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enigmaticexplorer · 2 months ago

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Me everytime I read something new about Sadhbh and Wolffe:

Blindfolded

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Sadhbh m'Lir (Pantoran OC) Warnings: PiV Sex, Sensory Deprivation specifically a blindfold W/c: 2.1k A/N: This was meant to be another Kinktober piece but that didn't happen haha. So bon appetit for random November horniness! I might not be able to reply to comments for a few days but I hope you all enjoy it <3 I'm also making good progress on No Turning Back so hopefully I'll be able to show their story in the next few months :) Crossposted to Ao3

[Masterlist] [One Shot Masterlist]

“Ready?”

Sadhbh nods, grinning, from where she sits naked on her bed. Leaning back on her hands, she looks up, head tilted, at Wolffe kneeling between her legs. He holds a piece of soft black fabric in his hands, his thumb rubbing it absentmindedly as he keeps his heated gaze on her.

He snugly fills the space between her legs, his skin hot against hers, and she wriggles her toes into his calf as she looks him up and down. She always takes the time to take him in, no matter how many times she has seen Wolffe naked. Mapping out his new scars against his old ones or noting how the hair on his chest has filled out even more than the last time. Following the trail of hair all the way from his chest, down his stomach, down, down, down…

Sadhbh swallows.

It’s a pity she asked to be blindfolded.

Flicking her eyes up, Wolffe is already staring at her and smirking. He knows what she’s thinking, of course he does.

“Later, cyare,” amusement colouring his deep voice.

Oh that’s a promise, she vows internally. As if he can read her mind, Wolffe’s smirk grows wider. Outwardly, she asks, “Where do you want me for this?”

At that, Wolffe leans down, close to her face and mutters, “On your back. Please.” Sadhbh softly laughs at him and lies back on the bed, her hair fanning out from under her.

Deftly, Wolffe wraps the blindfold around, lifting her head slightly to fit the material under her. The darkness engulfs Sadhbh’s vision and for a moment her heart skips a beat at the loss. It must show on her face as Wolffe strokes her cheek asking, “Do you want to stop?” She can’t see his concerned expression, but it bleeds into his words.

She smiles in what she thinks is his direction, “No. It’s weird, that’s all.” Wolffe doesn’t continue, letting her relax into his caress. His touch lulls her, her heart calming down and soon enough her initial uneasiness fades.

Sadhbh nods at him, “I’m good.”

She flinches when he places a chaste kiss to her cheek, not expecting the sensation of his stubble against her skin, and she laughs giddily. Sadhbh doesn’t give Wolffe the time to ask again if she’s comfortable, already telling him to continue, so he moves lower to her collarbone, his stubble scratching her again as he nods. She gasps when he sucks her skin, her hands flying to his hair, and the distinct pop of skin between lips sounds loudly in her ear.

Wolffe stops.

Sadhbh pouts hoping he can see her, and his low chuckle in her ear is deep and enticing. He gently pulls her hands out of his curls and lays them to her side. Her hands clench into the sheet below her, utterly unsatisfactory compared to how he feels.

“Keep your hands on the bed until I say so.”

Sadhbh scoffs at the commanding tone in Wolffe’s voice, “You like me doing that.”

When he answers, he feels much closer to her face again, his breath tickling her cheeks as he mutters, “I do. But if you keep that up, I’m going to lose it.”

Sadhbh smirks, but concedes and splays her hands out on the bed for him to see. The cotton feels dry and rough against her fingertips, not like Wolffe’s skin at all, but she stays there anyway.

“Good girl.”

Fuck. Her cheeks flush at his praise and her breath hitches. Wolffe laughs knowingly as he traces his fingers down between her breasts, leaving goosebumps in his wake, before he moves again.

He’s careful not to lean on her, slowly spreading her legs so they’re not touching each other any more. Sadhbh has no way to know where he’s going to move now, even the dips in the bed don’t give much away.

The uncertainty sends shivers of excitement running through her, spiking when he leaves wet kisses on her, when he ghosts his hands onto her, or when she feels his teeth gently nibbling at her.

Wolffe works on her, his plan left unknown to Sadhbh. Just when she finds the pattern he’s following, he switches it up. Kisses placed in a circle around her navel suddenly change to sporadic massages into random areas, her bicep, her hip, even her calf. One minute he’s sucking at her skin behind her ear before disappearing and reappearing at her breasts. Light fleeting touches to her inner thighs make her twitch and she needs all her self control to stay still.

Every thing he does fills her with anticipation, makes her startle and moan with each new touch.

