Too Wide A Divide: Alternative Ending
Hey, I think I already requested this, but I didn’t specify what I meant. I asked about if you’d be up to writing an alternative 2nd part to “too wide a divide” where reader finds out she is pregnant?? Like before they got back together. Maybe happy ending??
Too Wide a Divide: Alternative Ending
part 1 | part 2 (endl 1) | part 2 (end 2)
pairing: toto wolff x fem!reader
summary: months after toto and the reader part ways due to the disapproval of her family, she finds out she’s pregnant. Torn between resentment and longing, she debates whether to tell him. Fate intervenes when their paths cross again, leading to a heartfelt confrontation and the possibility of a second chance.
It had been three months since that night when everything fell apart. His words still echoed in your mind:
“I can’t keep going, knowing your family is tearing you apart because of me. I can’t be the reason you’re suffering.”
The memory was a knife that twisted in your chest every time you let yourself think about him. You’d tried to move on, but the ache lingered like a shadow. His scent still clung faintly to your pillow, and when Formula 1 broadcasts filled your living room, your gaze always searched for him, despite yourself.
But something else had begun to demand your attention. It started subtly—a faint nausea when you woke up, an overwhelming fatigue that had you retreating to bed far earlier than usual. At first, you dismissed it as stress. The breakup had taken a toll on your body and mind.
But one morning, as you sat at your kitchen table trying to stomach your coffee, a wave of dizziness struck you so strongly you had to grip the counter for support. You froze. Your mind pieced together the symptoms, and a cold realization settled over you.
An hour later, you stood in the bathroom, a test in hand, staring at two unmistakable lines.
You were pregnant.
The discovery left you paralyzed. Joy and fear warred within you. A part of you thrilled at the thought of a life growing inside you, something so uniquely yours and Toto’s. But then, the doubts crept in.
What would Toto say? The question haunted you. Could you even tell him? After all, he had been the one to leave, to decide that love wasn’t enough to overcome the barriers between you. Would he see this child as another complication?
And then there was your family. The disapproving looks, the harsh words they had thrown your way when they learned about your relationship with Toto. You could only imagine their reaction now.
But despite the fear, one thing was clear: this baby was yours to love and protect. And no matter how daunting the path ahead seemed, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Weeks passed, and you kept the secret to yourself. You focused on preparing for the baby, slowly coming to terms with the reality of doing this on your own.
That all changed on a crisp winter afternoon. Leaving your first ultrasound appointment, you were tucking the image of your baby into your bag when you saw him.
Toto stood in the hospital lobby, speaking with someone you didn’t recognize. His tall frame and familiar presence made your heart lurch painfully. You tried to turn away, to slip out unnoticed, but fate wasn’t on your side. He looked up, his piercing eyes meeting yours across the room.
—You’re here —he said —his deep voice laced with surprise as he stepped toward you.
You froze, unsure what to say, until his gaze fell to where your hand rested protectively over your stomach. His expression shifted, confusion melting into realization.
—Is it…? —His voice trailed off, his eyes wide.
You swallowed hard, your throat tight. There was no point in hiding it now.
—Yes. —you said softly. —It’s yours.
Toto’s face was a mixture of emotions—shock, disbelief, and something deeper, something raw that made your chest tighten. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, as if the words refused to form.
—Can we talk? —he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
You hesitated. The urge to run was strong, but you knew this moment was inevitable. Nodding, you led him outside to a nearby bench. The winter air bit at your skin, but the cold was nothing compared to the tension between you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. He was staring at the ground, his jaw clenched. You could feel his struggle to find the right words, and finally, he looked up, his dark eyes locking with yours.
—I didn’t know. —he said, his voice heavy. —If I had known… I…
You cut him off, shaking your head.
—If you had known, would it have changed anything? You made your choice, Toto. You walked away because you didn’t think we could make it work.
Your voice cracked, but you pushed through.
—I wasn’t going to tell you. I thought… I thought it would be easier for both of us. You left, and I wasn’t going to beg you to come back. But now…
You paused, placing a hand on your belly. The gesture was unconscious, but his eyes followed it, softening as he looked at you again.
—Now you need to know, because this baby deserves to have both parents if that’s what you want. I won’t force you to stay. I’ve already decided to do this on my own if I have to.
Toto’s brows furrowed, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the ground again.
—You think I wouldn’t want to be here? —he asked, his voice quiet but firm. —You think I’d walk away from you? From them?
He sat up straight, his expression resolute.
—Yes, I made a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. I thought I was protecting you from the pressure, from your family’s disapproval. But it was the worst decision of my life.
His voice wavered, but he pressed on.
—I still love you. I never stopped. And now… Now we have a chance to build something, to be a family. Please, let me prove it to you.
Your heart ached at his words. You wanted to believe him, to trust that he meant every word. But the pain of his leaving still lingered.
—This isn’t just about me anymore, Toto. If you’re here, it has to be for both of us, me and the baby. Not because you feel guilty, not because it’s the right thing to do.
He reached for your hand, his fingers warm despite the cold.
—I’m here because I want to be, he said softly. —Because I love you, and I already love them. I want to fix this. I want to be in your life, in their life.
Tears burned in your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. He was serious, and for the first time in months, you felt a glimmer of hope.
—Okay, you said. —your voice trembling. —But this is going to take time.
Toto nodded, squeezing your hand.
—As much time as you need. I’ll be here.
The months that followed weren’t easy. Trust had to be rebuilt, and the wounds of the past didn’t heal overnight. But Toto was there for every step of the journey—doctor’s appointments, nursery shopping, late-night cravings.
He made mistakes, of course, but he worked tirelessly to prove his commitment, not just to you, but to the family you were creating together.
The day your baby was born, Toto was by your side, holding your hand as tears streamed down his face. When he held the baby for the first time, his broad shoulders seemed to shake under the weight of his emotions.
—He is perfect. —he whispered, his voice thick with tears. —Just like their mother.
You watched as he cradled the tiny bundle, his hands so careful and steady, as if he were holding the most precious thing in the world. In that moment, the doubts and fears that had haunted you for months seemed to dissolve.
Toto looked up at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of love and determination.
—I’ll never let you down again. —he said softly. —Both of you.
You smiled through your tears, reaching out to stroke the baby’s cheek.
—We’ll hold you to that. —you replied, your voice light but full of meaning.
The three of you sat there in the quiet room, the chaos of the past forgotten as you embraced this new chapter. It wasn’t the fairy tale you’d once imagined, but it was real, and it was yours.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, the divide between you didn’t feel so wide anymore.
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Hey p here!!! 👋🏻 Just as we talk, I want a fic about Toto Wolff x wife reader who always healthy/happy go lucky person and suddenly she's ill. You can't decide what it is. Include there drivers/anyone in the sports reaction. Like they're trying to help her, watching out for her. She's their friend/mother figure, of course they're worried. But being her, she just deals with humour even though she's sick. And can you include Jack? That boy has my heart. Even though this must be heartbreaking for him at such a young age, I think it's time for some angst, gut wrenching story that traumatize us all😃 And lastly how everyone cope with it. Add anything you want to. Thanks!!! :))) Appreciate it❤️❤️
With prompts:
1) "After all this time?” “Yes. I still do"
2) "My sweet and brave little munchkin."
3) "Tick tock, the clock is ticking"
4) "I thought we had more time"
Slipping through my fingers
there are moments in life that define everything, moments that still your world to a complete standstill people often assume that these moments are of joy or happiness. unfortunately for toto his moments caught a rotten streak and his world was never going to be the same ever again.
the day toto met her was a day full of surprises for both of them.
y/n had just recently made the decision to switch up her major from nursing towards mass media and journalism. it was a switch that raised a lot of eyebrows and concern from her family yet they supported her nonetheless, everyone knew how talented she was and knew she’d get a job eventually. What they didn’t know was along with the job she’d catch the attention of a rather tall man.
toto was having a rather eventful day, both of his star drivers had crashed into each other on lap one giving his arch nemesis horner his day in the sun with his prodigy max verstappen winning the race only to rub salt in his raw open wounds. he should have signed him instead of nico toto thought as he stomped through the media pen only to be bombared with around a hundred reporters eagerly waiting to see if the team principal was going to have another one of his infamous anger blowouts. alas to them a young female reporters questions had caught the interest of Toto.
Her question was clear cut no glazing no unnecessary flattery to grab his attention, all she’d ask him was if he’s going to fire someone on the pit wall for the strategies today. it was a bold question not one that reportes like to use since it ends up in court cases but she really didn’t care. It was her first few races and she wanted to make a name for herself and boy did she.
Toto’s response was curt and dismissive but she didn’t budge one bit, she was persistent and that caught Toto’s attention.
ladies and gentlemen this was the first moment in Toto’s life that had stopped the world for him.
the moment he looked into her eyes he felt everything was irrelevant. He didn’t care that both silver arrows were a pile of silver dust all that was captivating to him was the brown tinge in her hazel eyes. toto wanted to stare into them forever, and perhaps god was smiling straight down on them and decided to seal both their fates together.
and so it started.
their infamous courtship.
Now for a team principal speaking to people was almost second nature but when it came to her toto was a blubbering mess always leaving the conversation wanting to speak more, it was rather funny towards the other team principals. he was acting like a teenager with his first crush.
things weren’t all that easy for her too, each interaction with toto outside of business had her craving him more and more, she chuckled at his faint attempts to woo her and get her lunches. she too had a crush on him and it was only getting stronger.
the turning point in their relationship was the after party at the Abu Dhabi Grabd Prix, the long season was finally over and the celebrations had started. Toto had eagerly invited her and was hoping praying dying to see her come, unfortunately he wasn’t the only one who was waiting to see her, amongst his infatuation toto was as blind to how interested zak brown had also become towards her. he wasn’t often caught staring at her in places no man’s eyes had entitlement to. things were starting to get creepy but none of our two lovebirds had figured that out.
the party was in full swing when she had decided to show up, wrapping up her tasks with sky sports made her rather late but the look in Toto’s eyes when he had saw her was everything she had hoped and wanted. The man looked starstruck it was insane how whipped he was for her and they weren’t even together.
a couple of drinks and close dances later when she had excused herself to go to the ladies room was when calamity hit.
zak had his dirty gazes set on her ever since she had shown up, he knew toto wasn’t on guard whenever she was there and knew it was his time to try and get handsy with her.
right after walking out of the ladies room she was dragged into a corner and that’s when she felt small fat and stubby fingers trying to touch her. it felt humiliating disgusting and frankly made her want to bleach her skin. right before zak could cover her mouth and start with his actual plan she screamed as hard as she could hoping to get anyone’s attention oh how she regretted not taking up Toto’s offer to walk her to the restroom.
toto had wondered where she had ended up disappearing, was he being too much did she need a break from him?? he was overthinking when he heard her cries for help and in a second all the alcohol in his system had vanished. He leaped towards her cries and the scene startled him to his core, in a second zak was off her and his disgusting touch was replaced with the warm calm caressing of toto a man she was familiar with someone she knew.
the entire night was ruined in a split second, it wasn’t until toto had zak in a head lock that she’d regained her senses, seeing him so worked up over protecting her name and honour made her do what she did next.
the second toto was close by she kissed him, full on kissed him. it wasn’t short or messy it was full of reassurance of promise and of new beginnings.
that’s how the two souls collided.
oh and zak was given not one but multiple fractures and a hefty legal case to fight, toto didn’t play when it came to the ones who he loved.
the new couple relationship caused frenzy all over the internet and the paddock, no one really expected them to be a couple it didn’t make sense, out of everyone why did toto choose a journalist? Didn’t he know if they break up his whole life would be plastered onto the news.
