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seoafin · 2 years

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perseids

pairing: gojo x reader ; fushiguro megumi & reader warning: fluff. obligatory gojo warning. mentions of severed fingers. megumi thinks gojo is a stalker word count: ~3.9k

“Megumi,” you say his name one day, unassumingly. He knows that tone. He looks up from his homework, already anticipating what will inevitably follow. "Would you rather lose your hand or foot?”

Gojo guffaws from the couch, suddenly awake for someone who had collapsed on the couch twenty minutes prior and gone slack. Looking tremendously amused, he leans over the end of the couch, awaiting Megumi’s answer.

Underneath your expectant gaze from across him, book spread out in front of you, Megumi isn’t sure, if he’s being honest; to the answer to your question and the reason you asked in the first place. The only thing he is sure of is that he dislikes being fodder for Gojo's entertainment.

You deserve an answer though, for whatever line of thinking prompted this seemingly unexpected question. There's always a reason for it he thinks, however unapparent it may be to anyone else; some unanswered question or unorthodox approach that puts you at odds with people who don't know you.

So. He needs his hands; doesn’t know if he could call out his shadow shikigami without the coordinated hand movements the process entails. He also needs his hands to hold weapons for the training Gojo’s hinted at starting within the next month or two. But he also needs his feet. To run, to fight, to—

You laugh. “You’re thinking about it too hard! Though, I suppose you're thinking about all the potential disadvantages..." you go quiet, deep in thought. You probably don't realize you've stopped talking.

“You’re the one who asked the question,” he retorts, fiddling with his pencil, staring down hard at his homework to avoid having to see Gojo’s expression.

“Where’d this come from all of a sudden anyway,” Gojo says, stretching his arms out with a yawn. “It’s too early for you to be like this.” It comes out like a sigh, but a grin pulls at his lips.

You look down at your spread hand, flexing your fingers. “I lost two of my fingers last month,” you start casually.

The smirk slides right off Gojo’s face. “Ha?”

“I almost lost my entire hand. A curse sliced it straight off,” you recount it as if you’re discussing how the rainy weather has ruined your plans for a picnic you hadn’t wanted to go to in the first place.

“When was this? Kobe? Tokushima? Hyogo?” Gojo begins to list the very specific locations of your previous missions in a worrying fashion that Megumi thinks should warrant at least some alarm on your side.

“Shoko reattached it.” You observe the pinky like you can’t believe it yourself, as if you’re admiring a pretty ring instead of the wonders of the reverse cursed technique. “Isn’t Shoko amazing?”

Megumi doesn’t have an answer for any of this. The conversation has spiraled past the conventions of normal talk, into wild, unfettered territory akin to stumbling around in the dark, blind, slowly feeling a path out.

“Oi,” A flicker of exasperation and impatience taints the usually unbothered lines of Gojo’s face. “Answer the question already.”

“Oh,” you turn to Satoru as if you had forgotten he was there in the first place. “Tottori. The sand dunes? I brought you souvenirs, remember?”

Gojo makes a face, lips verging on a frown. “Yeah no. That’s not what this is about—”

“I guess it got me thinking. The human hands are really important, you know? Our opposable thumbs are one of the wonders of the human body, and considered one of the greatest evolutionary forces in the development of our brains. It's the reason why I can handle my katana so well. But if for some reason I couldn't get to Shoko in time and had to choose between my foot or my hand, I'd probably choose my right hand. I think if I really had to, I could relearn the katana one handed."

Megumi does not know in what world this conversation would be applicable. Even Gojo is looking distinctly disgruntled, lips thinner than he's ever seen them, but he attributes that more to the fact that Gojo does not like being ignored by you.

"Anyway. We shouldn't be so reliant on Shoko all the time. You never know when she might not be able to come to your immediate aid." You finish with a nod, looking satisfied, and Megumi gets the sense that this is the climactic opinion that has formed the basis of this conversation.

"Oh," he says tonelessly. "Got it."

You smile.

“Megumi, Tsumiki,” you say, entering the apartment with a large bulky object under your arm, slightly out of breath. Tsumiki looks up from the table, eyes going wide as her gaze lands on the telescope. You grin. “There’s a meteor shower tonight. Let’s go see the stars!”

He hadn’t heard anything about a meteor shower, but he had seen several papers plastered to the telephone poles on his way to school depicting what he had assumed to be a shooting star for some event at night.

Tsumiki is boundless in her excitement, hands gripping his arm tightly. Even now, she looks towards him for a confirmation. She doesn’t want to leave him alone.

“Can we?” She asks. “Let’s go Megumi!”

“Well, I don’t want to force you.” You set the telescope down. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. But I just thought it’s been a while since the three of us did anything together…”

Tsumiki tilts her head to the side. “Gojo-san’s not coming?”

“He’s in Nagoya for a super top rated secret mission!” She looks intrigued at your exaggeration. “There’s a really amazing place up in the mountains where we’d get a great view…” you trail off, raising an eyebrow at him. “Though if you don’t wan—”

“No,” Megumi says, decision made immediately. “I’ll go.”

Forty minutes later, after a car ride with a person you had introduced as an auxiliary manager and a short hike up the mountain’s trail, he and Tsumiki are spreading two large blankets over the grass while you are kneeling, telescope in arms as you adjust the lens with a precision that tells him this is nothing new to you.

Above them, away from the pollution and the gasses of Tokyo, the stars shine brighter than he’s ever seen. They all blur together, but if he focuses hard he can distinguish semi shapes. Not that he’s ever paid much attention to the stars in the first place. Tsumiki, on the other hand—

“And right there—”

“The milky way!”

“Correct!” you beam. The two of you are huddled around the eyepiece of the telescope as Tsumiki peers in with a smile that reaches to her ears. “Can you find the Orion constellation?”

The two of you chatter about the types of constellations you can see during the different seasons, Tsumiki following along easily. He’s seen the astronomy books checked out of the library, squirreled away in her book bag where she thinks nobody can see them, and he thinks you’ve seen them too.

From the darkness, the shadows morph into two familiar shapes next to him. Eager tongues lap at his hand in greeting. Then the two dogs bound towards Tsumiki.

“How about you?” You take a seat next to him on the blanket. Tsumiki is eagerly adjusting the focus on the telescope in front of the two of you while an absentminded hand scratches an ear of a happily panting dog. “Want a try?”

He makes a noncommittal noise. He’s content with watching Tsumiki. His own gaze gives him more than enough.

“The meteor shower is going to start soon,” you murmur, looking up. “So I suppose we won’t even need it then.”

The two of you observe the stars in silence, as Tsumiki calls out her observations every few minutes. There’s a couple of names that don’t sound real to Megumi, but you nod, pointing out several other constellations to be found in the sky tonight.

You lean back on your arms. “It’d be nice if I could take you two to see the Southern Crux,” you muse, “You can’t see it in Tokyo. The only place you can see it from in Japan is at Ishigaki or the Yaeyama Islands. We could go all the way to Ishigaki for a vacation next summer during June, how does that sound?”

Megumi’s never been outside the grand metropolitan area of Tokyo; has never really had any desire for it, too caught up in the taxing issue of immediate survival and Tsumiki’s care. A vacation. The concept is not unwelcome as it is foreign.

“Do you usually do things like this?”

You hum, now lying flat against the blanket, eyes unfocused. “A long time ago,” you sigh out, face resembling something that looks like indifference although it isn’t. “With my parents.”

A delighted gasp tears out of Tsumiki’s throat just as you finish, and Megumi watches a single bright line streak across the upper atmosphere amongst the thousands of stars glittering like cuts of jagged glass, following the path set by the undiluted milky way. It cuts through the sky until it slowly fades out of view.

Megumi thinks it’s pretty anticlimactic, but still pretty. An invaluable memory to Tsumiki so worth something.

Tsumiki is glued to the telescope as another comes within sight. And then another. Soon more than a few are in sight, looking as if they’re falling from the sky.

“I wish Satoru were here. Shoko too.” There's a space between your words; something you don't say. Darkness falls upon the two of you, a rare cloud engulfing the waning moon. There is a ghost of a smile in the curve of your lips, both content and longing and something sad splayed out on your face.

Megumi thinks that this is where he should say something. So you don’t get too lost in your head like you’re prone to doing.

“Are you leaving soon?”

You inhale, stretching your arms over your head as you sit up. “People have gone missing by Mt. Shiomi. I’m being sent to investigate tomorrow.”

Summers are always busy, that’s what he’s learned in the couple of years since you and Gojo have entered his and Tsumiki’s lives. If you’re going to be gone, then he should expect Gojo in lieu of you. It’s not an appealing trade off.

Megumi can already hear the older boy’s ugly, grating laughter and looming smile. He is suddenly exhausted.

“This is rare,” you say, interested. “You don’t usually ask about our missions.”

He doesn’t. He’s already resigned himself to a bleak future of jujutsu sorcery. His flat lipped disdain pulls your eyes wide.

You blanche, straight as a rod, looking at him. “W-wait…this wouldn’t happen to be because of the other day? When I brought up losing my fingers?” Panic lines your face, and you look vaguely ill. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” You wave your hands frantically to assuage the panic he doesn’t feel. “That was just…” Your head hangs down as you sigh. It takes you a few seconds for you to find your footing.

“Megumi,” you say quietly, eyes sharp. “I want you to know that if you don’t want to be a jujutsu sorcerer, I’ll help you. I’ll do anything.” Then softly: “You don’t need to be a jujutsu sorcerer. Your wants come first,” in an attempt to inject some levity, your lips quirk upwards. “I’d go against the Zenins for you in a heartbeat.”

“Even against Gojo?” He regrets it the moment it leaves his mouth. There’s no backpedaling when you stare at him, a curiously probing gaze that prods at him with the soft graze of a feather. You’ll draw back, expression torn as you struggle for a brief second on how to let him down gently. There’s no way you’d choose him over Gojo, and he’ll regret having even thought it, for letting himself get carried away, for letting himself think for one second that—

You break out in a wide smile. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea here.”

The wind picks up, and a chill climbs up his exposed arms as your hair whips against your face. Grass pricks at the hand situated outside the blanket, flattened against the earth. Even in the dark, he can see your face clearly overlapping with the shadows of the night and the soft glow of the stars above, blanketing the earth.

“I’m on your side, Megumi.” You say it like a fact, and his chest goes tight, as if there’s a quivering fist clutching at his heart. “And whatever you want, I’ll do everything in my power to help you.” Your words are slow and measured, as if you’ve thought long and hard on this, ruminating on the possibility of this very exchange. You exhale. “I’m nobody special so these words might be meaningless, but I want you to know I’m always on your side, whether you want to be a jujutsu sorcerer or not.”

It’s hard to look at you. His vision wavers, blinking in and out like the smattering of constellations above.

“And Satoru, huh?” Your face goes thoughtful. Then inexplicably amused. “Well, I’d just have to make him see reason. Somehow. And if that doesn’t work then—” you chuckle, flopping back on the ground, turned to the sky, and Megumi’s tense shoulders go slack; partially in relief that you aren’t looking at him anymore “—I’d take you and Tsumiki and run!”

The words are heavy in his mouth, throat indescribably thick, even though he feels light enough that he could float into the sky. But he, ever the pragmatist: “Gojo would find us within the week.”

Maybe even less. Megumi wouldn’t put it past Gojo to have installed some sort of tracking device in your phone, like the ones he’s seen commercials for on tv. You don’t seem like the type of person to get easily lost, but he’s witnessed Gojo scouring crowds for you in search of where you’ve wandered off to for the second, third, fourth time, attention captured by an intricate detail in the carving of a marble fountain in the park or some stray cat or something most people wouldn’t give a second glance to. He had garnered it was a regular occurrence in the way Gojo would enter a store, take you by the arm, and ferry you out without another word. In the way you'd let him.

“It’s a full time job with you,” Gojo had said to you, chidingly light, the other day upon finding you. He slid in between you and the man Megumi had assumed stopped you on the street, making a space for himself that forcibly separated you away from the so-called offender. Megumi could tell that there was displeasure lurking underneath the surface of Gojo’s curved lips.

It hadn’t been perceptible at first. But there were moments this irritable character of his peeked out from beneath his ceaseless smiles and taunts in the form of a sharply formed retort, a shadow of a twitching brow, fingers curling into your wrist or shoulder steering you away. And it was most noticeable when you were heavily engaged in conversation with someone other than him.

Gojo had crowded into you, while the man watched eyes wide, and leaned down, gaze forcing yours. “Do you really think anybody but me could handle you?”

You hadn’t understood. Instead you gawked at him in visible confusion. There was a flyer in your hand. Breast Cancer Awareness, it said.

Both thoughts give Megumi a headache.

“H-have a little faith in me, would you?” But you also, look troubled on the account that Gojo probably could and would, find you easily enough.

In fact, you’re looking downright depressed now, face clouding over with a memory he’s sure merits some truth to his words.

“Megumi!” Tsumiki is beckoning him over to the telescope wildly, cheeks red with the cold but eyes alight with an childish excitement that’s been cementing itself on her face more often nowadays, as if it never left with her mother in the first place. His demon dogs bark at her side, spurred on by Tsumiki's enthused demeanor. He’d die before he’d admit it, but It’s nice to see his sister smiling. “Hurry, hurry! I found Orion!”

You’ve propped yourself up on the backs of your elbows and nod with a smile that motions for him to go on.

He stands; takes a few steps forward but his feet stop, back towards you.

“I’ll become a jujutsu sorcerer.” Megumi made a deal after all. And if nothing else, he at least has his word. There’s too much to be lost; all contingent on a transaction his deadbeat of a father made all those years ago, monetizing his existence. He’s too old to be relying on people, yet all too aware of his limitations made painfully apparent, forcibly dragged up to the surface and laid bare in the face of Gojo’s dissecting gaze.

Megumi understands intrinsically there is security in being a jujutsu sorcerer that’s been lacking his entire life. No matter how much of a shitty job it is, if Gojo’s complaints are anything to go by.

“Think on it,” you say, and he doesn’t need to look at you to know your smile has turned forlorn. “You’re too young to be worrying about these things, you know?”

He also understands that he wouldn’t put the burden of a selfish decision on you either.

—

The three of you are walking down the trail that winds down the mountain, the winds whistling through the trees as owls hoot and other smaller creatures scurry through the dark and crackling branches. The sky is still unnaturally bright, watching over him as you navigate down with an ease that speaks to memories of long ago.

Megumi feels the softness of his dogs flanking him, brushing against his legs. It’s probably two in the morning now, and he feels the grogginess of sleepiness pricking at him while Tsumiki is still wide awake, glancing up at the sky every few seconds in awe.

“Thank you for taking us,” Tsumiki says politely. “We had a lot of fun! Right, Megumi?”

“I’m glad,” you smile, affectionately rubbing her head. “Anytime!"

“...Thank you,” he mutters, because he is still unused to the words. Unused to accepting things from others, especially adults. He hopes you can’t hear that he means it, but judging from the way you try to hide your face to the side, in the darkness of the forest, you know.

The three of you make it down to the base of the mountain, to the gravel lot, and he releases his demon dogs. They bark once in a goodbye, before melting into the shadows of the ground without another sound.

There’s someone leaning against a sleek black car.

“Ah,” you say instantly, perking up in a way that illuminates your face. “Satoru?”

The implications don’t hit you as quickly as they do him. The drowsiness abates.

Megumi slows to a stop in the gravel of the parking lot. It’s two in the morning and instead of the nice looking man that had driven them to the mountain, there is Gojo Satoru.

There are many words to describe Gojo Satoru. Megumi adds stalker to the list.

“Yo!” Gojo replies, looking energetic, but Gojo is always energetic in your presence as if ensuring being as outlandish as possible will draw your ever fleeting attention towards him and only him.

On the other hand, it drains Megumi’s energy, depleting him even further.

The smile on your face falters. You open your mouth. “How—” You close your mouth and stare.

Gojo cocks his head to the side. “How?” He parrots.

Your voice sounds a bit reedy, a touch bewildered. “How’d you know I was…?”

The smile touches his sunglasses, high on his face, as you look on blankly.

“...”

“...” You sweat. “S-Satoru…”

“There’s my favorite Fushiguro!” Gojo exclaims, taking Tsumiki into his hands and lifting her up and down like a maniac while her laughter fills the empty lot. Then his voice picks up a notch, louder and frenzied, taking on a shrillness Gojo knows he hates, especially at a time where normal, sane people would be talking in a much more hushed tone. He’s doing it on purpose.

“What’s with the face Megumi? Is it that late? Past your bedtime? Did someone miss their afternoon nap?” Tsumiki giggles goodnaturedly, still in Gojo’s grip.

