Part Six
Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.
None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.
You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.
The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.
By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.
A colleague. You had a colleague!!!
The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.
It was one of them.
You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.
Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.
A vision.
You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.
"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"
"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"
"Listen," "Bon-"
"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."
"If you just let me make it-"
"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."
"Just give me a chance."
"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”
So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."
"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.
"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”
“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.
There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.
“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”
You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.
Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.
"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.
But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.
No.
If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.
No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.
"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."
"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.
He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.
"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.
His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.
There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.
He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.
He doesn't throw you on the bed.
Not this time.
He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.
But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.
"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.
He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.
"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.
"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.
In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."
You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.
He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.
Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.
With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.
It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.
The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"
"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.
His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.
His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.
"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.
"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.
It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.
You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.
The end.
He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."
You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.
"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."
"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.
He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.
"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.
He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.
His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.
You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.
You needed it to stop.
You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.
I could die like this, Lass.
Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.
He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.
You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.
You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.
You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.
His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.
Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.
"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.
"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.
"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."
You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.
"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.
You weren't too far behind.
He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.
But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.
"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."
He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.
in out in out in out.
Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.
"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.
His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.
His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.
"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."
He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.
"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.
"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."
You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.
Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.
"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.
The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.
Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.
"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."
"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."
"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."
"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"
"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."
"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."
"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.
"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."
"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"
No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.
But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.
You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.
So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.
"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.
"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.
You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.
You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.
Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.
"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"
You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.
Three minutes.
Three minutes.
"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."
You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.
You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.
You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.
"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.
"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."
"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.
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That’s Not My Name
Toto Wolff x wife!Reader
Summary: in which people assume you are everything except for your husband’s wife
Warnings: mentions of a significant age gap
The Daughter
You take a deep breath as you step through the paddock, clutching your pass tightly in your hand. The noise and energy of the Formula 1 weekend thrums around you. You’ve never been to a race before, and it’s all so new and overwhelming.
When Toto invited you to join him for the British Grand Prix, you were hesitant. This stage of your relationship is still so new — you’ve only been married a few months. But Toto was insistent. He wants you by his side.
Still, you feel out of place among the teams and journalists. You’re just a normal girl, plucked from obscurity by a man twice your age. What must they all think of you?
You arrive at the Mercedes garage and glance around nervously. The mechanics are bustling about, focused on their work. You spot Toto across the garage, talking intensely with his drivers. He looks stressed, his brows furrowed as he discusses strategy. This high pressure environment is his domain, but it’s foreign to you.
Toto glances up and notices you hovering near the entrance. His face breaks into a smile and he quickly excuses himself from his conversation to come greet you.
“Mein liebchen, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You cling to the solidness of him, drawing comfort from his familiar embrace.
“I wasn’t sure I should come,” you say softly, glancing around. The mechanics are staring curiously. You know how it must look — their team principal hugging an unknown woman half his age.
Toto cups your face gently, “I want you here. This is your world now too. Don’t worry what anyone else thinks.”
You bite your lip but nod, trusting in him. If Toto believes you belong here, then you do.
He tucks you under his arm and leads you further into the garage, introducing you to his team. They greet you politely, hiding any surprise or judgment. You know you’ll have to win them over, prove that you’re more than just Toto’s midlife crisis.
A sudden commotion draws your attention across the paddock. The Red Bull Racing team is gathered around the entrance, greeting their team principal enthusiastically as he arrives. Christian Horner is holding court, shaking hands and clapping shoulders.
You tense involuntarily. The rivalry between Mercedes and Red Bull is legendary, with Christian often attempting to get under Toto’s skin. You don’t know how he’ll react to you.
As if sensing your thoughts, Toto tightens his arm around you. “Don’t worry about him,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”
But you can’t relax as you see Christian look your way, his gaze sharp and assessing. He says something to his team and begins walking towards the Mercedes garage. Your heart sinks. There’s no avoiding this confrontation.