Headlines like these made both of them chuckle, neither of them seeming to care, they were just happy to be with each other against all odds.
throughout the course of their relationship there were times where y/n had become sick, it often worried toto seeing how easily the common cold for her could become much serious, she always brushed his concerns away. it wasn’t until much later into their relationship when toto started noticing more and more health concerns for his now fiancé.
the proposal had taken place in Iceland she’d always loved it there especially the black sand beach and how beautifully it contrasted against the bright white snow, often times she’d dreamed of going there and toto made it a reality for them. she later joked that the beach and the snow represented each of them perfectly, Toto being the dark black beach that only softens in appearance in front of the snow. he’d got down on one knee at that exact spot uttering words of love and honesty. they had their vows at the exact same place. some things don’t change.
it was now 3 years into their marriage, toto had settled down and wasn’t all angry and violent like he used to be (ask the poor abused headsets) he was much calmer and level headed, that’s what happens when you marry the love of your life. he knew not to piss his wife off or worry her after all she was carrying his baby.
the pregnancy test was taken after she had thrown up half her body weight, toto wasn’t around he infact was in austria for the Grand Prix, she had excused herself from it with dumb excuses, Toto ever the gentleman knew not to push it and let her have some space.
In a matter of seconds their world’s axis shifted.
the pregnancy test came as a positive surprise, neither of them had discussed having children but they weren’t against the idea, when toto came back to his white pale and heaving beside the toilet he knew what was going on, he whisked her off her feet and kissed her so strongly that you might think the man was off to war.
her pregnancy came with a price thou, a huge price for her to pay. y/n was anaemic her body didn’t have enough red blood cells and that’s why she could faint at the drop of a hat.
the couple had been shopping during the off season for the arrival of their little baby, unfortunately fans and paparazzi got a hold of their location resulting in a rather ugly swarm of cameras and people. the noise alone alerted Toto that their quiet evening had come to an end, in a rush to protect his wife and unborn child Toto’s steps where hastened and elongated, unfortunately his wife simply couldn’t keep up and fell victim to one of her fainting spells the camera and the noises alongside the amount of people did nothing to help her and so she collapsed.
the faint thud would haunt Toto forever, his whole world crumbled when he heard it, instantly he rushed towards her only to find her knocked out cold, the rush to the hospital has been the longest wait of his life.
he swore then and there that he wouldn’t ever put her or their child in such a situation.
luckily both mother and baby were okay, when they got home later that night she had fallen asleep unknown to the storm that was brewing within her husband.
Toto wasn’t a very emotionally available man, he preferred to deal with his emotions privately or not at all if possible but ever since meeting her he’s been more open towards showing love and care but the one thing he won’t show is fear.
Troger Christian Wolff was afraid.
he’d been having these vivid dreams of his wife dying and leaving him and their six year old son alone forever, it’s been haunting him ever since her fall.
Omgggg thank u so much for my first 100 followers!!! Love y’all ❤️‼️
Toto is sick in bed and his wife is at some gala. He need texting her throughout the night and being annoying because he’s clingy when he’s sick but he won’t admit it.
A Night with a Sick Toto (and His Clingy Texts)
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pairing: sick!toto wolff x wife!reader
summary: Toto Wolff is stuck at home battling what he dramatically calls “the deadliest cold ever,” while his wife is attending an important gala
warnings: pure fluff, clingy and dramatic Toto Wolff when sick.
Saturday night should have been easy. You had spent the afternoon meticulously preparing for a prestigious gala, one you couldn’t miss because it was critical for networking. Toto had been supportive, at first.
—Don’t worry —he’d said, bundled up in the softest blanket he owned. —You go enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine. Im perfectly capable of taking care of myself.
Yet the moment you walked out the door, his first text arrived.
Round 1: The Neediness Begins
Toto: Are you there yet?
You: Just arrived. Are you okay?
Toto: I’d be better if someone was here to make sure I don’t die.
You: Toto, it’s a cold, not the plague.
Toto: A very serious cold.
You: I left you everything you need: tea, soup, medicine, tissues, and Netflix. What else do you want?
Toto: I don’t know… maybe my wife?
You: Stop being dramatic. You told me to go.
Toto: Well, now I regret it. It’s so lonely here.
You: You’re literally under three blankets.
Toto: And still freezing.
You: You’re impossible.
Toto: You’re beautiful.
You sighed, already anticipating how the night was going to unfold.
Round 2: Mid-Gala Drama
You’d barely had a chance to enjoy a drink when your phone buzzed again.
Toto: What are you doing?
You: Networking. It’s a gala, Toto.
Toto: Networking with who?
You: People important for my job.
Toto: Anyone taller than me?
You: Toto…
Toto: I’m just asking.
You: What do you want?
Toto: I think I’m getting worse.
You: Did you take your medicine?
Toto: It tastes awful.
You: That’s why I left the orange juice.
Toto: It’s not the same if you’re not here to give it to me.
You: Toto, you’re a grown man.
Toto: A very sick grown man.
You: Do you want me to come home early?
Toto: No, no. Stay. I’ll suffer in silence.
You: You’re literally texting me right now.
You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to laugh. He was impossible, but he was your impossible.
Round 3: Dessert and Desperation
Just as dessert was served, Toto escalated his antics.
Toto: The soup you made tastes like cardboard.
You: It’s your favorite soup.
Toto: Not when I have to reheat it myself. It tastes… soulless.
You: It’s literally the same soup.
Toto: It needs your touch.
You: Are you sure you don’t want me to come home?
Toto: No, I don’t want to ruin your night.
You: You’re already ruining it.
Toto: But I miss you.
You: Toto…
Toto: I think I have a fever.
You: Did you check?
Toto: I don’t know where the thermometer is.
You: It’s in the medicine cabinet.
Toto: Why can’t you just come home and check for me?
By this point, you’d had enough. Politely excusing yourself from the event, you called a car and headed back home.
When you walked through the door, you found him exactly where you expected: sprawled out on the couch, buried under a fortress of blankets. He glanced up, his brown eyes a mixture of guilt and triumph.
— You’re back early. —he said innocently.
—You made sure of that. —you replied, dropping your bag and crossing your arms.
—I wasn’t that bad.
—You texted me 27 times.
Toto winced. —That’s not so many.
Rolling your eyes, you moved to sit beside him. He immediately latched onto you, resting his head on your shoulder like a needy puppy.
—See? This is what I needed. —he mumbled.
—Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. —you teased, brushing a hand through his hair.
—I’ll make it up to you when I’m better. —he promised, his voice already fading as the comfort of having you close finally allowed him to relax.
And as much as you wanted to be annoyed, you couldn’t help but smile. Because at the end of the day, being needed. Annoying texts and all. It wasn’t so bad.
So like queen idk if u have instagram but like recently the leclercs went to Mexico so can we maybe get smthn REALLL angsty where its like carlos x leclerc reader and she’s not too close to the family. (not on her part mainly charles and arthur) and they go on vacation without telling her and she’s like sad. You can have more ending if u want
💐 anon
a/n: okay, let me know if this is what you wanted. because I understand the point but not too much.
Left Behind
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part 2
pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!reader
summary: left out of a family vacation, you confront Carlos about the secrecy and the growing distance with your brothers. Tensions rise, but Carlos’ heartfelt apology offers a chance for reconciliation and understanding.
warnings: angst, themes of exclusion and insecurity, emotional confrontation.
The early morning sunlight crept through the curtains of your shared apartment in Mónaco, but the warmth on your face did little to ease the growing heaviness in your chest. You scrolled through Instagram absentmindedly, your feed filled with glimpses of familiar faces. Your brother, Charles and Arthur. Both smiling and laughing under the mexican sun.
Charles had posted a picture of himself sipping on a cocktail by the pool, Arthur had shared a video of their group riding ATVs through the desert, and then there was Carlos—your boyfriend of two years—posing in the same photos, his trademark smile shining brighter than the sun.
And yet, no one had told you about the trip.
Not a single word.
Your throat tightened as you swiped through the posts. You hadn’t even known they were leaving Monaco, let alone heading off to Mexico. What hurt most wasn’t the secrecy — it was the reminder that, despite your efforts, you were still an outsider in your own family.
You’d always known that Charles and Arthur shared a bond you could never quite penetrate. They were close, the kind of brothers who had their own language, their own inside jokes. As their sister, you loved them deeply, but there had always been a sense of distance, a silent barrier that set you apart.
And Carlos… he had fit into their world so seamlessly. You’d seen it from the beginning, the way he joked with Charles like they’d been friends forever, the way Arthur looked up to him. Sometimes it felt like Carlos belonged with them more than he belonged with you.
You sighed, setting your phone aside and staring blankly at the ceiling. The questions swirled in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.
Why didn’t they tell me? Did they think I wouldn’t care? Or… did they just not want me there?
The sound of the front door opening pulled you from your thoughts. Carlos walked in, a small carry-on bag in hand. His face lit up when he saw you, but his smile faltered when he noticed the expression on your face.
—Mi amor. —he greeted, stepping closer. —What’s wrong?
You crossed your arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. —You tell me, Carlos. How was Mexico?
His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your tone. —Mexico? How did you—
—Instagram. —you interrupted, holding up your phone. —Charles and Arthur have been posting non-stop. Seems like everyone had a great time. Everyone but me.
Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. —I can explain—
—Can you? —you snapped, your voice trembling.
—It wasn’t like that. —Carlos began, his tone pleading. —It was a last-minute thing. Charles invited me—
—And you didn’t think to invite me?
