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whimsyfinny · 3 months

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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2564

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sorry that this one feels like a bit of a filler - but I’m seriously hoping to get some spicy content out in the next chapter so pls pls stay tuned! Also this is only proof read by myself so pls let me know of any errors!

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 4

We spent a few hours researching and looking into the First Blades whereabouts after dinner, Dean and I only making work-related conversations after the pie ordeal. Every now and then when I looked up from the book I was reading I’d catch him looking in my direction, but I was far too tired for any more confrontation - I knew he'd act like an ass if I said anything. I decided to head to bed at around midnight, unable to read more than a few words and actually process said words in my brain. As Sam was still asleep, Dean showed me to my room which was tragically opposite his, and I could only imagine the noises that I’d be hearing coming through that door. Getting ready for bed, I dug out an old boyfriends T-shirt that I was still in possession of and threw it on, making sure to remove all other items of clothing except my panties. I climbed into bed - which was surprisingly more comfortable than I’d anticipated, though the sheets smelt a little musty - and set an alarm on my phone so I could hopefully rise before the boys in the morning. The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep whisked me away, not giving me a chance to think about the wild day I’d had and the total jackass that I’d met.

My alarm rang at 5am and I crawled out of bed, dressing in yesterday’s jeans with a clean, low-cut tank top and an open flannel thrown over the top. Pulling on my boots, I ran my fingers through my hair before heading to the en suite bathroom to brush my teeth. As I turned on the tap, the pipes clanged alarmingly as a small stream of water trickled from the faucet, the harsh noise echoing around the small tiled room. “That’s not concerning at all,” I mumbled to myself, the noise finally stopping as I turned the tap off. After I’d finished brushing I headed back into the bedroom to grab my phone before leaving the room to walk wearily to the kitchen. Upon arrival, I instantly made a pot of coffee, the smell alone already helping to blow away the sleepy cobwebs in my mind. I needed food. Something good, like pancakes. So I rummaged around until I found everything I needed, starting to memorise where the brothers kept everything after spending so much time in here yesterday evening. As I whipped up the batter, I threw some bacon in a pan and placed three plates on the table, along with some mugs, the pot of coffee and a big bottle of maple syrup. As soon as I started cooking the batter, it was like I’d used a summoning spell.

“You know when I first woke up I thought that I’d dreamt you up in some sort of weirdly tame nightmare” Dean said in a deep and raspy, fresh-from-sleep tone as he paced into the room and sat at the table, rubbing his eyes.

“Is that your way of saying that I’m your dream girl, Winchester?” I teased as I poured him a mug of coffee. He smirked, not looking up at me.

“You wish darlin’.”

“I really don’t,” I turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake, taking a sip from my own mug.

I’d made a stack of maybe twelve pancakes by the time Sam arrived, greeting me with that warm smile of his as he took a seat opposite Dean.

“Good morning (Y/n), something smells amazing.”

“Good morning Sam,” I smiled back at him before I looked over at Dean, “That’s how you greet someone in the morning Dean, not by telling them they were part of your living nightmare.” Dean shrugged, taking a long drink from his coffee.

Sam gave me an almost apologetic look on his brothers behalf, saying quietly, “as charming as ever then, Dean.” As he sat down I placed the stack of pancakes along with the bacon on the table and both men’s eyes lit up, immediately picking up their cutlery.

“Help yourselves,” I said, taking a seat between them, “just leave a couple for me at least.”

Dean was the first to pile about five onto his plate along with a good portion of the bacon. Without even looking at me he placed two pancakes on my own plate as he reached for the maple syrup. Before I could ask for the bacon, it was Sam who served some up for me before giving himself whatever was left over before handing me the syrup.

“Oh, thanks guys…” I said, a little shocked at how weirdly coordinated they were with that whole task.

“You’re welcome,” they both managed to mumble out through huge mouthfuls of food. We sat in a strangely nice silence for a few minutes, the only noise to be heard was the sounds of breakfast being totally annihilated. Dean was the first to throw his cutlery down with a very satisfied groan. He stretched, his T-shirt rising slightly to show his incredibly toned abdomen.

For fucks sake.

“THAT is what powers a man up in the morning,” he said, his fingers interlaced behind his head.

“Mmm hmm,” was all I managed to get out, finding it annoyingly difficult to look away, let alone to stop my eyes from trailing to where his leather belt hugged his hips and his old denim jeans gripped the thick muscles of his thighs. A few seconds must’ve passed when he cleared his throat and my eyes snapped up to be immediately caught in that moss-green gaze. Shit. I thought maybe for a second that he didn’t notice me looking. But then the corner of his mouth twitched up into that infuriating smirk. Luckily for me, he didn’t say anything, but I watched as he dragged his gaze over my figure, similar to how I did with him. It was Sam who spoke up next and I tore my eyes away, letting out a breath as he saved me from Deans silent interrogation.

“So I read last night about a possible case,” he started to say as he finished chewing the last bit of food on his plate before pushing it away and turning towards us.

“Go on,” Dean said, leaning forwards - finally covering his exposed stomach.

“I think it’s a haunting - some sort of item possession involving a ghost. All of the accidents that have been happening seem to occur either around or directly within an old antique store that’s connected to an old auction house. I think it’s worth a look,” Sam opened his laptop that he’d placed on the seat next to him, showing us all of the research he’d done overnight. Looking at the evidence he’d piled together, I think he was on to something. I nodded.

“Sure, I’m in. I’ll go pack a bag,” I said, standing up and clearing the plates from the table.

“Hang on a second,” Dean spoke up and I immediately knew he was talking to me.

“What?”

“What makes you think you’re coming with us for this?” His brows furrowed slightly.

“Because I never get to work out in the field - Bobby always had me on book duty and I want to see some real hunting in action,” I raised my voice a little starting to get defensive.

“If Bobby never let you do field work then neither are we. You’re staying here,” his tone was stern as he downed the last of the coffee and stood up, towering over me.

“What?!” I almost shouted.

“Dean, I don’t think it’s your place to say what she can and can’t do. I say we let her come along,” Sam intervened, his voice always full of reason and reassurance. I gave him a half smile - a small, ‘thank you for sticking up for me’.

“No way. There’s no way I’m letting Bobby’s girl put herself in danger. The old bastard would find a way to make us pay if anything were to happen to her; even from beyond the grave.”

“I don’t need you taking on his role, Dean. Bobby kept me safe my whole life, just him. I’m sure the pair of you could look out for me no problem on a little ghost trip,” I chided, coming up with a plan to get Dean to agree to me coming.

“(Y/n)s right, this shouldn’t be a hard case for us - if anything this is a small break from the real hard work,” Sam stepped towards Dean, trying to reassure him.

Dean looked from Sam to myself, and when our eyes locked I let a sly smile crawl onto my lips.

“Or maybe Dean Winchester isn’t up to the challenge?” I said, holding my hands up. He frowned, opening his mouth but I spoke again before he could get his words out. “Maybe….,” I stepped towards him, now only a few inches between us, “Dean Winchester is losing his touch, and isn’t the big strong man he used to be and really won’t be able to keep me safe…?” I flashed Dean my best doe eyes and I heard him suck in a breath as I reached forwards and tugged slightly on his T-shirt, making him look down at me with his eyes flicking between mine - dilating a little. I couldn’t help but bite my lip, looking up at him through my lashes and pressing my fingertips to his chest, feeling his heart rate increase with every beat from my touch. I liked to think that I was being very ‘persuasive’.

“I think you’re right (Y/n), I don’t think Dean is up to the task. He’s definitely been losing his touch,” Sam spoke up, catching on with my game and joining in with the verbal attack on his older brother. Deans eyes snapped up to look at Sam and the almost trance-like state he was in before was shattered.

“I have NOT lost my touch!” He snapped. Sam and I looked at each other and exploded into laughing very fake laughs, clapping and wiping away a pretend tear.

“Sure thing ‘sweetheart’,” I said, “prove it - keep me safe.”

“Oh I’ll keep you safe,” Dean took the bait and barged past us, “I’ll keep you safe from your own fucking shadow.”

After a few hours of packing and travelling, we arrived in a very well manicured town - even the motel was decent. Upon checking in, we got two rooms; one for me and one for the boys.

“Let’s drop our stuff off, freshen up and meet back here in ten?” Sam said, checking his watch. It was just past 11am.

“Sure, sounds good,” I replied, and Dean just nodded in approval. Their room was further down the corridor than mine, so I watched them leave before entering my room. It was the usual layout: one double bed, cheap linens, an old TV and an under-stocked minibar. At least the decor wasn't completely brown. I dumped my bags on the floor and started to unpack some essentials. I laid my clothes out on the bed - some of these outfits may come in handy later on. For now though, I’ll just stick to what I was already wearing. Lastly I grabbed a tin that was down in the bottom of my duffle - inside was a bunch of fake IDs that Bobby insisted on making me a few years ago. I smiled, remembering him always answering the phone to the Winchesters, pretending to be their FBI boss. I was always dying to know what they were hunting when he got those phone calls. I admired them a lot back then. I shook away the memory and pocketed the IDs, marching to the bathroom and splashing some water on my face before leaving, locking the door behind me.

The boys were already waiting for me.

“You boys ready?” I asked, to which they both nodded. “Where to first?” my question was aimed at Sam, but Dean replied.

“The old antique store just down here on the corner,” he grumbled as we started walking, still unimpressed that I was tagging along. I shot him a look as he practically glared at me from the other side of Sam.

“Get over yourself Dean. I’m along for the ride so deal with it,” I snapped at him, hoping he un-rustles his jimmies quickly. I wasn’t going to let him drag me down, not when I’m excited to actually be on a case. My first ‘out in the field’ case of all things. I wanted this to be a good memory. He scrunched his face up at my words, mouthing an angry ‘I hate you’ at me, to which I flipped him off.

“Guys just behave yourselves!” Sam stopped in his tracks right as we were outside our destination. “We are professionals so we need to act like it. We’re here to do our job,” Sam said in an authoritative voice - which undeniably sounded very attractive on him. I walked a few steps ahead of them and stopped with my hand on the front door to the store.

“Sam’s right. I’m happy to be here helping these people,” I smiled a little too sweetly before throwing a dark look at Dean, “so pull your shit together Dean, you’re making us look bad.” I heard him start to protest before I pushed the door open and walked into the shop, hearing the two brothers scurrying to catch up with me. As we walked in we were greeted by an older gentleman, with a kind face, a neatly trimmed pure white beard and round specs.

“Good morning and welcome to the store,” he said, his voice soft, “Can I help you?” He looked between the three of us. The boys reached for the fake badges, but they were lost for words when I beat them to the chase - obviously being unaware that I’d come prepared. Holding my badge up for the older gent to see, I spoke without missing a beat.

“Hi! Yes you certainly can help me - I’m agent Granger and these,” I jabbed my thumb to Sam and Dean who were standing right behind me, “are agents Crabbe and Goyle. We’ve got some questions for you regarding the strange occurrences going on around here recently.”

“Of course, it’s about time these things were investigated,” the older man turned and beckoned for us to follow, which Sam did immediately. Dean and I were left behind, staring each other down. I could tell he wasn’t happy that I had a badge, and I couldn’t help but smile at that. He scowled.

“This isn’t a fucking game.”

“You’re just mad that I got one up on you so early on,” I grinned up at him, his frown not budging.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” he huffed.

“I’m safe from doing you then aren’t I?” I couldn’t stop the words from spilling from my lips.

“What?” He looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head, obviously not catching on. I chuckled a little, walking past him to catch up with Sam, leaving him standing there confused.

“Don’t think too hard about it Dean, you might hurt yourself,” I called back over my shoulder.

“Fuck y- hang on- oh you BITCH!” He shouted after me as he caught on finally. I laughed, not looking back.

“Only to you Dean.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 5

#dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #slow burn #reader insert

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puckbunnyera · 1 month

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Second Chance | Arber Xhekaj

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

genre: angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none

notes: started this a couple of weeks ago and i've finally finished it. the part that took the longest was deciding which hockey player i wanted to use for it.

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

Coming to the game was a bad idea. I knew it from the moment the word yes slipped from my lips, but when Mayah, the bubbly girl that sits next to me in my psychology lecture, asked if I would attend the game between the Montreal Canadiens and Toronto Maple Leafs with her after her friend bailed, I couldn't find it in me to turn her down.

In the day leading up to the game, I convinced myself that everything would be fine. That he wouldn't even know I was there. I'm not quite sure if I jinxed myself or if Karma was playing some cruel joke on me, but the second we made it to our seats, right there in the front row behind the Canadiens bench, I decided it was some sick and twisted combination of the two. Regret began to make itself right at home in my head the second we settled into our seats.

As the two teams make their way out onto the ice to head to their respective benches, the crowd goes wild. The arena fills with the sound of thousands of fans cheering and yelling. However, the sound of my own rapidly beating heart floods my eardrums, replacing the loud screams of the fans, as my eyes drift to him and our gazes interlock.

Arber Xhekaj, defenceman for the Montreal Canadiens of the National Hockey League, known to me as my ex-boyfriend, is staring right at me and there was nowhere I can go to hide.

Once upon a time, he was a man that meant everything to me. He was my whole world. We spent a little over two years in a relationship together, happy and in love. Things were perfect between us, until they weren't. What started as small, petty disagreements that happened here and there became full-on arguments that occurred almost every day. While I was putting in the effort to fix things, he was shutting me out. I pinned all of it on stress and the lack of time we got to spend with each other because of his work and my schooling. I tried to wait it out in hopes that things would return to normal, but eventually, I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't see the point in fighting for us if he wasn't willing to do the same. I've spent the past few months trying to move on and forget about him, and I thought I was doing pretty well. That all came crashing down the moment he noticed me. I suddenly became painfully aware that I was still hopelessly in love with him.

The insistent tapping on my arm is what finally pulls me from our impromptu staring contest. When I turn to my left, Mayah is buzzing with excitement.

"Oh my god! Arber Xhekaj is literally staring at you." She squeals. "How are you not freaking out right now? He is six feet and four inches of muscle and manliness. I would climb him like a fucking tree if given the opportunity."

The ending comment causes a pang of jealousy to flare up inside of me. I push it away as quickly as it appears though. I have no right to feel that way anymore, as we are no longer together. It's a feeling that I don't want to feel again, at least not when he is concerned.

Not able to come up with a response, I shrug my shoulders to express a feeling of indifference and turn to face forward as the announcer's voice floods the arena.

• ───────────────────────────── •

Despite the Habs loss to the Maple Leafs, my body is still filled with adrenaline and excitement as I walk out of the arena with Mayah. I had forgotten how much I loved hockey. It was how I met Arber. When things ended between us, I forgot how much I enjoyed watching the game as I tried my hardest to forget him.

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Thanks for inviting me." I respond. "I think that's the most exciting thing I've experienced in a while."

"Anytime." She smiles. "My Uber is here but I'll see you in class on Monday?"

"Yeah, see you Monday." I wave her off as she climbs into the car waiting for her by the curb.

As I wait for my own ride to arrive, I feel my phone buzz in my hand, alerting me of a text.

From Unknown Number: Hey. Can we talk?

Despite there being no name on the contact, I knew exactly who it was from. I'm about to turn my screen off to ignore it when another message comes through.

From Unknown Number: I know you're seeing this.

From Unknown Number: Please

From Unknown Number: I just want to talk.

All it takes is for that fourth and final message to come through for me to make my decision. I type out a short reply just as my Uber arrives.

• ───────────────────────────── •

A couple of hours later, here I am, standing in front of his apartment door. I'm a ball of nerves as I raise my hand to knock on the door. It only takes two knocks for the door to go swinging open and I suddenly find myself standing face-to-face with the man I swore I would never see again.

"Hey." He greets, voice still as deep and mesmerizing as I remember. "Come in."

I give him a tight-lipped smile as I step past him into the apartment I once considered a second home. He closes the door without a word and then leads me into the living room.

"Do you want some water?" He asks as I take a seat on the couch.

"No, thank you." I reply, trying to keep my voice steady in hopes that I can conceal the emotions that are beginning to rise to the surface. "What did you want to talk about? It's late and I can't stay long."

