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tswaney17 · 2 days

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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 49

It's here!!! The final part of this massive fic. 😭 I can't believe we're finally at the end. I'm still in shock that I get to close the door on this fic that has taken up the last three years of my life. I have so many emotions running through me right now. 🥺

The epilogue will be posted during @elriel-month in addition to a little surprise I'm so excited to share with you. Stay tuned!! 💜💙💚

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

This part also features descriptions of birth and complications from it.

Word Count: 7,225

Elain had spent a good portion of the late morning getting ready for the baby shower scheduled for noon. At just over eight months pregnant, they were cutting close to the wire of the twins’ arrival.

She was beyond exhausted. Growing the babies was work enough, but she ached everywhere at this point. Her boobs, her hips, her ankles. Her back…that hurt the worst. She looked like she swallowed two extra large watermelons. Elain hadn’t seen her feet in two and half months and she was praying that her toenails looked well enough for sandals today.

On top of her aching body, she also slept like shit the night before, having woken up in the wee hours with Braxton Hicks contractions that seemed to never want to go away. They were getting obnoxious at this point.

Oh! And her boobs had already started leaking. Aside from the contractions, Elain also woke up to a soaked sleep shirt and an attitude that poor Azriel was desperately trying to keep calm. She felt bad that her irritation got directed at him, but he took her mood swings in stride, giving her the space when she needed it, and focusing on taking care of Kaden and getting him ready for the party.

Her husband knocked lightly before entering their bedroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it when he saw her standing there in an ugly pair of panties and a strapless bra—which she had no idea how it was going to hold up her tits, but here they were. “Hello, my love. How are you doing?” he asked, striding further into their room. He was already dressed in black slacks and a white button-down rolled up to his elbows. It was one of her favorite looks on him. Casual but classy and sexy as hell.

“I’m all right. Better than this morning,” which was true. In the time she took to get ready, she felt her irritation slowly dissipate. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

He gifted her a soft smile he reserved only for her and their children. “El, you’re carrying two babies. You’re allowed to let out your frustrations. I’m here to spar if you need it, you know that.”

She knew he meant spar as in letting her yell and shout and hiss words until she felt better while he just took it. Gods, he really was the perfect husband. Elain held out her coco butter lotion towards him. “Do you mind rubbing this on me and helping me dress?”

Azriel took the bottle from her outstretched hands, dropping a sweet kiss on her plump lips before squirting some into his scarred palms and gently rubbing it all over her swollen stomach. He knelt before her, dutifully getting every inch of her covered. “You are so beautiful, Elain,” he murmured, kissing her at the fullest part of her belly.

She snorted. “I am a beached whale who ate too much.”

“You are a gorgeous woman carrying life inside of her womb. That will always be beautiful, sweetheart.”

How he always knew what to say was beyond her, but she tugged him up off the ground to kiss him thoroughly. It should’ve annoyed her with how just a few sweeps of Azriel’s tongue had every concern and irritation simply melt away. He knew when to play that card and fuck did he play it well.

But even his tongue couldn’t stop the hiss of pain as another contraction wracked her body.

He immediately pulled back at the sound, eyes scanning her face. “Are you all right?” he asked, concern etched into the tone.

She breathed through the wave that tightened in her abdomen. “Braxton Hicks contractions,” she said as an explanation.

His brows shot into his hairline. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

Elain reached up to cup his cheek in her palm, her thumb swiping over the stubble there. “No, it’s a normal thing this late in the pregnancy. I’ve had a few this morning starting before dawn. It’s why I was grouchy.”

Understanding lit his face and he carefully ran his hand down her stomach again. “Why didn’t you wake me this morning?”

She huffed a laugh. “Because I knew you’d go into full-birthing-dad-mode and neither one of us would’ve slept any longer.”

Azriel shot her an unamused glare. “You will be thanking me for that birthing-dad mode when you’re in labor and I have everything packed up within minutes.”

This time Elain laughed loud and joyfully. “Yes, you’re probably right.” She nodded to the dress on the bed. “Help me slip that on?”

He grabbed the fabric, bunching it in his large fists, and pulled it over her head. It was an off-the-shoulder, loose, pale pink cotton dress, decorated with roses. It looked vintage, gathering just under her bust, with oversized puffy sleeves that sat off her shoulders, over her biceps. Ruffles accentuated the bottom hem, emphasizing the vintage style. It was the perfect spring dress. When Elain first saw it at the store, she knew she had to buy it for the shower.

Azriel tugged her loose curls from the back of the dress, letting them brush against her spine. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder before grabbing the rose-pendant necklace he bought to go with the dress and draping it around her delicate neck. “Perfect,” he murmured onto her skin, his smile pressing against her neck.

Elain sighed softly, reaching up to thread her fingers through his dark hair. “How am I still horny for you?”

He nipped at her throat, a rumble shaking his chest. “Because you know I can deliver what you need without even blinking.”

This time she laughed, letting his hands run across her body in possessive little touches.

Azriel brazenly cupped her sex through the dress, growling as she let out a mewling sound and began to writhe against those skilled fingers, searching for the friction she desperately craved. “Would you like to fuck my hand, love?” he murmured, mouth grazing her jaw.

Elain fell slack against him, letting his strength hold her up. “Az,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut as he began to rub her in earnest. “Please.”

He nipped the curve of her ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. “You beg so prettily, El.” Bunching up the dress in a fist, Azriel slid her panties aside, swiping his fingers over her soaked pussy. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet for me. Always desperate for my touch.”

She gripped him, nails digging into his exposed forearms. “I need—I need,” she panted out, wiggling in his hold. “Please, Az.”

Giving her exactly what she wanted—needed—Azriel sunk his middle finger into her aching cunt, pumping once before adding a second digit. “Such a good girl,” he whispered, thrusting in and out of her. The heel of his palm grazed her clit sending bolts of pleasure up her spine.

Elain bit her lip, stifling the moan that threatened to burst from her. His fingers scraped along that special spot inside of her, building her up and up and up until she teetered on the edge of bliss.

Barely conscious of her surroundings, Elain caught the sound of the door handle jiggling, followed by a “Momma!”

Azriel clapped a hand over her mouth as he continued his machinations. “Momma’s getting dressed, Kaden. We’ll be out in a minute,” he called out, pressing his palm firmly on her clit and sending her spiraling into her orgasm.

Too far gone to care, she tumbled into sweet oblivion, coming hard on his fingers. Elain moaned, only quieted by the muffling against her husband’s scarred hand.

He worked her through her release, slowing his movements when she started to come down from her high. Az peppered her skin with sweet kisses, removing his fingers from her pussy and readjusting her panties back into place before letting the dress fall back down. “Better, my love?”

“I’m gonna have to change my underwear, but yes.” She twisted in his arms, catching him sucking his fingers clean. Elain brought his mouth down to hers, tongue licking the drop of her release dotting his bottom lip. “Thank you, husband.”

He smiled into their kiss, deepening it once more. “I’ll go check on Kaden while you finish up. We’ll head out when you’re done.”

Twenty minutes later, they were in the car on their way to Rhys and Feyre’s place. It was a gorgeous day full of sunshine, the air warm with the oncoming of summer. It was as if even the Mother wanted to grace her presence on that day with her radiance. They really couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day for a baby shower.

“Momma?” Kaden called from the back seat. “Where are we going?”

His speech had improved so much since they first brought him home that the therapist they hired had told them after the end of the school year, that he likely wouldn’t need to continue seeing a specialist to catch him up. He was reading and writing the way a five-year-old should be and was on track to pass kindergarten with flying colors.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Remember how we talked about going to Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys’s for the baby shower today.”

He seemed to think about that. “What’s a baby shower?”

Her lips quirked up at his curious mind. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked about where babies came from again. “It’s a party to celebrate the upcoming arrival of your brother and sister.” Her hand came to rest on her belly instinctively.

His face scrunched up. “Will I have to take a bath again?”

Azriel let out a snort, glancing at her. “It’s a fair question.”

She laughed. “No, sweetheart. Not that kind of shower. To shower with love. The party is just to celebrate the babies before they arrive.”

“Will there be cake?” he asked, excitement lighting up his face at the prospect of sweets.

“For my sister’s sake, there better be.” Elain’s late-stage pregnancy craving was anything sweet. Cookies, cakes, pastries, whatever she could get her hands on, she was eating it. Azriel was barely able to keep the pantry stocked with desserts for her to snack on.

Her husband chuckled. “If she doesn’t, we’ll stop by a bakery on our way home and get each of you a cake. How’s that sound?” he asked, grasping her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.

She grinned. “You spoil me.”

He looked at her then. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

They were fashionably late to their baby shower, and Elain completely blamed her husband’s morning sexual charade for the delay in their arrival. Not that she minded at all. She had another Braxton Hick contraction in the car, Azriel eying her with worry and once again asking if they should make a pitstop at the hospital just in case.

But that would’ve made them even more late and Elain knew it was unnecessary.

All of their friends and family were waiting for their arrival. And she hated being late.

“What am I going to do with you gone for six months, Elain?” Thesan teased, taking a sip of his beer.

She shot a devilish grin at the head nurse sitting on the couch across from her. “I’m sure Viv would love to pick up all the slack.”

Viviane squawked in outrage and pointed a menacing finger in her direction. “Don’t put your work on me while you’re enjoying your babymoon, Elain Archeron-Knight.”

The group laughed as she pushed herself up off the couch. Another contraction hit her and she winced, catching the attention of the sharp-eyed nurse. But before she could ask, Kaden came bounding up to her, tugging on the skirt of her dress.

“Momma, can I have a cake pop?” He looked up at her with those damn puppy eyes he knew she couldn’t resist.

Elain ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, sweetie. Only one. You don’t want to spoil your appetite for Uncle Cassian’s good barbeque.”

Said uncle was out in the backyard tending to the grill with her husband, Rhys, and the Moonbeam brothers because, apparently, that’s where men gathered. Aelin and Rowan had joined them, the former getting an eyebrow raise from Azriel at her company’s appearance.

She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to perhaps score one of those cake pops herself—she was the guest of honor, surely she could snag one too. Feyre, Nuala, and Cerridwen had been busy putting together the final touches for lunch and were just waiting for Cassian’s proteins to serve food.

But just as she reached the breakfast bar, a wave of excruciating pain washed over her. Catching herself on the counter, Elain gripped the side of her stomach, groaning loud enough that the other room went silent. And then she felt it. Liquid surged between her legs, puddling the floor beneath her.

No. No, it was too soon. They couldn’t be coming already.

