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sunsents · 3 years

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Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

IT'S. OVER. Holy shit, this took way longer than I expected it to be. Yes, it’s 20k mf words and what abt it. Don’t look at me like that. I warned ya’ll 🙄. Now, I definitely made up some words while writing this. Like a shelved corridor, the heck is a shelved corridor?!?! Please tell me it makes sense…please for the sake of my sanity. The smut is kinda tame so I’ll whip out the chains on the next one.

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

Summary —> Years later you find yourself face to face with the person that caused your ruin - yet this time, somethings different.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 20k... honestly I completely get it if ya'll wanna sit this one out

Warnings: *deep breath* a poor attempt at humor / gingers / pining idiots / normal idiots / excessive cursing / fred weasley in slacks / alcohol consuming / very little angst (its mostly just overthinking) to fluff / minor character death / smut / oral, (fem) / fingering / cum play / sexual mf intercourse mfs / protected sex (dont be silly protect your willy) / dirty talk / sappy stuff

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

tagged: @opalsheart @ronsbadidea @uselessmoonlight @boxofbadaddiction @lovenonymously @sergeantkilowog @rudypankowisdaddy, @nobutfredweasleytho some names didn’t come up when I tried, so what do we get from this? I can't properly use Tumblr <3

Five Years Later, 2003

"____, will you just calm down." Aleyna lets go of the book box full of bathroom supplies and they clink together, to which you wince because these are your stuff and you’re in a far too dangerous position to lose more money.

"How can I calm down?!" you exclaim dramatically, tossing your wand on the nylon wrapped couch. "It's all Stacey's fault."

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

"That one chick from Magical Catastrophes who always has lipstick on her teeth."

"I don't think her name is Stacey though."

You send Aleyna a look that screams, stop being reasonable at a time like this. No, this was when you overpaid your TV cable to air The Twilight Zone and drank cheap wine while cursing out your boss who cared about your well being. Hermione had become The Minister of Magic, and of course you were proud of her. Though, this didn't mean she could let you have time off work whenever something insignificant happened.

"Probably not," you mutter, opening your fridge and coming face to face with the painful truth that it’s empty, and you’re hungry. Your hand unintentionally flies to graze over your scar as you survey your options, a small pack of ketchup and left over chips. "Suits her though, feels good to say 'Goddamnit Stacey' when something goes wrong in my life."

Stacey deserves it because Stacey doesn’t refill the staplers on purpose.

Aleyna snorts, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "What did Stacey ever do to you?" Then she wheels across your new apartment to retrieve more boxes from outside.

You’re grateful for the support of all your friends, but the pitying looks they give you whenever someone mentions the words house and fire is enough to fuel into your secret want of setting their houses on fire. It was an accident, you were just trying to make the delicious recipe Molly had sent you, ignoring the small fact that you didn't know how to properly use an oven. The savings you lost from your bleeding bank account were not worth pasta with tomato sauce on it.

Though, your new apartment is big, bigger than your first because after making a name for yourself as an Auror money came easily. Wide walls for a projector TV, long tail shaped couch standing firm on varnished wood floorings, and two bedrooms that have their own - kind of unnecessary - bathrooms. Not to mention the giant kitchen with an island, only rich people had islands, where you could make plenty of Italian recipes and not worry about burning the house down because Aleyna fool-proofed it for you.

The flat was at the top floor of the new bar she just built, and she was kind enough to let you start renting the place. The residents of Diagon Alley had been fighting for this apartment for months, and you were proud to have snagged it before anyone could even offer.

Gripping the last two boxes, Aleyna pushes the front door with her foot and navigates herself backwards through the other dozen boxes you had just tossed on the floor. "These are the last two, are you sure you don't need anymore help?" she offers.

You shake your head, "I can just use magic, not in the mood for pursuing the muggle lifestyle right now."

Aleyna frowns, this reaches her eyes though. "That bad huh."

Simply nodding, you don’t bother getting into an in depth rant about how a simple fire didn't mean you had trauma, and that you didn't need to stop working for a few weeks. Not that being an Auror was hard, your work days have been quite uneventful if you didn't count a few "Revalutioners" sticking a muggle's head in a toilet.

"I know what will cheer you up," Aleyna chimes, already clad in her pea coat and sneakers. "Dinner, and it's on me."

You couldn't possibly say no to free dinner, also making food for yourself was probably not a good idea right now. Stay clear of ovens, you reminded yourself.

After getting snug in your coat and fluffing your hair, you fall on step next to Aleyna as the two of you chat.

The London cold is brutal, shivering whomever until their noses turn red and making their hands feel itchy when sudden warmth overtook. You’re used to it, as is anyone in Diagon Alley. People are crowding the stores, chatting loudly and waving their wands around at stores to reserve whatever crappy gifts they were going to buy for their family's.

You hate the holidays, refusing to go back to America and visit your own family. Your mother couldn't cook, nor could your father. Though, that didn't stop her from insisting every year and giving you, your father and the Burke's food poisoning.

After three years of sitting through awkward family dinners where everyone ignored the fact that you were almost Head of Aurors, and focused on Eva's collapsing career of Healer only to praise her, you had about enough and stopped attending. It had been two years since then, they didn't bother to write. Your dad occasionally sent you money in a horrible christmas card with an even more horrible pun written in red glittery letters that also sang Run Run Rudolph.

"Ugh, everyone's crowding the joke shop aga- oh." Aleyna pauses. "I'm sorry."

She knows about your past with Fred Weasley, considering whenever you rant about work it ends up with you cursing him and Eva out. He had such a blame-able face, just like Stacey from Magical Catastrophes.

You give Aleyna a look. "You act like I'm not a grown woman who can't get over something that happened eight years ago." you say, shaking off the small snow particles that begin to lightly fall. "You should be like this with, I don't know...my relationship with Theo! We broke up last year, why aren't you fragile with him, hmmm?"

Aleyna claps your back in a friendly manner all the same. "I know I know, but come on. This is childhood trauma we're talking about."

"Now that I think about it, seeing Eva's coochie was traumatic." you grin, and Aleyna's jaw gape even if she heard the story hundreds of times before. Not that Eva's...modesty was bad per say, just not a pleasant sight seeing as you guys grew up together.

Other than that fact, you hadn't talked, even seen Fred after the war ended. Sure, you occasionally stole glances at their very successful joke shop, but there was no point in dwelling and trying to fix an already withered away friendship.

You had fixed your relationship with Ron and Harry, having had no choice since the three of you worked together. "You were right ____, we were assholes. You don't need to apologize." they had told you, and that was that. The two families and well, you did weekly dinners and enduring the two men for Ginny and Hermione got easier as days passed, finally ending up in a good friendship like old times. It was casual between you, easy when no one mentioned how abruptly your friendship ended. No one dared to either.

Also, Harry was your boss and him remembering that you called him a drama queen wouldn’t do you any good in your career.

People bump at your sides as the two of you squeeze your way towards Sacree Fleur. The end of Voldemort brought a new, reformative era in the Wizarding World. Diagon Alley expanded, new buildings were built and culture grew. You were happy to see that Ollivendar's Wand shop renewed, along with other crumbling buildings that needed desperate attention.

Bandits lessened, and the utter arrogance some parents had by not sending their children to get magical education faded, partly because there was nothing to fear, and partly because more job opportunities arose, like said, money came easily.

Fleur Weasley, your good friend and someone who had done the impossible and won over a Weasley brother - though she was gorgeous and possibly the sweetest person you've ever met, so really they were perfect for each other - had decided on a whim to open a french restaurant. Bill couldn't say no to his wife, the rough man you had met years prior was softened with age and the struggle of raising children.

Good wine, deliciously soft steak that melts in your mouth and warm atmosphere that makes five o-clock feel like midnight. It’s by far your favorite restaurant and you'd much rather spend your Christmas Eve curled up next to a warm candlelit dinner on a terrace.

"Bonjour!" an obscenely attractive woman, Fleur greets the two of you when the revolving glass doors are pushed, and you break out in a wide smile seeing your friend at the door. "____, Aleyna! Come here, give me a big hug!"

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

With dopey smiles, the three of you embrace.The door closes on it's own, and you shiver unintentionally, just now realizing how cold it is. Usually the big marble fireplace keeps Sacree Fleur warm, but even that seemed not enough and the restaurant is adorned with small muggle heaters, floating up above the ceiling and adding to the red light of the candles.

"You'll see. Came at a most amazing time too, silly girl always knowing when to show. Saw all the juicy drama when you were younger..." Fleur continues to joke lightheartedly, pulling away and leading the two of you through occupied tables as she faux scolds. People are content, it feels warm and almost soft. Conversation seems to flow easily and the unease you feel for the Holiday melts. Almost.

You blech whenever someone brings up the line ‘love is in the air’. It never made sense to you, because love was simply a fairy tale that would wither away with time. Also, how could love simply float? Of course, unless you count Amortentia fumes - which yours always smelled like sweat and crushed hopes. So frankly, you prefer expensive Dior perfume in the air rather than love.

Though now you find yourself doubting whatever you engraved in that well protected head of yours, love is truly in the air at Sacree Fleur. All kinds of love, mothers lovingly wiping food off their children's mouths, happy newlyweds clinking their wine glasses together with nothing but adoration in their eyes, friends enjoying sharing a simple dinner far more than should be done.

"My family, they're upstairs having dinner. The kids like the ice cream here, Mr Fortescue provides it well."

"Family? Ginny and Hermione are here?" you ask, lazily climbing the steps to the second floor to reveal the more, private part of the restaurant. Now, instead of wooden chairs with red cushions attached at the middle, there stand long booths with comfortable blankets and pillows with empty, eerily clean tables - except one.

The long table near the terrace is much livelier today, people sitting there whom you consider your own family. The three post luster that hangs low from the ceiling is turned on - it’s the first time you’ve seen the glamorous glass orbs in action. Its light ricochets off of several bright orange heads, simply calling it a lamp does no justice. The hue is yellow, low and it reminds you of the Christmas Eve fantasy you planned.

Said orange heads turn at the noise of delight you let out. "Oh Fleur! This is gorge- oof-"

"Auntie ____!"

A pool of orange locks squish into your stomach, snug in the soft fabric of your coat and you let out a chuckle. You can’t help it, even if you would never admit, he’s your favorite by a small number that-

"Well well, if it isn't Teddy Lupin."

The small boy chuckles, hair matching your black coat like a chameleon sticking itself on a flower and absorbing the color of the petals. You ruffle Ted's hair as the orange fades, he’s delighted to see you, and so are you yet your attention is quickly cut off by several disembodied voices thrown your way.

Bill Weasley is standing up, wine glass on one hand while grinning wide. “Look who my dear wife brought in!” his tidy yet visible scar stretches when his face brightens, you remembered again that day, just how much love you have around you.

“Hey everyone, hope we’re not interrupting.” you apologize, wincing but Bill quickly shakes his head and pushes his chair back.

You waddle your way towards the marble table, Teddy following suit with his face still smushed in your coat. He grips you tighter and you have to peel his small little limbs off your legs.

Aleyna scoffs, arms crossing together as she surveys Ted. “The blatant favoritism!”

Teddy rushes on his little legs to jump in Aleyna’s arms, and only then are you able to acknowledge the other - a little less important - people in the room.

“Happy holidays!” echoes around your head as several people embrace you all at once, and you have to simply stand and awkwardly loop your arm around whoever you can get a hold of.

Once the formalities are over, Ginny throws her arm around your shoulder. The red tresses of her dress hike up her leg from her slightly bigger stomach, and you can see the small broom tattoo on her thigh that she loves to display like a trophy. “You should’ve told us you were coming! We would have saved you a seat.”

A round of yes’s resonate around the room, and you take a quick moment to scan who’s afternoon dinner you’ve just interrupted. Hermione, hand resting on her very pregnant belly, is smiling warmly at you, and Ron quickly shoots up from his seat and wipes his mouth to catch up to his wife. Harry follows in his friend's wake, his hair has a white streak at the front and you furrow your brows.

“Age catching up with you Potter?” you grin, rubbing Ginny’s back fondly before she separates from you and greets Aleyna. “Or is it the pregnancy?”

Harry scoffs, pulling you in his embrace for a quick friendly second. “Always the charmer ____. I’ll have you know I’m handling it wonderfully, right Gin’?”

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

Harry’s face feigns faux disbelief, and it quickly melts as you bombard the man with questions about how Ginny’s first trimester is going. You mentally take note of asking Ron about Hermione’s as well, your two best friends are fucking pregnant. It’s almost too happy, and slowly the anxiety creeping up from your spine wraps around your throat, ready to suffocate you whenever.

It was always like this, the past ready to make it’s deathly move, because nothing is perfect. Happiness doesn’t come this easily.

And you’re right, because not only a minute after the warm embraces of your friends comes the voice of the person you’ve been dreading to see.

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

He’s a man. Of that you’re sure, because now his muscles stretch well over his broad shoulders, maroon satin shirt loose on his frame, tight around his biceps - properly sculpted of course - portraying defined collarbones.

His eyes are somewhat duller, though the same glimmer of loveable mischief he always had is evident. It will never go away, even after all these years, yet it’s tamer. That mischief caused him quite the trouble back in school, and now it seems he knows when to act, when to speak and when to stay silent.

His silhouette catches you off guard, his features are sharper, much sharper than how much Harry has matured. His biceps bulge obscenely when he rests his - also generously sized you might add - hand on the table, and the table suddenly doesn’t seem that long.

His forearms, on display with his sleeves rolled up, glistens under the soft lighting of the balcony. Your eyes fall on his bracelet adorned right wrist, one of which in particular catching your attention.

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

His face, always glowing, wears a large expression displaying his set of perfect teeth. He’s awestruck, you think.

You watch him push his large body out of the small chair, and wow chest, is your only thought. Then further down and...god damn thighs. Burly thighs - probably very comfortable too - squeezed in black tight fit jeans, however he managed that you don’t know but it was nice to imagine.

He’s leaned back, casual as he strolls towards you in two large steps, his long sculpted legs never disappointing.

Fred Weasley is genetically designed to ruin you and your insides with just one look, and you’re ashamed to have realized it all too late because when he speaks again you swear you saw stars.

“Wow - you,” he breaths, walking towards you with slow, unsure steps. “Grew!”

You raise a brow, Aleyna snorts. Grew? His steps should be unsure, because you want him to take them back, sit his fine fit ass back on that chair and pretend he never saw you.

Because this wasn’t your plan for tonight, seeing him wasn’t in your checklist. You woke up today, thinking nothing but coffee and a stressful moving day ahead. Not of the boy - the man you’ve been in love with since childhood, the man you blamed for your problems as an excuse to hide the heart squeezing pain of loneliness, the man you hadn’t seen in so many years you forgot what his voice sounded like.

You could have never guessed, and now you want to go back. Somehow rewind the clock to this morning when you were safe of your tucked away feelings trying to bulge, safe in your own little circle. All your efforts of leaving your house just a little early so you wouldn’t run into Fred seems stupid now. Your strategy ran smoothly for five years, it could’ve ran for more.

You would have continued avoiding him like your life depended on it, and his stupid joke shop, and the way he stupidly looked at you everytime he saw you. You’re reminded again, because no matter how older he looks he’s still Fred, and he still looks at you the same.

“I mean - beautifully! Shit I - fuck.” he groans, and George claps his brother on the back with a chuckle. Wherever he came from, because you were so entranced by Fred that you didn’t see George standing tall next to his family.

“____.” George stops before you, hands in his pockets. it happens too quickly that you’re forced out of your panicked state.

You raise a brow, and only then - Fred’s out of view with George’s figure towering over you - are you able to find your voice. “George.”

He pulls you in his tight embrace, “How come you never visited!” he scolds, chest stretching back to bring you with. “You’d think she’d bloody say hello once in a while! Maybe drop by our shop after 5 years, you quack!”

“George - can’t,” you heave and your legs wobble when he sets you on the ground again. You clear your throat, grinning widely at your...friend?

It would be fair to call him an acquaintance, right? You don’t know where you stand with the twins but you have love for them. This is clear from the way you can’t stop smiling like a sappy idiot - or perhaps it’s because of how contagious George’s smile is. You thought they hated you, but the youngest looks anything but displeased. He gives you a squeeze again before throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“I thought - I dunno. I thought you guys didn’t wanna see me.”

George scoffs, “Because you told us off that one time in seventh year?” he laughs, arms folding and displaying a set of bulging biceps much like Fred’s. “Yeah mate, you’re not that intimi-“

“George Weasley, finish that sentence I dare you!”

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

It’s Frederick Weasley, probably here to beat you to death.

“Hey Fred.” you greet, mouth dry. Get a grip, you scold yourself.

Fred opens his arms, “Well well,” he laughs, pulling you into a hug with a polite smile. His cheeks tint red when you shuffle closer, you would have missed this but you’re a creep, and you can’t stop staring at the beautiful man before you. He displays his beautifully indented smile lines, as if he was saying look at me! I’m perfect and sexy, I also broke your heart that one time, too bad I had no idea!

And it’s true, Fred never knew about your feelings. You kept them well hidden and they ate away at your organs from the inside, there was no reason to blame him. The realization is probably what compels you to accept him with open arms and wrap them around his neck.

You feel him shiver, dismissing it quickly because of the cold.

He smells good. Way too good that you melt in his arms and let him engulf you in his dangerous warmth. Manly, musky cologne, mixing with hints of cigar smoke that lingers on only certain areas of his shirt. You recognize the scotch in his breath when he whispers how much he had missed you, and his nape still has that cinnamon deliciousness he would parade whenever he came out of the shower, you fought the urge to shiver yourself, and it’s not because of the cold either.

It’s dizzying, and before you can start a detailed essay about how good his muscles feel, firm and digging into all the right places, he pulls away.

The past hits you like a ton of fucking bricks and crumbles down the firm foundations of the walls you have been building for eight years. You feel guilty, have you learned nothing? The loud pounding of your heart is a warning, yelling at you to stop getting swept away. Yet you can’t control it, just like how you can never control your feelings.

“I missed you guys too.” you breath shakily, you have to make sure to keep your distance. For your own good, you tell yourself.

Teddy pulls away your attention, and you silently add buy Teddy an expensively dumb toy to your checklist.

He sticks to your leg and is adamant on staying there. “I grew taller.” he says, looking at you between his eyelashes. “He says I didn’t, but I know I did!”

You chuckle, ignoring how Fred looks at the boy with such a warm expression, ignoring the way your heart nearly catapults out your chest.

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

Ted immediately lets go of your leg and straightens, hand going to his forehead to salute you. A giggle escapes him when you bend on your knees and act like you have a measuring stick on your hand. “Oh yes yes, seven feet tall and growing.” voice mock deep, you nod sternly.

“By this rate - I’ll pass you! Hah!” Teddy stomps his little foot on the stone floor, little sneakers barely making a sound.

You stand up again and fold your arms, “Well, I grow too you know! You can never pass me.” smirking slyly, you egg him on to see how much he’ll endure before he demands a ride on your shoulders - because that’s how giants saw the earth he told you. You doubt giants compare to a twenty four year old woman with attachment issues

Ted stands on his toes, struggling to tug on your shirt and bring you down. “No, I don’t like this game anymore…”

“Alright alright.” and with that you pick him up and prop the little boy on your shoulders.

Ted happily kicks his feet on your chest and you groan. He’s supposed to be five, not a midget wrestler. “Easy buddy boy.”

“You’re amazing with him, little twerp barely lets me tie his shoes.”

Fred’s voice startles you, only now do you realize that he had been watching you and Teddy. Speaking of, Ted’s busying himself with your hair, small hands pulling and twisting locks and mumbling incoherently.

Ear tips slowly catching fire, you chuckle. “Buy him a broom at four and see how he handles it.”

Fred shakes his head, tongue poking at the side of his cheek and you remind yourself to breathe. “You spoil him then? They say the way to a five year old's heart is money.”

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

Nuff words said, everyone soon sits on their designated chairs, and you pull one from another table, being the uninvited one.