"I-" He begins before quickly cutting himself off, taking a seat on the sofa opposite of me. He sighs heavily and then tries again. "I miss you."

I freeze instantly at the words that leave his mouth. A mixture of shock and anger forms in my chest. "Arber-"

"These past few months have been hell." He continues. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I'm telling the truth."

"I can't do this." My voice wobbles as I speak, tears welling up in my eyes. I stand up, making a move towards the door. "I...I need to leave. I shouldn't have come here."

"Why?" Frustration is evident in his tone as he quickly follows my movements, grasping my hand to stop me from walking any further. "Why can't you just stay and talk to me?"

"Because if I stay, I might do something stupid." I shake my head, trying to clear the racing thoughts that have taken over. "Like..." My voice trails off, not able to finish the sentence as I attempt to get my emotions under control.

"Like what?" He interrupts, inching closer to me.

"Forgive you," I answer, looking him in the eyes for the first time since I arrived. "Because God knows you don't deserve my forgiveness. Not this easily."

"You're right. I don't deserve it," He nods. "But I want it anyway, because I'm selfish and cruel, right?" He punctuates his question with an audible scoff. Throwing my own words from our last argument at me.

"Don't say that like I'm the bad guy." I bite back. "You were the one that pushed me away like I was nothing when I was the only one there for you." My words are bitter. "I've tried so hard to make myself hate you for the way you made me feel. I tried so fucking hard. Instead, I ended up hating myself for failing so miserably. Despite my efforts, I still fucking love you. And it hurts."

My chest is tight and I'm breathing heavily as I fight back the sob that threatens to leave me. His hand grips mine tighter as he opens his mouth to speak.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am. I know I fucked up. Treating you like that and letting you walk out that door were two of the biggest mistakes I've ever made in my life." He confesses. "I want you. No, scratch that. I fucking need you. And I'll spend every day for the rest of our lives making up for what I did if that's what it takes."

"I waited for you." I whisper as the dam behind my eyes finally breaks, tears cascading down my cheeks. "For two months, I waited for something to change. For you to change."

"I know." His hands lift to caress my face, thumbs gently brushing away my tears. "And I promise I'll never make you feel like that again. I won't take your love for granted ever again."

"I thought you were falling out of love with me and I couldn't take it anymore."

"Never did I stop loving you." He shook his head, a deep frown etched on his face.

"Then what happened?"

"I was scared. You were getting busier with school and I was beginning to travel more. The longer we spent apart the more I began to question the stability of our relationship. I was afraid that, because of my busy schedule and how often I have to travel for the majority of the year, I wouldn't be able to be the type of boyfriend that you need. That you deserve. I convinced myself that it was only a matter of time before you realized that and as a result, I subconsciously began to push you away."

"You could have just talked to me." I sigh. "We could have figured it out."

"I know." He nods. "I wish I could take it back. I really do. If you would just give me a second chance, I'll do better."

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll give you another chance, but if you fuck it up, we're over for good."

"I won't." He shakes his head, hands moving to my waist to pull me into him. "You have my word."

"Good." I smile softly, laying my head on his chest.

The room falls silent as we stand in each other's embrace, taking in the moment. After a few minutes, it's Arber that makes the first move to separate us, but only enough to be able to see my face. He stares silently, lips parted as if he wants to say something.

"What?" I question, noticing his hesitation.

"Can I kiss you?" His right hand moves up to rest on my cheek, angling my head up a little more. It takes less than a second for me to respond.

"Please do."

His lips brush mine softly at first, a brief peck to test the waters. He pulls back slightly to examine my face. I'm not quite sure what he is looking for, but whatever he does or doesn't find has him leaning back in. This kiss is deeper, hungrier, more desperate. We stay like this for a while. Melting into each other. Once the lack of oxygen becomes too much, we finally part. Our foreheads remain pressed together, our eyes still closed as we try to catch out breaths.

"I really fucking missed you." He whispers, our lips brushing with every word he speaks.

"I missed you too." I smile against his lips.

"Stay."

"What?" I pull back slightly and open my eyes to look at him.

"Stay." He repeats. "Stay the night with me. It's late anyways. I don't want you going back on your own. So stay."

I take a few seconds to think it over before I respond, nodding my head. "Okay."

Smiling, he steps out of our embrace and intertwines his fingers with mine, pulling me behind him as he begins to make his way down the familiar path to his bedroom.

#arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj imagine #arber xhekaj x reader #ax72 #arber xhekaj fluff #arber xhekaj angst #arber xhekaj fic #arber xhekaj fanfiction #montreal canadiens #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

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annieqattheperipheral · 5 months

Text

you have to read this in full!!

i gotchu from behind the $wall:

The day Luke Prokop shook the hockey world by coming out, he needed to get away.

And stop looking at his constantly buzzing phone.

It was July 21, 2021, and the right-shot defenseman had just become the first openly gay hockey player under an NHL contract. The Nashville Predators’ No. 73 pick in the 2020 draft was just 19 years old and hadn’t even turned pro yet. He didn’t know how it would impact his future. His nerves were fried.

But one text message was impossible to ignore. He didn’t recognize the number but certainly knew the name.

“Hey, it’s Auston Matthews. I wanted to congratulate you. I look forward to sharing the ice with you someday.”

Prokop was blown away. The Toronto Maple Leafs superstar wasn’t the most famous person to reach out — that honor goes to Elton John — but the fact that so many NHLers, including one of the league’s best and most powerful players, were offering support meant a lot.

Now 21, Prokop still hasn’t taken the NHL ice, but on Wednesday he took a step forward, being recalled by the Predators’ AHL affiliate in Milwaukee. He could become the first openly gay player to appear in an AHL game Friday night for the Admirals in Rockford.

As difficult as the decision to come out was, Prokop told The Athletic in an extended conversation recently that he’s been mentally and physically freed by it. He doesn’t have to hide. He can be himself, on and off the ice. Heck, he can even date.

“It’s been massive,” he said.

Teammates and fans have welcomed him in his journey toward the NHL so far, from Calgary, Edmonton and Seattle of the junior WHL to, most recently, Atlanta of the ECHL. They treated him like he was any other player.

Not that there’s not room to grow. Prokop figured more players would come out after he did. They haven’t, not that he would rush anyone’s decision on that. He’s also been disappointed by the developments over the past few years with the NHL’s inclusion efforts, including the Pride tape “debacle.”

He can only control his own actions, though, and doesn’t regret his decision.

“I’d like to think I’m a realistic person,” Prokop said. “I know hockey is not going to be forever. As much as (when I came out) I would have loved to keep playing, I was OK with not playing any more if it didn’t work out — just being able to live my life the way I wanted, to be myself.

“But now, I don’t want to stop playing. It was definitely nerve-wracking. You never know what the reaction is going to be inside hockey, outside hockey, because no one has done it before. We kind of went out on a limb and hoped for the best. It’s been way more positive than we thought it’d be. You’re going to have some keyboard warriors, which there were a few, but I was expecting more.

“I did not expect the amount of support I got from NHL players. That was really cool.”

- - - - - - -

The Matthews text and Elton John phone call the morning after were memorable, with the gay rock legend welcoming him to the community and offering his email address if Prokop ever needed anything.

Prokop found even more comfort in a moment that came a few days later — the first time he played hockey since his announcement. It was a four-on-four league in Edmonton at Meadows Rec Center, a place where pros and NHLers competed and kept in shape during the offseason.

Prokop was on a team with Colton and Kirby Dach. The other team had Philadelphia Flyers goalie Carter Hart and the Boston Bruins’ Jake DeBrusk. During warmups, Prokop found himself near mid-ice. The first guy to approach him was DeBrusk. The two had met previously through mutual friends. DeBrusk tapped Prokop’s shin pads with his stick.

“Congrats,” he told him. “I’m really happy for you. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I didn’t know what the reaction would be,” Prokop said. “So that meant a lot.”

Prokop was returning that year to the Calgary Hitmen (WHL), the junior team he had played for the previous four seasons. But there had been a lot of turnover on the roster and, of course, a lot had changed for Prokop. So he decided to address the team in its first meeting in training camp.

“Everyone knows what I did last summer,” he told his team. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. There might be a lot of media asking you for an interview. If you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to do them. If you have any questions for me, come ask me. I’m an open book. I just don’t want you guys to feel uncomfortable.”

In that dressing room, Prokop had heard plenty of the uncomfortable language that’s not uncommon for any locker room. He even admitted using it. He didn’t want to out himself. He wanted to act straight, be “one of the guys.”

“I heard it, but it wasn’t all the time,” he said. “I also took it from the perspective that these guys don’t know any better. It’s hockey language. It’s how guys talk. They don’t mean it in a harmful way. They use the word ‘gay’ as a filler at the end of a sentence to make something stupid. ‘Well, that’s so gay.’ I wasn’t comfortable with it, but I used it myself. I didn’t want to seem like I was out of the mix.

“Some guys texted me (after I came out), ‘F—, sorry if I said anything to offend you when we played.’ I’d just say, ‘Guys, you had no idea.’ The lesson is you don’t know what everyone is going through. The words you say do matter. Make sure you think before you speak. It’s a silly rule you learn in kindergarten. It applies to life when you’re 22 or 35 and never goes away.

“The way hockey is going with the language, guys are naturally changing their language. I’ve heard a change in language on every team I’ve been on.”

Prokop said that season was the best of his career, both from a production standpoint and a personal one. He was traded to the Edmonton Oil Kings early in the season and had 10 goals and 33 points in 55 games for them, helping them win the WHL’s Ed Chynoweth Cup and advance to the Memorial Cup.

Luke Prokop won the WHL’s Ed Chynoweth Cup with the Oil Kings in 2022. (Courtesy of Oilers Entertainment Group)

Luke Pierce, then an assistant coach for Edmonton and now the head coach, said the staff and management had discussions with the leadership group before acquiring Prokop — making sure they were comfortable with it, feeling out whether their room could handle the attention. Pierce said he asked one of the captains, Blues prospect Jake Neighbours, for his perspective. Neighbours had known Prokop since they were 10 or 11, growing up playing in spring tournaments together. He told Pierce and the staff there would be “zero issue” and he’d be a great addition.

Neighbours said nothing really changed, that Prokop “fit right in” to the team. Pierce at first wondered if players would have any issue with rooming assignments on the road, but nobody blinked. Pierce noted that Prokop would joke about situations and even opened up about his boyfriend coming to visit.

“He put everybody at ease,” Pierce said. “I often tell people, if the outside world could see how the group of men interacted, it would be just a tremendous inspiration on how we should treat everybody.”

Pierce and Prokop pointed out how this generation is more comfortable and equipped to handle LGBTQ+ inclusion issues. Everyone seems to know someone, be friends with someone, or be related to someone in the community.

“I just don’t think guys really care anymore,” Prokop said. “They might be nervous as they have this stereotype version of what a gay guy might look like, sound like, act like. Like me, coming to a team, they think I’ll act a certain way, look a certain way, but they’ll realize three minutes into talking to me that I’m not that.

“Hockey is part of me. It’s who I am. Guys totally forget (about me being gay) when I’m at the rink. They’re not afraid to ask questions. But other than that, it never really comes up. That’s how I wanted it to be. I wanted them to know, but we can all go out and play. I never wanted to be a distraction.”

- - - - - - -

The NHL’s decisions around Pride jerseys and stick tape weren’t a distraction, Prokop said, but he has gotten frustrated about it.

He understood the issue over wearing sweaters during warmups — “jerseys weren’t really their choice” — but lamented that the fact the focus was on the handful of players who refused to wear them and not all the others who did. The NHL’s initial banning of Pride stick tape, then its reversal, was a whole other topic.

“To take away choices from players was really confusing,” Prokop said. “Some of them don’t really care. For some, it was near and dear to their heart. To take it away was mind-boggling. From the players’ side, the support was there. Zach Hyman talked about it, Travis Dermott. I like what they did. They didn’t make a big deal about it before — they just did it. Let fans see the rest, and it’ll take care of itself. There’s a massive amount of support from players in the NHL.”

What do the Pride tape and sweaters mean for someone in the LGBTQ+ community?

Prokop didn’t recall noticing them growing up going to Oilers games. He never got to see someone who was gay using Pride tape on the TV screen. He had to deal with it himself — “jump over those barriers without any help.” But Prokop continued pursuing his hockey career whereas “a lot of people don’t feel comfortable pursuing their career without that exposure, without feeling like they’re being seen.”

“I think with the Pride tape stuff, they were trying to show support for their older fans,” Prokop said of the NHL. “The fans that have been watching hockey for 40-50 years. That’s not how you grow the game. You want to get the younger generation, put these guys in the best situation to promote the game. Sometimes I don’t think the NHL does that the correct way. The Pride tape is one example.”

Prokop has been part of two Pride nights since he came out, one with the Edmonton Oil Kings and another with Seattle. The Oil Kings staff approached him after not having that event on their promotional calendar. They planned it in two weeks and it was a big hit, with around 8,000 fans in attendance.

“Some guys told me it was the most impactful game they’d been in during their career,” Prokop said. “They said they didn’t realize how many Queer fans they had. I don’t think they realize how much my community watches hockey, plays hockey and cares about hockey.

The Seattle Pride night was fan-driven, which made it unique. Thunderbirds fans noticed that other rival teams had a special night for Pride and made a push for their own, making bracelets and T-shirts. Prokop told teammates they didn’t have to wear the stick tape — he knows how superstitious hockey players are. They all wore some, for him.

“I always look at the perspective, the other side of Pride nights — why do you have them if no one on the team is gay?” Prokop said. “The point is that it’s for the fans. For me, it means a lot to play in them to show my community and be a representative on the ice.”

While education is important, Prokop said any real change in the NHL when it comes to inclusion will start with other players coming out. He’s not putting any timeline or pressure on that. He didn’t have one. But that’s when players in the league will see a different perspective, get more comfortable with it.

“Otherwise, it’s always going to be a story,” Prokop said. “I also can see why guys don’t want to come out. Especially in the NHL. They’ve been very successful, so why change? I kind of saw that from the perspective when the whole Pride jersey story came out. My phone was blowing up. I don’t think guys want to have to deal with that. There was a responsibility for me to talk about these topics. I don’t think guys want to do that. I can see it from that side, why they don’t want to come out.

“I don’t think anything is going to change unless someone else does. Someone else will step up. It’s only a matter of time. I thought there’d maybe be two, three of us by now. But it hasn’t happened. But I know there’s going to be someone else soon. It’s math. There’s what, 700 players in the league? There’s definitely a few more.”

- - - - - - -

While there have been some derogatory comments coming from the stands on a few occasions, Prokop has been encouraged there have been none from opposing players.

“Zero,” he said.

Most of the feedback he’s received, even on social media, has been positive. And it’s not just the comments like Matthews’ that stick with him. Two high schoolers in Seattle, Kaitlin and Jo, reached out to him over Instagram. They are part of the LGBTQ+ community and were struggling.

“Like everyone, they just wanted someone to talk to,” Prokop said.

Part of Prokop’s pregame routine is usually to hang by the bench and listen to music. On many occasions, Kaitlin and Jo would come by and the three of them would just chat for 10, 12 minutes. They’re the fans that Prokop saw every game above the tunnel on his way to the dressing room. They’ve stayed in touch. Prokop even did a Zoom meeting with their high school class last month. “They have a special place in my heart,” he said.

When, and if, Prokop makes his NHL debut, he says he’ll have a special secret plan for them.

Whether Prokop lives his NHL dream remains to be seen. He’s praised the Predators for their support from the first time he did a group video call with the staff. Former NHLer Mark Borowiecki, now a development coach, has been someone Prokop has leaned on often, not only for on-ice advice but for help getting through things mentally.

Scott Nichol, the Predators’ assistant GM, likes Prokop’s potential.

“Big right-shot defensemen that can skate, move the puck. They don’t grow on trees,” he said. “He just needs to polish up his game in some areas in the defensive zone. He’s got the tools. He’s got the skating ability. It’s just patience and embrace the process.”

Prokop is grateful for his support group, from his parents, Al and Nicole, to his brother, Josh, and sister, Alanna. He’s kept in touch with Heather Lefebvre, who is a specialist in hockey engagement and alumni relations with the Oilers Entertainment Group. They talk almost every day. What sticks out to Lefebvre is how young Prokop was when he came out (19), and while he wears this “trailblazer” cap, he’s still standing alone.