It doesn’t take her long to start squirming.

The build up between touches is getting to her and it takes all her self control not to let her hands reach out for him again. She pouts and whines when he comes close to kissing her on the lips, but he moves away as soon as she tilts her head up to him, and she can feel the rumbles of his laughs in the side of her neck.

He finds the exact pressure needed to produce goosebumps on her skin, he refines how he gently blows on her nipples to make them erect. In between, he moves back to her neck just as Sadhbh leans into his attention, leaving her riled up.

Sadhbh’s skin feels hot with the building frustration and her hands grip the sheet below her as best they can to ground herself. He’s got her writhing on the bed, and Sadhbh is filled with the need to work out her pent up energy. She knows her hair must be a mess from how her head moves back and forth, trying to see him despite the blindfold.

It’s when she’s about to break and beg him for more, she finally realises that each time Wolffe comes back to her neck, his breathing is heavier each time. His hands are no longer languidly caressing her, but he’s now spreading his hands out all over her skin, his grip firm and seeking her out more.

She still can’t touch him but she leans into his touches more. Arching her back when he holds her breast and swipes his thumb over her nipple. Letting her head fall into his hand more when he reaches for her face. Tiny movements that she hopes will work in her favour to get what she wants.

But not too obviously to make Wolffe regain his composure. He’s stubborn enough to pull away and start over again, she knows that all too well.

She’s not expecting him to kiss her.

The kiss is hungry, and she lifts her head up to meet him. Their teeth clash and she sucks his bottom lip, before he deepens the kiss. She jumps when Wolffe suddenly cradles her face to hold her in place, and she melts into his touch, eager to keep him there.

He’s leaning on her now, his skin like a furnace against hers and his chest hair rubbing her chafed nipples just right. Sadhbh pulls her legs up to trap him there, hell bent on encouraging his patience to snap. His cock rests on her mound, hard against her, and she starts rocking her hips. He told her not to touch him with her hands, he said nothing about the rest of her body, and self-satisfaction curls in her chest.

Too soon, Wolffe huffs into their kiss, knowing full well what she’s up to, and leans back.

Sadhbh groans, “Hands are still here,” she flexes her fingers beside her to show him. Wolffe hums in agreement.

“I know,” he sounds further away now and she can hear him try to slow his breathing down. “But you’ve been good for me,” he says and Sadhbh’s breath hitches again. He adds, “Mostly”. She bites her lip to try to stop her laugh and she fails spectacularly.

A pause before Wolffe speaks again, still somewhat breathless, “Now you can touch me.”

Sadhbh grins, lifting her hands to search for him but he must be kneeling just out of reach, and she frowns.

Wolffe’s hands suddenly scoop underneath her back and pull her up to him. Sadhbh squeaks in surprise, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. But he’s not done; Wolffe spins them both until he’s the one sitting on the mattress and Sadhbh straddles his hips. She hears him shift against the headboard, the wood creaking quietly behind him.

His cock rests against her, throbbing on her skin and she swallows, trying (and failing) to temper her excitement. When Wolffe speaks, he’s right in her ear, murmuring, “Want to continue?” It should be embarrassing, how easily Wolffe has made her eager for him, but Sadhbh gives him hushed pleas, nodding into his neck.

“Please, Wolffe.”

He nuzzles her, stubble scratching her again, and Sadhbh reciprocates, smiling as she places a small kiss on his cheek. She still can’t see him, but she knows his face by touch alone. Knows exactly where his brow is and proves it with another kiss. She finds his nose with ease and trails down to his lips.

She moves back to his right cheek, already at the base of his scar, and leaves a chain of kisses up it. Sadhbh goes slowly, letting the kisses become more of a gentle press against the thin skin around his eye. Wolffe shudders under her when she kisses his brow and when she reaches the end of his scar, she lifts herself up for him. Wolffe lines himself up to her entrance.

His cock nudges at her and Sadhbh lowers herself onto him. She sighs as he slowly fills her, Wolffe holds her hips to help guide her until she’s fully seated on him. One of Wolffe’s hands comes up to stroke her back, light touches tickle her as his fingers trail up and down her spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Everything is amplified by the blindfold, how he feels against her, the sound of his breathing, even the throb of his cock inside her feels… more.

Sadhbh clenches her muscles around him, smirking when she hears Wolffe groan. It doesn’t last long as Wolffe thrusts up into her making her gasp.

Wolffe sucks on her neck, muttering, “Think you’re so funny.”

