#the way he ripped her shirt got me shaking in my crocs

[linthehero]

please tell me im not the only one who unironically got a little 🥴 during that heart transplant scene or im gonna feel like a gross disgusting monster (i am but still)

[thewildomega]

Star in the Sand Ch.15

A/N: Trigger Warning!

He didn't know where he was. Looking around the room he noticed it was dark, the only light coming from a small lamp on what appeared to be a sewing table. The room was cluttered, not a single space of wall left empty. There also didn't appear any windows. God awful orange colored carpet covered the floor. There was a staircase to the far left leading upwards. Furrowing his brows he went to go up them when he heard a soft humming. He knew that song... but where was it coming from? Following the source he walked around a stack of boxes that almost reached as tall as his head. What he saw made him freeze. 

There tucked away in the corner was a futon that was laid out as a bed, and a little shag rug with a young girl sitting on it. Her back was to him, her long red hair left down her back in waves that almost reached her bottom. Rounding her he saw she was drawing as she hummed. With his brows still knitted he crouched down in front of her and looked the girl over. She looked familiar. A floral print blue dress adorned her body, covering her legs and feet from where she was sitting with her legs crossed under her. Seeing the gold locket hanging from her neck he sucked in a deep breath, y/n? As she lifted her head from her drawing to reach forward to grab a different colored pencil he saw her face and frowned, her little lip was busted open. She looked to be about twelve or so and she didn't seem to be able to see him.

Sitting down on the rug with her he watched her draw and listened to her hum. The picture she was drawing looked to be of a ship out at sea, actually it kind of looked like his ship... a lot like his ship. He could hear noises from the floor above, from the sound of it boys rough housing but his little star payed it no mind. When she adjusted her legs he saw what looked to be a bruise in the shape of a large hand print on her ankle and grit his teeth. A sudden noise that sounded like a door closing and then a male's deep voice yelling, 'Boys, to your rooms!' made his little star freeze, the colored pencils dropping from her hand and her eyes go wide in fear. In an instant he saw the young girl stand form the floor, dropping her supplies to the rug in front of him and look around frantically. Standing he stood there and watched as she grabbed her things and hid them away. Heavy footsteps could be heard from above and it only made him feel even more anxious as he watched her look about. When she opened a closet door he glanced inside to see it pretty full as it was but it didn't stop her from squeezing her way inside and into the corner behind clothes and such. As she shut the door quietly he was suddenly inside the dark closet with her, her small body back up into his front and her face turning to hide into his lower abdomen as another door from outside swung open, hitting a wall. She was trembling with fear and his breathing turned heavy as anger overtook him. His soulmate was terrified and he already had a good idea of what was causing it. Those heavy footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs and then walking around the room, growing closer and closer. When they stopped he felt her tense, her hands gripping the front of his shirt. Suddenly the door opened and a hand reached in to grab her hair.

"No. NO!" she cried.

Feeling her try holding onto him, her little hands attempting to wrap around him he growled and tried grabbing her but his hand went right through her. When she was ripped away from him he went to go attack the man but the closet door slammed in his face.

"Why are you hiding from me girl?! And why is your hair down?!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Little whores that don't listen get punished."

Hearing the sound of a belt get pulled through the loops of pants he grabbed hold of the knob and tried opening it but it wouldn't budge. A loud slapping sound was heard followed by his little star screaming and begging before another slap was heard making him roar in rage. Banging on the door and slamming his body into it with all his strength it didn't open. What seemed like hours passed of him being able to do nothing but listen as y/n cried and sobbed for the man to stop. Knowing what it was she was being forced to endure he felt tears roll down his cheeks. Slamming his hand on the door he heard it grow silent , the sound of the man going back up the steps filling the room and then a door shutting. Trying the knob again he felt it turn and pushed the door open. Stepping out he looked over to the bed and saw her laying there, curled up into a ball and facing the wall. Her dress was hanging off her frame and the closer he got he noticed angry welts along the back of her thighs and disappearing beneath her dress. Standing over her he saw her tear filled eyes staring at the wall, her eyes looking almost dead. She was shaking and every few seconds her body would jump with left over sobs.

Crawling into bed he layed behind her and wrapped his arm around her tiny body, attempting to shield her from the world. Pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head he heard her start humming again although this time it sounded sad and weak. Watching her move her locket in front of her and open it he saw the arrow spin before it pointed towards him. Swallowing thickly he licked his lips and started singing along to the tune of her hum, his voice low and deep to lull her to sleep.

"Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho

Gather up all of the crew, It’s time to ship out Bink’s brew, Wave good-bye, But don’t you cry, Our memories remain. Our days are but a passing dream, Everlasting though they seem, Beneath the moon, We’ll meet again, The wind’s our lullaby."

............................

Snapping his eyes open he breathed heavily and looked up at the dark ceiling. His heart beat hard against his ribs as he remembered his dream. Feeling beside him he was met with nothing but an empty bed and felt himself panic. Sitting up he looked on the side of the bed closest to the wall and saw her gone. Quickly looking to the bathroom he saw the door open. He was on his feet in a second, looking around the room frantically for his soulmate. When he saw the room completely empty he grabbed his pants and started tugging them on when the door to his cabin opened. Snapping his eyes across the dark room he saw the small woman quietly closing the door and locking it. Using his devil fruit powers he flew over to her in a whirl of sand, "Where were you?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

Letting out a small scream in surprise you had to quickly catch yourself from dropping your cup of tea but not before a few hot drops landed on your hand making you let out a hiss in pain. Shaking it off you looked up into his silver eyes and saw worry there along with something else you had never seen on him before. "Croc... what's wrong?" you asked, you voice still very hoarse sounding.

"You were gone, where did you go this late at night?" he asked her.

Knitting your brows you shook your head a little, "I just went to get some tea.... my throat is bone dry. Are you alrigh.."

Grabbing her cup in his hand and using his other arm to lift her up he carried her back to their bed. "I woke up and you weren't here. I forgot to make you drink something afterwards. You should have woken me and I would have went and got it for you." he told her, sitting on the bed with her straddling his lap. Checking her over he saw she was wearing his shirt from earlier, the buttons carelessly done up enough to keep her hidden. With the little moonlight entering the room he saw some of his love marks peeking out from under the shirt.

Taking a sip of your tea you felt it burn a little when it coated your dry throat but you instantly sighed at how much better you felt. Seeing his eyes still scanning you, his left arm wrapped around you, holding you on him while his hand brushed back your hair tilted your head, he was acting a bit strange. Knowing he wouldn't outright tell you what it was you bit your lip holding your tea cup to him you saw him look to you, his eyes seeming to study you before he let out a long breath and took the cup from you to drink from it.

Swallowing down the tea he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, using his sand to place the cup on the table he moved his hand to the buttons of the shirt and slowly started unbuttoning them. Clenching his teeth he blinked slowly, his eyes staying on her skin. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me most..."

"Croc what are you..."

"I wasn't there to protect you." Taking a deep breath he pushed the shirt from her shoulders, revealing her breasts to his eyes and also showing him that she was only wearing a pair of panties under the shirt. Looking down to her thighs he remembered how in his dream her little thighs had been covered in purple  welts. "You were supposed to be sent to me you know, that's what your parents were trying to do. I was supposed to find you and I was supposed to take care of you.... All those years, wasted." he said, scoffing at the end.

Furrowing your brows and feeling your heart ache at the guilt in his voice you reached up to take his face in your hands.  Brushing your thumbs over his scared cheeks you looked deeply into his silver eyes. "We are together now though..."

Closing his eyes he shook his head, "Still, all those years, those horrible years you were forced to endure. None of it was supposed to happen, none..."

Leaning up some you leaned closer to his face, "But they did. They did and you can't change that and it's okay. Croc I am who I am today because of the life I lived. No it was by far a good life but I would go through all of that shit again so long as I got to end up right here with you."

Opening his eyes he looked down at her and felt an incredible warmth in his chest at the way she was looking at him. This woman, this beautiful, caring woman who had been through hell and still managed to wear a smile was his soulmate. Stroking her neck and collarbone with his knuckles he swallowed thickly and raised his chin a bit. Looking into her eyes he felt an incredible calmness come over him. "I love you."

