#also they made a fuss about disappointing fans about who wins so they did something crazy

[earthgrudgefear]

bro are we gonna kiss rn

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – One // Wanda Maximoff

story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter two

author’s note: here’s the long-awaited first chapter! i do hope you all enjoy!

Also a quick one – Y/B/N = your brother’s name, Y/M/N = your mother’s name and Y/D/N = your dad’s name

"You move anymore and you're gonna hit a waiter."

I gave my brother a disapproving look as he grinned at my dismay. "Easy for you to say. You're wearing a suit and not a dress that's heavier than your body."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Y/N, you complain too much. Look where we are! You need to learn to enjoy yourself."

Taking a look around the room, I saw a hall filled with people I didn't know mingling with one another. Flutes of champagne were on almost every hand and laughter filled the air as everybody enjoyed their evening, soaking in the luxuries of a ball somebody I didn't know was hosting. Orchestral music was drowned out by conversations and servers moved through the hall like mice, scuttling around and constantly topping up champagne. I wasn't a fan, as usual.

"Are you both ready? Your father is bringing the Maximoffs here any second," my mother's voice grabbed my attention. "Y/N, at least try to look happy to be here." 

I forced a smile, making her give me a knowing look before looking to my brother and fixing his tie.

"You both know how important this is," she told us for the millionth time, fussing over my brother's appearance. "They're expecting–"

"Well-behaved, respectful individuals," I finished for her. "We know, mum. You've told us only a gazillion times."

She pressed her lips together, hands on her hips as her eyes fell to me, displeased. "If this engagement is to go as planned, I need you on your best behaviour."

"I'm always on my best behaviour," I reassured her. "But okay. I'll lighten up."

"Thank you," she said with a grateful smile, before glancing over her shoulder. "Okay. Here they come. Smiles, please."

My brother looked to me, showing me his teeth. "Is there anything in my teeth?"

I cracked a smile to make myself feel better. "Gums."

He gave me a disappointed look. "You know men don't like women who are smart arses." 

I rolled my eyes at his comment, knowing men didn't like women who didn't like men. But, of course, I didn't say that.

All her and my dad had been talking about for the past few weeks was this engagement. My brother, a very successful author, was to be engaged to his publisher's twin sister, some girl called Wanda. The Maximoffs were an esteemed family and their unification with ours was in everyone's best interests, especially my brother's who was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city.

I didn't know much about the Maximoffs, only that their son and my brother's 'boss', if you will, Pietro, ran a successful publishing house. It had been in their family name since their parents emigrated to England from Sokovia when Pietro and Wanda were children. They'd built themselves up from nothing and were now high members of society, the perfect family to be involved with.

Y/B/N was to be engaged to Wanda, their daughter, since she was getting to that age where they wanted to find someone for her. My brother's name was put into the mix when Pietro recommended him and the rest was history.

Tonight was the first unofficial meeting with them and my mother had been nonstop lecturing me on the dos and don't's of how to act, as if I was a child that couldn’t behave. Of course, it was only a mere greeting. The true engagement was to be proposed tomorrow night, but that didn't matter to my fussy mother who was insistent on making a good impression.

I found myself straightening up and pressing my hands down my dress to rid it of creases as my brother adjusted his blazer. The Maximoffs were being led our way by my father, the four of them all with smiles on their lips and flutes of champagne in their hands.

"Dear, I would like to introduce you to Mr and Mrs Maximoff and their lovely children, Pietro and Wanda," my dad introduced, stopping before us, before looking to the Maximoffs. "This is my family. My wife, Y/M/N, and my children, Y/N and Y/B/N."

"Please, call me Oleg and my wife Iryna," the twins' father, Oleg, said with a kind smile. He held out his hand to my mother, adding, "It's a pleasure, Y/M/N."

They shook hands and then looked to my brother and I, exchanging quick greetings with us. As they were saying something to my brother, probably gushing over his writing as everyone did, I took a look at the quiet twins behind them.

I vaguely recognised the guy and his striking silver hair from my brother's work, knowing he was Pietro. But I'd never seen the girl before and knew immediately that if I had, I wouldn't forget her face. She was stunning, it didn't take a genius to see that. But not the stunning that you glanced once at and forgot about. No, she was the stunning that knocked the breath out of you and made you forget what your name was.

"...lovely to meet you again!" my brother was saying all the right things to impress his soon-to-be in-laws, but it went over me as I found myself unable to tear my gaze from this mystery woman.

Further introductions went on in the background, before the green eyes I was so enthralled with were looking my way, making me blink suddenly. I instantly looked away, afraid I'd been caught, and zoned back into the conversation that was taking place.

"It's great to finally put a name to a face," the girl, Wanda, was saying to my brother with a honey sweet smile and sultry Russian-accented voice, and judging by his expression, he was just as caught up in her beauty as I was. "I look forward to getting to know you more."

"And I you," he returned with his signature grin.

Her eyes fell to mine once again, lips curving into an amused smile. "And of course, Y/B/N's beautiful sister, Y/N. How lucky a man he must be to have a sister as stunning as you."

The others chuckled, clearly taken by Wanda's smooth way with words. In their eyes, it was flattery at its finest. After all, she was to be welcomed into our family and sucking up to the sister was the best way forward. But I guess, I'd like to believe that there was some truth to her words as her entrancing green eyes sparkled with delight.

"You don't need to win over my sister to get on my good side," Y/B/N joked before I could speak, stealing Wanda's attention away momentarily.

She suppressed a laugh, tilting her head as she studied him with an unreadable expression, before looking to me with curious eyes.

"Thank you for your kind words, Wanda," I finally said to her, offering a small smile.

"Anytime," she quipped, biting her lip to contain her smile.

It was oh so wrong of me to even slightly check her out as she did, knowing that it was not only inappropriate since she was to be my brother's bride, but also wrong since she was a girl and I wasn't supposed to do this. A heat crept up neck as I avoided her teasing gaze, wondering if she knew what she was doing or if she was just a naturally flirty person.

"I'm Pietro," her brother spoke, making me look up again. He was directing a charming smile my way as he continued, "It's an honour to finally meet my best author's younger sister."

I put out my hand for him to shake, but he simply grabbed it and pressed a gentle kiss to the top. I flushed at the contact, a nervous smile on my lips.

"Er, it's nice to meet you, too, Pietro," I returned, subtly wiping my hand when he let go of it.

The twins stood side by side, smiling our way, and I realised just why all the chatter in our social circles revolved around them. Charming, distinguished, good-looking – they were the whole package.

Our parents continued to talk, catching up and talking about stuff I didn't care much for. Every now and then, Y/B/N would chime in if a question was directed his way, or Pietro would add his two cents, or Wanda would say something funny, and I would pretend to get along with all of them when I so desperately wished to go home and go to sleep.

Admittedly, my eyes veered over to my soon-to-be sister-in-law every now and then, unable to look away. She was drop dead gorgeous, with bright hazel eyes that looked green like the earth at this moment, and long brown hair that was pulled back out of her face, revealing her charming smile. Sometimes, when she would smile really widely, a dimple would expose itself on her left cheek at the corner of her mouth, and I was sure that nothing else was cuter than that. Y/B/N was one lucky man.

"...would love for you all to come to our home tomorrow evening for dinner," my father was inviting them all over, bringing me back to reality. "It'll be a great way to get to know each other in a more intimate setting. And it'll give the kids a better chance to get to know each other."

Iryna smiled brightly. "We would love to, Y/D/N. Tomorrow evening is great."

"Perfect," my mum said excitedly. "We'll see you all then."

"Do enjoy the rest of your evening," Oleg said, looking to us all, before looking to my brother. "And Y/B/N, it was good to meet you tonight. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

"You, too, sir," Y/B/N said, shaking his hand with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Oleg and Iryna gave us all a smile before turning to leave. Pietro and Wanda did the same, though when Wanda's eyes flickered to mine, she waved her fingers slowly and with a playful smile on her lips. My mouth opened slightly, unsure what to do or say, but nobody seemed to notice as she turned and left, leaving me standing there with confusion.

"Well, I think that went well," my mum said, and I tore my gaze from Wanda's retreating form. "Couldn't have gone better actually."

"I agree," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my mum's waist with a smile. "Tomorrow night will be splendid." He looked to Y/B/N. "What did you think of Wanda, son?"

Y/B/N looked like he was on top of the world with his love struck smile and relaxed posture. "She's beautiful. And did you hear that accent? Wonderful."

My mother chuckled. "How sweet. You're already smitten."

"What did you think of her, Y/N?" my brother asked, and all eyes fell to me.

I straightened up. "Oh, I– er– she's very nice. A beautiful young woman."

"Right?" he said in agreement. "I feel like she really likes you, too. How cool is that? You guys can become friends and be, like, close sister-in-laws."

I forced a small smile. "Yeah. Something like that."

Of course, for everyone's benefit, getting along with Wanda Maximoff was the best bet. But something about her was different and I was yet to discover what.

—

The following evening was when we saw the Maximoffs next. As invited, they turned up at our front door dressed less glamorously than last night, given the occasion, but appearing just as excited. Our servants were quick to take their jackets and hang them up elsewhere as we exchanged greetings in the hall.

The Maximoff parents were genuinely kind and humbling people to be around, I'd come to learn that when they thanked our servants for their help and asked them how their day was, making friendly chatter. Not many people did that when entering our home – it was certainly refreshing to see. They greeted Y/B/N and I kindly before moving onto our parents.

The Maximoff children were just as kind, though with a hint of mischief in their stride as they moved to greet my brother and I. Pietro approached me first, lips pulling into a smile as he bowed playfully. In the corner of my eye, I could see Wanda and Y/B/N exchanging greetings.

"It's a pleasure to be in your presence yet again, Y/N," Pietro said generously. "You look lovely this evening."

A smile appeared on my lips at his kind eyes. "Thank you, Pietro. You look very handsome this evening also."

"Apparently it's lamb for dinner, is that true?" he asked, taking me by surprise. I wasn't sure if he was serious, but when his sister slapped him on the arm, I figured he was.

"Don't be greedy, Piet," she scolded him like this was a regular thing.

"What? It was a simple question," he said with a shrug, before looking to my brother with a grin. "Ah, Y/B/N Y/L/N, my favourite writer."

As he moved over to greet him, Wanda looked over to me with a knowing smile.

"It's good to see you again," she said softly, maintaining eye contact.

"You, too," I played along with whatever was happening, the usual script at a time like this. "I'm sure tonight will be something special for you and my brother. It's good to have you here."

She tilted her head intimidatingly. "Bol'shoye tebe spasibo."

I raised my eyebrows, intrigued by her ability to change languages so smoothly. Though, it made sense since she was Sokovian, making Russian her first language. Didn't make it any easier to not be attracted to though.

"I'm sorry," I apologised. disguising my attraction with genuine confusion. "What does that mean?"

She smiled, a hint of smugness present as she answered, "Thank you very much. That's what it means."

I pressed my lips together, humming in response. She held my gaze for a second longer than usual and I wanted to look away, but I was drawn in by the beautiful golden flecks swirled into her irises, captivating and chilling all at once. She didn't seem uncomfortable with the eye contact, instead revelling in it with a content smirk when she saw me squirm. I ended up looking away first, unable to hold a pretty girl's gaze for more than a few seconds without panicking.

"I have something to show you!" my brother was saying excitedly to Pietro. "It's in my study, c'mon."

The two of them wandered off before my mum could stop them.

"Don't be too long, boys!" she called after them, before sighing and looking to Wanda and I. "Y/N, dear, why don't you show Wanda around upstairs, maybe? Hopefully the boys should be back after that and we can all eat dinner together."

I swallowed hard, glancing at a still-smirking Wanda, before looking back to my mum. "Erm, are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, go on, it'll give you ladies a chance to get to know each other better!" she insisted, before ushering me away. "Don't take too long though. Dinner will be ready soon."

Licking my lips nervously, I nodded, watching my mum return to the conversation my dad and Wanda's parents were having. They were led into the living room as Wanda and I were left standing in the hall, her waiting for me to say something.

"This way, I guess," I got out awkwardly, purposely avoiding her eyes as I motioned to the grand staircase.

"After you," she said politely, and I said nothing as I took the lead.

I ended up showing her around the upstairs rooms, including the library we had and the many guest rooms. It was a big home with lots to show for it, so the tour wasn't too boring.

Wanda stayed quiet throughout it, sometimes dropping in a comment or question every now and then, but otherwise listening intently as I explained everything as interestingly as I could. When she did speak, she would leave me fumbling for words or forgetting how to speak altogether. I wondered if she was teasing me on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of her soon-to-be sister-in-law, or if she just wasn't aware of what she was doing.

But every time her mischievous gaze fell to me with a matching smile, I knew that she had to be aware of her actions. Nobody was that teasing without wanting to be. So, that led me to my next question. Why?

Eventually, the last room on the tour was my bedroom. I stepped inside first, holding the door open for her as she followed after and looked around with amusement.

"This is your room," she stated, feet taking her further inside as she took in the appearance of my desk, my bed and my wardrobe. "Fascinating."

I was curious to know what she meant by that, but realising that this woman was an enigma in more ways than one, I knew she wouldn't give me a straight answer. So, I said nothing as I followed after her, remaining close as she soaked in my belongings.

Stopping at my desk, her eyes gazed over the papers spilling from closed notebooks, books marked with string and pens littered across the wood. Thankfully, nothing was open and she didn't seem to be the nosy type, so had no intention of going through anything.

"I see you like writing," she noticed, fingers hovering above the notebooks but not quite making a move to touch them. "Runs in the family, doesn't it?"

"I guess," I said, unsure what she wanted to hear.

She looked up at me, smile tugging at her lips. The same damned smile that had been directed at me since she got here.

"Do you write like your brother?"

I tried not to laugh. "More like he writes like me."

She watched me closely, amusement dancing in her eyes. "He's the author in the family."

I mirrored her smile, though mine was fake. "Published author, love. Doesn't make him the only one."

A chuckle flew from her lips as she looked across my messy desk again, clearly not offended by the hint of annoyance in my voice. I shouldn't have been so offended by her words – she didn't know anything about me – but it always ground my gears when people stuck up for Y/B/N like he was God's gift.

"Do you write?" I asked, half interested and half wanting to change the subject. The least I could do was try to get to know her a little better.

"I prefer painting," she answered without mischief. "It's my favourite thing to do."

Her eyes lit up at the mere mention of art, but she did a good job at reigning it in. She was still studying the books on my desk, distracting herself with the spines instead of facing me.

"And what do you like to paint?" I asked, genuinely interested now that I was beginning to see her actually fond of something that didn't involve making me flustered.

She shrugged, but I knew it was a pretence. "Scenery. Landscapes. We have a beautiful garden at home and it's a pleasure to paint." She finally met my eyes again, a smile of adoration on her lips as she continued talking about the garden. "The flowers, the trees, the little pond we have. It's the perfect subject."

The smile that appeared on my lips was automatic as her passion for her hobby was contagious. The way her whole face lit up, eyes bright with excitement and lips unable to do anything but smile, was intoxicating and I tried not to get lost in the moment. It was true though, what people said. Nobody looked more beautiful than when talking about something they loved.

"I’d love to see your work sometime," I told her earnestly.

Playfulness returning, she hummed in agreement. "Only if I can see yours."

I laughed, looking down at my shoes. "Maybe not."

"Well, that's a shame," she said, still playful, though when I looked up, I almost believed her.

She did that thing again, where she stared at me and held my gaze as if reading my innermost private thoughts. Intimidating wasn't the word, yet it was the only one in my mind as I watched her attempt to decipher me. Clearing my throat, I looked away, suddenly aware of how close she was stood.

"So, my brother," I changed the subject yet again, noticing the entertained expression she wore. "You like him?"

"We are to be engaged, are we not?" she asked with a quirked brow, like the answer was obvious.

I hid the smile from my lips. "That's not what I asked, love."

She licked her lips, pursing them as she saw what I was trying to do. My eyes were immediately drawn to her mouth as she did, and I almost forgot to look away until she started speaking again.

"My parents arranged this," she admitted, not losing composure. "Y/B/N is a gentleman and he seems like a kind man."

I noticed how she still avoided answering the question, but decided not to say anything about it. My eyes studied her curiously though, wondering why exactly she'd agreed to the marriage then. Maybe it was a sense of duty, like every woman had nowadays. Eventually my time would come too and maybe I would be stuck in the same position as her.

"I adore his writing though," she added, like she needed to say something genuine to make up for her lack of answer.

"You and every other woman in the city," I mumbled knowingly.

Wanda let out a breathy laugh. "I'm aware of his many admirers, yes, but can you blame them? He has such a fantastic way with words. And don't get me started on that first piece he ever wrote..." Her eyes rolled back with satisfaction. "It's my favourite. I had no idea who he was back then, but the words he wrote were enough to make me fall in love. I guess it's convenient that my new husband is to be your brother, the author."

I crossed my arms as I leaned against the desk, trying not to break out into laughter. Not because of Wanda's words – they were actually quite sweet – but because of the whole situation. It was hilarious to me, since I was the reason Y/B/N got his big break as a writer anyway.

Following in our father's footsteps, Y/B/N wrote manuscript after manuscript with hopes of getting published. But unfortunately, he never got anywhere with it. I was also a writer, having been taught by my father like Y/B/N when I was a young girl, but unlike him, I was told to stop when I got older because it was 'unladylike' and 'not a woman's place'. That didn't stop me however, and I continued to write like no tomorrow.

Y/B/N's big break, and the first manuscript of his that got published by Pietro – ironically the one that Wanda was discussing right now – was written by me. I gave it to my brother, hoping he could get inspiration. He ended up sending that in and getting signed because of my work. And even now, I occasionally helped him work on pieces that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.

But nobody wanted to hear about the young, unmarried woman who writes about other women like they are God's best creation. So, Y/B/N keeps the fame and credit whilst I write in private, unable to share any of my work with the world unless it's in excerpts of my brother's books with his name on the front cover.

"That first piece was pretty good, wasn't it?" I played along with Wanda's words, a hint of bitterness in my tone of voice.

Wanda studied me up and down, teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya."

I hummed in acknowledgement, feigning a smile in response, though I wasn't sure what that last word meant. Probably another Russian term she was using to throw me off. Of course she'd assume I was jealous of my brother's recognition. She didn't know the truth and she never could. She was also to marry my brother, the perfect author, soon; my bitter state was merely a jealous sibling and maybe it was easier to let her think that way.

"Dinner should be ready now," I told her, straightening up. "Let's head down."

She followed after me and I said nothing else as I led her back downstairs, trying not to think about how much of an ego-boost this dinner would be for my brother.

There was nothing better than hearing everyone gush over the work your brother took credit for that you actually did, right?

"Ah, ladies, perfect timing!" said my mum when we reached the dining room where everyone was taking their seats. "Please, sit and we can get started. It's a lovely roast from the kitchen tonight."

As I made my way to my usual seat opposite my brother, I saw Pietro fist-pump the air at the mention of the lamb roast, making Wanda roll her eyes and me smile at his action. Y//B/N took his seat and Wanda's parents seemed to take the two chairs beside him already. My parents took to each end of the table, leaving the Maximoff twins no choice but to sit beside me. I sat at the same spot as usual, at the edge of the table so my left-handed self wouldn't bother whoever was sat beside me, and take a lucky guess to who sat on my right.

"Wanda, dear, how was your tour?" my mum asked her as she got comfortable beside me, leg and shoulder almost touching mine and making me both nervous and disgruntled.

With a grin wide enough to impress my mother, she answered, "It was great. You have a beautiful home, Mrs Y/L/N. And Y/N was a lovely host."

At that last comment, I felt her eyes glance towards me and I wondered if she was having fun making me squirm because I knew for sure that I was anything but a lovely host.

"That's reassuring to hear," my mother responded as the food was brought out and placed in the centre of the table. She seemed like she was joking, but I knew she was just glad I'd been on my best behaviour. "And please, call me Y/M/N."

Wanda nodded gratefully as my dad began to cut into the roast. Food was served up and drinks were poured as everybody began to dig in. The Maximoffs sent their compliments to the chef, admired our home and were the perfect guests, just as they were expected to be. My family complimented Wanda and Pietro's manners, talked about how business was going and laughed at every joke Oleg and Iryna uttered, just as they were expected to be. It really was a picture-perfect scene and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Okay, maybe I was acting a little cynical. The Maximoffs weren't that bad, at least not as bad I'd assumed they would be compared to my parents' other friends. They were down-to-Earth and humbled people, a welcoming change from the usual. I just hated forced dinners and being scrutinised under my mother's eyes to behave, hence the clipped attitude.

And just on cue, the topic steered towards something lovely.

"We can't forget to talk about Y/B/N, bestselling author over here!" Oleg beamed, motioning to my brother. "I have to admit, son, I'm amazed at your writing. You clearly have your father's talent."

My brother smiled bashfully as I watched on with narrowed eyes and a tight grip on my fork.

"You flatter me," he said, but Iryna shook her head.

"I have to agree with my husband here, Y/B/N," she said. "Your writing is superb. Pietro, obviously, loves it, and Wanda is a huge fan, too."

At this, my brother glanced towards Wanda with excited eyes and she merely smiled and looked elsewhere, either embarrassed to be mentioned or playing coy. Rolling my eyes came naturally at this point.

"Tell me, how did you think of what to write for that first book?" Iryna asked with intrigue. "It was my favourite one."

Ah, yes, the first book. Apparently everyone's favourite one.

"Oh, it's best not to bring all that up–"

"I'd actually like to know, too," Wanda cut him off, her curiosity getting the better of her as she leaned forward onto the palm of her hand and watched him under long eyelashes.

I couldn't keep the smile of delight from my face as I too leaned forward curiously, eyeing my brother. "Yes, dear, brother. Please, do tell us of how you came to write such an honest, heartfelt first book."

At this, I felt both my parents send me a warning look as they knew the truth. But neither of the Maximoffs noticed as their attention was solely on my brother.

