#the tragedy of wolffe's story | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-leclerc · 8 months ago

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million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending.

cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned.

There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations.

And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted��spent time he didn’t even have—with her.

Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that.

Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind.

“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?”

Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me.

Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother?

“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”

It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.

On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to.

Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.

Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”

The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”

The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.

“You up for Vegas?”

He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.

“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”

It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls.

Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”

Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”

After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it.

“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”

Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste.

Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”

The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”

“Exactly why.”

It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”

The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”

“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro.

A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!

If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her.

Yayo.

The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze.

You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well.

Let me put on a show for you, daddy.

Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss.

Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features.

Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.

“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always.

Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny.

“Where do you want me?”

Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.

He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”

His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.

“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”

“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”

Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”

Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar.

“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”

Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”

That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking sucks.”

The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you.

“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”

The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”

“Correct.”

He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.

Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas.

Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot.

Tap tap.

Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”

Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”

He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies.

“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”

You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.”

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker.

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?”

“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly.

“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”

He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”

“What happened?”

You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”

Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”

The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”

“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”

“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips.

“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”

The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”

Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”

He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any.

Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season.

He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.

But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one!

“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”

Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”

“I always am.”

He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.

“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.

“I wanted to see you.”

Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on.

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?”

You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim.

“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”

Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.

“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”

“How are you so okay with any of this?”

You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.”

His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”

Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?”

He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.

“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.”

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”

“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.”

The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?”

You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.”

“Can I take you home?”

The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity.

“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”

His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass.

“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

“6’5.”

“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”

“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”

Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”

“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”

High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”

Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.”

“I am not acting like a child—”

“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”

You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.

“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree.

Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say?

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”

He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”

We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten?

Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung.

“You look tired.”

Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”

Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.”

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”

Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.

“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action.

“Wanna feel something nice?”

Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.

“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.”

The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.

“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”

Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you.

Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”

Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.

Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.

“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.”

Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.

After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.

“That’s a dumb question.”

You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”

“No.”

The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Tempting, but still no.”

“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”

Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”

You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”

His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.”

Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”

“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”

“Hey!”

He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”

“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.

“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?”

You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”

The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”

Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval.

“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”

Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”

“I’m being serious.”

You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs.

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up.

“Are you fucking with me?”

He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss.

A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door.

Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff.

Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?”

The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too.

Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by.

“What are you doing here?”

A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”

“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”

He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”

You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair.

The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?”

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”

“Is money the issue here?”

Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”

He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”

Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”

His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”

“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”

“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything.

You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”

The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”

Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”

A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress.

Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.

“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens..

“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”

Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm.

“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.

Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”

Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”

Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God.

You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze.

“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit.

“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”

Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”

Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”

“Wait!”

Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”

Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”

“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck.

“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.

The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”

Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.

“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”

“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack.

“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?

Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.

A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?”

“Is it that obvious?”

The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection.

“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”

“Do you need something?”

His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”

The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”

He sighs. “Please do.”

Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”

“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”

“He what?”

A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”

“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”

The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”

Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”

Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”

“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?”

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”

“Nope.”

He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?

He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work.

You’re going to miss me, watch.

And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.

“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”

You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”

The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”

You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”

She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”

“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?

You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”

“Oh shit.”

A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?”

You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”

“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly.

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”

Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”

“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”

“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”

The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.”

You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”

Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”

“I never saw anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”

“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”

Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”

Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”

“No.”

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”

“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.

He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower.

As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”

“What else did she say?”

You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”

The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”

“I swear that’s all.”

His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”

“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.

“Who did this to you?”

Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”

Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”

“But—”

“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.”

He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”

It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.

Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?”

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”

That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.

Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.

You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up.

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would.

Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”

Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go.

Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you.

Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements.

As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down.

Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.

“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.

“Are you on birth control?”

You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”

“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.

“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”

“There it is.”

Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”

“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”

“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.

“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper.

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.

“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap.

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.”

He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily.

Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”

You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”

“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”

Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”

“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”

With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible.

“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”

Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities.

But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?

It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.

With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant.

You’d be a fool to deny.

So, you accept.

If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next.

All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you.

“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”

He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it.

“I’m not quitting.”

The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”

His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you.

Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.

We should think about Jack.

He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.

Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change.

I love you.

He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.

Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.

It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off. You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.

“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.”

The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.

Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”

Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”

His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”

The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”

But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that.

“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral.

As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame.

He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.

But this is strange.

He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you.

The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them.

And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak.

And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.

Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying.

So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.

I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down.

But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—

But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.

And he deserves it…you think.

Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place.

He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.

Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots?

Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt.

If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.

When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care?

Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.

The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues.

C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down.

It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…

Toto Wolff was just the same.

You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?

You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way.

You’re screwed up and brilliant.

“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.

Look like a million dollar man.

“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression.

“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.

“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.

The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror.

Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”

His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”

He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.

You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.

Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.

“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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gffa · 4 months ago

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Hey, are you feeling salty about STAR WARS for no reason whatsoever, just totally happened randomly, and want some fic that reflects the Jedi Order of the movies and TCW? Ones that are novel-length time travel fix-its to really make yourself feel better? Then I have some ones that I've been reading and really enjoying! Because I think maybe we could all use a bunch of fic to get lost in over the weekend, just 'cause. STAR WARS TIME TRAVEL FIC RECS: ✦ there is no death ashkav, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & quinlan & ocs & cast, time travel, 134.9k wip Darth Vader is a cataclysmic event, and Cal, delirious with pain, scrambles to catch the hilt of his saber as he begins to drag it out their corpses – and that’s what he and Cere are, corpses, with only a last few seconds of misfiring neurons left in them, no matter how much BD-1 trills and punches stim after stim into his arm – they are tipping past that point of no return now, and Cal needs to do something right now before it’s too late for – for what?

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 142.3k wip Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right?

✦ Let Go by Micillyn, qui-gon & obi-wan & anakin & padme & cast, time travel, 101.5k Qui-Gon did not expect to die on Naboo. Nor did he realise that by insisting for Anakin to be trained as a Jedi, the boy would one day fall and become Darth Vader. Foresight, it seems, did not confer the gift of infallibility, yet if it took all those tragedies to destroy the Sith and restore balance to the Force and hope to the galaxy, then perhaps it wasn't so bad after all. Or, the story as happened in the movies is the fix-it, and this is the story of the disaster that happened before the time-travel happened.

✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & cast, time travel, 47.4k wip Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be.

✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & mace & cast, time travel, 558.9k wip Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Major AU.

✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & feemor & bruck & jango & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn.

✦ Averting Galactic Destruction by kj_feybarn, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan & rex & cody & fives & dogma & wolffe & plo & shaak & dooku & sidious, time travel, 44.3k AKA The Time the Force Sent Obi-Wan Back in Time and Quinlan Vos kept him from Going Kamikaze because let’s be Honest, Being Forced to Come Back in Time Would Suck.

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #qui gon jinn #fic recs #star wars fic recs

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fanfoolishness · 8 months ago

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I like to imagine that in the future, people remember the clones. After Palpatine falls for good on Exegol, imagine an explosion of freedom and knowledge in those days after the final defeat: imagine archaeologists and scholars plumbing the depths of Imperial and First Order records, trying to figure out what had happened so it could never happen again. And through it all they find the clones’ story woven into everything, until a new field emerges of Clone Studies, a loose alliance of military history buffs and research biologists and anthropologists and ethicists.

They catalogue the Kaminoans’ research; they review the clone memorials on Coruscant, on Zeffo, monuments as large as a massive wall or as small as a quiet statue, from people throughout the galaxy who were grateful for what they did. They study the great tragedy and betrayal of the chip, finally understanding the scope of Palpatine’s plans and bringing them out into the open, sharing the truth that the clones never chose to betray the Jedi Order and Republic they had served faithfully. They study old war vids and oral histories from people of long-lived species or whose grandparents remembered the clones; they build, memory by memory, a sense of the culture, the camaraderie, the brotherhood, the loyalty. They collect vids of battle songs and in-jokes and an interior language shared among them, springing up over the years.

They find and list their names, self-chosen or given by their brothers: Rex, Fives, Howzer, Echo, Tup, Gregor, Wolffe, Cody, Boil, Waxer, Cut. They study the clones whose differences defined them and knit them into a family whose ties could not be broken, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair, Omega. They study the discarded who nevertheless still had value - 99, Emerie, the clones who were culled in infancy for being wrong. There are specialists who devote their entire branch of study to the only male unaltered clone and his infamous exploits throughout the galaxy, so alike his father’s. They study the years of the clone rebellion, a fight that paved the way for the next wave of fighters and the next after them.

The clones are gone. That is undisputed. Their kind came for a little while, and then vanished, burning brightly; their tale was a tragedy, but one unique in all its seeming sameness. There are conferences and holovids and books. There are debates and research firing up young scholars about a time only their great-grandparents can remember.

In the future, after all the clones are gone, there are still stories.

