#so he was like good cause i want m to be the last player announced and i was like yeah. he will be the last RETURNING player announced

[blkwag]

we need voice notes omg

[1kook]

card swiped (4)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.” GENRE romance (romcom?), eventual smut, teensy angst WARNING mentions of a hand job, talk of virginity OTHER college crushes, volleyball player!jk, student council president!oc, idiots to lovers, besties to lovers, childhood friends au RATING m (18+) bc brief sex ment WC 1.6k

NOTES (!) sorry for taking so long to update </3 school be kicking my ass. anyway here they are! an idiot couple. lmk what u think!!

[ masterlist ] 

In the past, whenever something had bothered you, the first person you ran to was Jungkook. Low grades, fights with your parents, boy drama— as your best friend and number one confidant, Jungkook was always your first choice. He was always willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on, even if that meant staining his white t-shirts with streaks of your mascara. He was always ready to go beat up a mean boy who had hurt your feelings during lunch, even if he’d miss his favorite special. And he was always down for some good old fashion i hate my parents ranting, even if he adored your parents. He was a great listener, an even better best friend, and had rightfully won you over from a very young age. 

That being said, how were you supposed to talk to Jungkook about something that bothered you when that something was him? 

You could easily tell any of your numerous girl friends, those of which would probably understand your predicament better than Jungkook or any man ever could. But after years of vehemently denying any notion of a romantic relationship between the two of you, you get the feeling your call for help will be met with more unimpressed glares than actual assistance. Besides, as much as you bring up Jungkook, none of them really know Jungkook to truly offer you any worthwhile advice. 

Your next option: Kim Taehyung. Now, Kim Taehyung held a similar background as Jungkook (translation: he also went to the same high school as you). He knows both you and Jungkook—frankly, more than you’d like him to—so he would be able to dissect the issue easily and offer trustworthy advice. The problem with Kim Taehyung, however, is that aside from knowing you at your embarrassingly dorky teenage prime, he doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Anything he knows, Jungkook knows. So if you were to, hypothetically, ask Taehyung for advice on Jungkook, well. Chances are, you’d probably get a rather confused text from Jungkook two minutes later. 

Which leaves you with one option— Park Jimin. There’s a reason Park Jimin isn’t your first option, and that reason presents itself now as you glare at him from across the empty room. For as long as you’ve been in university, Jimin has always lingered around the student council meetings, giving everyone he sees the prettiest, meanest stink-eye. You suspect it’s because he waits around for Min Yoongi, your Vice President (which isn’t an issue; Jungkook also frequents student council meetings while waiting for you), and doesn’t really care for anyone else. Your problem with Jimin doesn’t lie there but rather with the fact he’s adamant on taking up space and not lending so much as a finger to help. 

Today he is sitting with his feet on the table, dirty volleyball bag tossed on the floor. He’s watched you for the last fifteen minutes wrestle with the broken copy machine and hasn’t said a word since. He pretends he doesn’t see you struggling, because if he does, he’d be obligated to help you. 

To summarize, Park Jimin may be the fastest libero your university’s volleyball team has seen in years, but he’s a good-for-nothing bum everywhere else. 

And despite all that, he’s your best choice. There’s no one quite as blunt and honest as Park Jimin. There’s no one in this world who truly doesn’t care enough about anyone’s problems to gossip about them as Park Jimin. You plop down beside him, rumpled papers in hand. Without warning, you jump straight into it. “Jungkook is going to take my virginity,” you announce, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. If any of your fellow student council members heard you, you’re certain you’d shrivel up and die. 

Jimin hums. “That’s nice.” His eyes don’t leave his phone, thumb hovering over his screen. It’s a testament to how much he truly does not care. His extended silence plants a seed of doubt in you— was this the right person to tell? you begin to worry. But after a beat, Jimin’s thumb taps against his screen and he says, “Jungkook is a virgin.” 

You clench your jaw. “I know.” 

The thing about Jimin is, with the right wording, you can get him interested in something. Not interested enough to genuinely care, but interested enough to at least listen and offer his own piece of straightforward advice. His thumb comes to a standstill over his phone, eyes momentarily going blank. It’s a minute gesture, one that’s taken you four years of paying attention to catch. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “Really,” Jimin sighs, back to, you now realize, playing CandyCrush on his phone. “You’re gonna let a virgin take your virginity.”

Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Yup.” 

There’s sweat building on the back of your neck, nerves at an all time high, but you’re trying to play it off. Just a little bit more and you know you’ll have caught him. Beside you, Jimin’s jaw twitches. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of trying to act calm, Jimin clicks his phone off and turns to you. He’s as intimidating as ever, ash blonde hair pushed back today to reveal his forehead and dark eyes. “You’ve known Jungkook was a virgin this whole time?” he asks, has this calculating look in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re being questioned by an officer of the law and not the shortest person on the volleyball team. 

With a practiced air of nonchalance, you shrug. “I have,” you confess, and it’s the truth. 

While you may have been initially fooled that night two years ago, you weren’t that oblivious. Oh, you knew clear as day that Jeon Jungkook was still a virgin, just as well as you knew that he religiously washed his sheets every weekend or that he had a specific color coded system for his underwear drawer. Jungkook was a fool to try and lie to you, not only because you had found out, but because you had found out that very next morning. 

It had been subtle. The night at the party, you had watched on with a throbbing heartache as some pretty girl led Jungkook up a set of stairs, had barely fought off a wave of emotion when he returned twenty minutes later, his hair a rumpled mess. “Did you… ?” you had mumbled, pressed closely against him by the back door. Your eyes had been glassy, from your emotions and from the drunken stupor you had gotten yourself into while he was away, wondering what he was doing. A sense of jealousy you would never admit to had curled around your heart. His hand had landed on your hip then. He smelled like flowers and vanilla, a smell unlike his own. Your heart clenched, hand mindlessly reaching up to cup his jaw, so drunk and heartbroken, you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his pretty cheekbones. 

Jungkook had graced you with a simple nod, and then, “do you wanna leave now?” 

You’d left, stumbling down Greek road on your way back to his dorm. Jungkook had held your hand the whole way, tucked you into his twin bed, and then promptly knocked out on the floor between his and Taehyung’s beds. The latter was nowhere to be found, wouldn’t appear until the next morning when he’d accidentally step on Jungkook’s ankle and wake both of you up. 

Jungkook had yelped, and your eyes had fluttered open. You remember debating rolling over, checking on him like you wanted to, but Taehyung was already there doing just that. So you had laid still instead, listened as the two boys clattered around the room. They chatted mindlessly, about the party and tomorrow’s practice. Taehyung had been bragging about some girl he’d slept with last night. “What about you?” he had asked, and your breath caught in your throat. “Did you and…”—a pause, the distinct ruffle of fabric—“finally?” 

“What— no,” Jungkook had said, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down on the edge beside you.

Taehyung pushed on with a snort. “Well, did you get lucky at all?”

Jungkook groaned, placed one warm hand on your back soothingly. You tried your best to level out your breathing, relaxed your facial expression as you clung to the sound of his voice. “Just a handjob. Some girl I didn’t even know. Does that count?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, felt it beneath your fingertips when you fisted the sheets. 

And that curt admission sat in the back of your mind everyday for two years. 

You turn to Jimin. “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

Jimin lets out a low whistle. “You’re smarter than I thought,” he grins, this conniving little smile that is a genuine cause for concern. “So you’re letting him think you don’t know?” You nod. Jimin’s smile grows. “My, my. If I had known you were this evil, maybe we would’ve hung out more.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not evil,” you insist, flicking him on the nose. Jimin huffs indignantly. “I think what he’s doing is sweet…” you confess, feel your entire body heat up as you recall that wide-eyed look Jungkook had given you just yesterday afternoon, your kiss print fresh on his cheek. “And, well,” you look down at your shoes. “I used to dream about him being my first.” 

Jimin groans. “You two make me sick.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[oriigirii]

Streamer MC headcannons with the brothers 💞

"You were quite a known face on social media back in the human realm, playing games, doing unboxings, just vibin in general, fans around the globe looked forward to your streams a lot! However, considering the sudden (unannounced) invitation to the exchange program, you had to leave all of that behind out of the blue. It wasn't as bad at first, but you have to admit you do miss the feeling of being able to do goofy shit online. Luckily for you, with the advance technology of Devildom and some spicy magic, the internet had synced with the human realm, and thats when you decided to finally re-enter the streaming scene. How will the brothers react upon seeing your peculiar past time?"

Head empty, No thoughts aside from the brothers just bothering the MC while they stream so here you go haha

Warnings: None, just crackhead energy and a lotta mispellings

Gender: Neutral!

Hotel: Trivago

* [ ಠ╭╮ಠ ] Lucifer *

{How did he know about your career?}

I honestly don't see him as someone who goes on the internet a lot

(He screams boomer to me, change my mind)

He doesn't have the time either, he's too focused on work!

So him finding out is gonna take a while

But! He did find out the hard way when shrilled screaming was heard from your room when he was passing by with some paper stacks in his arms (courtesy of Diavolo)

This man felt his instincts kick in, he ran as fast as he could, papers forgotten, and he immediately slammed your door open. Splinters scattering around, your door definitely damaged, as his eyes held a glare and his demon form was out, wings spread in a threatening display.

He was ready to beat someone's ass as he had thought someone had hurt you in here.

But all hes met with is you, infront of your chair and PC, and a game over on the screen...

To say he was unamused was an understatement cause you just lost your internet priviliges for giving him a heart attack (He said it was because you were being rowdy and noisy but with what you saw you knew that wasn't the case)

Good luck tryna puppy-eye your way to his heart to let you continue streaming lol.

If by some miracle you managed to wriggle your rights back from his hands, he'd warn you not to be so loud next time.

You already learnt your lesson though~ (Hopefully)

{How does he feel about your streams?}

Not everyone's the same, so if you were the shy soft streamer who does more art streams or something akin to a podcast, you can bet that Lucifer will be putting you on while he works, he kinda knows your streaming schedule at this point and if you were running late, he'd force one of his brothers to take over your dish washing duties or any chores you were stuck with

If you were the loud obnoxious meme type, hed still try to watch out of curiosity, and as much as he appreciates that you were getting comfortable here in Devildom with how you laugh and joke around, he still can't approve of it. Its too loud, its much like his brothers energy and he has enough of that already, so he probably doesn't watch as much.

He has countlessly came to your room to shush you and at this point your fans had made a compilation of each time Lucifer had barged in to tell you off

Look he likes it when you scream, but not when hes in the middle of work okay--

At this point, chat has deemed Lucifer as dad and you as their mom/dad.

If he ever catches wind of this he'd definitely be teasing you in private for centuries to come.

Overall fine with it, as long as don't do something stupid on stream.

* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ Mammon*

{How did he know about your career?}

I would say he found out by him crashing into your streams midway but that's too predictable, hence why you've Mammon-proofed your bedroom during streaming hours!

Thanks to our wizard daddy, you have managed to cast a simple lock spell on your door and as well as a sound proofing

You love your broke idiot, but you did wanna keep the tone of your stream today a bit more chill, you wanted to have a proper Q&A with your fans to hopefully clear any bad vibes around your 3 month disappearance.

When Mammon has learnt your door was locked he definitely was a bit pissy, he knocked on your door loudly even and was calling out for you to let him in, but to no avail.

Bro he's scared.

He usually was allowed to enter, and you usually answered if you did need to be left alone for a bit, so just leaving him hanging got his mind racing and he had to press up his ear on the wooden door to try and hear if you were okay

When this continues on he finally resorts to getting help, but the only one in the house ws Levi, so he kicks down HIS door.

Levi boutta summon Lotan for interrupting him honestly

But as Mammon exclaim you weren't answering and he worried for your wellbeing, Levi rolls his eyes and scoffs,

"Idiot Mammon, they're streaming don't bother them…"

Streaming? why didn't you tell him???

Rude much.

He did huff and now was forcing his way to use Levi's PC for a moment

Can Levi stop him?

Nah.

He was busy on his console, and if he stood up now hed be breaking his world record so he was at a terrible state so he just resorts to threats of him drowning the Avatar of Greed if he does anything stupid on his PC.

He immediately logs in to your streaming platform and he watches for a bit,

You were more dolled up now just to look decent on stream, and he felt this jealousy rise as you interact with your chat, especially to those saying I love you's and stuff, and you even said it back? the audacity! You were his werent you? Were you replacing him with these nobodies?

He huffs as he realized that those who paid got their message highlighted, and thus, he starts donating. (Mind you this was Levi's account...)

"Mcccccc Open the dooorrr"

"Ill behave i promiseeeee"

"Cmon pleaseeee?"

Chat is c o n f u s i o n

NGL, they thought Mammon was a creepy stalker and red flags were being waved everywhere

but as chat was pondering who the hell he was, you can only sigh and look at the camera with that unamused expression, but ugh! you just KNOW hes doing that kicked puppy expression of his, and maybe it really wont be so bad

So you snap your fingers and say, "Okay MonMon, its open, Im giving you 3 seconds"

Mammon wasnt deemed to be the fastest out of his brothers for nothing

As soon as you got to '2', you were already tackled by the white haired male and chat went wild.

Now that you've shown your life in Devildom, maybe its time to introduce chat to your boyfriend no?

{How does he feel about your streams?}

You get paid to sit infront of a camera, do I have to say anything else?

But really though, as much as he enjoys the thought of getting so much cash from something so simple, he prefers the joy of being able to proudly exclaim that he was your first man!

ohhhh he thrives on the salt of your overly attached stans

but for those who fully support you, he always feels so mushy and shy when they say the ship you guys so hard

The fanarts has him WEAK (he may or may not have saved a few)

You usually do streams alone, but now you've allowed the door to be left open to let Mammon join whenever

Chat pogs when he enters with so much confidence, only for it to crumble when you kiss his cheek on stream.

Overall finds it fun to spend time with you, but just dont play scary games cause Lucifer might hang him upside down on stream.

* ▘▂▝ Leviathan*

{How did he know about your career?}

He is honestly the most attached to his D.D.D and he catches wind of almost anything going down in the internet, so your 'revival' being hyped up was something he definitely saw and he was just s wo o o ned

His Henry 2.0? a famous streamer?

Were you truly a blessing gifted upon him or was he dreaming?

He definitely didn't bring it up at first as he didn't wanna make it a big deal, but you notice hes been more in his head lately, and you have tried asking him what it was but to no avail.

You have to corner this little snake if you want answers and he eventually admits that he knew of your persona online and was incredibly shy to ask you to stream with him

He's a streamer himself afterall but maybe he doesnt stream as much as you do nor does he have as large of a following, so his intrusive thoughts attacked him and made him think that maybe since he wasnt as famous he didnt deserve to be in the same stream as you

Please tell him to join you and gib him kiss U3U

He'll absolutely m e l t

But now, as you make the announcement to your viewers and Levi to his, the internet explodes as a special collab stream was hapening between the expert gamer and avatar of envy of Devildom along with the beloved exchange student and streamer of the human realm

Your usual viewers reach between 10-15k, but as you start stream, that number boosts higher and beyond

Before streaming though, Levi was incredibly nervous, he'd picked the games for you to play that he knew you would enjoy with him, but his mind kept racing about whatthe fans thought, he didnt wanna disappoint them

But you had to remind him that whatever they say will not matter in the end as this was merely for fun, this was YOUR stream and you guys were gonna do what you want and nobody can have a say on it. (Maybe except Lucifer)

You usually talk for him with your bubbly personality, and to calm his nerves, he hs your pinky wraped around his where the camera can't see it.

Regardless, his thoughts subsided as you two delve into your stream that lasted a solid 7 hours, you definitely promised your chat that you and Levi will be doing more streams together from now on.

Once the cameras cut and yall are left alone, Both of you collapse on bed, and despite you being asleep already, Levi was just far too giddy as everything dwells on him.

Having a player 2 by his side now had never felt so intoxicating and he as just so lucky to have you.

{How does he feel about your streams?}

He obviously adores it, although some streams he wouldnt join just so he can play games on his own

He's still an introvert afterall, he needs his alone time

But he prefers that alone time with you, his Henry.

So when youre about to go stream, he kinda becomes a bit pouty, but with a simple promise of kisses (and maybe even more if youd like) he would let you go, but his attention would disappear from his game altogether.

He might just end up watching you instead

May or may not, at some point, just chat you and ask if its too late to join you

You do allow him to join you and play from the comforts of his room as both of you can simply play via internet, you give him the comfort to not turn on his mic or webcam either and you have no idea how he appreciates that.

Will definitely fight someone online when they start claiming you as theirs (-cough- stans) Please make sure it doesnt escalate to him summoning Lotan

Although the comments would often get to him, and as much as he can fight them online, he still does find himself pondering if they were true, so you need to give him a lotta lovin and reminder that he is your player 1 and no one else can ever fill that place.

------

Wow 3 brothers this time, what an improvement, anyways hope yall enjoy! I think its pretty clear who I simp for depending o nthe length of each lol, but do let me know if you guys want a part 2 for the rest of the brothers, or even the undateables!

[mamahersh]

The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions)

“Season 8 was well underway, and the server’s first conflict is bubbling just under the surface. But BDoubleO can’t worry about that right now because he has an Etho to find so they can work on the Horse Course together. However when Xisuma calls a surprise server meeting on behalf of EvilXisuma, BDubs gets his answers about where Etho’s been in the worst way possible.”

(CW: angst, blood, gore) <--- later chapters, this one’s clean.

Welcome to my first attempt at Ethoslab angst! I wanted an nHo-centric fic with a heavy dose of Etho angst. I have nowhere else to post this, and fair warning I am terrible at characterizations, so everyone will probably be a bit OOC to some extent; but for sure EvilX will be very OOC in how evil he is in this one. The Rating for the later chapters is a solid M, so be warned about that. If y’all have suggestions or feedback, feel free to come and say hi! P.S. I got my inspiration for this fic from this fic over here! Give them some love too.

Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Chapter 1 (below the cut)

BDoubleO was worried. 

Now, it wasn’t often he worried, particularly about Etho. Especially after the shenanigans from Season 5 with the nHo, and their many years of collaboration after that, he was well aware that Etho had a habit of disappearing for weeks on end. Even when he was supposed to be helping with a bit of collaboration work like the Horse Course, he was infamous for suddenly disappearing for a week, and coming back acting like nothing had happened. But even still, Etho usually left a note, or told someone about where he was going so they at least knew when to approximately expect him to show back up. This time though, Etho hadn’t even left Iskall a note, and so far this season he had made sure to at least leave a note for Iskall since they were sharing a base. (BDoubleO had asked Iskall 3 days after the last time he had seen Etho to ask if he knew where Etho was. Iskall didn’t know, though he had seen him 2 days previously puttering around their shared base as normal.) He had asked around the other Hermits, seeing if anyone had heard anything. The only one that had seen anything was Beef, who had said he had seen Etho lurking on the edges of his territory heading toward the top of BDubs’ mountain with a spyglass about a day and a half ago. Doc had mentioned that while he hadn’t seen Etho recently, he had heard that Etho had been busy in talks with Xisuma and Evil Xisuma over something. However, when BDubs questioned Xisuma, he said he hadn’t seen Etho since the last major server meeting. (It was always disconcerting when Hermits’ stories didn’t match up, as that usually meant there were shenanigans afoot. But BDubs couldn’t figure out why there would be shenanigans afoot, because this was just Etho.)

A whinny from Lulu beneath him startled BDubs out of his worries. Looking around he realized that they were already staring up at Xisuma’s lighthouse and general base area. Why were they there you might ask? (A theoretical from a theoretical, truly meta of him, aha) WELL, Xisuma had sent out a message to the server that everyone should come and gather at his base for an important something. BDubs was confused, and very concerned, that Xisuma was insisting on the meeting being in person. After all, any news could be dispensed through the Server messages, and all their bases were known, so boards could be placed at bases for Hermits to see as they came in and out. Meeting in person was never technically necessary, though it made it generally easier to talk with each other since they didn’t have to type everything out. The point stood however, that unless it was an emergency, Xisuma never called a general Hermit assembly outside of their regularly scheduled monthly meetings. 

Looking around, BDubs was able to see that Beef was already there, along with most of the Boatem Crew, and surprisingly enough, the Horsehead Farms guys were there as well. Of course, Doc was on his way, and last he heard, the Big Eye crew was following up behind him since they both had been busy when the announcement had gone out. The rest of the server would be on their way because of how far out they were. (Part of BDubs wondered if those who were coming in later were the lucky ones. The rest of him wondered why he was so filled with anxiety and so certain this meeting was only going to be terrible.) Deciding nothing good would come of dwelling on the negatives, he made his way over to where Beef (who was looking more unrecognizable by the day as the alien contamination overtook him) was standing alone, seemingly keeping his eye out for someone or something.

“Hey Beef!” BDubs called out, smiling and waving as he approached. Beef looked over at the sudden shouting of his name, and instantly relaxed as he saw BDubs approaching. “Hey BDubs!” he called back, something alien layered under his normal voice. (It spoke of void and distant stars, though Tango had recently been saying it reminded him more of sulfur and brimstone). “You know anything about why Xisuma’s called this meetup?” asked Beef before BDubs could ask the question himself.

“Not a clue,” BDubs replied, allowing his concern to show through as he stood ill-at-ease beside his friend. “He just announced he had something he wanted to show or talk to us about I guess, though I can’t imagine what it could be about.” Well, BDubs had a guess or two, but none of them were generally pleasant topics of conversation, outside of some surprise announcement for the next server update to 1.18.

“Darn, I was hoping you would have heard something…” said Beef, his own unease easy to read. BDubs shrugged, looking around at the other groups of players standing outside the Lighthouse. It looked like even in the short time they had been greeting each other, the other Big Eyed Crew had arrived on his tailwind. An awkward pause settled between the two of them, both having been so tied up in their own shenanigans to really know what the other had been up to. BDubs debated bringing up the obvious, but it seemed like one of those things you don’t necessarily bring up. But then again… 

“Yo Beef,” said BDubs, turning to look at Beef again. Beef startled out of his momentary reverie. “You’ve been looking pretty, uh… green recently. How’s that been treating you?”

For a moment Beef looked almost confused, before he seemed to connect the dots and snorted. “Oh yeah, it’s been treating me great, as you can see.” They both chuckled a bit at his sarcasm before he continued. “But in all seriousness, I hadn’t really been noticing it. I mean, I definitely notice that people have been giving me a wider berth this season, which hasn’t been great for business since I have a great idea for selling specialty cat food I can make on my alien ship. I haven’t personally noticed too many changes outside my appearance thus far however.” After a moment Beef said, “So how about you? How have Keralis and Tango been treating you this season?”

BDubs chuckled. “Would you believe it if I told you it’s been going great? I have a mountain already, and we have a small bay town we’re building up to serve as a shopping district for our Big Eye Crew. Plus, we got Tango to actually make his eyes big, so it’s a win all around! Though I’ve been noticing more Derpcoin sneaking into our shops…” 

“Hey now, what’s wrong with Derpcoin?!” exclaimed Beef, looking vaguely offended. BDubs was startled by this, completely not expecting such an outburst from Beef of all people.

“I mean, there’s nothing necessarily wrong with it, it’s just I have no idea what the conversion rate is on the stuff, so I don’t know what people are paying in my shop for the items they’re buying,” replied BDubs. “Plus, there’s nowhere to use it.”

“But there is a place to use it! You could use it at EX’s Evil Emporium. Plus, with more people signing up for Derpcoin, it seems like a lucrative market to sell in,” countered Beef, a strange gleam in his eyes. “EX was nice enough to give me an in into his Derpcoin shopping district, so I’ll have a storefront through the Evil Emporium.” 

"Evil Emporium huh?" BDubs made a considering noise. "Heard a little bit about it back when EX was doing a little sales pitch in our neck of the woods. Seems pretty fishy to me, but if you think it's a trustworthy establishment, I'll definitely give it a second look."

"Attention everyone!" called out Xisuma, suddenly standing in the center of the gathered Hermits. "Your attention please!" BDubs looked over to where X was waving everyone over. He noticed that X seemed abnormally forward, though that could be attributed to his paranoia. Afterall, X wasn’t one to cause problems! Sure he had been trying to get people on board with this Evil Emporium thing pretty hard, but X couldn’t hurt a fly even on a good day, so BDubs wondered if this wasn’t about Derpcoin.

He had been hearing from the other Big-Eyed crew that tensions between Boatem and the Derpcoin empire had been slowly escalating over the last week or so. Plus he had been hearing about more of the unaffiliated Hermits beginning to create close ties with EX’s brand, embracing Derpcoin as their main currency even! On the other hand, he’d been hearing from some of the Boatem people about how they were getting sick and tired of finding Derpcoin in their shops, and seemingly some people were beginning to refuse to pay for items with diamonds… There was a mess brewing for sure in the background this season, it just seemed like an issue that could wait till the next monthly meeting is all.

With a jolt, BDubs was brought back to the present as Doc bumped him in the shoulder. “How are you doing BDubs? Looking pretty lost in thought there, big guy.” 

“Well, doing pretty good if you must ask!” BDubs puffed up with the compliment on his height, despite knowing it was more than likely meant in a sarcastic manner. Between Doc and Etho, BDubs never really could catch a break. “You just get here then?”

Doc let out a rumbly hum in agreement. “Yesss, though I have no idea why Xisuma called the meeting. Know anything?”

BDubs and Beef both shook their heads. “We’re in the dark as much as you are, it seems,” replied Beef, moving towards the other Hermits to try and get their little group to walk and talk.

“I have a theory though!” continued BDubs, leaning in to act somewhat more conspiratorially. Doc leaned in a bit more than he needed to, getting a friendly bump on the head from Beef. “See, I’m sure you’ve both heard a bit more than I have about Boatem vs the Evil Emporium. I think things might be heating up enough between the two that X might be forced to intervene soon.” BDubs rubbed the back of his neck. “Admittedly, it still seems like the kind of thing that he would bring up in the monthly meeting instead of an impromptu meeting like this.”

“Looks like we don’t have to wait long to find out in any case.” Beef gestured at the surrounding Hermits and Xisuma himself still standing at the center looking official as usual. (Though BDubs thought he looked a little dazed, but he shoved the thought aside.)

“Thank you everyone for taking time out for this meeting!” called out Xisuma, his face still disconcertingly empty. “I’ve called you together today because EX had a stream he wanted us all to watch, and I agree it is most imperative we all watch it together.”

BDubs did not like the sound of this one bit. “What’s the stream about?” called Joe from the opposite side of the crowd.

“Yeah, why’s it so important we all have to watch it?” asked Cleo from beside him. BDubs realized that those two had had to travel across the entire continent to come to the meeting, and Joe was still renouncing wings, so taking long trips was a distinct hassle. At the very least, it was far more time consuming than everyone else’s trips had been, minus potentially XB and Hypno’s trip.

Xisuma seemed to stand there taking it silently, which was not necessarily outside of the usual, but his response certainly was. “With that out of the way, I’ll get the screen set up, and then we can watch EX’s stream!” ‘That was strange,’ thought BDubs as he looked around the circle of bewildered Hermits. Normally X would try to answer questions, or at least let them know things precisely before he did them. It was incredibly out of character that he would just ignore Joe and Cleo like that… Particularly Joe and Cleo if BDubs was to be brutally honest. Those three had been closer than three peas in a pod since Season 2, and Joe and X had known each other pretty well since almost the start of Season 1. To have those two brushed off by Xisuma struck a wrong chord.

BDubs was pulled back to the present as Xisuma rapidly typed into his communicator, and a holographic screen projected just beyond the circle of Hermits behind where Cub was standing. Almost as one, the Hermits turned to look at it, curiosity overpowering any potential feelings of lingering confusion and discomfort.

Xisuma’s expression was blank as the large screen buzzed to life in front of them. However, BDubs’ watched as he seemed to come back to himself just as the static on the screen cleared and the assembled hermits gasped in disbelief and horror.

‘Well,’ thought BDubs to himself, dread rising like a wave about to swallow him whole. ‘Now we know where Etho went.’ For there on the screen, looking the worst BDubs had ever seen him, was a restrained Etho beside a seemingly gleeful EvilXisuma.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD OFFICIAL VISUAL FANBOOK ー Interview Vol. 2 feat. Nao Nakamura

Source: DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD Official Visual Fanbook

Release date: 2013

Huge thank you to @keithvalentinex​ for providing the raw scans!

SECTION 1: Q&A

Q1. When was the series’ sequel decided on?

A: Around the time the first game ‘DIABOLIK LOVERS’ was released in stores. We were fortunate enough to have already received news of an anime adaption at the time, so at some point we played with the idea of creating a fan disc to go along with it. However, if possible we wanted to hype up the series even more in anticipation of the anime’s release, which is how the production of a  ‘DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD’ series came to realisation.

Q2. Did you plan on introducing a set of 4 new characters during the early phases of development?

A: The initial draft we received from Rejet-sama mentioned four characters. We figured that with that amount, we could pack it into one game and create an equal amount of content as we did for the Sakamaki’s, so we proceeded with said idea. At one of the first brainstorm sessions, we casually dropped the idea of creating a game with 6 Do-M characters... (lol) However, that would stray too far away from the core concept behind ‘DIABOLIK LOVERS’, so it obviously got rejected. (lol)

Q3. How did you go about writing the characters’ dialogue and actions?

A: I believe that the previous installment can be regarded rather groundbreaking within the genre of otome games. However, the boys coming across as too strong to the point where it would prevent someone from delving deeper into their character is something we reflected upon. We wanted to make up for that this time and created this game with the intend of exploring them even further.

Q4. What did you struggle the most with while writing the script?

A: This doesn’t apply solely to the script, but the fact there are so many romanceable characters in this game is what made it so difficult. However, we did not want there to be a difference in quality between the different characters’ routes. Despite our strong wish to please the playerbase, it made the distribution of time very difficult. The writers would first pen down the script, then Rejet-san would do the proofreading and make adjustments and then pass it on to us. However, reading a script while playing a game or simply reading it on paper is still different, so we were making minute changes down to the very last minute of development. We ran through the same process for the last game, but this time around, the total amount of content was just very large. We once again felt the struggle of putting in so many characters to choose from. However, we did this to create an even better game, so it was worth the struggle. 

Q5. Which character caused you the most problems while writing the script?

A: All of the Sakamaki’s. The four Mukami brothers who make their appearance in this installment may be Vampires, but they were once human just like the heroine, so in terms of emotions, they tend to sympathize with her more. As a result, it only makes the Sakamaki’s seem even more like they are the villains of the story. While this may seem obvious given their original setting of being both ‘Vampires’ and ‘extreme sadists’, it makes it very easy for the otome game element as well as the feelings they end up developing for the heroine to be lost, in which case they would no longer be the six brothers we wanted to deliver. Therefore, it was very difficult to convey to the player that the love they harbor for the heroine eventually makes them change, while still preserving the sadistic tendencies which stem from their nature as Vampires at the same time. The player base has spent quite a bit of time interacting with these brothers, and I am sure it was not always easy, but I hope said message was delivered to those who played our game.

Q6. Is there a character who underwent drastic changes compared to the last game?

A: All of them are still the same at the core, so my impression of them did not change depending on the scenario. I believe minor changes were done to the way some of the characters are drawn, but personally I perceive each character as a mix of both their previous and current representation. 

Q7. In this game, each section is divided into a ‘Situation Part’ and ‘Story Part’. Could you explain your intentions behind this?

