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#get the chance for feedback despite outright asking so many times . and turns out there Was stuff i needed to change .

lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

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Good Girl - George Weasley

Title: Good Girl Pairing: George x female!slytherin!Reader Summary: George has been the reader’s enemy since their first year at Hogwarts together and now, in their final year the universe keeps throwing them together in ways that make the reader question why she ever hated George in the first place. Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!george, begging, slight orgasm denial, thigh riding, oral (Male and female receiving), throat fucking, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex A/N: The summary is shit but it’s an enemies to lovers slow burn. Seriously this is 22k words I lost control. This is for @those-born-to-fight who wanted some enemies to lovers with a Slytherin reader! There’s two different ~spicy~ scenes and the tiniest touch of angst towards the end. Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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“God, do they ever just shut up?” Y/N grumbles, getting up to slam the door to her compartment closed. Adrian and Marcus laugh at her, but immediately stop when she glares at them, not wanting to face the consequences of annoying Y/N further.

There are very few things that Y/N outright hates. The list of things that mildly annoy her is quite long, but she reserves the word hate for only those special things that make her want to rip her hair out at the mere mention of them. Fred and George Weasley happen to be at the top of that list.

Like most students, Y/N had been enamored by the twins and their antics at first. Despite the fact that many of their practical jokes were aimed at members of her house and Snape, she found them quite funny. She had even thought about befriending the twins, the rivalry between their houses be damned. But after finding herself on the receiving end of a few too many Weasley practical jokes, she had begun to loathe them.

“I don’t know why you let them get under your skin,” Daphne comments, her tone dry and dull. Despite the fact that her eyes haven’t left the copy of Witch Weekly she’s flipping through, Y/N knows she’s been watching her fidget as the Weasley twins got rowdier and rowdier from their compartment down the hall.

“Because they’re, they’re,” Y/N pauses, trying to find the words to describe just how vile the Weasley Twins make her feel. “There isn’t even a word in the English dictionary that perfectly describes how insufferable they are.” She flips Adrian and Marcus off as they laugh at her frustration.

Daphne rolls her eyes and finally puts her magazine down. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Just drown them out like everyone else does. Take me, for example. I haven’t heard a thing either of them has said since third year.”

“That’s because they leave you alone, Daph,” Marcus drawls, coming to Y/N’s defense. This isn’t the first time the four of them have had this conversation and it surely will not be the last. “It’s kind of hard to ignore them when they send bludgers at you hard enough to knock your head off of your shoulders.”

“It’s pretty easy to knock someone’s head off of their shoulders when there isn’t anything in it, Marcus,” Daphne teases, pushing his shoulder lightly.

Adrian pretends to throw up at their behavior, causing Marcus to hit him over the head while Y/N laughs. Adrian ends up hitting Marcus back, and the boys hit at each other for a few moments while Daphne rolls her eyes and Y/N eggs them on.

“The contents of Marcus’s head aside,” Adrian says as he plops down next to Y/N, his breathing heavy from wresting Marcus to the ground. “He’s got a point, Daph. You’ve never actually been the victim of a Weasley prank. So, frankly your opinion doesn’t matter.”

Daphne flips Adrian off and picks her magazine up again. “I’m just saying. There are better things for Y/N to focus her attention on than those stupid Weasleys.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’d like to see you ignore them after they charm your shampoo to turn your hair neon yellow. It didn’t go back to normal for weeks!” Adrian laughs at the memory, and Y/N punches him in the thigh. “Watch yourself, Pucey or I’m gonna put yellow dye in your shampoo.”

“Trying to get in the shower with me, are you?” Adrian teases, throwing his arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

“In your dreams,” Y/N responds, picking up the book she had discarded after a particularly loud shout came from one of the Weasley twins.

She can feel Adrian chuckle as she leans into his side. “I’ll see you there.”

Y/N had almost forgotten about the Weasley twins entirely until she feels something hit her in the back of the head during dinner. She picks a piece of mashed potato out of her hair as she turns around, her eyes like daggers as she searches for the culprit. Of course, Fred and George are laughing to themselves, each of them waving at her as they make eye contact.

“Nice to see your hair back to normal, Y/N!” One of them, Fred she thinks, shouts at her.

“Yeah, I reckon if your hair had been yellow any longer you’d have to join Hufflepuff,” the other teases, causing the Gryffindors around them to laugh.

Y/N goes to stand up so she can knock the grins off of their faces, but Adrian puts his hands on her shoulders and forces her to sit back down. “It’s not worth it,” he hisses into her ear. “Not in front of all of the professors. Be smart about your revenge.”

Y/N glares at Adrian, but she relaxes, nonetheless. As much as she hates to admit it, Adrian is right. It’s only the first day back, she doesn’t need to go and get detention and lose Slytherin a bunch of points. Not yet at least.

“Hey Marcus, do me a favor and knock them off their brooms first chance you get.”

“You’re awfully cheery this morning,” Y/N comments to Daphne as they head up the stairs towards the Great Hall.

“What isn’t there to be cheery about? It’s the first day of the school year. Our last school year,” Daphne responds dreamily.

Y/N snorts in laughter, rolling her eyes at her best friend. “Ah yes. The hardest year of school yet, that certainly is something to be happy about.”

“Oh NEWTS? Who cares about those,” Daphne says casually as they enter the Great Hall and head towards the Slytherin table. “You don’t need good grades in school to be a good wife and mother.”

Y/N scoffs, choosing not to say anything. Unlike Daphne and most of the other girls in her house, she plans on actually having a career of her own. It is common for pureblood families to marry off their daughters to the sons of other pureblood families and often times the mark of a good pureblood girl wasn’t her brain, but her ability to stay silent, look pretty and boss around a house elf.

Thankfully, Y/N’s parents hadn’t raised her with the same values. They didn’t believe in the same archaic things most pureblood families did, and they had raised Y/N to have loftier ambitions than to be someone’s wife and a mother. Y/N’s father always joked that she had inherited her mother’s smart mouth, so it would be impossible for them to marry her off anyway.

“Just because you don’t care about your grades doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t. Right, guys?” Y/N asks as they sit down, looking for both Marcus and Adrian to back her up.

“Are you guys on this again?” Adrian asks, rolling his eyes. Much like Y/N’s hatred of the Weasley twins, Daphne failing to take school seriously was a frequent topic of conversation in their friend group.

“No need to get your panties in a twist, Pucey,” Y/N teases as she grabs some toast. “Daph is free to sit back and spend her last year of school doing nothing, but I on the other hand plan on actually doing good on my NEWTS. So, feel free to slack off with her, or study with me, I don’t really care.”

Marcus chuckles at Y/N’s attitude. “Damn, Y/N tell us how you really feel.”

Y/N chucks a piece of toast at Marcus’s head before she reaches for her bag. “Oh, I almost forgot, I’ve got all of your schedules.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small stack of papers, handing their designated paper to each friend.

“Wow, slacking on your Head Girl duties already and it’s only the first day of term,” Adrian teases with an easy smile.

Y/N flicks his ear. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t make Head Boy.”

Adrian rolls his eyes as he scans over the piece of paper. “Me? An administrative stick in the mud? I don’t think so.”

“Nah mate, you just were looking forward to spending hours alone with Y/N,” Marcus teases, causing both Y/N and Adrian to throw pieces of muffin at him.

“Moving on,” Daphne drawls, clearly tired of their antics. “What’s everyone got first lesson? I’ve got divination.”

When both Marcus and Adrian announce they have Arithmancy, Y/N frowns. “Guess I’ll be heading to Potions alone then.”

As Y/N heads down to Potions after breakfast she can feel her mood sinking. Potions is one of her favorite classes, and not just because Snape tends to favor Slytherins. She finds the art of Potions fascinating, and each lesson always tests the bounds of her knowledge. But class is always more enjoyable with her friends around.

Her mood only worsens as the Weasley Twins fall into step beside her, one on each side.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, Georgie?” the twin on the left, who is obviously Fred, says playfully.

“Looks like little Y/N is heading to potions, Freddie,” George responds, lightly knocking into her shoulder.

Y/N stumbles on the step despite the light touch. Both Fred and George have a good six inches on her, and their time as beaters on the Gryffindor team has obviously left them both toned and muscular.

“And without her little gang of friends, what a shock,” Fred adds with a laugh as Y/N finds her balance.

“Friends? What friends?,” George teases.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Y/N glares at each of them. “You two dimwits are in NEWT level potions? Snape must have lowered his standards.”

“Oh Y/N how you wound us,” George gasps, clutching his chest.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they enter the Potions classroom, determined not to let the twins bother her. Daphne did have a point on the train yesterday, there were other things she needed to focus on besides the twins and their stupid games.

She takes her usual seat at the front of the classroom, expecting the twins to slink to the back of the class, far away from Snape’s prying eyes. Her fist automatically clenches when they slide into the seats directly behind her, her nostrils flaring.

This year certainly is going to be the hardest yet, and not just because of the rigorous coursework, Y/N thinks to herself as Snape begins class.

“You look, how do I put this nicely.” Marcus pauses. “Flustered.”

Y/N glares at him as she flops down next to Daphne. Potions had been an absolute disaster. She could hardly focus on her Memory Potion, too busy picking out the Jobberknoll Feathers the Weasley Twins kept putting in her hair. She had managed to make something barely acceptable, and Snape’s disappointment was evident.

“Screw off, Marcus. I just spent an hour dealing with Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 standing behind me doing everything in their power to piss me off. So, unless you wanna end up with your head in one of those pots and dragon dung fertilizer up to your ears, shut your mouth.”

Daphne laughs at Y/N’s outburst. “I told you just to ignore them, Y/N. Although dragon dung fertilizer up to the ears does sound like the perfect revenge plan. Not that I’m condoning letting someone, or someones, get under your skin so badly that you need revenge,” she pauses, winking at Y/N. “But if I were I think that would be the way to go.”

Before Y/N can get too lost in the thought of burying Fred and George in Dragon Dung Professor Sprout is entering the Greenhouse and starting class. But she definitely pushes the idea to the back of her mind for future consideration.

“I’m going to fling myself off the top of the astronomy tower,” Y/N announces as she collapses next to Daphne in the common room. After her short break from the Weasley Twins in Herbology, Y/N had to suffer through a double transfiguration and a charms lesson with them both sitting too close for comfort.

“Could you at least wait until it’s closer to the end of term? We could probably get an extra week off at the Christmas holiday,” Adrian says, not even bothering to look up from the Quidditch playbook in his lap.

Y/N groans, putting her head in her hands. “I need better friends, none of you are sympathetic of my suffering.”

“If you need sympathy go hang out with some Hufflepuffs,” Daphne tells her, throwing her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “What did the twins do this time?”

Instead of answering Y/N reaches for her bag and pulls out her charms book, handing it over to Daphne. “Go ahead. Try and open it.”

Daphne gives her a look as she cautiously takes it from her hands. She shares a look with Marcus and Adrian, who were finally intrigued enough to pay attention, before she slowly opens it. As soon as it falls open there’s a whizzing noise followed by loud pops as a mini firework show starts to go off. Daphne squeals and quickly shuts the book, her eyes wide.

“What in the hell was that?” she asks, tossing it back to Y/N.

“Whatever it was it was kinda cool. Open it again,” Marcus says with a laugh.

Y/N glares at him and shoves the book back in her bag. “Fred and George did something to it, obviously. It scared the shit out of me when I opened it in class. Flitwick took 30 points! 20 for the interruption it caused and 10 for the curse word I yelled.”

Adrian and Marcus erupt in a fit of hysterics as they imagine the scene it must have caused, and Y/N gets up so she can beat both of them with a pillow. They both pick up their own pillows to retaliate, and the three of them spend the next several minutes hitting each other. It only ends when a spare pillow ends up flying over and smacking Pansy Parkinson in the back of the head, causing all four of them to collapse in fits of laughter.

Y/N is the first to calm down, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. “Oh, that was absolutely incredible. Just what I needed.” As the rest of her friends pull themselves together Y/N grabs her bag. “Come on, let’s go to dinner. I wanna catch Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 so I can make them fix my stupid book.”

When the four of them arrive at the Great Hall Daphne, Marcus and Adrian head towards the Slytherin table, while Y/N makes a beeline towards the Gryffindor table. “Oi! Weasley!” When three red heads whip around to look at Y/N she sighs. Only one of the twins is sitting at the table, and it’s a 50/50 chance she gets it right, so she decides to just take a guess at which one it is. “George!”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” George asks as Y/N reaches the table.

She smiles to herself, proud that she had gotten it right. Y/N had never taken the time to learn the differences between the two, but now that she’s examining George she can tell that his eyes are softer, like there’s some reservation behind them. She takes out her charms textbook and places it on the table in front of him.

“Fix it,” she demands.

“Fix what?” he asks coyly, a mischievous smile on his face.

Y/N clenches her fist and takes a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “Don’t play stupid, Weasley. Just fix my book.”

George laughs. “Who said I’m playing stupid? You’re the one that called me a dimwit earlier, and you’re right. I am a dimwit.”

Their exchange has caught the attention of the Gryffindors sitting around them, and they’re all watching Y/N intently, smiles playing at the corners of their mouths.

“Look, your stupid little prank has already served its purpose. It scared me and I lost Slytherin some points. Just fix the damn thing, will you?” Y/N is starting to get desperate, but she doesn’t let it show. She keeps her expression blank, not wanting George to know how truly bothered she is.

“I don’t know. Maybe I would be more inclined to fix it if you asked me nicely, Y/N,” his tone is teasing, so much so it almost sounds condescending. The students sitting around them laugh lightly, waiting to see what Y/N does next.

Y/N grits her teeth, weighing her options in her head. She could stand here and nicely ask George to fix her book, or she could walk away and send an owl home to have her parents send her a new one. And even though she is tempted to just take the easy way out, she’ll be damned if she lets a Weasley twin get one over on her.

She takes a deep breath and plasters a sickeningly sweet, fake smile on her face. “George, would you please fix my Charms book?”