Sadhbh can only grin and moan as he continues his affections. Soon, it’s not enough, restlessness making her squirm again, so she rolls her hips. It’s not enough to sate her, so she keeps moving, desperate to keep building the pleasure within.

Wolffe meets her, setting a slow pace, and Sadhbh drops her forehead down. She doesn’t quite find his forehead, instead bumping into his temple. Sadhbh swears quietly and Wolffe turns to face her.

They share breaths and their skin sticks together. One of Wolffe’s hands holds the back of her head keeping their foreheads together, the other squeezing her ass. All Sadhbh can do is hold onto one of his shoulders, her other hand holding his jaw, stubble tickling her palm.

Wolffe finds that spot inside, pushing her closer and closer to the brink. He’s louder now, his groans encouraging Sadhbh as she rides him. Each riles up the other, and she can’t feel where she starts and he ends. Sadhbh buries her head into Wolffe’s neck once more as he pins her to his chest. The smell of sex is stronger now, magnifying the sparks running down her spine as Wolffe thrusts into her.

She can feel it, that urge to keep moving, building and building up inside her. Her hips move on their own and she’s so lost in the feeling that she squeezes her eyes shut before she arches into Wolffe with a silent cry and her body spasms.

Gasping she heaves in deep breaths, exhausted and sweaty, as Wolffe’s arms tighten and he spills into her, a loud groan rumbling in his chest. She feels his pants in her hair and Sadhbh collapses onto him.

Sadhbh blinks open her eyes, bleary and unfocused, still covered by the dark fabric. Until a hand trails up her back and around to gently tug the blindfold up onto her forehead.

She looks up at Wolffe, who looks completely wrecked, his hair sticking in all directions. They’re still breathing deep, struggling to pull themselves together, but with the soft look in Wolffe’s eyes, Sadhbh doesn’t want to move anyway.

She’s too tired to speak, to tell him how boneless and content she feels, but Wolffe gets the message when she buries herself into his chest, touching and kissing his skin where she can. He, in turn, slouches back against the headboard, his breathing rhythmically caressing her hair.

It’s a while before she can speak again, but when she does, Sadhbh wastes no time in telling Wolffe – and then showing him just how good he made her feel.

He’s definitely not complaining.

Taglist:

@wolffegirlsunite @cyarbika @rexxdjarin @galacticgraffiti @foreverdaydreaming1

@sleepingsun501 @patchmates @queen--kenobi @cw80831

#x oc #commander wolffe x oc #commander wolffe x ofc

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enigmaticexplorer · 2 months ago

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I think this was the first chapter that I actually cried for Daria. And Kazi. I cried for both of them and their broken relationship.

I'm sorry you cried, but as a writer, it makes me very happy knowing the emotions hit. Kazi and Daria's relationship had me choked up at so many points while writing. It hurts me. From Daria's disease to Kazi's resentment, there's so much going on at such a deep level. Their relationship is one of my favorite parts of this story. I'm used to reading about only two forms of sister relationships: the perfect, heathy relationship or the catty, hateful relationship. I wanted to write something that was real and raw and got to the heart of sisterhood. I wanted something that spoke to my relationship with my sister and how it's messy but the type of love that doesn't give up, even after all the shit you've been through.

But their honesty with each other and the desire on both their parts to try to get back even a little of what they had before was such a positive step!! I was so pleased for them.

The first step forward: being honest! (And notice how it mirrors the honesty between Kazi and Wolffe, too 😏) This conversation between Kazi and Daria was much needed. They both needed to hear how they'd hurt each other over the years; and they needed to see the other's perspective. Sometimes we get so in our heads with how we perceive things that we overlook what the other person has experienced or is feeling.

He. Was. More.

Say it again: HE WAS MORE. For Kazi, that's basically a love confession haha.

he wouldn't let her just brush that off and not admit it meant something, and she got upset enough that she was honest with him!

Funnily, I think in this dialogue it's the first time that Kazi calls Wolffe by his name to his face - referring to him by his name. She says: "Because it did, Wolffe." From Wolffe's perspective, it's a slight shock; internally he's thinking "did she just call me by my name?" (But I can't remember 100% if this is true. Originally, it was supposed to be, but I can't remember if I changed it.)

She turned to Wolffe. At the beginning of this fic, I never thought those words or anything similar would be said. She turned to him.

So many characters are making so many strides. But Kazi had to make that first step to trusting Wolffe, and then Neyti could follow. However, Neyti has been instrumental, too, in Kazi's trust of Wolffe. They've been playing off each other; even though they don't know it!