Aleyna isn’t slick, you knew she had something up her sleeve the moment she had offered to pay for dinner. Though, this is your fault. You let her without calculating whatever end result was waiting to catch you off guard and ruin your entire life plan to avoid Fred Weasley.

Being the snake she is, snake Aleyna enticed you with nice food, dragged you to Sacree Fleur and did her little snake magic.

Awkwardly angled next to your best friend, you chat with Harry and Hermione while they tell you what you missed from work. (Not that you missed much, actually nothing different seems to have happened other than boring paperwork and Mrs Newersman’s new hairdo.)

Swirling your wine in one hand, the reflection of Fred from the rim of the glass keeps distracting you.

He’s changed, not personality wise though there were tweaks. Nor looks, he’s an adult now and his boyish charm is gone, but it isn’t quite that.

You can’t put a finger on it either, and you watch him laugh, carefree with his sister.

He looks relaxed, or maybe it’s merely the wine. Is it - no, couldn’t be. He looks happy. Genuine happiness and adoration for whomever. Love in his eyes as he looks at - Ah. He’s looking at you.

You jerk your head away and tip your wine glass back to gulp down liquid courage - because you need it tonight. This is bad, you tell yourself, kick you on the shin and punch to your gut bad. This can’t keep up or else you’re going to end up right back in that hollow pit of empty hope and gooey saturday lasagna.

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

Ron’s timbre voice thankfully grips your arms and pulls you away from said hollow pit.

“Uhh what?” you cough awkwardly, setting your now empty wine glass down.

“Christmas Eve, what are you doing? Going back home?” Ron asks, raising a brow.

You can lie but something compels you not to, maybe it’s how warmly they always welcome you, how they’re welcoming you now with open arms and nice food.

You shake your head, answering honestly; “No actually, I’ll just celebrate with Jambo and Christmas movies.”

And that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your Christmas Eve these past few lonesome years. It wasn’t that lonely, you had Aleyna and people loved her bar, you’d drop by and count down with people you didn’t know, at least you got to kiss a random stranger.

“Jambo? He’s still alive?” Hermione chuckles.

“No no, this is Jambo Fitzwilliam the Second, who is also a cat but don’t you dare tell him that!” smiling, you joke lightheartedly to conceal the harsh news.

Your hand reaches to trace around your scar as you speak.You know their eyes follow, and you know they stare at it when you’re not looking. Teddy asked you one day, even after Ginny’s scolding but you happily told him your heroic story and how Bellatrix smelled like piss and rum.

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

Jambo had unfortunately passed away because apparently dogs couldn’t live two hundred years, which you were disappointed because clearly Dumbledore could. You had already grieved and mourned, it left you with the happiest memories of your precious dog and you were grateful.

“Poor kitty doesn’t know he’s adopted?” George frowns, banging his fist on the table.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure he’s caught on by now, he’s three.”

“So, you’re spending Christmas Eve alone?” Fred asks, too suddenly and you flinch. He probably sees this, his effect on you.

You nod, and your friends gasp. Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal, or maybe it’s because of how normal it felt for you to be alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Ginny says, hand shooting out to rub your arm.

“I’ve been trying to get her out for ages-“

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

“No Aleyna, do!” Ginny protests. “You’re spending it with us and that’s that.”

“Wha-“

George throws up his finger to shush you, “No objections!” he declares fiercely. “We’re having a party at our flat and you both are coming!”

“Oh! Unless you and Blaise have any other plans.” Hermione’s quick to ask, she isn’t being slick though.

Aleyna chuckles, “We had dinner reservations but we can make it.”

Hermione grins, and you watch Aleyna pretend that she didn’t notice her friend ready to snoop in her relationship with an amused smile. Not that it matters - she and Blaise have that kind of love you hoped for as a young girl. There was truly no two other people so perfect for each other.

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

Aleyna takes a sip from her almost empty glass and tuts on the bitter after taste. “Amazing, actually. He just got promoted…”

Almost empty glasses are soon emptied bottles, and two steaks turn into a large brownie for the middle. You know that it’s a good meal, because as you stand outside in the midnight cold, arm around Aleyna, your legs wobble and your stomach aches from all the deliciousness you’ve consumed. More like inhaled, you only realized how hungry you were until the second steak arrived.

“Thank you so much you guys!” you wave your arm, overly theatrical, forgetting about what a day you’ve had.

Though, the thoughts catch up as you lay awake in bed.

It had gone by too quickly, and your heart is still beating louder than any chirping of the bugs outside. Your bedroom lacks furnishing, it only adds to your wild imagination. Your mind paints pictures on the blank walls as your eyes dart around, Fred didn’t look in your direction once that night.

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

It’s strange, whenever you turned your gaze his way, he seemed to be busying himself with whatever, whether it be his fork or napkin. How interesting can a damn napkin be? Hopefully not any lesser than you.

And are you just going to ignore that goddamned bracelet? The one you carefully sculpted with beads in such a way that you were sure Fred would suspect at least a drop of your raging crush. He’s still wearing it, that piece of string and glass - the symbol of your love and effort - survived through a war.

Are you reading into things? Surely not, he greeted you as anyone else would. Or maybe he remembered - you don’t dare think of that night.

How can they act so normally, so brazen after everything? It’s been almost six years since you saw them, have they got nothing to say to you? Maybe an apology?

Frustrated, you turn to your side and force your eyes shut.

————————

When night bleeds into morning, every cat has a tendency to quip over to their owners on their cushioned paws - which makes no noise but simple claw scratchings on the floor.

Jambo’s no different.

So, you’d imagine the poor creature's shock when he finds your bedroom empty. If he’d bothered to check, you’re seated on your island stool, pen and parchment in hand and mug of hot coffee (instant given the circumstance) in the other.

You hung your new curtains this morning, and were making use of them by shutting them halfway on the hooks while your window stood half open. You watch the snow flurry outside and gulp. If this week was to go horribly wrong... at least you have nice curtains waiting for you at your ritzy new apartment.

Jambo wraps his tail around your dangling ankle like he always does and you barely hum in acknowledgement. He’s purring, and it brings you comfort even if it’s for a small moment. But your question still remains unanswered, What would a five year old boy want for christmas?

It had been exactly two days since Ginny invited you to spend Christmas Eve together, and you busied yourself with buying them gifts - a tradition you hated because 1. coming up with gift ideas is infuriatingly hard. It’s way too time consuming, nit picking every single personality and deciding what they’ll like and what they’ll pretend to like. Pretend like they’re going to use it, and then never touch it until that one very specific occasion.

Maybe it’s excessive, but you actually like these people. They somehow give you - a sad, lonely sewer rat that’d been a neglected child - joy.

And 2. you feel like those people you make fun of every Christmas. Though, somewhere deep in your heart, you know you enjoy being those people. You would never admit it though.

What? You actually relish in the idea that you belong to a group, and that said group causes you to carry out cliche holiday traditions?

Absolute blasphemy.

Finally deciding, you leave your apartment in warm but cher clothing. It isn’t as crowded this morning - or maybe it’s because it’s seven forty in the crack of fucking dawn. Though, with the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed, it feels like ten.

Would they even be open, you ask yourself, jogging quickly about the streets on your heels to avoid the cold. It’s Christmas, they have to be.

Of course your logic sucks.

Shivering, you round the corner tea shop and fasten your pace. Ass freezing, lip tucked in between your teeth, you realize you have underestimated the morning London cold.

Soon, thankfully, the giant head of George(?) you assume, comes into view. The animatronic is motionless, big porcelain eyes closed and displaying sinister gaping holes. You shiver, and not because of the cold either.

Keeping your eyes low on your feet, you push the glass doors of the shop open. You don’t bother to check the inside from the generous glass displays, it’s way too cold and you don’t want to spend any more time outside with the giant George doll.

A bell rings, a little jingle up above that puts a smile on your face. Jambo’s collar jingled like that whenever he got excited, whether it be a pesky squirrel ready to bum off your house food, or maybe a friendly one showing its face to piss off the house dog.

You sigh, and only then notice the delicious scent of fresh coffee roast. Invading through your nostrils and turning you into a drunkard, and you can’t help but gravitate towards-

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

“Who's here so early, couldn’t a man enjoy breakfa-”

You smile apologetically, it’s only natural that Fred just woke up. He isn’t a morning person, after years of knowing him you found out one way or another. In your case, he was mean to you and that’s when it clicked. Fred doesn’t like the early hours of morning, where his hair isn’t as tame and his lips feel like they’re about to pop. You find it charming.

“____?”, the man of the hour comes into view, standing at the top of the spiral staircase. The first step is a rung, rolling on the hinges of the wall's edges. The staircase rattles when Fred steps down, and you quickly jump forward in panic.

Mug in one hand, his fingers rake through his mussed morning hair then settles on the checkout counter. “Morning,” He smiles, and those dang smile lines greets you, as if they’re mocking you again.

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

“It’s okay, have you had breakfast yet?”

Taken aback, you nod. Disappointment flashes through his face, and before you can analyze he straightens. Taking a sip of his coffee and humming, he fixes his pyjama bottoms. Red and checkered, loosely hanging from his hip and giving you a teasing view of his lower abdomen. “Can I get you anything?” he asks again, adamant on offering you something.

You shake your head no and you watch his face fall. Merlin, you would have come starving if it meant having breakfast with him. The view before you is enough to fulfill your darkest fantasies, and this is enough. Because you know that this is all you could get. His friendship.

But is it though? Is it truly enough? Will it ever be enough?

The questions that linger around your head have an answer that you wouldn’t dare set free. Everything you’re doing right now is wrong, how you’re standing in front of him, letting his delicious scent compel you further into him.

He smells almost alluring - he always does - less piquant than yesterday. Probably the after taste of neglecting a shower, yet his natural fragrance is just as charming. You remember those mornings at the Burrow when Fred stumbled down the stairs, sun early and bright, woken up just like himself. He smelled ama-

Woah, down girl.

Fred clears his throat, and only then do you realize how long it has been since you spoke.

“I need to buy something.” you blurt. Fuck, this couldn't get more embarrassing. “For Ted, his gift.” You finish lamely.

“Ah,” Fred chuckles, giving you a quick lookover. You flush. “You have come to the right place.”

It’s true, the shop is truly...something. A gateway to heaven for anyone twelve or younger. Fascinated, you take your time to linger your eyes on every little nook and cranny that catches your eye.

The shop feels much tamer without the telltale rowdy crowd, it’s almost comforting. You can really see a piece of each twin on each display, Fred’s being the Deflagration Deluxe. ‘A deluxe selection of Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs’ read on the big cardboard. You chuckle, he always had a bag full of them that he carried around religiously.

“Those!” he exclaims, scurrying over to the display, “New and improved by yours truly.”

You chuckle, and Fred breaks out into a smile. “Here, I’ll show you around.” he mutters, before you can utter a protest, he takes your hand in his and drags you to a shelved corridor. “This is his favorite section, explosives and quidditch.”

You smile as you scan the heaps of colorful products lining the walls, all engraved with the shop's signature logo. Fingers coming out to touch a few, you subconsciencly swing your encased hands together. “These are real neat.”

Fred smirks, though his palms feel hotter than usual, “Not so much when he’s blowing up the bloody flat.”

You chuckle softly, eyes fluttering to imagine little Ted shaking up a pair of fireworks, unknowingly setting them off and resulting in a giant black mark on the ceiling. Because only that explains the small black stains on the walls of the shop.

“See anything you like?” Fred offers, almost in a whisper.

“No I,” you turn back to him, and something flashes between the two of you. “I’m still…looking.”

The air feels tense, warm, affecting your body. Your breath catches in your throat, Fred’s eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t know what to do. Even your breathing feels on edge.

He moves closer to you and your heart flutters. His exhales hit your ear, only a breadth away from your neck and you flinch. Chills lift up the hair on your arms, “No...erm.” you mutter.

“Alright.” he says softly.

His eyes are hooded, displaying a perfectly long set of eyelashes.

How, is the question. They’re long and thick, and you’re jealous. Yes, you might have ruined yours with your curler but still, if you were born with eyelashes like that you wouldn’t even need a blasted curler.

“What are you thinking ‘bout.” he whispers, long digit lifting to stroke your cheek. So soft that you barely feel it, before he trails it up your cheekbones, to the panes of your face.

The same alarms blast in your ears, and you can’t ignore them this time. It isn’t that you don’t like this, on the contrary you’re ready to jump him.

“Eva!”

Fred takes a step back, face falling. “What?”

You shake off whatever just happened seconds ago and focus on reality. “Gosh, I forgot to ask.” you exclaim, over excited but at what cost. “How is she doing? Is she up there in the flat?”

Fred winces. “Actually-”

“I’m guessing you guys moved in together, after all those years you know. Don’t tell me you guys got marr-”

“____!” he takes a deep breath, “We broke up a few years ago.”

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

Fred shushes you with a finger. Embarrassed, warmth spreads through you like a tidal wave. “I fell out of love, but it felt nice to have someone around, you know?”

You don’t say anything, yes you know but his loneliness and yours is much too different.

Growing up, Fred had the support of his family, he always had someone there. You knew it was bad to dismiss him like this, but the aching in your heart wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that. He always had someone affirming that it would be okay, someone to pat his back whenever he scored a goal through a hoop, whenever he got a good grade or did a cool trick with his broom. He still had them, even if he was at his worst. He had endless support. You didn’t.

It wasn’t easy after the war, living alone with nothing but the collar of Jambo gripped tightly in your hands. He had died shortly after Voldemort fell, and you had to hang onto the last piece he left until your agony died down. That was your only support.

Ginny, Hermione and Aleyna were there of course, but everyone's way of coping is different, and they didn’t understand yours nor each other’s. It’s worse to try and forget, run away from that fear because it would always catch up with you, and you found that the best way is to sit and feel.

But that doesn't mean your friends weren’t any less supportive. The after effects of the war were way more harsh on you than you let on, you were stuck on autopilot - a painful loop that made your life feel worthless. Work, money, survival - the three main aspects occupying your mind at all times. You didn’t have the love and attention to give to friends or a relationship (maybe that’s why it never worked out) but soon, Ginny and Hermione had reached out to you.

It was a simple letter delivered by their family owl Nebula - a descendant of poor old Errol. You remember tears pooling in your eyes when they told you how much they missed you, they gave meaning to your life. It was no longer the painful loop, they invited you over for dinner, visited every other day after hooking up your house Floo Network, you were always a welcomed guest in their homes.

They made you realize that friendship didn’t need much energy nor hard effort, just being there for each other was enough. Love for someone came naturally, and you didn’t need to extract some of your own self-love to give to others. They were two different things.

Skimming past that, you watch Fred show you three different options of Make Your Own Fireworks kits. You smile solemnly, accept a random one and quietly follow him to the checkup counter.

“So.” he starts, wrapping the product with the paper design you picked. “How about you, anyone special?”

Drumming your fingers on the counter, you shrug. “I dated Theo Nott for a year, I knew nothing would come out of it but like you said, nice to have someone.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Nott? Really?” he frowns. “Can’t believe that tosser managed to-”

You snort, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging, Fred hands you the package. “Nothing, it’s just that -” he pauses and his eyes look at you like you should know what he’s talking about. As if the two of you have some sort of telepathic connection, Fred was always like this.

He would look at you like you understood a word you said, even though he’s been silent for the past minute or so. He always struggled to express himself, and you’re sad to see that this habit followed him into adulthood.

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

“Nevermind,” he sighs. “That’ll be twenty five galleons.”

“Twenty what?” Your eyes widen. “You heartless man!”

Fred gapes at you, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Twenty five, to your oldest pal? Twenty and a stick of gum.”

Fred pretends to think. “How about you keep the gum and give me twenty four.”

“Twenty two.” you narrow your eyes, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas!”

Fred scoffs,“I am giving you the holiday discount!”

Grumbling, you reluctantly stick your hand in your purse and take out your wallet. “I won’t forget this. You’re in my book.”

Fred gasped dramatically, “Not the book!” he exclaims, “Twenty two then, please for the love of merlin not the book.”

You lift your chin, head tilting to the side to survey him mockingly. “Twenty two it is, you won’t get away so easily next time.”

The two of you giggling, you pay him the money and leave a few sickles. “For the great service.” you say, him pretend-blushing at your words and tucking a strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear.

He speaks after some time, the laughter has died down and left it’s comforting after taste. “I missed you ____, why didn’t you visit?”

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

How can he ask that when the answer is so obvious. Fred’s still cruel it seems, he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he speaks. He knows the reason.

“Oh you know,” you start after some time, “Work and stuff.” you lie, and fight the urge to cringe at your words.

Though Fred doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t push it either. He simply nods, looking down at the checkout counter. You’re glad he’s avoiding your gaze, because it makes your departure much easier. “See you at the party Fred, thanks for the...uh. Yeah.” you awkwardly lift your bag up and give him a wave before pushing yourself outside. You can finally breathe.

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

Blaise was arriving in exactly seven minutes and you barely just put on your dress. You’re sure of this because Blaise is always on time, he even has an unnecessarily expensive watch on his right hand that he obsessively likes to check. At least Aleyna’s into it, frantically trying to strap her heels, she’s wriggling herself towards the front door to somehow track her lover. You don’t know how love works, maybe they can smell each other from a mile away or something.

Shaking your head, you fluff your hair and wipe a hand across your under eye after wetting it with your tongue. You think Aleyna calls for you, you’re not sure because you’re too occupied trying to decide if you’re going to wear lipstick.

“Hey,” you walk out of your bathroom door and scurry towards her, “should I?”

Aleyna raises a brow. You scoff, “Stop doing that, you know I can’t raise mine individually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem too if you don’t help me.”

As reflex, you roll your eyes. You only do this because you know it reminds Aleyna of that one chick from Blaise’s workplace - she knows no boundaries, apparently. It’s a shitty move, but it’s a shitty world.

Aleyna carefully inspects the two products you hold tightly between your hands. A simple shimmery gloss and a nude, almost dark red lipstick you stole - borrowed - from her. “Depends, who are you smooching?”

Throwing her an incredulous look, you hold out the two products on your palms. “I’m not smooching anyone.”

Unless of course Fred Weasley asks, if he does you would pull out makeup wipes from thin air and jump into his arms with naked lips ready to be kissed. Though, that’s only a fantasy and Fred is emotionally unavailable...scratch that, you are.

You’re not sure how tonight is going to end, and you can’t help but be aware of that looming clump of anxiety, clutching on your chest and refusing to let go until you're assured that it’s going to be fine.

“The gloss, just in case.” Aleyna stops your train of thought before it trashes off its tracks and crashes somewhere in Fred McDreamy land.

You nod, making no further inquiries and getting yourself ready as best as you can. Fixing your bodice and giving your scar a quick look, you finally hear the doorbell ring after a few long minutes, followed by Blaise’s deep voice greeting his girlfriend. You give the couple a few seconds to smooch - if you will, before walking back to the living room.

Blaise grins when he sees you, he’s wearing a sleek black suit with its first two collar buttons undone - you expect no less class from him.

“Happy Christmas!” you chime, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight just enough so you can whisper in his ear. “I hope you picked out the second ring, Zabini.”

Blaise swallows thickly before laughing, you know this because you physically feel him start to sweat. “I swear I did, don’t worry I have a plan.” he winks after letting go.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he loops an arm around Aleyna’s waist and pulls her by his side. “Only the best for my girl.”

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

You quickly clear your throat, “Anyways, let’s go before the serenading and the rose petals start.”

The three of you finally leave, the walk down your apartment building feels way too short, and the moment you exit you’re hit with the wonderfully chilly Christmas air.

For a moment, you forget where you’re going.

Lights are hung up everywhere, across shops, tangled through trees and some floating in the air. You can’t see the night sky, Diagon Alley has one of its own, adorned with radiant moons and luminous stars just bright enough for people to navigate themselves through crowds with zero accidents. It feels breathtakingly overwhelming.