A look of surprise quickly crosses George’s face, before he replaces it with an easy smile. “Of course, Y/N. Thank you so much for being a good girl and asking nicely.” The Gryffindor table is basically in full on hysterics by now, and Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up. As soon as George has pressed his wand to her book and muttered the countercharm she snatches it off the table.

“Thanks so much, George,” she forces out, before she turns to head over to the Slytherin table. “Fucking prick.”

She sits down between Adrian and Draco Malfoy with a huff, already trying to figure out what her revenge will be. The conversation she’d had with Marcus and Daphne in Herbology pops back into her head and a wicked smile forms on her face.

“Why couldn’t you get Daphne to do this? It’s freezing out here,” Adrian whispers as he shivers.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they tiptoe through the greenhouse. “And you lot call me dramatic.” They both freeze in place when they hear a creek, but when no other noise comes they continue on. “Daphne Greengrass, awake past 10 pm? Ms. Beauty sleep is a nightmare if she doesn’t get a full 8 hours, you know that.”

When they reach the container Professor Sprout keeps the Dragon Dung fertilizer in she turns to Adrian, giving him a mischievous grin. “Besides, you know you’d regret it if you didn’t come with me. Now quick, hand me the bags.”

After they get the required materials from the Greenhouse, she and Adrian quietly sneak back in the castle and head up towards the Owlery. It takes them longer than anticipated, since they have to keep ducking behind statues and into classrooms to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris, but eventually they make it. They both sigh in relief when they return to the common room 30 minutes later, the final part of Y/N’s plan in place for the morning.

“You kind of amaze me, you know that?” Adrian says with a laugh as they both head towards the staircases that lead to their dorms.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re only nice to me so you don’t end up on the end of one of my revenge plans.”

The next morning Y/N is up bright and early, her body practically vibrating with excitement. Despite the fact that the Weasley Twins have been pulling pranks on her since first year, this is the first time she’s decided to retaliate.

She could deal with most of their antics. Locking her in the toilets, charming her shampoo, hitting her with snowballs and every other little trick or joke they pulled, Y/N could just grin and bear it. But having to stand in the middle of the Great Hall and practically beg George to fix her book was her tipping point. She can practically still hear him calling her a good girl and it causes a shiver to run down her spine. After today Fred and George will certain think twice about messing with her.

“Hurry up!” she urges her friends as she races to the top of the stairs. The owl post will be arriving in a few minutes, and there is no way she’s missing the big show. Adrian picks up his pace to meet her, but Daphne and Marcus continue up the stairs slowly, caught up in conversation. “You lot are hopeless.”

Y/N practically skips into the Great Hall and after sitting down where she knows she’ll have the perfect view of what’s about to happen she rubs her hands together. Daphne and Marcus give her a confused look as they sit down across from her and Adrian, who thankfully shares her excitement.

“What has gotten into you, Y/N, you look like you’re about to jump out of your skin,” Daphne comments, sounding slightly concerned that her friend may have gone mad.

As the first few owls start to fly in, Y/N grins and gestures towards the Gryffindor table. “Shush, shush. Just look over there and you’ll find out.”

Y/N holds her breath as two familiar owls fly in, each of them holding a package. They soar towards the Gryffindor table, and instead of gracefully dropping their parcels in front of their recipients they drop them a few moments early. The brown paper bags explode as they hit Fred and George at the same time, Dragon Dung Fertilizer pouring down their heads and onto their shoulders and laps.

The entire Great Hall is silent for a moment, before nearly every student bursts into laughter. The most noise comes from the Slytherin table, and Y/N’s chest swells with pride. Adrian pats her on the back as Daphne and Marcus turn back to congratulate her on a prank well done.

Y/N can’t stop looking at the Twins, and her breath catches in her throat when they return her gaze. She sends them both a wink and a wave, giggles still falling from her lips.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” George asks Y/N as he and his brother slide into the seats behind her and Daphne in Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. She hasn’t seen either of them since they left the Great Hall to get cleaned up, but at lunch Astoria informed her that Ginny Weasley had told her that both boys were quite annoyed.

Y/N laughs but doesn’t turn around to look at either of them. “Nice to see you boys managed to clean up.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” Fred says, leaning forward in his seat to ensure Y/N hears him.

She rolls her eyes, but still doesn’t look back at them. “What? You can’t take what you dish out? I thought you two were tougher than that.” Daphne nudges Y/N, gesturing to the front of the classroom where Professor Umbridge is now standing, clearly telling her to knock it off with the twins.

“Oh, it’s on. You have no idea what you’ve started,” George whispers at her. She imagines that he’s trying to sound threatening, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

As Professor Umbridge starts rambling on about her expectations, Y/N turns to face the twins. “Bring it on, bitch.”

“No magic? No practical lessons? She was joking, right?” Y/N rambles as they head towards the Great Hall for dinner. They’ve all just come from a dreadful Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor Umbridge had made it very clear that they’d be spending the year doing nothing but reading from their textbooks.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Frankly I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s not wrong, our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been all over the place. I think it’s a good thing that we’re finally going to have some structure and unity.”

Y/N groans, looking to Adrian and Marcus for support. She frowns when they both refuse to meet her gaze. “That’s because you don’t care about doing good on your NEWTS. You don’t need an O on your exams to marry Marcus or whoever your parents have picked out for you to be with after graduation,” she spits.

Before Daphne has the chance to pick her jaw up off of the ground and respond, Y/N is turning around and heading away from her friends, needing to be alone.

“Are you alright?”

Y/N picks her head up from where she had buried it in her arms, surprised to see Ginny Weasley standing in front of her. She nods as she uncurls her body, stretching it out slightly. She had taken refuge on a random bench in one of the corridors and after sitting on the stone for a few hours her body has begun to ache. She moves down the bench a little and gestures for Ginny to take a seat.

While the Weasley Twins are Y/N’s least favorite people in the world, she actually doesn’t mind their siblings. She had gotten to know Percy quite well, since they had been Prefects together for a year before he had become Head Boy, and he had helped her out on quite a few transfiguration assignments during her OWL year. All she knows about Ron are the things Draco has said, but she doubts that anything that comes from his mouth is true. She’s never had a conversation with Ginny, but Daphne’s younger sister Astoria is quite friendly with her, so if she’s willing to befriend a Slytherin she’s alright in Y/N’s book.

“You seemed pretty angry earlier, before dinner. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Y/N fidgets with her school robes as her cheeks flush, she had been hoping that no one had witnessed her outburst. She had heard too often that Slytherins were mean and evil, so she always did her best to contain her emotions around others, not wanting to perpetuate the stereotype even further.

“You saw that then?” When Ginny nods she sighs. “It’s just been a frustrating few days and I love my friends, but they don’t always get it. That stupid Umbridge is really going to screw me over this year and I can’t fail now. Not when I’ve spent the last seven years working my ass off.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N that sounds awful. There’s going to be this, thing. A meeting or whatever. Next weekend during the first Hogsmeade trip,” Ginny pauses so she can tuck a piece of parchment into her hand. “Stop by, it might be, uh helpful to you.” With a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder Ginny leaves Y/N alone.

With a heavy sigh Y/N starts to head to the common room. She uncurls the piece of paper Ginny had handed her, fearful that this might be some elaborate set up for one of her brother’s tricks.

Hogshead Inn, 12 pm, is all the paper reads in neat handwriting that Y/N doesn’t recognize. She shoves the piece of parchment into her pocket as she reaches the dungeons, trying to decide whether or not to go.

The rest of the week and the next pass by slowly much to Y/N’s dismay. Things between her, Marcus and Adrian returned to somewhat normal, but Daphne is still refusing to speak to her. No matter how many times Y/N apologized Daphne just kept ignoring her. The fact that the Weasley Twins were lurking behind every corner just pushed Y/N closer to the edge, so by the time Saturday arrived Y/N didn’t care if the note Ginny had slipped her the previous week was the bait for an elaborate prank. She just needed some sort of human interaction.

Due to her and Daphne’s still strained relationship and the first Slytherin Quidditch practice of the school year, Y/N is all alone as she heads to Hogsmeade. Normally she’d not even bother going if her friends didn’t accompany her, but her lack of company makes it easier for her to slip down the forgotten path that leads to the Hogshead Inn.

She looks the dim building up and down as she approaches, grimacing at its appearance. Adrian and Marcus had tried to convince her and Daphne to enter the pub with them during one of their first trips to the little village on the outskirts of Hogwarts, but the girls had overpowered them, and dragged them into Honeydukes instead.

She pauses briefly at the entrance, trying to prepare for the things that could be waiting for her on the other side. She enters through the door slowly, her eyes widening in surprise at the scene she’s met with. It certainly is not what she had expected. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, with more than a dozen chairs facing them. Some are empty, while others are taken up by students that Y/N vaguely recognizes. Ginny gives her a wave when they make eye contact, motioning for her to take a seat.

Y/N sits down in a seat towards the back and fidgets with the sleeves of her jumper. She’s relaxed slightly since she entered, this clearly wasn’t some elaborate prank set up by Fred and George, but she’s still unsure of what she just walked in to.

“What are you doing here?” Comes a voice from behind her, causing Y/N’s shoulders to tense up. She turns around only to be met with Fred and George.

“Come to spy on us, Head Girl? Want to get all of our secrets and then run off to the greaseball you call Head of House to tattle on us?” Fred sneers as he and George push past her to take the seats in front of her.

Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Clearly I’m here for the same reasons you are, moron. If I was spying on you why would I just be sitting here out in the open?”

Truly, Y/N has no idea what she’s doing there, Ginny had been extremely vague. All she knows is that this meeting will somehow make dealing with Umbridge better, and after the awful start to term she’s had Y/N is willing to do anything at this point.

Before either Fred or George can respond, Hermione is urging everyone to take a seat so they can begin.

45 minutes later Y/N is standing behind Fred and George, waiting her turn to sign the paper that will make her an official member of Dumbledore’s Army. Y/N was skeptical at first about getting involved in whatever Harry and Hermione had cooked up. But as Harry talked more, about needing real, practical knowledge Y/N couldn’t help but agree. She had always been so focused on school and her future career that she never even considered what lay waiting for them outside of Hogwarts’ protective walls.

Y/N hadn’t known Cedric well. A conversation or two during Prefect duties, idle pleasantries in the hall, but that was it. But she had spent much of her summer vacation thinking about him, and about what Dumbledore had said about his death. While her friends and many of her housemates thought Dumbledore was an old crack pot, Y/N trusted and believed him. Her parents did as well, and they had talked about the first wizarding war with her over dinner on several different occasions.

As she listened to Harry talk about what he had seen and what he has already dealt with, Y/N knew that she needed to be a part of whatever he was planning. Being able to get some practice with actual defensive magic would surely help her when it came to end of the year exams, but if they truly were getting ready for another war, it may just help save her life.

As she heads back towards school, she can’t help but think about a conversation she’d had with her father not too long before the school year started again. He had reminded her that she had been placed in Slytherin house because of her ambitions in life, and her willingness to do whatever it takes to get there. Before he had kissed her goodnight he told her that it wasn’t always what you know, but who you know and that the people she surrounded herself with was just as important as focusing on her studies.

At first she had scoffed at his thinly veiled digs at her friends. Y/N has been friends with Marcus, Daphne and Adrian since first year, and she had never felt the need to expand her circle. Her parents were quite familiar with the families her friends came from, and the values they held. She knew that her parents didn’t exactly like her friends but were still supportive of Y/N and the relationship she formed with them.

But now, after seeing how badly the Daily Prophet was slandering both Dumbledore and Harry and hearing directly from Harry what he’d been through, Y/N understands what her father was saying. The Greengrass’ and Flint’s had been suspected Death Eaters all those years ago and its likely members of Adrian’s family had ties to Voldemort as well. Her father had been encouraging her to seek out new friendships to try and protect her from the Dark Arts that seemed very attractive to members of Slytherin house.

She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t hear the Weasley Twins coming up behind her until they’re knocking into her shoulders as they pass by. She flips them off behind their backs, trying to ignore their chuckling.

“I can’t believe I just signed up to spend even more time with those twats,” she mumbles to herself as the castle comes into view. While she doesn’t mind having Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny on her side, she plans on staying as far away from the Weasley Twins as possible.

That night at dinner Y/N is listening to Adrian and Marcus bicker over what drills to run during their next practice when her mouth starts to tingle. Her eyes widen when she takes another sip of pumpkin juice and the sensation only gets worse. Adrian and Marcus give her a concerned look as she begins to fidget and from the corner of her eye Y/N can see that Daphne is watching as well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Adrian asks as Y/N slaps her hands over her mouth.

Except she can’t respond. Her tongue has started to swell in her mouth so much so that it’s trying to force its way past her lips. It feels like it weighs a ton and as the pain increases she has no choice but to let it slowly seep out of her mouth.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” she hears George shout from the Gryffindor table, causing groups of students to look over at her. She’s desperately trying to contain her growing tongue as she gets up to head to the Hospital Wing.

“Cat got your tongue?” she can hear Fred call behind her, nearly drowned out by the peeling laughter coming from the Great Hall.

When she gets back to the common room that night, Y/N is expecting it to be empty. But when she’s barely closed the door behind her a mess of black curls takes over her vision and arms wrap around her tightly.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright. I thought you would have been back ages ago. What happened?” Daphne asks as she lets go. She leads Y/N over to a set of couches in the corner, where Adrian and Marcus are waiting for them.

Adrian pulls her down next to him and Daphne sits so close to Y/N on the other side that she’s practically in her lap. “Would you all stop fussing? I’m fine, honest,” she says with a reassuring laugh. While Y/N is fine, she can’t help but lean into Adrian’s side, feeling relieved that things are back to normal between the four of them.

“Let me guess, Weasley Twin revenge?” Marcus asks.

Y/N nods, smiling when Daphne curses them under her breath. “A creation they like to call Ton-Tongue Toffees. They must have managed to get it into my goblet or something, so it melted into my pumpkin juice. It took ages to get the swelling to go down but Madam Pomfrey managed it. I’ve just spent the last 45 minutes listening to Snape try and get the maximum punishment for them.”