Luckily for him, he was a great liar and he smiled his charming smile and nodded, looking between the four guests.

"I guess it started after my third failed manuscript," he began, very believably. "I realised that there was something missing from my pages. Something real and genuine. Something that would appeal to my readers and make them question just how much they were appreciating their partner, you know?"

As he rambled off into another literary spout of nonsense, my smile faded and I gritted my teeth, wondering how he'd gotten so good at lying without giving away a sliver of pretence. The Maximoffs were hanging onto his every word, fascinated by the mind of a writer. I tried not to let it get to me as he butchered the meaning behind everything I had written in that first novel. Some things were better left unsaid.

When he finished, questions were fired his way and my parents watched on with pride in their eyes, as he answered them with ease. I chose to stay quiet, as usual, letting him soak in the credit for something he didn't do.

"And what do you think, Y/N?" Wanda's voice included me in the conversation, and everybody's eyes fell to me. I was only looking at her as her lips were pulled into a wide, suggestive smile and she continued, "How is it being the sister of one of today's bestselling authors?"

The usual forced smile that accompanied my lips whenever talking about Y/B/N because present, but my eyes were questioning Wanda's as she was clearly trying to get a rise out of me yet again, especially now that she assumed I was jealous of her husband-to-be's fame. Her stupid beautiful smile and stupid pretty eyes and stupid attractive accent were all taunting me.

"It makes me proud to know that he's come so far from when we were younger," I said, and though I was irritated by the way it had happened, my words weren't entirely false. "He's a talented man and he clearly has a way with words. What more is there to say?"

The elders seemed touched by my words and when I looked over the table to meet my brother's gaze, I saw the gratitude in his expression, hiding behind his smile and reserved for me. I nodded subtly, letting him know I was happy to keep his secret as long as he wished, just like we'd agreed.

Chatter and compliments soon turned to the real reason for our presence – the engagement. I tucked into my dessert as I let them talk about dates for the engagement party, logistics for guests and all the other details I could care less about. Only when my brother mentioned my name did I look up, surprised to see all eyes on me yet again.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked politely, glancing around.

"Y/N, honey, lay off the chocolate cake, will you?" my mum said with a smile that I knew was code for 'put the bloody fork down'.

I forced a smile of my own as I lowered my fork and sat up straight, very ladylike, and looked to my brother.

"I was saying how I'll be sure to pick a beautiful engagement ring for Wanda here," he no-doubt repeated for my sake. "And maybe you could help me choose, to make sure it's something she may like."

A genuine sarcastic smile broke out on my lips, though not because I was interested in ring shopping with my brother. I knew absolutely nothing about dear Wanda or her taste in jewellery, but a woman was to do what she was best at – shopping! So, without sharing my true thoughts on the situation, I nodded respectfully and hummed in agreement.

"Of course," I said what everybody wanted to hear. "I'm sure we can find something to suit Wanda's taste."

Everybody resumed chatter about the wedding as I sighed quietly and got back to my cake. My right hand rested by my side and I jumped, startled when I made contact with Wanda's fingers.

"Sorry," I apologised, moving my hand a little from hers but keeping it there. "Left-handed an' all. I tend to forget."

Green eyes pierced through me with a matching sly smile. "No problem, milaya."

Again with the 'milaya' talk – what did that even mean? I returned the awkward smile as I continued eating, but I didn't fail to notice the way her hand would brush against mine throughout the rest of the meal.

Either by accident or on purpose, I'd never know, but I had my suspicions.

[anotherescsite]

The Eurovision Song Contest we had to have

The journey from Tel Aviv to Rotterdam was an unexpectedly long one. Who knew that when Duncan Lawrence raised the trophy in May 2019 that another Eurovision Song Contest Grand Final would not take place for another 736 days? Having to wait such a long time between two Eurovision (excluding 2 x Junior contests) was excruciating, soul destroying and plainly depressing. And just like that, Eurovision 2021 has come and has now gone.

As the title says, it is The Eurovision Song Contest we had to have. It is a bold statement and I considered it for a day before putting it there. In reflection the song contest in Rotterdam was a wonderful event for many reasons which I’d like to discuss a bit. So this may take a while, but bear with me and hopefully, I’ll make it worth your while.

THE HOSTS

Four hosts was two too many, but let’s talk about them. Chantal is beautiful and the most professional of the foursome. Jan was the token male and while his performance was contained to a very small potion, it was nevertheless, fine. Edsilia was much more chilled than I expected and provided a warm presence amongst these people. Nikkie was probably the most down to earth of them all, possibly the most personable, but also somehow cold.

In actually effect, while there were four of them, they worked. No one took a lite load but they each had an equal presence in the show. As many other people have mentioned, everyone would have preferred more Edsilia and Nikkie to Jan and Chantal, but I’m not terribly fussed. They were all well practiced and very on point for the event and as a viewer I was pleased by this.

THE STAGE 

Like most Eurovision stages, they do not look like anything unless you turn on the lights. That was definitely the case for this one. The lights were on, the stage sparkled, and the stage was alive in every way that it was asked. The screens provided everything that were needed for each of the songs and other performances. The transparent screen in the middle of the venue added so much to some of the performances and was the masterstroke that made some of them visually exciting.

There was one thing about the stage that felt like they were reminiscing stages of the Dutch past. I felt a hint of the Amsterdam 1970 stage on the sides. I don’t think it was a co-incidence, but I liked the fact that the paid homage like that. Everything else was state of the art.

POSTCARDS

The postcard films were well put together to present a place in the Netherlands, a tiny house structure with items that belong or relate to the act coming up and then a green screen appearance of the act in the tiny house. 

While the postcard as a whole were well put together and cleverly created, I felt I missed out on seeing more of the Netherlands because they were focused more on what was coming and less with the airport, the canal, the lighthouse, the field, the tulips and whatever else was presented. So it’s only a small thing in a small film, but I wanted more of a Netherlands tourism experience in the films.

THE INTERVAL ACTS

It’s a funny thing about this year’s interval acts, and to be completely honest, I happy about it. If you asked a fan about Eurovision 2014, people will say that they remember ‘Love love peace peace’ and Justin Timberlake. In 1994, people remember ‘Riverdance’. In Tel Aviv, there was Madonna. I like that the intervals this year did not overshadow the entrants to the song contest. They were a time filler, a light refreshment and then it was over. For the most part well performed, entertaining and gone before you know it

I recall there was something about water in the first semi final, there was a dancer and a bike in the second, the former winners sang on Rotterdam buildings and some unifying song and dance. Nikkie did some little films about losing, and behaviour in the green room during voting. All were quality performances that were well constructed, organised and presented. They held the viewers attention while we waited for the votes to commence/announcement of the qualifiers and because they were each engaging, they seemed to go quickly.

THE OUTCOME

In most cases, things went as expected in the semi finals. Fans were disappointed with Croatia not qualifying, but I don’t think the betting had them qualifying. Romania was expected to qualify, but Roxen could not sing the song and move at the same time. Ireland suffered the same fate with an impressive staging. Semi final 2 went as expected as well; maybe Austria was expected to get through in place of Albania; i disagree.

The results/placings in the final were a bit of a surprise to me, but there was one certainty for me and that was that Italy deserved their win. There is a very simple reason for it’s success too. It’s not that it was a loud song or that the song was outlandish, or the way they were dressed. The reason that Italy won was that the performance of the song was a natural performance. I’m sure there was choreography of movement, but they were not outside of what they usually do. There was no gimmick, no dance routine, no green screen to worry about, no spinning diamond or large gimmick hanging from the roof of the stadium. It is also why the French entry was such a success and for a lesser part Iceland and Ukraine. Finland and Portugal also presented an entry that was in essence what was expected for that type of song.

Switzerland was a vast success in my eyes. They rolled the dice and they came up on top with the juries. Switzerland have rolled out a prop in the past to highlight a song, but this year they added lighting and camera work to add to the tension of the entry and it worked. Gjon looked a bit clumsy at times, but it was  excellent captivating three minutes.

There were some countries that were dependent on a large prop. Some were there to attract votes as they went with the song while others to distract from it. Russia and Cyprus had several well placed props that worked well and were relevant to the song. Greece had a large invisible prop that made what was a good song appear like a joke entry. Malta had a prop that didn’t make sense to the entry being performed. Bulgaria’s rock was both inspirational and strange to me. Moldova’s revolving diamond worked for her also, but it was just a surface to perform choreography on. 

I want to spend a moment of praise on Serbia and Belgium that had very different performances, but appropriately performed. Serbia took their sexy manic, hair choreographed selves all over the stage gyrating and moving like they had drunk 15 cups of coffee. Belgium, on the other hand, was very intense and sedate in their presentation mainly because most of them were playing instruments that were unmovable. 

Of the countries that retained their choreography from a national final, other than Iceland, was Lithuania. They had varied it only very little from the national final and in their case, the performance was crazy perfection to match the theme of the song.  I was disappointed with Norway, Azerbaijan and Sweden for retaining almost identical choreography to their songs from the film clip/national final, but I wasn’t a big fan of either song in the final. They seemed tired in appearance and in formatting. Azerbaijan needs a further slap for submitting their 2020 song with a new name.

I feel some disappointment for a few of the entrants. I’m going to start with the United Kingdom. Poor James Newman. He had a thumping good song that fans liked. There was enthusiasm from the fans that the UK would do better this year and they did worse. What I find astounding is he does not appear to be a shy person, yet he allowed someone in the United Kingdom delegation to produce that choreography, that outfit and those props for that song. To my ear, James sounded sad and dejected in the final and I was unbelievably disappointed that they didn’t score something from somewhere.

I’m disappointed for San Marino too. Senhit has showed she is a class act and has spent the last year enthusiastically covering Eurovision songs. But at the song contest, she appeared to be a forgotten entrant. Even with the addition of Flo Rida did not give the song some cred. I have a recurring image of Senhit’s shoulders slump and physically shrink on hearing that her efforts accounted for 50 points.

I’m also disappointed for the Netherlands. They most likely did not want to host again and it is a sad curse that countries that host usually end near the bottom of the scoreboard (excluding Super Sweden). But to score so terribly for what was a gloriously performed entry was unconscionable. I praise the Netherlands for choosing such a wonderful cultural performance for the stage.

At the bottom end, Spain and Germany had very different entries, performed with contrasting enthusiasm and it got them both a very low level of support. Spain had the most tired song that was boring as all hell and the presentation of the entry gave the audience nothing in return but a large grey beach ball in the sky. Back to the drawing board?  Germany was destined to fail in March. The charisma and fun of their film was completely missing from the staging and it was never going to go well.

Albania had the misfortune of being ignored, given a terribly bad draw for the second year straight and not given anywhere near the appropriate amount of votes required. Anxhela gave a good stylish and appropriate performance. She was on-point vocally and in her performance on stage.

Israel, on the other hand, was a spectacle. The song was kind of meh, performed with a lot of choreography to distract from it. She did a whistle note; so? I’m sure she had to get noticed somehow with her t-shirt dress, her nude illusion reveal and the headdress she stole from reigning RuPaul Drag race winner, Symone. (Did she not no know where she was coming and who would be watching? Picked that up immediately)

IN CONCLUSION

There is one other things that I have not mentioned so far and it only occurred to me after re-reading some of the above comments. The Dutch were very time conscious. They said they were keeping the final under four hours and they pulled it in and got it done. In my opinion, it was a Eurovision that was very breezy, and very light experience because while the experience of Eurovision was 8 hours of your week watching the shows, this year did not seem like an ordeal. I felt that the shows progressed quickly without fuss or propaganda. As a package it came together well across the board.  

It was a good Eurovision year and had something to cater for the taste of everyone. Some songs were not suited to everyone, but that happens. Below is how I saw this years song’s after the three shows and believe me I have changed it a few times before settling on this list. Looking at it, I want to move them around again.

So that’s it. Next year it will be somewhere in Italy; maybe Turin, maybe Rome, Milan or Bologna. It won’t matter. Feel free to comment, complain, debate. I’m happy to back myself and for you to convince me otherwise. I haven’t got anything else to do. : )

[dhufflebee]

damned thoughts, damning decisions  (a Glee fanfiction)

One-shot Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Jesse St. James; Rachel Berry   Additional Tags: Missing Scene; Confrontations; trying to make sense of Jesse's face-heel turn in "Funk"; Slight blackmail; Shelby is terrible (sorry)

Also read on:  AO3  |  ff.net Summary: Jesse is summoned by Shelby and given an ultimatum. A change (a betrayal?) of that kind needs some sort of reason, though, even for a mess of a teenager like he is.

I know it’s been years, but I’m still pissed at the bad writing re: Jesse at the end of season 1. He did have his dickish moments throughout the episodes, sure, but such an abrupt change in behavior makes no sense – there was no context or explanation at all, and we deserved more, as did the characters. I don’t think the events in Funk were part of the plan from the start (because nothing that happens or is said beforehand supports it), and I’m convinced that it was a later development, and an unwelcome one at that.

Hence, this bridge-the-gap scene that’s been on my mind since the first time I watched the show. I’ve read some great fics about this plot point over the years; I guess it was time to write mine. it’s not elaborate nor particularly insightful – mostly Jesse being a conflicted teenager under pressure and (sadly) an all-around mess. I just wish they’d put something in the show so the whole situation would feel less out of the blue.

Lastly, sorry to Shelby fans, but I kind of hate her. Also, peer pressure is a bitch (and I’m sure it played a huge part in the whole debacle, even if I just hint at it in this fic).

“So, what happened to ‘I regret never getting to hold her’ and all that?” Jesse asked with a hard voice, and dropped his school bag unceremoniously on the ground. He was tired after the drive from Lima to Akron on a school-day afternoon, and annoyed about being rudely summoned like some sort of minion. (He guessed he was a bit angry at himself as well, because it was not like he’d protested all that much.) Mostly, though, he was pissed at Shelby for the way she’d treated Rachel, his anger fueled by the fresh memory of his girlfriend tearfully recounting how she’d been rejected by her mother. Again.

“I beg your pardon?” Shelby retorted, arching an eyebrow, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“That whole convoluted plan just so you could finally meet Rachel, and then that’s how you treat her?” Jesse tried to keep his voice steady, but the situation and Shelby’s blasé attitude were making his blood boil.

“Who do you think you are, our family counselor?” Shelby sneered, and Jesse barely suppressed the urge to up and leave right then and there. “What I decide to do with my life is none of your business.”

“It kinda is, though,” Jesse spat, bitterly. “Since, you know, Rachel is my girlfriend, and you are the one who forced me to take part in this charade!”

Shelby stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. “I seem to recall you being ok with it, mister ‘it’s going to be a good acting exercise’.”

“Well, I recall telling you I wasn’t all that comfortable with it anymore, and you ignoring me and even doubling down on it.”

“You seemed awfully comfortable with your spot amongst New Directions, though. And yet, you still went on spring break with Vocal Adrenaline,” Shelby mused, smirking unkindly.

Jesse inhaled sharply, clenched his fists and looked at his feet, the shame that had been in the back of his mind for the past months flaring up. “That’s not fair,” he whispered. “It was just Andy and a couple of others—they’re my friends…”

“Anyway,” Shelby interjected, matter-of-factly. “I don’t care about your holidays, and I don’t have any more time to waste. I told you to come here to say this—you’re coming back to Carmel by the end of the week.”

Jesse’s head shot up, and he stared at Shelby in utter bewilderment. “What? No!”

“Oh, I’m sorry—was there anything in our arrangement that made you believe I’d let you spend the rest of the year in that mediocre school?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from very word.

“But I thought—” Jesse frowned, and shook his head; he didn’t know how to finish the sentence (really, what had he been thinking?).

“You clearly didn’t,” Shelby said, raising her eyebrows. “I want you back in this auditorium by Friday. And I won’t be accepting excuses.”

“But I can’t!” Jesse pleaded. “What about Rachel?”

“Oh, Rachel understands that I’m not in the right headspace to be her mom at the moment,” Shelby answered, waiving her hand nonchalantly. “She was very sympathetic.”

Jesse’s anger came back in full force, burning at the pit of his stomach. “It was all a front, just so you know. She didn’t want you to feel like she was a burden, but honest to God, in hindsight she should have raged at you for being a —”

“Don’t you dare,” Shelby hissed, shutting him up. “You have no say in the matter.”

“I do, too! I’m owed the right to speak my mind,” Jesse exclaimed. “And whatever the circumstances, Rachel is still my girlfriend.”

“Yeah well, that has to end.”

Jesse deflated. “What?”

“I’m sure you realize that, if you come back to Vocal Adrenaline, you can’t keep dating the lead of New Directions,” Shelby said, with the tone one would reserve for an eight-year-old.

“But I don’t want to,” Jesse answered, his voice no more than a whisper.

“What was that?”

“I said, I don’t want to,” he repeated, standing a bit straighter.

“It was not a suggestion, Jesse.”

“I already told you, though! I like Rachel, for real. I know this all started as a ruse, but now I think I might even be—” Jesse couldn’t bring himself to finish his own thought. He was scared as hell to admit it to himself, let alone to Shelby.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it’s ever stopped you before,” Shelby shrugged. “I gather your reputation as a callous, careless heartbreaker has to come from somewhere.”

Jesse didn’t know how to answer, because it was all true. And it stung like a bitch, especially because with Rachel everything had been different, was different, and he didn’t want to be that person anymore. He was starting to be ashamed of his old self—it was a weird sensation, but one he didn’t want to forego, and surely not in the way Shelby was ordering him to.

“Listen, I really don’t care about your imminent break-up with Rachel,” Shelby stated. “Just do it. And then come back here, ready to work.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll have to call the UCLA Admissions Office and have them revoke your scholarship,” she answered pointedly. “You know I have pull. Good luck asking your father for the money.”

Jesse was dumbfounded. No way in hell his father was going to give him a penny, let alone pay for his entire tuition. He wanted to say something, but the anger and dread he was feeling seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle for his voice.

This is practically blackmail, Jesse thought, annoyed. However, a part of his brain was more worried about disappointing yet another important adult in his life than about anything else. He hated Shelby for manipulating him and Rachel and the whole situation, but he was determined to not be looked at as ‘a failed project’ by anyone else. His family was already enough.

Lost in his thoughts, Jesse was beginning to hate himself as well, because he was actually considering going along with Shelby’s request. He couldn’t ask his family for money, and he couldn’t imagine not going to UCLA after boasting so much about it. In all honesty, he also couldn’t bear the thought of not winning his last national title as a senior; and God knows New Directions were not even close to being victory material, even with him as a member. Besides, no one liked him there or ever listened to him, even though they could really use his advice.

The thought of helming a great number and raising another national trophy was more and more appealing with every passing minute—and with that the certainty of actually being worth all the fuss, regardless of what his father always told him, and the confirmation his self-confidence (arrogance?) was not misplaced. The voice in his head (a voice that sounded painfully like Rachel’s) kept telling him he was reverting to his old dickish ways, but… well, he’d been suppressing that particular thought for a very long time.

After a while, Jesse lifted his head, his eyes meeting Shelby’s. He clenched his jaw, then nodded stiffly.

Shelby relaxed, and started gathering her things. “Good boy. Now, I want this break up with Rachel and with New Directions to be grand—there has to be no doubt that you have closed that door. Squash their morale, too, for good measure.” She shouldered her bag and started walking towards the exit. Then she turned around and added, almost as an afterthought: “I put Giselle in charge of the whole thing, by the way. Apparently, she already has some brilliant ideas or whatever. I don’t care what you do, just do it well. See you on Friday,” she said, before disappearing out the door.

Jesse sighed, and picked up his bag from the floor. Anger was still simmering somewhere in his guts, but it was being silenced by a wave of uneasiness and by a dull and persistent heartache. He grabbed his phone to check his notifications, and saw that Giselle had already written him a string of messages. He read them, purposefully ignoring the texts he’d received from Rachel in the meantime.

Jesse St. James, as I live and breathe. Ms Corcoran told me you’re coming back and let me tell you, fi.na.lly.  

Anyway, I’ve already started planning a couple of fun things to remind those losers who the superior show choir is

Tomorrow be here sharp and ready cause we start rehearsing

Also there’s gonna be something special just for your girlfriend – we’re not comfortable with you simply breaking up with her. It has to be hard and memorable,, you’ve already played mole before and we’re not willing to risk it

Stay tuned for that (and remember it’s a deal breaker if you want us to back you up as lead ever again)

Jesse groaned, already dreading whatever the hell was coming. He tried to suppress the shame he felt by imagining himself holding a fourth national trophy (which was easy) and trying not to think about Rachel (which was very, very hard).

He spent the drive home furiously wiping the tears off his cheeks.

[smoaking-greenarrow]

3 please!

“I’m sorry...did I leave you with the impression that I was a rational guy?”

Sequel to this!

Arrow Out of Context Part 4. Send me a number!

Also, check out chapter 1 of Arrow Out of Context, I’ve added an index for all AU organizing needs.

It was hot enough that Felicity could feel sweat dripping down her back. The sun was shining high above their heads in a perfect summer afternoon. And of course, there’s nowhere she’d rather be than at that stadium.

Her son Lincoln seemed to agree, because he refused to get out of his seat until the seventh inning stretch, when he’d made a mad dash for the bathroom, leaving her to chase behind him. 

Felicity glanced down at her five year old, his eyes fixated on the game and his legs swinging from his chair. He was almost tall enough that his feet could touch the ground, but not yet. Much to his disappointment.

Digging into her purse, Felicity pulled out her bottle of sunscreen, putting a generous portion on her palm before she reached for him. Like all the games before, Lincoln was too wrapped up in it to care as she fussed over him getting a sunburn. He let her apply it to his arms and legs, only squirming when she got to his face and blocked his view.

The kid had always been enthralled with the sport, so Felicity didn’t think very much of it. He’d grown up with an uncle in the major leagues, and now his mom was dating his favorite player. Lincoln’s interest in baseball was understandable.