Glass ornaments are charmed to fly across, a special show prepared by Madame Mulkin, and Mr. Eyelop tuned in by letting out a few snow owls rest around random trees to add to the warm atmosphere. There’s flavour wafting around the air, you inhale again to identify it better.

Speeding your way through - it hits you, gingerbread and chocolate.

You clutch your bag towards your chest, suddenly you feel disgustingly sappy. Though, you are in public so you decide to shake off that small warmth threatening your heart and continue walking towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The walk towards the shop feels too short again, you almost check your watch to see if Hermione’s playing with the time turner again.

You almost turn on your heel, dump the bundle of presents you’ve bought on their front door and leave. You can, in theory, you’ve separated from Aleyna and Blaise midway through and you can just run and never look back.

Tough luck, when you walk through the generously decorated shop and up the stairs, you’re disappointed to see their flat door wide open.

You stare at it, it feels too inviting. Frank Sinatra blares through the walls, you can smell hints of incense, trailing through your nose and tickling you, causing you to sneeze. You were always sensitive towards smells, and it never bothered you until now.

“Bless you!” George Weasley appears, rounding a corridor and greeting you with open arms into his neat dress shirt. He hugs you like you’re family, and if you weren’t holding a sack like Santa Clause with his your jolly ass hanging on by the mere piece of fabric of your dress you would have hugged back.

“Thanks, Happy Christmas George.” you smile when he takes the sack from your hands and weighs it with raised brows.

“You didn’t have to buy anything ____!” he pats your shoulder, hand trailing to your lower back to navigate you inside. “We are the gift givers, you’re our guest.”

You chuckle, walking through the long entrance corridor, “Of course I’m getting gifts you quack.”

George scoffs, “Using my words against me now are we?”

When you gaze up at the famous joke shop as a little civilian in the streets of Diagon Alley, you don’t expect to catch the sight of a flat this large. You knew it was sizable since two grown men somehow fit and live there, but you underestimated just how successful Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was.

The floors are wood, clean with even several shoes stepping around, chattering with wine glasses in their wobbly hands. A bulletin board hangs next to a quidditch rack filled with different kinds of equipment - old and new.

Too entranced by the cozy interior, you don’t bother stealing glances at the bulletin board. The kitchen and living room are connected, yet they still somehow feel like completely different rooms. The den is lit up by a brick fireplace, lightly crackling and making the atmosphere all the more comfortable. The soft fur (faux you hoped, though Mr Weasley did have a muggle hunting rifle phase which you thoroughly discouraged) carpet tickles your ankles and you have to hold onto George’s arm for support

“Bevvy?” he offers you, holding out a pint beer glass and you shake your head, admiring the apartment further.

Most couches are leather yet they still look comfortable, the kitchen is big but not obnoxiously so, you can hear the clinking of a foosball table - commotion makes sense in their apartment - the wide living space narrows through a corridor, leading to what you assume must be bedrooms.

You’re glad Fred and Eva broke up, because you decide then and there that you’re going to visit the twins everyday despite your history, just to step into this apartment again.

“____!”

Angelina’s sweet voice causes your unease to vanish in an instant and you crush her in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas!” you smile, looping an arm around her shoulder and letting her guide you through the flat. “You changed your hair!”

Angelina nudges you with her hip, “Thank merlin you noticed, George is clueless.”

“Oh? George? You never told me - Hey Cho!”

You’re cut off by several familiar faces greeting you and telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you do, right next to Hermione and Ginny, two pregnant and fierce women that keep bickering with their husbands because of their weird cravings.

“I’m with you on this one Gin’!” you snort, eyeing Harry. You have a wine glass in one hand and the power you hold makes you feel too confident. “If the woman wants sausages marinated with toothpaste, she’s getting sausages marinated with toothpaste!”

Harry grumbles, “Will you please stop fueling this!” he protests, downing his drink and banging this on the table. “Look sweetheart, you wanted onions and mustard just a second ago so I got you ‘em, what made you change your mind?”

Ginny bangs her fist on the coffee table, in addition to Harry’s outburst. It seemed everyone was banging stuff on tables, so you do too.

“You think I know? Sod off or get me my toothpaste!” Ginny yells, banging another fist after you.

Harry kneels down next to the foot of the couch and holds his wife’s hand, gently massaging her knuckles. “We can’t get you toothpaste,” he says calmly.

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

“Stop damaging my property.” says George, materializing out of thin air.

You feel bad for Harry, you truly do but it only lasts for a second because this is even more entertaining than watching Aunt Muriel try to play foosball while shouting ‘Come at me you haired back marys!’

You’re enjoying yourself, the buzz, the warmth, the scent of fire. It’s comfortable and not at all like a party. It’s as if you’re visiting your friends for thanksgiving, homely and welcoming.

Though, the first crack forms when you see Fred, eyeing you from the small bar of their kitchen.

Dressed in navy slacks and a red, turtleneck sweater, he leans against the counter with a glass of Firewhiskey clutched on his big hand. He swirls it as his lips twitch, keeping his gaze set on you. His hair falls on his eyes, mostly pushed back but how strong hair gel can really be?

He looks good, way too good for a party. But it’s not the outfit, it's his entire presence. The way he holds himself, acts, speaks - shit, it’s attractive. He can do anything and he’ll always have that charismatic charm, it makes you feel envious, not to mention incredibly horny.

It’s Christmas, it’s a sacred holiday. You can’t let Fred sexy Weasley get to you, no matter how unapproachable and out of your league he looks.

You’re the bigger person - apparently - and you decide to greet him first.

You don’t know what compels you to do this, but it must be quite a strong force because you feel yourself start to quiver when you abandon your place on the couch. It’s so strong that your wobbly legs carry you while you push through tipsy friends and hold you up all the way to the kitchen area.

“Merry Christmas.” you croak, pulling him in a quick hug which he returns happily.

“Merry Christmas yourself.” he smiles, gaze drifting lower to your dress only for a second before he swallows.

His signature cologne that you’ve engraved deep in your head this past week bursts out again. You smile softly, relishing in him.

“You look,” he seems to be giving much more thought on whatever he’s about to say, he settles on; “Beautiful, you’re, uh - the dress.” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” your face falls. The dress is beautiful, not you. Of course. “Thank you, I would say you don’t look too bad yourself but that would be a lie.”

Fred raises a brow, putting his wine glass on the bar with a clink before slowly turning on his heel. “Aw, cheers love.” he says casually, “Wore it for you,”

You raise both your brows, “Is that so?” you fight a grin.

“This little number is my lucky charm.” he smirks, pulling on his shirt. “Made women fall at my feet back in the day, maybe you will too.” he finishes, more bashfully than before. His cheeks are tinted pink and, now, for the first time, you feel clueless.

Your heart stutters when you speak, “Trying to butter me up Frederick?” you say shly, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours.

Fred winks. “And what if I am?” he suddenly straightens, arms folding together. His head bows as he continues with a smile, “I’m joking, got this a week ago for the party.”

You fight the urge to smile, “Ah, so not the chick magnet.”

“Well,” Fred laughs, “It’s still very wolfish.”

“Whatever you say, big ole pussy cat.” you pat him on the shoulder.

Fred scoffs good naturally, “Ah, you hurt my pride ____.”

When you don’t say anything, his gaze falls on you. He takes the time to look at you, really take you in and it makes your efforts feel appreciated for once. He takes a deep breath, head careening left for a moment.

“It’s not just the dress.” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes falling on your scar. “You really are beautiful.”

Your hand immediately flies to your brow, tracing a finger down the gash. It’s not as noticeable anymore and your hair grew back - thankfully - but the knowledge that it’s still there, parading itself to everyone makes you feel much more self conscious than you should.

Fred’s hand closes over yours and you freeze. “You might not think so, but not only is your scar a wicked bedtime story, it’s very attractive.”

Your ears feel hot, “You think I’m attractive?”

It’s a nice compliment - especially when it comes from a man like Fred.

“Do I think you’re,” he gasps, giving you an incredulous look. “Of course you’re - ! I mean you can’t be asking me that - are you, gah!”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. It’s quite amusing watching Fred Weasley struggling to speak, clearly embarrassed. The knowledge that you made him this way, you were sleeping like a baby tonight that’s for sure.

“Look, ____. I actually wanted to tell you something really important.” he fidgets with his cuffs.

You furrow your brows, “Of course, what is it?”

“I used to, well I think I still do because it never truly went away but - okay, this is harder than I thought.”

You chuckle nervously. “Fred, you’re freaking me out here.”

You hear him mutter something along the likes of what’s wrong with me, until he speaks again.

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

When you left your apartment a few days ago, your mind didn’t calculate the outcomes of meeting Fred Weasley.

The impact is so strong that it causes your past to - not flash, because this is painful - slowly start playing before your eyes, like a play you have to sit through because the seats were expensive, and the star of the show, the star of your own life is standing right in front of you.

She’s wearing a gorgeous, gold cocktail dress. The costume design is delicate, it’s the type of dress you flutter your fingers in (the fabric is ticklish and soft, you just had to touch it) before moving onto the next. The rack is full of other suitable options, because you know you can never wear a dress like that.

But Eva can. She was always gorgeous, you couldn’t compare.

Fred’s eyes are wide, the way he’s tugging on your dress makes worry wash over you. “Eva? Erm - who invited you?” His words sound more bitter than he intends them to, or at least you think so.

“Oh, is that how you treat guests around here?” she fucking giggles, playfully slapping his shoulder.

You can’t tell if she’s purposely ignoring you - you’re standing right there - or just forgot your existence after seeing Fred in those pants because sweet merciful heavens.

Fred shifts uncomfortably, “Right sorry well, Merry Christmas!” he’s back to normal, addressing her as he addresses anyone else you can’t help but smirk.

Of course, you immediately jump on this opportunity. Eva may have ruined most of your childhood, she may currently look gorgeous - mockingly so, but you’re not kids anymore. No matter how insignificant you feel, you still have your pride to protect.

“Merry Christmas,” you add, jumping forward. “How long has it been?”

Eva’s expression turns sour, though she conceals it quickly. “____! Oh I love your dress.”

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

“Happy holidays Freddie! Where can a girl get a drink around here?” she squeaks? You’re not sure, her voice is too sweet and you don’t know how to act.

Fred grins, “Right there,” he points to a corner far away from the kitchen. “Lee’s in charge of drinks, I’m sure he can hook you up with something.”

Eva ponders, pausing for a beat. She’s expectantly staring at Fred, though when he shows no intention of accompanying her she gives you a menacing look and leaves.

You didn’t expect a big reunion because you saw Eva a few months ago at the hospital, you had sprained an ankle while training with Ron, and she tried to heal you before the Head Healer cut in and told her to take a walk.

Fred’s weight relaxes as soon as Eva’s out of view, it doesn’t take much to know something happened between the two - it wasn’t a harmless breakup like Fred had told you. You don’t push it though, if he wants to tell you he will.

“Well that was,” you say, and he hums in response, swirling his drink in one hand. You watch the gold hue with him for a moment. “Interesting.”

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #hp smut #fluff #angst #hp angst #reader insert #george weasley #ginny weasley #hermione granger #harry potter

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kellyvela · 3 years

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Has GRRM ever said in any interview or on his blog that he hates Sansa's complete storyline after 4th season? I dont really follow all of his fan/media interactions but from what I can recall he has spoken abt how LF in books wont give sansa to ramsay or how noone had issue when Jeyne was given the Ramsay storyline in books etc. Asking this question to you bcs you rightly point out how ppl misunderstood his interviews/posts ( sansans/targ stans etc) & I cant recall him ever saying he 'hates' sansa's story in the later seasons of the show ( not s5 in particular but even s6 to s8).

Capclave 2013:

A change that has repercussions for season 4 is Marillion’s tongue removal from the first season. Martin said that the change was made (from an anonymous singer being the victim of a de-tonguing) because they wanted Joffrey to maim someone the audience would recognize. He believes this is an issue because of the part the singer plays in Sansa’s storyline, how he affects her interactions with others in the book, and he doesn’t believe another character will be fulfilling that role on Game of Thrones.

—GRRM talks season 4 & beyond - Winter is Coming - October 13, 2013

2014 Fan Reports about Capclave 2013 (*):

In a convention panel this year, George said on the record that he had no idea what they were doing with Sansa or where they’re taking her storyline, which now makes sense perhaps. He was not pleased when he was talking about it, so who knows what’s going to happen with her! Knowing GRRM, that could mean they’re going off the canon reservation, and/or that they’re going to be making a lot of shit up

I have notes I’ll be responding to (thanks!) but enough people commented about Sansa that I thought I’d share that tidbit, since it happened back in September iirc (was the same panel where he criticized the exclusion of Tyrell brothers)

—starkalypse - June 3, 2014

GRRM’s comments at capclave about Sansa (which I was in the third row for, for those asking about legitimacy) were among others during the panel that had a general theme of dissatisfaction with show changes. He was not in good spirits for that con and didn’t really have anything positive to say regarding the show. So take it with a grain of salt; there are deviations away from the books in the episodes he gets writers credit for, so maybe they’re doing something stupid or they really don’t have a gameplan!

—starkalypse - June 4, 2014

(*) These reports were posted in June 2014, during the airing of Game of Thrones Season 4, about Capclave 2013 that happened in October 2013.

Just after the rape episode:

How many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? Three, in the novel. One, in the movie. None, in real life: she was a fictional character, she never existed. The show is the show, the books are the books; two different tellings of the same story.

There have been differences between the novels and the television show since the first episode of season one. And for just as long, I have been talking about the butterfly effect. Small changes lead to larger changes lead to huge changes. HBO is more than forty hours into the impossible and demanding task of adapting my lengthy (extremely) and complex (exceedingly) novels, with their layers of plots and subplots, their twists and contradictions and unreliable narrators, viewpoint shifts and ambiguities, and a cast of characters in the hundreds.

There has seldom been any TV series as faithful to its source material, by and large (if you doubt that, talk to the Harry Dresden fans, or readers of the Sookie Stackhouse novels, or the fans of the original WALKING DEAD comic books)… but the longer the show goes on, the bigger the butterflies become. And now we have reached the point where the beat of butterfly wings is stirring up storms, like the one presently engulfing my email.

Prose and television have different strengths, different weaknesses, different requirements.

David and Dan and Bryan and HBO are trying to make the best television series that they can.

And over here I am trying to write the best novels that I can.

And yes, more and more, they differ. Two roads diverging in the dark of the woods, I suppose… but all of us are still intending that at the end we will arrive at the same place.

In the meantime, we hope that the readers and viewers both enjoy the journey. Or journeys, as the case may be. Sometimes butterflies grow into dragons.

—The Show, the Books - Not A Blog - May 18, 2015

Report about the last Game of Thrones Script that GRRM wrote:

No Wedding for Sansa and Ramsay: Without question, one of the most controversial changes the show made in trying to streamline the books was by slotting Sansa into the role of Ramsay’s wife and rape victim in Season 5. In the books, Ramsay marries and assaults Sansa’s best childhood friend, Jeyne Poole—who is being forced to impersonate Arya—instead. (You can actually see Jeyne briefly sitting next to Sansa in the show’s pilot.)

At the time Martin wrote this script, though, substituting Sansa for Jeyne was not yet the plan. Martin has Roose Bolton tell his bastard son: “We have a much better match in mind for you. A match to help House Bolton hold the north. Arya Stark.” It should be noted, however, that in Martin’s script, Sansa isn’t free from menace either. At his own wedding-day breakfast, Joffrey still threatens to rape the older Stark sister—once he’s “gotten Margaery with child.”)

—Game of Thrones: The Secrets of George R.R. Martin’s Final Script - Vanity Fair - December 7, 2018

A month before the Game of Throne S8 Finale:

Sansa’s story, in particular, has really deviated from the books. Ramsay Bolton — that marriage obviously was with a different character. When they start deviating like that, did you initially have any emotional reaction, even though you worked in Hollywood for many years yourself?

GRRM: Well, yeah — of course you have an emotional reaction. I mean, would I prefer they do it exactly the way I did it? Sure. But I’ve been on the other side of it, too. I’ve adapted work by other people, and I didn’t do it exactly the way they did it, so ….

Some of the deviation, of course, is because I’ve been so slow with these books. I really should’ve finished this thing four years ago — and if I had, maybe it would be telling a different story here. It’s two variations of the same story, or a similar story, and you get that whenever anything is adapted. The analogy I’ve often used is, to ask how many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? Do you know the answer to that?

I know it’s different in the book and the movie …

GRRM: Three children in the book, one by each husband. She had one child in the movie. And in real life, of course, Scarlett O’Hara had no children, because she never existed. Margaret Mitchell made her up. The book is there. You can pick it up and read Mitchell’s version of it, or you can see the movie and see David Selznick’s version of it. I think they’re both true to the spirit of the work, and hopefully that’s also true of Game of Thrones on one hand, and A Song of Ice and Fire on the other hand.

—George R.R. Martin on the Stark Sisters and Ending ‘Game of Thrones’ - RollingStone - April 22, 2019

James Hibberd’s Book:

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: Jeyne Poole was included in the pilot—she’s shown giggling next to Sansa—but she’s never seen or referred to again. I actually wrote Jeyne into “The Pointy End,” my first script, when Arya killed the stableboy. I had some stuff with Jeyne running to Sansa being all hysterical and dialogue in the council chamber with Littlefinger saying, “Give her to me, I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.” That was dropped.

DAVID BENIOFF: Sansa is a character we care about almost more than any other. We really wanted Sansa to play a major part in that season. If we were going to stay absolutely faithful to the book, it was going to be very hard to do that. There was a subplot we loved from the books, but it was a character not involved in the show.

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: I was trying to set up Jeyne for her future role as the false Arya. The real Arya has escaped and is presumed dead. But this girl has been in Littlefinger’s control for years, and he’s been training her. She knows Winterfell, has the proper northern accent, and can pose as Arya. Who the hell knows what a little girl you met two years ago looks like? When you’re a lord visiting Winterfell, are you going to pay attention to the little kids running around? So she can pull off the impersonation. Not having Jeyne, they used Sansa for that. Is that better or worse? You can make your decision there. Oddly, I never got pushback for that in the book because nobody cared about Jeyne Poole that much. They care about Sansa.

—Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon: Game of Thrones and the Official Untold Story of the Epic Series by James Hibberd - October 6, 2020

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: My Littlefinger would have never turned Sansa over to Ramsay. Never. He’s obsessed with her. Half the time he thinks she’s the daughter he never had—that he wishes he had, if he’d married Catelyn. And half the time he thinks she is Catelyn, and he wants her for himself. He’s not going to give her to somebody who would do bad things to her. That’s going to be very different in the books.

—Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon: Game of Thrones and the Official Untold Story of the Epic Series by James Hibberd - October 6, 2020

I hope it helps you.

Thanks for your message.

#sansa stark #grrm

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warandpussy · 3 years

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omg PLS talk more abt ur 12dole!

sure! link

fyi I barely remember writing this, all i remember is that it's super weird i suppose the point is it's about being lonely. i love s10 for the way it slows down, gives the doctor a home base, a time to breathe. but i also love how, with that, he has to deal with the demons in his head scrabbling at the door; he can't ignore them any more. like. his wife just died. so this fic was like, i want to explore that loneliness and that grief.

to be clear, it's also about the doctor getting off with a decapitated robot head.

i'll put this under a cut

The Doctor stares into the mirror on the wall.

It isn’t – it’s not something he likes to do. It’s uncomfortable, he thinks, to observe the evidence of a long life carved into a face. To confront the evidence of age and time passing, old regrets scoring delicate lines over the brow, the cheeks, beneath the eyes. He considers his reflection and swallows the lump in his throat.

It’s with a trembling hand that he reaches out to his glass counterpart, feeling that even a touch of his skin will send it shattering to the ground at his feet, that a press of his fingers against something that isn’t even him, not really, could break him apart. You’re lonely, you’re lonely, his brain cackles at him, and it sounds like –

In the end, it’s just cold, smooth. Nothing.