Viviane rounded the corner from the living room as Feyre and the twins approached her.

Somebody breathed her name, but she couldn’t decipher who it was over the blood rushing in her ears.

More footsteps sounded as her friends and family came from the living room to see what was going on.

“Elain.” It was Feyre’s voice that broke through the fog of fear that had clouded her, but she was too numb to respond. Too nervous. “Somebody get Azriel!”

Her panic grew and her breathing turned shallow. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared enough. The anxiety of giving birth hit her like a freight train.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t.

~~~~~

Azriel took a swig of his beer, rolling his eyes at the cad comment Rhys made. His tanned skin warmed in the sunlight even with the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. With a glance at the large window, he caught Elain rising from her spot on the couch, Kaden gripping her dress to speak with her.

Gods, that fucking dress. Elain looked like a maternal goddess in it, emphasizing her swollen belly, brimming with the life of his children. Az never realized he had a breeding kink until he and Elain got back together. His desire to fill her with his seed, to watch her grow with life had him hardening in his pants.

Now at eight months, she had reached the stage where little things irked the hell out of her. Honestly, her temper was cute as hell, but he tried to be considerate of her exhaustion and short-fuse, offering himself up to take the heat of her ire. It was only fair—he’s the one that got her pregnant.

It may have made him a primitive, alpha-douchebag, but fuck did he love to see her waddling around, pregnant and barefoot in their home. She was already such a wonderful mother to their boy, Kaden. Cassian had been right. He was so incredibly grateful for Elain’s maternal instinct.

“Something caught your eye, brother?” Cassian taunted, grinning. His brother knew exactly what he was looking at. Or whom.

He shot him a dry look that had Cash chuckling.

“If she wasn’t already pregnant, I’d say that look alone could’ve knocked her up,” he teased. “Who knew you had such a kink, Az.”

Azriel opened his mouth to retort, but the sliding glass door opening caught his attention.

Nuala peeked her head out, a worried look on her face that had his stomach tightening in knots. “Azriel! Get in here now!”

But he was already moving, dropping his drink on the table and running after her into the house, his brothers and friends hot on his heels. He froze in the entryway of the kitchen, taking in the scene for a split second before his eyes settled on Elain bent over the counter, a puddle of clear liquid beneath her.

His feet ate up the space between them in three long strides, her name falling from his lips as he cupped her face and forced her gaze on his. Azriel prided himself in knowing exactly what Elain was feeling, what she was thinking by just the look on her face. He read her better than he did himself. So, seeing the blatant apprehension and worry written as clearly as a tattoo on her forehead had his heart racing in his chest.

Her eyes were wet with the tears he could tell she was trying to hold back.

“Love,” he said quietly, unsure how to proceed at the moment.

She blinked like hearing him cleared a bit of the fog that had washed over her. “Azriel.” Her voice cracked.

He folded her into his arms, trying to soothe whatever worries were troubling her. “You’re okay, my love.”

Elain seemed to melt in his embrace, her tension slowly ebbing away the longer he held her. He gave her whatever time she needed, ignoring the audience they had around them, but it was long enough for another contraction to hit. She cried out, gripping his hand in hers and squeezing tight.

Viviane snapped into action at that. “Azriel, her contractions are about nine minutes apart now. She’s going to have at least two more by the time you reach the hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Elain growled.

That had him pulling back to look down at her. “El, the babies are coming—”

“No. Hospitals.” He could see the wavering in her face. “I—,” she paused, hesitating. “They’re not ready. It’s too early. Too soon. They can’t come out yet…” Her head fell until she was looking at the wetness still sitting on the floor. “I’m not ready,” Elain whispered so quietly, that he almost missed it.

Azriel knew that was nerves speaking. While Kaden made them parents, the idea of giving birth to the twins was the primary source of her fear. The books he read said that many expectant mothers experienced this type of anxiety right around the time they went into labor. If they were going to have any success in her having a smooth birth, Azriel needed to get her to calm down. He glanced at Cassian. “Can you get her a chair?”

His brother grabbed one from the dining room, setting it out for Az to carefully guide Elain into. He knelt in front of her, keeping her hands clasped firmly in his. “Elain, sweetheart,” her dark eyes latched onto his, needing to hear his reassurance. He kept his voice low, wishing they didn’t have to have this conversation in front of their friends and family.

Rhys seemed to sense that and began ushering people out of the room. “Let’s give the couple a few minutes.”

He shot his brother a grateful look before returning his attention to Elain. “Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. I know it’s earlier than we were expecting. But if there is one thing that I am certain of is that you can do this.” He squeezed her hands in comfort. “You are the strongest person I know. You’ve been through so much that once all is said and done, you’re going to look at me and tell me that this was the easy part. I promise you that if anyone can do this, it’s you. And I will be right by your side for every step, holding your hand, giving you ice chips, and bearing whatever you need me to bear to bring our children into the world.”

She sniffed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re sure?”

“Without a doubt, Elain. You can do this.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth, kissing her fingers and letting her absorb whatever confidence she needed. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to have our babies, love?”

Elain huffed a laugh, his words settling the nerves she had. “Yes, let’s go have our babies,” she breathed, her grin taking over her entire face, lasting all of thirty seconds before a look of panic took root once more. “Az, the birthing bag is still at the house.”

He let out an undignified snort. “Do you think after having that contraction in front of me this morning, I’d leave the house without having absolutely everything packed and ready to go? Come on, baby, you know me better than that. It’s all in the back of the car.”

She blinked in surprise. “The birthing bag and my pillow?”

“In the car,” he confirmed.

“Kaden’s overnight bag?”

“In the car.”

“The car seats for the twins?”

He scoffed. “You know I installed those weeks ago, try again.”

Her lips quired up at the corner. “What about the slippers I was wearing this morning?” she asked, thinking she had him.

Az rolled his eyes in playful exasperation. “I grabbed them when I snagged the birthing bag.” He kissed her hands again. “I’ve got you, love.”

And then she was leaning forward, kissing him with so much love and devotion, he felt it down to the soul she brought back to life. The sound of their family’s cheers forced them apart, a pretty blush dusting the tops of Elain’s cheeks, but she didn’t dare look away from him.

Without looking away from her, Azriel reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and tossed them to Rhys. “Can you grab Kaden’s bag from the trunk? The one with dinosaurs. And then Elain’s purple one as well.”

Elain’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why is he grabbing mine?”

His lips pulled up into a knowing grin, brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned forward to whisper, “I thought you might like to change your underwear and put on a maternity pad for the ride to the hospital.”

Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, but she nodded in agreement.

A little body shuffled closer. “Momma?” Kaden murmured, looking so very worried over the state of his mother.

She held her arms out, motioning him forward. “C’mere sweetheart.” Elain tucked him into her chest, kissing the top of his head. “You’re going to stay here with Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys while Daddy and I go to the hospital to have your brother and sister.”

He looked up at her with those puppy-dog eyes and damn, the kid knew how to work them. “But I want to go with you!” His lower lip quivered and Azriel could tell he was on the verge of tears.

But his wife took it in stride, cupping his little face in her palms and swiping her thumbs across his cheeks. “I know, sweetheart. I know you do. But you’ll have a much better time here with your aunt and uncle. Momma’s not going to be fun to be around until your siblings are here.” She kissed his plump cheek. “But I promise that you will be the first to see us once they arrive. Okay?”

Feyre stepped forward, reaching out a hand for their son. “Come on, Kaden. We’ll have lots of fun eating all the desserts left over.” She shot them a wink when he finally relented, taking her fingers.

After cleaning her up as best as he could and getting her a maternity pad from her bag, he and Elain were in the car on the way to the hospital. As Viviane predicted, she had two more contractions on the way, grabbing his offered hand and the “oh shit” bar as she groaned her way through it. And then promptly went into a third one right as they arrived.

Az timed them out, still sitting about nine minutes apart. “Breathe, baby. Good, love. Just like that.” His thumb grazed the back of her hand. Her grip was tight, on the verge of painful, but he didn’t dare let his face flinch or show an ounce of discomfort. She needed his strength and that’s exactly what he was going to give her.

They were immediately escorted to their private room and Elain’s vitals were checked over. She was sitting at only two centimeters dilated, which meant they were looking at being there for a bit.

Between her contractions, he swapped out his clothes for a fitted black t-shirt and grey sweatpants to get more comfortable and then sent a text to their siblings to notify them that they were in and settled, but it would be a while before they would have any progress.

“Can you check in with Kaden?” Elain asked, taking a scoop of ice chips from her cup.

The corner of his lips curled up at the question. “I already did. Feyre said he wouldn’t leave the front window for a while and had to persuade him with his baby cousin and a lot of sweet treats.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “He’s going to have a mouth full of cavities before we get home.” Elain twisted to look at him. “Do you think we made the right decision by not letting him come with us? It sounds like he’s waiting for us to return. I know that some families let their little ones be present for the birth of their siblings and we discussed it—”

He interrupted her train of thought. “I think we made the right call, love. We’re going to be here for a while and we both know that things can upset him. I don’t know how well he’d handle watching you go through that.”

She nodded but didn’t look very convinced.

Azriel reached for her hand, covering it with his own and squeezing her fingers. “He’s safe and well-cared for. Remember that while we focus on bringing his little brother and sister into the world.” He brushed his lips over her knuckles in a sweet kiss.

Elain smiled softly at him. “Okay.”

And so, they waited.

Per his wife’s birthing plan, she wanted to attempt to go natural. Azriel admired her strength and resilience in doing so. But after over sixteen hours of hard labor, he could see her resolve fading.

He stroked her cheek, fingers brushing hair behind her ear. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Dark circles already lined the underneath part of her eyes. She looked so weary. “I’m so tired, Az.” Her voice came out nearly broken and fuck if that didn’t just rip his beating heart from his chest.

Kissing her forehead, he murmured, “Do you want to get the epidural? It’ll help you get some much-needed rest before the delivery.” As of now, she was only at seven centimeters and the doctor had said it could still be a while longer until she reached a full ten.

Her chin dipped in confirmation. “Please.”

Azriel didn’t waste time calling for the nurse. Within ten minutes, he watched as a grossly large needle was inserted into her back, sending that relief washing over her. He peppered her face with kisses during the procedure, murmuring words of praise and comfort in her ear as she gritted her teeth through it.

Elain spent the next eight hours in a fitful sleep, dosing off and waking up not long after each time. Azriel didn’t bother to try and sleep, not when she wasn’t really getting much at all.

But finally, after just past nine, she was fully dilated and ready to push.

His wife pushed and pushed and pushed for a half hour with nothing to show for it. She was in tears, frustrated, and so exhausted he was practically supporting all her weight having slid an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

“I can’t, I can’t,” she sobbed, half burying her face into his chest.

“You can, love. You’re so strong. Just a little bit more,” he tried to reassure her. It fucking killed him to see her like this.

“Can’t you do it for me?” she pleaded, looking up at him with wild, desperate eyes.

He gripped her cheek in his palm, kissing her temple. “You know I would, El. I would give anything to switch places with you right now. But I know you can do this. Just a few more pushes and then they’ll be here.”

Whatever she read within his words seemed to do the trick, her brows furrowing with a determination he hadn’t seen since they left the house. Elain pushed herself up, trying to get into a kneeling position, and he was right there, sliding behind her and supporting her weight.

The nurses squawked, muttering something about hospital policy, but frankly, he did not give a fuck, snarling, “Her body is telling her to push like this. Listen to your fucking patient.”

Changing the position was exactly what she needed because their son was born within the next two contractions, entering the world with a healthy set of lungs.

They sagged back against the pillows, his face wet with tears as they placed their new baby directly on Elain’s bared chest. He couldn’t stop himself from tipping her head back to kiss her softly on the lips, pausing the savor the moment.

Az traced the pads of his fingers over the curve of their boy’s cheek, just needing to touch him to prove he was here with them. Even covered in fluids, he was so beautiful. The perfect blend of the two of them.

The nurses gave them just a few minutes with the first baby before Doctor Chen said that she needed to start pushing again. She took their boy from Elain’s arms, promising to bring him back for Azriel after he was cleaned up and their daughter was born.

Delivery of their little girl went easier than with their son. But whereas their boy came out crying, their daughter came out silent.

Azriel knew something was wrong just by the silence, but it only grew the anxiety in his stomach when the doctor turned her back on them, taking their little one with her to work on.

“She’s not crying,” Elain breathed, worry clouding her voice.

He could only squeeze her shoulders in comfort, watching as they shoved things into her nose and mouth.

“Suction,” Chen ordered.

“Azriel, why isn’t she crying?”

“She’s going to be okay, love. They’re helping her. She’s okay.” The words passed his lips even as his heart dropped into his stomach when they started doing compressions on her tiny body.

No.

This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t lose her. It would kill him to lose his little girl, but Elain, fuck, he couldn’t even begin to fathom the devastation she would face at this loss. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t pay to fix this or threaten someone to save their baby girl.

So, he did what any father would do.

He prayed.

He prayed to every god, every deity, everything, and anything he could think of to keep his little girl safe and bring her back to them. To take her place if they demanded it. A life for a life. He’d pay it for his child, his family. “Come on,” he murmured. “Come on, baby. Come on.”

Elain curved her face into the side of his chest, howling in a way he’d never heard from her before.

His arms went around her, that dreaded feeling turning his blood cold. The terror he felt of their little one dead before she lived was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But still, he did not stop praying, clutching Elain’s shaking body to his. “Come on, little one. Come on!” he chanted. “Please.”

And then, a rattled cough tore from her tiny body, followed by the sweet, beautiful sound of her cry.

Elain’s wail turned into relieved sobs, as the doctor walked over their bundled little girl and placed her into his wife’s awaiting arms.

“Somebody was just so excited to meet you, she took a breath a little too early, but we cleared out her passages and lungs and she looks good now.”

His wife tucked their daughter into her chest, kissing the top of her head. “Hi sweet girl, Momma’s here,” she whispered, tears still falling down her cheeks. Tears that matched the ones running down his face.

She was here. His baby girl. Fuck, she looked just like him, with dark hair and tanned skin. He hadn’t gotten a look at her eyes yet, but already she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here you go, Mr. Archeron-Knight,” one of the other nurses said, pulling his attention from his wife and daughter as she handed him his son, cleaned up and wrapped in a soft blanket.

The small bundle was gently laid in the crook of his elbow. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever feel the amount of love he did on Kaden’s adoption day, but sitting here with his gorgeous wife, holding their newborn twins, he felt his heart soar in his chest.

Sweaty and fatigued, Elain glanced up at his face, the sweetest, exhausted smile pulling on her lips. “I love you,” she murmured.

He let out a sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a sob. “I love you more.” And then he kissed her, sealing that moment in time with his undying love for her.