A: When collecting feedback on the previous game, we received many complaints about the different chapters feeling inconsistent and all over the place. However, we always intended ‘DIABOLIK LOVERS’ to be a game in which the player gets to enjoy these different kind of ‘situations’, so without losing this part of the enjoyment, we figured we had to make the plot progression easier to grasp, which is how the current structure was implementend. To make it even more clear to the player, we divided it into two sections and gave each of them a title, changing the names as well. 

Q8. What are parts which have greatly improved or parts you want us to focus on in comparison to the first game?

A: To ensure the player gets to enjoy the development in the heroine and characters’ thoughts and feelings, we applied small adjustments till the very last second. We hope that the people playing the game will take notice of this as well. 

Q9. Why do you think the series has received such a great amount of support?

A: I believe the impact of the ‘Do-S Vampire’ concept, Satoi-san’s eye-catching illustrations and the charm of the cast who voices the characters all play a big part in this. Furthermore, I also believe that the simultaenous announcement of both drama CDs and a game which took place during the early stages of development had a large influence as well. We were able to make a smooth transition from the release of the CDs to the release of the games, which made it easier for the fans to follow along with the franchise. We truly are grateful for that!

Q10. Were there any ideas you wanted to incorporate in this game, but were unable to do in the end?

A: This game features the same selection segment as the previous one in which scenario’s 1 ~ 6 raise your love meter, while scenarios 7 ~ 10 raise the SM meter. However, we implemented the distinction between the ‘situation part’ and ‘story part’ this time, so it might have actually been even more enjoyable if the situation part raises the SM meter instead...I think. Those kind of features may vary depending on the vision of the director and staff members, so I would like to use this experience to think of various possible routes for future installments, as well as to settle on an end product which is fitting for the franchise. Furthermore, this may seem like a task without an end but I believe that the voicing plays a big factor in delivering the story. It is a vital element of conveying the message you want to tell, in a way that whether or not the player understands the plot is often highly dependent on the voice work. Every time I find myself wanting to perfect this, but it is difficult to supervise all of it just by myself...However, there’s always next time, so I’d love to squeeze in the time to thoroughly check this!

Q11. Do you have any more games planned for the series at present? Would you personally like to create more sequels?

A: We do not as of now, but if there is a strong demand for it, we might just be able to develop another game. Personally I would like to make a stereotypical ‘fandisc’ but the very first thing that comes to mind with those is a 'sweet, romantic story’ so I do struggle a little envisioning how that would play out with a cast made out of nothing but intense characters. 

Q12. Please leave a message for the fans.

A: Thanks to the support we have received from all of you, we were able to create so much content for this franchise. I put my heart and soul into this game, so I sincerely hope that many people will enjoy it. Your impressions and encouraging messages are a great motivator as well, so I am eagerly awaiting those! The series may deliver new installments in the future, and to ensure that you all can continue to enjoy ‘DIABOLIK LOVERS’, we will continue to try our hardest together with Rejet-san, so we’d be happy if you could send us your heartfelt support. 

SECTION 2: THEIR FAVORITE EPISODES

Sakamaki brothers: The final few chapters of Ayato’s route left a strong impression on me. I couldn’t help but wonder if somebody could truly be that stubborn and in denial about their own feelings, insistent on calling the girl they love ‘a prey’ till the very end. I felt so frustrated when the heroine’s feelings just wouldn’t get through to him, tears welled up in my eyes. 

Mukami brothers: The part which gave me the most goosebumps during the development stages has to be Ruki’s Manservant Ending. Takagi Sakurai-san did a magnificant job portraying his silent madness, it was truly wonderful. Second place would be Azusa’s brute ending, even though I knew how the story would go, I still ended up feeling a little depressed by it, so please be careful when you play this scenario...

SECTION 3: NAO NAKAMURA CHOOSES ー SITUATION-DEPENDENT CHARACTER SELECT

Who would you choose in these situations? What’s the developer’s opinion?

S1. To sleep together with?

Best: Subaru, I feel like he has a good sleeping posture.

Worst: Subaru, he might not move around much in his sleep, but it’d still be uncomfortable and narrow in that coffin, huh? 

S2. To go on a trip together with?

Best: Shuu, I’m sure he’d just loaf around the lodge all day, so I get to enjoy the trip in whichever way I want!

Worst: Laito, I’d rather keep my distance from him. 

S3. To eat together with?

Best: Kou because I’m sure he’d happily gobble it up.

Worst: Kanato, I feel like the food would be lacking in nutrients.

S4. To study with?

Best: Ruki, I think he’d do a good job explaining everything accurately.

Worst: ???, honestly all of them...

S5. To go on a date with?

Best: Yuma, I actually think he would make for a great boyfriend.

Worst: Shuu, because everything would be a chore to him...

S6. To play a video game with?

Best: Ayato, he just seems like the type of guy you can always have fun and make some ruckus with.

Worst: Reiji, he seems super fussy.

S7. To play sports with?

Best: Shuu, I don’t really like exercising so...I’ll go with the person who seems unlikely to exercise in the first place.

Worst: Ayato, I don’t like exercise after all...

S8. To go on a drive with?

Best: Ruki, I’m positive he would look handsome behind the wheel.

Worst: Azusa, it’d be bad if his bandages were to get stuck around the steering wheel or the gear stick...

[babytortie]

unexpected

unexpected. ❘ stanley uris x reader.

a/n: this was requested by anon - love ur recent stanley fic! was wondering if you’re cool with doing a smut for him? (aged up of course!) if you’re comfortable, could you make the reader more dominant in bed/stanley being more submissive? perhaps and enemies to lovers, hate sex type. other than that, any plot line is just fine.

* hope this lives up to your expectations! tyty for requesting this one.

summary: in which stanley and reader argue worse than richie runs his trashmouth. after burning some pent-up tension one day, the two take a turn for the better and become more than just enemies.

warnings: s m u t. some fluff at end. <3

contains: enemies to lovers, degrading, hair tugging, harsh kisses w/ slight blood, mild orgasm denial, praises, rough and unprotected sex.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are 18+ in this one-shot.

~ 3.4k words.

you twirled a strand of hair between your fingers, a magazine placed on your lap, and beverly's head rested on your shoulder, looking at the pages with you.

it was the summer and the group was all back home on break from college. the loser's wanted to hang out and all eight of you were at bill's house right now. on various couch cushions and seats in the living room. his parents were away for the night and the seven brought clothes to stay at his just in case it got a bit late.

"oh, do you think he's hotter? or him?" bev asked, leaning in closer to point at the page. it was some magazine about the hottest actors of the year, achievement wise. though some hot men that were in it was currently grabbing beverly's, well, and your attention too. you glanced down at the page, slightly comparing both actors and voiced, "definitely him."

the guys overheard this and rolled their eyes. they were taking turns playing on bill’s newest nintendo sixty-four. on the floor below you, sat the four a few feet away, this was because they wanted to be scooted closer to the television. even though it was perfectly fine to put their backs against the couch. typical males.

you worried for their eyesight, especially richie’s, since right now he and bill were battling on some game you didn’t know the name of while being too close to the screen. eddie was on a chair next to the couch and sat by you, wheezing as he watched how close of a tie it was between them. mike and stanley were sitting on the floor with them on either side, cheering on who they wanted to win.

this was while ben sat on the other side of bev and read some book that just came out earlier this week. a quarter of ben’s focus was on his hand. it was resting on beverly’s thigh and drawing small, mindless shapes in content. the two were newly dating after pinning on each other for forever.

"i think we should play would you rather!" mike turned his head and suggested after hearing your conversation with the red head. bill had just died on the game causing richie to jump up and cheer while blowing out the other three's ear drums.

ben closed his book and sat up straighter. he took a glimpse over at beverly to see what her decision was. eddie hesitantly agreed when you and bev nodded. “s-sure!” bill got up and pulled stan with him.

one weekend about four years ago when the denbrough’s were home and bill had the group of losers over, they noticed how you all squished on the seats in the living room. surprising bill with an extra couch a month after this, they were able to successfully squeeze it into the room and push it against the other wall.

the four others started to pile on the other couch a few feet away from the three of you and eddie who still sat on the single chair next to you. beverly pulled her head up and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “be nice to stanley please.”

knowing it wasn’t funny, looking at her anyway with a confused expression, you lied. "stanley who?" she immediately turned her neck back at you, probably receiving some whiplash and raised an eyebrow to challenge you.

"i'm serious y/n." beverly laughed dryly. you sighed and replied a short agreeable response. “alright bev, as long as he doesn’t start it, then i won’t do anything.” after, you zipped your lips and threw an imaginary lock in the direction behind eddie.

she smiled at you in thanks and then you two turned towards the room, noticing everyone was ready. “b-being as it w-was mike’s id-dea, he can g-go first.” bill announced while glancing around the room.

mike nodded and turned to the one who still wore coke-bottle glasses years later. “richie, would you rather never wear underwear again or never wear socks again?”

ben and bill stifled a laugh, already knowing what his response was going to be. eddie rolled his eyes as richie answered, “underwear since i go commando sometimes anyway.”

you put your finger in your mouth, pretending that you were about to throw up and mike shook his head at richie. you turned to your right and left, seeing eddie’s and beverly’s disgusted faces.

”okay, eddie spaghetti.” he paused. the seven of you looked at eds, who had already put his hand over his face in annoyance. you and beverly laughed when the shorter boy muttered, “here we go.” richie smirked and continued. “would you rather, accidently send a nude to your boss or your parents? and by parents i mean your mom and i.”

he rolled his eyes, “absolutely not richie. my mom would never get with you and i would die of embarrassment if it were sonia. she’d probably kidnap and lock me in my old room, never to be seen again. probably boss.”

eddie turned to you after the group cackled of laughter, especially richie at the response he was given. the two of you currently shared a science class together in college and the asthmatic based some of his question off of this. "alright y/n, would u rather hook up with one of football players or with mr. jackson down at the science lab?”

you placed the palm of your hand on your cheek, into a thinking position and replied. "well, i kind of answered that question at last weekend’s party?" beverly jumped up at this and gasped. "no way! with which one?"

"i don’t kiss and tell." you smirked. the others gagged at that. “ah okay, i see. that’s where you went when we couldn’t find you again.” ben commented. stanley had been a bit quiet during the conversation and decided to speak up. adding to this, while looking at you pointedly. "you kind of just did tell and admitted at the fact that you sucked off some guy.”

you weren’t usually the type to get flustered during conversations like this. instead owning it as if you weren’t bothered. this helped you avoid any teasing or any richie’s usual jokes. "at least i'm getting some!" muttering in stanley’s direction.

"i swear if you guys argue for one more minute, i'm going to shoot myself. go y/n. it’s your turn." mike spoke up in between you and stanley, trying to get the game rolling again.

you smiled, feeling a little eager at the next question. you looked at the curly haired sitting across the room from you. the others groaned knowing you were about to pick on him in some kind of way. "uris. for the rest of your sex life, would you rather be the top or bottom?”

he blinked in your direction, probably wanting to smack you for the inappropriate question. “depends, is it with anyone specific?” you looked down sheepishly, then back up. is this a trick question? i mean sometimes you did find stanley a little bit too attractive. “do you want it to be?” deciding to quip back with equal attitude, you asked.

the group looked between the two of you while waiting for a response from uris. the tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. letting out a scoff in return, he looked at you in the eyes and glared. speaking in a low tone, you almost didn’t hear him. "uh, i don’t know.”

"what do you mean? you don’t know?" richie snickered.

bill, beverly, ben, and mike started to get the picture together. eddie figured it out just a second before them, when you burst out giggling. before you could stop from helping yourself, you let out a harsh jab. “oh shit, that explains why you’re always so uptight! maybe you should unbutton some of that polo? might help so you aren’t choking on all that innocence."

that only made matters worse, the last pin in place to set him off. stanley angrily spewed some words under his breath. only catching your name, you figured it was most likely something badly about you. quickly getting up from his spot, his curls bounced up and down when he rushed upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

the others watched him disappear from the top step sadly and looked back at you with the look. you had the decency to look a bit guilty, an awkward grimace on your face. "uh, why are you all looking at me like that?"

eddie leaned over to elbow you and gave his puppy dog eyes in pleading. you sighed but started getting up anyway. you laced your hands together in front of your stomach, nerves a bit jittery at being in a room alone with him. "well, to state my case we were all having that kind of discussion! if he wasn't such a prude..." you trailed off.

ben got up, patting your shoulder. "we all know this but stanley is sensitive about these kinds of things. go apologize while we're on break now and we’ll get some drinks going."

you nodded and turned back around, starting towards the stairs and walked up slowly. richie decided this was a good time to be the loud trashmouth that he is and shouted. "it was nice knowing you, y/n!"

shaking your head, you reached the last step and rounded the corner. hearing a slap noise, you assumed tozier was probably getting hit on the back of his head. a moment later a "beep beep" came from mike and you let out a small laugh in relief that they had your back against the loud mouth.

strolling down the hallway, you spotted the second guest bedroom door closed and decided to knock on it. stan heard a faint knock and got up from the bed to open it, seeing y/n he groaned. "oh, it's just you."

you ignored his disappointed comment and bit your lip. looking up and down to observe his new look. he must have just changed. wearing a regular light blue t-shirt and grey sweats. you shook your head and looked up to see his grin, catching you in the act of checking him out.

rolling your eyes in response, like he usually did and walking around him, you closed the bedroom door shut after stepping inside. you grabbed a handful of stanley’s shirt and pushed him against the back of the door. more like he allowed you to do this but you were definitely in control of the situation.

you leaned in towards him and swiped the back of your thumb over his bottom lip to test his reaction. when he didn’t swat your hand away, you went on the tip of your toes and brushed his lips against yours.

stanley gasped into your mouth and deciding to use this as an opportunity, you placed the tip of your tongue on the bottom of his lip. right before you could actually do this, he apparently read your mind and left his mouth open purposely. you wanted to slap him.

nonetheless, he allowed you total access. surprising him on purpose, you shoved your tongue in his mouth. wishfully thinking about how you wanted to somehow choke him with it. he grabbed both sides of your shoulders and scooted you closer, clashing his teeth with yours. not wanting to let up the control he tried to grab, you grasped the back of his neck tightly and felt light-headed. sensing wetness pooling between your thighs from enjoying this too much, you cursed to yourself.

a small moan escaped out from your lips and as if it was his fault, you nipped his bottom lip. you tried to quickly get rid the thought of ever giving into stanley uris. he hissed sharply, tasting slight blood from the nick. uris mumbled. "bitch."

this angered you more. pulling away from his lips, you put on a fake smile. moving in a bit closer to mess with the collar of his shirt, you tugged on it roughly, your face still close with his. "ready to not be a virgin anymore, virgin?" you retorted.

he smirked, "as long as i'm not one anymore, i don't care who it's with. even someone like you." he emphasized in a nasty tone. you pulled the shirt up over his head and uttered out. "shut the hell up." stan hummed happily after his shirt was pulled up to see that you were glaring from his reply. the two of you heard loud steps down the hall by the stairs, so you placed a finger over his mouth.

after a moment later, you heard what you assumed was someone in the bathroom, closing door the shut. letting out a breath not realizing you were holding it, stanley took this as a distraction to slip your finger into his mouth. you gasped, eyes widening, "what the hell!"

pulling your hand back, you spoke and stared in his eyes to let him know just how serious you were. "here's how it's going to go if you want to get laid, uris. we're doing this my way. don't play around anymore and definitely don’t talk too much so i can picture literally anyone other than you."

stanley looked into your eyes, searching for any hints of a lie from your remark. when he saw your eyes looking clearly back into his, he sighed in defeat. not letting it show, he grinned nastily. ”fine by me, y/l/n.”

"now, bird-boy are you sure you can handle this?" you stated more than questioned, an eyebrow quirked up. you held onto the top of his sweats with an eyebrow quirked up. he clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth together so hard he hoped they wouldn't crack. "fuck you y/n."

“no, that’s what i’ll be doing to you.” disagreeing and putting your palm over him. “what do we have here?” you asked out loud, in general all snarky. he let out an annoyed noise when he felt you tease fingertips across his hard length. so, in retaliation, he grabbed your wrist and pushed the palm of your hand harder onto him.

you gasped at how big he was. you tried to cover the surprise, a ‘tsk, tsk’ falling from your lips. not letting go quickly enough stanley noticed this and smirked at you. frowning, you murmured. "ever heard of patience? such a bad boy."

uris let out a small, quiet groan from feeling your hands come off of him. which was something you caught and figured having teased him enough, you put your hands around the waistband of his pants. tugging them off along with his boxers. afterwards you pushed him down onto the bed and before he could do anything, you quickly made work of your shirt. pulling it over your head and unclipping your bra as well.

he put a hand through his curls, smoothing them out from the fall when he fell into the comforter. watching you, he could feel himself hardening painfully. he felt needy and done with the wait. pulling your wrist closer he pleaded. “come on, hurry. please y/n.”

”fine, you’ve waited long enough like a good little boy.” stanley flushed at your approving compliment and tried to hide it, looking down. you saw this when you moved to sit on top of him and smiled. grabbing his chin lightly, you tilted his head back up. while looking into his light brown eyes, you held his wrist and tugged his hand so it laid over on top your breast.

stanley’s breath hitched and you moved inwards toward his neck. your warm breath was touching his skin, feeling cheeks reddening more. uris felt, palmed, and squeezed a little as you sucked small hickeys on his neck. not to dark but enough to be just visible if one were close up.

kissing his cheek and tilting back up, he dropped his hand and you happened to see his cheeks and neck all red. the quick switch of his attitude still shocked you to the core. ”are you sorry for calling me a bad name, baby?” he ignored your comment like a brat and kissed the inside of your wrist. you melted a little in his touch before going back to the task at hand.

you slowly let out of his grasp to unbuckle the belt and unbutton your shorts. you shimmied out of them and wanting to hurry up, you just moved your panties to the side and out of the way. pumping him a few times, you started to align him to your center. before you moved down onto him, you placed your hand on his cheeks in a sweet gesture and silently asked for reassurance. he nodded and you slowly slid down into him, both of you letting out small moans. “feel so good.” you muttered.

stilled for a moment, you let yourself adjust to his length and him to the feel. your hips went back up and you moved in forward, kissing him again. it slowly turned into a sloppy make out when you slammed your hips back down again. his tongue shoved in your mouth when you gasped in pleasure. after you found a rhythm you babbled on and on about how stanley was doing so good for you.

"i need you to put your fingers on my clit and rub." you said softly but still in a demanding tone. directing his hand exactly where you wanted it, you nodded when he looked at you again. his fingers moved quickly, drawing out an orgasm that you felt nearing.

lacing your fingers through his curly hair. stanley let out a loud moan as you tugged the locks. "now for the sake of you being able to cum, i'm going to ask again. are you sorry my baby boy?" he really didn't want to have to see the satisfactory in your face if he apologized. though, after a small moment went by, he realized that you weren't joking.

he let out a small, almost incoherent whine. pleading you with his big hazel eyes, "i-i'm sorry y/n. so sorry, c-can i cum please?" stanley would have never thought he'd be the submissive type but he found himself melting at your praises, quite easily. he liked letting you have some control and for once being able to sit back.

you smirked at him and let go. patting his cheek in almost a mocking way. "awe such a good boy but i think you can wait another minute." his eyes widened and you placed your hands back up onto his chest, steadying your balance before moving your hips back up and down repeatedly and harshly against his. he moaned when you kept going back down on his cock. feeling his pelvis right up against your very sensitive bundle of nerves, you squirmed.

stanley smirked, feeling you tighten around him. knowing you were close was a relief. constantly feeling so good on him made him hard and straining inside of you. tears prickling in the back of his eyes and wanting to cum so badly was difficult. uris felt not wanting to disobey you was more important as he patiently waited. pushing harder on your clit is what caused you to unravel, tightening completely around him. "oh fuck! s-such a good boy. cum with me now."

he came so hard, the hardest ever. which wasn't much to go off on, from the obvious conversation before. feeling euphoria, you rode through your high and his, milking every last drop of cum. you started to feel shaky. before your hips gave out, you placed one last kiss on his slightly darkening hickey.

after you fell on the bed next to him, he pulled you close. you turned your head in his embrace, eyes widening. you knew without a doubt they looked like they were probably about to fall out of the sockets. assuming even bigger eyes then richie's usual ones due to his glasses.

uris pursed his lips, kissing the top of your forehead before he could overthink it. “we need to talk. y/n/n." you tried to open your mouth, but closed it again. stanley used your nickname, he has never used it before. you were in disbelief, frozen, and unable to say a word. he rescued you and spoke up again. "you know i don't hate you, right?"

you swallowed feeling like a brick was falling from your shoulders and nodded. "i don't hate you either stan. this is not what i was expecting though to make up." you giggled causing him to chime in. the awkwardness was finally settled but you paused and asked nervously. "do you think we're worse than eddie and richie?"

he shook his head, not even needing to think on it and responded sweetly. "no, we're okay now and i have a feeling that richie will tease eddie even after we're all dead."

you laughed together once more, agreeing with stan’s opinion which would probably be a proven fact one day. "that's true. poor eddie!" snuggling closer into his back and finally, truly feeling at peace.

© babytortie on tumblr + wattpad.

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Different but the Same (pt. 19)

tw: crying, anxiety, insecurities, fear of loss

Word count: 4.1k

Rating: R18+/M

Omegaverse AU, Rating: 18+/M

Pairings: Iwaizumi x fem!reader, Ushijima x fem!reader

Summary: An unexpected encounter at the Inter-High tournament tossed you into a whirlwind. Being tugged between two males, two different packs, who will reign supreme in this battle for your heart?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 19: comfort

Her foot bounced, eyes flitting from the rallying ball, to her boys, to the clock. The whistle blew, a sigh of relief leaving her. They had easily won back to back sets, and now she’d have just enough time to catch the last bit of the Seijoh match. 

“Congratulations on your win.” She bowed to them before looking at Coach Saito. “I’ll take my leave now, Coach.”

“Have fun, (L.Name)-chan.” He smiled, giving her a nod.

As (Name) turned to race off, a voice called out, rooting her there. “I will come with you.”

Olive eyes met (e/c) orbs as she hesitated for a moment longer. “I would like to see how Karasuno plays.”

The Omega nodded before walking away, picking her way through the crowds. Behind her, Ushijima was stopped left and right by reporters congratulating him on his win, asking him questions about U19 and his expectations for his post-graduate life. (Name) ignored it, easily finding herself beside the crowd of teal, picking a spot near the railing as she eagerly watched her mate play. Satisfaction filled her - it had been too long since she was able to support him. Peeling off her Shiratorizawa jacket and shoving that into her duffel, she switched into her teal Aoba Johsai jacket - thankful that she was wearing black leggings instead of the maroon track-suit she typically would have to wear. 

Brown eyes looked up into the crowd, easily finding hers. (Name) cupped her mouth, cheering loudly for her pack-mates who glanced up at her during their time-out. Mattsun gave her a lopsided grin along with a cheeky wave. The underclassmen all waved, giving her various thumbs-up and nods. Oikawa had his eyes closed, sitting apart from his packmates in order to retain his focus. Iwaizumi nodded at her, not showing any sign of emotion but she could tell. Love, appreciation, and gratitude pulsed through her body. (Name) cheekily sent him a flying kiss, causing the male to roll his eyes at her though his heart fluttered at the sight. The whistle blew, ending the time out and the match continued.

******

(Name)’s jaw dropped as she leaned over the railing - watching in shock as the ball bounced. The whistle blew and she was gone, racing down the stairs towards the court. How did they get better so quickly? Her heart ached, knowing how badly her pack-mates wanted this. Her mark pulsed with anguish, causing her footsteps to quicken. She ducked into the court, ignoring the signs and ignoring the people as she launched herself into Iwaizumi’s arms. He buried his face into her hair, shoulders shaking slightly. The hot droplets splashed down and soaked her shirt. 

Loud slaps hit his back as he lurched in her grip - the scents of his pack-mates washing over them. “Go greet the audience,” she murmured. “I’ll be with the coaches.”

Iwaizumi’s grip tightened over her, squeezing her almost painfully as reluctance filled his senses. He didn’t want to lose himself when they separated - needing her to ground himself. (Name) pressed a dainty kiss to his cheek, scenting him slightly. “You’ll be okay,” she cooed into his ear before she stepped away. Iwaizumi nodded, fists clenching as he made his way to stand along the rest of his team - his mate slipping away to stand beside the coaches. 

“Thank you!” The boys chirped in varying degrees of emotional turmoil - bowing to the audience members. As soon as he had straightened up, she was right beside him once more. Her hands clasped over Iwaizumi’s as they made their way off of the court, squeezing it tightly as their fingers intertwined. Her thumb swirled around the crescent-moons he’d absent-mindedly left on his palms. 

Iwaizumi blinked furiously, looking down at his mate who kept her face neutral and forward. He was thankful for her - for her calmness. His own emotions ran rampant, making it difficult for him to steady himself as he plopped along beside her. She had been beside him through every single victory, through every single loss. Love blurred his eyes as he pulled her closer, squeezing back. (Name) leaned her body into his, subtly scenting him while they walked. 

“I love you,” he murmured for her ears only. 

“And I love you.” 

She pressed her plush lips against his knuckles, their marks pulsing with warmth and affection. (Name) shifted, looking back to the rest of her packmates just as another third-year threw himself at Iwaizumi, dragging him away from her grasp. Her heart leapt as she looked at their interaction, a small smile on her face. 

The Omega went towards the first-years, standing beside Kumini and Kindaichi. “You did well.”

Kindaichi jumped, a shiver running down his spine. “I didn’t know you were here, (Name)-san.”

“Of course, how could I miss my boys' play?” She teased, sadness and pity in her eyes as the sorrow in Kindaichi’s eyes. 

He shrugged, averting his eyes and staring at his sneakers. 

“C’mon, let’s go get ramen! Oikawa’s treat,” (Name) announced, turning to face the rest of her pack.

“Hey!” Oikawa protested, frowning.

“You missed your serves,” Makki teased, his face lightening up. He knew what (Name) was doing. Typically whenever the team faced a loss, the Omega would host dinner at the apartment and she would invite the rest of the pack over to make sure they were well-fed and resting instead of punishing themselves.

Kyotani blew past the pack, storming off in the direction of the gym doors. (Name) made a move to go after him, knowing that he wasn’t used to playing in tournaments like the rest of the pack was when a hand grabbed her shoulder. “Let him go.” She looked back, staring into Mattsun’s hooded eyes. “We all cope differently.” 

She frowned but nodded. “Let’s go then, yeah?” 

(Name) linked arms with Mattsun and Makki, leading the duo towards the doors of the stadium as the rest of the pack trickled on behind them. Iwaizumi walked with Oikawa, making up the rear as everybody else followed. 

Upon entering the restaurant, (Name) sat down at the table, offering the seat to Kindaichi and Kumini who slid in. Iwaizumi and Mattsun occupied the other seats beside her, Iwaizumi resting his chin on her shoulder as he took the time to breathe in her soothing scent. All throughout the meal, (Name) was ordering them food, ensuring that they were eating and drinking water as she helped keep their minds off of their woes. She constantly reminded them of how well they had played, mentioning things she noticed that had changed from the first time she’d seen them play until now. When Kindaichi started crying, she scooted closer, letting the male cry into her shoulder as she kept offering him napkins in order to wipe his streaming nose. Iwaizumi watched, resting his head on his palm as exhaustion washed over his entire body. He kept fading in and out mentally, too tired to even think about what had happened as the realisation of the loss really settled. 

This wouldn’t be the end, not for him. 

Not by a long-shot. 

*****

“Haji?” 

The Omega asked hesitantly as he unlocked the door to their apartment. She had returned first, letting Iwaizumi and the rest of the third years play together one last time at the Seijoh gym as she made her way home. (Name) knew that they needed this last chance to themselves.

Iwaizumi stood in the doorway, glossy eyes staring out. (Name) could only imagine the thoughts, the self-doubt that coursed through Iwaizumi’s head and veins. Sorrow pulsed through their shared marks, causing tears to well up in her own eyes at the borrowed emotion.

Silently she took Iwaizumi’s hand, tugging him towards the bedroom. (Name) pushed Iwaizumi to sit down on the edge of the bed, tugging on his shirt so that he could change. They could shower and change the sheets tomorrow. Now, she needed to comfort her mate. As she stood next to him, her arms draped over his arms, Iwaizumi turned to bury his face into her stomach. Hot tears mixed with sweat as it dripped down his face.

“I couldn’t do it,” he muttered. Her heart clenched. “How could I be an ace if I couldn’t even score that last point for my team?” 

“Haji-”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be with me,” he whines softly, the sound breaking both of their hearts. “Maybe you do deserve to be with Ushijima instead of me.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“Why not?” 

He leaned up, his dark brown eyes meeting hers. The silvery streaks of tears cascading down his face. 

“You deserve to be with a real Alpha. Not someone who-”

“I want to be with you. I deserve to be with my bond-mate,” (Name) said firmly as she pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. The salt of his sweat filling her senses as his pine scent dampened. “And my bond-mate deserves to be happy. Who was it that said that being good in volleyball meant having six strong players? You’re a strong player, Haji.” 

“But I-”

“You did your absolute best and there’s nothing more you could do about it.” 

As the Omega held Iwaizumi closer, his shoulders began to shake. 

“C’mon, let’s get some rest, okay?” 

Iwaizumi buried his face into his arms, curling into himself. (Name) frowned slightly, taking a seat beside him and wiggling into his arms. He tightened his grip around her shoulders, but refused to look at her. “Hey, you can’t get rid of me so quickly,” she murmured softly. 

“Who said I was trying to get rid of you? You’d probably get rid of me first.”

“Hajime.”

He flinched at the sudden use of his full name, peeling his face away from his arms and looking at her. “Who am I bonded to?”

Iwaizumi swallowed. “Me.”

“You know what that means right?”

“That you’re my mate.”

“And how long will you be my mate for?”

“Always.” He replied softly, unshed tears finally spilling as he buried his face into her hair, holding her face close to his chest. 

“That’s right.” (Name) gently covered his chest with kisses, her arms tightening around him. “And I’m yours, for now and always, okay?” 

“I love you, (Name).”

“And I love you, Haji.”

*****

“Stay close, we don’t want to lose you.”

“Yeah, not again,” Semi snickered beside her, throwing his arm around her. 

(Name) rolled her eyes, shoving his arm off. “That was your own damn fault, Semi. You should’ve told them where I went.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

The pack filed into the gym, Ushijima leading the way. It appears like Karasuno had arrived first. Her eyes scanned them. They were definitely a bunch of misfits. But these were the boys who had knocked her mate out of the running? Stolen his last chance to go to nationals? Anger flashed through her, disappearing as quickly as it had come. (Name) shook her head. As much as she knew that Iwaizumi hated Shiratorizawa and probably disliked Karasuno for beating them, perhaps Karasuno would be a sharp wake-up call for everyone. 

“They beat Seijoh?” Semi asked, standing beside her and looking over her shoulder as they examined them. They both blinked in shock as the orange ball of energy leapt into the air, slamming a sharp spike straight down. 

“This is going to be an interesting match,” she muttered, meeting Semi’s brown eyes.

He shrugged. “We’ll overcome them. We always do.” 

“Didn’t you lose at nationals?”

“Hey! Players at nationals are very different,” Semi protested. 

She chuckled, patting his chest. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Semi-Semi.” 

The male opened his mouth to protest only for Washijo to summon them. ‘We’ll talk about this later,’ he mouthed to her as he joined the rest of the pack.

*****

They shouldn’t have underestimated them. 