He runs his finger over the image of his lips, lets himself slip into memory, lets himself remember being touched there. Allows himself the indulgence of it. A wicked grin; a puff of curly hair; ‘hello, sweetie.’

so we start here. you ever been so lonely you just touch your own face to imagine someone else doing it? yeah. i guess the doctor feels like someone who never really gets to process any of this a lot of the time, because one series will end with a tragedy, and then the next one will just pick up on the next adventure. but if your wife died, you got trapped in a university with a woman who hates (?) you and a bitchy robot, you'd probably have some issues.

i wanted to start it here, on his own, because that's the thing, really. he's alone. or he feels alone. and it's a bit dramatic and over the top because when you're miserable that's what you do. the world is falling apart. i'll be alone forever.

the next scene is him and Nardole, and it's like, a drastic shift in tone

“How’s the new head working out?”

“Oh.” Nardole reaches up a hand and pats at his ample cheek. “Quite well, actually, sir.” He strokes his neck a little, tracing a light finger underneath his collar where the seam in his skin is. “Much more efficient processing power.” He gives a little self-conscious cough. “I’ve been having new ideas every fifteen minutes or so.”

“Wonderful,” the Doctor tells him, picking up Rachael Simmerton’s essay on – faith and free will, apparently – and pretending to read the introduction. It’s not, of course. Heavens above, he doesn’t need Nardole having ideas. He’ll have to fix that in a later upgrade. “That’s – fab. Great to hear.”

none of the above is coming through. he's masking it, of course he is. the worst thing about being lonely is that you can't say you're lonely, otherwise people will know how lonely you are - and isn't that to most pitiable thing. no - best to.. uh.. snog a robot head, apparently.

i wish that was how it worked in real life

i really like this scene for the banter between him and Nardole. they're so awful together. I love them.

Nardole pushes himself up with his elbows and stomps over to the Doctor’s desk. He jabs a finger in his face. “Rude. That was rude.” The Doctor shrugs. “You’ve been in my room before, and it was fine.”

“There were pants on the floor.”

“I was in the shower!”

“Ugh.” The Doctor shudders again, deliberately meeting Nardole’s gaze as he does. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s my room, I can leave my pants on the floor if I want to.”

“My spaceship,” the Doctor reminds him. “And I don’t make you pay rent.”

Nardole rolls his eyes. “Good thing, too, given you don’t pay me at all,” he says, and trundles irritably into the TARDIS.

So yeah, the Doctor gets Nardole to bring out one of his spare heads (it's a whole thing, there's a cupboard full of heads, they have some kind of shared memory drive, the old ones go a bit insane the longer they're detached from the body).

It’s a little disconcerting, having your cyborg assistant’s decapitated head on your desk, but at this point the Doctor has seen enough of Nardole’s body, given all the upgrades he’s had to do over the past seventy years, that it doesn’t faze him. He’ll end up seeing a lot more, most likely; they’ve still got over nine hundred years still to go. This doesn’t faze him either – certainly not as much as it would have done back when they’d first been stuck here, uncomfortable in their stillness, squabbling with each other just to pass the time.

The first time he’d had his hands in Nardole’s chest, sometime in the late nineties, tinkering with the artificial heart he’d had installed, Nardole had asked him why he even bothered.

“Can’t have my manservant dying on me, can I?” he’d muttered, irritated at the question.

“Oh, is that what I am?” Nardole had bitched.

Covering his face with his welder’s mask, the Doctor let out a snort. “If you shuffle off this mortal coil, Nardole, I’ll have to hire a new assistant. I can’t be bothered.”

“Let me be clear, you're giving me eternal life so that you don't have to hold job interviews?”

“Yes.”

Nardole had looked at him for a long time after that, uncharacteristically silent. When the Doctor was done, he’d grabbed his wrist and squeezed, before standing and making two cups of horrifically sweet tea. The Doctor had drunk the lot.

i was talking about this the other day with you. i guess i tend to think there's a real power in delay, in writing. when the real scene is going on, but then the characters trip into a memory. the Doctor's nervous about what he's going to do (and, in a doylist fashion, the reader doesn't KNOW what he's going to do) so by pausing the 'real' scene and tripping into this memory, we get to hold off on that reveal for a little longer

but we also get to explore the Nardole and Doctor dynamic. which is, here, one where they bitch and squabble with each other, but they still obviously deeply care for one another. #married.

Carefully, he probes behind the left ear for the on-switch, flipping it over with a slight press of his finger. It takes a moment, but the eyes flutter open and the mouth pulls itself up into a tiny smile. The smile drops off his face when he sees who’s holding him up.

“What do you want?” Nardole snipes.

he's such a bitch i'm obsessed with him

The Doctor sighs, and buries his face in his arms. “In the past, it was always – adventure, fun, heat-of-the-moment, explosions, running, kissing,” he mumbles. Nardole grunts at the acknowledgement of it. “Now,” the Doctor goes on, “now I just sit here.”

quarantine vibes.

no, but seriously, quarantine vibes. when i wrote this in february i was working the most gruelling, horrible job i've ever had in my life, and also i was in lockdown AGAIN and i couldn't fucking go anywhere or do anything fun. my whole life just became this awful job, that i did sat at my desk at home. i'd get off work, go lie in bed and cry, and then go back to work. now i just sit here indeed.

“Main Head said he was talking to you lot daily,” the Doctor says. He gives him a look.

Nardole puffs out his cheeks. “For a few minutes, sure. But it’s not like we get on.”

“You are exactly the same person,” the Doctor says, exasperated.

me @ me

(sorry this isn't going to just be all me laughing at my own jokes)

yeah. so they make out. there's like, negotiation on what Nardole (Spare Head One) is going to get out of this deal - he wants to go outside (mood) and he wants sweets and tea (bigger mood). he also doesn't want the Doctor to fall in love with him (uhhhh biggest mood??? i feel like if the Doctor falls in love with you you're doomed to a horrible ending).

“Guh,” Nardole says, and the Doctor pulls him off, lips tingling. Nardole’s face is red, which is interesting from a technical point of view – no blood, how does that work? – but the Doctor finds he doesn’t really care to think about it at the moment. He feels suffused with life; that empty cavity in his chest at least partially filled in, something present that had been missing.

The body is made to touch, after all.

for this i really need to insist on something. this is sci fi, nominally, but i DON'T CARE about the science. i really don't. why is Nardole's face red? how does he have spit? i don't care!!!!! i don't care about worldbuilding. i think, personally, for me, the "science" part of science fiction is just about finding a way to heighten a concept to reflect back something about the real world.

also i feel like it makes it more doctor who the less i give a shit about the science but that's by the by.

i guess this is like. THE scene. the scene of the fic. the point of it.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me with you to visit her,” Nardole says, scathing. They’re wandering through the grounds, as promised, the Doctor clinging onto the ears and holding out the head in front of him.

The Doctor snorts. “You’re not coming in with me.”

“What?”

He gestures at the sports bag he’s got slung over one shoulder. “I’ll chuck you in here.”

They walk past a clump of students who are chattering among themselves. They don’t even balk at him carrying an extremely lifelike head around with him. None of them have. Nardole had said it was because he was ‘super old’ and that young people don’t even notice he exists unless he’s looking frail and delicate next to a traffic light. The Doctor had frowned but hadn’t been able to dispute it.

Still, he makes Nardole hold his expression very still whenever they’re near other people. He’s got a whole story planned out in case he does get asked.

“Professor! Professor Doctor!” some enterprising young thing would say, jogging up. “What’s with the mannequin? It looks just like your assistant!”

“Ah,” the Doctor would say, stroking his chin like he had a goatee – he’d done that once in front of Missy and she’d told him he looked very refined, and offered tips for growing one – “you see, I’m planning a lecture series on death masks in Ancient Greek culture, so I’ve been experimenting with plaster casting.”

“Oh, how fascinating!” the student would say, fluttering their hands in front of their chest. “I’ll have to sign up!”

The Doctor would nod dismissively and stride away as if he had something important to go to. Nardole would almost certainly grumble about the Doctor saying he was dead, but he’d not have a leg to stand on – ha – because he was a robot and therefore had never even been alive. (Well – maybe he had… the Doctor didn’t really remember Nardole’s backstory – River had explained it once while they’d lain together in bed, but he’d zoned out, staring instead at the fine whorls of her ear).

Anyway, no one has asked yet, but he’s prepared if they do.

again - delay, so important here. the Doctor and Nardole (Spare Head One) are walking round and about the grounds on one of Nardole's requested walks. the Doctor is Not Doing Great, but he's trying to fake it. he gets triggered into a memory where Nardole calls him "super old", and then, almost as a defence to that, imagines a world where the students (who are ignoring him) all come fluttering up to him and admiring him in that way that he likes.

that's not happening.

It’s one of those cold spring mornings where the sun casts its light over the world in a glittering array, bouncing off dewdrops, shattering through windows. The air is sharp and bright, bracing the breath, probing his lungs with its chilled fingers. Everything teetering on the verge of too much. Too bright, too cold, cutting like a knife.

I'm really proud of this paragraph. I was trying to imagine how you would describe like, beautiful weather, on a day when you felt like shit. it's "glittering" "shattering" "sharp". it "probes him with chilled fingers" - it's invasive, harsh, awful. and it triggers another memory.

The last time he’d been out, alone, on a morning like this, the Doctor remembered, he’d embraced this muchness, let it fill him up, let it consume him. He’d thought it was the only way to feel touched again. Not by a person, but by the world. Then he’d berated himself; so pathetic, so maudlin. People don’t owe you their touch. It’s enough to have felt it at all. Enough to know.

Greedy, he’d thought. Insatiable. Selfish.

He falters by the sycamore tree, dropping Nardole lower. There’d been a cat here.

There had been a cat that had rubbed up by his legs, purring. He’d been so bright, so lonely. He had it picked up, holding it upside down so he could rub gently at the soft hot fur of its belly. It had let him, for a moment, lax in his arms, blinking, squinting up at the cold sun. Then, it had wriggled and squirmed, saying let me down, let me down, and he had thought, oh, not even you?

Not even you, he had thought as he set it down again, not even you want to touch me, and it had scurried off, heading to the cafeteria where the students likely would give it scraps of bacon sandwiches and drop pieces of cheese into its pleading mouth.

“Sir?” Nardole says quietly.

"not even you want to touch me"

like, that's the whole point - what he's been circling around this whole time. he came up with this crazy coping mechanism (snog a robot head, let's not forget his solution was to snog a robot head), but it doesn't fix the root cause which is that his wife is dead and his friend/enemy is locked up and he's lonely

anyway. they go to visit Missy (Nardole zipped up in a bag the whole time).

“What’s with the bag?” she asks. “Not seen that one before. You joined a basketball team?”

“Tried that once,” he tells her. “Got kicked out.”

“You thought it was netball, didn’t you?”

He huffs a breath through his nose, smiling again. “I thought it was netball,” he admits.

Missy purses her lips, eyeing the ceiling. “Makes sense,” she says. “It’s a net, and a ball. Honestly. I would understand it if they were chucking balls into baskets.”

“Football has a net too,” the Doctor says.

“And tennis.”

“I might just start calling every human sport ‘netball’ and see how angry they all get.”

Missy frowns. “I thought I was here to learn how to be nice to the wee humans.” She raises her eyebrows, tilts back in her chair. “You’re a bad example, you are.”

This is what they do now, this talking without really talking. Lots of words that say nothing at all.

he wants to connect with her so badly, but nothing they say has any meaning. they're just talking, blandly, about what's in front of them. they're there, together, but there's no connection. you can be lonely even when you're with other people

then Missy plays the piano for him (and there's NO duet, which as I'm sure you know, means that there is NO INTIMACY)

sex joke:

When the Doctor gets back to his office, Nardole is reclined in his favourite armchair, reading a saucy magazine. The Doctor peers over his shoulder.

‘HIS SECRET SEX SPOTS’, the article screams, ‘HOW TO PLEASE YOUR MAN IN THREE EASY STEPS’.

“Why are you reading that?” he asks before he can stop himself. Nardole looks up and fixes him with a look. “Actually don’t tell me.”

“I’ve got a boyfriend.”

The Doctor blinks. “What about Sharon?”

Nardole sighs loudly. “Haven’t you heard of polyamory?”

“Your spare head hasn’t told me about a boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Nardole says, narrowing his eyes. “Is that why you wanted him? To gossip about my comings and goings?”

“I definitely don’t want to know about your comings,” says the Doctor.

sorry i promised not to just laugh at my own jokes but honestly why else would i be here

they do this for a while. then Bill catches them.

“What are you doing?!” someone squawks.

Instinctively, the Doctor surges up and flings Nardole’s head clear across the room.

It’s Bill, standing in the doorframe, backlit by the light from the corridor. She’s looking at him, her face a picture of pure shock. Horrified. “Did you behead Nardole?”

oof. poor Bill, she goes through so much.

she drags Nardole to the office, and

He swings his feet back to the floor, turns to the two of them. Three of them. “You know,” he starts, “that I have been alone since my wife – left me.”

“Died,” Spare Head Nardole supplies.

Bill’s mouth drops open. “You’re married?”

Main Head Nardole elbows her. “He was.” He spins the photo of River on the Doctor’s desk around, making as if to grab it, and the Doctor is suddenly furiously, furiously angry. He slaps Nardole’s hand away.

“Do you mind!” he snaps, and clutches River’s picture close to his chest. His breaths are coming harsh and ragged, his throat tightening again. “I have been alone,” he says at last, “for seventy years. Alone in this office, in this building, in this city.” He puts the picture frame back on the desk, focusses on straightening it out, puts it perfectly in its place. “So yes,” he says, and breathing is coming easier now, “we came to an agreement. Me and him.” He gestures to Spare Head One.

“Him and me,” Spare Head One says.

“I see,” Bill says after a moment. The Doctor has hopes that that will be the end of it, that these two might piss off now, but then Bill ruins it by continuing to speak. “So you’re lonely.”

he can't even say it, that's the worst thing. he can't even say "she died" because it hurts too much. easier to say she just left. easier. better. because then maybe she'd come back.

Nardole doesn't let that happen though. he's someone that just like... says things, as they are. he just says it. she's dead. Bill's the same. you're lonely.

she's dead, you're lonely.

honestly wtf would the Doctor do without these two.

Bill goes like... you literally have a girlfriend locked up downstairs just talk to her for heaven's sake

Bill snatches up Spare Head One, who lets out a small squeak, and turns to the door. “How about we just go and get everything sorted out? Communication’s what it’s all about, you know!”

yeah Bill! comminication IS what it's all about

the problem with her plan - which is, as far as I can tell, "get the two weird Time Lords to speak to each other, maybe" is that she forgot to account for Missy being as weird as shit as well

Missy cackles. “Of course he doesn’t.” She whips the mango off the shelf and plunges her hand into the base of it. “That’s because he’s here!” And with a dramatic spin, she whips out another Spare Head from inside the mango.

“What was he doing under there?” Bill asks, baffled.

Missy rubs her nose. “Well,” she says, pointing at Spare Head One, “he offered.”

“So you fixed him,” Bill says, “and then you just shoved him under a thing on a shelf and – left him there?”

“No,” says Missy. “I bring him out from time to time.”

Bill frowns. “What for?”

Missy’s painted-red lips spread into a wicked smile. “Kissing.”

Bill blinks at her for a second, and then rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ,” she says. “You two deserve each other.”

there's like... symmetry to it, right? synergy. they were lonely, there were some spare heads floating around, why not have a snog

OBVIOUSLY their problem is that they don't TALK to each other, they don't acknowledge their pain and they just like... cope, in the worst possible ways. but also i think it's funny so that's why i did this

the mango is obviously a reference to my other missydole fic, where Nardole gets his head stuck in a mango

obviously

THEN we get to the REAL weird bit

“Doctor,” she says, voice low, and hands him the head. “Kiss him for me?” The Doctor chokes on his own spit. “I want to watch.”

The Doctor turns his eyes to Nardole, who twitches his forehead in a way that might mean might as well, or might mean get away from me. Slowly, he leans in. Nardole’s eyes get big and round, but he doesn’t say anything, and as their mouths touch he lets out a soft sigh. The Doctor pulls away again and turns his head back to Missy. He raises an eyebrow. “Happy?”

“Very much,” she says, and plucks Nardole out of his hands.

“No, sir, don’t let her!”

“Oh,” Missy says, nostrils flaring, “I fix your head but I’m not allowed a little thank you kiss?”

Nardole narrows his eyes. “Only if you fix me, too.” He sniffs, and darts his eyes over to Spare Head Two, who sits still on the piano watching them all silently. “Like you did him.”

“Done.”

“Oh fine then,” grumbles Nardole, and she presses a dry, almost chaste kiss against his lips. When she pulls back, he has the impression of her lipstick all over his mouth.

“Your turn again,” she says throatily, and passes Nardole back to him. The Doctor leans in again and licks the lipstick off his mouth, smearing the red between the two of them. Missy leans in and whispers in his ear, breath hot, while he does, “It’s almost like you’re kissing me, by proxy, isn’t it?” He grunts, and kisses Nardole harder.

They part with a slick sound, and the Doctor eyes Nardole’s mouth with satisfaction, the faint pink stains all over his lips. He runs a finger over them. Missy leans over, and as the Doctor turns his head she kisses him on the corner of his mouth, pulling back with an irritated scowl.

"You were aiming for my cheek, weren't you?" he accuses.

“Give him to me,” Missy says, and he complies. She stands, Nardole clutched close to her chest, and wanders over to the piano stool which opens to reveal a full tool set. She grabs a screwdriver, and starts fiddling around in Nardole’s neck.

“Oh, we’re done, are we?” the Doctor says, trying not to sound petulant, and not really succeeding.

She gives him a disdainful glance. “Wanted more, did you?”

look i just want things to be awful and horrible for them all. like these are literally such rancid vibes. i think it's funny.

(oh, another note - in my FIRST publishing of this fic, did the Doctor and Missy kiss? no. did you come sobbing into my DMs about it? yes. did I write an entirely new bit just for you? yes)

i think. there's probably a version of this where they talk more. they open up to each other more. but i liked this more quiet, subdued version, where Missy fixes the other head, and it's more about what's implied than what's outright stated. i mean, yes, i love a good love confession, but i think there's almost something more intimate about this quiet understanding.

they've kissed, she's fixing something.

he knows things are going to be okay.

and, last words to the Doctor and Bill:

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” she says. “I’m sorry. You can – obviously, you can do what you want.” She swallows. “I didn’t know about your wife.”

Oh. The Doctor puts the essay back on the desk, and opens his arms. Bill burrows into them, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You didn’t know.”

“How long?”

“We’re time travellers, it’s difficult,” he deflects. She doesn’t say anything, but pulls back and gives him a look. “About seventy years.”

Bill smiles sadly. “That’s a long time,” she says, “to be alone.”

The Doctor looks down at her hand, and holds it in his own. He smiles at her. “I’m not alone,” he says. “Not any more.”

YEAH

i guess that's sort of explicating what was implied in the previous scene. he's not alone. he's got friends. he's got a plethora of spare heads. and he's also got Missy.

i think OBVIOUSLY i wanted this story to be funny and silly and wild and i wanted the Doctor to have a really embarrassing time snogging a robot head, but i also was really trying to say something about what it feels like to be lonely, and i am like, genuinely proud of it. i think it's probably one of the best things I've written.

i wrote it at a really horrible time in my life, like i said, and i don't really remember writing it for the most part. reading it back was actually like.. good. which is honestly so nice.

like, i wrote this for like two people (hi), and myself, and it's very much my brand of humour, which is that it's funny but it's also sad because i think funny hits harder when it's balanced on the knife edge of tragedy.

SO. YEAH.