Gasping a little, you thought you had misheard him but seeing the way he looked at you you knew you had heard right and you felt your eyes fill with tears. Smiling you felt your whole body turn warm, "I love you too." you told him and saw him smile as well before he was leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

It didn't take long at all for their kiss to deepen their arousal from earlier tonight being brought back from their declaration of love. Moving his hand up to the back of her head he felt her soft hair run through his fingers. Tightening his left arm around her waist he turned them so she fell to her back on the bed while he moved over her. Rolling his tongue around her mouth he groaned as his cock hardened.

Moving your hand to his shoulder and neck you felt his own hand move from the back of your head, down your side and over your hip to grab your underwear. Hearing the man grumble a little at the return of your panties you giggled but then gasped as he gave a tug, filling the room with a ripping sound. "Croc..."

"I'll buy you more." he quickly said into her mouth before sealing their lips again. Running his finger up her slit he felt wetness cover his digit and grinned. Kissing a trail down to her neck he bit and sucked at her already marked skin. Pressing his finger into her he heard her let out a small gasp that turned into a soft moan. Pumping his finger into her a few times he added another. He was glad she was still adjusted from earlier, as much as he enjoyed hearing her sweet noises he was ready for them to be one again. After working a third finger into her and feeling her hips try and roll on their own he pulled his hand from her sex, lifting up to rub her juices on his cock. Lining up with her entrance he lowered his body to her and pushed in.

Whimpering at the slight stretch you felt him bite your neck, a deep groan being muffled by your skin. As he sunk into you, his cock fitting easier this time you held onto him, your legs taking their place around his and your feet resting on the back of his thighs. When his pelvis met yours you hissed and tensed up a little but he stilled, giving you your time to adjust.

Gritting his teeth he peppered her skin in kisses and the occasional nip, enjoying the way her smaller body would flinch at the sting of his teeth. When he thought she was ready he pulled back and thrusted back in hearing her moan and her nails dig into his shoulder. Moving back to her lips he kissed her lips hard, snapping his hips a little harder. Moving his hand to her breast he groped the fleshy mound, pinching her tender nipple between his knuckles.

Letting out a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a yelp you heard him chuckle, his teeth biting your bottom lip and giving a tug. Already you could feel that coil in your belly becoming too tight. Ready to snap at any second. With one hard thrust of his hips you were crying out.

She was squeezing him, her walls already fluttering around his cock as she hovered on the edge. Pushing his hand up her arm he laced their fingers together and held her hand down beside her head. Snapping his hips upwards to hit her sweet spot he heard her moan and grinned. Continuing to stimulate her G-spot she was soon clenching up, her breast pushing into his chest and her pussy milking him of his seed. Grunting he held her tightly, staying buried into her as deep as he could while he filled her womb. Letting out a long sigh he continued holding himself up for a few moments, peppering her skin with soft kisses. Easing her leg down he rubbed her hip and then gently eased out of her so he could lay beside her. Holding her close as they both caught their breath he rubbed her back. Noticing her body slacking into his he peeked down at her and grinned. He knew they needed to get up, needed to clean up but he was so fucking tired. Feeling her deep breaths fan out over his chest he knew she was already out and sighed. Oh well, he'd hate himself for it in morning but he wouldn't wake his love. Using his powers to pull the blanket up he grabbed a hold of it and finished covering them both up, making sure she was comfortable and brushing her wild hair back out of her face. Turning his head he placed a kiss to her head and closed his eyes.

.............................

It came as no surprise when he woke before her. There was also no surprise when he rolled over to look down at her and saw she was covered in his marks. She was laying on her stomach, her hair all over the place, per usual, her kiss swollen lips were slightly parted and there even looked to be a slight bruise to the bottom one. Hickies and teeth marks trailed down her neck and over her shoulder making his brow twitch. Lifting the duvet a small amount he peeked under the covers at her left hip and saw a light bruise there as well... his hand. Grunting he looked back up to her sleeping face and sighed, he hadn't meant to be so rough with her, he thought he had been rather gentle but apparently that wasn't the case. Sighing he went to get up to draw her another hot bath but an slender arm wrapping around his middle stopped him.

"Stay." you said when you felt the body next to you go to leave. "Please." you mumbled. You knew he had work to do but you just wanted a little bit more time with him.

Hearing how tired she still was he grinned softly, "As you wish." Laying back and getting comfortable he felt her wiggle her way up to lay on his chest, her legs tangling with one of his while her arm stayed wrapped around his abdomen. He thought she would go back to sleep but instead her face turned to him, her sleepy eyes opening and peering up at him lovingly. Love, something he never thought he would feel or even experience but he had been wrong because he was unconditionally and undoubtedly in love. Moving his hand to brush her hair back behind her ear he grinned. Brushing his thumb over her cheek he looked tot he light scar on her temple and tilted his head some, "Where did you get this?"

Resting your chin on his chest you continued grinning. "Fell out of a tree."

"You fell out of a tree." he said and saw her nod.

"I stole some chocolate from the kitchen at the orphanage, climbed up the tree in hopes I could eat it without getting caught. I got to eat it yeah but fell out on the way down, smacked my head right on one of the roots and knocked me out. One of the nuns found me hours later, candy wrapper right beside me on the ground." you giggled.

Wincing when she said what had happened he couldn't help his low chuckle at the karma of the whole situation. "Did you get in trouble?" he asked.

"Yep, had to scrub pot and pans for the next week." you told him an heard him chuckle again.

"You were quite a handful as a child weren't you." he grinned.

"Very, you should be glad you didn't find me. Probably would have drove you nuts." you said with a playful smile and saw him grin a little. Looking over his handsome face you took it all in. He looked more relaxed now, calm. His hair was laying this way in that, a few strands framing his face. His lips were a bit pink and you could see the start of a five o' clock shadow. Thinking of something you reached your hand up to play with his black hair and looked into his silver eyes. "What's your name?"

Raising a brow he huffed a little, "This again?"

"Don't even, I know your mother didn't name her son Crocodile." you grinned.

Rolling his eyes he let out a long sigh but looked back to her sea blue eyes and licked his lips, "Raiden."

Smiling you hummed, "Thunder and lightning."

"Yes, I was told I was born during a storm." he told her.

"What made you give it up?" you asked, wanting to know more about him.

Taking a deep breath he ran his fingertips over her skin. "I wanted to forget about my past." when he saw her tilt her head he blinked slowly. There was no one alive that knew about his past or at least none that mattered. He had made sure no one knew anything about him other than what he wanted them to know, which wasn't much. But her, his love, she deserved to know. "I was born into a poor family, my mother worked in the fields, my father on cargo ships. They barely had enough money to get by on their own so when they had me things got worse. When I was around thirteen my mother got sick and my father started coming home less and less. I don't know if it was because he didn't wish to see his wife slowly dying or if he just didn't want to have to deal with it. I took care of her the best I could but she died when I was fifteen. The last time my father came back she had been dead for about five months and I was barely making it by. He gave me his pistol that had been his father's before him and then he left. He never came back. A year later I had saved up enough money to buy a small boat and then I left. Never looked back."

Looking to your soulmate with furrowed brows you saw him avoiding your eyes, looking instead to where his hand was messing with your hair. He looked almost embarrassed to tell you the truth about him. While it pained you to know he had lived a harsh childhood you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't want pity so instead you moved up to kiss his lips, "Well I think you turned out to be a very smart and powerful man... you can even be good man when you want to be." you told him.

Chuckling he held her to him as he rolled them over so he was over her. "Don't go telling anyone that darling, you will ruin my reputation." Looking down at her he held himself up on his left forearm, laying on his side by her and looking down into her sparkling eyes and then down to her bare breasts. Tracing the trail of love marks with his finger and then down to her soulmate mark he thought of the question he had been wanting to ask her. "Why were you going to take your own life that night I came to you?"

Blinking you bit your lip and took to gently rubbing your fingers over the little marks you had left on him. "I had given up... I was lonely, tired. I didn't have any friends or family or anyone that would miss me, no one that cared. I woke up and I went to work just to come home to an empty house and sleep before getting up and doing it all over again. I didn't see a point in living anymore." you told him in a soft voice before you grinned sadly, "I was cooking what was meant to be my last meal when you fell into my living room."

"What was it?" he asked in a low voice, continuing to trace the black mark that bound them.

Smiling you met his eyes, "Steak with saute onions and garlic."

Chuckling he nodded slightly, "Good choice... then what happened?"

Taking a deep breath you looked back to his strong neck and shoulders, "Well after being scared to death I turned off the stove and made sure you weren't dead. Untangled you from my coffee table, dropped you on your head..."