Carlos hesitated, guilt flashing in his eyes. —It wasn’t my place to invite you. It was your family’s trip, not mine.
The words stung, each one hitting like a blow to the chest. —My family —you repeated bitterly. —Right. The family that always makes me feel like I don’t belong.
Carlos stepped closer, his expression softening. —That’s not true—”
—Isn’t it? —you challenged, tears brimming in your eyes. —They didn’t want me there, Carlos. And you went along with it. Do you have any idea how that feels?
He reached for you, but you took a step back. —I thought you were on my side. I thought… I thought I could count on you.
—Mi amor… —Carlos said softly, his voice heavy with regret. —I never wanted to hurt you. If I had known this would upset you—
—You should have known —you cut him off. —You should have thought about how I’d feel. But you didn’t.
The tension in the air was suffocating, the silence between you deafening. Finally, Carlos broke it.
—You’re right —he admitted in a whisper.
His apology caught you off guard, the sincerity in his voice cutting through your anger. You looked at him, searching for any hint of dishonesty, but all you saw was regret.
—I love you —he continued, stepping cautiously closer. —And I never want you to feel like you’re not enough. Not with me, not with anyone.
Your resolve faltered, but his words didn’t fill the emptiness in your chest. You took a small step back, letting the distance between you speak for itself.
—I don’t know if it’s that simple, Carlos —you whispered, avoiding his gaze. —I can’t keep feeling like an outsider.
Carlos froze, his expression pained. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped. He took a breath, and his shoulders slumped slightly.
—I’ll do whatever it takes. —he said quietly. —But only if you let me.
You didn’t respond, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The love you felt for him was still there, but so was the hurt, the lingering doubt.
Carlos nodded, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with understanding—and fear. —Take all the time you need.
He didn’t try to close the distance again, and you didn’t move to close it either. Instead, you stood there, two people caught in the uncertainty of what came next.
The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the city outside, a reminder that the world kept turning even as yours felt stuck in limbo.
Home
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pairing: max verstappen x mom!reader
summary: after a long race weekend, Max Verstappen finally comes home to his wife and daughter.
The house was quiet when Max finally stepped through the door, the only sound being the faint hum of the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. It was late—too late—but he still found himself moving carefully, as if afraid to wake the sleeping peace that filled his home.
He had been away for nearly a week, racing on the other side of the world, and though he loved what he did, the absence of his family was something he never quite got used to.
And then, just as he was placing his keys down, a soft voice broke the silence.
—You’re home.
Turning, he found you standing at the hallway entrance, dressed in one of his old Red Bull hoodies, your hair slightly messy from sleep. Your smile was tired but warm, and just like that, the weight of the past days melted away.
Without hesitation, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You smelled like home, like everything he had been missing.
—I missed you. —he mumbled against your skin.
You chuckled, fingers threading through his hair. —I missed you too. We both did.
At that, Max pulled back slightly, a quiet question in his eyes. —Is she asleep?
You nodded. —She asked about you all day, though. Even tried staying up to see you, but you know how that goes.
A fond smile tugged at Max’s lips. His daughter, Brie, had inherited his stubbornness, but she was still too little to fight off sleep for long.
—Can I see her? —he asked softly.
Hand in hand, you led him down the hall to her room. The nightlight cast a soft glow, illuminating the small figure curled up under a blanket. Max crouched beside her tiny bed, taking in the peaceful rise and fall of her breathing, the way her little hand clutched onto one of her favorite stuffed animals.
He reached out, brushing a stray curl from her face. —Hey, meisje. —he whispered. —Papa’s home.
Even in sleep, she stirred slightly, as if sensing his presence. His heart clenched.
—You should get some rest too. —you murmured from the doorway.
Max exhaled, pressing a gentle kiss to Brie’s forehead before standing. —Yeah. But first, I just want to hold you for a while.
Back in your bedroom, he pulled you into bed with him, arms wrapped securely around you. For the first time in days, he could truly relax.
—This. —he murmured against your temple. —is the only podium I ever want to be on.
His lips brushed your ear as he whispered. —And when she’s asleep, I’ll show you just how much I missed you.
With that, sleep finally claimed him—safe, warm, and right where he belonged.
Midnight at Club 30
Michael Jackson
Synopsis: Your loving husband is not as honest as he claims to be. Tonight, you find out exactly what he's been hiding.
Pairing: Mafia boss!Michael Jackson x fem!Reader
Word Count: 9.1K
Warnings: Some sweating. Michael is nonchalant here ewww
Drea's note: I had so much fun writing this! Constructive criticism and suggestion are welcome in my inbox. Thank you for the request, babe. <3
March 1st, 1932
22:00
You take a deep breath in as you examine your surroundings. You can’t believe you’re going on a date with a man your friend, Aubrey, set you up with.
It had been a long time since your separation from your long-time boyfriend. The split was painful. You remember it every so often; sometimes the emotions of the split build up at random times of your day, leaving you teary and shaking with sadness. He promised you the world. Maybe that was the first sign of his infidelity. No man promises a woman the world three months into a relationship. It was all bull from the beginning, but could you have known? You were in your late teens, naive and lovestruck. You couldn’t have known.
Now, here you are, in front of Club 30, in a shimmery black dress, draped with a white fur shawl and sleek golden heels. Your hair is beautifully done in a top bun with a few loose curls draped behind your ears. You fiddle with one of the multiple rings you have on, contemplating whether you should go in. You take in one final breath before pushing open the heavy oak doors, ready for whatever the late night has in store for you.
The bass of the jazz band rumbles through the smokey air as you walk in. You notice a large crowd on the dance floor. Their bodies rock from side to side to the rhythm of the 4-count music. To the left are several tables designed for an assembly of friends. The booths are decorated in a simple brown leather with each table covered with wine-red cloths designed to give you an intimate feel as friends conversation.
There are 4 young men there right now. Their head all turned to you. You give them a small smile which excites them butyou ignore it and look to your right. That way is the bar. That’s where you’re expected. You clear your throat and slowly walk to the bar before taking a seat on one of the many high barstools. The array of alcohol beautifully decorates the large wall before you. From wine to whiskey, it’s all gracefully shelved, disguising the liquid poison as something beautiful.
“Can I get you something to drink?” The bartender interrupts your thoughts. His smile was genuine and calm, indicating his expertise in customer service.
You return the smile, your red lipstick morphing into a gracious grin as you speak. “I’m not too sure what to order. Any suggestions?”
“Of course, ma’am. Do you have a taste for a sweet or bitter drink?” He leans on the counter, clearly taken aback by your allure.
“Sweet, please.”
“I would suggest a lemonade or strawberry daiquiri.” He looks you up and down with his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Strawberry, please.” You giggle, rolling your eyes as he nods before turning around to prepare your drink.
While the bartender works on your beverage, you fix your gaze on the large clock. 22:10. Aubrey had said your date would be by the bar by 22:00 but he’s not here yet. You decide to shrug it off and wait a little longer.
“Here you are, ma’am. A strawberry daiquiri.” He carefully slides the drink your way with a wink.
You take a long sip through the paper straw. The sweetness of the strawberry fizz compliments the thick rum. You’re quiteimpressed by the taste. Having never drank this before, your tongue enjoys every drop of it, and soon enough, you’re asking for another one.
22:30.
You huff.
“Are you expecting someone?” The bartender inquires, sliding you your second daiquiri.
“Yes, I am, but I’m afraid I’ve been stood up.” You take a sip of your drink with a frown.
“That happens here quite a lot, unfortunately,” he starts, “Just a few hours ago, an older lady sat here with me and waited for her date to arrive. Alas, he never did.”
You sigh and nod. Maybe the same fate had met you.
“Don’t fret. I’m sure he would have been a waste of time anyway.” He grins, tapping his fingers on the marble counter.
You nod again, accepting your circumstances. Instead of moping about your current fate, you turn to face the band across the bar. They play a more upbeat tune now. Something that has the dance floor cheering and whistling. The sight lifts your mood. Your head begins to rock to the rhythm.
“You should join the crowd, let loose!” The bartender encourages you.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” you lean back to turn the suggestion down.
“Oh come on, ma’am. I’m sure you’re great at it. Plus, why come to Club 30 if not to dance? This is the place to dance, and I know*-”*
The bartender’s words are cut off as he notices the large oak doors open again. The thick, smokey air in the club shifts, as if it’s being controlled by something greater than it; something that makes the jazz band mess up rhythmic jam.
“Oh no. Tonight of all nights?” He whispers behind you and you fix your gaze towards the two large men who you assume are bodyguards.
Before you can respond, another man walks in. He’s dressed differently from the black-suited large men behind him. You glance at his white tailored suit. The expensive fabric hugs his slim figure perfectly, accentuating his toned arms and legs. Beneath his white suit jacket is a soft pastel blue shirt sleekly complimented by a white tie. His hair, curly, thick, and longis topped off with a white fedora. His presence has undoubtedly changed the club’s mood. What you cannot decipher is if this shift is a good or bad one. What you do know, however, is that his arrival has garnered the attention of everyone in the club.
As swiftly as he arrived, his bodyguards escorted him to the far corner of the club. He sits between them as if he is royalty of some sort. He examines the room, seated in the perfect place to see every corner of the club; to see you.
You hadn’t noticed that you were staring at him the entire time he had sat there until he finally fixed his gaze on you. With a nervous smile, you wave at him. He tilts his head, but before he can do anything else, his table is surrounded by a cluster of girls ready to throw themselves at him.
“I wouldn't if I were you. That man is trouble.”
You turn to face the bartender whose face is painted with concern.
“Why’s that?” You smile inquisitively.
“He’s known for doing shady business around these parts of Chicago. Rumour has it that he’s taken a life just outside the club, in the back ally”
You scoff.
“I doubt that's true. If it was, we’d see news of a death on the papers, no?”
Before the bartender could answer, one of the large men from the corner table tapped you on your shoulder.
“Excuse me, ma’am. My boss would like to speak with you.” The large man speaks with an even tone.
You look at the bartender who shakes his head in disagreement with the request, but you; not having anything better to do here; smile and stand up to follow the black-suited man.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” You reassure the bartender before you walk to the designated table.
A dozen eyes watch you as you make it to the alluring man. The girls that once squealed with excitement at his arrival now fix their eyes on you with bitter jealousy. That doesn't stop the white-suited man from motioning you to sit beside him. You slowly scoot your way onto the leather seat, sitting just a few inches away from him.
“Leave us.” He commands, and as if they’re filled with fear, the two bodyguards make their way to the dance floor. The girls, on the other hand, linger.
