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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.
More Posts from Margeoww and Others
Wild Games
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pairing: lewis hamilton x singlemom!reader
summary: a single mom, two teens, and lewis hamilton love unfolds through laughter, UNO, and a game of Twister.
a/n: dont have any ideas, so please send requests 🗣‼️
There’s pizza grease on Dash’s cheek, Ari’s taken over the aux cable, and Lewis is laughing like a man who’s finally figured out where he belongs.
The board games are scattered across the coffee table, but Dash’s eyes gleam with mischief when he holds up the UNO deck like it’s Excalibur.
—You ready to lose, old man? —he says, grinning at Lewis.
—Oh, it’s on —Lewis replies, cracking his knuckles in exaggerated slow motion. —But I play ruthless.
You raise an eyebrow, slipping into the couch next to Ari. —So do I.
Ari smirks. —Let’s destroy him, Mom.
Lewis gasps, clutching his chest. —And you, Ari?
The first few rounds go light and fun, until Dash starts stacking +2s like a little gremlin. Ari counters with a Reverse, you hit Lewis with a +4, and suddenly he’s drowning in a sea of vengeance-colored cards.
—You people are animals. —Lewis says, half-laughing, half-suffering. —How am I the only one with 27 cards?
—Because you messed with the wrong family —Dash says with the air of a supervillain.
You’re all cracking up by the time Ari wins the round with a smug. —UNO… and out.
Lewis throws his cards down dramatically. —That’s it. I’m challenging you all to Twister. Let’s see how flexible these egos are.
Dash lets out a yell and dives for the game box before anyone can argue.
Minutes later, you’re on the floor. Literally.
The Twister mat is sprawled out, and the living room looks like it survived a soft tornado made of teens, limbs, and suppressed laughter.
Ari’s already out, she “accidentally” fell during a left-foot-yellow situation that she swears was sabotage.
Dash is hanging on by a toe and a prayer.
Lewis is next to you, way too close for someone trying to win, and somehow his left hand is barely an inch from yours.
—Right hand, blue. —Ari announces with fake menace from the side.
You reach. So does Lewis. Your hands land at the same time. His pinky brushes yours.
It shouldn’t matter.
It shouldn’t send a lightning bolt straight through you.
But it does.
And when you look up, he’s already watching you with that smile. The one he saves for when the kids are distracted. The one that says, we’re more than just this game.
Your heart skips.
You’re not sure if it’s because of the tension in your back or the tension in the air.
Dash loses it, like literally and figuratively, tumbling to the side with a dramatic grunt. —I’m out. My spine doesn’t bend like that.
Which leaves just you and Lewis. Face to face. Hand to hand. Heart to—
—Left foot green! —Ari yells, loving this way too much.
You move. He moves. The moment stretches.
—You okay? —he murmurs, barely audible.
You nod, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much.
Clarisse La Rue Masterlist
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*gif not mine*
⌗ Behind the Armor
HERE
- in which clarisse la rue is known for her strength and toughness, but when it’s just the two of you, she lets down her guard
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.
Tea and Laughter
back to my main masterlist
pairing: george russell x wife!reader
summary: George’s obsession with tea leads to a hilariously sweet moment when he ropes you into a mission to find the perfect cup during a rare day off. Amidst laughter and chaos, you’re reminded why you fell in love with him in the first place.
It was supposed to be a quiet day off—just you, George, and the comfort of home. But somehow, you found yourself in the middle of London, hopping from café to café on what George had dramatically dubbed “The Quest for the Perfect Cup of Tea.”
—This isn’t just tea. —George insisted, holding up a small, delicate teacup like it was a trophy. —This is art. And somewhere out there is the perfect blend, waiting for us to discover it.
You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. —George, it’s tea. You boil water, add a bag, and drink it. How complicated can it be?
He gasped, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. —That’s blasphemy! Tea is an institution, a cornerstone of British culture. You can’t just… boil water and call it a day.
—And yet. —you teased, crossing your arms, —you’re perfectly fine drinking lukewarm coffee at the Mercedes garage every weekend.