~~~~~

Elain woke to the sound of a whimpering cry, swiftly followed by Azriel’s low voice.

“Hey, sweet girl. What’s wrong, huh?” She heard some shuffling as her husband lifted their daughter from the nursery bed. “Momma needs her sleep so we need to be quiet.” He kept his voice low enough to not disturb her—fuck she loved him so much—but she was already awake, rolling over in the hospital bed to face him.

Azriel holding his children was, hands down, the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. How she could even feel the need for him after pushing two babies out of her currently aching and severely injured body was beyond her, but just watching him bounce their fussing daughter made all those desires come roaring to the surface.

Almost as if he could sense her presence, hazel eyes slid to hers. “I’ve got her, love. Go back to sleep.” His voice remained soft as night as if anything louder would disturb her.

She curled up on her side, watching him. “I think we should get used to no sleep now.”

He huffed a laugh, patting Rosalie on her back as she further settled into the crook of his elbow.

Their daughter was almost two pounds smaller than her brother, coming in right at five whereas Ryder was a healthy six pounds, fourteen ounces. The doctor was a little concerned over Rosalie’s lower birth weight, but Elain had managed to get both babies to latch and feed earlier and she ate well, so they were mainly playing it by ear.

Because of her smaller size, Azriel already placed an order for some preemie clothes and sent a photo of her with the twins to their siblings. They asked to give them a day to recuperate before coming to the hospital in the morning. After the scare with Rosalie, both she and Azriel wanted to take some time to spend with the babies. Plus, the medical team was in and out of their room, taking Rosalie for some additional tests just to be sure everything looked good.

It was just after seven that night, and they were settling in for the evening. Tired of hospital food, Azriel ordered hamburgers from DoorDash for them to eat. Elain was starving and it sounded so good that she drooled when she suggested it to him. Both babies had been fed only an hour earlier and she anticipated not having another feeding till late evening or early morning.

Elain grabbed whatever sleep she could, knowing she’d need it when they were released in a couple of days, but she was sure Azriel hadn’t slept a wink since she’d gone into labor.

She pushed herself up, reclining on her pillows. The nurses cleaned her after the delivery and stitched her up from tearing, but Elain couldn’t wait to get home and take a proper shower. “Does she need to be changed?” she asked, nodding to the now-sleeping baby in her husband’s arms.

Azriel shook his head. “No, I think she was just fussing.” His dark hair was still mussed up from when he stripped out of his shirt earlier, taking time for skin-to-skin contact with each of the twins.

Elain had to rein in her laugh at how the nurse blushed as he revealed miles of gloriously tanned, tattooed skin and corded muscle. Her husband was a fine specimen, but he never flaunted it, so seeing another woman react to it was humorous especially since he didn’t even seem to notice her blushing, stammering state.

“You should sleep too, Az,” she said instead.

He looked at her, his lips curving up. It had been doing that a lot since the birth of the twins. The sweetest, smallest smile that crept up the corners of his mouth. Almost as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was utterly adorable and made him look younger. “I’ll rest later. You need it more than me.”

Her shoulders shook in amusement. “You know, we can sleep when they do.”

“I just don’t want to miss a second of them.” His attention returned to his little girl who already had him wrapped around her finger. To be fair, all of their children did. “Fuck, I can’t believe they’re here already. It seems like it was only a month ago you found out you were pregnant.”

“I can’t believe our first anniversary is coming up in just a handful of weeks.”

At that, he laughed. “I guess a trip for our anniversary is out of the question?”

She grinned. “Not unless all our little ones are coming with us.” Because like hell was she going to be able to leave them so soon. Plus with her nursing, it just wouldn’t be ideal.

He seemed to consider her. “We could take the jet to the Summer District. Kaden will be out of school then and we’ll both still be out on leave. Just a thought.”

Gods, he was fucking perfect. “That might be nice.”

A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was going to say. He frowned in confusion, looking at her.

Elain shrugged, sitting up further on her bed. “Come in,” she called out.

She thought it might be a nurse or a doctor, coming to check on her or the twins. What she didn’t expect was for Rhys to peek his head into the room. Surprise lit her features and she glanced at Azriel, who looked equally as bewildered at the sudden visit from their brother.

“Hey,” Rhys said. “I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but somebody really couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see you.” He opened the door slightly, revealing Kaden clutching a teddy bear, eyes puffy and red from crying.

Her heart ached at the distress their son must’ve been in for Rhys to come all the way here. “Hello sweetheart,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Come here, my love.”

He took a small step further into the room, Rhys’s hand guiding him at the backside of his head. Kaden took slow steps as he approached the side of her bed. “Momma, are you sick?”

She reached out to cup his cheek in her palm. “No, baby. I’m not sick. Your brother and sister decided it was time to come out of my tummy.” Her eyes found Azriel’s as he rose from his seat on the couch, moving toward them. “Would you like to meet them?” she asked, returning her gaze to Kaden’s.

His head dipped in confirmation.

Elain pushed herself back even more. “Rhys, can you help him up and then grab me that flat pillow over there.”

He set the boy on the bed between her spread legs, Kaden shuffling backward and bumping into her sensitive lower area.

She hissed out in pain before she could stop herself. A wave of agony washed over her with enough intensity that her stomach curdled with nausea.

Azriel reacted immediately. “Easy, buddy. Momma’s going to be sore for a while and we need to be extra careful with her.”

“I’m okay,” she spoke quickly, not wanting to upset Kaden any more than he already was, and kissed his plump cheek as she breathed through the pain. “Okay, Rhys. Place the pillow over our laps.”

Adjusting his arms in preparation, Azriel gently lowered their daughter until she comfortably rested on the nursing pillow.

“Kaden, this is your sister, Rosalie,” he announced, letting his finger stroke her rounded cheek.

Elain couldn’t see his face directly, but she did catch his eyes widening as he stared down at her, his fingers carefully tracing over her delicate features just as his father did.

“Rosawee,” he said, not quite catching the ending syllable. It would be something they would have to work on. When she kicked a leg within her swaddle, he pulled his hand back, startled.

She laughed, feeling the bed dip as Azriel sat down next to them, bringing over their son. “And this is your brother, Ryder.”

He reached out to trace the outline of his brows, the touch gentle and exploratory. “I’m a brother?” he asked, turning his head to look up at her.

