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Me on my way to read a Slash fanfic

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.

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

back to my masterlist

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.

me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Anniversary gift & celebration for them. With their son, Jack. Up to you how it goes. Fluff and romantic . Thanks!! :))

a/n: considering i didn't have time until now to write, bcause ya know college, i immediately got an idea when i saw the request of how the story should go and wrote it in like two hours, don't think i ever wrote anything so quickly, hope you enjoy it!!<3

SAY CHEESE! //TW\\ one shot

pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader

description: Usually, anniversary in the Wolff household are not celebrated, sickness, work or both tend to take up space. Now that they managed to have a peaceful anniversary, they’re going to make the best of it.

word count: 1957 words

warnings: none, the Wolff's being adorable, Toto being a prick (lovingly), a little suggestive

If it were up to you, you wouldn't wake up today even if you were to be dragged out.

It was your wedding anniversary, a day you always got off. A day to relax with your husband and son. But in the last few years, you didn't get to celebrate. Each year someone had to be sick or work had to be short-staffed.

So now, as you felt the bed next to you dip, a groaned escaped your throat. An arm slowly wrapped around you and lips lightly brushed your neck. Turning around, you were met with your husband's smiling face.

˝Good morning schatzi...˝ he said and pressed a light kiss to your lips.

˝Please, tell me no one is sick...˝ you mumbeled. He laughed.

˝Not this year, love. Although I think Jack is sick of sitting in the kitchen alone, while I'm here waking you up...˝he said and started pressing kisses all over your face. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his waist. ˝Come on, Jack wants to show us something and we both have to be there to see it.˝ he said, pulling you up. You groan in protest.

˝Can't he come in here and show us...˝ you heard Toto laugh as he kept pulling you out of the bed.

˝Get up, schatzi...˝ he softly said as you stood up. He wrapped you in his arms, whispering in your ear. ˝Happy anniversary, love...˝he said, kissing your temple.

˝Happy anniversary to you, too...˝ you whisper, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. You felt him hum against your lips, pulling you closer by the hips. The moment was broken by a shrill yell of both your names and you sighed. ˝As much as I love that kid, I sometimes wish we remained child-free...˝ Toto laughed and pulled you closer.

˝Don't say that... You know he's impatient...˝ he smiles into your skin.

˝Like his father...˝ You say, giggling.

˝I'm not denying anything... But, from what I remember, his mother was very impatient to get me to bed on our wedding night... Or any other night, really...˝ he teases and you smack him on the chest.

˝Such atrocities come out of your mouth when you are no different...˝you say, making him laugh. ˝Now, let's go see what our son needs from us, hm?˝ with one last kiss, the two of you make your way down to the kitchen.

The sight you were met with was beautiful. The kitchen island was filled with food and your son sat at the end, practically vibrating with excitement.

˝Mama, papa!!! You're up!!˝ he said, running up to hug you. ˝Happy anniversary, mama!! Papa explained to me this morning why it's important!˝he gushed as he kissed you on the cheek, smiling. You turned your gaze to Toto and were met with a soft expression. ˝Papa and I made breakfast! I helped with the eggs!!˝ he said happily, pulling you towards the counter.

You lifted Jack onto his chair and took your place at the counter. Toto placed a plate in front of you and you smiled at him. The waffles were shaped into hearts, and adorned with wild berries and cinnamon. He winked in your direction and you rolled your eyes.

˝What's the plan for today, hm?˝ you asked, taking a bite of your waffles.

˝I planned a photo shoot and thought we could go to the park a little... Then, your mother is picking Jack up and we are going out for dinner... Made our reservation a few weeks ago...˝ Toto said, sipping his coffee. You smiled. He turned to Jack and smiled at our son. ˝You said you had something to show mama and I something...˝ Our son smiled wide and jumped off his chair. He pulled out a piece of paper from his school bag.

˝SEE! I drew us at school! Here is papa, this is me...And here's mama!˝ he said with a wide, toothy grin. You smiled and lifted him up into your lap.

˝Look at you! You've gotten better at drawing honey. And you even managed to capture daddy's messy hair...˝ you kissed your son's cheek and looked up at your husband. He was smiling and shaking his head.

˝Good job, buddy. And don't listen to mama, she's just jealous of papa's perfect hair.˝ he moved to kiss your son's forehead, wrapping his arms around you both. You laughed at him, leaning up to kiss him. He smiled, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. ˝How about we get ready for our photoshoot, hm?˝

˝I think that's a good idea... You two get dressed while I do my hair and make-up, then I'll get dressed and we can leave.˝ you said, putting Jack down. You gave Toto another kiss and went into the bathroom.