"What?" he asked.

"Okay in my defense you are heavy and I was trying to keep you from laying in a pile of broken glass." you told him and heard him grunt. "Well once I got you all bandaged up and stuff I went to finish cooking. I was hoping you were going to wake up but after I finished eating you were still out cold so I went back to my room." Licking your lips you swallowed thickly. "I ah... I put up the note and knife I had left out..."

"Knife?" he asked and then saw her glance to him quickly before her eyes shot back down in shame. Understanding he grit his teeth and looked to her tiny wrist, the image of it being sliced open filling his mind for a moment.

"I had said that once I made sure you were alright, once you had left I would do it but, you stuck around. The rest you know." you told him with a sad grin.

She had been so close, so close to dying. She was ready, she had accepted it and the thought broke his heart. He had always been able to tell there was something lying beneath her kind smile, some darkness but he had never said anything. To think of what would have happened if he hadn't walked into that little hut that night. Feeling a shiver run down his spine he leaned down to kiss her mark, closing his eyes and focusing on her soft skin under his lips. Kissing his way up to her mouth he hovered over her as the both lazily made out. There was no desire to take it any further, not that he would allow it anyway, she had taken him twice in twelve hours, her body needed a break, he wouldn't risk hurting her. Speaking of he really needed to get her in a hot bath, while she seemed fine right now, she hadn't stood up yet. Using his sand to turn on the water he felt her jump a little and pulled away some to look down at her. Seeing her eyes questioning him he raised his chin. "You are going to take a long, hot bath while I go get us breakfast and more importantly coffee."

Giggling at his need for coffee you saw him grin slightly. "Then what?"

"Then I am going to go preform my captain-ly duties while you rest and drink plenty of fluids." Seeing her go to speak he placed a finger over her lips to silence her, "No. This is not up for debate. You will take the day to recuperate and then tomorrow if you are feeling up to it you may go out. Perhaps you can help me look for a ship doctor."

Knitting your brows you let out a huff. "Can I at least plant my apple seedlings?"

"No, that is physical wo..." he started but saw her poke out her lip in a pout. Growling he felt his lip twitch and cut his eyes at her, "Damn woman. Fine but nothing more."

"Yay." Quickly kissing his lips you felt him move and before you could say another word he was lifting you up into his arms and holding you to his chest and taking you to your bath that had a few bubbles in it. While you had rolled your eyes and brushed him off when he lectured you about soaking in the tub

"...Taking me can be difficult on your body and you did it twice in one night so make sure you take it easy and don't push yourself."

Once you got out of the tub however you understood what he meant, your legs felt like jelly and you hips and lower abdomen throbbed. Not to mention the raw feeling of your poor nipples and sex as you went to wash them. Getting out you dried your body and stood on shaking legs as you quickly brushed through your hair and made your way back to the bed. Yep you would definitely be taking it easy today.

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 4

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: violence, blood, language

I was taken to a shower room. With no other exit than the door we came in through, it seemed the Tweedles felt it would be safe enough to leave me alone in there.

I showered for an eternity. The water was hardly warm, and it smelled moldy in the room, but I didn’t care. I let the water run over me, scrubbed every inch of my body with a bar of soap on a string. I ran my hand down my injured ribs, and winced at the pain. Remembering Flags hand touching that same spot but an hour before, I smiled to myself. His touch then had been gentle, and my mind wandered into a more pleasant direction. A bang on the door interrupted my train of thought.

“Finish up!”, a voice called. I turned off the water.

A clean set of clothes had been laid out. Another tank top, this one not cut into pieces, a clean set of underwear, and a pair of orange pants, with much too long legs for me. I folded them up, to right bellow my knees, and finally put on the slip-on shoes that completed the outfit.

Calling out, I let the twins know I was ready.

After eating the mac’n’cheese and jello that was pushed through the hatch in the door, I slept deeper than I ever had, on the small cot that had appeared in my cell, while I was being questioned – or recruited, I wasn’t sure which it was. The last thing I saw before drifting of, was loose wire hanging from the corner of the ceiling, where the thermal camera had once been. I wasn’t being watched anymore.

---

I woke up to the sound of the door being unlocked; I sprang up from where I had been laying, fully awake, and on high alert. Two guards stepped in to the room. Not Flags men.

What the fuck is this?, I panicked, and took a stance, preparing for a fight.

Grabbing me by the wrists, they spun me around, locking my arms behind me. They held me like this, as Griggs stepped into the room, and looked me up and down.

“You look even better clean, puss”, he leered at me.

I lifted my knee, and stomped down onto the foot of the guard to my right. Letting go of my arm, he yelped; and I swung my arm, punching Griggs in the face.

Covering his mouth with a scream, he then slapped me hard, making my ears ring.

“You goddamn bitch”, he said, blood running from his busted lip. I laughed at him; and made to get another hit in, when the second guard holding me, kicked me behind my knee; making me lose balance, and topple over.

Laying face down on the ground, someone put a knee on my back, holding me down, as my ankles and wrists were put in cuffs. Spewing all of the worst profanities I knew, I then twisted my neck, biting at the guard holding down my shoulders. I narrowly missed him, and another hand held my head down, making my forehead meet the concrete.

“Watch it, dumbass. We need her whole!”, Griggs spat. He pulled a sack over my head.

They carried me like this, down the corridor, as I screamed and cussed. This isn’t supposed to happen, I thought. Where’s Flag? Waller, even?.

I hadn’t officially accepted Wallers “offer” of joining her circus. Was this payback for my little stunt yesterday? Was I being sent back to Gotham? Or were they taking me somewhere to end my suffering.

A sharp pain in my ribs – from a boot, I figured – made me consider whether euthanasia wouldn’t be a kinder fate.

A door opening and closing behind us. The temperature changed. The air was damp, and the sack on my head stuck to my skin, making it difficult to breathe.

I heard the sound of a gate opening. “Freak transport”, Griggs voice called. Laughing.

Another door. I was made to stand, and my feet were uncuffed. I heard the sound of hip hop music. More musical torture? Metallic clanking, and I was pushed forward harshly, almost falling over.

“Get that shit of her”, Flags voice said. Thank God.

“Careful. This one has sharp teeth”, Griggs said; and someone pulled the sack of my head.

Blinking, adjusting to the light; I examined the room. About 100 yards deep, 50 yards wide. From the looks of it, an old indoor basketball court. My calculations turned out to be right, as a tall, dark man, wearing the same outfit as my own, was shooting hoops at the end of the room, never missing one throw. He turned in my direction, and looked at me, then Griggs busted lip, and laughed to himself.

In one corner a large figure, wearing a hoodie, sat with his back to me, watching BET on a small flat screen. In another, a man covered from head to toes in tattoos – I could tell, as he wasn’t wearing a shirt, or shoes – was doing pushups.

Flag walked up from behind me, staring me down.

“Welcome to the gym”. He took out a set of keys, and uncuffed my hands. “I can handle it from here”, he said to Griggs.

“Are you sure, sir? She seems cranky”, Griggs answered, and put his hand on the gun in his belt.

“I’m sure, asshole. If we need anything, I’ll let you know. Now get”.

“Dick”, Griggs muttered, and walked out the large door we had come through. The metallic sound started, and then made a last large clank, as it shut behind him and his guards.

Flag examined my face, and stroked his fingers across the small cuts on my forehead, from my former spat with the guards.

“You need to be careful, kitten. I won’t always be around; so if you piss them off again, I might not be able to help you”.

“You weren’t there to help me this time, and I made out fine on my own”, I retorted.

Flag moved his hand down to my belly, looking at the blood on my top, lightly touching it.

“I can see that”, he said, removed his hand, and continued. “You ripped your stitches”.

“I’m fine”, I pouted.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is our newest team member”, Flag called out. “Y/N Y/L/N. Also known as Chess”.

The man with the basketball, turned around, and made a final throw over his shoulder; and the ball went straight into the hoop, then bounced away across the floor.

The tattooed man stopped his workout, and walked towards us.

“Croc, did you hear me? Get your ass over here”, Flag shouted.

The large figure turned of his television, got up, and walked towards us, pulling the hood off his head. For a second, I was tempted to run, or even do something as embarrassing as hide behind Flag. The tall mans face was covered in what looked like scales; and it took me a hot second to realize that was his actual skin.

Killer Croc. I’d heard of him.