Y/N knows that not many people like Snape, that it’s really only Slytherins that appreciate him. It’s no secret that he favors his house almost unfairly so, but she doesn’t really mind it when he’s advocating for them. The twins had technically poisoned her, which is something Snape had pointed out when McGonagall suggested only taking points away from the boys for a “harmless” prank. Snape had managed to negotiate on Y/N’s behalf, and the boys will now be serving a week’s detention with Snape.

“So, what are you gonna do to get back at them?” Daphne asks, causing all three of them to give her a look. “What?”

“What happened to all that crap about just ignoring them?” Marcus teases.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “To hell with all that. They want a prank war? Well then let’s show them what being a Slytherin is all about.”

By the time Monday morning rolls around Y/N is in such a good mood that she practically skips down the stairs to Potions. The fake Galleon Ginny had slipped her during lunch yesterday had burned red this morning, letting Y/N know that the DA’s first official meeting would be taking place this Thursday. So not only was she going to get some real defensive magic training, but after the Twin’s prank on Saturday evening her and Daphne were able to properly make up and she had her friends back.

She bites her lip as the twins fall in step beside her once again, determined not to let their presence ruin her mood.

“How’s your tongue feeling this morning?” Fred asks from her right side.

“Any bloating? Tingling? Lasting side effects?” George teases from her left side.

Y/N shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s okay boys, go ahead and make your jokes. I want you to remember how good you feel now, because once I’ve gotten you back you’ll wish you’d never messed with me.”

She can hear them both laugh as they enter the Potions class and take their respective seats. “Really? Already planning your next late-night trip into the greenhouses?” George muses.

Y/N turns in her seat so she can look each of them in the eyes. “Oh, you poor, sweet, boys,” she mocks. “When I’m done with you the dragon dung fertilizer you took to the head will seem like a shower of rose petals.” She gives them a sly wink, and turns back around, their shocked expressions still dancing around in her brain.

“So, you figured out what you’re going to do them, then?” Daphne asks excitedly after Y/N has finished recounting her conversation with Fred and George to her and Marcus in Herbology. Professor Sprout has tasked them with dissecting Shrivelfigs, so the three of them can talk freely. Even though her and her friends had spent most of Sunday trying to concoct the perfect revenge plan they had come up with nothing that was quite right.

“I guess you could say that.” When Marcus and Daphne give her questioning looks she giggles. “I’m not going to actually do anything to them.” When they both still look confused she rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to let them think that something big is coming. That way they’re always on edge when I’m around, always looking over their shoulders, waiting for some huge prank to befall them. It’ll drive them bonkers trying to figure out when and where it’s gonna happen.”

Marcus gives Y/N a look of appreciation. “Damn, that’s pretty brilliant, Y/N.”

Y/N bows at his praise, causing Daphne to chuckle. “What they got this morning is just a taste of what I have planned for tonight.”

Y/N sneaks out of the common room that night, not too long after dinner. She knows that Fred and George will be serving detention with Snape and that it’s the perfect opportunity to mess with them.

When she reaches the Potions classroom she pauses just outside the door to ensure that Snape isn’t actually still in the room with the boys. When all she can hear is the clatter of cauldrons and Fred and George’s soft voices, she decides to go for it.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Y/N asks innocently as she enters the classroom. “Oh, boys! What a treat, seeing you down in our ends this late at night.” Y/N walks further into the classroom and she can’t help but smile as the twins start to fidget.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Fred asks, eyeing her warily.

She puts the most innocent look on her face as she can, blinking up at the two of them. “I’m looking for Professor Snape. Is he around?”

“No, he left us alone quite a bit ago,” George responds. Y/N can tell he’s trying to hide how nervous he sounds. Fred seems like the one to never back down, so Y/N switches her tactic slightly. She starts to walk closer to George and she has to bite her lip to keep the smile off her face as he tries to subtly move away from her.

“That’s a shame. I have a question I need to ask him.” Y/N leans against the table, moving that much closer to George. “Did he say when he was going to be back?”

“He didn’t,” Fred answers, making direct eye contact with Y/N. She returns his gaze, not backing down until he looks away from her.

Feeling accomplished Y/N smacks the table with her palm and stands back up. “Well I guess I’ll leave you boys to it.” She heads towards the door. “Have fun.” With one final wink she’s out the door, laughing to herself as she goes.

Before Y/N knows it, Thursday has already arrived. She tries her best to contain her excitement, but as the first DA meeting approaches it’s getting harder and harder. She feels bad for not telling her friends about what she’s involved in, but she knows it’s for the better. They certainly wouldn’t approve of the unofficial club, and she doesn’t want to chance that they’ll blow the whole operation in to Umbridge.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N says with a wave as she heads to leave the common room. She told the others she had some Head Girl duties to take care of so they wouldn’t try and come with her when she left.

As she heads towards the room of requirement Y/N takes the time to glance over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure no one is following her. She had been the only Slytherin in attendance at the Hogshead Inn, and she doesn’t need to be trusted even less by bringing unwanted guests with her.

When she finally enters the room of requirement it’s a bit crowded, but she can tell that not everyone has arrived yet. Ginny waves at Y/N, motioning for her to come and join her and Hermione. She’s silently thankful for her invitation so she doesn’t have to stand there by herself and goes to join the two girls.

“Hey, Ginny. Granger,” she greets them both with an awkward wave. She doesn’t know much about Hermione, again, having only heard about her from Draco. She’s had to interact with her a few times due to Hermione being a prefect, but for some odd reason she trusts Ginny, so she figures that Hermione is alright to hang out with.

“Y/N I’m really glad you decided to join. Not only is it probably helpful to have the Head Girl on our side, it’s also really nice to have some house diversity,” Hermione says with a genuine smile.

Y/N can feel her cheeks start to heat up, so she clears her throat, giving her a moment to regain her composure. “Thanks, Hermione. I never really understood it, all of the house rivalry mumbo jumbo. I’m just supposed to automatically hate you because some hat put you in one house over another? Seems silly to me.”

She hears someone scoff behind her, and she turns to see George standing behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. “What? Got a problem, Weasley?”

“That’s real big talk considering the fact that you’ve had some grudge against me and Fred since first year, Y/N,” he says, looking at her curiously.

“I don’t hate you and Fred because you’re Gryffindors,” she explains with an eye roll. “I hate you because you’re ungodly annoying.” She bites her lip, allowing herself to look him up and down. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Y/N can’t deny that his arms look downright filthy. She had never truly looked at George, he was quieter than Fred, so he didn’t quite capture her attention like his brother had. But now that he’s standing over her, she can’t deny that he’s attractive. He is most certainly her mortal enemy, but he’s an attractive enemy at least.

“If anything, you and Fred are the ones who started our rivalry,” she continues a moment later when her eyes meet his again. “You locked me in the girl’s bathroom with Moaning Myrtle for three hours on the second day of school, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” George says with a laugh. “Forgot about that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Harry as he starts the meeting. He decides to start with something basic but effective, disarming. Y/N could disarm any witch or wizard in her sleep, but not everyone there is at the same skill level, so she’s willing to get some practice in.

They start to break up into pairs and Y/N looks around, trying to find someone, anyone to work with. Of course, George is with Fred, Ginny is already working with a Ravenclaw Y/N thinks is named Luna, and Hermione is with Ron. She ends up locking eyes with Neville Longbottom and she motions for him to come join her.

“I’ll work with you Neville.”

He gives her an appreciative smile, and as he crosses the room George nudges him. “Watch out for her Neville. You never know what she might be up to, this could all be a big ploy to take out the entire Gryffindor house.”

Y/N flips him off, giving Neville a warm smile. “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.” They both take their stance, wands at the ready. She has heard Draco and his cronies make fun of Neville for hours on end, so she’s not really expecting much to happen.

When Neville waves his wand and shouts Expelliarmus, his own wand flies out of his hand and clatters to the floor at Y/N’s feet. His cheeks turn a bright red, and Y/N can practically feel how embarrassed he is. He looks at her expectantly, like he’s waiting for her to laugh and say something rude.

She sends him a smile and grabs his wand. “That was a really good try, Neville. The first time I tried to disarm someone I nearly blinded Professor Quirrell when my wand shot out of my hand and flew across the room,” she reassures him with a laugh. When Neville laughs too she hands him his wand back. “Here, try moving your wand like this.” She shows him the proper wand movement before she takes her place again. “Ready?”

Two hours later when Y/N is heading back towards the Slytherin common room, she feels accomplished. Neville had managed to get her wand to wiggle in her grip by the end of it, and she could tell he was proud of himself.

Y/N is thinking about all the homework she has to do tonight when someone falls into step beside her. “Alright, give it up, what’s your deal?”

She looks up at George before she examines the rest of the hallway. “Where’s your brother? I thought you two did everything together.”

“He’s down in the kitchens getting food, not that it’s any of your business,” he adds quickly. “And stop dodging the question. What’s your deal?”

She rolls her eyes and stops walking. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” George turns to face her, crossing his arms over his chest. She mirrors his stance, looking up at him.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes again. “So, what because I’m a Slytherin I can’t participate in clandestine clubs? Your sister is the one who invited me to that meeting, so go and ask her why she did it. All I did was show up. I liked what Harry said and since Umbridge isn’t doing anything to help us with NEWTS I signed up. That’s it.”

George doesn’t respond immediately, instead he studies Y/N’s face, trying to see if she’s lying. He goes to say something when someone interrupts them.

“Mr. Weasley! Ms. Y/L/N!” They both jump as Professor McGonagall comes down the hall towards them. “What are you two doing out past curfew?” Y/N and George look to each other with a worried glance, not entirely sure what to say. “Never mind the reason, you shouldn’t be out of your common rooms at this hour. I’ll have 15 points from each of your houses and I’ll see you both in detention tomorrow evening!”

Y/N gives George one last glare before she stalks all the way back to her common room.

“What exactly were you doing standing in a hallway with George Weasley past curfew anyway?” Daphne asks Y/N the next day at lunch.

Daphne had just finished explaining the evening she had planned out for them when Y/N informed her that she’d be stuck in detention with George for the beginning portion of their girl’s night.

Y/N shrugs, trying to act casual. “I finished up my Head Girl stuff and was going back to the common room when I saw him sneaking around. I followed him, figuring I could catch him doing something. I confronted him and McGonagall saw us and gave us detention.”

“Maybe that was his plan all along, maybe he was trying to get you in trouble,” Daphne suggests.

“Yeah but he got in trouble too, Daph,” Y/N reminds her with a laugh.

The other girl shrugs, taking a bite of her Yorkshire pudding. “I didn’t say it was a smart plan.” Marcus and Adrian arrive then, taking their respective seats next to the girls.

“Who didn’t have a smart plan?” Marcus asks as he starts to pile food on his plate.

“George Weasley,” Y/N answers, batting away Adrian’s hand as he tries to steal her roll. “I caught him sneaking around one of the hallways after curfew and McGonagall rolled up on us and gave us detention.”

“Detention? On a Friday night? What about our hot date?” Adrian teases, making another attempt at stealing her roll.

Y/N flips him off and lets him have it. “The only hot date you’re going to have tonight is your right hand.”

Y/N groans as she picks up another teapot to clean. Her and George have been serving their detention in complete silence for twenty minutes and her brain feels like it’s going to mush. “Is detention always this boring?” she asks, not really expecting George to respond.

“No. But mostly because I’m usually with Fred, not you,” George replies dully.

“Oh, how you wound me, George,” she responds, mocking the tone he had used with her on the first day of term.

They work together in silence for a few minutes before George puts down the teapot he had been scrubbing and tosses his rag to the side. “So, I asked Ginny,” he says, turning to look at Y/N.

Y/N gives him a look as she turns to face him as well, discarding what she had been doing. “Asked Ginny what?”

George rolls his eyes at her, clearly annoyed that Y/N had forgotten the conversation they had in the hall the previous night. “Why she told you about the meeting at the Hogshead, about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Oh,” she responds softly. When she had said that to George last night she hadn’t expected him to actually ask, she was just trying to get him to leave her alone. “And what did she say?” George gives her a look, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. You’re the one that brought it up.”

George chuckles at her frustration. “Aw come on, I’m just kidding.” He pauses. “She said that Astoria Greengrass talks about you a ton, about how you’re different than other Slytherins. She said something about how you got into a fight with your friends, and she decided that if she talked to you and you were cool enough, she would invite you.”

“So, I’ve got the Ginny Weasley stamp of approval? I’m honored,” she says with a laugh, her surprise evident in her tone. “Does that make me alright then? Since I’m different than other Slytherins? Whatever that means.”

George shrugs his shoulders. “I think I know what she means.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him he continues. “Oh, come on don’t act like you don’t know it. You’re nice.”

Y/N scoffs, lightly shoving his arm. “Slytherins being mean is just a stereotype, George. Tons of the people in my house are nice. Daphne is nice, and so are Marcus and Adrian.”

“Cut the crap, Y/N,” he chides. “Daphne, Marcus and Adrian are nice to you and the other members of your house because you all share that in common. But you’re nice to, well most people honestly. Everyone even, except maybe me and Fred. But we aren’t nice to you either, so I understand it.”

Y/N opens her mouth to respond, but George puts his hand up to stop her. “Take yesterday, for example. I saw you, with Neville. The way you made him feel better about his failure, how you encouraged him and helped him improve. Daphne or Marcus or any other Slytherin wouldn’t have done that. They’d have laughed in his face and you know it.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admits softly, a slight blush on her cheeks from George’s kind words.

“So, you’re so worried about your NEWTs that you’re willing to spend hours practicing a spell you mastered in 2nd year? Thought you were top of our class?” he teases.

Y/N plays with her fingers and fidgets in her seat. She knows the question is innocent, but it feels like George can see right into her soul. That’s he looking at all her worst fears. “I am, yeah. I need at least an Exceeds Expectations on my defense against the dark arts NEWT to be a Healer and I’ve already worked so hard, I can’t screw it up now, not when I’m this close.”

