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fictionwriter2015 · 7 months

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Motaz Azaiza

Below is an interview Palestinian photojournalist, Motaz gave to UK newspaper, The Guardian. See the original article with photos, HERE

Motaz Azaiza should have been dead by now. Death stalked the streets of Deir al-Balah where he grew up, long before Israel’s assault on Gaza. There had been close encounters in the past; as a teen he was once shot by an Israeli sniper.

When Israel launched its offensive in Gaza after the 7 October Hamas attacks, Azaiza picked up his camera and headed to the frontlines. Despite his clearly marked press vest, in December he narrowly avoided being hit again by Israeli forces. Israel denies targeting journalists but, according to a group of UN experts, more than 122 journalists and media professionals in Gaza have been killed so far: the deadliest conflict for members of the press in recent history.

“Israel won’t allow international journalists into Gaza and is killing those reporting from within,” says Azaiza. “It is a deliberate attempt to obscure the Palestinian narrative and erase the truth.” Azaiza spent 107 days documenting the conflict, during which 15 members of his own family, including his aunt and cousins, were killed. “I rushed to report on a nearby bombing, only to realise my aunt’s house had been targeted,” he says. “I found their dismembered bodies strewn on the streets and spent a day collecting their body parts. The force of the explosion had obliterated others, leaving no trace of their remains – whole human beings reduced to nothingness.”

He has lost count of the number of friends he has lost.In the days leading up to his evacuation, he says Israeli drones hovered above his home and he began receiving death threats from unknown numbers. The bombs got closer and louder. “I would lie awake in my bed thinking, ‘Any moment now, I will be next,’” he says.

Azaiza survived and on a sunny afternoon in Doha, the 25-year-old looks out from a window at the futuristic skyline of Qatar’s glitzy capital, nestled along the Gulf coast; a stark contrast to the destruction he has left behind. “It feels strange being here,” says Azaiza. “Nothing feels real any more.”

Azaiza was born and raised in Deir al-Balah, a city on the Mediterranean in central Gaza. “Its name means the monastery of dates, referring to the abundant date palms that used to grow there,” says Azaiza, who studied English translation at Al-Azhar University – which Israel recently bombed.

Although Azaiza has lived through many Israeli offensives, this has been by far the worst. “It’s unlike anything we’ve ever experienced,” he says. Through his lens, the rest of the world was able to witness the devastation in Gaza – often in the form of raw, unfiltered videos of those killed or injured. His unedited footage surged in popularity and he now has more than 18.5 million followers on social media.

More than 28,000 Palestinians have been killed by Israel since October, according to Gaza’s health ministry, most of them women and children, while 85% of the besieged strip’s 2.3 million population has been displaced.

Like many Palestinians, Azaiza refers to Israel’s offensive in Gaza as genocide – an accusation Israel denies. In an interim ruling last month, the UN’s international court of justice ordered Israel to ensure its forces did not commit acts of genocide against Palestinians in Gaza.

“People no longer trust the mainstream media,” says Azaiza. “Newspapers reporting remotely – even from Jerusalem – are so far from the reality. Social media has enabled people to watch a genocide unfold in real time.”

Last year, GQ Middle East featured Azaiza as its 2023 man of the year in recognition of his courage and resilience. One of his photos, showing a young Palestinian girl trapped under rubble after an Israeli attack, was also among Time’s top 10 photos of 2023.

But it is not his war photography that Azaiza wants to be known for. “I wish people knew me for my art,” he says. Before the war, Azaiza would create portraits of ordinary Palestinians doing everyday things; a fruit seller at the market, a picnic on the beach, children chasing one another down a cobbled street. “I wanted to capture the beauty of my people,” he says.

Although Azaiza has lived through many Israeli offensives, this has been by far the worst. ‘It’s unlike anything we’ve ever experienced,’ he says.

Azaiza was evacuated from Gaza last month, along with his parents and siblings. The family travelled to Egypt’s El Arish airport, 30 miles from the Gaza border, and were flown to Doha on a military jet – their first time on a plane. But there was no excitement. “We left with broken hearts,” he says.

The guilt of leaving Gaza has taken its toll on Azaiza, who can’t stop thinking about those he has left behind. “At night, I dream I am still there. I close my eyes and am haunted by the faces of innocent children buried beneath the rubble.” During the day, routine tasks such as grocery shopping or going for a walk are interrupted by sudden flashbacks of the horrors he has witnessed. “The ghosts of Gaza follow me everywhere I go,” he says.