“Toto!” Christian calls out jovially as he approaches. “I see you’ve brought a special guest this weekend.”
Toto presses his lips together but forces a polite smile. “Yes, I wanted her to experience her first race weekend. Christian, meet Y/N, my wife.”
You extend your hand nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Christian raises his eyebrows, blatantly looking you up and down. “Your wife? My, they do start young these days.” His tone is patronizing.
You blush deeply, humiliated. But Toto comes to your defense.
“I’d appreciate if you leave her out of our rivalry,” he says sharply. “She has nothing to do with it.”
Christian holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get defensive! I just didn’t realize you had gotten hitched again. And to someone so … fresh faced. She could be your daughter!” He chuckles.
Your face burns. You hate Christian for putting voice to that thought. You know people judge you and Toto for your age difference. Hearing him joke about it so callously stings.
Toto steps forward angrily but you grab his arm, silently begging him not to cause a scene. He takes a deep breath, struggling to contain his temper.
“It was lovely to meet you, Christian,” you say as evenly as you can manage. “I do hope you’ll have a good weekend.”
Christian looks surprised by your composure. He nods farewell and heads back to the Red Bull garage, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Toto turns to you. “I’m so sorry about that,” he says earnestly. “Christian is an ass. Don’t let him get to you.”
You shake your head, swallowing back tears. “It’s fine, I knew people would think those things about me … about us ...” you trail off miserably.
Toto cups your face in both hands. “Look at me. None of that matters. He can think what he wants. But I know who you are. You are my heart, my present, and my future. No one can take that away, not even Christian bloody Horner.”
You give a watery laugh at his vehemence and he kisses your forehead tenderly.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, finding your courage again. “I want to be here.”
Toto smiles proudly and laces his fingers through yours. “Good. Let’s show them we’re not going to hide. I want you here, where you belong.”
Holding hands firmly, you walk with your head held high back into the bustling garage. Let them stare and whisper. You know your place is here with Toto. No judgment or rivalry can change that. This is your world now.
The Assistant
The day has been a whirlwind so far. After the confrontation with Christian Horner, you tried your best to settle into the hectic swing of pre-race preparations. Toto has been swept up in strategy meetings and sponsor obligations. You trail along behind him, clutching your paddock pass, trying not to get in the way.
During a rare free moment, Toto turns to you. “Why don’t you go exploring for a bit? Get a feel for the place. I need to take this call but I’ll come find you soon.”
You nod uncertainly. Venturing off alone makes you nervous, but you want to prove to Toto you can handle this new world.
You wander toward the garages housing the Formula 2 teams. The cars are lined up, mechanics hovering over them making final tweaks and adjustments. You watch them work, enthralled by their practiced movements.
“Are you lost?”
You turn to see a mechanic frowning at you. He’s from one of the backmarker teams, a lower budget operation.
“Oh no, just looking around,” you stammer self-consciously.
The mechanic’s eyes drop to your pass. “Ah a VIP pass eh? Who are you with?”
“Oh um Mercedes ...” you trail off awkwardly.
His eyebrows raise, impressed. “Posh. You must be Toto’s new assistant then?”
You freeze, the old insecurity rising. Assistant. Because why else would someone your age be hanging around the Mercedes garage? You want to correct him, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t want to make a scene.
So you just nod and mumble something noncommittal. The mechanic looks sympathetic.
“First race weekend is it? They can be chaotic. But don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. Who knows, if you impress the boss, you might get to travel full time!”
He means it kindly, but his words dig into your wounds. You give a thin smile. “Thank you, I appreciate the advice.”
You turn away before he can respond, a lump forming in your throat. No matter what Toto says, people will make assumptions about you.
Lost in thought, you wander toward the bustling fan zone. It’s a sea of colors, supporters wearing their favorite team’s kit. You pass unnoticed, just another face in the crowd.