“All of you. Now.” His voice is stern now, his piercing gaze scaring the girls away with those simple words.
Now, you’re left alone with him. With nobody around, his scent floods your nostrils. A deep sage with a mix of vanilla surrounds him. What an intoxicating scent, one you could inhale for aeons.
“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing here all alone at this hour?” He asks.
His voice is surprisingly softer than the tough visual that he is. He shifts closer to you, closing the gap you had left before looking you dead in the eyes. His deep brown eyes glisten in the mellow lighting of the club. Something is confusing about those eyes. They appear so innocent, but something in them hints at a darker reality.
“I- I had a date tonight,” you fidget with your rings, “regrettably, he never showed.”
He takes a slow sip of his drink, which you’ll come to learn is whiskey. His gaze never leaves yours as he drinks.
“What a foolish man he is to leave a woman hanging like that, especially a woman of your…stature.”
You giggle. He loves that. The sound of your giggle eggs him on.
“My stature?” You probe and he nods.
“An enchanting woman like you shouldn’t be treated so poorly.”
You’re taken aback by his words. Looking away from him you fiddle with your rings. He notices this and gently places his hand on yours. You look at. It’s much larger than yours with veins travelling to and fro. You look up surprised and are greeted by a soft grin.
“The name’s Michael. Michael Jackson. Yours?”
Without a second to waste you tell him yours. His smile brightens at your response, a few crinkles surround his eyes as he smiles.
“It’s very nice to meet you, darlin'.” Michael whispers into your ear in a sultry tone, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
“Now, tell me. What nonsense was our little bartender telling you about me, hmm?” He leans back into the leather seat.
“That you’re trouble.” You shrug bluntly, tapping your slim fingers on the table before you.
“Oh really?” He motions for his bodyguard, “What kind of trouble did he say I am?
Before you answer, he whispers something to his bodyguard before shooing him away. You watch the large man walk to the bar.
“That you’ve done some shady business here and even…”
“Even what, darling?” He coos.
The bodyguard returns to you and places a strawberry daiquiri in on the tabl before turning and leaving for the dance floor once again.
“Thank you.” “You smile and take a sip. “He said you’d killed someone in behind this very building.
Your words provoke a loud chuckle from him. His head tilts backwards as he laughs, exposing his Adam's apple.
“As you can see, Louis over there has quite the imagination.” He clears his throat and drops his expression into something more serious. “Don’t believe everything you hear about me around these parts. People love to gossip about my occupation. They know nothing of what they speak of.”
You sigh a sigh of relief and drink the last of your beverage, continuing the conversation. He remains calm and collected, only sharing enough to keep you intrigued, but not sufficient to satisfy your curiosity.
September 14th 1935
Three years into your relationship you’ve come to learn that Michael would always be that way. Not even the fact that you’re his wife could change that. Anytime you ask about his work, he’ll give you a short answer. Nothing too specific, just enough to reassure you that he’ll be safe on the next business trip he’d be heading to. Lately, things have changed. Your husband had no longer told you where he was headed. He’d simply leave a note alluding to where he’d be and what he’d be dealing with.
To say you were annoyed by his behaviour is an understatement. You spent the past 3 months with your housemaids. They knew the ins and outs of your new grand home, the home you moved into with Michael when he married you two and half years ago. You grew friendly to them in the early stages of your marriage which you thank yourself for doing because you can ask them what exactly your husband gets up to while you’re asleep or away with friends and family.
“Two weeks ago, he had three men here. They were all dressed in expensive-looking suits, and we were all ordered to serve them with whatever they pleased,” said Diane with an admitting tone.
“And a month before that, he had a woman here,” Claire adds, “but worry not. He did not lead her to your bedroom or anything of that sort.”
You listen to them intently, your fists clenching and relaxing as they tell you just how much Michael has been hiding from you.
“Do you know where he’ll be later tonight? You two are the eyes and ears of this house. I’m sure you heard word of his night excursion.” You look at them both.
“Yes. Of course!” Diane speaks. “I overheard him talk to his chauffeur, Bill, about being at Club 30 tonight at 11 pm for some business.”
“Perfect. Once he leaves for that, be sure to have a car for me to follow him there.”
Diane and Claire nod and disburse as your so-called honest husband makes his way to the kitchen where you’re situated.
“Good day, darling.” Michael coos, placing a soft and long kiss on your lips. “What were you all discussing just now?”
You kiss him back and hum, knowing not to tell him the truth. “We were planning for our housewarming party tomorrow.
“Ah, I see,” he sits beside you, placing his large hand on the small of your back, “I’ll make sure to get all the alcohol needed tonight, okay?”
You nod and cup his face with your warm hands, “Thank you, my love. You’re a lifesaver.”
He smiles, rubbing your back slowly before turning his attention to the newspaper. You notice his jaw clench as he reads the front cover, so you turn to the newspaper.
“Two Bodies Found at The Docking Pier Near Club 30”
“Oh my,” you gasp, catching Michael’s attention, “Poor souls.”
“It’s shocking indeed, darling,” he says not because he means it but because he has to in order not to alarm you. You can tell he knows more about these deaths than he’s saying so you probe.
“When did they find them?”
“The morning of September 9th.” He answers as he continues to read.
“Were you not there the night before?” you lean closer to him.
“What Are you sayin’?” He slowly turns towards you.
You huff and look him dead in his eyes. ”Surely you would have seen something.”
Michael’s Gaze hardens and his hand clutches the newspaper tightly. It’s not the first time you’ve angered him this way. There have been times when you asked him about his whereabouts, noticing how they always seemed to correlate with the discovery of a dead body. This time, however, you prob further. Gone are the days when you simply say “Okay fine” and let it go. Today, You want to know as much as he’ll tell you, even if it means he’ll be infuriated by your unwavering questioning.
“Darlin’…” He takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Why would I know a thing about this.” He asks irritated, shaking the paper firmly.
“Because you were they the night before, no?” He nods. “And the paper says there was a quarrel around the same you when there for a drink.”
You observe his increasing anger, his breath getting deeper as he attempts to keep himself from raising his voice at you. One thing is for sure; he has something to hide, but he won’t dare yell at you. He knows better than to treat his woman with such fury. He would rather die than create room in your heart for you to fear him. If he did that, he would have failed as a husband, as a man, but God, were you pissing him off right now.
“Darlin’, I do not witness the fights that break out at the club. I’m gone by then.” He speaks bluntly.
“So why’d you come home so late that night?”
“Listen,” He snaps but quickly lowers his voice, “what I do in my spare time is not your concern. All you need to worry about is the goings-on of our home and yourself. Is that clear, Darlin’?”
His tone is stern as if to discipline you like a child. He’s never used such a tone while addressing you. You knew now that he was not telling you the complete story.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to get ready for work.” That's the last thing he said to you that day before he disappeared out of the large wooden doors of your home to do God knows what.
19:00
Michael had arrived back from work an hour prior. He did not spend much time with you that evening, and soon, he was out the door. The only thing he said was that he’d be back with the alcohol for tomorrow’s housewarming. Why were you having a housewarming two years into moving here? You didn’t know, but that's not important. What's important is to figure out exactly what he has planned for the night.
23:17
“Mrs Jackson, the car is ready for you,” Diane whispers and you nod.
“Thank you, Diane. You and Claire be sure to take the day off tomorrow. We’ll have other servers here in your place.” Diane nods hastily at your words before she and Claire disappear into the servants’ quarters.
23:45
You thank the driver before stepping out of the car. Here you are, in front of Club 30 once again. It had been months since you were here, having feared that you’d meet the same fate as those two young men who were found dead this morning. That fear is now replaced with pent-up rage from your husband's lies. You were done with the secrets. Tonight, you’ll find out the truth, and nothing will stop you from completing that mission.
You walk into the ally and sneak your way into the club through the back door.
“Thank you, Louis. You’re a gem.” You give the bartender a soft kiss on the cheek as he helps you through the club’s kitchen.
“He’s here already. Two men came in shortly after him,” he blushed at the kiss, “Then two other men followed. They’re all seated together in his booth.”
You nod with a frown. “Do you know what they’re up to?”
“No, ma’am. They’ve had the jazz band playing to cover up their conversations, but the band will retire for the night soon.”
You follow him to the club’s end of the kitchen. To your surprise, the band has already left, leaving the five men, including Michael, to their own devices. Their conversation is clear as day. Both you and Louis lean on the door to listen in.
23:50
“How did they find the bodies?” Michael asks, his tone cold.
“We don’t know, boss. Don said he’d take care of it but-” One of the men tries to defend themself but is cut by the other.
“I never said I’d take care of anything!” You assume that is Don talking.
“Boss told you too! You always mess up the simplest jobs.”
“Enough!” You hear Michael shout as he delivers a loud bang to the table. “I will not tolerate such childish behaviour from anyone tonight. You all need to shut up and listen.”
A shiver runs down your back at his commanding voice. His soft-spoken nature seems to have shifted into something darker, something you didn’t recognise. Was this your husband? Of course, it was, but this was a side of him you were not acquainted with.
“But first. I must deal with something,” Michael begins, “Louis, bring her here.”
You dart your eyes to Louis, whose hand has already grasped yours, pulling you out of the kitchen and into the club's main room. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as Michael stands before you, his curls messy and suit well-kept. He clicks his tongue and circles you slowly, shooing Louis away with a knowing nod.
“Now, what do we have here?” Michael speaks with a disappointed tone.
You’re frozen in place. The shock of Louis having sold you out fogged your mind. All you can do is dart your eyes as he continues the torturous dance around you. At that moment, you feel small. Like a rabbit waiting for the cheetah before it to pounce.
“I- I can explain-”
Michael chuckles. “What happened to all that spunk you had interrogating me this morning, Darlin’? Was it all a front?”
You have no choice but to look down abashedly. You’ve been caught, your plans ruined by someone you thought you could trust. Oh, once you get out of here, you’ll be ripping Louis a new one.
“Come. Sit.” Michael grabs your arm and leads you to the booth. You fall onto the leather seat and face the four men who sit across from you and Michael on hard wooden stools.
“Explain yourself, darlin’.” He commands.
The anger you’ve bottled up finally spills over as you begin: “Explain myself? You have a lot of nerve to say such a thing! How dare you lie to me about your life to this degree? Shame on you! Shame on all of you in this room right now!”
You’re seething with anger, your hands clench tight around nothing, your jaw tight, and your brows furrowed. Your eyes roam your surroundings. The four men facing you don’t react to your words. One, however, smiles contently.