After about an hour, you walked out of the bathroom, wearing one of your favorite dresses and a subtle pair of heels. You could feel Toto checking you out as you finished getting Jack ready.

˝Jack, isn't mama looking absolutely stunning, hm?˝ Toto asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lightly kissing your neck. Jack nodded vigorously, smiling wide. He laughed at his reaction, before whispering in your ear. ˝Can't wait to have you all to myself tonight...˝

You laugh at his suggestion, swatting at him.

˝Behave yourself... And stop crinkling my dress!˝ Toto smiles and moves away.

˝Ok ok...˝ he mumbles, leaving a light kiss on your neck.

The pictures were perfect—absolutely perfect. Jack's smile blinded anyone who looked at them, and Toto and you looked as gorgeous and in love as always.

After the shoot, the three of you made your way to a fancy brunch place Toto picked out saying: 'It would only be right if we went out and had a little snack while we're dressed up'. It was located in the middle of the park, surrounded by beautiful trees and colorful flowers. Jack got waffles and a hot chocolate, a little treat for being good at school. The two of you had coffee and a piece of cake to share, something you have done ever since your first date. It confused your son as to why you two had to share a piece, to which you smiled and told him 'He'd understand later'.

At home, your mother waited for you to return. She made herself coffee, took some of the waffles from the morning, and turned on her favorite show to watch.

˝I see you made yourself right at home, hm?˝ you giggle as the older woman turns to you. She smiled and stood up, hugging you once she came close enough.

˝Of course I did. Happy anniversary, my sweet girl... And you too, Toto...˝ she hugged Toto as well. She turned to Jack who ran into her arms. ˝And my handsome young man! How've you been, Jackie, hm?˝ your son giggled and hugged her, starting to ramble on about school and new kids he met. As he spoke, your mother subtly moved to the front door, winked at you, and left without a word.

˝So? Are you going to get ready for dinner?˝Toto asked and you looked down at your dress. He smiled. ˝I would suggest you change into that pretty red dress I got you to wear recently... It'll be more fitting...˝ he moved closer to you, grabbing your hips and kissing your neck. You hummed and raked your fingers through his hair.

˝I will if you let me go...˝ he chuckled at you and let go of his tight grip on your hips, letting his hands linger. You smile, making your way to get ready for the second time that day.

A little while later you walked out, red carpet ready. The wine red dress, black heels and sharp makeup... Toto was stunned. He knew you'd look gorgeous, but this was... Something extraordinary.

˝Mein Gott, schatzi... I don't even want to go out now...˝ he said, awe struck. You giggle and walked over to him. He grabbed your waist and smiled down. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you get on your tip toes and kiss him, his hands sliding down to your ass. You gasp, smacking his chest.

˝Toto!˝you say and move away from him. He huffs and smiles at you, grabbing both your coats. You stand with our back to him as he helped you get the coat on. Making your way to the car, Toto held the door open for you as you stepped into the Mercedes.

At the restaurant, he reserved a table in the corner of the balcony, looking over the vineyard. The candles on the table glowed romantically, casting a warm light onto your faces. Toto smiled warmly as you looked on over the railing.

˝Enjoying the view, love?˝ he asked softly, a hand coming closer to rest on yours gently. You turn your head to him and smile.

˝Yeah... I don't remember the last time we had any time just for us... Or the last time we celebrated our anniversary...˝ you answered and Toto laughed.

˝Remember when we did this once a week?˝ he asked and you laughed, tilting your head down.

˝Yeah... Can't believe that we came down to going on dates once in a blue moon... But I'm happy...˝ You say, smiling softly. Toto brings your hand up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss just as the waiter came with your wine. You giggled and thanked the waiter. ˝I love you, Toto...˝

˝I love you too, schatzi...˝ he smiled and kissed your hand once again. You smiled at him as well, moving your hand to cup his face.

The two of you spent the evening feeling more relaxed than ever, finally having a moment to properly talk. Everything was the topic. Work, friends, annoying family members... After dinner, you went out for a walk.

˝You know what this reminds me of Toto? Our first date...˝ you reminisce and giggle. Toto's laugh rings out, his head thrown back.

˝Mein Gott, I completely forgot what happened that night...˝ he whispered. He looked over at you and his eyes went wide. You giggled at him, seeing his reaction.

˝I was waiting to see if you would spill wine on my dress again... The red dress, vineyard date, a walk in the part after... trademark Wolff date... I didn't want to say anything to see if you'd realize... Seems you ARE getting old...˝ you laugh and stand in front of him, still holding his hand. He gasps and starts laughing.