The roar of an engine makes you glance up. The Formula 2 cars are being pushed out of the garage, heading for the grid. You hurry over, eager to get a closer look.
A harried looking engineer nearly runs right into you, focused on his tablet. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.” He does a double take. “Hey, you’re Toto’s new assistant right? I saw you with him around the paddock earlier.”
Your heart sinks. Word has spread. You open your mouth to correct him but he barrels on.
“Listen, I hate to do this, but any chance you can help me out? My usual assistant called in sick and I’m swamped. I just need someone to hold these and stand with the engineers during the race. You’ll get a front row view of the start!”
He looks at you pleadingly. You hesitate, but his need seems genuine.
“Um, sure, I can help,” you say.
“You’re a lifesaver!” He exclaims, piling several tire blankets into your arms. They’re heavier than you expected. “Just follow me.”
He leads you onto the grid and you get swept up in the controlled chaos, focusing on not dropping the blankets. The cars pull into position around you. The engineer directs you where to stand and you end up right against the barrier, the engines roaring just feet away.
Your heart races with excitement. The start is exhilarating, the cars peeling away in a blur. You forget your insecurities for a moment, lost in the thrill of the race.
The checkered flag waves and the engineer finally relieves you of the weight in your arms. “Thanks so much for your help! I really appreciate it ...” he pauses. “Actually I don’t think I got your name?”
You open your mouth but a familiar voice interrupts. “There you are!”
Toto appears through the crowd and pulls you into his arms. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you alright?”
He notices the engineer standing there awkwardly. “Can I help you?” Toto asks coolly.
“Nope, we’re all good here. Thanks again for your help,” the engineer nods at you and disappears into the dispersing crowd.
“What was that about?” Toto frowns. “Why was he giving you tire blankets?”
You sigh, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you again. “He thought I was your new assistant. He needed help so I said yes.” You shrug helplessly.
Understanding flashes across Toto’s face and he swears under his breath. “I’m so sorry, I never should have left you alone. I should have made things clearer who you are.”
You shake your head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind helping out, really.” But your voice wavers, betraying your hurt.
Toto cups your face gently. “No, it’s not okay. You are my partner, my equal. Not my assistant. I need to show people the extraordinary woman you truly are.”
His faith bubbles up your own courage. You straighten your shoulders, looking him in the eye.
“Then let’s go show them. I’m not hiding anymore. Take me where I belong, right by your side.”
Toto kisses you fiercely. “With pleasure, meine liebchen.”
He tucks you under his shoulder proudly. You keep your head high as you walk back through the paddock, passes reflecting in the sun. Let them stare and whisper. You know where you belong.
The Trespasser
A few months later, you’re starting to find your stride. Each race weekend poses new challenges, but with Toto by your side you’re learning to navigate the hectic world of motorsports.
The Mercedes team has slowly warmed up to you as well. Seeing how happy Toto is has softened their skepticism. You pitch in where you can — bringing freshly baked pastries and trying to make yourself useful. Having a purpose eases your lingering insecurities.
The Singapore Grand Prix means a sweltering heat that makes the paddock sticky and humid. The stuffy garage offers little relief so you wander outside hoping for a breeze. You end up in the fan zone, mingling with supporters visiting the various team merch shops and activities.
You chat with a few enthusiastic young fans, gently deflecting their eager questions about Toto and the team. Despite the heat and crowds, their passion for the sport is contagious and you find yourself smiling.
Toto texts that he needs you back at the garage, so you reluctantly leave your anonymous conversations and make your way through the paddock. As you draw closer to the Mercedes garage, you realize your pass has gone missing from your lanyard.
Your heart sinks. The passes grant crucial access and you don’t want to cause problems. But the garage is just ahead so you decide to explain yourself once you’re inside.
Slipping through the open door, you immediately spot Toto in the back. As you weave between bustling mechanics, a hand grasps your shoulder.
You turn to see one of the newer Mercedes mechanics frowning down at you. “What are you doing in here?” He demands. “This area is restricted.”