“That’s right sweetheart. You’re their big brother, and they’re going to love you so much,” she told him, kissing the top of his head.

Elain took in her family, her incredible husband, and three beautiful children. It sounded so wild to even think about. She was a wife and a mother. Thinking back, she remembered the day that had changed the trajectory of her life forever. The bank robbery a few years back. It was crazy to think how such a terrifying moment altered her life in the best of ways. It brought her back to the love of her life.

It put her on this very path.

She’d face every one of the moments since then tenfold as long as it brought her to this point in time, sitting here with her gorgeous little family.

“Perfect.”

She looked up at Rhys, catching him with his phone out.

“Your first family photo.”

Her lips turned up and silver lined her eyes. “Thank you, Rhys.”

He waved her off. “Do you want me to take Kaden back with me?”

“No,” Azriel said, ruffling his eldest son’s hair. “He can stay here with us tonight. Can you put his booster seat in our car? The keys are in my bag.”

“You got it.” He grabbed the keys but paused on the threshold. “And congratulations you guys. Rosalie and Ryder are beautiful.”

Azriel leaned further into her side, kissing her temple. “Thank you, brother.” Once alone, he turned her head toward his, bringing her mouth to his for a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you so damn much, Elain.”

His smile was infectious, making her lips turn up at the corners. “Thank you, Azriel, for giving me this life—these babies. You have made me the happiest I could ever imagine. I love you.”

“Momma! She’s got my finger,” Kaden’s giggle interrupted their moment.

They laughed, looking at their three beautiful children.