George’s ears turned pink, and you knew you’d struck a nerve. —That’s… different. —he muttered, grabbing your hand and dragging you toward the next café.
By the fourth stop, you were sitting across from him at a small, cozy tearoom. George had a serious expression, carefully examining the menu as if he were making a life-altering decision.
—Are you going to grade this one too? —you asked, smirking.
—Of course. —he replied without looking up. —I have a system.
—A system?
—Yes. —George said, gesturing vaguely. —Flavor, aroma, temperature… and, of course, presentation. The teacup is just as important as the tea itself.
You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. —You’re ridiculous, you know that?
George leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with amusement. —And yet, you married me.
—Big mistake. —you joked, though your grin softened the blow.
He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. —Admit it—you love my quirks.
You rolled your eyes, but the truth was written all over your face. George had this uncanny ability to turn even the most mundane days into adventures, and you adored him for it.
Later, back at home, you sat curled up on the couch with George, sharing the tea you’d finally settled on. He held the cup up with a triumphant grin.
—See? Worth the effort.
You shook your head, laughing as you leaned into him. —You’re impossible, George Russell.
He kissed the top of your head, his voice warm and playful. —And you wouldn’t have me any other way.
And as the evening wore on, filled with laughter and tea, you realized that George’s quirks weren’t just endearing—they were part of what made your life with him so wonderfully unpredictable.
She’s a Ferrari engineer and different people in the paddock can see how down bad Toto is for her every time they interact.
Downshift
back to my main masterlist
pairing: toto wolff x ferrari engineer (OC)
summary: toto wolff’s efficiency is legendary. His focus, unwavering. Until she arrives in the paddock as Ferrari’s newest engineer, and everyone starts noticing how he suddenly seems… distracted.
warnings: romantic tension, open ending
The paddock was alive with its usual hum of activity, journalists darting from one garage to another, engineers poring over data, and drivers engaging in last-minute interviews. It was a world of precision, discipline, and focus. Toto Wolff was the embodiment of all three.
Or at least, he had been.
The first meeting of the weekend started like any other: strategy briefs, discussions about weather conditions, and subtle jabs traded between rival teams. But today, something felt different. Toto wasn’t his usual commanding self. He wasn’t distracted by the numbers or even Christian Horner’s persistent prodding. No, his attention was elsewhere.
Her.
She was Ferrari’s newest addition, a sharp-minded engineer whose reputation for innovation had preceded her arrival. As she spoke, the room seemed to narrow, her words slicing through complex issues with ease. She didn’t just command respect, she demanded it. And Toto, much to his dismay, couldn’t look away.
—Wolff. —Horner’s voice broke through the discussion. —any thoughts?
Toto blinked, his focus snapping back. —It’s a solid plan. —he said quickly, his tone as measured as ever. But Lewis Hamilton, seated nearby, caught the faintest crack in his composure.
As the meeting ended and the attendees filed out, Lewis leaned in. —You good, boss? —he asked, his voice low. —You looked… distracted.
Toto straightened his tie, his expression impassive. —Focus on the race, Lewis.
But the day only got worse.
By mid-afternoon, the whispers had started.
—Did you see the way Wolff was watching her during the meeting?
—I’m telling you, he actually smiled. Toto Wolff smiled.
—Maybe he’s trying to poach her for Mercedes?
The rumors spread like wildfire, and Toto did little to dispel them. Every time he crossed paths with her, his usual cool demeanor seemed to falter. A second too long holding a door. A fleeting glance across the paddock. A barely-there smile when she passed by.
She noticed, of course. How could she not? She was sharp enough to catch the tension in his posture, the way his eyes lingered just a moment longer than necessary. And if she felt a twinge of satisfaction, she hid it well, burying it beneath a professional facade.
The real breaking point came during a rainy afternoon session. The rain had turned the pit lane into chaos. Engines roared, tires screeched, and mechanics scrambled to adapt. She was in the thick of it, crouched near the Ferrari garage with grease smudging her cheek as she adjusted a temperamental component.