“I think this generation is more ready for it than past generations, for sure,” Lefebvre said. “It says a lot to me that nobody else has come out in the year and a half since he has. He’s the only openly gay player under NHL contract, but he’s not the only gay player under NHL contract.

“That’s where I think we have work to do. Is it great that he’s been accepted and can do his thing? Yes. But he looks at the positives, which makes me really happy for him. But that doesn’t mean there’s no negative.”

Prokop takes the positives in his off-ice life, too. He lives with Alanna in the offseason back home in Edmonton. He’s found teammates to share in his hobbies, like golf (he plays 40 to 50 rounds a year). He loves to read, from biographies to sci-fi. He watches basketball more than hockey and has more than 25 jerseys. He cooks. He got into puzzles during the pandemic and is bullish about doing them on his own.

Prokop also feels comfortable getting out there on the dating scene and not having to hide it from teammates.

“Obviously, the lifestyle of a hockey player is tough for some people,” he said. “I’m trying to find the right person to connect with. I’m a softie, a romantic guy. I love love. I’m always on the lookout for that right person to spend the rest of my life with.”

Prokop doesn’t see the label of being the first openly gay player under NHL contract as a weight. It’s more of a responsibility. He has a platform and wants to use it. He’s realistic, “dreaming about winning the community service award more than the Norris Trophy.”

Making the AHL jump or someday the NHL jump won’t define him.

“One of my main goals when I came out is that if I could have an impact on one person outside of my family and friends in my lifetime, I’ve done my job,” he said. “I think I’ve done that and more. And I want to continue to do that.”

#luke prokop #auston matthews #jake debrusk #elton john #nashville predators #milwaukee admirals #atlanta gladiators #toronto maple leafs #boston bruins #jake neighbours #st louis blues #edmonton oil kings #calgary hitmen #lgbtq #pride jerseys #pride tape #nhl garbage league

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familyvideostevie · 6 months

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october twenty-second

day twenty-two: sirius black your coffee shop gets a new barista. he’s very enthusiastic | grumpy!reader and sunshine!sirius, fluff | 1k

The thing you like most about your coffee shop is that no one talks to you. It’s a fairly quiet place — one of those small, hole-in-the-walls that doesn’t have wifi or much but a simple menu and some large arm chairs. The only people who stick around are old people reading books and interesting characters scrawling away in journals. It’s no nonsense. You go pretty much every day.

The bell-less door opens and you are greeted with…laughter?

That can’t be right.

You make your way to the register and spot the culprit immedietly: a new barista. He’s — well. He’s exactly your type. Tall, arms inked from knuckles to shoulder in interesting designs, ears and nose pierced with golden hoops. His riotous black curls are half-up half-down and you’re pretty sure he’s wearing eyeliner.

Well, this just got interesting.

“Hello,” he says. “What can I get you?”

No one has asked you what you want in almost a year. It’s not that they don’t like you. You just get the same thing every time, so predictable that the other baristas have it ready for you by the time you pay them. But that’s not this guy’s fault. He’s new.

“Black coffee, please,” you say patiently. He pulls a cardboard cup off of the stack next to him. His name tag reads Sirius in block letters.

He almost taps the price into the register but he pauses and looks at you. He tilts his head like he’s trying to see through you. You keep your stare level and face neutral. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Okay, that cracks you a little bit. You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

“We’ve got some great fall drinks,” he says. “The apple cider is honestly sinful. Or, if you really need caffeine, we’ve got this thing called a death cream that keeps me awake for —”

“Black coffee is fine.” It comes out a little harsher than you meant, but he’s not put off.

He just shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

You pay and leave once he’s filled the cup. “Thanks.” You let him put the coffee on the counter before you grab it so you don’t have to touch. Again, he’s not bothered.

“See you soon!”

An eager new barista is not enough to keep you from your coffee, so you do indeed see him soon.

The next day.

He greets you like an old friend. “Hey, it’s black coffee!” he says, though you’ve met…once.

“Oh, great,” you mutter. No one in the shop pays you any mind.

It’s a shame that this guy — Sirius, you remind yourself — is so energetic because he’s very much your type otherwise. You find that men like him get tired with your attitude sooner rather than later.

“What’ll it be today?” he asks. He’s got a bandana around his head and a tight-fitting waffled shirt. You swallow and will yourself to retain your composure.

“Guess,” you say.

A line has formed behind you. If he wants to take his time, that’s his business, but you’re not sure how you feel that he’s making everyone wait just to talk to you.

“A maple latte,” he says, snapping his fingers.

You just look at him. His smile doesn’t slip as he pulls a cup from the tower.

“Black coffee?” he asks.

“Please.” He sighs dramatically.

You let yourself take it directly from his hand this time.

This becomes routine. Sirius is there every time you go in and you do this dance every time. He guesses another drink, tries to convince you to to get it, fails, and then gives you your black coffee.

It’s actually kind of fun. Well, you’re having fun with it, and hey, he’s cute and it’s almost like flirting. If you have a bit of a crush on him, that’s your business. It’s not like he knows anything about you other than what you look like and what your drink order is. He doesn’t even know your name!

But after weeks and weeks, after he’s suggested pretty much everything on the menu, he doesn’t even try.

“Hey,” he calls, when you walk in. He’s got your coffee ready by the time you step up to the register.

You blink at him as he reads off the price.

“No suggestion today?” you asks. It hurts a bit. He got tired of you sooner than you thought he would.

“Oh,” he says. His dark eyes meet yours. “I…thought it was annoying you. Since you never took me up on it.”

You chew on your cheek. “It wasn’t annoying me, Sirius,” you say. “I just won’t take you up on it because I like black coffee. That’s just how I am.”

Sirius blinks. “You know my name?”

You point to his name tag. He laughs breathlessly, mirth creeping back into his voice.

“Obviously,” he mutters. “Look,” he says, leaning in. “I like how you are. I’ve only been trying to get you to order something that takes more time so I can ask for your name and write it on the cup. No one here knows it because you always get black coffee and leave.”

It’s your turn to blink. You probably look like a fish, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing.

“Oh,” you say. He wants your name? “Why didn’t you just ask?”

He laughs properly, loudly and fully like the first day you saw him. “I guess that would have been much easier.”

Well, you can fix this. “Can I have your marker?”

He hands it over with a curious smile. You pick up your coffee and carefully write your name on the side in capital letters, then show him.

Sirius repeats it out loud, then motions for the marker back. You pass it over and he takes your coffee from you to write something else.

When he turns it toward you, you see he’s written a phone number.

“Mine,” he says. “Maybe you’ll call me?”

You take the cup from him, making sure to brush your fingers with his.

“Maybe I will.” You give him a rare smile and he beams back. “See you later, Sirius.”

He winks.

You’re definetly going to call him.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff

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monstat · 1 month

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“i don't really need friends. you're the only person i need in my life. is that weird? i guess i'm not like most people.”

𖥻 sdv

cw: squinted smoking, (it’s sebastian) angst on sam’s par’, someone’s mom “mona,” referring to reader as “farmer,” and “overalls,” sam ‘n farmer were together, (divorce fees and mayor) kinda asshole seb???

:: sebastian x reader - (not fully) sam x reader - (???)

@cafekitsune dividers

the maple tree taps on sebastian’s back. juniper bark creating a ticklish sensation through the baggy, black hoodie he can’t seem to get rid of.

sam’s there, too. there’s not enough space on the old wood for the blond to press the full of his back onto, but that’s alright. he’s fine with standing beside his ‘best friend.’ he’s fine with the silent conversation occurring.

he’s been fine with the distance. that’s what ‘best friends’ do.

sam can’t blame sebastian for his mia status as of late. though, they don’t talk like they used to, even sam knows his ‘best friend’ is too busy ‘makin’ babies’ to play chronicle games. there’s an occasional love tap during pool on late friday’s at the saloon, but it always ends with sam losing a ten-dollar bet and a part of his pride.

his best friend, too. ‘losing’ him to the night, watching as the lanky back disappears down the path only a family member is allowed to pass through that late.

then it starts over again. most friday’s, there’s an excuse. “sorry, dude,” sebastian would wince. there’s always a certain glint in his expression, mocking the halfhearted apology for what it’s worth. which is little.

sam can’t blame sebastian’s glance towards the overalled form — who is usually chasing time and energy around town. sebastian’s eyes tender in a way sam can only describe as love.

and sam would know love.

sebastian has a family - sam knows. he’s reminded of it every time he sees the plum-haired baby in the frog onesie strapped to the married man’s chest. it’s the only occasion in which sebastian ditches the hideout-sweater. something about the barely-toddler pulling on the dull strings, ‘trying to choke daddy.’ sam can see the same look in sebastian’s eyes now, on the maple tree. the one given every time the secondborn spills chocolate milk all over his tee.

sebastian can’t even keep his eyes on the river ahead before his gaze is instinctively drawn to the sound of metal on overall straps clinking together, subtly over the town track. the farmer always seems to be on the move. it’s what leads sebastian to moments like this, which only last an hour - which feels like ten seconds on the steps outside of sam’s house, next to the bushed graves where abigail’s old mona lies.

time seems to go by faster than normal, here. sebastian would know. and sam can’t blame him for getting hit by cupid. that would be hypocritical. sam remembers the adoring gaze because he would usually be the one wearing it. it’s hard to ignore the sound of overalls ringing when the heart still lies in the crop field.

he should blame sebastian, but he doesn’t. they’re ’best friends.’ even when sebastian’s time is too occupied with wrangling real frogs and babies. he’s a loner, sam knows. no doubt enjoying the rain that’s been passing through stardew valley these past days. the farmer’s porch has a great view of the town during sunset.

sam would know.

he doesn’t shame sebastian for leaning against the maple tree on this monday. one hour which feels like ten seconds before the hooded boy moves. it’s not accompanied by a harsh stomp in the mud where sebastian ashes his cigarette, though. it’s one of the many things the farmer has done for this town.

just sincerity and an almost longing gaze. “later, sam.” ‘later’ is until the next festival. and even then sebastian is too busy holding the mini raven-haired baby while his spouse goes out onto the misty ice to win both of them the trophy for surpassing five slimy fish. beating willy.

then they go home where sebastian kisses his family goodnight, and in the morning he comments on his partner’s rest. flustering out that the late-night dream mumbling was cute. the farmer leaves and sebastian stays. ‘maybe that’s what he sees in overalls,’ sam has to wonder. sebastian has never liked being forced into small talk. the farmer doesn’t seem to mind.

they fit. unlike the tripod. unlike sam and overalls.

inspired by this frame on “mal’s sebastian expansion.” (i think. i have too many mods…) ↓

also inspired by dating two pretty best friends. ‘cept sam was the first victim…

#stardew valley x reader #sebastian x reader sdv #sam x reader sdv #sdv #stardew valley angst #learned sebastian has green eyes while writing this #- fucking hated it #frog onesie canon #abbigail sebastian sam r broken #sebastian’s in love #sam is sad #seb don’t care about his friend bro

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unique-high · 9 months

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[2:37 am] Namjoon x blk fem reader

I wanna eat pancakes for dinner. I wanna get stuck in your head.

Namjoon taps his pen on the pages of his notebook while he watched you moved about your tiny kitchen making pancakes. He did a doodle of you in the corner of the pages flipping a pancake and the pancake landing on your face. He wanted pancakes for dinner with you tonight. You were the best at making them since you worked at a pancake cafe downtown.

Lately, for Namjoon, things started to change when he looked at you. He thought of you a lot these days, more in ways than a friend shouldn't. Even wrote songs and poems about you that he would never share.

He wonders if he ever got stuck in your head the way you were stuck in his. He would compare you to a million things, but his favorite one being: “She's like lilacs blooming in the spring.”

Namjoon found lilacs comforting with their pretty smell, and you were no different from the lilacs. Whenever he needed comfort, he would run to you. He liked how his body would curve into yours when he finally hugged you and cried until his soul was empty, and he liked how your voice was soft and felt like summer.

You and Namjoon ate pancakes at the dining table. Namjoon had maple syrup dripping from his lips. You reached across the table with a napkin cleaning his mouth. “You've always been a messy eater.” You smiled at him.

Namjoon chokes on a piece of pancake only because he was taken aback by your smile. When did her smile become so pretty? He thought.

Namjoon wanted to say something, but he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and crossing lines he shouldn't.

But you were his friend and what could it hurt by telling you: “Y/n, your smile, It's really pretty like you.” Namjoon cringed at how corny it might have sounded. He stuffed pieces of pancakes into his mouth to avoid saying anything else.

You liked it, though. How he thought you were pretty. He noticed how you tried to hide your new smile by putting your head down a bit so he wouldn't see. He thinks it's cute.

A/N: I do take requests as long as it isn't anything smut. 😭

#fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop x black reader #kpop x ambw #bts x y/n #bts x black reader #bts x black girl #namjoon x black reader #namjoon x reader #kpop x poc reader #kpop timestamps #kpop x fem black reader #bts x poc #bts x fluff #bts namjoon #songfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #Spotify

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cc-cobalt-1043 · 2 months

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Pancake Day

Sonic introduces his new brothers to the best breakfast food...pancakes.

Tails was sleeping in his bed when a very loud cheer woke him up.

Tails opened his eyes and looked at Sonic with a slightly frustrated look.

"Sonic, I was sleeping." Tails grumbled rubbing his eyes.

Sonic gave his brother an apologetic look.

"Sorry pal, but do you know what today is?" Sonic asked.

"Friday." Tails yawned.

"Better, it's pancake day." Sonic said eagerly.

"What's a pancake?" Tails asked.

Sonic looked at Tails as though he'd just committed murder.

"whaaa, you've never had pancakes?" Sonic asked dramatically.

Tails just shook his head.

"Well bud, prepare for the best breakfast meal you've had in your whole life." Sonic said ruffling Tails' bangs before zooming downstairs.

Tails chuckled and got up.

By the time he'd straightened and brushed his fur and went downstairs everyone was in the kitchen.

"Morning baby." Maddie smiled.

"Morning mom." Tails said.

Maddie couldn't help the huge smile that grew on her face whenever the kids called her that, when she was younger she never thought she'd have kids, let alone three alien ones.

"Mother, Sonic tells me that today is the day of pancakes." Knuckles said.

Maddie chuckled.

"Pancake Day honey, but yeah it is." Maddie smiled.

"Are these pancakes...nice." Knuckles asked.

"Knux, they're the best breakfast food you'll ever have, and your mom makes the best ones in Green Hills." Tom said.

"I will take your word on that father, but grapes are still my favourite." Knuckles said.

"Whatever floats your boat pal." Tom chuckled.

"You boys wanna help make breakfast?" Maddie asked.

They all nodded and followed Maddie into the kitchen.

Soon they were in the kitchen making the food.

"Okay Tails, I need you to pour this much flour into the bowl." Maddie said.

Tails nodded and poured the flour, however he poured a bit too much and a cloud of flour covered him.

"I think you poured a little too much honey." Maddie chuckled.

"I think so too mom." Tails sighed flour now coating his fur.

Tom couldn't help himself and took a picture of the now flour covered fox.

Tails glared at Tom with with an adorable pout on his face.

Tom chuckled and got up from what he was doing.

"Cmon pal, let's get you cleaned up." Tom chuckled.

"Thanks dad." Tails smiled before heading upstairs with Tom.

By the time the two came down the pancakes were in the pan.

"Wow, those smell soo good mom." Tails said, his mouth watering and tails wagging excitedly.

"Glad you think so baby." Maddie smiled.

"What do you kids want on your pancakes?" Maddie asked.

"You know me mom, maple syrup all the way." Sonic smiled.

"Dad tells me Nutella is good on pancakes, can I have that?" Tails asked.

Maddie nodded.

"What about you strawberry?" She asked Knuckles.

"What would you recommend mother?" Knuckles asked.

Maddie tapped her chin for a moment.

"I've always been fond of lemon juice and sugar myself." Maddie said.

Sonic and Tails visibily cringed while Knuckles looked thoughtful.