Elain knew that this perfect moment was just the very beginning of the rest of their lives.

~~~~~

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 16 hours

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Hello. I’m an English reader of One Piece, and confidently know *nothing* about the Japanese language (atleast how to read it). I own all 4 box sets that are currently officially available in English. I was wondering, considering your expertise, is the VIZ translation good (in terms of how reliable it is in accuracy)? Does it convey what it needs to? If not, do you think any scans you’ve read are better compared to the official? Curious what you think as a translator. Thanks!

i think that these days the viz translation is basically fine. it conveys what it needs to. often there's little quibbles i have with it, like little differences in how i might personally have phrased things, but i certainly don't think i could do better at translating whole chapters of manga on a week-to-week basis.

my new chapter reading process now that i'm properly caught up again starts with reading the raws in japanese, and then i skim both the unofficial scans from tcb and the official release from viz when they each come out to see what choices they made. doing this, i do see more mistakes in the unofficial scans than in the official viz translation. and that makes sense! the people who do the official viz translation are professionals who are being paid for their work and they have more time to do it.

like, just for one low-stakes recent example i noticed, in chapter 1112, the unofficial scans (left) messed up this panel by attributing both of the lines on the left to vegapunk, when in fact the second one should be spoken by pythagoras (something made clear in japanese by his distinctively polite speech pattern), a mistake which was corrected in the official (right).

and i'm not saying this to insult the scanlators, by any means! it's something i've wanted to get into myself, and they provide a really cool and valuable service largely for free as volunteers. i love scanlators. but if you are wanting the most accurate experience of the current manga as an english-speaker, the official is probably still your best bet.

however, from what i've seen (bearing in mind that my actual experience with the official translation is pretty limited, i mostly only look at it when people ask me questions or i have a specific curiosity) i do think the official translation has a lot more problems in the older arcs, roughly from east blue through, like, skypiea?

i've seen or been asked about a pretty substantial number of mistranslated lines and questionable choices from that stretch of the manga. for just one example, there's this one from drum i posted about a couple months ago, where a line that's quite thematically important to the series as a whole got cut up because of the translation's former unwillingness to use the word 'god' (also very visible and annoying in skypiea).

the anime for those arcs does use, from what i've seen, a better translation than the official manga. however, i personally don't know of any better manga retranslations of the early arcs (it's something i've actually considered trying to attempt myself, if i ever have the time for a project of that scale). if any of you have any to recommend, please let me know!

#jonny answers #one piece #not japanese #long post #arc: egghead island #ch 1112

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slippinmickeys · 2 days

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This is for @medicatedmaniac who asked for a Ficlet set in the Proof of Life Universe: “Proof of Life my beloved - maybe the leadup to the Pulitzer prize being awarded? Maybe the night of and their in their hotel room getting ready to go to the ceremony? Or they get a letter about being nominated in the mail and maybe have mixed feelings on the nomination?”

1. She gets caught as she stands on the threshold of the hotel room, déjà vu suddenly overlaying her vision like a slide into a projector. The window is in the same place. The desk. The carpet is the same, though cleaner. If she closed her eyes she would hear a spat of gunfire. She does not close her eyes.

“Scully?” says Mulder from behind her with a gentle hand on her upper back.

She has stayed in hotel rooms since being held hostage in Africa, but this one…this one has a layout so similar to the one in which she was held that her amygdala takes over her higher functions. For a moment. One moment. Then she swallows and forces herself to breathe again. Forces herself to calm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mulder whispers. He has come up more closely behind her, is looking over her shoulder into the room.

He is the only other person in the world who would get it, and does.

In a moment, the bags he was holding hit the floor and he brushes past her, marches into the room with purpose, directly to the desk, where he picks up the telephone receiver.

“I’m getting us a different room,” he says.

Scully swallows thickly and finally does close her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. She does not hear gunfire. They are an ocean away from that place.

“Wait,” she says, then moves into the room herself. Stands in the center and takes a slow turn. Mulder, still standing at the desk, still holding the phone receiver in his hand, watches her.

She turns to him calmly, and, she thinks, with dignity.

“Before you call,” she says, “take my picture.”

“Take your-”

“Take my picture,” she says. “In front of the window.”

Mulder slowly lowers the phone. Glances at her. Glances at the window. She doesn’t have to explain what she means. He understands immediately.

“A journey of a thousand days,” he husks.

Scully nods. “The light,” she goes on, “is perfect.”

2. Africa again, but far east of the jungle mountains and lowlands besieged by war, they are now in the shadows of Kilimanjaro, the savannah stretching before them as paper unfurls from a scroll.

Scully is here for six months, the resident doctor in a rural hospital built and supplied by a Canadian charity. She treats diseases long dead in the First World west, urges the women to collect water from the new well six miles away rather than the river that is only two.

She has a local guide and contact who works for the charity, a lanky Maasai man who goes by the Christian name of James. He wears ropes of delicate and colorful beads and a lion's tooth on a cord around his neck. Under his red tunic he wears a white Hanes wifebeater and sandals made of old tires. He is missing a tooth on the side of his smile, which he is also always wearing.

“Good morning, Doctor,” he says in his friendly accent when she emerges from the clinic door to see if there is anyone waiting for treatment.

“Jambo!” Scully says at a volume and enthusiasm which makes her uncomfortable. She would rather a quiet hello and nod, but the culture she is living in necessitates jovial greetings at all times.

James is leaning against a post just beyond clinic porch and holding a spear which means he was likely out in the bush.

“Have you seen Mulder?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says. “He got a call. He asked me to come and get you.”

At this, Scully raises her eyes. Cell phone reception is spotty here at best. She hasn’t bothered to carry her phone with her in weeks. Mulder always has his out in the field, but the clinic is in a dead zone and there’s really no point.

James pulls his own cell phone out of a pouch that’s looped around his waist. He presses a button and hands it to her.

“Scully?” says a tinny voice punctuated by static. She puts the phone to her ear.

“Mulder?”

“Scully,” Mulder says. “Call Benjamin and Savato, tell them we have to leave early.” He explains his statement in a rush and Scully is dumbfounded when she silently hands the phone back to James.

He nods at her and steps back respectfully. When she’s halfway through the door of the clinic, she comes back to herself and spins around.

“James!” She calls out. “How does your phone work here?”

James smiles widely, showing the gap in his mouth.

“Magic,” he says.

3. The day is sullen; gray and without cheer. Outside the window, the rain comes down in a defenestrating assault.

In the bright doorway of the bathroom — they have a top floor suite — Mulder stands, struggling with the knot of a bow tie.

“Monkey suit,” he says, a little whiny.

Scully smiles and walks up to him, the silk sheath dress she’s wearing whispering as she moves. She’s not wearing heels yet and has to tilt her head back to look up at him.

“It’s only for an evening,” she says, reaching up and taking over the knotting. “And if the big mucks at Columbia hear you complaining, they might take back your award.”

Mulder lifts his chin to give her more room to work. After a moment she feels his warm hands settle on her waist.

“There,” she says, straightening his bow tie. His hands stay where they are.

“Does it feel weird?” He asks her quietly. “To be here? For this?”

She pulls a stray hair — hers — from his white sleeve.

“A little,” she says.

4. “…for fairly obvious reasons, the areas of arts of scholarly arenas live close to my heart and lived experience. Over these two decades, so much has changed in our world. And we all know those changes have had huge impacts on journalism, the arts and scholarship. But three things have remained true. One, is that we value these roles of journalism, the arts and scholarship, and that has remained central to a good life. Personally, socially and politically. The second is that good and talented people continue to join these professions. And the third is that the Pulitzer Prizes annually provide the world with the occasion like tonight, to honor and celebrate these critically important areas of human endeavor, and the people who perform at the highest levels in them…”

The speaker continues to drone on. Scully pushes the remainder of her short rib around on her plate. Mulder has barely touched his fish.

The picture of Scully standing in the window of room 1055 at the Hilton has been projected on a giant screen behind the podium for the last several minutes, and Scully can feel the eyes of the gathered assemblage flitting to her on a near constant basis.

They’re probably thinking of her trauma, of her experience, and they have most certainly read the stories that were breathlessly published about her and Mulder. Most of them have seen up close and personal the ravages of war and upheaval. There are several journalists she knows here, acquaintances she left behind when she resigned from CNN. Most of them approached before the ceremony and politely inquired about her, her health, what she was up to now. Many with a sad, pitying look on their faces.

She sets down her fork and turns the wedding ring around in circles on her finger. She doesn’t feel pity when she looks at that picture. The look on that woman’s face displays nothing but courage, and the eye behind the camera nothing but love.

When Mulder heads up to the stage a moment later to be handed the certificate he won, the applause that spreads through the room is thunderous. His eyes never once leave hers.

5. The lobby of the auditorium is thick with people and humidity, joyous voices rising up over the static of tires sloshing over rainy streets just beyond the front doors. They’ve been back in the States for a week, but Scully still isn’t used to the crowds. The noise.

From behind her, Mulder touches the bare skin of her shoulder. He’s just returned from the coat check and holds up the red wool coat she’d had to buy at Nordstrom two days before. She puts her arms through the silken sleeves.

All around them winners and colleagues and friends are making plans to go out and celebrate their accomplishments. One man in a charcoal suit has a bottle of Veuve in his hand that he swiped off of one of the tables. Several people have invited them to join them.

Mulder tips his head to whisper in her ear.

“We can slip out right now when no one’s looking,” he says.

She doesn’t even wait to answer, using her small stature to slip in between several people and out into the cold damp.

They’ve been provided a town car and driver for the evening, but it’s too hard to find him in the chaos outside the auditorium, so they hail a cab instead. Once they’re on their way back to their hotel, Mulder pulls the certificate out from under his coat where it was sheltered from the rain and looks at it.

“I’m starving,” he says to the piece of paper.

“You barely ate,” Scully points out.

“I was nervous,” he explains.

Scully takes the certificate gently from his hands and looks at it. The gold foil. The calligraphy.

“If we call in a room service order now, it should be to our room by the time we get out of the shower,” she says.

“God I love you,” Mulder says reverently.

They gorge themsevles on cheeseburgers and truffle fries, and, on a whim, a bottle of champagne (Mumm’s rather than Veuve, as, Mulder points out, he isn’t about to spend his prize money on booze) as they sit around in fluffy white robes with HBO on mute on the big TV in the corner.

On the desktop, under their room key, sits the Pulitzer certificate.

“That’s as much yours as it is mine,” Mulder finally says to her, nodding towards it.

“Yes,” she agrees, and sets a half full glass of bubbles on the bedside table. She reaches for the terry cloth tie of his robe.

Later, it’s all soft sighs on soft sheets and Mulder fills her with himself until they become each other.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #prompt #proof of life

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dairy-farmer · 2 days

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Okay but consider? Has Tim ever seen Ra's post-Critical Injury Lazurus Dip? Like not "oooh, I am back to my sexy Dilf-y glory~" but FULL ON "I have been Hard Reset back to the Prime Of My Life(tm), which statistically is early 20s, and am now a Young and Hot prowling bad boy. With no Grey in my hair and a SLIGHLTY higher voice, meaning while I sound familiar, you can't instantly place it like you usually could."

THAT sort of Hard Reset.

Bet he hasn't.

Bet he'd have an even HARDER time recognizing Ra's in a Masquerade mask. If Ra's had a smooth, freshly shaven, face. I mean... it's not like Ra's an assassin cult leader or anything. Him? Knowing how to DISGUISE himself? When in his centuries of life would he have had time to learn THAT?

So there Ra's is. Looking rich, dangerous, and slutty. As one does. Tight black pants, loose poet shirt, gold and gems dripping like honey down his skin. The very PICTURE of a WEALTHY young trouble maker. Blending in with all these wealthy fools, up too no good, some of them far more then others.

That's why the Bats are here.

For Intel.

But of COURSE, Brucie Wayne has aged out of this sort of scene. Tut tut. And his waste of a grandson is just a touch too young. A shame. So it's the Detective and a few others, leading the charge. But... ah, SUCH a big building! And can the Wayne's afford to be seen at such a disreputable event?

Of course not.

So they're in disguise. Layers upon layers, Detective. Masks upon masks. Delightful~