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XV

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.4K

14 Yelona

Kazi was tired.

She was tired of arguments. Tired of responsibility. Tired of the conflictual, pathetic emotions roiling inside of her, like the ocean fraught with a coming storm yet unable to truly form.

Most of all, she was tired of the guilt gnawing on her, wearing away her mind until, soon, nothing would remain of her.

Resentment constricted her lungs and twisted her thoughts. It itched in a place she couldn’t reach, persistent and frustrating. Unignorable.

Her emotions, meticulously maintained and carefully locked away, wanted to escape. The signs were obvious last night.

But the problem with repressed emotions—the problem with being told since she was a little girl that emotions were bad and not to be expressed—was their tendency to erupt. Too much time locked away and they grew frustrated.

Repressed emotions concerning Daria, outside of their arguments, were months in the making.

Kazi knew her emotions were too volatile this morning. And yet she couldn’t bother to halt her trek out the backdoor.

Foggy gray of early dawn cooled the morning temperature. The fog, heavy and thick, haunted the jungle surrounding the house. Dew speckled fern stalks and tree leaves, splashing her bare legs as she stalked around the side of the house to Daria’s garden.

Daria was kneeling in freshly-churned soil, planting new seedlings. Loose long sleeves and trousers protected her from the morning chill, though sweat still blotted her forehead. Hair tied back, she appeared content. Serene.

It was the packet of seeds beside Daria—a packet similar to the one currently sitting on her nightstand—that made Kazi pause. If she hadn’t seen her own packet of seeds only a few minutes ago, she would have blamed Daria for stealing them.

Did Wolffe gift her sister seedlings for the Harvest Festival, too?

The question contained too many possibilities she didn’t want to consider this early in the morning and after her argument with Wolffe. She reconcentrated on the object in her hand, feeling rattled and out of place.

“I have your potion,” Kazi said.

Shoulders stiffening, Daria lifted her face, her scowl dark with umbrage.

Green eyes devoid of their usual warmth, Daria extended a hand. Kazi stepped into the enclosed garden and handed her sister the potion. Once finished, Daria thrust the bottle back at her, not once looking in her direction.

Usually Kazi would walk away. Shut herself in her room and seethe at Daria’s behavior. Scream at her sister in her head. Call out Daria on every single shitty thing she had done in their lifetimes.

Instead, Kazi pocketed the potion. “Why didn’t you accept my Festival gift?”

She was searching for a fight. Seeking out a means to release her resentment. But she didn’t care. She was tired of caring so fucking much.

“I was trying to be a good sister,” she said. And though she wanted to sound annoyed, dismissive, her tone was far too brittle. Far too hurt.

Refusing to even look in Kazi’s direction, Daria glowered at a spindly plant, her gloved hands fisted atop her thighs.

“I was trying to bridge this gap between us.” Kazi folded her arms across her chest, her emotions frothing and snapping. “I’m trying every day. And you brushed me off like it meant nothing.”

Her voice broke on the last word and she pressed a palm against forehead, ordering herself not to cry. Lack of sleep, tension with Wolffe, guilt concerning Neyti were crushing her. Pressing through skin and muscles and bones, grounding her into nothing more than dust.

But it hurt. To see the contempt in her little sister. To bear the responsibility for their broken bond. To know she had hurt Daria—she had hurt her little sister.

Kazi dug her fingernails into her biceps. “I’m trying to fix things—”

“That is the problem,” Daria snapped. Pushing herself to her feet, she glared at Kazi. “You’re trying to bridge the gap when you don’t understand why the gap exists. It’s unhelpful and a waste of time.”

“I know why the gap exists.” She dropped her hand to her sides, fisting them tightly. “It’s existed ever since I left home. You changed then and you haven’t been the same since.”

“I have been different?”

“Yes.”

Daria stared at her incredulously. “You were different, Kazi. You have been different ever since Papa died.”

The fog seemed to thicken and the jungle quieted. It held its breath, thick leaves and elder trees listening, waiting.

“You disappeared after Papa died,” Daria said, her voice trembling. “You were there, physically, but you weren’t really there. I tried so hard to help you—to support you and be there for you—but you shut me out. You weren’t there for me anymore.”

Kazi released a cynical breath. “I was a kid, Daria, and I was grieving. It wasn’t my responsibility to take care of you.”

“I didn’t want you to take care of me!”

Raw emotion hoarsened Daria’s voice. She stared at Kazi with such distressed anguish it was as palpable as the wetness of the fog.