“Don’t worry, cher’. I ain’t gonna bite”, he growled at me; showing his terrifying teeth, in what I guess was supposed to be a smile. In spite of his appearance and reputation; I instantly felt calmer, from his use of the cher’ endearment. It reminded me of Sammy.

Sammy. “What happened to the owner of the club?”, I asked, voice shaking.

“He’s fine”, Flag answered. “I bumped him on the head a bit, when he tried to stop me from going after you. But I left a large tip for him. He’ll be able to make next months payment to whichever scumbag is using their protection scheme on him”.

I exhaled, relieved.

“And my cats?”, I remembered, panic returning.

“Your neighbor has them. Don’t worry”.

Good. Selina was sweet, though a bit kooky; and she seemed to love cats, more than even I did.

“All your loose ends are tied up, and as long as you behave, they’ll stay that way”.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “You are using my cats to blackmail me?”, I asked.

“Yes”, he answered shortly, and smirked.

By now, the three men were gathered in front of me.

“Where the hell is Harley and Digger?”, Flag called.

“Harley had feminine things to do”, basketball guy answered, before being interrupted by a shrill voice.

“Flag! The british guy was watching me on the toilet again!”. A curvaceous but lean woman appeared in a doorway to my right. She was dragging the rugged looking unicorn man, by his ear; storming towards us.

“I’m Australian, you crazy bitch”, he yelped; and she yanked him by his ear to the ground, putting a foot on his neck.

“Whatever. Do it again, and I’ll punch you in your kangaroo pouch!”, the woman hissed, and kicked him in the chest, before walking over to us. Once she saw me, her face instantly went from murderous to gleeful, and she reached out her hand to greet me.

“Harley Quinn. Pleased to make your acquaintance”, she said; grabbing my hand, and pulling me in to a tight hug.

Surprised, I simply patted her back, and then pulled away.

“You smell nice”, she whispered in my ear, before stepping back to join the others.

I was suddenly terrified and ecstatic at once. The queen of Gotham. It was like meeting actual royalty; if that royalty was crazy as hell, and had access to weapons.

They stood there; a motley crew of deadly weirdos, smiling and/or grimacing at me.

“Diablo. Deadshot. Killer Croc. Harley Quinn. Captain Boomerang. This is Chess”.

Basketball mans – correction, Deadshots – eyes lit up.

“You’re the invisible girl”.

“That’s her”, Flag answered.

“Can you talk for yourself, mami?”, asked the tattooed man – Diablo.

“I always thought a woman should be seen and not heard”, said Digger.

I smiled, disappeared, and the next thing he knew, he was back on the floor, wincing in pain, from my knee on his back. I leant towards his ear, still invisible.

“Are you sure about that?”, I purred, and dug my nails into the skin of his neck.

He yelped, turning around quickly; and I fell back, landing on my butt, before I sprang up, to stand next to Flag. Only then I made myself visible again.

Digger scrambled to get to his feet, and stepped towards me; a sneer on his face.

Flag stepped in front of me spreading his arms, as if protecting me. What is up with this guy?, I thought.

Deadshot stepped forward to face Digger, and Croc took a hold of his arms, holding him in place.

“Stay cool, man”, Deadshot said. “Looks like we’re going to be working with this lady now, so you need to back of”.

Digger settled down, but not before shooting me a look I couldn’t figure out whether was angry, or strangely aroused.

Flag turned to face me. “That wasn’t very smart”, he smiled.

“What? He has a mouth on him”, I answered.

“The last guy who used that sentence, lost his spot on this team in a pretty bad way. The spot you are now going to fill”. He went to stand next to me again, folding his arms across his torso.

“What happened to him?”, I asked.

“We don’t talk about it”, Harley pouted. “It was kind of gross. Speaking of which! Did you get yours yet?”. She sprang forward, putting her hand on my neck, as if searching for something.

“That’s the next step”, Flag said. He reached for his belt, and pulled out a strange looking gun.

None of the crew in front of me would look me in the eyes. Only Deadshot furrowed his brow, and kept eye contact with me; then pushing his lips into a thin line, before mouthing sorry.

Flag put the gun to my neck, and before I had time to react with anything more than a gasp, he pulled the trigger, and a sharp pain – there one second, gone the next – spread throughout the skin around the wound he’d made.

He let me go, lowered the gun, before meeting my eyes with a pained look. “It’s official”, he said, and put the gun into its holster.

I stood there. Mouth agape. Confused.

Deadshot stepped forward, patted my shoulder once, and then walked back towards the basketball.

“Welcome to the Suicide Squad”, he called out, made a shot, and the ball went into the hoop again.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r

@hyp-oh-critical

[kurly-quill]

Robin’s Nest Cafe (part 1)

So, here goes nothing! This will probably have more than one part, but will likely be non-chronological. 

Pairings: JayTim, maybe future JayDickTim 

Rating: Mature for Language [for now] 

Coffee Shop AU (sort of), Civilian!Tim (mostly?)

         Part 1 - Part 2

(1) Hot Chocolate

The first thing to know about Gothamites, is that they are objectively, irrevocably rude as fuck.

It’s not like New York City, where people bustle past without so much as a nod of acknowledgement because they have somewhere to be and don’t have time for pleasantries, or the aggressive shoving on the metro in Tokyo, or God forbid, like Metropolis, where people born past 1930 still tip their hats at passerby.

No, the average Gothamite would see you, without an umbrella, soaking wet, and shake their umbrella off on you on the way inside. If you gave up your seat to an elderly Gothamite on the train, they would sooner say fuck you than thank you. If you tried to mug a Gothamite, they would probably punch you in the face and steal your wallet, because, hell, you’d be the fifth person to try it this week.

And Tim, for all of his “good breeding” and “respectable upbringing” is, at his very core, a Gothamite.

His smile is so wide that he’s baring teeth, and while it doesn’t match the snarl on the face across from him, it’s no less able to convey the sheer amounts of fuck you very much, have a fucktastic day!!

“I ain’t sayin’ it again -” the man bellows, spit hitting Tim’s face and, ew, probably his lips too, “- give me the money inna register ‘afore things get ugly!”

His eyes glimmer with the sharpness of the icicles hanging outside along the shop window, barely sparing the knife shaking under his chin a second glance.

It’s 11 pm on Friday night, and the cafe is still open because Gotham never really sleeps and Tim lives above the shop, anyway. Behind Knife Guy, there’s a few people in line, displaying varying degrees of concern.

(1- was born in a Gotham alleyway, please if you’re going to stab the cashier just do it I’ll pour the coffee myself, 5 - been in Gotham for awhile, kinda worried but Killer Croc smashed my car last week and I just really need a coffee, 10 - visiting Gotham for the first time this weekend-- and the last time.)

Tim looks skyward, praying for strength. There are cobwebs up there he’s never noticed.

“Sorry, the money in the register is a seasonal flavor. But hey, bright side, we’ve just got peppermint mocha back in, so I can ring you up for that instead?”

Knife Guy gapes for a second, squinting at Tim like he expects him to start tap dancing any second now. Tim raises a brow, patient. With a frustrated snarl, the knife jolts forward enough that it clicks against Tim’s nametag, chipping at the edge of the black and yellow batman sticker beside his name, which is his favorite sticker so excuse you.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. Either you put away the knife and order a peppermint mocha with christmas tree sprinkles, and we pretend this never happened, or we do it the less fun way, with the GCPD. Who are a total buzzkill, by the way, believe me. Your choice.”

There’s an eye-twitch, and a change in the man’s expression that makes Tim’s finely-honed Gotham instincts go “oh damn, here we go”, when someone opens up the front door with far too much strength, the glass rattling with the force of its inward swing. The freezing night wind billows in, the scent of oil and snow filtering through the warmer scents of the cafe. There’s an unceremonious tinkle of the bell dangling on the doorframe, and beneath it stands another man.

Tim stares. Knife Guy stares. One of the customers looks up from her phone, groans long and loud, grabs her triple-espresso hazelnut latte with caramel drizzle, and walks out into the late-November chill.

The Red Hood holds the door open for her, because he’s a fucking gentleman.

The door swinging shut with another tinkle, and there’s a pause filled only with catchy holiday jingles that have been playing over the radio since September. Hood surveys the scene before strolling toward the counter.

