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mellowswriting · 3 years

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pairing || Marcus Pike x fem!Reader

summary || Welcome home, Baby Pike! Sneak peeks of Marcus Pike being the best father and husband in the world.

words || 3,985

warnings || pregnancy and labor (no graphic detail), allusions to sex, BABY DADDY MARCUS PIKE Y’ALL, a somewhat physical altercation (Between Marcus and a stranger), fluff, mentions of breastfeeding, referenced breeding kink

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You never expect your life to change on a Tuesday at two o’clock in the afternoon. In fact, you expected it to change three days prior on your due date, but Baby Pike decided that they wanted to make their entrance into the world a total surprise to everyone. After a morning full of what you thought were Braxton Hicks contractions, your water broke right in the middle of the living room. A small surprised yelp came from you, one that had Marcus scrambling from the kitchen to your side in an instant.

“Honey, what is it? Are you okay?” He asked, his eyebrows pinched together in worry.

“Yeah.” You said breathily, chuckling slightly. “Yeah, my water just broke.”

“What?” Marcus whispered and you watched as the realization broke across his face. He immediately held you at your forearms and eased you back to sit on the couch, a smile slowly growing on his face as he knelt in front of you. “Okay.”

“Oh my god, Marcus.” You stared at him, eyes wide, hands rubbing your belly almost absentmindedly. “Marcus, we’re having a baby.”

“Holy shit, we’re having a baby!” Marcus cried out excitedly and you couldn’t help but pull him forward to give him a kiss, one he eagerly reciprocated before pulling back suddenly. “I have to call Dr. Weston!”

At first, you had been pretty worried about how Marcus was going to handle your labor - the man could barely handle it when you had a headache, for god’s sake. But to your surprise, he shouldered the role of birthing partner with a calm demeanor. Firm and steadfast, Marcus let you drape your arms over his shoulders to support yourself through some particularly rough contractions, his voice low and reassuring as he met each of your fears with steady encouragement.

It really shouldn’t have surprised you, in hindsight.

Marcus practically ran after Dr. Weston to scrub up with her, intent on helping catch his little one ever since she brought it up and you confirmed that it was okay over and over; he never wanted to overstep, especially during such a serious, life-changing moment. His excitement was a beacon through your pain and exhaustion and frustration.

The last few pushes were rough. You were exhausted, everything hurt, and you were just over it. You were over all of it, and you wanted that damn baby out and you wanted to fucking sleep. Marcus could tell, his eyebrows pulled together in worry, but the second he stood from between your legs to return to your side, you gritted out that if he didn’t stay right there and help bring his child into the world, you would kill him yourself.

Understandable, but not your proudest moment.

With a dozen more pushes and the encouragement of both Dr. Weston and your fiancé, a shrill cry pierced the room, followed immediately by your fiancé’s amazed whispers of “Oh my god, oh my god”. Your little one was lifted up to your chest by Marcus’s sure hands.

“He’s so perfect.” You whispered, your voice hoarse and barely audible over his wails, tears of pain and exhaustion and joy falling once more as you cradled the perfect little baby against your chest. You laughed wetly and looked up at Marcus, your tears mirrored on his face, and you couldn’t help but say, “I told you he was a boy!”

“You were right.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair before gazing back at his son and laying his gloved hand on his back. He didn’t bother trying to hold back the tears and neither did you. “You were so right. He’s so beautiful.”

After you and your son were both cleaned up and settled and one extremely personal visit from the hospital’s lactation consultant, you laid in the hospital bed with little Oliver held at your breast. The tiny baby was just as exhausted as you were it seemed, his eyes fluttering shut as he suckled. Marcus paced by the bedside, his phone cradled to his ear as he spoke to his parents.

“Yeah, she was amazing. You and Dad can come by once she gets some sleep, they’re both pretty tired.” Marcus kept his voice low even though he knew you weren’t asleep, trying to let you at least rest for a little bit. “Oh, he’s perfect. Seven pounds, eight ounces. Twenty inches long. He’s got a head full of hair, just like I did.”

The pride and happiness in his voice made you smile despite the exhaustion and soreness that radiated through your body. Marcus sat next to you once his call was over, resting his head on your arm as he gazed at you.

“Thank you.” Marcus whispered. His eyes were shining with more tears and an appreciation that took your breath away. “You have given me everything I’ve ever wanted and I just… thank you.”

“No, thank you.” You chuckled quietly. “I’m sorry I threatened to kill you.”

Marcus shrugged, an amused smile on his face. “I don’t blame you.”

You puckered your lips in a silent request for a kiss, something Marcus gave without hesitation. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Marcus gave you another kiss before leaning back in his seat, content to sit and watch the miracle that was his life. “Get some sleep, my love.”