Ra's gets to watch Tim work the room. Prowl in magnificent heels. Dodge covetous hands so casually it seems by accident. Extract information people have DIED to protect. Blonde, tonight. He looks better with hair like the night.

Ra's smiles like a wolf.

And begins to hunt his prey though a sea of masks.

Which is how Tim meets a VERY rougish, tall, and delightfully muscled heir too...something. It's kinda obvious, given all the jewelry. Swordsmen too, from what he can feel of those INTERESTING and calloused hands. Tim knows he should focus... but...

Mystery Hot Guy is REALLY forward. Clearly in to him. And it's not like he's gotta marry the guy.

Did he mention the DELIGHTFUL rumble? His voice has a low rumbling quality to it, when he leans in close so he can be heard over the music. His hands are hot and gripping in that "just a bit too tight but not TOO too tight" sorta way? So yeah... he's gonna... uuuuh, go... "question so informants" real quick. Get back to you guys later!

Don't wait up!

And Ra's? Knows the chance of this working more then once is close to zero. So it has to be LEGENDARY. Life changing. Dick so good it ruins the Detective's LIFE. He's got to make sure the next time they meet, the Detective wants to kill him AND fuck him in equal measure.

After all, the Bats have a "no kill rule". Oh dear, Detective. Really only leaves you one option, then, doesn't it?

So Ra's goes to absolute TOWN on Tim. Sinks down to his knees and eats him out til his legs won't hold him. Carries him to the bed to the guestroom they're about to absolutely DEFILE, too use far too clever fingers, to stoke that burning NEED back up. Too stretch and tease, as his mouth worships that chest. That neck. That clever, clever mouth.

Runs his free hand along magnificent skin, wishes he could grip hair like the finest ink as he savors Timothy's mouth. It all feels decadent. Ra's is patient. Aaaand, there, Tim rocking against his hand has turned for lazy pleasure (savoring the glow of a good orgasm) to demanding.

His hands, his kisses, are growing hungrier. Commanding Ra's to give him what he needs. Spoil him like a pampered little prince. Either worship and adore him, or he will find someone else who SHALL. How can Ra's refuse? He'd be a fool too.

A fool not to suck and bite branding little marks upon that magnificent skin. A fool not to hike up those powerful hips a grind and tease with his length, until Timothy's sharp little nails dig into his flesh in warning. A gods forsaken incompetent, to NOT sink into that magnificent heat, pressed so close he can hear that breath taking little gasp of pleasure, as the thickness of himself presses wider and deeper then any BOY the Detective as ever taken.

Ra's AL Ghul is no fool.

But he IS a VERY giving lover.

Especially when he has something to gain from it. And oh, how it is a struggle not show the victory on his face. It would not do, to give the game away at the last moment. He knows better. So he moves his hips just so. Rolling at just the right angle. To grind with in as he thrusts, to grind against as he moves, his body angled just right to tease the Detective's clit.

Strong, calloused hands teasing what feels like EVERYWHERE. That deep rumbling voice monologing a god damned speech on how good Tim's body feels, how perfect he is, how sexy. That cock hitting everything over an over in a way marksmen would WEEP with jealousy at. Tim is pretty sure his brain is melting. Hook up too good, fuck why he came here actually. The others can handle it.

Will he later admit he fucked up? Probably. But that's when he gets the ability to reason again. Right NOW all he can think is a series of frantic porno noises and variations of the word "More". Turns out fumbling around with your teammates is NOT actually a good frame of reference for "what is Sex and how good does it feel?".

Tim doesn't even notice, two position changes and several orgasms later, when he loses his wig. His face is buried in Mystery Hook Up's shoulder, drooling and clinging, as he's worked up and down that mind melting cock like a toy. All that HE registers is that it feels nice to have that stuffy thing off and fingers running through his hair.

His family, though? Freaking out. Tim left with an "informant" (their ASS) and never showed back up. They've all HAD the traumatizing Honeypot Talk from Bruce. They KNOW Femme Fatales are a thing. Homme Fatales are a thing! Did someone send a sexy assassin after Tim!?

Soooooorta.

Dick, powered by the sheer force of Brotherly Murder-Panic and 👌close to showing the world why he and FUCKING DEATHSTROKE have a weird decade long "Thing(tm)" going, kicks down the door to waaaay too many random hook ups... until he eventually find the RIGHT hook up.

Where Timmy ain't got no bones. He be truely, magnificently, well fucked and boneless. A cooked noodle. Orgasm machine ran dry and he can see the shrimp color, Captain. He's cuddling a sex god and actively plotting to tattoo his phone number somewhere on this guy's body. Who CARES where he lives. Tim will MAKE it work. How you feel about breakfast?

Ra's is the exact flavour of Lounging Smug Bastard you imagine.

It's not even smirking "pleased with himself" territory anymore. It's full on "if a tiger were turned into a human, got revenge on the bastard who did it, and was lounging around feeling pleased with itself covered in blood" grinning. Because NOW, he has won.

Dick is, of course, going to break every bone in this Mystery Bastard's body. Jason. Hold him.

Which... just as Tim is about to throw a lamp in defense of his new Sex... something, Robin kicks the window open because "fuck it, I'm helping. Timothy may be an idiot. But he's OUR idiot and you've clearly seduced him with some sort of evil demonic sex magic, you fiend, time to fight." Etc etc.

Only then Hot Hook Up takes of his mask.

He.... He looks a LOT like Damian. A concerning amount. Like... if you were to say, take away the Wayne traits, he'd be almost identical.

Tim is ALSO not a fool.

That grin is very familiar. Those EYES are a shade he knows INCREDIBLY damn well. And oh sweet fuck on a stick he boned Ra's AL Ghul.

And it was amazing.

DAMN IT!!!

Does Tim absolutely HATE that Ra's was right? That Tim SHOULD consider sleeping with him? Yes. Is Tim going to do it again? According to the flashcard forcefully handed to him by his Father, ahem, "No. We do not sleep with Supervillians. We have self control." So... noooooooo, of course not. He would NEVER. Don't be absurd.

(Yes.)

-🐼🐼🐼

tim knows he shouldnt but also knows bruce has no moral highground to say 'dont sleep with supervillains 😭

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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shadowsandsunset · 2 days

Text

The BuckTommy OF!Buck fic (with eventual BuckTommyEddie)

PART ONE (You Are Here)

PART TWO

PART THREE (Coming Soon)

notes: Come and get your smut, babes. Read at your own risk. 18+

This chapter is 1250-ish words of Tommy's POV. Again, just smut. I've lost control of my brain again.

From this post here. @tiltingheartand I figured you might be interested :)

Tommy doesn't understand how Evan, his boyfriend, affords his frankly ridiculously nice loft apartment. He doesn't really care, he likes spending time with Evan any where, any time, but it lingers at the back of his mind.

He knows Evan, knows he's not doing anything criminal, he's too sweet, too caring. He is very smart though, so maybe it's crypto? Maybe he made some smart investments? Maybe an inheritance or a small lottery windfall?

He knows he shouldn't worry about it, it's not his business, they're not married, they don't live together, it's really none of his concern.

But...the loft is quite nice. All exposed brick and open floor plan goodness. So he wonders.

They've been together now for a few months (3 months, 2 weeks and 4 days, officially) and he knows he loves Evan. He knows Evan loves him. Evan is, despite the hilarious rocky start to their relationship (Ally? Seriously Evan?), a perfect boyfriend.

Which is why one sunny Sunday afternoon he stops by Evans apartment to surprise him. They didn't make plans because Tommy was on call, but he never got called in.

He lets himself in with the key Evan gave him (for emergencies of all kinds... including sex emergencies, which Evan made sure to point out) and is surprised to hear the bass-y thump of some sort of music.

"Baby? You around?"

No answer. Hmm. The music is coming from the bedroom so he heads for the stairs.

He's even more surprised when he gets to the top and sees Evan, blindfolded and jerking off in the middle of the bed. He's changed the sheets, a dark navy blue set that Tommy hasn't seen before, but what really stops Tommy in his tracks is the camera.

Pointed directly at the bed, capturing Evan in flagrante delicto, is a digital camera.

Tommy is stunned, speechless and practically drooling, as he watches Evan's hand stroke his cock, the sound of it wet and dirty. He feels the rush of blood to his dick, the tugging of his boxer briefs as he gets hard.

Well. Isn't this something?

He watches as Evan comes, beautifully and copiously over his hand, the sighing moan of his orgasm making Tommy's dick twitch. He adjusts his dick so it's more comfortable then crosses his arms and leans against the wall to wait.

Evan comes down, sweaty and breathless, and takes off his blindfold. Then he notices Tommy and lets out a panicked shout as he flails around, trying to sit up.

"What are you doing here?"

Tommy grins, all teeth and smarm, "Thought I would surprise you, but I have to say that I'm the one surprised, baby".

Evan groans and covers his face with the hand that isn't dripping cum. He mumbles something behind his hand.

"What?"

"I said: 'I can explain.'".

Tommy motions for Evan to continue, he's invested but not impatient.

"Do you know what OnlyFans is?"

Tommy feels his mind go a bit static-y, all electric and gooey. His boyfriend is a cam boy? He's certainly beautiful, he's definitely horny, and it would explain the loft...

"You're on OnlyFans?" Tommy chokes out, blood is no longer in his brain but his cock could hammer nails.

"It started a few years ago...I was seeing this girl and she introduced me to it. I thought it was hot, you know? That all these people liked looking at her enough to pay for it. She helped me get started and well... I liked it. I like knowing that people think I'm hot. The money is good too, I'm not like a top creator or anything, but I do alright."

Tommy just stares at Evan for a second then, with Evan's full attention on him, he reaches down and strokes his dick over his pants.

"Evan, baby, you are gorgeous and I am absolutely your number one fan, so I get it. Tell me what you do on camera."

Tommy unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants down to his thighs, stroking his dick and staring at the love of his life, who is too breathtakingly, heartbreakingly, sexy.

Evan takes a deep breath, and then releases it, eyes not leaving Tommy's cock.

"Mostly I just jerk off. Different poses, different things I say depending on if I've had requests. When I started seeing you I started getting more adventurous...fingering myself on camera, that was popular."

Tommy doesn't react except to lightly squeeze on the downstroke.

Evan continues, "You like that? Like that I opened myself up and people watched..."

Tommy moans, "You're so hot, Evan. They all get to look but I get to touch. Fuck."

Evan stops for a second to think.

"Would you want to make a video with me?"

Tommy stops his hand, "Absolutely."

Evan motions Tommy to get on the bed and then goes to the camera and angles it so Tommy's face isn't in view. Then he presses record.

Evan crawls up the bed, facing Tommy and with his back to the camera. He grabs a condom and rolls it on Tommy's dick.

Evan, loose and open from his own exploration earlier, throws his leg over Tommy's and positions himself.

"You ready, baby?"

Tommy doesn't respond except to nod and grab his dick to position it at Evan's hole.

Evan sinks down and moans, Tommy is a big guy, and he's big everywhere. Tommy knows what he's packing and god does Evan take him so well. Evan is tight and warm and Tommy feels his eyes roll back in his head.

"Yeah, just like that Tommy. Oh my god."

Tommy grabs Evan's hips and starts moving, holding Evan still with ease. Evan is so pretty it drives Tommy crazy, he kisses him as he moves inside of him, pretty and perfect and adorable.

Tommy has to admit that the thought of strangers seeing this turns him on. It's fucking hot, his boy on full display as he rides Tommy's dick.

Tommy has been turned on for so long but he's not going to come until Evan does, he's a gentleman.

He takes on hand off Evan's hips and reaches for Evan's dick, as pretty and hard as diamonds.

He strokes Evan as he lifts his hips, the slick sounds of lips and fucking filling the room. He hopes the microphone is good enough to capture the beautiful sounds Evan's making.

Evan whimpers as he comes, spilling across Tommy's hand and belly.

Ignoring the mess, Tommy puts his hand back on Evan's hip and goes for gold, nearly lifting Evan as he thrusts.

It's only a minute more before he comes, spilling into the condom and growling his pleasure into the side of Evan's neck.

After a moment, he gently helps Evan off and to the side to lay down. Evan is tactile and cuddling with him is one of Tommy's favorite things. Evan lays his head on Tommy's shoulder and laughs, softly.

"So what do you think?"

Tommy thinks for a second, "That's going to be your most viewed video, baby."

LATER

Tommy had viewed the edited video before Evan posted it, and he knew it was a knockout, a winner. Evan had let him know that Tommy had been right, the video was a success. His most popular video on the site.

They hadn't discussed making more yet, but if Evan asked then Tommy was going to say yes. His boyfriend could probably ask him to hide a body and he'd say yes, but Tommy wasn't thinking about how bad he had it for the younger man.

#bucktommy #just pure fucking smut #kinkley #tevan #i have no clue what the ship name is #shadow's writing tag #911 abc #fanfic #evan buckley x tommy kinard

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demonwithshades · 3 days

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This is one of my favorite character voice lines in the game for a lot of reasons. (Check Sparkle's voicelines to see)

First of all, it completely proves my theory that Sampo has the potential to be one of the heroes of the story. I have theorized that he is a good guy from the start, but it became more apparent when I looked into his character more and realized he mostly smuggles from rich snobs and big companies (seen with penacony, scamming the rich people that wanted to steal from the museum and dressing up as madam poisson and messing with the silvermane guards), which made me think that he has the mindset of an anti-capitalist character, but I may be reaching a little here, I'll let everyone who sees this post decide on it.

He is by no means a perfectly kind and innocent character, he has his flaws which arguably makes him a better and more loveable character, and I truly love that characters like Sampo, Sparkle, Luocha etc. are introducing more morally grey characters to the honkai star rail universe.