One particular incident keeps him up at night. One morning during the war, Azaiza set out from his house with his camera, ready to capture the aftermath of an Israeli airstrike the night before. “Suddenly I stumbled over something and fell,” he says.

As Azaiza tried to get back up, he realised he had fallen over the dead body of an elderly neighbour, partly concealed by rubble. “I couldn’t contain my emotions,” he says. “I started howling there on the street. I had known this man since I was a kid. He was the kindest, gentlest soul you’d ever meet.”

Azaiza’s camera roll is packed with one heartbreaking image after another, including some he can’t bring himself to publicly share; one photo shows the charred, lifeless body of a Palestinian baby with both eyes missing. Another depicts health workers sorting human remains into plastic bags. “My brain still hasn’t properly processed some of the things I’ve seen,” he says.

Azaiza has little hope that Israel will stop its offensive any time soon or that the international court of justice will force a break in the fighting.“We are talking about the UN’s highest court and it wasn’t even able to make Israel suspend its airstrikes or call for a permanent ceasefire.

Since arriving in Doha, Azaiza has been busy meeting ministers, diplomats and the media; he has been sharing his firsthand accounts of the war and calling for an immediate ceasefire. Azaiza doesn’t plan on settling in Qatar in the long term and one day hopes to return to Gaza to help rebuild his city. “Until then, I will continue speaking up against the occupation and the genocide being committed against my people,” he says.

“To be clear, this is not a war against Hamas,” says Azaiza. “This is and has always been a war against the Palestinian people. Israel’s plan is to bury us or push us out – as we have just seen with the Rafah bombing. There is literally nowhere else for us to go.”

Azaiza urges the world not to look away. “As humans, we all have a responsibility to bear witness to what is happening in Gaza,” he says. “I tried my best to show the world our reality, now the world needs to show where it stands. It is ordinary people, men and women, who have the power to save what remains of Palestine. Our plea is simple – we just want to live.”

#Motaz Azaiza #palestine #free palestine #end the occupation #end the genocide #israel is a terrorist state #israeli war crimes #gaza

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totowlff · 2 years

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chapter thirteen — partner in crime

➝ toto and elisabeth need to keep up appearances at the fia prize giving gala - they’re just co-workers and business partners, nothing more. at least, that’s what everyone else needs to think.

➝ word count: 3,8k

➝ warnings: mentions of smut

DECEMBER, 2014

Sitting inside the car, Elisabeth watched the Doha skyline with its towering buildings outlined by the setting sun. She felt anxious. Her right leg bounced, making the lines formed by the rows of silver silver beaded embroidery on her gray dress shimmer. Her fingers were tapping incessantly on the silver clutch that she had chosen for that night. However, contrary to what she thought, her nerves had not gone unnoticed.

— Liesl — she heard Toto whisper, placing his left hand on her leg, his fingers squeezing her thigh to halt its bouncing — There’s no reason to be nervous.

She turned to face him, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

— I know — Elisabeth said. She huffed, frustrated, raising a hand to her temple — But what if they suspect something?

— Suspect what? Us?

— Yeah — she said in a low voice.

— We’re always together, though. It isn't anything out of the ordinary for us. Besides, you’re not here as my date, but as your father’s representative.

Elisabeth nodded. Initially, she’d intended to accompany Niki to the event, as she normally would. After the Prize Giving Gala, she and Toto had planned to spend a few days together, away from everything and everyone, simply enjoying each other’s company. However, the idea was dashed when her father told her that he would not be traveling to Doha — all because of Marlene.

— I spoke to your mother and she’s right, there’s no reason for me to go to Qatar if Toto will be there already — he said, taking a bite of his schnitzel.

— But you’re the non-executive chairman, dad — Elisabeth argued, dropping her fork on her plate — Your presence is important.

— Toto is the team principal, Mauslein — Niki replied — His presence is more important than mine.

Something turned in her stomach. She needed to convince him to go so her plans with Toto wouldn’t go down the drain.

— But, it’s Mercedes’ first title! It’s a unique moment in the team’s history — she said.

Niki looked up at her, squinting a bit.

— You seem a bit too interested in this event for someone who doesn’t like motorsport.