#the clones #clone wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #Star Wars #clone force 99 #I’m just having feelings okay #Star Wars meta #clone wars meta #bad batch meta #clones

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vodika-vibes · 7 months ago

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Heyy can you please please please

Do a ,, Ideal types of Wolffe, Rex, Jesse etc…“

Someone already did a bad Batch version but no one did a version of our other husbands that would be so nice

Ideal Types

Pairings: Captain Rex x Reader, Commander Wolffe x Reader, ARC Trooper Jesse x Reader, Commander Fox x Reader

Warnings: Uh...this is actually pretty angsty. Sorry.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @stupendoussludgezinerebel-blog

A/N: I wasn't sure how many you wanted, so I went with four. I added Fox because I love him, lol. Also, this might not be, exactly, what you wanted. But I was feeling poetic this morning, and then angst monster smacked me with a baseball bat and yeah. I hope you like it!

Captain Rex x Reader - A pillar. Someone who supports him through everything.

You smile at Rex, soft and warm and gentle as he rests his head on your lap. He’s more asleep than awake at this point, and you lightly trail the pads of your fingers over his short hair, careful to not wake him.

He’s so tired, your perfect Rex. Your handsome Captain.

But here, in the safety of your apartment, enveloped in your soft arms and soft scent, the stress lines on his face ease away, making him look his physical age, rather than much older.

He turns in his slumber, his face pressing against your stomach and his arms slide securely around your waist, clinging to you like a child would cling to a treasured blanket, and your smile softens.

He works so hard, your Rex. Has so much stress and responsibility laid upon his broad and strong shoulders. As if he's stuck bearing the weight of the galaxy.

But, right here, right now, you can bear that weight for him.

"Rest, my love." You whisper, your voice soft enough that he doesn't stir, "I have the watch."

Commander Wolffe x Reader - A lighthouse, someone who is able to light his way home, even in the darkest of times.

"You're tense, Wolffe." Your voice is soft as you slide your hands over his shoulders to wrap him in a hug from behind. "Is everything alright?"

His smile is wry and slightly bitter, and you have your answer.

No. He's not alright. He's not been alright since the day he lost most of his battalion. Since the day his beautiful red armor bled all the color out and turned into the solemn grey of mourning.

It's a wound that still bleeds, you know.

You press a feather light kiss against the back of his neck and tighten your arms around him. You won't pressure him, you won't ask him questions.

For all that the curiosity burns, your love for him burns brighter. And so you hold him, and offer him your unyielding support.

He's lost in a maelstrom of grief and pain. A storm of sorrow buffets him from every angle. And there are no words that can ease his suffering.

And so you offer the only thing you can. Your silent support and your undying love. You'll be here to light his way back to shore, always. Forever.

ARC Trooper Jesse x Reader - A sanctuary, someone where he's allowed to break and shatter, without fear of any consequences.

He's shaking.

Jesse's arms are firm around your, his face pressed against your neck as he lays on top of you...and he's shaking.

Trembling, really. Like a tooka kitten.

Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and you turn your head to kiss the side of his head. You knew, of course, that this deployment was...bad.

But until this very moment, you had no idea how bad.

You won't ask, though you know he'll tell you if you did.

Even though your heart breaks when you feel his tears against your bare shoulder. And then it shatters when a sob rips from your Jesse's throat.

Even then, you still won't ask. You are his sanctuary, his safe place where he can be just a man, and not the strong soldier that he has to be every other day.

And when he, brokenly, whispers that he's applying for ARC, you just tighten your arms around him.

And you know, know, that this story ends in tragedy. But you'll continue being his safe place until it's not needed anymore.

Commander Fox x Reader - A bulwark, a barrier between him and the rest of the galaxy. Someplace where he can feel safe.

Fox sighs, low and quiet as he looks up at you. He has dark circles under his eyes, he hasn't been sleeping again. But that's nothing compared to the angry bruises that you're treating for him.

"I'm sorry," he breathes out, "For being such a burden."

You smile at him, warm and loving, "You could never."

Something like distress slides across his face, "Cyare, I-"

"Shh," You soothe him with a gentle touch of your hand against his cheek, "Whatever it is, darling, it will hold. At least for now."

The distress remains, though it fades as you lovingly apply bacta to another bruise.

He suffers, your Fox. You see it more and more clearly with every passing day. He's losing time, he has growing blank spots in his memory...and it terrifies him.

It terrifies you too.

How long before he's not him anymore? Until he no longer looks at you with love and adoration, but with blank disregard.

You shove the thought to the side firmly. Right here, right now you have your Fox. And you will shield him from the rest of the galaxy, for as long as you can.

That's all you can do for him.

#star wars #tcw #captain rex x reader #commander wolffe x reader #arc trooper jesse x reader #commander fox x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #gn!reader fic #answered asks

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seven-oomen · 1 year ago

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Most tragic story in all of star wars has to be the story of the clones.

Created as weapons for genocide and mass destruction, seen as nothing more than property except by the people they were programmed to destroy. And casted aside and terminated as soon as they were deemed obsolete.

Except we see in the clone wars that they were people. They had individual personalities and dreams, they built friendships and relationships. Showed creativity and ART (on their armor) and they were fiercely protective of the people they loved.

Only to have that wiped away by something they were forced to do. That they had no control over. And that many of them regretted for the rest of their lives.

Do you think Bly cried and wailed once he realized what he'd done to Aayla?

Do you think Wolffe screamed in rage and pain once the effects of the order wore off? And he had to confirm Plo's death by looking for his corpse?

Do you think Cody looked at himself every day for the rest of his life and hated himself for what he'd done?

Do you think Rex ever stopped hating himself for not listening to Fives. Or for what he was almost forced to do to Ahsoka?

How many of the clones couldn't take that guilt?

How many of the clones mourned their loss of agency, the loss of their friends , and generals?

That is why to me, their story is the biggest tragedy in all of star wars. And you will never change my mind.

#star wars #the clone wars #sw tcw #commander cody #commander bly #commander wolffe #captain rex #the bad batch #the clones #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb wrecker

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 6 months ago

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Cover art by @pinkiemme

Series Summary:

Wolffe's life is turned upside down when his wife suddenly dies while he's home on Coruscant. As Wolffe battles through his grief, he is forced to take on the role of father and mother to his four-year-old daughter Cara, who struggles to understand why her mother is gone. When Wolffe receives orders for a new deployment, he hires Lilith Sestri from a nanny service in a desperate attempt to ensure his daughter is taken care of while he's away. However, tragedy will continue to follow them throughout the rest of the War.

Series Forward:

Where's Mommy? isn't your average love story because it's not about romance. It's about family, grief, and loss. Following Wolffe and Cara's journey is an emotional roller coaster full of uphill battles, downhill terrors, and fleeting joys. While some moments may seem happy, a thread of sadness remains woven through the center. Is there hope for them? Read their story and find out!

Series Index:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 (TBD because work got crazy)

Series Inspired Fanworks:

Cara and Wolffe Holo Photo (Part 4) - @amalthiaph

Fighting Breakfast (Part 6) - @alligatorpie1945

Cara's Baby Blanket Refs (Part 8)

Cara's Tooka Doll (Part 8) - @frostycatblr-fandom-files

Love is Stored in the Carrot (Part 8) - @kimiheartblade

Love is Stored in the Carrot (Part 9) - @frostycatblr-fandom-files

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starwars-and-discourse · 1 month ago

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Star Wars AU where Anakin is Plo Koon’s Padawan. Palpatine still tries to groom him, but grows increasingly frustrated because Anakin won’t shut up about Plo’s Bros.

Palpatine: Did you ever hear the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?

Anakin: Hm? What’s that? Sorry, I’m looking at the holopics Master Plo sent me from his vacation with Wolffe. Look at them!

Palpatine: Yes, uh…very fun. But about my story…

Anakin: Oh, yeah. The tragedy.

Palpatine: Yes, Darth Plagueis was—

Anakin: You know, a REAL tragedy is the fact that there’s not any Plo’s Bros merch readily available. We should get on that!

Palpatine: (inwardly seething, grits teeth) I’ll look into it.

#plo koon #plos bros #star wars the clone wars #star wars #anakin akywalker #sheev palpatine #palpatine #star wars au #darth plagueis #darth sidious

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warsamongthestars · 5 months ago

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Since i Don't Like the TBB set up, how bout some health alternatives?

THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN REX Corny title, I know.

The idea here is that Rex hasn't ever been a main character. He's been support only, reactive to other stronger personalities. A show that centers around Rex Could be beneficial to his character, and be a clone centric show.

( I woudln't trust the TBB writers with it--but there's someone out there that can pull it off. )

In this story, instead of following the BBs, we replace them with Captain Rex. The story goes is that, after the crash of the ship, he reinfiltrates Kamino to see the situation from the homeworld, and runs into Omega.

Instead of BBs having Omega, Rex does. ( Justified by the fact that Rex, has in fact said on screen with the full implications, that he wanted kids. Perfect match I think. )

Rex is building a rebellion and was high ranking--of course he would know about informants like Cid. He would work with her to build contacts, which justifies meeting Guest Characters and slowly building the rebellion, whilst on the side trying to raise Omega.