“You are only 4 years younger than me, that makes you old as well!” Toto said, making you laugh.

The two of you soon reached the pond in the parks centre. The moon’s reflection shimmered on the waters surface, the air was crisp and the crickets created a subtle noise in the background. You shivered and Toto immediately wrapped his suit jacket around you.

“Can’t have you catching a cold now, hm?” He said, kissing your head. You smiled and shuffled closer into his side.

Your brows furrowed as you felt something hard press into your waist. You backed away and put your hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a velvet box. You looked up, only to be met with your husband, smirking down at you.

“Open it, schatzi…” he said quietly. Your manicured fingers fiddled with the little latch and as the box opened, it revealed a beautiful silver necklace with light green gems.

“Toto…” you whispered and felt his arms wrap around you.

“Happy anniversary, my love…” he whispered back and lightly placed his lips on yours, capturing you in a gentle and loving kiss.

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Charles Leclerc Masterlist

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⌗ Under the mistletoe

HERE

-in which charles and his partner take a quiet christmas walk through the snow, chatting about the holiday season

Favorite Lap

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pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: between races and roaring engines, Oscar Piastri finds his sweetest escape in her.

a/n: Im so sorry for being inactive but I don’t have any request so please send something!!

After another exhilarating race, the thunder of engines had finally faded into a soft, echoing hum. The circuit’s lights shimmered against the night sky, and the once-busy paddock now lay quiet under a gentle blanket of dusk. Oscar Piastri, his heart still pulsing with the adrenaline of competition, stepped away from the fervor of the track. Tonight, he sought a different kind of rush,a moment of peace and tenderness that only the night could offer.

In a secluded corner of the paddock, where the glow of distant floodlights mingled with the stars above, you waited. There was something magical about this hidden nook, a secret retreat from the world of roaring engines and relentless expectations. As Oscar approached, his eyes softened at the sight of you: the calm in his otherwise frenetic life, a living reminder that there was more to victory than podium finishes.

—Hey. —he said, his voice low and warm, as if sharing a cherished secret. In that single word, there was an invitation, a silent promise that tonight, nothing else mattered. You offered a gentle smile, one that outshone the brilliance of any spotlight, and in that smile, Oscar felt his worries dissipate.

The two of you settled onto a worn bench near the pit lane, a humble spot that had witnessed countless triumphs and setbacks over the years. Here, away from the cameras and the cacophony of post-race celebrations, the world felt small and intimate. The hum of the cooling engines became a lullaby, and the soft whisper of the wind through nearby trees was the only sound needed to set the rhythm for the night.

— I always thought that after a race, all I’d feel was exhaustion. —Oscar confessed, his eyes drifting over the quiet track. —But when I’m with you, even the silence sings.

You reached out, lightly touching his hand, a gesture that was both comforting and electric. In that fleeting contact, there was an unspoken understanding: no matter how fast the world raced around you, here in this moment, time was yours to share.

The conversation flowed as naturally as the night. Oscar spoke of the relentless pace of his life on the track, the pressure of performance, the endless pursuit of perfection, and the loneliness that sometimes came with the spotlight. You listened intently, offering solace with every tender word and soft laugh. In return, you shared your own dreams and quiet moments of courage, the everyday battles and gentle victories that formed the mosaic of your life.

Under the starlight, the racetrack transformed from a battleground of speed into a serene haven for two souls who had found solace in one another. The adrenaline that had once driven Oscar was now tempered by a more profound feeling, a reminder that amidst the roar of engines and the pursuit of glory, the heart craved a different kind of triumph. One measured not in seconds or laps, but in smiles, whispered secrets, and stolen glances.

The night deepened, and the temperature dropped just enough for you to pull Oscar closer under a shared blanket. There, amid the shadows and the lingering warmth of the day’s energy, every small detail felt imbued with meaning. The gentle brushing of hair from his forehead, the soft murmur of your laughter blending with the distant sounds of the cooling machines, and the quiet assurance in his steady gaze, all spoke of a connection that transcended the chaos of racing life.

—You make it all feel so… gentle. —Oscar admitted, his tone imbued with both wonder and vulnerability. —I spend so much time chasing speed, chasing perfection… but with you, I feel like I’ve finally found a place to slow down and just be.

You smiled, your heart echoing the sentiment. In that tender admission, there was an entire universe of unspoken emotions, a silent pact to embrace the beauty of the moment despite the ever-present call of the racetrack. The night was yours alone, a private interlude where every heartbeat and every shared glance wove together the fabric of a burgeoning love.