"I think I'll try it." Knuckles said.

"Your funeral." Sonic muttered under his breath.

Soon the pancakes were ready and the toppings addded.

Sonic watched as his brothers tucked into their pancakes.

"Wow mom, these are so good." Tails spoke with his mouth full, a little Nutella decorating his muzzle and chin.

"Tails sweetie, not with your mouth full, but I'm glad you like them." Maddie said smiling.

"I will admit these are very nice, I would definitely like them as a regular breakfast." Knuckles said.

"I told you they were good Knux." Sonic said giving Knuckles a light elbow on the shoulder.

"Yes Sonic, but I would still prefer to try them myself before assuming." Knuckles said.

Sonic simply shrugged and returned to his plate.

Soon after the pancakes had been eaten (and the Nutella wiped from Tails' face) the boys were getting ready to leave for school.

"Those pancakes were good huh?" Tails asked.

"Indeed Tails, I liked them, do you believe we can have them again?" Knuckles said.

"Of course you can, all you have to do is ask them." Sonic nodded.

Knuckles and Tails nodded, both of them debating wether or not to ask for pancakes the next day.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic wachowski #knuckles the echidna #knuckles wachowski #miles tails prower #tails wachowski #tom wachowski #maddie wachowski #Pancakes

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crosswise101 · 7 months

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Pankcakes and cuddles

A short Red Son x GN!Reader fic :3 (also note that I'm not used to writing fanfiction so this one might suck)

════════▣◎▣════════

It was a new break of dawn when you decided to lock him in your arms possessively as you snuggled into his chest, he was supposed to make breakfast for both of you but it ended up in a never ending cuddling session in the comforts of your own bed.

"Let go of me you insolent gremlin... I have to cook breakfast so you won't starve to death..." Red Son muttered irritably as he tried to push you away, but you just won't budge.

"Nooooo I want my daily dose of cuddles though," You whined as you push yourself unto Red Son futher, looking up to his gaze with puppy dog eyes hoping that he would fall for it.

"We've been cuddling for half and hour now." He deadpanned, completely ignoring your effort to make him stay with you in bed.

"...Doesn't matter I want you." You said, stubborn against the idea of Red Son leaving for something that is totally not important.

"W-why you little- ugh!" He groaned, you could tell that you left him flustered because of your words by him just stumbling upon his words.

"I'll just be in the kitchen if you need me..." Red son muttered off before gently pushing you off of him completely this time. Though it was surprisingly easy, this made you wonder why he didn't just push you away earlier.

He climb off the bed and went out of your room, now it's just you alone.

"Noooo It's too cold, come back my personal heaterrr" You whined some more as you flail the covers of your bed, you were never a morning person to begin with. You caught yourself staring at the ceiling of your room afterwards, still not planning on abandoning your comfortable bed.

Though that beg to differ when you smelled freshly made pancakes from your kitchen, fuck. You groggily stood up from your bed as you set off to consume those remarkable scrumptious pancakes.

You peaked from the side of the door that leads to the kitchen, the first thing you notice that Red Son was in an apron, the pink one that you bought for the giggles that is.

"So the little gremlin decided to leave their territory." Red Son said with a small smirk, despite facing back from you and being preoccupied with the pancakes he still could feel the chaotic energy radiating from you.

You chuckled at that his remark before walking towards the stack of pancakes that Red Son had taken away from the hot frying pan, your eyes dazzling as you were practically drooling because how perfect the pancakes looked.

"Don't think about touching those, I'm still not done with this batch." Red Son bluntly said which made you pout.

"Awee, maybe just a little nibble?" You practically begged as you eyed him and the pancakes that as placed in front of you at the same time.

"No."

"Someone has to eventually do the taste check so-"

"Don't you dare think about it."

"Oh but I am."

"Don't-"

Before Red Son could ever stop you, you took a small piece from one of the pancakes with a fork and quickly consumed it. His expression dropped completely as he watches you happily chew his pancakes.

"These are really good!" You complimented with a big goofy smile on your face.

"For the love of- Augh fine go gobble them up for all I care." He said with a huff went back to flip the pancakes that was still on the pan, though he couldn't help but feel the warm tingling sensation in his heart when you complimented about his cooking.

You look at him for a moment before an idea popped into your mind, you took another piece of one of the pancakes you had just now and placed it in your mouth, you tapped on Red son's shoulders to grab his attention.

"What is it now? If you're looking for the maple syrup it's in the fridge- Hmmp-!" He froze in place as you suddenly went in for a kiss, he could taste the sweetness of the pancakes from your lips. His face was set ablaze and his fiery tied up hair flickered though he did nothing to push you away.

The kiss was short as you pulled away, smiling at him innocently as if you didn't do anything to possibly cause him a heart attack.

"The pancakes were sweet no? though would've gone great with maple syrup..."

"I-I- Wha- W-Whydidyou-"

"Oh, Firecrack your pancakes are burning."

"H-HUH?!"

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swissboyhisch · 1 year

Text

All-Star Love

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuck x Lemiuex!Reader

Summary: The NHL All Star weekend is always fun. But bring in a romance... Then that's when it becomes interesting.

Word Count: 1742

Warnings: None I think. Please tell me if I'm wrong.

A/N: This comes from a fanific I've written myself. I adjusted it for this but I loved this idea/scene.

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

All-Star weekend 2020. This year it was being held in St. Louis. You had arrived on the Pittsburgh plane with Sidney Crosby, Kris Letang and Tristan Jarry since you were currently working with the team. Despite being Lemiuex’s child, you had earned yourself a position as an assistant coach at such a young age. You grew up playing the game. Now you were also the captain of the Canadian Women’s team.

The last few years, you had attended the games alongside Sidney, who was an older brother after he lived with you and your family after he was drafted in 2005. It was a staple weekend in the season schedule. You had the chance to see all the friends and players you were close with and get to have some fun. Often you could even find yourself doing media stuff.

This year the NHL had introduced the Elite Women’s 3 on 3. You were the youngest on the Canadian team by 5 years. They also have allowed the women on the teams to compete in the skills competitions. You had been placed into the Shooting Stars event. This meant that you were competing against your boyfriend, Matt, and his brother, Brady. Others in the skills competition include Mitch Marner, Patrick Kane, Tyler Seguin, David Perron, Hillary Knight, Danid Pastrnak and Ryan O’Reilly.

Right now you were dressed in a pair of jeans and your team jersey. Standing in line waiting to be called to the stage where you’d be shooting from. With Mitch, Matt and Brady in front of you, the four of you were chatting and laughing. Each of you were excited to shoot off the platform.

“Now your Gatorade Shooting Stars… from your St. Louis Blues, number 57, David Perron!”

The arena came to life, all cheering on one of the home team players. Perron, with his son in his arms, made his way up the stairs from ice levels. Handing out beanies and high fiving the fans as he went up to the platform.

“From the Toronto Maple Leafs, number 16, Mitch Marner.”

Mitch followed Perron up the steps. Handing out hats as he went. Matt stepped forward to the bottom of the stars, looking up at all the fans. He had a hand on your lower back. Brady had let your stand next to your boyfriend whilst you three waited.

“From the Calgary Flames, number 19, Matthew Tkachuk.” Matt follows Mitch up. “From the Ottawa Senators, number 7, Brady Tkachuk.”

“The Canadian Women’s All Star, number 11, (Y/N) Lemieux.”

As you walked up the many stairs, you handed out rolled up t-shirts to fans. It was weird to have this many cameras in your face though. If you were honest, the walk up to the platform looked a lot shorter from the bottom. Especially the amount of stairs you had to climb. You reached the platform and waited for the rest of the players to join herself,Matt, Brady, Mitch and Perron. When everyone had gotten there, it went straight into the competition. First to shoot was Perron. He scored a total of 14 points. Mitch was next on the platform. He scored an awesome 22 points.

“Our next shooter, Matthew Tkachuk,” Nick started. “Your brother Brady is following you so we thought, hey, why not get one more Tkachuk up here. Why not bring up your Dad. Give it up St. Louis, for all-star Kieth Tkachuk!”

Yourself and Brady grin, tapping your sticks as you watched Keith join Matt on the platform, an arm around his shoulder with a wide smile on his face. Nick motioned for Brady to join them as well. You decided to give him a light shove as a joke.

“You should be up here as well,” Brady commented as he joined his brother and father.

You laughed at Brady’s comment. Sending a wink to Matt as well who had the biggest smile on his face.

Keith turned to face you, giving you a joking look, “I think we’re missing someone up here.”

“I ain’t no Tkachuck,” You reply. “Enjoy the moment, big guy.”

Matt stepped forward from where he was standing, holding his hand out for you. “Well, maybe we should change that, hey?”

“What?”

Keith, Brady and Nick stepped back from the platform and Matt grabbed your hand, pulling you to the centre of the platform they were standing on. Your hands flew to your mouth as you watched Matt slowly kneel to one knee and open a ring box. In the box sat the most perfect engagement ring you had ever seen.

“No way,” you breathed, looking at Matt who had the biggest smile on his face.

“You’ve been my best friend since we met all those years ago right here in this very arena. When little (Y/N) bumped into me as she ran to get away from her dad. You’ve been considered part of this family since then but I think I need to make it official, make sure you don’t stand out too much with that last name. Will you do me the greatest honour of changing your last name from Lemieux to Tkachuk?”

You nodded, too shocked to answer in words. The arena roared to life when Matt stood up and kissed you. He pulled the ring out of the box as you dropped your gloves. You cried as Matt slid the ring on your finger. Once he had sealed the deal, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders excitedly.

The players around them and on the bench, as well as the whole arena, were screaming and cheering. Mitch and Brady made sure they were heard over everyone else.

“I can’t believe you,” You laughed as you pulled away from Matt. Brady was the first to hug you congratulations. He had the biggest grin as well. The smile gave him away. “You knew!”

“Of course I did,” Brady chuckles, “I helped choose the ring.”

Brady was interrupted when Keith pulled you into a hug. “I think you should just keep your last name, it’s more recognisable.”

“Tkachuk is better, that's for sure.”

Nick soon joined the happy group. You were tucked into Matt’s side like usual. Nick held his hand out to Matt who shook it happily before handing Matt a new jersey. It was a grey All-Star Canadian jersey like you were wearing. You grabbed it from Matt, checking the back which now had Tkachuk on it.

“Oh my god,” You grinned, pulling off your current jersey for the new one.

“Hey, have a look at the photo up on the board you guys.” There was a photo of Keith kneeling by the bench in front of a young Brady, Matt and yourself. You had attended the weekend with her father and hung out with the boys. One of the rare times you got to see the Tkachuk brothers as a kid. “How exciting is it to be on this platform being here, history in the making, with your sons and soon to be in-law?”

“I’m so proud of these guys,” Keith stated, smiling at you three. “They’ve earned being here. Matt and Brady grew up here, watched me play here. I mean, Matt met (Y/N) just outside the home change rooms in this arena.” At that, there was a picture of Matt, Brady and Taryn, the youngest Tkachuk, standing with Keith now on the screen. “I love these guys. I know they love the Blues deep down.”

“Oh, we’re excited to have you here. 18000 people wanna know, how many pucks can Tkachuk chuck, chuck? So why don’t you have a go at this.” Keith took Matt’s stick from him as the three young adults stepped back. “Come on, Keith Tkachuk everybody!”

Keith shot the puck, nearly getting it in the 10 pointer net. “Not a lot of love for that arch there Tkachuk,” You chirped as he turned to give Matt his stick back.

He hugged the three of you before Matt stepped up to the platform. But only after a kiss from you. Keith’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as they watched Matt drop his gloves.

“How characteristic…” You giggles, stopping when he pulls off his Calgary jersey to reveal an old St. Louis Cardinals jersey.

“Who’d he fight?” Keith laughed. “He won’t touch you.”

“He’ll fight me,” Brady mumbled from beside you.

The three of you chuckled as you watched Matt take his first shot. As he took his next few shots, you listened to Brady and Keith chirp your boyfriend, well now Fiance. Matt ended up with 24, getting a 10 on his last one.

“Look at you go,” You smiled, pecking Matt when he switched spots with Brady.

Brady stepped up to the plate. Matt pulled from under his dad’s arm into his. Having you stand in front of him with his arms around you. When Brady took his first shot, Matt laughed at the fact his brother didn’t do anything special as a tribute to their hometown.

“Next up we have the last of the three musketeers.”

You stepped onto the platform, with a good luck kiss from Matthew. You had 7 shots to hit the targets laid out on the ice below. With the first shot you hit a 5. After your 6 other shots, you came to a total of 24 as well. Tie with Matthew. After everyone else had taken their shot, it was only Matthew and yourself that had the highest score. No-one had outshot you two.

“Since you both scored an amazing 24 points, we go to a sudden death shootout. One shot. Highest score wins.”

Matt shot first, missing the arch but a hair. You shot next. The puck went flying over the arch. Actually hitting Jarry who was chilling at the end of the end with some of the other goalies.

“Injure your goalie, why don’t ya?” Matt chirps as he steps up once again.

Round two. Matt shoots and hits the 5 points. Only way for you to beat that was to score the same or hit the arch for 10 points. You took a moment before finally shooting the puck. It went straight into the arch. You grin, cheering as you turn to where Matt was standing.

“Better luck next time Tkachuk!”

He smiled, coming up to congratulate you. He pressed a kiss to your lips. “Next time, you’ll be a Tkachuk as well.”

TAG LIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

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miniteezez · 7 months

Text

Pumpkin spice and everything nice.

P.Seonghwa x fem reader

Warnings: over working, self doubt, over thinking

Fluffy. Established relationship

Synopsis: Your boyfriend comes to help in your hour of need, even if you didn't realise.

Your fingers worked tirelessly at the keyboard, manicured nails making a perfect thunk with every tap. A continuous moving other illuminated your face as work upon word was typed out. You knew, realistically, that when you took on this course, it wouldn't be easy. But nothing good was easy in life. So, here you were, nearly twenty oast twelve in the morning. The sky was combolt, smudges if clouds just meeting the human eye. Not that you were looking, you couldn't tear you gaze from your assignment. You didn't even hear the loud keys jangling, or the apartment door open. Not even did you notice the footsteps drawing in.

"(Y/N)?" The sudden voice causing you to squeak, jumping in your seat and turning to find seonghwa. His brows were furrowed in concern, eyes raking over your appearance.

"Im sorry love, i didnt mean to scare you." He smiled apologetically, making his way to your side. Leaning down, he placed a kiss to your temple making you simper in return.

"Its alright." Your voice was horse. When was the last time you spoke? You couldn't even remember. Definitely not that day, at least.

"I thought something had happened. You haven't answered me for three days." Upon hearing this, your heart sunk. Here you were, so focused on work that you'd forgotten everything else. Including your own boyfriend.

"I'm sorry. I have an assignment due." His face softened, a hand caressing your hair affectionately. Seonghwa looked at the screen, reading your work and Humming.

"You're so skilled, my love. You deserve a break though. When did you last eat? Or drink?" You paused, contemplating his question. Finding you're unable to answer, the male stood and pulled you with him.

"Come on. We're going out." He draped a large hoodie, his hoodie, around your shoulders. Whilst he helped you to put it on, you stared up in confusion.

"Going where? It's midnight." Even so, you threw on your shoes and followed him to the door.

"Theres a little coffee shop up the street, it's twenty four hours." His hand intertwined with yours, towing you along and down the stairs od your accommodation. As soon as the doors opened, the cold hit like a ton of bricks. Seonghwa chuckled, tugging you into his side and starting the small commute.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, resting your head against the front of his coat. All Seonghwa did was grin, keeping you close as possible.

"That's such a silly question. Because I care about you. I can't let my girlfriend suffer." You stopped walking, making the older stop too. He tilted his head in question.

"I wasn't suffering." The man sighed again, standing directly in front of you now.

"You're exhausted. I can tell. Don't deny it." Shaking your head, he just carried on.

"When did you last eat? Can you even answer that?" You stayed silent, giving him your answer. Tears lined your vision, everything finally settling on your shoulders. It was only now you could feel the sting in your eyes, the ache in your hands and back. Plus, you felt dizzy. Seonghwa brought you into his chest, arms encasing you as blocking out the cold.