All throughout the match, she couldn’t help but be impressed by Karasuno’s sheer tenacity, the amount of dedication and pressure that they had placed on the Shiratorizawa pack. It was clear that they had managed to rile up even Tendou, which was difficult to do to begin with.

“I hate them,” Tendou growled, glaring over at the Karasuno pack as they rested. He sat on the bench with (Name), leaning his head against her shoulder. She patted his head affectionately, silently agreeing. Ushijima drank water, resting his legs as he tried to keep his focus.

“You’re doing well, all of you,” (Name) soothed. “Don’t let them rile your feathers up, okay?” 

“Just need to break their hearts,” Tendou muttered. “Destroy them.” 

“You go do that, ‘Tori.” 

The whistle blew, sending them all back into their respective positions. The Omega stared at the scoreboard, frowning. Karasuno had many tricks up their sleeves, but ultimately this would become a game of endurance. As a team that’s reached Nationals so many times, it’d be easy for Shiratorizawa to beat them. She had to hold out hope that this would be the case. 

But of course, life loves to throw curve-balls as the fifth set dragged on longer and longer. Beside her, Washijo’s face was set into a deep frown. It was evident that he was deep in thought. 

“I always thought that strength would prevail over everything else. That’s how it’s always been and how it always will be.” Washijo’s fists clenched. “A team of Alphas is better than a misfit team with no clear strategies or strength.” 

(Name) jolted, startled at the sudden confession. She mused her thoughts carefully, the words heavy on her tongue. “Perhaps with the new generations, that will prove differently. We cannot always remain stuck in our ways otherwise we cannot progress as people, as a society.”

He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he stared at the court. “You’ve been a good influence on the team.” 

The Omega blinked, surprised at the sudden confession. She waited for more, until it was evident that he wouldn’t say more on the matter. She swallowed, nodding. “Thank you, Coach.”

Their eyes followed the ball as the long rally surprised them. (Name) chewed on her bottom lip, anticipation in her gut. Her eyes widened as the troublesome short middle-blocker blended in with his team-mates. Something was wrong, they won’t be able to catch it. Her heart was heavy as the whistle blew, the ball bouncing out of bounds after making contact with Hayato’s arms. Her shoulders slumped as shock ricocheted through her mark. Her head swiveled, staring at the ace as he panted. 

He was silent as he joined the rest of the pack, silent through the award ceremony as well though it wasn’t like he spoke much to begin with. If it wasn’t for her mark, she wouldn’t begin to know what the Apex Alpha was thinking. Pangs of shock, resignation, sorrow, and irritation through her body, yanking her emotions this way and that.

Tendou and Semi were more blatant with their feelings. Tendou practically latched onto her, laughing in that somewhat higher-pitched voice that alerted her to his internalised feelings. She let him, bringing him away to a hidden corner so that she could squeeze him in a tight hug, letting his body quake in her embrace.

Semi, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. After all, the male was already forcibly torn away from his starting position, and even if he went to nationals again, it wasn’t like he would play much more on the court. There was more to life than volleyball, and he already had a taste for what came next. 

“Come check out this cafe,” he had told (Name), texting her a photo of a flyer. “I might be performing there.”

The Omega simply smiled, patting him on the head. “I’ll always support you, Semi. I’ll be there.” 

The group walked into the gym at the end of it all, passing the batons to the newer generations. (Name) stood silently to the side. There was no Omega to replace her. Not yet at least. That’ll be a problem for Shiratorizawa’s Omegas to figure out. All she could do was hope that her replacement would benefit the pack in ways she couldn’t possibly have done so. It’s not like she was around that much to begin with - having split priorities and the drama of the love triangle she had unknowingly been drawn into. Perhaps next year, their Omega would be solely dedicated to the pack like the pack deserved.  

*****

The Omega waited patiently, her maroon jacket folded over her arms as she watched them finishing up their reps. Members slowly trickled out until it was just her and one other person. Ushijima, the Alpha and former captain, was the last one of the pack, doing extra reps as he waited for all members to complete their reps. 

“Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima grunted, eyes locked onto the opposite court as he prepared for another serve. “Let’s go get food.”

He blinked, muscles freezing up before olive eyes landed on her. (Name) stared at him, face unwavering. 

“Food, Toshi. You need it to fuel your body, or have you forgotten in your haste to better yourself overnight?” 

Ushijima stood from his semi-crouched position, tilting his head. “I do not think I will get better overnight.”

(Name) chuckled, shaking her head. “Is that all you got?” She shrugged on her jacket. “C’mon, let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”

“Okay.” 

The duo made quick work of cleaning the gym, ensuring that everything was right while they left. They made their way to the dorms, bringing the Omega into the kitchen as she hummed slightly, bustling around to gather ingredients. 

“Think you have enough brain-power left to teach me that hayashi rice?”

The slightest flicker of amusement and happiness filled Ushijima’s expression. “Of course.” 

He stood beside her, helping her prepare the ingredients as the low rumble of his voice filled the stagnant air of the kitchen. Beside his gentle instructions, not much was exchanged between the two, even while they were eating. A silence hung in the air, stiff. It wasn’t awkward though, which Ushijima appreciated. As a man of few words, he knew that his quiet nature often made people uncomfortable. 

He finished washing the dishes, eyes narrowed in on the task as (Name) cleaned the rest of their mess. Ushijima cleared his throat, drawing her (e/c) orbs to him. “I will walk you off-campus.” Ushijima swallowed, a bitter taste in his mouth. “Will Iwaizumi pick you up?”

She hummed, nodding. “He will, in a bit.” (Name) chewed on her bottom lip. “Let’s talk before I leave though. Is that alright?” 

He nodded as they sat down at a stone bench near the track field. A heavy silence settled over them, suffocating as the weight of her words hit him. Even the wind became quiet, as if the world was holding its breath. Ushijima had known that this was coming, but he wasn’t prepared. Not so soon after the defeat he had faced earlier that day. 

“Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima swallowed. “Yes?” 

“This may be poor timing, but I think I’ve made my decision.”

Ushijima took a sharp breath of air. “I see.”

(Name) looked up into the sky, nails digging into her palms. “I think that…”

BONUS

“I’m going to go fill the water-bottles. I’ll meet you guys there!” (Name) said to Semi, who just shrugged and waved her off. He was on his phone, replying to his parents to let them know that he had arrived at the stadium. The rest of Shiratorizawa had already dispersed. Semi and (Name) had arrived late due to picking up the bentos for their lunch. 

The Omega walked off with a spring in her step, humming to whatever song she was listening to. 

“Where is (Name)?” Ushijima asked, looking at Semi. 

Semi looked up at his phone, tilting his head. “She’s right-” he turned, pointing at the empty space where she’d just occupied. “Oh fuck.”

“How did you lose Omega-chan?” Tendou asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Ushijima’s jaw clenched, swallowing his frustration. As Captain, he had interviews to attend to which is why he had entrusted (Name) to Semi. “When’d you last see her?”

Semi hesitated, thinking hard. “She was literally just here.” 

They all sniffed the air, searching for her scent. Unfortunately, there were too many Alphas present for them to really discern her scent. 

“At least you have the food,” Tendou commented, looking at the bags at Semi’s feet. “Where could she possibly have gone?”

“Well, she is a manager. Maybe some manager stuff?’

Ushijima turned, walking towards the fountains. He let out a sigh of relief when he spotted her amongst the other managers. “(Name).”

“Oh! Ushijima-san. Have you finished your interviews?” She asked, turning away from the other manager she was talking with to give him a smile. 

“Why didn’t you tell us where you were going?”

(Name) raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “What do you mean? I told Semi.”

“Next time, let us know in the group-chat. We don’t want to lose you.”

“Uhh, okay. Whatever you say, Ushijima-san.” She turned back to the water bottles. 

“Can I help you?” Ushijima asked, stepping closer to her. He threw a look at the other managers, scaring off the Omegas and causing the Alpha managers to puff out their chest in an attempt to stand up for themselves.

“You don’t have to! I’m just about finished.” She flashed him another smile before turning back to the managers. “It was nice to meet you all! Best of luck.”

“Bye (Name)!” 

Pouting slightly, Ushijima wrapped his arm around the Omega as he took a tray of bottles in his other hand. 

Next time, he’d just bring her with him, he promised himself.

*****

“So, will you stay?” Oikawa asked, crossing his arms as he looked between them. The third years were at a local cafe, meeting up a few days after the tournament. 

Makki snorted, rolling his eyes. “Aren’t you the one leaving us?” 

“Yeah, we don’t need a head Alpha who will be in a whole different country,” Mattsun teased. 

“Hey!” Oikawa protested. “This is my dream.” He swallowed, a bitter taste in his mouth. “You’re my family, and I don’t want to lose you. No matter where in the world I’ll be.”

“Who said we’re leaving you?” Iwaizumi piped up, leaning back as he raised his eyebrow at them. “You’ve been a pain in my ass ever since we met, Oikawa, and I plan on returning that for the rest of your miserable life.” 

Oikawa opened his mouth to protest only to have arms wrap around his shoulders from behind. “Yeah, Oiks. You’re an integral part of this pack and you’re stuck with us, alright?” The soft strawberry met his nose as the warmth of her touch filled his body. 

His lip trembled as tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Awh, we made him cry,” Makki snickered, covering his mouth slightly with his palm.

“I-I’m not crying!” Oikawa protested, aggressively wiping his tears away only to have (Name) tighten her grip on him.

“You big baby,” she teased, grabbing a stack of napkins from the table and dropping it in front of him. She peeled herself off of him before plopping down at the seat beside Iwaizumi. “So, does that mean Haji is the new head Alpha?” She blinked innocently at them before they all exploded into an argument. The Omega only giggled, leaning into her mate as she watched in satisfaction at the chaos she had caused.

*****

“So what now?” Semi asked, sipping from his tea as they sat in the cafeteria together. “Are we just gonna say farewell and go our separate ways after graduation.”

Ushijima paused, looking up from his food. “I do not wish to lose our friendship.”

“Awh, are we your friends, Wakatoshi-kun? Are you going soft on us now?” Tendou joked, nudging the male in the stomach. “You know you’re my best friend already!”

Ushijima blinked stoically. “I would like to remain in a pack with you all, if that is alright.” 

They stared at each other before looking back at Ushijima. “Aren’t you going into volleyball professionally, Wakatoshi?” 

“Yes and?”

“That means we’re going our separate ways anyways,” Hayato pointed out, brows furrowed.

“Distance does not mean that we cannot remain pack-mates though.” Ushijima frowned. “Is that not something you all want?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Tendou protested, waving his hand. “It’s just that, we’ll be separated by our own journeys. Are you sure this is the pack you want to stay in? I’m sure you’ll have pack offers in whatever team you end up joining.”

He blinked. “You are my family. I do not want anyone else.”

“You’re going to make me cry, Wakatoshi-kun.” 

“Don’t!” Hayato protested, frowning. “If you cry, I might end up crying too.”

“So are you all going to bawl like babies or can I ask the Captain something?” Shirabu folded his arms, appearing behind Semi’s shoulder.

“Shut up Shirabu.”

*****

FUN FACTS 

💟 Coach Saito always supported (Name) whenever it came to Seijoh. He knew how difficult it had been to be an Omega with Shiratorizawa - especially with how Washijo typically mistreated Omegas in general

💟 Ushijima watched from the stands as (Name) embraced Iwaizumi after his loss to Karasuno before slipping away and being stopped by the news station for an interview

💟 To this day, (Name) has deep respect for the Karasuno pack members - especially considering how well they performed at the tournament

💟 That day was the first time that a majority of Seijoh had seen Iwaizumi cry. Only the third years had seen that sight before that moment

💟 After the tournament had completely concluded, Kyotani reached out to (Name) and Iwaizumi and ended up crashing at their apartment for a night in order to talk out his aggressive tendencies to resolve them for next year

💟 If it wasn’t for (Name), Iwaizumi could have potentially sunk into an Alpha depression - which is extremely rare 

💟 Semi was confident in the ability of his pack-mates, even if they didn’t necessarily believe in him as a setter anymore

💟 A week after the tournament, (Name) hung-out with Tendou and kept him company as he made chocolates. This gave him the perfect opportunity to talk about his future and how he felt at the conclusion of the tournament

💟 Washijo did feel slightly guilty about the whole situation with the Omega, and vowed to himself at that game to do better in the future

💟 Teaching (Name) how to make hayashi rice gave Ushijima a lot of hope, and made his mood a lot better. He hadn’t realised it himself, but food was his ideal method for comfort

💟 They had lost (Name) at the beginning of the Interhigh tournament months ago

💟 The group decided that both Iwaizumi and Oikawa would be the head Alphas of the pack, though they typically still ran it as a democracy 

💟 The other third-years ended up crying when they were finally alone. They each had their own misgivings about the state of their pack and relationships with one another once they graduated, but Ushijima had eased their worries without even really trying    

AN: So... we’re almost at the end. Who are we feeling? Iwa? Ushi? Are y’all ready for next week’s chapter? 

Taglist: @sawamooora​  @kriswu46​ @pantasticalcat​ @shadowkunoichi​ @awuariyuh​ @4lfalfagarlic​ @kuroowh0r3 @sourapplex​ @pastelpuffbar​​ @froyopet​​ @micheleinumaki​​ @gywjd0131​​ @aideen00 @loudpoetry23 @kaizumi​​ @chrisrue15​​@aideen00 @Mayor-chu-of-many-towns @ ephemeralninon @kinkymint  @dabilove27​​ @sol-demure​​ @dark-mermaid25​​ @otaku-explosion​​ @fake-id-69 @zlatanakermann​​ @killuaking​​ @hxsxxk-180294​​  @uwukris​​ @cheerysparkle​​ @seiijixcia​​ @tsumue​​ @shoyomeow​​ @vicassa​​ @newfriendjen​​ @jubilee40​​  @kiritokunuwu​​  @cuddlesslut​​ @terminallyvolatile​​ @indecisivehusky​​ @kaitycole​​ @bioticbarbie @reaper-chan666​​ @ash-aph​​​ @aruhappy​​ @fortunatelylazystranger​​ 

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[comphersjost]

All for You | 2 ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

hi, its 3 am, and i couldnt stop until i finished this. ik i promised yall another part on thursday so im sorry this is later then i was hoping. i hope you enjoy it :) i took a different approach to brady here than ive normally seen, let me know how you guys like it!!

It’s been 4 and a half months since that day in the basement. With Christmas just days away and Matty on a flight back home, you and Brady take a risk, leaving Matt to wonder where he went wrong.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: this is really angsty yall, like actually, smut, sir kink, brady is Mean, uh moral ambiguity sorta (thinking abt someone else during sex), d/s undertones sorta, unprotected sex (be safe), oral (m on f), some choking, alcohol (wine), sex under the influence, pls ignore any typos fkakldfa

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

masterlist

Even with how utterly fucked the situation was that Matt had found himself in, there was one thing he couldn't stop thinking about. It was the way his logo and his last name and his number rested against your back that drove him insane.

It was burned into his retinas.

Even now, on a plane back home to St. Louis it was all he could think about. Every time he closed his eyes it was you you you.

It had been months since he had seen you. Nearly 5 months had passed since that night in the basement. And it killed him.

He was in a slump. Everyone knew it. He knew it, his teammates knew it, the damn front office knew it. And it was because of you.

His teammates had quickly put together your absence at any sort of gathering and Matty’s sulking. 4 and a half months later he resembles a shell of the man he used to be.

He had called, of course he had. Over and over, hoping, pleading, praying to any deity that existed out there to hear from you again.

Matthew’s prayer was answered one day, when he had come out of practice to find a text from you. His heart rate accelerated, time felt like molasses as his phone camera ID’d his face. As the facial recognition unlocks his phone, the message is revealed.

Please stop calling me. And tell the boys to stop too.

The text tears his heart to shreds. It was the last straw. Before he had been mopey, but now - now he was spiraling. His play was abysmal - a shit show on the ice really. He drank until he blacked out every time, not even looking at another girl.

He had contemplated going to your work, but decided a player in the middle of a slump having a restraining order filed against him would not go over well with the Flames management. Every time he went out for the most mundane task, groceries, dry cleaning, he couldn’t help the hope that he would run into you. Even if you didn’t give him the time of day it would be enough for him to just see you.

He hadn’t seen you since that day. Not for lack of trying, though. Matthew had been to all the spots you used to frequent—the grocery store you love, the clubs you two used to go to, even the 7/11 you had both been to after the both of you got so drunk that you could barely walk. You weren’t on the flight you had booked back together. In fact, he had no idea about anything that’s been going on in your life, his mom just told him that you’re okay and that was all he got.

Now it was 3 days before Christmas and the idea of seeing you again both filled him with dread and also made him feel more alive than he had in months. He was equally utterly terrified and buzzing with excitement. His hands itched to hold you again, though he knew there was a bigger chance of you slapping him than letting him kiss you the way he wanted.

As Matt stares out the window at the clouds, he lets his mind wander. He wonders how you're doing; are you okay? After everything that happened did you pick up right where you left off? He wondered if you missed him, if he was on your mind as much as you were on his.

He still wondered if you loved him back.

-

“Mom, I really just, I really want to stay home and do nothing tonight okay? I'm tired.”

Your mom rolls her eyes at your attempt at getting out of going over to Tkachuk’s house tonight. You’d been trying since 9 am.

“Honey, I know you said you and Matthew don’t hang out anymore, but he won't be there!” she tried reassuring you, “Brady and Taryn will be there to hang out with you until Taryn goes to spend the night with the Johnson’s.” That made you groan even louder - you had to be alone with Brady. Great, now you had to steel yourself for a night of utter humiliation.

Brady isn't even downstairs yet when you enter the Tkachuk’s threshold, Chantal’s call for her kids brings Taryn down in an instant, ever excited to see you.

“Y/N!” she squeals, running down the stairs, “You're here, you're here!”

“Y/N?” you hear faintly, and then the slam of Brady’s door and rapid footsteps. He nearly slides down the stairs, freezing at the bottom when he spots you. Taryn lets you out of her embrace, leaving you to stare wide-eyed at Brady. Unsure how to navigate your way out of this situation, you keep staring at Brady as your parents and Taryn follow Chantal to the kitchen.

“Hi, B,” you say meekly, unsure of how he’ll receive you after so long.

“Hi, buttercup,” he responds, a bright smile pulling at his lips. It’s all he needs to take a few quick steps in your direction and draw you into his arms.

“I missed you so much, buttercup,” he whispers against your hairline, “More than you know.”

Despite his warm welcome, the night is tense. You still don't know what he thinks of that night, not wanting to ask him in front of your families - well, most of your families anyways. You didn't even let yourself think about what would happen when you saw Matthew at the next dinner party. You sat at the table and ate your food, barely speaking to Taryn and answering Keith and Chantal’s inquiries about your life in Calgary with a tight smile.

You’re so zoned out trying to make time go faster you barely register your parents telling you that they’re going out with Keith and Chantal.

“Mom, wait-”

“Y/N,” she warns, looking at you with that look, and you sigh in resignation. She smiles at you, a silent promise to make it up to you.

Taryn had left 30 minutes ago, announcing that she had somewhere to be before leaving as quickly as she could, uncomfortable with the palpable tension between you and Brady.

You watch your parents leave, wincing for a moment at what awaits you when you turn around. To your surprise, what greets you is a glass of wine hovering in front of your face.

You take the peace offering gingerly from Brady’s hand with a tiny smile. And it’s a really bad idea, the way you let him keep refilling your glass, and his own, let him draw you in during The Grinch on the couch, let him hold you tight under the blanket that was covering the both of you.

You can hear your common sense screaming in the back of your mind when you snuggle closer into Brady’s chest. It’s near 11 now, and your parents are still together, laughing and drinking in the living room of your house before Keith and Chantal are supposed to head to the airport. You're cuddled up to Brady, shifting every few minutes to try and get closer, even though nearly every inch of your body is practically glued to him.

He hums when you shift again, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Gotta go home,” you say, your voice muffled against him. It’s not like you haven't spent the night with him before; you just haven't since that night.

“Probably,” he mumbles, arms tightening around you. “But I don't want you to.” And like, you've had way too much wine and you should probably go before Matty gets here cause you really can't handle that conversation like this so you push off of Brady, standing up but stumbling, wine sloshing over the lip of the glass and splattering on your pants.

“Fuck,” you hiss, the red wine surely staining the gray leggings you wore. Brady takes the glass from you, placing it on the table and stabilizing you with his other hand.

“Go change upstairs,” he says softly, looking up at you with those eyes you're such a sucker for. “Stay.”

And - how can you say no to that? You can't, because it's Brady and you're so damn easy for him it didn't matter what he’d asked you to do, you would do it without a second thought.

That's how you find yourself stumbling to Brady’s bedroom, barely finding your way to his bathroom to change out of your stained leggings and wipe yourself down. You rummage through Brady’s dresser, searching for - there it was. A pair of Brady’s sweatpants from high school that he stopped wearing approximately 2 months after he got them [mostly because he couldn't find them (mostly mostly because they were either in your room or on your body)].

You place the worn sweats on top of Brady’s dresser, fumbling to close the drawer and find your balance. Someone clears their throat and your head snaps towards the doorway. Brady is leaning against the doorframe and through the fuzziness of the wine, you register the thought that he looks so good like this - in his comfort zone.

“Hey,” he says, pushing off the doorframe towards you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes too focused on Brady moving towards you.

“We should give it a shot,” Brady husks, hooded eyes trailing down your body and back up again. Suddenly the room feels too cold, the oversized sweater you had on stopped at the top of your thighs, barely covering the pale pink panties you were wearing. The sweater paws gave an air of innocence around you that Brady knew was fake.

“What are you talking about?” you whisper meekly, both concerned about what was going on in that head of his, and intrigued.

“You know how you feel about me,” Brady states - which isn't entirely true anymore, but you don’t interrupt. “I don’t know how I feel about you, and neither of us actually knows if this-” he motions between the two of you “-is it for us, so I say, we give it a shot and see how it feels. Let’s give it until we go back?”

When did he get so close to you? Brady’s taking more steps forward, and you’re taking as many steps back, until the back of your thighs hit the corner of the bed and you instinctively sit.

Which - in retrospect, was probably a mistake, because now Brady towers over you even more than before and now - you’re really intrigued. His fingers trail over your jaw, thumb swiping gently across your bottom lip.

You part your lips out of habit, eyes widen when you realize what you’ve done. Brady laughs darkly when he catches your slip up, stroking your face affectionately.

His thumb slips between your lips for a moment, and your eyes flutter shut as your cheeks hollow around him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, and you do, opening your eyes to stare up at him again; Brady, your best friend. He smiles proudly, murmuring a soft, “Good girl.”

The words are uttered at the same time he withdraws from your warm mouth, wrapping his fingers gently around your throat. You can’t help the whine that escapes, mortified when Brady’s grin widens.

He leans down, mouth next to your ear to whisper, “Matty always did like it when they’re needy. Needy girls drive us crazy.”

Really, the thought of Matt shouldn’t be driving you crazy, but it is. And when you feel Brady’s nose nudge against yours, his mouth just millimeters from you - your biggest fantasy for nearly 20 years - you knew you were going to hell.

A needy moan escapes your throat before Brady’s hand tightens around your throat and you give in, looping your arms around his neck. You pull him down to meet your lips, nearly clawing at him in your desperation.

Faintly, you think that this is a bad idea, this would only hurt you more later on.

But the longer you kissed him, the less you cared about the consequences. You wanted - you needed Brady so fucking bad right now you were willing to deal with whatever the aftermath presented you with. Brady’s other hand finds the bottom of your sweater, slipping underneath the fabric to lay against your rib cage.

You needed more.

“Brady,” you whine as you break away from his lips, tugging at his hoodie. “Need you.” Brady chuckles darkly, tugging you by your throat to kiss him again.

“Ask nicely,” he husks against your mouth.

“Please,” you whimper again, pulling harder at the fabric to just get him closer. “Please, Brady, I need you so bad.”

“Try again.” Brady pushes you - nearly tosses you really - further up the bed with a snarl, ignoring the yelp you let out at the suddenness of his mood shift. You stare up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You're unsure of your next words.

“Please…Daddy?”

A cocky smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Not quite.”

You think for a moment, watching him bring his hand behind his back and pull his shirt over his head. The dark look he gives you makes you shrink, as if to say ‘Still?’.

Suddenly your eyes light up, and Brady can see it. He's already on the bed, crawling up your body as you attempt to control your breath. The words are barely out before he's kissing you again.

“Please sir?”

Brady groans into your mouth when he hears you say the words, slotting himself between your thighs to grind his hips against yours. You mewl into his mouth when his clothed cock catches against your clit, pushing your hips up against him for more. He growls as he pulls away again, swatting your thigh as a warning.

“Careful, princess,” Brady warns - voice low and dangerous - and his grip on your hip so tight you knew there would be bruises in the morning, “or I won't be.” His words are thick with intention, both a threat and a promise.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe shakily, letting yourself fall against the sheets to look up at him.

Brady’s eyes soften for a moment, reaching up to brush your hair out of your eyes. “Hi,” he whispers, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Hi,” comes your response. He steals another kiss before pulling away again, and you can't help but think that he looks beautiful like this.

I love you. I'm in love with you.

You want to say it, the voice inside you is screaming it. It’s screaming for you to say it, and Brady is looking at you almost like he wants you to too.

The feeling of his hands pushing your sweater up distracts you from your plight. Brady’s movement is slow, and he’s looking at you intensely, giving you time to stop him. You only nod, and the softness is gone as soon as it had come. You lift your arms to help him bring the material over your head. He tosses the sweater to the side, catching your wrists when you reach for him. He guides them back over your head, smirking as you suppress a shudder when he leans in a whispers against your mouth. “Be a good girl and keep your hands there princess.”

You nod quickly, grasping the sheets in anticipation. Another slap to your thigh has you rethinking.

“I’m sorry!” you gasp. “Yes, sir.”

Brady hums in acknowledgment, kissing down your throat until he’s staring up at you from the valley between your breasts. You whine softly when he pulls a nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing the harden peak before soothing it with his tongue. His hand is pinching and pulling at your other nipple, making your noises significantly louder. He alternates, playing with your nipples until they're swollen and sensitive and sore.

He sits back on his heels to look at you, hands on your knees now, sliding up your thighs. His eyes roam your body unabashedly, while his fingers play with the waistband of your panties. There's a burning look in his eyes as he says, “You're gorgeous. You're so fucking beautiful.”

You don't know why hearing him say it makes you tear up. Brady had told you that you were pretty before, that you cleaned up nice, always telling you how hot you were when he'd see you dressed up before events. He was your own personal hype man but he'd never called you beautiful.

Not like this.

Not like Matty.

Not like Matty.

The thought makes your blood run cold.

“Please,” you mewl, starting to reach for Brady before remembering what he told you. Your hands fly back above your head, twisting in the sheets, whispering, “I’m sorry, sir, I forgot.”

Brady smiles softly, slipping his finger under the waistband of your panties, tugging on it before letting it snap back against your skin. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss softly at your stomach. “Trying so hard to be good for me.” He shuffles himself backwards as he kisses his way down your body, sliding your panties down your legs at the same time until they've fallen to the floor.

“Wait,” you say softly, causing Brady to pause, his expression quizzical. “Please, I need you.”

Brady grins wickedly. “Just a taste princess.”

It turns out, ‘a taste’ actually means Brady edging you with his tongue until you were nearly crying. He's brought you to the brink three times now, each time getting you closer and closer before pulling away. At this point he's holding your hips down and your hands are as tangled in the sheets as you could get them, not wanting the repercussions of disobeying.

Brady’s tongue is sliding through your folds again when you finally break.

“Please!” you sob, tears finally sliding down your cheeks as your back arches from the pleasure. “Please, Brady, please, sir, please please, I- I need - please just - fuck - please.”

Brady hums against your cunt, the vibrations tearing a scream from your throat. Suddenly the warmth of Brady’s mouth is gone, leaving you chasing him with a buck of your hips. He pins you back down again easily, his lips glistening as he smirks. You hate the way the sleazy look on his face does it for you.

It reminds you of Matt.

You whine again, wiggling your hips as much as you could in Brady’s grip. “Please just fuck me,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. You feel his lips press against your hip, smiling against your skin.

“Anything my girl wants, she gets,” he murmurs against your skin.

My girl. The words echo over and over again in your head. My girl my girl my girl.

Two words you've been waiting years to hear come out of his mouth, and the only thing you could think of was how you liked it better when Matty said it.

Your eyes stay shut as Brady kisses up your body, fingertips dancing over your skin. His mouth finds yours, emptying your brain of all other thoughts but him.

“You ready for me, pretty girl?” he asks you, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek gently, wiping your tears away. Your eyes flutter open, to look at him, nodding as you bite your lip. His thumb tugs your lip out from between your teeth as you feel the tip of his dick brush against your thigh. You didn't even realize that he had taken off the rest of his clothes, but you weren't complaining. Not with him so close like this.

“Please,” you whimper, and after stealing another kiss, Brady sinks into your heat.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, gripping the back of your thigh to spread your legs even further. “You're so fucking tight, fuck you feel so good.” Once he’s bottomed out, Brady leans down to kiss you, swallowing your desperate noises.

He gives you little time to adjust, and really - you don't need it considering the way he tortured you with his mouth and fingers. You're whining into his mouth as his hips move against you, the drag off his cock inside you so fucking good after being denied like you were.

You're close already, and Brady knows, delivering sharp thrusts and hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

He finally breaks from your lips, breathing heavily as his hips slam into your cunt. “I'm so close,” you tell him, gripping the sheets above your head so hard you feel like you might rip them. “Please, please let me cum, sir, please.”

It seems like Brady finally thinks you've had enough torture, because he brings his hand from your thigh to your clit, rubbing quick tight circles. “You've been so good for me baby,” he grunts, his other hand holding him up so he can look down at you. “Come on baby, you can touch me now, come on princess, cum for me.”

That's all it takes to send you over the edge. Your hands come flying from above your head to grasp at Brady, his shoulders, his back, tangling in his hair, anything to just touch him. You cry out as your orgasm hits, your back arching under Brady as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

You faintly register Brady’s filthy encouragement in your ears, telling you how good you are for doing what he says, for not touching him this whole time, for cumming for him like this. You writhe against him as you feel him spill into you, grunting as he fucks into you, chasing his orgams with shallow, sloppy thrusts. It feels like you've been riding your high forever; your vision is blurry when you finally come down.

Brady’s breath is hot on your neck, his hands stroking your skin gently as the two of you catch your breath. He shushes you gently as you moan when he pulls out of you. Brady practically collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you into his chest. He peppers kisses across your skin, nudging his nose against your cheek to grab your attention.

You can barely turn your head, suddenly so tired you feel like you'll pass out right that second. “Hi,” he murmurs, kissing you gently. You hum and bury your face in his neck.

“‘M sleepy,” you mumble against his skin, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“Then sleep,” he says, before smirking devilishly, “don't worry there's lots more where that came from, but in the morning.” You snort at his words, squeezing the back of his neck before burying your fingers in his curls.

“Night, B,” you mumble.

“Goodnight, buttercup.”

-

Matthew was going to kill his brother. He was going to straight up murder him. On top of not being there to pick him up from the airport, he also didn't answer any texts or calls from Matt.

So yeah, when Matthew got home, he was going to kill Brady. When the Uber finally pulls up in front of him, Matthew is nearly halfway done with his plan to get away with it.

He fiddles with his phone as the driver pulls away from the curb, scanning the random notifications that he had popped up when he got off the plane. It's when he opens up Instagram that he really pays attention, the 3 stories in a row at the top of his feed catching his eye.