Elisabeth felt her hands go cold. “He couldn’t possibly suspect anything”, she thought. She tried to come up with an excuse for her sudden interest in something as banal as an awards gala without giving away that she was far more interested in the man who would be receiving an award.

— Well, I don’t know… I’ve become fairly invested in motorsport since we started out on this Mercedes adventure — she replied.

— Oh, really?

— I’m even thinking about learning more about racing cars and how to drive one — she said. Elisabeth immediately regretted saying anything when she saw her father’s light up. He had always seen her reluctance to take interest in motorsport as a personal challenge, and now she’d given him the opening he needed.

— Well, if you’re so invested, why don’t you go in my place, Mauslein?

She was lost in her thoughts when Toto took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her fingers.

— It’ll be alright, Liesl — he whispered — You’ll see.

She squeezed his hand, a smile on her lips.

“It’ll be alright”, she repeated to herself as the car pulled into the St. Regis Hotel. It was an elegant building, clad in cream tones, right on the shore of the Arabian Gulf. The white and burgundy Qatari flags along the path to the resort entrance fluttered gently in the sea breeze.

The car stopped at the entrance to the building. It was elegantly lit in shades of blue and white, with a dark blue rug leading into the doorway.

— Shall we? — Toto looked at her, his hand still holding hers.

— We shall — Elisabeth smiled.

After Toto helped her out of the car, Elisabeth took a moment to straighten out her dress. She was wearing a flowing, strapless gray gown with geometric embroidery, done in sparkling silver glass beads, that spread from her bust to her hips.

This dress hadn’t been her first choice to wear to the gala. She had brought another dress to wear, but when she got to her room at the Four Seasons Doha the day before, something caught her eye as she stepped in the door. It wasn’t the splendid view of the Doha skyline from her suite’s window, but the shopping bag from Gucci sitting on the bed. Next to it was a card, written in familiar handwriting.

— Call me — she read the message in a low voice, sighing as she ran her fingers over the three letters scrawled in the bottom right corner of the card. Elisabeth took her phone from her purse and tapped Toto’s name in her contacts. A few moments later, she heard a voice on the other end of the line.

— Good afternoon, Liesl.

— Good afternoon, Toto. How are you?

— I’m fine. And you, did you have a good trip?

— Yes, it was fine. I just arrived at the hotel.

— That's good — he said, trying to sound casual — Did you like the room?

— Yes. It has a nice view and a big bed. A very big bed.

— And was there anything on top of that big bed?

Elisabeth smiled.

— Yes, there was a bag — she answered — A bag with a card signed by someone with the initials ‘TCW’. You wouldn’t happen to know who that would be, would you?

Toto chuckled.

— Yes, I do. And… What was inside of the bag?

— I don’t know, I decided to follow the card's instructions first.

— Well, take a look and tell me what you see.

Elisabeth put her cell phone on speaker and dropped it on the bed. Then, she started rummaging through the bag, pulling out the pieces of tissue paper used to wrap its contents. Under the paper, she spotted a piece of embroidered fabric.

— It's an outfit, it seems — she muttered, finding what appeared to be the top of the garment and pulling it out of the bag.

— Tell me more, Liesl.

She would have liked to respond, but she was rendered speechless by the bag’s contents. She pulled out one of the most glamorous evening gowns she’d ever seen. It was a strapless dove gray dress with a floor-sweeping skirt, covered in twinkling silver glass beads and with a matching slim ribbon belt.

— Liesl? — she heard Toto ask through the phone — Is everything okay?

— Yeah — Elisabeth muttered, completely mesmerized — I’m just… Wow…

— Do you like it?

— Do I like it? I love it! — she said, giggling like a child with a new toy.

— I knew you would. I chose it specially for you to wear tomorrow night.

Her smile faded. She already had a dress for the awards ceremony. Of course it wasn't Gucci, but a Flossmann, made for her by the atelier in the heart of Vienna. It was a much simpler dress than the one in front of her — it almost felt inadequate in comparison.

— But I already have a dress for tomorrow — Elisabeth said in a thin voice.

— Liesl, wear this one — Toto said — For me.

— Only if you give me a good reason to — she asked, tracing a row of glass beads in the skirt with one of her fingers.

— It matches my bedroom floor perfectly.

