#let me eat a mango in the shade fuck this job

[jimmyfury]

You know why I don’t believe in intelligent design? Because if something designed me then I was designed to lay on a beach and read a book and eat a mango not work myself to death at a shitty retail job I hate. Which means either an omnipotent creator is absolute shit at design or we’re all just victims of cosmic luck and capitalism.

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

~

Part ii: August

~

For the hope of it all

~

The river was crowded, but the pier was their own.

Happy Birthday Harzy, was spelled out in big balloon letters, turning in the summer breeze, backwards and bumping.

Logan stood at the waterfront and looked at Leo’s—as it was mostly Leo’s—handiwork. Lobster rolls and soft-shell crab buffet, corn bread and iced tea. Chilled white and orange wines. Summer dresses fluttered and crossed each other as people talked, making new patterns, and Logan let himself settle into the laughter. He had a bad habit of taking peace and worrying it away. He didn’t want to do that today. He wanted to watch Finn enjoy himself, his team, his family. Logan had spent every one of Finn’s birthdays with their Harvard team, and then there had been that one, horribly absent year when Finn had been in Gryffindor and he hadn’t—not yet. He wanted to watch the way Leo put his long arms around his friends, in the same way his mother did, warm and strong. Logan wanted to watch without feeling that sharp tug of worry. He couldn’t have even said what he was worrying about. It was vague.

He’d done a lot of watching this summer. He loved it to the point of never wanting to do anything else. Finn and Leo were alike to each other in more ways than Logan would ever be. Whatever rapid-fire conversation they were in the middle of would often quickly leave Logan behind, but Logan didn’t care as long as he got them stumbling and laughing over each other to try and explain it to him—a book, a TV show, some sort of video game. He knew they liked telling him about it, and Logan loved watching them love things—including himself. Logan had never thought of himself as acting as a grounding point before. That had always been Finn or Leo. He always felt too wild in his own head, unsure, reserved. Vague. But Leo had said it to him this summer.

“When me and Finn lived together, we stayed up so late just talking,” Leo had said one early morning on the beach when they had left Finn sleeping. Logan wouldn’t be quick to forget the feeling of just being able to hold Leo’s hand for so long, in such an open space.

Leo had kissed the back of his palm too many times for Logan to think he’d be forgetting it, either.

“And you and I did the same thing, you know?” Leo continued. “On roadies.”

“Playing cards,” Logan smiled. “And our sundaes.”

Leo nodded, and his smile grew a little softer. He stared at his toes digging into the sand. “And I knew how connected you two were. Well, I guess not how connected, but I knew you two were better friends than anyone on the team, even Sirius and James. Even if you didn’t always act like it. I feel like good friends can do that, handle distance and snap back into place.”

“And?” Logan remembered asking playfully. “Which long talks were better?”

Leo just laughed. “No, no. Not better. Finn talking is like…wild. Like wind. Talking to you is stillness. I love both. The point is, that was…that was my connection. To both of you.” He had cleared his throat then, and given Logan’s hand a squeeze. “My mama always says if you can talk to someone forever then—“

“They’re yours forever,” Logan finished. “My maman says the same thing.”

Leo’s answering smile had been blinding.

An arm circled his waist, another pressing right over his heart.

“Nice party,” Finn said softly into his ear, and Logan only had a moment in that warmth before it was gone, wary of prying eyes. It made Logan miss France, and their brief stay at his mother’s family home that summer.

No one had known them there, and Leo had adored the markets, cooking elaborate meals while Finn and Logan had sat on the counter, watching him and loving him. They’d eaten out on the stone patio, overlooking the sea.

Finn looked a little like he had there, cheeks sun-hot. Logan wanted to reach for them, as he had then, cool them with his thumb. Finn smiled, making the sun-kissed skin crease a little.

“What?” he asked.

Logan shook his head. “Remember that picture?” he asked. “The one of us. It was on your wall at Harvard, you were standing behind me, hand on my chest.”

Finn’s mouth quirked, and he nodded. Logan hesitated for a moment, realizing that Finn was wearing his NASA t-shirt, the same one he had worn the day he’d left Harvard for good, leaving Logan behind. Logan stared at the logo, then looked away, back up to his brown eyes. Bambi, the boys at Harvard had called him.

He took a sip of his drink and shrugged. “I don’t know where it went. I know you packed it, took it with you, but I can’t find it. Do you know…”

Logan trailed off, as Finn had taken out his wallet. He set his beer on the pier ledge, flipped the worn leather open, and slipped out a folded piece of paper, thick, and well-loved. He held it out to Logan, biting his lip, and then leaned back against the railing, as if waiting.

Logan let the photo fall open in his fingers, and exhaled a shaky, steadying breath. There was a laugh in it somewhere.

“Oh,” he said.

“Didn’t know you were looking for it,” Finn replied, and trailed his fingers, cold from his beer, over Logan’s wrist, then reached up to fiddle briefly with his necklace.

Logan traced his eyes over the same, gaudy string lights in the photo, their same smiles—the one Logan knew he wore more freely these days.

Logan folded the picture closed again, and slipped it back into its place in Finn’s wallet.

“You want it, Lo?” Finn asked.

Logan shook his head. “I like that you have it.”

Finn stretched out a foot, ankle hooking around Logan’s, pulling him a little closer again, to stand nearly between his legs.

“I had it all that first year,” Finn smiled. “On my own.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”

Finn grinned, singing off-key. “Pretending he’s beside me—”

Logan groaned, shoving his shoulder a little. “Okay, D’accord, I walked into that.”

Finn laughed loudly, and then swung his arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Let’s go find Le, get more food.”

They strode towards the tables.

“Hey!” Evgeni called out. He was standing with Olli and Jackson, his looming form leaning over the pier. “Ten bucks I jump!”

“Kuns, you don’t want to swim in this river,” Finn said.

“He’s going in whether you pay him or not,” Jackson shook his head. “At some point tonight.” He grinned, the scar that ran down one of his cheeks dimpling when he smiled. “Bet you twenty.”

“Nado,” Evgeni gasped, slapping his arm. “We split. Even.”

“No fucking way.”

Logan let Finn lead him away from their bickering, towards where he could immediately spot Leo, standing with Remus and Thomas. Logan felt everything just—soften.

“Do you ever think you could just find him?” Finn asked softly, the hand around Logan’s shoulders gesturing in Leo’s direction. “I mean, even if you couldn’t see him. You know?”

“Ouais,” Logan said, voice just as soft. “I know.”

Leo was mid-laugh when he spotted them, too.

“I gotta say,” he said as he met them halfway, hand on his hip, sunglasses in his hair. “I did a pretty damn good job.”

Logan huffed out a laugh. “You did. Really good.”

Finn snorted. “Way to take the credit, Nut.”

“He deserves it,” Logan said. “I was just here.”

“Lo’s the gift master,” Leo swung his arm around his shoulders. “And I’m the food master. Sounds about right?”

Logan patted Leo’s chest. “Are you going to jump in?”

Leo raised his eyebrows, squinting out at the water. “Do I want to swim in this water?”

“I’d swim if it was with you two,” Finn said. “I’d risk the murky monsters of the deep.”

“You gotta wait twenty minutes after eating,” Leo said. “And I haven’t tried the soft serve yet. They have swirls, they have mango, I mean, come on. I did so good.”

Finn laughed. “And I’m going to kiss you stupid later.”

“And I’m going to hold you to that,” Leo leaned in a little. “Birthday boy.”

They found Sirius holding a cone out to Remus by the machine, and Remus wrinkling his nose.

“C’est la vanille!” Sirius was laughing. “Quoi? Really? You don’t like vanilla?”

“You do?” Remus shook his head.

“Y’all we’ve caught the couple splashed on the front of every magazine in a, dare I say,” Leo paused, “fight?”

“First it’s pineapple pizza, now it’s vanilla,” Remus reached up, pushing Sirius’ chin length hair out of his eyes. “What did I sign up for?”

“Carrying his hair ties for him, apparently,” Finn reached out and snapped the tie around Remus’ wrist.

Remus rolled his eyes, and Logan thought Sirius might have blushed. When Logan reached up to poke at his cheek, he slapped his hand away and Logan laughed.

Sirius dragged Remus away towards where Julian, Remus’ little brother, was calling them over to the beanbag toss, and, momentarily tucked behind the shade of the soft-serve station, Logan felt Leo pull the both of them closer.

“Pretty good beginning to the end of the summer,” he sighed, licking his own cone.