Toto passed by, his stride slowing involuntarily. She looked up just as he did, their eyes locking for a split second. There it was again. That soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, the one that felt entirely out of place for someone as composed as him.
—Something caught your eye, Wolff? —Christian Horner’s voice interrupted, smug as ever. He was leaning against the Mercedes garage, arms crossed and a grin firmly in place.
Toto’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to Horner before he resumed walking. —Focus on your own team, Christian. —he said evenly, but the slight flush on his face didn’t go unnoticed.
Later that evening, the paddock had quieted, the storm outside matching the subdued atmosphere. She found herself alone in the Ferrari garage, organizing tools when she heard footsteps behind her.
—Toto. —she said without looking up, her voice tinged with amusement.
He froze, caught. —You’re very observant. —he admitted, stepping closer.
—I’d have to be, working in this world. —she replied, finally meeting his gaze. There was something playful in her eyes, a spark that set his nerves alight. —So, what can I do for you?
For a moment, he said nothing, his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of her stare. Finally, he managed. —You’ve made quite an impression.
Her smile widened, slow and deliberate. —Have I? Because from what I hear, you’re the one making impressions, Toto.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The paddock had already done enough talking for both of them.
As he walked away, leaving her smirking in the quiet garage, Toto couldn’t shake the feeling that, for the first time in years, he was driving blind. And yet, he wasn’t sure he minded.
MAIN MASTERLIST
Remember that requests and questions are open
⤷ F1:
T. Wolff.
C. Sainz
C. Leclerc.
S. Pérez
M. Verstappen.
G. Russell.
L. Norris.
L. Hamilton
F. Alonso.
O. Pia stri.
⤷ PJO:
P. Jackson,
L. Castellan.
C. La Rue.
A. Chase.
G. Underwood.
⌞ I can write about more people, just send it to my requests! ⌝
⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅
a side of fries
toto wolff
tags: smut/fluff, food (mcdonalds), age gap (26/52), pregnancy, pregnant!reader, gentle sex, sweet & spicy fic, cowgirl position, domestic
it was ten at night on a friday. and most women your age were probably at a bar or some club, they were dancing the night away in uncomfortable heels and short dresses. the loud thump of the bass and the endless drinks.
you could even hear them walking and chatting past your apartment in monaco. but you weren't a club go-er, not since your met toto. and not since you got pregnant.
you were half of toto's age almost to a t, twenty six while he was fifty-two. you both made quite the pair, but you loved him so deeply. you loved in a way that you never felt for anyone else. he was unlike any other man you had ever met.
you actually were the girlfriend of a young engineer and at a race in your home country, you ran into and met toto. while it was an honour to meet someone like him. it wouldn't come till after you and your boyfriend broke up that toto would come back into your life.
"you don't have to." you played with the bracelet around your wrist as you stood outside the expensive restaurant in monaco. he flew you out for the weekend, he told you that he wanted you to go on a real date.
he simply held your lower back and smiled down at you, "i want to, you are not making me do anything i don't want to do, meine prinzessin." then leaned in a little, "may i kiss you?" and that was when you knew that you were in love with toto.
and in turn he loved you more than the stars that dotted the sky.
it was ten at night, toto had been busy in the home office with work for the next leg of the season. he only had a month with you before he was back in different parts of the world. thankfully, you were able to join him for the dutch and italian grand prix.
he was comfortable being on the couch next to you, you tucked into his side. you wore one of his quarter zip sweaters that was loose enough on you to be comfortable. toto had an arm around you while you watched a movie on the television. it wasn't anything too difficult, toto had mentioned earlier that day that he had never seen those "animated spiderman movies" when he caught you looking at baby onesies online. you had your eye on a little spiderman one.
now you were snuggled up as you watched spider-man: into the spider-verse. and while you loved the movie, there was something else on your mind. you leaned up and kissed your lover on the jaw.
"toto." you said softly.
"yes, liebste." he asked as he pulled you a little closer to kiss the top of your head. he then looked at your face and asked, "what are you thinking about?"