Elisabeth's face turned red. Of course he hadn't chosen such a sensual dress like this without a reason.

— So… You only bought this dress so you could take it off of me tomorrow night?

— Only if you want, Liesl.

It was impossible to say no to Toto.

— How do I look? — she asked him, after running her hand over the dress a few times, smoothing the fabric.

— You look perfect — he replied, smiling, before offering his arm for her to escort her down the blue carpet.

The moment Elisabeth stepped inside the Grand Foyer of St. Regis, the flashes of cameras and screams multiplied, everyone desperate for a look at the two of them. She squeezed Toto’s arm with her fingers, feeling stunned by the commotion as the lights blinded her, preventing her from seeing anything in front of her. However, she knew that it would only end when they gave them what they wanted.

“Vultures”, she heard her father’s voice say in her head. She stopped in front of the cameras, letting go of Toto’s arm and smiling politely. His hand landed on her waist, barely touching her. It felt strange, but he had a good reason.

Appearances had to be kept up.

Flash.

— Elisabeth, here!

Flash.

— Toto!

Flash.

A gentle touch to her waist made Elisabeth look away. Her eyes met his. His brown irises shimmered with each flash. As she stared into Toto’s eyes, it seemed like time had stopped and the room was empty, except for the two of them.

— Is everything okay? — Toto asked her, the smile still on his face.

— Yeah — she whispered.

— Shall we go inside?

She nodded, linking her arm through his.

The Grand Ballroom was filled with chairs for the ceremony. A large screen mounted above the stage replayed memorable scenes in various motorsport categories. In front of it, other guests chatted with each other, exchanging laughter and whispers.

A woman in an elegant black dress approached them and guided them to their seats. She was pointing at two white armchairs with metallic trimming directly in front of the stage. “Places of honor”, Elisabeth thought, realizing Lewis was standing next to her. He was wearing a navy-blue suit, and his mother, Carmen, standing to his left, was wearing a black lace dress.

— Good evening— Toto said, releasing her arm so he could hug his driver.

Elisabeth, in turn, approached Lewis’ mother and greeted her with a hug.

— How are you, Carmen? — Elisabeth asked.

— Everything is great! And you? — she replied, laying a hand on her arm.

— I’m great too, thanks for asking.

— Good evening, Elisabeth — Lewis said as he approached her, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek — Did you leave Niki at home?

— He didn’t want to come — she laughed — I tried to convince him, but there was no way. My mother’s word is law in that house.

— They should have come together — Lewis said, putting his hands in the pockets of his black tailored pants — It’s a very important night.

— In the end, it’s probably for the best. This way, I didn’t have to listen to him complaining about the pilot for the entire flight — Elisabeth said, making everyone laugh.

The conversation was lively, until a voice over the PA system invited everyone to take their seats. She set her clutch on the chair to fix her dress before sitting down, but she felt something tugging at the fabric. She turned around and found Toto leaning over, arranging the train of her dress so she wouldn’t step on it.

— What are you doing? — Elisabeth whispered. She was a little worried about how it would look to everyone else.

— Fixing your dress — he replied, his hands sliding along the gray fabric, his fingers getting dangerously close to her ass. “He’s playing with fire”, she thought, eyes darting around her surroundings, trying to check if anyone was watching them.

— Torger Christian Wolff — she said through gritted teeth when she felt his hand touch her butt.

— What? — he said, standing up with a smug smile on his face.

— Try to at least be a little more discreet — Elisabeth snapped, sitting in her chair, eyes fixed on the stage.

— What about you, using my full name like that? You know that turns me on — Toto muttered, taking his seat beside her. Toto noticed the redness of Elisabeth’s cheeks and winked. It sent heat straight between her legs. “That fucker”, she thought, sighing.

The ceremony was anything but exciting. After watching traditional Qatari dance performances and speeches by FIA officials, it was time for the awards ceremony. First, the champions of the lower single-seater categories took the stage, then the endurance and rally champions. Finally, it was Lewis’ turn, who entered driving the W05. He climbed outside of the car to receive his World Drivers’ Championship trophy, holding it up with a wide smile on his face.

— We now invite to the stage to receive the Formula 1 Constructors’ Championship trophy, on behalf of the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team, team principal Toto Wolff.

Toto hesitated for a second as he looked back at Elisabeth. She knew what he wanted to do. She wanted it, too, but they couldn’t — not then, with all eyes on the two of them.