“It was a damn good summer,” Finn grinned. “Hey, give me.”

Logan watched Leo hold out his cone to Finn, and agreed. It had been more than a good summer. It had been a perfect summer, and something in that made Logan stupidly worried. Sun and salt, and cold wine, and hot bodies pressed together as the moon rose. Logan closed his eyes for a moment, tucked between the two of them, and tried not to ruin this peace by thinking about all the times peace hadn’t been there.

This was Finn’s day. This was their season. Logan tilted his chin up and let the sweet mango of Leo’s ice cream sweeten his thoughts.

~

Noelle wasn’t at Finn’s party, and Thomas could feel it. He fiddled with the new, thin gold hoops she’d gifted him, barely circling away from his ears, the left one with a pearl strung along.

I’m the lucky one who found you, she’d said.

And he’d had to go and ruin it by trying to be funny, even while tears were pressing up as close to him as she was.

What does that make us, oysters?

She’d laughed, looked happy, but Thomas wished he’d said something else. He wished he had gotten something for her. He wished she wasn’t so far away.

I miss you, he tapped out on his phone, and that felt perfectly honest. Simple. Enough.

The three dots popped up and then went away. Thomas tried not to let it mean anything. She deserved to be busy. She worked just as hard—harder—than he did. Still, something like relief flooded through him when a long string of pink hearts answered him.

I miss YOU, T baby. Good party?? Tell Harzy happy bday for me.

Thomas blew out a breath. Will do. Say hi to the girls for me.

“You look like sad sunshine,” Natalie’s voice came, and he looked up to see her walking towards him, taking a sip from a honey colored beer with a lime wedged into it.

“I’m a little sad, Sunshine, like it or not,” Thomas laughed softly, pocketing his phone. “Where are the boys?”

“Canoodling,” Natalie sighed, hopping up onto one of the stools beside him under the umbrella. She had her long blond hair swept up into two french braids. “We’re both getting in our last drops of Alex, I think.”

Thomas nodded. “Hey, I never really asked, Nat. That just…happened this summer, or what?”

Natalie smiled. “Well, when I met Kasey, he hadn’t made it big yet, still on the Rangers farm team, but Alex had been on the Rangers for…maybe about a year? I can’t quite remember. I think Kase had only gotten called up a few times, so they’d met. But anyway, we start dating, two years later he gets a big boy contract with the Rags, and we get to know Alex. I saw him at team dinners only at first.” She smiled. “I was like, cutie, look at those freckles. But I had Kase, you know? I was pretty confused when I started looking a little closer. I mean, I was so happy.”

She pushed her sunglasses into her hair, leaning an elbow on the table and fiddling with a gold necklace at her throat that had the number 30 strung across the leather cord. Thomas wondered if she was going to add a 28 to that, Alex’s number, or if she’d get another one. He wondered if Noelle would want something like that. Maybe they could wear each other’s. He liked the thought.

“Well,” Natalie said. “I was confused until I noticed Kasey looking, but he wasn’t pulling away from me and I thought, hey…maybe this is something?”

“But that was how many years ago?”

Natalie took another drink. “No, yeah, nothing ever happened. Actually, I think they kissed once or twice. Roadies, you know? But Kasey gets traded, and then Finn arrived and we were like, wow, cruel joke.”

Thomas laughed. “I bet. But it meant Alex comes around again.”

She grinned. “That it did.”

Thomas held his drink up for a cheers. “Guess we owe those Cubs a lot.”

She clinked their bottles together. “Life’s weird. But, yeah, it happened this summer officially. Went to the O’Hara Hampton house, and I think we just loved being together. I forgot a little, how wonderful Alexander is. But,” she was smiling wildly again. “I woke up one morning and the boys had gone on a walk, they got back three hours later holding hands, Alex kissed me, and something changed. Maybe they worked through some history of theirs. We’re his now, he’s ours, whatever you want to call it.” She laughed. “Pretty good for a morning’s work.”

“Pretty good,” Thomas repeated.

“I’m worried it’ll be hard, though,” she sighed, chest rising and falling dejectedly. “He’s all the way in Florida and we’re here, together.”

Thomas glanced back down at his phone. “Yeah.”

“I bet that makes me sound like a snob to you,” she reached out and squeezed his hand.

He waved her off. “No, no, I just…we’re new, me and Noelle. Sometimes I worry that we’re too new for…for this.”

Natalie shook her head. “I think distance is distance. And, if it doesn’t work, it isn’t the physical space between two people. It’s a different sort of far away.”

Thomas tapped his fingers against his glass. “You just have something to say for everything, huh, Nat?”

She grinned. “Pretty mouth, gotta use it.”

Thomas snorted. “You’re not wrong.”

“Come on,” she said. “I’m going to whip your ass a ring toss.”

“Yeah fucking right.”

~

“Apparently they closed down a bunch of streets,” Remus was saying, still bleary-eyed and waking up as Sirius made the coffee. “That’s awesome.”

“It’s a parade. Of course,” Sirius said as he pushed the lid of their french press down.

Remus looked up to see him smiling and rolled his eyes, laughing, “Okay, sure, but it’s still crazy. They say it’s going to bigger than the Cup Parade was in June.”

That made Sirius’ eyebrows raise. “Really?”

Remus hummed in agreement, clicking his phone off and popping his back. “Well. I know Pride is in June, but I’m happy we get to do this, too.”

Sirius nodded, sliding onto the stool beside Remus with two waiting mugs. “Captain gets the Cup last. I don’t make the rules.”

Remus just yawned and let his temple fall against Sirius’ shoulder, closing his eyes as Sirius’ warm palm came to brush over his hair and neck.

“September is in two weeks,” Remus mumbled. “How the hell did that happen?”

Sirius poured their coffee and pressed a kiss against Remus’ hair. “You’ll be fine.”

“Hm?”

“I know you’re nervous for training camp. You’ve seen it a million times, though.”

“Yeah,” Remus sighed and sat up pulling his steaming mug close. “Seen it.”

Sirius laughed, going to the refrigerator for the milk. His hair was in dark, glorious tangles, and Remus vaguely wondered how much time they had before they needed to get ready.

“I meant,” Sirius leaned over the island and poured them both milk before capping it again and going for the brown sugar. Remus smiled when he realized that Sirius had picked that up from Remus’ mom, Hope. “I meant that you know it never comes across like…like some insane competition for spots.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “It is, though. I mean, not for the Sirius Black, but…”

“D’accord,” Sirius nodded. “Okay, okay. But you know what I mean?”

“I’m not worried about the team,” Remus said as Sirius came to sit down again. “I’m worried I’m not going to make the team.”

Sirius shook his head, set his mug down, and all but pulled Remus off of his stool to gather him close. Remus mumbled something about cold coffee, but smiled as he let himself be kissed good morning, kissed calm, kissed loved.

“I’m not worried,” Sirius whispered, and kissed him some more.

Remus had barely shut his car door—having opened it to cheers—before he was getting an armful of his little brother.

“Oof,” Remus grunted, but squeezed him, lifting him off of his feet. “Nice outfit, Jules.”

Julian jumped back, his Lupin Lions Pride jersey actually fitting him for once. “Thanks, dad found it for me.”

“He insisted on wearing it,” Hope Lupin smiled as she walked up. “But you’re going to roast so tell me when you want your t-shirt, baby, it’s in my bag. Hi, Re.”

“Hi, mom,” Remus let her kiss his cheek a few times.

“Salut,” Sirius grinned from beside him. Remus watched them hug, warmed more deeply than by the heat. Hope patted Sirius’ chest where a faded rainbow twelve was printed on his t-shirt. Remus was going to steal that thing as soon as he took it off.

“What a party!” Hope grinned. “Is someone grilling? Thought I smelled it.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, they got this restaurant downtown to bring BBQ.”

“Is there ice cream?” Julian said, huffing. “I’m hot.”

Sirius plucked at his jersey jokingly. “Mais, ouais, it’s almost ninety!”

Hope laughed, and put a hand on Julian’s back. “I’ll get him cooled off. Your dad’s around here somewhere with Pascal. Meet you on the float in ten. And make sure you’re wearing sunscreen!”

Remus watched his family wind their way through the colorful, crowded streets, felt Sirius’ fingers lace through his own, and smiled.

The sun did beat down hot, but Remus didn’t mind so much, not when they were filed onto the float that was equipped with a red and gold Lions head roaring at the front and rainbow streamers at the back, like an extension of the mane. The Cup sat on a high pedestal between them, strapped in shining.