“I never knew your wife could yell like that, Boss.” Don smiles.
“Neither did I,” Michael admits, “You’re full of surprises, young lady.”
“And you’re full of shit!” You spit at Michael, provoking a twitch of disapproval across his face.
“Watch yourself.” He lifts a finger, reprimanding your outburst. “I know you want answers, but I will not accept such foul language, darlin’. Understand?”
You shake your head, cross your arms and look anywhere but him or his lackeys. “Speak.”
Michael chuckles at your attempt to be tough. “Oh, you’re too cute, my love,” he says as he sits beside you, “As you wish. What would you like to know?”
“Who are these men?” You start with a simple question.
“These are Tony, Don, Trevor, and Allen. They’re my cleaners, my boys.” He sips his whiskey.
“Cleaners? Meaning what?” You raise a brow at them and they all bow their heads in acknowledgement.
“What an innocent mind you have” He coos. “They clean up after me. You know, after I deal with someone.”
“What?” You raise your voice.
“We get rid of anyone he kills, Mrs Jackson. That’s our job, but someone didn’t do it right on Friday.” Tony hits Don on the heads
Michael shifts in the seat and shakes his head. “You are all so childish.”
You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Your husband, the man you love is a killer. A cold-blooded killer. How did he never show any sign of this sick side to him?
“Michael, you’re a killer?” You look at him with your cheeks red.
“Darlin’, it’s much more complicated than that-”
“Then explain yourself” You snap.
Michael sighs before nodding. He stands up, holding his hand out for you to take it, but you don't. Instead, you stand and follow him to the balcony on the second floor.
00:00
The hustle and bustle of Chicago has slowed down significantly at this hour. As you and Michael stand outside, you hear a dog bark from afar and a car rumble through the empty road. This calm view of the city lights does little to nothing to ease your stress. It seems as though nothing he has to say with change how you feel in the moment.
“Listen, I know what you’ve heard is concerning to you, but I must assure you, my love, that You have nothing to worry about.”
“Is that so?” You huff. “How am I supposed to do that when you’re running the streets killing people?”
Michael lifts his finger to hush you. The last thing he needs is to have the patrolling police listening to your heated conversation.
“It’s not that simple, my love.”
“Simplify it for me,” You cross your arms.
“You won’t believe me, but alas, I’ll explain.” He leans onto the rails, lighting a cigar before taking a long breath of the smoky substance.
“Remember when I told you about my upbringing? My family always had to move from state to state.” you nod. “Well, that was because my father was involved in criminal activity. But you know that part.”
You remember Michael telling you about how his father was killed in prison by a gang he worked in opposition with.
“Go on,” you command.
“When my father died, my older brothers wanted nothing to do with the life my father led, so I took over as boss.” Michael wraps his lips around the cigar, sucking on it as it fills his lungs with the smoky air. He puffs rings of smoke out as he watches for your reaction.
“You're some kind of mafia boss? here, in Chicago?” You cough as the aftersmoke hits your throat.
All Michael can do is nod. His eyes stay fixed on you as you take in everything you’ve heard.
How long was he going to hide this? What would he have done if you were in trouble? What did he expect you to do if he got arrested or hurt?
“I would never let myself get hurt, let alone put you in any form of danger, darlin’. I swear.” He reassures you with one hand on your face and the other holding the burning cigar
“You’ve already endangered me by not telling me this from the beginning.” Your voice cracks.
“How could I tell a stranger that I’m a criminal?” He runs his fingers through his curls.
“You’re calling your wife a stranger? Jee, Michael. I never knew you were this cruel.” Your head shakes as tears roll down your cheeks.
“Darlin’…I meant no harm. believe me.” Michael wipes a tear from your eye which does nothing to soothe your sorrow.
“I cannot do this right now.” You turn away from him.
“My love…” his voice falls small.
“You’ve lied to me for three years, Michael. Three years.” You sigh and take a step away from him. “I cannot bear to look at you without feeling betrayed. I cannot be around you right now.”
You walk away, leaving him on the balcony with a cigar in his hand and a tear threatening to fall from his beautiful brown eyes.
00:38
As you hastily pack an overnight bag, you look at your shared bed with teary eyes. The thought of you sharing a be with a killer haunts your mind and breaks your heart. You had to get away from here, from him.
Right now, nothing could stop you from seeing him as a monster, and that hurt to admit.
You married a criminal. You married a killer.
March 1st, 1932
22:00
You take a deep breath in as you examine your surroundings. You can’t believe you’re going to do this, going on a date with a man your friend, Aubrey, set you up with.
It had been a long time since your separation from your long-time boyfriend. The split was painful. You remember it every so often; the emotions of that day build up at random times of your day, leaving you teary and shaking with sadness. He promised you the world. Maybe that was the first sign of his infidelity. No man promises a woman the world three months into a relationship. It was all bull from the beginning, but could you have known? You were in your late teens, naive and lovestruck. You couldn’t have known.
Now, here you are, in front of Club 30, in a silky red dress and sleek golden heels. Your hair is done beautifully in a top bun with a few loose curls draped behind your ears. You fiddle with one of the multiple rings you have on, contemplating whether or not you should go in. You take in one final breath before pushing open the heavy oak doors, ready for whatever the late night has in store for you.
The bass of the jazz band rumbles through the smoky air as you walk in. You notice a large crowd on the dance floor. Their bodies rock from side to side to the rhythm of the 4-count music. To the left are tables designed for an assembly of friends. The booths are decorated in a simple brown leather, with each table covered with wine-red cloths designed to give you an intimate feel as friends converse.
There are five young men there right now. Their heads all turned to you. You give them a small smile, which excites them, but you ignore it and look to your right. That way is the bar. That’s where you’re expected. You clear your throat and slowly walk to the bar before taking a seat on one of the many high barstools. The array of alcohol beautifully decorates the large wall before you. From wine to whisky, it’s all gracefully shelved in a way that makes you forget that all those liquids are poison.
“Can I get you something to drink?” The bartender interrupts your thoughts. His smile is genuine and calm, indicating his expertise in customer service.
You return the smile. Your red lipstick morphs into a beautiful grin as you speak. “I’m not too sure what to order. Any suggestions?”
“Of course, ma’am. Do you have a taste for a sweet or bitter drink?” He leans on the counter, clearly taken aback by your allure.
“Sweet, please.”
“I would suggest a lemonade or strawberry daiquiri.” He looks you up and down with his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Strawberry, please.” You giggle and roll your eyes, and he nods before turning around to prepare your drink.
While the bartender works on your beverage, you fix your gaze on the large clock. 22:10. Aubrey had said your date would be by the bar by 22:00, but he’s not here yet. You decide to shrug it off and wait a little longer.
“Here you are, ma’am. A strawberry daiquiri.” He carefully slides the drink your way with a wink.
You take a long sip through the paper straw. The sweetness of the strawberry fizz is complemented by the thick rum.You’re impressed by the taste. Having never drunk this before, your tongue enjoys every drop of it, and soon enough, you’re asking for another one.
22:30.
You huff.
“Are you expecting someone?” The bartender enquires, sliding you your second daiquiri.
“Yes. I am, but I’m afraid I’ve been stood up.” You take a sip of your drink with a frown.
“That happens here quite a lot, unfortunately,” he starts, “Just a few hours ago, an older lady sat here with me and waited for her date to arrive. Alas, he never did.”
You sigh and nod. Maybe the same fate had met you.
“Don’t fret. I’m sure he would have been a waste of time anyway.” He grins, tapping his fingers on the marble counter.
You nod again, accepting your circumstances. Instead of moping about your current fate, you turn to face the band across the bar. They play a more upbeat tune now. Something that has the dance floor cheering and whistling with joy. The sight lifts your mood. Your head begins to rock to the rhythm.
“You should join the crowd, let loose,” The bartender encourages you.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” you lean back to turn the suggestion down.
“Oh, come on, ma’am. I’m sure you’re great at it. Plus, why come to Club 30 if not to dance? This is the place to dance, and I know—”
The bartender’s words are cut off as he notices the large oak doors open. The thick, smoky air in the club shifts, as if it’s being controlled by something—something that makes the jazz band mess up rhythmic jam.
“Oh no. Tonight of all nights?” He whispers behind you, and you fix your gaze on the two large men who you assume are bodyguards.
Before you can respond, another man walks in. He’s dressed differently from the large, black-suited men behind him. You glance at his white tailored suit. The expensive fabric hugs his slim figure perfectly, accentuating his toned arms and legs. Beneath his white suit jacket is a soft pastel blue shirt sleekly complemented by a white tie. His black curls upon his head are topped off with a simple white fedora. His presence has undoubtedly changed the mood of the club. What you cannot decipher is if the shift is a good or bad one. What you do know, however, is that his arrival has garnered the attention of everyone in the club.
As swiftly as he arrived, his bodyguards escorted him to the far corner of the club. He sits between them as if he’s royalty of some sort. He examines the room; he’s seated in the perfect place to see every corner of the club, to see you.
You hadn’t noticed that you were staring at him the entire time he had sat there until he finally fixed his gaze on you. With a nervous smile, you wave at him. He tilts his head, but before he can do anything else, his table is surrounded by a cluster of girls ready to throw themselves at him.
“I wouldn't if I were you. That man is trouble.”
You turn to face the bartender, whose face shows concern.
“Why’s that?” You smile inquisitively.
“He’s known for doing shady business around these parts. Rumour has it that he’s taken a life just outside the club, in the back alley.”
You scoff.
“I doubt that's true. If it were, we’d see news of a death in the papers, no?”
Before the bartender could answer, one of the large men at the corner table tapped you on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, ma’am. My boss would like to speak with you.” The large man speaks with an even tone.
You look at the bartender, who shakes his head in disagreement with the request, but you, not having anything better to do here, smile and stand up to follow the black-suited man.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” You reassure the bartender before you walk to the designated table.
A dozen eyes watch you as you make it to the alluring man. The girls that once squealed with excitement at his arrival now fix their eyes on you with bitter jealousy. That doesn't stop the white-suited man from motioning you to sit beside him. You slowly scoot your way onto the leather seat, sitting just a few inches away from him.
“Leave us.” He commands, and as if they’re filled with fear, the two bodyguards make their way to the dance floor. The girls, on the other hand, linger.
“All of you. Now.” His voice is stern now, his piercing gaze scaring the girls away with those simple words.
Now, you’re left alone with him. Without others around, his scent floods your nostrils. A deep sage with a mix of vanilla scent surrounds him. What an intoxicating scent, one you could inhale for aeons.