"Let me take care of you, OK?" Nodding into his embrace, he moved you back just enough to press his lips against yours. As you relaxed against him, seonghwa couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

"Lets get you a hot drink, hm?" You bobbed your head, smiling along with him and letting him finally get you to the cafe. A bell jingled as you stepped inside, the smell of coffee inviting you into the warmth. You both walked across the maroon floor boards towards the counter, scanning the menu with interest. A young lady patiently awaited your order, not used to seeing students out so late.

"Could I get a maple hot chocolate, please? And a ginger cookie." She wrote that down before turning to seonghwa. His lips pursed as his spoke.

"A pumpkin spice latte with a chocolate muffin. Thanks." He thrust his card against the reader before you could move then proceeded to laugh at your expression.

"Let me treat you, love." Hand grasping your own, he tugged you over to a love seat and sat down. Falling next to him, you waited until his jacket was off before shuffling closer and hugging his waist. You two were the only customers, save for the lone gentleman in the window, reading a book. Seonghwa, entranced by your natural cuteness, wrapped his arm around you and ran his fingers through your hair.

"Tomorrow, I'm staying with you. Just to make sure you're not neglecting yourself anymore." His tone was serious, clearly still worried. Leaning into his hand, you felt content for once. All the worries of university seemed to disintegrate.

"I'd like that. You won't leave?"

"Not even for a second." He breathed, leaning down and kissing you. It was fleeting, but loving all the same. Settling against his chest, you basked in his comfort, waiting for your order. It didn't take long for the lady to bring everything over, setting it down in front of you briskly. Seonghwa wasted no time in handing you your drink, watching you blow on the steam with fondness. He held his mug, picking the chocolate off the top if his muffin. You found all his habits so endearing, making your love for the man grow tenfold. Everything he did for you only caused your heart to beat faster and emotions go haywire. But, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"How's your hot chocolate?" He asked, turning to face you. Enthusiastically, you began to not in expression of your happiness.

"Its great. Thank you." Just as you went to pick up your cookie, seonghwa laughed and gently cupped your cheek. Letting him turn your head, his thumb brushed under your lip and your cheeks turned crimson.

"Whipped cream." Shyly, you bit into your cookie, letting your boyfriend smirk to himself. He loved to see you flustered and counted each time as a small victory for himself. Though, you'd let it slide for now, as you were happy. Happy he was by your side. Resting your head on his shoulder, you let your eyes closed and inhaled deeply.

"I wish we could do this every night." You mumbled, trying not to think of your studies. Frowning, seonghwa held you flush to his side.

"Just think, after uni, we can do this whenever you like." Relaxing, you gazed up at the male hopefully.

"Really?" Scoffing slightly in amusement, hwa placed a small kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Really. We have the rest of our lives. My love."

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader

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firstelevens · 2 months

Text

Pancake

by Megan Falley

It’s midnight and you want a pancake. You need this pancake. Desperately, you say, rolling over, and then, Baby, please. I’m only halfway in this world. My hair still stuck in the mouth of a monster in my dream, but you call me baby and suddenly I’m downstairs, tying an apron around the curving small of my back even though I’m only wearing underwear and one of your old t-shirts. I crack the egg into a bowl and whisk it in a whisper, as not to wake our housemates, or any of our many dogs. It is ridiculous, but you were hungry, and what else are these hands for if not to create something sweet for your holy mouth? I imagine myself in my first women’s studies course in college. That girl—who would have sooner smacked you with the spatula than flipped you a flapjack whenever you asked— so certain of her hands, that they would never be wrist-deep in syrupy, soapy dishwater in the sleepiest hours of the night. That girl, who thought marriage was a weapon to keep her small and broke, and now, this woman, who has proposed to you almost every night. Once, with a firefly for a diamond, once with a stand of her own hair tied around your naked finger. If you’d asked me to, I would have found a hen for the eggs, coyote for love that I am. I would have tapped a tree and waited for its slow maple to spit into my hands. I would have become the tree, stuck a spigot in me, asked, You’re thirsty, my love? Then drink.

-- from Drive Here and Devastate Me (Write Bloody Publishing, 2018)

#i really love this poem and I couldn't stop thinking about it and I wanted the text of it on my blog #Megan Falley #poetry #'hey zainab we're noticing a theme in this tag' no you're not. shh.#'coyote for love that I am' gets me every time I read this

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powpowpunchout · 7 months

Text

Just Checking!

Joe leaned against his sleek, maple-wood kitchen counter, fingers tapping along the edges as he scrolled through his phone. The coffee machine behind him sputtered every few seconds, while the wonderful, rich aroma of his dark chocolate coffee roast filled the air. The perfect drink to start his day.

He was quite certain he had already made a cup for himself earlier, but he had no idea where he put it, so he was making another.

As he waited in the kitchen, he tried to lean back and get comfortable. His black socks slid across the beige tiled floor, but they stopped when they hit one of the wheels of his butcher block.

He frowned.

That blasted butcher block.

If it didn’t pair so nicely with the rest of his kitchen—having a top the same color as his counters, and a lower half the same shade of ginger brown like his cabinets—he would’ve moved it elsewhere by now.

His kitchen was already cramped enough, and having this bulky block in the middle wasn’t helping in the slightest, but he liked it. It had some small shelves below that were able to hold a couple of his pots, pans, and even some of his smaller house plants.

Honestly, even if he did decide to remove the butcher block, his kitchen still wouldn’t have enough space for him to stretch his legs out.

Joe swears he’s seen apartments with bigger kitchens than his.

It didn’t even feel like a proper kitchen, more like a small portion of a hallway that had been boxed in with counters and cabinets.

On his left was his sink with a little window above it for him to place a few more plants by, and below that was his dishwasher. Pressed against his dishwasher was a lovely wooden spice rack that went up to his hips. There was a silver oven that was pushed against his back, white wall, along with a fridge about his height.

To his right was his pantry. Whoever designed this house didn’t give him a built in pantry, no, that would’ve given him extra space and storage, and that would have been too convenient, so he had to buy his own.

His pantry was taller than him by a good foot, and it was the same color as the rest of his cabinets in the kitchen. It’s doors were covered in thin, white netting that allowed him to take a peek at all the cooking supplies he had.

Parts of it’s exterior was chipped, and the carvings of leaves and flowers that aligned it’s bottom were faded, but they looked elegant nonetheless.

“It looks old.” Sandman’s voice rang through his head. That’s what he told Joe when he had first seen his pantry.

“It’s antique!” Joe had exclaimed

“That’s fancy people talk for ‘old’.” Sandman snickered, “It looks nice, though. Yeah.”

Speaking of Sandman…

Joe quickly scrolled through his contacts and clicked on Sandman’s name.

“Good morning! I will be going to a cafe today, do you want me to pick up anything for you?” Joe had texted his friend earlier this morning. He thought Sandman wouldn’t respond for a while, especially since he tends to oversleep, but to Joe’s surprise, he actually got a reply not even an hour later.

“maybe a cool leaf”

Joe chuckled as he reread the message.

“I’ll keep an eye out. Anything else?”

Sandman never responded back.

Joe could only assume he had dozed off. He did text Sandman quite late, didn’t he?

Joe quickly checked what time he had messaged--

His eyes snapped open.

‘5 in the morning?!’

Oh dear, he hopes he didn’t wake Sandman up with his first message.

Joe let out a yawn as he thought to himself.

5 AM…

That must’ve been the time he woke up.

And he didn’t fall asleep last night until… Gosh, Joe couldn’t even remember.

What he did remember was the fact he had spent most of his evening texting Disco Kid, and his body absolutely loathed him for it.

It didn’t matter how tired he was, though. He couldn’t risk going back to bed to try and squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep. He had breakfast with the rest of the Minor Circuit this morning, and he’d hate to miss it.

The exhaustion was well worth it, however. The things Disco told him, all those juicy snippets of what he went through last night, the anticipation alone was enough of a payoff for Joe.

He clicked out of his texts from Sandman, and went to the texts he got from Disco Kid. He scrolled to the very top and started to reread them.

“joe”

“jo”

“je im in the barwiht aran right??????”

“Yes?” Joe had sent back. He had been laying in bed reading a book when he received these.

“guess wh o shwoed up”

Joe didn’t even have the chance to respond before Disco sent his next text.

“octave!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Joe remembered how he shot out of his bed, accidentally sending his book flying across the room, and stared at his phone with wide eyes.

“What?” Was all Joe could text back.

“i know rihght??? I didnt k now he was comignaran said he wasnt”

Joe was completely glued to his screen. He was as captivated as he was frustrated.

“Keep me updated, please.” He had told Disco.

“was already plannign on it”

“Don’t take any of Aran or Octave’s mistreatment. Leave whenever you need to.” Joe pressed his lips together when he reread that message. That sounded like such a ‘parent’ thing to say, didn’t it? But Joe was genuinely worried.

It’s bad enough to be stuck in a bar with Aran, but for Octave to suddenly come in unannounced? Joe couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of nightmare Disco went through.

Joe’s grip on his phone tightened.

What was with Overload and attending events he wasn’t invited to? What—was ruining the Major Circuit’s dinner not enough? He had to go for a second round? He had to bother Disco again, as if he doesn’t do that enough? Was it in his blood to make everyone in this stadium miserable? Or could he not stand the fact that everyone else could have fun with their friends except him?

Joe brought his coffee cup to his lips, ready to take a sip--

He stopped.

He looked at the white cup in his hands.

How long has he had this cup?

Has he been holding it this entire time?

He blinked.

Well, looks like he’ll be having two cups of coffee this morning. He probably needs it.

Joe took a sip and scrolled through his phone some more.

“he and aran are arugign now” Disco texted.

“Are they saying anything to you? They aren’t bothering you too much?”

“im good its just real akwwarrd”

Joe’s eyes flickered over to the top of his phone and checked the time. It was almost 9:30 AM, he has to meet his friends around 10:15. The cafe wasn’t too far from here, but still, he didn’t want to be late.

Joe glanced over to his coffee machine before he pushed himself off the counter, placed his cup down, and made his way out of the kitchen.

He kept his eyes on his phone as he entered a narrow hallway. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, he’ll probably end up running into a wall or hitting his hip, but he found himself too engaged with last night’s events to care.

He placed one hand on the white wall beside him and lightly dragged it across its cold surface. He felt the occasional small bump or two as his fingers carefully maneuvered around the framed photos and pressed plants he had hung on the walls, all while his other hand kept scrolling through his phone.

“think im gonna try and talk to octave” Disco’s next message read.

A small wince escaped Joe’s lips.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think you should.”

“i know but”

Joe remembered waiting in anticipation for Disco to finish that sentence, to elaborate—even just a little—but he never did.

Joe’s fingers hovered over his keypad--

He hit a corner.

Joe quickly grabbed his hip and hissed to himself. He’s definitely going to get a bruise there, and he had no one but himself to blame.

Joe entered the room to his left, his bedroom.

He turned to his ivory-colored desk by the door. Also an antique piece of furniture he owned, with drawers that had novelty knobs attached to them, and once sharp edges that were now worn corners. Some of its paint had chipped off as well, but Joe thought that gave it all the more charm. Though he will admit, he’s been meaning to clean off the top for some time.

It was mostly covered in bills, fancy notepads that he’s only filled a couple pages of, fan letters, and in the very back corner of the table, small mason jars with water in them for his plant clippings.

He’ll clean it another time, though.

When he’s less tired.

He set his phone in the middle of the table, right next to his black glasses case, and then walked over to the tall, slender mirror that was propped against the corner of his room.

He struck a pose, straightening his posture and combing his fingers through his hair before putting a hand on his hip. He raised his chin ever so slightly and felt a wave of confidence push through his exhaustion.

His attire this morning was a bit different compared to what he’s been wearing these last couple of days. He’s noticed he’s been wearing much more black, white, and grays than he usually does, and while those certainly weren’t bad colors, it never hurts to change things up. So today, he decided to wear a much needed varied palette.

His shirt was covered in thin, white and pine-green stripes, and he had its ends tucked into his pants, which were a deep cadmium green. They almost looked black at a glance, but they weren’t. Joe thought such shades complimented his hair, but he wouldn’t be wearing just this, oh no.

He spun around and faced his neatly made bed. Right in front of it was a swivel oak chair for his desk, which had his coat draped atop of it.

He plucked the coat off and slipped it on.

It stopped just above his knees, it’s sleeves were a little too large for him, it was a bit on the thinner side—not that Joe minded, it was supposed to be a bit warmer today anyways—and it was a gentle hue of pink that reminded him of blush. Its color paired wonderfully with his top.

He fiddled with the coat’s collar, smoothed out any wrinkles he could see, and struck another pose.

He put both hands on his hips, bent a leg ever so slightly, and flashed a smile. It was stilted, crooked, and it was perfect. He couldn’t have asked for a better smile.

Now his eyes, on the other hand…

He definitely needed to do something about them. He had some very heavy bags.

Joe reached over to his desk and popped open the glasses case. He slid his small, round-framed sunglasses on, looked in the mirror again, and let out a satisfied sigh.

There. Now he’s set for the day.

Joe grabbed his phone and stared at the screen for a moment.

Slowly, he found himself starting to scroll through Disco’s texts again.

Texts he got when he was a blink away from sleep.

“well that went great”

“Is everything alright?” Joe had asked.

“got insulted”

“shouldve seen that coming. feel like an idiot”

Joe lowered his brows, a twinge of guilt shot through him. He wished he could’ve done more for Disco. He wished he could’ve been there to help. Who knows what Overload and Aran had said to himt.

“Don’t say that about yourself.” Joe texted him. Disco didn’t respond again for another several minutes.

The loud beeps of the coffee machine snapped Joe out of his thoughts.

He nearly forgot about that!

Joe hurried out of his room and back into the kitchen.

He swung open one of his cabinets and dug through his cups until he managed to get his hands on one of his travel mugs.

He quickly poured the coffee into the mug, hissing to himself whenever some splattered onto his hand, and put a lid on.

He rushed to the door, slipped his dark brown shoes on, and just before he put his phone in his pocket, he looked at the very last messages he and Disco exchanged.

“finally going home. tonight kinda sucked”

“I’m sorry. Please be careful.” Joe told him.

Disco never replied.

Joe could only hope he had gotten home safely.

He also hoped last night’s events didn’t drag Disco’s spirits down too much.

Joe closed his phone, slipped it away, and finally left his house.

~ ~ ~ ~

Tiger slept soundly in one of the many hammocks that hung from his ceiling.

The hammock rocked ever so slightly, making his slumber all the more relaxing, as did the rays of sunshine that filled his living room.

Tiger shifted around, trying to get comfortable. The fabric creaked as he moved, he felt his long hair get wrapped around one of his legs, and he nearly kicked his thin, orange blanket out of the hammock, but once he brought his knees to his bare chest, feeling the soft fabric of his dark gray, silk pants press against his skin, he let out a content sigh.

He then grabbed the purple pillow he was resting on and buried his face into it, not caring for how messy his mustache and beard would get. No, all he cared for was this moment of pure, blissful peace.

He let an arm hang outside the hammock. There was a subtle smell of cinnamon that filled the air, most likely coming from the spice rack in his kitchen. And the quietness of his house? It was splendid. How he wished this heavenly sleep could last forever--

A loud ‘THUD’ suddenly made Tiger shoot up.

He clutched at his chest and whipped his head over to his apricot-orange door.

He narrowed his eyes at the tall, thin, stained glass window right next to it and watched a silhouette rush by.

‘Who dared?’ Tiger thought to himself

Who dared to disturb him?

Who dared to ruin his slumber?

Was it a fan? Or one of those fancily dressed men who always loved to waste his time trying to sell him something? Or perhaps it was the mailman?

Tiger tipped his purple hammock over and leaned forward, the front half of his body spilling off the side and into another hammock below. This one a bit smaller, and a rich, royal blue with yellow swirls stitched across it.

As he landed into the hammock, the frustration within him started to boil.

It better not have been that blasted mailman.

How many times has he told them to stop leaving letters at his door? He has a mailbox for a reason.

Tiger leaned forward again, dropping from the blue hammock into a larger, looser, magenta one.