The crowd was wild. People were hanging out of the tall parking garage that lined one side. The pavement was painted in thick strips of rainbow in some places, and red and gold in others.

Gryffindor loved their Lions. It almost made Remus want to cry, seeing how happy Sirius was. Half of the team was on their float, some of them walking beside. Remus spotted Logan sporting a rainbow brimmed hat walking with Kasey and returned the peace sign Logan sent up.

“Everyone is decked out, man,” James shouted in Remus’ ear from beside him, Harry on his hip. He and Lily had returned in time for Finn’s birthday. He was wearing a Lions Pride shirt, and Harry had a tiny one to match and a sunhat that practically covered his entire body that Lily kept coming over to adjust. James grinned. “Damn. Good Cup Day.”

“It’s not my Cup Day,” Remus laughed. “But I do sort of feel like this is my day.”

James just smiled, pointing at people for Harry to wave at. “Maybe won’t have to make that distinction next year, eh? Look, Har, see the flags? You want one, bud?”

“Re,” Sirius leaned in, and Remus felt his hand on his back. “Want to walk a bit?”

Remus nodded, eyes finding where Leo, Jackson, Evgeni, and Olli were walking together, keeping time with the floats and talking to the crowd. Leo had a rainbow flag painted on one cheek, Natalie’s work.

Remus felt for his own hat, flipping the colorful brim backwards as he hopped down.

“Hey,” Jackson grinned, throwing an arm around Remus’ shoulders. Evgeni had one of Sergei’s daughters in his arms, chatting with the crowd. He wasn’t wearing Jackson’s rainbow-striped shirt, but it looked like one of the kids had stuck two stickers on one of his cheeks that he wasn’t bothering removing. Remus wondered if he was worried, about his family, or his country, like he had told Sirius. It sent a wave of thankfulness through him, the fact that he was here.

“Nado,” Remus hugged Jackson. “Jesus, seriously, what did you do this summer? You look fit, man.”

“You see him,” Evgeni called over, handing a sharpie back to someone wrapped almost entirely in a flag covered with glitter. “Stare in the mirror, in love.”

“I don’t,” Jackson protested.

Evgeni just shrugged, spinning Sergei’s daughter around. “I’m see you.”

“Well, hand some over,” Remus said.

Jackson just gave him a shake. “You’re going to make the team.”

“Maybe,” Remus groaned out a laugh, knocking him away.

“No maybes,” Sirius said, sidling up to Remus’ side and replacing Jackson’s arm.

“Sirius! Cap!” someone called, and Remus felt Sirius tense a little, as he always did in crowds, or media.

The person calling had short brown hair and seemed to have tailored a loose jersey of Sirius’ into a form-fitting dress. The sleeves were cut and hemmed by the twelves on the sleeves.

“Salut!” they said, accent stiff, and laughed. “I tried.”

That seemed to ease Sirius a little, and Remus tugged him to a stop.

“Salut,” Sirius smiled. “Wow, that’s my jersey?”

They nodded, eyes sliding over to Remus. “It is. My girlfriend was hoping to have a Lupin one so we can match, but…”

The girl beside her, black hair tucked up in a bandana, smiled and threw her hands up. “When are they stocking those! I have two hundred bucks I’m ready to drop, I mean, let’s go before I second guess myself!”

Remus laughed. “Oh man, I’ve been there.”

“With my jersey, ouais?” Sirius grinned was teasing as he signed an autograph and Remus blushed.

“Here,” Sirius took out his phone. “You can give me your phone number, if you’re okay with it, and I’ll get you one? Yeah?”

“Oh…are you kidding?” the girl put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I…yes, Cap, you can have my phone number, sure fucking thing.”

They moved along the crowd easily. Sirius grabbed the Cup at one point, walking it along for people to touch just as their entire team had in June. Remus stayed well away.

“No jinxes here,” an older man in a Lions Pride shirt laughed, his arm around his son. He held out his hand. “My entire family’s been Lions fans for generations. Glad to have you on the team.”

His son, the very image of his father, smiled and tentatively held out a sharpie. “Would you sign my shirt? I’ve seen your tapes and everything, I…you’re my favorite. I was thinking about getting out of hockey before you.”

Remus blinked. “I…” he took the sharpie, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. “I’m glad you’re staying. Are you a defenseman?”

He lit up. “How’d you know?”

Remus shrugged, smiling. “You hold yourself like one.”

“I hope that’s a good thing!” Remus heard Olli call from a little ways down.

He laughed. “How did you hear that?”

Remus signed the boy’s shirt, thanked him, and jogged a little to catch up with Sirius.

“I’ll take that,” Jackson grinned, and plucked the Cup from Sirius’ grasp.

“It’s my Cup Day!” Sirius laughed, but wrapped his arm around Remus instead. “Hi.”

“That was my first signature,” Remus said softly, to Sirius only, and Sirius squeezed his shoulders.

“The first of many.”

It was a bit of a blur after that. Natalie brought them ice cream and cold lemonade, which turned Sirius’ kisses even sweeter when they made it back home, out of the heat and stumbling, happy and sun-kissed. Sirius’ entrance hall was dark to Remus’ unadjusted eyes, and he focused on his palms, splayed over Sirius’ broad back. He yelped when a voice rang out from the living room.

“We’re on the couch!” Regulus shouted. “Just so you know!”

Sirius broke the kiss, looking flushed and dazed. “What…why?”

“I live here!” Regulus’ voice called back.

Remus suppressed a smile, and leaned his forehead against Sirius’ chest, trying to calm his breathing and any flush of arousal that had been beginning to stir up.

“Fuck,” Sirius swore. “How did he get home before us?”

“Who’s we?” Remus called out.

“Howdy,” Leo’s voice came.

Sirius sighed. “It’s my Cup Day.”

Remus gave his hip a short pat before walking down the hallway and rounding the corner to find Leo and Regulus slouched on the couch, AC on full blast.

“Right,” Remus nodded. “You’re suppose to be helping Reg pack for school.”

Regulus glanced up from his phone. “There’s twenty different gifs of you jumping down from the float and turning his hat backwards on Twitter.”

Remus blinked. “What?” He didn’t even remember doing that.

Leo nodded, crunching a potato chip. “And we’ve only been looking for ten minutes.”

“Huh,” Sirius said, turning towards the kitchen. He stopped, hesitated for a moment, and turned back. “Let me see.”

Remus huffed out a laugh. “I need water.”

“Donne-moi!” Sirius demanded of Regulus, grabbing for his phone.

“You have your own phone!” Remus made out Regulus’ reply in French.

Remus filled his glass, downed in, and was filling it again when Leo came into the kitchen, rolling his eyes and smiling.

“Thought I’d leave the brothers to fight. Can’t believe I used to be scared of both of them.”

Remus laughed, too. “Right?”

Remus watched Leo grab a glass, spinning his own slowly around on the counter. “Are you…”

Leo glanced up. “Hm?”

Remus took a breath. “Tell me if I’m overstepping, but I know today must’ve been a little…” he took his hat off, the colorful bill bright against the dark stone of the counter.

Leo nodded in understanding, sliding onto a stool. “It wasn’t…hard. It was actually good to see all of the support. I could see it in Finn and Logan, too. Logan is nervous.” He nodded to himself. “More nervous than me and Finn. Understandably. I mean, you know how long he and Finn…” Leo shook his head. “I was happy he got to see that. And Finn was happy, I know, too. Maybe we’ll start making plans. I mean, this summer was just fucking heaven. Just being together. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.”

“Me too,” Remus sat on the stool beside him. They smiled at each other, then laughed. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“I am, too,” Leo grinned. “All right, I think me and Reg have to actually put his clothes in suitcases now.”

“Good luck.”

“That boy owns, like, five t-shirts,” Leo drained his glass and put it in the sink. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Remus grabbed a third glass and followed Leo back into the living room where they found Sirius leaning over the back of the couch, squinting at Regulus’ phone. He did a double take when he spotted Remus.

“Hey, where’s your hat?”

Remus snorted. “I’m not a twitter gif. C’mon, I need a shower.”

Regulus raised a teasing eyebrow. “And you need him for that?”

Remus stuck out his tongue. “Yeah.”

Sirius flicked the back of Regulus’ head. “Go pack.”

Remus tugged his t-shirt off on their way up the stairs. “That was wonderful, but fuck do I wish it wasn’t a thousand degrees.”