George is silent for a moment and he turns in his chair so he’s fully facing Y/N. When she does the same he speaks. “I didn’t know you want to be a healer.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Weasley. What is it you said? I’m not nice to you and you’re not nice to me. It’s always been that way.”

“Yeah I guess so,” he admits. “I never imagined you as a Healer, if I’m honest. But I think you’ll be amazing at it.”

Y/N blushes and looks down. “Thanks, I appreciate it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, since I was a little kid. I used to pretend to Heal my dolls all the time. My parents even gave me a muggle doctors coat for Christmas once, I wore it like, every day,” she reminisces with a laugh.

George laughs along with her. “I fear that I may have seriously misjudged you, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, lightly shoving his shoulder.

George blushes and Y/N finds it endearing. “I figured you and your family were like the other pureblood Slytherin dynasties. That you cared about your grades to make you a more appealing bride or something.”

Y/N nods in understanding. “Yeah I don’t blame you on that one. That’s what most people think. My parents were raised like that and they hated it. All the stupid rules, the lack of freedom. They’re lucky, they were able to find genuine love with each other. And they’re still so in love, it’s actually pretty sickening,” she says with a laugh. “But they agreed that when they had kids they wouldn’t raise them like that. That they’d let them think for themselves, find their own way in life. It’s been so hard, not to send an owl to my dad and tell him all about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Really? He’d approve of it?” he asks, unable to help how surprised he sounds.

“Oh yeah,” she confirms with a laugh. “He was so angry all summer, with what the Daily Prophet is saying about Harry and Dumbledore. He even not so subtly suggested that I expand my horizons, make some friendships and connections with people from other houses. I think he’d be really excited about what Harry’s doing.”

“That’s actually really cool. I guess I definitely misjudged you then.”

They both get back to work then, but Y/N doesn’t feel as awkward anymore. She’s never bothered to have an actual conversation with either of the Weasley Twins, and she is quite surprised to find that she actually really enjoyed it.

When Y/N and George leave the transfiguration classroom a few hours later she’s exhausted and silently thanks Merlin that she is a Witch, because cleaning the muggle way is dreadful. Despite the late hour Y/N is surprised to see that the hallway isn’t empty. Adrian and Fred are leaning up against the wall across from the transfiguration classroom a few feet apart, glaring at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks with a soft laugh, altering both boys of their arrival.

“I wanted to make sure George was alright. You’ve been spouting about your grand revenge plan all week, I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and pull anything while you two were alone,” Fred answers, finally looking away from Adrian so he can glare at Y/N.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, Weasley. I don’t care why you’re here.” When Fred flips her off she returns the gesture.

“To answer your question,” Adrian starts as he walks towards her. “I came to accompany you back to the common room. A gentleman never lets a lady walk alone at night.”

“Well then where’s this gentleman?” she teases, looking around the hallway.

Before Adrian can respond Fred laughs. “Yeah, I don’t see a lady either.” George’s laughter joins his brothers and Y/N flips them off again.

When Adrian starts to move closer to Fred, Y/N grabs his arm and pulls him into her chest. “Not here, Adrian,” she whispers. “McGonagall is right in there,” she reminds him, gesturing towards the open classroom door with her head.

“You are so lucky, weasel,” Adrian practically growls at him. Y/N wraps her arms around Adrian’s waist and starts to pull him down the hall away from Fred and George. Adrian glares at them one last time before he turns forward and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “You should have let me hit him. One good hit would have been worth a month’s detention.”

“Not this close to quidditch season it’s not. Smack a few good bludgers at him instead,” Y/N pauses and she looks up at Adrian with her best puppy dog eyes. “Piggyback ride? Please?”

Adrian sighs heavily but crouches down in front of Y/N, nonetheless. She squeals in delight, climbing onto her friend’s back. Adrian grips her thighs tightly as he stands. “Ready?” Once he feels Y/N nod he sets off towards the common room. “You’re lucky I love you, brat.”

When Fred and George slide into their seats behind Y/N in Potions on Monday morning they don’t say a word. When she saw them enter the room she had tensed up, just waiting for whatever snarky comment they were bound to make. So, when they take their seats without a word, Y/N can’t help but turn around to look at them.

“What’s wrong with you two?” When neither of them responds, Y/N waves her hand in front of their faces. “Hello? Earth to Nitwit 1 and Nitwit 2.” She expected her insult to get them to at least look at her, but both of their focus is on the blackboard in the front of the room. She huffs in annoyance. “Whatever be pricks. I don’t care.” She turns back around and crosses her arms, trying to convince herself that she in fact doesn’t care that they’re ignoring her.

“Will you stop staring at them? It’s weird,” Marcus scolds Y/N that night at dinner, kicking her shin under the table to get her attention.

Y/N kicks him back, finally tearing her attention away from Fred and George. “They’re planning something,” she insists.

Daphne rolls her eyes and throws a carrot at Y/N. “First you complain that they’re always loud and bothering you and now you’re complaining that they aren’t bothering you. Will you just give it a rest? Be thankful that they’ve finally decided to leave you alone.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at Daphne before she takes a bite out of the carrot she had thrown at her. She knows Daphne is right, but she can’t help but be bothered that Fred and George aren’t even trying to annoy her. As much as she hates to admit it, she misses their antics. Y/N had really enjoyed George’s company during their detention and part of her had hoped that maybe their newfound acquaintanceship would have carried over once they were no longer the only people in the room.

So, she had found herself quite disappointed that he hadn’t said a word to her all day. He hadn’t even looked at her. Y/N thought she had felt his gaze on her during Charms, but when she turned around to check he was focused on Flitwick.

“Daph is right,” Adrian whispers in her ear, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “They’re finally leaving you alone, you should be happy.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her gaze falling upon Fred and George once again. “I am happy,” she lies. “I just know them too well. They’re planning something big. They’re trying to throw me off.” She flips her friends off when they all groan.

“What makes you think they’re planning something?” Marcus asks. “Did something happen between you and George during detention? You didn’t say too much about it.”

Y/N bites her lip. She hadn’t said much to her friends about her detention when her and Adrian arrived back in the common room that night, just that it was mind numbingly boring. She didn’t want them to know that she had not only had a conversation with George Weasley, but she had actually enjoyed it.

“No, nothing happened. We sat there cleaning teapots for hours, McGonagall came back and she let us go,” she says with a shrug, trying to seem casual. “He didn’t even say two words to me.”

“Exactly, so chill out. Enjoy the peace,” Daphne says.

When Y/N finally collapses in her bed that night she can’t seem to fall asleep despite how tired she is. She tosses and turns, her mind wandering to George and why she’s so bothered by the sudden lack of attention she’s getting from him. Her stomach lurches, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.

I have a crush on George Weasley.

Y/N spends the rest of the week avoiding both Weasley Twins. She sits as far away from them as possible, refuses to look at them and even goes as far as to hide in an empty classroom when she sees them heading towards her one afternoon. Y/N is determined to extinguish whatever positive feelings she has towards George. She’s spent the past seven years hating his guts, and she is not about to let herself reverse all of that over some stupid crush. Unfortunately for Y/N, on Saturday morning her fake Galleon burns red, letting her know that there will be another DA meeting that night.

Which is why she’s currently heading towards the Room of Requirement, her stomach a pit of dread and despair. “Get it together, Y/N,” she mutters to herself. Y/N is standing just outside the room of requirement and she takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

Y/N pulls the door open and goes to head in, but she runs smack into the chest of someone trying to leave. An involuntary squeal leaves her lips as her body tenses up, preparing itself to hit the ground. Except she doesn’t even fall. A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and she’s pulled into the other person’s chest.

“Woah there. Watch where you’re going.”

Y/N doesn’t have to look up to know that George Weasley is holding her in his arms. She can feel her cheeks heat up and she pushes away from him, needing to get away from him as fast as possible. “I could say the same to you, Weasley,” she sneers.

Even though her tone is crude Y/N can feel her heart fluttering in her chest and her skin is tingling from his touch. She looks up at his face, letting her eyes linger on his lips for just a second. She tries not to think about what it would feel like for him to grip her waist as they kissed.

“No need to be so feisty, Y/N,” George teases, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts.

She rolls her eyes and steps aside so George can leave, Fred following close behind him. “Maybe if you weren’t trying to mow me down I wouldn’t need to be,” she responds, watching as Fred flips her off behind his back.

She watches them walk away for a moment before heading into the room of requirement. Her palms are sweaty even from that small interaction with George and Y/N tries to subtly wipe them off on her skirt as she joins Ginny, Hermione and Ron in the back of the room.

“Where are they off to?” she asks after they’ve been talking for a few minutes, not wanting to seem too interested in George’s movements.

“Filch has been sniffing around for Umbridge, she knows Harry is up to something. So, Fred and George are going to slip him something that’ll put him out of commission for few hours,” Hermione explains.

Y/N nods. Hermione had made a few complaints to both Y/N and Miles, a Ravenclaw in her year that was Head Boy, that Fred and George had been spending their free time making an array of joke products and then testing them out on first years. “Despite the fact that I have been the victim of a Weasley product, I can’t say I feel bad for Filch.”

Once Fred and George slip back into the room of requirement and give Harry a thumbs up, he starts the meeting. They’re going to continue working on disarming, and Y/N immediately searches for Neville in the crowd. Neville certainly isn’t the most talented wizard, but Y/N can tell that he’s full of determination and she likes working with him. When Harry sets them off to work Neville joins her.

“You better watch out, Y/N, I’ve been practicing,” Neville says with a laugh as they take their stances.

“Alright then, Longbottom, let’s see what you’ve got.”

When Y/N leaves the Room of Requirement later that night, she can still hear Neville chattering to his friends happily as they head back to Gryffindor tower. It had taken him most of the meeting, but Neville had finally managed to get her wand to fly out of her hand. She was extremely happy for him as the other members of the DA came around to congratulate him, and not just because George had pressed up against her back as he patted Neville on the shoulder.

“Sneaking away without saying Goodbye, Y/N? I’m hurt,” George scolds teasingly as he comes up behind her.

She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her excitement. “Oh, so you’re speaking to me again?” she says as he falls into step next to her. He’s standing so close that their arms almost brush, and Y/N swallows down the butterflies that come up her throat.

“Aw, did little Y/N miss me?” George teases, shoving her shoulder.

“No,” Y/N responds far too quickly, trying not to get flustered from the contact. “Just surprised that you managed to go a whole week without annoying me that’s all.”

“Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.”

She bites her lip, trying to contain her glee. Cut it out, she scolds herself. George Weasley is nothing more than an annoying git, you do not like him.

“Why are you following me, anyway? Last I checked Gryffindor’s common room is in the other direction,” she questions as they head down towards the Great Hall.

Y/N watches George shrug out of the corner of her eye. His face is blank, but Y/N can tell that he’s nervous. “Making sure you’re not getting up to anything is all.”

“Or you’re distracting me while your brother sets up some kind of trap,” she responds.

Suddenly she feels George’s hand wrap around her wrist and he’s pulling her into a nearby broom closet. As he slams the door shut behind them Y/N can’t help but notice just how close they are. Her back is pressed up against the wall and George is standing only a few inches away, his hands on either side of her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N demands, hoping that her voice doesn’t shake. George is towering over her, and Y/N can see the muscles on his forearms bulging in her peripheral vision. It is taking every ounce of willpower in her body to stay still.

George leans down as he chuckles and his warm breath tickles Y/N’s cheeks, causing a shiver to run down her spine. “I think what you mean to say is thank you because I just saved your ass from serving another detention with McGonagall.”

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “McGonagall? I didn’t see-.“ Y/N’s sentence is cut short as George places his hand over her mouth to silence her. Her breathing involuntarily speeds up and she hopes that George can’t feel the blush on her cheeks. Y/N can hear footsteps approaching the broom closet and she closes her eyes in fear of being caught in such a compromising position with George.

Thankfully the footsteps disappear just as quicky as they had come and Y/N sighs in relief when George takes his hand away. “Thank you,” she mutters. Y/N can still feel the imprint of his hand on her mouth and it makes her stomach feel queasy.

“You’re welcome,” George says, sounding pleased with himself. “We should probably stay here for a moment or two longer, just to make sure she’s gone.”

Y/N nods, her head tilting back so she can look at George’s face. She examines his features closely, trying to commit them to memory. After her realization earlier in the week she had spent every moment trying not to think about George, but now that they’re standing there so close he’s the only thing she can think about.

George clears his throat suddenly, breaking Y/N from her thoughts. “We’re uh, we’re probably good to go.”

“Yeah,” she agrees softly, trying not to let the disappointment she feels seep into her voice.

George lingers a moment longer, before he pulls away and slowly opens the door to their hiding spot. Y/N watches as he checks the hallway and follows him out when the coast is clear.

“Well um. Thanks for that,” she stutters, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” Y/N starts to walk away, but she pauses when George follows behind her. She turns to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“You might still be up to something. I should follow you, just to make sure,” he responds confidently.

Y/N rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anymore, not wanting her giddiness to become noticeable. They walk side by side silently with Y/N glancing at George every few steps. As they reach the landing Y/N goes to turn down the corridor that will lead her down into the dungeons when she runs smack into someone for the second time that night. Except this time, it’s much less enjoyable.

“Professor Umbridge! I am so sorry,” Y/N apologizes as she fixes her balance. She may hate the woman, but she’ll be nice to her if it’ll get her out of a detention.

“Oh Ms. Y/L/N it is quite alright,” she practically squeaks while smiling at Y/N. Y/N imagines it’s meant to seem sweet, but it looks more like an evil grin. Umbridge’s eyes suddenly narrow as she looks past Y/N at George. “Mr. Weasley! Out in the corridors past curfew again I see. That’ll be detention with me, Monday and Tuesday evening.”

Y/N can hear George sputter behind her, and she turns around, cringing at the angry look on his face. “What about Y/N?” he asks angrily. “She’s out past curfew as well!”

Umbridge tuts, moving past Y/N as she heads back towards her office. “Yes, but Ms. Y/L/N is Head Girl I’m sure she has a good reason for being out in the halls.” Umbridge puts her hand up to stop George from responding. “Now that is enough out of you, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you head back to your common room before I make your detention a whole week.”