Too many questions. Even the irritation that surges into him like a tide crashing onto the shore is dulled. It’s too late for this. Megumi doesn’t even take naps. He’s not a baby. But Gojo is looking at him now, chin tilted downwards, too bright eyes peeking out from above his sunglasses like a partial eclipse, as if he knows that Megumi spent up most of his partially developed cursed energy on his demon dogs. That he knows he might pass out from exhaustion the second he hits his bed. Megumi doesn't know how you can stand being the center of Gojo's rapt attention most times. He'd rather get picked apart by the crows.

Gojo only tucks Tsumiki into the car and buckles her in.

The theatrics disappear. “How was the meteor shower?” He asks you, without missing a beat, skipping right over the ten seconds of your silence that he had met with his own. The telescope is promptly taken from your arms, collected into his own and secured in the trunk of the car. Then he's back in front of you, leaning in inquiringly at a suspect closeness that you don't blink twice at.

There's no way a sane person would let this go. There’s no way a sane person would greet Gojo with anything less than suspicion.

You are an unfathomable person though. Insane at times, and just as incomprehensible as Gojo. He forgets that sometimes, when you flit between unsensible and sensible the way you do, as natural as breathing.

You blink. “It was…” the perturbed look falls away from your face, the corners of yours eyes crinkling, lips easing into a smile that doesn’t hide how genuinely happy you are to see him. It feels like a loss. “Good. Did you get to see the shower too?”

He can practically feel the smug aura radiating off Gojo. Once again, he's worked around your suspicions, and he knows it.

Rationalization, Megumi thinks from the haze of sleep cottoning his brain, is a scary thing.

He thinks it’s a certain trait that most jujutsu sorcerers share. There are too many different variables out in the field, and one second of underestimating the truth of reality can mean the difference between life and death. It's a saying Gojo likes to repeatedly drill into his head. The importance of time.

This isn’t normal, he wants to say. But his blinking slows, every drag of his eyelashes drawing down feeling like weights stacked atop of one another.

He keeps his eyes open through sheer willpower. You kneel down, and your worried face comes into view, a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Megumi?”

He thinks he nods.

“Let’s get you home.” Your voice sounds strangely distant, and he doesn’t remember his legs moving into the car, next to Tsumiki who pokes him on the cheek. He can’t even bring himself to swat her away. Then he feels a gentle hand on his head. He almost closes his eyes at the touch.

When you get into the front seat, he hears you say: “I didn’t know you got your license.”

Gojo smiles.

Great.

-they are looking at the Perseid meteor shower!!!

-it's not gojo but actually shoko that has the child tracking app on rip!mc's phone lmfao but she does not mind bc they r gfs who look out for each other <3 and in shoko's case that means making sure she isn't lost in a ditch!!!

-no gojo did not track her phone LMAO but she did mention the meteor shower in great detail to him like a week ago and he just put the pieces together. although the other times.........

-If u know me i do in fact distinguish gojo’s hs characterization and adult characterization. I think the persona he constructed in front of megumi (flamboyant, excited, teasing) is the one we see in the anime/gojo as an adult. I think in the time this fic takes place (2-3 years out of hs) you can still see hints of his hs self (rash, easily annoyed, blunt) bc the persona hasn't fully developed. then we get the much “smoother” gojo we see in the anime

so does gojo (knowingly) terrorize the man giving mc a flyer about breast cancer awareness? yes. he is asserting his dominance.....

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ripverse #m.jjk

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fostersffff · 1 year

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The Big Gundam Watch, Part 9.2: Mobile Suit Gundam Wing, Episodes 27-49

Well, it took a while, but I finally finished watching Mobile Suit Gundam Wing.

I gotta be honest, guys: this was frustrating. The point I made in the first part of this where I talked about how Gundam Wing is at its weakest when aping aspects of Universal Century Gundam comes back in full force here. What got me particularly sour is that the show actually did start to rally by heading in a direction I didn't expect, rife with potential, before hard-stopping and saying "alright fellas, last batch of episodes, we gotta do Char's Counterattack now". But then, peppered throughout "we're doing Char's Counterattack again" is some really good stuff that just doesn't get the chance to soak in.

Let's get into it:

THE STUFF I LIKED:

Dorothy Catalonia is the most consistently great part of Gundam Wing's second half. At first, it's because she was the most straight-forward character in the series- she is Based and Warpilled- and seeing her be comically unsubtle about her love of and desire for war was pretty funny. She then begins to occupy the position of "villain who gets underestimated because they're so transparently villainous they seem incapable of subtlety", which leads to some shockingly simple but effective maneuvering to get exactly what she wants, including the death of her grandfather. But ultimately, when they decided they should pair her off with Quatre, her hawkishness is sensibly re-contextualized and made deeply sympathetic, in a way that the series doesn't really achieve with Milliardo and definitely doesn't with Treize, who have the exact same motivations as her.

Speaking of Dorothy, the way Relena's commitment to Total Pacifism didn't play out the way I thought it would was an extremely pleasant surprise. The whole time I was anticipating a corruption-style arc, where Dorothy acts as the devil on Relena's shoulder, urging her into taking violent action in the name of peace... but she doesn't. From the time she takes over the Sanc Kingdom through to the end of the series, she is 100% committed to the ideal of Total Pacifism, no matter how much of a disadvantage it puts her at.

I guess maybe that's why Relena was so hated when the show first aired in the West? But I thought her absolute commitment to such a childish ideal was actually the most endearing thing in the series. It's naive in the exact way that the character is portrayed as naive from the very start, but she takes every opportunity to show her commitment to it in bold, bombastic ways. My personal favorite was "my brother is Milliardo Peacecraft, I have no idea who this Zechs Merquise loser is, so kill him if you feel compelled to, it's got nothing to do with me"

In general, the whole Sanc Kingdom arc was the show at its smartest, because the conflict between Relena/the Sanc Kingdom and the Romefeller Foundation under Duke Dermail was simple at its core, which meant they could do more interesting things with it. "Invading force proclaiming to the world that they are saviors and liberators protecting the locals from hostile elements when their real goal is to destabilize the region" is effective as hell!

Tremendous credit to the series for being also smart enough to highlight that Dorothy/Milliardo/Treize's goal of "have a war so horrifying it scares mankind out of having any more wars" was even more naive than Relena's Total Pacifism because it was completely and utterly ruined by Lady Une's surrender.

I wrote in my notes "if Milliardo just flat-out refuses Treize's duel and fires the Libra canon at him I'm giving this series a +2 buff no matter what else happens", so I have to mention that's exactly what happens here. Except, I reduced it to a +1 buff for a reason we'll get into later.

There's a handful of really tight, exciting action sequences that do specific things to elevate them over "Gundam pilots lay waste to an entire army of dolls". The one that I loved the most was in Episode 39, when Quatre realizes that he won't be able to make it to Trowa in time to protect him because the Sandrock isn't properly kitted for space, so instead of trying to use his verniers he takes advantage of the nearby exploding shuttle to launch himself. That's a fucking BALLER maneuver, and actually adds more credence to the "Quatre is the brains of the team and a good strategist" thing the show starts to lean on towards the end.

Despite just saying "Gundam pilots lay waste to an entire army of dolls" in a negative context, the aforementioned scene immediately being followed by Trowa and Quatre bump into Duo, who decloaks Deathscythe Hell and starts tearing up the battlefield as Rhythm Emotion starts playing was also Fucking Unbelievably Cool

On the same subject: using Rhythm Emotion as an insert song a couple of times but waiting until episode 41 out of 49 to introduce it as the new OP was very bold, but the correct decision.

Ending the series with Relena tearing the birthday card Heero left for her is just raw, unfiltered kinography. Maybe the single smartest decision in this entire series. I was hootin' and hollerin'.

THE STUFF I LIKED LESS:

The last nine episodes are just Char's Counterattack. Any time I tried to give it leeway and thought they were gonna do something interesting or different, it slapped me in the face, first with Milliardo delivering a speech in a Sweetwater-style colony (when literally every colony shown in After Colony is a Halo-style ring), then ultimately resolving to drop a space fortress on Earth to usher in an ice age, and then even doing the "We stopped the drop!... Oh no, a piece split off and is still heading to Earth!" part. This was hack shit, and kind of made me hate Milliardo because the interesting thing about him was the idea of taking the Char archetype in a different direction, not just writing Char doing all the things Char did, again.

I made a post just the other day about what turned out to be the setup for pairing off of Quatre and Dorothy, which I mentioned right at the top here was one of my favorite aspects of the series. Someone corrected me that they did actually 'meet'- Dorothy was in the room when Quatre and Heero introduced themselves as students, and presumably Quatre was in the room when Dorothy introduced herself to Heero- but looking that up reminded me that really should've been Quatre she was dueling. As it is, it's almost the same problem I've talked about with The Rose of Versailles, where you have a REALLY STRONG arc built on a foundation of nothing.

While I thought the reveal of the true nature of Dorothy's "love" of war was pretty well executed, the same cannot be said last second reveal that the Gundam Scientists sabotaged Operation Meteor somehow and that the original mastermind was Quinze. It's a good concept, and would actually explain a lot of why Operation Meteor was so disjointed, but like the character himself, there was literally no time to develop this.

When it comes to suspension of disbelief, I usually let things pass unmentioned, as long as they don't disrupt me in the moment. That's why I wrote that post about Quatre and Dorothy; at the exact moment it happened I went "THAT'S RAD... wait, what?" Even worse than that, though, was Lady Une waking up from her coma, escaping the hospital, hijacking the Wing Gundam and somehow making it from Earth to Libra fast enough to knock Trieze out of the firing path AND not dying herself. It wasn't even cool because...

I hate Treize. I already talked about how much I hated Treize in the first part, and it only got worse here. And it's not "oh man, what a good villain" hate, it's just... he sucks. Everything he says and does is so incongruous and lame, and not in a way that reads to me as intentional. It's insane that he survived until basically the last minute, but the silver lining is that led to Lady Une surrendering on behalf of the World Nation and completely fucking up Dorothy, Milliardo, and even Treize's plans.

No need to go over my dislike of the Gundams in the series again, but man does Epyon suck. Fuckin' boneless Master Gundam is what it is, and transparently just given to Zechs so he would have a red mobile suit to use in the final conflict (because he's Char, ya see). It sucks even more because they did make a Tallgeese II, and it actually bridges the gap between native After Colony mobile suit design and Gundams like I was bitching about, but they gave it to Treize!

So much of Gundam Wing can be boiled down to "poor planning and not enough time". It was regrettable in 0079 that they ran out of time because they got cancelled, and unfortunate for ZZ that Char's Counterattack went into development and they had to scramble to put together a story that somehow fit- or at least didn't clash- with that, but this? There doesn't really seem to be any good excuse. I still don't know most of these characters' backstories or motivations, and some stuff that's implied in context but is never meaningfully addressed, like the fact that Dorothy and Treize are related.

Another overall problem I have with Wing is that it talks about war as part of the innate human desire for conflict, when those are two very different things. Even near the end, Milliardo talks about how the colonies gave in to their desire for conflict, and like... no they didn't! They were manipulated by an external, fascistic power (Romefeller) into fearing The Other (non-Romefeller-aligned powers on Earth) and started developing weapons for the fascistic power, and then those weapons were hijacked by an extremist sect (White Fang). No part of that is the colonies, as a united entity, going "we crave violence". In fact, mankind's susceptibility to fear and the manipulation that comes with it could so easily be worked into other theme that Wing likes to bring up- that mankind is weak- but that's more about literal, actual weakness. It's just so bad at trying to make its points.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS:

Once again we get some haute couture with Noin's non-uniform outfit of choice being a fuckin' cowboy fringe vest. Just amazing that when this woman isn't in fatigues or a dress uniform, she's ready to go to the rodeo.

Watching this dub has forced me to confront the possibility that maybe G Gundam also had a not-great dub, and I just love it because that's the one I saw when I was a kid. But to be honest, this dub would be perfectly fine if not for the fact that they had like six actors total, and major character's voices would be coming out of Random Soldier #3 one scene later.

There's a line in the final episode where Duo's like "we're gonna celebrate with some champagne when we get back!" and Quatre goes "just as long as it's non-alcholic". I was 1000% sure that was a dub thing, so imagine my surprise when I checked the subs and nope; Quatre is a good little boy in Japanese, too. Totally in character, but that's such a staple of 90's localization.

It's incredibly funny to me that the Wufei is responsible for both kicking off the Char's Counterattack portion of Gundam Wing by effectively staging a false flag attack for Milliardo because he's having a Category 5 Muh Justice moment, and then also completely ruins Milliardo's plans by actually killing Treize. Both because it's funny to be responsible for both parts of that, and also because, again, he's the one who pointed out to all the other boys that they got finessed into killing the Alliance brass.

Speaking of which, what the fuck was up with Wufei's cult of suicidal ascetic monks? Were they the only people onboard that colony? Did they murder millions of innocents for Wufei's (what can charitably be referred to as) "chararacter development"?

Duo calling himself "the God of Death" really takes on the energy of someone trying to force a nickname on themselves, especially the way that absolutely no one else ever acknowledges it. It gets even more laughable when he refers to the Gundam scientists as "the Gods of Plague". You don't have a Four Horsemen thing going on, dude!

Heero Yuy should never ever be portrayed with eyes this soft ever. Deeply unsettling.

IN CONCLUSION:

"Frustrating" is definitely the word for Gundam Wing, as far as I'm concerned. For a little bit there, I was comparing it to Angel Links, and re-reading that post, I think a lot of what I said about it also applies here. The difference is that when Wing tries to swings big more often, and in doing so, it will occasionally succeed. The trade off, then, is that the hackish lifting of entire Universal Century storylines with worse execution looks even worse. I don't think I would ever really recommend it to anyone- you're better off checking out literally any of the Universal Century Gundam stories- but if someone were hellbent on it, I don't think I'd go out of my way to ward them off, either.

But wait, I shouldn't be doing an "In Conclusion" section, because I'm not done yet!

Next up: the conclusion to the Gundam Wing experience, Mobile Suit Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz! My impression, based on what I've heard, is that even people who are out-and-out Wing haters think Endless Waltz is alright, so I'm holding out hope that this will be all of the stuff I liked about Wing and none of what I didn't.

Considering this one's a movie, and only 90 minutes at that, I don't think it'll take quite as long as my previous two Gundam Wing write-ups.

At least I fucking hope not.

#Gundam #Mobile Suit Gundam #Mobile Suit Gundam Wing #Gundam Wing #anime #The Big Gundam Watch #long post

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leqclerc · 7 months

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The thing is when Charles starts on pole they can’t do those strategies because either Carlos refuses or he is not great enough and it fails.

Because still right now while Charles is a bit behind in quali (no confidence in the car) he is still better in race pace. And his race craft help tremendously for Carlos to keep his position.

So everytime it’s Charles race that has to be compromised. Already in 2022 we could see that.

Now Carlos who needs confidence in the car but also in himself can be on a high. And I agree Charles might stay behind in the standings. Could have been different with no mechanical failures and Ferrari fumbles that caused him two penalties for impending but… 🙄 Carlos is lucky I guess (i would say his side of the garage is just better because I don’t believe luck is a great explanation for 99% of what goes on at Ferrari). Charles lost some points when he tried too hard or not enough a few races back, we could sense he was frustrated with the year and the car. But after Monza and even today the faith he has in the team still… I guess he knows something we don’t.

I just need Ferrari to listen to his feedback and listen to him more than Carlos. We know Carlos prefers a car that will be slower. The field is coming together now so they need to be able to extract everything and that mean not an understeery car.

I fear Carlos recent form will get us back to 2021-start of 2022 : no first driver, Carlos resisting orders … the situation needs to be clear right away. Or Charles needs to be more like Carlos and do his own thing, but he won’t. Like today you’d think Carlos came up with the strategy, while Charles is barely acknowledged but he is the one who started on softs and who asked for the free pit stop but was denied. (Ooops I’m a bit mad again, the lack of ambition in this team. Yes let Carlos take p1 and don’t do a 2019 again but maybe trying to get both car on the podium for a top team is not completely out of reach?)

(In my wildest dreams Ferrari and Carlos would also acknowledge Charles work today, because without him we would be looking at Lando 1st win or Merc back on top that’s a given. We really need to work on teamwork and recognizing it, it’s crazy).

You're so right 📣

This is why I'm so frustrated—it's less about this one singular win (although, assuming Red Bull bounces back like nothing ever happened in Japan and this remains the one and only non-RB win in the entire season then obviously the optics will be massively skewed to Carlos's benefit) and more about what this means on a larger scale in terms of how Ferrari operates and their future long-term trajectory.

Carlos's own ambitions and ego have gotten in the way of maximising results in the past. I don't see how that's going to change any time soon, especially now when he's buoyed by recent events. When the same is asked of him there's always an excuse and/or bargaining, "don't ask this of me," "stop inventing," "I can go faster just give me [x number of laps]" etc. I mean, we all remember Silverstone, and at that point the championship was still technically on the table even in spite of all the setbacks. Having seen what we've seen over the past few seasons I frankly don't trust him to go above and beyond in the team player game in a high stakes, high pressure scenario, like how Checo worked with Max in Abu Dhabi 2021.