“I don’t know,” came Sirius’ reply from behind him as they entered their bedroom, followed by his hands on Remus’ hips and his lips against his neck. “When it’s hot, your hair sticks to your neck just…” he kissed just by Remus’ ear gently. “Here.”

Remus bit back a smile. “With sweat.”

“It’s handsome, I think.”

Remus laughed, turning in Sirius’ arms. He was summer tan and happy. Remus didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing that grin, one that was more and more present lately. Sirius laughed and made small talk with fans who asked for pictures—even today, he had seemed to almost enjoy the crowds and the media. Remus touched his number twelve necklace. He brought it to his lips. “You’re handsome.”

They stepped into the shower together and stood in the peace and quiet of the beating down water, turned cool against their heated skin. Remus rested his head against Sirius’ chest, and smiled when he felt Sirius lace their fingers together. It wasn’t exactly a new thing anymore, but it still felt new. It had been that way when James, Lily, and Harry had first arrived home and Sirius had done it on the table between them at the restaurant, just as it had been early in June, when Sirius had done it while they waiting in line to board their plane.

Remus looked up, squeezing his hand, and Sirius bent to take Remus’ mouth against his own again. It was softer, but Remus felt just as giddy from the day’s events. A parade. A Cup Day.

He wanted one of his own.

“Love you, mon loup,” he smiled. “Thank you for today.”

Remus ran his hand over Sirius’ broad shoulders. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did everything,” Sirius whispered back. “You are part of me allowing myself things.”

Remus felt his expression soften.

“Heather explained it that way,” Sirius said. “I thought it was well put.”

Heather, the team’s sports psychiatrist. Remus had only actually met her a few times, but Sirius valued her highly, had called her a few times during the off season.

“I like it, too,” he said, and let Sirius pull him close again.

They threw the windows open to let the cooling breeze in once they were back downstairs, and Sirius put steaks on the grill for the two of them.

“Where’d Reg and Nut go?” Sirius asked.

“I think out with some of the boys,” Remus said, and followed as Sirius went back out to the patio. He notched his hip against the door frame. “Hey, do you want to go to the rink tomorrow? All this Cup talk has got me wanting to skate, like, now.”

Sirius tilted his head back and laughed. “With you? Always.”

Remus grinned and padded back over to the counter where the salad was waiting for dressing.

“I’m glad we didn’t end up having everyone over,” Remus said as he tossed it. “As much as I love them.”

Sirius hummed, sliding the screen door of the deck closed. He set the plate and tongs down before wrapping his arms around Remus.

“As much as I love them,” he repeated quietly, lips brushing against Remus’ neck. “I want you all to myself right now.”

Remus leaned back against him. “My thoughts exactly, baby.”

Sirius smiled against his skin. “Glad we’re on the same page. Vanilla hater.”

Remus pinched his arm. “Pineapple hater.”

~

Cole woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting down to his room from the kitchen—and Katie Dumais curled up at the foot of his bed.

He jumped a little, and then sat up slowly. It took him a moment to realize that she wasn’t asleep, but that she was fiddling with a little charm bracelet, her eyes down.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, hi, Katie.”

She looked up, and a grin lit up her face. “Mom says breakfast is ready. I didn’t want to wake you up, even though she told me to.”

He sat up a little more. “How long ago was that?”

Katie wrinkled her nose. “Maybe four hours?”

Cole blinked, and picked up his phone from his nightstand. It was eight-thirty. He glanced back at Katie.

“Can you tell time?” he asked slowly.

“Not really,” she sighed happily, and kept fiddling with her bracelet. “You still have rainbow paint on your face.”

Cole laughed, rubbing a hand over his cheek, where Lily Potter had painted a flag the day before, for the parade. Where the Stanley Cup had been.

It still all felt surreal to say.

“Okay. Um, tell her I’ll be up in a second, okay?”

Katie nodded. “Okay!”

Cole listened to her footsteps scamper all the way up the stairs before he flopped back down on his pillows and chuckled to himself. He gave his teeth a quick brush and followed.

“Bon matin,” Celeste smiled as she flipped a few more pieces of bacon onto a plate. “How did you sleep? I think that heat yesterday tired everyone out.”

Cole slid onto a stool beside Marc and Louis, Katie to his right. “Really good, thanks.”

“The air conditioner isn’t acting up again?” Celeste asked. “Logan was always having trouble with that thing.”

“It didn’t turn on right away, but I fixed it,” Cole smiled when she set a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and fruit in front of him, and then another plate with toast. “My mom’s big with her tool kit, so, I mean, if you ever need anything around the house, I know some stuff. Just so I can…help out. Thank you for letting me stay.”

Celeste beamed. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re not just letting you stay. We’re very happy you’re here. Someone your age shouldn’t be alone, especially with all the pressure that comes with this job. But I will absolutely take you up on that. You wouldn’t know how to build me some planters, would you? Pascal bought the wood ages ago,” she turned back to the sink, waving a spatula. “Always saying he will take care of it, and yet there it sits!”

Cole laughed softly. “Yeah, I can do that. Sounds good.”

“Well, good,” Celeste smiled, pulling her purse over her shoulder. “Now, Pascal is with Sergei for an ice session—which you’re always invited to, he says, by the way—I’m taking Louis to tennis, and Marc to space camp. Layla will be here soon, but do you mind looking after Katie until she gets here? Adele’s up in her room if you have any questions. She’ll know.”

Cole nodded, trying to swallow the eggs quickly. “Of course. No problem.”

Celeste smiled. “She loves you enough already, she’ll be no trouble.”

“She’s always trouble,” Louis mumbled.

Celeste tisked, but kissed his head. “Come on, up. Cole, you have some of the boys’ numbers, too, right?”

“Um,” Cole thought of Sirius Black’s number in his phone from when he called him. “Yes?”

“Good. I know you don’t have a car yet, and you’re always welcomed to ours when it’s available, but if you ever need a ride anywhere, I’m sure any one of them will drive you.”

Cole, for the life of him, didn’t think he would ever be able to bring himself to call Sirius Black up and ask him to drive him to, what, Target? Jesus.

“Right,” Cole tried for a smile and knew it came out nervous. “Thanks.”

Katie did turn out to be a pretty easy kid. Even if she did seem to switch activities at a rapid pace. She drew, and then she watched half of a TV show, and then she was hungry, but she did all of it herself. After less than 30 minutes she had parked both of them on the couch where they were stringing beads for necklaces.

“I’ll make you Lions colors,” she said seriously.

That had been Cole’s best—and only—idea. He glanced at the multi-colored kit. “What colors do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

Cole smiled. “All right. What’s your charm bracelet?” He nodded to the small silver ring around her wrist.

“It’s from Tremzy,” Katie thrust her wrist forward. “He gets me one every one of my birthdays. There’s a hockey stick, because we love hockey, and an ice cream cone, because we love ice cream, and this is a book because we read together, and—”

There was the ding that told Cole that Layla had arrived, coming in from the garage, and Katie was off again.

“Hi,” Cole said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

Layla looked up from trying to put her things down and hug Katie at the same time. “Hey, Cole.”

“How’s it going?” Cole asked, feeling decidedly more prepared this time. Layla was in a green tank-top today, but her same shorts and gold rings.

“Busy,” she laughed. “I actually have my first orientation this evening, at the rink.”

Cole nodded. “Nice. I’ve never actually been inside. Well, not yet, I guess.”

Layla straightened at that. “Well…I’m driving over once Celeste gets home, just to see the place first.” She seemed to take a breath. “Do you want to come with?”

~

They didn’t have full gear, but the chilled rink was a relief against the sweat they worked up anyway. Remus borrowed a helmet—his own hadn’t been sent out yet—and used his old, worn in CCM skates.

“I can still beat you in these,” Remus panted as he skated backwards, tapping the puck back and forth and trying to gauge which way Sirius was going to dodge first.

“Oh, I know,” Sirius said, then lifted his right foot and went left.

Remus knocked the puck out of his stick towards the boards, and it sent them both chasing it.

“You use that trick too much!” Remus laughed, it echoing across the empty rink, as he shoved Sirius against the glass, the puck trapped between his skate blade and the foot of the boards.

“What about this one?” Sirius said, and turned to press their mouths together. Remus smiled into it, and it was enough to allow Sirius to steal the puck back.

“No!” Remus laughed as Sirius carried the puck expertly across the blue line, winding his stick up and taking a deadly slap shot, notching it perfectly in the upper left corner of the empty goal.

He dropped to a knee, sliding into a celebration before wrapping around the goal with a final whoop and crashing back into Remus for another kiss.