“I wanted to be with you.” Daria threw up her hands. “I wanted to sit in your room with you while you hid. I wanted to walk to the harbor with you, and visit the lighthouse with you. I only wanted to be with you. I gave you space to mourn Papa, but giving you space turned into months and then years, until I realized you no longer cared for me.”

Memories from that time swarmed the back of her mind. Kazi remembered a soft-spoken girl knocking quietly on her bedroom door, leaving dessert in the hallway, offering to visit the sailboat, asking to watch the storms.

Years of the soft-spoken girl longing after a sister who was too numb to feel or care.

“I thought I had done something to make you hate me.” Daria’s throat bobbed and she wiped at her cheek. “We were no longer friends, and then you disappeared. You left me. I knew at that moment that what we had no longer existed. I was no longer important to you, and I accepted that.”

You left me.

The words echoed hollowly in her head, and Kazi froze.

How long had she feared getting close to others knowing they would eventually leave? How long had she resented Papa for dying and abandoning them?

All those years keeping others at arms-length to protect herself from abandonment, and she had abandoned her little sister.

Mist caressed Daria’s honeyed hair, wetting her lips and eyelashes. “I still wanted you to be okay. You didn’t have friends. You shut everyone out. So I thought if you no longer wanted to spend time with me, then I would find someone who would take care of you. Because you were lonely and I didn’t want to see you so unhappy.”

“I isolated myself for a reason.” Kazi rubbed her arm, the chill of the mist seeping into her body. “And I only have myself to blame for my lack of relationships. So you shouldn’t have felt bad for me—”

“I loved you,” Daria whispered. “I loved you more than anyone, and I wanted to see you happy.”

“Daria—”

Daria raised a hand to silence her.

“I met potential suitors.” A mirthless smile twisted Daria’s face. “I vetted them based on your personality. I looked for men who were kind and respectable. Men with a good work ethic. Men spoken highly of, because you deserved the best. I knew you no longer loved me, but I thought I could find someone who would take care of you. Someone who would make you feel happy.”

“Daria.” Kazi stared at her sister incredulously. “I have always loved you.”

Her sister scoffed. “There’s no need to lie—”

“Everything I have done the past year has been for you,” she said, gesturing to the house. “When you fell ill, I returned home. When Mama became distraught, I intervened. When the healers said there was no hope, I sought medicine and help because I refused to give up on you. I am trying to start a new life for you. Everything I do is for you.”

Daria’s smile turned sad, placating. “You do that out of duty, Kazi. Not because you love me—”

“Don’t say that.” Kazi shook her head disbelievingly. “Don’t fucking say that.”

“Ever since I fell ill, I have been nothing of consequence. I’m a burden to you. I won’t be here for much longer—”

“Stop it.”

“I won’t be,” Daria insisted. “And I don’t want to leave you in this world alone because you have lost everyone and it hurts me to look at you.”

“Daria—”

“I look at you and I no longer see the sister I admired. The sister I loved. I no longer see the Kazi who snuck around the harbors, the Kazi who spent her weekends sailing. I no longer see the Kazi who told me stories late at night because I was scared of the thunder, and the Kazi who took me out dancing every time it rained. I thought you might find that person again if you had someone in your life who could help you carry your burdens. Someone who cared for you.”

Stricken speechless, Kazi could only stare at her sister. All this time she thought Daria wanted her to marry because of tradition. Because of their upbringing.

She should have known Daria’s personal interest was driven by something more.

“I’m scared, Kazi.” Daria breathed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m scared I’m going to forget those moments. I don’t want to forget when you were alive.”

A tear slid down her cheek and Kazi looked away.

Because it had been years since she truly felt alive, and when she tried to remember its warmth and comfort, disappointment and self-hatred made themselves known. Two shadows leaching the life from her.

“I tell Neyti stories about you.” Daria regarded her with a sunken appearance, the planes of her face dull and harried. “I want her to know you. I want her to know you the way I knew you. That’s why I asked her to draw that photo of us. I wanted to show her who you truly are.”

Energy and warmth and anger dissipated from her body and Kazi sighed, her bones sagging. Wariness guarded Daria’s gaze, as if her sister expected her to react coldly. Cruelly.

“You’ve never been a burden,” Kazi said hoarsely. “And I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

Daria blinked her surprise, and Kazi mentally berated herself. Had she really been so apathetic and closed-off from Daria the past years that apologizing was shocking?

