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makeitmingi · 4 months

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The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 5]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

You all returned for dinner service. Like this morning, Yunho and his friends were not there yet, still resting from their mid day break. You made yourself a large container of iced coffee, tying your apron around your waist.

"Do eateries really benefit from a mid day break though?" Wooyoung asked as he washed his hands.

"Well, in this case, they sold out all that we made so I guess Yunho wasn't confident in continuing to stay open." You shrugged.

"They could still serve drinks." Seonghwa reasoned.

"But staying open with drinks only and no food might hurt the revenue. How much you make from drinks compared to food and drinks is so much lesser. It would be smarter for them to rest."

"That's true. Since they are the wait staff for the dinner service and they'll be cleaning up after." Jongho said.

"Don't they have someone to clean?" Wooyoung scoffed.

"They seem to only have someone that washes the dishes and then he leaves. Looks like the cleaning for the front of the house is all reliant on themselves." You informed. After some light conversations, you all began to get into preparing for dinner. As the prep chef, Jongho did all the slicing and vegetable prep.

"I should start prepping the seafood for the cioppino." Seonghwa went to get all the seafood. While Jongho sliced the vegetables, you made the compound gochujang butter for the chicken.

"The vegetables are done. How are we cutting the chicken for roasting? Halves or quarters?" Jongho asked.

"Let's do halves. They're quite small." You replied.

"Since we're searing the pork medallions towards service, I'll make the cherry sauce to get it ready to go." Wooyoung spoke. You hummed and crossed it off the list.

"I'll start with the chickens." You stood beside Jongho. As he butchered the chickens, you stuffed the compound butter under the skin.

"What fish were we using for the cioppino again?" Seonghwa asked.

"Monkfish." You reminded.

"That's the last chicken. I'm going to remove the silver skin of the pork tenderloin and portion it. Are you good here?" Jongho asked you. You gave him a thumbs up and he went to wipe down his station since he was handling the raw chicken.

Although Jongho was a prep chef, as he says, he usually handled whole dishes on his own. You were fine with it, the sous chef, prep chef titles didn't matter much to you.

"Oh when you're done washing up, help me preheat the oven?" You requested. He nodded and went to turn on the ovens for you.

"Ah, where is the madeira?" Wooyoung whined, walking out of the walk in fridge.

"It should be in the pantry instead of the walk in, Woo." Seonghwa informed. Wooyoung went to the dry pantry to look for the alcohol while Jongho tended to his sauce for him momentarily.

"Okay, that's the last chicken." You said, going to wash your hands and getting all the components together.

You laid the vegetables Jongho prepped at the bottom of the trays and seasoned them then you placed racks on top for the chicken to sit.

"Hwa, help me bring the trays into the oven?" You asked. Seonghwa nodded, lowering the fire on his stew before helping you carrying the remaining trays. You slid them into the preheated oven and closed the door. You set a timer and clipped it to your apron before moving onto the next dish.

"Cherry sauce for the pork is done. Shall I start on the dessert?" Wooyoung came up to you.

"Yes. Do the panna cotta now so it can set in time. But don't forget to make the parsnip puree for the pork dish." You told him.

"I won't. I'll do the panna cottas now." He went back into the walk in to get what he needed. When Jongho was done portioning out the pork and setting that aside, he did the raspberry coolis.

"Cioppino is simmering. We'll have to fire the bread during service." Seonghwa helped you with the Korean dessert.

"Oh! I forgot the makeolli ice cream needs to be churned. Let's get it done now?" You remembered.

"On it." Seonghwa took the ice cream machine out.

"I think the last time I made bukkumi was with my grandfather." You laughed as you made the red bean paste that will go inside the glutinous rice dough and pan fried.

"Actually, we haven't done much Korean desserts in a while. Our recent desserts are all Western or Japanese, we did our wagashi workshop together. We should start doing more of those." Wooyoung said. You all nodded in agreement.

"Thinking of using these for the mushrooms that will go into the pasta dish." Jongho showed the metal bowl with the mix of different mushroom types.

"Looks good. Maybe not shitake since it might overpower. And soak the dried porcinis." You looked through the bowl.

"Okay. I'll mix the dried porcinis and the dried black trumpets." Jongho went to the pantry.

"It smells so good in here!" Yunho came in with a big smile. Wooyoung and Seonghwa gave friendly smiles back. You and Jongho were so focused, you just blocked everything else out.

"Hi, (y/n). Did you get some rest?" Yunho asked, standing beside you. You looked up at him, taking a small step to the side but nodded.

Not that you had anything against Yunho but you valued your personal space, especially around people you were not very close with.

"Do you need help?" He grinned.

"Do you not need to help the others prepare for dinner?" You raised an eyebrow. Yunho shook his head, he really enjoyed being in the kitchen with you the other night. And he was never really one that stuck around the kitchen. The only time he was ever in there was when he was with his grandmother.

"Go wash get an apron and wash your hands." You nodded over to the sink. Yunho let out a small 'yes!' in cheer and went over to get an apron. Once he tied it around his waist, he washed his hands.

"What should I do?" He asked enthusiastically.