"i'm hungry." you rested your chin up against him. you looked at him, "i want mcdonalds."
toto made a slight face before he ran his fingers through your hair, "darling." he said, "you know that isn't healthy for you or the baby." you only pouted further.
"but me and the peanut want it."
toto chuckled, affected by your puppy-dog eyes. he was glad that he married his weak spot. he moved his hand to your middle and rubbed it, the rounded belly you had. he said, "my sweetheart, please. we have food at home."
you pouted, "please... please!"
before toto knew it, he had a pair of proper pants on and a cleaner t-shirt. you were in maternity shorts and one of his t-shirts. he had sneakers on while you were wearing flip flops. toto thought you were beautiful. you were his weakness, he hoped that you didn't make a habit of weaponizing your puppy-dog eyes to get junk food.
you both went down to the car and soon were headed towards the fast-food place. it was odd, in a city with so much food and culture. you wanted greasy fast food. his hand was on your thigh as he rubbed the partially exposed skin.
toto entered the restaurant with you, his hand on your lower back. you went to the self ordering station and he stayed close to you. you looked at him and asked, "do you want anything?"
he raised his eyebrows at you and you tilted your head towards the screen.
he chuckled, "i don't think it'll agree with my stomach at this age... and if you're getting a soft drink, please get something with no sugar. i don't need the doctor giving you or me a hard time because of your sweet tooth."
you ordered a cheeseburger, a large (diet) coke, and a side of fries. you could already taste the grease on your tongue. toto thought it was adorable, how excited you were. how excited you were.
he remained close to you, a protective hand at your waist as you both waited for your food. he looked down at you and asked, "are you alright, liebste?"
you nodded and replied in what little german you knew, "mir geht es großartig." you stumbled over the last part a little and toto beamed at you. obviously the child you were having together was going to be multi-lingual but you didn't want to miss out on their conversations in german. so you've been trying to learn.
he rubbed your back a little bit and you had a hand at your swollen middle. your number was soon called and you got closer to the counter with toto close behind like a shadow.
the employee looked at you and then toto. she looked a bit confused and you just sheepishly smiled as you took the meal. you thanked her before you shuffled out of the restaurant.
when you got in the car and put the straw in your diet coke, before you took a sip you said, "she thought we were father and daughter."
toto made a face as he got into the driver's suit. he reached over and rubbed your middle, "and here i thought that getting you pregnant would solve that problem." he leaned over and kissed you, the sharp taste of coke on his lips before he buckled himself and drove off.
back at the apartment, you happily ate your greasy food while toto played with your hair. he was impressed with you in everything you did, you were the perfect wife for him.
"happy?"
you nodded, with half of a fry sticking out of your mouth. toto leaned in and ate the other half before he kissed you. by the time you finished your meal and got rid of the garbage. he was hungry for something else. as you were partially bent over to throw out the wrappers. he draped an arm over your belly and pressed his chest up against your back.
eventually he rubbed your middle and sighed happily, "you look divine." he pressed you closer to him and kissed the side of your neck, "you carry my child so well. you're going to be an amazing mother."
just as toto couldn't deny you, you couldn't deny him. you giggled a little and turned in his grasp. you kissed him on the lips, the taste of grease still stained them. you shuddered with warmth.
when he pulled away he simply suggested, "why don't we go to bed, you must be tired." he cupped your face with his large hand and smiled.
you ended up on the bed with toto slowly pulling the shirt over your body, exposing your pregnant body to him. he placed a hand on your rounded middle and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, you could hear him say he loved you against your skin. sex was slowly becoming a little more difficult thanks to the bump. but you'd always find ways to make do. your husband stripped you free of your clothes like a present. his hungry gaze on your swollen breasts. even giving the tender flash a kiss when he got you out of the sports bra.
your body had changed so much these last few months. all because of him, it was quite the boost to his ego. that as his age he could still father a child with such a beautiful, lovely woman. he pulled back while you sat on the bed and admired you. he licked his lips at the sight of you and felt warmth pool through his body.
you sat there naked, it was only fair that he did the same. you admired him, licked your lips hungrily as he joined in you in bed. naked as well. he was still fit for a man his age, he took care of himself. he still had enough stamina left in him to make sure his wife was taken care of. he wrapped his arms around you as he laid in bed. with you still seated upwards, it was the perfect angle for him to kiss you bare bump.