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The first weeks at home with your little boy only confirmed the suspicions you had since the moment you met Marcus Pike - he was an amazing father. Beyond that, he was an amazing partner. Despite your insistence that he didn't need to, Marcus took it upon himself to bring you a glass of water and anything else you could possibly need every time you nursed. A pillow to prop up your feet, a book to read, the remote to pick a show to watch. Only when he was sure there was nothing more he could do, Marcus would sit next to you, happy to just enjoy the moment together.

A lot of promises were made, way back in the beginning of your pregnancy, a few of which you didn't even remember at first. But Marcus did, and that man followed through. Each time a tiny wail would echo through your home past ten o’clock at night, Marcus tossed back the blankets and was out of bed before you could even sit up all the way. Sometimes he would deliver a little bundle of hungry baby to your arms and then whisk him away back to his bed once his belly was full. Other times you would hear Marcus over the baby monitor as he hummed and sang and whispered to his son as he changed his diaper and rocked him back to sleep.

“Thank you. You’ve given me so much, I… thank you.” He murmured into your shoulder as he settled into bed behind you one night, having just put Oliver into his bed. “I love you so much and I promise you, I will give you the entire damn world.”

“You already have.” You whispered as you turned to kiss him.

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Somehow time managed to drag and fly by at the same time, the days, weeks, and months morphing together. Oliver grew like a weed, sleeping well and eating more than you thought he could even hold in his little belly. Every milestone he hit made pride swell inside you both. Watching Marcus interact with Oliver took your breath away more often than not. The second you passed Oliver off into his father's capable hands, Marcus was cooing at him, lifting him up in the air to see that gummy smile and hear that high peal of giggles each time Marcus gently jostled him about.

Going out in public with Oliver had a tendency to be nerve wracking, especially those first few times. But your worries about germs and public diaper changes quickly gave way to the fear and frustration that came from complete and utter strangers. It was the last thing you expected to be a problem and maybe that was naive of you, but holy shit. How many people thought it was perfectly acceptable to just harass parents while they’re out with their babies?

Too fucking many.

Oliver, on the other hand, loved going to stores, although the rhythmic swaying as he snuggled into either you or Marcus in his ring sling almost always had him knocked out within the first fifteen minutes. One second, those big brown eyes were taking in the bright lights and the next, he was conked out with his little cheek squished in the most adorable way.

He was snoozing against your chest as you perused the ice cream aisle, Marcus trailing a couple feet behind you with the cart as you both tried to pick out some flavors. You were so focused on the billions of choices in the freezer in front of you that you didn’t even notice the way the other man in the aisle was eyeing you.

“How old?” He asked, motioning to Oliver.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. All of the questions, god were you over it, but you weren't trying to cause a scene in the middle of the ice cream aisle. “Uh, four months.”

“Congratulations!” The man said and before you could fully process what was happening in front of you, he was reaching a hand out seeming to… touch your baby, what the hell did this guy think he’s doing!? You twisted away on instinct as both of hands came up to cover Oliver protectively, but before you could find your voice from under your shock to give that man a piece of your mind, Marcus swiftly stepped between you and grasped the man’s wrist.

In all your years of knowing Marcus, you had never seen his face so stoney. The muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth, his eyes alight with anger, and all you could do was stare, wide-eyed at this fierce and protective side of your fiancé you had never seen before. Marcus didn’t say anything - the punishing grip he had on his wrist was enough to have him murmuring an apology and backing off. His face didn’t soften until he looked at you, his hand settling over yours on Oliver’s back as if he had to reassure himself that his son was still cradled safely between you.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asked.

You still couldn’t find your voice, though this time it was stuck behind a lump of admiration and appreciation and desire because holy shit. Watching Marcus shift from his usual goofy, loving self to someone who would readily and easily break the wrist of a man who had the audacity to try to touch you or your child… it stoked something deep in your belly, some fundamental, basic urge that made you crave him.

“C’mon, we don’t need ice cream. We need to go home.” You said, grabbing him by his forearm and dragging him back to the cart.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Marcus’s voice was full of worry. “I acted like a caveman and it was ridiculous, I shouldn’t have -”

You cut him off with a kiss, leaning up on your tiptoes to firmly press your lips against his with your hand at the side of his neck. It pulled a surprised sound from Marcus but he gladly reciprocated, his hand finding your hip by habit.

“We aren’t going home because I’m mad, Marcus.” You whispered almost conspiratorially before jokingly covering the side of Oliver’s head, as if to keep him from hearing you. “We’re going home because I need you to fuck me.”

Marcus’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but a playful grin followed immediately after and he immediately grabbed the cart in one hand and intertwined his fingers with yours in the other. The shopping trip was only half successful grocery-wise, but in the end it was worth it to be able to drag him into bed and show him just how much you appreciated that protective side of him.