~~fin~~

#sorry this is so long i was going to do it with images but the image description only lets you put 200 characters #also i had a lot to say apparently!!!!!!!!!!!!!#spare hearts #writing

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kouei116 · 4 years

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Jakou no Lyla - Trap of Musk: Asian night

Jakou no Lyla - Trap of Musk: Part 2 Asian Night - Korei Rin (seiyuu Okitsu Kazuyuki, e.g. Brothers Conflict Masaomi) the white hair guy. My favourite atm!（人´∀`*） - Kirei Rin (seiyuu Sato Takuya) the black hair guy

Korei: ...I am Korei, Rin Korei. White Lady (Hakujoushi) ... I have wanted to meet you so much ... finally I can meet you.

Korei really likes (well, obsessed abt) the Legend of White Snake - a Chinese legend abt the love of a human man and white snake spirit lady (you can read abt the legend on wiki), to the point that he refuses real life women because his heart already has the White Lady. Korei (older) and Kirei (younger) are brothers with different mothers. They visited Shanasa kingdom to attend the Princes Conference. They were walking around the market when Korei spotted MC - who is exactly how he imagined the White Lady to be.

Y: Crown Prince Kirei? Hey, please let me hear your voice more? Your voice calling my name...

Korei kept thinking abt MC as the real life White Lady and couldn't focus at all. Kirei was worried abt his brother’s state, and he was a bit interested in MC himself so he offered to go look for her. He found the show salon Kamal and was in awe of her dance performance. The Salon master invited Kirei to talk and suggested Kirei to hire MC on a mission: MC will act like the White Lady during the 9 day period of the Princes Conference to seduce Korei to love her enough and forget about ImaginaryWhiteLady; then on the last day, MC will refuse Korei, shattering his illusion abt the White Lady completely. Kirei is a play boy, he asked MC to try seduce him first: he bites on his fan, if MC can make him drop the fan, he will hire her. MC used her special tattoo, kissing his ear neck chest etc, eventually Kirei opened his mouth and tried to kiss her. She was abt to use her sleeping needle on him but luckily Salon Master came back into the room to tell Kirei it's time to talk abt the mission payment $$$

Korei: Ahhh... so sweet, the peach juice dripping down to your throat. Ahhhh.... more is steadily falling down.... So ripe and sweet ...Nnnnn.... Ahhh, White lady.... the peach juice on your white skin ... Nnnn... it's as if I'm eating peach. White Lady... please look at the peach stone, you have eaten it completely (so clean that there is only stone left). Fufu, how did it taste? There are still many peaches here ... do you want to eat another one?

Y (This person... gets ‘excited' by feeding me peaches.. !?)

MC tries to seduce Korei but every single time he politely steps back, e.g. she offered to sleep in his room (not really though, she planned to use sleeping needle on him so he’ll dream abt ‘sleeping’ with her) he gave her his room to sleep and slept in Kirei's room's sofa instead. She offered to take a bath together, he refused, she really insisted, he said fine but please keep thin bathing clothes on. He held her hand, looked at her with gentle eyes, praised her, cared for every teeny tiny details abt her, said he loves her a lot. MC is confused with these mixing signals (me too, though unlike MC, I'm too thirsty for PureKorei ლ(́◉◞౪◟◉‵ლ)), and asked him why, Korei said bc I love you, I want to treasure you. This moved her, bc during her missions, men jump at the chances to sleep with her/see her neked, but Korei is different from them.

Only this one time, Korei let her sit on a chair, tied her hands with soft cloth (very lightly, doesn't hurt at all, MC thought “By any chance he likes tying? :3) then... fed her a peach. The peach is large and juicy, when MC bite into it, the peach juice dripping down from her lip to her throat .... and Korei licked them all :3 Ohoho my ears were blessed ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Kirei: Ko-nii (Korei older brother), you are an Otaku. Oh, “Otaku” is from an island country’s language. It refers to people who are crazy about people that don't exist.

I seriously feel so attacked with this sentence lmao.

The girl in the middle is Miran. The Empress (Korei's mother) chose her to be Korei's wife but he kept refusing her because he already has his White Snake Lady, hence Kirei told Korei this.

Y: ... Crown Prince Korei will definitely become a wonderful Emperor.

Kirei: Y... Hey, I want to be seduced by you ... Because very soon, I won't be able to meet you again.... Y... Is it ok?

It's nearly the last day of the Princes Conference but Korei still hasn't really fallen for MC yet, so she visited Kirei's room to discuss how to proceed. Poor Kirei, he likes MC and has to look at her trying to seduce his older brother all these time. I was aiming for Korei's route so I selected Use Sleeping Needle option on him. The next day, Kirei woke up extremely happy thinking he slept with MC but she wasn't next to him though. He ran to her room to find her, but she told him nope, they didn't sleep together, she wants to focus on finishing her mission.

Y (This person is really good at dancing...)

MC and Kirei dance together (a type of dancing while holding weapons, MC holds a sword while Kirei holds fans) at the party.

Tbh by the end of the common room and the first half of Korei's route, I was very worried that this will end badly because Korei seems like he is still obsessed with the White Lady and may not love MC for herself at all ( ；´Д｀) But I'm glad the last half went ok, he has a reason from his past why he behaves like this (the White Lady obsession and the abstinence), just needs to communicate better to MC. Korei's confession and good end are very sweet and fluffyyy. He's such a cute dork otaku and still has strong resolve to protect his family and his kingdom people, oughhh I luv him, esp ThirstyKorei ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ Yep, I just need to pass the exam and I'll be free to write his route summary ;u;

Before I play otome games, I was really into Chinese love stories (books and TV dramas). Korei's white hair reminds me of Dong Hua Emperor in Three Lives, Three Worlds, Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms who I really like. In Korei's happy end CG, Korei looks quite similar to Dong Hua so yep, this is the final push for Korei to jump to my fav suitor spot. Don't worry Rolan, I still luv you a lot~

Surprisingly Kirei grows on me. He is a playboy but in front of MC (who he likes), he turns into a blushing pouting mess. Kirei and MC's banters are very funny bc both of them are very good at seducing the opposite sex so Kirei's cheesy lines don't work on her. Kirei really cares for his family (Korei and the younger sisters) and by the end of Korei's good end, he plays around less, and works very hard as Korei's right hand man.

#jakou no lyla #trap of musk #korei rin #kirei rin #kouei116 translation #kouei116 nintendoswitch

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wheatlev · 4 years

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📃💕💎 for the hyperfixation asks, and you can choose which to talk about 🥰

gonna make this one abt DotV/Fearless Vampire Killers (the movie not the band that apparently exists???)

what is the plot of your hyperfixation? and is it a movie, game, show, etc?

(cracks knuckles) This applies to the musical and the movie, I am going to make notes where the plot differs significantly, if at all.

So basically DotV is about a bumbling idiot of a professor named Abronsius (from Königsberg, or in the Broadway show, Heidelberg?) and his shy assistant Alfred, on their way to Transsilvania. Abronsius is convinved that vampires are, in fact, real, and wants to show everyone that laughed him off his seat in uni that they were wrong (also he does talk about wanting a nobel prize in the play, so).

They make it to a small inn, the professor half frozen to eath, where everyone is wearing garlic all over while pretending it is definitely not cause of vampires haha youre so silly old man :) The two of them get a room with a bathroom that is, apparently for some reason also shared by the innkeepers daughter who has a serious thing for bathing despite her father trying to tell her to knock it off already. (Notably in the movie the bathroom’S the only garlic free room so I guess...). She of course does NOT listen, and subsequently both meets Alfred, who immediately falls in love with her a la every single movie ever.

The inkeeper, Chagall, is also a serial adulterer, ddespite trying to keep his daughter from the same thing he is subjecting their only maid to, causing his wife to hit Abronsius over the head with a sausage that very night when the Pro is investigating noises he heard on the stairs (which were Chagall, sneaking out to bother the maid).

(In the stage show the vampire count makes his first appearance here, being appropriately mysterious and, I think, telepathically communicating with the daughter, Sarah?)

The next day the inn is visited by a cripple (literally called that). He asks for a bunch of candles, and while they’re being fetched, tells Sarah to follow him later that night. He gets his candles, leaves, Abronsius asks who that was, and why the inkeeper is so scared of the guy. Chagall deflects, and Abronsius waffles on some more.

That evening Alfred tries to take a bath, which Sarah walks in on, he lets her have the bath and then said vampire count comes crashing in through the skylight and bites her for the first time after inviting her to his midnight ball. (The stage play also has him singing a whole song about how he knows she’s grown tired of her life etc). He flees, and Alfred, who spotted him through the keyhole, alerts the inkeeper, the wife, and his prof, and everyone just bum-rushes Sarah. She’s told off VERY sternly by her father.

She leaves the house later that night, finding Alfred pining for her outside. They have a bit of a discussion about whether or not she should run away. (The stage play involves a big dance number here and gives her a bit more of a personality than damsell in distress.) Alfred returns to the inn, alerting the innkeeper that Sarah left, and Chagall runs off to go find her.

The very next morning, he’s brought in, frozen to deathm apparently, and the cause is determined to be wolves. Abronsius knows better, but is not listened to, resulting in Chagall unfreezing later and attacking the maid he apparently still has the hots for. Professor and Alfred return to stake Chagall, find the maid instead, and coax him into leading them to the castle.

There, they meet the count and his (very gay, like for real) son, pretending they are bat researchers and securing a place to stay overnight.

(End first act of the play.)

Once in the castle, Alfred has a buncha nightmares (another hecking GREAT dance number in the play) and wakes up to find the Professor raring to go kill some vampires. They set off, and things go well until the Professor gets held back and Alfred fails to stake the Count and his sons, promptimg him to head back out and leaving the Professor to freeze, again. (In the musical he doesn’t and just leaves with Alfred.)

Chagall and his maid love were trying to sleep in the crypt with the count, get booted out by the hunchback and go to sulk about it, I guess.

Alfred goes to look for Sarah, findign the Profesor distracted with the library, finds her, fails to convince her to be saved, and ultimately leaves. Prof is still busy, but suggests a book to help Alfred with his problems, so he picks up a book of poems.

He runs into the son of the count, who thinks Alfred is in love with HIM, not Sarah, there is a scene that is either funny as hell or super uncomfortable depending on how you feel about using gay peopel for comedy and whether you can stomach that, and Alfred and his professor are caught and locked up for the ball later that night.

They escape, sneak into the ball and just barely make it out with their lives and Sarah, who was bitten again and drained (which neither of them know). On the way back out, the Professor remains unaware he is, in fact, bringing the plague of vampires back home by bringing along the newly turned SArah and Alfred, whom she promptly bites.

(The musical has a banging ending sequence, once again with dancing, and men in tight pants. Hmmm.)

I tried to keep it short and uh, failed, so, hey, enjoy.

I should note that the inkeeeper is very much jewish, it is a major point in the story, and that plus the fact there’s a joke that essentially goes ‘aren’t gay people just WEIRD?’ makes me hesitant to tell everyone to watch the movie. It IS very old. The musical handles things a bit better, I think, feel free to ask on details as to why but again, this is getting way too long already...

tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

Outside of being the most heteronormative thing to ever hetero, I really like Alfred in the stage version! (the movie is uh, well, it has Roman Polaski in it, and is kinda. Hmmm.) He is very genuine about his love and ddespite me not being a huge fan of the love at first sight plot, he makes it somewhat platable. Plus, the version I’ve seen, Lukas Perman, is just... super cute??? Nohomo but some homo, ya know how it is. I also have a bit of a lot of thoughts abt him not being straight and all that, but this is not the space for me to ramble on about that!!!

are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

The music was almost entirely written by and essentially ripped from Jim Steinman songs, so if you like his music, watch this musical! Do it. I am pointign a knife at you politely.

Less fun fact: Michael Crawford has played the role of the count (You may recognize him as one of the OG Phantoms from Lloyd WebberS’ musical).

Even less fun fact: Polaski was not invovled with the Broadway version due to being disallowed on american soil due to... issues.

The movie had an alternate intro made that was entirely aniamted, to play up the comedy aspect. Not sure if that helped. Its full title was also The Fearless Vampire Killers or, Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are In My Neck. Most translations make it Dance of the Vampires, which is kept for the musical. (Some languages turn it into ‘The Ball of the Vampires’ instead, the Russian and French versions coming to mind off the top of my head.)

(dabs) you asked for the plot, you get the plot

#jamday #angelwave

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7-oh-ta1 · 5 years

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!!!! Tell me more abt ur kouki headcanon!!! Omg I love it

Oh sure!!! It's more of a fancanon, because I really don't have a canon basis for it, but it's based off a fanfiction I wrote almost four years ago!

The base of it comes from assuming that Kouki is two years older than Haruna, therefore ten years older than Yuuya (Haruna is eight years older than Yuuya). That's why I headcanon that Yuuya's parents had him when they were much older, like 40-45 age range.

The short version is this:

When Yuuya was about 13, his family found out his brother was dying from brain cancer (based off my own family experience, besides the crazy Yuuya part, though it was my grandfather that was sick) and so he, his sister, and his parents came to visit Kouki and his young wife, who I named Hinoka. During the one month they have left with Kouki, Hinoka notices creepy things about Yuuya, and as one thing led to another, she was super paranoid and terrified of Yuuya in her husband's final days to the point where she almost misses her chance to say her final goodbye. (She doesn't miss it tho!)

The LONG story without typing the whole damn fanfiction:

Kouki is very morally upright and strict, but tries to be gentle, kind of like the opposite to Haruna who is blunt and aggressive in her ways. Somehow, Yuuya was the only one able to get under kind Kouki's skin enough for Kouki actually hit him to stop him from torturing animals (which is fair in my opinion but anyway--). Though Kouki and Haruna thought violence was the only language Yuuya would respond to, and it was through this that Yuuya learned to be a subdued (quiet, respectful) person.

Still, treating his brother roughly is one of Kouki's biggest regrets, as he wishes that there was some other way to discipline him. (And due to society's disdain for mental illness he didn't want Yuuya to be called weird/crazy for seeing a therapist.) Now Kouki was only a strong part of Yuuya's life for nine years, as Kouki moved out when he was nineteen, running far away from family drama. He went on to become a successful businessman and made really good money, at least for his age. When he was twenty-two, he met and married Hinoka as well! He seemed to be on the way to a perfect, cookie-cutter life.

However, shortly after his twenty-third birthday, he found out he had a brain tumor and didn't have long to live. He made his wife promise not to tell anyone, as he didn't want to trouble them with it just yet (he saw it as a weakness and he hates being weak) and she agreed to it. His last month was spent in a hospital bed, and that's when Hinoka finally convinced him to let his family at least say goodbye, and that his time may be up soon. He knew it was finally time to be "weak", and asked her to tell them and invite them.

As quickly as they could, the Kizami family arrived. This would be the first time Hinoka would meet Yuuya, as he had been too "sick" to come to the wedding. At first, she is shocked by how much he resembles Kouki, and is fasinated by him for a short time. (It was like remeeting her husband back when he was healthy but... you know, quieter) But Yuuya really pays her no mind until he realizes how much her grief is paining her. He decides to have a little fun and play mind games throughout the month.

Examples are speaking to her harshly and judging her in private, then acting kindly around everyone else, purposefully antagonizing her emotionally by claiming to BE Kouki at one point (hc they sound similiar so when she was shopping {Kouki has been too weak to leave his bed for sometime} he asked to call for her on the speakers, claiming that he {as Kouki} was waiting for her there, but when she got there, no one was present), following her home in a disguise to scare her, and finally (I am so sorry) killing her and Kouki's dog.

Hinoka is convinced that Yuuya did all these things, but she doesn't have any proof. Throughout the fic she contemplates telling Kouki what is happening to her, but doesn't want him to worry. At the end (after the dog), she is scaried and furious and tells Kouki all about everything and how she just knows it's Yuuya and that she thinks he may kill her. The parents overhear this, and basically kick her out of the room (she is timid and a pushover tbh).

At the climax (the same day), she is trying so hard to scrap together some proof of Yuuya's actions, that she misses a call from the hospital. Still, she has a feeling that something is wrong and rushes back to the hospital. She arrives just in time to say her final goodbye and shortly after Kouki passes away. Despite their attitude towards her, Hinoka sees the family off after the funeral, which is when she sees Yuuya a final time. He smiles, and says "Until we meet again."

#corpse party #asks #lindsay speaks #iristovevo #yuuya kizami #long post #oooofffff that was more about Hinoka sorry

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starfxckersinc · 5 years

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can i get some gay classics recommendations?

I don’t particularly read like, LGBT books bc I kinda just read whatever I end up with, but I do watch tons of LGBT films so I’ll hit u with that.

1. My Own Private Idaho, a brilliant film, one of my favorites. The main character is a gay man(I intend to give u the specific orientations of the main characters in case u want some specific representation) and deals with themes of abuse, abandonment, mental illness, unrequited love, homelessness, etc.

2. Brokeback Mountain- The “gay cowboy movie”, the two main characters are gay men trying to uphold a relationship in(I believe?) 50’s rural America. broke my heart mountain

3. Pink Narcissus- One of those art films with no plot. I saw a terrible copy while half asleep & on meds and it still blew my mind with how beautiful it was. the main character is a cute twink and I kin him.

4. Velvet Goldmine- My favorite movie of all time, there really is no main character but all of them are LGBT. It has huge bisexual representation, it’s beautiful beautiful beautiful, it’s partially based on the lives of David Bowie, Lou Reed, and Iggy Pop. Half the script is Oscar Wilde quotes.

5. Kill Your Darlings- A pretty innacurate but fun none the less movie about the beat poets(Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs) centering mainly on Ginsberg. Everybody is fucking gay. I love it.

6. Shortbus- Directed by John Cameron Mitchell and uh, filled with porn, I haven’t seen the whole thing but I respect it so much bc it’s campy and everyone’s homo and it’s a ride. Literally.

7. Liquid Sky- Canon bisexual characters, plays seriously with gender, will make u feel so valid as a genderqueer person, weird plot, GREAT clothes, I love Anne Carlisle.

8. The Runaways(2010), a biopic abt the all girl band The Runaways. Bc the characters are teens and it kinda deals w them dealing w repressed bisexuality I think it’s really important for teen girls to watch. It meant a lot to me.

9. Trainspotting/Trainspotting 2: Neither Of these r explicitly gay but Renton is coded bisexual and he & Sick Boy are practically married by the end of the 2nd one so. Really makes u wanna shave ur head.

10. Desert Hearts- Adorable lesbian movie abt two gays in the desert. Really sweet, really poignant, Cay is SO cute, and I loved the whole thing.

11. Women In Revolt- Two of the main characters are bi, Candy is straight.....? Maybe they’re all bi. I have no idea. Not v important. It’s an Andy Warhol movie & the three main characters r played by trans women(Candy Darling, Holly Woodlawn, Jackie Curtis), all three of whom have ended up being pretty major in LGBT history. Aside from that they’re just really cool girls, especially Candy, who’s my favorite of course. This movie is hilarious and fun and the ending is stellar and I think a very good representation of accidental brilliance.

12. Some Of My Best Friends Are...- Candy is in this one too and gives, no doubt, one of the most moving performances I’ve seen in any film ever. It’s centered around a gay club at New Years(I think? May be Christmas, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it) and it’s just. She’s the best part but all of it is fascinating. Major trigger warning for trans violence though.

13. Aimee and Jaguar- Absolutely fucking heartbreaking but one of the most compelling wlw films I’ve ever seen in my life. Takes place in Nazi Germany- A relationship between a Nazi sergeants wife and a Jewish woman. You can imagine how it ends.

14. Fried Green Tomatoes- I FUCKING LOVE THIS MOVIE AND THE BOOK IS EVEN BETTER. Bisexual/Lesbian relationship, not explicit in the film but explicit in the novel. However you can still tell they’re gay in the film so, not that bad. Takes place in 1920’s Alabama so there’s a lot of racial stuff to sit through obviously. I don’t know if you’re in the mood to deal with that, so.

15. The Color Purple- This movie messed me up for two whole days, I read the book and it didn’t affect me half as much. It’s beautiful. A lesbian relationship between two black women in the South in I believe the 1910’s, though the relationship isn’t even as important as what’s going on in the foreground. The ending is happy though and that’s a change. It just tears you up but it has the decency to fix itself, I only ever saw it once a year ago but I’m desperate to see it again.