Felicity loved it too, and always had thanks to her brother Jason. But she also loved a certain teammate of Jason’s who looked very, very good in a pair of baseball pants. Or shirtless. He looked really good shirtless. And Felicity had realized that he preferred to do most things shirtless. Like mow her lawn, exercise, and wash dishes.

Life was good.

“Up to bat is number six, Oliver Queen,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the intercoms while Oliver’s picture appeared on the screen with his stats from the last eight innings. “Queen has been playing an incredible game, one of his best all season. Not a single strike since the bottom of the first, let’s see if he can keep his lucky streak going.”

“Okay, Oliver,” Felicity mumbled to herself, leaning forward in her chair and wringing her hands together. Beside her, Lincoln mimicked her posture, mumbling the same words. Felicity smiled down at him, brushing his hair back.

Stepping up to the plate, Oliver made eye contact with the pitcher first, his eyebrow raised and his body relaxed. Felicity knew that for some reason, his ease always tended to rattle the pitcher.

When Oliver plays, he enjoys it. The excitement in his eyes every time he took the field was something Felicity would never stop marveling at.

Win or lose, that man came home with a smile and a positive attitude. It was one of Felicity’s favorite things about him. 

He tapped his bat against his heel, turning away from the pitcher. Oliver found her in the crowd easily where they were sitting behind home plate. And he smiled, taking a moment to wink at her before refocusing on the game. He’d gotten into the habit months ago, and the attention never failed to make her blush.

The look is short-lived, but long enough that the people around her always notice, which leads to plenty of staring and whispering as they realize that they’re sitting near Oliver Queen’s girlfriend. And then that leads to more blushing for Felicity.

Beside her, Lincoln tugged on her jersey, rocking in his seat. “Momma,” the five year old’s eyes lit up. “Get ready. It’s almost time!”

Her eyebrows furrow as she looked down at him. “Almost time?” Felicity asked. Lincoln had been excited since they arrived, especially whenever Oliver’s turn to bat came around, but his energy was more like the night before Christmas than a weekend baseball game. “Honey, what’s got you all—”

“Watch!” Her son gripped the sleeve of her shirt, shaking her until she focused on Oliver again.

The first two pitches, Oliver didn’t swing. And the opposing team started to get ahead of themselves, thinking their mediocre pitcher might just strike out Oliver Queen. “Come on, baby,” Felicity whispered to herself, holding her breath while Oliver got ready for his third and final swing.

Felicity tensed as the ball left the pitcher’s hand, and within the blink of an eye, a loud crack filled the silent stadium. Oliver’s bat collided with the ball, and Felicity jumped to her feet. “Oh!” She sighed, “run, run!”

The ball flew straight over the outfield and over the stadium wall just as Oliver’s foot touched first base.

And the man’s smile was everything.

Oliver didn’t stop, but he slowed down as he rounded second base, turning his hustle into a victory lap. Lincoln jumped up to stand with Felicity, both of them cheering Oliver on.

As he reached home plate, Oliver landed with a heavy foot, tossing his arm in the air and soaking in the enthusiastic energy surrounding him in that moment. Oliver’s eyes lock on her again, his pure joy sparking the same feeling in Felicity. She beamed at him, her own voice mixing with the Blue Jays’ fans as she screamed for him.

He doesn’t look away, giving his head a slight shake. Despite the craziness around them, Felicity could read him so clearly, seeing his eyes soften. And she knew that he wasn’t thinking about the score, the crowd, or the game.

The high of his home run was still radiating throughout the stadium, but Oliver doesn’t seem to notice. He was looking at her like he didn’t even hear it.

Felicity stopped, her arms dropping to her sides as she stared back at him.

Even when his rowdy teammates swarm him, Oliver pushed them back, keeping his eyes on her. He walked closer until he reached the waist-high wall that separated him from the stands.

Still, Felicity couldn’t do much more than blink at him. Especially when she noticed the footage of them on the mega-screen above his head, as if the whole field just wanted to know what he was up to. 

In truth, so did she. 

Oliver didn’t go out of his way to hide their relationship, but he was also a fairly private person. Aside from his little winking ritual each time it was his turn to bat, he hardly paid her any attention during the games. Probably because he knew it would end up projected in front of the whole stadium, just like this.

It wasn’t until Lincoln gently pushed her legs forward that she realized Oliver was waiting patiently for her to meet him halfway.

“Nice hit,” Felicity breathed, coming closer until her toes touched the wall between them. She cupped her hand over her forehead, blocking the sun so she could peer up at him.

Oliver’s eyes traveled down her body and back up. She raised an eyebrow, shifting on her feet while he smirked. “Nice jersey.”

Felicity glanced down at his number displayed over her chest, lifting a shoulder and smiling coyly. “You’ve seen me wear this thing a million times,” she pointed out.

“Yeah,” Oliver sighed happily, his gaze dropping again. “And it looks damn good on you every time.”

She had no idea what he was doing or why he was acting like he wasn’t in the middle of winning this game, but she didn’t really care. She’d go along with any plan that involved him looking at her just like this.

Rolling her eyes playfully, Felicity reached across the wall to push his chest. “All right, Romeo,” she teased, lifting her chin towards the field. “You better go figure out how the Blue Jays are going to beat those assholes.”

Oliver laughed, catching her hand and leaning closer. “We will. I kind of wanted to ask you for something first, though. It could very well be the thing I need to help us win tonight.”

“What’s that?” Felicity asked, cocking her head to the side.

He gave her a breathtaking, crooked smile, the sweat on his forehead distracting her for a moment. Seriously, how was it possible for him to be this sexy?

“A kiss,” he answered quietly, the dimple on his cheek making an adorable appearance. “You are my good luck charm, after all.”

“Well,” Felicity bit her lip, pushing onto her toes and smoothing her hands over his shoulders. “If that’s what it takes to help you go home a winner tonight, I think I can manage it.”

Closing the remaining distance, Oliver leaned down to meet her, not letting the wall stop him from running his hands down her back. “I’m already going home a winner,” he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers before their lips met.

His kiss was chaste and sweet, his mouth forming around her bottom lip while she tasted the salt on his upper. And his fingers skimmed to her waist, sending a shiver through her just as he pulled back.

Felicity looked up at him, ignoring the crowd that still cheered for him. She loved the calm, peaceful look in his eyes. And she especially loved that it was an expression she caused. “Will that do the trick, Queen? Are you ready to go kick some ass now?”

Oliver’s bottom lip disappeared beneath his teeth, and he gave his head a slight shake.

“Marry me.”

Blinking, Felicity hesitated as she tried to decide if she’d heard him right. “What?” She asked, certain that she did but needing to hear it again.

With a nervous little chuckle, Oliver let go. Then he lifted a leg and easily hopped over the wall. Standing in front of her, he took both of her hands while the announcer wondered out loud ‘what the hell’ Oliver Queen was doing.

Felicity’s heart was stuck in her throat, but it went soaring when Oliver got down on one knee in front of her.

“Felicity Smoak,” he spoke again, clearer this time. “Will you marry me?”

The proposal wasn’t coming completely out of left field. They’d talked about marriage. More kids. A life together.

She’d told him that she always wanted a memorable engagement and he’d told her that he would make sure it was. When that day came. They both understood that they were ready for ‘that day,’ Felicity just hadn’t been expecting it to be today.

A giggle passed her lips as she tried to catch her breath. The crowd erupted into thunderous excitement as they realized what was happening behind home plate. And the stadium grew louder than his home run celebration. Felicity tuned it out, focusing on Oliver. 

She already knew her answer. And he did too, or else he never would have asked her like this. “Are you sure you’re not just on an adrenaline high?” She clarified anyway.

Felicity was hoping to keep him in a little bit of suspense, tease him for a moment, but Oliver just grinned as if he’d expected her not to give him a ‘yes’ right away. He shook his head. “Definitely not.”

Since he was playing along... “How would I know?” Felicity cocked her head, and he squeezed her hands. “This whole thing seems like a spur of the moment decision, Oliver. I don’t even see a ring. How should I know that you’re thinking rationally about this?”

“I’m sorry…did I leave you with the impression that I was a rational guy?” Oliver grinned, his voice sarcastic.

“True,” she pulled her lips to the side, pretending to analyze him.

“Come on, Smoak,” he winked. “I always have a plan. You don’t think I’d do something this big without some help from a teammate, did you?”

Felicity’s eyes furrowed, following Oliver’s gaze over her shoulder. And there she found her son standing there, or rather bouncing there. Lincoln looked so excited...

Oliver waved him over. “Don’t you know us at all?” He teased, bending down to lift Lincoln into his arms. 

Standing in front of her, Oliver gave her a knowing look, and then he leaned in to whisper in the boy’s ear.

With a mischievous grin, Lincoln reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a simple, gorgeous ring. Her son raised it in front of Felicity’s face, and she gasped, watching the diamond glint in the sunlight. A surprised laugh fell from her lips.

Tears sprung to her eyes, finally realizing why her son had been so fidgety all afternoon, carrying that thing around. Felicity could only hold the tears back for a moment, because as soon as she looked at Lincoln, he smiled at her as if this was his dream, too.

As if Oliver was their dream.

“Hmm,” Oliver hummed, leaning in again to whisper to Lincoln.

Her son nodded along with whatever Oliver was saying. And then he sighed, holding the ring a little higher. “Oliver would really, really like it if you said yes, momma. Because he would really, really, really, really like to marry you.”

“Yes,” Felicity laughed, shaking her head at them both. She finally snapped out of it, taking the ring from Lincoln’s tiny hand. “Of course I want to marry you. I really want to.Yes.”

The smile Oliver gave her in response was gorgeous, his eyes swimming with emotion as he took her hand, looking down at the ring now on her finger.

Felicity watched him, trying to burn the expression on his face into her brain. As much as she knew that Oliver was a dream come true for her and Lincoln’s life, Oliver proved to her every day that he felt the same way about them.

Looking back up at Oliver, Felicity cupped his chin in her hand, pulling him in for a kiss. “I already can’t wait to marry you,” she mumbled, forgetting all about the crowd, the game, and even the animated five year old getting squished between them.

Oliver didn’t break away from her this time, so they finally parted when Lincoln shoved a hand against Oliver’s cheek. “Guys!” The boy interrupted, “I can’t wait to eat cake, either! It’s okay!”

Chuckling, Oliver kissed the top of his head. “I told you buddy, that’s only part of what weddings are about.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes, “and I told you that you can marry my momma as long as it’s a chocolate cake.”

[joeinfurnari]

Why, Star Wars?

I was 6 years old when Star Wars Episode IV came out in 1977. No one, not me or any of my friends, could have imagined Star Wars before we left the theatre exhilarated and electrified. It was one of the few times people would simply go back to the end of the line and see it again.

All the biggest film releases came to the Tivoli Theatre in Hamilton, Ontario and it was there that I saw Star Wars. Just a few doors down was Dreamland, a musty corridor of some of the most fascinating things on earth! Fangoria, Famous Monsters of Filmland, Cinemafantastique, Starlog were just some of the many delights that I was first exposed to there. Seeing Star Wars or any movie at the Tivoli, always included visits to Dreamland and this ritual created a fusion of film, comics, fantasy, science fiction and horror that has been the heart of my imagination ever since.

People forget this but for a long time it wasn’t ‘cool’ to like Star Wars. It probably had more to do with fans of the movies moving on to an interest in girls, cars, jobs or other concerns of adolescence. Almost everyone still liked the movies but people just didn’t make a fuss about it. It wasn’t a thing to proudly display a Star Wars t-shirt, cap, key-chain, backpack etc. because to do so made you look a little childish. When the re-releases happened, I was excited to see them and I know I enjoyed them. It was a way for many of us to try and relive those first experiences by seeing those films almost like new. Honestly, even with the new effects, I really liked the movies and I was reminded of my love for them but I don’t think I felt as charged as I did as a kid. It just didn’t speak to me or inspire me to the same degree. Coming away from these movies, my friends and I were excited to see what they had in store for us in the prequels.

When the prequels started coming out, I saw them all at the theater (The Phantom Menace three times!) and felt that they improved but the takeaway for me was that they didn’t live up to their promise. I saw Phantom Menace three times because my good friend and I both agreed that it was terrible. It was so hard for us to accept that we went again to make sure we weren’t wrong. Surprisingly we liked it better the second time and when we were lacking something to do, it was easy for us to go for a third time. Unfortunately, it seemed like Phantom Menace only worked for us on even numbered viewings. After the third we had decided it just wasn’t good. I don’t think we were angry but there was great speculation about where George’s genius went. Watching the remaining prequels was successively less disappointing but the movies didn’t inspire or elevate me.

I don’t have a child with whom I can relive it, so I have very little investment in the latest sequels. When I hear about petitions to make The Last Jedi more to fans’ liking, I’m honestly perplexed. Why the insistence on a particular vision of Star Wars? Should it not change to reflect its times or at least how the world has changed and we’ve all matured since the original films? How can we really expect a single story to be continually expanded and always have it deliver the same jolt as it did the first time so many years and views later? And if the contemporary take on Star Wars is so distasteful, why are we so needful of this that we effectively tell the filmmakers how to do their jobs for us? With all the vast array of diversions available to us at all times, why insist that this be something it’s not, rather than just collectively move on?

My theory is that these stories aren’t what we need now because they don’t and can’t deliver the same elevation we all experienced the first time. Star Wars Episode iV was a smash, runaway hit because it was a heroic tale that resonated with us on a deep collective level as discussed by Joseph Campbell in his interviews with Bill Moyers. It also spoke to the world of 1977. For a country in a deep recession and big cities mired in crime and hardship, people began to flee to the suburbs. Most kids like me grew up in the suburbs and I could relate to the feeling of being on the furthest star from anything cool. The seventies also came on the heels of a very turbulent decade in the US. Nixon was president, the unpopular Vietnam war was dragging on, there was deep systemic racism and segregation at home with rampant inequality for women, gays, blacks, latinos, students, workers and more. The notion of America as an evil Empire was not far from people’s minds. Many could easily relate to these characters in their struggle and their triumph stirred hearts across the globe. Sure, there were the breathtaking special effects but I think it was the way we all felt exhilarated that a monolithic and dark regime had been bested by the underdog they never expected. I think it’s that feeling that people are desperate for and the stories today just don’t deliver. Don’t too many of the heroes today arrive on the scene already with everything they need to achieve the happy ending? Perhaps our faith that the rebels and the skywalkers are always fated to win has taken away enough of their underdog status to make them less relatable? What elevates an audience is a hero who, like us, doesn’t feel guaranteed to win and in life has no assurance of a happy ending. Without these kinds of heroes, the stories are going to be less compelling.

When you take into account the primacy of the fans today, they feel entitled to demand a Star Wars that they LOVE, or at least like a whole darn lot. Certainly the amount of money spent on Star Wars merchandise and ticket sales should guarantee that. I think fans are wanting something from Star Wars that can no longer be attained. They express a need for something else because what the filmmakers are providing isn’t what they need. And just like that 6 year old me would never have been able to describe Star Wars until I saw it, fans today are demanding better heroes but think those heroes need to come from Star Wars. They don’t. Fans are really demanding something that speaks to them as forcefully as the original and there’s no way that can happen except in a new form.

What form is that? If I had the answer to that question, I would be feverishly working away on it right now. Unfortunately the corporate system is just not going to give you anything new as long as you keep buying recreations of some of your favorite stories. If you keep supporting all those things that have existed for decades, you are unwittingly investing in getting nothing new and therefore effectively starving yourself of really powerful stories. For corporations, it’s easier to keep selling you the same ideas than to risk their money promoting something that you may not like. So it’s diminishing returns, folks.

What’s the solution? As fans you can’t hold the writer’s or artist’s hand while they create and you can’t really expect Corporate owned intellectual properties to deliver what you need 10 movies in. They can always use the media to hype the latest Star Wars movie into the stratosphere, but the movie will likely never deliver what you need and so the disappointment is acute. My advice is to reward the creators who give you something new with REAL heroes. Many will give you heroes that are like you on an identity checklist of race, sexual orientation and age but unfortunately that doesn’t elevate everyone. Because I feel so disenfranchised in my own life, I’m attracted to characters that no one would put money on to win. When those underdogs become their best selves and do great things, that’s something everyone loves regardless of race, colour, creed or planet.

[sage-nebula]

I’m not in the Miraculous Ladybug fandom by any means, and to be honest I wouldn’t really call myself a fan of the show. I like what I’ve seen of it all right; it’s enjoyable to watch, but it’s not something that really captures my fascination or holds my attention for very long after the episode has concluded. It’s not something that I’d really want to dig into. Some things just aren’t that deep, and Miraculous Ladybug is one of those things for me. (Which isn’t at all to insult those who are super hyped about it, of course! It’s just not something that really gripped me.)

To that end, I’ve seen each season one episode once, and I’ve seen a couple season two episodes here or there. I just watched “Queen Wasp” (in English, unfortunately), and what I’m about to say about that episode should be taken with the grain of salt that I’m not a dedicated fan, I haven’t seen every episode, and I’m definitely not up to arguing with those who are dedicated fans. With that said . . .

I think that “Queen Wasp” is a good indication that this show could be deeper, that the writers do have the skill to do that, but there’s something (likely network or parent company regulations) that’s preventing them from going the distance.

From what I know of the situation that the show is in, the creators are forced to succumb to a randomized airing order that differs from country to country. To try to salvage their show, they’ve made it so that a reset button is hit at the end of nearly every episode, so that viewers can jump in without being too lost. As a result of this, season two is at least a good deal underway, and school bully Chloe hasn’t made very much progress in becoming a better person. She’s had a few episodes where she was given Pet the Dog moments, but she hasn’t made great strides toward improving, because if viewers were thrown into an episode where Chloe was nice, and then the next episode that was shown to them had Chloe being a jerk again, they’d be confused.

As a result, it was of no surprise to me (and I actually thought it was a clever move) that Chloe wasn’t given her Miraculous, but rather she found it after Marinette accidentally dropped it. It was of further no surprise to anyone that she used it for her own selfish gain, refused to give it back when asked, and ended up as the first akumatized Miraculous holder (and isn’t this, like, the second or third time she’s been akumatized? Damn). But what pains me a little bit is that if any episode was going to start a Chloe redemption arc for real, it would have been this one. The pieces were all there, but the status quo maintained that they be ignored.

In this two-parter, we learn that the bulk of Chloe’s issues stem from the fact that her mother is emotionally abusive toward her. And yes, I do mean she’s abused. Audrey not only neglects her daughter for years on end by leaving her in Paris while she gallivants around the world, but when she is in Chloe’s presence, she cares so little about her that she can’t even be fussed to remember her name, sometimes referring to her as an inanimate object. She repeatedly threatened her with violence when akumatized (and given that akumatization feeds on latent feelings, we can’t say that was all Hawkmoth’s doing), and then spent the next right episode berating her not only to her face, but in front of others, half the time on live television. It’s made evident that Chloe acts cruel to others because this is what she has seen her mother do for her entire life, and she figures that if she emulates that behavior, she can win her mother’s affection, approval, and love. No, this does not excuse her actions or mean that those she has hurt have to forgive her, but it does explain her actions, makes her more sympathetic, and opens the door for her to realize that this behavior is wrong and that her mother is not someone she needs approval from---that there are better role models and familial figures out there.

Now, there are two ways this growth could have occurred naturally. The first would be to give her an actual arc wherein she doesn’t reveal that she has the Bee Miraculous, and instead keeps it secret, acting as Queen Bee but keeping her identity hidden. We’d still see her selfishness and obstinacy as she refused to give Marinette the Miraculous back, but we’d also get to see her interact with Pollen, and see how Pollen’s influence helps her become a better person (as well as regular interactions with Ladybug and Chat as a teammate rather than a fan). Through bonding with Pollen, Ladybug, and Chat, Chloe would come to realize that she isn’t dependent on her mother for approval and affection---that she can do things her mother could only dream of doing, and that kindness and empathy are far stronger than selfishness and cruelty. While she wouldn’t have been deserving of the Miraculous at the start, she would have ended up becoming a worthy holder, so that by the time she tried to return the Bee Miraculous to Master Fu herself, he told her to keep it.

The other path would have been to have the episode carry out just as it did, but at the end when Chloe asked Ladybug to give her a second chance, Ladybug would tell her that maybe she will, someday---if a need arises for Queen Bee again, and if Chloe starts being kinder to those around her. I don’t mean to turn the comfort that Ladybug and Chat gave her into a lecture, because I do honestly believe that she needed and deserved that encouragement after the way her mother treated her (on live television, no less), but I do think that Ladybug should have slipped in a little bit about how perhaps Chloe could be a Miraculous holder again someday, but that Miraculous holders have to be exceptional not only in their abilities, but in their character, and that means Chloe has to start helping, protecting, and caring for those around her even when she’s not in uniform. Even if Chloe resisted at first, thinking about what Ladybug---her hero---said to her about her behavior could give her cause to start modifying her behavior, even if it’s in baby steps. If that trend continued, then by season three or four we could see a Chloe that Marinette willingly gives that comb to.

But I don’t think there’s even a chance of that happening. Not only did Ladybug say nothing of the sort to Chloe, but ultimately she encouraged Chloe to keep being nasty by using that nastiness to help Chloe bond with her mother. Chloe’s plan of being rude and nasty to others in order to get her abusive mother’s approval paid off. And that . . . is just so entirely disappointing. Chloe meekly asking her mother, “Why don’t you love me?” was a powerful moment that anyone who has faced abuse from a parent could empathize with. Chloe voiced what so many of us have wondered so many times. Yet instead of her mother having to own up to this, Marinette interjected and turned the whole thing into a lighthearted joke that ended with Aubrey deciding that, since her daughter is cruel, perhaps she’s worth sticking with after all. It’s honestly a pretty terrible message to send with regards to child abuse, and while I understand that the network or whoever else potentially didn’t want to delve that deep into emotional parental abuse on a lighthearted show, there comes a time when it’s too late to turn back, and that line was crossed with Aubrey and Chloe. Particularly given that Aubrey repeatedly berated and humiliated Chloe on live television, that ending was particularly terrible.