“Damn, lemme tell ya, it’s cold as fuckin’ balls out there,” Hood laments, with absolutely zero prompting, rubbing his hands together as though he’d gain any friction through the gauntlets. He stops just short of where Tim and Knife Guy are facing off, the blade hovering threateningly in the air just under Tim’s chin. Hood cocks his head.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?”

Tim takes a quick second to make sure that, if he opens his mouth, his jaw won’t hit the floor, before he replies, “Just regular customer service in Gotham. Hope you’re not here for the money in the register too - We’re fresh out of stock. Moving onto the Winter Menu, you know?”

Hood nods, making what sounds like an understanding hum through the voice synthesizers, “Some people just never check the website. Read you’ve got a mean gingerbread latte on special.”

Tim would respond, except now the knife is shaking to a worrying degree– Knife Guy is scared shitless, because the Red Hood is nearly shoulder-to-shoulder– or, well, shoulder-to-bicep with him, because the man is huge and smells very distinctly of cigarette smoke and blood. Tim would sympathize if he wasn’t having an internal fangasm to end all fangasms at this moment.

In a display of panic-borne, truly ballsy stupidity (unfortunately, also a common trait amongst Gothamites, particularly the ones that rob cafes at knife-point at just the hour the Bats tend to come out), Knife Guy whips the knife to the side to turn on the vigilante.

Hood’s got the knife out of the guy’s hand in an instant– Tim has just enough reflexes to grab the steaming cup of caffeine goodness that’s sitting innocently in harm’s way– and in the next second he’s grabbing the guy by the hair and slamming his head backwards onto the counter, spine bent at an angle that makes the onlookers flinch. A few more scurry out the door. There are other places to get a caffeine fix.

“Look here,” Hood growls, No-Knife Guy going cross-eyed as the knife points straight at his nose, “I ain’t lookin for a side of stitches with my candy cane hot chocolate with heavy cream, ya feel me?”

Mr. No Knife squeals.

“P-Please– I’m sorry, I’ll go! Promise! Just– fuck, l-lemme go!”

Hood’s head makes a minute motion, somehow conveying sheer exasperation despite the helmet (Though Tim can just feel the eye-roll going on). He drags the wannabe-robber up to his feet, though it’s pretty useless seeing as the guy’s knees give out they’re shaking so hard– and, oh dude, gross, that’s definitely a wet spot in the front of his jeans there. Tim’s nose wrinkles. He better not have to mop that up.

Hood pays the fact that he’s basically holding up all the man’s weight one-armed no mind, dragging him to the front of the shop. The bell chimes merrily as he gives the guy a literal kick in the ass out the door. The guy lands face-first in dirty, oily, Gothamy snow. An eight year old kicks him as she walks past, hand-in-hand with her father to the nearest bus stop. That Uptown Gotham charm, amiright?

“You’re just lucky I’m feeling the holiday fucking spirit right now– Plus, no offense,” a quick appraisal, “you’re kinda pathetic.”

And then Hood closes the door.

But he’s still here.

Tim looks around the shop. Apparently, at some point in the last 2 minutes, the rest of the customers have decided that they really don’t have time for the typical Bat-dramatics today and fucked off to another cafe. Tim should be more upset about the loss in business than he is, but that’s the furthest thing from his mind.

Because the Red Hood (It’s him, it’s really him) is still standing there. In the cafe.

 With Tim.

He glances down at his chest to make sure the knife isn’t actually buried there, because the possibility that he’s died makes more sense than the Red Hood standing in his cafe, surrounded by a horrific mash-up of dollar-store Hannukah and Christmas (because his family is technically Jewish even if they didn’t celebrate jack shit, and Steph took the shitty plastic menorah on top of the espresso machine as a challenge).

“Um,” Tim remarks, scrambling for the words he wants to say to one of his childhood heros, “So, can I get you something? I feel like I should get you something. Cause I mean. This is an establishment that supports vigilantism, okay? Robin’s Nest cafe, at your service. At least a 10% discount, just like military. Just putting it out there.”

Right. So where is that knife again? Can’t speak if he doesn’t have vocal chords.

The vigilante makes a sound through the synths in his helmet that must be a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. He moves back up to the counter with movements far too fluid for someone of his size, and Tim swallows a bit as he’s forced to look up (and up) at close proximity. Wow, the helmet is something else– he’s itching to get his hands on it, take it apart and see all its functions and how it was made.

“Gotta first aid kit?” is almost lost to Tim, he’s so mesmerized – he thinks distantly that he’s probably looking a little manic, cause he’s running on caffeine and spite, and people have always told him that his tendency to hyperfocus is unnerving on a good day – but then the words click. He frowns.

“Yes, we do? He didn’t get you with the knife, did he?” he questions, eyes raking up and down Hood’s leather jacket for any telling rips or tears.

Hood tuts, reaching up to tap at his neck, “Nah, not me, but you’re ‘bout to need a new white shirt.”

Tim mimics the movement on autopilot, clapping his hand to the side of his neck and feeling the stickiness there. His heart jumps for a second as he pulls back his hand and sees enough blood there to wonder how he’d missed it.

“Oh. Damn.”

And that’s how, five minutes later, Tim’s got the doors to the cafe locked and finds himself sitting in the break room with the Red Hood dabbing at his neck with a cotton swab.

If he finally manages to overdose on caffeine tonight, he thinks he could go happily.

Hood’s so close that Tim’s 100% sure the vigilante can feel his heart trying to burst all his arteries by its sheer pumping force. He’s getting light-headed because he’s trying not to be creepy and do something like smell the the tall, buff guy with gentle hands (Cause, God, somehow the scent of cigarettes, leather, and gunmetal just work for him) and has thus forgone taking any deep breaths.

“Lucky you, s’not deep,” are the only words either of them has said since he plopped down on the table. Tim hesitates for a second, watching Hood close the first aid kit and step away, before he clears his throat.

Courage, Tim. Come on, you’re from Gotham.

“So. Thanks. For all that, I mean.”

Hood shrugs.

“Eh, there are worse ways to start the night. Plus, it’s way warmer in here than out there. Wasn’t kidding when I walked in– was gettin fucking blue balls out there, and not even from anything fun this time.”

Tim lets out a surprised laugh.

“Oh? Well, I think I have a way to warm you up.”

There’s amusement in every line of Hood’s shoulders as he tilts his head, becoming increasingly intrigued by this particularly bold civilian. When he speaks, there’s a definite purr there, mechanized though it is. Something prickly hot shoots down Tim’s spine, and he has to fight down a flush.

“Yeah? You got something in mind?”

Tim can’t help but grin. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Let me guess. Hot chocolate with heavy cream?”

“Shut your shittin’ mouth, Dick.”

.

.

.

.

“…. It’s got candy cane flavor in it”

[monkees-on-the-line]

Glory Days - Chapter 2

Summary: (Modern High School AU) Micky and Davy are entering their Junior year as best friends just like every year. And Davy is planning to act on his feelings for Micky.

Though it seems that with the entrance of the seemingly standoffish Mike, everything changes.

Words: 3,280

Chapter 2: Ignorance 

Ships: Dolenzmith & Jork

Davy stood on the tips of his toes, a cup of tea curled in his hand as he tried to peek subtly out the window. Through the clean glass he could see the healthy green grass of their lawn with speckles of yellow dandelions. And parked almost perfectly on their curb was the bright car Davy was all too familiar with.

The front tire was raised the tiniest bit, climbing the curb and edging near the grass. Micky was sat cross-legged on the hood, the early morning sun seemingly outlined him with burnt orange light. Davy flattened his feet and took a deep breath as he turned back to walk through the kitchen. 

His father looked up from his laptop and gave him a small smile as a goodbye which Davy returned. He lingered behind the front door for a few seconds before he actually opened the door and started to walk over to the car. 

Micky’s head snapped up in an instant and he grinned. He threw his legs over the side of the car and waited until Davy stood in front of him to speak. “My parents are getting ridiculous.” He flattened his palm on the windshield as he leaned over. 

“Yeah? How’s that?” Davy asked as he leaned in the open window to set his books down on the passengers seat. He glanced at the ripping edge of the history book he was just given yesterday and grimaced. 

“They called you my boyfriend today.” Micky chuckled with a shake of his head and Davy’s stomach dropped. He knew well enough that Micky’s parents seemed to think they were dating which Davy couldn’t help but think was a good sign. It had to mean that Micky talked about him a lot. 