“Wanna run plays?” Sirius asked. “I’ll be your center if you’ll be my winger.”

Remus smiled as they reset themselves, pushing the used pucks towards the boards. “That might not happen.”

“Maybe I have more pull than you think.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Not that much, baby. What’s going to happen is I’ll start on the fourth line, go from there. Anything else and every journalist in the city would go batshit crazy.”

Sirius just scooped another puck into the goal, then hooked his arms over his stick, the body behind his neck. “Wouldn’t be our first time causing that.”

Remus smiled. “True.” He nudged Sirius towards center ice. “Face-off.”

Sirius took his helmet off to push his hair back. “Let’s do it.”

Remus was just tugging off his shirt, smiling as he listened to Sirius rattle of plans for the season, when he heard two voices laughing from the hallway. Sirius’ smile dropped, and he narrowed his eyes at the door.

“Don’t know,” Sirius said. “Hey, where are we meeting the guys for—”

“Should we check out the locker room?” one of the outside voices said—higher. “Do you think it’s open?”

“Non,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, grabbing for the back of his own shirt.

The door opened hesitantly at first, then wider, revealing Layla and Cole.

Cole flushed, and Layla’s mouth opened, then closed.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Sorry, we didn’t think…”

Remus glanced at Sirius, but when he didn’t say anything, just pretending to fiddle grumpily with his bag, he waved them off.

“Hey, we were just swinging by for a quick skate. It’s not our locker room,” he smiled. “Well, not only ours. You guys have the same idea?”

“Not skating, maybe,” Layla replied, twisting one of her braids around her finger. She looked up at Cole, who still looked like he thought he was in the wrong place, and smiled. “But neither of us have really gotten to look around yet, so, we thought we would.”

Remus smiled, using his dirty t-shirt to wipe sweat from his brow. “Nice. Well, maybe Cap and I can give you a tour or something some time.”

Sirius glanced up. “Marls does that.”

Remus tried to send Sirius a look with his eyes, but Sirius just glanced mournfully towards what Remus thought might be the video review room.

“Well…” Remus said hesitantly.

“We’ll keep looking around,” Layla said quickly. “See you guys around.”

Remus watched them to make sure the door was closed, then turned and punched Sirius in the arm.

“Quoi?” Sirius asked.

“Grumpy.”

“I liked it just us,” Sirius mumbled. “I thought we could plan plays or—or watch tape.”

Remus laughed, pressing his forehead to Sirius’ chest. “You’re such a baby.”

One corner of Sirius’ mouth raised. “So?”

“You wanted the rookie to stop making moon eyes at you,” Remus said. “Here’s your chance.”

“D’accord,” Sirius’ grin spread as he gathered Remus closer by his hips. “But will you keep making moon eyes at me?”

Remus leaned up for a gentle kiss. “I’m going to ask them to lunch. Wait here, Captain, you scare the rookie.”

“I don’t,” Sirius sighed, and Remus pushed out the locker room door.

“Hey,” Remus jogged to catch up as Cole and Layla turned at his voice. “Us and some of the other guys are planning to get lunch. How about it? You, too, Layla.”

Layla blinked. “Seriously?”

Remus laughed. “Team lunch isn’t a team lunch without the PT. Or, one of them, at least.”

Layla grinned. “Right. Well, I’d love to.”

Cole nodded quickly. “I—yeah. Yeah, cool. That rooftop place again?”

“You’re already picking up on team favorites, I see.”

Cole smiled sheepishly. “Kuny makes us go there every time.”

“It’s the sushi,” Remus laughed. “He’s a man obsessed. Well, cool. Meet you there in twenty?”

Layla jingled her keys. “See you there.”

“Sushi,” Evgeni all but moaned as he picked up a piece of yellowtail.

“Jesus, Kuns,” Jackson said. “You can’t eat all of that by yourself.”

Evgeni was chewing with his eyes closed. “You don’t know.”

“All right,” Thomas leaned forward, folding his sunglasses into his shirt in the shade of their umbrella. “What do we think this season, boys? Predictions, let me hear them.”

They all looked to Sirius first, who leaned back in his chair, one arm over the back of Remus’. He took a sip of his iced tea.

“Rangers,” he said finally.

“Uh-huh,” James nodded.

“Same,” Layla said, taking a spoonful of her miso soup.

“Caps, maybe,” Sirius continued.

“Definitely,” Remus said.

“I’m feeling Avs?” Thomas offered. “And I don’t want to say Snakes, but…yuck.”

“More like Vegas,” Remus said.

The table paused, and Remus just shook his head.

“It’s true,” he said, glancing at Cole and Layla, trying to decide if they’d noticed the shift in the air. He had to be able to talk about this. About him. "They’re deep this year.”

“Yeah,” Cole said softly. “Greyback’s killer.”

Remus felt the entire table tense and felt immediately guilty. Cole didn’t know what he had said, and Remus all but watched him wonder if he’d said something wrong.

“And us,” Thomas grinned, slapping Cole on the back. “We’ve got Lupin now. We’ve got Reyes.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but laughed. He tried to express his thanks silently, and Thomas winked at him.

This felt different. He had known it would. Team dinners would be his dinners now, not a friendly tag-along invite. Driving to practice with Sirius, they would go through almost the same routine, not split off for his office and the locker room. These were his teammates. He’d win and lose with them, and they with him, in a way they hadn’t before. Sitting there, in the sunshine that was going to turn colder, Remus looked forward to a year of this.

[in-class-daydreams]

Parlay (Kuroo x Reader) | Chapter 5

-Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (ft. Roommate Kenma)

Word Count: ~2,300

Genres: Fluff, angst if you squint, general buffoonery

CW: Some more swearing, secondhand embarrassment lol

Summary: (Y/N), a first-year student attending Tokyo U, is living with her best friend, Kozume Kenma. Little did she know, her life would be turned upside down after being exposed to Kenma’s volleyball teammate and close friend, Kuroo Tetsurou. One wrong move, and the parlay’s stakes only get higher each time.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next 

Grandmother had nearly given herself a stroke from agreeing so fast to (Y/N)’s request for a half shift that day.

“Is it for school? Is it for friends? Oh, (Y/N)-chan, is it for a man or a woman?” the old woman bombarded the girl she treated like a grandchild with questions. It was rare for (Y/N) to take a day off, much less request one. She shook her head.

“Nothing like that, Gran. My friends invited me to watch their volleyball game. Our school is very highly ranked.”

“Ah, your Tooru-kun plays on that team, doesn’t he?” (Y/N) watched as Grandmother cut a mango into slices and presented them on a bed of sticky rice. The young girl served the dish to a table by the window: a young father and his young daughter.

“The usual, for my favorite father-daughter duo!” she smiled sweetly at the pair. The father looked up from his computer.

“Thank you, (Y/N)-san. Look, Miki! What’s this?” he asked his 2-year-old. The little brown-haired girl looked away from the window to meet her father’s gaze. She had plump little rosy cheeks streaked with dried milk.

“Mangey!” she chirped. Before her father could react, the child had taken a fistful of mango and shoved it mostly into her mouth, though, the majority ended up on those round cheeks of hers. The man sighed, but not without a nonetheless adoring look at his daughter.

“I’m glad she likes it, “ (Y/N) giggled, “I’ll be back to check on you two in a few minutes, Suzuki-san.”

Making her way back to the kitchen, leaning against a side table covered in clean glass cups, (Y/N) took a moment to bask in the warm embrace of the place that felt like her true home. The kitchen was smaller than most tea houses of that size and of that popularity than the average place would normally have. Grandmother, however, made sure the place was immaculate. (Y/N) looked over the small plastic bins of ingredients, each one placed based first on health code requirements, then by frequency. Filling for songpyeon took up the largest bin. Continuing her conversation with Grandmother, she said, “Yes, Tooru is on that team,” she chuckled, “They practically begged him to play for them.” Grandmother dried her hands on a dish towel.

“Well, if you ever manage to pull him off the court, feel free to bring him around. That boy’s always neglected to eat,” the old woman griped.

Opening her mouth to reply, the ringing of the front door bell interrupted (Y/N)’s reply. With a quick swipe her hands over her apron, she swung out of the kitchen and greeted their new guests.

“Welcome in-- Oh! Hi, you two! Welcome in.” Before her stood her best friend and roommate and his tall, stressfully attractive childhood friend. Kenma’s dyed-blonde hair was mostly grown out - he’d been too busy (and too lazy) to get it redone. Kuroo’s catlike eyes crinkled as he smiled at her.