Taryn’s, yours, and Brady’s. Against his better judgement, he taps Taryn’s magenta-rimmed profile picture. The story takes a moment to load, but when it does, he sees a picture of you in front of the Tkachuk’s Christmas tree. You had your arms out in a ‘ta-da’ fashion, the fingers barely poking out through the sleeves of your sweater. Taryn’s caption reads “didn’t need an angel for the tree cause we already got @y/n/y/l/n”. He can't help but smile fondly, so distracted by how cute you look that he just stares at you until the time is up - but not before pressing on the screen so he could screenshot the photo.

Your first story was a repost of Taryn’s, a simple white heart emoji in the bottom corner. The second was a shot of the TV in the Tkachuk’s living room displaying the Grinch’s title. The caption reads “heart grows two sizes bigger when i’m home :)”. The location is tagged as St. Louis, with Taryn and Brady tagged in the corner of the photo. The third post makes his blood run cold, it's a video of you and Brady, your back against his chest as you lay on the couch, the caption the cross-eyed emoji and Brady’s handle. Brady is facing away from the camera in the beginning of the video, your eyebrows raised as you wait for him to notice. When he does he laughs and reaches for your phone. The video cuts off there.

Matthew taps the left side of his screen to replay it, an unpleasant feeling twisting in his gut. He doesn't want to watch Brady’s story, but he taps the right side of his screen anyways. It's a photo of you on the couch, one knee pulled up to your chest with the other in Brady’s lap, and a glass of wine in your hand. Your hair is piled into a messy bun on top of your head as you wink at the camera and make a peace sign with your free hand, tongue peaking out of the corner of your mouth.

Matt screenshots the picture.

He’s angry; angry because his brother left him stranded at the airport. Angry because he said he hadn't spoken to you either, that you didn't answer any of his texts and calls since that night. He's angry because Brady managed to get you back, and Matt didn't.

Matty’s angry because he loves you, and he's pretty sure you still love Brady.

When the car finally pulls up to the house, he’s almost relieved. He notes that the lights are off downstairs as he lets himself in, pausing when he sees your shoes still by the door. The glow of the TV is visible in the living room, and as Matt pads towards it, the uneasy feeling grows.

There's two partially filled glasses of wine on the coffee table, as well as yours and Brady’s phones. He taps on Brady’s phone, revealing the unread texts and unanswered calls from Matt, as well as an unread text from Chantal, telling Brady that he would have to be the one to pick up Matty from the airport.

The pit in Matt’s stomach only deepens as he climbs the stairs, duffle bag in hand. He goes slowly, trying to prolong his inevitable heartbreak, but it doesn't change what he sees at the top.

Brady’s bedroom door is half open, the light from the hallway streaming in.

Matthew knows it's a bad idea when he takes one, two, three steps and he's in front of Brady’s door. He takes a deep breath and pokes his head inside the room. The sight nearly knocks the wind out of him.

You're tucked under Brady’s arm, your nose squished against his cheek and your hand curled around his neck.  He can see the bare skin of your back and stomach pressed against Brady’s bare torso. A blanket covers the both of you from the waist down. Brady’s hair is a mess, and so is yours, and suddenly Matt feels nauseous.

He feels like he would do anything - anything - to make the feeling in his chest go away. It feels like pressure, too much pressure, in his chest, and he nearly clutches his heart. The blood is rushing in his ears, he can't breathe, he feels dizzy.

Why does it hurt so much?

Before he can think it through he’s stumbling to his room. He kicks the door shut behind him, tossing the duffle back on the floor near his bed. His hands are reaching for the backpack on his shoulders and pulling out his laptop before it even hits the ground. He doesn't even sit, placing the laptop on his bed and bending down to type into the search bar.

He barely pays attention to the final amount when he hits “confirm” - he has more money than he knows what to do with anyways. The moment it’s done he sighs, watching the Gmail notification light up on his phone.

“Flight Confirmation, December 23rd, 2020 11:25 pm

St. Louis, Missouri to Calgary, Canada”

[girlgirlgirlnormal]

Niragi x OC x Last Boss (Part 3)

Sooo, I wrote a third part! Noone asked for it, but I think I´m going to write more parts, just because I enjoy writing these characters and am having a writers block on my other project :/ And maybe I should proofread and edit the other two parts, but here you go!

But hey! This part is not smut but an actual game! 

I hope you enjoy it! 

part one - part two

“What the fuck where you doing?”, Hina was ripped out of her thoughts as Kuina approached her, whisper-shouting, “What happened?”

“I got laid”, Hina informed her friend, she had woken up sandwiched between Samura and Niragi. At first, she thought that she should be waiting for them to wake up, but it was still dark and they looked both so peaceful. If Hina was being honest, her body was still hurting. A quick look in the mirror had confirmed all the bruises and hickeys she had been feeling, all over her throat, chest, and thighs. Her bikini top only covered the most of her breasts, everything else was exposed. She had stolen a pair of shorts from the drawer, that at least covert the bruises on her butt and the hickeys on her upper inner thigh. She hoped they weren’t going to be too mad about her sneaking away.

“What?”, Kuina exclaimed.

Her eyes widened, as she saw the bruises on Hinas body, “You call that getting laid? You look like you survived your own death.”

“I had worse nights and I´m not even lying about that”, Hina smiled at the pretty girl next to her, “My last boyfriend”, she formed quotation marks with her fingers, as she said boyfriend, “used to do way worse and I still had to dance every night.”

Kuina gave her a sympathetic smile, “Look, I´m sorry about that, but I don’t believe that putting yourself in a situation in which you could easily get killed is going to help with your trauma.”

Hina rolled her eyes, “I did cum twice”, she informed Kuina grinning.

Loudly exhaling through her nose, Kuina shook her head. She was about to say something, but she stopped, grabbing Hinas hand and staring at something behind her. Mustering up a smile Hina turned, finding Niragi and Last Boss approaching them with fast steps.

“Good morning”, she greeted, as soon as the men were in a hearing distance.

Niragi was the first to reach her, one of his hands forcefully grabbing her hair, while the other held his sniper rifle, “Why did you leave?”, he asked angered.

Hina took a deep breath. That was the kind of behavior her old boyfriend had portrayed daily. At least she knew how to handle it.

“I needed to get something to eat”, she gestured towards the bar, her plate was still sitting there, only half eaten, “I didn’t want to wake you. You were both seeping so peacefully.”

“You ran away from us”, Niragi said, Last Boss standing behind him, with his arms crossed.

“I just went to get breakfast”, she said, “Why would I leave you?”

“She deserves a bit of trust after she’s been such a good girl last night”, Samura commented, still not raising a finger to help her.  

“I hope its ok that I borrowed some shorts”, Hina said, still not acknowledging her hurting scalp, “You kinda destroyed my bikini panties.”

“They look great on you”, Samura informed her, finally putting a hand on Niragis shoulder, “Come on. She´s just eating.”

Niragi looked her up and down. His gaze lingering over all the bruises and hickeys they had caused. His fingers unwinded from her hair and glided over her throat, amazed by how pretty the purple spots looked on her.

“I’m yours, remember?”, Hina asked smiling, “I won’t just leave.”

“We were wondering when your visa is going to run out”, Last Boss asked, stepping beside Niragi, “We are going to the game tonight. We want you to come with us.”

“My visa ends in two days”, Hina answered, “but it wouldn’t hurt to renew it a couple of days earlier.”

It would hurt. Walking hurt and she couldn’t even sit. Her ass and clit were still throbbing from being abused the night before.

“Good.”, Niragi said, “We’ll see you in the evening.”

With that they left as fast as they had approached.

“Why would you go to a game with them?”, Kuina asked, “What will you do if they sacrifice you?”

“Probably die”, Hina answered, sighing as she saw Kuinas frown, “If they can help me to survive here, I’ll take it. If I die, I die. There is really not much to do about it.”

“Why are you so indifferent about dying?”

“I don’t want to play games forever. I don’t really want to go back to the real world either. I have nothing there.”

She was lying. She had someone. Someone she would never see again. Someone she wasn’t able to have even back in the real world. She would not be able to have him once she got back. Her boyfriend would never allow it.

Hina spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to cool her core to ease the pain and waiting for the gong. The gong always announced that it was time to get ready for the next game. She hoped that it was not a physical game. She didn’t know if she would be able to fight or even run.

“Don’t be stupid”, she whispered to herself, “If you can dance on the pole after he had his way with you, you can run and you can fight.”

They had been nicer to her than he had been. Even the fact that Niragi choked until she had seen black spots dancing in her vision didn’t stop that from being true. He had been so much worse, and nobody had been able to protect her.

Sighing she made her way to the lobby. It was getting dark, it couldn’t take much longer for the gong to go off. Many people seemed to think the same way. The lobby was already fairly crowded as Hina approached. She couldn’t help but notice the lingering gaze of a couple of people, examining her bruises and hickeys. She held her head high. The sports shoes she was wearing were comfortable, but she couldn’t help thinking her dancer shoes would be so much more appropriate right now. She was used to strutting with platform heels, not giving a fuck about what other people thought about her or her profession or all the bruises she had all over her body. She smiled as she saw Samura and Niragi standing in the back of the lobby, talking to some other militants and walked over to them. They stopped talking and watched her move towards them.

“Good evening”, she greeted them, still smiling.

“Hey”, Niragi greeted back.

Last Boss just smiled.

They didn’t start a conversation. Hina did not know what to talk about, with all the other militants around them and the men did not look like they were interested in talking to her anyway. Niragi was back to talking to the others while Samura was still watching her. She looked up at him, still smiling. His tattoos looked nice. She wanted to trace them with her fingers, but she didn’t dare.

“You’re still wearing my shorts”, he said, “Why? You’ve been to your room.”

“I like them”, Hina informed Samura, “They´re comfortable and they are yours.”

“I thought the whole girl steals her boyfriend’s clothes was only a movie trope”, he deadpanned.

Boyfriend? Did he assume they were in a relationship? Did he want that?

Before she could say anything else Hatter was on the balcony, giving a speech about the games and how they all were comrades. Hina didn’t listen. Part of her wanted it to be true. She wanted to be able to go back to the real world. She didn’t want to play games to survive.

She was whisked away to a car with the militants and off to the game before she knew it.

They reached the venue, an old warehouse, in short time and went in. The phones were laid out in a small room in the entrance. Hina couldn’t help but notice how hot it was in there. For once she was happy that she was only wearing a bikini top.

She picked up a phone and let herself be squished between Niragi and Last Boss as the registration proceeded. There were 4 other people as the voice announced that registration was closed.

“Game code: 8 of spades. Game: The floor is lava. Game clear is achieved then players cross the warehouse and enter the safe zone. Time: 15 Minutes”

After the announcement the door behind them opened, unveiling a large warehouse. The floor was literally lava. Objects were floating in the lava, monkey bars and ropes were dangling from the ceiling. A big digital clock was counting back from 15 minutes. Hina sighed, stretching her legs.

So much for protecting me, she mumbled and watched as Niragi attached his sniper rifle to a harness and Last Boss examined the lava.

She watched as turned to one of the women that were not part of the militants and shoved her to the edge.

“What are you doing?”, the woman cried out, “Stop!”

“We need to find out if this is really lava”, Samura only explained, holding the poor women by her hair and shoving face to the edge.

“It cant be lava”, said Hina, all the attention was on her now, “I don’t think that the stuff could float in lava, it would be too hot. It still seems to be pretty hot and I would not recommend touching it.”

It was a thick blubbering substance and steam was rising. If everything she had seen on nationaly geographic was right lava looked different.

“Come on”, she said smiling, “we don’t have much time.”

With that she walked over to the far right of the room and jumped on the table that was floating there. This seemed like a decent starting point. Many other objects were floating nearby and some monkeybars were hanging nearby. Standing on the desk she assessed her next move. The chair, which was placed about a meter from the desk was the nearest object, but it didn’t had enough surface area to land safely. She chose to jump a little bit further and landed on a piece of driftwood. From where she was standing the best jump she could make was to a globe. She looked back. Samura had let go of the woman and was following her. Niragi was standing on something that looked like a sink. She was about to make the jump as a piercing scream echoed through the warehouse. She turned back, the militants all seemed fine, someone was struggling in the lava. The struggle didn’t last long. After mere seconds the person disappeared.

“Maybe acid?”, Hina asked, turning back to Samura.

“You didn’t let me check”, he just said, shrugging.

Hina leapt on the globe, landing on her stomach, barely able to lift her legs enough to not touch the lava. She could hear Samura jumping on the driftwood behind her as she started to lift herself of, trying to stand up, to be able to jump to the monkeybars. The monkeybars were leading straight to a spinning bed in the middle of the room.

“Time remaining: 10 Minutes”, the computer voice announced.

Hina had finally managed to stand up. The globe was slippery, but it wasn’t a far jump to the monkeybars. Once again she was happy about the muscles she had gained while dancing. She managed to grip the first bar. It was swinging back and forth violently, as she realized that the next bar was too far to just grab. She had to built momentum. She leapt, grabbing the second bars.

She heard a loud splash and someone else was screaming. A shudder ran over her back.

“Come on princess”, Niragi was already on the bed.

When did he get there? Taking a deep breath she leapt to the next bar. Only three more there left and she could jump to the bed.

Another scream. She couldn’t look back, but it sounded like a man. Fueled with adrenaline she made the last leaps. She was hanging on the last monkeybar as she felt it swing harder.

“Jump, Niragi will catch you”, Samura said, she could hear him leaping from one bar to the next, making it swing harder.

Hina nodded and using the swing she let go then she was nearest to the bed. Niragi did catch her.

“Nice”, he said, dragging her to the side so last boss had a place to land.

“Its easiest if we go that way”, he explained, after Samura joined them on the bed, pointing to his right, “the objects are smaller but the distance between them is shorter.”

Hina and Samura nodded. Niragi made the first jump. He made it look so easy as he made the second jump and landed effortlessly on his feed on a small barstool. After the bed had spun around two times Samura gave Hina a small nudge, “You first”, he said.

Hina nodded and made the jump, landing on her butt.

“Ouch”, she mumbled, standing up and making the next jump to the barstool that Niragi had already vacated.

Another scream echoed through the warehouse. Hina looked around. Only one of the other militants was left and the girl that Last Boss had threatened to push into the lava was a couple of meters behind them, sitting on top of a piece of driftwood.

She made the next jump. Only a couple more jumps were left.

“3 Minutes left”, the computer voice announced.

“Fuck”, mumbled Niragi, “Come on, princess.”

She jumped. Samura was close on her heels. She jumped again. And again. Niragi reached the other edge and started looking for the door to the safe room.

“2 Minutes left”

“Found it”, Niragi announced, opening a door. He left it wide open and went back to the edge, reaching for Hina, “Come on.”

Two jumps were left, but one of them was another globe, much smaller than the one she had jumped on before.

“You can do it”, Samura said behind her.

Mustering up her courage she made the jump, landing on her stomach. It took some effort to stand up, but the next platform, another sink, was close, so she made the jump. She turned back and watched Samura make the jump to the globe, somehow landing on his feed.

“30 seconds left”

“Come on!”, Niragi screamed, extending his hand to her.

She made the last jump and found herself in Niragis arms. Not even two seconds later they were joined by Samura on the edge.

“Go”, he said, shoving Hina to the open door.

Just as the voice started to count down from 10 Samura was the last of the trio entering the room. He wanted to close the door, but Hina stopped him. She wanted to help the others, but they were too far away.

“3”, counted the voice.

Sighing she stepped to the side, letting Samura close the door.

“Game cleared.”, the voice announced.

She felt herself being squished by two bodies, as Samura and Niragi hugged her while on the other side of the door pained screams erupted. They didn’t scream long.

Their phones beeped, showing that they had earned 8 additional days to their visa.

“Let’s go home”, Niragi said, opening the door on the other side of the room.

Sighing she followed the men out. The cool night air felt nice after the hellish heat inside.

“You were good”, Samura commented as they were seating in the car.

They had lost everyone else in the game. She was wondering why they were not upset over the deaths of their militant friends, but she guessed that it would make sense. She had known that they didn’t really have many friends in the beach.

“Theres an executive meeting”, Niragi informed her, as they reached the beach, “Go to Samuras room, we’ll come as soon as possible.”

Hina nodded and watched them walk away.

“How was the game?”, asked Kuina, who had approached her from behind.

“They did not sacrifice me to find out if the floor was really lava.”, Hina deadpanned, “What were you up to?”

“Just hanging out with Chishiya”, Kuina answered, “Did you just say the floor was lava?”

[writing-red]

Like Father Like Daughter

Father! Remus x Daughter! Reader

Also Reader x Oliver Wood, but lightly, a couple kisses xx

Authors note: I SUCK at time, years, and counting, I do not know what the deal is in 1975 in the HP universe so please please excuse that, merci lovely reader. Also! This was requested over a year ago although, as we know that’s about how long it takes me to write shit.

Request: Remus having a 7th year prefect daughter and not knowing until he teaches her?

Summary: Set during POA

Warnings: ANGST and daddy issues! Death! Bc I like trauma

Word Count: 1.9k

After an incredibly eventful train ride to school, and ensuring that Harry and his friends were okay, Remus hurried up to the headmaster's office. As it was his first year teaching there, and considering all that was going on with Sirius Black Dumbledore scheduled a meeting with the new professor.

“I don’t anticipate it will be an easy year, but no year here is ever easy or simple. Especially since Harry arrived on campus,” Dumbledore said.

“It was nice to see him again, he’s gotten so old, and he looks so much like James,” Remus said, melancholy lacing his voice.

“The boy could use some good positive reinforcement from somebody who knew his parents so personally. Please, do not share information regarding Sirius, I would rather not bring him down. Instead, I would prefer he focuses on his studies. Especially since we have such a talented Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year,” Dumbledore said.

“Of course, now is that all for now?” Remus asked as he gathered his things, wanting to spend some time on the grounds before the student's arrival.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this year. I believe you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what Hogwarts has to offer.”

“I’m sorry?” He asked, pausing to look at the headmaster, confused by his statement on the school.

“Oh nothing,” Dumbledore said with one of his signature winks.

Remus smiled, unsure how else to respond. “Well, I’ll see you at the feast later tonight.”

“Certainly,” Dumbledore said, seemingly having forgotten about his odd statement, already focusing on something on his desk.

Meanwhile, Y/n went along with her boyfriend, Oliver Wood to the feast.

“I wonder what kind of crazy shit will happen this year,” you said, thinking aloud.

“Maybe we’ll get a somewhat normal year for once,” he proposed, hopefully. “And a good bloody season.”

“At Hogwarts?” You retorted. “Impossible. And of course you’ll have a good season, you’re the best damn quidditch player I’ve ever seen.”

Despite a bit of red flushing his cheeks, Wood brushed off the comment. “I wonder who this years Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” she said with a shrug.

“Well we’ll see,” he said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy your feast with Weasley.”

You smiled back at him, “Oh I will, it’s a promise.” you said before splitting, as you went to go meet with Percy Weasley, and Dumbledore before the feast's official start.

The feast went as normal for Y/n, she was mostly preoccupied with seeing friends she hadn’t seen since the last school year ended, and her head girl duties. Being a Gryffindor she felt that the year would present some challenges, considering the difficulties her house had caused in the past two years. Y/n had nothing against Harry Potter, in fact she was quite fond of him, having tutored him in a couple of subjects. Although, she understood the trouble he and his friends were fond of.

Remus on the other hand was unnerved at the announcement of the Head Girls last name, La Rosa. Her being Head Girl meant she was a seventh year, meaning she must have been born in 1976. The math happened in his head faster than Remus would like to admit. Remus absolutely knew a La Rosa in 1975 who managed a disappearing act after a couple of months together, and a small scare of sorts. Although, he brushed off the arithmetic, and Dumbledore’s dubious wink with a large swig of wine, which earned him a judgemental scoff from Snape.

Eventually, of course, the feast ended and the tired first years returned to their rooms while friends and couples reunited, and Filch stalked the halls with Mrs. Norris close behind.

Both Remus and Y/n’s day started off with breakfast in the Great Hall as each had a first period in their schedule. Y/n’s day kicked off with charms, and ended with Defense Against the Dark Arts. She ate breakfast with Oliver and a couple of their friends, yet left early enough so that the two could walk to class together without him being late. They had a couple of classes together but knew that as the year went on their other half would respectively get quite busy.

Y/n was having a fantastic first day, excited for lunch she made her way from the Towers to the Hall, which was abuzz with talk of “Professor Lupin.”

“He let us do actual magic in class!” you heard one third year exclaim with a great deal of excitement.

“I’m just glad he didn’t prattle on about his book deal for the entire period,” some Ravenclaw said to their friend which made Y/n laugh.

“How was Snape?” Wood asked as you sat down next to him, he had sent a couple of letters over summer bragging about how he wouldn’t be taking Potions, and she was.

“The same, angry that he isn’t teaching DADA, now I’m more intrigued by this Professor Lupin,” you responded.

“Merlin, Y/n, it’s the only bloody thing I’ve heard all day!”

“I heard someone earlier say, ‘I’m glad he didn’t brag about his book deal through the whole class.’” You responded with a giggle.

“I can’t believe they ever hired that man,” Wood said with a snort.

With that the two of you started lunch, your friends Ethel and Roberto joining you only a little while into the block.

You had a couple of classes and a free period from the time spanning between lunch and when you finally got to step into Professor Lupin’s class. The buzz about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. had turned into a roar in just a few hours.

Despite being early you were not the first student in the class. It being a seventh-year course there were only eight of you taking the class, and there were already five of your peers sitting at desks. One of which being your boyfriend who had saved you a seat near the front of the class.

“You are late La Rosa,” he rudely teased as you set your things down and sat next to him.

“You know I can go find another seat, right?” As if on cue the last of your classmates filed in and filled the last couple of seats.

“Can you?” He asked with a goofy smile plastered over his face.

“Well Weasley owes me a favor and I’m sure you’d love to sit next to him for the whole three hour period.” “Oh that’s just cruel sweetheart.” Before you could retort your new professor walked into the room, immeadiatley silencing the class. Oftentimes the last class of the day meant students were groggy, and had shorter attention spans than usual, but this class was on high alert.

“Good afternoon, let’s go ahead and introduce ourselves however you deem fit. My name is Remus Lupin, and I am clearly your Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor this year, any questions?”

In response you along with a couple of your peers shook your head ‘no’.

“Fantastic, let’s go ahead and start with our Head Boy, if you could introduce yourself sir?”

Percy excitedly introduced himself to the class, not failing to make the new professor aware of his many, many achievements, after him a slytherin you had a strong level of distaste for, and on it went until you were left as the last student to introduce herself.

“My name is Y/f/n Y/m/n La Rosa, I want to write spell books once I leave Hogwarts, my favorite Quidditch team is Puddlemere, and my favorite food is milk chocolate although I’ve been told chocolate isn’t a food I disagree.” “I have to take your side Miss. La Rosa, chocolate is in fact a food, and deserves its own damn food group,” Lupin shot you a smile, then looked around at the small class. “I feel like you should all be writing down that your professors favorite food is chocolate for when you have to impress me at the end of the year.” 

Remus was genuinely confused by Y/n’s presence. He had decent intuition and something about the seventh year was throwing him off, and it wasn’t bad which honestly only confused him more. He decided it would be better to get ahead of it in order to not let his thoughts ruin his teaching.

“Well that’s it, class is over. Miss La Rosa if you wouldn’t mind staying after class for just a moment?” “Of course professor,” you said.

“Ooh in trouble already?” Oliver said and gave you a peck to which you rolled your eyes. “I’ll see you in the common room later love.” “Don’t forget our meeting tonight Y/n,” Percy said as he sauntered out the room which earned a second eye roll from you. 

Even though it didn’t take long, it felt like an eternity for the room to clear. All of a sudden your throat was in your heart, or, something. Whatever it was something was happening.

“I know this is going to come off as odd but I have an important question,” Lupin said, his eyes kind, no sense of a reprimand coming.

“Sure Professor, what is it?”

“What’s your mothers name?”

You figured he noticed your last name, and had maybe worked with your mum.

“Marie Dulcinea La Rosa,” you said. “Why?”

Remus’ mind started racing at a million miles an hour. “Did she attend Ilvermorny?” “Yes, is everything alright?” “I’m sorry dear, just two more questions.”

You responded with a single nod.

“Did your mother ever tell you who your father is, and are you a werewolf?”

A look of shock crossed your face and you clutched your bag. “I’m not supposed to answer that question professor.” “Y/n, I am, I also dated a Marie La Rosa in 1975, that same Marie attended Ilvermorny.”

“Are you trying to insinuate-”

“Yes.”

You walked out of the classroom as fast as your feet could carry you. You weren’t quite sure where you were going but you were crying and you wanted to be as far away from Remus Lupin as possible and your mind was far to occupied to think up a destination. Somehow that destination ended up being Dumbledore’s office, which by some means was open to you.

“You must have known, you know everything.” Not the best choice of words but it seemed to get the point across.

“That Professor Lupin is your father? Yes dear I did happen to know that.”

“And how long have you known that?” “Since the year you were born, Y/n, your mother and father both fought in the war and your mother came to me when she was pregnant with you. She didn’t want your father to know because she wanted him to stay and fight when she couldn’t. She wanted to raise you away from the war but she couldn’t ask him to abandon the cause.” “Does he know that she’s dead?” “No I am afraid that he doesn’t.” “Marie is dead?” 

You turned to see Remus Lupin standing in the entrance of the office. He was distressed and had clealry followed you to the headmasters office.

You gave a curt nod to answer his question.

“Y/n, I am so sorry, I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have ever let your mother think that I would value anything over her and you.”

“You have to know how hard it is growing up a werewolf with absoluetly no help. With no one to help you through your first transition, with no one to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Then on top of that growing up thinking that you were nothing to your father, and losing your mum at 14?”

Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a mostly intact chocolate bar and held it out, towards his daughter.

“Let me fix it? Please.” It was a plea, and a kind request, an apology, all tied up in a chocolate bar.

[shireness-says]

A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink (1/4)

Summary: Two people are trained from childhood for a magical competition they don't fully understand, whose stakes are higher than they imagine, all to be played out in a magical traveling circus. Falling in love complicates things. A CS AU of the book “The Night Circus”.

Rated M. ~15.2K. Also on AO3.

A/N: Presenting my contribution to the @cssns​! “The Night Circus” by Erin Morgenstern is a favorite book of mine that I have long thought would make for an excellent CS AU. And so, I’m finally doing it. At length. 

I was incredibly lucky to be paired with @eirabach​ for this event, who created the beautiful art attached above. She has such amazing ideas for bringing this fic to life in all its atmospheric glory that I never would have thought of. Her art is also posted on her tumblr; go give it all the love it deserves!

Thanks also go to @snidgetsafan​, my ever-phenomenal beta, and @ohmightydevviepuu​, who read the book at my urging and then agreed to read my monster to make sure nothing important was left out. This fic is better for both their efforts. 