— Go on — Elisabeth smiled, touching his hand lightly.

As if he came out of a trance, he stood up, walking up onto the stage to receive the Constructors Championship trophy from Jean Todt. He exchanged a handshake with the president of the federation. With a smile, Toto turned to the audience and, with his eyes fixed on Elisabeth, he raised the trophy as if he was offering it to her. Seeing it made Elisabeth clap her hands even harder.

She couldn’t describe what she was feeling at that moment — every word she could think of felt insufficient.

Triumph.

Adoration.

Happiness.

Pride.

— Toto, would you like to say a few words? — the master of ceremonies asked.

Taking the microphone offered by one of the stage assistants, he smiled.

— Well, this is a speech I’ve been rehearsing since we won the championship in Russia. None of this would be possible without the team we have working every day, both on track and in Brackley and Brixworth. There are more than two thousand people dedicated to making the best car and I am infinitely grateful for the efforts of each one of them.

The clapping echoed through the hall. It was a gesture of recognition for the efforts of those people whose work was invisible, but results were not.

— But tonight, I’d like to thank one person in particular, who has been by my side since the beginning, and who has been working together with me and Niki to accomplish all of this, and that is Miss Elisabeth Lauda.

She felt her heart leap at the mention of her name. Staring at Toto, she saw a wide smile on his face. “My God, what is he going to say?”, she asked herself. She felt incredibly nervous all of a sudden.

— Elisabeth is one of the most fantastic people I’ve had the fortune to work with. She is sensitive, perceptive and deeply critical. She has followed me and Niki around the world, meeting with investors and working with us for the sake of the team, when she could have been quietly at her home in Vienna, running the family business.

She felt tears start forming in her eyes. “Not now, Elisabeth”, she thought, looking up at him.

— Today, I can confidently say that the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team would not be what it is today without Elisabeth’s efforts. That’s why I’m proud to say that she’s my good friend, and more.

She mouthed the word ‘no’. He wasn’t going to say what she thought. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not in front of everyone. Not now.

“No, no, no”, she repeated mentally.

— She’s my partner in crime — Toto gave her a mischievous grin.

Relief swept through her body. Elisabeth definitely expected him to say something worse, like his lover, partner, or… even, girlfriend. However, he seemed to have the sense to not say something they’d both regret.

— That said, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank her for everything. You really are a special person and an essential part of our success. Thank you, Elisabeth.

The clapping echoed through the hall again as Toto handed the microphone back to the assistant, before looking back at her, his hands wrapped around the base of the silver cup. Elisabeth had mixed feelings growing inside her. While she was completely melted by his word, there was a certain fear on her part that it had given some clue to the real nature of their relationship.

— Elisabeth? — she heard Carmen say by her side.

Leaning over the armchair separating them, she smiled.

— Yes, Carmen?

— Toto's words about you were beautiful. I imagine you are very happy.

— Yes, I am — Elisabeth said.

— Your partnership is very beautiful. Well, his with your father too, but especially yours. There is a genuine love involved in it.

The word made a nervous smile appear on her face.

— Love?

— Yeah, for the sport, for the team, for the whole thing. Is nice to see it.

Relief washed over her body. "That was close," she thought.

The event ended with a speech by Jean Todt, who gave a long and incredibly boring recap of the season in all categories. Back in the armchair beside her, holding the silver trophy in his hands, Toto looked at Elisabeth when, at one point, the Frenchman mentioned Niki and the work he was doing at Mercedes.

— Very nice of him to say that right in front of the woman who called him an imbecile when she was little — he whispered to her.

— Should I apologize to him after his kind words?

— Seriously? No — Toto said, chuckling.

After the ceremony ended, the winners were taken to a space where the official photo shoot would take place. Then it was time to participate in a celebratory cocktail party. Between glasses of champagne, canapés and empty conversations, the looks between Elisabeth and Toto began to get longer, as if they were asking each other the same question.

Do you want to… Leave?

Less than ten minutes later, after an invented headache and an alleged order from Niki for Toto to accompany Elisabeth back to the hotel, they were finally able to leave the party. Inside the car, with one hand on her thigh, Toto subtly signaled what was to come in a few minutes. Anxiety and excitement in equal measure was building up in her belly.