As the hours slipped by, the distant rumble of an approaching dawn reminded you both that the world outside was waiting. Soon, the calm of the night would give way to the realities of a new day, pressures, expectations, and the unyielding pace of a life defined by speed. Yet, for now, you were suspended in a timeless bubble, a sanctuary where the only race was one of hearts aligning in perfect harmony.

Oscar’s hand squeezed yours gently as he stood up, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. —No matter what tomorrow brings, these moments will always be my favorite lap. —he said softly, a quiet promise lingering in the air.

You nodded, understanding that sometimes the most significant victories aren’t celebrated with roaring crowds or shimmering trophies, but with the quiet acknowledgment of shared dreams and heartfelt confessions. Tonight, in the gentle aftermath of a fierce race, you had both found a victory far sweeter than any trophy, a victory that resided in the simple, unadorned truth of being together.

As you both walked slowly towards the exit of the paddock, the stars overhead seemed to shine just a bit brighter, each one a tiny beacon celebrating the connection forged in the quiet of the night. For Oscar, every race would now carry the memory of this gentle interlude, a reminder that amidst the flash of speed and the pulse of adrenaline, there was always a place where his heart could rest, with you.

In that delicate balance between the fast-paced world of racing and the tranquil beauty of the night, you had become his sweetest escape. And as the first light of dawn crept across the horizon, both of you knew that while the race might resume soon, the tender moments shared here would forever be a cherished chapter in the story of your hearts.

Under the Stars

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pairing: lewis hamilton x gf!reader

summary: after a successful race weekend, you and Lewis Hamilton share a quiet, intimate dinner away from the chaos. In each other’s company, everything feels perfect—just the two of you, the soft glow of candles, and the unspoken connection that has only grown stronger over time.

warnings: romance, suggestive content, established relationship

The night had fallen over the city, the stars glimmering above as the world seemed to settle into a peaceful silence. The weekend had been filled with the intensity of racing, but now, it was just you and him. After all the excitement, all the crowds, the media, and the chaos, this moment felt like a breath of fresh air.

You sat at the restaurant table, watching as Lewis, already dressed in a sleek, dark suit, adjusted the collar of his shirt. His signature charm was evident even in these quieter moments. His easy smile, the glint of mischief in his eyes, and that unmistakable presence that could never be ignored. But tonight, it wasn’t about the champion sitting in front of you. It was just him. Lewis. The man you had come to know and love.

He caught your gaze and grinned. —You look beautiful, as always. —he said, his voice low, warm, and filled with affection.

You smiled back, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. You had been together for some time now, and yet, every time he looked at you like that, it still made your heart race. —Thank you. —you replied, reaching for your wine glass.

—You’ve made this weekend worth it. —he continued, his tone playful but sincere. —And after all the stress, I’m just happy to be here with you.

—You’ve had a hell of a week. You deserve a break. —you replied, your eyes softening. You had seen the weight of the weekend on his shoulders, the pressure of it all, but now, the world was quiet. It was just the two of you, alone in the calm.

Dinner arrived, and the two of you spoke about everything and nothing. Conversations flowed with ease, about past races, future plans, silly inside jokes, and dreams for the future. The atmosphere around you was intimate, just as it had been from the moment you first met. Every touch, every glance, felt natural, like no one else in the world mattered.

The night seemed to stretch on forever in the best way possible.

As the main course was cleared and dessert arrived, Lewis shifted in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. His hand found yours across the table, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. His touch was familiar, comforting, and the connection between you both seemed to spark with every soft brush of his skin against yours.

—Is it just me… —he said softly, —or has this been the perfect night?

You chuckled, looking down at your entwined hands before meeting his gaze. —It’s perfect. Because it’s with you.

Lewis leaned closer, his free hand reaching up to caress your face, his thumb lightly tracing your cheekbone. His touch was tender, as if he was savoring the moment. —I love this. —he murmured. —Just you and me, no distractions. No one else around.

Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity in his voice. You had always loved how he could shift from playful and teasing to deeply sincere in the blink of an eye. Tonight, though, you could tell he was feeling something more. Something deeper.

—You’re my home. —you whispered, your voice just above a breath. The words were simple, but they feel like everything.

He smiled softly, his lips curving up in that way you loved. —And you’re mine.

Lewis’s gaze dropped to your lips, and you felt the heat of his gaze like a physical pull. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You never did. The moment his lips met yours, it was like the world around you ceased to exist. There was no racing, no crowds, no interviews. Just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of your connection.

The kiss was soft at first, slow and lingering, a moment of pure intimacy. But as the seconds ticked by, the intensity of it deepened. His hand slid from your face to your neck, pulling you closer, while you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair. The taste of him, the feel of him against you, made your head spin, and you could feel his heartbeat match yours in the rhythm of the kiss.