They both watch as Umbridge walks away and when Y/N turns to look at George, he’s already watching her. “I’m really sorry about that, George,” she says quietly.

George scoffs. “Yeah whatever.” He stalks off then, and it takes everything in Y/N to not follow behind him.

As Y/N enters the common room her plan is to stalk off to her dorm and get in bed as quick as possible. She’s gone through a whirlwind of emotions over the past few hours and all she wants to do is fall asleep, so she doesn’t have to feel any of them. All of that changes however, since when Y/N finally steps into the common room there is music blaring and people are everywhere.

Y/N makes eye contact with Adrian across the crowd and he clumsily waves her over. She slowly makes her way through the crowd. The air is heavy and hot from all of the people and it smells of firewhiskey. When she finally reaches Adrian, he stumbles over his own feet as he pulls her closer and she notices Marcus is seated on the couch with Daphne sprawled out across his lap; all of her friends are clearly very, very drunk.

“Y/N! You made it!” Daphne yells happily when she notices Y/N’s arrival. She wobbles as she gets out of Marcus’ lap and practically falls into Y/N, giving her a tight hug.

“Someone’s having a good time,” Y/N says with a laugh. Drunk Daphne is one of Y/N’s favorite things, and it’s rare that she gets to see it. Daphne is always prim and proper. She never has a hair out of place and she rarely lets herself goof off with her friends; she’s always their voice of reason. So, when she lets loose, she really goes for it, and it always leaves Y/N in hysterics.

“Where’ve you been? Party started ages ago,” Marcus says slowly, his words slurring together. He grabs Daphne’s hands and tries to pull her into his lap, but they’re both so drunk that they end up falling over, and Daphne somehow ends up on the ground with Marcus on top of her.

Y/N and Adrian burst out in laughter, with Adrian leaning on Y/N for support. His drink sloshes in his hand, and Y/N takes it from him to avoid it spilling everywhere. She eyes his glass warily, trying to decide if she wants to join her friends in drunk land. Her plan had been to sleep away her emotions but drinking them away will work just as well.

“I guess I have some catching up to do then.” Y/N downs the entire glass in one go, her warm bed long forgotten.

A few hours and far too many glasses of Firewhiskey later the party has died down and Y/N is slumped over in the corner of the common room, cradled in a large pile of pillows that Adrian had assembled for her. Daphne and Marcus had disappeared several minutes ago, probably to make out somewhere and once they had Adrian moved from the nearby couch to join Y/N. He’s laying on his back, head in Y/N’s lap as he listens to her complain about George Weasley.

“He’s just so annoying,” she drawls, her words coming out fairly jumbled. Y/N has said the same sentence at least five times in the past 10 minutes, but she’s too drunk to remember or care. She’s been rambling on about George and every mildly annoying this he’s done since the moment they’ve met and she’s having a hard time remembering what she’s already mentioned. “And his face, don’t even get me started on his face.”

When Adrian groans she smacks him on the forehead. “Can’t you talk about something else,” he murmurs. “Anything else, please.”

Y/N smacks him on the forehead again before starting to run her fingers through his hair. It’s his only weakness and she’s hoping it’ll keep him quiet. “There is nothing else to talk about,” she says, her tone condescending. “It’s empty up here, no thoughts,” she giggles, hitting herself lightly in the head with her free hand. “No thoughts, just George Weasley and his face. His pretty, pretty face. And oh god his lips. They look so damn soft. D’you think their soft?”

Adrian hums, not really paying attention to the words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. She’d started to lightly scratch his scalp as she talked, and any ability he had to comprehend the English language disappeared. “Yeah sure, whatever.”

Y/N sighs dreamily, thinking about what it would be like to kiss George. “Bet he’s really good at it,” she muses. “And his hands,” she adds a moment later, practically moaning. “They’re so big and strong. He’s got good fingers too. Bet he knows how to use them.” Y/N rubs her thighs together involuntarily as she feels herself starting to get turned on. Y/N’s eyes start to close as the copious amount of alcohol she drank starts to catch up with her. “You wanna know something funny? I don’t hate George Weasley anymore.”

“Is that so?” Adrian mumbles, starting to drift off as well.

“Mhm,” she hums. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

The next morning Y/N is awake far earlier than she’d like to be. Adrian’s elbow was digging into her back, and she tried to ignore it for as long as possible, but eventually she just gave up and pulled herself off of the floor.

Her head is pounding, she feels groggy and she desperately wants to crawl into her bed. But her stomach grumbles loudly and so instead of dragging her body down the staircase that would lead to her dorm, she drags herself towards the portrait hole, still in the clothes she had on yesterday.

When Y/N finally makes it to the Great Hall she practically crawls over to the Slytherin table and plops down in the first open seat. Thankfully it’s still early, so not many people are around and it’s fairly quiet. She starts to grab random food, not really caring what it is. She’s cursing herself for challenging Adrian to a drinking contest as she goes to grab the pitcher of orange juice, but a large hand beats her to it.

“George?” she asks in surprise when she looks up.

He doesn’t say anything as he fills her goblet up for her. He takes a seat across from her and fills his own goblet before he starts to pile eggs on his plate. “Yes?” he answers casually, as if he eats breakfast with Y/N every morning.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N watches George as he begins to eat, her eyes searching his face for some kind of hint of what he’s up to. George shrugs as a light laugh tumbles from his mouth.

“Eating breakfast?” he asks, gesturing to his plate like it’s obvious. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, watching as he grabs an apple. She watches as his fingers wrap around it and she practically drools. A tingle runs down her spine as she imagines his fingers wrapping around something else.

“Obviously I can see that you’re eating,” she says a moment later when her thoughts become PG. “I meant what are you doing sitting here. With me. At the Slytherin table.”

George smirks at her. “Why? Do I make you nervous?” His lips wrap around the apple as he takes a bite, and Y/N has to take a bite of her muffin to stop herself from moaning right there in the middle of the Great Hall.

George’s hair is ruffled from sleep, and he looks cozy in the homemade jumper he’s wearing. His eyes are soft, and his lips look even softer. Y/N is dreaming about what it would feel like to lean across the table and kiss him, when she realizes that he asked her a question.

“Not at all,” she says, her voice shaking. “It just isn’t like you, that’s all. Besides last night when you left it seemed like you were angry at me,” she trails off, her voice soft. She looks down at her plate to avoid his gaze.

“I’m sorry about that, Y/N,” George admits sheepishly. Y/N’s skin tingles when he nudges her leg with his foot under the table. She looks up to meet his gaze, instantly returning his warm smile. “It’s not your fault Umbridge is a toad.”

Y/N laughs, completely entranced by George. “I should have said something. Made up an excuse for you.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving away her apology. They both just look at each other, the food on their plates long forgotten. Y/N lets her gaze wander to George’s lips again as she thinks about kissing him. She starts to involuntarily inch closer and to her surprise, George starts doing the same thing.

“Uh, Y/N?”

Y/N and George jump apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. Y/N looks over to see Astoria standing next to her, clearly surprised by what she had just witnessed. Y/N feels her cheeks heating up, and she fidgets in her seat.

“Hey, Astoria. What’s up?” Y/N asks, trying to sound casual, like her best friend’s little sister didn’t just catch her about to kiss George in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Daphne is asking for you. She’s throwing up in the dorm bathroom.”

Y/N rolls her eyes with a huff. “Of course, she is, poor girl can’t handle her alcohol.” She stands suddenly, nodding awkwardly at George. “Weasley,” she says curtly. She gives a wayward glance to Astoria before she heads for the exit, trying to walk as quickly as possible without looking like she’s running away.

“And you don’t remember anything?” Y/N questions Adrian as they head up to breakfast on Monday morning. After she fled the Great Hall yesterday morning she’d spent the rest of the day with Daphne going between the bathroom in their dorm and her bed, with Astoria sneaking in food for them. As she sat holding Daphne’s hair back Y/N had a chance to replay the events of Saturday night, and all of the things she had said to Adrian about George became clear to her. She was panicking all night, hoping that he didn’t remember any of what she had said.

Adrian nods. “Not a thing. Last thing I remember is you challenging me to a drinking contest. Everything after that is completely blank. Probably due to the 10 shots we took,” he says with a laugh. “I was so confused when I woke up in the common room.”

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. She’s barely come to terms with the fact that George Weasley is no longer her mortal enemy, but someone she truly cares deeply for, so she is definitely not ready to share that with her friends.

“Why do you care so much? You confess your love for me or something?” Adrian asks as they enter the Great Hall.

Y/N lets her eyes scan the Gryffindor table, a pink blush forming on her cheeks when she spots George. He looks prim and proper in his school robes and his hair is neat. She bites her lip, imagining what it would be like to fuss up his hair with her hands with their bodies pressed together so tightly that their uniforms wrinkled. When George suddenly makes eye contact with her she looks away, bringing her attention back to Adrian.

“Nothing like that,” she insists, shoving him playfully. “I was just rambling on and on. I sounded like an idiot, most of it didn’t even make sense.”

“What didn’t make sense?” Daphne asks as Y/N and Adrian sit across from her and Marcus.

“The things I rambled on about in Adrian’s ear on Saturday after you two disappeared,” Y/N says with a laugh. She reaches for the orange juice, a small smile appearing on her lips as it reminds her of George.

“Aw you were rambley drunk? How cute. I’m sad I missed it,” Marcus teases.

Y/N throws a grape at him. “If you weren’t so busy sucking face with Daphne, you could have witnessed it.” Marcus and Daphne both blush at that, causing Adrian and Y/N to laugh. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Pucey. You were cuddly drunk. I ran my hand through your hair, and you were practically mewling.”

Adrian blushes and bats at Y/N’s hand as she pinches his cheek. “Thank god I don’t remember that then.”

Unlike last week, Y/N spends most of her time on Monday and Tuesday trying to get close to George. She heads to meals a tad earlier than her friends, hoping that he’ll join her briefly. She gets to class early, hoping that he may arrive on his own and they can talk. But every time she tries she either doesn’t happen to run into him or he’s too busy messing around with Fred to notice her presence.

“Oof. Sorry,” Y/N grunts as she runs into someone. One of the Ravenclaw Prefects is sick, so Y/N volunteered to spend most of her Tuesday night patrolling the halls of the castle. Patrolling was one of her favorite duties as a Prefect, since it gave her time to just be by herself and think. She had let her mind wander to George, and she was in the middle of quite the raunchy daydream.

“What are you doing? Trying to mow me down?” the person asks with a chuckle.

“George, hey,” she greets airily. Y/N takes a step back so she can look up at him, a dopey smile on her face. “What are you doing out here? Kinda late, innit?”

“Maybe I’m here to see you,” he responds, causing Y/N to look away and blush. “I was serving my detention with Umbridge,” he reminds her, gesturing towards the corridor he had just come down.

She glances at her watch before looking back to him. “And she just let you out now? What did she have you do, polish all those weird cat plates?”

George chuckles. “Writing lines, actually.”

“Must have been enough to fill a book with how late it is,” she jokes as they start to walk together. George fidgets beside her, and she gives him a look. “You alright?”

George hums and absentmindedly brings a hand up to run through his hair. Y/N’s eyes widen when she notices the back of his hand is bleeding, and she grabs it before he has a chance to hide it. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbles, trying to pull his hand away.

Y/N tightens her grip, too focused on his injury to think about how perfect his hand feels in hers. “What is this, George? How did this happen?”

George sighs. “Umbridge had me use her special quill to write my lines.”

Y/N ghosts her finger over the wound, giving George an apologetic look when he winces. As she examines the wound she can make out what is it, the wound in his hand spells out ‘I must not break the rules’ in his messy handwriting. A sudden wave of rage washes over Y/N and she releases George’s hand so she can stomp towards Umbridge’s office.

“Y/N what are you doing?” George asks as he follows, though he’s pretty sure he knows that answer.

“I’m going to go give that toad a piece of my mind. That’s how she punishes people. Torture? That’s mental.”

George catches up to her quickly, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. She breathes in his scent, wanting to just melt into his embrace. But she resists the urge and struggles against it, desperately trying to get out.

“Let me go, George,” she grumbles, wiggling in his grip.

“Absolutely not, Y/N. What good is yelling at her going to do? All that’s going to do is get you in detention as well and I’m not going to let you do that to yourself.”

Y/N wiggles against his grip for a few more moments before she gives up, her anger deflating. She relaxes in George’s arms and buries her face in his chest. She feels lightheaded as she takes slow, deep breaths, enjoying being this close to George. They stand like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being in each other’s presence, only breaking apart when they hear the door to Umbridge’s office open.

“Shit,” George whispers. He releases Y/N from his grip so he can grab her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Quick, follow me.” George leads them down the hallway and through a few different corridors before he stops in front of a tapestry.

“What are you doing?” she asks as the sound of footsteps echoes through the empty space.

George shushes her, and Y/N watches in amazement as he taps his wand to the tapestry, and it swings to the side, revealing a hole in the wall.

“Woah, this is so cool,” she comments as George pulls her in behind him. The tapestry immediately closes behind them, and George waves his wand so the torches that line the walls light up. “How do you know about this place?”

George shrugs, leaning up against the wall. “Fred and I have explored the entire castle. There isn’t a secret passageway or hidden corridor that we haven’t found.”

They stand there in silence while Y/N looks around the small passageway. She can feel George’s eyes on her and she’s doing everything she can to not return his gaze. Her body feels like it’s on fire, the feeling of George’s grip on her shoulders still fresh in her mind.

“You know if you want to spend time alone with me all you have to do is ask,” she teases a moment later, finally looking at George. She’s leaning on the wall opposite him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She starts to fiddle with a stray string on the bottom hem of her skirt, needing to keep her hands busy to avoid wrapping them around George’s tie to pull him close. “You don’t have to keep pulling me into dark rooms.”

George looks Y/N up and down, a smirk forming on his face. “Is that so? After you practically ran away from me at breakfast on Sunday I didn’t think you’d want to be alone with me.” He sounds confident, but Y/N can tell that there’s an underlying tinge of insecurity in his voice.