16. Hedwig and the Angry Inch- this movie saved my life when I was 14 and has such a fascinating story regarding gender, it’s kind of short but it’s packed with JAMS(it’s a musical) and Hedwig Robinson is my real mom. I don’t wanna spoil anything but yeah, trans rock diva from Germany tells her tale, just watch it.

17. Wilde- Biographical film abt Oscar Wilde. Watch it. Inhale it.

18. Orlando- I read the book for this one too but I prefer the movie!! More cool nb gender shit!! I love it!! Watch it!! Tilda Swinton kisses some Russian chick and it’s wild!! Best thing ever. Roll with it.

19. Two Of Us- Ok so I know it’s not cool to like The Beatles rn but uh, if you do like them, this is a film about John Lennon and Paul McCartney that speculates on a visit between them after the Beatles broke up. It’s. So gay. Paul makes John cry by telling him he’s beautiful. John kisses him in an elevator as a “”””joke””””. I LOVED it when I was 14 and I recently rewatched it, very entertaining.

#aberdeen spoken word

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july-19th-club · 5 years

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actually i’m not done talking abt true detective s1 i actually have a lot of thoughts about those last several minutes and how important it was that it ends on a relatively hopeful note. do we know where rust’s going? what the heck this man intends to do now that he’s confronted both his most unfinished work and his greatest source of grief? we don’t, but i think we can safely say that he’s not leaving just to go somewhere and die. in his own sour and half-resigned way, it seems like he’s intending to go get some stuff done in his life, to maybe for once make plans that don’t have anything to do with death and i’m going to put my thoughts on that under a cut bc i started writing and it just kind of got away from me and it’s more or less a whole piece of fiction now

he said something about being a painter if his life had gone differently, and i think maybe that’s what he pursues next. he’s in his fifties now, has spent more of his life as an addict than not, and i imagine that the road toward finding some kind of equilibrium is not simple. if he manages to quit drinking, i don’t think he ever manages to quit smoking. it’s a comfort thing for him, as much as he knows that it’ll be that or some other chemical damage that will get him in the end. he has a silent bet on with himself as to which one it will be, when it finally happens, but it hasn’t yet and so he gets what money he’s saved and goes on a road trip.

it’s experiences he’s after now: he goes to appalachia, he goes to new york city, briefly, doesn’t really enjoy it, goes on toward the great lakes, goes further. he sees wyoming and the dakotas, the redwood forest region, the coast of maine. canada. it occurs to him that he’s spent his whole life on one side or the other of the contiguous states, never paid much attention to what’s in the middle. he explores. he accumulates memories, knowledge, tries to enjoy it and tries to move from one sight to the next quickly enough that the doubt and disinterest can’t creep back in. tries to appreciate things: the rain. the heat coming up from the asphalt when he stops for some lunch. the stretches where he doesn’t talk to another person for days on end. even tries to appreciate the feeling of being anonymous in a crowd, walking among many other people who are focused on anything but him, tries to see it as a natural part of the things that exist to make up the world and not a poorly-designed set for a badly-written story. and around him it continues to happen. the radio continues to play. the road continues to be long. the sky continues to be huge and filled with stars, and when whatever this is has finished Something may continue, and in it he may have the chance to love and be loved.

maybe he calls his ex-wife, and maybe she immediately assumes that it’s a goodbye call, because it’s been close to twenty years since they last spoke and she has no illusions about the state of mind he was in at the time. she may be surprised he’s lasted this long, but she agrees to meet him. he shows up sunburnt and long-haired and craggy-looking, but with the same wry face she remembers. he shows her his driver’s license photo, in which he is still sporting a weird-old-man mustache, and she makes fun of it. he tells her everything. turns out, her life has gone in an entirely different direction. where he spiraled, she thrived. eventually she decided to become a foster parent, and perhaps she wound up adopting a girl who comes to live with her as a teenager. the girl is a woman now, and has found a nice girl of her own, and the two of them are considering children, when they’ve got the finances for it. the cycle continues. he is terrified of the concept as he would be of being dropped into a parallel world where none of the loss ever happened. there is no rhyme or reason, and he is still learning how to be optimistic about the certain knowledge that even if there is another world, there’s absolutely no plan. he’s afraid. but he is more afraid of being without family, and this knowledge is sudden but he is sure of it. he meets the adopted daughter and the daughter-in-law. the daughter’s a biochemist, daughter-in-law’s a philosophy major, and they all get on like a house on fire. he can talk with the girls for far longer than claire can about the sort of heady, probably pretentious topics they’re interested in. he moves on after a few visits, but he keeps all of their numbers close.

he travels. he paints fallingwater. he paints the wallowa valley. watercolors - he likes them better than oils or acrylics, likes the way they soften whatever he uses them to illustrate. he paints whatever he gets interested in, sometimes stopping the truck on the verge of the highway to take out his colors and paint the chicory by the side of the road. he visits a museum to study other artists’ work, gets interested in frederic remington or somebody, goes to rodeos and paints the riders and the swirls of dust. he paints mt. mckinley from memory. he paints his own flashbacks, trying to show how the colors bleed into one another, how the images repeat and revolve. he goes back through texas and louisiana, stops in bars and orders iced tea and paints the bikers. he calls his family more frequently. he calls his one friend, asks to stay updated on people’s lives, acts interested in their affairs even when they call him on a bad day and he has to feign it. one day his families meet each other. he arranges it. they have dinner together and he gives everybody paintings and when marty asks if he’d be interested in consulting on a case or two, just when he’s able to, when he’s not busy or he’s bored, he says yes, he might consider it. he is planning to move closer to his own people, but if he does, he may need the money. he thinks of things in terms of time, now. how much of it may remain, if he is smart with it. how much of it he has already used up. there is a dark, miserable center to the thought that he is careful not to get to close to, because it will swallow up everything a man can build if he’s not paying attention.

when the daughter-in-law is pregnant, the girls ask around for name suggestions. they deliberate for nine months and then some, even after the baby is born and he, more afraid than ever, meets it and lets its small hand clutch his finger like it is the only life preserver in a swallowing sea. what can this tiny creature, just-created, with eyes that look around vaguely but don’t stop, know of doubt or fear or the lifelong drowning conviction that nothing exists for a good reason? all the baby knows is what it experiences, and so he holds it as kindly as he can. with luck, it will grow. it will be one, then two years old, it will learn words, it will begin to move around far faster than its parents can keep up, with luck or perhaps un-luck it will become five and then ten years old and develop convictions and interests and then maybe it will someday be as old as he is and it will still enjoy the world. he holds it with as much hope as he can.

after a while, they do choose a name, one of his suggestions. miles. as in “to go, before i sleep”.

#my ideal epilogue is just a full hour of 'due to personal reasons i'll be recovering' and that's extremely valid #i just go absolutely ape shit for anything approaching optimism and long-earned rest that's all!#bro im so extremely protective of this character #i have this habit of not watching thigns until like four years after they're popular and then expecting my commentary to be relevant but w/e

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gontagokuhara · 7 years

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a lil birdie told me u like talking bout ur trip pls I wanna hear what France n Spain r like :ooo (I love ur writing btw :>)

HI!!!!!

so. like ive said, i went to france and spain a few months back and it was an Amazing Time. theres so much to talk about and i dont want to flood dashboards so ill put this under a read more :0

france:

-our group spent 2 hours in customs in charles de gaulle airport. it was hot, the middle of the night my regular time, about 9 am france time, and by the time we got out of customs it was nearly 11:30-that was like…..the only low point? th organization we travelled through groups up smaller groups into large groups (like 40-50 people?) and we were waiting on the other groups from ohio, oregon, and new jersey (remember those groups, they become important later) for another like 3ish hours? -the airport was rly interesting though! it was all of the kids in our groups first exposure to an environment that wasnt all in english, so it gave us time to practice our french listening to announcements/buying stuff/etc! there was also. a lot of green berets with assault rifles all over the place (and they were really all over france. im not sure what theyre about but theyre Everywhere)-around 2-3 we get on a bus with the new jersey + ohio groups and go to notre dame cathedral! the first thing we noticed leaving the airport was that it is hot as balls in france. its humid and the sun is oppressive as hell but the Big Plus was that there are. literally 0 bugs. i didnt see a single bug my whole trip it was fucking amazing-our first day was pretty lowkey; we basically just went to notre dame, broke for lunch, and then hung out in that general area until dinner!-our second day in france was Very Jam Packed with shit and was simultaneously my favorite and least favorite day? our plan was to ascend the eiffel tower in the morning and visit versailles in the afternoon, but the eiffel tower was closed bc of a security issue so we flipped our schedule!-we toured all around versailles palace and while it was very interesting and beautiful i lowkey had an anxiety attack bc people kept holding onto me and grabbing me and it was very hot and overwhelming. things really looked up when we looked around the gardens!-after that + lunch we went back to the eiffel tower and got to go up at night!!! which was beautiful. also, it doesnt get dark in france Or spain until like 10 pm? its very odd but really really cool! and it makes you feel less tired. our curfew was a little earlier than we thought so we couldnt make the line to go to the very top, but we went to the middle section and i have some Iconique selfies up there. when we went down again we bought some stuff at the little gift shops and i got the best slushie ive ever had and it was super fun:0-third day was a pretty long bus tour and then the louvre! the bus tour yielded like 300 pictures and the only thing me nd my mom rly cared about was seeing the mona lisa, so we hung out the rest of the time in shops and stuff!-fourth day we took a bullet train from paris to avignon and honestly the most iconic bit of that day was running around the train stop stores and buying all the french candy we could find. after that we went to pont du gard and toured the area around there, which was really beautiful! also? the toilets in pont du gard? Do Not Have Toilet Paper. dont even have paper towels. not even because theyre out, but like. theres no toilet paper holders or anything. -after that (same day!) was provence! we toured an old structure the first part of provence, and then shopped the rest! unfortunately i got really sick at the end of that day (but not before i bought Ten Bars Of Soap)-the fifth day i was nearly fuckin dead with sickness lol so i stayed behind in the hotel ;( i got to reconnect with friends on the shitty wifi that day though! (blows smooches at the jump discord)-sixth day we had like. a 5 hour bus ride from th south of france to barcelona. i listened to a Lot Of Muic.

spain:

-we didnt have time for really anything by the time we got to barcelona, but that was okay because i think we all really needed the day to recharge!-first full day in barcelona we toured the area around la sagrada familia ! we didnt get to get that close but i have really beautiful pictures! we also went to the picasso museum that day which was…..really boring. me and my friends were dying in there. we got separated from the ohio group (aka the cool group) and we got stuck with the new jersey group which succed but whateevr! after that we hung around in the city for a while before going back-the second day in barcelona was probably my favorite of the whole trip, which is kind of weird to say because i loved paris so much? but i think my kinda sour experience at versailles ust barely edges out that day as my favorite, so! we toured park guell (which is GOREGOUS) and it was great because the heat wasnt that bad And our tour leader got to see his wife!!! me and my mom got fuckin lost lol and we had to navigate through with shitty spanish to find our group. after that we went to this giant mall (seriously, its like 5 stories) that used to be a giant arena but they converted! most of the group went to a flamenco show, but me, my friend kiya, my french teacher and his daughter passed so we could explore the mall. me nd kiya fucked off and i showed her around lush for like a half hour, she bought a bunch of comics in spanish and we bought a whole lot of other shit!!! it was super super fun and it was probably my favorite day-our last full day we went to the beach! and christ this post is long enough already but someone remind me to tell the wild fucking story that is the beach in barcelona girls in relation to the oregon girls, lack of card checking, and the yelling match between a blanket salesman and an ohio chaperone. it’s fucking nuts.-and then we flew home at like 2 am! theres a whole other layer to the light home that i wont go into detail on here becasue God This Is So Long, but if any1 is interested on some of the more minor details of the trip please shoot me an ask i love talking abt my trip:0

#ask #i #this got so long im sorry? but tbh this is just bare bones our itinerary. theres so much missing #but i will actually make tumblr poop itself if i try to cram it all into one post #blease if u are interested in the little details of the trip please lmk I Want An Excuse To Talk About It #also answering this ask made me rly happy. thank u anon

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olusegundare · 6 years

Text

Brother Samson and Sister Debbie’s Story Continues

ENQUIRY (june 18, 2014)

(Editor’s note, this is assumably the beginning of a disturbing msg received)

I have resume office work again afta 2 weeks leave...it seems as if d management @ d headquarter has been calling on our office for assistance on d new contracts d company I work secured lately. The staff @ d headquarter are fully occupied on d earlies contracts execution with these additional contracts, d managmt requires additional hands, heads, 2 be able 2 meet d targetted dates of filing d contracts reports. All d branch managers within d island has been invited 4 an adhoc meeting on how 2 go abt d work & d resolution of d managmt according 2 my boss is dat capable & excellent hands 4m all branches should be used 4 d work. All d branch managers have submitted d names of those in their branch who could be moved in to assist the headquarter staff in executing these projects and my boss said my name is among the names of staff he submitted@ d echelon office who could be moved in for these works.

So, I have been expecting a memo from the headquarters of the move, and how to go about it generally. Ofcourse "mai" lord has been intimated of this new development and of d fact that I may leave for the headquarters any moment from now to return weekend and or perhaps two weeks time.

This initial plan of going to headquarters to work with others changed bc d world is now a global village with the development of internet facilities as such the board of directors had an adhoc meeting in which they reviewed the earlier plan of moving people from other branches of the company into d headquarters by writing internal memo to those branch offices that all shortlisted names should stay in their branches and that they will send the materials to work with at their ends unto those branches. They added that, were the managmt to move all shortlisted names, the management will be looking for befitting accommodation for them 2 work in, and that they are not sure of good accommodation that they can secure within that short-time limit which will give all the staff time, comfort (relatively), to maximally work to produce the optimal result within dat short time frame. As such, d management has decided dat all should be in their ends, use the instruments provided in their branches to get the desired results within the shortest time frame possible, the management also wishes to tell all the concerned to ensure that they beat the submission time and date.

The materials to work with will be forwarded into the branches' email boxes from whence we are expected to copy those forwarded messages into individual staff's system and if need be print them out for diligent studies, effective work and prompt completion with onward filing of the report back to the headquarters.

When my boss finished briefing us; four other persons and myself, of this latest development and the need to get prepare for rond the clock work as from the following day, because according to him by then the materials to work with ought to have fully been in the branch office's email box because the management is uploading those files now and after the files full attachment they will be sent.

After his briefing, I, Debbie, was chatting with mr. God-is-good (aka GG for short) on our way back to our respective offices.

"I have been thinking that I will have rest a while before I start some other series of work in this office", Debbie said.

"Me too. I have just finished one last week. It took me time before I could complete the work. No thanks that you were not around, bc I know that u would have assisted me assuming u were around", mr GG SAID.

"Eh-hen? But what about my deputy? Was he not intimated?" Debbie asked.

"He was intimated. He was quite aware of d work, but he could do but little. He has no knowledge about the application required to use", Mr G.G said.

"He grasps things easily. Why dont u teach him how 2 go abt it?" Debbie asked.

"There was little or no time for that and besides he also has some assignments he was battling with which he was not expected to drag into this week", Mr G.G said.

"Okay. Thank God for the success. Pray that God helps us in this new assignment in Jesus name. Amen", Debbie said.

"Amen o...and how is evangelist doing?" Mr G.G asked.

"Splendidly doing", Debbie said.

"It is quite a while that I see him last, I know since u are around now, I will see him before your resumption", mr G.G said.

"Sure", Debbie said, walking 2 her departments office while mr G.G opens d door to his office.

"My regards 2 him 'sha'", mr G.G said.

"Okay sire." Debbie replied as she increased the pace of her walk.

"Olorundara" is d name of mr God-is-good wich is the english translation of d Yoruba name, "Olorundara". But for conveniency's sake, we call him mr G.G for short in d office. He is dark complexioned man, about 169 meters in height, oval face with pointed nose, jovial and accommodating. We attended the same university together, but we did not study the same course in the University.

He was a politician in d school, he was a senator representing his level at the Faculty, but now he is not interested in d politics of the Island, he said, he joined campus politics as a fun, but such couldnt be said abt d outside politics, "it is at the moment dangerously dangerous" he said. He is brilliant, but he is always in a haste to get things done, which sometimes results in mistakes & d need 2 start all over again. The managmt of d company employed us at d same time & day & ever since then have we been close friends in d establishment. He is married with two kids. He wants "mai" lord & I to "pack off the ground the smelling thing", for we are not growing younger. He told me that on our wedding day, as God spares our lifes dat his wife will do our wedding cake, even if we want it 2 be one million steps dat he will foot the bills. His wife knows how to bake cake, it is 4m her dat I learnt how 2 bake cake too. She is a good lady or is it woman now, 4m a responsible family. Before she married mr G.G she asked me about her spouse to be. This is bc she was my junior in the Ladies Our Hope High School (LOHHS) within the Island. She is a graduate of College of Education. Everyone was taken aback that she did not go 2 University, bc she was brilliant and had one of the best O/Level result in the LOHHS in her set. So ordinarily no one had dreamt nor thought about it that she wouldnt go to University. She told me dat it has ever been in her mind to teach, a teacher of children is what she had ever dreamt of. So she said afta graduation 4m LOHHS, she just looked for an institution that will give her better insight into children education, instruction & teaching, and d reply she got was dat Colleges of Education has different courses that have to do with teaching children, so she did not think otherwise b4 seeking admission into one. After being admitted into the school, her performance was excellent in her department and faculty. She was one of the leading students

And during her graduation she received awards as an outstanding female student among other awards. After her graduation she was employed by an Internationally Sponsored Kindergatten and Nursery School in the Island. The school is a new school under the auspices of the Global Children Education Monetary Scheme (GCEMS) in collaboration with the government of the Island to see to the welfare, education, growth and development of children. Their salaries come from the GCEMS & the govt of the Island. GCEMS contribute 85% while the govt of d Island contributed d remaining 15%. The Salary is essentially based on what is obtainable, what is applied at other developed and advanced countries of the globe. Not many people know this. They are special teachers amongst other teachers in the Island. The GCEMS considered them special because they know that such stage of development in children is very vital and dat if a child misses it at this stage, the child may eventually missed out in life. So, best hands are required, employed for these children to handle them. In this school, there are several age growth aids for training the children. According to them, seeing is believing. Children love things they can see. Children appreciates better what they can see and handle. They easily grasp their whatever they are being taught when they see and handle them. So as not to make their education as if what they are being taught are mirage, the GCEMS do send in teaching aids, from their headquarters. They required best of hands to handle such instructional aids as well as coined out several mnemonic for the children during this tender age of their. Even since She has been employed has it been discovered that she is doing well, extra-ordinarily well in her chosen discipline and particularly in the school. She has won several awards session after session for the school and the Island as an outstanding children teacher and instructor. She won within her Local Government,

She won award within the Island. And several times have people from headquarters of GCEMS visited her school, even un-announced and dey discovered dat she was an instructor per-excellence to the children, so recently she won an international award too. This award has never been won by anyone within our Island, the country and indeed continent. I am proud of her. I am proud to be associated with her. This is because she discovers what she wants in life early, what she loves becoming and she pursued it with all her vigour. She did not imitate anyone. She did not deviate. She did not yield to pressures to go and study what her mind did not love studying. Despite the fact that she had an outstanding Ordinary Level Result, yet she opted for College of Education and now she hopes to have additional degree because the institution from which she graduated is now affiliated with a University. Her course has just been introduced into the University system, and it is about two Universities that is approved to lecture and award a degree in that field to students within the Island. Her institution was given a privilege to admit students in that field, either those who have graduated or those who are at the verge of graduation to continue with their studies to get a degree. So, she has applied for the studies, and she will hopefully be admitted. When she contacted me to know about her hubby to be, mr G.G, I downloaded all of mr G.G's characters for him through my buccal cavity. She was very glad for hearing all I said about him because she said she has just come across him then. She came across him where she works, bc he, mr G.G used to take his brother's children to the Nursery School where she teaches and instructs children. Coincidentally, One of the children mr G.G brings to the school is in her class...thru this they become friends, exchanged their fone numbers, as well as become friends on facebook and other social media. "One day", she said, "Mr G.G asked him out on