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The last thing Marcus wanted to do was go back to work. Walking out the door and leaving you and Oliver at home had been damn near impossible, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He had used every second of his paternity leave and if he tried to weasel out of going back into the office, he was pretty sure he would get fired.

That first day was the worst. Marcus knew better than to call or text you constantly, but he missed being able to just see you and Oliver whenever he wanted. So instead, he checked his phone constantly, glancing over and over again just in case he received a text from you. Every now and then his phone would chime and it made him grin with each and every picture or small update you sent him. The little reminders of what he had waiting for him are what got him through the day.

Each week that passed, the wait for the clock to chime five o’clock became easier. His passion for his job reignited once he was steadily working again and his life felt so much more full than he ever thought it could be. He had a job he loved with an amazing team and a family at home that he cherished. It choked him up if he thought about it all too much, how he endured heartache after heartache, all the while thinking he would never actually get the life he envisioned for himself.

It made coming home to you and his son that much sweeter. Each evening played out by the same pattern; Marcus would plant a kiss to your lips and then Oliver’s head as he scooped him up to snuggle him, inquiring about how your day was and intent on hearing every silly little detail of whatever you got up to that day. A satisfied little smile found his face as just how full and happy his life was.

Bedtime routine was something Marcus excelled at; if there was a competition for getting a baby settled into their bed, he would win first place every damn time. You were jealous, there were no two ways about it. Yes, you could get Oliver down for the night just fine, but there was just something about the calming air Marcus carried about him that had the little one’s eyes fluttering shut.

You claimed that he was magic, but Marcus was sure it was just his boring office stories that knocked his son out.

Weekends were something special to Marcus. He loved the lazy mornings where he didn’t have to heave himself out of bed and creep around to get ready for work without waking the baby. Being able to instead appreciate how pretty you looked lost in your dreams and wake you with soft kisses was a gift he appreciated even before your family had grown.

Except now he got the added pleasantry of scooping up Oliver when he woke and bringing him into the big bed for you to feed him before Marcus could make him laugh that adorable laugh by popping up from behind the sheet he held in front of his face. Those cozy moments were his happy place, the fuel that got him through long days and sleepless nights.

Since the weekend brought all three of you together for the entire day, Marcus had taken a liking to offering to gather up Oliver after he had a full belly so you could have some time for yourself. It left him in awe just how much you did for your family, how hard you worked to keep the fires burning at home, and he wanted you to keep your fire burning within as well. The soft sounds of music and the perfumey smells of your bath products coming from under the bathroom door always made him smile, little Oliver curled against his chest. It was a win-win all the way - you got to relax without the immediate responsibility of childcare hanging over your head and Marcus got to bond with his kiddo.

Afterwards, Marcus would always bring the three of you together for some quality family time. Whether it was a simple walk through the neighborhood to the park a few streets away or a simple picnic in the backyard, Marcus loved getting to see you and Oliver bathed in sunlight, both of you cracking up as you tickled him while he tried to wiggle from your grasp. Oliver always ended up asleep at the end of the entire ordeal, exhausted from all of the fun and action, and Marcus always volunteered to carry him home, even when he had the empty stroller in front of him.

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You woke up feeling beyond well-rested. The heaviness that often plagued your eyelids had eased completely, leaving your eyes opening easily to blink against the sunlight peeking through the window. The sheets next to you were rumpled and cold and you shot upright on instinct. When you fell asleep, both Marcus and Oliver had been curled up with you, your son safe between both of his parents as he snored lightly. He wasn’t feeling well, a small fever and a case of the sniffles making him more clingy than usual, and neither you or Marcus could deny the puppy-dog eyes he gave from the foot of your bed when he toddled into your bedroom from his own.

The sound of Sunday morning cartoons eased the worry that prickled down your spine. With a quick stretch and a low groan, you tossed back the blankets and quickly made your way into the living room, and the sight that met you brought a small smile to your face. Both of your boys were still in their pajamas, a colorful pile of crayons between them where they lay on the floor as they scribbled away in a shared coloring book, the cartoons on the television entirely forgotten as father and son created yet another masterpiece sure to end up on the refrigerator with the half a dozen others. It took a moment for you to catch Marcus’s eye and he smiled at you in greeting before leaning closer to Oliver to whisper, “Guess who’s awake?”

Oliver’s head immediately snapped up to look around and he scrambled to his feet the second he saw you standing in the doorway. “Mama, mama, mama!”

“Good morning, little man!” You greeted as you scooped him off of his feet, his arms wrapping around your neck and tightening with a dramatic groan. You settled him on your hip and brushed his wild hair from his face. “Feeling better?”