Y/N frowns and pushes away from the wall so she can take a small step towards him. “I tried to catch you alone all day yesterday and today,” she says softly. “But every time I tried you were with your stupid brother.”

“Well every time I tried to catch you alone you were with your stupid friends,” he says with a chuckle, copying her frustrated tone. George takes a small step towards her, so there’s only a few feet between them.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For running away from you the other day. Astoria startled me and I panicked,” she pauses, taking another small step forward. They’re standing so close that Y/N can smell him, and her brain goes fuzzy. “I should have stayed,” she admits quietly.

George licks his lips as he takes a final small step forward. They’re now only a few centimeters apart, and he grips Y/N’s hip softly. “What would have happened?” His eyes flick down to Y/N’s lips before meeting hers again. “If you had stayed, what would have happened?”

Y/N can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her face is warm. “I. I would have.”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. George leans down and presses their lips together, kissing her sweetly as his other hand comes up to rest on her neck. Y/N feels lightheaded as her lips start to move with George’s, her arms winding around his neck. George backs them up as he deepens the kiss, pressing Y/N up against the wall. She moans as her back hits the hard stone, allowing George to lick into her mouth.

“I would have done that,” she finishes once George pulls away, her breathing heavy.

George chuckles before kissing her again briefly. “You sound so fucking hot when you moan,” he teases, kissing her again as her cheeks flush pink.

Y/N returns his kiss eagerly, letting her fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck as both his hands come to rest on her hips. Her brain is in overdrive, trying to process everything that’s happening. She wants to commit it all to memory, in case this is the only time it happens. She’s thinking about how good of a kisser he is, and how perfectly their mouths fit together when George pulls away.

“Bet you would sound even hotter moaning my name,” he whispers in her ear, before he starts to trail kisses down Y/N’s neck.

A soft whine leaves Y/N’s lips as she tilts her head back, giving George more room to kiss. She tugs his hair and the groan he lets out against her neck goes right to her core and arousal starts to blossom in her stomach. His grip on her hips tightens as he begins to suck a mark into her neck. “George,” she moans, her eyes fluttering closed.

Y/N can feel George smirk into her neck before he pulls away and reconnects their lips. He pushes their bodies together tighter, shoving her legs apart with one of his own. She instinctively grinds down against it to get relief from her aching pussy, causing both of them to moan lowly.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” George growls as he breaks their kiss. He looks over her as she continues to grind against his thigh, in awe of how beautiful she is. Her face is flushed red, her lips are swollen from his kisses and breathy moans are falling from her mouth as her hips move back and forth.

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth to try and contain the noises that are creeping up her throat as she works towards her climax. Her hips move sloppily, giving her clit the perfect amount of friction against George’s muscular thigh. “Fuck,” she breathes and opens her eyes so she can gaze into his, a moan falling from her lips when she sees how dark his eyes are.

George kisses her for a brief moment, his cock starting to harden in his trousers. He craves the feeling of her lips, but the noises coming from her mouth are too intoxicating to cut off. “You look so pretty, darling, getting yourself off on my thigh.”

George’s words only turn Y/N on more and she starts to move her hips faster, desperate for her release. “George,” she moans, tugging on his hair again. “Please, please, George,” she begs.

George presses kisses to Y/N’s jaw as his grip on her hips tightens. He pulls her down harder against his thigh and smirks when she whines loudly. “What do you want darling? Hm?”

“I’m so close,” she gasps. “Please, George. Can I,” her words turn into a moan as George forces her down harder against this thigh again. Y/N can feel her climax approaching and her body feels like it’s on fire. “Please, let me come, George. Please,” she begs breathily.

George’s cock twitches in his trousers and he groans as he realizes what Y/N is begging him for. Permission. “Go on darling, come for me.”

George’s voice is husky, and as soon as the words leave his mouth Y/N’s hips stutter as she reaches her climax, George’s name falling from her mouth. She tugs his hair lightly as she comes, pleasure washing over her like a wave. George rubs her hips and presses open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck as her hips start to slow down.

“Oh my god,” Y/N pants, resting her forehead against George’s shoulder. Her legs feel like jelly and a moan falls from her mouth when she shifts on George’s thigh and her sensitive clit rubs against her panties.

George laughs lightly and brings a hand up to stroke Y/N’s hair. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. He removes his leg from between hers but keeps a tight grip on her hip to make sure she’s steady. “Like really fucking hot, Y/N. Holy shit.”

Y/N buries her face in George’s neck, pressing a few light kisses to his skin. “No, it was embarrassing,” she mumbles. She’d never felt the need to ask for permission to come with any of the other people she’d been intimate with, but there was something about George. Y/N felt comfortable with him, she felt safe enough to let her walls down; to be completely vulnerable to him.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly. George waits for Y/N to pick her head up and look up at him before he continues. “You will never have anything to be embarrassed about with me. Ever.”

Instead of responding, Y/N kisses him desperately and reaches down to palm his hardening erection through his trousers. George groans into the kiss, his hips automatically rolling to meet her movements. Her lips start to kiss across his jaw and down George’s neck, nibbling lightly.

Y/N pauses her kissing so she can lean up and whisper into George’s ear. “Your turn,” she teases. George curses softly as she removes her hand from his crotch, and she places a quick kiss on his lips before she pushes him away slightly. Y/N slowly sinks down to her knees and starts to work at the button of George’s trousers.

“God you are gorgeous,” he says dreamily as he tangles his fingers in her hair.

Y/N can feel the blush creeping up her face as she undoes George’s trousers. She looks up at him as she pulls his trousers and boxers down together just enough to free his cock. Y/N slowly wraps her hand around the base of his cock, a smirk forming on her face when he groans.

George’s grip on her hair tightens as Y/N begins to slowly stroke him. “Merlin that feels good,” George moans, causing Y/N to increase her pace.

She leans forward and takes him into her mouth, her hand continuing to stroke what she can’t fit in her mouth. George is quite well endowed, and Y/N rubs her thighs together as she starts to bob her head, imaging what he’d feel like inside her.

“Such a good girl. Sucking my cock so well,” George praises. His breathing starts to get heavier as Y/N’s tongue starts to swirl around his sensitive head and when she looks up at him he has to look away to avoid coming right then and there. Y/N looks absolutely sinful with her lips wrapped around his cock, and George is sure that image will be imprinted in his brain forever.

George’s grunts echo throughout the passageway as Y/N starts to move faster, wanting George to fill her mouth with his release. She takes him down even further, gagging slightly when the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat. George uses the grip he has on Y/N’s hair to help guide her head, his hips starting to slowly meet her movement.

Y/N hums in approval and pulls her head off of his cock for a moment to catch her breath. She strokes him with her hand for a moment, her thumb circling his sensitive head. “Fuck my mouth George, please,” she begs, before swallowing him down again.

“Such a dirty girl aren’t you Y/N?” he teases as he wraps his hand in her hair, gripping it tightly. “Such a slut for my cock already, hm?” He lets out a groan as he starts to move her head on his cock, his hips meeting each stroke. “Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels amazing,” he moans, starting to fuck her mouth faster. “Good girl,” he praises as she gags around him.

Y/N can’t help but slip her hand under her skirt and into her panties, letting her index and middle finger toy with her clit. George’s cock is heavy against her tongue and his dirty words are sending shivers down her spine and into her core. She’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm, and she moans around George’s cock as drool drips down her chin. She starts to work her clit faster, her second orgasm quickly approaching.

“Getting close, darling,” he grunts. “Gonna shoot my load right into your pretty little mouth.” George watches as Y/N squirms, a wicked grin forming on his mouth. “Are you touching yourself darling?” A shiver runs down his spine and he slams his cock into the back of her throat harder when she hums around him. “Such a dirty little girl you are, Y/N.” His tone is patronizing, and it only turns Y/N on more. “Love having my cock in your mouth that much, hm?”

Y/N whines around his cock, her hips moving in time with her finger’s movements on her clit. She brings her free hand up under her shirt and bra so she can massage her breast, her fingers pinching her nipple. Her climax is building rapidly, and Y/N looks up at George her eyes full of arousal and desperation.

George bites his lip as he looks down at Y/N, knowing exactly what she needs. His strokes become shallow as his own orgasm approaches, a low moan falling from his lips. “Go on, darling. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, her second orgasm even stronger than the first. Her lips clamp down around George’ cock even tighter, bringing him to his climax as well. He pulls her hair as he empties himself into Y/N’s mouth, her name spilling from his mouth in hard pants. She continues to toy with her clit lightly as aftershocks of pleasure continue to roll through her body.

George loosens his grip on her hair as he slowly pulls out, his mouth running dry as saliva and some of his cum dribble down Y/N’s chin. He watches as she swallows his release, his cock twitching at the sight. He tucks his cock back into his trousers, wincing as the head brushes up against the fabric. Y/N looks up at him as she wipes the drool from her chin, looking far too innocent after what just happened. Her lips are red and swollen, almost begging for him to kiss her.

He releases her hair and helps Y/N to her feet. His arms wrap around her waist and he brings their lips together. They kiss slowly and messily, both of them too tired to care. George licks into her mouth, not caring that he can taste himself on her tongue. They stand there kissing for a few minutes, only breaking apart when the need for air becomes too much.

“You think the coast is clear?” Y/N asks with a giggle, her voice hoarse.

George chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I certainly hope so, because I’m absolutely knackered and if I have to spend another minute in here with you after what just happened I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

Wednesday morning arrives far too quickly for Y/N’s liking. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but when Daphne starts to shake her awake it feels like she hadn’t even slept at all.

“Five more minutes, mum, “ she groans. Her throat feels raw and Y/N can’t help but blush as the memories of last night run through her mind. She had wanted to confess everything to George as they snuck out of the passageway, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As they stepped out into the empty hallway the haze of sexual tension around them broke, and when George headed off back to his dorm with nothing more than a wink and a kiss on the cheek Y/N’s stomach sank.

Y/N had felt nothing but pure joy after her and George’s activities and her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. She knew that she was in love with him, and after he had been so tender with her she was sure that he returned her feelings. But after he left her behind so quickly, she couldn’t help but think it had all been in her head.

“Five more minutes will turn to 10, which will turn into you missing breakfast. And you know how you get when you’re hungry, so get your ass out of bed,” Daphne scolds lightly.

Y/N groans but rolls out of bed, her heart heavy and her knees aching.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Daphne whispers to Y/N as they enter the Great Hall, gesturing towards Fred and George.

Y/N allows herself to look quickly, her heart rate increasing as her eyes pass over George. Memories of last night swim to the surface, and she swallows hard, willing them away. The twins have their heads together and they’re talking feverishly, clearly up to something. “Dunno really,” she answers, tearing her gaze away. “Probably planning their next prank or something.” Y/N and Daphne sit down with Adrian and Marcus and she grabs some toast, not really feeling up to eating.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Daphne asks as they start to eat.

Y/N gives her a look. “What am I gonna do about what?”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Come one, it’s been what, two weeks since the twins have done something to you? They’ve gotta be over there cooking up some grand scheme against you.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she suddenly feels sick as George’s actions over the past few days start to make sense. He wasn’t in love with her, he was trying to embarrass her? Use her? Get information on her for him and Fred to use against her? She wasn’t exactly sure, but her heart sinks into her stomach. Whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

“I think I’m gonna head to Potions early,” she says suddenly, standing up. Adrian, Marcus and Daphne give her a look.

“You haven’t even eaten anything,” Adrian says, trying to pull her back down.

She bats his hand away and gathers her bag. “I’m not really that hungry. I’ll see you guys later.”

Without another word she’s heading out of the Great Hall, her friends and George all casting her back worried glances.

Y/N spends all day ignoring George despite his efforts to get her to pay attention to him. He spends all of Potions throwing rolled up pieces of parchment at her back, he tries to pull faces at her all during lunch and he spends most of charms slipping her notes. It had taken all of her willpower not to let him break her down. She’s so desperately in love with him that she’s almost willing to let him break her heart just so she can be close to him again.

“Finally, I’ve been looking for you all evening.”

Y/N doesn’t look up from her Herbology assignment as George takes a seat across from her. Her friends had been giving her worried glances all day, so after a quick dinner she tucked herself away in a corner of the library to avoid the confrontation she’s sure she’d get in the common room. She had figured she’d be safe from George as well, since Y/N is sure she’s never seen him, or Fred enter the library in the seven years they’ve been at school.

“What’s going on with you?” George asks softly when she doesn’t say anything. He’d been looking forward to seeing Y/N in the morning, and after her weird behavior at breakfast he had tried everything to get her attention.

Y/N glances at George quickly before she turns back to her assignment. “I could say the same to you,” she says coldly. When George doesn’t say anything Y/N sighs and puts her quill down, finally looking at George fully. “What were you and Fred talking about this morning? During breakfast.”

George taps his fingers against the table, his eyes starting deeply into Y/N’s. “He was asking me why I got back from my detention so late last night.” His cheeks are flushed pink and Y/N bites her lip to keep from smiling.

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him how easy I was? How desperate I was for you? How I touched myself? That I asked you for permission to finish?” she sneers, suddenly filled with rage.

George’s jaw practically drops to the table, his eyes widening in shock. “What? Why would I say any of that to him?” George asks, watching as Y/N starts to gather up her things.

“Because last night was just some big joke to you, wasn’t it?” she asks, as if the answer is obvious. “You don’t have feelings for me, you were just trying to get me into bed so you could have blackmail material or something. And I fell for it. Because I’m a big dumb idiot who is too in love to realize when she’s being played.”

Before George can even process what Y/N has just said she’s gone, tears streaming down her face and her heart broken in her chest.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Daphne asks, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

She isn’t completely surprised that Daphne had come to find her. When Y/N returned from the library, she was full on crying. She had ignored her friend’s attempts to talk to her and stormed right to her dorm room so she could crawl into her bed and sob. Daphne starts to stroke her hair, and Y/N wipes away some of her tears.

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N mumbles into her pillow.

Daphne’s hand pauses. “Come again?”