Micky did a little half roll of his eyes, stopping to glance at a bird as it flew over their heads to land on a nearby tree branch. “Apparently, we are a ‘cute couple’ Davy.” Micky did little air quotes as he laughed it off.

Davy grinned, feeling a little bit better about the day now. 

“I think they’re just gonna think I’m dating every guy friend I have. I’m afraid they are a little clueless about this whole...me being gay thing.” Micky hopped off the hood and finally went round to get inside. 

He looked at Davy, who shrugged as if to say ‘What are you gonna do?’. So he smiled back at him. “You have to admit. We would be a cute couple.” Micky gave him a tiny wink before pulling off the curb and driving. 

‘We would be the hottest couple, no doubt’ Davy thought to himself and chuckled under his breath.

Micky considered himself lucky to have Davy, who never seemed bothered or phased by Micky’s sexuality. It was stereotypical but most straight guys would rather die, it seemed, than have a guy playfully flirt with them. And Micky was glad that Davy was an exception to that stereotype. 

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

Micky stood on his tip-toes (though there was no need) as he shoved his books into his locker. His shirt riding up as he stretched his arms and Davy found himself paying too much attention to the small peek of skin just above his hipbone. 

Micky flattened his feet and twirled to face Davy who put on a grin, handing over his books. “Can you put these in your locker? Mine’s too far.” He shook them with a pleading face and Micky rolled his eyes before doing as he asked. 

The boys separated shortly after that when the bell rang. Micky hung his glasses from the collar of his shirt and knocked his locker shut with his elbow. He shoved his earbuds into his ear and grinned. 

He couldn’t lie, he did feel a little cool every morning when he strolled down the hall to whatever song he was obsessed with that week. And he was happy to start off the next school year the same way. 

He happily reached for the classroom door, it swung open and he looked over his shoulder to see if any of his classmates were coming. He bumped the door with his hip so it would stay open for a few extra seconds before strolling inside.

He was hit with the comforting cool air conditioner breeze that soothed the heat he’d been feeling. He was glad that he was no longer going to be sweating. He ran his hand through his hair to make sure it was still straight and not frizzing. 

He was doodling swirls on the corner of his paper when his teacher started to talk about the practice lab they’d be doing today....’Shit, the lab!’ 

Micky glanced down at his crocs under the table and swore under his breath when the teacher started to gesture for everyone to get to it. Micky rushed over to the head of the classroom where he was sitting at the desk. 

“Mr. Smith?” Micky rolled from heel to toe with nerves. 

“Yes, Mr. Dolenz?” The man smiled, a friendly teacher. 

“You see, I have ‘open toed shoes’ technically...so I can’t participate...?” Micky kicked his foot up for reference and Mr. Smith gave him a sympathetic smile and shrugged. 

“I’m afraid not.” 

Micky’s stomach dropped. He knew it was stupid. He got good grades. It would not be that hard for him to make this up, considering he was a whiz at Science. But this was the first lab of the damn year and he wanted to do it. 

Sensing his displeasure, Mr. Smith smiled again. “You’ll have to do this worksheet instead...” He handed the flimsy paper over. “Unless someone is willing to switch shoes?” He offered. 

Micky shrugged and turned back over to his desk. He shoved his glasses on and blinked when he felt tears well up. ‘Don’t be a baby’ he shook his head. He’d only written the ‘Mi’ of his name on the line when-

“Hey.” 

“Shit!” Micky jumped and he could feel everyone’s eyes on him, he frowned but turned to see who’d just made him curse loudly in the middle of class. It was the guy he and Davy’d seen the other day by the bleachers.

He looked mighty amused at Micky’s reaction, hands shoved into his pockets with a smug grin. 

“Hey?” Micky raised his brow.  

He gave Micky a thin lipped smile and gestured down to the worksheet. “I thought we might switch?” He looked amused again when Micky brightened. 

“Really?” He stood, chair wobbling behind him. The guy took a step back and chuckled, wiping his thumb on his chin. 

“Yeah, I can skate by with the points off. And I’d rather not to do this anyway” He shrugged, looking back at the students setting up for the lab. Micky pursed his lips, knowing it was quite a few points off. “So....?” 

Micky nodded. “Yes, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Micky sat on the edge of his desk and slipped his crocs off. Micky held out one of the shoes while he got the other one off. 

The guy took it, holding it a little ways from his chest with a look of amusement and judgement. Micky held out the other one as he dropped his thigh back on the table and shrugged. “They’re comfortable.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and rolled his lips together while the guy bent down to untie his. 

When he was done, he handed them over to Micky who beamed back at him. “Thank you, kind stranger.” He held the shoes and spoke with exaggeration but he was genuine. 

“Mike.” He nodded and Micky nodded. 

“I’m Micky. Thank you!” He hopped off the desk and took off towards Mr. Smith’s desk to explain. Mike sat down, sliding the paper towards him. 

He took a pen and used the already written ‘Mi’ to start his own name. 

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

Micky had switched back with the guy, Mike, after class. They’d exchanged amused smiles and went about their days. He was now perched at the edge of the rock behind the bleachers. 

Davy leaned on the fence in front of him, lines of light covering his face. Micky had yet again come up with another long & rushed explanation as to why Davy could not participate in gym. It worked like a charm again. Sooner or later, the teacher would just stop caring. 

“-Anyway I got to do the lab!” Micky tilted his chin up from his phone, blinking at the sunlight beaming down on him. He wiggled his phone in his hand and sat back. 

“Who switched shoes with you again?” Davy pursed his lips, laughing a little at Micky’s ridiculous shoe choice. He could feel the sunlight hot against his temple as he scrunched his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I dunno, some guy.” Micky shrugged, looking back down at his phone again as they could hear the distant sounds of pebbles shuffling. It was just those same guys smoking their weed from before.

Though this time, Davy almost thought he saw a little recognition on Micky's face. But the boy blinked it away, turning back to face Davy. “Wanna get ice cream after school?” 

Davy paused, debating on whether he should ask about that look but he figured it was nothing. He shrugged, “Sure.” 

Micky grinned, trying not to glance back at that guy and his friend. It was odd of him not to share every possible detail of his story to Davy but he figured it’d be better to keep who the guy had actually been, to himself. 

‘This Mike guy looks like a slacker anyway...’ Micky tilted his head to observe them when Davy wasn’t looking. 

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

Mike watched Peter roll his joint as he sat on the ground with a raised eyebrow. He leaned against the wall behind him and crossed his arms. The blonde was what his uncle might’ve called a ‘strange character’.  Mike kneeled down, the bones in his legs cracking a little causing him to grimace. 

Whatever it was about Peter, Mike sort of appreciated it. Peter did not seem to mind too much what people thought about him. Here he was hanging out with Mike, who had thought that he was just one of those stoner ‘Hot Rags’ employees who smelled too strongly of incense, and he didn’t even care. 

“Here.” Peter smiled kindly and handed over the joint which Mike took quickly while he politely returned the smile. 

As Mike blew smoke out, her felt a shiver go up his spine and he shifted. Peter glanced up from the rolling of his own joint and raised his eyebrow. “Got eyes on you, man?” 

Mike pulled back at the odd question and as he did, he caught a quick glimpse of that Micky guy looking at him from across the other side of the bleachers, like he was judging him. But Micky quickly looked back to his friend. 

He shook his head and turned back to Peter, he shrugged. “You a psychic or somethin'?” Mike sarcastically asked with a smirk that his mother once told him made him look like a ‘smart-ass’...of course she had said it in a polite Texan mother kind of way. 

Peter wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe.” He laughed and Mike had to too. 

“Oh my-” He chuckled. “You were one of those kids that had a phase where they thought they were a witch, aren’t you?” Mike asked with a grin. He asked because Peter struck him as the type. And he remembered the girl who used to live down the street from his mother & him. 

Her name was Sally or something like that and she used to sit at the end of block in front of her house and draw with chalk. She wore ribbons in her pigtails, and was always running around the street all hyper. If Mike remembered correctly, she had that witch phase. Mike thought he had something of a crush on her, something he laughed off now. He would ride his crappy little bike past her on his way to the park to see what she was drawing that day. Though his mother had told him to stay away from her, she was an ‘off child’ she explained with an obvious struggle to put it in a way that he’d understand. But he rode past her still, her drawings had ranged from black cats to pointy hats, ‘she wasn’t very creative that Sally’ Mike laughed to himself. 

Peter looked as if he wanted to share the joke but Mike just shook his head. 