"Jongho is preparing the glutinous rice dough for me. For now, let's split these red bean balls and weigh them." You instructed.

"Like this." You demonstrated, taking a spoon of red bean paste and rolling it into a ball with your hands, weighing it to the exact weight then setting it in the tray.

"I can do that!" He nodded. But the moment he spooned the bean paste onto his hand, he dropped it.

"I didn't know it would be hot." He pouted.

"It's only slightly warm. You can wear the gloves there." You pointed with your elbow and Yunho trudged over to get them. Again, imagining Yunho's puppy ears pressed to his head in disappointment made you let out a small chuckle.

"Are you laughing at me?" Yunho's eyes were wide. You didn't think he heard you.

"No." You shook your head. To be honest, he wasn't the only one surprised, Wooyoung, Jongho and Seonghwa were a little surprised too.

Yunho resumed his spot next to you and began to do the task. Good thing he was meticulous, wanting to be as accurate as possible when weighing each ball of red bean paste.

"Dough kneaded and done. I'll let it rest." Jongho said, placing the big bowl with the dough beside you.

"Thanks." You momentarily stepped aside to see the progress with the others.

"How's it looking?" You looked into the ice cream churner.

"It should be good to go into the freezer in 45 minutes. The ratios should be correct that it still freezes despite the alcohol in it." Seonghwa nodded. With alcohol in ice creams, there can only be a certain percentage you put in or else the alcohol will prevent the ice cream from properly freezing.

"Panna cotta is going into the chiller!" Wooyoung announced with a tray in his hands. Jongho helped him with carrying the other trays with all the white ramekins.

"Jong, you can start the prep for garnishes. Woo, you can start on your parsnip puree. Hwa, can you help me make a chicken jus?"

"Sure." The three replied and split up. Once the glutinous rice dough was done, you began to portion those out too.

"Done. Shall I move onto that?" Yunho asked excitedly, putting the last ball of red bean paste onto the tray. You nodded and let him assist you in weighing the glutinous rice dough.

"Good evening." San, Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong came in after preparing the restaurant for dinner.

"Evening."

"Wow, you guys look so fancy." Wooyoung chuckled. While there was no waiter or staff uniform, the boys all wore button up shirts and dress pants.

"Wow, it's looking good. Anything we can help with?" Yeosang came over to look at what you were doing alongside Yunho.

"You can help Yunho portion these out. Then I'll start wrapping them." You said. After washing their hands, they came to help where they could with their limited kitchen skills. You placed a red bean ball in the middle of a circle of dough and wrapped it.

"So you're going to fry these after?" Hongjoong asked.

"Pan fry it to get the outside a little crispy. Then we're serving it with makgeolli ice cream." You told him.

"We have 1 hour. Can we make 1 of each dish that is prepared for service for tasting?" You called out. The 3 immediately fell into the rhythm of things.

"Chicken is in the warming oven so let's dish that." You said and Jongho brought the components to you for plating.

"Bread for cioppino going on the grill."

"Pork medallions going on the pan."

"I need a sous at the pass." You said. Seonghwa stepped up and you took over to make the miso butter pasta with mushrooms. The 5 other boys huddled closer to not be in the way.

"Woah." They watched in awe at how all of you worked together, handing components to Seonghwa to plate and put together to be served. Since it wasn't Michelin restaurant, Seonghwa got the plating done quickly. There was no need to micro garnishes but it still looked pretty and well put together.

"Desserts are not ready." Wooyoung informed after checking if the panna cottas were set.

"It's fine. Can we just monitor them and make sure they're ready towards the start of actual service?" You asked and he nodded.

"Watch your back." You cautioned as you placed the hot pan with the miso butter pasta. Seonghwa took a carving fork to twirl it into pretty cylinder. He then spooned the sauce over with the mushrooms.

"Can we sprinkle some chives over?" You said, looking over at the dish. Jongho sliced the chives.

"Better." Seonghwa hummed as he grated the bottarga over then sprinkled the chives over to give it flecks of green.

"Service." Seonghwa said, lining the dishes up. All 5 boys had sparkles in their eyes, their jaws slacked, as they looked over all the dishes in front of them.

"Appetisers, we went a little simple. Bruschetta, mini ham cheese croquetas, crispy brussel sprouts with lemon gochugaru dressing."

"Mains. This is miso butter pasta with mushroom medley and bottarga, we have pork medallions with parsnip puree and cherry madeira sauce, gochujang butter roast chicken with roast vegetables and a chicken jus. Lastly, cioppino with grilled ciabatta." Seonghwa introduced.

"We'll definitely look into exploring a bigger variety of appetisers after tonight." You added. Yunho nodded and they all dug into the dishes to taste.

"The chicken is so good. How did you get all the flavour in?" Yeosang was in disbelief.

"So we made a gochujang butter and we put it under the skin to roast. Then we let all that drip onto the vegetables." You explained.

"The pork dish is my favourite. I love that sauce." San pointed to the dish with his spoon and gave a thumbs up. You gestured to Wooyoung, who was responsible for the dish.