“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing here all alone at this hour?” He asks.
His voice is surprisingly softer than the tough visual that he is. He shifts closer to you, closing the gap you had left before looking you dead in the eyes. His deep brown eyes glisten in the mellow lighting of the club. Something is confusing about those eyes. They appear so innocent, but something in them hints at a darker reality.
“I had a date tonight,” you fidget with your rings, “regrettably, he never showed.”
He takes a slow sip of his drink, which you’ll come to learn is whisky. His gaze never leaves yours as he drinks.
“What a foolish man he is to leave a woman hanging like that, especially a woman of your…stature.”
You giggle. The sound of your giggle eggs him on. “My stature?” You probe, and he nods.
“An enchanting woman like you shouldn’t be treated so poorly.”
You’re taken aback by his words. Looking away from him, you fiddle with your rings. He notices this and gently places his hand on yours. You look at. It’s larger than yours, with veins travelling to and fro. You look up surprised and he shoots you a soft grin.
“The name’s Michael. Michael Jackson. Yours?”
Without a second to waste, you tell him yours. His smile brightens at your response; a few crinkles surround his eyes as he smiles.
“It’s very nice to meet you, darlin',” Michael whispers into your ear in a sultry tone that causes a shiver to run down your spine.
“Now, tell me. What nonsense was our little bartender telling you about me, hmm?” He leans back into the leather seat.
“That you’re trouble.” You shrug bluntly, tapping your slim fingers on the table before you.
“Oh really?” He motions for his bodyguard, “What kind of trouble did he say I am?
Before you answer, he whispers something to his bodyguard before shooing him away. You watch the large man stand at the bar, and the bartender fixes up a drink.
“That you’ve done some shady business here and even…”
“Even what, darling?” He coos.
The bodyguard makes his way back to you and places a strawberry daiquiri in front of you before turning and leaving for the dance floor once again.
“Thank you.” “You smile and take a sip. “He said you’d killed someone behind this very building.
Your words provoke a loud chuckle from him. His head tilts back as he laughs, exposing his Adam's apple.
“As you can see, Louis over there has quite the imagination.” He clears his throat and drops his expression into something more serious. “Don’t believe everything you hear about me around these parts. People love to gossip about my occupation. They know nothing of what they speak of.”
You sigh a sigh of relief and drink the last of your beverage, continuing, the conversation with Michael. He remains calm and collected, only sharing enough to keep you wondering.
14 September 1935
Three years into your relationship, you’ve come to learn that Michael would always be that way. Not even the fact that you’re his now could change. Anytime you ask about his work, he’ll give you a short answer. Nothing too specific, just enough to reassure you that he’ll be safe on the next business trip he’ll be heading to. Lately, things have changed. Your husband had no longer told you where he was headed. He’d simply leave a note alluding to where he’d be and what he’d be dealing with.
To say you were annoyed by his behaviour is an understatement. You spent the past 3 months with your housemaids. They knew the ins and outs of your new grand home, the home you moved into with Michael when he married you two and a half years ago. You grew friendly with them in the early stages of your marriage, which you now thank yourself for doing because you can now ask them what exactly your husband gets up to while you’re asleep or away with friends and family.
“Two weeks ago, he had three men here. They were all dressed in expensive-looking suits, and we were all ordered to serve them with whatever they pleased,” said Diane with an admitting tone.
“And a month before that, he had a woman here,” Claire adds, “but worry not. He did not lead her to your bedroom or anything of that sort.”
You listen to them intently, your fists clenching and relaxing as they tell you just how much Michael has been hiding from you.
“Do you know where he’ll be later tonight? You two are the eyes and ears of this house. I’m sure you heard word of his night excursion.” You look at them both.
“Yes. Of course!” Diane speaks. “I overheard him talk to his chauffeur, Bill, about being at Club 30 tonight at 11 pm for some business.”
“Perfect. Once he leaves for that, be sure to have a car for me to follow him there, please.”
Diane and Claire nod at your plan and disperse as your so-called honest husband makes his way to the kitchen where you’re situated.
“Good day, darling.” Michael coos, placing a soft and long kiss on your lips. “What were you all discussing just now?”
You kiss him back and hum, knowing not to tell him the truth. “We were planning for the housewarming party you and I are hosting tomorrow.
“Ah, I see,” he sits beside you, placing his large hand on the small of your back, “I’ll make sure to get all the alcohol needed tonight, okay?”
You nod and cup his face with your warm hands, “Thank you, my love. You’re a lifesaver.”
He smiles, rubbing your back slowly before turning your attention to the daily newspaper. You notice his jaw clench as he reads the front cover, so you turn to the newspaper too.
“2 Bodies Found at the Docking Pier Near Club 30”
“Oh my,” you gasp, catching Michael’s attention, “Poor souls.”
“It’s shocking indeed, darling,” he says not because he means it but because he has to in order not to alarm you.
You can tell he knows more about these deaths than he’s saying, so you probe.
“When did they find them?”
“The morning of September 9th.” He answers as he continues to read.
“Were you not there the night before?” You lean closer to him.
“What are you sayin’?” He slowly turns towards you.
You huff and look him dead in his eyes. ”Surely you would have seen something.”
Michael’s gaze hardens, and his hand clutches the newspaper tightly. It’s not the first time you’ve angered him this way. There have been times when you asked him about his whereabouts, noticing how they always seemed to correlate with the discovery of a dead body. This time, however, you probably went further. Gone are the days when you simply say, “Okay, fine,” and let it go. Today, you want to know as much as he’ll tell you, even if it means he’ll be infuriated by your unwavering questioning.
“Darlin’…” He takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Why would I know a thing about this?” He asks, irritated, shaking the paper firmly.
“Because you were there the night before, no?” He nods. “And the paper says there was a quarrel around the same time you were there for a drink.”
You observe his increasing anger, his breath getting deeper as he attempts to keep himself from raising his voice at you. One thing is for sure; he has something to hide, but he won’t dare yell at you. He knows better than to treat his woman with such fury. He would rather die than create room in your heart for you to fear him. If he did that, he would have failed as a husband, as a man, but God, were you pissing him off right now?
“Darlin’, I do not witness the fights that break out at that club. I’m gone by then.” He speaks bluntly.
“So why’d you come home so late that night?”
“Listen,” He snaps but quickly lowers his voice, “What I do in my spare time is not your concern. All you need to worry about is the going-ons of our home and yourself. Is that clear, Darlin’?”
His tone is stern as if to discipline you like a child. He’s never used such a tone while addressing you. You knew now that he was not telling you the complete story.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to get ready for work.” That's the last thing he said to you that day before he disappeared out of the large wooden doors of your home to do God knows what.
19:00
Michael had arrived back from work an hour prior. He did not spend much time with you that evening, and soon, he was out the door. The only thing he said was that he’d be back with the alcohol for tomorrow’s housewarming. Why were you having a housewarming two years into moving here? You didn’t know, but that's not important. What's important is to figure out exactly what he has planned for the night.
23:17
“Mrs. Jackson, the car is ready for you,” Diane whispers, and you nod.
“Thank you, Diane. You and Claire be sure to take the day off tomorrow. We’ll have other servers here in your place.” Diane nods hastily at your words before she and Claire disappear into the servants’ quarters.
23:45
You thank the driver before stepping out of the car. Here you are, in front of Club 30 once again. It had been months since you were here, having feared that you’d meet the same fate as those two young men who were found dead this morning. That fear is now replaced with pent-up rage from your husband's lies. You were done with the secrets. Tonight, you’ll find out the truth, and nothing will stop you from completing that mission.
You walk into the alley and sneak your way into the club through the back door.
“Thank you, Louis. You’re a gem.” You give the bartender a soft kiss on the cheek as he helps you through the club’s kitchen.
“He’s here already. Two men came in shortly after him,” he blushes at the kiss, “Then two other men followed. They’re all seated together in this booth.”
You nod with a frown. “Do you know what they are up to?”
“No, ma’am. They’ve had the jazz band playing to cover up their conversations, but the band will retire for the night soon.”
You follow him to the club’s end of the kitchen. To your surprise, the band has already left, leaving the five men, including Michael, to their own devices. Their conversation is clear as day. Both you and Louis lean on the door to listen in.
23:50
“How did they find the bodies?” Michael asks, his tone cold.
“We don’t know, boss. Don said he’d take care of it, but—” One of the men tries to defend himself but is interrupted by the other.
“I never said I’d take care of anything!” You assume it is Don talking.
“Boss told you too! You always mess up the simplest jobs.”
“Enough!” You hear Michael shout as he delivers a loud bang to the table. “I will not tolerate such childish behaviour from anyone tonight. You all need to shut up and listen.”
A shiver runs down your back at his commanding voice. His soft-spoken nature seems to have shifted into something darker, something you didn’t recognise. Was this your husband? Of course, it was, but this was a side of him you were not acquainted with.
“But first. I must deal with something,” Michael begins. “Louis, bring her here.”
You dart your eyes to Louis, whose hand has already grasped yours, pulling you out of the kitchen and into the main room of the club. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and fear as Michael stands before you, his curls messy and his suit well-kept. He clicks his tongue and circles you slowly, shooing Louis away with a knowing nod.
“Now, now. What do we have here?” Michael speaks with a disappointed tone.
You’re frozen in place. The shock of Louis having sold you out is still fogging your mind. All you can do is dart your eyes from left to right as he continues the torturous dance around you. At that moment, you feel small. Like a rabbit waiting for the cheetah before it pounces. Its heart thumps uncontrollably as it awaits its demise.
“I—I can explain—”
Michael chuckles. “What happened to all that spunk you had interrogating me this morning, Darlin’? Was it all a front?”
You have no choice but to look down abashedly. You’ve been caught, your plans ruined by someone you thought you could trust. Oh, once you get out of here, you’ll be ripping Louis a new one.
“Come. Sit.” Michael grabs your arm and leads you to the booth. You fall onto the leather seat and face the four men who sit across from you and Michael on hard wooden stools.
“Explain yourself, darlin’.” He commands.
The anger you’ve bottled up finally spills over as you begin, “No! You have a lot of nerve to do such a thing! How dare you lie to me about your life to this degree? Shame on you! Shame on all of you in this room right now!”
You’re seething with anger, your hands clench tight around nothing, your jaw tight, and your brows furrowed. Your eyes roam your surroundings. The four men facing you don’t react to your words. One, however, smiles contently.
“I never knew your wife could yell like that, Boss.” Don smiles.
“Neither did I,” Michael admits, “You’re full of surprises, young lady.”