Flustered, you try to explain about your missing pass. But the mechanic’s stern expression doesn’t waver.
“How did you get in? I know all the team members but I haven’t seen you before.” His eyes narrow suspiciously.
Other mechanics have noticed the confrontation and start drifting over. You shrink under their doubtful gazes.
“I, uh, I’m Toto’s ...” you stammer, but the mechanic cuts you off.
“A likely story. Every race some starry-eyed fan tries to sneak in for an autograph or photo. You picked the wrong garage for that. Come on, let’s go.”
He takes your arm in a firm grip. Your protests fall on deaf ears as he escorts you briskly outside.
To your dismay Toto is occupied with an intense conversation, his back turned. No one intervenes as the mechanic marches you away from the garage and into the paddock.
“I don’t know how you got in here, but I’ll be reporting this. We can’t have unauthorized people wandering around restricted areas.”
You tug uselessly against his hold, trying to explain it’s all just a misunderstanding. But he remains stoic, unmoved by your pleas.
Other teams and drivers are staring now as he parades you past. Your face burns with humiliation at the thought of causing a scene or being accused of lying.
In a stroke of luck, you spot Lewis heading towards the Mercedes motorhome ahead. He knows you, surely he can clear this up!
You call his name desperately. “Lewis, Lewis! Help, please!”
Lewis turns, confusion clouding his features. But then he recognizes you and his brow furrows.
“What’s going on here?” He asks sharply, striding over.
The mechanic snaps to attention, clearly intimidated to be addressed by Lewis directly.
“I caught this girl sneaking around the garage! She claims to know Toto but it’s obviously a ruse to get access. I was just escorting her out.”
Lewis looks incredulous. “This is Toto��s wife, mate. She’s supposed to be there.”
The mechanic gapes, his authoritative air dissipating. “His wife? But she’s so young ...” he glances at you uncertainly. “My apologies, ma’am, I didn’t realize. We have to be vigilant about security.”
You shrug off his now-slack grip. “It’s fine, just a misunderstanding,” you mumble, face still burning.
Lewis places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you back where you belong.”
He leads you away from the shrinking mechanic back toward the Mercedes garage. You feel tears pricking your eyes.
“Thank you, Lewis,” you say shakily. “I tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen ...”
“Don’t worry about it. That guy is new around here, still learning the ropes.” Lewis pats your shoulder consolingly.
You nod, trying to brush it off. But the encounter left you rattled. Will there always be those who see you as an outsider?
Lewis seems to sense your swirling doubts. “He was just new. The team knows you well by now. Stuff like this will stop happening once the rest get used to you being around.”
You want to believe him. You’ve tried so hard to find your place here.
As you near the garage, Toto comes rushing out, scanning the paddock anxiously. His shoulders sag with relief when he spots you.
“Where have you been? I turned around and you were gone!” He exclaims, pulling you into his embrace.
Over his shoulder, you see Lewis mouth “tell him” before discreetly slipping away.
You take a deep breath and explain what happened with the mechanic. Toto’s expression darkens, his protective anger rising.
You touch his cheek gently. “It wasn’t his fault. It was just a misunderstanding.”
Toto sighs, anger melting away. “I should have been there. I should have introduced you properly to the new staff.”
You shake your head. “You can’t be responsible for how everyone sees me. I don’t need you fighting my battles. This is something I have to earn for myself. Their respect, their trust … I just need more time.”
Toto gazes at you with so much love and pride it takes your breath away. “You are so much stronger than you know. And if they can’t see that, well that’s on them.”
He kisses you softly. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.”
And wrapped securely in his arms, you finally believe it’s true. This is your world now. Your place is here, with him.
The Nanny
The warm early autumn breeze ruffles your hair as you wait outside the primary school, keeping one eye on the time. Any minute now the bell will ring, signaling the end of your son’s second day of preschool.