“Good morning, (Y/N)-san.”

“Hi, (Y/N).”

The female led the two boys over to a booth across from the kitchen entrance. Away from the volleyball players’ line of sight, the other three servers working today poked their heads out from the kitchen doorway. Chisato, Grandmother’s actual granddaughter, was fanning herself dramatically, while Shusei and Tamaki were busy ogling Tokyo U’s handsome spiker. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at them. The boys took the menus she handed them.

“Can I start you two off with anything to drink?”

“Water, please.”

“Just a water,” because they were in college, and broke ass college students can’t afford not-water.

Kenma didn’t even open his menu before handing it back to her.

“Something with pork,” he said, after which he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his emails.

Without batting an eye, the server girl replied, “You got it!” Then, she turned to Kuroo.

“Would you like something specific or if you want, you can give me a general preference like Kenma did, and I’ll give you something you’d like.”

The menu was somewhat thick for a tea house, which Kuroo noticed was because they didn’t just have one country’s dishes, as Chisai’s selection contained an incredible variety.

Now, Kuroo wanted to say either, ‘I trust your judgement’, or ‘I’ll enjoy whatever you put on the table in front of me.’ Sadly, the poor mess of a boy was so preoccupied with thinking about how the girl in front of him was definitely not super adorable in her white collared-shirt and her totally not endearing plaid apron, much less how absolutely unlovable it was that she had flour in her hair from tucking it behind her ear so often. He ended up making a strangled choking sound and saying, “I table.”

Everyone blinked. Forget being a cat, Kuroo fought to repel his inner badger that wanted to dig a hole, crawl inside, and never come out. Kenma was turning red keeping his laughter contained, and as if the universe hadn’t decided it wanted to be a complete dick to the wild-haired boy, he accidentally glanced up at (Y/N)’s cute expression with her brows furrowed, and her lips puckered in confusion.

‘Ahhhhhhhh,’ he thought as his brain short-circuited. Finally, finally, (Y/N) smiled at him gently.

“It’s alright, I do that a lot. Try again?” Oh sweet Karasuno’s resident Jesus, what a sweetheart. Desperate to redeem himself, Kuroo cleared his throat.

“Ahem, I-- Uh-- What’s your favorite dish here?”

‘Amazing job, Tetsurou. You fucking nailed that, Tetsurou. You, sir, are a smooth criminal,’ he told himself. (Y/N)’s bright expression from his question was almost worth making a fool of himself. Almost.

“Ah! Well, I love everything here, and I promise I really do, I’m not contractually obligated to say that, hehe, and it really depends what you prefer personally - everything is delicious.” Kuroo’s soul left his body when she shuffled to his side and leaned over him slightly to point at specific dishes on the menu. She smelled of fresh linen and of fresh baked goodies.

‘Hngggghhhhh, smell good, good smell,’ the poor boy’s brain cells were failing him at the moment, and had been for the past couple of minutes.

“So, if you like shrimp, the har gao comes in orders of 4 and they’re more filling than they look--” (Y/N)’s voice faded away as Kuroo’s brain kept trying to figure itself out like a computer with too many open tabs and had a software virus called, ‘(Y/N) Smells Divine And It’s Not Fair.exe.’ Kuroo knew he was better than this. He knew he was charming and likable. There was no reason for him to totally crumble like he was. From knowing Kuroo so long, Kenma could tell he was struggling, and, out of pity, he lightly kicked his ankle so the girl above him wouldn’t notice. Luckily, that little jolt woke him up enough to catch the tail end of her explanation.

“--you can get it with egg noodles, which I love personally, and Gran gets the duck from a nearby vendor, so you know it’s fresh. It’s especially popular around this time since it’s getting a bit cold,” she finished. It looked like he hadn’t been zoned out for too long. Steeling himself, Kuroo shifted in the cracked burgundy seat.

“That last one sounds great, thank you,” he croaked. Taking the menu from him, (Y/N) told them their order would be out “in a jiffy,” and Kenma’s wheezing stopped him from short-circuiting again.

“What-- Hah-- What was that?” he cackled. Kenma didn’t laugh very hard. Even when he watched Plant compilations or looked at memes, he mostly just blew air through his nose, at best, but here, Kuroo was starting to worry about the shade of blue his friend was turning.

“I--uh” Kuroo started, ‘got distracted by the way she was being adorable and the way her perfume--NO! Tetsurou! BRO-CODE!’. “I’m just a little out of it today I guess.”

“Clearly. You stumbled your words in front of (Y/N) like a panini-head.”

Kuroo couldn’t deny that statement one bit. How had he managed to look like such a panini-head? Why now of all times? Was he nervous? God forbid if he thought he might have a slight crush on this girl because for heaven’s sake he wasn’t about to break the sacred Bro-Code. Before he could go off on his own tangent, (Y/N) walked over to their table carrying a couple of plates in her hands.

“Alrighty, so I’ve got the house cha siu bao for Kenma, and the egg noodle soup with roast duck for Kuroo-san. Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“I’m good for now thanks, (Y/N)” Kenma replied as he quickly began eating the fresh, hot pork buns.

“It looks great!” Kuroo responded, his face gleaming with excitement and anticipation of how the food will taste. His expression suddenly changed to a sly smirk, “but you know (Y/N)-san, this meal would be much better if you join us~”

‘Nice, I’ve redeemed myself. Ten points to gryffindor.’

“I’m sorry Kuroo-san, but my shift doesn’t end for another couple of hours. If I end early, I might not be able to make it to the game like I promised.” (Y/N) smiled back innocently.

Before Kuroo was able to say anything, he heard Kenma let out a small, “Pft, rejected”, from beside her.

‘Aaaand, just kidding’

Kuroo miraculously recovered, somehow, and managed to say, “Ah I see. Well thanks for the food, I’m really looking forward to it!”

“Of course! Please enjoy, and let me know if you guys need anything else.” And with that, (Y/N) went back to the kitchen to get more food to serve to customers.

Kenma was deep into his second pork bun when Kuroo dug into his own meal. The duck was perfectly moist with a savory skin. The egg noodles were boiled to a perfect texture. He could’ve wept. The exquisite flavor of the egg noodle soup distracted him from his horrific failure as a human being just a moment ago. Once he’d sated his appetite, he leaned back in his chair. The setter across from him looked totally boneless, a satisfied smile on his face. Kuroo rolled his head over towards the window.

There, the young lady that had been messing with his mind all day was squatting in front of an adorable little girl while the girl’s father laughed heartily across from them. The little girl clapped in delight at the funny faces the waitress was making for her. Kuroo’s heart beat a little faster.

“You’re staring.” Kuroo jumped. Kenma’s intelligent eyes were boring into his soul. Suddenly feeling even guiltier than he already was, Kuroo looked away.

“Kenma, I swear I—“

“Relax. She’s cute. Flirt, stare, call yourself a table, I don’t care.”

Kuroo spluttered at the reminder of his royal screw up. Then, he was puzzled at how Kenma could be so nonchalant about anyone looking at his girlfriend like that, especially his own best friend. He knew for a fact that if Kenma truly didn’t like his ogling at his super cute girlfriend, he would have said something. Maybe they were one of those open relationship-type things? Sounded pretty odd for Kenma, but Kuroo supposed that people change in college. If he were in Kenma’s place, though, he doubted he’d be so willing to share (Y/N)’s affection. Not that he wanted it, of course. Nuh uh, no ma’am.

When (Y/N) gave them their check, they tried to politely decline taking her generous discount, but once she threatened to bring Grandmother from the kitchen, they ended up just tipping her a little extra to make up the difference and exiting the tea house.

~~

“HEY, HEY, HEY.” The ace spiker with the interesting hair crowed as he landed after a vicious spike that went untouched by the other team. Tokyo U’s other team members came together and gave a quick cheer before quickly resuming their positions.

“Damnnnn, how the hell is this entire team so fine?” Shusei moaned.

“Mm, especially that number 6. He’s so pretty,” Tamaki nibbled on her thumb nail.

“Ooh, the handsome guy from this morning is up!”

(Y/N) blushed as Kuroo rotated into the front row. Gone was the stuttering, flustered mess from earlier, and he was replaced by Nekoma High’s scheming captain, all fire in his eyes ,and supported by skill and years of experience. (Y/N) leaned against the rail. Something about that focused look in his eyes captivated her completely.

Kuroo was an excellent blocker. He was smart and had the technique to support it. But despite this, the other team had powerful spikers and was starting to close the gap just enough to make the crowd uneasy. The coach leaned over and whispered something to one of the managers, who scurried off through the door to a side gym.