That said, not all emotional beats were ruined or poorly done in this episode. The scenes between Nathalie and Gabriel were absolutely fantastic. I love that they never once had Nathalie say out loud what she was feeling; it was clear from the way she embraced Gabriel, and the way her expression crumpled when she walked out of the room, that she has feelings for him that she knows are not reciprocated, and that she’s mostly all right with those feelings not being reciprocated, but that it pains her to see him continuing down this destructive path when she can do nothing to stop him (at least, from her point of view). That easily could have been a moment where she monologued to spell all that out, but the producers instead decided to show it, and that was an excellent decision on their part.

All of this said, I’m still not a super fan of this show. I wouldn’t even call myself a fan, really, given that I haven’t seen all the episodes and I’m not in any hurry to. It’s enjoyable once in a while, and I can definitely see moments where they play at something deeper, but I think executive restraints to keep the show lighthearted (and keep the status quo enforced so that kids can jump in at any point) hurt it. Ah well, what can you do. Not every show can be The Dragon Prince, and at least Miraculous Ladybug isn’t trying pretend it is something that it isn’t. Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.

[khhunniewriting]

Baby Bear

Yongguk was greeting his members as they arrived with gifts in their hands. He was so excited to see them there and among the rest of the important people in your life and his. They were all there for one reason...to find out if he would be the father of a baby girl or boy. Himchan was the only one without a gift but Yongguk already knew why. “Yongguk so can you just tell me already? I don’t like this buying something neutral. If it’s a girl I want to buy her cute bows and dresses.” 

“Hyung sounds like you want Y/N to have a girl” Jongup responded to Himchan’s comment.

“I actually don’t know the answer either. Y/N wanted to make it a surprise for me too.” Yongguk smiled widely thinking how in a few hours he will know the gender of his baby. 

“Do you not care if it’s  a girl or boy?”

Yongguk shook his head, “No, because no matter what I’m going to be a father and love my baby.” Finding out he was going to be a father was the best moment of Yongguk’s life. He knew the only thing that could top it was the actual birth which was fast approaching.

“It has to be a girl.” Himchan was your friend before you met Yongguk. He actually played matchmaker for you two and took credit for your happiness and Yongguk’s. Even without being asked he assumed the role of godfather and went out of his way to help Yongguk plan everything for the party. “I want a cute little god daughter that I can take pictures with. Our pictures will break the internet.”

“I think it will be a boy” Youngjae stopped Himchan’s fantasies. “According to those old wives’ tales, if the mother to be craves salty over sweet it is a boy.”

“Noona did keep eating a lot of salty snacks.” Zelo remembered how you actually snatched some out of his hands before. 

“Also there is another that says a girl will drain all the beauty from their mother leading to skin problems during the entire pregnancy.”

“Even more reason it has to be a girl. The other day I saw her skin and it was a bit-”

“Are you talking about me!” You shouted from the top of the stairs. You glared at Himchan as you carefully made your way down the stairs. 

Yongguk rushed to your side and held your hand. “You are so beautiful” he whispered seeing how you had let down your hair.  

“Thank you” you blushed as you received the compliment. For the first time in five months you had let your hair down from the usual messy buns you liked to hide under. Your pregnancy wasn’t the easiest and you had been put on bed rest for a good portion of your pregnancy. Now that you were given the okay to go, you took the chance to dress up. You were always tired and seemed to weigh more than you should but you weren’t unhealthy. Your blood pressure, cholesterol, vitamins, sodium, and blood sugar levels were all normal. That’s why now you wanted to take this chance to celebrate the good and let everyone know who would be joining your little family. 

Once you had reached the bottom you went over to HImchan and pulled his hair. “You saying something about my skin Himchan? If you guys want to guess then do it over there.” You pointed them to the table where there laid pink and blue cards. This was where your guests could guess what they thought you would be having. 

“I will” he stomped over to the table leading the rest of the guys to make their votes. Immediately Himchan picked three of the pink cards and threw them in the glass jar in front of them. 

“Looks like everyone else thinks it’s a boy too” Youngjae picked up a blue card and placed it into the glass jar that was filled past the halfway mark. Zelo too placed his vote in blue after hearing the convincing evidence from Youngjae.

“I’m going to say boy because I want Himchan hyung to be angry” Jongup said as he dropped yet another blue card into the winning jar. 

Himchan rolled his eyes. “You’ll all see. It will be a girl and I will tell her of all the mean people who didn’t want her to be a girl.” They all laughed almost forgetting there was one more person who had to vote.

Daehyun had remained silent as he watched everyone fuss over who was right or wrong. Even while they did this he couldn’t bother to listen because he had a whole other idea. He took a pink card and a blue card, he dropped them in their respective jars and smiled as the others furrowed their brow in question.

“Daehyun you’re only suppose to pick one.”

“Yeah that’s cheating.”

“Why” he innocently asked. “i think it’s both so I put both.”

“What? Are you just being weird again Dae?”

Daehyun shook his head. “Yongguk hyung is a twin so he can have twins too, right?”

“You think it’s twins” Jongup asked.

“Noona would tell us though” Zelo couldn’t imagine you keeping it secret. 

Yongguk rejoined them after leaving you with his sister. “You all finished?” He too had to vote and had put it off until the last moment. The guys put their conversation on pause to focus on Yongguk. “Wow, everyone thinks it’s a boy” he said after observing the results.

“Not everyone” Himchan reminded him before throwing another pink card in the girl jar as if it would somehow work in his favor.

Everyone watched with anticipation as you got ready to cut the cake. The outside of the cake was covered in neutral white but on the inside was the surprise. Once you cut the cake it will show either pink or blue cake and give everyone their answer. 

You didn’t want to be the one to cut the cake though. You handed Yongguk the knife and pulled him in front of the cake. “You cut it Oppa.” You already knew the answer, you also knew watching his gummy smile as he found out would be the best thing.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

Yongguk slid the knife carefully into the cake until he hit the bottom. He knew once he pulled out the knife there would be colored crumbs somewhere. He quickly took out the knife and cut the other side to slide out a piece revealing blue cake inside. He looked over at you, gummy smile still in tact “a boy.”

You smiled back at him knowing he was beyond himself. Without hesitation he hugged you and gave you a kiss. He was feeling content with the answer. He had asked you many times to tell him but you refused because you wanted him to find out this way and now he knew why.

“Great another Yongguk” Himchan sighed with disappointment. “How many does the world need? There’s already two.” He referred to Yongguk and his identical twin brother Yongnam.

“In that case wouldn’t it be another Yongnam since he is Yongguk hyung’s hyung” Zelo asked.

“But it’s my son” Yongguk responded feeling territorial which was out of character for him. It was like finding out he was having a son had made him more aware that he was really going to be a father soon.

As your due date approached you spent most of your time resting but you also kept shopping for your unborn son’s arrival. At nine months pregnant you were waddling around the baby store picking out things you wanted your son to have.

This left Yongguk with no choice but to run after you. He tried holding you back every time you went overboard and bought more than was necessary but it was hard to say no to you. “Jagiya I think this is enough. He won’t even be able to wear it all, babies grow fast.”

“I know but it’s so cute.” You showed him a cute little bear onesie, on the hood were the ears so once it was put up it was practically a bear costume. “Awww” you squealed as you imagined your son wearing it.

Yongguk sighed giving in once more. “Fine.”

Just then Himchan appeared putting the same onesie in the shopping cart, except this one was pink and had a bow on one of the ears. 

“Himchan it’s not going to be a girl even if you put that in.”

“Doctors can make mistakes right?” Himchan wasn’t giving up on the idea of you having a girl. He knew it would be a mistake not to take it. “Just take it and thank me later.”

Because you could have the baby any day now Yongguk had declined to appear with the rest of his members in anything and everything. You felt bad for the fans who hadn’t been able to get a glimpse at your handsome Yongguk in a while. That is why you convinced him to go just this once with them. 

“Are you sure I should go? I can still say no” Yongguk was hesitant to go out the door. He didn’t want to leave you alone. He was worried your water would break and he wouldn’t be around to take you to the hospital.

“I’m fine. My due date is this Saturday there are still a few days to go.”

“But what if it breaks suddenly and unexpected like in the movies?”

“If we are going with movie logic then it wouldn’t happen in the middle of the day. It would be in the middle of the night when we are sleeping so go have fun and greet your-” you were shocked by the sudden pain you felt coming from your stomach. It ran it’s way through to your back making you unable to speak.

Yongguk looked at you with wide eyes full of concern. He dropped his backpack to take a hold of you. With great care he sat you down in a nearby chair. 

The wave of pain had ended making you sit up straight unsure of what had just happened. The pain had nearly knocked you out a second ago but now you felt nothing. “Was that a contraction” you asked Yongguk.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I don’t know... is it supposed to be painful for your back and stomach?”

“How should I know” he asked as his eyes widened realizing you didn’t know as much as he thought you did. Soon yours matched his as you felt a wetness beneath you. You shut your eyes unsure of how to proceed when you knew it was time to go. “I’m sorry Oppa but you can’t go... my water just broke.”

Before you knew it you were in a hospital room hooked up to machines that were monitoring your heartbeat. The contractions came and went regularly and even though your water had broken you were still a ways away from labor.

You laid in total horror and Yongguk could see it on your face. “What’s wrong?”

You looked over at the clock on the wall and pointed it out to him. “It’s almost time for the next contraction. Do you know how horrible it is to lay here knowing no matter what you are going to feel pain and you will continue to feel it until you push a human out of you!” Your voice had steadily increased until the point where you were yelling at him.

“Baby I’m sorry you have to feel the pain. If I could I would-”

“Save it and don’t come near me” you pushed him away feeling like everything around was bothering you. 

You were feeling extreme discomfort. Yongguk understood this, he new you meant no harm by it. He took a step back to give you space to breath.

The next wave of pain hit you like a truck. “Ah! Oppa” you called out to him as you stretched your hand out regretting that you had told him to back away. Now you wanted him beside you to help you.

Yongguk of course complied and held your hand. Even though his knuckles turned white from your grip he felt nothing. He knew you were going through worse and needed to lean on him. 

You sighed in relief as the pain left but soon it was back again. This time it was quicker and it kept coming back sooner each time until the doctor came in and told you it was time. “Alright Mrs. Bang, after the count of three I need you to push.”

You nodded in understanding then looked up at Yongguk who looked at you with a smile on his face. He wiped away the stray hairs that had fallen on your face and kissed the top of your head. “You can do this Jagiya.”

“Thanks Oppa” you felt like you could cry. Yongguk was the best, loving and understanding of you even in this state. 

With Yongguk’s support you were able to follow through and do as the doctor said. During the process your hair stuck to your sweaty forehead but not for long. While you held one of his hand’s Yongguk used the other to wipe off the sweat with a towel.

The nurses offered to do it but Yongguk insisted to do it himself.

Finally after one last push you were able to hear the soft cries of your newborn baby. 

Yongguk was asked to cut the umbilical cord before the baby was taken by nurses to be cleaned. It was all so quick, you didn’t even remember the pain anymore. All you wanted was to see your baby boy. Once the nurses brought him over you felt tears making their way down your eyes. “It’s our baby” you pointed out to Yongguk in disbelief. Just moments ago he was growing inside you and now you were holding him in your arms. 

Yongguk laughed at your innocent reactions. Your smile and tears of joy had tugged his heartstrings once again. He gave you a kiss on the forehead just like when it began. “You did it Jagiya” he watched his newborn son only for a second before the doctor cut in. 

“Mrs. Bang, the next one will be quicker so we will need you to be ready to push once you start the contractions again.”

“The next what” you asked confused.

“The next baby.” The doctor could see the shock on both of your faces and realized perhaps you didn’t know. “You do know you are having twins right?”

“What” Yongguk couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wondered if this was the reaction his parents had when they found out they were having twins. “No one said there were two.”

You knew you were ready to be a mom and prepared for your son’s arrival but now that you knew the workload was going to be doubled you began to panic. You hadn’t mentally prepared yourself to handle two crying babies. “Are you sure there are two?”

The doctor nodded. “We’ll need you to hand your son to the nurses so they can do their job and you should rest while you can. It’s been...” the doctor checked his watch for the time. “...eight minutes twenty-two seconds, it can be any second or any hour now.”

Himchan ignored the no-running warnings that were being called out to him as he made his way through the hospital halls. He held the pink gift bag tightly in his hand as he knocked on the door to your room.

When Yongguk opened the door Himchan pushed past him.

“We came as soon as we could” Youngjae apologized for having gotten there so late at night. All of Yongguk’s family and yours had already visited so now they were the last ones.

“It’s okay. I know you guys were busy with the fan meeting.”

“There were many angry fans who wanted to see you but once we got your text we let them know what was going on and they began asking us to send you their best wishes.”

Yongguk was glad to hear his fans had enjoyed the even regardless of his absence. The rest of them caught up looking exhausted but excited.

“Congratulations” they all spoke in unison as soon as they saw Yongguk then once more when they saw you. 

“Thanks you guys.” With Yongguk’s help you had managed to look decent enough to face them. 

“Why did you ask me to bring it?” Himchan jumped up and down excitedly. You had asked Yongguk to inform HImchan that they might be needing that pink bear onesie after all. That was why Himchan became a bulldozer and ran through the hospital without stopping.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Yongguk opened it and in came the nurse. She was rolling in your newborn baby boy which made the boys become silent. 

“He’s so small” Jongup whispered to Zelo.

“Noona is that Yongmin” Zelo asked pointing to him.

You nodded. The nurse handed the baby boy to you and eve if it had only been a day you already held him like an expert. “Guys this is Bang Yongmin or as Natasha Unnie teased, Yongnam number three.”

“No, no, no” Yongguk denied it. 

“It’s a boy” Himchan was disappointed. “Are you playing with my emotions woman? Why did you tell me to bring this-” he became silent as another nurse came in bringing a second baby. This one was wrapped in a pink blanket unlike the blue one Yongmin had.

“Wha-” the boys gasped seeing Yongguk pick up the newborn baby girl. “I know how you guys feel. We were shocked too.” His gummy smile was on full display as he introduced her to everyone. “This is Yongnam’s identical twin sister Yongji.”

Until now Daehyun remained silent just watching as everyone wrapped their heads around the idea that Yongguk had twins. He had already thought of this even though he had no evidence for it he just guessed it would happen. “I told you guys.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down” Himchan hugged you, mindful of the newborn in your arms. He then went over to Yongguk wanting to steal the baby girl from him. “I’ll be in charge of her debut” he planned to take a picture with her and post it on social media to announce you had successfully given birth to twins.

When you were discharged from the hospital you had to get help from many people in order to take all the flowers and gifts you had been given. Himchan wasn’t the only one who posted pictures, the rest of the guys and some of the nurses even asked for pictures. Fans started sending gifts every day causing your newborn babies to become famous.

Because you were so unprepared for your baby girl you had nothing special for her to wear out of the hospital. But, thanks to stubborn Himchan there was one thing for her.  That day you and Yongguk walked out of the hospital with two baby bears. 

-end-

A/N: Thanks for requesting this Anon. I needed a fluffy baby scenario to get my creativity flowing. Hope you all like it ^^ Also just to let you guys know I’m not a medical expert don’t judge that scene too hard. LOL

[forabeatofadrum]

Klaine Summer Challenge Day 7: Summertime Blues

Let’s watch Kurt and Blaine trash some losers online on Mario Kart 8 Deluxe while falling in love!

Klaine Summer Challenge Day 7: Summertime Blues

I’m gonna raise a fuss, I’m gonna raise a holler

Summertime Blues - Eddie Cochran

Blaine’s a gamer.

He admits it.

Not even Sam can compare to him. He met Sam after he moved to New York and he needed a place to live. Sam and his sort-of-girlfriend (it’s complicated) live in the city and they needed a roommate.

Oh, and that sort-of-girlfriend happens to be upcoming popstar Mercedes Jones.

He and Sam bonded over their love for video games. Whereas Sam is a huge fan of Playstation, Blaine’s very happy with Nintendo. He bougth the Nintendo Switch on its release day and he bought Mario Kart 8 Deluxe.

Even though Sam is still not the biggest Nintendo fan, no one can resist Mario Kart.

But even without Sam, he plays most of the time online. He’s already won all Grand Prix, so why not? He doesn’t use ‘Global’, instead opts for racing people in the region.

And he’s made a sworn enemy.

‘Kurt’ always ends up in his game. Blaine never knew something like that was possible, but it happens. They race quite often and most of the time, ‘Kurt’ wins.

Sure, Blaine ends up on second place, but he wishes to beat him for once and for all. They don’t know each other personally, but after racing together for a few weeks, they both have a usual time slot.

“Blaine, we’re going,” Mercedes calls out, “Sure you don’t want to join us?”

“I’m sorry Mercedes, I just don’t want to intrude,” Blaine asks. Sam and Mercedes have other friends from high school living in New York, and they have a weekly potluck dinner at their place. They’ve been inviting Blaine to come along, but Blaine doesn’t want to. They’re obviously a close group of friends and Blaine doesn’t want to cut it.

“Suit yourself,” she says, but she and Sam leave.

Blaine races some more. ‘Kurt’ eventually has to go, but Blaine doesn’t mind. He ends up on first place now that ‘Kurt’ has left. Afterwards, he walks around the city.

This continues for a while, until one day, ‘Kurt’ doesn’t show up.

Blaine’s a bit disappointed, but he continues racing anyway. Besides, Splatoon 2 is about to come out, so maybe he should focus on that game. 

But a week passes, and ‘Kurt’ doesn’t appear. Blaine knows it’s stupid, but he really loved trashing other people online with him. If only, Blaine knew this guy in real life. They could exchange friend codes, and they can race more often.

After a while, racing without ‘Kurt’ becomes boring and racing with Sam is not the same. Hell, even racing with Mercedes is weird.

Monday arrives and Blaine’s given up on ‘Kurt’s’ return.

“Blaine, you know what I’m about to ask,” Sam says when he enters Blaine’s room.

“Yes, I’m coming with you.”

“And I know you will refuse, but Mercedes and I have a friend who is really sweet and you two should mee- wait, what?” Sam is in shock. “Did you just say...”

“Give me five minutes,” Blaine says and he looks for some pair of shoes. Sam, still shocked, goes downstairs and Blaine can hear his conversation with Mercedes, who sounds as astonished as her sort-of-boyfriend (really, it’s complicated!)

Blaine knows it’s kind of pathetic, but without ‘Kurt’ to join him on Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, he’s bored. He’s so bored that he goes against all his previous judgements and joins his roommates for the potluck dinner.

The walk to the loft is short. Apparently, their friends live in a loft without walls and a door you can properly lock.

It’s a bit awkward at the beginning. Sam introduces him as ‘the man of the hour’ and all eyes are immediately on him. Blaine waves shyly.

Santana is rude, but she smiles, so Blaine guesses she doesn’t really mean it? She is an awesome cook, though, and she appreciates Blaine’s praise.

Rachel is loud, but she also asks him questions and compliments Blaine on his bowties. 

Artie makes preach signs with his hands all the time and strangely enough warns Blaine for possible STDs floating around New York, but he’s also quite funny.

Kurt is a different story. The first thing he notices is that Kurt’s extremely cute. Blaine blushes when he shakes his hand and Kurt notices and winks. Sam and Mercedes exchange a knowing look.

On their way home, Sam and Mercedes bug Blaine the entire time about Kurt, but even though Blaine tries to deny it, they’re right. Blaine may or may not have a small crush on Kurt.

He joins the potlucks on Monday, he goes out with Sam and Artie to a café, Kurt takes him out shopping (and Blaine’s heart skipped a beat), Santana and Rachel help him for his dance classes. When other high school friends visit New York, they introduce Blaine as a friend.

Slowly, Blaine starts to get to know these people and he becomes part of the group.

He still kicks people’s asses online on Mario Kart, but most of his time is filled by those new people. He’s made friends before he stumbled into this group, but this group of friends is so close, it’s different.

When Blaine meets ‘Kurt’ again, ‘Kurt’s’ Mii makes an angry face at him. Blaine can’t help but feel guilty. He hasn’t sticked to their usual time slot, since Santana prefers to coach dancing at a later hour. Since Blaine still doesn’t know the guy, he had no way of contacting him.

The two of them end up in first and second place again, and ‘Kurt’s’ Mii makes a happy face, so it’s okay.

It’s another Monday, so another potluck.

Blaine quickly shuts down his game and he joins his roommates downstairs. They arrive at the loft and the others greet them. This time, a girl named Tina has joined them.

Kurt’s nowhere to be seen.

“Uhm, where is Kurt?” Blaine asks. Sam grins and Blaine wants to smack him.

“In the bedroom,” Sam says and he winks and Blaine hates himself for blushing, “Why don’t you go and get him?”

“Sam, this loft has no walls, we can just call his name...” Rachel trails off when she sees the smug look on Sam’s face. “Nevermind. Great idea, Sam.”

“Guys!” Blaine says, but the others all seem very happy.

“Oh, so this is the guy you’ve been trying to set Kurt up with?” Tina whispers to Mercedes, but Blaine has heard her. He turns even redder.

On one hand, it’s great to know that their friends support a possible romantic relationship. On the other hand, this is creepy.

“Can’t he hear all of this?” he asks Rachel, reminding her of the curtains.

“Probably not,” she shrugs, “He probably has his earbuds in. He’s addicted to this game and Santana threatened to kill him if he didn’t turn down the volume.” 

Santana nods.

“Just go for it, man,” Artie does another preach sign.

Blaine knows they won’t get off his back, so he takes a deep breath and he goes to Kurt’s room. 

“Kurt?” he draws the curtains. Kurt has his back turned to Blaine, but Blaine can see that he’s holding something. He’s moving his body from left to right.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, unaware that he’s being watched.

That’s when Blaine sees the small screen on Kurt’s desk. Blaine moves closer and he can’t believe it when he realises it’s a Switch displaying Mario Kart 8 Deluxe.