"Hmm..." Wooyoung deliberated after taking a taste of the dish. San blinked in confusion.

"Do you not think it's good?" San asked.

"I mean, it's good. But it is missing something." Wooyoung replied. You took a taste and Wooyoung looked at you for confirmation. You nodded in agreement.

"We have fennel. I'll grill it?" Wooyoung suggested. You hummed and Wooyoung left to go to the walk in to get the fennel. Without anyone else noticing, Hongjoong was finishing the pasta on his own. When the others noticed, it was too late, making them yell at the older male for not leaving them any.

"You snooze you lose?" Hongjoong shrugged. You noticed Yunho had not said anything.

"Any comments? Changes?" You turned to him. Yunho blinked, shaking his head to break his train of thought when he noticed that you were asking him directly.

"It's all really, really good." He said, the tip of his fork still in his mouth. You waited, feeling like he still had something else to say.

"I'm not sure if the food is too fancy..." He confessed. You paused for a while to let his words sink in.

"Would you prefer more homey dishes then?" Jongho asked.

"Let's see how the dinner service plays out before we decide for sure." Yunho said. You nodded in agreement, there wasn't much for you to say since he was the owner, not you.

There was now an awkwardness that hung in the air. Yunho was nervous, he hoped he didn't let his nerves throw you off your game.

"Let's take 5." You said. Wooyoung, Jongho, Seonghwa and yourself stepped out to relax before dinner service. The remaining boys went out to where Yunho was. Mingi looked at his best friend, who was spacing out behind the counter.

"Yunho ah. What was that? You okay?" Mingi tapped Yunho on the shoulder.

"Did I sound too arrogant? Too demanding? They put in all that effort and I just... should I not have said that? I just want the customers to like the place." Yunho panicked.

"It's fine, Yunho. I'm sure they didn't take it to heart. You have to be honest as the restaurant owner." San assured.

"Yes, compared to what I see on television, you were very nice in your reaction." Yeosang said.

"You're too nice, Yunho ah." Hongjoong chuckled, patting his tall friend on the shoulder. Yunho pouted, he didn't like telling people bad news or anything remotely negative.

"And like you said, you didn't say the food was bad. It just might not suit what customers are looking for." Mingi comforted.

"Let's focus on dinner service now." San massaged Yunho's shoulders to relieve the tension.

"This is the list of reservations. If there are still tables available, the online system will add the reservation as it comes in." Yeosang gave the iPad to Hongjoong to refer to the guest list, showing him the online booking sytem. Hongjoong hummed, nodding as he scrolled through and got familiar with it.

"For us, let's split the dining area this way. Into 3. So we don't get any mix ups or repeats, it is easier to keep track of which tables you are responsible for." San said to Yeosang and Mingi.

"Good idea." Mingi nodded.

Meanwhile, your team was back in the kitchen cooking, unaware of Yunho's 'almost' meltdown that was happening outside.

"Too fancy..." You drummed your fingers against the work top. Maybe you needed to go home and research more on what kind of fare and flavours you should be utilising.

"Don't think too hard." Seonghwa chuckled, coming over to kiss the top of your head.

"Don't mock me, Park." You rolled your eyes, shoving him away.

"Let's finish this service then go out. Drinks on Jongho!" Wooyoung said, slinging his arms over yours and Seonghwa's shoulders. Jongho slapped the back of Wooyoung's neck.

"Don't go volunteering my wallet." Jongho glared.

"Yah! I'm your hyung! Show some respect." Wooyoung whined, stomping his feet while Jongho made a face at him, sticking his tongue out. You let out a soft sigh and shook your head, going back to your station, letting Seonghwa mediate their bickering.

Yunho's feedback didn't negatively affect you, it made you want to work harder. You were glad that he was objective and honest, not just saying the food was good.

"We're opening the doors for dinner in 5 minutes." Yunho said through the small pick up window and disappeared.

"I forgot we have that service window." Jongho laughed.

"We've just been talking and serving through the door, which can be dangerous. We should use the window that's actually for passing food and tickets." You reminded.

"Let's do this." You gave each other pats on the shoulder and waited for the first tickets to come in.

"First customers walked in." Seonghwa informed, observing through the window.

Once the orders were taken, the waiters will key it in and the ticket will come through on the machine that's in the kitchen. It cuts the time the waiters have to come and handover tickets, it also makes it easier for whoever is at the window to sort out the orders and give out instructions to the rest of the team.

"First tickets coming in." Seonghwa announced.

Dinner service went by smoothly, there wasn't a manic rush but things weren't slow as well, which was good for Yunho. You were all able to take little 5 minute breaks in between.

"Last ticket going out. Service." Seonghwa rang the bell for pick up at the window. You let out a tired sigh, hearing Seonghwa's words.

"First day done." Wooyoung came, slinging his arm around you. You tiredly leaned against him.

"Let's clean up and prep for tomorrow before going home." You stood up. You, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and Jongho gave each other side hugs to commend one another.

"Good work today, everyone." You smiled.

"Of course, we have our leader to guide us." Seonghwa smiled softly, making you look away.