It comes to a head in Season 2 when the Empire takes interest in Rex.

And season 3, the final season, ends with Rex facing the Tantis project, just one of many horrors that occurred to Clones.

Your Crosshair arc could be replaced with Cody. Positions of the side teammates being Wolffe and Gregor as the show progressed, to match up with Rebels.

And suddenly, everything clicks.

The shallow impact of the BBs would be immediately covered by the fact that Rex has had 7 years to be developed and solidified as a character, and wouldn't require either introduction or set up, just to get him to where the story needs him. Same with everyone else.

Even Omega taking the spotlight wouldn't take so much issue, beacuse as a new character she needs development to solidify her position in the Galaxy Far Far Away as a character, and it wouldn't be any skin off Rex's teeth.

CLONE FORCE 99 (As opposed to the "Bad Batch")

Instead of occurring in a post Order 66 era, its a series of complication arcs that occur at various times over the course of the Clone Wars involving The Bad Batch. It explores character histories and dynamics, missions and backstories, of course exploring the Galaxy Far Far Away.

And the last season introduces Echo, and then we End at Order 66. The purpose is that Order 66 leaves the BB's fate ambiguous.

No ending has to be happy, or known. Tragedy has its place, and is even needed to make a piece relevant.

THE OMEGA PROJECT

A show that actually centers around Omega, and a few select cadet characters. In the narrative style of Rebels, young cadet and odd clone Omega now has to navigate a new galaxy, post Order 66, and what her purpose in the Kaminonian "Omega Project" is...

No Bad Batch this time, no overly despairing themes. This is explicitly a kid's show.

If you want to Focus on Omega, then focus on Omega. She doesn't bring anything to the Bad Batch that doesn't diminish them in some way--so just give her, her own show. Boom, problems solved.

So yeah, there's three shows that could've been made from the TBB rough draft mess.

#star wars #star wars the bad batch #captain rex #star wars omega #the bad batch #constructive criticism

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enigmaticexplorer · 5 months ago

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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XXIV

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. 4.9K

22 Welona

Someone was crying.

She wanted to reach out and quiet the person—hold them until their distant sobs grew silent.

But her hand wouldn’t move.

It laid beside her. Heavy, tingling.

And then the pain hit.

Agony along her spine, burning, contracting.

A pounding in the back of her head, hammer-like.

Excruciating ache in her neck, tightening, stabbing.

Her eyes tried to open. Light blinded her. Watery images floated around her.

A little girl off to the side, curled on the floor, sobbing.

Two pairs of legs nearby.

A face so familiar it hurt; a yearning so poignant her heart strained for him, a hand trying to reach for his own, tie itself to his.

She tried to smile. But darkness swarmed her—a colony of bats fluttering at the edges of her vision.

Through it she saw someone at the door. A man, gruff and aged, his smile weary yet tender. She hadn’t seen that face in seventeen years.

A reminder.

A reminder that the happiness she had experienced, she didn’t deserve. Because she wasn’t kind to him in his final moments, and she knew, this was her comeuppance.

This was what she deserved.

So she closed her eyes.

23 Welona

Orchestral music ebbed from the aircar’s radio, a ballad, presumably a recording of an Inner Rim symphony. The lilt and flow of the woodwinds told a tranquil story, a necessary breath before the intensity of the story’s final moments and ultimate tragedies.

“Your sister’s still ill,” Carinthia said. A hand on the wheel, she lowered the music further. “But her healer said rest and food will have her back on her feet tomorrow. The day after, at the latest.”

Kazi loosed a shaky breath. Soreness trickled through her muscles, a dull throb slowly bouncing behind her eyes.

“Wolffe kept you updated?” she asked, rubbing the dragon pendant between her fingers. The necklace’s chain slid across her wrist, cool to the touch.

“Yes.” Carinthia slid her a sidelong glance. “He was…demanding when he first commed Fehr.”

Outside, rain drizzled from the ashy sky. The trees bordering their route shuddered, their green subdued from the fog crawling across the hilly landscape.

Pressing a hand to her temple, an attempt to massage away the building ache, she asked, “Demanding?”

“More like threatening,” Carinthia said, amused. “What were his exact words? Oh right: You fucking owe her.”

Kazi grimaced. “He didn’t.”

“He did.” Carinthia’s chuckle sobered and she clutched the steering wheel tighter, the drizzle outside harshening. “There was no need for such theatrics. Fehr would have helped, regardless.”

“Wolffe will never believe that,” Kazi said quietly. At Carinthia’s probing silence, she shrugged. “He doesn’t trust any of you.” A moment passed, and she added, “I don’t blame him for it.”

The music filled their silence, and Kazi pressed a hand to her stomach, telling herself she wouldn’t vomit. Her thumb swept across the dark-green dragon pendant, again. She wanted…

Well, it didn’t matter what she wanted.

Four hours ago, she awoke in the med center, her shoulder and back still healing from an expensive bout of bacta supply. Apparently she had caught herself falling, wrenching her shoulder in the process. But it saved her from breaking her spine.

The med droid’s main concern was her cracked skull. Bacta stitches were required. Even now, she could feel them, cool and relieving at the base of her head. A look in the mirror before she left the med center revealed the faded abrasions lacerating her back. Her neck was still stiff.

However, it was the weariness drilled into her bones that bothered her the most. A somber weariness leeched into her soul. A weariness she couldn’t shake.

“I heard something of interest,” Carinthia said. Nausea coiled in her stomach and Kazi fisted her hands beneath her thighs, nodding for Carinthia to continue. “The network has dismissed Ceaia for larger operations.”

“I know.” Kazi tried to concentrate on a spot in the distance. Impossible, considering the dark drizzle. “I saw the update.”

“I wasn’t aware that you remain updated on Ceaia.”

“I didn’t—don’t.” The fog thickened and the aircar slowed. Her skin burned too hot, and she gritted her teeth, swallowing a lump of bile. “But I saw a random update last month.”

With a disbelieving look, Carinthia turned the aircar onto a dirt path. “There’s a contact on Ceaia. She informed me that some Ceaian towns are harboring rebels, refugees, those persecuted by the Empire. It’s all hushed, and only a few can be protected.” Carinthia paused. “But I have heard they’re willing to protect former Imperial supporters.”

Kazi mulled her words. Tried to analyze the heavier note in Carinthia’s tone. However, she couldn’t parse the intent through the nausea twisting in her gut. Or maybe she didn’t want to.

“You could return,” Carinthia said.

“I can’t.” The tunnel of trees widened and the house emerged, a white stain amid the dense fog. Tucking the necklace into her pocket, she said, “Ceaia is in the past. I’ve moved on.”

The aircar stalled and Carinthia glanced her over, skeptical. “Have you moved on? Or are you running from something?”

A snarky remark was on the tip of her tongue but Kazi swung open the door, leaned over the side, and vomited. It was mostly bile. Wiping her mouth, she glanced at Carinthia.

“Thank you”—Carinthia scrunched her nose—“for doing that outside.”

“Thanks for the ride.” The front door opened and Wolffe strode down the porch steps, a poncho shielding him from the rain. Kazi stared at him. Her heart beat faster; tension she hadn’t even known existed eased, faded. “And tell Fehr thanks, too. I appreciate what you both did.”

Wolffe had reached the car by the time she was stepping into the drizzle, bundling her into an overlarge poncho. He steadied her as she straightened. His eyes roved across her face, searching, relieved, and then he nodded at Carinthia. The door slammed shut. With a wave of her hand, Carinthia disappeared into the fog.

Outside the front door, the porch roof protection from the rain, Wolffe faced Kazi. Dark circles bruised his under eyes; harried lines worried his forehead. His hands cupped her jaw and he studied her.

“Kazi,” he whispered hoarsely.

At the tenderness in his touch, the gentle concern in his expression, Kazi could only bury her face in his chest, trembling at the onslaught of emotion. Cold, persistent like the drizzle.

A hand nestled into her lower back. Held her closer. Tired muscles uncurled, and her body seemed to sink into him, to seek him. To rely on him.

“She pushed me.” Swallowing her tears, Kazi breathed him in, letting his familiarity soothe the sudden ache in her heart. The bruises marring her very soul. “She pushed me.”

“I know.” Wolffe surrounded her—his warmth, his scent, his hold unyielding, his chin nuzzled to the top of her head. “We didn’t tell her. And we didn’t tell Neyti. They think you fell down the stairs.”

“Good.” She burrowed further into his chest, for just another moment, and then she straightened, lifting her chin. “I don’t want them to know. Ever.”

Pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead, he released her. “Neyti has been…distraught.” Kazi winced, and he sighed. “She’s eager to see you.” He scrubbed his jaw, bristles coating his skin. “I wanted to see how you were first.”

“I can see her,” she said.