But my main point is that Sampo **has a line he doesnt cross.** And I truly and deeply want to know what that line may be. Maybe it is children, maybe it is the elderly, or maybe he has a soft spot for animals, WHO KNOWS!

I love the idea of Sampo, who will be a Masked Fool from now on, using his abilities to do good and bad at the same time, and showing the trailblazer what he is capable of.

I genuinely hope we get more of him in 2.2 and all the maps coming forward. I want the fandom to appreciate him more and want hoyoverse to truly ascend through the potential his character has!

#sampo koski #hsr sampo #honkai star rail #I am AUTISTIC for sampo #I desperately need to know if he has a soft side #IM SO SOFT FOR THIS GUY BRO #mr cold feet

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saras-almanac · 2 days

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BuckTommyWeekend Day 1: Alternate First Meeting

Title: This seat taken?

Fandom: 911 (ABC)

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Summary: Buck and Tommy meet at a restaurant for the first time. For the prompt: Alternate First Meeting for @bucktommyweek

Notes: There’s so many potential first meetings for these two both within canon and outside of it. I’m behind on writing for this weekend so just went with one that’s a bit quicker, but will probably expand on in the future before posting to AO3. (And/or might do more potential first meetings because there’s so many options and not all of them will lead to them actually being together at that specific moment in time, but it’d be fun…)

Buck sat at the bar, pretending to check his phone while he glanced over at where Josh and his date were sitting. Josh was seemingly having a good time, plus his date was pretty cute, so maybe this would be a win for him. Buck hoped so.

“This seat taken?”

Buck startled and looked over and saw a man—a very attractive man—stood next to him, inclining a hand toward the stool next to him.

Buck shook his head. “N-no. It’s all yours. I mean, if you want it.”

The man smiled and sat down. “Thanks. Just need to wait for my order.”

As he sat down, Buck noticed a logo on the side of this man’s jacket, one that looked incredibly familiar as it was on Buck’s own work clothes.

“Woah. Is that an LAFD jacket? Are you a firefighter?” Buck asked excitedly.

The man smiled. “Yeah. Work at Harbor station now though. Mostly flying planes and helicopters rather than running into any burning buildings.”

“That’s so cool. I’ve always thought being able to fly a plane, like pilot one, would feel like you have super powers,” Buck said. “Does it feel like that?”

“I suppose that’s a good way to look at it,” the man said. “I’m Tommy, by the way.”

“Evan Buckley,” Buck said, reaching out a hand. Tommy shook it, even at the awkward angle since they were sitting so close together. “So when did you learn to fly?”

“A while ago, back when I was in the Army,” Tommy said.

“Have you always been air support for LAFD?” Buck asked.

“No,” Tommy said. “I was on the ground or many years, but just felt like I was missing it. Transferred to Harbor five, six years ago now. I really missed flying so it was a good choice.”

“I bet,” Buck said. “If I could fly, I’d probably never want to be on the ground.”

“Well, I can give you a tour of the place if you’re interested,” Tommy offered kindly. “Show you some of the toys, how things work.”

“That would be awesome,” Buck said. “But I don’t want to trouble you. I mean, you’re just waiting for your food and I’m talking your ear off about work. I-I’m sure the last thing you want to do is talk about your job after just getting off a shift.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” Tommy said. “And I could have always ignored you or told you I didn’t want to talk about work if I wanted.”

“I guess,” Buck said. “I forget sometimes that not everyone likes talking about their job.”

“So then I guess I have to ask, what do you do?”

“Oh, um,” Buck rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m a firefighter.”

“No kidding,” Tommy said with a laugh. “Which station?”

“The 118,” Buck said proudly.

“Now you’re fucking with me,” Tommy said. “I transferred to Harbor from the 118.”

“That’s crazy! So you do you know Cap? Captain Bobby Nash?” Buck asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “He was just getting settled there when I transferred.”

“What about Hen? You’ve got to know Chimney. I think he’s been there since it was built.”

Tommy smiled and his nose crinkled and Buck had never seen anything more adorable in his entire life. “Howie and I go way back, from before he was called Chimney. And Hen, she’s one of the best firefighters I’ve ever worked with.”

“They’re the best,” Buck said. “It’s so crazy that you know them too!”

Buck glanced over at Josh again. He’d be furious with himself if he got distracted by this god-like man sitting next to him when his friend needed him. Still seemed to be going well.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I do have to ask,” Tommy started, “You’re not stalking those men, are you?”

Buck whipped his head over to look at him. “What?”

“It’s just, I saw you watching them when I first got here. And now you’re looking over again. Just checking things are… all right,” Tommy said.

Buck felt himself blush a bit because he was the world’s worst undercover wingman. “Okay so one of those guys is my friend, Josh. He’s had some rough luck dating and he was feeling a bit nervous, so I offered to come and hang out at the bar while he was on his date. Just in case anything happened, he’d have back up or whatever he needed.”

Tommy blinked. “You’re giving up your night to sit alone at the bar just in case your friend’s date turned out to be an asshole?”

“Yeah. I guess,” Buck said.

Tommy smiled at him, shaking his head fondly. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“I’m just helping out a friend,” Buck said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’d do it for anyone.”

Before they could talk any more, a waitress came out with Tommy’s food, stealing his attention. Their chat was less than 10 minutes but Buck felt like he could have spent hours talking with Tommy. He tried not to be annoyed that his food came and he was going to leave—the man had probably just gotten off a shift, probably a twelve or thirty-six hour shift, based on it being night. Tommy deserved to grab his food and then head home to eat and crash.

It didn’t mean that it didn’t suck though. But it’s fine. Buck would go back to checking his phone and keeping an eye out for Josh.

Tommy placed a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Well, it was a delight to bump into you and I enjoyed our conversation. You made the end of a long thirty-six hours speed by as I waited for my food.”

“I’ve been told I do that,” Buck said, completely distracted by the weight of Tommy’s hand on his shoulder.

Tommy laughed like Buck had told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. He removed his hand and smiled. “And I’m serious about giving you a tour if you want.”

“I’d like that,” Buck said. “Um, should I call the station?”

Tommy smiled again and shook his head. “It’ll be easier if you just let me know directly. I can make sure there’s time and be the one to give you the tour.”

Tommy reached down to grab the pen sitting on top of his receipt and then scribbled his number on a napkin. “Take care, Evan.”

Hearing Evan come out of Tommy’s mouth was surprising, but surprising in a good way—in a way that Buck wasn’t going to think much about right now. “Yeah. Yeah. Uh, you too, Tommy. I’ll—I’ll text you.”

“Sounds good.” Tommy grabbed his bag. “Oh, and good luck with the rest of your date.”

With that, Tommy laughed a little and then walked out, leaving Buck sitting there, carefully holding the napkin and wondering exactly what was happening with fate right now. Maybe his luck was turning around.

#i like this idea of this but not sure about the execution #wish i'd have had more time and mental energy to write this earlier than just last night on a whim but it's still cute so there ya go #bucktommyweekend #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 fic #my fic

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wylanslcve · 2 days

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So if you've been following me on Instagram you would have seen me say recently that I've decided to take a step back from posting/sharing/creating Grishaverse content due to what Leigh Bardugo said (or rather what she didn't say) about the situation in Palestine. For context, during the press tour for The Familiar, an audience member asked Leigh about the justification for non-BIPOC authors profiting off BIPOC stories yet not advocating for real-life BIPOC people (since Leigh has been silent on Palestine since October, despite having expressed solidarity with Palestine in the past).

The video (which you can watch here) has been circulating the internet for a while, and I've already spoken about this on Instagram. I just forgot I had Tumblr for a second there, hence why I'm only addressing this now despite having already spoken about this. However, as someone who has an entire online presence dedicated to Leigh's work, it would be wrong and rather hypocritical of me to not address this.

Disclaimer: This is not a conversation about whether or not white/white-passing authors should be allowed to write BIPOC stories, as many people both in the comments of the original video and online generally have taken it. The issue isn't that Leigh is writing BIPOC stories - it's that she's writing them and choosing not to advocate for real BIPOC people.

The audience member asked a confronting but necessary question, and isn't harassing Leigh as many people online have interpreted it. Holding your favourite people accountable isn't "harassment", especially when that person is a successful author profiting off stories that reflect issues in the real world. Art is inherently political whether or not you want to acknowledge it. This also isn't about specifically asking Leigh this question because she's Jewish - it's because she profits off these stories and yet when these exact same issues are prevalent in the real world, suddenly they're "too political" for her to speak up about despite having expressed solidarity in the past. It has nothing to do with her being Jewish.

However, what's going on in Palestine isn't a political issue. It's basic human rights. It's about humanity, and acting as if posting about this issue is "performative" is ridiculous. I don't know what she's doing behind the scenes, so I'm not going to act as if she isn't doing anything outside of social media because I simply don't know, but when you have an online presence as big as Leigh's you should be using that platform to raise awareness and express solidarity. I understand that it's very easy to come across as "performing activism", especially on social media, but Palestinians have asked us time and time again to use our platforms to help raise awareness and amplify their voices. When you're someone like Leigh who profits off stories of the trials and tribulations of BIPOC people, the very least you can do is talk about the atrocities being committed against BIPOC people in real life.

No one is expecting you to be an expert on what's going on. If you've previously posted misinformation, why not learn from it and actually educate yourself and do better? You're literally an author who profits off stories of colonialism, oppression, dissemination, apartheid, segregation and genocide and suddenly that happening in real life is "too political"? And the amount of privilege you have to not want to get involved in talking about a real-life genocide because you "stopped being political on Instagram" is laughable. Just feeling sad about it isn't going to do anything. It doesn't erase the fact that an entire people are being ethnically cleansed in a genocide you refuse to talk about.

The Grishaverse means so much to me, it's gotten me through some extremely tough periods of my life, but I cannot in good conscience continue to support an author who chooses silence over her own humanity. All she had to say in response to that question was "free Palestine", but she instead said something akin to "I know about what's going on and I know silence and feeling sad about it probably isn't enough, but I'm just not going to do anything about it". Again, I know she's advocated for Palestine in the past, but why not continue doing so? No one is stopping her - she's actively chosen to stop.

As for my accounts? I'm still deciding what to do with them. I won't be deleting them, I'm not going anywhere, but I won't be posting edits or sharing analyses or general posts about the Grishaverse until Leigh decides to do better. This blog will probably turn into a multifandom blog, but who knows at this point. All I know is that I won't be promoting Leigh's work.

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xmissrogersx · 1 day

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“Because it’s pink” | Joel Miller

tags: Post-Outbreak. Fluff. Domesticy.

a note from me: yes, again i inspire myself in gilmore girls. Every time i see Lorelai and Luke is like “i need to write this like is in Jackson right now”

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

pris masterlist

-¡Paris! —I woke up with a start and turned my head in shock to see Ellie at the door.

-Hi, hey...

-What are you doing?

-Having a heart attack —I leaned back on my pillow.

-I'm going to be late for the presentation, ¡it's 7:15!

-No, it's 5:45...

-¡Paris, it's 7:15!

-No, Ellie for God's sake, I set the alarm clock to go off... —she took my watch from the bedside table showing me the time.-It's 7:15, I don't understand how it didn't ring, I swear I set it....

-7:16 —she said behind me.

-I had to take some sheets to Maria, I was going to get my clothes ready to go to your presentation and now I have to iron them and...

-7:17...

-You know what, time lady, why don't you go make some coffee and buy some time? —she came down the stairs, while I was trying to find my boots and fix my hair a little.

-Notes, decorating for the stage, looking for music...

-¡7:18! —she shouted from the dining room.

-¡Oh for the love of God! —I finished getting dressed.-It’s the last time i accept something just because it's pink.

Ellie was in the kitchen with what to carry for the recital under her arms. I grabbed my cup of coffee and drank some. I was going to pour it into my little thermos, but it was nowhere to be found.

-Shit, Joel's taking it to work —I remembered, smacking my forehead.-Never mind, I'll ask Maria. Okay, ready? —we ran to the door.

───────────────────────

-It’s done.

Joel along with other Jackson men were finishing building the library.

-Big brother —Tommy exclaimed when he saw him.-I didn't remember you being such an early riser.

-It has to be finished, doesn't it?

-Sure, you must have a very important reason for wanting to finish quickly —laughed the dark-haired man as he saw Joel's familiar scowl.-Really, it's good to see you happy again.