“And you’re full of shit!” You spit at Michael, provoking a twitch of disapproval across his face.
“Watch yourself.” He lifts a finger, reprimanding your outburst. “I know you want answers, but I will not accept such foul language, darlin’. Got it?”
You shake your head, cross your arms, and look anywhere but at him or his lackeys. “Speak.”
Michael chuckles at your attempt to be tough. “Oh, you’re too cute, my love,” he says as he sits beside you, “As you wish. What would you like to know?”
“Who are these men?” You start with a simple question.
“These are Tony, Don, Trevor, and Allen. They’re my cleaners, my boys.” He sips his whisky.
“Cleaners? Meaning what?” You raise a brow at them, and they all bow their heads in acknowledgement.
“What an innocent mind you have, darlin’.” He coos. “They clean up after me. You know, after I deal with someone.”
“What?” You raise your voice.
“We get rid of anyone he kills, Mrs. Jackson. That’s our job, but someone didn’t do it right on Friday.” Tony hits Don on the head.
Michael shifts in the seat and shakes his head. “You are all so childish.”
You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Your husband, the man you love, is a killer. A cold-blooded killer. How couldn’t you have known? How did he never show any sign of this sick side?
“Michael, you’re a killer?” You look at him with your cheeks red.
“Darlin’, it’s much more complicated than that—”
“Then explain yourself!” You snap.
Michael sighs. He stands up, holding out his hand for you to take it, but you don't. Instead, you stand and follow him to the balcony on the second floor.
00:00
The hustle and bustle of Chicago has slowed down significantly at this hour. As you and Michael stand outside, you hear a dog bark from afar and a car rumble through the empty road. This calm view of the city lights does little to nothing to ease your stress. It seems as though nothing he has to say will change how you feel in the moment.
“Listen, I know what you’ve heard is concerning to you, but I must assure you, my love, that you have nothing to worry about.”
“Is that so?” You huff. “How am I not to worry when you’re running the streets killing people?”
Michael lifts his finger to hush you. The last thing he needs is to have the patrolling police listening in on your heated conversation.
“It’s not that simple, my love.”
“Simplify it for me.” You cross your arms.
“You won’t believe me, but alas, I’ll explain.” He leans onto the rails, lighting up a cigar before taking a long breath of the smoky substance.
“Remember when I told you about my upbringing? My family always had to move from state to state,” you nod. “Well, that was because my father was involved in criminal activity. But you know that part.”
Your memory is sparked, and you remember Michael telling you about how his father was killed in prison by a gang member he worked in opposition with.
“Go on,” you command.
“When my father died, my older brothers wanted nothing to do with the life he led, so I took over as boss.” Michael wraps his lips around the cigar, sucking on it as it fills his lungs with the smoky air. He puffs rings of smoke out as he watches for your reaction.
“You're some kind of mafia boss? here, in Chicago?” You cough as the aftersmoke hits your throat.
All Michael can do is nod. His eyes stay fixed on you as you take in everything you’ve heard. How long was he going to hide this? What would he have done if you were in trouble? What did he expect you to do if he got arrested or hurt?
“I would never let myself get hurt, let alone put you in any form of danger, darlin’. I swear.” He reassures you with one hand on your face and the other holding the burning cigar.
“You’ve already endangered me by not telling me this from the beginning.” Your voice cracks.
“How could I tell a stranger that I’m a criminal?” He runs his fingers through his curls.
“You’re calling your wife a stranger? Jeez, Michael. I never knew you were this cruel.” Your head shakes as tears roll down your cheeks.
“Darlin’…I meant no harm. believe me.” Michael wipes a tear from your eye, which does nothing to soothe your sorrow.
“I cannot do this right now.” You turn away from him.
“My love…” His voice falls small.
“You’ve lied to me for three years, Michael.” You take a step away from him. “I cannot bear to look at you without feeling betrayed. I cannot be around you right now. I don't even recognise you anymore”
You walk away, leaving him on the balcony with a cigar in his hand and a tear threatening to fall from his beautiful brown eyes.
00:38
As you pack an overnight bag, you look at your shared bed with teary eyes. The thought of you sharing a bed with a killer haunts your mind and breaks your heart. You had to get away from here, from him. Nothing could stop you from seeing him as a monster.
You married a killer. You married a criminal.
omg i loved your Left Behind ficcc😍. Could you maybe do a part two where like she confronts her brothers and maybe they say smthn mean. And she can’t believe their mom didn’t say anything either. I love the angst vibe.
🍋 anon
Left Behind 2
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part 1
pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!reader
summary: the reader confronts Carlos, Charles, and Arthur after discovering that Carlos went to Mexico with his brothers without informing her. The confrontation leads to a painful argument, where she faces indifference from her brothers and feels deeply betrayed by Carlos.
warnings: angst, emotional neglect, family conflict.
—It’s not as easy as you think.
The tension in the dining room was thick, and every word from Arthur seemed to cut deeper than the last. You couldn’t believe you were sitting here, staring at them, the people who were supposed to care for you the most, yet all you felt was betrayal.
—Do you think I don’t understand? —Your voice trembled with raw emotion. —I’ve been nothing but supportive, Charles. But you… you went to Mexico with Arthur without even telling me! ¡And with Carlos too! —You could feel the anger rising, thick and uncontrollable.
Arthur crossed his arms, a look of irritation on his face. —You’re being dramatic. —he muttered. —It wasn’t that big of a deal.
Charles, who had been silent up until that point, finally spoke, but his words hit you like a slap. —We were busy. It wasn’t intentional.
—It wasn’t intentional?! —you echoed, incredulous. —How do you not tell your sister that you’re leaving the country? How is that not intentional?
The hurt was suffocating. You looked at them, trying to hold back tears, but they were already welling up in your eyes. Your brothers just didn’t get it. They never did.
You turned to your mother, who had been quiet the entire time, her eyes fixed on her plate, as if she were trying to avoid the storm brewing around her. —And you? You’re just going to sit there? You’re not even going to say anything? —Your voice cracked as you let out the question, your gaze pleading.
—I don’t want to get involved. —your mother replied, her tone flat, emotionless. —This is between you three.
The silence that followed felt suffocating. No one was on your side. No one even cared enough to understand.
You could feel the tears threatening to spill, but you refused to let them show. —Fine. —you said, the words dripping with a coldness you didn’t feel. —I get it. You don’t care.
You stood up, your chair scraping harshly against the floor, the sound jarring in the quiet room. You didn’t wait for anyone to speak. You couldn’t. Not when everything you’d ever wanted. Recognition, care, love. Was so effortlessly ignored.
Without another word, you walked out of the room, the cold air hitting your face as you stepped into the garden, your chest tight with emotion.
The sound of footsteps behind you broke the silence, and you didn’t need to turn around to know it was Carlos. You knew he had been watching, and you knew this moment had been coming. But you weren’t ready for what came next.
—¿Amor? —Carlos’s voice was gentle, but you could hear the concern beneath it. —I saw you leave. Are you okay?
You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak, but the words bubbled out anyway. —I’m not okay, Carlos. —you whispered, your voice small, fragile. —I can’t believe you went to Mexico with them and didn’t even tell me. I thought… —The hurt in your voice made it impossible to continue.
Carlos stepped closer, his hand hesitating in the air before resting on your shoulder. —I never meant to hurt you. —he said softly, his voice low, almost apologetic. —It was just… a last-minute thing. You know how it is with Charles and Arthur.
—That’s not the point! —You pulled away from him, anger flaring again. —The point is, you left without saying anything. You chose them over me. Again.
Carlos looked at you, his expression full of guilt, but there was something else behind his eyes. Something that made you feel even more alone. —I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. You have to know that.
But you didn’t feel reassured. Not anymore. The hurt was too deep, the sense of betrayal too overwhelming. —No, Carlos. I through you cared about me. I through i mattered to you. — you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. —But you don’t. You never did.
His face faltered at your words, and for a moment, he just stood there, as if unsure of what to do. But you didn’t give him the chance to fix things. You had already made up your mind.
—You should go. —you said, your voice distant. —I need some space.
Carlos hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. —I’m sorry. —he murmured before turning away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night.
You stayed in the garden, the cold air numbing your skin, but it did nothing to numb the ache inside you. You had hoped, at least for a moment, that Carlos would choose you. But in the end, like everyone else, he had walked away.
Birthday Surprise
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pairing: toto wolff x wife!reader
summary: for toto birthday, his wife plans a private surprise, with decorations of balloons and soft lighting. What begins as an intimate and meaningful celebration quickly turns into an unforgettable night of love and passion, strengthening their connection.
warnings: fluff and suggestive.
The night had finally arrived. You had spent weeks planning the perfect birthday surprise for Toto, knowing he wasn’t one for big parties or noisy celebrations. He preferred quieter, more intimate moments. So, you decided to create a memory just for the two of you.
You had decorated the living room with an array of balloons in silver, white, and soft pastel shades. Some floated gracefully near the ceiling, while others were gathered on the floor in a scattered, whimsical fashion. The room was dimly lit with candles, casting a warm, golden glow. You had chosen the music carefully—soft, romantic tunes that would fill the space with the perfect atmosphere. Everything was ready for Toto to walk into the surprise you had meticulously prepared.
The cake was simple but beautiful, decorated with just the right touch. —Happy Birthday, my love. —the inscription read, and as you placed it on the table, you couldn’t help but smile, feeling the warmth of anticipation.
The clock was ticking, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before Toto arrived. You texted him one last message, asking him to come home early. He had no idea that when he walked through the door, it would be to the most intimate, heartfelt birthday surprise he’d ever experienced.
When you heard the sound of the front door unlocking, your heart skipped a beat. You quickly adjusted your dress and turned off the lights, letting only the glow of the candles illuminate the room. You stood still, hidden from view, waiting for his reaction.
The door opened, and Toto stepped inside, his face lighting up as his eyes landed on you standing there in the middle of the room. The surprise was evident in his expression, but then his eyes softened as he took in the details—balloons, the warm light, and most importantly, you.
—You did all this? —Toto’s voice was filled with disbelief and affection. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving you.
—I did. —you replied softly, unable to hide your smile. —I wanted to make tonight special, just for you.
Toto approached you, his hands reaching out to touch your face gently, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. —You always know how to make me feel loved. —he murmured, his voice low and tender.
He closed the distance between you, his hands finding their way to your waist as he pulled you closer. His lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss, a kiss that spoke more than words ever could. You could feel the warmth of his body as he enveloped you, and the feeling of his lips against yours made your heart race.