Based on the narrowing of his eyes, he seemed inclined to disagree. So she brushed a swift, grateful kiss to his cheek, squeezed his arm, and then stepped into the house.

Warmth seeped into her bones. The lights were dim and welcoming, and a strong aroma of roasting vegetables wafted through the air. Shucking off her boots and poncho, Wolffe hanging the latter on the rack, she made her way into the living area.

A film played on the holoscreen—her favorite. In one of the armchairs, Fluffy sat on Nova’s lap. Both canine and man were watching the screen intently.

On the couch, Neyti was curled beneath Nova’s quilt, the dark gray panels as tumultuous as the storm raging outside. But it wasn’t Neyti’s somber countenance that surprised her. It was the man holding her. Fox.

The little girl’s cheek rested against his chest; a large hand splayed across her shoulder, tucking her into his body.

As if he could feel her stare, Fox looked over his shoulder, meeting her gaze. His chin dipped.

Before Kazi could analyze the situation, Fox was tapping Neyti’s shoulder and gesturing to her and Wolffe. Neyti’s head snapped around; she stared at Kazi. Her lower lip started to tremble. Tears filled her gray eyes.

Stumbling from the couch, Neyti hurried toward her, hesitating half a meter away. She wrung her hands.

“Hi,” Kazi said, smiling. She knelt and, cautiously, Neyti stepped into her, tucking her face into her chest. Kazi closed her eyes, hugging the little girl tightly.

“I missed you,” Neyti whispered.

“I missed you, too,” Kazi whispered back.

A quiet sniffle; a tiny hand gripping her sweater, like the little girl was too scared to release her. Ignoring the ache in her back and the throb worsening behind her eyes, Kazi held Neyti. Let her cheek rest atop her hair, her twin braids disheveled. Hugged Neyti tighter because she was shaking.

Eventually, Neyti leaned away, and Kazi reached into her pocket, retrieving the dragon-pendant necklace. “I found this on my bedside table when I woke up.” She peered into Neyti’s face. “You know something about it?”

“I put it in your pocket.” Shyly, Neyti accepted her necklace. “I wanted Vaeloria to watch over you.”

Emotion burned the back of her throat, and Kazi squeezed Neyti’s shoulder. “She did. She watched over me.”

Satisfaction lit her face and Neyti tucked her necklace into her trousers’ pocket. Slowly regaining her feet, Kazi looked to the kitchen. Cody was pouring a boiling pot into the sink. A timer neared its completion.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of dinner, and she grimaced.

Wolffe must have noticed her unease because he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and then crouched in front of Neyti. He tapped a knuckle to Neyti’s chin. The little girl ducked her head with a bashful grin. “I’m gonna take her upstairs”—he gestured to Kazi—“and I need you to get the table ready. Got it?”

Shifting between her bunny slippers, Neyti cast a worried glance at Kazi. Before Kazi could comfort her, Wolffe tugged on Neyti’s braid. His voice was low, secretive, as he said, “She’s not going anywhere. I’m gonna keep her safe. Remember?”

Neyti nodded, looked Kazi over once more, and then she raced for the kitchen.

Kazi watched, for a moment, as Cody helped Neyti grab the plates. Still, that weariness gnawed on her bones, shark teeth jagged and painful.

Soon, Kazi found herself in her sister’s room, her hair leaking down her back.

Wolffe had offered to help her with the shower but she refused. Everything had happened so quickly, from her waking at the med center, to the droid pestering her, to Carinthia picking her up, that she needed to be alone. To compose herself.

The heat of the shower’s water had warmed her muscles. Yet her inner self remained drained. Exhausted.

Kazi let her gaze sweep across Daria, her sister sleeping, though Daria’s fingers spasmed occasionally.

A note—Healer Natasha’s most recent update from that morning—sat on Daria’s nightstand. Kazi read through it. Dread sluiced her body at the last comment:

I have increased the dosage of morning/evening potions. They have reached their maximum. The disease will nullify their effectiveness, primarily in regards to memory loss, in the next three months. Succumbing to terminality is expected soon after.

The note fluttered from her hand and Kazi could only stare at Daria. At her little sister.

The back of her throat tightened. Something heavy constricted her chest.

She had been so fucking stupid these last few months. She had been happy, fucking happy, avoiding the inevitable because she was selfish and she took everything—Wolffe, Neyti, her sister—for granted.

“Fuck,” Kazi hissed. She pinched her arm. Pinched herself until she wanted to cry.

Why was her little sister sick? Why not her?

None of this was fair. It wasn’t fucking fair—

The door tipped open and Kazi stiffened.

With a nod in her direction, Cody stepped into the room, approaching Daria’s bed and reaching for her sister’s hand. Kazi frowned at the device wrapped around Daria’s wrist: small like a wrist-chrono. Numbers flashed across its screen. It was new. Unfamiliar.

She gritted her teeth and took a step forward. The bed separated her from Cody. “What are you doing.”

“I’m checking her vital signs,” Cody said, tapping the device’s screen. “I’m keeping a log of noticeable symptoms. For Healer Natasha.”

“That’s my job,” Kazi said flatly. Another step forward but Daria rested on the opposite side, away from her. Away from her care. Her jaw ached, the spot behind her eyes pulsed faster, as she clenched her jaw harder. “You’re not needed. I’ll take care of it.”

Surprise furrowed his brows and Cody straightened. Slowly, he said, “Do you know how to operate it?”

She fisted her hands behind her back. “We don’t need you.”

“That so?” he drawled. A burst of restrained anger ticked in his jaw, but it quickly disappeared. Sighing, he lifted a hand. “I’m more than willing to do it—”

“Why are you here?” Kazi looked him over. “You don’t get to pretend like you care about Daria. You’re not her family, I am. And we don’t need you.”

“I may not be family,” Cody said calmly, lethally, “but I still care for her.”

Kazi scoffed. “The only thing you care about are your missions.” His nostrils flared, and she huffed a mirthless laugh. “You think she isn’t worth committing to and it’s fucked up—”

“That’s enough.” Rage glinted in his eyes, and his shoulders grew rigid. “Have you asked her about our situation? Have you asked her what she wants?”

“She told me—”

“Did she? Or did you assume you understood what she was saying?”

“I know my sister,” she said.

“I don’t doubt that.” Releasing a heavy breath, Cody held her glare. “Daria and I have discussed these things. I would never hurt her. And I have made my intentions clear from the beginning. We have an understanding. That’s all you need to know.”

The finality in his tone—his fucking composure when her little sister was dying—grated on her nerves, and Kazi dug her fingernails into her palms.

“You know she’s going to forget you,” she said quietly. Cody tensed, and she laughed, the noise choked. Broken. “She’s going to forget you. She’s going to forget Neyti. She’s going to forget me. She’s going to forget all of us.” Her vision started to blur, and she gulped. “Are you going to be here when that happens, Commander? Are you going to ‘check on her’ when she looks you in the eye and is scared because she doesn’t fucking recognize you?”

A tear scorched her cheek and she swiped it away. Her breaths sharpened. Loud and ragged to her ears. Placing a hand against her chest, she tried to breathe. It was hard. It was so fucking hard. Like her lungs didn’t want to cooperate.

“She’s going to forget you,” she repeated hoarsely. “She’s going to forget all of us. And then she’s going to die, and she’s going to die not remembering she was my sister.”

For a long, silent minute, they stared at one another, and then Kazi turned on her heel and locked herself in Daria’s refresher.

She collapsed to the floor.

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and she bit.

She bit into her skin, muffling the sobs trying to choke her. Bit her wrist and squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to cry.

Because she wasn’t allowed to cry. Her little sister was suffering, and she had no fucking right to cry.

The ‘fresher door opened, and someone was kneeling beside her, and strong arms were pulling her into a chest.

“It’s okay,” Wolffe murmured through her harsh pants. “It’s okay.”

“She’s going to forget me,” she whispered brokenly. A metallic taste filled her mouth and she shoved her hand away, ignoring the smidgen of blood. “She’s going to forget me.”

Lightning crawled across the sky, the white lighting the bedroom for long, unnatural seconds. Tucked beneath her covers, Kazi watched the storm.

Beyond her bedroom, the house was silent. Wolffe had tucked Neyti into bed, and the men were downstairs, enjoying a horror film Nova recommended. All except Wolffe. He was drawing shapes on her arm, seemingly content to endure her silence, as he had the last hour.

Another burst of lightning purpled the night sky.

Kazi knew she should talk to him. Explain. However, embarrassment kept her back to him. Embarrassment and shame. She owed Cody an apology for attacking his character, and she owed Wolffe an apology for not being competent. For not being in control.

But she was too tired, really, to care about apologies. And why bother when she didn’t deserve the possible forgiveness?

“I was scared.”

The words, though softly spoken, startled her enough she jumped. Looking over her shoulder, she found Wolffe staring at her ceiling. His expression was haunted.