You smile thinking of this morning and his eager goodbye hug before practically sprinting into the building, too excited to look back. He has his father’s confidence.
Shifting the baby carrier holding your sleeping newborn daughter, you smooth down your dress self-consciously. Even after years with Toto, you still can’t help but feel out of place at posh schools like this.
The other mothers eye you curiously. No doubt wondering about the young woman with an infant waiting alone.
You know some of them recognized Toto yesterday when he dropped off and picked up your son. Your heart had lurched seeing him cradling Leon’s small hand, both your boys glancing back to wave goodbye.
But duty called for Toto today with important meetings at Mercedes’ Brackley Headquarters, so pickup fell to you today. Not that you mind another glimpse of that overjoyed grin when your son spots you.
The bell rings and a stream of children come pouring out the doors. You crane your neck, looking for a familiar head of tousled curls.
There! You wave eagerly as your son breaks into a run when he sees you.
“Mama!” He cries joyfully, slamming into your legs. You stroke his hair, hugging him tight.
“Did you have a good day baby?” You ask as he looks up at you adoringly.
He nods, launching into a story about finger painting that you can barely follow. But his enthusiasm is contagious and you can’t help but smile.
A polite cough interrupts you. An immaculately dressed woman is hovering nearby, eyeing your son curiously.
“Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to introduce myself properly. I’m Clarice, Emma’s mum,” she gestures to a girl clinging shyly to her leg.
“Lovely to meet you,” you say politely, shaking her offered hand. “I’m Y/N and this is Leon.”
You ruffle his curls and he gives a dimpled smile before hiding against your side. Clarice’s eyes flick between you and your son, a slight furrow in her brow.
“I hope I’m not overstepping, but I met Leon’s father yesterday during drop off. Is his mother … not around?” She asks delicately.
Your cheeks flush. Of course she would assume you’re the nanny, not the mother. Bracing yourself, you shake your head.
“No it’s okay! I’m his mother. Toto — Leon’s dad — had meetings today, so it’s my turn to do pickup.”
Clarice looks mortified. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry for assuming. You just look so young, I thought ...” she trails off, flustered.
You force an understanding smile. “Don’t worry, it’s an easy mistake. Our age difference does raise some eyebrows.” You punctuate this with an awkward laugh.
Clarice seems eager to change the subject. “What a beautiful baby!” She gushes, peering at your daughter sleeping in her carrier. “And so well behaved.”
Grateful for the redirected conversation, you chat politely about your little girl. Clarice coos over her sweetly.
Other parents begin dispersing with their kids and Clarice makes her goodbyes. “So lovely meeting you both. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
You smile and take Leon’s hand to drive home, his chattering filling your ears. You know curious parents will likely gossip about Toto’s young wife. But it doesn’t sting as much as it once did. You’ve grown used to the assumptions by now.
Unlocking the front door, you’re greeted by the smell of cooking. Leon goes tearing off to the kitchen, shouting “Papa!” at the top of his lungs. Chuckling, you follow after, your daughter beginning to stir in her carrier.
Toto is there to sweep Leon into his arms, smothering his cheeks in kisses as your son giggles. The scene warms your heart.
Noticing your arrival, Toto sets Leon down to embrace you and peer at the baby. “How was pick up? Any tears today?” He asks Leon.
Your son shakes his head proudly. “I made a picture for you, Papa!” He runs off to retrieve it.
You meet Toto’s gaze over your daughter’s downy hair. “It was fine. Just the usual questions about my age from a school mum. She thought I was the nanny when we first met.”
You try to say it lightly, but Toto’s face tightens, protective anger flashing. Even after all this time, he hates when people judge you unfairly.
You touch his arm gently. “It’s okay, really. I don’t care what they think.”
And it’s true. The opinions of strangers can’t touch the beautiful family you’ve built together.
Toto lets out a long breath, anger melting away. “I know. But I still wish people could see you how I do.”