As you pulled away, you smiled up at him, your hands resting on his chest. —Happy birthday, Toto. —you whispered, your breath shaky with the intensity of the moment.
His eyes were dark, full of desire and love. —You’ve already made this night unforgettable. —he said, his voice thick with emotion.
You led him to the couch, sitting down next to him as the two of you shared quiet moments, enjoying each other’s company. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.
The atmosphere shifted. The music played softly in the background as you both sat close, your fingers intertwined. There was an undeniable tension between you two, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist any longer. Toto leaned in again, capturing your lips in a deeper, more urgent kiss. His hands roamed, tracing your body with slow, deliberate movements, igniting a fire inside you.
You moaned softly into the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. Every touch, every movement was a promise, a longing that had been building for far too long. He deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours as his hands slid under the fabric of your dress, his touch sending shivers down your spine.
You could feel the heat between you building, overwhelming in the best way possible. You pulled away for a moment, looking at him with eyes full of desire. —Are you sure? —he asked, his voice low, yet full of tenderness.
—I’m sure. —you whispered, pulling him back to you as your lips met once again, this time with more urgency. The surprise had been for him, but now, the night was for the both of you.
The rest of the night passed in a haze of passion and closeness. As the candles flickered out, the room was illuminated only by the soft glow of the remaining balloons. Everything around you felt like a dream, as if the world outside ceased to exist.
You and Toto shared a quiet moment afterward, both lying on the couch, his arm wrapped around you. You felt safe, loved, and more connected than ever before. As the night ended, you realized that the birthday surprise you had planned wasn’t just for Toto, it had brought you even closer, deepening the bond that had always been there between you.
Toto Wolff with wife reader. Him being menace in the paddock and their son, Jack just shaking his head at his dad's antics. Clearly fed up. Then teamed up with his mama against his papa. While everyone is just entertained by it. . You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))
Wolff in the Paddock
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pairing: toto wolff x wife!reader (feat. Jack)
summary: toto wolff’s antics in the paddock reach new levels when his son, Jack, teams up with you to play pranks on him. The result? Chaos, laughter, and a reminder that even the boss isn’t safe from his family’s mischief.
warnings: fluff !!
The paddock was alive with its usual buzz, a hum of engines, chatter, and flashing cameras. In the midst of it all, Toto Wolff was striding around like he owned the place—well, technically, part of it. His deep voice carried over the noise as he barked orders, waved at cameras, and threw the occasional wink in your direction.
Jack, your seven-year-old son, walked by your side, a miniature replica of his father in looks but already wise enough to shake his head at Toto’s antics.
—Why is he like this? —Jack muttered, shooting his dad a skeptical look as Toto dramatically gestured at the Mercedes garage while explaining some technical detail to an engineer.
You smirked. —Your dad’s always like this in the paddock. You know that.
Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a move that was far too adult for his age. —It’s embarrassing. Does he have to be so… extra?
Before you could respond, Toto turned toward the two of you, his face lighting up like a kid spotting his favorite toy.
—Ah, meine Liebe! —he called out, striding over. —And my little man! Have you come to watch me dominate the paddock?
Jack rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck.
The chaos started not long after.
Toto decided it would be funny to challenge Jack to a pit stop drill. The mechanics, clearly amused, set up a miniature tire-changing station just for Jack.
—I’ll go easy on you. —Toto said, crouching next to his son and ruffling his hair.
—Don’t patronize me. —Jack shot back, glaring at him.
The crew laughed as Toto, utterly unfazed, leaned in closer. —Oh? Big words for a little guy. Let’s see if you can back them up.
Jack looked up at you, exasperated. —Mama, are you going to let him talk to me like that?
You crossed your arms, fighting a smile. —I don’t know, Jack. He seems pretty confident. Are you going to let him win?
Jack’s eyes narrowed. —No way.
The drill commenced, with Jack fumbling adorably with the small tools while Toto exaggerated every movement of his own performance, hamming it up for the audience that had gathered.
When Toto inevitably “won,” he stood up, arms raised like he’d just won a Grand Prix. —And that, my son, is how you dominate a pit stop!
Jack groaned and turned to you. —Mama, we have to do something about him.
It didn’t take long for you and Jack to hatch a plan.
When Toto wasn’t looking, Jack snuck into the hospitality area and swapped his father’s usual black coffee for decaf. Meanwhile, you coordinated with a few team members to have Toto’s chair replaced with one that squeaked every time he moved.
The results were immediate.
Toto took a sip of his coffee, paused, and frowned. —What is this? It tastes… weak.
Jack shrugged innocently. —Maybe you’re just not as strong as you think you are, Papa.
Toto narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond, distracted by the squeaking of his chair as he sat down for a meeting. He shifted once. Squeak. Twice. Squeak.
By the fifth squeak, Toto’s face was a picture of annoyance, while Jack could barely contain his laughter.
You leaned against the wall, casually sipping your drink. —Is everything okay, dear?
Toto shot you a suspicious look. —Did you two…
—Us? —you interrupted, feigning innocence. —Why would we do anything?
Jack grinned. —Yeah, Papa. Why would we?
By midday, the entire paddock was in on the joke. Mechanics chuckled as they watched Toto glance warily at his coffee cup, and drivers smirked as they passed him squeaking his way through meetings.
At one point, Lewis Hamilton walked by and patted Jack on the shoulder. —Nice work, kid. Keep him on his toes.
Toto eventually cornered the two of you in the hospitality area.
—You’ve turned the paddock against me. —he accused, though his lips twitched with suppressed laughter.
Jack crossed his arms, mirroring his father’s stance. —Maybe next time you’ll think twice before embarrassing me in public.
Toto glanced at you. —And you? Are you part of this rebellion?
—Of course. —you said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. —It’s called teamwork. You should try it sometime.
By the end of the day, Toto was back to his usual self, though he couldn’t resist pulling Jack into a bear hug, despite the boy’s protests.
—You might win today. —Toto said, ruffling Jack’s hair again. —but remember, I’m still the boss.
Jack smirked. —For now.
As the three of you walked back to the car, the paddock still buzzing with laughter from the day’s antics, Toto slipped an arm around your waist.
—I suppose I should be grateful. —he said. —You two make life interesting.
You smiled. —Just returning the favor.
Jack groaned. —Please stop being sappy. You’re embarrassing me again.
And with that, the Wolff family left the paddock, leaving behind a trail of laughter and a reminder that even in the high-stakes world of F1, family came first.
Between Karts and Confessions
back to my main masterlist
pairing: carlos sainz x gn!reader
summary: A playful kart race with Carlos Sainz Jr. turns into something more when a heartfelt confession changes everything between you.
warnings: fluff. light teasing and playful rivalry.
Working as a data engineer at Ferrari wasn’t easy, but it had its perks. One of them was your dynamic with Carlos Sainz Jr. From the moment you joined the team, he had made it his mission to tease you, calling you “the rookie” despite your proven expertise. Your relationship was a constant back-and-forth of challenges and sarcastic remarks, but there was an unspoken spark neither of you dared to acknowledge.
Today was a rare calm day after a grueling Grand Prix weekend. The team had decided to stay at a private circuit in Italy to relax before heading to the next race. While most of your colleagues were enjoying a barbecue, Carlos walked over to you with his trademark mischievous grin.
“What are you doing sitting here, rookie?” he asked, crossing his arms and looking down at yo
“What are you doing sitting here, rookie?” he asked, crossing his arms and looking down at you.
“Enjoying not staring at data for once. Why?” you replied, raising an eyebrow as you took a bite of bread.
“Perfect. Then you have no excuse to turn down my challenge.”
You rolled your eyes, already sensing trouble, though you knew you wouldn’t resist. Carlos had a knack for pulling you out of your comfort zone.
“What kind of challenge, Sainz?”
He pointed toward the karts parked near the track. They’d been sitting there all day, mostly ignored by the team.
“A race. You against me. Three laps. If I win, you have to listen to something I’ve been meaning to tell you. If you win…” He paused, leaning in with a playful smile. “Pick whatever you want.”
You raised an eyebrow, studying him. It wasn’t the first time Carlos had challenged you, but something about his tone felt different—more serious, despite his usual carefree demeanor.
“Fine. But get ready to lose,” you said, standing up and brushing off your hands.
Carlos laughed, the sound bright and full of confidence.
“I’d love to see you try.”
Minutes later, you were both suited up and ready on the small track. Adjusting your gloves, you glanced over at Carlos, already seated in his kart with the number 55 emblazoned on the side.
“Ready?” he called out, his voice muffled slightly by his helmet.
“More than ready.”
The first lap was pure fun. You traded positions constantly, each trying to outsmart the other. Carlos tried to block you on a tight turn, but you slipped past him on the inside, shooting him a triumphant look.
“That’s cheating!” he yelled, though you could hear the laughter in his voice.
“Is that all you’ve got, Sainz?” you shouted back, grinning.
The second lap got more competitive. Carlos, being the professional driver, had the upper hand, but you held your ground with a few tricks of your own—like swerving just enough to throw him off or splashing water at him when he got too close.
“You’re impossible!” he yelled, laughing as he wiped water off his visor.
“And you’re slow!”
As you entered the final lap, Carlos got serious. He took the lead with a move you couldn’t counter, and despite your best efforts, he crossed the finish line just seconds ahead of you.
He removed his helmet with a triumphant smile as you pulled up beside him, huffing in frustration.
“Not bad for an engineer, but you’re still no driver,” he teased, offering his hand to help you out of the kart.
You swatted his hand away with a mock glare, but took it anyway.
“Alright, a deal’s a deal. What’s so important you had to win to tell me?”
Carlos’s grin faltered for a moment, replaced by something more vulnerable. He looked down briefly, rubbing the back of his neck, before meeting your eyes with a seriousness you rarely saw in him.
“I’ve always known you were special, since the first day. And not just because you’re good at what you do, but because…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “Because you make me want to be better. Even if it’s just to impress you.”
Your heart skipped a beat. Carlos Sainz Jr., the ever-confident, always-joking driver, was standing in front of you, confessing something that felt far deeper than either of you had expected.
Before you could respond, a voice from the paddock called his name, cutting through the moment. Carlos sighed, raising a hand in apology.
“I’m sorry. We’ll talk about this later,” he said.
But before he walked away, he pulled something off his helmet—a small keychain featuring his race number and a handwritten note in Spanish: Para la chica que me hace feliz, incluso en los momentos más difíciles. He placed it in your hand before jogging off to the paddock.
You stood there, staring after him, heart racing as you clutched the keychain. One thing was certain: Carlos Sainz Jr. had just changed everything.
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