(Y/N) had already been a little (a lot) thirsty since Kuroo stepped on the court, but Akaashi tossed the ball into the air, Kuroo jumped up, and hit a straight right by the blockers. Suddenly, the gym air felt too stale, her cardigan too hot.

“Ohhhh my goddddd.” (Y/N) shushed Shusei and Tamaki’s moaning.

“Jealous much?” Shusei sassed.

“Wha—? Just— Just stop being weirdos!” she said louder than expected.

Tamaki wiggled her eyebrows, “Oh, so you admit you were jealous?”

(Y/N)‘s face felt hot. Her retort was interrupted by squealing all around them.

“Kyaaaaaa!”

“Omg he’s here!”

“I want his babies!”

…yeah, people get weird when they’re thirsty.

Shusei cheered and clutched Tamaki’s shoulders, “Whooo! What are we screaming about?”

“Some things never change,” Tamaki mused.

“Bitch, what?”

They stopped their bickering when their friend chuckled. She had a fond look in her eyes, but they also held something else they couldn’t quite place. (Y/N) smiled softly. She turned to them, “The Grand King loves making a grand entrance.”

~~

(A/N): You know who’s coming soon, and I’m really excited about this next chapter! Thank you all for the support you’ve shown us so far in the series, and please look forward to the next few chapters as well! Chapter 6 is planned to be released in about two days or so. See you guys soon!

- Admin Kiwi-Chan

Kuroo, honey, I’m so sorry to do this to you lol. I make this boy do stupid stuff in this series, but it’s fiiiine.

- Admin Mango-Chan

~~

Taglist: @joyful-jimin @nekomas-kuroo

[outroshooky]

for him | jhs

⇢ genre: series (fluff, brief smut)

⇢ pairing: jung hoseok x reader

⇢ word count: 2.3k

⇢ warnings: drinking, vaping, hobi almost gets electrocuted. mild smut, mentions of sex.

this work is based off of the song for him. by troye sivan. listen here.

We are running so fast and we never look back

And whatever I lack, you make up

Your hand was clutched tightly in his, and you were sprinting down the abandoned city block like your lives depended on it.

The sound of your Converse hitting concrete echoed against the stony buildings. Store lights flickered in the distance, and a car alarm’s whoops resounded through the chilly air.

How he had convinced you to take a shortcut back to your apartment down a shady side street, you’d never know. You’d said it looked suspicious, and he brushed it off. He said if worst came to worst, you could just run, and you’d get a good workout out of the experience, so why not?

Of course, fifteen feet down the block, a trash can cover clanged against a metal fence and scared the crap out of him. You simultaneously bolted, one thing led to another and now you knew why not.

The street light shone off of the creases in his jacket, the stylish leather sharpening his features. He turned to make sure you were next to him and it contrasted against his face, throwing it into shadow.

“Christ, Hoseok,” you wheezed as you loped along next to him, legs stumbling. “Slow down and consider that the person you’re running next to has legs half the size of yours.”

“All the more reason to run faster,” he teased, slowing down a fraction of the pace.

“Shut the fuck up, you do this for a living.”

“I never said I was good at it.”

“Well-“ You were interrupted by a wheeze, throat beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen. “You are, so shut the fuck up.”

We make a really good team

Though not everyone sees

We got this crazy chemistry between us

He’d taken you out to dinner to the nice Italian place on 48th East and 12th Street and gotten a table tucked back into the corner, away from other restaurant goers. You’d snuck in through the back with a reservation and miraculously, word hadn’t yet gotten out that J-Hope was out and about. With a lifestyle like his, you could never be sure, and although the fans knew about you, he kept you safe from their prying eyes.

He didn’t go all-out with the designer clothing, but the Prada dress shirt and musky cologne hinted at enough. He looked like a god who’d come down from heaven, settled across the table from you, and introduced himself as the utterly ridiculous man you knew to be your boyfriend.

He caught you staring over the top of the menu and smiled widely. “Everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” you stuttered over the words, cheeks reddening. “I’m good.”

He chuckled and went back to perusing the pasta options. “You’re too cute.”

It had been a long, long time since you had him to yourself. Thus, you had a lot to talk about, from life at the studio with six other type A boys and Namjoon’s destructive abilities to the latest Broadway show you had seen and the weird guy at your job that didn’t seem to take no for an answer. The waitress came by to refill your waters after the three hour mark, and long after the meal ended, you were still talking even as the last customer paid their bill and gathered their belongings to leave. That was what you loved about him, loved about your relationship- you connected endlessly on so many levels, although you were completely opposite people.

Jumpstarting your car cause the city’s a bore

Buyin’ e-cigarettes at the convenience store

Makin’ new clichés on our own little tour

Let’s ride, ide, ide

The hair was sticking to Namjoon’s forehead, and Hoseok was trying not to get electrocuted.

You sat on the sidewalk edge with your head in your hands. “Why, just- who the hell thought it was a good idea to give practically teenage boys jumper cables and go off of Google to learn how to restart a car?”

There was a stripe of grease on your boyfriend’s cheek from where he had wiped off his hand. “I don’t know, but he was a genius, whoever he was.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, sitting next to your right on the curb. “See, I trust you two to restart my car, which is probably a mistake considering Namjoon destroys everything he touches and Hoseok might spontaneously explode from excitement.” He blew mango smoke into the air- he’d been trying to quit smoking recently, it was damaging his vocal cords.

“Dammit, Suga. This is all your fault.”

“Hey,” he shrugged. “He’s your boyfriend. You’re the one calling 911 if this backfires. No pun intended.”

Taehyung lifted his chin from where it rested from the pile of leftover boxes from dinner on his lap, sitting to your left. “Yoongi, that was awful.”

“I didn’t plan it.”

Maybe there was a god up there making sure your friends didn’t accidentally electrocute themselves, because Yoongi’s car fired once, twice, and rumbled low, puffing smoke much like its owner.

“Lo and behold, the car lives another day.” The slim blonde rapper stood, pocketing his e-cigarette. “Come on kids, get in the back. And buckle your seatbelts this time, I don’t need one of you destroying the roof along with the engine on this thing.”

You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you

Forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons

We be makin’ shades of purple out of red and blue

Sickeningly sweet like honey, don’t need money

All I need is you

All I need is you

You had no idea how he’d planned it, but it was two days of the road, your boyfriend, and the best trip of either of your lives.

“How did you manage- you know what, I don’t even want to know.”

Your boyfriend had somehow booked two days off from work and rented the smallest camper van you’d ever seen. It hooked onto the back of his car, and had the appearance of a somewhat rusted tin can that someone forgot about for a few years, then found and cleaned, only to abandon again.

It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen, and you fell in love with it instantly.

You planned out the route the day before, covering as much as you could, stopping only to eat, sleep, pee, and replenish the gas. It was the perfect short road trip- long enough to get away from the rush, but not long enough to miss anyone. In fact, you didn’t even have to miss home- home was next to you in the driver’s seat, one hand gripping the rim of the wheel and the other interlocked with yours.

Oh, and the sex was pretty good, too.

We try staying up late, but we both are lightweights

Yeah we get off our face too easy

You promised him you wouldn’t fall asleep during the movie, but your head was on his chest, one thing led to another, and you were dozing under the blanket he’d thrown over you.

He noticed you’d fallen asleep and was about to wake you with a tickle fight, but after the week you’d had at work, you deserved a rest. He kissed the top of your head and brushed your forehead with his nose, admiring your cute little snuffles and the way you pressed yourself closer against him.

“How did I ever deserve someone like you?” he mused, kissing your nose and running his hand down your back. You sighed in reply, cuddling ever closer to him.

And we take jokes way too far

Cause sometimes living’s too hard

We’re like two halves of one heart

We are, we are, we are

Your legs were crossed over his on the couch recliner, sliding as you toppled into the cushion in a full bodied laugh. He was laughing just as hard, shoulders shaking, breathless with mirth. You glanced up at him and found that even in a crowded room he was paying attention only to you, tender eyes gazing into yours. Time slowed and you were in your own little world with him, and only him.

His hand slipped into yours, and you entwined your fingers with his. You leaned your head on the swell of the pillow and smiled. Your thumb traced his knuckles, finding every curve and edge.

Across the room, Jungkook aimed a throw pillow at Hoseok’s head, but Taehyung batted it out of his hand. “Let them be.”