-She loves to read, it's the least I can do.

-Really? From what you showed me you have in your pocket, that's not all you want to do —he smiled, to which the elder Miller sighed.

-What if she really doesn't want to? What if she ends up realizing she missed an opportunity to be with someone her own age?

-Is this the same woman we're talking about? She went up against a bunch of crazies to get you penicillin and save your life. She crossed the country from one end to the other dealing with your sour ass, and yet she looks at you with an adoration I've never seen before.

Joel smiled softly as he remembered how he left this morning and seeing her sleeping peacefully with one of his shirts covering her breasts and torso. He had to restrain himself from waking her up and ripping it off himself.

-What the...?

His brother snapped him out of his trance as he saw the two people who occupied his entire world speeding across the street.

-¡Paris, the violet leaves! —Ellie exclaimed as she watched them slip.

-Shit! —said the blonde to duck, trying to keep the other things she was carrying from slipping.

-She's a little nervous, isn't she?

-Lately a little bit, in the last few days. The other night we were watching a movie and she was a little dizzy, and she said it must have been dinner. I can't stand to see her like that.

-Dizzy? You mean with dizziness and vomiting?

-A little, maybe, why?

Tommy was still shocked that his idiot brother didn't realize what was happening.

-What?

-You need to talk to her, now. Go, I'm still here —he practically pushed him out of there.

───────────────────────

-We're here! I'm really sorry I'm late... —I said, putting my things on the tables.-My alarm didn't go off.

-Everything is under control, since I know you are a perfectionist beforehand and I don't want you to stress yourself, especially at this moment —I stopped in my tracks because of the last thing she said.

-Why did you say that?

Maria turned to me and took my hand.

-Paris, I realized it two weeks ago, but I wanted you to confirm it for me.

I looked at her with tears in my eyes still unable to articulate a single word.

-So, how long exactly?

-I couldn't tell you an exact date...

-Of course, it's true, there's no way you could be in the same room for 5 minutes without jumping on each other —I covered my mouth to contain my astonishment and lightly hit her arm.

-¡Maria!

-Please, girl, next time for the love of the children here, close the blessed bedroom windows.

Our laughter flooded the place, plus my face was about to explode in the full range of red colors. I was thankful Ellie wasn't near us and had heard.

-Darlin'.

-Hi, cowboy —he put his hand on my waist to bring our lips together. Shit, and it had only been 3 hours since we'd seen each other and I was already missing being in his arms.

-Are you okay, don't you feel sick? —he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

-Why do you ask? —I saw how he looked at me with fearful eyes. I took his face and looked into his beautiful brown eyes.-Babe, I'm fine, what's wrong?

-The last few days you've been nauseous, and I know it's not your stomach because we both know you and Ellie have it made of iron, baby.

I sighed, pulling the air out of my lungs, releasing some of the pressure I was feeling, as if I needed to finally say the sentence stuck in my chest.

-I'm pregnant.

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casual-violinist-fangirl · 2 days

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When You're Hurting I'll Fix What I Can - 2,041 Words

A Tech-heavy fic where Omega is sick!

I always struggle writing Tech so please be kind, I've done my best...

This fic is part of my 'Kaminoans are Assholes' collection that can all be found on my masterlist. It's set in a post-Season 1 AU where Crosshair left Kamino with the Bad Batch.

As always, the link to my AO3 is here and the link to my masterlist on tumblr is here. Enjoy!

--------

At first it had just been a sniffle, hardly noticeable to anyone… except Hunter with his heightened senses. He raised an eyebrow as Omega wiped her runny nose on her sleeve, but said nothing of it; if she wanted their help, she’d say something to somebody. All the same, he made a point of keeping an eye on her as she went about her usual day.

As the day wore on, it became clearer that something wasn’t right. Omega’s sniffles and sneezes graduated to a rough cough that rattled through her. Echo had noticed now and handed the girl a tissue when she couldn’t stop sneezing. It had been a quiet day for the batch seeing as they were in hyperspace, and before long everyone was aware of the sniffles and coughs that were plaguing their youngest (oldest?) member.

The day drew to a close and now even Tech (who had been busy with repairing AZI all day) had noticed that the youngest member of their group was unwell. She hadn’t wanted to eat much that evening, choking back half a ration bar at Hunter’s pleas. Now she was sat in the arms of her father figure, drifting between a light sleep and picking at a loose thread on her tunic.

“How’re you feeling, ‘Megs?” Hunter asked as he gently carted his fingers through her hair, only to realise that she was fast asleep. He frowned with concern as he felt how warm her forehead was and glanced up at Crosshair, who also looked mildly concerned (which was a rare facial expression for him).

“She’s probably tired, Hunter,” the youngest of the group stated. ‘She’s been running around like an excitable loth cat for the past two days.”

Admitting that Crosshair was probably right, the sergeant carefully lifted Omega and carried her to her bunk. Tucking her in with Lula and Trooper, he pressed a light kiss to her warm brow before leaving her be and trying to get some rest himself.

——

When Tech woke up for his shift on watch, he had been expecting it to be uneventful. AZI was already in the cockpit waiting for him to continue his repairs… Tech was bound to get more done seeing as his brothers and sister were all asleep.

It wasn’t until he was an hour into his shift, and that was when he heard movement coming from the cabin. Assuming it was one of his siblings going to the fresher, he didn’t think much of it; his suspicions were only confirmed when he heard the sound of the ‘fresher door open.

Only the fresher door didn’t hiss shut again, and the sound of someone retching soon filled his ears. Without thinking, Tech let out of his chair and barrelled through the door into the cabin. Hunter, for once, had not woken up (perhaps a true indicator of how worn out he was after their most recent mission), and Tech could make out the silhouettes of Crosshair and Echo resting on a bunk and a chair respectively. Wrecker could be heard snoring, which meant that it could only be one other person in the ‘fresher.

“Omega?” Tech poked his head around the doorframe, only to be met with a saddening sight. The little girl was hunched over the vac tube, retching as she lost the little she’d eaten earlier.

“Tech?” came a pathetic sounding voice as she paused and caught her breath. “I don’t feel so good.” Piecing together what he had heard and seen throughout the say, Tech wasted no time crouching next to his sister and scanning her. He had a rough idea of what the problem was, but it was best make sure.

Omega whimpered and shivered on the floor as her brother rubbed soothing circles on her back in the same way he’d seen Hunter do before.

“As I suspected,” he muttered to himself as the holo pad bleeped. “Miss Omega, it would appear that you are suffering from a fever, which is what has made you…” he trailed off as she surged forward and vomited once more.

“Please make it stop!” she cried as she sat back once more. Tech nodded and darted out of the ‘fresher only to appear moments later brandishing a medkit, a canteen and a blanket.

Once Omega was wrapped in the blanket and clutching the canteen in her shaking hands, Tech set about sorting through the medkit for something, anything that would be useful. Given that clones were designed with heightened immune systems, medicine for illness was not something the batch had needed, but Tech had made sure to stock up on some of the basics. He guessed that because Omega was genetically unaltered she would not have that same protection they did. That added to the fact that she wouldn’t have been exposed to any germs until leaving Kamino… let’s just say they were lucky she hadn’t been ill yet.

Finally finding what he was looking for, Tech produced a small carton and a bottle containing a very pink looking liquid. Omega eyed them, not sure what to make of it all.

“This is a medicine that will help to bring your fever down and soothe the cough you have,” Tech started, raising the bottle to her. “And this,” he gestured to the carton. “Is a drink that will help to re-hydrate you more sufficiently than water will.”

The little girl nodded, trusting her brother as he measured out a cap of the pink liquid from the bottle and handed it to her. Not stopping to think, she knocked it back like you would a shot, pulling a face at the taste but managing to swallow it. Tech smiled sympathetically but busied himself with shaking the canon and piercing it with a straw. Giving that to his sister as will, he sat back content that with the medicine she would likely feel a lot better in the morning.

… that was until she was sick once more, shuddering as whatever she’d just taken left her system.

When she was done, she slumped against the wall one more. Tech frowned.

“I’ll admit,” he stated as he repositioned his goggles. “That was not quite the reaction I was expecting.” The little girl sat in front of him shuddered and wrapped the blanket further around herself. “No matter,” he continued as he delved back into the medkit. “We can simply administer the medication and fluids through an intravenous drip…”

He had barely finished the sentence when Omega inhaled sharply and started trembling even more.

“No thank you,” she stammered out, shuffling so she was wedged between the vac tube and the wall. Her eyes were wide with fear, but unfocused, the fever having truly taken hold. Tech raised an eyebrow, but simply put it down to a well-known childhood fear of injections plenty of cadets experienced. “There is nothing to be worried about, Miss Omega,” he said. “It is the same medication, and you will feel better with it.”

His reasoning was to no avail as Omega’s bottom lip started trembling as her breathing quickened. “No,” she repeated, sounding more alarmed than before and looking a whole lot smaller. “Please no,” she pleaded with her brother, though Tech wasn’t sure it was him she was seeing in her fever-induced delirium. “I’m sorry I was sick. I’ll be good, but please! No needles.”

Her breathing had quickened to the point that she had started hyperventilating and Tech frowned, concerned. No needles? Why…

Suddenly it all slotted into place. Tech found himself cursing the Kaminoans, but pushed all of that to one side so that he could focus on his little sister. Leaning out of the ‘fresher, he threw a small roll of gauze at Hunter’s face to wake him up; this was not going to be a one-man job.

The gauze had the desired affect because moments later a sleep-deprived Hunter stumbled into the ‘fresher. He had been about to ask Tech what the kriff had possessed him to mess about in the middle of the night when his eyes settled on his brother gently encouraging Omega to take deep breaths. Instead of interrupting he glanced at the scene around them; the room smelt vaguely of vomit, he assumed Omega’s and he spotted various pieces of medical equipment scattered around, including the means to set up an IV.

Putting the pieces together, the sergeant crouched down next to Tech, who shuffled out of the way to make room for Omega’s father figure. He was having a better time soothing the child, and for the first time in a while Tech found himself feeling a little inadequate. He had just wanted to help his little sister. Curse those Kaminoans- of course they wouldn’t just leave Omega alone, they had to experiment on her just as they had done with the rest of the batch.

“I don’t w-want…” came the gasping voice of Omega as Hunter nodded understandingly and smoothed her hair back. She was hot to the touch, a true sign of the affects of the fever. “No tests,” she continued to garble as she hurried her face in Hunter’s neck; a look aof devastated knowing washed over the sergeant’s face.

“No tests,’ he replied in a hushed tone. He glanced up at Tech, who was still trying to look busy and give the pair some space. The pair’s eyes met and the look on his brother’s face told him what he needed to know.

Omega was ill. She needed the drip.

Tech had turned his back, trying to act as invisible as possible when someone saying his name snapped him out of his thoughts and back into reality. Omega was now sat curled up in Hunter’s lap and clinging to his blacks, but her breathing has thankfully evened out to a more calming rate.

“Pardon?” he asked, a little flustered. Hunter rolled his eyes.

“I was just saying,” he started. “That you were only trying to help Omega. That you would never hurt her.”

“I know that really,” the girl in his arms cried, still upset. “I… just really don’t like needles… the Kaminoans would never tell me what they were doing and the stuff they put in me made me sick.”

If Tech hadn’t already been angry, he definitely would have been now. Taking a deep breath, an idea popped into his head.

“Would it help if I told you exactly what I was doing as I’m doing it?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to scare her. After a moments consideration, Omega gave a small nod and Hunter helped her to shift into a more upright position. Tech prepared his equipment, explaining exactly what he was doing at every step of the way. Omega had teared up and buried her face into Hunter’s chest as the drip was set up, the older clone whispering soothing words into her hair.

“All done!” Tech declared as he tied off a small bandage that would stop the line from catching on anything. Omega removed her face from where it had been hiding and wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight of her arm. “You did well, Miss Omega,” Tech continued as he packed his equipment away. “All that’s left for you to do now is rest. You will feel better soon.” He stood and moved out of the ‘fresher, giving Hunter the space to carry the little girl out. He placed her on his bunk and disappeared to retrieve Lula and Trooper from the gunners’ mount. Tech was about to retreat back to the cockpit when a pair of small arms wrapped around his waist.

“Thank you,” Omega mumbled as she drew back from the hug and settled on Hunter’s bunk once more. All Tech could do was smile and nod as he tried to summon the right thing to say.

“Any time, vod’ika,” he eventually replied with a final nod before he disappeared into the cockpit. He gazed into hyperspace as his shift wore on, thanking his lucky stars (not that he believed in luck) that they had managed to get to Omega when they did. They couldn’t scare away all of her demons, but they sure as hell would try their best to do so.

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