Had he slept in his bedroom, he simply would’ve gotten out of bed, walked over to the door, and see what was outside, but his bedroom was nowhere near as comfortable as the hammocks, nor did it look as fascinating.

Tiger has gotten plenty of comments about his living room before. Both friends and strangers who happened to get a glimpse inside his house always made a comment about how ‘strange’ it looked, and while he won’t deny it was certainly a bizarre sight for newcomers, he also couldn’t deny that he loved its layout so much.

Besides having typical ‘living room’ furniture—couches, a coffee table, a TV stand—all arranged in a typical living room fashion, the room also had an unusually high ceiling.

He had no idea what was going through the builders’ minds when they were working on this house. Perhaps it was supposed to be a chimney, or maybe it was some botched attempt at a second floor, or perhaps it was supposed to be some sort of tower… Tiger will never know. They made the width of the ceiling the same as the living room’s, while it’s length seemed to stretch on for a good several feet, making it the perfect place for Tiger to decorate and fly through.

It was also the main reason Tiger got this house at such a low price.

He believed he did quite an excellent job at covering those tall, barren, honeyed-orange walls with all sorts of things he loved. From colorful, patterned sheets that stretched from corner to corner, to ropes that criss-crossed over each other and had bells, beads, and ripped cloths tied to them, giving them that extra bit of ‘flare’, to the black-cherry wooden shelves that were tethered to the ceiling and carried some of his favorite items. Some of those items being his magic books, photographs of him and his friends, little trinkets that reminded him of his home country, and now, one of the paper rats he had made with Overload.

It was the best room in his entire house, and it was his favorite place to nap at.

Before he got the hammocks, he used to fall asleep while hovering in the air, and he had a tendency to… Drift around. Sometimes he’d bump into a wall, sometimes he’d wake up in a completely different room, and there were the very rare instances when he’d wake up and find himself outside.

The hammocks were a much nicer alternative, plus, whenever he’d wake up in them, he’d be greeted with the wonderful scenery of his living room.

A wonderful scenery he could’ve been enjoying right now had it not been for some heathen knocking at his door.

Tiger tipped over the magenta hammock and carefully extended a leg out. Once he felt his foot touch the silk carpet below—which was a much duller shade of magenta with a pinkish hue, and had intricate flower patterns embroidered into it—he hopped out and trudged over to the door.

He swung it open and looked around.

No one.

He then looked down and saw a rolled up newspaper. He sneered.

The mailman.

Of course.

Who else would have the gall to ruin his slumber?

Tiger grabbed that horrid paper and slammed the door.

He then tossed it onto his earthy-orange, camelback couch that was pressed against the back wall of the living room, which had a couple of pink and purple pillows sitting on it.

Tiger arched his back and stretched his arms high into the air, feeling the frustration drain away as rays of sun graced his skin.

He let out a yawn, satisfied, and relaxed his body.

He walked over to the couch, stepping over his brown slip-on shoes, some rolled up socks, a book that must’ve fallen from one of his hanging shelves, and his shirt from last night that he tossed out from his hammock.

He sat down and sunk into the cushions. His eyes slowly drifted to the right where his small, burnt umber end table was. To the left of the table, sitting diagonally from Tiger, was another camel-back couch, which had a pastel-blue blanket carelessly thrown on it. Atop the end table was a half drunken cup of black tea that sat on a little plate, and next to that was his light purple, metallic flip phone.

It was certainly a bit of a mess in here. He usually liked to clean up before he went to sleep, that way he wouldn’t have to worry about waking up to a mess, but he must’ve been too tired to do so last night.

Tiger rested his head against the cushion. He wasn’t fretting too much, he’ll simply poof all of this away as soon as his magic wakes up.

He looked back to the end table.

He grabbed his phone and flipped it open, eyebrows raising slightly when he saw he had a voicemail from Bear… And no messages from Hondo.

He lowered his brows.

He had texted Hondo yesterday, and the fact he hasn’t heard back from him yet did send a twinge of anger through Tiger.

It wasn’t like he texted Hondo at an absurdly late hour. No, he did it in the afternoon while he was making dinner.

And it wasn’t like Tiger’s message was rude, or threatening, or anything of the sort. It was formal and straight to the point.

‘Hondo, whenever you’re available, I’d like to talk with you.’

What—was Hondo still too upset with him over what happened at their dinner night to respond? Or was he too busy training to answer him? Tiger knew training was the closest thing Hondo had to a hobby, but would it kill him to send a single word back? Or did he think he was too good for that?

Tiger’s thumbs hovered over the keypad, tempted to send Hondo another message, but he closed the phone.

He’ll text Hondo again later. He was in no mood to ruin his day this early.

Tiger stared at the cover of his phone before his eyes lazily drifted to the nearby newspaper. He skimmed its title--

His eyes widened.

‘BALD BULL THREATENS FANS.’

Tiger shot out of his seat and shoved the paper into his face. He frantically read the article, picking up whatever bits of the story he could.

Someone tried to break into Bull’s house.

‘I just wanted a chance to interview him.’ The person claimed, ‘He wouldn’t come out, and we’ve been waiting for so long.’ Oh, Tiger could practically hear their whiny voice through the page.

Of course that’s what those deranged people love to tell journalists, of course they love to paint themselves as innocent, curious fans who just want to hear one word from their favorite boxer as if they were owed it.

And the words used to describe Bull? It made Tiger’s blood boil.

‘Cruel’, ‘Careless,’ ‘Irrational’, those were only a small handful of what Tiger could spot, and he was certain if he found anymore, he’d tear the paper into shreds.

Tiger threw the paper down and dialed Bull’s number.

Why didn’t Bull tell him about this?

Was he planning to?

When did this even happen?

Was Bull hurt?

As his phone rang, Tiger flicked his wrist in an attempt to summon whatever clean clothes he could.

He didn’t care how ‘tired’ his magic was, he needed to check on Bull now.

The phone rang again. Tiger’s worries worsened.

He let go of the phone and used a little bit of his magic to keep it in the air as he started putting on his shoes.

The phone kept ringing. Tiger flicked his wrist again, patience wearing thin.

He suddenly felt a shirt land on his shoulder, followed by his unraveled turban.

He hurriedly put the dark purple shirt on before putting his hair into a messy bun.

The phone kept ringing.

Tiger used his magic to wrap his turban around his head.

The phone finally clicked.

Tiger grabbed it and opened his mouth—but his face dropped when he heard Bull’s voicemail play instead.

“Bull—Bull, I’m sorry, but I have to come over. I saw what happened and—and I’ll be there in a minute!” Tiger snapped his phone shut, and it disappeared to who knows where.

His magic finished tying his turban.

It was sloppy, crooked, and he had several strands of hair poking out, but it was done.

Tiger’s gem flashed, and he teleported away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Joe took a sip of his coffee as he strolled through the neighborhood.

It was a perfect morning. The sun was shining, there was a pleasant breeze that carried the smell of dew-ridden grass and pollen, and there were plenty of people out and about.

Some were watering their gardens that were filled to the brim with bright, colorful, flowers, while some were setting up sprinklers for their lawn and for children to run through, while others were sitting on their porch and talking with their neighbors.

A smile spread on Joe’s face.

He found himself enjoying every little thing around him.

From the squirrels that ran along the tree branches, to the little nuts and berries sprinkled across the sidewalk, to the distant chatter of friends, there were plenty of small joys that made this morning all the better.

Joe went to take another sip of coffee--

When a sudden car horn made him jump.

He fumbled with his cup, catching it at the last second and holding onto it with his dear life.

Oh, he’s going to give that driver a piece of his mind--

“Joe! Is that you?!”

Joe whipped his head around, face immediately lighting up when he saw Disco Kid sitting in his fancy-looking yellow car with its roof down. He beamed and waved at Joe.

Joe hurried over, hand over the lid of his mug so it wouldn’t spill, “Good morning! Fancy running into you so soon, how are you?”

Disco rested his arm against the side of his car, the sleeves of his loose, white satin shirt had been rolled up to his elbows, “Not too shabby, you?”

“Oh, fine, fine.” Joe hummed, then he leaned closer to Disco, “Now I love you to bits, but you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Disco shrunk back, “Awh, shoot, sorry Joe. Just got excited. Hey--!” He perked back up, “Wanna ride?”

“Absolutely.” Joe went over to the passenger seat.

Disco fiddled with the radio while Joe got comfortable. He then watched Joe slip his coffee into the cup holder. He smirked.

“Dang Joe, we aren’t even at th’cafe yet and you already got yourself a cup of joe?” He slapped his knee and wheezed, as if that was the funniest thing he’s ever said.

Disco kept laughing, but when he glanced over and saw Joe’s tired, deadpanned expression, he immediately stopped.

He fixed his composure and cleared his throat.

“Anyways, so, uh…” Disco tapped his fingers along the wheel, trying to ignore the disappointed look Joe was giving him. He put his car into drive, “Cafe time!”

He hit the gas and off they went.

Cheesy 70’s music filled the awkward silence between them. Disco stayed quiet, lips pressed together and eyes staring straight ahead, clearly still embarrassed over that little joke of his. Joe on the other hand, despite how much that joke drove him crazy, couldn’t stay mad at him. In all honesty, hearing that joke actually brightened his mood.

Not because it was funny, but because that meant Disco was feeling happy enough to actually tell a joke despite what happened last night.

Joe looked at himself in the side view mirror and brushed his fingers through his hair. His eyes flickered over to Disco.

“Did you sleep well last night?” He asked.

Disco shrugged, “I guess. Got home kinda late, wasn’t feeling all that tired. Probably got like a couple hours at best, but it’s whatever.”

“You could always get some coffee at the cafe.” Joe suggested.

Disco gave a nod and tilted his head towards his friend, “Maybe, but I’m thinkin’ of trying something different. Don’t they make teas over there? Might try one of ‘em.” He slowly pressed on the brakes and they lingered at a stop sign for a moment. He drummed his fingers against his dark violet shorts and bobbed his head, enjoying whatever outdated tune was playing.

He started to drive again, “How bout you?”

“Oh, I hardly got any sleep.” Joe chuckled, “I am looking forward to seeing Kaiser and Hippo, though.”

Disco nodded, eyes glued to the road.

Joe’s happy expression started to falter.

His head drifted to the side, and he watched the neighborhood pass by. The road ahead wasn’t all that interesting, just a straight line with tall trees and streetlights on both sides, but the houses around it? The residents? The little stores and restaurants? Now those were quite pleasant to look at.

Joe took it all in. The people walking their dogs, groups of friends sitting outside small shops and chatting about their plans for the day, and the wonderful decor that surrounded the buildings. Colorful banners, strips of ribbon tied to the outside of windows, flags, pinwheels, and of course, Joe’s favorite, the plants.

From large, terracotta pots filled with vibrant flowers, to the hanging plants that were strung to awnings, even the ‘unintentional’ decor had a sort of beauty to him. The vines that crawled up walls, the dandelions that sprouted from pavement cracks, even the small bits of moss that clung onto the corners of buildings had a sort of charm to them.

Joe couldn’t fully enjoy this moment, however. Not when his mind was plagued with one thing.

“Speaking of friends…”

Joe noticed the corner of Disco’s mouth twitch.

“How did your night with Aran and Overload go?”

“Right, my ‘friends’. My besties.” Disco sung that last word on a cynical note.

“Alright, ‘friends’ is certainly a bit of a stretch. I just wanted to know how—I mean, I know last night went badly, but I wanted to make sure you’re doing alright and--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re good, Joe.” Disco cut him off, “Appreciate it, but uh--” His mouth lingered open as he kept his eyes on the road, “Yeah, no, it sucked.”

“Well, I can imagine!” Joe exclaimed, “You were stuck in a bar with Aran! Heavens knows that man hardly showers. I can only imagine what breathing in his fumes can do to you.” Joe slid his sunglasses down, trying to see if he had managed to lighten Disco’s mood up a little, but all Disco did was let out a dry chuckle.

“Yup, that’s Aran for you.”

Joe took off his glasses and held them close, “And Overload—I’m guessing he was the one insulting you?”

Disco gave a shrug, “Yeah, I mean, not like I wasn’t expectin’ it or something. I tried to talk to him and it went… Okay-ish, but ya know what? He wasn’t half as bad as Aran was.” His grip on the wheel tightened, “Like, oh my gosh, I could go on forever about Aran, but it’s like—I give th’guy a ride, I went with him to the bar—and I don’t even like bars—but I still went cause I didn’t want him to be alone, cause he told me he hated that--”

“You’re too kind to him, do you know that?” Joe cut in.

“Yeah, well, we’re fr—we talk a lot. Sometimes I like to hang around him, right?” Disco said, “And I don’t mind helping th’guy out. Like, if somebody I knew from the stadium needed a hand, I’ll give it to ‘em! But he didn’t even thank me! I know that’s a stupid reason to get mad, but c’mon.”

“No, no, I’d be mad too!” Joe piped up, “What, you go out of your way to drive him to some random bar—free of charge—and stick around, and he can’t even cough up a ‘Thanks’?” Joe folded his glasses, slid them into his jacket’s pocket before he muttered to himself, “It’s common courtesy.”

Disco started to slow the car down as he eyed an open spot by a curb.

Joe eyed it as well.

His face scrunched.

Parallel parking.

A true nightmare.

He then looked back to Disco, “Did Aran do anything to show you a bit of appreciation? Or did Mr. World-Circuit feel too high and mighty for that?”

“He paid for whatever food I got.” Disco said as he carefully pulled into the spot, “Wasn’t good food, but at least I didn’t have to pay for it.”

“Didn’t even text a ‘Thank you’?” Joe asked.

Disco laughed. It was bitter. “Nah, just threats cause I didn't want to drive him home.”

Joe didn’t bother to hide his repulsion, “What did he say?”

“Typical Aran stuff.” Disco said with a click of his tongue as he parked the car, “Told me he was gonna beat me, tear my head off, went off on this whole thing bout how he was soooo much stronger than me ‘n that he’d ruin my life, which--” Disco laughed, “He’s already ruinin’ my life just by being around me.”

His laughter died down, and his smile fell, “That’s Aran for you.”

Disco took the keys out of the ignition and shoved them into the pocket of his shorts. He swung open the door and looked at the path ahead.

“Cafe’s a small walk from here, that work for ya?” He asked.

“I don’t mind.” Joe responded as he got out of the car, “Thank you for the ride.”

Disco nodded as he stepped onto the sidewalk. He patted himself down, exhaled, and put a smile back on his face. It looked forced, but Joe decided not to comment.

“Sorry.” Disco said as Joe joined his side.

“What for?”

“Well I was—was kinda soundin’ like a jerk back there, wasn’t I?”

“Oh, stop.” Joe put his hand up, “You were upset, anyone would be after the night you’ve had. If anything, I think you were being too nice.”

That didn’t seem to ease Disco’s worries. Joe put a hand on his shoulder.

“I promise you, you were just fine. If you ever need to let these sort of things off your chest, I’m more than happy to listen.”

Disco relaxed some, “Thanks Joe.” He looked over to the end of the path, “If it’s all good with you, I can tell ya more at the cafe? Don’t wanna leave Kaiser ‘n Hippo outta this.”

“Oh, of course!” Joe clasped his hands together, “Besides, I have my own little stories I want to share with all of you. You won’t believe what I’ve seen these last several days.”

“Oh yeah?” Disco raised his brows as he leaned closer to Joe, hoping to hear a little more.

Joe was about to tell him to be patient, but then his phone rang.

He dug it out of his pocket, hoping it was Sandman finally responding, but confusion flashed across his face when he saw Hondo’s number.

He answered the call and pressed the phone against his ear, “Hello?”

“Good morning.” Hondo greeted, his voice stiff, “I apologize if this is sudden--”

“No, no, don’t be! I always enjoy hearing from you. Is--” Joe’s voice trailed off as he kept walking, “Is everything alright?”

It was silent for a moment.

Despite Disco’s head being turned the other way, Joe could see him trying to watch out of the corner of his eye.

“I…” Hondo finally began, “I had the strangest dream a few nights ago, but now I’m—I’m not so certain it was a dream.”

Joe lowered his brows, “What do mean?”