“Better!” Oliver exclaimed, nodding so fast it made even you dizzy.

“I’m glad, baby.” You ruffled his hair, chuckling at his dismayed response of ducking away from your hand and wiggling from your grasp. His little feet took off running the second they touched the carpet, but your arms weren’t empty for long. No, Marcus stepped right into them and wrapped you in a warm hug, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“We decided to let you sleep in.” Marcus said, his chest rumbling against you as you relaxed into his embrace. “His fever is gone, has been since around 7:30.”

“Good, I was worried we’d have to take him to the pediatrician.” You murmured before leaning up to kiss him soft and slow, breaking away at the sound of a pan hitting the floor in the kitchen. “Sounds like someone’s trying to make breakfast again.”

“Better get in there before he spills flour all over the floor again.” Marcus chuckled, giving your ass a quick pat as he followed the sounds of destruction.

Once Oliver had gobbled down a bowl of cereal and you had a cup of coffee to sip on, all three of you settled on the floor to finish up the drawing that Oliver insisted he needed both of his parent’s help for. He was all too happy to slap it on the refrigerator under one of his letter magnets before scampering off to drag all of his toys out for the first of many times. Marcus plopped down on the couch next to you, situating himself so he could lay his head in your lap.

Those pretty brown eyes of his fluttered shut with a pleased hum as you began running your hands through his hair, the untamed curls fluffy and soft between your fingers. He winced slightly at the familiar sound of Oliver’s toy chest dumping over in his room and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, I was thinking…” Marcus murmured, sleepiness returning to his voice under the relaxation your talented hands brought him.

“Don’t hurt yourself in the process.” You teased.

A pout formed on Marcus’s face and you leaned down to kiss his put out lower lip so he would continue. “I was thinking we could talk about if you want to do all of this again.”

“All of what?” You asked, your brain still booting up from sleep. Your fingers paused in his hair when it clicked. “Do you mean another baby?”

“Yeah.” Marcus’s voice was soft, quiet, as if he was fearing rejection.

“That’s ironic, actually.” You said with a small laugh. “I was thinking about asking you if you wanted to have another baby.”

“What?” Marcus sat up to face you, hope and excitement bright in his eyes. “Really?”

“Of course,” You shrugged as you reached out for his hand, your thumb swiping back and forth over his knuckles. “Ollie is gonna be in preschool soon and I think three-ish years is a good gap for siblings. He really would make such a great big brother. Besides, I already told you I wanted a full house. Wait, we would definitely have to find a new house. Shit. I didn’t even think of that. Maybe we should just -”

Marcus’s lips crashed against yours, effectively cutting off the worried words that were about to spill from you in a rush. The kiss was messy and broken up by the huge smile Marcus wore. “We can start looking now. That way we’ll have a new house by the time I get you pregnant again.”

A shiver rocked down your spine at his words, at how excited he was at the prospect of having your belly swell with his baby again. Marcus pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, the both of you just breathing in the moment of electricity. “Are you really ready to do this?”

“Hell yes,” Marcus said with an eager laugh, his voice lowering as he continued. “And this time I’ll know exactly what I’m doing. I’ll know I’m filling you up, getting you nice and round with my baby again.”

“Fuck, Marcus.” You whimpered, that familiar heat pooling in your belly.

“Just you wait until tonight, sweetheart.” Mischief was plain on his face, his bottom lip momentarily captured between his teeth as he gripped your chin in a gentle, yet firm hold. “I can’t wait to get you pregnant again.”

With that lewd thought, Marcus gave you another firm kiss before leaving you there on the couch to make another cup of coffee, probably to give you both the space to cool off. With a loud sigh, you leaned heavily into the cushions unable to contain the grin you wore. How lucky were you? An amazing husband who doubled as an amazing father to your sweet, happy little boy. Two thriving careers. And even more plans for your family’s future. Soon your son hopped his way back into the living room, insisting you and Marcus come see the tower he made with his blocks. Hand in hand, the two of you listened as Oliver explained his creation, happiness and hope hovering in the air around you.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike

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hood-ex · 4 years

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If you like hurt!Jason + Dick being a good older brother then boy howdy, do I have a fic for you.

Summary:

For the fifth time in less than a minute, Dick cursed his luck that Jason got knocked out from a tranq while they were being chased by magic androids in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

“Thanks a lot, kid,” he muttered as he stumbled over rocks and fallen branches. Jason, who was too dead to the world to realize that Dick was fireman carrying his ass away from danger, wasn’t able to answer with a snarky remark.

Read on AO3 or below the cut. Chapter 1/2.