"you're such a good wife, good mother." he said lowly as his hand dipped further down until he was between your legs. his long fingers toyed with your pussy as he kissed at your swell, "from the moment i laid eyes on you, i knew you had to be mine. no one that beautiful should go without. and in return you gave me the most precious gift ever."
he pressed you closer for a moment, his nose squished against your belly. he exhaled deeply. that was why he spoiled you, as a thank you. you were giving him a child. when he pulled away, he had a hand on your hip and watched you move on top of him.
due to the pregnancy, you had to switch up the positions. and while toto loved classic missionary, having you in his lap wasn't too bad either. his hands on your belly as he eyed at you, his dark eyes pulled you in. he licked his lips as you shifted yourself on his lap. then sank down on his cock.
you whimpered a little and it was music to his ears. he loved how you sounded and it only spurred him on further to touch you. to love you. to give his wife all the affection she yearned for. you were all his, and he'd give you the world.
"how are you feeling? sick at all from the food?" he asked. during your pregnancy he wanted to make sure that you were eating well and taking care of yourself. he worried about you, work made it hard for him to be around often. but regardless, he was still weak to your puppy dog eyes.
he held your hips as you moved against him. he wanted to steady you as you pleasured the both of you. so pregnant yet working so hard. toto was a lucky man. he admired you as the pleasure coursed through his body. he asked you once more, "is the movements hurting you?" concern in his voice where the edges were tinged with lust.
"no, no, it's perfect. it's fine. nothing hurts, not even my hips." you said with pleasure seeped deep into your voice as you moved against him even more. you felt the crawl of want through your core and your cunt clenched around his achy cock. you exhaled deeply, "toto, this feels amazing." you chuckled lightly, "even better than the mcdonalds."
toto took a firmer grasp of your ass and said, "that's good to know. that my cock is better than fast food. i'd say that it doesn't add pounds on you, but.." he eyed your swollen belly, "i fear that's not the case." he relaxed a little bit as you continued to move up and down his cock.
you moaned as you held onto his short dark hair and gazed into his dark eyes. he can see the lust heavy in your gaze as you moved up and down his cock. you arched your back a little more and he placed both hands on your swollen middle.
"my wife." he groaned, "i got you all nice and pregnant. spoiled you, made you all mine. a yet you've only become more beautiful. stunning in a ways that keep me hooked to you. i need you, my darling. every inch i can have you." he panted against your warm chest, "i got you pregnant, i made you mine."
his words made your stomach flip as you continued to pleasure him. the feeling was immense, his words were like hot coals against your already heated skin. and it made your head swim with euphoric want. only toto wolff could make you feel revered and adored, but also like a slut. a whore for him to play with. even though he spoiled you in every aspect he could.
it was a duality that made you shudder as you felt the pleasure continue to mount in your core. he kissed at your chest and it made you clutch onto his hair tightly. the thumping in your chest felt faster with each buck of your hips. you were beyond excited, pleasure dripped from your core as you took his entire length.
you felt a haze in your system as you rode him. he happily let his sweet wife keep the pace. let you get to climax first. he cupped your swollen belly, the feeling of the skin under his hands made his cock twitch. even at his age he could knock up someone as beautiful as you. it didn't take much either, just a weekend in the swiss alps... or maybe it was the hotel in monza.... or the back of a cab at an after party a week later. regardless, he got your pregnant.
you tensed up around him, your cunt tightened around his cock as you held on tighter. you came around his length and continued your hot, quick movements.
you near sang his praises as you came, tensed up around him and he pulled you down for a searing kiss. he picked up the pace of his movements and fucked you feverishly till he reached his own climax. the feeling flooded his head and left little room for coherent thought. almost like a primal need to fuck you until a base part of his was satified. so he continued to move his hips once he finished inside of you.
when the clarity hit, he stopped and held your face to pepper your heated skin with kisses. he rested against you and panted heavily, "alright, alright, my treasure. my love." he held your back more tenderly before he guided you fully onto the bed and laid a protective hand at your waist.