Tagging the usual suspects for now. If you want to be added to (or removed from!) this list, just shoot me a message: @welllpthisishappening​, @profdanglaisstuff​, @thisonesatellite​, @let-it-raines​, @kmomof4​, @scientificapricot​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @superchocovian​, @teamhook​, @optomisticgirl​, @winterbaby89​, @searchingwardrobes​, @katie-dub​, @snowbellewells​

Enjoy - and let me know what you think! Next chapter will be posted whenever I get it done. 

~~~~~

The circus arrives at night.

There is never any warning of its arrival; no handbills stuck to the lampposts or announcement from some other lucky town that yours will be next. It is simply there one morning, all the black and white tents taking on a particularly mystical quality in the light of the sunrise. At the front gate is a sign:

                       Le Cirque des Rêves

                   Open sunset until sunrise

(And what a curious idea, that; a circus that is only open at night.)

The circus is a place where anything can happen, and routinely does. Those who visit leave with an awareness that no street-side carnival or traveling minstrel will ever induce such enjoyment again; everything must naturally pale in comparison. The illusionist is somehow more magical, the fortune-teller more wise, the contortionists and acrobats more daring. The world of the circus, created all in black and white and silver and lit by delicate lanterns and a great bonfire at its center, feels otherworldly - and you somehow feel that it just might be. 

In a word, the circus is magic, brought to life right in front of your eyes, and you know you will never be the same for having witnessed it. 

Our story does not begin at the circus, however; it only ends there.

———

Our story begins in the back corner of a smoky tavern, or a grimy alley, or a dimly lit dressing room of a theater, or any number of other places that exist in-between the rest of humanity, overlooked, utterly invisible in their mundanity.

(In truth, it does not matter where our story begins - only that it does.)

A woman sits in a darkened corner. More attentive observers might recognize her as the famed stage magician, Circe the Enchantress, capable of tricks beyond their wildest imagination.

(Even the most observant wouldn’t realize that all of Circe’s “tricks” are gloriously real; the human mind is excellent at not seeing things that it doesn’t want to acknowledge.)

(The most observant won’t notice the way she purposefully draws the shadows further around herself, either, just to ensure that the rest of humanity around her can’t penetrate the curtain of dark.)

Circe isn’t her real name, of course; it just sounds good on a playbill, capable of attracting people from far and wide. These days, she goes by Regina Mills, though there’s been other names before that: Corwin and King and Bowen and Smith. Names aren’t much of a concern for those as old as she, just another passing distraction when you’ve witnessed hundreds of years.

Hundreds of years don’t make the waiting any easier when the person you’re expecting can’t bother to arrive on time.

“You’re late,” she comments drily when her companion finally arrives, a slight man with a slighter limp. They may as well be a study in opposites; where Regina plays with shadow to avoid notice, he’s draped himself in a spell that causes an observer’s eyes to glance away without seeing; while Regina tries on names like hats over the decades and centuries, changing with every whim, her companion has allowed his own moniker to become lost to time, known only now to very few and only as Mr. Gold. 

“Au contraire, dearie,” he replies mildly, though the irritated glint in his eye would terrify anyone else. “I arrived exactly when I needed to. What is time to those like us, anyhow?”

“A convenient construct that keeps those you have appointments with from waiting around for any longer than they have to.” 

Mr. Gold studiously ignores the quip.  “Why did you ask me here tonight, Regina?” 

“I’m in the mood for a game,” she says, faux-casually. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper competition.”

“Ah yes,” her companion smirks. “If I remember right, my contestant defeated yours last time.”

“On a technicality,” Regina corrects through gritted teeth.

“In this world of absolutes, I often find a technicality is all it takes to shift the balance. And magic, true power… that’s the greatest technicality of them all.”

“I’m rather less inclined to deal in technicalities, at least where the matter of starting a new game is involved,” Regina snaps. Any minute shred of patience or humor she might have possessed is long since gone, even if her companion remains unruffled. “It really boils down to: do you want to, or not?”

“Never let it be said I turn down a challenge, dearie.” This time, it’s impossible to miss the menace behind the supposed endearment. “In fact, I’d say you were the one being… shall we say, vague about the details of this all. Do you have a venue in mind? Or are you leaving that particular bit up to me?”

Regina waves a dismissive hand. “Do as you will. You know I’m not much interested in that, anyways.”

“You never did understand the importance of setting.”

“Perhaps I simply have faith that my contestant will prevail regardless.”

That piques Gold’s interest. “You already have a candidate in mind, then?”

“And fully anticipate taking them as a student, yes. I suppose you’ll want to be there to bind them to the competition?”

“You know me well.”

“I should bloody well hope so,” Regina mutters under her breath. They both know, however, that Mr. Gold hears the words regardless. 

Carefully, the man in question stands from the table, supporting himself on a gilt-ended cane. Any limp that might necessitate such an accessory has long since been corrected; some things are more about the effect, anyways. “If there’s nothing else, Regina, I have other matters to attend to.”

“I expect you do,” Regina smirks. “After all, I’ve already spotted my player, and you’ve yet to find yours.”

“That is true,” Gold concedes with a deceptive mildness. “But remember, dearie: it isn’t about how the game starts, or when, or where. It’s about where it ends. And I have full confidence my acolyte will be able to last the distance.”

With their business concluded, both magicians fade back into the night. Pedestrians continue along the streets, occasionally interrupted by a horse and carriage, all unaware of the true nature of the beings weaving through their midst.

(Dozens of lives have been altered with this ten minute conversation, but the world at large will never know that either.)

———

Emma Swan spends a lot of time by herself.

That’s to be expected, in some ways; she’s an orphan, after all, having spent all 6 years of her life bouncing between begging in the children’s homes and begging on the streets, desperate for the help of others and receiving very little of it. 

But Emma is different, in a way that scares others and has left her to bounce around for years. Emma can do things that others can’t do, like the sparks that dance between her fingers and all the little things that sometimes move, falling off shelves and tables and everything else, whenever she’s upset. She can’t control it, not really, and in a life like hers, there are far too many opportunities to be upset. 

A lady had seen her the other day - one of the fancy ladies by the theaters, the kind that usually pretend they don’t see Emma, like her very existence might dirty their skirts. Emma hadn’t meant to - she never means for these things to happen. But the days are getting colder, and when she really starts to shiver, even with her arms curled around herself to conserve heat, sometimes the little sparks just happen. It’s like whatever this thing is is just trying to keep her warm too.

And no one should have seen her, tucked away in that corner, but the lady is already looking around with a frown on her face like she’s searching for something, and when she turns Emma’s way, it just happens. The lady’s eyes focus on Emma, drawn by those little shoots of light, even as she shoves her hands into her armpits. Emma expects gasping, or screaming, or maybe even a panicked shout for the police - it wouldn’t be the first time - but instead, the lady just tilts her head and narrows her eyes, as if she’s seen something interesting. Then she nods abruptly and leaves.

Emma doesn’t expect to see the lady again - indeed, she rather thinks she’s dodged a bullet. But a week later, she rounds the corner with a filched apple and runs straight into the lady.

“Sorry, Ma’am,” Emma mumbles, ducking her head and trying to scoot around the older woman. When the lady darts out an elegant hand to grab Emma’s arm and hold her in place, panic courses through her veins. “Please, Ma’am, I didn’t do nothing, I swear —”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” the lady snaps, tugging Emma into the mouth of an unnaturally quiet alley. “I don’t care about whatever you ‘didn’t do’. I want to talk about what you did the other day.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Emma mumbles, staring studiously at her feet.

“Of course you do - the lights, in your hands. Don’t lie to me. That’s a gift, don’t you know that?”

Emma shakes her head no.

“Your gift - it can do wonderful things. It makes you special.”

“I’m not special.”

The lady considers that for a moment before answering. “No. But you could be. I could teach you.”

Now that catches Emma’s attention. “You can? How?”

“I can do things like that too,” the lady explains with a smile that seems more smug than pleased. Sure enough, when the lady turns her hand upright, a small ball of flame burns there. Emma’s eyes practically bulge out of her head as she watches that little lick of fire - like her own, in so many ways.

“If you come with me, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” the lady says. It sounds like an order, not an offer; Emma knows how to recognize those. Still, maybe…

“Like a mother?” she asks hopefully, even if she knows that’s unlikely.

The lady scrunches her nose in a kind of instinctual disgust. It’s about as much as Emma expected. “Heavens, no. Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolds. “No, more like… you’d be my apprentice, and I’d teach you our trade.”

That seems odd to Emma; this lady, with her fancy dress and her fancy hat and her posh accent, doesn’t seem like the type who should have to work. “What’s your work?”

For the first time this whole conversation, the lady bends down to properly meet Emma’s eyes. Emma straightens a bit at the gesture, already able to tell she’s about to impart something important. “Magic,” the woman tells her with a smug, adult kind of smile.

“Magic isn’t real,” Emma says back, almost automatically. Six years in orphanages and left to her own devices have long since proved there are no fairy godmothers in this world, not for little girls like her. 

The woman straightens. “The bits of it you have dancing around your fingers right now say otherwise.”

Emma looks down in horror to see it again - the sparks that she tries so hard to hide, that give her so much trouble. For all the mad things this lady says, she’s the first to not look at the display in alarm or even fear. 

“You can make it go away?”

“I can teach you to control it,” the lady corrects, “and so much more. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime, Emma. Don’t be such a fool as to reject that.”

And even at six, Emma is not a fool.

Emma goes with the lady, who she learns is called Regina. She never learns how Regina knew her name, but writes it off as magic.

(There are far worse fates for lost girls like her.)

———

Emma has been with Regina for a week when the strange man shows up backstage at the theater where Regina is performing.

One week isn’t a lot of time in the grand scheme of an apprenticeship, but her teacher is guiding Emma to recognize magic in the world - the way it pulls toward Emma like an odd kind of magnet and traces linger in the air for hours. Emma has learned to see the faint, radiating glow of magic around her own mentor; this man doesn’t quite have the same glow, but there’s a hum that emanates from him that she thinks might be the same thing. 

Regina introduces the man as a friend, but Emma doesn’t think that’s quite right. She’s always had a knack for recognizing lies - maybe that’s a kind of magic, she wonders now - and her benefactor isn’t quite telling the truth. Maybe that’s one of the half-lies that adults tell, when they think the truth is too difficult for a child to comprehend.

Regardless of what the man might be - friend, foe, acquaintance, something else altogether - Emma can’t help but feel uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. The sparks burst and dance around her fingertips again, entirely without her say-so - something the man quickly notices.

“You’ve found a natural talent, then?” The words are addressed at Regina, but his eyes never leave Emma.

“I told you I had someone in mind,” Regina bites back, just barely on the right side of civility. “Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t have all day.”

“Patience was never your strong suit, was it, Regina?” The man’s tone is mild, but his eyes flash with displeasure. Still, he crouches in front of Emma, granting her his full attention. Though he carries a cane, the movement doesn’t appear to pain him in the way she expects. “What do they call you, young miss?”

She doesn’t particularly want to answer, but Regina has a particular look in her eye that says that she doesn’t really have a choice. “Emma,” she finally mumbles, avoiding the man’s eyes.

“Emma,” he parrots back. “What a lovely name. May I see your hand, Emma?”

Silently, she offers it, palm facing up. Once she does so, the man slips a plain gold ring off his pinky finger, sliding it onto Emma’s own ring finger instead. Curiously, Emma looks at the bauble; it is far too loose on her small finger at first, but as she watches, the band shrinks to fit until it’s a perfect fit. It doesn’t stop though, continuing to tighten and tighten until the metal sears into her skin, burning the flesh until she cries out in pain and tears spring to her eyes. 

And then it’s over. The mysterious man lifts her hand with deceptively soft and delicate fingers, removing that awful ring from her digit to slip it back onto his own.

“You’ll do well, Emma.” The name almost sounds like an insult in his cold voice. “I wish you good fortune.”

(Emma doesn’t notice the item wrapped in a handkerchief Regina passes to the odd man, never realizes that it contains a silver ring to match the one he just used on her, too focused on rubbing at the smooth, scarred skin on her finger where the odd man’s ring just branded her and trying to chase the memory of pain away. One day, she will understand the way that this moment and that ring bound her to a future she didn’t fully understand.

But today, Emma is six, and all she knows is that her finger hurts.)

“You don’t want to do this yourself?” Mr. Gold asks, tucking the handkerchief and ring into his inner breast pocket.

“Obviously not. I’m not nearly as mistrusting as you are,” Regina replies.

(One day soon, Mr. Gold knows he will have cause to execute this binding on a student of his own. It does not matter much to him whether Regina is present for such a binding, though he thinks her a fool for her own sake. After all, knowledge is power - and there is no power greater than knowing your opponent.)

———

A strange man comes to Killian’s school on a Wednesday when he is eight, the kind of day where everything is shifting and changing.

(School is a generous word for this place, as none of the children ever leave, no homes or families to return to at the end of the day. Killian has a brother, three years older, but their mother is long dead. As for their father… as Liam says, the less said about the bastard, the better. There is a reason the two boys have found themselves in this children’s home by any other name.)

The man doesn’t say much, and explains even less. A selection of children, three boys and two girls - including Killian and Liam - are pulled from their regular classes and made to sit for an exam, only instructed to read all the instructions before beginning. The man must have money; the test is printed, each letter pressed in black ink onto the crisp page. It feels like a silly use of money, at least to Killian - he’d much rather use it at one of the concession vendors down by the river - but it’s impressive all the same. The test itself is not fully any one subject; there are translations of languages he doesn’t understand and number puzzles and a curious instruction at the end to only answer questions numbered in multiples of three. At the very end - question 57 - is a short answer question: Why do you think you are here today, and why are you taking this test?

Killian looks around the room at the other children, all diligently working on their own exams. There’s no obvious connector between the five children in the room; Liam has always been brilliant, but Killian is a middling student, and the other boy even lower than that. Some of them are known as quiet and well behaved, but some are not. Some are leaders, some are followers. There’s no obvious pattern.

As to why he’s taking this test… it’s obvious that the man must want to evaluate something, but Killian can’t begin to understand what. As far as his young brain can discern, the exam is about recognizing patterns and following directions. He couldn’t even begin to figure out why.

Killian stares at the space for his answer for what feels like hours. Even after nearly three years in this home, or perhaps because of it, he still has a strong desire to please, to give adults the answers they want to hear; in this case, he just doesn’t know what that is. Finally, as the other children start to put down their pencils, he hurriedly scrawls an answer.

Does it really matter?

After the exams are collected, the children are called in to speak with the man, one by one. None of the conversations are very long, and each trails out with a look of confusion on their face afterwards. Killian tries to catch Liam’s eye as his brother leaves the headmistress’ office, but Liam just furrows his brow and shrugs his shoulders in confusion.

The man holds Killian’s test in his hands when he finally enters the office, appearing to examine his answers. The man is perfectly ordinary in every way; neither short nor tall, thin nor fat, with hair that is not quite brown or blond or grey. The only thing that sets him apart is his clothing - the expensive suit, the perfectly shined shoes, the gold-tipped cane. 

“Does it really matter?” the man quips, diving straight in and obviously quoting Killian’s own response.

Killian swallows heavily; he wouldn’t have written that in the first place if he knew this was coming. “Sir?”

“Your answer,” he expands, as if that needs clarifying. “I’d be curious to hear why you gave that particular answer.”

Killian flushes and looks at his shoes, but the man just waits until he finally answers. “It was obvious you had a reason for having us sit that exam,” he finally explains, “and I had no idea why that was. I didn’t want to guess.”

“You could have left it blank,” the man points out. “Several of the others did. Why the question?”

Killian shrugs. “I wanted to know.” Then, when the silence stretches out between them: “Was that wrong?”

The man stares in silence for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “I would like to take you on as my student,” he declares. When Killian hesitates, his tone turns sharp. “Are you opposed to that?”

“What about my brother?” Killian asks, meeker than he’d like.

“I am only interested in taking one student.” His words are dismissive, bordering on uncaring, and Killian’s stomach plummets.

“But what will happen to him? He’s the only thing I have left.”

“I’m more interested in what happens to you, particularly in relation to my offer, than in your brother.”

In a burst of courage (or, he’ll think in later years, foolishness), Killian pulls himself together to make a fateful declaration. “I’ll go with you… but only if you send Liam - send my brother to school.”

“This is a school.”

“A good school,” Killian clarifies. “The best one. One that will let him do anything he wants when he’s grown up.”

There’s a pause as the mystery man seems to study Killian, though his face gives nothing away. Killian’s heart climbs into his throat as he waits, but he holds his ground. That seems important, somehow - like he’s engaging in some kind of unknown battle. Finally, after what seems an eternity, the odd man tilts his head in a half shrug, as if such a concession is nothing to him. Who knows; with the kind of money he obviously has, maybe it really is nothing. “We have a deal. Go get your things - we leave today.”

(Months later, after many lessons that Killian doesn’t yet understand, the man - Mr. Gold - has Killian place a ring on his finger, a loop of silver that burns a band of flesh on his thumb. A binding, Mr. Gold calls it, tying Killian to a contest that he does not yet understand.

However, it is this transaction - Liam’s education for Killian’s own - that binds him far sooner and better than magic ever could.)

——— 

Magic, Emma finds, is a thread upon the breeze - swirling around them all, lighting upon branches and settling into corners, just waiting to be noticed and harnessed. And Emma does - she feels it, and knows it, and asks it for favors. Dye the dress. Fold the sheet. Heal the dove. The magic deigns to come and wind through her fingers, grip a thread and pull and alter the world to her liking. 

Magic, she finds, is whimsy and wildness all in one, there for her to use and set free once again. Magic is power, more than she will ever wield; her role is but to borrow and return, like a toy set neatly back on a shelf. 

Magic, she finds, is a living thing all its own, and if she works very hard, she just might earn its trust.

Emma grows to enjoy a better childhood than she ever expected before Regina took her off the streets, though it is far from gentle. It is a childhood spent moving from place to place, hopping all over Europe and even to the Americas as Regina performs in theaters around the world. Regina demands nothing less than perfection in their lessons, and Emma grows used to performing the same tasks over and over until her mentor is satisfied - turning tea cups into mice and materializing all manner of objects from unseen rooms and healing her fingertips from where Regina slices the skin with a knife, each scar a supposed indication that she’s not trying hard enough.

But in time, Emma learns and she grows. At 18, Regina deems her skills honed enough to rent her out as a medium, calling upon Emma’s skills to rattle dishes and peer into people’s deepest, saddest thoughts to echo back just what they want to hear. Emma hates every moment of it - lying to people already wracked with grief, taking their money and offering them little satisfaction. She tries to comfort the bereaved as best she can in these sessions, but it’s often of little use. Emma may dread these hollow performances, but what choice does she have? As long as she’s under Regina’s tutelage and protection, Emma’s choices are not her own. 

(She may not know nearly as much about this competition as she should, but Emma longs for the beginning of the contest all the same, if only to finally crawl out from underneath Regina’s thumb.)

———

Magic, Killian finds, is a well of ink, the feeling of satisfaction deep within him when pen births onto page the perfect word, a descriptor for all the things he knew but could never say. It takes hours and years of study, but Killian learns all the ways to channel that pool - each spell, each rune, each intricate bit of charmwork. Magic is hard, but Mr. Gold says all power worth having is; besides, Killian has always been diligent. 

(The lessons are much more interesting than his regular schoolwork, anyways.)

Magic, he learns, is there, if one just knows how to look for it. Most people will go their entire lives without being aware of that; he’s special to have learned. Knowing opens a whole universe of possibility; after that, it’s all down to technique, and finding the right language to channel it. 

Magic, he finds, is a tool, and if he works very hard, he just might be able to harness it to his will. 

Killian’s childhood is a regimented one, filled with books and careful note taking, mastering the theory and principle of every bit of magic he encounters before being allowed to put it to use. As the years stack up, his head fills with runes and symbols and all manner of magical words, like another language he’s slowly become fluent in. In time, Killian learns to piece all of it together into a powerful language only known to a select few - words that can make things happen, that can alter the very world around them. The language of magic, at its very core.

Mr. Gold may be a distant mentor, not prone to affection and rarely even telling Killian he’s proud or pleased, but he keeps his word. Liam attends the best boys’ school that money can secure, impressing his teachers with his innate curiosity and intelligence and making a whole host of friends who are happy to host him on school holidays. Once a month, Mr. Gold takes Killian to see Liam, or brings Liam to see Killian, all with a transport more efficient than any train or carriage. In between, the brothers gladly fill the weeks with exchanged letters, keeping one another apprised of their lives. Killian had told Liam about this arrangement from the beginning - the magic, the competition he’ll one day engage in - and his older brother offers all the pride that Killian doesn’t receive from his mentor. It’s not the path that either anticipated following as children, but it’s a much better life than either expected. There’s a lot to be grateful for.

As Killian grows into a man and learns how to study independently, his enigmatic teacher leaves him to his own devices. Killian prefers it that way, really; though he’s always been grateful for the mysterious, once in a lifetime opportunity he’s been offered, Killian has never been close to his benefactor, not by a long shot. There’s a feeling that hangs over every interaction that he’s never been able to shake, that he owes Mr. Gold in ways he’ll never fully understand. It’s never made for an easy relationship.

Besides, he likes his independence. He is granted a little flat in a quiet and respectable part of the city, with room for a library and a pretty view of a nearby park. It’s more than an orphan like him ever imagined he could have before this opportunity fell in his lap. There are moments of loneliness, but no more than he’s grown used to in youth; besides, as adults, Liam drops by for conversation and a nightcap far more frequently. It’s a little life he’s carved out for himself, with his notebooks and spellbooks and everything in its place, even as he continues the interminable wait for a contest he still barely knows anything about.

It’s all the more surprising, then, when one day the knock at his front door reveals none other but his teacher, as neatly turned out as ever and utterly unexpected.

“Won’t you come in?” Killian asks, stepping aside in welcome. He doesn’t much expect the invitation to be accepted, but he asks all the same; he’s used to interactions with his teacher being strictly business. 

Sure enough: “That won’t be necessary. This will only be a moment.” Gold’s tone might generously be described as brusque, if Killian was in a mood to be so generous. He’s not, particularly. 

“What can I do for you, then?”

“A Mr. Jefferson Madigan will be seeking a secretary and assistant,” Gold tells him, handing over someone else’s calling card. “You will apply for that position.”

It’s an odd command; Killian’s benefactor has never cultivated much of an opinion about his life of study and leisure up to this point. But suddenly, it clicks. “Is this about the challenge?”

“Mr. Madigan and his companions will be creating a venue.” Technically, it’s neither a confirmation nor a denial, but over the years, Killian has learned to read those answers as well as any book. It’s an affirmative. “It will be to your advantage to become part of that circle.”

“I understand,” Killian nods gravely.

“Make sure that you do.”

Killian looks down to examine the address on the calling card, and by the time he looks up again, Gold is gone. His teacher does that, he’s learned - found a way to move through the world while barely leaving a mark upon it. With the conversation clearly over, Killian closes his flat door.

(All the while, a metaphorical door of possibility has been thrown wide open.)

———

Mr. Jefferson Madigan may be the man for whom the word eccentric was crafted.

The townhouse is only a townhouse in the aristocratic sense of the word, more an elaborate and enormous monolith situated in town than just a normal dwelling. The door knocker is cast in the shape of two dragons, and curtains in a variety of different and garish colors peek through the window. At the bottom of what are otherwise staid, conventional stone steps are marble statues of a rabbit and a dormouse where regal lions might usually be.

It all makes sense when the man himself opens the door. While Killian has taken care to dress neatly in a trim, dark colored suit and tie, making his best attempt at the appearance of professionalism, Madigan is a riot of colors and patterns that Killian isn’t entirely certain match, but seem fitting all the same. Behind him, the entry hall is decorated in a jewel-tone blue with golden patterns and baseboards, but that makes a little more sense now that Killian has seen the man himself.

“Are you here about the vaudeville acts? Because I’m afraid that we’re rather moved on from that idea,” he says without introduction, words tumbling one right over the other in a jumble.

“I… No,” Killian manages to stutter out. A question like that has a way of putting a man off-guard. “I was led to believe you were in need of a secretary or assistant?”

“Ah. That makes more sense.” Mr. Madigan nods as if to cement it in his head. “Have you done that kind of work before?”

“No, Sir.”

“Well, that’s fine, I’ve never had a secretary before either.” By the look on his face, Madigan would be much more comfortable conducting an interview for a vaudeville actor than a secretary. “Then can you… I don’t know. Read and write and do sums? File things? I don’t think I’ve ever filed something in my life,” he mutters to himself.

“Yes, Sir. To all of it.”

“Well then good, you’re hired. Do you think I need to be filing things? It’s something I’ve never really thought about before.”

Jefferson, as he prefers to be called (“Don’t even try that Mr. Madigan nonsense, I won’t answer to it.”), is planning a circus - what Killian imagines is the venue he’s heard about for a decade and a half. And it sounds magnificent the way Jefferson describes it - something otherworldly. More an entire sensory experience than just a show, spanning dozens of tents and food stands and performers scattered across the grounds. The way he envisions it, the endeavor is more experience than anything else - simultaneously a performance space and a theater and a zoo and a venue for all kinds of edible delicacies. Perhaps carnival would be the better word, but Jefferson insists on circus. 

“There’s a sense of mystery to the word, Killian,” he decrees while jotting down what is doubtless another half-baked idea on the back of a receipt. “Anyone can hold a carnival, but a circus… marvelous, magical things happen at the circus. It will look better in the papers anyways.”

(Killian will need to do so much filing to keep all this in order.)

It quickly becomes obvious that Jefferson is primarily an ideas man - and while his ideas are spectacular in so many ways, he needs assistance in bringing those ideas to life. It’s immediately obvious why he needs an assistant; for a man who spends so much of his time with his head in the clouds, lost in ideals and fanciful imagining, it’s hard to manage the practicalities of the day-to-day implementation. 

There are investors of course, men who flit in and out of the planning at will as if just to make sure that their money is actually being used properly. Killian isn’t fully surprised to see his mentor is one of them; doubtless, that’s how he knew to direct Killian to Jefferson’s door in the first place. He doubts that anyone else truly remembers the man, however; Killian has long since learned to recognize the cloak of forgetability his teacher likes to draw around himself. 

(There are different kinds of power, Killian has learned over the years - the kind that comes from everyone knowing what you can do, and the kind that comes from no one knowing what you can do.)

Killian learns that he is a late addition, comparatively speaking; a small collection of people have already been met on the matter, creating a small stack of roughly sketched plans that he’s sure will inevitably grow by the day. Jefferson holds a reputation, Killian has learned, for a series of elaborate late-night soirées known only as Midnight Dinners, famously exclusive events with over a dozen exotic courses and unmatched entertainments. Jefferson is a producer by trade, an entertainer in every bit of his being, and these private entertainments may be the pinnacle of his accomplishments.

(Or may have been, at least; Killian has a feeling that this circus he envisions may surpass anything else.)

The circus is born at one of these dinners - an intimate one, with only five attendees, handpicked by Jefferson as the men and women necessary to bring his vision to life. The vaguest outline was sketched that first night, tacked to the walls in the emerald green study Jefferson has set aside especially for the circus and its plans. Already, there is a stack of opened envelopes on a side table, filled with ideas the other attendees simply couldn’t hold onto until the next meeting.

They’re an interesting collection, certainly. Madame Constance Blue is a former opera singer who’s found a second career in fashion. Her eye for color and aesthetic is fabled as being unmatched - a talent she brings to this endeavor to create a cohesive environment that looks like another world on the outskirts of the city. Elsa and Anna Frost are a pair of sisters, socialites who have tried a little bit of everything, from a stint in the ballet and art school to a time as librarians they will only speak about after great persuasion. Where Madame Blue may create a visual environment for the circus, the Misses Frost are experts on the feel - all of the rest of those details from the positioning of signage to the very scents in the air, those details that so few consider but still manage to sell or doom an experience. Their little group, most meetings, is rounded out by Mr. August Booth, an architect and engineer by trade, who draws up marvelous plans for each tent and attraction. All of it embodies an elegant simplicity centered around a series of circles, one curve bleeding into another in a way that feels organic, nearly living. It makes the straight black and white stripes of the tents all the more striking in contrast to this world of elegant curves. One contributor’s work bleeds into the other, all with Jefferson at the helm to lend his ideas of what kinds of things should be presented, creating a venue that feels like a realization of all their dreams.

(The last attendee, Mr. Gold - who betrays no indication that he and Killian are even remotely acquainted - has no particular, obvious specialty that he lends to the endeavor. In fact, he barely seems to speak and is nearly forgotten in the rest of the bustle of the Circus Dinners. Somehow, though, even if no one can put their finger on what exactly Mr. Gold does, it is agreed that his contributions are essential, and that everything runs smoother and more productively at those few dinners he does attend.)

(He is always referred to by surname; though the other attendees are certain they were told his first name upon first introduction, they have no memory of what that moniker might be, and decide it would be rude to ask. )

With each dinner, the Circus fleshes out a little bit more, each piece carefully filed away so it can all fit together later. There are designs for the gates and August’s wonderful blueprints for the butterfly tents and lists of confections that must be offered. As time keeps churning forward, the members of their little dinner group increasingly start to travel, seeking out the perfect craftsmen and performers and creators to bring this endeavor to life. There are acrobats training in France and an intricate clock being crafted in Germany and Jefferson and Killian will be travelling to Scotland next week to see about a pair of big cat trainers as August travels to Austria to see about some trained horses.

But tonight, they’re all here for dinner, and there’s an unexpected guest at the door. A tall, slender woman, who claims to be a sword swallower.

“What’s the harm?” Jefferson asks when Killian informs him cautiously, sweeping his arm in a grand motion. The Circus Dinners are exclusive, and nearly sacred, but she’s here about the circus. And Jefferson has always been generous by nature. “Show her in, Jones, we’ll set another plate at the table.”

The woman introduces herself as Mulan - no second name, and no indication whether that’s her given name or surname. As the clock strikes midnight and the first plates are brought out, she climbs the low dais usually reserved for a pianist and begins her demonstration.

And it is so much more than just a sword swallowing act. Mulan moves with an almost supernatural grace, whirling her blades in an intricate and deadly dance. She tosses her swords and balances them on the tips of fingers and the ridge of her chin. And she does send the swords down her gullet, in ways that make Anna and Elsa and even composed August gasp. Each move blends one into another into another, beautiful in a savage way that leaves them all on the edge of their seats as she twirls and even flips. It mesmerizes their little audience, as delicate appetizers sit untouched on their plates.

At the conclusion of her display, Mulan resheathes her swords with a satisfying hiss of metal against metal before executing a dramatic bow, nearly bending in half in the process. Their audience erupts into applause; across from Killian, Jefferson springs to his feet in a standing ovation.

“Brilliant! Simply brilliant!” Jefferson darts up to the platform to shake Mulan’s hand vigorously, much to her apparent amusement. “We simply must have you for the circus. A platform out in the open in the crowds, right near the center, don’t you think, Elsa?”

“It certainly would be a shame to hide her away in a tent,” the blonde agrees. “I don’t think we’ll find anyone else to match her talent, either. Would you be comfortable with that? Performing to a passing crowd?” she addresses Mulan to finish. 

Mulan nods solemnly, though a slight smile dances in her eyes and on her lips. “My skills are not limited by venue, you’ll find.”

“Excellent!” Jefferson crows. “You know, this is exactly what the Circus should be. More than expected. Anything but mundane. Up close and pressing past anything seen before and - oh! It’s just perfect. Welcome to the Circus, Madame.”

Jefferson’s words become a mantra as they move forward - to push boundaries, to seek people and things that are more than anyone would ever imagine.

It is what may become the making of the circus.

———

Looking back, once they come to know one another better, Killian will find it fitting that he meets Belle in a used book store.