For the fifth time in less than a minute, Dick cursed his luck that Jason got knocked out from a tranq while they were being chased by magic androids in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Dick tried to ignore how the silence from his brother unnerved him by pausing to check over his shoulder for any androids on their tail. All he saw was lush green trees and bushes that stretched on for miles and miles. No shiny metal in sight.

Dick didn’t dare let his guard down. He knew the androids were coming for them. Well, more specifically, for Jason. The Outlaws were clearly on someone’s shit list and were being hunted down like dogs.

They’d learned pretty early on in the fight that the androids weren’t interested in Dick, but they’d been more than happy to swarm Jason and Artemis. Dick figured the androids were programmed with facial recognition, and since they weren’t programmed to recognize Dick’s face, they ran right past him. It was a blessing for Dick and a curse for Jason.

The androids were drawn to Jason like a beacon. Dick doubted the explosion he set off earlier would dissuade the androids from finding them for much longer.

Sweat from Dick’s temple trickled down towards the corner of his lip. He wiped it away on Jason’s pants. Fuck, it was hot outside. Running around with over two hundred pounds on his shoulders in Maine’s humid air was almost unbearably uncomfortable.

He was running pretty low on energy, having used most of it to smash the android’s heads in. Carrying Jason around certainly didn’t help. It was frustrating because Dick knew his slow pace was putting them in danger. On the flip side, stopping would shorten the distance between them and the enemy.

Still, he wouldn’t be much use if he was too exhausted to protect Jason. And another problem he’d been thinking about for a while was that he needed food and water to be at the top of his game.

He wasn’t too worried about food since he had a protein bar stored in his glove. Water was the bigger worry. They had some on their plane. Only problem was that it would take Dick some time to backtrack to get to it, assuming he’d even get to that point. If he couldn’t make it to the plane by evening, he would have to track down a creek or a river. The thought was extremely unappealing to his tired mind and muscles, but if it meant life or death, he’d do it. With that thought in mind, he decided to find a place to recharge.

Dick was panting by the time he stumbled upon a cluster of giant rocks that were shrouded somewhat decently by neighboring trees. Two of the large rocks crossed over each other, leaving a hole between them that looked just big enough to fit both Dick and Jason inside of.

Arms and shoulders burning, Dick decided the rocks would be good enough to camouflage them from sight. He stopped in front of the hole, and with a grunt, he carefully lowered Jason to the ground. Knowing Jason’s head was protected by his helmet, he grabbed Jason by the legs and slowly dragged him inside the hole. Jason would probably be pissed about the dirt stains on his jacket when he woke up, but Dick was quickly running out of fucks to give.

It wasn’t until Dick was fully submerged in the hole that he realized his mistake. The smell of soil invaded his nose, and before he knew it, he was living through a PTSD nightmare. There was an instantaneous feeling of his lungs feeling way too small, like he was breathing through a straw.

It was too tight here. Too small. Too dark. Dirt was fucking everywhere. In his hair, on his legs, under his fingernails. His hands hurt so bad. He needed to breathe, but he couldn’t. He had to save his air. There wasn’t much of it left. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic!

Hands shaking, Dick ripped off his gloves and threw them to the side. He blindly reached out towards Jason and ended up grabbing Jason’s arm. Dick immediately started rubbing his hand against the leather, buttons, and zippers on the jacket. He focused on the rough texture of the leather, the hard metal of the buttons, and the biting teeth of the zippers.

“My name is Dick Grayson. I’m with my brother on a mission in Maine. I can see the sky. I can smell the fresh air. I can hear the birds chirping and the bugs buzzing. I can feel my brother’s jacket. I’m not in a coffin. I’m not underground. My mind is my greatest weapon.”

Dick had no idea how many times he repeated his mantra before the anxiety that was threatening to choke him slowly eased up. He stumbled towards the opening of the hole and greedily sucked in large amounts of air, making sure to focus on the trees swaying in the breeze against the bright blue sky.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he felt himself become grounded back to his current reality. The panic began to fade. His chest didn’t feel like it was about to give out on him anymore, and his shaking shifted to a slight tremor. He did one more controlled breathing exercise just to be on the safe side.

He could do this. He was okay. He was okay. He was okay.

Fuck, he did not expect that. Fuck his brain for doing that to him at a time like this. Christ, seriously.

There was no time to reflect on it right now. He needed to take care of his brother. With more reluctance than he'd like to admit, he slowly dragged his feet back to where Jason was lying on the ground.

Dick gently raised Jason up by his shoulders and situated him against the rock wall. He eyed Jason’s location in the middle of the hole, and on second thought, he moved Jason closer towards the opening where he’d be able to see the sky in case he woke up suddenly.

Dick wasn’t the only one in his family that was triggered by dirt.