“Over the weekend, I was training. It was getting late, and I didn’t want to rest yet, so I made myself some tea...” Hondo said, “...And while I was waiting for it to cool, Tiger appeared in front of me. He shouted at me, and I—I don’t even recall what he said. It happened so suddenly, and then he disappeared.”

Joe let out a barely audibly ‘What?’

“It was so bizarre that I—truthfully, I thought I was losing my mind. I thought I had gotten so tired that I was finally starting to see things, so I went to bed.”

“So what makes you think it wasn’t a dream?” Joe asked. He could feel Disco’s eyes on him, but he paid him no mind.

“I received a text from Tiger yesterday. I can't help but feel that and his sudden outburst are connected.” Hondo muttered, “He wants to talk with me. I’m not sure about what, but if he’s going to act so irrational, I don’t know if I want to talk to him.”

“Well, you’re going to have to eventually. You go to the same stadium.”

“I know.”

It felt like Hondo wanted to say more, but after another stretch of silence, Hondo sighed.

“I apologize for this again. I know it was sudden, it’s just—“

“No, please, don’t worry about it. If that happened to me, I know I’d want to tell somebody.” Joe tried to reassure him.

“Thank you. I suppose I didn’t—I--” Hondo fumbled with his words, “I couldn’t bring this up to Bear. As much as I appreciate him, he’d try to get Tiger and I to ‘make up’ over what happened at the dinner. He even tried to convince me of that very thing last night.” There was a hint of annoyance in his tone, “He told me his hand was feeling better, that he’d like to try and spar again, and then he suggested we bring everyone else along. Tiger, Don, even Overload. He said it would be great to ‘have everyone back together’, but I just—I can’t. Not now.”

Joe finally looked over and caught Disco staring. Disco jumped and whipped his head the other way. Joe put his attention back on the phone as they walked on.

“That definitely sounds like something Bear would say.” Joe chuckled, “He means well, but like you said, you’re not all that thrilled at having another get-together, are you?”

“Not for a long time.” Hondo said.

Joe looked up ahead. He could see the cafe waiting for him and Disco. It’s aged, seashell-white bricks were decorated with splashes of light, dusty red hues that faded into a gentle pink the closer they got to the ground, and they helped make the snow-white frame around the rectangular window pop out.

The left side of the small, one story building had been covered with tons of tiny, twisted vines, and resting in the alleyway next to that wall were tens of pots that varied in shapes and sizes, and filled with what looked like hundreds of different flowers, bushes, and even a few little fruit plants. They all mingled together, making an otherwise dull alley into something quite beautiful. They also did an excellent job at blocking off the side door to the cafe.

The mahogany-red front door had been propped open with a rock, letting the heavenly aroma of coffee and fresh pastries out into the world… A heavenly aroma that made Joe and Disco pick up the pace.

“Just let Bear know how you feel, hm? I’m sure he’d understand.” Joe said.

“I will. In due time. I just needed someone else to talk.”

Joe nodded as he stared at the round, gray patio tables that sat outside the cafe. Each of them had a black umbrella in the center, while their aluminum seats had light green, checkered cushions on top of them. Most of the tables had already been taken, and when Joe glanced at the window and saw how crowded it was inside, he started to worry that they might not be able to find a seat--

But as soon as his eyes landed on Kaiser sitting at one of the outdoor tables, with a large tree towering over it, creating the perfect shade for them, he felt a wave of relief hit him.

“Alright,” Joe exhaled, “I hope you’re feeling a little better now.”

“I am. Thank you, once again. Could I…” Hondo hesitated, “Would it be alright if we kept in touch about this? I don’t want to bring Bear’s spirits down, or cause any trouble with--”

“Please, you’re fine!” Joe swatted at the air, “I don’t mind at all.”

“Thank you.” Hondo said, “Have a good day.”

Finally, Joe hung up.

A mix of satisfaction and concern filled him. Not the most comforting feeling to have—and not the most soothing conversation he’s had—but at least he could help Hondo in someway.

Joe felt Disco staring at him again.

Before he could turn around and apologize for the long call, Disco started talking.

“Soooo, what was that bout? Everything all good with Hondo ‘n Bear?”

“Yes, yes, they’re just fine. I’ll tell you in a few, but for now--” Joe slipped his phone into his coat’s pocket and waved his hand, “Hello Kaiser!”

Disco looked straight ahead and spotted Kaiser, who was giving a smaller, slower wave back.

Joe pulled out one of the chairs and flashed his friend a smile.

Kaiser had enough energy to force a grin on his face before he brought his attention back to a stack of papers in front of him. He kept a strong grip on a worn down pen and scribbled away as if his life depended on it. Joe was admittedly impressed to see that despite how fast he was going, Kaiser’s handwriting looked so neat.

“Paperwork? At a cafe?” Disco asked as he rested against a chair.

“Well, it’s the perfect place to get work done, isn’t it? It’s nice, quiet, and there’s some good food.” Joe said with the raise of his head.

“Yeah, but like—we’re supposed to be having a chill morning. Shouldn’t have to be doin’ homework on a day like this.” Disco said.

Joe opened his mouth—but Kaiser spoke instead.

“I will put it away soon.” He said, still writing, “I came here early. Wanted to see how many forums I could complete before you two came. I do not want to ruin our morning.” He sounded exhausted.

He looked exhausted.

Joe held his tongue, refraining from sharing any comments about Kaiser’s attire.

He wore a plain beige shirt with three buttons at the top, but only one of the three was actually buttoned up. Over that, he wore a trench coat about the same length as Joe’s, and it’s color was a rather gross, swampy green—not that Kaiser’s coat was gross, goodness no, it’s what the color reminded him of that was gross.

Joe also couldn’t help but notice how… Worn down the coat seemed. Torn ends, wrinkles, small stains and holes, he wondered how long Kaiser has held onto it.

Kaiser’s khakis had their bottoms half-heartedly tucked into his dark brown, leather combat boots, which it seemed he didn’t even have the time to tie the laces of.

Joe watched Kaiser set the pen down and grabbed a cup of black coffee that had been sitting by his papers.

“The forums are for my students.” Kaiser added unprompted.

Joe and Disco looked at him.

“Safety forums, parental permission, some for removing students because the boxing classes were ‘too violent’.” Kaiser scoffed at that last part, “I understand that it is a harsh sport, but violent? I always make sure my students are safe as they learn. I would never push them to such extremes.”

“The kids are complaining bout that?” Disco asked.

“The parents.” Kaiser answered, “Children love the class, they love giving hits. Parents, however, think it is too much.”

“Jeez.” Disco rolled his eyes before he leaned even closer to Kaiser, “Why don’t ya take a break from those lousy forums and eat some breakfast, huh?”

Joe was about to tell Disco that Kaiser’s work wasn’t ‘lousy’, but Kaiser nodded and slipped his papers into a dark green, beaten-up messenger bag he had hung around the back of his chair.

“Breakfast sounds nice. I will save the seats, and you two will grab the meals?” Kaiser asked.

“Yes, that sounds good. What would you like?” Joe asked as he took off his coat and placed it over his chair.

“The porridge, please.”

“Right,” Disco nodded before he looked around, “and uh, where’s Hippo?”

“He could not make it.” Kaiser said.

Disco jumped, “What?!”

“Visiting his island. 'Royal duties' is what he told me.”

Disco put his hands on his hips, “Awh man, that sucks. We can’t just leave a guy hangin’ like that! We could pick somethin’ up for him while we’re here? Maybe like uh, a cookie or somethin’?”

“I’m sure they have something inside fit for a king.” Joe said with a chuckle, proud of himself for such a quip, “But yes, I’m starving! Let’s get something to eat.”

Disco started to bounce, “Yeah, and then you’re gonna tell us bout Bear Hugger, right?”

Kaiser raised a brow, “Something happened to Bear?”

Joe flicked his wrist, “Oh, just you wait. You two won’t believe the things I’ve seen.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Tiger teleported above Bull’s house.

He didn’t want to be here.

He needed to be inside.

He shook his head.

He wasn’t going to try and teleport again. He might end up somewhere even farther.

He started to fly towards Bull’s backyard.

Wind rushed past his face, and he swore his turban was just seconds away from unraveling--

His body suddenly jerked to the left.

He cursed.

He tried to put his focus back on his flying, only for a sharp, stabbing pain to shoot inside him, cause him to jerk to the side again.

He stopped and immediately hit his gem with the palm of his hand. A pathetic attempt to get his magic to wake up faster.

Tiger looked at the red, clay tile roof of Bull’s house. He slowly brought himself closer to it.

With each agonizing second that passed, his panic only grew worse.

Each second wasted out here was a second he could’ve used to help Bull.

And the group of people he saw outside of Bull’s gates while he was high in the air?

The large crowd gathered out there—some with their cars parked in the middle of the road, and some with own tents? It made Tiger furious.

The sun shone on Tiger and burned his skin.

Don’t those people have lives? Families? Friends? Anything else they could spend their time on rather than constantly harassing his friend?

If only Tiger’s magic was working properly, oh how he’d love to create a horrifying illusion to scare them off.

When Tiger was finally close enough to the roof, he stopped flying and landed on it with a loud thud.

He turned around and eyed the balcony to Bull’s room.

He started walking towards it, the clay tiles rattling under his weight.

He held his breath.

The rattles grew louder.

He swore he heard one make a snapping sound--

Or was that the sound of a camera?

He couldn’t risk bringing more attention towards Bull.

He whipped his head around.

He didn’t see anyone.

And with how tall Bull’s cement fence was, he was certain the paparazzis couldn’t see him.

Still, he couldn’t stay out here for a second longer.

Tiger reached the edge of the roof and jumped onto the balcony.

He turned towards the purple curtains that covered the door way to the room and poked his head through.

“Bull?!” He hollered, his voice echoing through the large, empty bedroom. He took a step in, “Bull, I’m here to check on you! It’s just me—Tiger!”

No response.

Bull must still be in that spare room downstairs.

At least, Tiger hoped so.

Tiger hurried past the curtains and towards the burnt umber, round framed door that led to the rest of the house. He quickly scanned the room as he ran through it.

A pile of pillows sat on Bull's bed. It looked like they hadn’t been touched in days, nor did the neatly folded blankets beside them.

The rest of the room was perfectly still, and marvelously decorated as always, and the way the sun poured through the large, arched windows and shone onto the colorful fabrics on Bull’s ceiling? It was gorgeous, to the point it almost felt like a mockery to what his friend was going through.

Tiger slipped out of the bedroom and stepped out onto the interior bridge that connected to the staircase. He grabbed onto the wooden railings and leaned over, facing towards the front door. He sharply inhaled.

The two tall, narrow windows that sat on both sides of Bull’s door had been shattered.

What looked like millions of glass shards were scattered across the light, mahogany wooden floor.

Tiger quickly looked to the left where Bull’s living room stood.

There were probably even more shards hidden under the furniture and in between the threads of his rug, and he noticed the window there had several large cracks on it as well.

He hurried down the stairs.

As soon as he hit the last step, he leapt into the air and flew over the glass.

He stared at the mess, wincing at how many jagged pieces there were.

He also noticed multiple large rocks scattered amongst them.

He looked back to the broken windows and noticed ripped pieces of cloth stuck on some of the edges. Someone must’ve been trying to reach for the doorknob.

He peered through the windows and noticed the mosaic lamps Bull had hung outside and been knocked down and shattered.

Sun filled the house and bounced off the shards, decorating Bull’s walls with hundreds of fractured light. Some were tainted in gentle hues of greens from nearby plants, some were vibrant purples and blues due to the pieces of the mosaic lamps they hit, while many others had been tinted a soft orange.

Their warped, sharp shapes reminded Tiger of scattered puzzle pieces, or broken parts of a painting that needed to be mended.

In a horrible way, it was beautiful, but Tiger had to get rid of it.

‘Perhaps…’ He thought to himself, ‘It’d be better to wait a few moments?’

His magic has already been so difficult to work with. He didn’t want to risk trying to teleport the broken glass elsewhere only for something bad to happen. They could end up in a place they shouldn’t be, or land on some innocent bystander, or--

Frantic footsteps shook the house.

Tiger looked ahead to the small hallway that lead to the guestroom.

The steps grew faster and faster, as did the heavy breathing accompanying them.

Tiger’s gem flashed rapidly, “Bull--?!”

A large hand suddenly shot past the tan wall and gripped onto the corner.

A frightened, defensive Bull followed after.

“You will not--!” Bull shouted, but his wild expression dropped when he saw Tiger.

Tiger darted higher into the air and hugged his knees to his chest—which he quickly let go of.

“Bull, I am so sorry for scaring you.” Tiger said as he gradually lowered himself.

“No, I’m–I didn’t know you were…” Bull’s voice dwindled, “...Why are you here?”

“I had to check on you!” Tiger exclaimed, “I saw what happened to you—I saw the paper, and I had to make sure you were doing alright and—oh!” Tiger hissed to himself, “Those blasted paparazzi. What a pathetic excuse of a job.” He glared down at the glass shards below him, catching glimpses of his fractured reflections.

Bull peered past the corner and took a quick glance through a broken window. Despite seeing no one outside, he stayed hidden behind the wall.

Bull tugged at his sideburns, face occasionally scrunching whenever his fingers touched one of his bruises.

Tiger swore he didn’t have nearly as many the last time he saw him.

But he kept quiet.

He also kept quiet about any concerns he had towards Bull’s appearance, as he was quite certain Bull was well aware of how dreadful he looked.

The tear streaks on his face, his messy sideburns, the uncomfortable shifting of his feet… And it looked like Bull has worn that taupe-colored shorts and that drab, beige t-shirt for days. They were horrifically wrinkled, and the shirt had a few stains.

“I wish you had--” Bull began, but his brittle voice dwindled again. He folded his arms and gripped onto the sleeves of his shirt. His uneasiness grew. “I know you mean well. I appreciate you, but I--”

“If this is about my sudden arrival, again, I sincerely apologize.” Tiger cut in, “I left you a voicemail, but I know you’ve probably had your phone off since you—since the fight, but I wanted to let you know in advance because--”

“I wish you had not come.” Bull said.

Tiger stopped.

He waited for a moment. He waited for Bull to take that back, or to apologize, but the longer the silence went on, the worse he felt.

“What?” He finally whispered.

Bull couldn’t look him in the eyes, “I know you mean well, but you should not have come. I didn’t want you to get stuck in the middle of this.”

“In the middle of what?” Tiger asked, “In the middle of some frantic—chaotic mess that you’re stuck in? Do you really think I’d go out of my way to call you—visit you—if I didn’t want to get into this? Why do you think I’ve told you to call me if you needed anything?” He flew closer to his friend, “You’re dealing with your horrible fans--for heavens sake, they tried to break in just to talk to you! You think I wouldn’t--”

“That is one of the reasons why I have not called you for help.” Bull said, his voice stiff.

Tiger was taken aback.

Bull still couldn’t look at him.

“But you--” Tiger mumbled, “I thought you weren’t able to call to me because of how many fans were bothering you?” He felt beads of sweat starting to form where the sun was hitting him.

“That is true. I would not lie to you about that. It has been a lot.” Bull dug his nails deeper into his skin, “But I did not want to call you because this--” He gestured at the broken glass before pointing towards one of the windows, “—Because they are dangerous, and you have dealt with me enough already.”

“Dealt?” Tiger repeated in a hush.

Bull finally looked at him, only for his eyes to quickly flicker away again.

“Dealt? What, like us being friends is just some little hassle I have to go through? An errand? Or do you see me helping you as some sort of babysitting duty?” Tiger shot himself higher into the air, now towering above Bull.

“Tiger, that is not what I said--”

“No, but it certainly felt like it!” Tiger snapped. He took a deep breath and lowered himself a few inches, “Are you referring to the night of your fight? Is that when I ‘dealt’ with you?”

“Yes.” Bull kept his mouth open to say more, but Tiger talked over him.

“Please, you were going through a hard time! You lost a fight, you were hurt, I wanted to help you! That’s not some sort of chore for me, I wanted to make sure you were safe.” He got closer to Bull’s face. Bull inched away.