"i love you."
"i love you too. now don't think you can always get your way by giving me sex." he playfully scolded you. he shifted himself close to your pregnant form. how warm you felt even from a small gap between you two.
you just smiled at your beloved toto and said, "oh don't worry. i'll use my powers for good." as if you hadn't been using your child to be a very spoiled mrs. wolff. <3
Can you write a Toto fic where him and his wife were married for 20 years and then divorced and they see eachother again after 4 years of no contact?
After All This Time
back to my main masterlist
pairing: toto wolff x exwife!reader
summary: After 20 years of marriage and four years of silence, Toto Wolff and his ex-wife cross paths at a gala. What begins as a polite conversation soon reveals lingering emotions, unspoken regrets, and the possibility that some connections are never truly broken.
warnings: Themes of divorce and unresolved emotions and bittersweet tones with implied angst and longing.
The clinking of glasses, low hum of conversations, and the occasional sound of laughter filled the room. Toto Wolff stood at the edge of the gala, his usual composed demeanor masking the slight unease he felt. He wasn’t one for these events anymore; they always seemed too polished, too formal. But tonight, he had been convinced to attend.
He scanned the room casually, his eyes falling on familiar faces: team principals, drivers, sponsors. And then, he saw her.
It had been four years since their divorce. Twenty years of marriage undone, leaving behind only memories, regrets, and the occasional pang of guilt that crept in during quiet moments. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, let alone feel the weight of her presence so acutely.
She stood by the bar, her smile as effortless as he remembered, though her laughter seemed freer now. She was talking to someone he didn’t recognize, and Toto found himself frozen in place, torn between the urge to approach her and the fear of reopening old wounds.
Before he could decide, her eyes caught his. The smile faltered, just for a moment, replaced by something he couldn’t quite read. Recognition? Curiosity? Pain? She excused herself from her conversation and began walking toward him.
Toto straightened his posture, his years of dealing with high-stress situations kicking in. But nothing could prepare him for this.
—Hello, Toto —she said softly, her voice laced with an undeniable familiarity that made his chest tighten.
He nodded, offering a small smile. —Hello.
There was a pause, not quite awkward but not comfortable either. They were two people who had shared everything once, now strangers navigating a conversation as if treading on glass.
—It’s been a long time —she said, breaking the silence.
—Four years —he replied, the words heavy with unspoken emotions.
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. —You always were good with numbers.
He chuckled, the sound low and brief. —And you were always better with words.
Another pause. He wanted to say so much, ask so many things—how she had been, if she was happy, if she missed him the way he missed her during quiet nights. But none of those words felt right, so he asked the simplest question.
—How have you been?
She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the drink in her hand. —Good. Different, but good. And you?
He nodded slowly. —Busy. The team keeps me occupied.”
—That doesn’t surprise me —she said, her tone lighter. —You always thrived under pressure.
—Not always —he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Her eyes softened, and he knew she understood what he meant.
They fell into silence again, the air between them thick with memories. He wanted to reach out, to say the things he never could when they parted. But would it change anything?
—I didn’t expect to see you here —she said eventually.
—Nor did I —he admitted. —But I’m… glad I did.
Her expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across her face. —I should go. It was nice seeing you, Toto.
Before she could turn away, he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing her arm. —Wait.
She stopped, looking back at him, and for the first time that night, he allowed the vulnerability to show.
—I’ve missed you —he said quietly.
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, he saw the same pain mirrored in her eyes. But then she smiled—a bittersweet, knowing smile.
—I’ve missed you too —she whispered.
And with that, she walked away, leaving him standing alone in the crowded room, the echoes of her words lingering in the air.