"Do your dishes." You cleared your throat. You washed the big pots, pans and trays that you used. For the bowls, you all left them on the counter neatly to dry overnight, except for the ones you were going to use now.

"Before we clean the stove and the grill, let's cook some dinner." Jongho suggested. There wasn't much but the 4 of you used whatever leftovers you could find to whip something up.

"I wish we had some of that roast chicken leftover. It was seriously good." Wooyoung pouted.

"Luckily we had some piece of the pork medallions left that we could cube up." Seonghwa said, taking a portion of pasta for himself.

The dish was a pasta with garlic, onions, basil fresh tomatoes, cubed pork pieces. Jongho sauteed the leftover mushrooms, serving that alongside the leftover roast vegetables.

"Hwa, call the front team in. I'm stepping out for a bit. You guys start eating first." You told them.

"Sure." The 3 nodded, not protesting or asking any questions.

"Hey, we made a simple dinner before we start tomorrow's prep. Would you guys like some?" Seonghwa asked. The 5 nodded their heads and entered the kitchen. Just like this morning, Yunho noticed that you were not around. Did you leave after service? Did you eat dinner before you left?

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powpowpunchout · 7 months

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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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threewaysdivided · 11 months

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Rainbow-core galaxy-cake

Originally planned for IDAHOBIT 2023 but then a bunch of life nonsense happened that pushed it back to today.

Rainbow-dyed baked vanilla cheesecake, covered in black-tinted dark chocolate ganache and decorated with rainbow-dyed cream cheese frosting and silver luster-dust.

Process shots under the cut:

Step 1: Prepare a standard baked vanilla cheesecake recipe. Line two greased and papered cake tins with a crushed Oreo + butter crumb base.

Step 2: Split the cheesecake batter to make 9 colours (6 rainbow bands + the trans flag) using gel food dyes. Pour into the center of the cake one after the other to create rings.

Step 3: Bake. Allow to cool completely in the oven (to prevent cracking or splitting between the rings), then transfer to the fridge until chilled.

Step 3.5: Regret using Oreos since they behaved weirdly in the oven. Resolve to use regular chocolate cookies + blue food gel for a dark base next time.

Step 4: Trim crust and top until roughly level.

Step 4.5: Continue to regret using Oreos as the weird crumb crust made a mess. Do some repair work on the crusts.

Step 5: Create a black tinted dark chocolate ganache by mixing 450g dark chocolate + 125mL cream + 5-8 drops of blue gel food dye. Place some ganache on the serving plates to hold the cakes in place. Ice the cakes, using alternating treatment with a cake spatula + knife + hot spoon + the fridge to level out and shape neat sides + edges.

Step 6: Spray chilled cakes with silver luster dust. Use a pastry brush to spread out any clumps.

Step 7: Make vanilla cream-cheese frosting. Split and dye into 6 rainbow bands using gel colours, then spread out on clingwrap and roll up into a sausage. Chill.

Step 8: Cut the clingwrap off one end of the frosting-sausage and insert cut-end-down into a piping bag with a big star nozzle. Do some design tests on the less-attractive backup cake before piping around the edge of the main cake.

Step 9: More luster-dust as needed.

Step 10: Serve your theatrical cake using a clean, very sharp knife. Wipe the knife between each slice to help prevent colour-smearing.

#3WD cooks #rainbow cake #cake #cheesecake #baking #food #my most theatrical cake yet #sadly I didn't have black or brown gel colour else I would have done the full modern pride flag #Queer #IDAHOBIT #something something joke about Asexual person supporting their queer comrades by making cakes

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arcadian-litterateur · 3 months

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let it snow | winterwidow

masterlist

summary: bucky and natasha enjoy a cozy christmas evening together when they get snowed in at their cabin.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none other than over the top fluff

a/n: i wrote this a long time ago. but like i still love it. cuz it's literally just fluffy fluff fluff fluff. bucky is a very whipped little simp btw.

"as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 and dark brown shingles, a red front door to the little ranch house cracked slightly, the screen door securely locked. Two grey chimneys pumped out smoke, curling in designs that painted the gray sky and the evergreens surrounding the house. A wreath was secured to the mailbox, a sign saying "Mr. and Mrs. Barnes" screwed to the side. A snow shovel leaned against the side of the house, the off white garage door peppered with little notches in the wood, Christmas lights strung lazily around the top of the house. It was a small abode, but love simply emanated from it. You could tell that it was a place of much happiness.

Inside, a small living room was the first room in sight, two obviously well-loved plaid couches with sunken cushions against the front windows. A small tv was perched on a wooden stand, end tables made of the same birch at either end of the couches. Lovely maroon curtains blocked the windows from pesky strangers. A piano sat in the corner of the room.

Right through an arch lay the kitchen, a vintage look which seemed in common with the rest of the house. The yellowed refrigerator had obviously once been white, and it was plastered with pictures, some old enough to be in black and white. It was clear the fridge was a hand-me-down of sorts, passed from generation to generation. The cabinets, cherry wood with tarnished silver handles were all closed except for two to the right of the sink, which was a double, full of sudsy water and dirty dishes. A redhead stood at the sink, scrubbing the plates with her petite yet strong hands. The oven, a small, silvery number, was also on, the hum of its heater filling the small space.