Ngl it was so funny to see the team be so deathly afraid of an undercut they pulled off completely inadvertently back in 2019, lmao 😭😭😭 Fall back 3 seconds behind, 5 seconds... And yeah, failing to pit Charles under the VSC when he was willing to go for it... still feels like they're struggling to make decisions under pressure and are unwilling to gamble even when 1. it's what the driver wants, 2. they're not risking losing a win because Charles was already at a disadvantage after the initial hold-up in the pits. If it had been the wrong call then it would've been on Charles, but seeing how quickly the Mercs closed up on him and successfully passed him on fresher tyres... Feels like they're committed to making the exact same mistake over and over again with him. I've lost count of how many times he's made the right call, was denied/overruled, and then it turned out they lost out that way.

And yeah, it sure seemed like it was Carlos and Lando who were the Ferrari teammates that day with their little agreement. Like, I get it, they're friends off-track, and they can celebrate however they wish, but in terms of on-track happenings... 🤨 Don't think I've ever seen Carlos help Charles out like that tbh.

Disappointing from the team for sure, but as for Carlos, I've long gotten used to the fact that Charles is little more than an footnote when he's high on his own success 🤷🏻‍♀️

As for Charles and still having faith in the team... Idk, it's hard to tell what's going on at the moment. Recently we've had quotes about how the team seems to have "figured out" the weaknesses in the car and they pointed to Monza as a sort of breakthrough weekend, but they certainly weren't expecting 1. Red Bull annual Singapore stinker, 2. to be competitive at this track. So I'm not sure if whatever they're doing at the moment is actually helping any—or rather, helping Charles any, since he's still vocal about struggling with the handling of the car while Carlos is on cloud nine with how the car feels for him—or if this is just Charles cutting his losses and looking forward to a clean slate in 2024.

I do find it interesting how he was willing to fight down to the wire in Monza over a third place spot on the podium, but then here in Singapore he's sitting discussing pre-race strat with the team and seemingly agreeing to be used for Carlos's benefit. Was he that disappointed with himself in the Q3 mistake that he figured, okay, let's at least do what's best for the team even if it puts me at a disadvantage (possibility of a win sky-rocketing after Red Bull's flop era was confirmed in qualy) or... Because he did comply, but he also had to point out that if they slow him down too much they're going to just back him into George, and that it would be more beneficial to ask Carlos to pick up the pace since he was at the front controlling it.

#replies #anonymous #discussions and predictions #long post

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simonalkenmayer · 2 years

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Pardon me while I think aloud. Join me if you like for yet another useless edition of “Simon reflects on reality”

Education breaks people out of their prejudices, their individual narrow perspectives. It teaches people compassion and egalitarian perspectives. It informs people not just of injustices, but also moments of hope.

To be able to maintain bigoted ideals, while in a university, means you are not being educated. Bigotry is dogged, chosen, stubborn ignorance for the sake of ego.

This is why clubs like “young conservatives” make me cringe. If you go into a class or an educational institution determined to keep the same perspective, then you are failing at learning, at life, frankly. If you do not have at least one “holy shit, I’ve been so blind” moment from school, then school was likely useless to you,

You have to be humble to learn. And humility teaches grace and compassion. Those qualities lead to generosity and kindness, and the notion that every experience is subtly different, even if similar. It teaches that each person should respect that theirs is not the only path, but indeed that all paths travel the same route.

Once you absorb these things, you cannot help but want to invest in community, in reform, in balance, in less regulation of rights and more regulation of power to oppress or disadvantage. The more you learn about the complexity of reality, the more you come to despise games and useless drama to stir the kettle.

I have learned a tremendous amount while here on tumblr, just from the interactions I have had. It has helped me acquire whole new disciplines, entire perspectives. It’s helped me have terminology, insight, humility. I have changed how I think about dozens of topics. For that I am supremely grateful to all of my readers. This compels me to feel protective and indebted to all of you.

In whatever I do, I try always to find something useful to me within it. If I’m standing in line, I either try to learn about the people in it, or I use the time to read, or I listen to news. Always learning something. No time left unenriched. I’ve been supremely lucky to meet all of you, ridiculous people included.

I’ve rambled a bit, but the principle take away is, learning ought to never feel like an assault on the mind. It ought never lead a person to stay the same, with resolute surety. Education is transformation. So if you are not willing and able to transform, then an education that you pay for is wasted on you. When I meet a conservative from an Ivy League school, I know two things: they wasted their educational resources, and they have a very serious psychological disadvantage, specifically a deeply engrained bias for their ego. Privilege.

A good education is one part “here’s all the things you never even knew to ask”, one part “here is some rational, logical, methodical ways to reason about what we learn in any subject”, one part “this is where we need more research/help/evolution”, one part “isn’t it nice to stretch your character out of the tight ball within which your youthful conceit has kept you confined”.

In the Eithuphro dilemma, Plato put forward a situation designed to challenge: is piety beloved by the gods because it is piety, or is anything beloved by the gods considered pious. In other words: is this thing/law/tradition/way “good” because it is loved by a god, or does god love it because it is, of itself, just correct somehow. It’s a critical point of early philosophy, because Socrates (the character) eventually comes to the conclusion that if something is pious simply because it is loved by god, then piety is arbitrary. The condition of “pious” is subjective. If something is, in and of itself just and correct, but is not loved by the gods, should it be discarded as impious if gods do not embrace it? He asks (somewhat famously now courtesy of modern hip hop) “whose bias do you seek?”

Education teaches that some things are just more organized, benefit larger groups and so lead to net change. There is such a thing as a concept of improvement, and some things improve overall conditions, and some do not. If you are pursuing something because you’ve been told that it is correct, then you are seeking a bias, not the potential reality. Education is an attempt to gain perspective of the truth, the reality. Not a bias.

Whose bias do you seek? Or are you able to strip bias back and say “from this process, I can perceive what will constitute a net gain for everyone and how to achieve it”. Have you learned how to overlap every biased account and find the one consistent thing in all of them? Have you acquired the skills you need to evaluate reality, to analyze it, to make decisions about what will be progress and what will eventually become obsolete?

Hatred will become obsolete, the more we learn about each other. Seeing events transpire erases incredulity. Allowing one small group of people to enrich themselves solely because they can, at the cost of others well-being will inevitably seem unfair, a net loss. Unregulated capitalism is madness. Religion as a mandate rather than an experience becomes oppressive. Society organizes. Harmony is sought by society, or society is without a purpose. Education has purpose to it. It’s for something. If you don’t have the goal of remaking who you are, of changing, then you’re not being educated and you are instead seeking bias. Society ought to invest in the education of all members. If it does not, history tells us it will fall.

You are not educated because an institution gave you a diploma, just as you are not pious because god loves you. You are educated when you are capable of evaluating bias, coming to the facts, determining what constitutes a net gain for as many a possible, and what is just and fair in and of itself. This is why institutions grant honorary degrees—acknowledging that one has achieved the same result, education, through another path. Are you “educated” because you bought some time and put all the right answers on the test, or are you educated because every class you took stripped back perspectives and gave you the bare bones, the pith and marrow of the topic?

Do you seek a bias? Or do you seek to undo as many biases as possible?

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

#long post #text #education

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citrusychology · 3 months

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How does marginalization change someone's brain chemistry?

It’s always been interesting to me how mental health ties into the physical health of the brain.

I feel as though the public often thinks of the traumatic things as impacting our mental health, but fails to consider how the actual chemistry of the brain is changed.

For instance, one study from Yale and Columbia found that mothers encountering discrimination during their pregnancy had children with weaker connectivity between the amygdala and the prefrontal cortex.

The amygdala handles emotions, and the prefrontal cortex controls things such as speech, memory, attention span, decision making, and other high-order cognitive abilities. These areas of the brain are incredibly important for normal functioning. The impacts of discrimination being passed down to the child has worrying implications.

Similarly, a study from the Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis found that there was a link between poverty and worse structures of white matter tracts in the brain. White matter connects areas of the brains so that it can transmit information to gray matter, which is made of unmyelinated nerve cells. White matter helps with learning new skills and information.

The study also acknowledged that other factors could play into this correlation: children who grow up in poverty also have a higher risk of obesity. Since nutritional food can be more expensive, many have to turn to foods with less beneficial ingredients. This could contribute to the differences in brain chemistry.

In addition, the article also notes that those in poverty score lower on cognitive function tests, which they claim may be because of “limited access to enriching […] cognitive stimulation”. In other words, people in poverty often lack resources to use to challenge the brain.

This is one of the reasons I personally get irritated when someone dismisses these constant struggles as ‘not that bad’- facing discrimination and poverty every day can already be difficult to work through mentally, but they can also change someone on a chemical level. I believe we, as a society, need do more to support these groups.

For kids in disadvantaged neighborhoods, it may be helpful to provide more stimulating activities and materials to schools and stores for free or for very little to ensure that they have the same resources that those who are more affluent have. With the mothers facing discrimination, even if we cannot stop discrimination entirely, people can still make more of an effort to understand and show empathy for how tremendously discrimination in one’s day to day life can impact someone.

Society understanding how serious poor mental health can be and creating a culture of empathy and kindness is essential for us to progress as people.

Links I Reference:

Poverty negatively impacts structural wiring in children’s brains, study indicates

Discrimination during pregnancy can affect infants’ brain circuitry

What Is White Matter In The Brain

Amygdala

Like my Work?

Check out my website here where I crosspost everything!!

This is my first blog post, so support would mean a lot to me :)

#my original posts #long post #mental health #psychology #poverty #marginalization #neuroscience #discrimination #write up

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miniaturewhisperspatrol · 1 year

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rezzieeesworld · 2 years

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Benefits of Social Media

Socmed is an application that enables users to create and share content, and it has good benefits. Firstly, it can build relationships that will allow you to connect and communicate with people. Secondly, it allows users to share their expertise of who they are and what they want to be known for, and this is where you can share your experiences as well in your personal life. It also increases your visibility because if you are consistent in sharing your content, which is positive , good , quality, and creative content, the more people share it, the more people see and like it. And it also helps to educate yourself. There is a lot of noise on social media, but it will allow you to choose what you want to read and watch. That helps you, as well, to learn more about current events and things taking place near you. And one of the best things I can really say about it is that you can connect at anytime. For example, it helps you communicate and connect with someone instantly and easily. For example, I have a lot of cousins and friends that are too far away from me, and with the help of applications and social media, it feels like they are just beside me. We can use it anytime , anywhere as long as you have data or the internet. It is beneficial as well, especially if you're in the middle of traffic.

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There are many advantages to social media when we consider its good elements. The most significant is that it is an excellent educational tool. Anyone may access whatever information they need with a single click. Social media may be used by students to educate themselves on a variety of topics. Furthermore, social media has made live lectures feasible. While seated in India, you may listen in on a lecture taking place in America. Additionally, as more and more people turn away from newspapers, they depend more and more on social media for news. It keeps you continuously informed on the most recent events taking place throughout the globe. A person develops a greater social awareness of global challenges. Additionally, it improves ties to the people you love. Social internet has eliminated the barrier of distance. For instance, communicating with friends and family who live abroad is simple. Most importantly, it offers young, aspiring artists a fantastic platform to freely display their ability. Social networking may also help you find excellent job prospects. Companies who want to market their brands might profit from another advantage. Social media has emerged as a major platform for advertising and gives you fantastic chances to interact with your audience.

Disadvantages of Social Media

Social media, despite its distinct advantages, is regarded as one of society's most devastating forces. The misuse of social media can have serious repercussions if it is not controlled. Due to the unprecedented invasion of your privacy, it is detrimental. Children are a target for predators and hackers because of the excessive sharing that occurs on social media. It also results in cyberbullying, which has a tremendous negative impact on everyone. Thus, it is essential to constantly monitor social media usage, especially that of minors. The next addition is social media, which is quite popular among young people. A student with this addiction struggles academically since they spend more time on social media than studying. Social media also causes rifts among communities. It is used to promote fake news, which contaminates the brains of those who value peace. Social networking undoubtedly has benefits and drawbacks. But in the end, everything comes down to the user. The youth in particular need to strike a balance between their social media use, physical activity, and academic success. Anything used excessively may be dangerous, and this is also true of social media. As a result, we must make an effort to have a balanced, fulfilling life.

#etech #school #social media

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sugar-petals · 3 years

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SuperM as Boyfriends Headcanon

↪ caro’s note. extra long version because i miss ‘em. best boys, they’re all bf material to the moon and back ♡

5k words | bullet points

○ warnings ⚠️ 18+, dom/sub play, shibari, female reader, grinding, poly mentions, threesomes, face-sitting, femdom & vanilla, smut and fluff

⌈ ten

— motto: they won’t underestimate me for long.

most of your social environment is gonna be confused by ten at the beginning

and don’t really get what he’s all about

or think he’s like whatever, some random guy in a tank top

acting peculiar

finding him kind of hard to gauge

some of your family and relatives might even think he’s totally unusual and a sneaky fuckboy making you mad

they seriously wonder what you see in him

down the line that perception has turned by 180 degrees

as it should

ten becomes more irreplaceable, relatable, beautiful, perfect and impressive the more you know him

he’s not as mysterious and impossibly badass as everyone assumes

his personality is very approachable to you

and you find him interesting in every aspect, looks to hobbies to background to personal habits

and also opinions because ten is a guy who really thinks stuff through

so you gotta be roughly on the same wavelength

he likes discussing controversial and complicated stuff a lot for sure

being far wiser than his age suggests

you are the first to share those things with him until the rest of the world catches up to this gem of a person

spending so much time with you

in the most personal way he can

he takes you to see the floating markets in bangkok, you spend the summer in thailand

wakeboarding and playing badminton

his entire family knows you inside out at some point this shit is serious

it’s very important to him to go back to the roots every now and then

and that you have been around his home city as well

getting to enjoy the area and time together eating the most savory delicacies

renting a boat and paddling you around to the important spots, he can explain any question you have

this kissing is gonna be so romantic

who needs a vacation in venice when you can go to thailand with none other than ten himself as your ferryman let that sink in

except eating durian there he is, the boyfriend who can do anything!

with seemingly no effort

ten does little kind services of love for you throughout the day

he pours you herbal tea, fixes some furniture (he’s surprisingly good at tinkering), comes home from the bakery with your favorite pastry, does the laundry with your favorite fabric softener

he also goes on a huge shopping spree with you monthly because fashion is key in this household and it’s tremendous fun

you giggle when he puts on oversized shirts deliberately to look funny

everyone in the clothing store will think oh man what an adorable pair

ten will model the living hell out of the entire stock

and buy you the cape you really really want as a birthday present

said item turns out to be your favorite couple accessory

because you can sit next to each other on a bench at the river and wear it

what’s not to love about a portable blanket

of course he will take to instagram and make it such a cool thing, photographies of you wearing really cool coats and jackets

mirror bathroom selfies together as well, with a back hug, the classic

and not just for insta

you snuggle a lot generally

ten is always available for affection

and accepts all PDA

he’s a kitty after all, he loves the warmth of your body more than you know

remember how taemin said ten’s hands are always cold, newsflash not anymore since you stuff them into the pocket of your hoodie whenever you can

and hello sir your paws will be nice and cozy on my waist

or hand in hand when you waltz through your apartment

time for dance is a must

oh my god ten is so good at all of this

although say he’s definitely faster into latin than standard genres

tango argentino, he loves flamenco as well

don’t believe me? ten is a diehard rosalía stan!

vamos

so, no-brainer, expect a lot of dancy stuff

that escalates into wild, passionate fucking

which probably looks like an aggressive form of couple exercises

you poor sore souls

ten’s lil kitty butt is falling apart from all the “i can handle a bigger one!”-level pegging and you have aching legs all over

favorite position? full nelson

if you ask me ten’s ass is probably so carved out by the end of this you could fit lucas and kai in there from head to toe

this is not for the faint of heart

sex with this guy is extra cardio

and if you’re into that a threesome is gonna go down sooner or later

with our girl lisa

there. i said it

miss manoban in those knee-high boots, grinding her thighs between yours and you finishing off on ten’s face? the fucking hottest thing ever i need a moment wow

i don’t have to tell you how orgasmic this is gonna be

steamy sex life with ten very recommended

⌈ kai

— motto: you’re like a precious rose. i’ll protect you forever.