“It wouldn’t be shocking to say yes, would it?” Peter played with the joint between his fingers and grinned ear to ear. Mike shook his head against the wall and remained quite amused for the rest of the day. 

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

“Micky, slow down.” Davy grimaced as he sat down across from Micky at the patio table, under a long yellow umbrella. Davy had just got his cone and Micky was already working his way through his ice-cream. 

Micky liked his way up the side of his cone and shivered in his seat. The sprinkles pooled on his tongue for a few seconds. “You’re really sure you don’t wanna go to that party on Friday?” Micky asked with a mock pout. 

Davy frowned and shoved his spoon into his ice-cream.”I dunno, Micky. All High School parties are the same.” He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Micky licked up the side of his cone again without speaking and Davy decided it was best to look away. “Like eight people threw up last time.” Davy scrunched up his nose. 

Micky chuckled. “You have to admit that it was really funny when that guy Steve slipped in it later-” Micky was cut off by Davy gagging at the memory. Micky just continued on licking his ice-cream without being phased while Davy pushed his aside with distaste for a moment. 

“That was disgusting, Micky....” He trailed off as he watched Micky again, still eating. “You’re a freak, did you know that?” Davy shook his head and wiped his mouth with a napkin. 

“In more ways then one.” Micky wiggled his eyebrows, the cone just covering his smirk and Davy just threw the napkin ball at him. 

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

Micky let his front door close behind him as he strolled into his house, the new backpack he’d bought on his way home was swinging under his arm. His father was sat at the kitchen counter and smiled upon his entry, pushing over a plate. “Your mother made cookies...if you’re still hungry that is.” He remarked, looking at Micky who told him he’d been out for ice-cream. 

Micky immediately sat across from his father, helping himself to the cookies to which his father laughed. “You never get full...always been that way.” His dad, George, rubbed his hand under his chin as he chuckled. There was a flicker in his laugh that told Micky he was about to get sentimental or emotional. He supposed kids just had that instinct with their parents. 

He swallowed the clump of food in his mouth and smiled, throwing his new backpack on the counter next to him. The mellowing yellow light-bulb above their heads bounced off the shiny holographic silver fabric. George’s eyes ran over it, eyebrows raising with that little aged crinkle just over the bridge of his nose while a small smile grew. “New?” 

Micky looked up from his cookie and smiled. “Yeah.” He licked the crumbs off his lips and shifted on the stool. “Like it?” Micky asked, his smile pulling at his fathers heart. 

George picked it up and held it under the light. “Oh, it’s beautiful. See how it shines?” He swayed it back and forth while Micky grinned. “You have such a good taste, like your mom.” He set the bag back on the table. 

“Aren’t I suppose to be like you?” Micky mumbled under his breath and George paused, it wasn’t like Micky to be bitter. 

“You are. Just like both of us-” George felt the need to ‘correct’ himself but felt a little deflated. Micky reached for another cookie with a neutral expression. “What do you mean, Micky?” He gave his son a look, who shuffled in his seat. 

“I dunno, really” Micky shrugged, voice back to it’s light tone. “When I got the backpack, the checkout guy gave me this look.” Micky picked at the chipping edge of the counter and looked down, the way he did when he was nervous or shy. 

“A look?” George asked his son, who nodded in confirmation. “I thought that was a good thing.” He leaned closer, eyebrow raised with confusion which Micky mirrored. Micky tried to read his father’s face before it clicked to him what he’d meant by that. 

“No, no, no, it wasn’t that- It was not- it wasn’t the kind of look I want from a guy.” Micky flinched at that response, physically wanting to drop the conversation and run. He immediately paused and looked up at the ceiling, his father sensed his discomfort. 

“Well what kind of look, son?” He tried again, wanting to get what was bothering him out of his son. 

Micky looked down from the ceiling again and back to his dad. “Like...like he was judging me.” He grimaced to himself, not even sure why he’d decided to bring this up. It was not as if he was particularly bothered. But maybe he was a little bit insecure. 

George looked across the counter to his son. “And does that bother you?” 

Micky paused, munching on his cookie. The expression on his face gave away the answer though he didn’t speak at all. George frowned for a moment. “Son, You’ve always been the way that you are and you should never change that. I know sometimes I may seem a little ignorant but I’m very proud of you. And so is your mom.” He smiled and Micky smiled back. 

“People aren’t always gonna understand you or your style.” He rolled his lips together and Micky rested the side of his face on his open palm, nodding. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Micky finished off his cookie. George silently hoped he was doing a good job for his son. He thought back on all the talks his father had given him as a kid. And as he glanced at Micky, he realized that his father and son talks with his own son wouldn’t be the same. Especially since he was now on the Father end of it all.  

“Hey dad?” 

George blinked out of his thoughts, looking back to Micky who had a question on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah?” He reached out for a cookie himself. 

“There’s this party on Friday...do you think I could go?” Micky was picking at the skin around his nails like he was a little nervous. George’s shoulders fell as he sighed with thought. Inevitability, Micky was going to ask about parties sooner or later. He was a teenager after all. But he couldn’t help but worry, like any parent would. The decision should be joint with Janelle, his wife, but Micky seemed genuinely cheered up by what he’d said and he wanted to keep him happy. Besides they’d let him go to a few parties in the past. 

“Is Davy going?” 

Micky paused for a second before nodding, he was sure he could convince Davy to go sooner or later. “Yeah, yeah he is.” 

“Well, ok. But don’t stay out to late. Now no more cookies. Your mother will be home with dinner after work.” George put on a stern voice but Micky was positively glowing with that answer. 

[namjoonchronicles]

Busy - [EXO] Dr!Chanyeol Au

[A/N] So my doctor-to-be friend came over to take me out to dinner, and he’s been so grateful that he passed his fourth year exam flawlessly, and decided to drain my money by coming over, so this was slightly inspired by him. So pray that he’ll be an orthopedist one day, he’s amazing and kind. And single.

You just got off the phone with your mother and apart from screaming at your little brother to come out of his room, she just complaints how she’s having indigestion, every now and then.

You didn’t have to ask why because she’s will answer that question for you, without even having a second to think about how it will hurt you. “...because you’re not married yet. Your friends are having their honeymoons, having a second baby, getting hitched, being in a relationship…” and then she proceeds to tell you the darndest thing, “What about you.”

You rolled your eyes, pressing your phone closer to your ears as people are glaring at you for  taking a call in the elevator with white coat is on. White coat on means ‘on duty’. But it was lunch break. But then again, you work in a hospital, so… what lunch?

You hissed, “Ma, I will call you later but before we end this call, it was your idea for me to date a doctor and unless people miraculously starts to live forever and never getting sick, there’s no way in life that he’ll ever propose because you know how absent-minded he is.” You hung up without listening to your mothers respond and just then, the elevator dings open to lower ground level where he’s supposed to meet you.

And if you expected him to be waiting charmingly at a table for two, with a  flower and a handsome smile, you were dead wrong, because you had to sit on the only empty table there and wait for him, instead. You started scrolling down your phone out of boredom and scrolls past at least, seventeen wedding pictures of your friends. Surfing the net was a mistake, it hoarded the feeling of disgrace to you and left you wondering, what it is to life. You wanted to run off somewhere but you can’t bear the life without your family, especially your mother. Even though her words can be hurtful and insensitive at times, you’d still miss her because.

She’s your mother.

But only if she understands that dating a doctor doesn’t mean that you’ll get to see him everyday. Your calls goes unanswered, your texts goes unreplied, your bed stays empty for days, and nights could feel very lonely. It’s like dating a stone wall. It’s there, but at the same time, not really there. Sometimes you just wonder if you should just leave, because there’s no reason to stay over here. He doesn’t seem like he need you that much. And you feel like you’d be fine without him.

Fine, everyone thinks it’s glamorous ordeal to be dating a healthcare professional such as a doctor, a very important figure, a glorious smart little punk with a stethoscope around his neck, charismatic and not to mention, free bone alignment massages. And to add to it, he knows about your body more than you do, so that’s a plus. But no.

He walked in an ugly red colour top and bottom in Crocs sandals with a sullen look on his face. His surgical face mask dangling around one ear and he just flopped himself on the chair in front of you. He just got out of a surgery it seems. He rips open his face mask of and sighed into his chair. He ran his fingers through his ruffled hair, pushing the hair back as he frowns making grunting sound. The nurses and medical students around just watching him in awe. And you heard the whispers rather too clearly.