The radio was on the dining table, a circular table made of that same wood which seemed very common in the house. Its buzz filled the little ranch. A brunet sat at the table, his chin in his left hand, which happened to be made of metal. His ears were trained towards the radio, however his eyes were glued to his wife's hips, a smile gracing his lips as he watched her feet tap to the beat of the tune stuck in her head.

"---Roads in Cook County are closed, due to icy conditions and heavy snowfall. Only travel if absolutely necessary, and stay safe---" the male switched the radio off.

"Well, guess we have our answer, Natasha. I better call Steve and tell him we can't go tonight." Natasha sighed, using her shoulder to brush some of her fiery locks to the side.

"That's too bad. I was hoping to spend Christmas with the Rogers."

Her husband smiled, "But this does mean we get to spend Christmas all by ourselves." He got up from the table, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head as she giggled.

"Oh, Bucky." Turning her head to the side, she gave him a quick peck before shutting the faucet off, drying her hands on the towel next to the sink.

"Well," Bucky said, "Since we're snowed-in, what do you want to do?" Natasha looked at the clock above the stove and rolled her eyes.

"I," she bopped her husband's nose, "am going to make dinner. You know, since we won't be eating Peggy's delicious cooking anymore."

He sighed, "Okay, fine. I'll find something to do." With one last plea of puppy dog eyes and that cute pout that Natasha loved so much, he left, knowing that this time, she wasn't going to budge.

"Be grateful," she called after him. "I'm feeding you!" Bucky waved a hand. It was the knowledge that the two of them loved each other so much that they'd gotten married and settled down in the middle of nowhere, away from all their friends so it would just be them, that made it clear that these "ungrateful" moments were just jokes.

Natasha started a simple pot of broccoli cheddar soup, after spending ten minutes trying to find something to make amongst her fancy cookbooks and practically bare cupboards. Still, the seemingly basic soup was a staple in their married life, and it would be perfect for a low-key Christmas dinner. The wooden spoon she held was rough from many years of use.

It had been her late mother's, a gift to the couple along with much of the rest of their kitchen supplies. Melina had known that her daughter would want to live away from the busy city. Natasha's childhood memories were full of strife, gangs, and way too many close calls for her to stay there. However, the cookbooks were from her mother in law. Winnifred was a master in the kitchen, and she'd taught Natasha the other half of what she knew.

Natasha's father, Alexei, well, his family was the line from which this house came from. Melina's family were the city goers. Bucky's father, George, was Melina's childhood friend, and if Alexei hadn't come along with his charming, backwoods ways, Natasha and Bucky could have been siblings instead of lovers. They often laughed about that. They had grown up together, but the minute they were both out of highschool, they forgot the other existed.

That is, until Bucky saved Natasha from a harsh prison sentence based on her many crimes in the gang she'd gotten wrapped up in. She felt indebted to him, and slowly they became best friends, and then lovers. Bucky had helped Natasha wipe the red out of her ledger, and she would be forever grateful. Furthermore, she was so happy that she got to be married to the man for the rest of her life.

With another stir, the soup sizzled some more, the redhead's hips bouncing to the tune of an invisible band. And then she heard it.

The sound of the piano. That's what she'd been subconsciously dancing to. That was another thing she loved about her husband: he was one of the most musically talented men she'd ever met. You wouldn't guess it just looking at him, he looked more like a football quarterback (which he totally could pull off), but Natasha loved the fact that he could just sit down and play music. It was a gift from above, that was for sure. She heard him start to sing, a grin turning up the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful. Since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow." The redhead hummed along, the sound of his baritone like honey to her ears. It made her shiver, and at the same time, it made her giggle. He heard her, too. "Come join me, darling!"

Abandoning the soup to finish cooling on the stove, she raced into the living room. Bucky scooted over, patting the bench beside him. The redhead plopped down, smiling wide at him as he started up again. "When we finally kiss goodnight, oh, I'll hate going out in the storm." Natasha doubled on a low harmony, her eyebrows scrunching as she did her best to hit the right notes. "But if you'll really hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm!"

Before starting the next verse, Bucky paused and brushed his wife's hair behind her ear, smiling, "You have the voice of an angel, babe." She blushed, smacking his shoulder.

"I do not!" she objected.

"Yes, you do," he responded, tickling her sides as she buried her face in his neck, laughing.

"Stop! Stop!" With a cocky grin, he complied, her eyes rolling as she turned back to the piano. Bucky wrapped his flesh arm around her waist, pulling her closer as she laid her head on his shoulder."Gosh, I love you, Buck," she whispered, reaching over to lace her fingers through his metal ones.

"I love you, too, Nat," he smiled back. She could feel the smile from where his cheek was pressed up her scalp, his hand moving from her hips to her hair, stroking the red locks as she closed her eyes in silent enjoyment. It was the perfect picture of a happy Christmas evening. The lovely couple, sitting at the piano, arms intertwined as they hummed tunes together.