to be straightforward with you

he is in so heavily in demand it’s madness

to give you an idea of the scale

mark is basically occupied by yuta until the end of time

but kai has an entire idol fanclub on top of all erigoms

those sharp moves did not go unnoticed

he gets an inkigayo sandwich every other day

jesus christ

if rent-a-sexy-bf.com was a thing kai would be the most requested

his phone would be blowing up with contracts like

and you also have to pass kyungsoo’s vibe check

and taemin’s

the road to being kai’s gf is indeed the way of the samurai

i mean honestly: kim jongin is without a doubt the hardest member to get a date with

this has got to be the most selective man of the entire industry or something

if he likes you he REALLY likes you

and he will be the one showing initiative

because he wants to make it clear he isn’t just spending time out of politeness or something

although it’s pretty logical that if kai was unable to reject someone he would no longer be an idol but a harem husband busy every hour of the day

seoul would be able to found its own village

kai town

where like 70% of the population is pregnant

but since kai wants to keep on dancing obviously and he wants to lend his heart to only one person

seoul has to settle with a singular nini family house instead of a kai district

where you and the man himself are a full-fledged household basically since kai’s nieces double as actual kids

if you wanna be a young ass ‘mom but not mom with kids’ and be married to kim kai this is it

does he have a thing for milfs or something

that thought just came to my mind

anyway you’re mommy anyway wink wink

fucking til’ dawn until even his muscles hurt

going raw at the gym together

him cooking the most random food with the infamous waffle maker

cuddling with an army of teddy bears surrounding you

walking the dogs with the sexiest dancer alive

and the sexiness is only the tip of the iceberg

we know he’s all-round amazing

kai is the king of figuring out ways to chill out with you anywhere anytime

and yes innocent chilling

...unless you’re in the mood for something else

up to you

anyway

sweet innocent chilling for now... with the stunner... just smooching at best things aren’t going raw or anything

on the couch in the kitchen in the car when it’s parked somewhere in nature

kai takes you very seriously and is a great listener

he’s literally so respectful and open-minded i can’t

he will keep your secrets and stand up for you if it’s ever needed

yes he is extremely caring and invested

kai does not tolerate others being shady towards you

if there’s an instance where you are hurt and unable to assert yourself don’t worry. he knows how to confront others with measure but a firm determination.

kai takes a lot of that responsibility but only to the degree where you are comfortable

i think you get what i mean by that

and he is diplomatic instead of plain patronizing

you have a right to be protected. it means he not only treats you well, but also makes sure your well-being isn’t disturbed in any other way outside of the relationships

outside influences aren’t to be underestimated

and since kai is a godly man you encounter a lot of jealousy from others

a matter he will take into his hands since he knows he’s the reason

standing up for you also means saying no

to these jealous voices so this is an important boundary he has to draw

that all kinds of hellbent people want to get into his pants and take his stage image too literally is not up to you to fix

kai is there for you to enjoy and love not to defend

that’d be exhausting and beside the point

kai prevents stress and negativity to come to you

i hope i explained this well he doesn’t do this to be bossed up or make you weak it’s because he wants to make life easier for you

guys being protective will be chalked up as chauvinistic these days. often rightfully so

but what i mean is that kai support you in all regards so you won’t be at a disadvantage or feel terrible about something

⌈ taeyong

— motto: we’ll take good care. enjoy the pleasure.

he’s the type of boyfriend who will ask you about things he missed out on while he was busy

things um from the internet

while mark literally knows that one by heart already taeyong will ask you things like what the wellerman song is

and you thought it would be something nsfw

i got you fooled

did we forget that the man literally watched nct memes on youtube

taeyong is both even more 18+ than you think but also even more innocent than you think it’s complicated

this man is just hard to describe he’s so different, i mean every person is unique but he’s an original it’s the extra mile you know

anyway

sea shanties

bopping to it all day since he just heard it

singing it while he prepares dinner based on a youtube recipe video as he often does

he’s the most adorable person ever ever ever

asking you why shanties are back in fashion

(good question, requires a deeper sociocultural analysis i reckon)

planning to remix one for his soundcloud lmao i kid you not

maybe your favorite shanty

featuring fast-pace rap and all

creating his own previously unknown phrases and shit like that you know him

palazzo rocco lemon detox flashbacks

he’s hilarious i swear

taeyong will produce his own shanties for you can you imagine

as he says: my happiness is your happiness

watch out he will drop a shanty music video with extra krumping moves

taeyong is a never-ending source of pure crack

prepare to laugh a lot like, a lot lot

how can a man who seemingly has such a serious outlook on life and such a bonkers kinda face be so lighthearted

it’s like he’s peter pan or something

especially since he has to manage like over 20 brats in nct his cutesy behavior towards you as his gf will stand out to you

yeah so to be clear we all know he’s the cute one in the relationship

and guess who wears the pants

that’s always you ma’am don’t deny it

or wait

not for long actually because they come off um physically

but not metaphorically

because who doesn’t wanna sit on his face tbh

your favorite reserved spot

he loves it

taeyong has such a thing for your body it’s ridiculous

mister lee got a sexy mama

and you have such a thing for the gloriousness that is him

but neither of you will not admit it as openly as other people would think

all there is... is being flustered

baekhyun probably has to play some cupid now and then

and give you some ideas

like gifting taeyong plushies and things like that

baekhyun knows what taeyong is all about so the advice is very welcome

but most things you find out for yourself

by being a little braver with him you know

you walking around naked in the apartment or basically fresh out the shower with nothing but a towel

will shake up taeyong so immensely, he will back himself against a wall without you even pinning him there lmao!

jeez he’s so deep into kinky stuff but easily shook anyway

i quote him again: “born to be cute, i dunno!”

you can imagine the overwhelm when you rub yourself against him like it’s nobody’s business

it’s so much fun to give taeyong a regular horny meltdown not gonna lie

this man was grinding his whole body all over the superm stage and now he’s basically freezing up and drooling

how many denied and ruined orgasms he’s gonna get, so much overstimulation all the way

you’ll lose count of it

and just how wet you’re gonna be

is a thing for the history books

taeyong isn’t such a big deal in nct for no reason god gave him every talent

so great sex is obviously in his repertoire

i think you’re gonna break some records for most fucks per week

you know... guys like lucas taemin kai and baekhyun spend more time wooing and teasing and flirting

but taeyong gets down to business

one glance is enough

⌈ lucas

— motto: the hottest couple around.

ah, big boy

you really got this man’s attention

doing nothing much at all really

he probably just saw you walking around talking to friends

carrying an impossibly huge veggie burger munching and enjoying yourself after going on a jog

yeah boy that’s how you catch his eye

they say love begins in the stomach and that is the true meaning

or the nose, your food smells really good, lucas is going crazy, he’s seeing stars and shit

anyway

the towering burger isn’t the only thing he wants

lucas cannot get you out of his mind no matter how much he tries to distract himself

with more good food, movies, games

fooling around with wayv or the superm maknaes, and working out

he’s admittedly... a little himbo head over himbo heels with you the feels got to him

he’s not gonna say it’s a date he’s just gonna invite you just because

to hang out in the kitchen while taeyong cooks and baekhyun comes up with the idea to play twister

imagine lucas with his long arms and legs bending himself all over the place

fighting with kai who almost crashed his shoulders into taemin who avoided the accident quickly

making you lose a round

obviously lucas will hustle until your team wins

mostly because he’s so tall and baekhyun is so small which is a huge advantage when stacking each other over the map

let’s just face it baekhyun only suggested this game to bite everyone’s butts and to see you have skinship with lucas

which is definitely a successful plan of the leader

yukhei is in paradise

jumping around his room like an oversized bunny after you went home

don’t lie, you fell hard for him as well he’s just such a presence

emotionally, physically

a gentle but persistent giant

he’ll do anything to make your relationship happen once he knows you’re interested

if there’s someone meant to be a boyfriend it’s gotta be him come on

he will cave in after a while and admit he can’t just forget about you

not gonna lie

your ex is gonna be shaking in his ratty boots

his poor eyes will literally jop from their unexpecting sockets

when he sees lucas hanging out with you

with his shining blonde hair and tall stature, that perfect shapely body, with great fashion on top of that

looking like your guardian angel

man, xuxi really does

pulling you out of your slump that’s been going on for months

and bringing back smiles and a good time he knows how to do that best

and big big hugs of course

you can imagine how soothing and grounded it feels with such huge arms around you

he will make sure that feeling is always there when you need it

because you deserve that treatment

which means he will come over very very often

yeah get ready for how yukhei is a lot more driven than you think just dial and he will be there

underneath the meme surface is someone very determined who really really wants you

yukhei is chaotic good incarnate but in that area he isn’t messing around

his brain is like: “gotta be with her”

on repeat

he must call you, he literally can’t sleep without tying loose ends together as quickly as possible

no second wasted with this guy, even far down the relationship timeline

i really pity your ex

i mean someone dating any superm member would drive their former partner completely nuts

but lucas is a special case

he has that kind of look and aura that makes other guys dig themselves into the ground like wiggling worms or cope by fanboying over him

i don’t wanna make this sound like a competition and yet — congrats on your noodly blondie boyfriend alright

⌈ mark

— motto: two nerds in love.

how to explain this. mark is a perfect balance of a lover, a talker, and a shy bean

with a tendency toward bean

and flicking the bean

you know

cutting right to the chase are we

mark is very invested in pleasing you as good as he can

and defeating his awkwardness

because if we know one thing it’s that he always strives to become better and better like he can’t help it

and isn’t afraid of almost biting off more than he can chew

how many subunits is he part of at this point is it gonna be nct hollywood as well god dangit

back to the point mark doesn’t treat relationships and sex as something static which is a good and rare thing

he does his best and always looks for room to improve

while being very nervous, very bilingual, it takes two languages or more to express what he thinks about you let that sink in

that’s very shaky first date sex while being extremely in love with each other

lucky you

and an afterglow where he plays the guitar for you

that’s so nice

he can play it while laying down and shit

while singing

not rapping, actual full-fledged serenading

we’ve heard how that sounds in the relay cam

are you dating some kind of teenage heartthrob or something huh

mark will make it very clear he’ll stick around, this bad bitch is here to stay

or actually, he’s a good bitch, don’t misunderstand

mark doesn’t have a lot of edgy in him unless rap is concerned

he’s the kinda guy to get lost in IKEA with

having a good time

as often as his schedule permits

you really have to make use of your time together

this man might as well the busiest idol out there

and you are no different because birds of a feather

you’re both mr. and ms. independent

out and about very often

so meeting up becomes something special during comeback season

or wait mark always has a comeback going on

which is a double-edged sword but something you both know you signed up for

which is why you spend a lot of time around NCT dream, 127, and SuperM

sm’s publicity agents have to work extra hard i’m telling you

a dating rumor is the last thing both of you would need

since you befriend several members you gotta stay on the low as well

but hey the rage of jealous people of the public is nothing compared to the force of nature that is yuta nakamoto

who seriously thinks himself threatened and robbed

in case you are feeling possessive as well...

...you might have to fistfight yuta

to be able to be with mark

who is basically property of osaka at this point

yuta is a scorpio that’s just the way it is

unlike taeyong who wishes his rap buddy the best, yuta kinda wants to be mark’s wingman and see him date, live his best life

but also have mark for himself to fawn over and to adore, to be fascinated by

we get it yuta. bisexual struggles. very understandable

you have to promise in person that mark doesn’t forget about the holy gaming nights with yuta

which is hilarious since that’s not up to you but mark’s memory

bestie, yuta uses everyone as a scapegoat don’t sweat it too much

regardless you put a weekly reminder on the fridge

so the roaring lion yuta would be pacified

he doesn’t want to lose his sweetheart can you blame him

the ultimate but also most risky solution is obviously inviting yuta for movies

which will be appreciated but also cause a storm

mark will definitely break a sweat when you start a popcorn war or try to prove who hugs mark the best

caught in the middle of mayhem is mark lee’s specialty what did you expect

this either ends with murder or a chaotic open relationship down the line

yuta really is attached but who wouldn’t be

it could be worse mark has double the love you know

⌈ baekhyun

— motto: you wanna know why i’m your candy?

baby tell me are you ridin’?

in fair verona where we lay our scene...

that baekhyun always wants to woo you — his way, which proves to be very interesting to say the least — is never hard to miss

putting in effort is mochi default mode

no matter what stage of the relationship you’re in

he might as well regularly serenade you under your balcony in the backyard just because

probably singing ‘baby we can stay up’ and wiggling his ass in all directions because he’s a dirty boy gone wild

yeah. nowadays romeo is twerking instead of feuding with tybalt

that’s good for him and everyone involved

you in particular because you get some very racy eye candy

you know how baekhyun is

at least nobody’s around seeing him put on an 18+ show like that

your little guy is one unhinged fella

if it starts pouring he will grind up and down the next lantern and belt out ‘singing in the rain’

you bet he can do some actual pole dance

he’s strong and bendy you know

and loves to gyrate his whole bag of bones like... he wants to hit you with all the body rolls

in the rain

what a freaky man

but hey you wanna stay up for sure

doesn’t take long until you beckon him to come upstairs

where the only way to alleviate him of his wet clothes—

oh well he has those roger rabbit vibes and you can’t be mad at it

he will play off all his hormonal antics

baekhyun is hilarious

and so perverted, he can keep up with your spicy idea of playing patty-cake don’t worry

how do i know you’re an extra nsfw kinda person?

who else would like baekhyun

he says juicy things all the time

and does juicy things

yes. finally a couple on eye level indeed.

when baekhyun asks are you ridin’ you ask how hard

bruh

this is gonna be fun

and remember

beside handing you sacks of money

his priority is always to make you smile

i’m kidding about the bags but

baekhyun is so rich it’ll show in your relationship, but he’s more about the interactions with you rather than the lifestyle

baekhyun didn’t hustle for a bentley he hustled to sing and get out of sm alive alright

financial stability: important

luxury: very nice to have, he can make you the presents you want to have and travel a lot together

but smiles: baekhyun priority

because he so badly wants to know you love him and adore him, he sometimes feels so insecure

of course you do

you always reassure him with your reactions

it’s very important to him don’t underestimate it

baekhyun has always been talking about his ideal type in terms of how he can cheer her up

so even the naughtiest sexy time evenings are gonna be filled with all giggles

anyway other than that your pussy will be dripping

because this guy is as horny as all other members of super m combined

and you have your ways of leaving him tongue-tied and wrists-tied

taemin’s impact

superm isn’t short of bondage supplies we all know that

so yeah. shibari baekhyun is gonna happen

since he does pilates imagine what kinda shapes you can bend this lil guy into

and take some pictures

privé is in trouble

bondage model baekhyun is bursting onto the scene

you might even run a risque blog that features cropped pictures with him

heh — you think people will recognize him by his body?

nope

first: you only upload HD pictures that aren’t whitewashed

baekhyun is basically never photographed like that

second: who expects baekhyun to be featured on a bdsm blog with his girlfriend

and this is the guy that drives you around in his expensive car with his big black shades on

well what can i say

nothing is the way it seems

⌈ taemin

— motto: i’ll unfold a whole new world for you.

taemin is cocky, he’s sensual, and: a very smiley person as we know

least boring relationship ever

he will prance toward you whenever he can to involve you in cuddles

touch-starved taemin is a thing

kkoong can tell you about it, he needs kisses and embraces so often

might as well pepper him with it no problem

and put him into your oversized sweaters when he eats ice cream on the sofa, watching movies, and you brush his ever-growing hair

he’s smol he’s gonna fit into them don’t worry

and on the other hand he likes a rough and tough girl who thinks of him like a boy toy

who acts tsundere or like his bodyguard

working out almost daily to the point of sweat all over

a gal probably able to pretzel minho lucas and chanyeol into one giant bundle

taemin truly has the taste of a divo

multi-layered as always

so you couldn’t say the relationship is always the same in sentiment, the vibe of the dynamic could be different every day

we love a complex man

what would be volatile to others is actually an advantage up close

because taemin understands every difficult facet of himself and his partner

even if those facets might be contradictory

or something that’s felt shameful about

he will accept and listen anyway

the same goes for getting what drives you

taemin is like a walking psychology velvet couch with fancy swirls as arm rests

point is he isn’t fooled by the surface of the world

he knows what has to be known

which also means your looks aren’t the part he prioritizes

and not even outward personality and habit is what he’s drawn to

it’s the mentality and values underneath

that’s true compatibility to him and he can feel it

he’s really really smart

and also finds it important that you get along with shinee and superm, that you think they’re nice to be around and vice versa

especially kai as taemin’s absolute bearly bestie. if kai thinks you’re shady and you don’t like kai either

or if you’re permanently super awkward and taemin’s moodmaking doesn’t help

we have a problem

but fair enough

kai and taemin are basically one soul at this point so if taemin likes you jongin does anyway

bff telepathy

in fact jongin was probably the one introducing you to taemin lmao!