He pulls you close and you lean into him, breathing in his comforting scent. “As long as you and the kids see me, that’s all that matters.”
Leon comes barreling back in, brandishing his painting. “Look!!”
You both admire his abstract swirls of color dutifully. “A masterpiece!” Toto proclaims. “We’ll hang it on the fridge.”
Leon beams under the praise then dashes off again in pursuit of a toy.
You and Toto share a wry smile. “Never a dull moment with that one,” you remark. The baby begins fussing and you gently sway her.
“Here, let me.” Toto takes her expertly and she settles against his broad chest. Your heart squeezes at the sight.
Toto meets your gaze. “I know I’ve put you through a lot over the years. The stares, the gossip … you’ve endured it all with grace when you could have walked away.”
You stroke his cheek. “You and our family are worth any trial. I would do it all again without a second thought.”
Toto leans into your palm. “Having you by my side is the greatest gift.”
You kiss him softly, your heart brimming with love.
From the other room, Leon’s playful giggles reach you. The smell of dinner being prepared still fills the warm kitchen. And your baby girl doses off in her daddy’s arms.
This is your world. The only one that matters. And you know for certain you belong.
The Husband
The morning sun streams through the hotel window as you sip your coffee, scrolling absentmindedly through social media. Race weekends are always a whirlwind, but you’ve learned to carve out small moments of calm when you can.
Toto is already down in the paddock prepping for qualifying today. The room feels empty without him. Sighing, you click over to TikTok, hoping for a distraction.
Immediately a video pops up on your feed from a fan account, the caption “so cute!” catching your eye. You tap play, assuming it’s another clip of drivers’ kids or someone’s grid walk antics.
But you nearly spit out your coffee when the video loads. It’s Toto, standing by the circuit entrance, surrounded by a gaggle of teenage girls. They’re prodding phones toward him eagerly, voices babbling over one another.
“Toto, what’s it like being Y/N’s husband?” One asks boldly.
You freeze, breath caught in your throat. In all the years by Toto’s side, you’ve never heard anyone flip the script like that. It’s always been “what’s it like being Toto’s wife?” You’re an accessory to his fame, not the focus.
Toto looks momentarily surprised, then laughs good-naturedly. “She is extraordinary,” he proclaims sincerely. “Being with her is a privilege every day.”
The girls sigh dreamily at his romanticism. Another chimes in, “You must be so proud of everything she’s accomplished!”
Toto nods, his expression tender. “I am in awe of her strength and resilience. She has faced so much scrutiny with grace. And now people finally see her incredible spirit.”
You press a hand to your mouth as tears spring to your eyes. After years by his side, Toto’s steadfast faith in you still takes your breath away.
“So you’re proud to be Y/N’s husband?” The first girl presses.
“Absolutely.” Toto doesn’t hesitate. “She is my inspiration.”
The video ends and you sit staring at the screen, cheeks wet. Never did you imagine your own fans, separate from Toto. But these girls look up to you, see you as more than just “the wife.”
Your phone buzzes with a text from Toto.
Have you seen the video? The PR team says you’re trending on TikTok!
You type back shakily.
Just watched it. Made me cry happy tears 🥹
His response is immediate.
You deserve all the praise, meine liebchen. I meant every word.
Wiping your eyes, you get up and dress quickly. Down in the paddock, you spot Toto right away. He sweeps you into his arms.
“There’s my superstar wife.” His eyes shine with pride.
You kiss him fiercely. “Thank you for always believing in me. Even when I doubted myself.”
Toto touches your cheek. “You’ve earned every bit of admiration. Don’t ever forget your worth.”
As he walks you into the bustling garage, mechanics glance up from their work to smile and wave. The fans hover nearby, whispering excitedly when they see you.
You no longer feel out of place here. This is your world now, as much as Toto’s. You’ve claimed your seat at the table.
Standing confidently by your husband’s side, you wave back, ready to take on the day.
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