"one day", she said, "mr G.G asked me out on facebook, I was thinking he was just joking and wouldnt consider him serious, but few days after, he re-iterated his words, ofcourse this time with stronger words of love...I again thought well another second degree joke, so I wouldnt treat his utterances with utmost import...the tertiary degree of love advances made me say, "ohun ti enia ba ntenu mọ, bi ko ba dun enia o si ndun mo enia ni", so, I had to have a pause to look for someone who perhaps know him, and when I discovered that you know him, I couldnt but come to you to ask for some salient things about him even before any other things, and so I have to book appointment with you to see you and u of what u know abt him and having heard all, I say thank u aunti", she concluded. "If you are interested in going out with him and ofcourse marrying him, you should not keep him in suspense, you shd not delay the take-off of the relationship...but if you are not interested, you should not hessitate to shove him off as soon as soon can be", I, Debbie told her that day. She replied that she would act out to the letters my instructions. When I was offering her dis advice, I was yet mostly singularly single. Obviously trusting the Lord then for my partner to surface at any time. I have though known "mai" lord then bc we attend the same church. "Mai" lord again has a special praying group which I am a member. It is one of the members of the praying team, (I think the person is one of "mai" lord, Brother Samson's converts), who coined out the name "mai" lord at our prayer gatherings. And with the continual mentioning of "mai" lord, "mai" lord by that person, it became a generally acceptable word amongst all members to call him within and without the praying circuits. Out of the few spinsters who do attend "mai" lord's praying session, I have never dreamt he will ever come to me. I have not for once thought about it. All I just do is come, pray, tell him about my problems

If any, and he will profer solutions to it as best as he can. He has been wondrous to all members of his praying team. And generally we all held him in high esteem. Every1 of us has been close to him. Ladies, brothers, marrieds, engageds, singles, children etc. So, I did not think about him at all. Me? I am small compared to others whom he has been and he is still ministering to. But alas! He came to me. I was "shy"...I was lost of words...I did not know what to say immediately he came... So, I admonished her based on natural instincts that if she was interested in mr G.G, she shouldnt waste the man's time as well as hers. Afta accepting the man's proposal, i think they must have talked about me and so, I saw her in my office one day she closed from work...some minutes afta, I saw mr G.G entered my department, ever since then has she been visiting her partner, waiting for him in my office. When we close they will leave 2geda bc mr G.G has a vehicle. The vehicle is given him by his brother. Mr G.G got an apartment, 2-bedroom flat 6 months into their relationship. 22 months after, they got married. So, mr G.G and I have been close friends, he was very elated to know "mai" lord and has ever wanted us to make everything snappy...but "mai" lord feels otherwise. Although his advices are good, which is usually based on d fact that both of us are ripe for such, but then, "mai" lord says, "none of them will live with us, none of dem will offer us supports post-marriage wise, and since we understand ourselves and where we are heading for, it is no crime doing things our ways". That is what we have been doing, building a virile relationship and love, building our careers: for "mai" lord business, and for me, my academics...and ofcourse with spiritual not suffering or backwards...so far it has been respledent. So mr G.G entered his office while I entered mine

On entering my office howeva, I saw my love's several missed calls and a text on my fone, d text is 4m d former students' sister leader in the on-campus fellowship I attend...

PROGRESS. (June 4, 2014)

Sister Debbie In her tertiary office, kitchen, trying 2 cook d food dey will eat, she has put d water on fire, it was just yesterday day she came & prepare stew & potpourri vegetable with sliced animal's liver, sliced animal's lung, crayfish etc when she finished d preparation of dis vegetable, she thought broda Samson would eat it, but he did not taste out of it complaining about indigestion of d foods ate earlier on...And since dey left 4 d church earlier in d day 2geda, dey were unable 2 eat anything b4 going 2 d programme...

Sista Debbie wanted 2 boil rice, fried some plaintain which will be eaten with d potpourri vegetable. Broda Samson likes eating rice with fried plaintain called "dodo" in d local dialect and since he has not made mention of a particular food, "I will boil rice & fry plantain", sista Debbie soliloquized in her tertiary office.

MY LOVE, Debbie is energetic "sha", hardworking, disciplined, respectful, loving, caring, it is now I really, really know dat God has actually compensated me with dis woman, some complained of how troublesome their spouses were during courtship, but, nay, nay, dis lady, for she hasnt given me turbulent times like others claimed 2 experience during their times of courtship. Or maybe she is still pretending, bc I do hear people say some wil hide their behaviours during courtships only 2 become cancerous with metastatical foci all over d place post-wedding wise, people say, dey usually do dat bc dey have known dat d ring, wedding ring, has entered their fingers & nothing can remove it again..

People say some deliberately do court wedding, to seal up everything, and dis acquisition in court wil give dem license to misbehave aftawards...

Some unbelievers howeva said these can only happen 2 Christians and believers, bc according 2 dem, if any lady mis-behaves afta marriage, irrespective of d kind of marriage...dey wil ask d court 2 dislove such union, for according 2 dem, what is d length of years one will sujjorn..

..on earth dat one will not enjoy his/her life, dat one's liver will not rest on gall-bladder, so, they finally enthused. They do add that they cannot withstand psychological stress dat a nagging partner will give, as such dey wil prefer separatuon to developing serious problems which wil be d end product of psychological stresses they wil pass tru 4m nagging, unrepentant & shallow thinking stressors. It is now a recurrent decima as one hears abt divorce here, divorce there these days...infact, some partners whom, I, Samson, think assuming they are distributing for free marrital separation they cannot be partakers of it have since gone their separate ways, due to what dey most times called, "irreconcilable differences"... Such utterances usually beat me hollow, bc I dont know what dey call irreconcilable differences, I dont know how such happen, bc during their courtship era, dey were always 2geda, they were as "1s and 2s", they were as "As and Bs", they were like twins, they were like south and North poles in Magnestism, they were like unlike terms in Chemistry, which usually attract themselves...but post-marriage wise, they become like terms always repelling themselves, and d repulsion sometimes goes to d extreme such that some wouldnt even want 2 see their erstwhile's partner's feaces on d dunghill...It is that terrible! This worrisome development in some families, has over d time been making me belied that majority of people during courtship hide their characters from their partners...and I have been asking myself, "is Debbie also not hiding her characters from me?" I cannot answer that for her bc I do now know her heart, people say, "heart of man is wicked", as d bible said in d book of Jeremiah, but a regenerated mind, a renewed heart, ought not to be wicked and evil. I know so far so good, she has a regenerated heart, as such, a pure mind & heart...I pray Oh Lord, dont let her be feigning her actions toward me, and if she Is not a hypocrite as I assume she is not

..at the moment, Oh, Lord, do not allow the demons to enter her, do not allow d wicked ones to misdirect and mis-instruct her, deliver her 4m demons of pride, let your angel of love continually guide and guard her and "US", LET OUR LOVE continue 2 grow, all these I asked for in Jesus name oh Lord. Amen". The paid TV is on, music oozing out of the speakers, sista Debbie is in her 3rd office, kitchen, & broda Samson in d parlour each subsumed in thought. Bro Samson is neither listening to the music despite the fact that he loves music and d particular muscician's album playing nor watching the paid TV sports being aired, he is subsumed in his thought about his jewel, his love, a beauty exemplified and demonstarted, he is deeply lost in thought of what lies ahead of their future 2geda as one indivisible entity... Sista Debbie in her office abinitio xpected broda Samson, "mai lord" as she usually calls him, but when she did not see him in d 1st 5 minutes that she got into her office, she left the expectation of him and was busy humming softly to herself one of d new songs she learnt. Her thought was that her love is enjoying a program being aired in one of d channels...So they were at different ends, managing the affairs on going in their minds. The new apartment gotten by broda Samson is a room & parlour self contain, just as d saying goes dat "as d hand of rat is, so it uses it to clean its face". He has gotten this apartment not too long ago 2 give adequate room 4 his love's visiatation anytime "T", and to put some things in place in the apartment. Broda Samson could now afford a much more costlier house or apartment than the one he got, but from buz experience, he has known that gotten something costlier would affect some other innovations he wanted to add into his business as such he decided to make it a low profiled one, and since he has a lovely, Godfearing, understanding, love, partner and spouse in Debbie, there is no iotum of problems, they are happily in love

..with their love waxing hotter, to use the physicists language and their love growing to go by the way of the agriculturists, yea, farmers...they can afford whatever they want to eat without fear of running into debts...and all glory 2 God, Sista Debbie's academic is also on the progress side, un-affected, she is also enjoying the full support of her boss and other members of staff in her office...What else do they want God to do for them? They also have overflowing peace and joy of the Lord... So, broda Samson as a business man gets the accommodation now bc he can afford it from his business gains. Who can ever tell him that he will be able to secure such apartment 4m his business outputs in the past 4 years? Even if anyone did tell him, he may not believe it will come this soon, because of his financial status then, but everything has changed for brother Samson. One thing has helped brother Samson and that is he has learnt over the times not to rest or put his needs on people again because, people have always failed him, sometimes some failures may not be deliberate and at some other times some failures are deliberate, bc some people do not want others to exceed where they are, they want people who wil always kowtow to them, they do not want people to be free, financially free and otherwise... Since the time that he discovered this, about people, friends and uncles, even though he got to know this very late, but he "sha" know it, bc some are yet 2 come 2 such realization, as such they still depend on their friends, uncles etc's promises which have never worked out and which may never work out because it has not been working out for them for so many years, yet they have failed to retrace their steps, they have failed to re-chat a new course for themselves, they keep on holding to high-fallutin promises and re-promises. Although b4 he realized this, his social status had been negatively affected, with some mocking him, his peers, contemporaries, colleagues

..moking, but since he got to know people's stance, he has keyed into the Yoruba's saying that, "atelewo eni nikan ati Olorun eni ni ki i tani jẹ". As such he does not rely on people again. If anyone assists, Oh! Praise God, and if no one assists, Alleluiah to God all the same. This has been helping him and he is gradually breaking forth business wise within the Island because his business capital is increasing, he has paid up some loans he got from his group and he has paid half of the loan her love, Debbie, got for him... And their thinking now is on how to secure another loan which she, Debbie can now use as she wants. Debbie however wants another loan which she will get 2 be re-invested into her love's business because "irorun igi ni irorun eiye" so she said. But broda Samson has a contrary view based on d fact dat some of her juniors in d office are complaining that she is yet to get a car, so he wants her to buy a car with her new loan...Apart from this, bro Samson also said d car wil also assist in d business, as it wil help in transporting some goods to the shop and also dat d vehicle will make it easier for him to come to her end on the campus anytime. He adds that whenever she is around in the Island, she can go to the office easily, quietly and early with the car and or it wil be easy for him 2 come and pick him during break for lunch and closing hours. Sista Debbie was yet uncomfortable with his suggestion and she said, "what of the business? How do we increase the capital again? I know we have been enjoying the little sacrifice rendered and I feel the more input, the more the enjoyment, the more the peace. I want to enjoy more. I want the business' growth geometrically. I want acceleration for the business so as to open other doors for us financially". "I have balanced my loan in our group. I have also supplied my application form for another loan, this ought to materialize in 2 or 3 months time latest. When that is out, it will all go into the buz

It will go into the buz", bro Samson said. "Alright darling. I didnt know u have paid up your loan. But do u think that will be enof?" Debbie replied "But, I think I told u about the repayment? Maybe u forgot because of the exams. I paid it up two months ago. I ought to have gotten another loan, but maybe bc of economic meltdown and other unforseen situations beclouding our members lately which make the income of the group to reduce, this has brought about the rationalization of loans to members of the group, otherwise, I should have gotten another loan by now...Hopefully, it should be my turn in the next 2 or 3 months time... And if all things work according to plan, by God's grace I should be close to balancing up that of yours by then to also give room for you to get another loan" He said. "I think I remembered u saying something like that, but I did not actually commit it to my memory. That is by the way. My concern is, will the loan u wil get be enof 4 d expansion and growth of the buz? I know when your buz grows other opportunities will arise which will move you further ahead than this financially. I guess u think I am after any other things apart from your buz growth now. I am less bothered about what my junior ones in the office are saying. They have their goals. I have my goals. They have their pursuits. I also have mine. They know what they wanted. I have also discovered what I wanted and the means to achieve it. So? Why do I need to be perturbed by their rantings, choruses and utterances? What does it matter to me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing", Debbie shifts herself on the seat, and she continued to talk, "You have spurred me on academically. Assuming it is someone else, maybe I wouldnt be considering furthering now. But you ensure I pursue it. I am growing academically, why wouldnt I also want this business to grow beyond people's thoughts and imaginations? Why wouldnt I support your vision for the business to silence enemies? Why should I think

..think of mine alone? Why should I be inward looking based on some insinuations from some quarters, based on some rantings of people whom we will not live together as husband and wife. Who has contributed nothing to my welfare and growth. I do hear them. But their statements have no substance. "Mai" lord, I want this buz ascension, allow my new loan to be sunk into it again", Debbie enthused. Broda Samson having been moved by his love's utterances stood up 4m where he sat down at, walked to the back of the seat of Debbie sat on, bent himself as he rests his body on d back of d chair with d hands and said, "I understand u, but please let us do it like dat, let us use d loan to buy a car, it will be useful on both ends, useful for u, as well as being useful for me on the local runnigs at the Island and atimes coming to your end in school..." Debbie interjecting, "okay. If you insist, no problems. I have always been observing and doing what u said. You are the one who said the more the stock, the more the sales and the more the gains. You have also added that it is out of the gains that a buz person ought to be spending. I am not a buz person for now, so I want what wil bring us more profit, change our financial status as in we will be spending out of our gains, with the capital intact and growing. After which I think we can purchase car and cars easily. Do I need to add that our wedding ceremony's expenses too will be from the gains but not the invested capital. I do not want people to say it is bc of our wedding that the buz collapsed..." "I understand", bro Samson interjected. "I also see other opportunities opening up when this business becomes established. You may include other businesses as it has always be in your mind to go into agriculture, the establishment will make this easier...The bible also says, we wil lend to nations, but we wil not borrow", she concluded. "Thank you love. Let us follow my advice. Let us buy a car with your loan. It will help us.

...And as per the opening of other doors, the chains of opportunities that will follow, "eh", God will do it, and He wil do it even beyond our imaginations and reasonings, including our wedding. Everything will go smoothly and easily and we wil be spending out of our gains in Jesus name. Amen", He said. "Amin. O dara. Mo ti gbọ o. Ki ẹ ma ba sọ wipe emi na ngo se sọ erongba okan mi ni mo se sọ eleyi o. Ati wipe ki e ma ba ro wipe mi o fẹ fi owo mi ba nyin dá ni mo se sọ eleyi o. Bi ade ori eni ba se dara si, bẹ na ni awon enia yo se ma wo si, be ni awon enia yo se mo pataki re si. Be ni awon enia yo se ma bu ola fun si. Mo nfe ki won o bu ola fun nyin gan ni o. Iyawo lemi. Oluranlowo lemi. Emi ki i se omo aiye o. Eyin na le kọ wa ni igbagbo. Ohun ti ẹ ko mi na ni mo ntele o. I have concurred", Debbie finally said. "God richly bless you. God has been proving Himself in d buz and I am sure He wont withdraw His services bc we have also not renege our activities before Him. May we not fall ill. May all the doors of unwanted incidents that usually distort and avert, people's plans and thoughts never come along our ways in Jesus name. Amen" Bro Samson prayed. "Amin ati amin. Alright sire", she said. "But? Talo ba ẹ di irun ori rẹ yi?" Bro Samson asked. Debbie touched her head with her hand and said, "se ko dara ni?" "It is wonderful. O dara gan ni. Mo like rẹ. O wa mu ko look baby-ish", Bro Samson said as he touches Debbies head, using his finger to trace the furrows, and added, "sugbon, irun re fine gan ni o, ko tile ni idoti kankan". "Ẹ se. Hair-stylist mi na lo bami di i, mi o tile wa mọ wipe yo fine to bayi", Debbie said. "O fine gan ni. O wu mi pupọ. Bi mo se nfe ki irun ololufe mi ma ri leleyi", Bro Samson said. "Uhmn. A de o. E seun. But have you just noticed it "ni"?" Debbie asked. "I have been seeing it from distance but I have just appreciated the work done by the stylist ni. My standing behind you gives me ample opportunity of closer look", bro Samson said.

"Alright sire". Debbie replied, holding the hands of brother Samson as the fingers trace the furrows... Brother Samson remembered this discussion with her, the plans for the future. The plans on what to use the loans for even before it materialised. "It is always good to know what one wants to use loan for before securing it lest when one gets it one becomes a victim of personal mis-appropriation of funds which will ultimately result in debts later. As he continued, he suddenly remembered that his love has not surface from his office since she entered there, what is she doing he asked himself...arising from his seat...whistling...he wants to go and see his love in her tertiary office...

*LET US SEE HOW SHE WILL HANDLE IT (June 12, 2014)

B4 he, bro Samson, gets 2 kitchen, he stopped whistling & he saw his love, Debbie slowly jiggling but her moves does not correspond with d sound oozing out of d speakers, "she must not be dancing 2 d rhythm 4m d speakers" he thought, "what cld she be dancing 2?" He asked himsef..he later discovered dat her body movements is in sync wit her hum.

"Ko da bi enipe ebi tilẹ npa ẹ mọ?" Bro Samson said.

"Why did u say dat?" Debbie asked.

"Bc of d mood in which I find u "na ni"" he replied.

"Which mood?" Debbie asked

"Jiggling & humming",bro Samson said as he moves 2 her side.

"Oh! I am tryin 2 master some songs I recently learnt..."

"Is dat so?" Bro Samson interjected

"Yeah" Debbie said

"Do u want 2 exclude me 4m d setting?" Bro Samson asked.

"For ladies only", Debbie replied.

"So does it mean dat d song is not good 4 men?"Bro Samson asked.

"It isnt as if it is not good 4 men, but it is just dat The song is new & we want 2 keep it 2 our chests until d album is released", Debbie replied.

"But I also wish 2 know it maybe I wil become a part of d choiristers", Bro Samson said.

"Well, the song has nothing 2 do with choir, but a band, a group on d campus", Debbie replied.

"That is good. Let me hear it", bro Samson said.

Debbie clears her throat, "Hun-hun-hun" and she starts to sing, "Ololufe mi, Iwo nikan lokan mi yan, Ololufe mi, iwo nikan lokan mi mu, Ololufe mi/3x, Iwo nikan ni temi"

"Is dis d song u want 2 hide 4m me?" Bro Samson asked?

"I am not Done with it yet, the one i sing is its chorus, it has 3 stanzas which goes as this:

1. Bi eja ko se le wa la i somi, Beni ngo le wa la i si ẹ, Ife Re/3x, Lo gbe mi ro.

Chorus.

2. Eiye ki fo ko fori sogi, Ife mi si e ko le ku lai, Ife mi/3x si ẹ wa titi.

Chorus.

3. Eru ki ba kiniun lodan, Be leru o bami lati fe e, Ife mi/3x lailai ni si e."

chorus".

"Uhm! Its wordings are lovely. Who taught u dis song?" Bro Samson asked.

"Ẹ sa fiyen sile", Debbie replied.

"I want to be 1 of the group's instrumentalists ni, u know we r in d world of music", Evang Samson replied.

"So, can u love an artist?" Debbie asked smiling.

"Sebi u have also wanted me 2 be an actor. You also can bc an artist. "2 ge 4" niyen", Bro Samson said.

"O ti da be", she replied.

"Who taught u?", Bro Samson asked again.