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N huffs, turning over so she’s facing Daphne. Her whole-body tenses, waiting for Daphne to laugh or make some kind of snide comment. But it doesn’t happen. Instead Daphne starts to stroke her hair again as she wipes away some of her tears.

“Honestly that’d make me cry as well,” she says with a laugh, trying to get Y/N to smile. When it works and Y/N cracks a small smile Daphne continues. “So, what happened? Did he say something rude? Because if he did I swear to you I’ll have Adrian and Marcus break into Gryffindor tower and beat him up.”

Y/N can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. She sits up in bed, wiping away the last few tears. “I ran into him last night when I was doing my rounds. And Umbridge almost caught us so we ran and hid in this weird secret passageway and um,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “We kissed. And fooled around a little. Or a lot.”

“And that’s why you’re crying? Was it bad? Did you fake your orgasm?” Daphne teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes as a blush starts to form on her cheeks. “No, that’s not it. It was quite enjoyable I’ll have you know,” she says playfully, shoving Daphne’s shoulder lightly. “It was what happened afterward.”

“He said something stupid, didn’t he? My offer still stands, I will have Adrian and Marcus go beat him up,” Daphne says her tone serious.

“He didn’t really say anything,” Y/N explains, choosing to ignore Daphne’s threats for now. “But you said it yourself this morning at breakfast. He was talking with Fred, probably planning some prank on me.” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat and blink away the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. “It was all probably just some prank or set up or blackmail or something. I mean why would he wanna be with me,” she says lamely, looking down at her hands.

Daphne scoffs and puts her finger under Y/N’s chin, forcing her to return her gaze. “If George Weasley doesn’t want to be with you then he is a big fat idiot. Y/N you are amazing. And beautiful and smart and way too nice for your own good. You may have questionable taste in men, but I’ve been snogging Marcus since third year so I’m not really one to judge.”

Y/N laughs and pulls Daphne into a hug. Her heart still aches for George, but she feels a tiny bit better knowing that she has Daphne on her side.

Despite the fact that Y/N has been ignoring George all day, she finds herself heading to the Room of Requirement on Wednesday evening for a DA meeting. There are nervous butterflies in her stomach as she approaches but she doesn’t turn back. The DA is one of the only good things she’s had going on this year, and she’ll be damned if she lets George Weasley ruin that for her. Y/N had felt his eyes on her all day, and she hates to admit that it made her feel lightheaded.

She stops outside of the room of requirement to collect herself. Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear the thoughts of George from her mind. She’s semi-successful and she holds her head high as she throws the door open and steps inside.

“What the fuck?” she says, her eyes wandering around the room as the door shuts behind her. Y/N had certainly not been expecting the scene around her when she walked in. The room is dimly lit, with most of the lighting coming from candles that are floating around the room. There’s no furniture or practice dummies in sight, and the only other person in the room is George. He’s standing smack in the middle of the room watching her, a small smile on his face.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get you alone,” he says after a moment, reaching a hand out towards Y/N. “So, I had Hermione send an alert out to your Galleon and hoped that you would show up.”

Y/N walks further into the room cautiously, still unsure as to what exactly is going on. She stands a few feet away from George, resisting the urge to take his hand and fall into his chest. “Okay but why?.” She pauses, her eyes scanning the room again. “If this is some kind of elaborate set up and Fred is about to jump out of somewhere I swear to Merlin George I will kill you.”

George chuckles and shakes his head, taking a step towards Y/N. When she doesn’t flinch, he takes another one. “I promise you; Y/N. Fred is nowhere near here.” He bites his lip, looking at Y/N closely. “This is just me, desperately trying to fix whatever mess I got us into.” When she doesn’t say anything George continues, needing to fill the awkward silence of the room. “Tuesday night was incredible. Best night of my life, hands down. I thought, I thought things would be different with us, afterwards. But then you didn’t even look at me all day yesterday and last night in the library that stuff you said,” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I clearly did something wrong, but I’ve spent the past 24 hours thinking about everything I did, and I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she says quietly after she lets George’s words soak in. When George raises his eyebrow in confusion she sighs. “On Tuesday, after everything that happened,” she clears her throat, trying to will the blush on her cheeks away. “When we were leaving you didn’t say anything. You just kind of left. I thought that it was just a one-time thing, that it didn’t mean the same to you as it did to me,” she admits quietly.

Y/N lets her eyes wander around the room, needing to look anywhere except for George’s face. Y/N likes to keep walls up around herself. She makes exceptions for her friends and her parents, the people she loves, but she keeps them up around others. She doesn’t like to show weakness, she doesn’t want to give people the opportunity to hurt her. On Tuesday Y/N had let all of those walls crumble to the ground the second George had kissed her and it felt incredible. She felt like she could truly be herself around him, and as much as she wishes she could build those walls up around her again it’s too late. Y/N has no choice but to stand here in this room and let George in.

“And then I just got all in my head,” she continues a moment later, finally letting herself look at George. Her heart is fluttering, and she can’t help but notice how good he looks. “When I went to breakfast that morning and you were whispering with Fred it looked like you guys were plotting something, like a prank or something. And it made me think that Tuesday was just some stupid prank. That you were gonna use the things I said against me, to embarrass me or something,” she mutters.

“Darling,” George starts, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them. He cups her cheek with one hand while the other reaches for one of hers. Y/N lets him grab her hand, and he intertwines their fingers. “I should have said something that night. There was so many things I wanted to say. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you. After that night we spent in detention I started to feel differently towards you. I knew you felt something too, but I wasn’t sure if you had realized it yet or not. So, when we left the passageway that night I wanted to give you time, to process everything.”

“I feel like such an idiot,” Y/N admits with a small smile. “I should have just said something instead of letting myself overthink it. I don’t like letting people in. But for some reason when I’m around you I can’t help but let you in. That night in detention I told you things not even Daphne knows. And then Tuesday, some of the things I said, I did,” she cuts herself off, a shiver running down her spine. “I’ve never let anyone see that side of me before and yet a few kisses from you had me blubbering like an idiot.”

“Blubbering like a wicked sexy idiot, darling,” George teases with a chuckle. He leans down and kisses her briefly. “I’m sorry, for not being clearer with my intentions.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a warm smile on her face. “And what are those intentions?”

Her eyes flutter closed as George kisses her deeply, both of his hands landing on her bum, giving it a tight squeeze. She moans into the kiss and lets George’s tongue in to explore her mouth. She wraps her arms around George’s neck and pulls him flush to her body. George pulls away suddenly, with Y/N trying to chase his mouth.

George chuckles when she pouts at him. “To answer your question, darling. First, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress over there like the dirty little girl you are.” George pauses, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s lips as a shiver runs down her spine. “And then I’m going to hold you close and whisper how much I love you into your ear.”

Y/N pulls George’s face down and presses their lips together hotly, kissing him desperately. She jumps up, her legs wrapping around his waist and his hands gripping her bum tightly. George carries her over to the bed that had appeared at some point in the past few minutes and throws her down on it. He loosens his tie and throws it off over his head and starts to work on the buttons of his shirt. Y/N watches his fingers move, practically drooling as his pale chest becomes more and more exposed to her.

“What are you waiting for? Permission,” George teases, his voice gravelly and his eyes dark. “Get naked,” he demands a moment later when she still doesn’t move. “Let me see all of you.”

George’s voice causes goosebumps to appear all over Y/N’s body and her core starts to ache. She can already feel herself getting wet, and the way George is looking at her as she rids herself of her clothes is only making it worse.

In a matter of moments, they’re both naked, and Y/N can feel her skin flushing under George’s gaze. He’s standing by the edge of the bed, slowly stroking himself as his eyes run over her naked body. Her body is aching for his touch, and she squirms under his intense gaze. “Please, George,” she moans, one of her hands coming up to toy with her breasts.

In an instant George is on top of her, kissing her messily as his hands touch every inch of skin they can. He bats away the hand that’s palming her breast so he can take over, his fingers starting to toy with her sensitive nipple. Y/N moans into George’s mouth, arching her back to press herself up into him harder. George practically growls at her actions and his other hand grabs her left thigh, forcing her legs apart.

“What do you want, darling?” he asks hotly, his lips trailing kisses down her neck. “My fingers?” He releases her thigh and starts to ghost his fingers up her it towards her folds. “My mouth?” He latches onto her neck and starts to lightly suck, causing a sinful whine to leave her lips.

Y/N tangles her fingers in George’s hair, tugging lightly as she squirms under his touch. “Both, please,” she begs, her breath coming out in hard pants. George’s fingers have finally reached her core, and his index finger has started to slowly circle her clit.

“Both, hm? What a needy little girl you’re being, Y/N,” he chides, his mouth continuing to trail kisses down her neck and over her chest. “But how can I say no? Not when you’re being such a good girl and asking so nicely.”

Y/N moans. George’s thumb has started to rub soft circles on her clit while his mouth wraps around her breast, sucking her nipple lightly. When George had called her a good girl at the beginning of term it had filled her with rage, but now as he slowly pushes his index finger inside of her tight walls she thinks she could come just from him calling her that alone.

“Fuck, George,” she whines, clenching around his finger as he curls it inside of her. She can feel his smirk as he kisses down her stomach. Her hips start to move off of the bed as he starts to slowly fuck her with his finger. His free hand flies to her hip and pins it down against the bed.

“Don’t be so impatient, darling. I’m going to take my time with you,” he scolds. He pulls his finger out slowly, and when he pushes it back in another has joined it, causing Y/N to gasp. “You sound so pretty, darling. Such pretty noises,” he praises.

George moves down the bed as his lips ghost over her hip so he can position himself better for what’s about to happen. He stops his movements on her pussy suddenly, causing Y/N to whine at the loss. He grabs her thighs and pushes them farther apart, so she’s spread open for him. “Such a pretty pussy you have, darling,” he groans, his eyes gazing over her dripping folds. Y/N tries to shut her legs, but George’s grip tightens on her thighs, keeping them open. “Don’t be shy, darling,” he teases.

Y/N is writhing in George’s grasp, one hand is toying with her nipples while the other grips the bed sheets. “George, please,” she begs again, needing him to touch her. George chuckles and suddenly his mouth is on her, lightly sucking on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she shouts, her hand leaving her breast to tangle in George’s hair.

George’s tongue starts to tease Y/N’s clit, wrapping around the bud slowly before pulling away and coming to lightly flick at it. He wraps his arm around her left thigh as she begins to move her hips, forcing her back down against the bed. “Gonna need to get some rope to tie you up, keep you nice and open for me,” he murmurs before putting his mouth back on her aching core.

“Holy fuck, George,” Y/N moans as he suddenly plunges two fingers into her heat. She can’t help the sounds that are coming out of her mouth as George pleasures her, images of George tying her up floating in her mind. George hums in laughter as his fingers curl and brush up against Y/N’s sweet spot, causing her to moan again.

Y/N can feel her orgasm approaching, can feel the arousal building in her stomach. She wiggles her hips, trying to move away from George, and a squeal falls from her mouth when he pulls her even closer to his face. She grips his hair tightly and her toes curl as her orgasm approaches. Y/N yanks the sheets hard, her mouth opening and shutting unable to form a coherent thought due to George’s relentless pleasure.

“George please,” she sobs, her eyes screwing shut from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Her legs are shaking as George licks at her core, his fingers hitting the spot inside her that drives her crazy with every thrust. “I need you. I need you to, George, please,” she begs. She’s teetering on the edge of her release, just needing that one final push that only George can provide.

“Need me to what, darling?” he asks coyly as he pulls his face away from her pussy. His thumb takes over the assault on her clit his tongue had been doing before, starting to rub it in hard circles.

“Please,” she begs again, tears starting to leak out the side of her eyes. Y/N has never been this turned on in her life. Her body is trembling, her need for release overwhelming every part of her.

George presses a few kisses to the hot skin on the inside of her thigh to hide his smile. Y/N looks absolutely ethereal as she wriggles in his grasp, begging him to let her come. Her hair is splayed out on the pillow behind her, and her neck looks like it’s begging to be bit. Her whole body is flushed, and a sheen of sweat has appeared over her skin.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, Y/N,” he compliments as he situates himself on top of her again. He leans on his forearm and presses their lips together briefly. “Such a good girl, darling. Go on be a good girl, come for me.”

George kisses her again as she comes, groaning as her walls tighten around his fingers. Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, and George continues to slowly rub her clit as she comes down from her high. With one final curl of his fingers he removes them from her heat.

“You are a goddess,” he murmurs against her lips before he pulls away.

Y/N opens her eyes, smiling up at George. “And you’re a bloody fucking tease.”

George laughs and rolls onto his back, his arm winding around Y/N’s waist to pull her on top of him. Y/N giggles in delight, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. She lets her hand trail along his chest as they kiss, pausing as she reaches his groin. “Now see if I really was a good girl,” she mocks her fingertips dancing on the skin just above the base of his cock. “I’d touch you but.” She sighs and brings her hand back up to rest on George’s chest. “I’m feeling kinda naughty.”

“Bold tactic for a girl who was just begging me to let her come a few seconds ago,” George responds playfully, leaning up to press their lips together again. Y/N squeals when George pulls her fully on top of him so she’s straddling his waist. “I know I said I was gonna fuck you into the mattress but,” he says with a sigh when he breaks their kiss. “I don’t know if naughty girls deserve my cock.”

Despite the fact that she had just come a few seconds ago, Y/N’s pussy is aching again. She pouts down at George, rolling her hips. A satisfied smirk appears on her face when he groans. “What if I promise to be a good girl?”

George rolls them over so she’s underneath him. “I think I can make an exception.” Y/N laughs as George kisses her and winds her legs around his waist. George lines himself up with her entrance, breaking their kiss so he can look at her. “Ready?” When Y/N nods George pushes his hips forward and slowly enters Y/N.

“Oh my god, George,” she gasps as her hands come up to grip his shoulders. George doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against Y/N’s bum.

“Fucking hell you’re tight, Y/N,” he groans, burying his face in her neck. He lets out another groan as Y/N’s walls clench around him.

“Fuck me George, please,” she demands, squeezing his shoulders.