He’s taken to wandering these stores on his rare days off with a pair of notebooks in his jacket pocket - one for little bits of magical research, and the other for chronicling any ideas he might stumble across for the Circus. Over time, Killian has discovered that odd, unusual, and even historic tomes have a way of accumulating in used bookshops, overlooked and nearly lost to time. On shelves such as these, Killian has located alchemical treatises and books of magical theory and even a potions compendium that appeared to the untrained eye to be a simple accounting of folk remedies. In a way, he supposes that’s right; it just overlooks the dash of magic that’s an extra, if necessary ingredient. These old bookstores are a good source, too, of unusual and exotic attractions and obscure ideas for confections. Whenever Killian stumbles across something he hasn’t seen before that he thinks will be of use, he records it carefully in the pertinent notebook, one tucked into each of his coat pockets, before purchasing the volume or returning it to its place on the so-often messy and cluttered shelves. 

This particular day had been less than fruitful, though Killian would never call it wasted. Even if he doesn’t manage to excavate any scrap of information, the whole environment is calming - something Killian sorely needs, more often than not. He walks back to his flat at a leisurely pace, just enjoying the crisp fall day, when he suddenly realizes - 

One of his pockets is lighter than it ought to be. 

Quickly, Killian doubles back to the bookshop. This isn’t the first time this has happened - it’s all too easy to accidentally leave a little leather-bound notebook on a shelf in an environment full of other leather-bound books, and Killian does remember pulling out the notebook to record a particular line of a spell he’d remembered he had already recorded just as soon as his pencil had lifted off the page. A quick check of the notebook in his other pocket reveals that it is, indeed, his magic notes that are missing. It’s a mild irritant, but nothing unusual for a man with a million other things on his mind.

What is more unusual, however, is to turn the corner only to see a young woman outside the shop, paging through what appears to be his own notes with a look of marked interest on her face.

She’s pretty, Killian notes, with prim brunette curls that frame her face below a beribboned, feathered hat and a petite frame that seems dwarfed by the yellow dress beneath a neat burgundy jacket. He only spares a moment to look, however, before he intervenes for the sake of his book. If she’s half as clever as that intent crinkle in her brow suggests, it may be too late.

The young lady jerks her head to attention as Killian clears his throat, a becoming blush staining her cheeks. “I believe you have something of mine,” he comments, nodding towards the book in her hand. 

“Ah, yes.” She carefully closes the pages, handing the little notebook back to him. “You’ll be Mr. Jones, then?” Killian nods an affirmative as he takes the book back - not that it stops her string of thoughts. “I do promise that I was trying to bring it back, sir - I saw you leave it down that one aisle where the cat particularly likes to sleep - but you had already left and, I see now, most likely had turned a corner and, well, I’ve already been a little curious and I just couldn’t resist flipping through the pages and —”

“Miss, it’s fine” he smiles. “I’m just relieved to have it back. That little notebook is indispensable to me.”

“I recognize some of the symbols in there,” his companion blurts out. Killian is discovering she has a tendency to do that while nervous. “Alchemical symbols, and astrological ones. Not the rest, but… well, those are all over the pages.”

“And what would you know about alchemical and astrological symbols? Seems an unusual hobby for a proper young lady, Miss…”

“Belle French. I read a lot of books.”

“Books on alchemy and astrology?”

“Yes.” She blushes again. “I came into possession of a deck of tarot cards a few years ago. It seemed worth doing my research. The alchemical bits were an accident that expanded into a separate research project.”

“You read the tarot then? I wouldn’t have expected that of a dignified lady like yourself.”

“Only for myself,” she admits. “It’s not precisely something you can practice at the average tea party. I find myself more curious what a proper young man like yourself,” she mocks his own tone, “is doing with a notebook full of such symbols.”

“Perhaps I, too, accidentally conducted extensive research into alchemy.”

Miss French fixes him with a skeptical look. “I don’t believe that for a moment. What’s the real reason?”

Killian sighs. “That’s… rather a longer story. Best settled somewhere else, if it must be told. Would you care to join me at a bistro I know?”

That should be the end of the matter. No proper young woman would agree to such a thing.

But Miss Belle French seems to be no such proper young woman, and she says yes.

It takes a hearty sip of wine once they’re settled in Killian’s favorite Parisian-style bistro for him to muster the words to speak. “I am… a student. Of sorts.”

“A student of what?” Miss French asks around her own, more delicate sip.

Now is the moment of truth, where she believes him or she doesn’t. “Of magic.”

Miss French’s brow furrows for just a confusion. “Magic? Like the illusion acts you see at the theaters?”

“A little more than that,” he tries to explain. “It’s… well. When you read your cards, does it feel like some rote interpretation? Or like you’re channeling something, the mere conduit for the cards?”

“The latter, I suppose.”

“That’s a form of magic. A very special one, actually, one that not everyone can find. I can’t.”

“So your… magic isn’t like that then?”

“It’s more like… a secret language,” Killian tries to explain. “It’s something I can find deep within me, and speak into existence.”

His lovely companion still looks unconvinced - not that he can blame her. It’s a lot to wrap one’s head around. “You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t disbelieve you,” she’s careful to say. “But you must admit, Mr. Jones, that it’s an awful lot to take in.”

Killian thinks for a moment, before settling in his mind on a way to prove it. “Is there anywhere you’ve ever wanted to go? Someplace you’ve never seen, but always wanted to?”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the beach, and see the ocean,” she replies wistfully.

“I can make that happen.”

“With your magic, I suppose?”

“Yes. Do you trust me?”

Miss French hesitates for just a moment before nodding. 

“Then take my hands, and close your eyes.”

With her soft hands in his own, Killian draws upon the words, murmuring them into the back corner of the cafe where they sit. Slowly, the dim lighting and faint smell of smoke dissipates, replaced by warm sunlight and the faint rush of the tide coming in.

Miss French opens her eyes without his asking, gasping as she takes in the illusion of an environment he’s created. Gulls circle overhead; were she to remove her shoes, she’d feel soft sand beneath her toes, stretching as far as the eye can see.

“It’s marvelous,” she breathes. “And you did all this?”

“Aye. And I can do much more.”

It’s evident that in this moment, at least, she doesn’t care about much more; she’s too enthralled with the ocean in front of her. 

“You know, Mr. Jones, I think we were meant to meet today,” she murmurs. “And I don’t even need the cards to say it.”

She becomes a friend, over time, over cups of tea and discussions of his studies and her practice with her tarot cards; the first real friend he’s ever had. Mr. Gold doesn’t approve, claiming that she’s a distraction, but Killian doesn’t much care. She makes his life better, in those hours he isn’t called away by the circus. And as the planning rolls on, turning into reality, she lends a listening ear every step of the way. 

Neither of them can predict how much will change with the hiring of the illusionist.

———

It’s been years of this - the constant preparing for something she doesn’t fully understand, of being tested, being pushed to what Emma believes are her very limits before discovering that she still has more to give, to bleed, to learn. A sense of anticipation hangs over her entire life, such as it is, and she doesn’t even know what she’s waiting for, or how long it will take to get here. Regina has told her time and again to be patient, that things will become clearer in time, that this isn’t something frivolous, you foolish girl, you can’t rush it, but Emma has never been one for patience. She is 24, and it has been 18 years, and there is still no sign of whatever this competition is, or will be.

Until one day, a neat envelope appears on the dressing table in Emma’s room in the ostentatious flat she has shared with Regina since the very beginning whenever they’re in London.

It would be in your best interest to present yourself at the below address on June the 19th.

The missive isn’t signed, but Emma doesn’t need a signature anyways; it’s evident in the neat gilt letters on the crisp cream-colored parchment that this message is from the man with the cane. Mr. Gold, half a memory whispers, though he’s done his very best to remove himself from memory. There is no postmark, and no messenger; it is clear to Emma that this card has appeared without the intervention of a human hand. Not that the man she suspects would need such mundane means to deliver a message. Emma has grown up surrounded by and steeped in magic, and she has long since learned to recognize true power - and even though she was only a child the single time she met the man with the gold-tipped cane, she’d felt even then the magic clustered all around him like metal filings to a magnet. To a man like that, delivery of this message would be the easiest thing in the world. 

There’s a newspaper clipping too, Emma realizes as she slowly moves to find and show her teacher. It’s an advertisement, seeking an illusionist, with the address of a modest theater at which she should apply.

Seeking an extraordinary individual to marvel and amaze, the cramped newsprint proclaims. An unmatched opportunity to become part of an unprecedented entertainment spectacle.

“What have you got there?” Regina asks when Emma enters their parlor, examining every inch of the message and its attached advertisement. The words are closer to a demand than an inquiry, but Emma isn’t particularly surprised; these kinds of interactions have always been her teacher’s modus operandi. 

“A note. I found it on my dressing table.” Carefully, Emma passes the documents to Regina for the other woman’s examination. As Regina reads the words, a devious kind of smile inches its way across her face. 

“You know what this means, don’t you?” she asks Emma with that same odd smile. It only widens when Emma shakes her head in the negative. “It means we’ve reached the beginning.”

And with those six words, the next phase of Emma’s life begins.

———

Killian thought he knew what to expect - but he never expected her.

They’d placed advertisements in all the major papers, seeking an illusionist for the circus - a magician. Jefferson, for all his endless inspiration and imagination, has never realized that the most fitting candidate for this particular job has been silently at his side for the past two years, through every bit of planning. Jefferson never realizes that there’s a reason that this has all come together unnaturally smoothly, as if aided by unseen forces.

Jefferson, for all his endless imagination, will never believe that humans are capable of anything more than illusion, will never believe that true magic is possible.

(That’s for the best, really; Mr. Gold just needs a pawn to create a venue, and Killian… well, Killian just wants, nay, needs to limit the collateral lives disrupted for the purposes of this competition.)

Attending the auditions as Jefferson’s personal secretary to record any decisions ultimately made, Killian expects a long parade of conmen, of charlatans and fakers and all the normal cast of characters that pass for magicians in a world that refuses to see the truth. And he gets them in spades, with card tricks and pretty assistants and poorly behaved rabbits who are more interested in exploring the legs of the mezzanine chairs than disappearing into hats. Maybe those kinds of displays would be good enough for most undertakings; the public will be expecting the normal sort of “magic” displays, after all. 

But this is for the circus - and the circus must be more than that. 

(It’s for exactly that reason that Killian draws a tricky bit of magic about himself that he picked up from his mentor years ago - a charm to smother any traces of magic about him, to make him seem so ordinary that strangers’ eyes don’t bother to linger. He may expect a long line of fakes, but on the off chance this attracts someone of more genuine talent… Killian isn’t taking any chances.)

Killian never even sees her coming. It’s their last appointment of the day after a chain of disappointments, and frankly, he’s ready for a cup of tea, or perhaps a glass of something stronger. But then the young man who works at the theater is clearing his throat to announce the next applicant, and Killian looks up —

And it’s her. 

The woman before him is beautiful - collected, quiet, but with a confidence that shows in her bearing, in the straightness of her spine and the sure look on her face. She wears an emerald green dress with a black velvet jacket with trailing sleeves, and she looks a picture - possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She looks more suited to fashionable tea rooms, or strolling along the street to perhaps visit an acquaintance, or any of those other ordinary things women of means and unnatural beauty do with their days. It’s obvious, though, that ordinary is the last word that could be used to describe her. Even from across the room, he can sense the magic that clings to her skin like traces of ink - true magic, not the facsimiles he’s suffered through all day. 

He knows immediately that this woman - whoever she may be - is the opponent he’s been anticipating for 18 years, since he was only 8 years old, and the knowledge simultaneously exhilarates and terrifies him.

(Even if he’s been working for two years to help bring this competition, this circus to life, it suddenly feels real to see his competitor across from him, flesh and blood and blond curls.)

(He has no business forming an attachment, but she already fascinates him on a level far more personal than professional.)

“Your name?” Killian hears Jefferson ask, as if from a distance. That’s not the reality of this situation, really; his employer sits in the seat right in front of Killian’s own, barely two feet apart. It’s hard to focus on anything else, though, with an angel standing in front of them all. 

“Emma Swan,” she answers. Her voice isn’t loud, but it’s sure, and with its own particular melody. “I understand you’re looking for an illusionist.”

“We are indeed, Miss Swan. And do you believe you’re the man - my pardon, woman for the job?” Jefferson wears what Killian has learned is his most charming smile, and Killian feels an unwarranted flash of irritation. Can’t he see this creature isn’t for him? Isn’t some simpering young girl to melt at his attentions?

(It’s a relief to see that, while Miss Swan does smile back, it’s only a smirk of seeming amusement. She’s here for other things, they both know, even if Jefferson doesn’t.)

“That’s for your judgement, isn’t it?” As Emma poses the question, she carefully strips out of her jacket, only to toss it carelessly towards a chair. As the fabric sails through the air, however, it miraculously turns into a raven, circling the room before landing back in one of the investors’ laps, abruptly a stack of folded velvet once more. Miss Swan may make it look easy, nearly thoughtless, but it’s evident to Killian that she’s performed a very impressive piece of magic - and evident to all those less observant as well. The amused little smirk returns as Miss Swan calmly folds her hands atop the green satin of her dress. “But I believe so, yes.”

What follows is exactly the impressive spectacle of magic they’d hoped to find, but Killian never believed they would.

The gentlemen’s handkerchiefs turn into doves, which fly to perch at the edge of the stage. The delicate flowers of the wallpaper peel from the walls to beautiful, fragrant life. At one point, their chairs all lift to hover a foot above the ground. One trick flows into the next, and into the next again, all conducted by the extraordinary Miss Swan with graceful hands and barely any appearance of effort. It feels like the entire audience, small though it might be, holds its breath as the magician completes her display, conjuring her crisply folded jacket back into a raven. In a flurry of feathers, the bird dives towards its mistress as the audience watches anxiously, only to reappear as a drapery once again on the pale, delicate arms of the enchanting Miss Swan. 

Ahead of Killian, Jefferson and the other producers explode into a flurry of applause - a well earned ovation, in his not-so-humble opinion. That was… spectacular. Amazing. Magical.

“Bravo, Miss Swan!” Jefferson calls, jumping nimbly up the stairs at the front of the stage to shake her hand. “I think you’re just the thing we’ve been looking for. Won’t she look lovely, Constance?”

“She’ll make a statement, certainly,” Madame Blue replies. This might be the closest Killian has seen the formidable woman to satisfaction. “We’ll have to plan the wardrobe carefully, of course. Something… striking. A bit out of the ordinary, with outer layers to remove. That trick with the jacket was extraordinary,” she finally addresses the subject of their discussion. “I imagine you’ll want to incorporate it.”

“I had planned to in some form, yes,” Miss Swan confirms. “Is there a particular… concern you have about my clothing?”

“Please don’t mistake us, Miss Swan,” Jefferson hurries to assure her. “You look absolutely lovely. We’re trying to create an entire atmosphere in this endeavor, you see. An entire circus, all in black and white and silver. Including its members. Madame Blue, here, is an invaluable help in creating that.”

“I see,” Miss Swan nods. “So I suppose you’re thinking something more like this?” 

As she speaks, they’re treated to one final trick, as the green of her skirts flees at the touch of a finger, changing to pearly skirts that slowly give way to an ink black hem. As with every display of her magic, it’s graceful, effortless; more than that, as her dress completes its transformation, skirts widening to a dramatic sweep in the process, she looks like the very essence of everything they want the circus to be. 

Killian gapes. Madame Blue nods approvingly. Jefferson beams.

“Splendid! Oh, absolutely marvelous. Never tell me how you do that. Yes, that will do very nicely indeed, Miss Swan. You’re hired.”

As if anyone else would ever do.

———

Killian shows up at Liam’s door that night, to the small but comfortable apartment a junior banker shouldn’t yet be able to afford on his salary.

(He’s always been sure to care for his brother, the same way his brother always cared for him.)

He must look a wreck when Liam opens the door, as his brother moves to pour them both a measure of rum without even being asked. His neat necktie has been loosened in the past hour and his hair is doubtless a riot from running his hand up the back, but Killian thinks it’s more whatever look he wears on his face that spurs Liam into action.

“I met them today. Her,” Killian finally confides once they’re both settled into the plush, if hideous armchairs in front of the fire.

“Who’s this, now?”

“My competitor.” Killian attempts a chuckle, but can’t quite manage it. “This game I’ve been prepared for for so long… the other person was always just some amorphous concept. Of course there’d be a competitor, it’s a game. But… I met her today, Liam.”

Liam takes another sip from his tumbler. “I take it that’s a bad thing?”

Killian fiddles with the scar on his thumb as he thinks, the seared band of skin the contract tying him to this competition. It doesn’t bother him, never has, really; most days, he wears a silver ring to conceal the mark from the many curious eyes in Jefferson’s winding townhome, but he’s taken the piece of jewelry off tonight. Tonight is a night for confession, for laying his myriad of confused feelings on the table, not for concealment. 

“I don’t know that it’s bad, per se,” he finally replies. “It’s just… she was never a person until today. I know I’ve been working with Jefferson and his colleagues for two years to bring the venue for this competition to life, but meeting a real, live person is something else. It made it real, in a way.”

“And you’d rather it wasn’t,” Liam infers.

Killian says nothing, ready to neither confirm nor deny that. It’s been an unexpected day, and he’s still trying to process the novelty of having a name and a face. This has been years of his life - 18 years of them - and it finally feels like the waiting is done. 

Liam tries again. “What’s she like, then?”

“Composed.” It’s too stiff a word for the vibrant creature he witnessed today, but it’s the first that comes to mind. She’d seemed perfectly composed, fully in control of everything around her. There’s more than that, though. “She was confident, mostly, in that kind of understated way where you could tell she knew exactly what she was doing without ever having to brag about it. She seemed bloody brilliant, honestly,” Killian admits.

“That sounds like an awful lot of admiration for a woman you’re supposed to view as your foe,” Liam comments with that lift of the brow Killian adopted himself years and years ago. 

“She’s beautiful,” Killian says simply. “She’s perfectly lovely, and honestly? I don’t really want to battle her.”

“So what will you do?”

“I don’t know,” Killian replies truthfully.

He never expected this knowledge to create more questions than answers.

(Killian is beginning to think that just may be the way of this competition; frustration and confusion at every turn.)

(As his mentor has so often says: magic comes with a price.)

———

Now that he knows his competition, it becomes obvious that Miss Swan has an advantage over Killian: while he may exist outside the Circus, maneuvering the board from afar, she’ll live right in the heart of it, manipulating things from within. After all these years, Killian still only knows that the Circus is meant to be a venue for him to test and stretch his abilities beyond anything he ever imagined until, inexplicably, one of them is crowned the winner. From his standpoint, Miss Swan will find that much easier, as she doesn’t have a distance to reckon with. Hell, he won’t even know when she makes a move, so to speak.

Unexpectedly, it is Belle who finds a solution to that. 

“I could be your spy, you know,” she proposes. They’ve long since abandoned formal last names and proper tea shops for lounging in his flat, her with a book and he with one of his notebooks or some circus plans he’s perfecting. So, too, has Belle long since been apprised of all the misty particulars of this competition.

Killian frowns. “I don’t follow.”

“Well, you need a way to hear the news of the circus, right? Everything this Miss Swan does, at least in regards to the Circus. All the little changes she might make.”

“That’s right.”

“And it’s true, too, that the Circus still needs a fortune teller.”

Realization slowly dawns. “Belle, I couldn’t ask you to —”

“You’re not asking; I’m offering,” she interrupts. “I can read my cards for visitors. You’ll be so busy with the Circus, anyways, and making your own moves in this competition, that we’ll barely see each other anymore. You can arrange that, right? To hire me as the fortune teller?”

“Of course - but Belle, are you certain?”

“Nothing is ever certain, Killian,” she scolds affectionately, good-naturedly. “But I want to help. And besides, I’ve always wanted to see the world. What better opportunity will I find, or make?”

When Killian personally vouches for Belle to Jefferson, her hiring is arranged as quickly as promised. He can’t help but feel like this is a mistake, somehow, but the benefits are undeniable. Belle packs her bags and promises to be a faithful correspondent - a promise he knows she’ll admirably fulfill.

(He tries not to think about how she’s one more life he’s tied to the Circus, one more article of collateral damage if and when this all ends.)

———

After so long in her contained world, constantly under Regina’s critical eye, Emma finds she loves the communal atmosphere of the circus. Emma’s little compartment is so much more compact than the rooms she’s grown used to over the years, but there’s a particular coziness that feels more comfortable than anything she’s known before. Maybe it’s the knowledge that this space is truly hers, without monitoring or judgement. She lines the walls with spell books and herbal manuals and silly novels, hangs cages for her doves from the ceiling, shoves a small desk in one corner and a well padded armchair in the other, and spreads a brightly pieced quilt over the bunk’s mattress. She makes it home, in a way she’d never thought she’d achieve. 

(She’s wanted a home since she was a child, went with Regina in partial hope that she’d find one, but it’s only now at the age of 24 that she’s made it with her own two hands and a good bit of magic.)

She watches the circus come together too, in staging grounds just outside of London. Each tent is carefully constructed in black and white stripes, though their height and circumference vary. The acrobats’ tents soar the highest, starting to fade into the starry skies to accommodate the trapezes and tightropes beneath the cloth surface. On the other end of the spectrum the fortune teller’s tent is barely large enough for two people and a table. 

Emma’s tent is somewhere in between. It’s not large, by any means, but there’s enough space for a clearing at the center and two rows of chairs circling all the way around the edges. It’s interactive, in a way Emma never imagined a theater could be when she was a child under Regina’s care. Then again, it’s not really a theater, is it? It’s more a… space. An arena. Truthfully, Emma isn’t sure there’s a word for the intimate feel of this arrangement. Her audience will be right there, enhancing the display in a way Emma hadn’t imagined. Then again, when you’re practicing true magic instead of illusion, you don’t need that extra separation. 

Once it’s time to eventually move on, the whole venue has been carefully constructed to fold and stow away into a series of boxcars and containers for transport. It’s all a little unbelievable, really, the ease with which something so sprawling can stow so neatly away. There’s an atmosphere at the circus, however, even amongst its members, that anything might happen, and the logistics are never questioned as the specially hired crew of workers scurry about, practicing folding and unfolding each tent into their respective boxcars. Maybe they already know that something supernatural is at work; the longer Emma spends at the circus, the more she wonders if this is the one place on Earth where magic can exist in plain sight without question.

(There’s something about the traces of magic at the folds and joints of each structure that feels familiar in a way Emma can’t quite put her finger on - like she’s encountered it before. It’s a rare trace of her competitor in an environment where she still doesn’t know their identity.)

If the circus is the first real home Emma’s ever found, then its members may be her first real family. She’s always felt… different, all too aware of how her abilities have set her apart from other people since she was a little girl. The wonderful thing that she’s discovered is that everyone is a little odd at the circus, even without magic. There are contortionists and animal tamers and acrobats and all manner of other performers, all good people who don’t fit within the bounds of conventional society. Even the vendors, the souvenir sellers and the concession dealers, are the kind of people more willing to believe in the unusual without question. It’s a welcoming, accepting, happy environment that Emma revels in.

There are individuals that Emma makes particular friends with. Ruby, who, along with her husband Graham, works with wolves , is an absolute spitfire who keeps them all entertained with her wit and predictions for the circus. Mary Margaret, who performs tricks with a flock of trained birds, and her husband David, one of the stagehands, are as sweet a couple as Emma’s ever seen and determined to spread that love to everyone else around them as well. It feels a little like they’ve adopted her as an adult child, set upon caring for her in any way they can, and Emma finds she kind of likes it. 

(There’s the fortune teller, too - Belle, a kind and quiet woman that Emma is friendly with, if not close. Somehow, Emma gets the feeling that Belle knows more about this whole thing than anyone else, but can’t put her finger on why. She’d know if the petite little brunette was her opponent, she’s sure; surely she’d sense her opponent’s own magic, the way she can always see the way her own gathers like dozens of little stray hairs about her person.)

There’s a feeling of comradery amongst the group of them, of family. They’re a stability that Emma craves in the midst of all this uncertainty, a support system even if she can’t reveal the stakes she’s facing. As simple a word as it is, they’re friends, and that’s a thing that’s been sorely lacking Emma’s entire life. 

Mulan, however, is a different story. It’s not that they’re not friends - Emma would say that they’re consistently friendly. Emma had immediately noticed the way magic had clung to the other woman in the same way that it does to herself. Here, Mulan may be a sword swallower, but she’s undeniably a powerful magician too. 

“This isn’t the first time that such a competition has been staged,” Mulan tells her over tea as her spoon stirs in sugar without apparent human hand, a thread of magic spooling and unspooling about the metal over and over again.

“So how do I win, then?” If Mulan has been in her shoes before - and indeed, the other woman’s particular brand of magic suggests she trained under Emma’s own mentor, Regina - then this could be a critical advantage for Emma.

But Mulan shakes her head. “That’s something you have to discover in your own time. I’m here merely as… an observer. Support, perhaps. But not to interfere.”

(Even as she says the words, Emma can see a sadness in Mulan’s eyes that sends a stab of foreboding through Emma’s heart.)

There’s an entire universe of possibilities contained within the wrought iron gates, different ways this all could play out. Emma feels within her heart that even if the circus hasn’t opened, the competition has already begun; after all, she’s already tied her own magic to its construction, the way it expands and contracts and travels, lending her own abilities to those enchantments someone else already set. 

There will be a chance to test that tomorrow, as all of this is folded up and moved to where the circus will celebrate its opening night in barely 72 hours’ time. It’s a delicate business, but will be worth it when the effect is finally unveiled - or at least Emma hopes it will be. It’s hard to imagine anyone not loving the circus, in all its wonder, just as much as they do, but dozens of lives are tied to the circus - now dozens of homes and salaries and futures. It’s hard not to feel a little nervous about all that is to come, for their sakes if not her own. 

Above the ticketing booths at the front gates of the circus sits an enormous cuckoo clock, with figures and designs constantly shifting, changing from black to white and back again. Emma likes to come and watch the clock in the moments she takes for herself; there’s something about the simple, elegant mechanics that calms her, shows her the beauty that can exist without magic. Her entire world will change once again once the circus opens its gates for the first time, but the clock is a reminder that change is more than inevitable - it is natural, and sometimes even good. 

As the clock ticks the minutes away overhead, Emma closes her eyes and centers herself. All around her, she can feel the energies of all the people who bring the circus to life - happy and excited and good, in a way she hadn’t known existed. All these lives in her hands, caught up in this competition without even knowing it.

And Emma will do her damndest to protect every one.

———

There’s a party, the night before the circus opens its gates for the first time, at the lavish townhouse of the circus’ proprietor. It’s perfectly in keeping with what Emma knows of the man; Jefferson - as he insists on being called, damn the proprieties - is generous by nature, despite (or perhaps because of) his eccentricities. Where anyone else would balk at the collected mass of the Circus’ players and crew showing up on their doorstep and traipsing through their halls, Jefferson welcomes them with open arms, seeming to delight in the chaos they might bring with them. 

At the Circus, they might be clad in black and white and every shade in between, but Jefferson’s halls are a riot of color tonight - and not just due to his bold decorating preferences. The circus members have truly let loose for the occasion, in a wide array of colors and patterns - green stripes and purple layered on blue and polka-dotted waistcoats, all melding together into a unique symphony of hues never seen before or since. Emma herself wears a red gown that makes her feel like a princess, with long sleeves and a scooped neckline and beading along the bust. Technically, the dress has looked far different when she started with it - a dark navy blue and rather more demure than this end result, though the cloth itself was of good quality - but she’s always had a deft hand with fabrics. It comes in handy in her small train car room, where she really only has room for a single trunk unless she gets magically creative with her storage space.

The party is, by all appearances, a roaring success. Dinner features the widest variety of options imaginable, featuring dishes seemingly from every corner of the globe. There are fountains of chocolate and tiny little bites of meat and vegetables and the most delicate pastries Emma has ever eaten in her life. After dinner, there’s music and dancing and gaming tables in the parlor. The hired band keeps playing a series of merry dance numbers, reels and jigs and the occasional waltz. It’s joyful, happiness permeating every inch of Jefferson’s brightly colored mansion that makes the whole place shine in a way that has nothing to do with any candles or oil lamps.

Personally, Emma is happier along the edges of rooms, observing everything else that goes on around her. It’s not that she’s somehow opposed to the festivities; far from it, at fact. She easily allows herself to be talked into taking turns on the dance floor with David and Ruby even a delighted Jefferson when they ask her with a smile and, in Ruby’s case, a rather insistent and intoxicated tug towards the dance floor. She knows the steps; she knows the rules. But it is hard, sometimes, after a childhood spent largely alone, to throw herself willingly into the heart of it all. It’s intimidating, in a way. At the heart of things, it’s less overwhelming to observe, a wallflower by choice.

From her own vantage point, however, it’s impossible not to notice another soul doing the same thing - sticking to the walls and to the shadows, absorbing everything while engaging with none of it. The person in question is a man - strikingly handsome, with dark hair and sharp cheekbones that make him look a little dangerous. He’s the kind of man who should have no problem finding a dance partner, if he so desired, but he waits along the edges, the same as her. What’s even more curious is that Emma has no idea who he is. Emma isn’t fool enough to claim that she’s intimate friends with each and every person in the Circus - there’s far too many for that - but she does recognize them by sight, at least. It’s an inevitable result of living and working with people in such a tight-knit environment as the Circus. This man isn’t one of them. Curiously, she still has the feeling that he’s familiar, somehow. She can’t quite put a finger on why; it’s like a whisper in her ear, that she knows him in a way she doesn’t yet understand. 

(She sees him looking, too, when he thinks she hasn’t noticed. Maybe he feels this curious deja vu as well.)

At one point, she notices Mulan speaking briefly with the mystery man - nothing more than a few words, but enough to catch her attention.

“Who is that?” Emma asks the next time Mulan passes her by, dressed in regalia that looks more like armor than a dress. It suits her, in a way something more traditional wouldn’t have. “That man in the corner?”

“By that particularly ugly bronze bust?” Emma nods. “That’s Jefferson’s personal secretary. Killian Jones. I’m surprised you haven’t met him before - he follows Jefferson everywhere, records everything. Jefferson won’t on his own.”

Maybe that’s where Emma recognizes him from; it would make sense that he’d have been at her audition, just another face in the crowd. That must account for this odd sense of familiarity.

Mulan waits patiently as Emma turns the information over in her head, as if waiting for her to ask another question. For the life of her, she can’t imagine what that might be.

“I didn’t know that,” she finally replies. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Mulan nods. “Try and have a little fun tonight. It’s not like we’ll have another chance for this for a long while.”

“I promise I am. Even without the dancing.”

“Good.”

(There’s a little tickle at the back of her neck that says Mulan isn’t sharing the whole story, but Emma doesn’t pry further. The other woman plays her cards very close to her proverbial vest; she won’t reveal anything except exactly what she deems it necessary for Emma to know.)

As Mulan slides silently back into the crush, Emma steals another glance at the corner, but the man - Killian Jones - is gone.

Not that it matters to her. After all, they’ll likely never meet again.

(It is easy to ignore the little voice that whispers Oh, but you will.)

——— 

The circus opens on a warm June night under a new moon, and it feels like anything might happen. The tents are all set, the costumes sewn, the performers placed along each neatly lined path. All that’s missing is the audience. 

At the very center of the circus is an ornately crafted fire pit, with shoots of burnished metal curling towards the sky in imitation of the flame contained within. Over time, the heat of the fire will heat and scar the metal in its own unique way, creating an ever changing statue. Tonight, in recognition of the circus’ opening night, the bonfire will be lit for the first time at precisely midnight in a ceremony for all to see. 

Tucked into the grate beneath the fire pit, carefully warded against the flame with a series of runes, is a leather-bound book that no one but Killian knows about. The volume is the circus, in a way that he’s proud to have accomplished. Between the covers are pages and pages of plans for each and every tent, ride, and attraction, with magic carved into every line. This is the way that the circus is brought to life - the way it’s assembled and disassembled, the way it operates, the way it exists. At the back is a list of everyone employed by the circus, from Mrs. Lucas who runs the dining car of the train to the day-old twins of one of their vendors, a craftsman and his wife who sell intricate animals carved out of wood so delicately and with such life that they look as if they might begin to cavort across your palm. Each name is accompanied by a single drop of their blood - something so simple, but powerful. It binds them to the circus, protects them; it’s a safeguard, in case something should ever happen.

(Killian hates to think that there might be collateral damage in all this, but it seems inevitable. Mr. Gold and Madame Mills aren’t the types to worry about the chaos they create, as long as they get what they want. This will protect the circus and all the many lives that depend upon it.)