“I watched you fall. And I couldn’t get to you,” he said. “I heard your head hit the edge of that stair and I thought…I fucking thought…” His throat bobbed, and his eyes sought hers. “What happened can’t happen again.”

Kazi flinched at the tremble in his voice, and she turned over, lying on her back.

“Daria will need better care soon,” Wolffe said. Beneath the covers, his finger caressed her hand. “Will that be 24-hour care?”

Massaging her temple, she blinked at the ceiling. “Yes. I need to figure out the specifics. I haven’t done that yet.”

“Kazi.” Hesitation lengthened the silence between them and then his hand engulfed hers. “You don’t have to do this alone. You have me.”

Lightning splintered and fractured. A low roll of thunder echoed across Eluca’s jungled hills.

“It’s not your responsibility,” she said. “You have your own concerns with your missions and keeping your brothers safe. You can’t concern yourself with my family’s issues.”

Rustling sheets drew her gaze back to Wolffe. He’d pushed himself upright, leaning against her headboard, a knee bent. He regarded her with a hard look.

“We’ve reached a point where we need to be honest,” he said. “I’m here. I’m in this with you. And I’ve got your back.” His hand twitched atop hers. “All you need to do is let me in.”

It was determination in his features. Determination and tenacity. And yet a hint of hurt belied the steadiness in his demeanor.

And she knew. Her insistence to maintain a semblance of distance—her insistence to rely on herself rather than rely on him—had hurt him more than he would ever admit.

Slowly pushing herself to a seated position, she gripped her knees and met his gaze. The combination of his unflinching stare and flickers of lightning left her bare. Open and vulnerable. A gutted fish abandoned on the deck of a sailboat.

“I have spent a majority of my life relying on myself,” Kazi said quietly. Her hands started to tremble and she tightened her grasp on her knees. “I don’t want to burden you.”

“You’re not a burden,” Wolffe said. A hand warmed her shoulder. “How have I not proven this to you?”

She shook her head, her half-smile exasperated. Self-deprecating. Because it wasn’t his fault. He was so, so good, and it wasn’t his fucking fault for her conflicted, irrational feelings.

“I don’t know how to let you in.” She wanted to pull away from his hand. From the heat scorching parts of her she didn’t want touched—dormant parts of her too sullied for him to see. “I don’t know how to rely on anyone but myself.”

“I know.” He sighed, refusing to release her. “But you told me you would trust me.”

“I do.”

“Then trust me. Rely on me.”

“What about you?” she demanded. Bewilderment scrunched his face and she scoffed. “You’re always so composed, Wolffe. You’re always in control. You never have any burdens—”

Wolffe snatched the black, worn notebook from her opposite nightstand. He flipped open the first page and shoved it into her hands.

“These are names,” he growled. His hands were shaking. “These are names of everyone I care about. My general. My men. My brothers.”

A white flash highlighted the inked names on the first page. Some were crossed out. The blood drained from her face.

“When I wake up in the middle of the night”—he flipped the page and even more names were crossed out—“or when I get stressed on a mission, I have to read these fucking pages to reassure myself that not everyone I care about is dead.”

Thunder droned outside the house and Wolffe swallowed.

“I can’t look at raw meat. I can’t smell it. I can’t fucking eat meat anymore because it reminds me of the bodies…” Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Fireworks remind me of Abregado. When I see Neyti sparring with my brothers, I immediately look for Nova. Because I need a fucking medic on hand just in case she gets hurt.” He exhaled a sharp breath. His eyes hollowed. “I count the minutes until you return from work. Because I’m scared you won’t return.”

More pages riffled. Only one or two names remained unblemished.

Kazi started to flip another when Wolffe halted her. Even in the darkness she could see more names written on the next page. They must have been personal, if he didn’t want her seeing them.

“This what you want, Ennari?” He tapped the book. “To know that I’m so fucked in the head I need a book to keep my fucking thoughts straight?”

“Wolffe…” Kazi searched his face, the exhaustion and resignation dulling his eyes.

“I think I’m stained,” he said quietly. Gently closing the notebook, he returned it to her nightstand. “My hands are stained. And every time I get in your bed, I’m reminded that—” His shoulders hunched and his mouth pressed into a flat line.

A scowl marred his features, an attempt to guard his vulnerability. And it was vulnerability, raw and honest, rounding his eyes and wearying his face. So she offered him her own vulnerability.

“I hate med centers.” A humorless smile pinched her cheeks. “My father was brought to one right before he died. And ever since then, I’ve hated them.” She fiddled with the hem of her sheet. “I know it’s stupid, but waking up there…”

Seeing Neyti’s necklace was a comfort when she first awoke. A comfort that calmed some of her initial panic.

“Being there today reminded me of what’s to come for Daria,” she whispered. “And I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared to lose her.”

Purple lightning lit her room and it was then that she noticed the small object on her nightstand. Gray petals. A thin, long stem. Another tear trickled down her cheek.

“She didn’t recognize me, Wolffe. She looked me in the eye and didn’t recognize me,” Kazi whispered. A few seconds followed, and then she added, “Ever since I first learned about her disease, I’ve numbed myself to any thought of it. I thought it would go away”—she scoffed—“and it was so fucking stupid of me. But I really thought if I ignored it and avoided any thought of death it would disappear. It wouldn’t be my problem.”

The gray flower mocked her. Innocent. Delicate. A vestige of life.

“I’ve failed to protect her,” she said. “I failed her.”

Wolffe cleared his throat. “You can’t protect your sister from a disease. That’s outside your control.”

“I should’ve researched more—”

“You can’t control certain things, Ennari,” he said. Her lips pursed, and Wolffe ran his tongue along his teeth. A wildness lit his eyes, desperate and raging. “I sent men to die. Men who I shared blood with. I ordered them into battle, and not all of them made it. I couldn’t protect them all. Do you think I should blame myself for their deaths?”

Her grip tightened on her sheets. “No.”

“Then stop blaming yourself for Daria’s disease.”

The decisiveness in his tone brokered no room for further argument. But it was the guilt in his expression—the guilt still gnawing on him—that convinced her to let it go.

Settling beneath her sheet, she rested her head on a pillow. Wolffe lowered himself to the mattress, too. Tension thrummed from him, and she reached for his hand, brought it to her mouth. Softly kissed his palm. Kissed his fingers. Held his hand close to her heart as she closed her eyes.

Sometime in the witching hour of night, Kazi woke. The storm had settled, and the moons limned the darkness, and a cloud of lightning bugs flitted across the sky formerly bearing their namesake.

Like one of those bugs fluttering to a new place, Kazi made her way to her sister’s room. Warm light seeped from the cracked door. She peeked inside.

Daria and Cody were speaking, their voices quiet, their touches purposeless until Daria noticed her. With a small smile, her sister beckoned her inside. Kazi nodded at Cody, and she hoped he could see the apology in her face. He vacated his seat. On his way out, his elbow knocked hers. Gentle. Reassuring. Remnants of her guilt eased, and she sat in his chair.

To her surprise, Daria reached for her hand, her sister’s fingers a cold blanket around her own. Her grasp was weak.

“Cody said you fell,” Daria said, her eyebrows knitted in concern. “He said you fell down the stairs and you had to go to the med center.”

Kazi mustered a smile. “I’m fine. A little sore, but the pain meds should make it go away within the next day.”

A few seconds passed in stilted silence as Daria scrutinized her. “I’ve never known you to be careless.”

“I fell from the boat’s mast once,” Kazi said. “Luckily I only sprained—”

“Your ankle.” Daria licked her lips, the usual pink paled. “I remember.”

Hesitation worried the lines of Daria’s face. Squeezing her sister’s hand, Kazi murmured, “I tripped, Dee. Things like that happen.”

“But you’re always so careful,” Daria said. “The stairs at the lighthouse never tripped you up. I remember…” Her eyelashes quivered, and it was then that Kazi realized some of them were missing. “I remember one of the steps gave out. But you caught yourself.”

“I was young,” Kazi said. “I had more mobility—”

“You’re still young. And you’re as athletic and agile as you used to be.”

A single sweep of her sister’s face and the mistrust haunting her gaze told Kazi everything she needed to know. Her sister surmised the truth.

She could try to convince Daria otherwise, but, ultimately, it would be pointless. And she wasn’t interested in isolating Daria again—jeopardizing the relationship they were still nurturing. Instead, she rounded the bed and slid beneath the covers.

While Daria sipped from a water glass, Kazi surveyed her sister’s nightstand. A dragon carving reared, its wings splayed, its wood a sea glass reminiscent of the ocean on a calm day. A frame housed an old, faded photo.

“Do you miss them?” Kazi asked quietly, studying her parents.

“I do,” Daria murmured, her smile wistful.

“Did you ever write them letters?”

A tradition in Traditionalist and Reformist culture: When a loved one died—whether a family member, friend, or even a pet—you wrote a letter. Well-wishes. Reflection. Gratitude. Issues laid to rest.