Some time later, they were curled up on one of those old couches, a blanket around their bodies as they watched It's A Wonderful Life. Natasha was on Bucky's lap, his arms around her as she held the blanket around them. Every time a funny scene popped up in the movie, Bucky would close his eyes as he listened to his wife's joyful laugh. That was the most precious gift she could give him- herself. All of her. The one who'd gotten distracted while cooking their soup and burnt it, and the one with the most beautiful soprano voice, and the one who could kick his ass in a fight any day of the week.

As the credits rolled and Natasha sleepily turned to him with a grin, he smiled and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Nat."

"Merry Christmas, Bucky."

the end

#fanfiction #marvel #one shot #fluff #married fluff #winterwidow #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #black widow #the winter soldier #marvel au #christmas fluff #marvel christmas

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abramsbooks · 1 year

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RECIPE: Grilled Pork Tenderloin with Chimichurri (from Meal Prep Magic by Catherine McCord)

It was in Argentina where I began my love affair with chimichurri; a pot of it accompanied whatever meat we were eating. Just the thought of pairing it with pork tenderloin makes me giddy.

PREP TIME: 15 minutes, plus 1 to 2 hours for marinating COOK TIME: 15 minutes SERVES: 4 to 6

¼ cup (60 ml) Dijon mustard

½ cup (120 ml) apple cider vinegar

3 tablespoons light or dark brown sugar

8 cloves garlic, minced

⅓ cup (75 ml) plus 2 tablespoons olive oil

1½ teaspoons kosher salt

2 to 2½ pounds (910 g to 1.2 kg) pork tenderloin, fat and silver skin removed

½ cup (15 g) packed fresh cilantro

½ cup (15 g) packed flat- or curly-leaf parsley

1 small shallot, peeled

2 tablespoons red or white wine vinegar

2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

Pinch crushed red pepper

Freshly ground black pepper

Place the Dijon mustard, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, half of the garlic, 2 tablespoons of the olive oil, and 1 teaspoon salt in a large zip-top bag. Squish the bag to mix the marinade. Add the pork tenderloin and use your hand on the outside of the bag to move the marinade around the pork. Marinate for 1 to hours at room temperature or overnight in the refrigerator.

To make the chimichurri, in a food processor, place the cilantro, parsley, remaining garlic, shallot, the remaining ⅓ cup (75 ml) olive oil, the red or white wine vinegar, lime juice, crushed red pepper, remaining ½ teaspoon salt, and black pepper and pulse until finely chopped.

Heat a grill to medium heat. Grill the marinated pork on several sides for a total of 14 to 15 minutes, or until the internal temperature is 135 to 140°F (55 to 60°C) when checked with an instant-read thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the meat. (Alternatively, you can use a cast-iron skillet to roast the pork. Heat over medium-high heat and add 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Sear the pork all over for a total of 6 minutes. Transfer the pan to a 400°F (205°C) oven and roast for 15 to 20 minutes.)

Allow the pork to rest for at least 10 minutes to allow the juices to settle before slicing. Use a sharp knife to cut pork on a bias into ½-inch (12 mm) slices and top with the chimichurri sauce.

Make sure not to overcook the pork. Pork should never be cooked to more than 135 to 140°F (55 to 60°C). You want the internal color to be light pink.

Make double the amount of chimichurri sauce to serve with fish, shrimp, chicken, or steak later that week.

TO ENJOY LATER The cooked pork can be cooled and refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 3 days. Enjoy at room temperature or warm for 30 seconds in the microwave. Store the chimichurri in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 5 days, or freeze in ice cube trays then transfer to labeled zip-top bags for up to 4 months.

PREP IN ADVANCE Place the zip-top bag of the pork in its marinade in the freezer for up to 3 months. When ready to cook, place the pork chops in the zip-top bag in the refrigerator to thaw overnight; cook as directed.

Become a faster, healthier cook with secrets from Weelicious founder and meal prep genius Catherine McCord

With celebrated cookbook author and Weelicious founder Catherine McCord's step-by-step process, your kitchen will be beautifully organized and fast, healthy family meals will be at your fingertips—starting with 100 of her favorite recipes. McCord believes that success in the kitchen comes down to two things—organization and meal prep—and she’ll show you how to master both in Meal Prep Magic.

One step beyond the ideological approach of Marie Kondo and The Home Edit, McCord brings you a practical guide to organizing the most important space in your home and using it. If you’ve ever lost leftovers to the back of the fridge, failed to find a spice that you know you bought, or faced a cabinet full of mismatched Tupperware, her advice will forever change your relationship to your kitchen.

After showing how to maximize your space for efficiency, McCord offers up her favorite family recipes. Including tried-and-tested secrets for saving time, these recipes are easy to prep ahead, make entirely ahead, contain basic ingredients that are always in your pantry, and/or strategically employ your freezer, air-fryer, Instant Pot, slow cooker, and more. Think grab-and-go breakfasts like Raspberry Creamy Chia Puddings, creative packed lunches including easy-to-assemble Salad Jars, healthy snacks like air-fryer crispy artichokes, and irresistible dinners that are even better leftover, such as lemony chicken thighs with lots of herbs.