Most significantly, Killian creates a tricky little bit of magic to link the volume under the bonfire, right in the heart of the circus, to another in his own possession. It’s still unclear, in so many ways, exactly what this so-called competition will entail, let alone how long it will last. It seems inevitable that in order for the competition to move forward, additions and changes will need to be made, ways to demonstrate each of their respective powers. A second volume, directly mirroring the first, will allow him to add attractions as the opportunity arises. 

Killian feels somehow in-between as he wanders the grounds of the circus - not one of the performers, but not quite a normal visitor ever. He’s done more to bring this to life than anyone present knows, but it doesn’t feel like a part of him in a way he might have expected. He strolls the paths, cloaked in spells that turn everyone’s attention away from his person so he can place the tome without questioning. That’s fitting, he thinks; he’s not part of the circus in any visual way, now or previously, yet he’s made more of a mark than they’ll ever know. He’s shaped this entire spectacle from the shadows, and his work is only beginning. 

It feels like something settles into place as Killian slides the book into its nook. It’s like the whole circus was just waiting for that final piece, as if a breath has been released and this can all finally begin. Something cements in that moment; some piece of ancient magic more powerful than any rune. All that’s left to do is activate that magic with the lighting of the bonfire.

(There are already firecrackers in place to set off with each tick of the clock leading to midnight, but Killian can sense the traces of someone else’s magic lingering on each charge. It seems Miss Swan has left her mark on the fire in her own way, one that will make this a night to remember for all involved. Their work has long since begun, but they both usher in a new phase with their own mark.)

Killian stays to watch the lighting of the bonfire, still cloaked in the shadows even amongst the crowds of life around him. At a few minutes to midnight, they all assemble around the pit - every performer, every visitor, every vendor. Each and every soul. It’s easy to pick out the audience from the circus members; true to their vision, those who are part of the circus are clad in black and white and silver, alternately blending into the night and reflecting like the brightest stars. They stand stark against everyone else and the usual medley of colors, like elegant wraiths. 

Killian spots, too, Jefferson across the way, and the Frost sisters, and Madame Blue and Mr. Booth, all here to mark the occasion. They’ve participated in the dress code as well, Killian is amused to see - Jefferson in a white suit decked with tiny black stars, and the ladies in varying shades of white and silver and grey. Mr. Booth’s black suit may just be his usual wear, but the silver necktie adds a certain celebratory vibe. Killian’s lips twitch in a smile to see their little group, looking with varying levels of satisfaction (or outright bouncing glee, in Jefferson’s case) on the experience they dreamed and brought to life. It’s not necessary, really, that Killian disguise himself anymore; as Jefferson’s personal secretary, it would seem natural for him to be here to witness this. Killian has ulterior motives for maintaining the cloak, however - namely, watching his opponent, the lovely Miss Swan. 

He’s a little enthralled by her, he’ll admit. Miss Emma Swan is… not what he expected in a competitor. If pressed, Killian will admit that he expected his opposing counterpart to be someone rather like himself - some young man around his age, similarly focused, similarly discreet. Miss Swan - besides being, most obviously, a young woman instead of a young man - wields her magic with an open confidence that he hadn’t expected, at least if her audition and the few times they’ve crossed paths since on circus business are any indication. Then again, it’s not like there’s as much need to hide her magic as Killian always believed; to the public, magic isn’t real after all, and she’s just a circus illusionist. 

(She’s a born performer, is what she is, and Killian looks forward to surreptitiously attending one of her shows tonight to relive the particular thrill of watching Miss Swan in action.)

(As much as Killian tells himself they’re different, there’s something in her eyes that says that’s not quite true - the look of someone who’s been left alone for too long. Maybe they are cut from the same cloth, after all. Not that it matters in situations such as these.)

Ten seconds before midnight, the firecrackers begin setting off in bright bursts of color and pattern, causing an audible gasp of awe from the assembled audience. There are swirls of blue, shoots of red, bursts of gold, all perfectly timed to the second hand of his watch. It’s the purest expression of magic made real, and even though Killian knows to watch for the way Miss Swan’s fingers twist at her side to release each round, it still leaves him in a little bit of awe and wonder. It’s displays like these that first enthralled him to the idea of magic, all those years ago when he was still just a boy; it’s nice to reclaim that even just for a moment. 

At the crescendo, a previously unnoticed archer - a trick-shot they’d hired, who can hit the smallest targets from the greatest distance - releases a single flaming arrow. It lands dead center in the bonfire pit, just above where Killian alone knows the volume containing the circus rests, and ignites it in a chasing line of flame. It roars to beautiful life, illuminating the beautiful joy and wonder on each and every face. 

And just like that - the circus is alive.

———

The circus is a wonder, unmatched by any other.

There’s something otherworldly about it, you think as you take in the sights. There’s a stark elegance and mysticism about the venue and all its players that feels unnatural, in the best way - as if you’ve stumbled out of the real world and into a fairy court, where the very air is laced with magic and anything might happen. 

Each tent is somehow better than the last, and you wander without real purpose between each, trusting fate and your heart to lead the way. Even the winding paths, paved in silvery grey pebbles, hold their own surprises, twisting and curving past all manner of performers on pedestals in the night air. There are contortionists in silver and jugglers with patterned balls and clubs, fire swallowers and concession vendors who smile at you and living statues who move so gradually as to be barely discernible to the naked eye.

It is more than an attraction, you realize as the first rays of light peak over the horizon, illuminating the intricate metalwork of the front gate clock; it’s an experience, a wonder, something that sinks into your very soul and changes you in ways you’re not yet equipped to describe.

The circus lingers in your mind and heart, and you will never be the same again.

[lonelypond]

Love Is For Losers

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 1/2

Summary: Yazawa Nico and Nishikino Maki are both key players on the Otonokizaka University Tennis Team. But now Nico has decided to "improve" Maki's social media and tennis game.

Love Is For Losers

Not the most flattering picture of herself, racquet ready, waiting for the return of a serve, but Maki Nishikino really liked her look of concentration. So she hit “Post.”. And the hearts and reactions and fire emojis piled on. Wait, what was that comment, from @NicoNi? “With squinty eyes like that, how can you see the ball?”

WTF?!?!?!? Junior and top tennis singles player Nico Yazawa was notorious for living on social media. Since practice started in September, she’d been leading weekly social media best practice training sessions for the Otonokizaka University team that freshman Maki had proudly never attended. And now she was trolling Maki? Was that a social media best practice?

Maki never replied to a comment, but to let the smug Nico Ni have the last word would grate across every nerve Maki had.

To quickly type, “Who’s in the top 10 national standings again? Can you see that?” seemed almost an illicit thrill. To get an instant reply of eye emojis, plus a sweatdrop made Maki laugh out loud. Quickly scoping out the coffeeshop to check if she’d drawn any attention to herself, Maki clicked through to NicoNi’s home page, Nico’s last post was a bikini shot with an obscene amount of hearts and various emoji combinations in an endless comment scroll. Maki snorted, too obvious an attention grab. Maki would ignore it and stick to tennis, which she knew very well. Ah, there was a pic of Nico rushing the net, one of her favorite ways to use her sprint speed. Maki had an in.

“Spend less time looking at my pics and more time on your approach shots.”

Another instant reply. Another sweat drop. “Nico knows. But you’re so pretty. See you at media training ; )”

Did Nico think she was going to get Maki into one of her stupid sessions like that? Maki dropped her phone on the table, sipping her espresso with a frown.

###

Maki’s phone pinged explosively. A series of messages from her self proclaimed bestie and doubles partner, Hoshizora Rin.

R: hahaha Maki Ma you really need to be here

R: Nico’s going through your TWIG account as her “what not to do on social media” slideshow

R: it’s so funny, Maki

R: (*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)

R: you missed out Check out Nico’s LIVE.

Maki stared at her phone. Nico’s Live, that happened when you went to someone’s TWIG profile and clicked on their pic, right? Maki did, grimacing as she clicked on Nico’s face. Nico was in front of a whiteboard, drawing pictures of tennis rackets, disgustingly cute tennis rackets. She leaned forward, checking her phone, then grinned like someone who’d just served a winning ace.

“And @Nishikinoshot has just joined the fans watching Nico on TWIG Live…”

Maki heard Rin yell “Hi Maki!!!” in the background as Nico continued, “One of the best ways to learn how to properly conduct and promote yourself on social media is to find an influencer you respect and build a relationship with them. @Nishikinoshot has chosen @NicoNi, the smartest move she…

“I have not.” Maki shouted at her phone and then felt silly when she realized there was no way for Nico to see or hear her, or was there? TWIG kept floating an “ask to join the Live” teaser, so Maki thumbed it. Nico paused, obviously her notifications were on, another one of those winning serve grins and suddenly Maki was sharing Nico’s screen.

“Jumping into the Live. Good initiative, Nishikino..”

“Maki.”

“So why’d you pick your TWIG handle?”

What kind of a question was that?

“Nishikino shot...you know...because of tennis...the Nishikino shot always scores.” Also worked with photography, a hobby Maki wanted more time for.

“Nishikino announces her prowess off and on the court.” Nico giggled, Maki glared.

“What are you saying? That’s not right.”

“Ah, so you admit it is confusing. Make a note of that, class, it’s always best to have a tag that doesn’t confuse people.” Staring right at Maki, ruby eyes twinkling, Nico made an elaborately surprised, amused face, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “We were reading it as Nishikino’s hot, ‘cause you are.”

Maki flushed. And fumbled with her phone to end the live, not even registering what other garbage Nico was saying. And then her phone pinged again.

R: Are you all right, Maki? Nico was just having a little fun.

M: I don’t want to talk about Nico.

R: Okay.

M: That was your fault.

R: Hey, I thought you’d want to know.

M; Yeah...but tomorrow, after practice, you’re on clean up.

R: Maaaaaki (⁎˃ᆺ˂)’

###

Grunting, Maki swung through at full velocity, then grimaced as yet another practice serve skipped out of bounds. She leaned over to pick up another couple of balls. Both buckets were empty. Tempted to throw her racket, instead she shook her head, tucked her racquet under her arm, grabbed a bucket and went to the other side of the court to pick up the balls.

“Hey, let me help you,” chirped an unfamiliar voice. Maki turned. Nico Yazawa had grabbed the other buckets and was hustling for the net. Nico was always hustling, all lean muscle and speed. Her sable hair, usually put up in twin tails, was loose, still wet from the shower. She’d changed from her usual practice uniform to casual pink and black striped biker shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt shirt that slid off her shoulder and read “Killer Cute.” “Coach ended practice an hour ago.”

Maki shrugged, starting with the balls as far away as possible from the spot Nico had chosen.

“You’re always out here.”

“I take tennis seriously.”

Nico hesitated, hands on her hips, watching Maki curiously over mirror sunglasses perched halfway down her nose, “Nico sees that. But you can get trapped in patterns if no one points them out.”

“I’m fine. I win.”

“Don’t you want to win better?”

“Win better? That’s not a thing.” Maki tapped her racquet against her leg, fidgety.

“Accuracy matters.” Nico picked up a tennis ball, tossed it into Maki’s bucket, and winked, “Crush your opponents with finesse, not raw power. Fewer wasted serves.”

Maki’s hasty rush of anger changed to curiosity. Nico led the team in aces, with amazing power for someone so short. “Coach hasn’t said anything.”

“Like you said, you get the job done. And Coach has other problems...like keeping Honoka from exhausting herself in the first few volleys.”

They both chuckled at how eager Honoka Kosaka was to chase down every ball, until she hit empty. As a joke, after their last practice, Rin had her girlfriend, Hanayo Koizumi, the team manager, post a photoshopped pic of a golden retriever playing next to Honoka’s double’s partner, Umi Sonoda. Honoka had laughed longer than anyone.

Nico was right, Maki realized. Coach had been spending a lot of time on the players with more basic problems. And their assistant spend most of the time on opponent research, editing video footage.

“Nico uses a platform stance, but Maki could get away with a pin-point stance. Watch my feet.” Nico grabbed a ball, tossing it up, swinging at it with a pretend racquet. Instead of her feet remaining the same distance apart, her back foot shifted closer to the front one and then she pushed off up into the serve. “You’ve already got natural explosive power, you don’t need a nitro boost.”

Maki considered, moving her feet through the change Nico suggested. It felt comfortable, offering more control. She nodded, then jumped back when Nico clapped her on the upper arm.

“You’re a quick learner. Hang on. Nico will hop over there and you can try it out. It’s more fun with an opponent.”

“I’ll win. You’ll be crushed.” Maki winked.

Nico laughed and it echoed. “Nico didn’t teach you everything Nico knows.”

###

“So you’re a local too.” Nico was scooping salad into Maki’s bowl. They’d decided to stop for dinner.

“Yeah. My family owns a medical center so I couldn’t just go off anywhere.”

Nico paused, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working there since…” Maki tried to remember her first job at the hospital, how old was she? She remembered sitting at her father’s desk, coloring in specially made anatomy chart pages in elementary school. Did that count as a job? “Forever.”

“Ah. Nico had to stick close for family too. Three sibs.” Nico flashed a smile and three fingers. “They’re the best, but they rely on Nico.”

“Your parents work a lot?” Maki understood that.

“Yeah, my mom does. My dad died when I was little.”

Maki paled, what did you say to that. “I’m sorry” came out as a mumble.

A sigh, weary, as Nico pushed Maki’s filled bowl in her direction, “Me too. But we survived. He taught me tennis. And…” Nico put on a sparkling smile, bounced her hands up to her temple, rock hands gesture, and her voice became brighter. “Nico Nico Ni.” Then she relaxed back to normal, “He said it could cheer up the whole world..”

Maki remembered something. “Nico Nico is the ideophone for smile.”

Nico leaned forward, “So the Nishikino isn’t just for show.”

Maki shook her head, “We have a hospital in Tokyo too. I’ve spent a lot of summers there.”

“Wow, a doc and a jet setter. So why tennis?”

“I liked it better than golf. My parents said piano didn’t count as a networking activity.”

“Piano? Classic stuff.” Nico created a melody on an air keyboard.

“Some. And jazz. I get to take a couple of music classes, at least this year.”

Nico wondered if Maki realized how robotic she sounded, and how laced through with sadness her mood was as she talked about her family.

“Hey, Nishikino…”

“Maki.”

“Maki. Play for Nico sometime. Nico loves singing. My dad always said I should go on American Idol.”

“Sorry.” Maki twisted a curl of hair, “I don’t play those kind of songs.”

Maki obviously just needed to know more about Nico, which was Nico’s favorite topic. “Nico is multifaceted. We can do Ella and Count Basie, if you want. With the time you save not practicing your serve.”

Nico winked, her multifaceted ruby eyes cheerful pulls as she hummed. Maki found herself intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nico will be your personal tennis coach to make sure you improve.”

“Not necessary.” Maki leaned back to signal the waiter. Time to start the main course.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August entry, college rivals was requested and the Olympics put me in a sports mood. Planning another chapter.

Still taking requests.

[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 20]

Rating: M Words: 2130 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: In which Kristoff shows his fondness for children and Anna wants him to Nut With Purpose.

I know I had said there would be smut.... but this chapter was long enough........ So i’m going to add a chapter of their date after this night and there u will have the smut. I also literally just finished this so i hope it’s fine I cba to read it LMFAO.

OKAY. BYE. 

Enjoy!

Kristoff couldn’t lie, the last month had probably been the best of his life. He had bounced back in the game and was playing better than he had in a long time, he had an excuse to do all sort of touristy and cheesy things that he had denied himself in the past, and he had Anna, warm and generous and enthusiastic, burrowing under his skin most nights a week, filling in all the cracks he hadn’t realized were there.

She congratulated and comforted in a similar fashion, her mouth hot on his skin as she brought him to climax. Though sometimes he celebrated or mourned by taking her as rough as she was okay with, his teeth nipping at her creamy throat before his tongue soothed the ache. There was a fire between them that burned brighter with each encounter, raging wildly through their veins with no intention of cooling down.

He knew, each time he left her apartment and felt the small ache of loss in his chest, that this was quickly becoming something more than he was ready for, but he couldn’t risk losing her. Not now. Not when she kissed him with such ease, not when she looked so cute as she struggled to wrap her arms around him in all of his gear, and definitely not when she could fuck him within an inch of his life and still leave him begging for more.

He never stopped flirting with her. He couldn’t. Winks and smirks and kisses below the ear with something filthy whispered as he pulled away had become his norm. He wanted her all the time… and he got her, whenever he wanted her. 

And Anna got him, whenever she wanted him.

This new easiness that came from near-constant release gave him a sort of laser focus he didn’t even know he was capable of. Sven teased him that that’s what happens when you have sex after four years worth of dry spells. A newfound ability to not be distracted by how badly you want to fuck.

Kristoff punched him in the arm, but didn’t really disagree.

Today was the children’s event, where local children’s teams of mites, squirts, and pee-wees came out to play with the team and get some invaluable experience learning from professionals. It was undoubtedly Kristoff’s favorite event. He absolutely adored hanging out with the kids, letting them shoot pucks on him, and playing alongside the mini-goalies who all looked up at him with admiration in their eyes.

He wasn’t lying, about wanting a big family. 

Everytime he looked at them, he felt his heart clenching.

The media team was filming the event for their website, and Anna was running around doing some quick interviews with some of the players before the kids arrived. 

“Babe,” Kristoff hollered, quickly getting her attention. “C’mere.”

Her face lit up and she bit at her lip - he’d never get tired of it - before she came over, camera in tow, and grinned up at him, “Yes, honey?”

Kristoff moved swiftly, scooping her up into his arms as she protested, giggles making her seem way less serious, before skating backwards on the ice, his lovely girlfriend gripping his jersey, and the man with the camera jogging out onto the ice after them. “Let’s do some … on-ice interviews, hm?”

And then he set her down to sit on top of his net, skating just out of her reach, knowing she wouldn’t dare jump down in those heels. 

“You’ll regret this, Bjorgman.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

After a few of the teammates humored them and interviewed with her sitting on the net - each and every one commenting on how nice it was that she was closer to their eye level now - Kristoff finally shooed them all away and kindly told the cameraman he didn’t need to film this next part, before wrapping his gloved hands around her back, pulling her closer to the edge of the net and pressing a firm kiss against her mouth. “I can not wait to take you home tonight and -“

Anna cut him off with a hand over his lips and laughed, a blush rising high on her cheeks. “I’m mic’d!” 

Then Kristoff heard the meek voice of the cameraman hollering across the ice. “Yeah, she’s definitely mic’d.”

And then he leaned closer to where the tiny microphone sat and said “and fuck your brains out” anyway, causing Anna to shove him away and apologize profusely to the man who had to listen. 

“You’re awful.”

“But truthful.”

“So sorry again, Ryder,” Anna called as she turned off the mic pack and waved to the boy whose cheeks were slightly flushed as he tried to focus on getting some b-roll for the video.

“Yeah,” Anna could hear the sarcasm dripping from Kristoff’s lips as he ducked down to bury his nose against her neck. “So, so sorry.”

Kristoff could hear her shortened breaths and feel her quickened pulse beneath his mouth before her hands pushed up against his shoulders. “We’re at work, Kris, you shouldn’t…” He sighed and pulled back, taking in her rosy cheeks and fond smile. “But… later…”

Yes, definitely later. It had been a few days, anyway. “My place? I’ll make you dinner.”

Anna ooohed as she lifted her hands up to touch his cheeks. “I haven’t been to your place…” and then she bit her lip and he felt his heart hammer against his ribcage. “But dinner? With no publicity? Sounds like a date.”

He hummed, bracing his hands on either side of her thighs. “Probably shouldn’t call it that.”

“Probably not…” She winked and ticked a finger under his chin. “Just fueling up for the … marathon.”

Kristoff couldn’t help the little snort that left his nose as she smiled wickedly. He moved quickly to scoop her up, one arm under her knees as he carried her back to the bench. “It’ll be a marathon, all right. 

Setting her down gently on the ice, Kristoff helped her hop up onto the platform of the floor outside the rink and felt the smile on his face widen as she pulled him forward by the collar and planted one more kiss against his cheek. 

“See you later,” she hummed before turning to head into the lobby, and Kristoff felt his knees weaken just a little beneath his weight.

—

-

—

The kids showed up a little early, so Anna spent some time learning all of their names and where they were from before they got to go out onto the ice. They ranged from six all the way to thirteen, and she could feel her uterus crying out as each of them shook her hand and bounced with excitement. 

Their coaches and parents took them to the locker room to get ready after the Ice Breakers had finished their meeting, and when they came back out, Anna couldn’t help but feel her eyes misting up at the sight of all these kids in full hockey gear. They were too cute. 

She leaned over to get closer to eye level, and held out two thumbs up. “Are you guys ready to meet the boys?” They all giggled at the idea of big professional hockey players being called boys, but all started clacking their sticks against the ground as substitution for applause. “Because I know they’re ready to meet you guys.”

Mattias and Sven came up from the ice, gave them all a pep talk, and had everyone organize themselves by position, preparing to partner them up as best as they could. There was almost a one-to-one ratio, but a few of the players would take on two kids at once. Anna gave them all a wave before she headed back out to the bench, sitting and waiting for her next job, watching as Ryder moved around the ice with ease before he settled down to get a good shot of all the tots coming down the runway and onto the ice.

Sven came out first, his voice lowered and booming, and announced them as if they were coming out for a game. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment you’ve been waiting for…” The whole team started banging their sticks on the ice. “Your Miniiiii Iiiiiiice Breeeeakeeeers!!!!”

And they came running, all giggling and shaking their sticks in the air, a parade of excited children doing a lap around the ice as everyone applauded them. Then they lined up against the boards, and Sven skated down the line, telling them which player to go meet up with, grinning wickedly as he sent two towards Kristoff. 

Anna watched as one jumped up to hug him immediately, and she literally felt her stomach swoop in excitement. Oh Jesus she wished she could hear what he was saying as he swung the little girl around and smiled brightly up at her. Clearly there was a history there, and she could immediately see why Kristoff wanted so badly to be a father.

He was a natural at it.

He let her go with a smack of his glove over her mask, and got down on one knee to greet the much younger and clearly nervous boy who stood beside them. Kristoff’s smile was bright and inviting as he spoke softly and after a few minutes, he stuck out his mitt, cheering as the little boy gave him a fist bump. 

They skated around for a bit, shot some pucks on Kristoff, let Kristoff shoot some pucks on them, and overall were seeming to have a great time. 

Anna knew she should have been attempting to pay attention to other people as well, but she could not take her gaze away from Kristoff. And when he looked up and caught her staring, the soft smile that pulled at his cheeks stabbed her in the stomach.

There was no way in hell he’d ever be like that scumbag of a father he had.

Never.

Eventually they had some of the kids skate over to her, and Anna did little interviews with each of them, asking them if they were having fun, what their favorite part of the game was, and who their favorite player was. They were all clearly getting a kick out of the feeling of being interviewed like a professional, and Anna absolutely fed into it, talking to the camera like she did during games as she dismissed each kid.

Finally, god finally, Kristoff came up with his kids, bumping them with his hips and skates as they approached, making them giggles as they tripped and moved to right themselves.

“Well hello,” Anna grinned, working hard to tear her eyes away from Kristoff. “What are your names?”

The girl jumped up immediately, grabbing onto the boards and pushing her little purple mask up over her head. “I’m Lily, and that’s Connor!”

“Hi Lily, and hello, Connor.” Anna shook both of their hands and held up the microphone. “Would either of you like to do a little interview?”

Lily, with her lightly dyed pink hair bouncing on her shoulders, could not have said yes faster, making Anna laugh as she reached for her microphone.

“Connor? Would you?”

He shook his head no before ducking behind Kristoff’s legs, and Anna smiled softly. “Well that’s all right. Lily will do all the talking then, right?”

Kristoff leaned down to Connor and grinned. “It’s okay, buddy, I don’t really like interviews either. Anna usually does most of the talking.”

She snorted before leaning over to Lily, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “All right, Lily. When did you start playing hockey?”

Her smile was wide and she grabbed eagerly at the mic, pulling it close to her mouth. “Krissy came to a program I was in when I was like five and he volunteered with us and he taught us how to skate and then he started teaching us hockey things and I” deep breath, “thought it was really fun so I kept playing and he helped me a lot and now I got adopted and my mommy really loves that I have a passion so she let me keep playing and it’s” another deep breath, “been four years and I still really love it and I’m so happy to be playing and it’s all thanks to Krissy!”

“Ah, jeez, Lilypad,” he pushed against her face with his mitt, her giggles muffled by the sequipment. “Don’t embarrass me.”

“Oh, no, no,” Anna grinned, her eyes flicking up to meet Kristoff’s. “Please tell me more about Krissy.”

She watched with intrigue as his tongue ran against his bottom teeth under his lip, as if he was holding back from what he really wanted to say.

Yeah, she was going to wreck him later. She had no more doubts about that.

[kenkamishiro]

Ishida Sui’s Review of 2019

I didn’t think I’d ever finish this with my onslaught of classes including pharmacology, but I somehow managed! 6k word count, the longest TL I’ve done to date besides Parvati’s interlude for FGO. Lots of insight into Jack Jeanne’s production and what Ishida’s been up to for the past year. It was tough to translate because it was so long, but I had a lot of fun.

Let me know if there are any mistakes, I’m sure there’s a whole bunch. Have fun reading!

Original can be found here.

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2019. I’m reflecting on this past year while flipping through my agenda. Since I’m writing this for my sake, there’s going to be a lot of sections without much explanation.

January

○ This was when Jack Jeanne had yet to be announced, so I was mostly doing preliminary work at the time. Stuff like “BU” and “character facial expressions” will be finished some time this month, is written in my schedule book.

○ New Year’s party in Tokyo from the 16th - 19th. The New Year’s party is a joint party that’s comprised of the 4th editorial department (Shueisha’s seinen magazine branch) that’s held every year in January. I attended the party with the staff every year during serialization, minus my first year.

2019 will be the first New Year’s party since the series ended, but I thought I should stop inviting the staff to attend since we’re not working together anymore (plus it’d be a hassle), so I didn’t really invite anyone. But the day before the event, Editor M brought up the topic inside the taxi and asked, “Are none of the staff coming this year?” (Even if they’re invited now, it’s going to be impossible, asking them to fly the next day and causing a ruckus…) When I replied, “Hey, I’m sure it’d be fun if you invited them and they all came~”, the editor contacted Goubaru-kun, and after said, “He said he’s going.” Guess he wasn’t busy. In the end, the staff during serialization and several people from OB and OG came, almost identical to the lineup from previous years, and it occurred to me that maybe I should have just invited them from the start.

Anyway, at this year’s New Year’s party, I don’t really remember much of what happened. I talked with my senpais from back when I was an assistant for Kingdom, and outside the venue I sobered up from the agoraphobic dizziness I was feeling inside. At the second party I remember people talking to me haphazardly and being photographed. I wish I’d refused. Also, I was sexually harassed by Rikudou Matsubara, my senpai from the same region as me. This New Year’s party will be my last.

February

Briefing session for the game held in Tokyo. Key visual created. It says here [on the agenda] that I want to go to Kagoshima. Every week there’s a checklist for 10 km of jogging and weight training 2-3 times a week. I spent about a week doing some composition work. It ended up being helpful for me, but it made me decide not to work anymore with people with different levels of interest from me.

○ TRPG is written for the 28th. Usually we use the DX (Double Cross) system, but this time one of our participating players, M’s schedule was under mysterious attack. As game master, taking consideration of everyone who’d made time in their schedules for tonight, I thought we could switch to Cthulhu and asked them to wait an hour. 2 hours later I finished coming up with a scenario and began the session. It was fairly fun.

March

Finish BU this month, is clearly noted down. BU stands for bust-up, which are drawings of characters in standing poses [sprites] that are common in ADV games. Normally, since it takes a huge amount of work, the BU work is always divided up. The original drawings are done by the illustrator, in this case I do the base illustrations (line drawing & colouring), and using them as the base, the department sharing the work cleans up the line drawings and recolours it...that’s how the process goes. But since I’m a mangaka and don’t have the technology needed to make gaming assets, I thought it’d be best to leave it to the pros in that field, so that was how that stage proceeded. At that point in time at least.

I also had plans written down to go to Kagoshima. Looks like I didn’t go.

○ TRPG on the 25th. Player M’s schedule lined up with ours, so we played DX with 6 PL plus me as GM. We went to the aquarium, were attacked by witches, and so on.

April

Finish BU, is faintly written down. It seems like the work was more or less completed earlier this month.

○ High school friend K’s wedding on the 6th. Up until then I’d only been to two other wedding receptions. The weddings were for a different friend from high school, and Tajika-san, one of my senpais from Kingdom. This suddenly reminds me of that time at Tajika-san’s reception, when I took a super early flight because I absolutely didn’t want to be late whatsoever, but I ended up not being able to fly for about an hour and a half because of engine trouble or whatever, so I entered at almost the same time as the bride and groom during the reception…

K’s wedding was the first time in my life where I was present all the way from the wedding to the reception, but how should I put it, I was struck by a beam of light. I don’t know who he’s getting married to, I have no clue what their relationship is like. But I was somehow bombarded...by all these thoughts that became jumbled in my head, like the energy in this place, the power of their oaths, questioning what it was, how light isn’t always justice.

I got the feeling that this was what proper, respectable humans take part in, but since I'm fine with not being a proper, respectable human, I decided to not do anything other than what my heart desires.

I'm definitely not good with places where I’m in the spotlight. But congratulations.

○ “Play Sekiro” is strongly noted down. Thank you for supporting me in the first half of 2019.

○ TRPG for the 29th - 30th. DX. Player M’s character dies.

May - June

My schedule book is starting to look more scattered now. On the other hand, since I’ve got a good memory of this time, I can write while recalling the events.

○ I did the covers for the Touken stage play book.

I drew the cover illustrations for the Touken [Ranbu] stage play that Mikasano-san, who I’m grateful to for his work on the anime and movie scripts for TG, worked on. In my mind, it feels like I'm watching the back of who I'd consider my older brother in the creative world, or a fellow comrade on another battlefield fighting to the death. I think it came out quite charmingly, so I’ll include the links for now. Link 1 | Link 2 | Link 3

During this time of work for Jack Jeanne, I was working on “model sheets”. Blueprints for the characters’ attire, not just from the front but also the internal structure.

Unlike most other games, Jack Jeanne has “performance costumes” in addition to normal attire. Because of its “revue” theme, costumes that will be worn onstage needed to be prepared. I was shocked when I suddenly admitted that I needed model sheets for 5 different performances (spring, summer, fall, winter, final) for the 6 main characters, making 30 designs in total.

Back in the TG era, these kind of drawings that I just explained, or drawings that needed a lot of layers, were a pain in the ass. Plus I wasn’t good at them, so I thought that I didn’t want to do it for the rest of my life if possible. But it seems like I have to do this myself. With a sense of determination, I decided to work solely on this for all of May. At the same time, I made nothing but curry for all my meals. There’s no deep reason behind it, but my aim was to kinda boost my ability to concentrate daily by choosing to be decisive in that action.

○ Working on model sheets It came with an unintended effect. Because I spent a month on work that required balance and consistency, my right-left checking skills got better, and completely unrelated, I improved in drawing perfect copies. The design work for the model sheets itself became really fun to do, starting around when I became obsessed with the scarf design (sumo wrestler drawing) I definitely couldn’t use for Neji’s summer costume. I discovered that it’s precisely because I’m not good at this that my labour bore fruit. I feel like this was my experience for the latter half of the year.

July

The cast members were chosen. Unlike TG, there are 6 people + 1 person who can be referred to as the main character, so it was interesting to have a cast with some breadth.

Seems like lyrical work was the main thing I worked on.

Lyrical work. In Jack Jeanne, each performance contains several songs to sing and dance to, so each one is supposed to be sung. ...hence the lyrics.

The topic of what to do with the lyrics was brought up in November 2018. What happens typically is that, let’s say there’s singing in an idol game, then a company that specializes in it is asked to produce the songs. Even for Jack Jeanne, there were several candidates I could pick and choose from. But after a quick look-through, frankly speaking, they all looked the same to me. There’s one person that’s good, it’d be great if we could get them...is what I thought, but, “Even though I don’t have the skills, I’m the one who understands this world the best,” crossed my mind. ...should I try? I tried it. To be honest, I was super embarrassed since it’d be seen by a lot of people, but it evolved into, “Who cares if you’re doing it?” And so Jack Jeanne’s lyrics were tasked to me.

I mentioned this earlier, but there are multiple songs for each performance. So if you combine those plus the opening and ending songs, that makes 17 songs in total. Lyrics for 17 songs that I’m fully responsible for. What the hell...am I doing? Maybe it was from that moment that I started losing it.

Including the lyrics that I’d been working on bit by bit every month, the remaining ones were finished in one go this July. By the time I finished everything, my current state was, “Give me more songs...let me write more lyrics!” But it wasn’t over just yet.

August

Every time I meet someone I tell this story. I’m thinking of keeping it up. Here I am, relieved to have finished the lyrics, when a message pops up on the Skype group chat. It’s from Yamashita Daisuke of Broccoli.

To briefly touch upon Yamashita Daisuke, he is a young man who’s been involved with this project since October of 2018, and a poor soul who was tasked with conducting very important meetings on his third day of working at the company.