"No one. I have been developing the song 4 quite a while, I just feel like re-hearsing it 2da, so as 2 have a full grasp of it b4 I sing it 2 u, hoping dat u wil approve it, and den we can go 2 d studio later", Debbie said, as she started slicing the plantain.

"It is a lovely song, with instruments, who knows it may win award in d Island", He said.

"Uhm! Thank u. I am not expecting something akin 2 dat, particularly as a 1st album", Debbie said

"Dont say, dat. Have u heard of a man called Tutuola, he was a writer, his novel won an award, he neva thought something like dat would happen", Bro Samson said.

"Uhmn!" Debbie replied.

"When God anoints a song, it may be a chart-burster irrespective of whether or not it is the 1st album", Bro Samson said.

"Well. Until then. But for now, my concentration is on "mai" lord, crown, gem, heart-beat..", Debbie said.

"I thought u wld prepare something faster than dis since u said u were damn hungry", Bro Samson said.

"I guessed as much, but having ate some slices of bread, I am not as hungry as I was when I entered d house, dat is why I decide 2 prepare rice & fried plantain...it is equally a fast food, at least when one has two fire outlets", Debbie replied.

"It is true "sha"", Bro Samson said.

"So what is being aired? I thought u were enjoying what is being shown on d paid tv?" Debbie asked.

"There is nothing spectacular at d moment, it is just dat I was expecting u 2 come and join me, but when I did not see u I decide to come and see how far with u here", Bro Samson asked.

"Ẹ se. I guessed as much too", Debbie replied.

"I hope there is no problem with dat sista?" Bro Samson asked.

"Oh! I have said we wil discuss her plight when we are eating", Sista Debbie said.

"The elders say it is not good to talk while eating", Bro Samson said.

"O dara o. I hope her plight wouldnt be more than what she told me 'sha'", Sist Debbie replied as she turns the plantain she was frying and continued, "she said she got engaged to a brother in the church not quite long ago, and dat everything was smoothly going with dem until she decided 2 brief her friends about her new found love...and her friends on discovering that she did not play hide and seek game with d brother dat she had not fared well, so dey adviced her to play games with the brother a while 2 ascertain his love 4 her...she also yielded 2 their advices, started playing "boju-boju" with the brother... I think afta a while dat she started her games with d brother, d brother became pissed off, creating communication gaps. When d sista noticed dat things were not as before between her & her love, she decided 2 come around 2 sort things out

But wen she got to the man, d man was too cold for her, she thought d man ought to hav warmly received her more dan he did but nay he did not & has not so given her befittin welcome since den...", she turns d plantain being fried again, as broda Samson opens d rice 2 see d level of d water on it & she continued...So, dis lass sensed "fire on her roof-top" & had became restless until she saw me in d church@ d program, wen she saw me she said she heaved a sigh of relief dat I am around bc accordin 2 her she has been thinkin on who 2 run to, 4 counsellin on d crucial matter b4 her heart", Debbie concluded. "Uhm! Wat was your advice 2 her?" Broda Samson asked. "Wel. I admonished her of d need 2 find her lost keys, wat she was doin before dat makes d brother love her & want 2 marry her. I told her dat wen she found dose lost keys she must begin 2 use dem so as 2 draw d man's heart back 2 her 4m wherever d heart has been taking to. I told her dat she shouldnt hav followed her friends' advices bc people are different", Sista Debbie said. "Wat was her response afterwards?", Bro Samson asked. "She ought 2 leave d island next week, but afta listening 2 wat I said, she said she will stay around a-while to settle dis matter with d brother b4 leaving", Debbie replied, as she removes d first batch of d fried plantain 4m d hot vegetable oil into a clean plate & puts another set into d hot vegetable oil. "dat is d mistake many people make, ladies &brothers. Many usually want 2 thread the paths taken by their friends, but dey usually forget dat people are different, destinies differ. A friend may do somethin which will work for him or her, but dat does not mean it will work for d other person. And because such has worked 4 such people many a one will want to follow suit, dey will want 2 do likewise. Some also take d teachings dey listened to sacrosanct, dey consider it as if it is d best & dat oda views or opinions apart 4m dat must be falacies..which ought not 2 be so. Wat one shd do is take d necessary points out of such teachings & instructions & leave d rest, but nay, nay we would do dat. I have also been a victim of such teachings & hav been following wholly some instructions of a particular man of God dat I like on marriage, it was one of my uncles dat God used 4 me 2 break dat jinx 4m my heart, wen, I have a re-thought, a re-orientation, dat was wen, I could come 2 u & I was hopin it will be as usual, but it turns out not to be as usual with u as you accepted me...& here we are now blessing God. I sincerely do hope d sista wil listen to your counsels & get everythin straight with her lover", Bro Samson enthused...d rice is now done, she removed d pot 4m fire & put d stew dia to warm as Sista Debbie continues with d frying. "I made it clear unto her dat, dia is no all-round instructions on how to become engaged, who to become engaged to, wen to become engaged...wen dey are believers & dey have prayed on d issue & dey loved themselves..I told her of d need to express her love to d broda in question & shouldnt give in to d detractors counsels again..I adviced her of d need not to avoid communication gap now dat dey r in love and dat dis is d time 4 her 2 start plannin with d man, 2 start understandin themselves, knowin each others likes and dislikes..." Debbie said. "I pray she yields to dat", Bro Samson said, as he takes out of d fried plantain & started eating it. "But, "mai" lord, she said u know d broda, & would want u 2 be a mediator btw him & her", Sista Debbie said. "No one has in the recent times discuss his/ her relationship affairs with me...needless to say dat I do not even think I know dis lady in question", Bro Samson enthused. "Neither do I. I think she is d silent type in d church until she travelled. But she knows us very well", Debbie said. "Eh-hen?" Bro Samson said. "Yes. She said d broda in question was d one u assisted 2 get a place near d campus wia he opens a barbing salon shop", Debbie said. "Oh, Oh, Oh. I know d broda. Straightforward, diligent, principled broda. But he hasnt told me about his marrital life, although I asked him sometimes about his marrital life & he said everythin is fine. So i did not bother myself 2 go deeper dan dat dat day." bro Samson said. "Since u have known d broda, dat is d broda in question. How can u mediate btw dem?" Sista Debbie asked. "Alright. Do not let us be too forward on dis issue. Let us see how she wil handle it b4 we intervene. But I am sure if she changes her disposition, acts right, starts expressing her love as u hav counselled, d broda wil change & dey wil get on wel again", Bro Samson said. "So we shd stay action abi?" Debbie asked. "Let us stay physical actions, but join them in prayers..& u shd monitor her of d devpts..if things get resolved, without our physical interference, what else do we want?" Bro Samson said. "Nothing", Debbie said as bro Samson takes anoda plantain into his mouth & Debbie said, "ẹ ma jẹ dodo yi tan kato jeun"

Sista Debbie says, "Let me try my fingers a while, as I await "mai" lord" (March 25, 2015)

My Sun of Love arose out of her closets,

He emanated out of the east of Love,

It was not brightly shinning when it arose,

Nay fewer disdained my love and lord,

Simply because of its low intensities,

In love I found my sun of love,

As it moves along its concentricity, its arrays of light began to increase in intensity,

All spectacles on my Sun of Love now,

The heat from my Sun of love was nay harmful,

The beneficials from my Sun of love could nay be estimated,

Living things convert the heat from my Sun of Love to other lovely things beneficial to self and non living things,

Non living things under the intensity of increased heat 4m my Sun of love become adorable and cherished,

Interstingly, my Sun of Love, spotted me out,

My Sun of Love shone radiantly on me,

The dispersions from my Sun of Love revealed All the necessary rays,

One of the dispersions from My Sun of Love's penetrated my being,

The X-rayic events that followed bring me comfort,

I shone like glitering substance amongts other substances,

Then, I started to attract things to myself,

People started noticing me, as I matter among the many matters,

The disdainers, haters of my Sun of Love now want to block my Sun of Love from shining on me,

They couldnt do it...

My Sun of Love is yet growing...

I am now different amongst many because of my Sun of Love...

"Find your lost key", Sister Debbie said.

Our church in d island organised a special program 4 d singles...afta d program a sista approached me for counselling, I had 2 excuse "mai" lord so as 2 attend 2 her...we walked 2 a corner within d church premises, dia we discussed. "Sorry 2 disturb u aunty" she said. "It is my pleasure", I said. "My name is Feyisere", she said. "Uhm! It's nice knowing u. My name is Debbie", I said. "Oh, I know u. I am a memba of dis church, but when I finished my skul & job is not forthcoming, 1 of my niece asked my parent if I can come with her so as 2 be assisting her in her buz & taking kia of d children. And I left with her last year" Feyi said. "Oh, sorry, I dont think I have ever come across u", I said. ""Eegun mọni, enia ni ko mọ eegun", sometimes if not all d times, you our leaders do not know us, your followers & membas, particularly when such a person is not an officer in d church", Feyi said. "Thats true. It is easy 4 people 2 know officers but d silent ones, it is not easy 4 us 2 know such pp", I said.

"I have a little problem ma, which I need ur counsel on bc u r educated, older than me, a Believer & by God's grace engaged to a responsible brother in the church", she said.

"May God solve all our problems in Jesus name. May He also guide us into His light and truth in Jesus name" I said.

"Amen" Feyi said.

"Okay. I am listening", Debbie said.

"Be4 I left d Island abt 8 moons ago, I have a male friend in dis church, broda Johnny, we were close friends. Infact people think we were engaged then, but there was nothing like dat btw us then. He is a principled person & I know he is a christian. I entered institution of Higher learning b4 him & graduated b4 him...However, dis does not stop our friendship & interactions with each oda within d campus, d church & at d neighbourhood"...I, miss Debbie, was attentively listening 2 her as she continued.

"So, dis relationship continued even afta our graduation...Afta our graduation, we were searching 4 jobs but when it is not readily coming, he afta listening 2 a lecture 4m your spouse, evangelist Samson, he also decided 2 start something, & he opened a barbing salon near one of d institutions gate in d Island..."

"Okay, I think I know d broda now because "mai" lord told me of a broda who came to him on where 2 establish a barbing salon sometimes ago...pls go on my sista" Debbie said.

"Thank u ma. That is d broda, bc he also briefed me abt d counsels of evangelist Samson, your fiance, & all d assistances he rendered 2 him, financially & otherwise, how he linked him up with some people in d area which facilitated d establishment of d barbing salon near d institution's gate", Feyi said.

"Oh! That's nice of him" Debbie said.

"Few days afta d estab of d salon, I left 4 other island with my neice...Weeks afta, he proposed 2 me...A month afta his proposals I consented, and we were having it nice on air talking daily...When I told my friends about this development, they made me to understand dat men are unreliable and dat I shd not have give in to him easily like dat, dat I shd have kept him in suspense 4 a while, b4 answering him, dey said he will abuse me & consider me cheap...I was sorely sorry 4 myself on hearing dis, and I decided to start playin games with him, I started hanky-panky with him...Whenever he calls, I would not answer him, he will call severally before I answered, dat is if I will answer at all...sometimes when I did not answer his call he will text me, but I will not reply his texts too...Whenever I asnwered his call, I will give excuses and reasons for not answering his initial calls...this has been going on for sometimes now... But I have discovered that he has changed, he neither text nor call me as before again, and to cap it up, when I arrived two days ago, I arrived purposely because of him but, I discovered that he has been cold towards me, even he was not as this cold when we were ordinary friends... I felt unloved, I felt unwanted, I felt neglected... As I saw u dis morning in d church I thank my stars dat u are around & dat u could make dis program, and I decided on d spot of seeing u dat I wil discuss dis issue with u, so dat u help me out", she enthused.

"Uhm!!! Is dat all sista?" Debbie asked.

"That is about all ma. Pls what do I do?" Feyi asked.

"I thank God for dis avenue. Let me ask u dis? Do u love dis broda, Johnny?" Debbie said.

"Yes, I do". Feyi answered.

"Do u think u can live d rest of your life with him?" Debbie asked.

"Yes I can ma". Feyi answered.

"Having resolved these, what I want to tell u is dat your mistake is that you are imitating your friends on dis crucial issue of your life... You have failed to know that individual persons have their own angels, what their angels can condone, your angels may may not condone, what is working for them, may not work for you bc u are created differently...

"...even those people you call your friends may be christians, but they are different from you and you are different from them and the way God deals with you differs..." "As a christain who have prayed on the person you wanted to be engaged to and having loved the person, you need not play hanky-panky with the person any longer...or didnt you pray before consenting?" Debbie asked. "I prayed ma", Feyi replied. "Having prayed, and having gotten God's peace in your heart towards the person and having loved the person unreservedly, you should not have bothered your head about your friends' counsels again because they have misled you as it were now. You should have just continued with the relationship, because in love there is no fear", Debbie said. "Okay ma. What do I do now? How do I win him back?" Feyi asked. "You should search out the keys to your ertswhile friendship and the key you used in unlocking the door of his heart's love. When you find these keys, and you start using these keys, the near dead love he has developed for you in the past weeks will be resurrected and things will return to normalcy, even if the love is not hotter than before", Debbie said. "Pls, expantiate further", Feyi said. "What I am sayin is, what u were doing before that makes your friendship grow, what you were doing before that make you fall heads over hills in love for each other should be re-ignited again, when you start doing those things again, within space of time, weeks, days, his love for you will come alive again and you will be happy again", Debbie said. Kneeling down to thank her, "thank you ma, I will start doing that...I ought to leave on monday but I stay back a while to play with him..", Feyi said. "That will be good. When you start doing those things ensure that you keep it up. Be opened unto each other, as distance has separated you for a while now, tell him your moves, let him know your steps ahead of time, do not assume anything, do not say u will tell him afta u have done such thing, that means u do not value his advice, dat means u do not consider him important in your life and life's decisions and steps and when such happens another gap will be created, he will have some reservations, he will not be able to open his minds unto u again, he will not be willing to divulge impt decisions he also want to make to you...and you also know dat discovering that someone u love did not tell u or carried u along in his or her decision, u know how u feel? One feels dejected, rejected, un-important. So to make him an important person, u also need to carry him along in all u are doing or u wanted to do. You have 2 start dis even before you are married..." As Debbie said dis, she knelt down nodding her head... "So do this and other things that will make him happy and you wil discover that brothers are not the same...brothers are different. Because "mai" lord, I did not play hanky-panky with him since we start dating and so far so good, everyone has loved our relationship, everyone has been blessing God for us...We never allowed any communication gap let alone allow d enemies entrance...even though i may grieved him sometimes, but I ensure that such is resolved b4 I leave for bed dat day...and d same with him...so I have enjoyed to the maximum dis relationship with "mai" lord...I also pray you enjoy broda Johnny in Jesus name," Debbie said "Amen", Feyi said. "Shall we pray?" Debbie said...As they prayed together...

TRANSLATION OF SOME DIFFICULT WORDS

afta (translation after

"Eh-hen? (translation Uhmn mn)

'sha (translation anyway

PROGRESS. (June 4, 2014)

"atelewo eni nikan ati Olorun eni ni ki i tani jẹ" (translation it is only one’s palms and one’s God that would not tell one lies (it is a proverb encouraging people to be hard work and stop depending or relying on anyone for assistance, because people would disappoint you)) .

"irorun igi ni irorun eiye" (translation it is when the tree is at ease that is when the birds that perch on the tree would be at ease (It is Yoruba Proverb meaning when something or someone that is directly related to someone is at peace that is when the person would be at ease as well as know developments"

"eh (translation Uhmn)

"Amin. (translation Amen)

O dara (translation Okay oh) .

Mo ti gbọ o (translation I have heard what you said) .

Ki ẹ ma ba sọ wipe emi na ngo se sọ erongba okan mi ni mo se sọ eleyi o (translation So that you wont say why don’t I say what was in my mind that was why I said this) .

Ati wipe ki e ma ba ro wipe mi o fẹ fi owo mi ba nyin dá ni mo se sọ eleyi o (translation So that you wont think I don’t want to help you with my money that is why I said this) .

Bi ade ori eni ba se dara si, bẹ na ni awon enia yo se ma wo si, be ni awon enia yo se mo pataki re si (translation As beautiful as the crown on one’s head is, that how people will view it, that is how people will know its value and worth (People would view the crown on one’s head differently when it is very beautiful and they would attach more importance to it than other crowns ) .

Be ni awon enia yo se ma bu ola fun si (translation People would value and honor greatly the beautiful crown) .

Mo nfe ki won o bu ola fun nyin gan ni o (translation I want people to value you greatly) .

Iyawo lemi. (translation I am a wife)

Oluranlowo lemi (translation I am a helper) .

Emi ki i se omo aiye o (translation I am not one of worldly daughters/children) .

Eyin na le kọ wa ni igbagbo (translation You are one of those who brought me up in faith) .

Ohun ti ẹ ko mi na ni mo ntele o (translation I am following/doing what I have been taught by you)

"Amin ati amin (translation Amen and amen) . Talo ba ẹ di irun ori rẹ yi? (translation Who plait the hair on your head for you?)

"se ko dara ni? (translation) " "O dara gan ni (translation it is very beautiful) . Mo like rẹ. O wa mu ko look baby-ish", (translation I like it. It makes you look like a baby

sugbon, irun re fine gan ni o, ko tile ni idoti kankan" (translation but your hair is very beautiful/fine, it has no dandruffs) . "Ẹ se. Hair-stylist mi na lo bami di i, mi o tile wa mọ wipe yo fine to bayi", (translation Thank you. It is my hair-stylist that plaited the hair, in fact, I did not know it would be this beautiful) "O fine gan ni. O wu mi pupọ. Bi mo se nfe ki irun ololufe mi ma ri leleyi", (translation It is very beautiful. I like it exceedingly. This is how I want the hair of my love to always look like) "Uhmn. A de o. E seun. (translation There you go again. Thank you.)

"ni"?" (translation is ) Debbie asked. ni (translation is

*LET US SEE HOW SHE WILL HANDLE IT (June 12, 2014)

"Ko da bi enipe ebi tilẹ npa ẹ mọ?" (translation It does not look as if you are hungry

"na ni"" (translation is it)

"Ololufe mi, Iwo nikan lokan mi yan, (translation my lover, its only you that my heart chose) Ololufe mi, iwo nikan lokan mi mu, (translation my lover it is only you that I have picked) Ololufe mi/3x, (translation my lover/3x) Iwo nikan ni temi" (translation you are mine alone)

1. Bi eja ko se le wa la i somi, (translation As a fish cannot survive outside water) Beni ngo le wa la i si ẹ, (translation so can I not survive without you) Ife Re/3x, (translation you love/3x) Lo gbe mi ro. (translation sustains me)

Chorus.

2. Eiye ki fo ko fori sogi, (translation No Bird during the course of flying has ever hit its head on trees) Ife mi si e ko le ku lai, (translation My love for you can never die) Ife mi/3x si ẹ wa titi. (translation My love/3x for you is for ever)

Chorus.

3. Eru ki ba kiniun lodan, (translation Lion is not afraid in the wilderness) Be leru o bami lati fe e, (translation I am also not afraid of marrying you) Ife mi/3x lailai ni si e." (translation my love/3x is ever for you)

chorus".

"Ẹ sa fiyen sile", (translation Just leave that)

"2 ge 4" niyen (translation that is 2 divided 4)",

"O ti da be", (translation That is good

"sha (translation anyway)

"Ẹ se (translation Thanks)

"O dara o (translation That is good) .

sha (translation anyway) '",

"boju-boju" (translation hide and seek

. "Eh-hen? (translation Uhmn mn)

ẹ ma jẹ dodo yi tan kato jeun" (translation you will finish this fried plaintain before we start eating)

Sista Debbie says, "Let me try my fingers a while, as I await "mai" lord" (March 25, 2015)

""Eegun mọni, enia ni ko mọ eegun" (translation masquerades know people, but people do not know masquerades (it is a proverb that people who are popular and important in the society are always known by the common people, but those who are popular hardly know common people)

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captain-spookycandycollecti-blog · 6 years

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