and was passionately discussing the acoustics of the ballroom with the sound engineer, holding a completely full cup of coffee.
Lewis was surrounded by five different international pageant directors, deep in conversation about sustainable fashion and high-end textiles.
Carlos and Fernando were charming the absolute socks off the European delegates, effortlessly switching between three different languages while holding court by the ice sculpture.
Lando, meanwhile, had discovered the 360-degree slow-motion camera booth. He and Daniel were currently trying to see how many people they could fit onto the tiny platform, completely ruining the aesthetic of the glamorous prop.
Toto stood by the bar, nursing a glass of sparkling water, his eyes tracking Y/N as she elegantly navigated the room, taking photos and accepting congratulations.
Mekies sidled up next to him, holding a flute of champagne. For once, the rivalry was completely absent.
"She's a credit to you, Toto," Laurent said quietly, raising his glass in a subtle toast. "Seriously. Hell of a night."
Toto smiled, a genuine, relaxed expression that the paddock rarely got to see. He clinked his glass against Laurent's.
"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me," Toto sighed, his sharp eyes darting toward the dance floor. "I need to go stop Yuki from trying to wear Miss Japan's national costume.”
-
By 2:00 AM, the Bellagio ballroom had fully descended into a beautifully chaotic blend of high fashion and motorsport absurdity.
Toto had, in fact, been too late to stop Yuki. The former driver was currently parading around the edge of the dance floor draped in a massive, feathered wing apparatus belonging to Miss Japan, while Pierre filmed the entire ordeal on his phone, crying with laughter.
Over by the buffet, Max had somehow procured a plate of bitterballen that absolutely was not on the catering menu and was explaining the mechanics of sim racing to the reigning Miss Supranational. She looked utterly lost but charmed nonetheless.
Y/N, meanwhile, had finally kicked off her towering stilettos. The Miss Universe crown was still firmly pinned to her head, sparkling under the chandeliers, but she was now comfortably walking around barefoot, holding a slice of pizza in one hand and her sash in the other.
She spotted her dad leaning against a grand marble pillar, looking exhausted but overwhelmingly happy. She padded over to him, leaning her head against his shoulder.
"Pit stop?" Toto asked, looking down at her bare feet.
"Tires are completely gone, Bono," Y/N joked, taking a bite of her pizza. "I think I’ve taken photos with every single person in Nevada. My cheeks actually ache."
Toto chuckled softly, shrugging off his tailored Mercedes-branded suit jacket and draping it carefully over her shoulders to keep her warm in the heavily air-conditioned ballroom. The contrast of the sharp black blazer over her glittering, heavily beaded gown was striking.
"You did perfectly," Toto said, wrapping an arm around her. "I have never been more stressed in my entire life—and that includes the 2021 season—but you handled the pressure like a true professional. I am so incredibly proud of you, Y/N."
"Thanks, Dad," she smiled, resting her head back on his shoulder. "Though I’m pretty sure the FIA is going to fine the grid for public disturbance. Look at them."
They both looked toward the center of the room. Daniel and Lando had convinced the DJ to play the Formula 1 theme song, and half the grid was currently moshing to the dramatic orchestral strings, much to the amusement of the remaining pageant queens.
The flight back across the Atlantic the next day was the quietest the Mercedes private jet had ever been.
Every single driver who had managed to score a seat on Toto’s plane was completely passed out. George was wearing a sleep mask that said Beauty Sleep, which he had definitely stolen from one of the contestants' gift bags. Lewis was peacefully curled up under a cashmere blanket, and Lando was snoring softly against the window.
Y/N sat across from Toto, sipping a cup of herbal tea. The crown was safely locked in its custom velvet box on the seat next to her. She looked out the window at the clouds, the reality of the last twenty-four hours finally sinking in. She was Miss Universe.
Toto looked up from his tablet, where he was reviewing emails, and caught her eye.
"You know," Toto said, a slow, incredibly smug smile spreading across his face, "the next Team Principals meeting is going to be fantastic."
Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why is that?"
Toto reached into his pocket and pulled out a custom-made, solid silver pin. It read: PROUD DAD OF THE UNIVERSE. He pinned it precisely to the lapel of his crisp white shirt.
"Because," Toto stated matter-of-factly, leaning back in his leather seat, "Zak Brown and Laurent Mekies might have fast cars. But I have the undisputed ruler of the galaxy. Let's see them try to protest that to the stewards."
Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head as the jet soared through the sky. The pageant world had absolutely no idea what they had just signed up for, but with the entire Formula 1 paddock behind her, her reign was guaranteed to be legendary.
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