No, it can’t be.

Kurt wins the race and he throws his fist in the air. The screen changes and the Miis are all present again. Kurt’s Mii is wearing the crown.

But that’s not what matters.

Kurt is the ‘Kurt’ he’s been racing against for weeks.

Kurt checks the time on his watch. He tells the others he’s going and he leaves the group. He pulls his earbuds out. 

“Kurt?”

Kurt turns around. “Blaine, hello! Have you been here for long?” he asks, “Sorry, I lost track of the time. Do you need anything?”

“Your friendcode,” Blaine blurts out.

“My what?” Kurt asks and he puts down his JoyCons.

“Your friendcode from the Switch, so we can finally play together for real,” Blaine says, “I get tired of one of us missing our usual timeslot.”

It clicks for Kurt and his eyes widen. “No way! You’re the 'Blaine’ I race against!”

“Yes, and you keep beating me,” Blaine says playfully. 

Kurt unattaches one of the JoyCons and he hands it to Blaine. “Care for a rematch?”

“So let me get this straight. You basically met Kurt before we introduced you to him through Mario Kart 8 Deluxe,” Sam says in disbelief.

“Very true,” 

“I’d like to say ‘that’s so romantic’ but dude, it’s really not.”

Blaine shrugs. 

The doorbell rings and Blaine knows it’s Kurt. He’s bringing his own devices with him so that they can play. 

“Sam, trust me, I’ll make it romantic,” Blaine says and he gets up to open the door. Sam whistles.

When after seven matches, Blaine finally ends up first, Kurt congratulates him with a kiss. Now, that’s a new kind of romantic.

[pseudorganized]

My Best Friend's Wedding

Summary: Satsuki is getting married and Daiki is dragged in to help. And well, you know weddings. They tend to catch you off guard with thoughts about the future and the possibilities it brings. Meanwhile, Ryouta just thinks Daiki will make the best "Maid" of Honor ever.

Characters/Pairings: Aomine Daiki, Kise Ryouta, Momoi Satsuki, Kagami Taiga, Kuroko Tetsuya, Akashi Seijuuro, Momoi’s Boyfriend, AoKise, Momoi/Undisclosed Boyfriend

Notes: For Cassie because we encourage each other to write when we can. :3 And hi, everyone else! I'm back with something new and troublesome. This sat in my Google Drive for a long time and I am just glad to have finished it. It could be better, definitely, but sometimes you just need to toss it out and have it done and dusted. Maybe I'll come back and edit it some day but for now, here, have some wedding shenanigans. P.S. This is very self indulgent so there would most probably be stuff that's inconsistent or outright wrong. I've been to a couple of weddings and was actually a bridesmaid once so. I was pretty much getting stuff from my own experiences and stories, movies, etc.

Also available over at AO3.

“So, what’s up?” Daiki asked after he and Satsuki found their seats in the restaurant his childhood friend had invited him out to, “and tell me you’re actually paying for this.”

It wasn’t the first time Satsuki had dragged him into this restaurant. It was some kind of Japanese fusion place that was somehow popular with girls. Maybe it was the cafe-like atmosphere and the fusion food. Daiki wasn’t really a fan; the food was expensive and the servings were tiny though Satsuki would tell him that most restaurants’ servings were small for him. And there was the fact that Satsuki always made him pay.

Satsuki just sighed and somehow looked suspiciously less annoyed-looking than she usually would have been whenever Daiki so bluntly pointed out who was going to foot the bill. Looking back later, Daiki would probably think that was the first sign but at the present, he was counting his lucky stars that Satsuki seemed happy enough to pay for her own damn meal (and his) for once.

“I invited you out, Dai-chan, so yes. I’m paying.”

“Good,” Daiki acknowledged with a nod. “So what’s the occasion?”

Satsuki looked at him all bright-eyed and pink-cheeked; it was kind of freaky. “Can’t I just take out my oldest friend for a nice lunch?”

Daiki stared. “Are you pregnant?”

“Dai-chan!” She slapped him on the arm, her cheeks flaring with both shock and embarrassment. “No! Why would you even think--”

“Because then maybe I’d have an excuse to actually punch that guy in the face.”

Satsuki rolled her eyes at him. “You are not punching my boyfriend. When are you getting over the fact that he is perfect and amazing?”

“And that’s not suspicious at all,” he muttered as he reached for the little Specials Menu at the center of the table to do something with his hands.

Satsuki just watched him, smiling. “I know you like him, though. No matter how much you say you don’t.”

Daiki didn’t bother saying anything about that because he hated to admit it but Satsuki’s boyfriend was actually more than okay for her. He just didn’t want to openly acknowledge that fact because, well. No one would ever be good enough for Satsuki. No one.

“But he is part of why I took you here today,” Satsuki continued after a short moment of comfortable silence.

Daiki actually bothered to look around. “So where is he?”

“He’s at work and I told him that I’d break the news to you myself.”

He stopped fiddling with the Specials Menu and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at a still too-happy-looking Satsuki. “What did he do?”

Satsuki was unfazed by that frown on his face that could have sent lesser men cowering. “Nothing awful. I promise.”

“Well, what is it?”

Daiki looked at his childhood friend, the one who was actually the best friend he had ever had, and tried to see for any signs that this was actually bad despite what she said. If she was trying to bullshit him, he’d know. He was a bit disappointed but a lot more relieved to find her still smiling at him, looking very serene actually. It was still kind of suspicious.

He almost jumped when she put her hand over his.

“Dai-chan.”

He did his best to look Satsuki straight in the eye. “What?”

Satsuki’s grip on his hand tightened, like she was bracing herself, and Daiki should’ve probably been more scared, not confused, at that look on her face. He couldn’t tell what it was but if anything, she didn’t look upset. Not at all. Far from it.

“Dai-chan.”

“Yeah, Satsuki?”

She smiled and her eyes were shining and her lips were trembling and Daiki felt that teeny bit of fear turn into outright panic because Oh my God. She was fucking pregnant--

“I’m engaged.”

“Momocchi! Congratulations!”

Ryouta was in their bedroom talking on his phone and of course he had to scream into it. Daiki was used to it. After years of living with the loud blond, it was hard not to be. Besides, Ryouta had reason to scream. He had just found out that one of his closest friends was going to get married.

“Daiki just told me!” the model gushed and Daiki felt the usual urge to roll his eyes coming along but stopped himself, “I wish I was there too when you told him because Momocchi! This is huge!”

Daiki had made himself comfortable on their bed. He was so ready to sleep already but the lights were still on and Ryouta was talking on the phone and walking around, unable to contain his excitement. Ryouta was dressed in one of Daiki’s old sweatshirts and one of those weird pajama pants of his. Tonight, they were purple with a pattern of yellow chicks. Overall, he was doing a good job of distracting Daiki from sleep.

“--I’m so sorry for calling so late but I’m just so happy for you! Let’s have lunch soon, okay? I wanna hear all about the proposal. I’m sure it was amazing…” Ryouta had finally paused before the bed, eyes not really looking at anything but smiling so softly and happily. Daiki was pretty sure he had some tears in his eyes.

“I love you, Momocchi. Goodnight. Let me know when we can meet up, okay? Bye!”

Ryouta ended the call and let out a deep sigh. Daiki watched quietly as he looked at his phone with that same soft fondness before finally looking up to meet Daiki’s eyes. And Daiki’s heart honest to God fluttered. There was no other word for it. Daiki knew that look of pure joy wasn’t for him exactly but it sure felt like it when Ryouta looked at him like that.

It was almost like a relief when Ryouta put his phone away and crawled into his arms. Daiki held him over his chest, put him over his heart where he belonged. Sometimes, it still staggered him how much he could love someone else like this. Just one look and he became unsteady.

“Momocchi’s getting married,” Ryouta whispered softly moments later, the smile and wonder on his face clear in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” Daiki breathed and some of that pressure in his chest eased. He lifted a hand and gently started to stroke Ryouta’s hair. His hair was as soft and silky as always, a great comfort to the touch.

Ryouta snuggled in closer. “I’m so happy for her…”

“I know…”

“Hey, Daiki.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to be Momocchi’s Maid of Honor?”

Daiki paused. He stared down at Ryouta and in return, Ryouta had his face tilted up, looking right back with wide, golden, guileless eyes and an innocent smile.

A frown. “What?”

“It would make sense, right?” Ryouta continued in the same quiet tone, even nuzzling in affectionately into the crook of Daiki’s throat and shoulder all cozily. “You’re her oldest friend and we know Daiki looks so good in a dress.”

Ryouta had started to lightly run fingertips along his chest, the motions gentle and soothing like they were just talking about quiet, unassuming things and not about dresses and Daiki wearing them.

Daiki was still staring at Ryouta, giving him a look.

The blond menace caught the look and returned it with the same expression of sweet innocence.

Ryouta’s all-too wary boyfriend was not fooled one bit.

“I am not wearing a dress.”

Ryouta just grinned.

Yes, this was the little shit Daiki was head over heels in love with.

Lucky him.

“I’m not gonna be your Maid of Honor.”

Satsuki barely looked up at him as she went through another one of her notebooks. Planning for the wedding was well on its way and Satsuki was of course in the thick of it. Should it be surprising that Satsuki was a hands-on bride? Daiki wouldn’t be shocked if she already had the bare bones of this wedding figured out after her relationship with her then-boyfriend-now-fiance reached the one year mark.

Or even earlier, if the crap they say on TV about little girls and their dolls could be believed. Daiki had no idea; Satsuki didn’t play her dolls with him. Much.

“Of course not, Dai-chan,” she told him patiently but also distractedly, “you’re my Man of Honor.”

Daiki would have groaned and put his head over the table were they still in Middle School but they were adults now and Daiki had grown up some. Instead, he just groaned and looked down grumpily at the cup of black coffee he had in front of him. The cup was tiny. He should have known he was going to be dining in more girly places with tiny servings because of this wedding.

“Couldn’t one of your girl friends do it?”

Satsuki sighed, rolling her eyes and finally looked at him to send him a very familiar look that said he was so, so stupid. “They could, but of course the question is, ‘Who is it going to be?’ And Dai-chan, believe me--” She looked him dead in the eye. “--No one wants to be in the middle of that kind of drama.”

The severe look in Satsuki’s eyes almost made Daiki shudder.

Drama.

Right.

Why do girls have to put up so much fuss and make things complicated?

“You should just make them fight for it,” Daiki suggested as he stole another one of Satsuki’s tiny tea sandwiches from her plate. “Strip them down to swimsuits. Put them in a ring, toss up between mud or oil to make it difficult. First blood wins…”

He gave Satsuki an approving thumbs up. “Profit.”

Satsuki was giving him one of her judging looks again and he was just steadily ignoring her as always. The little tea sandwiches were good. Why did they just have to be so tiny?

“You’ll understand when it’s your wedding you’re planning out,” Satsuki said to him before turning back to her notes and slapping his hand away from stealing more of her sandwiches.

“Are you having those in the wedding?” Daiki asked hopefully even if his hand stung a bit from the well-aimed slap.

Satsuki sighed but took note that “Dai-chan really liked the egg salad and cucumber sandwiches”.

“You are totally the Maid of Honor.”

“What. The. Fuck.” Daiki narrowed his eyes at Kagami. He wondered for the nth time why he was even out with him that night at all.

Something to do with not wanting to look at any more wedding souvenir samples. How much tiny, girly, breakable shit does he have to put up with for this wedding?

“Will Aomine-kun be wearing a dress again? I haven’t shown you the pictures, Kagami-kun, but Aomine-kun does carry a dress well.”

And also Tetsu. Tetsu and Kagami came in a set nowadays; Daiki frankly thought it was disgusting even after all these years.

Kagami had the nerve to shudder. “Nah, no thanks. I think I’d like to keep the nightmare fodder to a minimum if I could and Ahomine in a dress? No thank you.”

Tetsu just had his usual innocent-looking smile on his face like he wasn’t unearthing some very awful, terrible Middle School memories. “That was a fun day.”

“Easy for you to say,” Daiki muttered with a glare, “Akashi was wearing a dress instead of you.”

Kagami almost choked on his Coke. “Akashi in a dress--Okay! No more fucked up Teikou memories! Thank! You!”

Thankfully, Tetsu took that as his cue to switch to another topic. Or rather, back to the original topic of their conversation. “Do you have any particular tasks as the Maid of Honor, Aomine-kun?”

Daiki frowned at him. “Basically I just gotta make sure Satsuki doesn’t have a breakdown over all the details. You won’t believe all the fucking stuff she has to do… There’s also the food. It’s my duty to make sure the food’s good. And I am not the Maid of Honor.”

“Yes, you are,” Kagami giggled because that was totally what he did.

Daiki threw a french fry at him. “No, I’m not.”

“Please take care of Momoi-san, Aomine-kun.” Tetsu said over the ruckus, smiling in that small, soft way that always meant he was happy. Happy for Satsuki for getting married. Happy for him because he was helping out.

“Don’t I always?”

“So I guess this is good practice for you, huh?” Kagami suddenly asked.

Daiki stared at him. “Practice for what?”

“Well, you know,” Kagami started with a shrug, “I know you and Kise can’t really get married here right now but in the future, you could have a ceremony or something just to make things kinda official…”

Kagami trailed off because now even Tetsu was staring at him.

“...What?”

“Have you been thinking of getting married, Kagami-kun?” Tetsu asked, straightforward as always, but though he was staring piercingly at Kagami, there was a suspicious red flush creeping up his face.

Kagami’s face blossomed red like a tomato. “Well, I! I mean, not anytime soon! But--!” he sputtered, almost flailing at the spot and seemingly couldn’t look Tetsu in the eye.

His boyfriend just kept on staring at him like he held all the answers of the universe.

“...Fuck, Kuroko,” Kagami mumbled, avoiding looking at him and clumsily picking at his burger. “You don’t think I’m just with you and not thinking about the future and shit, right?”

Tetsu just stared at him for a bit before moving to put his hand over one of Kagami’s. That soft, happy smile had returned to Tetsu’s face and just grew a little when Kagami turned his hand up to tangle their fingers.

“I can’t say I’m that surprised that you thought about it first, to be honest.”

Kagami still won’t look at him but he seemed happy, the sides of his lips lifting while he squeezed at Tetsu’s hand.

They both looked happy, trapped in a happy bubble.

And beside them, Daiki just wanted to lurch to the side and throw up.

Gross.

The tuxedo was finer and more tailored than anything he would normally wear. It was also tighter around places he’d really prefer his clothes not to be and it was restricting, annoying. Plus he looked like a goddamned penguin.

Daiki grimaced and tugged at the tightly knotted bow tie at his neck. He really hated ties of any kind.

The gasp that came from behind him made him instinctively turn and he almost cringed at the teary-eyed look Ryouta was giving him.

“Are you ever gonna stop crying today?” He grumbled but gently because he wasn’t really annoyed. He was used to Ryouta being dramatic and emotional and it was his schtick to be grumpy about it. Besides, it was the first time Ryouta was able to come for any of the activities related to Satsuki’s wedding preparations so it was expected that he was especially emotional.

Ryouta made a pouty face at him before coming closer and snuggling onto his back, chin resting lightly over his shoulder.

“Daiki is awful,” Ryouta sulked even as his eyes took in their reflection, Daiki in his tuxedo and Ryouta with his arms around him, “even when he’s looking so handsome! So cruel!”

“Shut up,” Daiki muttered gruffly even as he turned his head a little to gently brush a bit of a kiss by Ryouta’s cheekbone instead of the usual forehead flick.

Ryouta hummed at that, smiling a little at the kiss, and just made himself more comfortable as he snuggled in a bit more tightly. He continued drinking in their reflection, amber eyes lingering on the handsome picture Daiki made.

Despite the discomfort, Daiki had to admit he looked pretty good.

“Are you comfortable?” Ryouta asked, “I mean, it isn’t too tight anywhere?”

Daiki tried to shrug. “Kinda tight around the shoulders.”

“Daiki’s shoulders are just all muscled.”

“Are you saying that’s a bad thing? I thought you liked my shoulders.”

“There better be no funny business in the dressing rooms from you two today, okay?”

They both turned at Satsuki’s voice and found her looking at them with a slightly exasperated look on her face. Satsuki had bags under her eyes and her usually brushed and shiny hair looked a bit frazzled. She looked harassed but that wasn’t anything new nowadays.

Undeterred, because he was a little shit, Ryouta snuggled in even more as he flashed her a bright but obviously teasing grin. “But Daiki looks so good, Momocchi! How am I to resist?”

Daiki’s look at Ryouta was unamused. “You are not fucking me in this penguin suit.”

And Satsuki held her face in her hands and looked like she was trying not to scream as Ryouta just burst out laughing.

Daiki knew Satsuki’s stress levels were at an all-time high as the wedding date was steadily getting closer and there was still so much to be done. Still, it was mildly terrifying when she gathered herself up, looked at them oh so calmly and said,

“Just you two wait.”

“Thank you for bringing the invitation yourself, Aomine, and please also thank Momoi for me for sending over the cheese tart. She didn’t have to bother,” Akashi said as they sat down for tea in one of the many sitting rooms in the Akashis’ huge mansion. Ever the gracious host, he poured the tea and sliced the tart himself, serving Daiki who tried not to fidget against all the elegant luxury surrounding him. Daiki had thought Akashi would have had a couple of maids doing the tea serving and tart cutting instead.

Most of the invitations for the wedding were sent by mail but for special people, like Akashi, they were hand carried and Daiki decided to do his poor, harassed childhood friend a favor. Akashi was in town nowadays anyway so it wasn’t going to be hard. But yeah, Satsuki didn’t have to send over the tart with the invitation but what can you do? Akashi was just that special apparently. The cheese tart was good, though.

Red eyes fixed on him as Akashi continued, “I do hope Momoi isn’t working herself too hard.”

Daiki sighed, “You know how she is…”

Akashi nodded because of course he knew. “Please continue on taking care of her.”

“Yeah…”

They sipped their tea.

“How about you, Aomine? How have you and Kise been?” Akashi inquired though Daiki still felt he already knew and was just being polite.

“We’re fine. Kise’s got a new ad coming out and it’s off season so…”

“You have been together a while.”

“A couple of years, yeah.”

“And you two are very happy.”

“Yeah…”

Somehow, Daiki had a feeling that he had been having this same kind of conversation for a while now and he didn’t know why though he felt like he should. He just had this sense that Akashi was trying to tell him something but Akashi being Akashi, he didn’t lay it all out before him and instead left him with something to chew on for a while until he figured it out himself. Because every move Akashi made was deliberate and Daiki was not stupid when it came to Akashi and how he managed them. Really, the Captain of the Generation of Miracles hadn’t changed that much through the years.

He and Akashi were never actually particularly close or chatty so it wasn’t long before Daiki made his excuses and Akashi saw him to the door.

“Please send my regards to Kise,” Akashi said to him in goodbye, a slight smile playing on his lips as he does like he knew something Daiki didn’t (which would not be a surprise at all). “I look forward to new developments soon.”

Of course he was.

Satsuki, just like any enthusiastic bride, had a rather expansive and detailed wedding registry and for that, Daiki was... Well, it was sort of a relief she had one because then he didn’t have to be burdened with actually going around hunting for a gift. Granted, he got strong-armed into spending too much money on some kind of food processing thing (God forbid he was actually encouraging Satsuki to cook something) but at least that was another task done for the wedding.

He should have known his involvement with getting wedding gifts was not yet over. He thought it was done after his own mother practically went to war with one of Satsuki’s aunts over the most perfect sets of dinnerware and he had to… Yeah, that was a nightmare. He was glad that was over but apparently he had more struggles to get past.

Ryouta had that determined look on his face that reminded Daiki of old high-stakes basketball games and it should have been hot but Daiki wasn’t exactly in a sexy kind of mood right then. Not when Ryouta had him by the wrist and was dragging him through a part of the mall that he had seen too much of for the past week or so. Daiki wanted to shake him off because no. Why were they here? He was just here the other day with all the monstrous selections of kitchen appliances and cutlery and what have you and he was pretty sure his bank account still felt the dent he regretfully bashed into it because Satsuki was relentless and thought he was made of money or something.

“You know Satsuki has a wedding registry, right?” Daiki knew Ryouta knew but if he could wheedle his way out of another shopping trip, he would ask again in the hope that Ryouta would reconsider.

“Yes,” Ryouta replied, barely sparing him a glance over his shoulder, “but none of them are what I want to give Momocchi and her husband-to-be.”

Daiki sighed and didn’t even bother masking his exasperation. “You’re not the one who’s gonna be receiving the damned gift...”

“Momocchi knows I have taste, Daiki,” Ryouta put in matter of factly and Daiki purposefully ignored the feeling that Ryouta thought he didn’t have taste, “she’ll like what I’ll give her.”

And then Ryouta flashed him that bright, dazzling smile. “I just need to find what that gift is.”

It really wasn’t fair when Ryouta smiled at him like that, like he had no idea what it was like for Daiki when he did that to him. Daiki didn’t like shopping for the most part and would rather not be dragged around for hours in a mall but here he was and a smile was enough to make him feel less irritated and a bit more patient. Just because of a beautiful smile from this annoying, determined person he shared most everything with. God he was such a sap.

“...Please tell me you have at least some idea of what kind of gift you want to get.”

Ryouta’s smile turned cheeky as he tugged Daiki away from the current section of the mall they were at. “No kitchen appliances.”

Daiki wanted to hit him and he tried but Ryouta expected it and ducked in time, laughing.

And he still held on to Daiki’s wrist. Eventually, Daiki himself shifted his fingers and tangled their hands together. Ryouta’s hold was loose but warm.

“Don’t worry, Daiki. I know where to go.” More cheery smiles and a bit of a swing of their linked hands.

Barely noticing it, Daiki squeezed Ryouta’s hand in response.

“Fine but don’t take too long looking around.”

“I’ll treat you to dinner!”

“No salads.”