When Toto shut the suite door behind him, she had only one word at the tip of her tongue.

— Finally.

He walked over to the table and awkwardly set the trophy down. Then, Toto turned to Elisabeth and smiled. He approached her and he put his hand under her chin, lifting her face a bit. Their eyes met for a few seconds, silence stretching between them, as if neither of them wanted to spoil the moment by saying anything. Then, in silence, he took her lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss.

Slowly, Elisabeth's hands began to work, undressing Toto little by little, letting each piece of his tuxedo fall to the floor gently, while he tasted the champagne on her tongue. First it was the bow tie, then the suit, then the shirt. Until, in one smooth movement, she turned her back to him. Toto pushed her hair to the side, nuzzling her neck, breathing in the sweet scent.

— Finally — he murmured against her skin as his fingers deftly unzipped the dress Elisabeth was wearing. The fabric slid gently down her body, pooling in a gray puddle on the floor. Looking down, a smile came to Elisabeth’s face as she realized the dress indeed matched the floor of his room.

— You were right.

— About what? — he asked, his hands moving up her sides until he reached her breasts, squeezing them gently.

— About the dress. It blends in perfectly with your bedroom floor.

She heard him chuckle.

— Good to know you agree with me, Liesl — Toto said, putting his lips to her ear, nibbling her skin, making her shiver with excitement.

It didn't take long for their touches to go from delicate and tentative to being passionate, guided by their mutual desire. Slow, deep breaths gave way to gasping whispers and high-pitched moans. Their eyes were open, fixed on each other, as if neither of them wanted to miss the opportunity to see what the other was feeling. Their hands held each other with the strength that only intimacy could provide.

On previous nights they’d been together, their fevered, hurried pace could only be described as “having sex”, but that night, Elisabeth was sure they had made love.

Lying next to each other, they recovered from their climax in silence, their breathing the only sound that could be heard in the room. Elisabeth and Toto stared into each other's eyes, their noses brushing as they occasionally kissed each other. Her fingers traced tiny shapes over the skin on the back of his shoulder — stars, the sun, the moon, smiles. It was everything he was capable of making her see and feel with his body alone.

— I almost didn't come here. To Doha, I mean — she whispered.

— What do you mean by that?

— My father canceled last-minute. I almost thought there would be no way to come here without raising suspicion. I had to tell him a whole story about being interested in motorsport, and he told me to come in his place.

He smiled.

— I thought you liked motorsport now, Liesl.

— I do, Toto. But I had to say I was interested in learning to drive a race car, just because I like it so much — Elisabeth said, her voice still quiet — All to come here. All for you.

His hand moved up her arm, sliding over her skin towards her face, cupping Elisabeth's cheek.

— You have no idea how much I appreciate your effort to be here, Liesl.

— It doesn’t feel like effort when you like someone. Especially when it’s you.

Toto smiled.

— You like me? — he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe what he had heard.

— I do. It's impossible not to like someone who brings out the best in me. Someone that gives me the courage to face everything I fear most simply by being by my side.

— You mean…

— The photographers, yes. You know how much they annoy me. You know how bad I feel about being in front of the cameras, it doesn’t matter if it’s the paparazzi or not.

He continued to listen to Elisabeth, his eyes fixed on her face, as if he was trying to commit every detail of it to memory.

— But, with you by my side, I’d be able to spend the rest of my life being photographed and I wouldn't be bothered for a moment. You make me overcome every single one of my fears by simply being yourself. I guess I will never know how to adequately explain how lucky I feel, because I get to have you by my side.

— Elisabeth, I'm the lucky one — Toto whispered — I'm lucky you gave me a chance to open my heart. I'm lucky you opened yours for me. And I'm even luckier that, despite this whole mess of excuses and pretending, you still agreed to come with me in this adventure, as you like to call it.

— It's like you said, Toto. We are partners in crime. Bonnie and Clyde, no?

Toto chuckled.

— I think it's better for us not to be like them.

Elisabeth blinked.

— Why not?

— I don’t want my story to end by being shot a hundred times by the police, Liesl.

— It’s just a reference.

— Well, we need another one. There certainly are other partners in crime.

Elisabeth looked at him and chuckled.

— Indeed — she whispered, before kissing him again.

#toto wolff #toto wolff fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #wlffog #natsversion #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #scwlff

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