By following McCord's simple strategies for meal prepping, you’ll always have food on-hand to enjoy throughout your busy week, limiting your trips to the grocery store and time spent in the kitchen. Eat healthy meals you love, while saving time, money, and your sanity. Never again stress out about what to make for dinner! Meal Prep Magic is a lifesaver for any and all home cooks, busy parents, and fans of Weelicious and McCord's popular book Smoothie Project.

For more information, click here.

#abramsbooks #abrams books #meal prep magic #meal prep #meal prepping #meal prep tips #smoothie project #catherine mccord #recipe #free recipe #pork tenderloin #chimichurri #quick dinner idea #dinner idea #dinner recipe

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vintagebitchgifts · 5 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: New Stainless Steel Silver Black Measure Equivalents Strong Baking Fridge Magnet.

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teaping2 · 1 year

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Kitchen Design Ideas - Questions

Kitchen Ideas & Designs April Case Underwood Stacy Zarin Goldberg Kitchen - large traditional u-shaped brown flooring and black lumber floor kitchen area concept in DC Metro with a farmhouse sink, shaker closets, gray cupboards, quartzite countertops, ceramic backsplash, stainless steel devices, an island, grey countertops and white backsplash Kitchen - large conventional u-shaped brownish flooring and black hardwood flooring kitchen area concept in DC Metro along with a farmhouse sink, hand cupboards, grey cupboards, quartzite countertops, ceramic backsplash, stainless steel steel devices, an isle, gray countertops and white backsplash Studio Dearborn A young household relocating coming from NYC addressed a lightning fast makeover of their brand new early american resurgence home prior to the landing of their 2nd little one. The cooking area area was fairly sizable but needed a revamp and brand-new style. The kitchen area room was established up to hold a few desks and chairs and the best region appeared a little bit over the top. It has a tiny, slender passage at the right and an nearing carport that was designed like a cross-section of the steps. There was a tiny, timber table at the back of the residence and four couches. There were actually three little bedrooms upstairs and two even more chairs. Repainted cabinetry matched to Benjamin Moore’s Light Pewter is balanced by grey glazed rift oak cabinetry on the island. In this collection, there is actually an extreme naturalism of the rainforest, while on the ocean flooring the sunlight radiates brighter than ever. The kitchen cabinetry is established at night to provide an even darker shade of eco-friendly. If you are looking for the excellent blend of tropical panache and classic style, pick a place where you will certainly. Shiplap woodwork on the isle and closet give a a little contemporary side. It is a very clear and attractive option. The paneling is an exquisite one, producing it an best option for the folks that love to take an diverse range of styles into life… We will find we are not only generating the best assortment of old-fashioned gallery tools and a great portfolio of old-fashioned games extras, but we also reveal the world what a tough heritage and advancement this tradition has in the pc gaming field. White colored bronze equipment by Schaub & Co. in a contemporary pub shape provide tidy lines with some texture in a warm metallic tone. The equipment features a strong silver plated brass building and construction and is crafted of a sound gold appearance. All components is additionally handcrafted from the finest, greatest high quality materials. The household furniture is built with the finest equipment and products to match and go with your certain demands. As viewed in pictures above, we proudly lug most of the absolute best and finest premium product at our storehouse. White Marble countertops in “Alpine Mist” generate a good shade palette while the ashen blue/grey Waterworks backsplash adds a touch of colour. For even more details go to https://www.alpine-marsh.com Please keep in mind that there will definitely be certain days (or months) where waterfalls and stone wall surfaces are going to develop, but will be under the supervision of our staff, so examine this page when you are carried out!

Kitchen space layout and custom-made cabinetry by Studio Dearborn. In this three moment walk-through, customers may find out additional about designing, working along with, and residing this desire. This Piece Covers It Well after that goes by means of a range of master plans from a neighborhood family-planning group along along with images from Chef Jeff's office. The book is developed for the new, nonstandard, or freshly arrived pair. The book is packed with recipes, tips, and ideas for creating truly distinct cooking areas. Fridge, fridge and white wine refrigerator--Subzero; Ovens--Wolf. Other fridges along with microwave unit are also offered with a remote unit. An additional well-liked refrigerator is a microwave sink. This device is usually made use of to bring in meals in the early morning on gloomy days, so that no one are going to be needed while in bed or under the covers. An automated subzero fridge is additionally accessible. The same designs of fridges are typically utilized along with regulators. Window treatments: www.horizonshades.com in “Northbrook Birch.” Photography Adam Kane Macchia.” *Graphic credit: Politeness of Adam Kane (Shutterstock) Photography As we could assume, there's some job the company does online that is a little bit of little bit different coming from traditional retail organization, but still manages to supply the greatest in-home products.

#Kitchen remodeling #kitchen renovation #kitchen design

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wonkypete · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Monster High Family Vampire Kitchen With Draculaura and Dracula.