The producer from Broccoli was going on maternity leave, so he was scouted as her replacement. As an aside, if I have to be honest, the exchanges between me and Towada-san, and Broccoli’s Jack Jeanne team up until then were quite frustrating. “How about doing it like this?” they would counter. And we’d respond with something like, “This part is going to be developed later on, and since this will become foreshadowing for the entirety of the story, it can’t be modified that easily.” This kind of situation, having to explain everything in detail one by one, going 3 steps forward and being held 2 steps back, had been going on for about 3 years, so the two of us would often whine about it over drinks, going, “When should we quit, this is ridiculous,” etc.

Finally when things began going more smoothly, the producer who was leading the project took her leave, so I wondered if we’d be able to get along with Yamashita Daisuke, but he was, how should I put it, very diligent. For the last year I've been working with people who don’t put in their best effort, so I was very hopeful and thankful to him.

But I digress. This was the gist of the message that Daisuke sent.

“Kosemura-san’s who’s in charge of musical composition wants ‘scratch vocal tracks’ for when the singers are recording.” “Does Ishida-sensei happen to know anyone he could ask for this favour?” “I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you!” “Frankly speaking, it’s okay even if they’re bad.”

Huh. Well, as you might have already guessed, even with the lyrics, it’s impossible to really understand the song at first sight without knowing what kind of rhythm, what kind of emotions are being expressed in the bar measure. Of course we’d need ‘scratch vocal tracks’ to explain the general feeling of the song.

Now, what Daisuke said was, “Do you have anyone you can ask? It’s okay even if they’re bad. Or even you can do it.” But if I found a “it’s okay even if they’re bad” kind of person, we’d still have to show them how to sing it and explain how the rhythm goes. Daisuke already knew which was probably why he asked for the favour. “The person writing the lyrics would be able to make the scratch vocal tracks the fastest.” ...come to think of it, the demo songs that Kunimitsu sent me every time that were sung using Vocaloid, weren’t they also scratch vocal tracks?

Daisuke must have been in a pinch trying to figure out how he should ask me candidly. Ishida-sensei, I couldn’t just ask you to sing it, so I had to ask in a roundabout manner.

I’d already given my answer, but I was still hesitant. It’s true that after I finished writing the lyrics for the 17 songs I’d already lost sight of myself, but if I sang, my singing would reach Broccoli and Kosemura-san’s team’s ears. But I couldn’t just leave poor Daisuke hanging.

So I consult Towada-shi, whom I’d been collaborating with in creating the scripts for Jack Jeanne, for advice. (He had been in charge of TG’s novels, and I’ve known him for a long time.) “Did you check Skype?” “I did.” “What do you think?” “Start by looking up scratch vocal tracks,” so we paid a visit to YouTube. The first search result that came up for ‘scratch vocal track’ was a video of a vocalist who was used to sing a scratch track for AKB or something. I see, so that’s what it looks like. Innocuous, but I could see it was very professionally done.

And the second result that came up was Tsunku♂-shi. The figure of Tsunku♂-shi himself recording a scratch track for his idols. The producer himself became an idol, and was singing really cutely, in his emotions and how he sang it. “This is it?” I said. “Yeah, it is,” Towada-shi agreed. If Kosemura-san and his team, and the people who will be performing the songs have to listen to it, it’d be a disservice to them to half-ass it. I don’t like people who don’t try their best. That means I have to show that attitude myself. Let’s come out of my shell for poor Daisuke as well.

“You’re gonna become Tsunku♂.” “Yeah...I’m gonna be Tsunku♂!” And that was how I became Tsunku♂.

I replied to Daisuke on the Skype group chat. “Understood, I’ll do what I can.”

So this guy, who doesn’t even know what the ‘D’ in DTM stands for, first downloads the software, and begins setting up a recording environment. Other work is pushed aside. I set 3 days to work on this.

I timidly begin working on the scratch tracks. From the perspective of someone who doesn’t have to listen to their singing for a living, it starts out as a living hell, but you get used to it as you listen to it over and over.

And so I kept learning new things. I noticed I was harmonizing with myself.

Just like Tsunku♂-shi, I’d change the voice for each character. If it was Jack (male in a male role) I’d sing like a man, and if it was Jeanne (male in a female role), then like a woman, while the main character Kisa (female) should sound cute... No, Kisa needs to be cuter! I re-recorded her part many times. Depending on the song, I’d sing for 7 people. I was Jack Jeanne now.

Tsunku♂ (I) recorded 17 songs in 3 days, and sent the data first to Towada-shi. Since I was now Tsunku♂, I no longer felt any sense of embarrassment.

“I listened to it,” the reply came, and I called him. Towada-shi was roaring with laughter. I regained the embarrassment I’d forgotten.

“Oh no, I was laughing ‘cause I was impressed,” he said, but my heart was already as fragile as that of an abandoned dog.

“Even this is a big help to Kosemura-san, and Daisuke should be grateful, right?” Yeah. Although Towada-shi guffawed at me, Daisuke will surely thank me. And then he’ll definitely tell me what a good job I did!

I dumped the music into the Skype group chat. “I did what I could,” I added.

How will Daisuke react to my Tsunku♂? I waited restlessly. Three days later on August 5th, a formal message arrived after it was received.

“Thank you very much. We will schedule a meeting with Kosemura-san…”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. My hard work got dismissed with, “Thank you very much.”

Daisuke, why? I thought you were in a pinch, so I...were...were you fooling with me from the start? Answer me! Daisuke! Just tell me I did a good job, or follow up with something, I’m fine with anything! So much for my heart being like an abandoned dog, it’s more like a grown-ass man left naked on a snowy mountain. I did what I could! This feeling was welling up inside me, but was it myself that managed to do it?

○ Later, at a meeting with Kosemura-san “It’s great that you could do this much for us. You didn’t have to do all that.” With the gist of those words, a warm blanket was finally placed over my heart, which had almost frozen to death.

“I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t sure if Sensei was the most who did it in the first place,” Daisuke said, so I decided to satisfy myself by threatening, “I’m gonna tell this story until the day I die.”

September

○ Responses to the Questions to Ishida Sui contest We did a “Ask anything to Ishida Sui” contest as a project for the art book “zakki:re”, where purchasers could apply with a postcard. I was writing the replies for them.

I thought there’d be a lot more questions about TG or its contents, but surprisingly there were a lot of questions asking for life advice. There were quite a few questions that I had to seriously think about to answer.

It was kinda tough since there were over a hundred of them, but I thought it’d be nice to get in touch like this every once in a while.

○ BU work for Jack Jeanne Once the music-related tasks like lyrical composition and scratch vocal tracks were completed, I worked on BU. ...BU work? Wasn’t it finished back in April?

Well, a similar situation arose just like what happened with the lyrics. Regarding sprite quality I might not be able to beat the pros, but since I’m the one who best understands how the characters look best and their body balance, I had decided to do all the line drawing colouring myself in June. I had no clue whether I’d make the deadline or maintain the quality, but thanks to Broccoli’s understanding, I was allowed to make it myself.

I realized once again that I’m terrible at splitting up work. If I can do it by myself, I will.

Plus, it’s, how should I put it, starting from my TG days, even though it wasn’t a lot I got to see various types of workplaces. I’d see places where there was no sense of responsibility whatsoever, or the work may have been divvied up appropriately, but it felt like they were making something without a sense of purpose, like a main plot line that isn’t going anywhere.

It’s impossible to accomplish big things with that kind of stance, and I understand that the more people that intervene, the more uncertain the core becomes, so I didn’t like that kind of approach. It makes me wonder whether there’s any meaning in creating a work that’s conservative and unchallenged, and if it’s nothing more than a money grab.

Since I don’t have any desire for material things, getting fed up about it is useless, but I just can’t help thinking about it.

Of course, it may be difficult to get what I want 100% of the time, but I want to create things in an environment that I think is beautiful, even in places that I’m slightly involved in.

...in other words, BU work is tough, but I began remaking the sprites once again by myself. This was the toughest work I’ve ever done out of everything, including the serialization...

○ Scratch vocals training camp at the end of September I went to the recording for the scratch vocal tracks. Based on the scratch tracks that I made, we got professional vocalists to sing it again properly. This is what the actual cast would use as a reference to sing. (So my version was like the pre-scratch vocal track.)

I was stuck in Tokyo for almost a week. Wake up, get ready, go to the recording studio. Come back at 8 or 9 pm, rest and sleep, repeat.

It was like I was back in school, and since I don’t have a steady lifestyle, I enjoyed it.

Kosemura-san’s team is really great, and I know I mentioned this before, but I felt like their workplace was a very healthy production site. When I was drawing manga, I never had much time to talk with fellow manga artists, and I’ve never had the chance to experience what other professionals’ workplaces were like, so it was very exciting for me to see people as professionals tackle one thing seriously. The vocalists were as amazing as I expected, and although my scratch tracks were played at a loud volume to annoy me, I had a great time.

The game might have a high level of entry, but it’s worth listening to just for the songs, is what I truly thought.

○ Parting words to Editor M-shi This might have been back in August, but from 2018 to 2019 I had a lot of things on my mind, so I began talking to the editor.

In between the 11 years of serialization starting from my rookie days, I’d received guidance from him so it wasn’t easy, but I expressed to him that we should keep our distance for any future works.

“I want to become absorbed in myself, not to Ishida Sui or Tokyo Ghoul,” I told him. The other part said he also felt the same way, and accepted it. The next time we meet, I hope we can talk about what we’re into, what we’re going crazy over, he said.

And so, 2 months after that conversation was the scratch vocals training camp in Tokyo, and I had the chance for the two of us to talk again. That day I was completely tuckered out from recording the scratch track, but it was a day filled with accomplishments.

He took me to a restaurant with delicious food in Ebisu or somewhere, and after concluding our brief business meeting, I tried throwing out the cliched, “So, what are you up to lately?” As the lead writer, there was a part of me that was curious about how he was doing after that talk we had.

The editor began talking about homemade curry.

...that’s what he’s into? I decide everything from selecting and picking the ingredients myself, and next time I want Ishida-kun to also see how delicious the curry is...he told me passionately, but how should I put it, the conversation wasn’t very spicy.

The food was delicious.

October

○ BU work

What’s hard about BU work is that it’s difficult to separate the layers according to the face, hair and clothes, and they all have to have the same style and touch to it. If it was manga, then maybe...no, even in manga, there’s still some need to match the outfits, but it doesn’t really matter to that extent.

It’s because I don’t like game sprites. “This character has so much energy from their sideways pose! Amazing!” This never happens…

Around this time of the year, my older sister called this elaborate task, “the task you’re probably the worst at.”

○ The bean life I’m not really fat in particular, but I made up my mind to try dieting. At the time, my body fat percentage was at 18%, and I’ve never been below 10% ever in my entire life, so I’m thinking of aiming for that. Instead of eating rice with unseasoned chickpeas and black soybeans, I began my lifestyle of consuming vegetables and cuts of meat with less fat. Hopefully I can achieve my goal in about six months’ time.

○ Ano-chan, Honda Keisuke, and I After Ano-chan left “You’ll Melt More!”, her official Twitter account removed every single account she was following, but for some reason only two people remained. Those two people were Honda Keisuke and Ishida Sui. To Ano-chan, Honda Keisuke and Ishida Sui belonged in the same category. After some time passed, even we were removed, but I consider this one of my hottest mysteries of 2019. Ano-chan! I’ll always be waiting, so let’s have tea some time with Honda Keisuke!

November

○ BU Need I say more.

○ Main cast’s first recording session from the 26th - 27th.

I visited Tokyo with Towada-shi to supervise the main cast members’ recording session. Wow, everyone was so amazing~

Of course, not just the main characters. Terasaki Yuka-san who plays the main character, Tachibana Kisa, was wonderful as well.

In this kind of game genre, the position as the main character feels less important than the male characters, but I want her to stand firmly in this story’s script. I thought it’d be nice to have the main character not stand out too much and have her watch over the male characters, and I felt that Terasaki-san’s voice and acting fit that image perfectly.

About the cast members, it seems like there’ll be a chance to speak to them eventually, so I’ll come back again.

○ 1 month into the bean life I’m steadily losing weight. Basically I always work from home. I go to the gym and supermarket 2-3 times a week. I started cooking for myself. I got a brand new refrigerator to replace the one that suddenly broke. It actually cools things down now. Living standards have risen.

December

○ I break off ties with M who I played TRPG together with. He was a former classmate who was even chief assistant at some point during the series’ run, but eventually he ended up getting fired due to falling asleep at work. He said he’d attend the last session for the story that day (although his own character had already died), and I was working on a schedule to accommodate him, but once again he cancelled at the last minute.

It’s fine to cause trouble for me (although I’ll probably get pissed), but I can’t overlook treating others the same way. And it’s not the fact that his schedule didn’t match up, it’s because he was complete trash who didn’t know how to behave like an adult once he made plans with others, that I felt sorry for the other TRPG people who took time out of their schedules. Since I felt ashamed when I was together with him, I decided I’d had enough.

This was a year where I cut ties with a lot of people, but I think what they had in common was that I was ashamed to be with them. From now on, I don’t want to associate with such people.

What’s more, when I finally told him, he didn’t even try to deal with it and just gave up, responding, “So that’s how you felt about me. Okay. My bad.”

I won’t go anywhere with those kind of people again.

○ The bean life ⇒ the potato life. I changed it to potatoes.

○ BU is over...

On December 17th, I finally finished the BU work that I spent ageeeeeeeees on.

Although I said that serialization is tough, as long as I finished 18 pages a week that was it (although there were times where I was chasing myself with other work), so I could finish it as long as I didn’t sleep. I somehow managed to finish both the manuscripts and the colour illustrations this way, so expecting BU to be similar, I wasn’t really scared about it never ending, but BU truly was despair. When is this gonna end? I’m even working super hard… This is how it went on the entire time for over a month.

There were about 200 different sprites I had to make myself, including the different costumes and poses, and I had to do all of them.

For one thing, when, “This process is necessary,” came out, I had to go through the same process roughly 200 times, that it felt like I was facing the final boss who already transformed many times. Also, it’s like not equipping myself with a lot of equipment and recovery items in the previous town, but the dungeon I somehow managed to enter is extremely dangerous and even though there’s no safe points anywhere in sight, the boss suddenly comes up behind you, and you go I’m gonna die I’m gonna die

○ If you eat a lot while you’re losing weight, you’re going to have a bad time.

On December 15th I had trouble concentrating, so I tidied up the living room, created a space in the middle of the room, and darkened the lights. After an hour of meditating, only the sound of my breathing could be heard in the room, and so I went back to work with renewed concentration after confronting the issue (like a monk?).

On December 16th, I’ve been working the entire time since morning. I thought today was going to be the last day, but an entire day has passed and I don’t have any energy...

I’ll buy a midnight snack, replenish my energy, and end it once and for all. I’m trying to lose weight, but I went to the convenience store while thinking about how I’m gonna eat a katsu sandwich (I didn’t have the energy to cook).

While looking for something at a convenience store I can eat during weight loss, I think back over the last few months.

Like how it seems like BU is finally over, how a lot of things have happened, how I’m working hard, how lately I’ve been eating only potatoes, vegetables and meat.

And then I suddenly thought, “I wonder if the reason I don’t have any energy is because I haven’t had any rice lately.”

...I thought I should go on a diet in October, so I’ve been living a very modest life since then. Thanks to that, my weight has steadily decreased, and my body fat percentage has gone down 3% to 15%. What will happen if I continue with my relatively strict dietary restrictions during this difficult time?

...even if you’re losing weight, there’s a technique you can set up to binge eat during periods where weight loss stagnates, called cheat day (though results may vary), but what is it that makes no-cheating so inefficient even for weight loss?

...should I have a cheat day today?

“Huh, is it really okay?” I asked my mind. “Do it!” was the answer I got. From that moment, everything around me morphed into things I could eat.

No exaggeration, my knees trembled.

I crammed into my shopping basket carbohydrates, carbs, more carbs… It’s okay just for today, I say as I shove cream puffs, dorayaki, pudding, Family Mart chicken and ice cream. (Even if it's a cheat day, it’s probably not a good idea to take non-nutritional foods, but shh.)

With food in both hands and in high spirits, the first thing I ate was the delicious part of the Family Mart chicken.

I groaned loudly, all alone in the room.

Alright, let’s finish this work! I was energized, but my blood sugar levels spiked so much that I felt extremely sleepy and went to bed instead.

The next day on the 17th, I wake up at 4 am and immediately notice something unusual. My body is burning. I’m sweating.

I immediately wake up, and overflowing with energy, I head for my desk. I’m working actively, and I finish the BU work. It felt like I was pushing forward with only positive energy, feeling uplifted.

I break out a laugh at a slight joke I found funny from a foreign drama (The Mentalist) I’m playing while working. The greenery of the plants and the lighted sink glisten, and the scenery is vivid.

What is this?

I suddenly recall the story of a YouTuber I saw recently. He lives in a region where medical marijuana is legalized, and he explained in detail what changes would occur if you smoked cannabis.

To put it roughly, you feel calm and your senses sharpen. Trivial things can become funny, and funny videos can make you roar with laughter.

Then maybe...I thought, I'll watch Nagareboshi (a comedy duo) on YouTube. Usually I go, haha, that's funny! But that day I exploded with laughter...all of their videos were just too funny.

I learned that when you’re losing weight and suddenly eat a lot, it alters your mind and body as if you smoked cannabis. (※ Just to be clear, I don’t know what cannabis is like.)

Thus the BU work ended with me being high as a kite.

(※ I’m covering it with mosaics for now. I’ll remove it once I can announce it.)

○ I stopped playing TRPGs. I’ve been doing it for about two and a half years, but it also helped me in honing my creative skills. I’d sometimes perform, so it was useful when I was recording the scratch vocals… It was a good experience, managing to vicariously live the energy of ending a story. It was a story about a group of friends, so it was easy to appreciate.

Summing up 2019

After the weekly series finished in 2018, I was in a daze for a few months, but in 2019 I worked only on Jack Jeanne for the year.

This year I tried various things, and trite as it may seem, felt the possibilities within myself expanding. I had many opportunities to realize how important it is to keep a distance from bad things that don’t do anything for me.

During my work on Jack Jeanne, I vaguely thought about my future creations. The work I’m doing now in game production is fun so I wonder if I can keep working in this field, but I’d also like an environment where I can release things more constantly.

I can’t promise anything specific, but I’m going to work on things that I want to do.

I look forward to what 2020 has to offer. Have a happy New Year.

2019.12.31 Ishida Sui

[mergersacquisitionsadvisory]

What's The Largest Tech Mergers And Acquisitions Advisory In History?

New blockbuster tech deals reshape the landscape so typically that we determined to start out preserving track of essentially the most profitable ones. The list starts with offers of only a couple billion and works its method as much as the largest tech mergers and acquisitions we've seen so far. This merger, which took place in 2000, was price over $180 billion and is the biggest merger and acquisition deal in historical past. As mergers and acquisitions advisory, Vodafone turned the largest cell operator on the earth whereas setting the stage for future offers within the telecom industry. Many Germans were towards this deal as a result of they wanted German businesses to stay key players in the world marketplace. The deal is the second largest of all time for a software company (the most important being IBM’s 2019 acquisition of RedHat) but already looks prefer it has the potential to generate massive synergies for each corporations.

So just two years later, Google flipped Motorola Mobility to Lenovo for $2.9 billion, while holding on to these patents. As for why Google offered Motorola and why Lenovo purchased it, try this 2014 evaluation from PCMag's Lead Analyst Sascha Segan. The proper expertise and tools can even work to make deals extra profitable. DealRoom’s M&A project management software program and tools goals to assist groups manage their complicated M&A transactions. Overall, it’s onerous to argue which deal in US history is probably the most profitable merger or acquisition because of the truth that generally the total worth and potential of a deal takes years to formulate. If you need to discover the latest listing of mergered firms read this blog post about the place to verify M&A information. The acquisition created the second largest drug company, took three months, and Pfizer obtained control of Lipitor’s earnings, which amounted to over $13 billion.

The deal is supposed to stop the downward spiral and the planning was in place to purchase out the shares however obtained delayed because of regulatory elements. This was the largest purchase out within the historical past of the entertainment industry. Walt Disney Co. acquired well-known 21st Century Fox with $eighty five billion. The intention behind the deal is to turn out to be a significant player in video entertainment on the internet. Disney over the yr centered on an even bigger display to distribute its product, however millennials are watching much less TV and consuming more content from the internet. This noticed the rise of video streaming providers similar to Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu.

2004 Parcel Direct FedEx Corp. broadens its residential delivery portfolio with the acquisition of Parcel Direct, a leading parcel consolidator. Parcel Direct becomes a subsidiary of FedEx Ground and is renamed FedEx SmartPost. The company offers a proven answer to customers within the quick-growing e-tail and catalog industries looking for a cheap means of transport low-weight, less time-delicate goods to residential prospects. FedEx Corp. expands its retail entry to all the 1,200 Kinko's stores. With the backing of a FORTUNE 100 corporation, Kinko's gains the sources and experience needed to proceed growth of its corporate doc outsourcing business and international operations. FedEx Corp. acquires this less-than-truckload carrier serving the central and japanese U.S. to complement Viking Freight. Rebranded as FedEx Freight in 2002, these firms mix to make FedEx Freight a pacesetter in the regional less-than-truckload delivery business.

This consists of the purchase of Whole Foods, which Amazon bought for $thirteen.7 billion, and is the company’s largest acquisition to date. In order to count for our listing, acquisitions should be no less than a majority stake in the target company (in any other case it’s simply an funding). Naspers’ investment in Tencent and Softbank/Yahoo’s investment in Alibaba are disqualified for this reason. This purchase may need ranked even higher if Booking Holdings’ stock (Priceline even renamed the whole company after this acquisition!) weren’t down ~20% due to COVID-19 fears after we did the analysis. Who would have thought facilitating funds for Beanie Baby trades could possibly be so profitable? The solely acquisition on our record whose value we will precisely measure, eBay spun off PayPal into a stand-alone public company in July 2015.

Salesforce Is Shopping For Office Messaging App Slack For $27 7 Billion In Its Biggest Deal Ever

2012 TATEX FedEx Corp. acquires TATEX, a leading French enterprise-to-business express transportation company, for $55 million. This acquisition offers its FedEx Express enterprise unit access to a nationwide domestic floor community which carries 19 million shipments and produces roughly €150 million in revenues yearly. This acquisition offers its FedEx Express business unit entry to a nationwide domestic ground community with an estimated $70 million in annual revenue and 12.5 million shipments annually.

Furthermore, Coinbase appointed Earn.com co-founder and CEO Balaji Srinivasan as its first CTO and absorbed the Earn.com group. A 12 months after the acquisition, Coinbase closed down Earn.com to focus completely on Coinbase Earn.

I guess the macro point right here is I assume it is always worth evaluating two related corporations like this, YouTube and Instagram. I suppose in all probability considerably greater hosting and bandwidth prices. Now, DoubleClick is attention-grabbing in that Google bought that in 2008.

Facebook’s largest acquisition has been WhatsApp Messenger, which it bought for $22 billion in 2014. The WhatsApp acquisition is the second largest of the Big Five, following Microsoft’s LinkedIn buy. In an intriguing current flip of events, Apple recently introduced it will acquire the majority of Intel’s smartphone modem enterprise. This $1 billion deal will allow Apple to construct all of its devices in-house, and higher put together the iPhone for the upcoming 5G push. While these tech giants may have had massive aspirations for these exceedingly giant deals, they have mixed success charges. The Big Five tech giants, or “FAAMG”—Facebook, Amazon, Apple, Microsoft, and Google —have a combined market capitalization of over $four trillion.

But the forecast for the total yr of 21% to 22% growth would characterize the corporate's slowest fee of expansion since 2010. Slack is projected to develop 39% this fiscal year, which ends Jan. 31, to $876.three million, according to analysts surveyed by Refinitiv. By buying Slack, a business chat service with over one hundred thirty,000 paid customers, Salesforce is bolstering its portfolio of enterprise functions and filling out its broader software program suite because it seeks new areas of progress. The income streams for esports corporations are additionally extraordinarily varied. Companies like TSM, a hundred Thieves, FaZe Clan and Enthusiast Gaming made 50% or extra of their revenue from outside of esports, having as a substitute expanded into diverse corporations with an equal focus on content material creation and apps. TSM, the world’s most precious esports firm in 2020, has a better valuation than 5 NHL franchises.

Ibm's Blockbuster $34 Billion Deal For Purple Hat

According to company management, Latin America and Africa provide the brewing conglomerate alternatives to increase into quickly-rising regions that should end in increased income and market share. A business taking up another promising business is a typical incidence in the company world. Such acquisitions, also referred to as takeovers, are often executed as part of a company’s development strategy and are made for any number of causes. Martha approached Medtronic’s board and commenced laying out the probabilities of creating an acquisition of a giant medical company that would provide the needed breadth. “The board had began to heat to the thought, but we hadn’t settled on something.” Covidien, he noted, was on the highest of the listing. Salesforce mentioned the Slack buy involves an enterprise value of $27.7 billion, which takes into account shares excellent along with debt and money. The deal values Slack at over 24 occasions estimated revenue for subsequent yr.

Amazon ultimately shut down Quidsi in 2017, citing profitability issues. We have seen a number of the biggest mergers and acquisitions within the last decade within the above record. The yr 2020 has also witnessed a number of adjustments including numerous mergers and acquisitions. The world-renowned company, Unilever has announced mergers and acquisitions advisory its merger from Unilever N.V into Unilever PLC. This will make it one holding company based mostly within the UK. The transaction value of the merger was recorded to be $eighty one billion which has positioned it in our record of Biggest Mergers and Acquisitions of the Decade. Further, the wake of COVID-19 has triggered a lot of disturbance all over the world.

As per the agreement, Heinz will hold 51% of the stake within the freshly shaped company and the rest will go to Kraft. The agreement to form the brand new firm was adopted unanimously by each of them.

Eight of Amazon’s top acquisitions were valued at $500M+, including four deals value $1B+. Annapurna Labs ($370M, 2015), an Israel-primarily based semiconductor startup, was reportedly acquired with cloud computing in mind. Annapurna’s chip expertise was subsequently used to make Amazon’s cloud enterprise, AWS, more cost-effective to run. Kiva Systems ($775M, 2012), a robotic achievement system producer, was the certainly one of Amazon’s most impactful acquisitions to its lengthy-term enterprise — no e-commerce competitor has but been capable of rival Amazon’s warehouse automation. This contract was signed between two Saudi firms within the year 2019. In which Saudi Aramco obtained 70% of the stakes in Saudi Basic Industries Corporation . The remaining shares will stay within the public area to be traded out there.

Walmart's efforts to keep with with Amazon didn't cease at Jet.com. In May 2018, the corporate announced a $sixteen billion deal to take a seventy seven p.c stake in Indian e-commerce company Flipkart. The deal closed in August 2018 to expand Walmart's fight with Amazon to a different one of the world's greatest markets.

Prior to Slack, Salesforce's largest offers had been the $15.three billion purchase of Tableau last 12 months and the $6.5 billion acquisition of MuleSoft in 2018. Alphabet has made a number of daring strikes into the hardware and knowledge science sectors.

The 10 Leaders Reworking Franchise Business 2020

Then IBM blew it out of the water with its $34 billion all-money acquisition of open-source powerhouse Red Hat, taking the title of largest software program M&A deal of all-time within the process. The deal has formally closed as of July 9, 2019, with Red Hat turning into its own unit of the company operating beneath IBM Cloud. Cisco has spent the last a number of years shifting from hardware to software and companies. The enterprise tech big's $3.7 billion acquisition of AppDynamics in 2017 bought the corporate a market-leading stake in the software performance administration and infrastructure monitoring house. Adding some drama to the deal, Cisco scooped up AppDynamics only a day earlier than the corporate was set to go public for round $a hundred million. Apple's 2014 deal to buy Beats is the most costly acquisition within the company's historical past, however it's the most affordable deal on this list. The tech big has made dozens of acquisitions since the late '80s, but just one deal valued at greater than a billion.

My other sub-bullet is, should you're big-sport searching, when you're massive elephant searching, price would not matter, convey a giant gun. You can spend $1.sixty five billion for YouTube and still end up quantity three on the listing.

Technology

Amazon's blockbuster $thirteen.7 billion deal to purchase the nationwide chain of Whole Foods supermarkets gave the corporate an existing brick-and-mortar retail infrastructure to broaden its online purchasing operations. Amazon has since introduced issues like Amazon Prime perks, 30-minute grocery pickups, and a slew of other cross-promotional efforts to turn Whole Foods places into yet another extension of Amazon's e-commerce empire. The tech large closed its $eight.5 billion acquisition of Skype in 2011, and has since integrated the video chat service throughout its enterprise and shopper app portfolio. Microsoft's second-largest deal of the Nadella period solidified the corporate's about-face on open source with a $7.5 billion acquisition of the biggest host of open-supply code on the planet. Microsoft has huge plans for the way to combine the popular code-sharing platform and developer group into its cloud ecosystem, and after closing the deal final 12 months is beginning to make them a reality.

The shares debuted on the New York Stock Exchange in June 2019, by way of a direct itemizing. The stock, which opened at $38.50, has been on a curler coaster since, trading near $17 in March of this yr, before climbing back near $forty in June after which dropping again below $25 in mid-November. The company was initially founded in 2009 as an internet gaming firm call Tiny Speck. It was created by Stewart Butterfield, famous in the tech world for beginning photograph-sharing website Flickr and promoting it to Yahoo. Andreessen Horowitz, Accel Partners and Social Capital had been among Tiny Speck's early backers.

Quantity & Worth Of M&A Worldwide

In what has now turn out to be the largest tech acquisition of all time, and one of the largest in any industry, hardware maker Dell purchased storage giant EMC for a whopping $sixty seven billion in 2016. But even the Broadcom acquisition appeared paltry in comparison with the daring provide for Qualcomm Inc. Soon after altering its name, Avago (now Broadcom Ltd.) tried to snag Qualcomm with a $121 billion supply — double what Dell paid for EMC and the one largest provide within the tech business, ever. The new entry to the top 10 tech acquisitions list reached a formidable No. 3 spot. With the acquisition, Slack becomes the brand new interface for Salesforce Customer 360. During the time of the acquisition, salesforce stated it’s seeking to “give firms a single supply of fact for his or her enterprise,” by unifying the platforms they use within their present workflows. Saleforce’s desire for Tableau was realized to the tune of a $15.7 billion all-stock acquisition in June 2019, making it the largest purchase in Saleforce’s history and the eighth largest acquisition on our listing.

We estimated the current market cap contribution of that $30 million Bungie Halo pickup in 2000 to be about $eight billion at present. The way we considered that is Pixar is basically good for a film a year. Super, super attention-grabbing though, the one reason that is thus far down on the record is because of all of the complicated EMC Dell stuff (we'll get into once we do this episode sometime). Dell is definitely trading in the public markets at a significantly decrease worth than what their stake in VMware is worth. This rating represents a cut-off date in history, March 2, 2020. It is clearly topic to alter going ahead from each future and previous acquisition performance, as well as fluctuating stock prices.

Eclipsing Microsoft’s $26.2 billion acquisition of LinkedIn, this is the most important software program acquisition in history. It’s not the largest tech acquisition ever, although, as that title belongs to Dell’s $sixty seven billion buyout of data storage enterprise EMC. We have not talked about that in this episode, this isn't the time and place for it, but the entire prime corporations on this record were able to try this. It's the expansion part of a market, that's when you can create power. If you wait too long, you can enter markets later however you're by no means going to dominate a market until should you until later. Binance has definitely been busy with acquisitions these days with 9 up to now 12 months alone and no less than one more in retailer this yr.

Gaz De France And Suez Merger

We also calculated the annualized return to simply try to adjust for time here slightly bit. Fifteen p.c annualized returns since 1984 is simply unbelievable. That is like Berkshire Hathaway levels of return by an acquisition inside an organization. That same year, the firm suggested Vodafone on the US$130 billion sale of its US group — whose principal asset was its forty five percent stake in Verizon Wireless — to Verizon Communications. The transaction, together with a report US$fifty eight.8 billion in cash, was the biggest M&A deal in more than a decade, and the third-largest in historical past.

These embrace inside issues like cultural integration between the 2 companies or macro-level issues like total financial circumstances and geopolitical points. The $a hundred sixty five billion merger between America Online and Time Warner Inc. is available in at quantity two in our record of greatest acquisitions in history. The merger occurred on the peak of the dotcom era in 2000 when profitable Internet supplier, AOL, made a bid to accumulate mass media conglomerate, Time Warner. At the time, AOL had a massive market share and was seeking to broaden even additional by tapping into Time Warner's dominance in publishing, entertainment, and news. However, not all of Microsoft’s acquisitions have been as successful, similar to its 2014 buy of Nokia’s Devices & Services enterprise for $7.2 billion.