because he knows you go well together instinctively and he is correct

so not to worry then

and it’s good on taemin to think longterm and not see you as a person outside of social interaction y’know

cough cough he thinks about marriage, you might be ms. lee one day

here he goes again taemin is just very mature seeing you as well-rounded in every aspect of life

without letting his dick make the important decisions at the detriment of making this a relationship of two lives not just two bodies only

but obviously don’t assume taemin is no horny devil. we all know he dreams of the freakiest scenarios and fantasies in this whole group

going kinda crazy about the thought of making you cum which he always wants to try with new methods

which occupies his mind more than a big bowl of super spicy noodles which is taemin’s favorite meal so

at the same time taemin junior is definitely the same clingy attention whore as his sparkly owner

limp wrists from all the handjobs on your side

and very swollen lips from giving all that head on his side

this is gonna be interesting

he puts the 6v6 in 69

equals 69v69 am i right

but i’m serious that’s gonna be a lot of oral action

you definitely ask each other about having sex very often, daily if you have the time and find a nice spot

and how on earth do both of you keep your hands off each other sleeping in one bed

taemin is touchy as hell with no shyness, and you squish squeeze and grope this guy like the mochi he is

ah when things go both ways

825 notes · View notes

holyshit · 2 years

Note

hiii I'm going to LTWT Antwerp and I'm going alone and it's my first ever concert and I have a pit ticket. do you have any tips for me on how to survive and thrive in line, in the arena and after the concert?

ahh how exciting!!! louis is a great one for a first concert ever! i answered a different anon a month ago who was asking for tips for being in line all day and i wrote a pretty long response which you can find here. now for in the arena and after!

in the arena:

safety first, so if you plan on being in the depths of the pit and not stand towards the back, be extra sure to have water on hand! if you're on barricade, be careful about the amount of space your chest has (you can put your forearms in front of your chest to give yourself more breathing room) as it can end up being tight. don't be scared to call over security if you feel yourself getting dizzy or sick. it's worth it to get out of the pit as soon as humanely possible if you're starting to lose consciousness, and it's a much better experience and safer to let security pull you out before you actually faint.

don't fuss or stress too much about your place in the pit... just find a place that has room and looks like there are fun people around you. the crowd moves so much once the show starts that you're gonna be in a different spot by the end either way! you may even end up closer once the pit starts to move. and you will have fun in any spot, near the front or near the back. they're different and both have their advantages and disadvantages, but it's a great experience either way.

also, it's 100% an option to just leave the pit mid-way through the set and stand towards the back where it's less crowded if you feel unsafe or if you simply aren't vibing with the experience in the pit. it's SUPER fun to be towards the back of the pit where you have more room to dance and don't have to deal with having a bunch of sweaty bodies pressed against you lol

in my opinion, try not to film too much/take too many pictures. i spent the majority of my first few concerts watching the show through a camera/phone screen, and now that i don't do that, i can tell you the difference in experience is TREMENDOUS. it's so much more fun and makes for such a better memory to spend the majority of the time with your phone away, actually dancing, screaming, singing along, and not spending the whole time trying to get good angles or make sure they can't hear you singing in the video. it puts a damper on the experience. at this point in my life, i personally only take a handful of pictures/videos max

speaking of! don't be afraid to dance, sing along, jump, and scream! this is what makes concerts so beautiful- when you really allow yourself to let go and essentially just completely lose your shit with other people who also love this artist! it's a feeling like nothing else, and try not to let any self-consciousness get in the way of experiencing that. no one is judging you, and if they are, it's probably a reflection of their own self-consciousness

this is where i reiterate from my last post that comfortable shoes are your best friend! especially if you plan to wait in line for hours, you're also going to be standing for hours so you want to be as comfortable as possible in very uncomfortable conditions.

and again from my last post, if you plan to have a bag, try to also bring one that is comfortable, not too heavy with only the essentials, and i personally prefer something cross-body so i don't have to have it slipping off my shoulder constantly

after the show, there isn't too much to say, but from what i can think of:

stay with groups of people if you're in an unsafe part of town! get food and a drink if needed!

make sure you already have a good plan for how to get home in advance!! make sure you know the bus/train/subway schedule in advance if you're taking public transit! you definitely don’t want to miss the last bus lol

if you want to try to see louis, you can probably look for groups of people already standing around to give you an idea of where you should wait. especially once people going home start to trail off, it will become more clear where people are waiting. it's very dependent on the venue set-up so i can't give specific advice in that way, but i find it's usually easy to see where people think he might come out. back doors/where the buses are is typical. but remember it is very much a gamble, and there's a good chance you won't see him or he won't stop for people, so don't get your hopes up too much!

take part in the group sing-alongs that sometimes happen as people are walking around after the show! they're super fun and feel weirdly bonding!

rant about how amazing the experience was to your friends/family for the next few days to your heart's content <3 if they love you, they will be happy to see your excitement!

hope you have the BEST BEST time anon! hope your first concert experience is absolutely amazing! stay safe and let loose, dance dance dance and scream the lyrics for me <3

#asks #anonymous

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panda-noosh · 3 years

Text

something gained {george weasley x reader}

words: 13.8k

summary: you’re a beater on the slytherin quidditch team, so naturally, george weasley is your worst enemy.

genre: fluff

notes: masterlist - ask me about commissions! - enjoy my good pals.

----

the crowds are loud this morning.

much too loud for a nine am rise, in your opinion, though you appreciate their enthusiasm. the bellows echo through the changing rooms, rattling the walls, poking at your nerves like a teenager prodding a zit.

you sit on the floor, your back against the wall. around you, your team buzzes, making battle plans to defeat gryffindor, but you can barely hear them over the paired chorus of the chants outside and your own heartbeat. sweat rushes to your palms, and you gingerly wipe them on your quidditch gear.

“we’ve got this one in the bag,” marcus flint says for what must be the seventeenth time since you first laid eyes on him this morning. “they’re not getting away this time. if we have to get violent, we will.”

“and start the season off with a disqualification?” you pipe up. “wonderful game plan. very well thought out.”

“it’s you who needs to listen up the most, l/n. you’re a beater - i want to see you causing damage.”

you roll your eyes. “i cause damage every bloody game, flint. you don’t have to tell me how to do my job.”

flint’s lips curl into a frown, his dark eyes glaring at you. you refuse to meet them, instead picking up your beaters bat from the side and getting to your feet.

“the match starts in two minutes,” you point out. “are we gonna keep talking shit or are we gonna get out there and beat gryffindor?”

much to flint’s dismay, it’s your tiny little speech that seems to get the slytherins riled up. they cheer, stampeding from the changing rooms, each giving you a warm clap on the shoulder on their way past. flint stays behind, glaring daggers into your head.

you nod at the open door. “after you, captain.”

and so, despite the hidden rivalry you and flint have with each other, you walk out onto the quiddich pitch together. the cold air immediately sets you off, a feeling of dread settling in the pits of your stomach; it’s always been easier to play in the warm weather, when the risk of rain is minuscule and you don’t have to worry about obtrusion's. now, however, the sky is overcast and threatening. frost coats the grass beneath your feet. you have to rub your hands together to bring feeling back into them.

the gryffindors are already there, as you expected. oliver wood stands tall in the centre of the field, his team crowded around him. they all look so confident, a feat the slytherin team have yet to master; your people walk onto the field with heads held high and shoulders drawn back, but the tension between them is always so tremendously obvious that it takes away from the confident aura they’re always trying to convey. it’s not something you’ve ever tried to fix, because there’s only so much you can do.

you and marcus wade to the centre of the field, giving each other a brief nod before taking your places, marcus right in front of oliver, and you stood by his left shoulder.

madame hooch addresses the two captains, ordering them to shake hands before the game begins. as soon as she blows her whistle, you kick off and soar into the air.

the cold is immediately a disadvantage. it whips at your cheeks and claws at your throat until your eyes are watering, definitely not a good thing when you have to keep an eye out for a two ton flying ball coming right for you.

you do what you’ve always done, though, and fight through it, blinking the tears away at any moment you are given. as the match progresses, however, those moments get few and far between, the tension rising between the two teams.

you stop paying attention to the score board, because you have to. already your mind is racing, focusing on a million different things at once. you have to keep an eye on all the gryffindor players, make sure you know where they are so you can knock them from their brooms - and you do. with the skills of a world cup player, you pummel the gryffindor players into the ground one by one, repeating the process when they clamber back onto their brooms.

“doing well, l/n!” flint cries, whizzing past you at lightening speed. you give him a thumbs up, distracted for only a second, but it’s a second too long.

you know of the weasley brothers, the beaters on the gryffindor team. they’re good. they come from a family of decent quidditch players, and their childhood training shows through. you’ve played them a handful of times, and they’ve always been equal competition.

they take your distraction as an opportunity.

the bludger is whizzing towards you before you can even drop your hand back to your brooms handle. you hear it, the screech as it races in your direction. you cry, slamming your hands into the front of your broom in any attempt to do a downwards dodge, but the bludger catches the rear end of your broom and sends you spiralling towards the ground.

your feet slam into the mud and you stumble. pain spears through your ankles and legs, making you whimper, but the anger and determination chases the feelings away, increased only when lee jordan calls out, “gryffindor scores!” over the loudspeaker.

you growl, low in your throat, and remount your broom. you kick off with renewed vigour, heading straight for the weasley twins. they circle the pitch, darting to and fro with a synchronisation you and the other slytherin beater could never emulate. it makes you mad. it makes you so, so mad, because this is a competition, and how are you ever meant to win a competition if your team won’t even cooperate?

“oi! goyle!” you yell.

goyle spins in midair, scowling the minute he meets your eyes. “what the hell do you want? we’re in the middle of a match!”

“i want you to do your fucking job!” and just to demonstrate your point, you slam your bat into a bludger heading right for goyle’s distracted mug.

he whirls back around, gets ready to scream at you, but you’re already whizzing towards the centre of the pitch. the crowd is louder than ever now, but you have to ignore them, you have to keep going, you have to do some damage, just like flint told you back in the changing rooms.

your arms ache. your ankles throb. your fingers are numb, wrapped around the handle of your broom, but you push past all of it. you become a monster, unrestrained as you chase after the bludgers, catching them with your bat, speeding them at gryffindor flyers with a ferocity you have never before showed in a match.

one of the bludgers smacks george weasley right in the face. you hear his nose crunch from halfway across the pitch.

you punch the air. “take that, asshole! woo!”

the game continues, brutal by the end of it. your nose bleeds when oliver wood catches you with his arm; you get a free hit for the penalty, though, so you’re not even mad. george weasley’s own nose is broken, dribbling blood throughout the remainder of the match. multiple players have nose-dived into the grass.

but at the fifty minute mark, lee jordan has to grudgingly call out, “draco malfoy has the snitch, the little pest-”

and that’s the game over. a win for slytherin - first win of the season.

you zip to the floor to an immediate group hug. it’s uncomfortable, with none of the slytherin players really knowing how to handle affection, but your own excitement chases away the awkwardness. you bundle draco into your chest, one hand in his hair, the other shoved in the air in a pose of victory that the gryffindors scowl at.

you meet the eyes of george weasley. he cups his nose in one hand, holding his broom in the other, and never before have you seen such malice in someone’s expression. it sends excitement coursing through you. you give him a grin, a sarcastic little wave. he scowls, turns on his heel, and follows his retreating team back to the changing rooms, where they can wallow in their loss for the rest of eternity for all you care.

---

in all your years at hogwarts, never before have you seen the gryffindors and the slytherins more hostile towards each other than they are after the match.

you tend to stay out of house confrontations. you don’t see the point in them; you’ll play a little dirty during a quidditch match, but you won’t be caught dead sneering at any other houses on your days off. it’s pointless. it’s a quick way to get into some not needed trouble.

but things are being taken a little too far now, and you’re struggling to keep your nose out of it.

everywhere you go, a gryffindor has something to say. a puny little first year will yell insults at you as you walk to class. a third year will throw something at you in the dining hall. fellow fifth years will make it their life’s work to make your days a collage of living hells, just because your team managed to beat theirs during a quidditch match.

“it’s getting quite ridiculous now,” you say into the fire, the head of your father bobbing up and down within the flames. “the match was a week ago, and the gryffindors still haven’t got over it.”

“so quidditch is still as competitive as it was back in my day then, eh?” your father says, before breaking into a fit of coughing that you have learned to ignore over the years; he hates it when you bring up his peaked appearance, or the way his eyes sometimes roll into the back of his head without warning.

“i suppose so,” you mumble. “i don’t know what they want me to tell them; i’m just the beater, for christs sake.”

“hey,” your dad scolds. “everyone in a quidditch team is important.”

“yeah, but i’m not the one who handed their arse to them on a plate, am i?”

“you helped with the process.” your dad smiles, tilting his head a little bit; he looks at you like this sometimes, like you’re holding the world in your hands. you suppose it comes with you being his only child, his last remaining family. he is yours, as well, though neither of you ever talk about it.

after your mother died, it was just the two of you. at ten years old, you were too young to do much in terms of helping, but then you aged and got your acceptance letter to hogwarts, and for a long time, you were fully prepared to ignore it, pretend you never received it and get on with the faux muggle life you had been trying to settle into these last few years. however, your father has always been a smart man, and even after he started getting sick, he was always telling you to go ahead and do it - go to hogwarts like you were supposed to, like you had always dreamed.

and now here you are, miserable.

“i miss you,” you say when the silence gets too much. you can hear his heart monitor over the crackling flames, and it puts you on edge. “how are things at home?”

“oh, the usual,” he replies. “days are boring without you, love, but i’m cheering you on. you’re making me so proud.”

you smile. “i try, dad, i try.”

“well-”

before your father can finish his sentence, however, the door to the slytherin common room bursts open. a group of three stampede into the centre - draco, goyle, and crabbe.

you frown. “do you lot not see i’m a bit busy?”

draco spins. his hair stands on end, and black soot covers his face. his eyes are startled but wide with a fury you have seen far too often on the young boys face - it still makes you snicker.

your dad sighs. “i suppose i should let you handle this.”

“talk to you later, dad.”

his face disappears up the chimney, leaving you alone with the three panting boys.

you stand, wiping your hands on your robes. “what happened to you?”

“those bloody weasleys!” draco exclaims. “oh, i’ll get them. i’ll get them back, i swear to it!”

you raise a brow. “the weasleys? you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“well, who else?” draco gestures to his soot-stained face. “them filthy twins think they’re soooo funny with their little jokes, but wait till my father hears about this! they’ll be out of this school before they can even blink!”

you raise a brow. “is this about the fucking quidditch match?”

“yes,” draco snaps. you can see the tethers breaking away, his temper rising as he trails his fingers through his hair, breathes heavily through gritted teeth. “of course it’s about the bloody quidditch match. them gryffindors wouldn’t know fair play if it hit them in the face; they just can’t accept that the better team won.”

you bite your lower lip. it’s been days of this exact same behaviour, these childish pranks just because the gryffindors are mad that the slytherins finally had a taste of victory.

it makes you mad.

you curl your fingers into your palm, gazing down at the three younger boys as they pace back and forth, treading ash in their wake. you’ve never been overly fond of crabbe and goyle, but you’ve always looked out for draco - call it an older sibling kind of thing, but you’re always the one sitting next to him when he has something to rant about, always the one rolling your eyes and putting him in his place, because you’re the only person in the world he will actually listen to.

your protective instincts flare up before you have a chance to stuff them back down again.

“i think i need to have a chat with the weasley twins,” you say.

draco’s head snaps around. “what?”

but you’re already grabbing your cloak, dragging it over your pyjamas.

“y/n, what are you even going to say to them?” draco demands. when you don’t respond, he groans and grabs your arm. “if they do anything-”

“they’re not gonna murder me, draco.” you shake him off, offering a warm smile. “i might murder them, though. we’ll have to see.”

draco doesn’t argue. he watches you go, open mouthed and exhausted. you crawl out of the slytherin common room and into the hallways, thankful that curfew has yet to appear - you can march through these corridors with as much anger radiating off of you as possible, and filch can’t say a damn thing.

that’s exactly what you do, because your fury only builds the longer you walk. it’s one thing for you to be harassed in the corridors by angry gryffindors; you’re a fifth year, and you’ve been through this many times. it’s a completely different thing to go after draco.

and you understand, of course, that draco malfoy is hardly someone who needs to be protected, covered in bubble wrap for fear of shattering. he’s a little shit, and you’ll admit that as soon as the next guy.

but he’s like a little brother to you in the sense that he was the only person in the world who knows about your fathers illness, and he hasn’t told a single soul.

you round the corner, and that’s when you see him. it’s one of the rare occasions the weasley twins aren’t joined at the hip, because as far as you can tell, fred is nowhere in sight. george stands - alone - at the top of the stairs, waving goodnight to a group of gryffindor girls. there’s a slight red tinge to his cheeks, like he’s been running through wind, and you hate how adorable it looks.

you push aside this thought, replacing it with the anger settled in your system. you march right up to him, grab his arm, and shove him up against the wall with the strength built from years of being quidditch beater.

he stumbles, eyes widening a fraction before he realises what’s happening. his hand doesn’t even stray to his wand when he sees you, which just makes you mad; you want him to put up a fight. you want him to do something, anything that gives you an excuse to draw back and punch him in the nose.