Heyyy!!!! This is my first request and it’s about my man Toto 😜. Thank you for requesting this anon, I hope to see more of these. And also hope u like it, remember that English is not my first language ‼️
Winter Steps
back to my main masterlist
pairing: toto wolff x fem!reader
summary: On a snowy Christmas Eve, Toto takes his long-time partner on a walk to a secluded frozen lake, surprising her with a heartfelt gift and a moment that solidifies their bond.
warnings: fluff, heartwarming moments outdoors
The snow fell softly, blanketing the trees and ground in a shimmering layer of white. Toto’s hand was warm in yours, even through your gloves, as you both walked through the narrow trail. Each step crunched lightly against the snow, the sound muffled by the serene silence of the forest.
—You’re sure this is the right way? —you asked, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at him. His long strides forced you to take two steps for every one of his, but he kept his pace slow to match yours.
—Of course —he replied, glancing down at you with a smirk. —You doubt my navigation skills?
—I don’t doubt your navigation skills —you teased. —I doubt your sense of direction when you’re trying to impress me.
He laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet forest. —I think you’ll forgive me when you see what’s ahead.
The trail opened into a clearing, revealing a frozen lake surrounded by towering evergreens. The surface of the lake glistened in the fading light, and the entire scene looked like something pulled from a snow globe. A small wooden bench sat near the edge of the lake, dusted lightly with snow.
You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching at the sight. —Toto, this is beautiful.
—I thought you’d like it. —he said, his deep voice soft. He brushed the snow off the bench with his gloved hand and motioned for you to sit. —Come, it’s even better up close.
You sat down, the cold wood biting through your coat, but you didn’t care. The view was breathtaking. Toto sat beside you, his presence solid and comforting as he slipped an arm around your shoulders.
—How do you even find places like this? —you asked, leaning into him.
He tilted his head back, looking at the trees with a thoughtful expression. —During my runs. I discovered it last year and thought it would be a nice place to bring you.
—You found this on a run? —you laughed. —That doesn’t surprise me.
—Nothing gets past you. —he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.
You stayed there for a while, watching the light change as the sun began to set. The sky shifted from pale blue to soft pinks and oranges, the colors reflecting off the icy surface of the lake.
—Do you ever stop? —you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
—Stop what?
—Being so thoughtful. —you said, turning to look at him. —It’s like you have this endless ability to surprise me.
He smiled, his dark eyes warm as he studied your face. —You deserve it. And more.
Before you could respond, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Your eyes widened as he held it out to you.
—Toto…
—Open it. —he said, his voice unusually soft.
With trembling fingers, you opened the box to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a snowflake pendant. Tiny diamonds sparkled in the dim light, each facet catching the glow of the sunset.
—It’s beautiful —you whispered, tears pricking your eyes.
—I thought it suited you. —he said, taking the necklace from the box. —Strong, unique, and breathtaking. Just like you.
You turned around, brushing your hair aside as he fastened the necklace around your neck. His hands were steady, but his touch was impossibly gentle.
When you faced him again, his expression was unreadable, a mix of tenderness and something deeper. —Perfect. —he murmured.
—You mean the necklace? —you asked with a smirk, trying to lighten the moment.
—No. —he said, his tone serious. —You.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Then he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours.
—You’re everything to me. —he said softly.
The intensity of his words left you speechless, and you could only nod, your hands gripping his coat. —Toto…
He pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, filled with the depth of his feelings. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours again, a small smile playing on his lips.
The moment felt infinite, the two of you wrapped in the stillness of the snow-covered world.
—Come on. —he said eventually, standing and offering you his hand. —I want to show you something else.
You took his hand, and he led you along the edge of the lake to a small clearing where the trees formed a natural arch. In the center was a lantern, its golden light flickering warmly against the snow.
—What’s this? —you asked, your eyes widening.
—Just another surprise. —he said, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.
The two of you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the lantern, as the snow continued to fall. It felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you, and in that moment, you knew you’d never forget this day.
Hi!!!!! I wanted to remind you how grateful I am to you and the support you give me. Also to wish you a Merry Christmas ❤️‼️
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