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emgainnovation · 1 year

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We are providing smart appliances

A company has been creating smart appliances for the past ten years. They offer the latest technologies in their products. One of the latest is a new Smart Fridge that comes with a built-in Emga. The leading smart home appliance brand that offers innovative products that make everyday life easier. The newest smart appliances in the home are all the rage. These innovative products have taken the homes of people everywhere and made them more efficient, healthier, and environmentally conscious. From the Tesla wall mount oven to the bluetooth speaker, these appliances will take your life to the next level.

The product is a set of three smart earbuds, which are designed to enhance your lifestyle by listening to music, receiving phone calls, and giving you the ability to take and make calls. The earbuds come in three different colors: black, gold, and rose gold. Our innovative devices are designed to help keep you safe and secure, whether you're on the road or at home.

The Design Company Table Lamp with Alarm Clock is a stylish and functional addition to any room. With its sleek silver finish, it looks great in a living room, bedroom, or office. It features a beautiful floral pattern on the shade, so it will not only add style to your space, but also provide a sense of calm. The lamp also comes with an alarm clock, which can be set to work independently of the lamp. A table lamp with an alarm clock. The lamp has a beautiful white finish and a round base with a chrome finish. The lamp is designed with an off-white shade and it is perfect for reading or creating a calm atmosphere in your home.

Smart Devices in delhi, we offer smart devices like alarm clock, bluetooth speaker, and many more. These products are offered at very reasonable rates and are known for their quality.

If you are looking wireless Charger contact now: https://emga.in/

#wireless Charger #Smart Devices

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showerscreenseals · 2 years

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Purchase from Glazing Tools Suppliers Offering Extensive Range of Hardware Products

Reputed glazing tools suppliers offer wide range of hardware products that are essential for industrial needs. Further, well-known companies offer high quality glass products with unique style and finishes that will complement overall interiors of your bathroom. These items or accessories can install quickly without any hassle and one could easily access it whenever they wish too. The latest design of nut adjustments would enhance any bathroom doors or glass panels.

Renowned suppliers provide varying range of products that includes silicone spray sealant available in black, white, grey, light grey and clear colours. Further, they are utilised for windows, frames, glass-aquariums along with other panels. The high-quality formulation prevents from harmful UV rays and adverse weather conditions without any hassle. Moreover, it adjusts in temperatures and provides flexible movement possibilities. This product can also be utilised for repairing ovens, fridges, dryers, and washing machines so it does not lose it joints or parts easily.

Importance of Purchasing Glazing Tools from Reputed Suppliers:

The equipment has unmatched corrosion resistance to saline solutions, organic materials, halogens like chlorine and bromine, alkaline combinations, along with numerous acids, as stated by verified portals. The glass equipment, in contrast to most plastic and metal materials, offers transparency to allow you an unhindered view of what is happening inside your system, improving the monitoring of your process. Only a handful of substances, including concentrated phosphoric acid, hydrofluoric, and strong caustic solutions at high temperatures, can noticeably corrode glass. However, borosilicate glass can easily handle caustic solutions with a specified concentration when the temperature is ambient enough.

To sum up, many well-established suppliers offer wide range of glass hardware products available in different finishes such as chrome, silver, pearl, antique bronze, white and rose gold. If anyone wants to buy glass hardware products for their bathroom they should enquire with the best suppliers or browse their online portal for the same!

#glazing tools suppliers #silicone spray Sealant

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hansolmates · 4 years

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remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae / @eerieedits for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

if u like this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share💕💕💕💕

“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room.

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides.

“For fuck’s sake—”

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals.

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you.

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure.

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm.

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely.

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning.

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch!

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook.

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor.

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat.

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.)

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest.

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back.

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour.

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!”

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately.

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed.

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone.

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.”

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out.

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging.

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!”

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud.

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.”

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment.

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you.

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.”

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.”

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy.

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision.

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.”

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily.

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response.

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner.

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.”

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide.

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.”

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.”

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour.

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed.

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—”

“You’re deflecting.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.”

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?”

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely.

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand.

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—”

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.”

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.”

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?”

Fuck.

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties.

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?”

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.”

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand.

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.”

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.”

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex.

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles.

“I want to hear you say it, doll.”

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.”

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.”

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest.

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app.

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt.

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?”

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness.

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.”

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?”

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait?

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about?

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices.

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch.

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go.

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on.

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—”

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice.

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech.

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?”

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.”

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?”

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.”

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.”

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake.

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.”

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says.

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual.

“What?”

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.”

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.”

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices.

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch.

“It’s in,” you reply softly.

“Good.”

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable!

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer.

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm.

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line.

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?”

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here.

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?”

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly.

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting.

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…”

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!”

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.”

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips.

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?”

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.”

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.”

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking.

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?”

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.”

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?”

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!”

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?”

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—”

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you.

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice.

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass.

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.”

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking.

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of.

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.”

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot.

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator.

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—”

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.”

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?”

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.”

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later.

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval.

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts.

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.”

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply.

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.”

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent.

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out.

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.”

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!”

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you.

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands.

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?”

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.”

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.”

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.”

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.”

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.”

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery.

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest.

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.”

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook humor #bts fic #jungkook fic

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