“l/n,” he sneers instead. “what a pleasant surprise!”

“you really are a piece of shit. you know that, right?”

he laughs. it’s so jovial, so easy.

you hate it.

you shove his chest, willing his attention back to you. “i’m being serious! why can’t you and the rest of your slimy gryffindors just accept the fact that you lost? just because you’ve been lucky with potter on your team, doesn’t mean you’re exempt from losing.” you lean forward. “which, just to remind you, is what happened - you fucking lost, so suck it up and deal with it.”

george blinks. that stupid grin is still on his face when he says, “christ, y/n, i haven’t even said hello yet!”

you groan, stepping away from him to trail your hands through your hair.

george points, squinting one eye in your direction. “draco does that all the time. is it a slytherin thing?”

“what’s your obsession with draco?” you spit.

“he’s a tit. never leaves my brother alone, so he doesn’t.”

“and is ron not capable of fighting his own battles?”

george scoffs. “oh, he is, but being the amazing big brother that i am, i like to take the burden off him sometimes.”

you scowl. george grins.

“pathetic,” you grumble. “all of you. absolutely pathetic. when the next quidditch match comes around, you’ll be forgetting all about this one.”

“ah, but the slytherin’s won’t, will they? you lot will be basking in your only victory in three years for as long as you can.”

you growl, lunging for him. george laughs, placing his large hands on your shoulders to keep you at arms length, and you’re honestly not even sure what it is you plan on doing - scratching his eyes out? punching him in the face? some muggle fighting tactics you don’t understand?

“this is adorable,” george comments, casting a glance over his shoulder to where a painting of Sir Edmund Christo hangs behind him. “isn’t this adorable, Christo?”

you groan, step away from him, shocked at how angry he can make you in such little time. his eyes glint in amusement as he stuffs his hands back into his robes and says, “finished?”

“go to hell, george weasley,” you spit.

his eyes pop open. “oh, look at that! you can tell me and fred apart!”

“leave draco alone,” you growl. “or next time i’ll put my hexes to good use.”

---

the threat was idle. you weren’t actually going to hex george, or any of the gryffindors for that matter. you love draco dearly, but risking expulsion for him was not something you were willing to do.

nonetheless, george seems to take your threat seriously, as he leaves draco - and the rest of the slytherin quidditch team - to their own devices. at one point, you even notice him telling ron to stop glaring over at your dinner table, and ron actually listened.

“this might be the first time in hogwarts history the slytherin and gryffindors haven’t been at each others throats constantly,” says blaise, taking a seat next to you.

draco scowls, still glaring over at the gryffindors despite your previous scoldings. “it’s weird. i don’t like it. they’ve got something planned.”

“okay edge lord,” you grumble through a mouthful of yorkshire pudding. “this is literally why we can’t have nice things; you ruin it with your pessimism.”

“coming from you, that means nothing.”

you slap the back of his head. draco swats your hand away.

“look, we don’t have to worry about the gryffindors any more,” you continue. “it was one quidditch match - they can’t hold a grudge forever.”

“quidditch is a serious game,” blaise says through a snicker, because he’s never understood the fascination, no matter how many hours you and draco spend explaining it to him.

“serious, but not enough to start a bloody house war.” you tap draco’s hand. “now stop staring and eat your roasties; you’re starting to look desperate.”

draco scowls, but prods his fork into a roastie nonetheless.

but now your attention is caught, no matter how much you want to forget all of it. the gryffindors aren’t worth your time and attention. they’ve done nothing but make your life a living hell these past few days - most of your hogwarts experience, actually - so why give them even the tiniest bit of your attention?

you glance over to the gryffindor table. george is already looking at you.

it’s reflex when you scowl. your eyes meet his, and you remember the night before when he was laughing, teasing you for your anger, and with those memories comes a surge of fresh anger, all pointed directly at him. you wonder if he feels the same, if he perhaps shielded his own frustration with humour; you don’t know an awful lot about the weasley twins, but from what you have gathered, that seems to be a common theme. they play pranks, and they tease people, and deep down, they are most likely dying inside.

dying because they lost a fucking quidditch match.

you look away when george sends you a grin. “idiot.”

draco looks at you. “huh?”

“nothing.” you stand, brushing your hands down your robes. your dinner was finished a long time ago; you were only staying seated to make sure draco didn’t throw himself into further conflict - not after you smoothed things out the night before. “i’m off to the library for a bit. you-” you poke draco in the cheek. “stay out of trouble, alright?”

draco stares after you; he knows what off the library really means, and you appreciate that he isn’t blabbering the truth to the entire table. you give him one final smile before walking off, heading straight for the slytherin common room.

it’s empty when you clamber inside. slytherin’s don’t spend an awful lot of time in the common room - that means socialising with one another, sharing pleasantries, and none of you are particularly fond of that kind of thing. you don’t mind, hating the faux pleasantries yourself, but it also gives you free rein to use the fireplace whenever you please.

you sit on your knees and pull your wand out. it takes a bit of memory power before you can utter the spell your dad has illegally been trying to teach you since you left for your fifth year at hogwarts, but you eventually manage it. your body shrinks - at least, that’s what it feels like - and before long, heat is clawing at your face, and you’re staring into the family living room.

what used to be the family living room. now, it’s empty besides your dad, curled up in the arm chair, watching the muggle news. he doesn’t notice you at first, giving you the time to analyse his form without him putting on a brave face.

he looks sick.

very, very sick.

you swallow thickly. his hair is thinner today than it was yesterday, if such a thing is even possible. his baby bird bones are tangled upon the arm chair, covered by an exceptionally thin blanket that makes you hope with every fibre of your being that he has the heating installed, running at full blast. his lips are chapped, and his eyes are bruised from lack of sleep, and just seconds before he turns to see your head bobbing in the fireplace, he coughs blood into a light blue handkerchief.

his eyes widen when he spots you. he quickly shoves the handkerchief into his back pocket, stumbles from his arm chair and drops to his knees by the fire.

“y/n!” he exclaims. “goodness, you could have made a little bit of noise. i didn’t even notice you!”

“hi dad,” you reply quietly. “how are you?”

“very well.” he grins, grabbing the thin blanket you suddenly despise. “i’ve been crocheting, finished this a few nights ago. i was thinking of sending it to you, but the owl isn’t back yet, so you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

you force a smile on your face. it must be a family trait, all these forced smiles. “that’s great, dad. you’re getting good at those.”

“yes, well, i’ve got a lot of time on my hands now that i’m not running after you.” he scowls, but it lasts only a second before his expression breaks into a grin. “but enough about me; how are things with you? hogwarts treating you good? are those kids still giving you a hard time?”

“dad, we spoke yesterday. how much do you think has changed?”

he waves a dismissive hand, dropping his chin upon a shelf made by his interlocking fingers. “each day is a chance for new experiences, my dear.”

“i nearly got in a fight with one of the beaters from the gryffindor team.”

your dads eyes widen. “love, what have i said about using violence as a way to solve problems?”

“i said nearly!” you exclaim, folding your arms across your chest, and even though he can’t see your arms, you know for a fact he is imagining you in this very stance, so familiar from your childhood. “he’s a real pain in the arse, dad, you don’t even understand. he winds me up something shocking.”

“who is this boy anyway?”

“one of the weasleys,” you grumble. “george.”

your dads eyes pop open. for a brief moment, there is a flicker of life back in his body, startling you. “a weasley? goodness, y/n, i remember that family well! molly and arthur were in my year at school!”

“yeah, well, george and fred are in my year at school, and they’re a set of bastards.”

your dad chuckles, because that’s what he does when you get like this; he laughs, and he shakes his head, and he pretends you have the potential to be a Hufflepuff, just like he was back at hogwarts.

“i’ve never met them personally,” he says. “but i’ve never met a bad weasley in my life; some could be a bit overbearing, but they always had good intentions, and i think that’s what matters.”

“i don’t think george has ever had a good intention in his life.” you slump forward, propping your chin on your palm. “all he cares about is quidditch and making people’s lives a living hell.”

your dad frowns. “oh, love, i don’t think that’s true. i think you’re just angry at him. what did he actually do?”

“he’s been tormenting draco since the quidditch match.”

“is draco your little successor?”

you scowl. “draco’s a little shit, and i’ll be the first to admit that, but george and fred are just taking the piss now. the match was a week ago. they need to get over themselves.”

he hums in response, looking thoughtfully into the fire. “well, i hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’re quite competitive when it comes to quidditch, too.”

“not that competitive. i’m not a sore loser, that’s for sure.”

“listen, i’ve never been an avid quidditch player, so i don’t know what it feels like getting sucked into that environment, but i’ve seen you get into some pretty deep dramatics over it. maybe george is just doing the same thing.” he shrugs. “nobody likes losing.”

you scowl; sometimes you hate your dads ability to make sense, to explain every situation like it’s the worlds fucking philosophy. huffing, you cross your arms and lean your head upon them, staring at your dad with a disproved expression.

he meets your gaze and laughs, raising his hands in faux surrender. “i’m just saying, love. i’m happy you’re sticking up for draco - god knows that boy needs a friend - but i don’t want to be receiving any owls from your teachers informing me about your expulsion because you’ve got in some fight with a boy in your year.”

“i can’t make any promises on that, dad.”

he rolls his eyes, no malice in the action. “whatever. just be a little wise, alright? you’ve got exams coming up, and i don’t want you flunking over something like this.”

the mention of exams makes your stomach churn; through all the drama taking place these past few days, you had forgotten all about the end of term exams, approaching much quicker than you’re prepared for.

dad smiles, as if reading your expression. “you’ll do great, love. i know you will.” he glances over his shoulder, spots the clock hung on the wall before turning back to you. “you should get going. it’s getting late.”

you raise a brow. “will you be alright on your own?”

“i’ve been on my own for a while now, sweetheart - i’ll be fine.” he smiles, blows you a kiss before swiping his arms through the fires flames, sending you back to the common room before you can even blink.

----

christmas settles amongst the hogwarts students, and exams are dangerously close.

quidditch must be set to the back burner, a fact that leaves you slightly depressed as you wade through what feels like a hundred hours of classes you have no interest in. revision piles up around you, leaving with you very little sleep and very little patience.

call it a slytherin thing, but the desperate need to succeed has overtaken your entire being these past few weeks. you haven’t even spared george weasley - or any of the gryffindors - a glance, too absorbed in spell books to pay attention to their continued jeers.

george doesn’t go near you.

you find it weird, of course, but that tiny voice in the back of your head scolds you any time you think too deep into it. you have to remain focused on exams, and exams only, because you have not left your dying father on his own for so long just to come home with no O.W.L’s. you have to succeed for his sake, to show him these difficult few years have not been for nothing.

you’re in the library with draco on this particular day. outside the high windows, snow drifts pleasantly from the sky, and you can imagine the quidditch pitch in that moment, beautifully blanketed with little snowflakes that you will have no access to, because you’re stuck in the stuffy library with a slytherin fourth year who wouldn’t know the meaning of concentration if it struck him in the face.

“why are you even here?” you snap, just as draco makes another comment about a passing gryffindor fourth year.

draco raises a brow. he’s leaned back in his seat, so casual, textbooks open in front of him, though he pays them no attention. you don’t think he’s even glanced at one since he sat down. “what do you mean?”

“i’m trying to revise.” you tap the front of your potions book to exaggerate your point. “in case you’ve forgotten, our exams start in a week. i don’t have time to sit here and scowl at gryffindors with you.”

“i never invited you to scowl at gryffindors with me.” he throws a pencil across the room, just missing a distracted first year.��“i can do that perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

you slap his arm down, giving him your customary grimace. “wind your neck in, draco. how many times do i have to tell you you’re not special just because you’re a malfoy?”

he opens his mouth to respond, but takes one look at your deadly scowl and goes quiet. he huffs through his nose, folding his arms over his chest as he leans over his textbook and gets to reading.

you join him, tracing your wand over the words that are failing to embed themselves in your mind. why you ever decided to take potions - with snape as a teacher, no less - will forever be beyond you, and one of the greatest mistakes you have ever made in your hogwarts life. nothing he says makes any sense, and although you’re in his house, he still derives great pleasure in seeing you suffer at the hands of-

“malfoy! are you studying?”

your head snaps up. draco joins you.

walking through the doors, and the most likely suspect of the jeer, is george weasley.

your heart barrels into your stomach, a fresh surge of anger coursing through you at the mere sight of him. he’s done so well keeping himself to himself these past few weeks, and seeing him now - right back to square one - makes you want to punch him in the face all over again.

because he strolls towards your table with that stupid little grin on his face, the evidence of a smirk taking place upon his face, and you hate that it suits him so well. you hate that you can’t even bring yourself to deny his attractiveness, no matter how hard you try.

you slam your textbook closed. “let’s go, draco.”

“what does he want?” draco stands and calls over to the approaching weasley twin. “where’s your dumb little sidekick, weasley? got lost in the halls?”

“oh, would you-”

your protest is cut short by george’s laugh. “actually no. he’s got a revision class with professor sprout, so i thought i’d come in here and check on my favourite beater.” he looks at you, smiles. “got a minute?”

“no.” you scoop your textbook into your arm and stand, grabbing draco’s collar. “let’s go, draco. one more wrong move from you, and mcgonagall might not be so nice.”

draco thrashes against your grip, grabbing the table to prevent you from dragging him right past the grinning weasley and into the hallway. “what do you want with y/n?”

george raises a brow. “why would i tell you?”

“because i’m their friend, and last time i checked, you’ve done nothing but torment them since that bloody quidditch match.”

you groan. “again with the quidditch match? i thought we dropped that ages ago!”

“apparently malfoy here holds grudges.” george turns to you again, ignoring malfoy’s disgruntled protestations. “i literally just want to have a chat; no funny business.”

“no funny business?” draco screeches. “don’t listen to him, y/n. anything he wants to say to you, he can say in front of me.”

a burst of affection blossoms in your chest. you push it down, turning to draco. “i can handle this, mate. you just go and find pansy or whatever it is you do. i’ll catch up.”

draco narrows his eyes, going still in your grip. “you’re sure?”

“when have i ever not been able to handle myself?”

he pauses. “good point.” giving george one final warning glare, he straightens his robes rather theatrically and strolls from the library like nothing happened, like he hadn’t just made a massive scene on your behalf.

with draco gone, you and george stare at each other. he’s got these pretty brown eyes, a little wide, a faux play on innocence. you see right through him, though. you recognise the glint of mischief he does nothing to hide, dancing behind those pretty brown eyes.

finally, he says, “got yourself a little body guard, have you?”

“draco’s protective.” you gesture towards his discarded chair. “take a seat, i guess.”

grinning, george sits. you follow his lead, scooching your chair back a little bit; you have no idea what he has up his sleeve, and you’re not willing to find out.

“what do you want?” you ask.

“i know you and i didn’t exactly hit it off when we first spoke,” he begins.

“that’s not my fault.”

he pauses. “i think it was, but that’s not why i’m here.”

you scowl, folding your arms over your chest. “you were the one being a dick to draco; you started it.”

“i started it? you were the one pushing me up against a wall! and not even in a good way!”

“because you were-”

“being a dick to draco, yes, i heard you the first time.” george shakes his head, trails a hand through his hair. “now you’ve got me off track and i haven’t even been sat for two minutes.”

“i don’t want to hear any apology - i know you don’t mean it.”

george scoffs, glancing at you without entirely looking up, which is a look you never thought you would find attractive, but here you are. “i didn’t come here to apologise. in case you didn’t catch on, i don’t think i did anything wrong.”

“no, you never do.”

“but, i did come here to talk to you about something. just something i heard on the grapevine.”

you pause.

george smiles, but it holds none of his usual playfulness. this smile actually looks genuine, maybe even a little soft.

“so i was walking through the corridors - all on my lonesome - the other night, when i came across the slytherin common room.”

you blink. you don’t know what else to do, having no idea what he even means.

he continues. “the door was left open, which i thought was a little weird; usually them things just close over by themselves, and you’ve got all the passwords and protection spells and stuff keeping peeping toms out, isn’t that right?”

“what are you-”

“does anyone else know your dad is sick?”

you honestly would have preferred it if he had just drop kicked you then and there.

you stare at him, waiting for a punchline that very clearly does not exist. you can scarcely believe your ears, let alone come up with a decent response to such an obtrusive, confusing question. confusing only because you have no idea how he could have ever found out, no idea how he just managed to peek his head into the slytherin common room when every enchantment claims it impossible.

george stares back at you, his smile still present. it’s still soft, like he’s trying to test the waters, but you see no kindness in it now.

you push your chair back, very nearly stumbling over its legs in your haste to get as far from him as possible. that grin fades, his eyes narrowing as he tries reaching for your robes, but you pull away before he can get too close.