“I’m sorry I…disappeared after Papa’s death.” She searched her sister’s gaze. “I’m sorry I left you without warning. I’m sorry I ignored you for years. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped to talk to you, or listen, or just be there for you. I’m sorry.”

Kazi let her hand drift to one of the spindly plants, the fuzz of the stem tickling her palm. A piece of her wanted to reach for Daria, to close the distance between them, to hold her sister’s hand one more time. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“I pulled away because I couldn’t stomach the thought of disappointing you. The thought of failing you…” She shrugged, laughing hollowly. “I couldn’t bear it—I didn’t want to bear it. I pulled away, not because of anything you did, but because I didn’t want to fail you. And now this gap exists and I don’t know what to do. The thought of losing you—”

Choking on a renewed surge of emotion, Kazi closed her eyes and tilted her face to the foggy sky, breathing in through her nose. Exhaling through her mouth.

Less than a year and a half remained before Daria passed. Her sister’s memory would start to worsen and fade in six months. So much time had been lost and so little remained.

“I dream sometimes,” Daria interrupted her thoughts and Kazi opened her eyes. Her sister raised a hand and played with a wisp of mist. “I dream of the lighthouse, of the two of us sitting up there while a storm rolls in.”

A soft smile smoothed her features and she closed her eyes, like she could envision the dream. Envision a time when the lighthouse was their safe place and reality didn’t exist, and pain and heartache and bitterness were concerns for adults.

A time when two little girls played and laughed and dreamt of happy wonders.

“I dream of us sharing our citrus-stars, and the tales you would tell me of the dragons.” Her voice was wistful, gentle, like the whisper of a breeze. “I dream of the waves lapping at my feet, and the sand between my toes, and the warmth of the sun on my skin and the way it always reminded me of home. Sometimes I swear I can still smell the ocean.”

Daria’s eyelashes fluttered open, the green of her eyes glassy. “I hate waking up. I’m so tired. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of not talking. I’m tired of avoiding one another. I want to go back to the lighthouse and never leave.”

Deep down, Kazi did too. But she refused to admit it.

Enshrouded by an impenetrable fog, the two sisters considered one another.

The fracture in their relationship was overt in the ragged lines around their eyes, the honesty Kazi withheld, the way they relied on themselves for comfort rather than one another.

They would never return to their former innocence and naïve adoration. Mutual hurt and wariness kept them at bay.

But they could start anew. Try to nurture a new dynamic.

Kazi wanted it. She wanted it badly.

So she knelt near the freshly-churned hole Daria had dug and a moment later, her sister settled beside her, retrieving her trowel. Kazi’s hands trembled slightly.

As a seedling required attention, patience, and effort, so too would reconciliation. It wasn’t something that would sprout overnight. It was something they would have to cherish and protect and choose. Over and over again.

So, together, they planted the first seed.

Missing her usual swim wasn’t as harrowing as Kazi typically imagined. A quiet hour in the garden with Daria proved a necessary reprieve from her routine. Her head felt clearer, and her chest lighter.

Kazi was lost to her thoughts—thoughts of relief, subtle hope for the coming months—as she wandered into the house. She was so consumed by her musings she didn’t notice Wolffe standing beside the kitchen bar. Less than a meter separated them when she finally came to her senses and faltered to a stop.

Wolffe stood straight, his stance wide. Determination hardened his gaze.

Their argument the night before dampened her new-found relief and Kazi bit the inside of her cheek. She thought Wolffe would avoid her, again, this morning.

In hindsight, her assumption was blatantly inaccurate and disingenuous to his character. Wolffe confronted conflict in order to find a solution. He had an overbearing need to understand the intricacies of things around him and a level-headed desire to confront issues, determine their problems, and then fix them.

When it came to Wolffe, Kazi knew she couldn’t avoid their argument. She couldn’t pretend their argument hadn’t left her reeling and resentful; she couldn’t feign nonchalance and disinterest.

She was also aware that her avoidance tactics, especially the unconscious list of grudges she kept in the back of her mind, were an unhealthy handling of conflict. A year in therapy explained the need to admit to feelings of hurt and betrayal rather than suppress them.

However, she had a fatal flaw: hubris.

She couldn’t admit to being hurt. It was a weakness. A vulnerability that would enable others to take advantage of her. Or, to see how pathetic she was and to abandon her.

Suppressing emotions and avoiding conflict were her scapegoats. They had protected her for so long.

Wringing her hands together, Kazi scanned the kitchen, avoiding Wolffe. A knife and cutting board, both damp with water, were drying on the counter. The bowl of chocolates was half-full. An overgrown plant trailed its vines to the hardwood floor. Finally, she glanced in Wolffe’s direction.