The letters were private. Only for the dead and the stars to overhear. They were a formal plea to the dragons—to guide a lost soul to the afterlife.

When the moon was full, the letter was read. For Ceaians believed all humans were formed from stardust, and it was to stardust the dead returned.

The letters were also a reassurance to the dead. A reassurance that their loved ones could continue onward, without them.

Kazi never wrote her parents letters.

“I did,” Daria said. “I read them, and I burnt them.”

The one differentiator between Traditionalists and Reformists: The Traditionalists drowned their letters at sea, and the Reformists burnt them.

The former believed drowning the letter allowed a piece of their dead loved one to remain on Ceaia. A burial. The latter believed burning the letter symbolized an individual’s readiness to continue. To keep living.

Staring at Daria’s dragon carving, Kazi frowned. “Are you…afraid of dying?”

Understanding softened her features and Daria smiled sadly. “Not anymore.”

Daria closed her eyes, and Kazi knew, without being told, that her sister was imagining Ceaia. Most likely their old home on the beach shore.

“I lived,” Daria said softly. “And while it wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself, I still had the chance to truly live.”

For a while, Kazi mused her sister’s answer, and as Daria’s breathing started to even, she whispered, “I’m starting to remember what it’s like. To actually live.”

“It’s terrifying,” Daria whispered back. “But so, so exciting.”*

Later, Kazi made her way back to her room.

The moment she rejoined Wolffe beneath her covers, he wrapped an arm around her front and pulled her into his body. His breath warmed the back of her neck. A few seconds later and he was asleep again. She soon followed him.

Masterlist | Chapter 23 | A Muse

A/N: Kazi and Wolffe in the last scene.

By the way, just in case people don’t know, I wrote this version of Wolffe before we even knew that Wolffe would be in season 3 of TBB. So my portrayal of him is not reflective of the storyline pursued in canon Star Wars post-TCW.

* Line inspired by Night at the Museum (2006): "It's time for your next adventure." "I have no idea what I'm going to do tomorrow." "How exciting."

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari

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frostbitebakery · 8 months ago

Note

I'm so in love with all of your art. My favorites have to be Codywan, Cody and Obi-Wan separately, and your cursed series art.

May I ask how you came up with the idea for the cursed commanders and Boba Fett series?

Ahhhh this message was the best way to wake up! Thank youuuu 💜💜💜

The Unlucky Ones, my beloveds! That one started like all the others: I went “lmao wouldn’t it be cool” and then it grew into a monster of a concept and venus flytrapping @adiduck in the process.

TUO started because for Halloween I had already Eldritched Obi-Wan so it was Cody’s turn.

I love character design. I like to play around with the given themes or throw them into the ocean and do my own thing. So every time for character designs it really does start out like, “I want to draw that character in these clothes”. There’s no plan. That always happens along the way.

For TUO!Cody I wanted him scary but still being Cody. I thought about typical Halloween things and went with skeletons. Mainly because of the white armor and I thought how cool it would look if the armor was shaped like bones. But I didn’t want the armor to look scary, I wanted him to look scary (and badass) (and like a sexy bastard). While looking for bone refs, I saw enough skulls in different positions. Some of them looked like they were screaming, howling. And I thought, duuuuuuuuude. Duuuuuuude. A skeleton projection rising out of Cody and growing taller and lifting its arms and rushing forward with a scream while Cody stands there like 😎??? YES. LET’S DO THAT.

So the concept of the Curse was born.

It always starts as a visually appealing concept. I try to make sense of my decisions later.

For the other Commanders I thought about how to apply the Cody concept art on them. I didn’t want to copy paste the armor design. But I also wanted them to visually belong together in the same verse.

The designs should be distinct and representative of each character. Even if some details seem questionable at first glance, I always want them to make sense in context. So I add snippets to basically explain myself.

Wolffe’s armor in canon went from red to grey in grief and is rather neat with stenciled designs. For TUO!Wolffe I wanted to up that grief given what Wolffe goes through in TUO. The grey canon design turned into rotten fabric and veils. Which turned Wolffe into a banshee-inspired design. The armor design is reminiscent of those fluttering torn fabrics that indicate a tragedy happened here and the grief is ever present. Going with the banshee and with how I deformed Cody’s face, Wolffe got a deformed jaw (think The Mummy when the corpse screams) which he hides behind a bandana.

Adi suggested beauty in decay for Bly. So he’s got flowers growing out of him. And I desperately needed a reason for him to tell Aayla “General, hold my flower”.

Fox has a deformed back which is only known so far to Adi and me. He started with the little white tufts of hair bc I love that on him and wanted it for TUO!Fox. By then it was already established that their hair goes white with each death. So that meant if I wanted the Fox ears, Fox had to have died twice already. Things like that were the reasons the backstory avalanched into a monster. And suddenly you go from “aww, the white hair looks like ears so cute!!” to “actually Cody killed his brother in training because how the Curse was genetically modified and added to the Commanders makes them go into a berserker state” to “the non-command class clones have instated containment protocols for when a command clone goes berserk”.

Now Ponds. Ponds had to survive. I’m not spoiling his whole story but his character design was inspired by “rising like a phoenix out of the ashes”. So his armor has bird bones and wing bone structures. And with how he looks, his backstory makes perfect sense and is heartbreaking.

Boba was a request by a dear friend. He’s not cursed in TUO canon but my friend loves the design so much she asked if I couldn’t do a Boba design. So I did.

#frost replies #that got LONG #but man #TUO my beloved #TUO is the perfect example #of how I add details #and make them make sense later

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jedi-princess-kestis · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 1

Pairing: Captain Rex/ F! Jedi OC. Commander Wolffe/ F! Jedi OC (platonic only)

Summery: Tragedy hits the Jedi Temple and Ahsoka Tano leaves the Order after being wrongly accused. This leads many in the Order to question what loyalty really means. For Calica Tarver, it makes her depend on her Master and her men all the more as she mourns the loss of her good friend and has to find her peace of mind to lead into battle once more.

Warnings: swearing, Star Wars canon war talk/ fighting, angst, fluff if you really look. I think that's it.

Other: So here is the "first" book of the "This Name We Chose" Series! I'm so excited for you to follow along on Rex and Calica's story. It starts off a bit angst, I promise there is a method to my madness and they will find their happy ending, but this story has been so long in the making and I'm really excited for you to see the worlds, characters, and lore I have worked on to add into the wonderful Star Wars Universe. (Also I used two prompts from the @summer-of-bad-batch challenge to add to this chapter. I used "it's just a scratch" and "forget I asked" in the story, so be on the lookout for those!) Thank you @lila-rose for being my best friend in this story, helping me brainstorm all my crazy ideas ♥️

If anyone wants to be added to a tag list please let me know

Word Count: 4.6K

Cool wind blowing through her thick black hair as she hung her legs through the balcony rings at the top of the spiral on the Troop Center. Life never stopped moving on the busy world, speeders and transports filling the sky in a constant sea of movement. City lights shone for as far as the eye could see. It was here that she called home now, this world made of metal. It was a far cry from the Jungle and mountain world she once knew, but now the Clone barracks and Jedi temple were her home.

She closed her dark purple eyes and let the wind blow over her face. It was freeing being up this high, alone with the nighttime air. Her cheeks were stained with tears, red from wiping them away every few minutes. The past few days had been unlike any other. She felt a tremendous loss in her heart and mind. Everything she once believed in now seemed wrong. The people she trusted for as long as she could remember now made her question everything she knew. A long sigh slipped past her lips as she ran the back of her hand over her cheeks once more to wipe off the tears off her soft sunkissed skin. She let her hands fall back to the railing and rested her right cheek onto her arms. Her eyes remained closed, listening to the city, the planet go on about its busy way. Life could be so cruel sometimes, especially now with the Galaxy in flames in a seemingly unending war that was tearing even the Jedi apart.

At age 20 Calica Tarver never thought she would see so much death and despair in her young life. She had been a Padawan of Plo Koon's since she was 14, but the past few years of her life has been less about being a Jedi and more about being a soldier. And now, even her own Order was untrusting of one of its very own, one of the best of them. Ahsoka Tano was close to Plo, and Calica has grown up watching the young girl turn into a young woman before her eyes. She grew close to the young Togruta as time went by, seeing her as a younger sister. But after the explosion and the investigation the young girl found innocent, left the Order after those she trusted hunted her down and tried to call her a murderer. Her own men had died, Clones she loved and fought beside. No one in the 501st believed their leader was capable of doing what had been done. In the end the real terrorist had stepped forward, and Ahsoka had been set free, but in turn left the Order to find her own path. To many it had set the Jedi Order ablaze with doubt, especially in those who were close to Ahsoka. And Calica was one of them.