Ryouta’s laugh was musical and did funny things to Daiki’s heart like it always did and when Ryouta magnanimously agreed to his condition, Daiki braced himself for two, if not three, hours of mind-numbing waiting while Ryouta browsed and deliberated among the many options he was faced with.

The things he did for Ryouta, really.

(It was like they were already married or something.)

“I’m gonna get more snacks!” Ryouta piped up, bouncing up on his feet and running off to the kitchen. He was a bright yellow blur as he sped out of their living room and Daiki almost felt tired watching him go.

“Get the ice cream too, Ki-chan, okay?” Satsuki called after him and got a bright affirmative in reply. She started absently humming and Daiki turned to look at her just as she started fussing with her outfit again.

Tonight, Satsuki was dressed in a white and pink unicorn kigurumi, looking cozy and comfortable as she lounged back against their living room couch. She was looking very relaxed and cheerful for somebody who was about to tie the knot in a few days. Looking at her kind of made Daiki nervous, not that he’d ever say so. She had been running around on a mix of manic determination and too much caffeine for months trying to get everything done and now that The Day was almost upon them, she looked finally and eerily at peace. Daiki figured she’d be more of a wreck the nearer it got but then again this was Satsuki. He didn’t really know of anyone else who was more put together than she was when it came to being faced with heavy, stressful situations. Like promising yourself and your life to another person forever.

Satsuki finished up her humming with a sudden smile, aiming it at him in a way that made him jolt a bit. “This was such a great idea, Dai-chan. Thanks.”

Daiki brushed off her thanks with snort as he stretched out beside her. “Whatever. Ryouta probably just wanted to be Pikachu for the night…”

“And you wanted to be Godzilla?” Satsuki asked him innocently, batting her eyelashes and nudging her white and pink covered foot against his own. Which was inside a dark gray Godzilla onesie foot thing.

“Anyone would be lucky to be Godzilla,” he told her seriously before she giggled and slumped sideways onto his shoulder with a soft sigh.

Satsuki had her Bachelorette Party with her girl friends the other day. That probably explained the relaxed mood. They had a group spa and of course Daiki had nothing to do with it because apparently “no boys allowed”. Ryouta had deemed it unfair, pouting about “wanting a party with Momocchi, too” but Daiki put his foot down on going to a spa. And so here they were, having a slumber party and drama marathon in their kigurumi. And yes, it was also an excuse to wear their cute character onesies. Daiki was very unashamedly fond of his Godzilla one and would wear it everywhere if it wouldn’t make Ryouta disown him.

“What is it?”

“Huh?” Daiki looked down and found Satsuki looking up at him inquisitively.

“You look like you’ve been wanting to say something all night.”

Daiki snorted, looking away, “What? No.”

“Yes.”

“Nope.”

“Yeeees.”

She gave his foot another nudge and there was that Look on her face.

From many years of knowing Satsuki, Daiki knew all about how tenacious she could be. She would not let something go when she was sure about it and it was just better to spit it out right away or she would just hurt you.

Daiki sighed, tired already and he hadn’t even started putting up much of a fight yet. This was old age probably getting to him. Dealing with a determined Satsuki was somehow harder nowadays. He blamed it on Ryouta; Ryouta just had a way of making him soft.

Speaking of the Pikachu kigurumi-clad blond, he was still in the kitchen and making popcorn, so it seemed. Microwave popcorn was safe. Ryouta could handle the microwave pretty well. Daiki could hear Ryouta singing faintly and could easily imagine the dorky little dance moves happening right about now. It would all look dorkier with Ryouta in his Pikachu outfit but he’d be able to carry it with his usual cheeky and mischievous bravado.

Daiki turned his gaze back to Satsuki to find her giving him an inquiring look.

“Just…,” he paused, trying to come up with the words. Why was talking so hard? “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you wanted to get married.”

It was just something that came to him as the day of the wedding drew closer. It was probably inevitable, with him being in the thick of preparations and being beside Satsuki almost every step of the way. That and Ryouta was there too, being excited and enthusiastic about everything like he always was when his friends and celebrations were involved and always eager to help with whatever whenever he could. Daiki had no idea Ryouta enjoyed weddings though he supposed it was different when your friends were involved.

“Well,” Satsuki began after a while, “he asked and before that we’ve talked about it. It wasn’t something that just happened.”

“So, what, you knew when he was gonna propose?” Well that sounded lame.

Satsuki laughed, eyes dancing. “No, but I knew he was going to eventually. We were both just waiting for the right time.”

Relationships were work; Daiki had come to learn that well in the past few years of him being with Ryouta. Love and care was not enough. There also had to be a level of trust and understanding that people needed to work on to achieve. Daiki liked to think that he and Ryouta were at that level after so many years. So now, what with Satsuki getting herself shackled soon and dragging him along for the wild ride preparing for it, it seemed like just the time to ask himself, “So what’s next?”

“...You’re really gonna get married, huh?” Daiki said, looking down at Satsuki again. She had put up the hood of her kigurumi and the soft unicorn horn almost poked him in the eye. How could it be that it felt like things were the same but they actually weren’t?

Satsuki looked at him from under her hood with a smile that reminded him far too much of Ryouta for some reason.

“Yep,” she responded easily, happily just as they heard Ryouta making his way back to them with the snacks.

She nudged at his shoulder with a giggle.

“Don’t cry, okay?”

(He didn’t cry, okay?

There was just something in his eye when Satsuki was walking down the aisle in her huge, floofy wedding dress.

It was probably the flowers. There were so many flowers. Why the fuck were there so many flowers anyway? He probably developed allergies and they made him tear up. Thank God there weren’t any bees...

Fuck, he felt like punching something.

He should’ve finally punched Satsuki’s boyfriend.

He should be the one crying.

(Not Daiki because he was happy for her, okay? The guy had no way of deserving her ever but he made her so goddamned happy and what was he supposed to do about that?

...God he was gonna miss her so much…)

The food at the reception was great. Daiki made absolutely sure of that. Sure, Ryouta helped in keeping it “appropriate” but still. Satsuki approved so that was that. After everything, after the eating and pictures and speeches and dancing, Satsuki and her new husband left for their honeymoon. She was able to say goodbye before she got whisked away. She had changed into street clothes, looking tired but still smiling, glowing like a happy bride.

“You be good to Ki-chan while I’m gone. I’ll be away for a while.” She said to him, smiling but still nagging at him.

Daiki had to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I won’t make him cry. Go already. You’ll be late for your flight.”

He almost fell over at the force of her hug. Tiny as she was, she had always been a force of nature and she was very capable of knocking him over if she wanted to. She clung to him for a long second, so many words unsaid but somehow Daiki understood and was touched by them, and then she was off, waving over her shoulder and calling out a goodbye.

It’ll be a few months until he saw her face to face again.

The guests were slowly leaving after the newlyweds’ exit and Satsuki’s and his family were seeing to the clean up and other post wedding brouhaha. Daiki was excused from all that because he was who he was a.k.a. he slipped away before his mother caught him. He has had enough of weddings for a while.

Daiki sighed in relief as he sank down onto a bench which was inside a garden gazebo he found at the back of the wedding chapel. Someone will find him eventually but until then, he would sit there and finally relax.

The gazebo was a perfect setting for wedding pictures. It was surrounded by the garden with flowers hanging down and curling around the posts. Someone even hung up fairy lights around. Daiki discovered them when they were suddenly turned on. The sun had started setting a while ago and now the gazebo was all softly, romantically lit up.

“There you are.”

Daiki looked over his shoulder and was not surprised to find Ryouta standing there. Ryouta was handsome as always but he was elegant and polished today in the dark, tailored suit he wore. His hair was styled like he was going to be in one of those photoshoots he did and Daiki had been itching to run his fingers through the soft-looking strands all day. Honestly. Kise Ryouta and his pretty boy looks and soft, pretty hair. He was a menace.

Ryouta had a hand in his pocket as he tilted his head a bit to the side after catching Daiki’s gaze. He smiled and followed it up with a saucy wink.

“Did you fall in love with me all over again just now?”

Daiki scoffed, frowning. “Oh shut up. You already know how pretty you are.”

Ryouta laughed and entered the gazebo to sit beside him. He sat down with much less grace than he usually would when he wore suits.

“I still like having Daiki say so, though!”

Ryouta was still smiling when Daiki looked away.

A comfortable silence fell between them for a while. The day started early and ended late. They were both tired but the mood between them was a soft, wistful one. It was still kind of surreal, thinking of Satsuki as a married woman. For all that they were involved in the preparations leading to this day, that concept was still kind of hard to grasp.

“Momocchi’s married.” Ryouta finally broke the silence as he was wont to do.

Daiki glanced to him at that. “I don’t think you can call her that anymore.”

“E? Why not? Momocchi is Momocchi. It doesn’t matter if she’s married now! She didn’t take her husband’s name, right?”

“...Oh yeah.”

Ryouta lifted up a closed fist with a grin. “By the way, congratulations, Maid of Honor. Great job.”

“Call me that again and I will end you,” Daiki grumbled but bumped fists with him anyway. He totally deserved the congratulations.

“I still think you should’ve worn a dress but whatever--Ah! Daiki!”

Ryouta was laughing even as Daiki got him in a headlock and Daiki couldn’t get enough of it. Of Ryouta’s everything, really, even if half the time Ryouta just plain drove him up the wall. Daiki had to ask sometimes, how was this his life? How did he get here, and with this spoiled, ridiculous, amazing creature to boot? Sure, it wasn’t perfect and he had to deal with so much shit sometimes but it was also good. It was just as surreal to think about sometimes.

It wasn’t long before Ryouta’s laughter faded to a smug, mischievous grin and he had happily claimed Daiki as his portable heater. Daiki wrapped him up in his arms with hardly any fuss because the idiot was going to get cold and was refusing to go back inside because the gazebo had “a nice, romantic atmosphere”.

Ryouta’s hair was brushing against his cheek and chin as he snuggled into him. Daiki didn’t really get cold easily but he was definitely warmer now with Ryouta all over him. He cleared his throat.

“Are you getting a cold?” asked Ryouta and Daiki could feel those eyes fixing on him inquisitively.

“No. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“...Well, okay. Let’s stay here a bit more but we’ll go in in a few minutes. Promise.”

Ryouta wriggled a bit before settling in more comfortably. Daiki looked down at him and started petting his hair. It was, unsurprisingly, as soft as it looked.

“That was nice, huh?”

“The reception?” Ryouta asked as he looked up at him.

“No…”

“The wedding?”

“Yeah....”

“Yeah,” Ryouta agreed with a fond smile, “It was. Momocchi was a beautiful bride.”

Daiki kept on petting his hair, letting the smooth strands weave gently through his fingers.

“You know… I wouldn’t mind…”

“Wouldn’t mind…?”

“...That.”

“E?”

His fingers settled in Ryouta’s hair.

“...I said I wouldn’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t mind what?” Ryouta’s expression was curious and Daiki had to force the words out.

“...Something like that.”

By then, Ryouta had straightened up so he could look at Daiki’s face as if trying to get a better gauge on what it was they were talking about. The look on Ryouta’s face was confused, unsure. He licked his lips, bit them, and Daiki did his best not to be distracted.

“...A wedding?” he asked softly.

“...”

“...Daiki?” Ryouta prompted him.

“...Yeah…”

Getting that out didn’t really make Daiki feel any better. Whoever said speaking your mind was a good thing should think again. The long moment after Daiki opened his mouth and said what had been on his mind for almost all of that day was terrifying.

And it didn’t get better when the long, nerve-wracking silence was over and Ryouta opened his mouth.

“Daiki?”

“Yeah?”

Ryouta looked at him and scrunched up his nose, lips pouting petulantly.

“Just so you know, that was the lamest proposal ever.”

You know how in anime where a character turned into stone and slowly started breaking into pieces or blowing away into dust? That was how Daiki felt like then.

“Hey!” he protested, though he felt frozen all over and like his head was going to explode at the same time. “I wasn’t proposing!”

Ryouta raised him an eyebrow, unimpressed. “But you said you wanted a wedding.”

“Not right now!” Daiki found himself stuttering out and oh my God. This was the lamest proposal ever.

“Well no,” and now Ryouta was rolling his eyes at him, “because I think we’re too old and attached to go and elope and can you imagine what that’d do to my mother and my sisters? They’ll be devastated, Daiki! And Momocchi has to be here. She has to help me out with all the planning! I can’t do everything myself! So it has to be sometime maybe next year at the earliest but it doesn’t have to be. Because I can wait. Because my boyfriend is an idiot and owes me a great, amazing proposal...”

It looked Ryouta wanted to say more but he trailed off and couldn’t help but stop, biting his lip again. Not even an hour after Satsuki left and Ryouta was already crying. Daiki was the absolute worst. Despite that, Ryouta allowed Daiki to take him back into his arms and hold him. Daiki started stroking his hair again and they stayed like that for a while.

When it seemed like Ryouta had calmed down, Daiki had to ask, “...So you’d like a wedding, huh?”

Ryouta’s voice when he answered was soft, wistful as he laid his head by Daiki’s shoulder. “I want to get married, yeah…”

The words made Daiki pause for a second but it didn’t take much for him to just hold Ryouta closer. “You never said anything…”

Ryouta let out a snort. “You’re a scaredy cat so you had to be the one to say it first.”

That made Daiki frown. “I’m not a scaredy cat…”

Ryouta shifted a little and somehow Daiki knew he was smiling. He squeezed him a bit in what was supposed to be a reprimand but they both knew it didn’t work one bit.

“...I knew I was going to marry you somehow, some way.” Ryouta murmured when the sun had completely set and the air had gotten chilly but between the two of them there was warmth; Daiki felt it the most on his face.

“Cheesy...”

Ryouta looked at him soberly, leaned up and kissed him.

“You love it.”

(“I love you.”)

[man2saeipromiseyou]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎉🎂🍾🎉

TO @jhopeg MY FRIEND MY ROOMMATE (UNFORTUNATELY) MY FELLOW TRASH

I was gonna type ur name and expose u to the whole wide world but then i realized that was probably not the best idea. But yeah, I keep saying it’s the thought that counts not the cost so here is my gift of thought :))))

I finally finished that fan fic you requested like 80 years ago and i thought i was never going to actually finish. During camp nanowrimo too so feel blessed and happy that you were worth the headache and losing sleep over.

ALSO this was kinda written in a rush so maybe it sucks but i did my best. I hope you like it and HAPPY 20s UR OLD NOW

        “…see him? Yeah, Taehyung…”

    Jungkook’s ears perked up at those words. Usually he wasn’t one to keep up with the gossip around the school, but it was a new school year and even he had been hearing that name a little too much.

    So he peered over the corner the girls had just turned, curious about the man behind all this fuss.

    It wasn’t difficult to tell who the girls had been whispering about. The boy had a natural confidence that set him apart from the crowd immediately. On top of that, there was a circle of people around him, many of them famous enough around the school that even Jungkook recognized them. He wasn’t that good-looking, as far as Jungkook could tell. Soft brown hair with bangs that fell just shy of his eyes, which turned into crescents as he laughed; a curved jawline, all the angles of his face curated into something a little smoother, softer; simple clothes that fit his body so well they still managed to look stylish… Judging from the way he rose above the crowd of girls around him, he was probably as tall as Jungkook.

    Okay, maybe he was a little cute, Jungkook thought as he studied the boy.

    But then the boy started gesturing and doing a weird dance with one of the other boys there, making an ugly face as everyone else cheered and laughed, their voices booming across the halls, louder than anyone else. Jungkook clicked his tongue. He’d judged too soon.

    He was about to turn away when the boy called Taehyung looked up and caught his eye. There was a brief moment as their eyes met when Taehyung stopped what he was doing and smiled shyly, half-embarrassed, half inviting Jungkook to join them. There was an even briefer moment when Jungkook considered it.

    But they were not his type of people. So he turned and walked away without a second glance, thoughts about the boy already being wiped away by his plans for the day. What he needed to do for his classes; the homework and responsibilities that were already starting to pile up; how much he was looking forward to leading the math team this year, now that the seniors had left the position open… He was determined that this would be a good year.

     ***

    Jungkook hadn’t been expecting to see the boy again. Not so soon, not in this context.

    But there Taehyung was, sitting at the front of the classroom for the first math club meeting, a pair of black-rimmed glasses on, a pencil in his hands and scratch paper laid out in front of him.  He glanced over as Jungkook entered the room and grinned widely. “Hi!”

    For half a second Jungkook couldn’t quite speak. Taehyung looked so eager to be here that it stirred up something bright and enthusiastic within him as well. He’d been a little nervous coming here, wondering if he would get chosen as the leader this year, but now he was excited.

    “Hi!” He replied, hearing Taehyung’s eagerness mirrored back in his own voice, and slightly embarrassed by it. “I’m Jungkook.”

    “Taehyung! I saw you this morning, but you looked busy, so I asked around and they told me I would find you here.”

    Jungkook’s heart jumped all the way up to his throat, blocking his airway. He couldn’t speak.

    Until the boy smiled, tilting his head up as his nose scrunched together cutely. “Heh heh. Just kidding. I love math, and I’m pretty good at it. You were just a pleasant surprise.”

    Okay, so the popular kid wasn’t following him around school. That was a relief. But Jungkook still wasn’t sure what to say, so he just smiled and ducked his head politely before taking a seat two rows down. He could feel Taehyung’s gaze on him as he sat down, and he did his best to avoid eye contact.

    God, he was so damn awkward.

    But all thoughts of his awkwardness dissipated when the teacher entered the classroom. “Okay, guys, today is the big day. We’re choosing our team leader for this year. I trust you’ve all been gearing up for this moment?” He glanced up at them through his glasses, looking anything but geared up.

    Jungkook, on the other hand, was coursing with adrenaline. He’d been eyeing the position since the day he joined, and he was sure he would get it this time. It wasn’t really a big deal to anyone else, but this was the one thing he was good at. And now was the time to prove it.

    The 3 pages of problems were passed down. And…start!

    Jungkook’s eyes flew across the page, the solution already half-formed in his head before he finished reading the first question. He felt the usual sense of satisfaction as the numbers and equations blossomed under his pencil, neat and balanced and beautiful.

    He finished all the questions with 10 minutes to spare, and he spent all of that time checking back on every detail, re-verifying every question. They were all correct; he was sure of it.

    When he finally looked up from the paper, Jungkook was unnerved to find a languid pair of eyes staring straight into his. Taehyung.

    Jungkook glanced quickly away, scowling. Taehyung’s paper was flung carelessly to the side, as if he hadn’t even bothered to look at it. Perhaps he’d had a little too much faith in the boy’s claim that he loved math. Of course it wasn’t true. How could someone like him care about something as academic as this? He was just here to make a show of himself, as if that would impress anyone.

    Even if his gaze made Jungkook feel like part of him had just fell down Alice’s rabbit hole.

    Time was up. The teacher collected their papers.

    He laid them out side by side, eyes flitting across the table as he marked each answer with a circle or a cross. Then he looked up. Smiled.

    “As expected.” He sighed, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of surprise. Jungkook closed his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He was so close. The teacher knew he was the best in the club. It had never been a question. He just had to hear his name—

    “The team leader this year will be Kim Taehyung!”

    Jungkook didn’t hear any of the students’ clapping or Taehyung’s ridiculous cheers. He didn’t see him jump to the front and do a little victory dance as everyone else laughed and shouted back in excitement. He didn’t remember what happened during the rest of that meeting before it all ended and everyone stood up to leave, and then somehow he and Taehyung were the only ones left in the room.

    He just remembered the smirk on Taehyung’s face and his low chuckle—the way his eyes narrowed into half moons as he broke into a smile—right before Jungkook pushed him up against the wall.

    Taehyung’s eyes widened in shock, but his protest was surprisingly weak. There wasn’t much resolve in the way he grasped on to Jungkook’s arm, and he all but melted against the wall. “What’s wrong?”

    There was a pause, in which Jungkook registered, only in retrospect, what he had done. Every muscle in Jungkook’s body stiffened as he realized how close they were. He’d expected more resistance. But he didn’t know why he had done it. He didn’t know what he wanted to say.

    “How did…how did you get team leader?”

    That wasn’t the right question. In fact, it was a really stupid question. Taehyung got team leader because he’d earned it, and Jungkook didn’t. Was Jungkook just doing this because he was jealous?

    “I’m a scholarship student from SM.” Taehyung said, eyes wide and unguarded. “I think everyone pretty much expected me to take the role when I got here.”

    SM was one of the most academically selective high schools there was in the state. No wonder Taehyung had looked so bored during the test. The questions were probably way too easy for him. But if he was so good at studying, then why had he transferred here? Jungkook knew he should back down at this point, but some innate pride compelled him onwards.

    “I will take the position from you.” He stated as if it were fact instead of fantasy. “I don’t know why you came here or how you were blessed with both brains and looks and a winning personality, but trust me, if there is one thing I always win at, it’s stubbornness. And competitiveness. And you’ve triggered it at the worst time.”

    He hadn’t expected Taehyung to smile, and was so caught off guard when he did that he stumbled back, letting go of his hold on Taehyung. But Taehyung stayed where he was, leaning against the wall leisurely with a pleased expression on his face.

    “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you just complimented me on all the most defining qualities of a human being. Does this mean you would be willing to go out with me?”

    Jungkook blinked and flushed bright red at this outrageous turn of events. A high-pitched “What?!” was all he managed to splutter out in his alarm.

    Taehyung nodded with satisfaction. “Looks like that’s a yes.” And then he pushed himself off the wall, collecting his things with a small wave at Jungkook before he left the room. “I’ll text you.” He said, without looking back to see Jungkook slowly sit himself down on one of the chairs and nearly miss it by a whole inch. Fortunately, Jungkook caught himself before he fell flat on the floor. “I already got your number from the teacher. He was pretty excited to see the two top students hitting it off right away.”

***

Unknown number:

-HI ITS TAEHYUNG

-WE SHOULD HAVE DINNER TMR

-I CAN TUTOR U IN MATH

Jungkook:

-…no

Guy I Need to Beat:

-WHY NOT

Jungkook:

-I don’t need you to tutor me in math.