He regarded her, his expression unreadable, and tapped two fingers on the bar. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology surprised her, and her eyes widened marginally.

“I…overreacted,” Wolffe said. A twinge of discomfort grimaced his features and he rolled his shoulders back. Steady, unflinching eyes sought hers. “I had…expectations I now know were inaccurate. I was wrong to take my frustrations out on you.”

The lowness of his tone, the hesitation in his pauses and the searching depth of his gaze, alerted her to something more. Something deeper behind his words. Like a confession spoken underwater. Some of it made sense. Other pieces left her confused.

“You were right.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “We’re nothing to each other. And I’m sorry for pushing the conversation.”

Regret dulled the vestige of her resentment, and in its wake, Kazi winced, raking a hand through her hair, wishing for the neat perfection of her braids.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she murmured, rubbing her chest. An attempt to quiet the remorse pinching her insides. “You’re not…nothing to me.”

Heat warmed her cheeks and she dropped her gaze, exhaling her frustration. She needed Wolffe to know she valued his presence in her life. She needed him to know he wasn’t nothing.

He was…more.

But she didn’t know how to define her feelings for him, much less explain them to him.

“I was frustrated with you,” she said. “And it came out wrong.” Her explanation still fell short—it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t. Hesitantly, she took a step toward him, searching his guarded features, silently begging for him to understand. To forgive her. “I was mad at myself for thinking you would join us. I took out my own anger on you, and I didn’t mean it. All of what I said—I didn’t mean any of it. I swear—you’re not nothing to me.”

Brows furrowed, Wolffe observed her for a long moment. His gaze was full of calculation, and the longer he studied her, the more his underscored frustration revealed itself. The flaring of his nostrils. The scrunching of his eyes. The rigidity in his shoulders.

He tapped his fingers against the bar. “I didn’t realize the hike meant that much to you.”

“It didn’t—”

“Don’t lie.” Wolffe took two steps toward her, close enough she could see the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “I know it did.”

“What do you want me to say? That it mattered to me?” She threw up her hands. “Because it did, Wolffe. It mattered to me. You promised, and I felt real fucking stupid getting my hopes up only for you to not show. And the worst part—the worst part is that I know the missions come first to you, that nothing else matters. So I had no right to be upset with you, and I overreacted. But you promised, and I couldn’t let that go.”

“I know what I promised.” His throat bobbed. “Does Neyti know…?”

“No.” A hint of relief relaxed his stiff posture. His arched brow demanded an explanation and Kazi shrugged. “I thought it could be a surprise, so I didn’t tell her beforehand, and I obviously didn’t tell her after.”

“The mission—”

“Always comes first,” she interrupted. “I know that, and I shouldn’t have been upset about it. I’m sorry.”

Displeasure pressed his lips together and Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I chose the mission over you because I was frustrated. You wanted me there and I told you I would be. I regret going back on my promise.”

The honesty in his words made her shift uncomfortably between her feet.

A self-deprecating smile tugged on her mouth. “After what happened with Neyti’s classmates’ parents, I was upset. I kept thinking if you had been there, then maybe things would have been different. It was easier to blame you rather than accept responsibility for my own actions.”

Wolffe stilled. “Something happened?”

“It was nothing—”

“Ennari,” Wolffe growled. “What happened.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” He returned her exasperated look with an equally reproving scowl. She sighed. “One of the mom’s said something rude about Neyti. She said it loud enough that Neyti overheard.”

Just the reminder of Eris's falsely sympathetic comment irked her.

“I should have walked away the moment those women wanted to talk,” she said, scoffing at her stupidity. “I should have known nothing good would come of it. But I thought… I thought maybe if they talked with me, then their kids would be more accepting of Neyti.” She clenched her fists behind her back. “I knew it was a bad idea, but I was so fucking stupid, and Neyti overheard everything, and I didn’t protect her—”

“Kazi.”

It took her too long to discern Wolffe through the blur of her gaze, and even longer to realize she was about to cry. Gritting her teeth, she forced her eyes open. Ordered the tears away.

Most people claimed crying was cathartic, a pleasant release of emotions. Not for her. Crying was humiliating. Draining. She hated the uncontrollable sensation of sobs wracking her spine and clawing their way from her lungs. She hated the headache it always spurned.

Most of all, though, she hated crying in front of others. She hated knowing they could see.