He felt more in control of himself as he worked on taking Jason’s helmet, jacket, and gloves off, worried that Jason would overheat in them. If he spent a little extra time rubbing the varnish on the helmet, or feeling the texture of the gloves, well, that was neither here nor there. He finished by placing the items next to Jason’s side where they could air out a little.

Jason’s hair was damp and his face was covered in dried sweat tracks. Dick knew his face was probably in a similar state. Sighing, he grabbed Jason’s wrist and checked his pulse. A minute passed. Dick set Jason’s arm back on the ground, content that his BPM fell in the normal range. He placed the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead and his cheeks, checking to make sure that Jason wasn’t in danger of heatstroke. To his relief, Jason seemed to be in as good a state as Dick was, which was one less thing to worry about.

He just wished he knew exactly what had been in the tranq so he would have a general idea of what he was dealing with in case Jason started having any weird side effects from it. It was most likely an anesthetic that lacked neuromuscular blocking agents. Jason wouldn’t have been able to breathe by himself if NBA’s were present, and as far as Dick could tell, Jason’s breathing was fine.

Knowing Jason was okay made some of the anxiety in Dick’s gut disappear. That taken care of, Dick carefully moved to the entrance of the hole and looked out into the forest. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual. Just trees, trees, and oh yeah, more trees. Nothing to be alarmed about.

What Dick really wanted to do was do a brief sweep around the perimeter to check for anything in the distance. It would be too risky to reveal himself in the daylight. But now that he was thinking about it, would the androids even react if they only saw him and not Jason? The fight proved that they didn’t consider Dick a threat, and they’d made no move to attack him. Would they simply walk past him just like they’d done thirty minutes earlier?

Dick had to take into account that whoever was responsible for the androids was probably now aware of his existence.

During the fight, he’d noticed that the androids had white crystals implanted on the back of their heads. He’d spotted the crystals while frying the androids with his escrima sticks, and what he’d found out was that the crystals emitted heat and an aura of magic.

The magicked androids were more resilient and adaptable than regular androids. Dick assumed the magic would also make it way easier to reprogram the androids on a whim, meaning the maker could have easily included Dick into the list of faces the androids could recognize. Knowing that was a possibility made Dick hesitant to put his theory to the test.

Feeling tired from the heat, he returned to his spot across from Jason, stretching his legs out as much as he could in the small space. The shade from the rocks made him feel a little bit cooler. He’d kill for AC and a cold glass of water right about then.

That shit would have to wait because Dick needed a plan. He looked at Jason’s slack face and frowned. Taking Jason’s current state into account, Dick ran a few different scenarios through his head. While he thought, he brought up his wrist computer on his glove and tracked Artemis’s location. As far as Dick was aware, she’d retreated in the direction of their hidden plane. His tracking device said differently. Artemis was actually somewhere closer to the building that Bizarro was trapped in.

Dick was worried she would try to save Bizarro without any backup. He didn’t want her to get captured as well. Jason had been pretty adamant that the guy holding Bizarro prisoner wasn’t a magic user himself, which made Dick feel slightly better. The last thing they needed was a magicked Superman clone and a magicked Bana Amazon.

Dick checked his and Jason’s own location on the GPS and calculated what steps he would need to take. The plane was parked three miles East from their current location. The building holding Bizarro was two miles from the plane.

Dick and Jason could easily cover that kind of ground in an hour under normal circumstances. In their current situation, it would take Dick much longer to navigate through the forest with Jason on his back. Carrying Jason for that long in this kind of heat ran the risk of depleting Dick’s energy to the point where he’d be no use in a fight.

What Dick really needed was for Jason to wake up. Without the NBA in the anesthetic, the effects of the drug shouldn’t last as long. It had already been a little over half an hour since Jason had been dosed, and since he wasn’t being fed multiple doses of anesthesia, he would probably be pretty close to being conscious.

Only one way to find out.

“Hey.” Dick got on his knees and leaned towards his brother, gently tapping his hand against Jason’s cheek. “Hood. Jay lad. Annoying pain in my ass. Hey. Hey. You awake?”

Jason carried on sleeping like a log, not having moved a muscle. Dick sat back on his haunches and sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes in frustration. He was clearly going to need another plan.

But first, he took another look outside the hole to make sure they were still in the clear. Blue eyes scanned the tree line and found nothing unusual or out of place. Just the same old forest.

Despite the distinct lack of androids, Dick was beginning to feel restless. He’d already wasted enough time hiding here. No doubt the androids were minutes away from their location unless their maker had called them back at some point. And if Dick couldn’t run from them, maybe he could trap them?

There wasn’t much for him to work with in terms of supplies and weapons. If he’d been given the whole day, he could’ve set up some booby traps. If he’d gotten the chance to return to the plane, he could’ve grabbed some useful explosives or tech.