“you nosy little shit,” you hiss, voice trembling. “you nosy, disrespectful little bastard!”

“hey, hey, hey!” he stands, palms up in surrender. “i’m not teasing, i’m genuinely curious! you never talk about it, so-”

“i never talk about it because it’s nobody else’s business. especially not some filthy little gryffindor who thinks he’s owed the god damn world!”

george’s eyes widen. “that was so uncalled for. i was giving you someone to confide in!”

you laugh, bitter and harsh. it makes george flinch. “and you think that person should be you? after everything? go to hell, george weasley.” you turn on your heel, not even bothering to gather your textbooks, or your quill - you’ll get them later. “and keep your massive nose out of things that don’t concern you!”

and before george can say anything, you’re speeding out of the library, trying desperately to halt the tears threatening to pour down your face.

----

“i don’t understand how he found out. how could the door just stay open?”

you keep your voice down, terrified of the other slytherins hearing what you have to say; the changing rooms are already packed, people fighting over garments and equipment, marcus already mouthing off about the lack of preparation the team had for this game due to exams.

draco sits beside you, knees pulled to his chest. he stares out at the open space, kneading his bottom lip between his teeth in that thoughtful way he always does. his brows are furrowed, eyes narrowed.

“it doesn’t make any sense,” he says at last. “the entrances to the common rooms have enchantments and all that stuff on them. sounds to me like he’s lying through his teeth.”

“but then how else did he find out?”

draco hollows out his cheeks and shakes his head. “beats me.” he turns to you then, slaps a hand against your knee. “but we can’t focus on that just yet. we have a match today.”

you sigh, tilting your head back against the wall; your energy has long since been sucked out of you, a week straight of exams not leaving you in the best state, though the excitement of finally being back on the pitch drives you to stand and join the rest of the team.

slytherin versus hufflepuff today; should be an easy enough win.

you mount your broom and get started as soon as the whistle is blown.

soaring through the air, your adrenaline kicks back in. for the time being, you are able to ignore the anxiety throbbing in the back of your head, focusing only on the task you have been given. a few hufflepuff’s are wiped out in as little as ten minutes into the match; the slytherin’s in the crowd are howling their excitement, jumping up and down with fists in the air.

you look down, meaning to wave at blaise as he jumps up and down in the stands, but it is not blaise your eyes immediately land on.

you spot the shock of red hair almost immediately, sitting in the stands with his eyes trained on you. you’ve seen him at these matches so many times - and why wouldn’t he be? a player on the qryffindor team, an avid quidditch player. why shouldn’t he be watching you play right now?

despite this, his presence distracts you.

“y/n!” draco shrieks, before a bludger whizzes past you. goyle, the god send, just manages to knock it away before it slams into your ribs.

you spin, gasping. goyle sends you a dark look as draco calls out, “you okay?” you give him a shaky thumbs up, take one final look at george in the stands before whizzing across the pitch, determined not to let your attention slip again.

but he’s there. he’s there, and there’s no way you can ignore him after yesterday. that smile of his, those big brown eyes, his confusion when you lost your mind and started yelling at him. it just felt like the right thing to do, and even now - after having a bit of time to think about it - you’re still angry. what draco said was right - george was probably lying through his teeth when he-

“y/n!”

goyle isn’t on the ball this time.

you spin just in time to get a bludger straight to the chest.

it knocks the air out of you, sends your broom spiralling to the floor. your fingers - surprisingly numb - slip from the handle, and you crash into the grass, flat on your back.

“mother of god,” you groan, rolling onto your side as madame hooch blows the whistle for a time out.

draco is first by your side, slipping to his knees. “are you daft?”

“no, i’m winded.”

“bloody hell.” he grabs your arm, rolling you onto your back. you stare at the sky, disoriented. “can you keep playing?”

“yes.”

“are you just saying that?”

“probably.” with one hand curled round your middle, you push yourself up. draco helps you to your feet, hands you your broom, and before madame hooch - or madame pomfrey for that matter, who is yelling at you from the sidelines to go over for a check up - you mount your broom and kick off again.

your entire body screams in protest the entire time, ribs burning, chest tight. it takes everything in your power not to slip into unconsciousness. black dots sneak into the edges of your vision, but you push them away and keep playing.

you keep playing, but not necessarily well.

you make a hit for a bludger with your bat, only for marcus to curse you out for nearly taking a swing at his head, instead. your broom spirals in all different directions, you suddenly unable to keep it under any resemblance of control. your hands tremble against the handle, eyes slipping, slipping, slipping-

the whistle blows again. you open your eyes. you’re on the ground again.

“someone get them to the infirmary!” madame hooch screeches. “the match will commense with the sub - where’s crabbe? crabbe!”

“no,” you grumble.��“no, i can play. i’m fine.”

“you’ve just passed out, you idiot.”

george’s voice startles you back to reality. your eyes snap up, meeting his just as he puts an arm beneath you and hauls you off the floor.

and you could protest. you want to protest, because george weasley - of all people - should not be the one carrying you to safety, but your chest aches, and all your muscles are on fire, so you don’t even move. you just flop against him, trying desperately to keep consciousness as long as possible.

it doesn’t work out that way, though. the black dots take over your vision before you’ve even reached the infirmary, the last thing you see being george’s furrowed brows and worried scowl.

----

you wake up to darkness.

curtains drawn, a quilt tucked beneath your chin, body comfortable against a soft mattress, you’re half tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep.

that thought is squashed when you look to your side and spot george sat by your bedside.

he’s fast asleep, head drooped, arms folded across his chest. he looks peaceful, though his hair is mussed, like he’s trailed his fingers through it numerous times.

you push yourself onto your elbows and glance around; you’re in the infirmary, your body feeling good as new with whatever spell madame pomfrey put on you. clearly she thought you needed the rest, as it is now pitch black outside, and the curtains around your bed have been drawn to separate you from the other patients.

you grab your wand from the bedside table and whisper “lumos.”

george jerks awake.

his chair screeches against the floor, making you wince with the volume. it sounds particularly loud when you’re in a room with people fast asleep, and apparently george thinks the same way. he squints into the darkness, before his eyes pop open at the sight of you.

“you’re awake!”

“what are you doing here?”

in all honesty, you don’t mean to sound so harsh. it just kind of happens, a reflex when it comes to george weasley.

he frowns. “i came to make sure you didn’t choke on your tongue in your sleep. i know how you slytherins can get.”

“what happened?”

he settles back in his chair, regarding you with a tired expression, though his raised eyebrow and wild hair make him look oddly attractive beneath the pale wand light cast upon his face. “you don’t remember?”

“i remember. . . bits and pieces.” you wince. “we lost the match, didn’t we?”

george smiles. “it was bound to happen. hufflepuff still had a full team by the end of it, and i think diggory was using slytherin’s weakness to his advantage.”

“but we had crabbe as a sub!”

“crabbe is god awful. goyle’s on thin ice. you’re the only beater on that team keeping things going.”

you scowl, slumping back against your pillows. it’s not like you had desperately high hopes for slytherin to win, but the fact that it was you who forced the loss upon them makes you angry - and a little bit embarrassed.

you flick a glance at george. “is flint mad?”

george scoffs. “who gives a shit what flint thinks?”

“i do. he’s the teams captain.” you close your eyes, throw your head back. “he’s gonna give me such a bollocking when he next sees me.”

“you were a little distracted up there.” george leans forward. “what happened?”

and then you remember.

that moment, just before the first bludger was barrelling towards you. you’d spotted george in the crowd, that shock of red hair, and his eyes had met yours, and you just zoned out. it was uncontrollable; once it started, you couldn’t drag your mind away from it - the fact he was there, the fact he was looking right at you, the fact you kind of wanted to talk to him.

“it was nothing,” you grumble, awkwardly picking at the quilt covering your legs. “i just felt a little ill, that’s all; not really the day for a match, was it?”

george scoffs. “i’ve seen you play brilliant games of quiddich in blizzards, y/n. don’t sit there and tell me a little wind put you off your game this time around, because i know it’s a lie.”

you scowl, but make no attempt to correct him. there isn’t really any point when he’s looking at you with that grin on his face, an eyebrow raised, a silent dare for you to go against him right now.

you look back down at the quilt. “i could have carried on playing, you know. i was fine.”

“you fell unconscious when i was carrying you to the hospital wing.”

“that doesn’t mean anything. my body gave up because the adrenaline stopped, but if i’d have just carried on playing-”

“you probably would have broken a few more ribs.” george taps your nose. “and we can’t be having that.”

you swat his hand away, scowling. “i still hate you, you know.”

his smile drops, and for the first time since you woke up, he actually looks upset. he stares at you, those doe-like, mischievous brown eyes forcing you to look away, because you can’t stand them for very long without getting all giddy. it annoys the hell out of you.

slowly, he leans back, fingers clasped in front of him. “is it because of what i said about your dad?”

you close your eyes. “i was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up.”

“but that’s it, isn’t it?” he pushes. “you think i was out of line for asking you about it. you think i was teasing you, or something.”

“it’s not exactly far-fetched though, is it? you’ve dedicated your entire life to taking the piss out of people from slytherin, so why should i think i was any different?”

“because you are different.” george grits his teeth, like the words have caused him physical pain to admit. “i wasn’t - christ, y/n, i wasn’t making fun of the fact your dad is ill. i’m not that bloody cruel.”

“with the way you treat draco? had me fooled.”

george’s nostrils flare, lower lip disappearing behind his teeth. “are you and draco a freaking couple or something?”

“no.”

“then why do you feel the need to stick up for him every two seconds?”

“because he’s my friend, george, that’s why!”

george rolls his eyes, like the mere idea of draco malfoy having friends is unbelievable to him.

“what?” you push, leaning forward to meet his eyes. “why is it so difficult for you to wrap your head around the fact i’m friends with malfoy?”

“because you’re so much better than him.”

he says it like it hurts, teeth gritted, eyes refusing to meet your own. he says it like the walls are crumbling and this is his last chance to admit the truth. he says it like he hopes you don’t hear him.

you stare, unable to comprehend his words, because they don’t really make any sense to you. “no i’m not.”

george stiffens.

you barrel on, suddenly passionate. “no, i’m really bloody not. i got sorted into slytherin for a reason, george, just like you and all the other weasleys got sorted into gryffindor. draco and i, we think alike. we deal with problems the same way.”

“that’s bullshit,” george scoffs, finally looking up. “you keep malfoy in check, because you know the difference between right and wrong.”

“i keep malfoy in check because i’m not an idiot. just because i stop him from doing daft things, doesn’t mean i don’t agree with his intentions.”

george swallows. you watch his throat bob, the emotion slipping into his stomach, forcing that mask upon his face that you saw disappear for only the briefest of moments during this confusing conversation.

finally, after a moment, george claps his hands to his knees and stands up, not unlike how your dad rises from his arm chair on his particularly bad days. all huffs and puffs, grunts of discomfort, bones creaking from lack of movement.

“alright then,” he says simply. “i’ll leave you to it then, shall i? you can get back to - i don’t know - plotting doomsday or something.”

you growl. “grow up.”

he gives you a wave, sarcastic, over-the-top just to make you mad. you don’t humour him with a response, instead just watching him leave with your arms folded over your chest, anger seeping into every inch of your freshly-healed body.

it’s crazy how he can do that to you so easily, how he can wriggle his way into your brain, convince you he has good intentions, only to leave you feeling angrier than when he first walked in.

---

you get out of the infirmary that day, having fully healed thanks to madame pomfrey’s magic. you thank her, offering to send some flowers up to her room as soon as possible. she smiles and says, “just like your father.”

you manage to avoid flint for most of the day. him being the year above you, it’s easy to miss him in the hallways, and you certainly have no classes together. however, you were a fool to think he wouldn’t be tracking you down any time he possibly could, because as soon as you sit down at the slytherin table that evening, he is right beside you in seconds.

you glare at your mashed potatoes, speaking through gritted teeth. “don’t wanna hear it, marcus. really, really don’t wanna hear it.”

“and we didn’t want to lose the match, but here we are.” he shoves your tray away; your food lands on the floor. none of the other slytherins look up. “you gonna explain to me what happened?”

“why do i need to explain anything to you?” you shoot back, before gesturing to your upturned dinner. “get up there right now and get me a new plate, or so help me god-”

“you’ll what? sabotage another match?”

your eyes widen. “sabotage? i didn’t take a bludger to the chest on purpose!”

“explain your little performance with weasley then, huh?” flint leans forward, so close you can smell the peppermint on his breath. “has he finally got in your brain, yeah? managed to turn you against us. i don’t forget that your dad was a hufflepuff. and what was your mother?”

you scowl. “keep my parents out of this.”

“oh yes!” he exclaims. “a gryffindor! funny how that works, isn’t it? i can imagine you have a soft spot for the enemy, growing up with one and all that.”

fury erupts in your chest. you stand, nostrils flaring, fingers curled into fists at your sides; so easily you could draw back and punch him, flatten him on the ground of the great hall in front of everyone. so easily you could make him pay for throwing your parents into this.

but you don’t. you’re tired. you remember your dads voice, his silent plea for you to just take things easily this year. he isn’t well enough to handle any more trouble you may bring to his doorstep.

and so, it’s with hesitance that you step away from the slytherin table. you lean down, lower your voice to an almost deadly whisper when you say, “i’d sleep with one eye open, you little shit.”

you turn on your heel and start towards the door, starving but you don’t care. you have to get out of there before you lose your temper even further, before you banish the sound of your dads voice and make a mistake.

----

draco finds you a few hours later, because of course he does.

he probably heard all about your little altercation, and you have no doubt in your mind that it’s made him mad. you’re protective of him, but it works both ways, and draco has proved that on multiple occassions.

the door to the common room bursts open, revealing a brief glimpse of the lunchtime crowd finally emerging from the great hall. you look up from your textbook, squinting at the sudden onslaught of light. draco stands in the doorway, nostrils flaring, eyes firm on you.

your lips twitch, an attempt at a smile. “hello.”

“what did he say to you?” draco demands. “if he said anything about your dad, y/n, i swear to-”

“calm down,” you grumble, slumping into the arm chair. “you know how flint gets; he doesn’t know when to hold his tongue.”

“yeah, well, he’s going to fucking learn, isn’t he?”

you look up, because he must be joking. draco might be intimidating to some, but it all comes down to a name at the end of the day; he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried. he certainly couldn’t go up against marcus flint.

but the rage in his eyes leaves little to the imagination about what he wants to do. he turns on his heel before you can even stand up, fleeing the common room in search of marcus flint.

“draco!” you stumble up, dashing after him. “draco, stop. what the hell are you even going to do?”

“have a little chat with him.” he picks up his pace, as if afraid you’re going to stop him. you have to start jogging, pushing past fellow confused students in your haste to grab draco before he does something stupid.

but the world is plotting against you, it seems, as draco rounds the corner and comes face-to-face with the slytherin quidditch team captain as he makes his way to his next class.

both boys freeze, and for a moment, you think draco’s respect for the older man might just break through. for a fleeting, hopeful moment, you think draco will come to his senses and turn away before any real damage can be done.

and then he punches flint right in the face.

you cry out, stumbling over your own two feet in your haste to get to draco before flint - stunned and confused - can come back around. even draco seems shocked at his own actions, staring at his fingers with wide eyes, face paling.

“idiot!” you hiss, grabbing his arm and dragging him back, but marcus is already regaining his composure, looking at draco with nostrils flared.

you raise a hand in marcus’s direction, trying in vain to drag draco behind you. “alright lads, lets calm down, yeah? we’ve got classes to get to!”

“get out of the way, y/n,” marcus growls.

“don’t talk to them like that,” draco snaps, lunging forward. you try in vain to keep the smaller boy from doing any further damage, but he’s determined, and you know how draco gets when he’s determined. he fights against your grip like a snarling dog, spitting curse words in flint’s direction, half of which you don’t even pick up on.

you’re too busy staring at marcus, silently daring him to do anything.

because, the thing is, marcus knows you just as he knows every person on his quidditch team. you’re the beater that keeps the team upright, the only one of the three beaters he can actually trust to win them a match. you’re the one he’s studied for years as you play the game by his side, and he knows you won’t take any shit.

but either will he. that’s the beauty of being a slytherin. you know that as well as anyone.

and that is why you can do nothing when marcus dives forward, malfoy having just called him some awful name, and grabs the younger boy by the front of his robes. he shoves you out of the way, your shoulder crashing into a passing first year. you hastily apologise, stumbling upright, trying to get between them as draco yells and makes a fuss, and marcus keeps so calm and collected, it’s almost scary, a scene you don’t know how to handle-

marcus is pushed backwards.

he falls on his back. you hear his wand snap in his back pocket, quills and parchment flying left, right and centre. draco stumbles, gasping for air, pressing a hand to his throat; his eyes snap to you, but you pay him no attention as you stare at george weasley, now standing guard over the younger malfoy boy.

he glares down at flint, fingers curled into fists at his sides. the crowd stand shocked, some of them whispering “is that fred or george?” but you pay them no attention. your heart is racing. you’re so confused.

marcus blinks. “what the fuck?”