“Isn’t he Dr. Chanyeol, the famous neurosurgeon?” “He just got out of a 12-hour surgery.” “He’s amazing.” “And handsome too.” “Is that the girlfriend?” “I hope not.”

Me too. You thought.

But Chanyeol look up at you, propping one elbow and resting his face in his palm, looking at you as if he had seen heaven in your face. And you can’t help that you’ll melt right back in his palms every time he does that. He looks at you like you’re magic. Like you’re the rainbow after a heavy rain. Like you’re sunshine. The only star in the dark night sky. Like there’s halo around your head.

But you’re just human, so you tend to not smile whenever he does this. After all, is this even a relationship?

“...hi.” He said, flirtatiously, as if he had just met you. “Hi.” You said, coldly, but a smile is already breaking on your lips. You hate that he had that kind of effect on you. “I’m gonna get food, you ordered yours?” Chanyeol stood up and already moving away when you nodded. He had like an hour break before having to ward rounds.

A colleague walked past and touched your shoulder, she beamed a smile. “Hey! The stocks are ready, so come over whenever you can. The box are placed pretty high, so you might want to move the ladders. Quick question,” she pauses, without noticing that Chanyeol had sat there before, “Is the boyfriend tall?”

Without thinking, you answered, “Quite.” “That’s good. So I’ll see you later. At the pharmacy.” She said, and went off.

Chanyeol returned with his lunch. “I can’t finish all of this, so will you help?” He huffs, “No,” you replied, just to get him riled up. The lunch was pretty much decent, considering how the little talks are seeming, laid back and not job related. And if you could summarize, you would say it was average and not ‘above average’, although it could really pass as excellent, only if he doesn’t have to answer calls every five minutes. You find yourself staring at your food most of the time.

“Yes. I remember giving Amlodipine 5mg as daily doses,” he pauses, “...correct, for one month. Sure.” “Hello, Dr. Park speaking. Yes. Uhum. That would be Fucicort cream, to be locally applied and two tubes because it’s a large area.” The second call goes. The third call didn’t come, but you expected it to be soon.

“Sorry, its just I was having a short clinic session before I came, so my writings were a bit terrible so they need to confirm what I wrote.” Chanyeol chuckled awkwardly, setting away his phone, facing down.

“I know,” you bitterly smile, “...I call you sometimes too. Your handwriting is impossible.” You traced your eyes to the side. As a pharmacist, you knew this all too well. “Sometimes you don’t even write the duration, so I don’t know how long the patient should take the medication. And other times, you intended to write left ear only to write on the prescription ‘LA’. Do you know what LA stands for? Locally applied. How do you locally applied on your left ear? It was an ear drop.” You ranted.

Chanyeol kept a stupid smile on his face as if your rants were cute and not serious. But you were all business, and he thinks it’s cute? Does he want to die?

“Maybe I have something else in my mind?” He laid out a stupid excuse. “Get your head in the game, doctor.” You mocked him. “Didn’t it ever come across to you that I might purposely make prescribing error just to have you call me?” Chanyeol arched an eyebrow at you. You looked at him straight in the eye, challenging him, “Then answer my gawd damn phone calls on your private cell when I gawd damn call you.”

His phone vibrates when he opens his mouth to say something in return, “Hold that thought.” He held on finger up and answered the call.

“Don’t tell me to hold my thought, I’ll hold whatever I want to, you’re not the boss of me,” you start speaking to yourself as he was replying to the enquiry by the nurses team. “Just because I’m not saying anything, doesn’t mean everything's okay. I’m tired of a one-sided relationship, and it feels like I’m the only one pulling everything together. And all my friends are getting married, and for some reason that fact had been pressuring my mother to pressure me about getting married. I don’t even know how to relationship, and the guy I’m currently with makes me feel like a freaking photo frame on the wall. Date a doctor, they say. It’ll be fun, they say.” You scoffed. “I feel like dating a tortoise.”

Chanyeol pull his ear away from his phone and grumbled, “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t mind me. Go back to your pretty team of nurses. This is just a lunch date with an unimportant little midget who feeds on attention and is currently having a mental breakdown because of the uncertainties in life, and is wondering why the hell did she chose to eat fish and chips in broad daylight. Really, doctor, I’m holding my thoughts, just like you told me to. Carry on.” You played with your food and Chanyeol took the obvious hint.

“I’m done with lunch. It’s nice seeing you talking on the phone with your nurses. It was pleasant sight.” You pushed your chair back and sarcastically smile at him. “Liberating, actually.” You added spark to the fuel, making Chanyeol ran his hot tongue on his lower lip before biting them. He didn’t go after you, but it was something you already expected. “I’m a doctor, I save lives.” He grumbled. “Don’t kill yourself trying to save others,” you shake your head, and, “...Don’t start a relationship you can’t keep.” You walked away. Chanyeol dropped his gaze on his untouched food.

You went home to an empty house. As usual.

Around midnight, you heard the front door open and closes and you knew, Chanyeol is home. He hung his white coat, folded on the dining chair, his stethoscope around his neck still. He had on a dark blue fitted dress shirt and black trousers. You pulled the blankets to cover yourself up. He pushed the door gap slightly and said, “We need to talk.” He said, and he called your name once and you’re up. “I was sleeping.” You lied, lazily walking out of the bedroom, down the hall, to the living area, next to the dining table.

“You’re not, because if you did, you won’t be responding.” Chanyeol shot. “Well, I could be.” You darted back. “Well, you’re not because you won’t be standing here if you were.” Chanyeol unhooked his cuffs and undo his wrist watch. He let them sit folded on the empty dining table.

“I need to ask you, what you want from me.” His voice was low. “What do you think I want from you?” You shot back. “You need to be clear, because like you said, I’m absent minded when it comes to this thing.” He added. “I think I’m being clear enough.” You said. He opens his mouth to protest but nothing came out so he spun around with both hands in his hair, and while facing the opposing wall he said, “I love the fucking shit out of you but if you keep doing this I’m going to really go crazy.” He said.

“Well, now we could prove that neurosurgeons do go crazy.” You thoughtlessly say. He glared back at you, “...That’s an amazing thing to say to an actual neurosurgeon.” “I’m glad you noticed.” You challenged his patience.

He looked at you and you darted your eyes at him. And it stayed that way for awhile, until he muttered a barely silent, “Fuck, I’m so turned on right now,” and grabbing your face in his palm, sloppily kissing you on the lips. You slid your hand around his neck in an attempt to bring him closer to you. He responded by pulling you by your waist, squeezing your butt so your middle touches his torso. You two stumble your way to the bedroom, with pieces of cloth coming off every step, his stethoscope left abandoned on the floor and so were your undies.

The session was intense. Out of this world.

He stayed up, even though his eyes were droopy. Enjoying the afterglow, playing your tiny fingers, comparing them to his large pair. “...I’m sorry for what I say when I’m angry.” You confessed.

“I don’t think you were angry. I think the right terminology is umm… sexually frustrated.” He corrected. “I take that back, I’m not sorry. Why do I even think it was a good idea to date a smart ass.” You rolled your eyes, and pull your fingers away from his, to sulk. “No-no, you can’t take back what you said, I won’t allow you.” He takes your hand again, and this time he slips something on your ring finger.

You were astounded. This was something you didn’t expect. It was not even a photographable moment! You were naked in bed, and in the middle of the night.

“Park Chanyeol?” You whispered. “That’s Doctor. Park Chanyeol, to you,” he smiled, fiddling with the ring that’s slightly loose on your ring finger, “...Will you be Mrs. Park Chanyeol? Despite all shit we’ve gone through? Will you still be here, when I’m tired and unappealing as I get older?”

“Only if you do the same.” You blinked, thankfully. “Okay, so we’re engaged now. Now what?” He said.

“I don’t know. How are we going to have babies if we both are busy working in hospital?” You suddenly say. Chanyeol perked an eyebrow. “...We could do that now.”

“No way, I will not take a holiday from my work.” “But I wanna have babies with you.” “What does having babies have got to do with work. Are you going to take care of the babies when they’re out?” “Who’s the workaholic, now…” He starts running his palm down your thighs. “I bet someone’s gonna call you in two minutes.” You smirked.

Chanyeol makes a crying sound, “...Baby, please don’t say that, they’ll c--” Ring ring ring. Well, shit.