“Sorry.” Wiping at her eyes, Kazi cleared her throat, ignoring the humiliated flush in her face and neck. A tear tickled her palm. She loosed a shaky breath. “Sorry, I don’t know why—”

“You’re not a failure.”

Her chuckle was strained. “I know.”

Gently, Wolffe angled her chin back, forcing her eyes to meet his. “You’re not a failure.”

“I know,” she repeated. She didn’t want him to see this side of her. To see the broken mess lurking beneath her composed exterior.

He lowered his face to hers, and he murmured, “I’m not going to abandon you and Neyti again.”

Raw promise quieted his words and softened his features, and Kazi believed him. It was funny, and curious, how she knew he meant it—how she trusted him. Funny and curious, but also alarming.

Wolffe traced his finger along her jaw, unhurried in his approach, as if acting subconsciously. She wanted to breach the minimal distance separating their bodies. To lean into the heat of his chest, listen to his heartbeat beneath her ear, and simply rest there. To not feel so alone. Just for a moment.

Her gaze drifted to his mouth, and as he stilled, she wondered what it would be like to turn off her mind. To damn the consequences and lose herself. Just for a moment. To learn what his mouth would feel like on hers, what it would feel like on her neck, on her breasts, between her thighs—

“Ennari.” The warning in his voice, rough and low, brought her gaze back to his.

A loud thud jerked them apart.

Kazi glanced at the staircase where Neyti, dressed in a pink dress, was straightening from her apparent jump. Satisfied with her landing, she waved.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” Kazi asked, grinning.

Neyti nodded.

“Before that,” Wolffe said, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and retrieving a small packet. He dropped to a knee beside Neyti. “I have this for you.”

Intrigued, Kazi leaned forward, eyeing the small object. Her eyebrows raised in recognition. Similar to the packet on her nightstand, similar to the packet outside with Daria, Wolffe had bought Neyti her own seedlings.

The gesture was so thoughtful it rendered Kazi speechless. She could only stare at Wolffe, stare at the man who was watching Neyti, subtle apprehension lining his forehead.

Neyti accepted the packet with shrewd interest. She brought it close to her ear and shook it softly. Seeds rattled inside. Her lips parted. She lifted her gaze to Wolffe’s, a silent question in her eager face.

A chuckle eased the tension from Wolffe, and Kazi quietly laughed, too.

“I forgot to give it to you at the Festival,” Wolffe said, his eyes darting in Kazi’s direction. “We can plant them in the garden. Is that…all right?”

Appraising the packet of seeds, Neyti traced a tiny finger along the petals etched into the exterior. A small, yet dimpled grin brightened her face and she nodded at Wolffe. His sigh of relief went unnoticed by the little girl who showed Kazi her new packet.

“I bet they’ll be beautiful once they bloom,” Kazi said, fixing the ruffles on the sleeves of Neyti’s dress. “Maybe Mr. Wolffe will show you after breakfast—”

A fervent shake of her head and Neyti blinked wide, pleading eyes at her. Kazi raised an unimpressed eyebrow. She was about to lecture on the importance of breakfast but Neyti shifted her pleading gaze to Wolffe.

Expecting Wolffe to refuse Neyti’s request, his hesitation shocked Kazi. He looked from Neyti to her, rubbing the back of his neck, and then pushed himself to his feet, nudging Kazi with his elbow.

She sighed. “Fine. But don’t stay out too long.”

Neyti grinned wider and clapped her hands.

Just as Kazi was turning toward the kitchen and Wolffe was making his way to the sunroom, she watched a tiny hand reach for a larger one. Wolffe stumbled, his spine stiffening and eyes narrowing. Cautiously, he regarded the hand in his. Neyti, oblivious to his hesitant assessment, shook her packet of seeds, tugging Wolffe forward.

Slowly, Wolffe closed his fingers around Neyti’s, his hand engulfing hers. The two wandered through the sunroom and out the backdoor.

From the sunroom windows, Kazi watched them together, something warm and wistful blooming inside her. It poked through her heart and tugged. Gentle yet demanding.

Frowning at the strange sensation, she massaged her chest. It was a feeling she attributed to her childhood.

A desire for the security and laughter and adventure of her youth.

Yearning.

But it was no longer confined to the past.

Like an extended hand grasping another in the midst of uncertainty, like fingers intertwining in search of connection and comfort, yearning squeezed her heart.

Yearning for—

Oh.

Masterlist | Chapter 14 | A Muse

A/N: Artwork of Kazi and Daria by the lovely @eyecandyeoz!

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