Guy I Need to Beat:

-WHY NOT

Jungkook:

-Because I don’t want your help.

Guy I Need to Beat:

-WHY NOT

Jungkook:

-Omg stop asking that

-Also please stop typing in caps.

Guy I Need to Beat:

-okay let’s just eat dinner then :D

-how do u feel about pizza and chicken

-i’ve been craving pizza and chicken

-ever since i ate it last night

-okay it’s a date

-cya in school tmr!

-meet me at the front gate at 5

-✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* \(◕ヮ◕✿)/ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jungkook:

-Wait, I have work to do tomorrow.

-Can we do this some other time?

Jungkook:

-Taehyung?

***

    Jungkook arrived at school the next day with a headache. What was he going to do about Taehyung? He didn’t know what to say to him or how to get himself out of this situation. The entire day he kept seeing Taehyung in the hallways, always surrounded by people, always at the center of everyone’s attention. He couldn’t comprehend why someone like Taehyung would be interested in someone like him. It just didn’t make any sense.

    But the layers of people around Taehyung didn’t help Jungkook with his dilemma. There was no opportunity to talk to Taehyung before the school day ended. Jungkook considered texting him, but thought better of it. Texting was how he’d got himself into this mess in the first place.

    He wasn’t even supposed to be wasting so much effort on something as ridiculous as this. There were so many more important things he still wanted to do. The science fair was coming up. The first school debate. He had orchestra practice tomorrow and he hadn’t touched his violin in ages. It was also his junior year, and he had college to think about. This wasn’t the time to get himself involved in something as time-consuming as a relationship.

    Incidentally, despite all his worrying, it never occurred to Jungkook to protest Taehyung himself. There was no issue of whether or not he wanted to go, only whether or not he should.

    And then it was 5, and Jungkook had no way to get out of the dinner date. So he waited quietly by the gate as students began to file out, excited that they had gotten through another day of school. Again, it never occurred to him to simply ignore Taehyung’s proposal and leave.

    When Taehyung appeared, he was blessedly—finally—alone. His face lit up when he saw Jungkook, and he did a little hop as he waved.

    “I haven’t seen you all day,” was the first thing he said when they were close enough to talk. There was a flush of red along his cheekbones, as if this were slightly embarrassing to admit. “I kept looking for you but you weren’t there.”

    Obviously, that was a lie. Jungkook thought to himself, he’d been loitering around Taehyung and his crowd all day, trying to find a break to tell him…what was it again?

    “I never agreed to this dinner.” But even this objection didn’t sound very confident. What was he doing?

    Taehyung swung an arm over Jungkook’s shoulders, chuckling in the shameless way that he did. “You didn’t say no either. Besides, I already prepared a bunch of math questions for us to do.”

    “Math questions?! I thought I told you I didn’t want you to tutor me!”

    “I won’t tutor you! We’ll just do math together. You know, it’ll be fun.”

    Jungkook was surprised to find that he had no words to disagree. So he kept quiet.

    And that was about how it went for the rest of the night. Taehyung bright and happy with his non-stop chattering, Jungkook shy and reserved but also, somehow, happy. The chicken and pizza were delicious, and Jungkook actually learned a lot just going through the problems with Taehyung. 

    And it was fun. Endlessly amusing when Taehyung kept forgetting the same given condition in the question itself, when one of them miscalculated or did something equally as stupid, when they got through a question at twice their usual speed because their ideas matched and built on each other like puzzle pieces, and it was so much easier to see the whole picture when they put their heads together.

    Jungkook had never even imagined that such a solitary quest as a math problem could be a shared experience between to people. It was so easy to work with Taehyung because he could understand what Jungkook was saying before he even worked out how to say it himself. It was like sparks of electricity flowing between them, so powerful that he didn’t even notice how close they had been sitting until he turned his head and found himself nose to nose with Taehyung. Who was smirking. Who had one hand resting on his knee and the other grabbing his shoulder, holding him there. Whose breath smelled like the same chicken Jungkook had been eating when he spoke.

    “Can we do this again? It’s a lot more fun than I expected. I actually just invited you over because you’re cute and I kind of enjoy messing with you. But…of course, if you’re busy…” Taehyung trailed off, biting his lip in uncertainty.

    It was that moment, the first time Taehyung had shown hesitation in front of him, probably even in front of anyone at their school, that drove every single strain of conscious thought out of  Jungkook’s mind. He leaned in closer—found the space between them smaller than he had anticipated—and felt one pair of lips press against the other.

    They were definitely going to do this again.

 ***

Guy I Need to Beat:

-i’m picking you up for school tmr!

-don’t leave ur house until i get there

-i’m serious

-STAY IN UR ROOM UNTIL I CAN BURST IN AND SWEEP YOU OFF THE BED

Jungkook:

-Omg please do not

-Why are you picking me up for school?

-My house is in the opposite direction.

-It’s completely unnecessary.

Taehyung ♡:

-I JUST WANT TO SEE UR ROOM

-ACTUALLY NVM I’LL JUST GO OVER NOW

Jungkook:

-no

-wait actually?

-TAEHYUNG NO

-IT’S 1AM    

-omg ur not replying

-Please don’t tell me that’s you knocking on the door.

    Jungkook ran down the stairs in horror to find his very confused and very sleepy father opening the door to the grinning idiot who actually did come knocking at his door in the middle of the night. After their first date. After they just met.

    But Jungkook couldn’t help the smile climbing onto his face. He’d been right. This was going to be a great year.

[fanficwriter013]

The Ties That Bind (Part 5/?)

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Summary: Clint makes it his mission to win you over. He succeeds, but you don’t believe in marriage. Can the two of you stay together without the promise of wedding bells in the future? What about when the two of you are forced to go undercover as a married couple?

Word Count: 1760

Warnings: AoU is slightly AU for purposes, Nick Fury, mentions of Stony/Stucky, poking fun at Bruce/Natasha, Violent/weapons, AoU spoilers, a cliffhanger.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 /

“Attention, Avengers meeting is being held in the living room. Please make your way downstairs.” It was a loud speaker announcement made by Sam, and you had to stop and wonder why the strange little man had installed a PA system in the first place. You had been in the middle of cataloging your muscles aches, while Clint was checking over his arrows. You were also eyeing him to make sure he wasn’t hiding any injuries. But the two of you looked at each other before heading downstairs.

You looked to Steve when you entered the living room. His body language told you that something was up, and Tony looked equally annoyed. Sam walked into the room holding a tablet, and he was followed by Nick Fury. You knew he was still around, but to get a personal visit from him. This had to be a serious deal.

“You’re the Avengers. Quit acting like a bunch of little babies, and go fix what y’all screwed up.” It was spoken in that Nick Fury tone of voice. All base and grumbling, it wasn’t necessarily that he was yelling. But it was more that he was playing the disappointed father card and that was worse. Steve immediately shifted, emulating the body language of Captain America. That shift seemed to be all that Nick needed and he left.

“Pack up, everybody back on the plane in fifteen minutes. We’ve got a robot to find.” It was barked orders that you were used to, but Tony looked annoyed. No doubt having an issue with Steve calling Ultron a robot, he was something that Tony had carefully crafted. And it had just so happened to take on a life of its own.

“It’s not a robot, it’s a sentient artificial intelligent security system.” Tony was mumbling as he brushed past you. You glanced at Steve again who was conversing with Agent Koenig over the tablet, and Bruce and Natasha slipped past you. It seemed that you had missed an awful lot in the hour or so of down time you had had. You linked your arm with Clint’s and went back upstairs.

“The fuck. Did you see Tony and Steve? It looked like they wanted to kill each other. Sure they haven’t gotten on well, but they were civil. And are Bruce and Nat a thing? What the hell happened down there?” You questioned as soon as the door to the ugly room had closed. Clint shook his head at you, moving past you to organize his quiver.

“I was up here with you. Your guess is just as good as mine.” He said, handing you a pair of daggers you’d left on the top of the dresser. You liked to be over prepared for a mission, and afterward, you could reenact those scenes where a person would just pull a pile of weapons out of, seemingly, nowhere. You put the knives away, shrugging into the holster you had, that let the blades rest along your ribcage.

“Well, it was weird. I thought Nat only liked to be a part of threesomes and to fuck with no strings attached. And Steve and Tony need to do something before they rip each other’s throats out.” You said, grabbing your pistols from the bedside table. One went into your ankle holster, the other on your hip. You grabbed your jacket from over the back of the chair and slipped it on.

“It’s sexual tension. But they wouldn’t make a good couple.” Clint said, and you barked out a laugh at him. You used a variety of weapons, and you picked up the whip you preferred for long distances. It wasn’t an everyday weapon, but it had been useful for trying to fight Ultron and the psychic twins.

“That’s cause he’s still hung up on his last boyfriend.” You snorted out, wrapping the whip around your left wrist. Tucking the end behind the rows, so it was secure but easily accessible. Clint laughed, handing you your batons. You had gotten slightly obsessed with them after running a case with Bobbi, she had been such a badass that you had wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

“We should get going.” Clint didn’t sound happy about that. He usually sported a serious but can do attitude heading into a mission. Even the ones where it seemed that the odds were stacked against you. You gave him a look, and he just shook his head at you. You took his free hand and draped it over your shoulders, tucking yourself into his side.

You weren’t sure where the intel had come from, but the team was currently on the quinjet on the way to Seoul, to try and keep Ultron from getting a body that he was trying to force Dr. Cho to make. Steve had told you to stay on the jet with Clint to be ready for exfil, and while you didn’t appreciate being underestimated you would obey orders.

It had been an intense mission, and you were watching from the seat behind the pilot’s seat. Steve was playing the role of hardass, and Natasha had been left behind. You thought you were going to have to quickly jump into the pilot’s seat, but you had been able to talk Clint down from going to rescue his best friend. Natasha was your best friend too, and she was tough. She would survive for a little bit while the team regrouped, and tried to get along with the two new strays

Tony and Bruce had holed up, and when they had explained. They had used a bunch of big words and science jargon that you couldn’t follow. Then an android version of Jarvis was born and told you to call him Vision. To top it all off, this Vision was able to pick up Thor’s hammer. You were a little apprehensive of Vision, and you were sure Clint was too. But he was there, and you were going to have to trust him.

This brought you to planning a mission. Bruce was going to be sent in to rescue Natasha, and that only further raised your suspicions that you had missed a lot. The rest of you were going to deal with Ultron, and it was back to Sovokia for most of the team. For you, it would be the first time.

The evacuation had been going smoothly, and that’s how you knew the shit was going to hit the fan. That did happen when Ultron and an army of his clones showed up. It was utter chaos, and you were trying to rip out circuits and save the civilians. Your comms kept shorting out, but when they were working it seemed like everyone was being overwhelmed.

You were currently caught in a particularly grim looking situation. You were surrounded by Ultron bots, and they thought you were going down. Hell, you thought you were going down. It was you versus the six of them, you’d bet on the numbers. But you would put up a hell of a fight first.

The odds tipped in your favorite when a blue streak took down three of the bots, and then the two of you worked to take down the remaining three. “Thanks, kid. But don’t do anything stupid my suit is bulletproof and you’re just wearing a drifit t-shirt.” You told him, and the silver-haired male just quirked an eyebrow at you before taking off again.

It could only get worse before it could get better. Ultron was making drastic moves the more desperate it got. Your comms had come back to let you know that Ultron had taken a quinjet, and was firing. You could see the quinjet, and you could see it heading straight for Clint. Your archer was currently saving a small boy, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to shoot an exploding arrow into the quinjet.

You didn’t think, you just reacted. Jumping into the line of fire right before it would have hit both the child and your Clint. You’d be shot while wearing this suit before, but this was different. The rounds from the quinjet felt like they were tearing you to pieces, and the pain made your legs give out. But you never hit the ground, something solid caught you and you were moving in seconds. You weren’t sure, but you thought you heard Clint screaming your name as you were moved.

You’d spent the remainder of the mission, unable to move. Barely able to breathe on one of the boats that Fury and Hill had brought in. You were aware of someone sitting down by your side, as the pain ebbed enough. You were able to pull in a deep breath of air, and your eyelids popped open as you sat up.

“Tony, what the fuck did you make this suit out of? I got shot in the back, and it felt like I was dying.” You gripe at Tony, placing a hand on Clint’s knee that had been right next to your ribcage when you were laying down. It was then, that you noticed that Clint’s hand had been on your thigh. “Tony, can you have FRIDAY X-ray my spine?” You asked, if it hadn’t been for seeing Clint’s hand you would have never have known of its residence on your leg.

“L1 is shattered, but the spinal cord is intact.” Came your answer, and you knew that meant you needed some medical attention and you needed it quickly. You definitely were going to be having a serious conversation about retiring, once you got a clean bill of health.

“Clint, honey, I love you, but please don’t move or move me right now. I need Dr. Cho.” You said, looking around and counting heads, careful not to actually move your head. It looked like everyone, but Banner was present and accounted for. “Hey, Cap. I’m trying to walk it off, but I’m a little stuck on the walking part.” It wasn’t a pun, but it was the closest you could get right now.

Part 6 

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[tumblngdice]

Manchester City’s plan for global domination

Football has already been transformed by big money – but the businessmen behind Man City are trying to build a global corporation that will change the game for ever.

By Giles Tremlett,  Fri 15 Dec 2017 06.00 GMT

On 19 December 2009, Pep Guardiola stood and wept in the middle of Zayed Sports City Stadium in Abu Dhabi. The 38-year-old Barcelona manager clasped a hand across his face as his body gave way to huge, shoulder-heaving sobs. Zlatan Ibrahimović, the club’s towering Swedish striker, wrapped a tattooed arm around Guardiola’s neck and then gave him a vigorous push in order to jolt him out of it. But Guardiola could not stop. It was a strange place for the world’s most celebrated football coach to break down: Barcelona had just won a game that few people watched on television to secure one of football’s most obscure titles, the Fifa Club World Cup. But the victory secured an unbreakable record: Barcelona had won all six titles available to any club in a single year.

That is why Pep was sobbing.

Back at home in Barcelona, it was a bittersweet moment for Ferran Soriano. A hairdresser’s son from the city’s working-class district of Poblenou, Soriano had become one of FC Barcelona’s top executives – and had helped build what could now claim to be the greatest football team the world had ever seen.

“I was happy, but it was also painful not to be there when the team reached its pinnacle,” he told me. Instead, he picked up the phone and called Guardiola.

Soriano had overseen Barcelona’s finances for five years until 2008, and the club’s record owed much to the ideas he had developed after running a US-style political campaign to bring a group of swashbuckling, sharp-suited young men to power at elections for a new board of directors in 2003. He had even written a book, La Pelota no entra por azar (“The ball doesn’t go in by chance”), in which he argued that Barcelona’s success – and, by inference, that record – was the result of good, creative business management. Vicious political infighting had driven him to resign from the club the previous year. But even before that, he had seen one of his more ambitious ideas – to set up franchise clubs in other countries – thwarted at Barcelona. This was a step too far for a club owned by 143,000 voting fans, firmly rooted in their city and Catalonia.

But Soriano’s big idea has now been brought to life by two men who were watching very closely on the night Guardiola wept in Abu Dhabi: one is a member of the United Arab Emirates’ ruling family, Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed al-Nahyan, and the other is Khaldoon al-Mubarak, a youthful executive and adviser to the royal family. With their backing, Soriano is now upending football’s established order by building its first true multinational corporation – a Coca-Cola of soccer.

That corporation is City Football Group (CFG). It already owns, or co-owns, six clubs on four continents, and the contracts of 240 male professional players and two dozen women. Hundreds more carefully picked teenagers and younger children who aspire to greatness play in CFG’s lower teams. The longterm ambition is huge. The company will trawl the world for players – shaping and polishing them in state-of-the-art academies and training facilities across several continents, selling them on or sending the best to the clubs it will own (and improve) in a dozen or so countries. Supplied and shielded by the vessels around it, the flagship of this new football flotilla – Manchester City FC – will continue its already startling rise to become the world’s greatest club.

That is the Soriano idea – or at least, a simplified version of a complex plan.

The corporation is only four years old, but it is rapidly becoming one of the most powerful forces in the world’s favourite sport – watched with awe, envy and fear by those who wonder if it could become football’s own Google or Facebook.

In a game where top players cost £200m, televised matches attract audiences of hundreds of millions and club owners are among the wealthiest potentates on the planet, no expense is spared in seeking any competitive edge. Once upon a time, money alone was enough to make the difference (if it was spent wisely), but that is no longer the case, in part because there is so much of it sloshing around the game.

When Manchester City won the Premier League in 2012, Sheikh Mansour was widely accused of “buying the title for £1bn” – the amount of money he had poured into City since purchasing the club four years earlier. It was City’s first league title in 44 years, and grown men cried when Sergio Agüero’s goal in the penultimate minute of the season’s final game secured the title. Mansour watched it on television: he had only ever been to one match at City’s Etihad stadium, and did not enjoy the fuss his visit caused. In the hours that followed, his phone hummed, filling up with 2,500 messages.

But this was also the end of an era. European football’s regulator, Uefa, had brought in new rules designed to stop clubs spending much more than they earned. Critics dismissed Mansour as a spoiled hobbyist, and even today some wonder to what extent his “private” ownership might become an instrument of Abu Dhabi’s soft power. But his few public statements made it clear that he had bought City – and ploughed money into it – as a genuine, long-term investment because “in cold business terms, Premiership football is one of the best entertainment products in the world”.

The ambition, then, was double – he intended to win at both football and business. But with the Uefa spending brake, that was about to become much tougher. He needed something new. Could City win without losing money?

In fact, when Soriano’s gang of smart young businessmen took over Barcelona in 2003, it was a loss-making club. As finance chief, Soriano helped deliver a spiralling “virtuous circle” of high investment, trophies and then even higher revenues. Forceful and analytical, he had built and sold a global consultancy business by the age of 33; at Barcelona, where he was nicknamed both “the Panzer” and “the Computer”, he made a strong-willed but sensible counterpoint to the club’s mercurial president, Joan Laporta. But Soriano also saw Barcelona as something far bigger than a city club, while realising that the global football business itself was poised to enter a new era.

In 2006, at a talk Soriano delivered at Birkbeck College in London, he presented 28 slides that set out his early vision. Thanks to the phenomenal growth in their worldwide fan bases, he noted, big clubs were being transformed from promoters and organisers “of local events, like a circus” into “global entertainment companies like Walt Disney”. If big clubs seized the opportunity to “capture the growth and become global franchises”, they would soon stand apart from their rivals, creating a new, world-conquering elite.

“He thought, and thinks, in a different way to most other people in football,” says Simon Chadwick, now a professor at Salford University, who had invited Soriano to give the talk at Birkbeck. At the time, Soriano himself was disappointed to find English football so in thrall to a model in which managers such as Arsène Wenger and Alex Ferguson appeared to run their own clubs, while “the level of conceptualisation of the business model was zero”. Even the language was telling. “They called the coach ‘manager’, as if he managed everything,” Soriano recalled.

With his abrupt departure from Barcelona in 2008, Soriano’s dream of turning that club into a global franchise, with a first satellite team in the US, was definitively dashed. Instead, Soriano threw himself into running an airline, Spanair. But five years after his presentation in London, as Mansour sought a fresh competitive edge, both on and off the field, Soriano found himself, in October 2011, sitting down for a 7am meeting in a Mayfair hotel with the globetrotting New York lawyer Marty Edelman – who was tempting him back into football.

Edelman had been drafted on to City’s board by Mansour, working alongside his appointed chairman, the US-educated Khaldoon al-Mubarak, from the very beginning. Edelman, a real estate expert, was already a trusted adviser in Abu Dhabi, and the choice of an American was an early sign of the club’s new cosmopolitanism. Soriano initially brushed off City’s advances. He was used to associating Manchester with its glittering rival United, and he still distrusted what he called “the stereotype of the rich owner”. (In his book, he had even described City as a club that provoked “savage inflation” through “irrational investment”.) But the two sides were slowly discovering shared values. Chief among them was ambition – and with that came a willingness to challenge the status quo.

Even then, it was an off-and-on affair. Meetings followed in Paris and Abu Dhabi, before, in April 2012, Soriano was sneaked through Manchester airport (where the club says it “can get people in without anyone knowing they have arrived”) and taken to a room at the Lowry Hotel booked in someone else’s name. A former rugby second-row forward, Soriano is, at 6ft 3in, difficult to hide. By now it was a mutual seduction, with City wanting to persuade him that, with Mansour’s long-term commitment, the club could be as great as Barcelona.

Soriano, in turn, pitched a mould-breaking plan that required deep pockets, imagination and a steady nerve. Both sides agreed that City should aspire to being the world’s top club – a position long held by either Real Madrid, Barcelona or Manchester United. “And I mean number one – not number two or three,” Soriano told me.

The idea of becoming the world’s biggest club was not just vanity or business machismo. Soriano had spotted long before that a tiny group of elite clubs would capture the new global market, but he also wanted to build something “far bigger”. Football clubs, he pointed out, were massive brands but absurdly small businesses: a team with a global following of 500 million fans might have an income of only €500m. “That’s one euro per fan,” he says, “which is utterly ridiculous.” In business terms, this was “a combination of a lot of love and, literally, no love” – because fans in, say, Indonesia spent nothing on their club.

“So what can we do? The answer was pretty simple, maybe too simple, but very bold. You have to be global but local. You have to go to Indonesia and open a shop.”

He outlined his idea for a corporation that would have both a global brand – in Manchester City – and lots of local brands, developing talent through a network of clubs that would also provide a pipeline of players for City. He knew this might sound far-fetched. “If I had pitched this idea to Real Madrid, the answer would be ‘you’re crazy’ – and that is actually what had happened in Barcelona,” he told me.