With a sigh, Calica opened her dark purple eyes and looked out over the city. The wind picked up as a Star Destroyer flew overhead heading to dock. She watched it as it headed to the docking platform. Soon she would be back on one of those with her Master and her troopers. Men she saw as equals. Taking one last look into the night sky above her, the feeling of the wind on her skin filling her with a bit of freedom she pushed herself into a standing position and headed for the door at the end of the balcony. Waving her hand in front of the door it opened with a slight whoosh and she stepped inside. Taking the lift down to the base of the spiral she walked out into the dim lit hallway. It was well into the night, most troopers asleep at this point. She walked down the halls with silent steps, her dark brown robe blowing around her feet with each step. Calica held her head and shoulders regal like, moving with a grace about her. She moved farther into the barracks, moving past the mess hall where a few Clones were getting a late night meal after just coming back from the Destroyer. She felt a soft warm presence filling the air around her. Calica smiled softly to herself, and followed the warm river of calm down the halls. As she arounded a corner she smacked into the hard chest plate of armour.

"Ouph!" She groaned as she rubbed her head after smacking into the hard armour. A soft chuckle filled her ears and she knew right away who she ran into. Looking up to find the gray and white armour she felt a steady hand on her arm.

"You okay, Vod'ika?" Commander Wolffe asked as he gave her arm a light squeeze. They were both Commanders for the 104th. Calica handled more of the political and research side of the mission planning, learning about the people and the planet before Wolffe would then make up the battle plan and squads based on her Intel. They worked well together and Wolffe took her under his wing, acting as her big brother most days. "You smacked your head pretty hard on my armour, Little Wolf."

Calica looked up at the Clone Commander and gave him a shake of her head. Around most Wolffe seemed hard and unapproachable, but to Plo, his pack and her, he was a teddy bear. From the day they met, Wolffe and Calica became brother and sister and had always had each other's backs.

"I'm okay, Vod." She told him. As she looked down at his hand she noticed his holopad was out and glowing. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Last minute report I needed to get done."

"Oh I see."

"Why are you up at 1am in the morning?"

Was it really 1am in the morning? Calica ran a tired hand down her face. She could still feel the river of calming peace floating around the barracks and she reached out to it for a moment, letting it fill her mind and relax her. Taking a deep breath she looked back up at Wolffe.

"I couldn't sleep. So I went up to the spiral balcony." She said sheepishly. It wasn't forbidden for the Jedi to be at the barracks during the night, at times Generals came down here for late night planning before a mission. But most Jedi didn't wander the halls because they couldn't sleep. Wolffe placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer till his chin rested on top of her head. She wasn't short, but she stood a few inches below Wolffe's 6' frame. She tucked herself against him and let her arms wrap around his waist. His arms falling around her upper back as he sighed.

"Vod'ika, are you still hurting from what happened at the Temple? There was nothing you could do. She made her choice Little Wolf, even if it didn't seem fair, she made her choice." Calica knew he was right. Ahsoka made her choice after the Council let her down. And Calica knew that choice wasn't easy, that it came with a cost to both sides. Didn't mean it still didn't hurt to lose a friend and someone she called sister.

"I know, Wolffe. I know." She whispered into his armoured chest before letting out a shaken sigh. Pushing herself back, she stood up straight and closed her eyes for a second before looking up into his one brown and one white. She thought about when he lost his eyes. That day had been so hard on her and Plo. Wolffe had tried to protect his men, when he was struck down by Asajj Ventress losing his eye to her lightsaber. Calica has jumped in, standing over the fallen Commander's body protecting him from being killed. She fought hard against Ventress, winning in the end and getting Wolffe to safety but he had become harder on himself and his men after that day. He really was only soft around Plo and Herself, and a few of his men that really earned it. Since then Wolffe and Calica have become closer.

"Vod'ika?" His voice broke her from her thoughts as she looked back up into his eyes.

"Sorry?"

Wolffe sighed and placed a hand on her arm. "I asked how long were you up in your tower? Have you slept at all lately?"

Calica just shrugged. She honestly wasn't sure when the last time it was that she slept. Between the front lines and coming back to find the Temple in an uproar her mind has been racing in 20 different directions. She hung her head and reached back out into the Force, letting the light ripples of calm wash over her. She felt her mind relax as the warm mind touched her through the Force and she gave a silent thanks.

"Calica, Vod'ika, come on. I'll take you to my barracks. You need to sleep and I have to finish these reports for Plo'buir. I don't want to leave you alone right now." Too tired to fight Wolffe on it, she nodded her head and followed him down the halls of the Clone Barracks. They walked the halls in silence, their soft foot falls the only sound. As they walked they came to a hall where a lone woman was slowly walking down the hall, her hand outreached towards the doors as she went by. Her pale tan robe moved with each step, her white to blue hair hung in loose curls down her back. The warmth Calica has felt was coming from the Jedi before her.

"Do you know who that is? I've seen her in here before at night, walking the halls but never spoke to her before." Wolffe asked softly as to not disturb her. Calica nodded her head and looked from the woman to Wolffe.

"That's Master Asha Imber. She's not around much, her team is an elite special Ops, but when they are planet side, she comes here to use her powers on the men."

"Her powers?"

"Her kind are empaths. It's not a Force sensitivity, it's a thing they just do. They can feel all emotions and they can even push emotions onto others. It's a very powerful gift outside of the Force. We all can feel emotions with the Force, but for her, because of her species, it's more powerful for her."

"So what is she doing here?"

Calica waved her hand at the Jedi Master as she looked over at the two and gave them a soft smile before softly rapping on a door. A clone opened the door, his face tired, sunken in, and tear stains on his skin. They watched as he took one look at Master Imber and broke down. The tall Layothan woman wrapped him in her arms and gently rubbed his back, his breathing soon evening out as her blue eyes glowed in the dimly lit halls. The clone soon seemed to be asleep on his feet and the Jedi walked him into his room and laid him on the bunk and pulled the blanket up before placing a hand on his head and closing her eyes over him.

"She comes here to help soldiers find peace. To be able to sleep. That man is a shiny, he saw his first battle the other day and lost his batchmate. He's been having nightmares since he got back, according to Spark." She looked up at Wolffe to see a soft look on his face. "She does it for all the men. No matter how little or long they have been in the war. If she can, she pushes calming emotions onto them, helping them turn away bad dreams and feel safe and comfortable."

Waffle nodded his head towards the Jedi as she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes, still looking as though they glowed, were somehow warm and kind. She gave the pair a nod before moving to the next room with her hand outreached, feeling for the next man that needed a sense of peace. Calica and Wolffe turned and went down the right corridor towards his barracks leaving the Jedi Master to her task. Wolffe opened the door once they reached the room and he placed a hand on her back, letting her walk through first. Calica had been here a handful of times, helping plan and prepare for battles, many times both falling asleep at his desk before the night was over. With a flop, she face planted onto the bunk, letting her worn body sink into the mattress. Wolffe chuckled behind her as he shut the door and sat down at his desk. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk he pulled out a ration bar and tossed it at her head. He was doing everything he could to make her smile, or comfortable in the least. The bar thunked off her head, falling to the floor and Calica turned to glare half-heartedly at him before using the Force to bring the bar to her hand.

"Lazy." He chirped before turning to pull up the reports Plo needed done for a meeting in the morning. Calica stuck out her tongue at him before ripping open the package and biting into the green color bar. It was one of the better tasting ones, not as blended as some of them. Wolffe kept a stash of the good ones in his room since they were harder to come by. She quickly downed the ration bar and threw the wrapper into the waste bin. Calica wrapped her rope around herself tighter before laying back down on her side, watching Wolffe type away on his holopad. Her eyes soon began to droop as she watched him type away and before she knew it her world went dark as sleep took over her.

It was early morning when a light rap on the door woke her from her slumber. Choosing to ignore the tapping she rolled over and pulled her robes tighter to her body. Calica heard Wolffe stir and the sound of his chair moving softly backwards on the floor. He moved silently, his footfalls not making a sound. She felt his eyes on her back before opening the door and giving a soft "shhhh" to whoever was waiting outside. After a few seconds the door slipped shut and muffled voices came from the hallways but she was too tired to care, letting sleep pull her back under.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolffe was surprised to have someone come knocking at his door at 0500 in the morning. The briefing wasn't supposed to be until 0900. He didn't think Plo would be looking for Calica, he knew she sometimes crashed with Wolffe. He didn't figure any of the Jedi would be looking for her in all honesty. At least not at this hour. So when he opened his door and saw Rex standing outside of it, he was surprised. Pressing his finger to lips he quickly shushed his younger Vod before stepping out into the hallway. Rex glanced at the sleeping form on the bed before giving Wolffe a questioning look.

"Is everything okay Vod?" Wolffe asked after the door slipped shut.

"Just got back from the Temple with General Skywalker. Saw the light under the door so I thought I'd just in." Rex said in a hushed tone. He tapped his head towards the door that was closed behind Wolffe. "What's that about?" He couldn't make out who the sleeping form was and he never knew Wolffe to bring anyone back to the barracks. He watched as his Vod cast a glance at the door and rubbed a tired hand through his hair.