Eat a pill, stay and chill, you don't need to go

I'm about to bring emo back if you leave my home

“Oppa, I have to leave for work.” You tried to pull free of his arms, which had wrapped themselves tight around your waist.

“No, stay. Please?” He widened his eyes and batted them at you, putting fists up against his cheeks, doing aegyo. He knew it was your weakness.

You huffed at him, pretending to be upset. “Five more minutes.”

I'd panic at the disco and you'd rather watch a TV show

Then I'll squeeze your booty real hard like I'm kneading dough

His mouth was on your stomach and he was crawling up your front, kissing every bit of exposed skin he could find.

He pressed his lips against the sweet spot on your neck, listening to the cries that fell from your mouth like prayers. Hands ran up your sides and down your front, settling on your hips.

You snaked your nails down his back, tracing down his spine. He tipped his head back and you took the opportunity to kiss a trail from his throat to his lips. He crashed them into yours, needing you ever more closer to him, and let out a sudden yelp.

You had cheekily decided to pinch his ass.

His gaze darkened and he grinned seductively, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and stealing a not so casual peek at your chest.

“You fucking tease.”

Pizza boy, I'm speeding for ya

We can get married tonight if you really wanna

Me in a cheap suit like a sleazy lawyer

And if you break this lil' heart, it'd be an honor

You were drunk and he was tipsy, nearly shitfaced on the living room carpet. He was dancing around with a champagne bottle microphone and glittery top hat, trying not to trip over his own feet. You were draped over the couch arm, half hanging off in a stupor. You kept bursting out into fits of giggles when the hat would fall into his eyes and he’d have to stop and fix it.

“Hobi…?” Your voice trailed off, dragging out the ‘i’ in an upwards glissando. He twirled around to find the source of his name and lost his balance, pitching backwards.

“Jagiya?” He tilted his head so the world was sideways. “You look funny.” He completely tipped over now, flopping sideways like a rag doll. “Jagiya, I love you.”

To your alcohol-addled brain, that was the most monumental thing anyone had ever slurred to you.

You crawled the length of the couch and ran your hand through his hair, welling up. “I love you too, Hoseok.” Your tongue felt heavy, and the words weren’t coming out quite right.

“Jagiya…” he swayed a little as he sat up to take you in. “I want to marr’y you, you’re my e’rrything…”

You were pulling him closer by the ends of his crumpled bow tie as the door opened and Yoongi poked his head in. “Everything alright? I heard a crash.”

“Yoongi!” You opened your arms like a toddler wanting a hug. “C’mere…”

“I’ll pass, thanks. Jesus, Hobi, how many shots did you have?”

“Jus’ one. Maybe three.” He held up two fingers.

“Oh my god, this is worse than the car incident.” Yoongi scratched the back of his neck. Hoseok rarely ever drank, so his tolerance was fairly low, and he was more than a little plastered. “You’re both going to have awful hangovers in the morning. Ah, god. I’ll get Jin.” He turned on his heel and strode out.

Yoongi poked his head back in the room. “Oh, and by the way, happy new year to both of you.”

Your love for each transcended alcohol and late-night talks, pasta dinners and scuffed high-tops. It flickered and sputtered like a flame, growing until it was a roaring bonfire. You made sacrifices and he made sacrifices, giving up personal time you could have had to yourselves to spend it with the only other person in the world.

You helped him flourish, to break out of the mold he had made for himself to discover something new- a person he had never known before. The Hoseok who cooked you dinner and kissed your nose and fell asleep beside you wasn’t the same Hoseok who rapped Cypher looking like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, nor was it the same Hoseok who sang the tribute to his mother at her birthday party, or even the same Hoseok who made cute faces in selcas and joked with the boys. It was a Hoseok that was somewhere in the middle of all of those, a perfect mix of boyfriend and performer and goofball and everything you had ever looked for in a person, wrapped up and tied in a bow with a cute smile to boot.

So as you passed under the glow of a flickering street light, running hand in hand with the only man you’d ever come to love, your mind wasn’t on the burning in your lungs or the shooting pain in your ankle or the intoxicating drone of the city. It was on him, and only him.

You don't have to say I love you to say I love you

Forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons

We've been making shades of purple out of red and blue

Sickeningly sweet like honey, don't need money

All I need is you

All I need is you, you

[dingoes8myrp]

More Beef with George R. R. Martin

I’m not a fan of long, arduous descriptions in things I read or things I write. I believe in the snapshot: give me a moment in time, or an image. Move me through a room or a space. Give me tid-bits of description as they become relevant. Examples:

“Rafa and I stayed with our tios, in a small wooden house just outside Ocoa; rosebushes blazed around the yard like compass points and the mango trees spread out deep blankets of shade where we could rest and play dominos, but the campo was nothing like our barrio in Santo Domingo. In the campo there was nothing to do, no one to see.”

- Juno Diaz, Drown: Ysrael

“Freddy Constantine’s coffee shop on Prince Street was a narrow shop on a narrow street. Prince Street cuts across the North End from Commercial to Moon Street, and like most of the streets in that neighborhood, it’s barely wide enough to squeeze a bicycle through.”

- Dennis Lehane, Darkness, Take My Hand

“We lived on Long Lake, and we saw the first of the storms beating its way across the water toward us just before dark. For an hour before, the air had been utterly still. The American flag that my father put up on our boathouse in 1936 lay limp against its pole. Not even its hem fluttered. The heat was like a solid thing, and it seemed as deep as sullen quarrywater.”

- Stephen King, The Mist

These are three very different authors, three very different writing styles. Junot Diaz is like a poetic tour guide, calmly explaining how things are with beautiful language that flows. Dennis Lehane is matter-of-fact, delivering crisp descriptions with the narrator’s dry wit. Stephen King weaves images with the story momentum and we’re getting glimpses of things as we move. There are layers to each of these descriptions: they’re not about telling you what something looks like. They’re about backing up the story you’re being told. Diaz is describing an entire childhood in a few sentences. Lehane is giving you an idea of an entire neighborhood while revealing the narrator’s tone and personality. King is evoking a sense of creeping dread by making mundane things seem abnormal and otherworldly in a way they shouldn’t be. 

And then there’s this one:

“Harrenhal’s gatehouse, itself as large as Winterfell’s Great Keep, was as scarred as it was massive, its stones fissured and discolored. From outside, only the tops of five immense towers could be seen beyond the walls. The shortest of them was half again as tall as the highest tower in Winterfell, but they did not soar the way a proper tower did. Arya thought they looked like some old man’s gnarled, knuckly fingers groping after a passing cloud.”

- George R. R. Martin, A Clash of Kings

Now, there’s nothing wrong with this description. It’s well-written, it paints a picture. However, before this description began we were moving. Arya, the chapter’s key character, was traveling to/arriving at Harrenhal. Things were happening, and we were going somewhere. Then George R. R. Martin held up his hand and went “Wait! Stop! I have to make sure you know exactly what this place looks like before we go any further!” and I very much felt like the story came to a screeching halt so I could stop and stare at this building. I also can’t remember what Winterfell is supposed to look like because it’s been 87 pages since we’ve been there, and we’ve since been to King’s Landing with Tyrion, Pyke with Theon, Craster’s Keep with Jon, and wherever the hell Renly was with Catelyn (I honestly don’t remember). And, when we were last at Winterfell we were inside eating a feast with Bran, nowhere near the towers being referenced here. Using Winterfell as a way to describe Harrenhal was not effective for me. Instead of imagining Harrenhal I’m sitting here trying to remember how tall Winterfell’s towers are. Sure, it makes sense for Arya to compare a place to Winterfell because that’s where she’s from, but this also isn’t a first-person narrative, so we don’t have to describe things exactly how Arya would. That’s one of the benefits of close third-person narration.

Look, all I’m saying is this is why it’s taking me so long to read these fucking books, okay? The guy used 78 words when 53 would have done the job:

“Harrenhal’s gatehouse was scarred and massive, its stones fissured and discolored. From outside, only the tops of five immense towers could be seen beyond the walls, but they did not soar the way a proper tower did. Arya thought they looked like some old man’s gnarled, knuckly fingers groping after a passing cloud.“

Boom. I have a clear picture and we didn’t lose the pretty language this style consists of. Why do we need to complicate things, George? 

This entire book is like being in detention and having no idea when they’re going to let you leave, but being told at the end of detention you’ll get to have the best ice cream ever. Well, yeah, ice cream is cool and everything, but detention is, like, terrible. Why would you make me struggle through detention for my tasty treat? WHY?