There was no time for that now. All he had was his escrima sticks, wingdings, grapple gun, and some smoke pellets. What else was around here that could be useful to him? He thought back to the research he had done on this environment before the mission. He had a general idea of where the trees thinned out the most and where the closest houses were. But he needed something a little more useful. Something that could help him blow up a bunch of metal. Something like…

“The river!” Dick said excitedly.

“Ngh…”

Dick’s head shot up so fast, he nearly smacked his head into the rock. He barely noticed, eyes now locked on the slight fluttering of Jason’s eyelashes. It was another minute before Jason’s eyes slowly blinked open, revealing blue eyes that were glazed over. He let out a sleepy exhale through his nose.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, kiddo,” Dick said while tweaking Jason’s nose.

If Jason was more coherent, Dick knew he would’ve gotten his finger bitten off for that. As it was, Jason could barely do anything more than blink in confusion. Dick could already tell by the way Jason’s eyes were drooping that Jason was simply too groggy to speak.

“You’re going to fall back asleep on me, aren’t you?”

Jason scrunched his face up as if annoyed that he had to listen to Dick’s voice. Seconds later, he was out like a light, just as Dick predicted.

That was the exact moment when the birds went silent and the clanking of metal thundered in the distance.

#Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #my fic #err warning for PTSD i guess?

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rudra-writes · 5 years

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Pallas and Telurin - Hot Springs (Part 12)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. Telurin considers his conflicted feelings about continuing to be Pallas’s guardian, indirectly putting the anchorite in danger from his own death knight compulsions. The following day on the road, Pallas suggests they stop at a natural hot springs. Pallas encourages Telurin to join him in the warm water, and their attraction to one another comes to light. (Advisory for some suggestive content.)

Telurin curls an arm around the slight Anchorite when Pallas settles into his side, stroking the man's hair idly. He regrets not picking up his runeblade with the blanket, since it looks like Pallas is well on his way to dropping from exhaustion.

Still, nothing has bothered them yet, and Telurin should be able to sneak away at some point when Pallas is fully asleep and take back up his armor and his watch of the little Anchorite. All of this is nothing more than idle worry, his mind skittering off of his real concerns to fret something less troublesome.

What is he going to do with Pallas, who seems to delight in pushing him to the edge? Telurin had felt the man's pain at their second joining, and had enjoyed it. It would be too easy for him to fall into his baser desires and merge the desire for Pallas's body with the more sinister eternal hunger, especially when the man practically encourages it. He continues to stroke Pallas's hair and horns, his expression falling into his typical somberness as his thoughts spiral downwards.

Pallas murmurs faintly from his little blanket cocoon, and strokes Telurin's solid chest with a hand. "Could the next time be... something gentle, please?" he asks in a small voice. He isn't aware of Telurin's concerns, but is coming to the conclusion that maybe the rough sex /had/ been too much all at once for him.

"Of course, my beautiful Anchorite." Telurin squeezes Pallas briefly in reassurance. His voice is equal parts strained and relieved. Strained because here is more proof he'd gone too far, and relieved that perhaps it was enough for Pallas to see what he was truly asking for earlier. "I had intended to be gentle this time, only you seemed determined to force my hand. I am not one to back down from that sort of challenge willingly, Pallas."

Pallas reaches up to cup Telurin's chin, stroking his mutton chops gently. "I knew I was working you up." Then he laughs. "...Well... I suppose I'm just not used to it yet, is all. Firm sex can be nice, at times."

Telurin's eyes half close at the touch, enjoying the feel of warm fingers though his mutton chops and on his face. He stops short of leaning into the touch, however.

"We will have to work on that then." He smirks, kissing the top of Pallas's head, between his horns. "If it is something that you prefer to happen more often than not....?" Telurin trails off, the question leading in its tone. He's asked precious few questions of the Anchorite, though if they were going to continue to be intimate Telurin wants to know Pallas's preferences, the sooner the better.

Pallas bites the inside of his cheek in thought. After a moment, he shakes his head. "I think it depends on the mood," he replies, looking up into Telurin's lichfire-blue eyes. He is again struck by the consideration the death knight pays to him. It's an unexpected juxtaposition with the more monstrous aspects of what he was. "I enjoy your possessiveness, and when you take initiative. But, mm, I think I would stop short in saying I enjoy roughness for its own sake. In the right mood, at the right time, it can be very good."

"There is much that can be good," the little priest continues, taking the back of one of Telurin's hands and kissing his knuckles. "My Boros and I... He was of a different temperament than you, but we liked to experiment. I suppose in that way, we are similar. You mentioned enjoying trying new things."

Telurin nods, looking amused and relaxing a bit more when Pallas kisses his calloused knuckles, filing the information about roughness away in his mind for later. When he's released, he returns the gesture by hooking an arm under Pallas's knees and looping them over his thigh, curling the little Anchorite even more toward him.