He broke away just enough to whisper, his breath warm against your lips. —I want you to know something.

—Anything. —you breathed, your voice thick with desire, but also with a sense of calm. You were safe here.

He looked into your eyes, his own dark and full of emotion. —I need you. More than just these moments. You’re everything to me.

You couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. —I feel the same way. —you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.

The night stretched on as you both shared more than just kisses. You shared your thoughts, your feelings, and the quiet kind of love that made you feel as though everything had aligned perfectly. It wasn’t about grand gestures or big words; it was about this, the peace and the quiet, the moments that felt as though they were just for you two, the way the world could fade away when you were together.

By the time the evening came to an end, you both were reluctant to leave. But there was no rush. You knew that this connection, this love, was something that didn’t need to be hurried. It would always be there, just like him.

As you both left the restaurant hand-in-hand, the stars above twinkling like a reflection of your hearts, you knew this was more than just a perfect night. It was a perfect life. A life with him.

Luke Castellan Masterlist

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⌗ In the Stillness of the Stars

HERE

-In which luke opens his heart, sharing a kiss that speaks of vulnerability and love, as the world fades away around you.

Strong Enough for You

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pairing: percy jackson x gf!reader

summary: being in a relationship with Percy Jackson means adventure, danger, and plenty of moments to admire his heroism. But what you love most? His quiet moments of vulnerability—and, of course, those arms that could rival the gods themselves.

a/n: okay guys, just look at him. I just wanted to write something related to this wonderful pic.

It wasn’t a secret, not really. Everyone at Camp Half-Blood had noticed Percy’s physical transformation over the years—his strength wasn’t just in his bravery or his loyalty; it was evident in the way he moved, the way he carried himself. And you? Well, you had front-row seats to it all.

Sitting on the steps of the Big House one sunny afternoon, you watched Percy from a distance as he helped the younger campers set up for capture the flag. His orange camp shirt clung to his shoulders, and his biceps flexed as he effortlessly lifted a heavy crate of shields.

—Are you even listening to me? —Annabeth’s voice broke through your daydream.

You blinked, turning to your best friend, who was smirking knowingly. —What?

Annabeth crossed her arms. —I was saying that Percy’s been showing off a little more lately. And judging by the way you’re staring, I think I know why.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. —I wasn’t staring.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. —Sure, you weren’t. Look, you’ve been together for a year now. He’s obviously just as smitten with you as you are with him. Maybe it’s time to tell him how much you appreciate his hard work.

Later that evening, you found Percy by the campfire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a stick. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

—Hey. —he said, scooting over to make room for you. —How was your day?

You sat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. —Better now.

Percy chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. —You’re cute when you’re sappy, you know that?

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes trailing over his face and down to the strong line of his jaw. From there, your gaze wandered—his broad shoulders, the way his arms rested casually on his knees, the faint scars that told stories of battles won.

—Okay, what’s that look for? —Percy asked, amused.

You bit your lip, deciding to go for it. —I was just thinking… you’ve gotten really strong lately.

Percy blinked, caught off guard. —Uh, thanks? I mean, I’ve been training a lot, but..

—I like it. —you interrupted, your voice soft but teasing. —I mean, I really like it.

Percy’s face turned red, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. -Oh. Well, that’s… good to know.

You grinned, leaning closer to press a kiss to his cheek. —Don’t get too cocky, Pers. But for the record, you’re ridiculously attractive.

A few days later, Percy seemed determined to test just how much you liked his newfound strength. During sparring practice, he pulled off a series of overly dramatic moves that had the other campers rolling their eyes—and had you trying very hard not to laugh.

Afterward, as you were both walking back to your cabins, he turned to you with a mischievous grin. —So… was that impressive enough for you?

You playfully shoved his shoulder. —You’re such a show-off.

—But you like it. —he countered, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. His voice dropped to a low murmur. —Admit it.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. —Fine. Maybe I do. Just a little.

Percy leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of affection—and a hint of smugness.

—Good. —he said softly. —Because I’d do anything to keep you looking at me like that.

That night, as you lay together on the dock by the lake, Percy’s arm draped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but trace your fingers over the muscles of his forearm.

—Do you ever get tired? —you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

—Tired of what?

—Carrying the weight of the world. —you said, your tone teasing but your words sincere.

Percy’s smile was soft as he turned to look at you. —Not when you’re here. —he said simply.

And in that moment, as the stars reflected in the water and his hand found yours, you realized that no amount of strength could compare to the way he made you feel: safe, loved, and completely at home.