But City was already going through a revolution, and was ready for more. For Edelman, the plan put flesh on the skeleton built with Mansour’s millions. “Any great idea needs to have a host, right? And we were a great host,” Edelman told me at his Park Avenue offices. “You couldn’t take Ferran’s idea and just put it on a blank sheet.” Soriano’s idea (which he now terms his “artistic challenge”) was a way of taking Mansour’s original vision – summed up in his early pledge to build “a structure for the future, not just a team of all-stars” – and putting it “on steroids”, in Edelman’s words.

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[celticnoise]

TODAY CQN brings you the fourteenth EXCLUSIVE extract from Alex Gordon’s book, ‘CELTIC: The Awakening’, which was published by Mainstream in 2013.

The book covers the most amazing decade in the club’s history, the Sixties, an extraordinary period when the team were transformed from east end misfits to European masters.

IN the spring of 1968, Celtic took their players for a swift trip to North America where, ironically, they faced AC Milan on 26 May, a year and a day after they had defeated their city rivals Inter to conquer Europe. There had been a power shift in the city and AC Milan were the new champions of Italy.

The day before the game Celtic celebrated the anniversary of their historic triumph with a beach barbeque in Miami, where they had spent the previous six days in recuperation following an exhausting season. However, it was down to business twenty-four hours later with a game at the Roosevelt Stadium, in New Jersey, with a healthy crowd of 25,000 turning out.

‘We have had a great time in Miami and it was essential to get a break, but football is our business,’ said Stein. ‘We’ve got two matches here against the champions of Italy and I want to use them as stepping stones to another European Cup triumph. These are the sort of matches you need to find out a few things about your players and yourself.’ Willie Wallace scored in a 1-1 draw and, six days later, Celtic beat AC Milan 2-0 with goals from Bobby Lennox and Charlie Gallagher in Toronto in front of 30,000, a record crowd at the time for Canada. The results would become significant later in the new season.

As they geared up for another tilt at glory, Celtic were drawn against Rangers for the second consecutive year in the 1968/69 League Cup sections. Morton and Partick Thistle made up the four-team group. An Old Firm encounter on a gloriously sunny day on the south side of Glasgow on 10 August welcomed in a new season. Stein was an enormous admirer of the strolling style of George Connelly, an enigmatic Fifer with all the skill in the world.

CLASS ACT…the skilful George Connelly.

He had been introduced to the Celtic support during the interval of the Cup-Winners’ Cup-tie against Kiev Dynamo in January 1966. Stein bet the youngster £5 he could not juggle to all four corners of the pitch without letting the ball drop once. Connelly was happy to accept the bet and Stein, a gambling man, must have known he was onto a loser as the boy took off confidently in the direction of the Celtic end, returned to the centre circle, strolled across to The Jungle, back to the centre spot and then off to what was known as the Rangers end, then performed in front of the main stand and came to a halt at the home dug-out. Not once did the ball touch the ground. Not once did the youngster even look as though he was struggling to display his special talents. The crowd cheered and, later, Stein coughed up when he was reminded of the bet. Clearly, though, the lad was no circus act.

Stein had introduced Connelly’s outstanding range of ball-playing skills on the last day of the season as a substitute against Dunfermline when the title was won. He was prepared now to unleash his potent weapon on football on a more consistent basis. He came in against Rangers, an enormous vote of confidence in the player by his manager, especially with the match at Ibrox. He wore the No.7 shorts with Jimmy Johnstone at No.8, but the ploy was simply mind games by Stein. As soon as the whistle went for the start of the game and the campaign, Connelly gracefully sauntered into the right side of midfield and Johnstone hugged the touchline. More often than not, the more mobile and aggressive Jim Brogan was now playing beside Billy McNeill in the middle of the defence instead of John Clark, a solid, if unspectacular, performer.

Tommy Gemmell still alternated between right and left at the back of the defence and was in at No.2 for the opener with Willie O’Neill, sturdy and dependable, at left-back. Stein went with this line-up: Simpson; Gemmell, McNeill, Brogan and O’Neill; Connelly and Murdoch; Johnstone, Wallace, Lennox and Hughes. Apart from new boy Connelly, it was the usual suspects; tried and trusted professionals who rarely, if ever, disappointed.

Rangers, after the whirlwind of transfer activity in the previous two summers, had been strangely quiet on this front with no major signings. It would only be a matter of months, though, before they shattered the Scottish transfer record. It was the first Old Firm meeting since 2 January at Parkhead, where Davie White had dodged defeat courtesy of two gifts from the unfortunate Fallon. Curiously, White dropped goalkeeper Erik Sorensen with the lanky Norrie Martin taking over. There was talk of Sorensen, back in his native Denmark for a summer break, saying exceptionally kind things about Stein and Celtic in an interview with a local newspaper. True or otherwise, their £30,000 buy from Morton in the summer of 1967 never played again for the Ibrox side and was freed at the end of that campaign.

A honed and lean Willie Wallace got away from the Rangers rearguard twice to gleefully place efforts wide of the helpless Martin and there was no comeback from the Ibrox side as it finished 2-0. There was much for the away support to enthuse over, not the least the elegant performance from Connelly who strode through the game as though he was a veteran of the fixture. Wallace also got the first goal of the new season at Parkhead in midweek as Celtic overcame Morton 4-1 and he was unstoppable as he hit all the goals in the 4-0 hammering of Partick Thistle in the next game. Hardly a surprise, he claimed the only goal of the game against Rangers after putting them to sword in Govan only two weeks earlier.

DANGERMAN…Willie Wallace puts pressure on Dundee United duo Jimmy Miller and Mogens Berg.

Incredibly, Wallace, surely the best £30,000 ever spent by Stein, got the ball rolling in their next match, a 3-0 win over Morton at Cappielow. Bobby Lennox was also beginning to set his sights and he lashed in five in the final qualifying tie against Partick Thistle, a 6-1 win at Firhill. Six successive wins with twenty goals scored. Celtic had now gone a phenomenal twenty-one games without defeat since being beaten by Dunfermline in the Scottish Cup in January. That stretched that to twenty-two when the league season got underway at Shawfield where Clyde were trounced 3-0.

Four days after that, Celtic went on an amazing ten-goal spree against Hamilton in the League Cup quarter-final first leg at Parkhead, the goals being shared equally between Lennox and Chalmers. Over four decades later I spoke to both marksmen about this remarkable game. Chalmers said, ‘You have to feel a bit of sympathy for the goalie. He probably made a few good saves, too, with the game being so one-sided. As I recall, we started at 100-miles-per-hour and just got faster as the game wore on. Hamilton didn’t stand a chance and it looked like a race between Bobby and myself to see who could score the most. We had a friendly rivalry and we were both ruthless in front of goal. A lot of teams might have eased up if they had gone four or five goals ahead, but not this Celtic team. Big Jock hammered into us to always entertain the fans and I would like to think we managed that against Accies. It was just one of those nights when everything clicked into place.’

Lennox admitted, ‘I still smile whenever someone mentions that 10-0 game. It gives me a warm glow. As I remember, it was a thoroughly miserable night in Glasgow. The rain was lashing down all the way through the game. In fact, I think it had been chucking it down all day. Mind you, it must have been even more miserable for their goalkeeper, Billy Lamont. No-one wants a scoreline like that on their CV. I agree with Stevie, you’ve got to feel something for the fella. Losing ten goals can’t be much fun for any keeper, but when you are piling on the misery you don’t actually think about your opponent’s feelings. That wouldn’t be too professional. You are there to do a job for your club and that’s the end of it.

‘The fans turn out to see you win and score a few goals and that’s what we achieved that night. I believe I might have scored with the last kick of the ball to level with Stevie. Ten goals and only two scorers? Amazing! I suppose it is also fairly unusual for a player to score five goals in back-to-back games as had happened with me against Partick Thistle and Hamilton. A lot of unusual things happened around that time.’

CUP OF DREAMS…Jock Stein with the Scottish Cup.

Incidentally, Lennox has an interesting take on the League Cup. ‘I thought it was a more difficult trophy to win than the Scottish Cup. Maybe not as glamorous, but a lot harder. For a start, back then, you had to play six games in a league format, get through that and then face a two-legged quarter-final and then a semi-final before reaching the final. In the Scottish Cup, you could get lucky and get a few home draws against teams from lower divisions. So, for me, the League Cup was most certainly a competition to be treated with the greatest of respect.’

Did Jock Stein make a fuss of the two goalscorers afterwards? ‘Not a chance,’ answered Chalmers. ‘He never did, not with me, anyway. That was just not his style. He always liked to keep you on edge. I never looked for a pat on the back. I just wanted to do my job and cram as many goals into the opposition’s net as possible. That’s what the Hamilton game was all about. If the match had lasted another ten or fifteen minutes we would still have been chasing goals. Joe McBride played that night, too, so he would have been looking for a few. It’s incredible to note he didn’t score, but he would have made a few, that’s for sure.’

That overwhelming victory opened the way for a bunch of the Quality Street Gang to take a collective bow in front of their new fans, all 4,000 who turned up at Douglas Park a fortnight later. Lou Macari, who had played in the first leg, Davie Hay, John Gorman and goalkeeper Bobby Wraith played alongside Pat McMahon, Jimmy Quinn and George Connelly, who, by then, had already made a handful of appearances in the first team. Kenny Dalglish came on as a second-half substitute.

CHEERS…Bobby Lennox celebrates another goal against Rangers. John Greig doesn’t share his joy.

Before that, though, was the first Old Firm league confrontation of the new season and, after two victories already over the old enemy, Celtic went into the game reasonably confident in front of their own fans on 14 September. Lennox contrived to have what looked like two legitimate goals ruled out as the Ibrox men triumphed 4-2. Wallace scored two which meant he had netted all Celtic’s five goals in their three games against Rangers.

‘That was a strange game,’ recalled Gemmell. ‘You would look at the scoreline and see that a team had scored four goals against us at Parkhead – when did that last happen? – and you would have been forgiven for believing they had massacred us. Honestly, that was not the case. To be fair, Rangers did play well that day and they put in a lot of effort, but it was one of those occasions when you realise there is no way back only when you hear the referee’s final whistle. Right up to that moment you believe you can achieve something. We were making chances and I had a few long-range efforts myself that were blocked with the keeper all over the place. I remember both Bobby Murdoch and Bertie Auld weren’t playing and who wouldn’t miss their presence in the middle of the park? No excuses, though. We had lost to them in the second game of the previous season and had still gone on to win the title. We would just have to go on another thirty-two game unbeaten run!’

A week later Celtic were held to a 1-1 draw with Dunfermline at East End Park where Johnstone scored. A point dropped? Or a point gained? This set of Celtic players were only ever satisfied with victory, but on the coach home from Fife the feeling was that it was important not to lose a second successive league match against very dangerous opponents, still on a high after their Scottish Cup victory and with their vociferous manager George Farm claiming they would build on that success. His priority, he promised Dunfermline fans, for the new season was the league championship.

The midweek League Cup return against Hamilton saw the influx of youngsters Stein believed would usher in a bright new era for the club. He mixed in experienced campaigners Jim Craig, John Clark, Joe McBride and Charlie Gallagher to give them a helping hand. They didn’t require it. Two goals from McBride  and a collector’s item from Clark allied to one from McMahon eased new-look Celtic to a 4-2 victory.

Davie Hay was pitched in for skipper Billy McNeill at centre-half that night. ‘So, no pressure right from the start, then,’ joked the likeable Hay. ‘Big Jock used to play individuals in all sorts of varied positions to give them an idea of what they should anticipate from players facing them. For instance, he put me in as a centre-forward for a few games in the reserves. I had never played there in my life, but it was merely to give me the experience of coping with someone defending against me. What would I have done in his situation? Would I look to make space, right or left? Would I come off the defender or would I stick with him? All that sort of stuff. It was invaluable and undoubtedly it helped when you were up against someone in a position where you had gained some sort of experience. You had some sort of idea of how they might be thinking.

‘Big Jock knew my preference would be full-back, probably right, but he wanted to further my football education against Hamilton. It didn’t do me any harm. Myself and the other young guys went into that game without any pressure on us whatsoever and that was another of Big Jock’s great secrets. He would pick and choose the games very carefully before he introduced you. He would even look at a string of forthcoming matches and wonder if it was worth the chance giving you an extended run in the team as opposed to popping in every now and again. He was a great schemer and was years ahead of anyone else.’

EMERGING BHOY…Davie Hay who was beginning to make an impact at the Hoops.

Whereas Hay, Connelly, Macari and Dalglish went on to have excellent Celtic careers, Bobby Wraith joined the list of one-game goalkeepers in the sixties. Wraith, who had caught the eye of Stein while playing for Largs Thistle in a bounce game against a young Celtic side, took his place alongside Willie Goldie, Dick Madden and Jack Kennedy as now-you-see-me-now-you-don’t custodians during that decade of change. ‘My God, even I played more than one game in goal for Celtic,’ said Gemmell. ‘I replaced Ronnie Simpson on two occasions in 1969 and didn’t concede a goal. The first was in a scoreless Scottish Cup-tie against Clyde at Shawfield and the next was a League Cup semi-final against Ayr United which we won 2-1. Ronnie, of course, had been troubled with a shoulder injury and had, in fact, been appointed captain for a game against Airdrie only a few days before the Ayr match to celebrate his thirty-ninth birthday. Nine months later this very special guy had to retire. What a career, though!’

After their fourteen-goal two-game blitz on Hamilton, Celtic toiled in the semi-final against Clyde. All the big guns, Lennox, Wallace, Chalmers, McBride and Hughes, were on display, but it took a solitary first-time strike from substitute Connelly to book a place in the final against Hibs. The month of October also saw the team scrape a 2-1 home victory over St.Johnstone – goals from Lennox and McNeill – and a dropped point in a 1-1 tussle with Morton at Cappielow where McBride netted his last goal for the club.

Rangers had failed to take advantage of Celtic’s slip in Greenock after losing 3-2 to Aberdeen at Ibrox, the mirror image of their only defeat in the league the previous season. Rangers immediately invested £100,000 in Hibs’ all-action frontman Colin Stein and, a month later, they paid St.Johnstone £50,000 for combative midfielder Alex MacDonald. That took their spending to only £50,000 short of half-a-million pounds in just over two years, a breathtaking amount of money in the sixties.

THE BIG SHOT…Tommy Gemmell, Celtic’s flamboyant goalscoring full-back.

The European Cup campaign had kicked off in France in September and once again Celtic got an early jolt. ‘We had originally been drawn against Hungary’s Ferencvaros,’ recalled Gemmell, ‘but because of all the unrest and turmoil in Eastern Europe at the time, Bob Kelly protested to UEFA and, remarkably, they had another ballot and this time we were paired with French side St.Etienne. We might have been better off with Ferencvaros! We had been warned that St.Etienne had this big African named Salif Kieta playing as their main striker. He had been scoring goals galore and great things were expected of him.

‘Sure enough, he lived up to his star billing. He made Big Billy’s life a misery that night. Kieta was a powerful giant of a man who had this incredible long stride. When he got going, he took some stopping. He scored two goals as they won 2-0 and, to be honest, his performance in the first leg was as good as anything I had witnessed by an opponent against our skipper in all my time at the club. Yes, he was that good.’

At Parkhead, 75,000 turned out see at first hand the phenomenon that was Kieta while hoping their favourites could reverse the tie. It was another wonderful European night in Paradise. It was scoreless right up to just moments before the half-time whistle. Celtic had played reasonably okay, but the French were well drilled and, of course, they presented the ball to Kieta at every opportunity and a hush would descend upon Parkhead when he took off on that mesmerising stride of his. Billy McNeill wasn’t about to be bullied on this occasion, though, and the Celtic captain’s timing in the tackle was crisp and accurate. Jock Stein was heading up the tunnel, already preparing his half-time pep talk, when defender Henri Camerini hauled down McBride in the box. Penalty!

Gemmell takes up the story. ‘I knew it was a crucial award and I also realised a goal at that stage would, in all probability, turn the game on its head. I had to score. The French went through the usual routine of trying to unsettle me. They were uttering all sorts of oaths and, of course, when I stepped up to take the kick there were the mandatory clods of earth and all sorts of stuff being chucked in front of me. They were wasting their time. I hit that ball as well as I have hit any and it zoomed into the roof of the net. We were back in the game.’

Full-back partner Jim Craig took his lead from his big mate in the second period when he galloped onto a neat pass from Johnstone and thumped a low effort beyond Andre Carnus, in the St.Etienne goal, for the equaliser; his only European Cup goal for the club. The volume was pumped up a notch and Johnstone ran the French defence ragged with another invigorating performance of invention and incisiveness. Chalmers turned in a third and McBride made it 4-0 just before the end. Kieta trooped off, a dejected and defeated figure at the final whistle. Celtic players, in stark contrast, whooped it up.

ON THE BALL…Bertie Auld and that educated left foot.

Celtic were obliged to squeeze five league fixtures and two European games into the month of November. ‘It was just as well we were an exceptionally fit team,’ said Bertie Auld. ‘There were no slackers in training at Celtic which was very important when you saw the fixtures stacking up. Big Jock liked to keep us fresh, of course, but he rarely tinkered with his defence so that meant guys such as Jim Craig, Billy McNeill, John Clark and Tommy Gemmell were in week in, week out. Up front, Jock would change things around almost on a weekly basis. Sometimes he would bring in John Hughes from the wing and play him right in the middle of the attack, then he would play Stevie Chalmers a bit wider on the right. It kept us ticking over.’

Stein also entered the transfer market to spend £35,000 on left-sided midfielder Tommy Callaghan, a player he knew well from their time together at Dunfermline. Callaghan thrived on hard work and would go deep to take the ball off the defence and, with a marvellous loping stride that ate up the ground below him, would carry the ball deep into the other team’s half.

Quietly and effectively, Stein was changing things in Celtic’s style of play. In the past, he had relied on the likes of Auld, Murdoch and Gallagher to hit telling, long-range passes from their own half. That was not Callaghan’s forte. He was a runner and Celtic fans got their first glimpse of him in an emphatic 4-0 victory over Partick Thistle. Callaghan couldn’t have wished for a better debut and even scored with Hughes (2) and Lennox netting the others against former Rangers goalkeeper Billy Ritchie, who would never have nominated Parkhead as one of his favourite places to ply his trade.

The domestic scene for November was completed with another of those spectacular, sparkling clashes against Hibs at Easter Road. These games were becoming high-scoring classics and on this occasion Celtic triumphed 5-2. It was interesting to look across Glasgow to see how Scotland’s first six-figure man was faring at Rangers. Stein had started like a whirlwind that appeared to blow itself out after three hours. He notched a hat-trick against Arbroath and followed that up with another threesome against his old club Hibs. However, St.Mirren, with future Celtic keeper Denis Connaghan in fine form, stopped Stein and Rangers in their tracks with a surprise 1-0 win at shroud-covered Love Street. Rangers had now lost three times as many league games as they had done the previous season.

Alarmingly, Celtic were forced to share the points in three out of their four league games in December. The month began as expected with a 5-0 triumph over St.Mirren in Glasgow. There was a hiccup in a goalless draw at Falkirk and it took a Chalmers goal to give Stein’s side a 1-1 draw with Kilmarnock. There was another scoreless stalemate at Airdrie to bring 1968 to a halt. The forward line that had provided nineteen goals in five games in November had produced only one in three matches in the run up to the year. However, if goals were in short supply in the league, that certainly wasn’t the case in Europe, courtesy of a small, flame-haired gentleman called Jimmy Johnstone. The much-vaunted Red Star Belgrade were routed 5-1 in Glasgow after what was surely the most bizarre deal ever struck between Stein and a player.

WEE JINKY…Celtic’s wing wizard Jimmy Johnstone.

‘It was well-known that the Wee Man was terrified of flying,’ said Gemmell. ‘I used to joke with him. “Jinky, you think you’ve got a problem? I don’t even like being this tall!” Actually, he had a real scare when he was coming back from our tour of The States in 1966. He and Ian Young, our right-back, were allowed home early because they had already set wedding dates. The plane hit an air pocket and, according to Jinky, “dropped like a stone for miles”. That’s the way he remembered it, anyway! But the experience did leave him with an unshakeable fear of flying. As I recall, we were drawing 1-1 with Red Star at half-time at Parkhead. Bobby Murdoch gave us the lead, but a bloke called Jovan Acimovic equalised. We all knew Big Jock was brilliant at mind games and psychology.

‘He pulled Jinky aside in the dressing room and said, “Get us a four-goal advantage and you won’t need to fly to Belgrade.” Jinky face lit up. “Dae ye really mean it, Boss?” he asked. Big Jock assured him he would keep his end of the bargain if Jinky produced the goods. The Wee Man played like a man possessed after the interval. Red Star must have wondered what on earth had happened in our dressing room at half-time. Jinky always gave his best, of course, but he was transformed that evening. He ripped their defence to shreds. There was nothing they could do as he kept coming at them and carving them open. He was racing all over the pitch shouting at his team-mates, “Gie me the ba'”. It was a truly memorable performance from my wee pal.’

Johnstone started the fightback with a goal two minutes after the turnaround. Then he set up Lennox for the third before providing Wallace with the fourth. So, four down and one to go. He notched the all-important fifth himself as he snaked in from the right, bamboozled a couple of defenders and then slid a right-foot shot low into the far corner. Jim Craig recalled, ‘Jinky was running away shouting “Ah don’t have tae go! Ah don’t have tae go!” Any English-speaking Yugoslav opponent must have wondered what on earth he was going on about. We all knew, though. He had delivered big-style.’

Gemmell added, ‘They got a corner-kick in the last minute and Jinky was back telling us, “Noo don’t youse dare let them score.” The kick came over and guess who cleared? Wee Jinky! I don’t think I had ever seen him in our penalty box before at a corner-kick.’ A crashing twenty-yard drive from Wallace gave Celtic a 1-1 draw in Belgrade and Europe was once again sitting up and taking notice of the 1967 champions.

* TOMORROW: Don’t miss ‘TROUBLE IN PARADISE’, another dramatic instalment from Alex Gordon’s book, ‘CELTIC: The Awakening’ – only in your champion CQN.

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