"Tell me about him." Telurin says, unhurried, fingers massaging the muscles of Pallas's shoulder. "I would like to hear the sort of legend I'm being compared to, and what sort of things you considered experimental."

Pallas smiles. This is the first time he can recall that Telurin has wished to ask him questions about his past. Still wrapped in the fleece blanket, he settles into the death knight's touch.

"It would not be fair to compare you to him," the priest said softly. "You are two very different people in your own right, with your own unique personalities. But since you have asked, I will tell you about him.

"He was one of the temple guardians back on Karabor-that-was, which is how I met him. I at first thought him very crass. He liked to make crude jokes and elicit a reaction out of me--That's one thing you two have in common. I didn't like him at first, but the more I observed of how he interacted with others, the more I learned that he was a very kind, selfless man. He liked to make me laugh, and he supported everything I undertook to do.

"We became friends, then lovers when we realized we were drawn. We were partners in every sense of the word, inseparable. His life adjusted to accommodate me, and mine did the same. I married him before all of my peers at Karabor."

Pallas looks like he is dwelling upon memories, but he doesn't seem upset or saddened. "After we were married, we began to speak of being bonded... Is that something you’ve heard of before?"

Telurin listens attentively while Pallas speaks, smirking at the mention of getting a reaction out of Pallas. He did indeed enjoy their banter. As Pallas continues on, Telurin finds he can picture the type of man Boros must surely have been quite easily. He'd been around enough of the type before. He shifts slightly to better accommodate the little priest at his side before answering his question.

"Mhmm." Telurin replies in wordless assent. "I have been married too, you know, though I did not find Meyruu till late in my life. She and I shared such a connection." His tone is gently teasing, more of a jab at his own age compared to Pallas's few years. "Though I hear it can be more intense for those bonded to Anchorites whose focus is the mind. My… mentor, I guess you could call him, was just such an Anchorite, though he was not the sort to suffer questions about such topics."

"Then you have heard of it?" Pallas is very interested in this. He had not known Telurin had been involved in any sort of mental connections. The little Anchorite shifts to turn and look at the death knight.

He nods. "At least, in my case... It was a mental bond, yes. It is like being connected to the other person at all times. Surface thoughts, emotions and sensations become shared." Pallas blushed faintly. "It is a very intimate experience, one requiring great trust on both sides. It is my guess that the Triumvirate might have shared such a bond--A three way one, with one another." Pallas meant Velen, Kil'jaeden and Archimonde.

"It can be a frightening thing, to be so deeply connected to someone else, but it is comforting also. Like someone is always there, holding your hand. Does that sound anything like what you had with your mentor?" Pallas asked gently.

"I never had such a… permanent bond with Belaar, though each of us were familiar enough with the other to allow more fleeting connections." Telurin frowns, remembering the experience of finding a version of Belaar on this world so similar to his own, and how well that had turned out. He shakes his head as if to clear it. "No, Belaar and I were close, but not as close as you describe. I doubt he maintained permanent bonds with anyone."

"Meyruu, however..." He smiles at her memory, though it's tinged with sadness. "She and I were somewhat closer. I could always sense what she was feeling, and she could do the same with me. Helpful, I cannot recall a single fight between us..." He trails off, though on the whole he's been far more forthcoming than any other time Pallas has questioned him.

Pallas watches and listens to Telurin as the other man speaks, then trails off. He reaches up to stroke the other man's face. "It's become late," he says, and it has. The night has darkened to black and the stars are out. "Is it safe to make camp here?"

Telurin nods, he had been thinking the same earlier. "I had intended to stay up tonight and keep watch, so that you could get some rest."

Pallas nods, and slides forward to kiss the other man gently on the lips. It had been a long and eventful evening, and rest was probably for the best.

The priest rose to allow Telurin to retrieve his armor and blade. In the meantime he washed the exertions of the evening from his body, singing to himself quietly, and combed the tangles out of his long hair. He dressed himself in his silk pants and shirt, and made a campfire and modest meal out of what travel rations they had, since they had not stopped for supper. When he had finished eating, he curled up in Telurin's blanket again.

Telurin joins him at the water long enough to get clean himself, and then begins the task of refitting his armor as Pallas works at making a fire. He settles just outside of the fire's light, between the little Anchorite and the entrance to this little secluded grove, his eyes shining against the dark. The sounds of the talbuk grazing and Sugarfoot mimicking the beast can be heard in the darkness, the Charger’s hooves leaving clumps of foxfire in his wake. All-in-all, a peaceful evening, and it looks as if the rest of the night will pass without incident.

#draenei #draenei death knight #Pallas #Telurin

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