“Is it so wrong for me to want to do the same now?” Tiger asked, “I don’t want to find out what’s happening to you through the paper. I want to be there as soon as I can, just like the night of your--”

“That night was different.” Bull said. He stepped forward, “There were only the two of us. Nobody else. I am still thankful for your help, but when my fans are around, it--”

“I’ve dealt with fans before!” Tiger exclaimed, “You don’t think I’ve had my fair share of deranged fans?!”

Bull lowered his brows, “You have not dealt with mine.”

“Yes I have!”

“No, you have not.” Bull raised a foot, ready to take another step, but when he saw the glass shards below, he stopped, “You have helped teleport me away from them, yes—and I am grateful for that—but those were all from a distance. You have not dealt with fans surrounding your house, or trying to break in to get close to you. That is very different.”

Tiger grit his teeth.

“So?” He asked, “So they’re a different kind of deranged, what of it? What makes you think I can’t help you with this?” His voice was filled with desperation and frustration. He leaned even closer to Bull, the front half of his body now in the hall, while the lower half still hovered above the shards.

Bull finally brought his eyes back to Tiger’s, “I do not doubt you can help me, but I do not want you to get hurt trying. I would never forgive myself.”

“Oh, hurt. Hurt!” Tiger scoffed as he threw himself away from Bull. He started to pace around in the air, anger growing inside of him, “What a fantastic point. I could get hurt. A Major Circuit boxer—who’s been punched a million of times—might get scratched up by some people with a camera!”

“It is not only about the physical injuries.” Bull said, but before he could add on, Tiger gave him a furious look.

His gem flashed brightly and a clone appeared between them. Half of it’s face had been fused with it’s turban, their colors bleeding and swirling together, while the other half looked as though it was melting, and slowly merging with his neck.

“What else--?” The clone asked, it’s voice distorted and painful to listen to, making Bull recoil.

Tiger swatted it away and took it’s place, “What else is there? If you tell me, I promise you, I could help you with it!”

“They will follow you!” Bull snapped back, finally raising his voice, “No matter where you go, they will follow you! You will not get a second to yourself. Every moment of your life will be on the paper or on the screen.” Bull got as close as he could to his friend without stepping on the glass, “You will be stuck hiding in your house, and even then, you will not be safe! They will always try to find you, or rip off a piece of you to keep to themselves. Tiger it would be far too much for you too handle. I have been dealing with it for years--”

“And you’re still not used to it!” A clone that appeared between the two men snapped. Tiger sliced it’s head off with one swift motion, making it disappear into a cloud of smoke.

“Then why can’t I use my magic to block out your windows? Or scare them away? I could even let you stay at my place!” Tiger clutched at his chest as his gem flashed rapidly.

Bull turned away and muttered, “I am already the ‘scariest’ boxer, yet they keep coming back. I do not want you wasting your energy on me—on these sort of people, and I will not risk putting you in the middle of this. I can handle it.”

Tiger’s hands curled to tight fists. He pressed his lips together and scowled.

There were a million things he wanted to say.

A million things that could possibly change Bull’s mind, or could do more harm than good.

He felt those words try to pry his mouth open--

Another clone flickered in the middle of the glass shards.

Tiger and Bull watched as the clone crouched down and stared at the pieces. It’s body was jagged, it’s arms jutted out in odd, sharp angles, as did it’s torso, and it’s legs looked a little too long to be normal.

It then turned it’s head over to Bull, showing off how most of it’s face appeared stretched, as if someone had grabbed it’s skin and pulled it away, leaving only a set of teeth visible, “As if you’re handling this well.” It whispered.

Tiger quickly whipped his head back over to Bull and hurt flash across his face.

Before he had the chance to waft the clone away, it disappeared.

It was Tiger’s turn to avoid looking at his friend.

He just stayed floating in the air, head down, looking at his reflections in the broken glass.

He could feel Bull staring at him, and that only made the sour pit in his stomach grow.

Bull finally sighed.

“Tiger,” He said, his voice low, “I appreciate you visiting, but I need you to leave.”

Tiger’s brows lowered.

He raised a hand in the air and curled it into a fist.

The shards of glass started to slowly hover off the ground. Speckles of lights danced around the house.

“I am doing this because—because I care about you. Because I love you.” Bull said.

Tiger then opened his fist, and the shards disappeared, “It certainly doesn’t feel like it.”

Even with the glass gone, he still kept his eyes on the floor.

Tiger opened his mouth, hesitating for a moment before he spoke again, “Has it ever occurred to you that I’m offering to help you because I also care about you?”

The sunlight felt as though it was burning Tiger’s skin off.

“I know I’ve been getting… Upset, but it’s because I also want you to be alright.” He drifted a few inches closer to his friend, his voice weaved with worry, “This is me telling you that I can help you.”

Bull stared back at him, a broken expression on his battered face… And then he took a step back.

“And this is me telling you I do not need it.”

Tiger stayed there, watching as Bull backed further away, until he eventually turned away and disappeared into the hallway.

He listened as his friend’s footsteps grew quieter.

Tiger’s hands trembled.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, “If you ever--!”

The footsteps stopped.

Tiger took a deep breath and lowered his voice, “If you ever change your mind, know that I will still give you my help.”

The silence lingered.

Then he heard the footsteps start again, followed by a door clicking shut.

Tiger waited for a few more moments, hoping Bull would rush out and tell him he does need his help, or to pull him into a hug and apologize, and then they could figure out how to work through this together, but that never happened.

Bull stayed in the guestroom, and Tiger stayed in the entryway.

With nothing more to do, and with no one needing him, his gem flashed, and he teleported away.

~ ~ ~ ~

“What?!” Disco blurted out, “And was there blood? Lotsa blood?”

“Thankfully not too much, but one of his nails nearly came off, and it looked awful.” Joe said as he gestured with his fork. He sat with his legs crossed, leaning back far enough that the chair looked like it was about to tip over, yet he somehow remained balanced.

Disco squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, not too fond of the imagery that popped up, and even though Kaiser looked stoic—his arms folded and posture rigid—Joe noticed the subtle scrunch of disgust on his face.

“What happened after that?! Was Bear alright? Nothing got infected, did it?” Disco asked as he jabbed his fork into one of his waffles and shoved it into his mouth. There was so much whipped cream and fruit piled on top that they were practically hidden.

“The poor man was in agony.” Joe threw his head back, “Thank the stars this happened in the locker room though, because I was able to grab some paper towels and help clean him up.” Joe set his fork down by his salad bowl, “And thankfully Tiger heard the commotion as well and offered to get a first aid kit, but he was also…” Joe rolled his eyes.

Disco and Kaiser exchanged confused glances.

“Did… Tiger help Aran and Overload with the mousetraps?” Kaiser asked, his brows lowering.

Joe jolted, “No! Absolutely not. He was just frustrating to deal with that day.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy Kaiser, “Frustrating how?”

Joe’s cheeks turned a light pink, “I suppose ‘frustrating’ wasn’t the best word to go with, but—actually I need to explain a little more.” He grabbed his cup of mocha and held it close, “So after Tiger left, Bear wanted me to text Hondo about what was going on, so I did. Then before I knew it, Hondo suddenly appeared! I don’t know how he gets around so fast, but anyways--” He took a sip, “He checked up on Bear, asked who had set up those traps, then Tiger reappeared, and that’s when things got frustrating.”

Kaiser and Disco continued eating their breakfast as Joe explained what happened on that dreaded day.

He rambled about how everyone in the locker room realized Aran had been the one to place those traps inside the locker, how Octave most likely helped, how defensive Tiger got at the ‘accusation’, even though it was so obviously true.

Disco listened intensely, wrapped up in every detail of the story, never taking his eyes off of Joe, not even to make sure his fork was actually hitting his waffles.

Kaiser, despite listening attentively to everything Joe was saying, found his eyes occasionally drifting away. He’d glance at families that’d walk by with kids happily holding onto the parents’ hands, or at the occasional leaf or crumpled newspaper that flew with the wind. He ate a spoonful of porridge and put his focus back on Joe.

“Tiger and Overload…” Kaiser mumbled as he pat his mouth with a napkin, “I have never pictured the two of them becoming friends.”

“I’ve heard a bit bout ‘em through Aran.” Disco added as he took a sip of the strawberry-mango tea he ordered. It smelled so sweet to the point Joe was almost certain the baristas had given him a glass of fruit punch instead.

“They must be getting along well if Tiger is willing to defend him.” Joe said with another roll of his eyes.

“Pah, if I was friends with a man who was constantly cruel, I would not hesitate to call out their behavior.” Kaiser frowned as he straightened his posture even more.

“Exactly!” Joe said, “I don’t care how close I am with someone, if they’re being a pain, I won’t tolerate it. I don’t know why Tiger thought we were ‘antagonizing’ him, even though he knows Overload constantly acts this way.” He sunk down further into his seat, “A part of me just worries that he’ll get get wrapped up in Aran and Overload’s messes.”

“Nah, maybe not.” Disco said.

Joe and Kaiser stared at him.

“I think Tiger’s probably only gonna hang round Octave cause like--” Disco took another bite of his waffles and kept talking, “Tiger hates Aran, ‘n Aran? Guy can’t stand him either. He’s told me bout it before, and don’t tell the other guys at the stadium this, but…” His eyes flickered between the men before he leaned in, “I think Octave ‘n Aran hadda big fight.”

Joe’s eyebrows shot up, “Really now?”

Even Kaiser seemed surprised.

“Yeah! I texted Aran last night, right? Wanted to make sure he made it home—mostly cause his sister needs him—but when I asked, he started goin’ off about how fed up he was with Octave. Tried to get more outta him, but he stopped responding.” Disco then propped his head up with his hands and batted his eyelashes, “Maybe they were fightin’ over li’l ol’ me.”

That managed to get a chuckle out of Kaiser.

“Well…” Joe brought his coffee to his lips again, “It’s not like they haven’t fought before.”

“Yeah but like—I dunno. Aran gets into fights all the time, but he never complains bout it. Usually he just jokes and brags bout it or whatever, but like, this felt different, you know?” Disco said.

“And what about Tiger?” Kaiser asked.

Joe took a sip, “What about him?”

Kaiser’s expression grew serious, “He is with Overload. If Overload is not afraid to hurt Aran, who is to say he won’t hurt Tiger as well?”

Disco and Joe’s eyes went to anywhere but Kaiser as they pondered that question.

Joe’s mind was already filling with hundreds of horrible things Overload could do to Tiger—or to anyone for that matter. Heaven knows he’s probably furious over his little relationship drama with Aran, and it’s only a matter of time before he lashes out and gets someone severely hurt—

Joe quickly took another sip of coffee to try and drown out his thoughts.

He then cleared his throat, “I’m sure Tiger would be able to deal with it one way or another. He’s got his magic, he has friends to help him--”

“Like us!” Disco added.

“Right. Though he’s not too happy with me at the moment.” Joe muttered, “Either way, he can always ask for help when the time comes.” He then set his cup down and leaned his head against his hand, “Or he could do us all a favor and teleport Overload far away from here.”

Joe heard Disco laugh, and he could practically feel the eyebrow raise he got from Kaiser, but Joe picked up his fork and put his focus back on his salad.

Joe then heard Kaiser mumble to himself. He looked up ever so slightly

“Overload and Aran…” Kaiser grumbled as he stared into his black coffee, “I swear I have taught children with better manners than them.”

Joe hummed, a small grin on his face.

“Please, I don’t think that’s a very high bar for—oh!” Something on the ground caught his attention.

Joe carefully tipped his chair back further and reached towards the sidewalk.

“Dropped something?” Kaiser tilted his head.

“No, no, I found a leaf.” Joe plucked the leaf off the ground and sat right back up, “Sandman wanted me to find a nice one for him. I think this should do, hm?”

He twirled it’s red stem between his fingers, showing off a brilliant green leaf that had been adorned with bright yellow speckles that faded to orange at the bottom.

Kaiser paused, “I suppose, though I am not a leaf expert.”

“I like it!” Disco said with a mouth full of food, “Oh, speakin’ of Sandman, you see that little column bout him in the paper this morning?”

Joe perked up, “No, I haven’t. I think I saw a little bit about something going on with Bull--”

Disco cut him off, excited, “Yeah! It was on the page right after that. He might be havin’ another fight soon! I gotta keep my eyes open for it, I wanna buy my parents tickets to it—they love his fights and I wanna surprise ‘em.”

“Really?” Joe was about to ask ‘With who?’ But he closed his mouth when he remembered that miserable other champion that’s been trash talking his friend for the last couple of weeks. He let a twinge of annoyance show through as he thought about that boxer for a moment.

Did that champion really have nothing better to do than waste journalists’ time with his constant trash talk?

Doesn’t he have training to do?

People to punch?

Joe huffed. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with that champion in the near future, but if it meant seeing Sandman eventually knock his lights out, then he’ll put up with it.

Joe exhaled before he put a smile back on his face, “Well, I’m sure whenever that fight arrives, it’ll be fantastic.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Tiger was back in one his hammocks, arms folded, a leg dangling off the side, and a scowl on his face.

He wished he had never gotten up this morning.

He wished he had ignored that blasted newspaper when it hit his door.

He could’ve slept in and woken up refreshed, but no.

He had to be a good friend and check on Bull.

And look where that’s gotten him.

Tiger’s flip phone orbited his hammock.

Tiger gave a halfhearted snap of his fingers, his gem flashed, and his phone let out a beep.

“Heya Tiger…” Bear’s voicemail played, “I was tryna call ya, but ya must’ve been asleep, hope I didn’t wake ya up on accident or somethin’.”

Tiger sunk deeper into his hammock as he listened on.

“Hope yer doin’ well for starters! My hand’s feelin’ loads better, still gotta be careful of course, but I was wonderin’ if yer gonna be free in a couple’o days? I was thinkin’ of goin’ back to th’stadium to work out, ‘n it’d be great to have ya around! We can practice in that li’l ring together, or ya can just sit ‘n watch, I don’t mind either way...”

Tiger sneered as the recording kept going.

Look at that, a friend that’s actually asking for his help, and he didn’t need to drag himself out of bed and teleport out of his house just to hear it.

It’s nice to know someone likes to have him around.

“...Ya good if Hondo tags along as well? Don might be comin’ too…” That last part was barely audible, but Tiger heard just enough to make his scowl grow.

Hondo still hasn’t responded to his message.

If Hondo refused to acknowledge Tiger’s attempts to reach out, then so be it, Tiger will gladly confront him in the stadium. Hondo couldn’t hide forever.

”...But he said he might be busy with uh—with stuff. He didn’t tell me with what, but hey! Maybe ya can ask Octave to tag along as well!” Even through the recording, Tiger could hear Bear’s smile.

Tiger doubted Overload would want to come after what’s happened, and he could only imagine the fit Hondo would throw if he saw him again.

“...I know that uh… That things have been kinda weird since, ya know, but…” Bear’s voice dwindled.

Tiger took a deep breath.

“...I guess I just want my buds to stay buds, ya know?”

It was quiet for a moment.

Tiger’s eyes lingered at the end of his hammock. For a second, he thought the voicemail had ended, but Bear spoke again.

“Anyways! Just, uh, just lemme know if ya’d like to come! Hope to see ya--”

Tiger’s phone started to ring.

He sat up and quickly flicked his wrist, teleporting the phone into his hand. Perhaps it was Bear checking to see if he’s able to train, or perhaps Hondo finally decided to respond—but Tiger stopped when he saw it was Overload calling instead.

Tiger answered, “Yes--? Hello, good morning!”

“Hey, Tiger.” Octave said, his voice muffled.

“Is everything alright? I’m so used to our little chats in the evening that this feels a little odd.” Tiger chuckled as he brought the phone closer.

“Yeah, yeah, I was uh…” Octave trailed off, “Hey, we’re uh—we’re friends, right?”

Worry and confusion started to fill Tiger's chest as he pressed the phone against his ear, “Why of course.” He let out another chuckle, nervous, “What brought this on? Is everything alright?”

“Nah, yeah, everythin’s fine.” Octave said, “Just checkin’.”

#punch out #punch out!!#punch out wii #punch out glass joe #punch out disco kid #punch out von kaiser #punch out great tiger #punch out bald bull #fic #art #CHAPTER 21 LETS GOOOOO AUUGUHG #ENJOY!

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