"Commander Tarver." He said with a wave of his hand towards the door. His other hand found purch on his hip as he glanced back at Rex. "The whole banthashit show at the Temple has her on edge. I don't think she's slept since we got back. I didn't want her alone." He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before looking at Rex. The Captain gave his older brother a knowing look, one of understanding.

"Skywalker hasn't been the same the past few days either. I've been trying to be there for him as much as I can. He's the closest thing to a brother a natborn could be to me." Rex said as he leaned against the metal wall. Even through his armor he could feel the cool steel. "This whole thing has set everyone on edge. Loyalty means everything to the us Clones and over the years I've learned loyalty means just as much to the Jedi. For them to do what they did to Comma-, er, Ahsoka, it really punched a hole in the fabric of things at the Temple."

Woffle nodded his head before leaning back against the wall beside his brother. "Everything is just off right now. All we can do is be there for our leaders and support them." Glancing back to Rex he noticed how tired and worn the young Captain was. "How are you handling it all?"

Rex huffed a sigh as he let his head thunk back against the wall. His eyes were red rimmed, bags under them from lack of sleep. His skin a bit paler than normal. Anyone could see the Captain was tired. But there was more under that. He rolled his head to the side, looking into the eyes of his brother.

"I'll be honest, it hurts. Ahsoka became so important to the boys and me. To Skywalker. She is family." Mist filled his eyes as he spoke, becoming glossy as he ran the back of his gloved hand over them. "I understand why she left. But it feels like another death to the 501st. I'm not sure any of us are going to be able to shake this Wolffe. It's throwing more than just my unit off. Even General Kenobi seems harder than normal." He felt the heavy hand of his Vod fall to his shoulder and grasp it tightly. Rex wasn't normally one to show so much emotion, hell none of the Clones were. But when something really shakes them up, it was normal to find brothers holding brothers in the dead of night as they tried to pull themselves back together.

"You need to sleep Rex. Maybe find Kix, get some downers and sleep. I'm sure the Generals would understand if you missed a day. Jesse or Appo can fill in for you for once. The war can wait a moment." Woffle offered his counsel as he squeezed his shoulder. The hard, stoic commander put aside his training and duty for a moment to offer not only his Commander but his brother a moment to stop being soldiers but humans with emotions. Rex just nodded his head and placed his hand on Woffle's before pushing off the wall. He cast a glance towards the closed door wondering about the woman behind it. He had never met Calica Tarver, but heard Ahsoka talking about her over the years. Somehow their paths never crossed and yet his heart broke for the woman. He looked back into Wolffe's eyes before tipping his head at the Commander and walked down the hallway towards his barracks to try and find sleep that seemed to have avoided him for days now. Or maybe he had been avoiding it, knowing that once he laid down he would fall victim to his own mind that hadn't stopped racing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her arm was asleep.

That's the first thing she noticed when her senses came flooding back to her as she woke up. She had been sleeping with her right arm tucked under her head since she fell asleep. And at this point Calica had no clue when that had been. Rolling onto her back she stared at the gray ceiling of the barracks for a moment, rubbing her left hand over her arm trying to get the blood flow back to it. Wincing at the painful tingling in her arm she swung her legs over the side of the bunk and rolled her head side to side to pop her joints. Glancing to the now empty chair where Woffle has once been she realized his datapad was also missing.

Calica sighed and pushed herself up onto her feet and let her back pop back into place before taking a step towards the desk. There on Flimsi was a note waiting for her. Picking up the Flimsi, she looked down at the clear handwriting of Woffle. Plo and himself had decided to let her miss the briefing to sleep. He told her to meet up with him at the hanger once she woke up and they would grab food. Grabbing her twin bronze and silver lightsabers and clipping them to her belt, she made her way out of Woffle's room and down the long halls of the barracks. Her long raven hair fell loose from its braid, so as she walked her finger combed her hair, letting the thick waves fall down her back. Calica pulled herself together, cleaning up her face and putting in a regal air, she walked the halls like the Jedi she was. She passed Troopers as she went, giving them nods in return to the salutes they gave her. She respected these men and in return they respected her. She never saw them as anything less than equal.

Making her way down the twists and turns of the barracks Calica found herself at the front doors facing the Jedi Temple. The temple was already in repair, droids and workers fixing the walls that had been blown apart in the bombing. Just the sight of the charred walls made her stomach twist. Glancing away, she looked back down at the pathway below that led to where the speeders and transports were housed on the Clone Barracks trying to catch a glimpse of Woffle's armor in the sea of plastoid that moved about. As she walked heard some clones in either a heated or spirited and loud debate once she entered the hanger. Looking around to find the owners of the voices she saw Boost holding Comet in a headlock, Warthog and Sinker howling with laughter as the young clone thrashed around. He slammed his fists into the leg armor of Boost, trying to break free from the grip of his older Vod. Calica crossed her arms over her chest and leaned more on her right foot as she watched it unfold. Comet got a solid hit to Boost's stomach, making the older clone loosen his hold slightly, enough for Comet to break free, shoving him backwards into Sinker who growled at the contact. He took a swing at Comet who ducked in time, only for Warthog to take the blow. Soon all four clones were yelling and shouting, fists flying as they jumped each other.

"Oi! That's enough!" Calica shouted, clapping her hands together to get their attention. The four clones pulled themselves apart, slight shoves here and there as they stood tall.

"Commander!" Sinker said with a salute, trying to hold onto any scrap of dignity they had left.

"What the kirf is going on here?" She questioned, looking each one in the eyes.

"Well you see-"

"Comet decided that-"

"You shut up, you weren't-"

"I will punch you again-"

"That's not what happened-"

"Say that to my face you-!"

Calica threw her hands up in the air, using the Force to push the clones apart. "Enough! Forget I asked." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her head. The four hung their heads, Boost kicking his foot out, Comet cleaning imaginary dirt from his chest.

"Sorry Commander." They all said in unisecent shyly.

"Do any of you know where Wolffe is?" Asked Calica as she looked around the hanger. Before any of them could speak a deep booming voice spoke up from behind.

"I'm right here." Wolffe's expression was hard, yet a hint of humor lingering in his eyes. "Someone had to file a report on a gun torrent that somehow malfunctioned early this morning while Boost and Comet were on guard duty." He continued, giving the two troopers a pointed look that made Calica chuckle softly. That's when she noticed the hint of a bacta patch poking out from under the collar of Comet's blacks and Boost with a small patch at his hairline above his left eyebrow.

"Maker above, what did you do, blow up with the torrent?" A roll of her eyes followed a dramatic sigh. Their cheeks turned a bright red, comet rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at Boost.

"It's just a scratch Vod'ika." Comet spoke first.

"Don't worry over it. We're fine." Boost finished with a wave of his hand. Wolffe gave them a grunt, clearing not believing but didn't say anything. He laid a hand on Calica's shoulder, trying to turn her towards him and away from his brothers.

"One day, you two will be the death of me." She joked before Wolffe grabbed her arm, pulling her a few steps away from the men.

"You can yell at them later. I'm hungry and I want to go to Dexter." His grumpy voice called to her as he tugged her along. Claina laughed, really laughed for the first time since the bombing, and allowed Wolffe to pull her away from their group in search of the wonderfully greasy food that only Dexter's could offer. Getting into her speeder, Wolffe in the passenger seat, she flew them off to Dexter's. The wind whipped around them as she drove, Calica throwing her worries to it so she could enjoy this morning with her Vod.

"Did you sleep okay?" Wolffe's voice cut into her thoughts. Claica spared him a quick glance before looking back at the traffic.

"I slept well enough. Thanks Vod." Wolffe only hummed in response instead of pushing further. Silence filled the speeder again as she drove, a question pulling at her though until she finally gave in.

"Who came to the door last night?"

"Rex." Was his one worded answer.

"The Captain of the 501st?" It wasn't really a question, she knew of Rex through Wolffe and Ahsoka, but never had the chance to actually meet him. But Wolffe nodded his head regardless as he replied.

"The very one." Realizing she would want more information he pressed on. "This whole thing, losing his Commander, seeing his General lose his student… well, let's just say you and Rex are more alike than I thought."

Glancing at him quickly with a raised brow before looking back at the traffic, she quickly spoke up. "How do you mean?"

Wolffe turned so he was looking at her, even though she couldn't look him in the eyes as he spoke. "You both care for others without question. Even if it means becoming hurt in the end. It doesn't stop you… either of you."

His words hang heavily between them. They set on her heart like a stone, unsure if it weighed her down or brought her comfort. She knew others, some maybe more so than her, hurt from the happenings of the past few days. But she released the Captain came to his older brother's door last night looking for comfort, for words of encouragement or peace and Wolffe stood by him even as he stood by her in her time of pain. Pulling into the parking lot at Derek's, she shut off her speeder and laid a hand on Wolffe's arm before he stepped out of the vehicle.

"You care too, even if you don't truly want to admit you do."

Masterlist

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