“why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” george snarls.

“i can handle myself, weasley!” draco barks, and that snaps you out of your reverie.

you march forward and grab draco by the ear. he cries out, but you don’t pay attention to his pleas as you drag him through the hall, yelling out, “nothing to see here people!” over your shoulder. draco kicks and whines, but you’re furious - furious that he would put himself in such danger, furious that he couldn’t even finish the job he started, because george weasley - of all people! - stepped in to save his ass.

you push draco into the nearest empty classroom you can find. “you idiot.”

“he deserved it!” draco exclaims, rubbing the reddened tip of his ear. “jesus christ, y/n, let me help you! why do you let people like him get away with stuff like that?”

“i don’t!” you bark. “i don’t let them get away with it, draco, because i handle it on my own! you don’t need to protect me!”

draco scowls, folding his arms over his chest.

you sigh, running a hand down your face. “you’re like a little brother to me, do you understand? if you get hurt one of these days, i’ll never forgive myself. it’s better if you just let me deal with things like this.”

“why do you get to protect me all the time but i can’t protect you?”

“because i can protect myself.”

“or george weasley will do it.”

you purse your lips, glancing over your shoulder as if george himself will be stood in the doorway; part of you kind of wishes he was.

“i don’t know why he did that,” you mumble. “he hates your guts.”

draco scoffs. “yes, i’m aware of that. but i think it’s pretty obvious why he decided to step in.”

you raise a brow, a silent question.

“that boy hasn’t stopped gawking at you since the first quidditch match,” draco explains. “don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. and also don’t pretend like he wasn’t the reason you got so distracted during the match against hufflepuff.”

you blink, heat clawing to your face. of course it’s true - you never denied that to yourself - but hearing draco say it out loud, like it means something, makes your stomach curl.

draco chuckles, still rubbing his ear. “i must say, y/n, i’m surprised by your pick, but whatever makes you happy.”

“george is...” you falter, the acidic adjective balancing on the tip of your tongue, just enough of a lie to leave you hesitant. “george is a. . . interesting character.”

“all the weasleys are,” draco agrees. “but not all the weasleys have caught your eye, have they?”

“shut up.” you fold your arms, biting your lower lip. “i don’t feel anything for george. nothing nice, anyway. he annoys me.”

“he annoys you, does he?”

“you know he does!”

“i also know you’re getting very flustered right now.”

you scowl, quickly turning away before draco can gather any more evidence of your true feelings through your appearance. “go to hell.”

“tell me i’m wrong. tell me he wasn’t the person who distracted you during that match.”

you open your mouth, ready to lie. you’re a slytherin. lying comes easily when it works in your favour, but you glance over your shoulder, and you spot draco’s raised brow and amused smile, and you remember that he is a slytherin himself, a slytherin who knows you better than anyone else in this damned school. he can read you like an open book, a skill he is clearly using to his advantage now.

you grit your teeth, turning back around. “it was an accident. i just wasn’t expecting him to be there.”

“the weasley twins never miss a game!” draco exclaims, a burst of laughter mingling with the words, like he can’t believe you’re even attempting to lie. “honestly, y/n, who do you think you’re trying to fool? the entire school saw how george reacted to you falling-”

“how he reacted?”

draco’s smile fades. “oh, of course.” he shakes his head. “of course, you wouldn't have seen him, probably wouldn’t have heard him, either.”

you raise a brow, heat crawling up your face again. “what are you on about?”

“y/n, when you fell off your broom that day, george bolted. he nearly gave colin creevey a bloody concussion, shoving his way through the stands. professor mcgonagall tried to stop him from getting on the pitch, but he wasn’t having any of it. even mcgonagall backed down when she saw his face.”

oh.

oh, oh, oh, that wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. not at all.

the blood thrums through your veins, louder than it has ever been. you can’t respond, can’t even think straight, trying to remember that day and what happened during the moments before you fell head first onto the pitch.#

but you remember nothing. you opened your eyes, and you were on the floor, and george was stood over you, calm as anything. not once did you think he may have actually went against the rules to get to you.

“that doesn’t make any sense,” you mumble.

draco raises a brow. “why doesn’t it?”

“because george and i hate each other.”

and draco laughs. he laughs, head thrown back, loud and obnoxious. you stare at him, but you’re not even angry. you’re still in shock, overcome with a sudden need to find george and ask him about whatever draco has just tried telling you.

because it can’t be true. george and you don’t get along. he’s the guy who hates draco, the guy who knows about your dad, the guy who does your head in more than anyone else in the world.

he’s also the guy who carried you to the hospital wing when you were on the brink of unconsciousness.

he’s also the guy who knows about your dad, yet hasn’t told a single soul.

he’s also the guy who just saved draco’s ass, and maybe you’re thinking too much into it, but did he only do that because you made it so clear that draco is your friend?

you swallow thickly, trailing your hands through your hair. “oh, draco.”

“oh, indeed,” draco replies, still grinning. “here i was thinking you were smart.”

“i have to talk to him.”

“yes, well, go ahead.” draco places a hand on his forehead. “i’ll stay in here until flint calms down; i’ll be fine on my own.”

usually, you would ask him if he’s sure. you might not even leave, instead choosing to sit with draco, sharing sweets, insulting each other’s life choices.

but right now, you don’t stick around long enough for him to change his mind. you whirl on your heel, pure adrenaline thumping through your veins as you throw open the door and dart out into the hallway.

george is in class. he has to be in class, because that’s where you’re supposed to be right now.

you dash down the hallway, no longer caring about the teachers walking back and forth, all of whom are probably wondering what on earth you’re doing out of class right now. you pay them no attention, instead making a direct line for potions, where you know george is currently seated, probably bored out of his mind.

you halt at the window of the potions classroom and peek over the top of the sill. there he is, seated at the back, chin resting on his palm as he stares at nothing in particular. at the front, snape paces back and forth, slapping a wooden ruler against the blackboard, a noise you are all too familiar with.

you grit your teeth, wave your hands back and forth, anything to get his attention. finally, however, it’s fred who sees you, and his eyes - identical to his brothers - immediately widen, a grin appearing on his face.

you point to george, and fred gets the memo. he nods, gives you a thumbs up before tapping george on the shoulder and pointing in your direction. you make a come here gesture, to which george raises a brow, motioning to snape at the front of the classroom. impatiently, you tap your wrist, signalling to him that this is the one chance you’re going to get to talk to him, and you need to do it now.

george rolls his eyes before throwing his hand in the air.

snape pauses his lecture. “yes, weasley?”

“can i use the bathroom, sir?”

“you can wait.”

“no, sir, you don’t understand. i had one of hagrid’s fish suppers earlier, and-”

snape slaps his ruler against the desk. “i don’t want to hear it! off you go, but be quick about it. any catching up you have to do can be done in my classroom during lunch.”

“you’re the best, professor!” george stands and all-but runs to the door.

as soon as he’s thrown it open, you grab the front of his robes and drag him down the hall, to a place where neither of you will be heard by the potions master.

george stumbles after you, laughing louder than you’re comfortable with when the two of you are skipping class. you shove him into yet another empty classroom, closing the door and casting a quick spell to lock it.

you spin, and as soon as you lay eyes on him, the speech you had planned dies in your throat.

you just stare at him, because that honestly feels like all you can do. you’re struck by how gorgeous he is, those brown eyes you have never ignored, the messy mop of ginger hair, the chiselled cheeks and lanky body. all of it combined makes george weasley him, and it’s enchanted you quicker and more unexpectedly than you’ll ever be willing to admit.

george raises a brow, folding his arms over his chest. “is this important, or am i risking a detention with snape for no reason?”

you blink, suddenly aware that you did not plan this out as well as you probably should have. what do you even want to say to him? what point do you want to get across?

george tilts his head at your silence, leaning forward teasingly. he’s still got that smirk on his face, the one you refuse to acknowledge, because he’s only doing it to annoy you, and he looks so good whilst doing it.

you scowl in response. “you know flint is going to kill you next time he sees you, right?”

surprised, george recoils. “that’s what you wanted to say to me?”

“i’m giving you a warning. i know marcus flint really well, and he’s not going to let this slide. you should probably start thinking about leaving hogwarts next year, just to give you a better chance-”

“y/n, for christ’s sake.”

you deflate. your shoulders slump, the energy seeping from your body in one clean swoop. you groan, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if doing so will push the stress and confusion from your brain.

“i don’t know how to do this,” you grumble.

“don’t know how to do what?”

“say thank you.” you drop your hands; george has stepped a little closer. you inhale sharply, ready to recoil, but those brown eyes of his keep you trapped.

he raises a brow. “you want to say thank you?”

“i know you don’t like draco,” you mumble. “you didn’t have to stand up for him back there, but you did anyway. god only knows what would have happened to him if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“he needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.” george shrugs. “but he’s still the year below us. flint should have handled things better.”

you nod, pursing your lips. it’s the gyryffindor mindset, a mindset you will never properly understand, but a mindset you grew up witnessing, because your mother always had the same one. whilst you were usually all for getting revenge, your mother always calmed you down by telling you that, sometimes, it was better to take the high road. sometimes, you needed to protect people weaker than yourself.

“plus,” george is quick to add. “he pushed you. that was a step too far for me.”

startled, you look up. “that was a step too far? you don’t even like me, george!”

george’s smile slips. his brows furrow, pinching in the centre in a most adorable way. outside, students bustle back and forth, class ending; you’ll have to deal with snape, and so will george, but right now, neither of you really care. george just stares at you, and then he starts shaking his head, and then he’s laughing.

you recoil. “what’s so funny?”

“you really are daft,” he says. “absolutely daft in the brain.”

“what are you talking about?”

but he only continues to laugh, throwing his head back. he turns on his heel, hand inches from the door handle, ready to leave this conversation at that, but your eagerness to know more drives you to stop him. you grab his robes and pull him back, stumbling just enough to push him against the wall, your chest inches from his own.

his laugh dies, breath catching in his throat as he stares down his nose at you. “not this again.”

“what are you talking about, george?”

he smiles. slowly, he lifts his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your heated cheeks. you’re startled by the touch, half ready to pull away from him, but you stay frozen, trapped in his gaze.

“i don’t hate you, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “in fact, i think i’ve actually grown quite fond of you these past few weeks.”

it doesn’t make sense. none of it makes sense. in your head, you replay the relationship formed between you and george, the constant bickering, the harsh words, the dire need to be as far from each other as possible - a need that was never met, because somehow, you always found yourself drawn to him, even when you convinced yourself he was the last person you wanted to see.

you swallow thickly, trailing your hands down his robes, flattening the creases you made in the material. he watches your fingers as they graze over the collared shirt he is wearing, lingering just by his stomach before you flinch away and step back, chewing your bottom lip.

george grins again. he’s always grinning. you don’t want him to ever stop grinning. “you alright there?”

you nod. “fine. why wouldn’t i be fine?”

“i don’t know, but you look a little shell shocked.”

you scowl.

his grin widens. “there’s that look i’m so familiar with!”

you roll your eyes. “go to hell, george weasley.”

----

last quidditch match of the season.

slytherin versus gryffindor.

marcus is all but foaming at the mouth.

you and george are making faces at each other from opposite ends of the pitch.

draco nudges your arm as madame hooch goes through the rules. you glance at him, raising a brow in silent question.

“stay focused, please,” he whispers, nodding at george who is busy giving goyle the middle finger. “i get you two are friends now, but this match is important to us. get your head in the game.”

you scoff. “when have i ever not had my head in the game?”

draco raises a brow.

you scowl. “that was one time, alright? i’ve got it this time. them gryffindors aren’t gonna know what’s hit them.”

and so, the game begins.

it’s a dirty game. blood makes an appearance a few times. one of your hands get crushed by a bludger that goyle failed to block, so your knuckles are bloody throughout the entire match.

and then there’s george.

he circles you, singing ‘happy birthday’ at the top of his lungs. he smacks a bludger in your direction, but you dodge it and smash it back at him; it hits off the end of his broom, sending him swirling through the air.

he rises again, however, and joins your side. the two of you speed the length of the pitch, shoving and grabbing at each other’s brooms, laughing the entire time.

“just give it up, l/n!” he jeers. “look at the state of your hand! there’s no way you can win this game now!”

“piss off, weasley!” you yell back, before slamming your bat into an oncoming bludger, sending it straight for harry potter.

“oh, you cheeky git!” george exclaims, whizzing after the bludger to direct it elsewhere. you laugh, whizzing as high into the air as you can possibly go before madame hooch blows her whistle and scolds you.

the gryffindors start to struggle. you see it in the score board, how fast slytherin are catching up to them. harry is whizzing around like a madman, searching left, right and centre for the snitch that draco is also on the prowl for. you, however, keep your eyes on the bludger, every now and then diverting your attention to the ginger boy who keeps blocking your path.

“you think this is a kids game, y/n?” he calls, snatching at the bristles on the back of your broom, yanking you back in a way that would usually deliver a penalty, but everyone’s eyes are on draco and harry, so nobody spots the discrepancy.

“oh, definitely not!” you yell back. “watch out, georgie; looks like goyle’s put himself into high gear!”

you do a loop in the air, giving george no time to even process your words before the bludger goyle whacked in his direction crashes into his back, knocking him straight off the front of his broom.

you would be lying to claim there was not a moment of worry, a moment of genuine contemplation to follow him to the ground, make sure he’s alright. however, that moment is short lived when george gives you the finger, clambers right back on his broom and continues the game with more brutality than you’ve ever seen him possess.

you’re panting by the end of it, sweat dripping from your brow, seeping into the thin cloth of your quidditch robes. you’ve screamed yourself hoarse, throat aching and raw, but you manage to still scream victory when the final whistle goes off and lee jordan is forced to announce slytherin’s success over the loud speakers.

you crash to the ground, immediately joining the group hug, draco in the centre.

“that’s my boy!” you yell, ruffling his hair. “you absolute fucking legend, draco malfoy!”

draco scowls, shoving your hand away. “don’t know why any of you are surprised.”

you flick his chin before pulling him back in for a hug.

once the team celebrations are over, however, you turn your attention to george. you’ve been doing that a lot more often these days - looking for him in a crowd, wanting to share your joy with him, even when your joy swipes his own from right under his nose.

you spot him in an instant, because - as always - he’s already looking at you. he’s scowling this time, but that doesn’t stop you from dropping your broom and skipping over to him.

“we won! we won! we won!” you jeer, grabbing the badge on your robe and shoving it in his face. “see that, weasley? that’s the crest of a winner! that’s the crest of the best house in this fucking school!”

george folds his arms over his chest, staring as you jump up and down in excitement.

he lets you continue until you tire yourself out. you laugh tiredly, pleased to see the tiniest twitch of george’s lips as he glares down at you.

finally he says, “finished?”

“oh, don’t be a sore loser!” you throw your arms over his shoulders, because you’re tired and you don’t really care about anything right now. “tell you what; i’ll celebrate with you later on.”

george recoils, arms still folded over his chest, making your embrace slightly uncomfortable, though you refuse to let go. “why would i want to celebrate with you?”

“listen mate, take it or leave it; i have an entire team i could be celebrating with right now.”

george stiffens. you lift your head, leaning your chin against his chest. he glares down at you, and before you can grasp what his intentions are, he leans down and pecks you on the lips.

just like that. no explanation, no warning. the kiss lasts no longer than two seconds before he pulls away, breaks out of your embrace and says, “go celebrate with your slytherin friends.”

he turns, starting up the field. for a second, you just stare after him, shellshocked, but then the scene replays in your head, and you’re suddenly overcome with the need to repay him.

you dash after him, despite the ache in your legs and the exhaustion in your bones. you grab the back of his quidditch robes, spin him around, and it’s like he expects it - he drops his broom, stretches his arms out and catches you the moment you leap into his embrace and slam your lips to his.

and it’s so strange, but so perfect, so relieving all at the same time. he holds you tighter, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck whilst you busy yourself with trailing your hands through his thick, messy, windswept hair.

behind you, you listen to draco groan out the words, “now?” but it does nothing to deter you from the moment.

you pull away first. “i’ve changed my mind.”

panting, george says, “about what?”

“you should come celebrate with me,” you reply. “i don’t want to celebrate with my slytherin friends any more.”

george laughs. in the background, you hear draco telling the other slytherins to just head up to the common room - you won’t be there for another few hours.

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