George chuckles into her neck and pulls out of her halfway before he slams back in, starting to slowly fuck her. “Since you asked so nicely,” he teases, pressing an open mouth kiss to her jaw.

For a few minutes all the noise that can be heard is Y/N and George’s combined moans as well as skin slapping on skin. George grabs Y/N’s leg and throws it over his shoulder so he can fuck into her deeper and the head of his cock is now rubbing her sweet spot with every thrust.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N moans, scratching her nails down George’s back. “Feels so good, George. ‘M already close.”

“Fuck me too,” he growls, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You feel so fucking good, darling.” He presses a few kisses into the skin below her ear. “Go on, darling. Come for me when you’re ready. Didn’t even need to touch your little clit, did I? Such a good girl, coming from just my cock.”

George’s words tip Y/N over the edge and she throws her head back, George’s name falling from her mouth. Her walls tighten and twitch around George, causing him to reach his climax as well. He empties himself inside of Y/N, his hips slowly rolling into her to help them both come down from their highs.

Once George’s cock has stopped twitching and Y/N’s breathing starts to slow down, George carefully pulls out of her and collapses on the bed next to her. George opens up his arm and Y/N rolls into his side, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She peppers soft kisses to the sweaty skin as George starts to rub her back.

“It’s not fair, you know,” George says as Y/N trails a few kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

Y/N pecks his lips softly. “What’s not fair?” she asks with a chuckle.

George pouts at her and she kisses him briefly again. “Every time we get intimate you get to come twice, and I only get to come once. That’s totally not fair.”

Y/N laughs and buries her face in George’s neck again. “Well maybe if you were a good boy I’d let you come more than once,” she teases.

George’s fingers dig into Y/N’s side as he holds her in place, tickling her mercilessly. Y/N shrieks with laughter, desperately trying to wiggle away from George’s grasp. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. George tickles her for another moment before he stops, one of his hands resting on the small of Y/N’s back and the other grabs hers.

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Y/N looks up at him and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I love you too.”

The next morning as Y/N drags George over to the Slytherin table for breakfast she can hear Ginny shouting at Ron.

“I told you, you absolute numpty! You owe me a Galleon!”

#George weasley #george weasley smut #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fic #george weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #gw #golden

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

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Sorka (Bugbear) Lemon

Rating: Lemon Relationship: Female Human/Male Bugbear Additional Tags: Exophilia, Bugbear, Interspecies Romance, Sex Content Warnings: Babies, Children, Infants, Mention of Birth Words: 4301

A super sweet commission for @floral-and-fine based on her monster match featuring the same characters! A single mother returns to work after giving birth to her first child, and uses a professional caregiver service to take care of her daughter while she works. The person they send is not exactly who, or what, she expected. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Despite the difficulties, I really enjoyed my job.

It can be hard for a bugbear to work in childcare, a little because of our imposing physical appearance, but mostly because of the old tales about my kind back when our existence wasn’t widely known to the public, before the secluded monsters decided to integrate into mainstream society. There used to be bedtime stories about us that said bugbears ate children, that we took them away and devoured them if they were bad or disobeyed their parents. We were a cautionary tale.

The thing about fables like those is that there is usually a seed of truth to them. Back then, bugbears did take children, but we took them from bad homes and abusive families, protecting and often raising them as our own. In bugbear culture, children are the most precious creatures and our top priority, even if they were not our own children. It’s one of the reasons why so many of my kind went into childcare after the Integration.

But prejudice often prevented us from getting jobs as caregivers. Many humans still believed the old stories and are distrustful of us around their kids. Some bugbears worked in monster-only childcare programs for this reason, but I wanted to prove to people that though we were monsters, we weren’t villains. I wanted to work with humans and be an example.

It took me some time to find a childcare program that would allow me to work with humans, but Ironblood Interspecies Caregivers jumped at the chance to take me on. My extensive education in child psychology and fifteen years experience with non-human children was something that made me highly sought after in the field, and Jukah, the owner, was excited to have me working for him. He’d recently expanded onto his daycare with an in-home care service for infants and special needs children. He was just as passionate about children’s welfare as I was, and becoming part of his team gave me a wonderful feeling, as though I was finally doing what I’d set out to do.

Even then, it wasn’t smooth sailing. The first few humans who had interviewed me turned me down almost immediately. Several wrote on the rejection form that the sight of me would scare their child, which was something I’d heard many times before, but it was still kind of a punch to the ego.

Eventually, I was hired on to take care of a non-verbal five-year-old human boy with autism named Liam, and I loved it. He didn’t care what I looked like and nor did his parents. In fact, petting the fur of my arms was one of his favorite stims, often falling asleep in my arms as he did so. He had hyper-fixations that he loved sharing with me, and though he couldn’t communicate, he was very smart. He did have violent episodes of self harm, and he was incredibly strong and could be difficult to manage during these episodes, so my size combined with my thick fur was crucial in helping restrain and calm him.

I worked with Liam’s family for six years until they moved away to Philadelphia for his mother’s work. God, I missed that boy. Keeping a professional distance was all well and good in theory, but it was impossible not to love a child one had devoted six years of their life to.

After they left, I had to go through the arduous task of finding a new family that needed a caregiver. Jukah sent out my resume’ to parents needing help, and to my surprise, I was selected within a week. Jukah had a policy of not sending pictures or mentioning race on the resume’ to prevent bias, but I still expected the first interview to go just as poorly as they usually did. I still went, hoping for the best.

Liana McAvoy was a single mother about to return to work after giving birth to her first child and daughter, Ruthie. Ruthie was seven weeks old and had laryngeomalacia, which concerned Ms. McAvoy to the extent that she wanted one-on-one care in her home. Laryngeomalacia was a condition in which the larynx was a little too big and caused the baby to make wheezing noises as if they were struggling to breathe or suffocating, but from what I knew, it was actually completely harmless and didn’t hurt the baby at all. It was still distressing to listen to, so I could understand Ms. McAvoy’s worry.

The day of the interview, I arrived at the apartment rather anxious. I was fully expecting Ms. McAvoy to reject me outright and just wanted to get it over with. The door opened and I saw the same expression I always saw when prospective clients first saw me: shock and alarm. She even took a step backward.

“Hello,” I said, ignoring the reaction and pressing forward. “I’m here for the childcare interview.”

She jumped a little as if goosed. “Oh, yes,” She said a little breathlessly. “Of course, please come in.”

I instinctively bent down to pass through the doorway; human residences were definitely not built with people like me in mind. As I made my way in and before I could speak further, I heard a high-pitched squawking.

“Oh, excuse me,” Ms. McAvoy said, looking apologetic. “She must have woken up.”

“No problem at all,” I assured her, smiling a little. This, oddly, seemed to ease her, and she smiled in return before she went to retrieve the little one.

In the moment she was gone, now that I was less anxious, I had a moment to realize something: she was gorgeous. Thick thighs, big butt, cute belly, small on top. Taller than average, for a human that is. She had most of her wavy brown hair pulled back into a pony tail with the ends bleached. She was wearing a flirty floral sundress that ended at the knee with a matching cardigan that complimented her skin tone perfectly and wore very little makeup on her adorable face, only a light mascara that brightened her eyes and a blush pink gloss that accentuated the pout of her lips. I gulped a little. She was exactly my type, physically at least, and I didn’t know how to unpack that information.

Attraction to clients wasn’t uncommon; there were company policies specifically because of it. As long as one could ignore the attraction, be professional, do their job, and not do anything inappropriate, then there shouldn’t be a problem. I was nothing if not professional.

She returned with the most adorable little baby girl, and any residual anxiety I had left evaporated. Ruthie looked a lot like her mother, though her eyes were blue rather than brown.

“She’s adorable,” I said. “Seven weeks, right?”

“Yeah,” Ms. McAvoy said, gazing down at the wiggle bundle proudly. She looked up at me. “Would you like to hold her?”

I was taken aback. Clients were always so guarded around me with their children, especially parents with infants. I could feel my face split into a wide grin.

“Absolutely!” I said, perhaps over-enthusiastically, but I was excited. This was going much better than I anticipated. I could see she was still a little nervous about it, but I held my hands out for the baby anyway.

She put Ruthie in my arms, and I cradled her carefully. “Well, aren’t you beautiful?” I said to her. She squealed and squeaked at me, waving her little fists. “Aren’t you sweet? You’re such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Do you have kids?” Ms. McAvoy asked me.

“No, no,” I replied, still playing with Ruthie, tickling her chubby cheeks. “But I was the oldest of twelve. Practically raised my youngest siblings.”

“Well, she certainly likes you,” Ms. McAvoy commented with a smile. “And you come highly recommended.”

I nodded. “I really care about my work,” I said. “Kids deserve the best.”

Her smile began more appreciative. “When can you start?”

My head popped up in shock. “Really?”

“Yeah,” She said, her smile widening to show her pearly teeth. “Ruthie’s taken a shine to you, so I gotta listen to the boss.”

I laughed in relief. “Thank you! I’m really excited to work with you. When do you go back to work?”

“In a week, and I’m dreading it,” Ms. McAvoy admitted.

I nodded. “That’s normal, especially considering this is your first child. It’ll be hard, but you’ll be okay. And so will she,” I said, bouncing Ruthie to make her squeak. “I promise to look after her as if she were my own.”

“That’s definitely a relief,” Ms. McAvoy said, sighing. “Would it be okay if I asked you to come a day early so that I could observe you with her? Just for my own peace of mind. I would pay you for the extra day, clearly.”

“Of course. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible. I’ll be here bright and early Sunday morning.”

“Thank you so much,” She said, holding out a hand.

I transferred Ruthie to my shoulder and to the hand took shake it. “You’re very welcome, Ms. McAvoy.”

“Please, call me Liana,” She said with a smile.

After the trial day on Sunday, during which Liana watched me with Ruthie, changing her diaper, putting her down for naps, listening to her breathing, doing a small check up to make sure when she inhaled that her chest wasn’t struggling to take in air, which would be an indication of breathing obstruction, but she was fine. After Liana was satisfied with me, she returned to work the next day, still anxious but less worried about Ruthie’s well-being in her absence.

For the next few months, things went smoothly. Liana came to trust me implicitly and was happy to leave Ruthie in my care when she worked. Liana was also in childcare, being a elementary school teacher, and it seemed to give us both an innate understanding of each other.

Liana was patient and kind, and my attraction to her was still there, especially when she wore those cute floral dresses and let her hair fall free to frame her face. I did my best to stamp down the attraction, but I couldn’t help admiring her beauty in silence.

A few months in, I got a call from Liana saying she was sick and staying home, but that she’d need me to come anyway. She wanted me to care for Ruthie so that she didn’t accidentally get her sick. She left a key in a hiding place for me to let myself in.

I unlocked the door and called, “Hello? Liana, it’s Sorka. Are you home?”

“Yeah,” A hoarse voice called from the back of the apartment. Liana’s room. I’d made it a point never to go in there, but I headed toward it. The door was open.

Inside, Liana was laying on her bed, looking pale and miserable, and Ruthie was in a covered bassinet, asleep. Liana was wearing a surgical mask and doctor’s gloves. I smiled a little at the sight.

“I hope this is okay,” Liana said, a little bit of a wheeze running through her speech. “I’d feel better if you were taking care of her while I’m sick. I’m scared to death of passing it on to her.”

“It’s no problem at all,” I assured her. “Would you like me to move her out of this room?”

“Yes, please,” Liana said. “I put her in here so I could watch her, but I don’t want her picking up any germs from me.”

“I gotcha,” I said, taking the bassinet and moving it gently outside of the room. “Can I get you anything?”

She laughed, which ended in a cough, and waved her hand at me. “It’s not your job to take care of me. Go on, you two. I’ll be asleep for most of the day, anyhow. It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“If you say so,” I said with a smile. “But seriously, if you need anything, give a holler, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” She said sleepily, taking off the surgical mask and gloves and getting as comfortable as possible. She was asleep within seconds, and I stood in the doorway, watching her breathe in and out. I felt a soft smile on my face. Even all snotty and sick, she was lovely. I covered her with her blanket up to the chin and closed the door.

I moved Ruthie to the other end of the apartment, playing with her and keeping her occupied. She was four months now and was able to sit up with support and I was working on teaching her some basic sign language. It was still too soon for her to be able to comprehend or make the signs herself, but starting early meant she could recognize the signs early as well.

It was nearing lunchtime, and after feeding Ruthie her bottle and putting her down for a nap, I looked in on Liana. She was sitting up in bed, mask and gloves on, going through paperwork on a lap table.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I still have to provide the substitute with my curriculum,” She said. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Where’s Ruthie?”

“Down for her nap,” I replied. “Well… I’ll leave you to it, then. Still, get some rest.”

“I will, I will,” She assured you.

I ordered lunch from a local sandwich place and made a split second decision to add some soup to the order as well. Looking in the cupboards, I found some tea, and there was lemon and honey I could add, as well.

When the food arrived, I put the soup in a bowl and added the tea and a glass of water and took it into Liana’s room. She was asleep again, the papers strewn across her torso. I smiled again and shook my head. Moving the papers, I set the tray down on the lap table and gently shook her.

“Liana,” I said softly. “Wake up. Lunchtime.”

Her eyes opened and she groggily looked down at the spread in front of her. Sitting up a bit, she looked up at me blearily.

“Did you make this?” She asked.

I laughed. “I wish. I’m a terrible cook. I ordered it. I did make the tea, though. I thought this would be good for you.”

“I said you didn’t have to do this.”

“You did,” I agreed. “But I did it anyway.”

She laughed, a sweet smile on her face, as she picked up the spoon. “I wish you had been Ruthie’s dad. He never did stuff like this for me.”

My heart did flip-flops in my chest. “You don’t talk about him much. And I’ve never heard you mention visitation. I hope you don’t think this is out of line, but is he involved much with Ruthie?”

“Not all that much, actually,” She said sourly. “He’ll come and see her once in a blue moon, but he never stays long. If it were for the fact that he had to pay child support, I doubt I’d ever hear from him.”

“I’m assuming it ended badly?”

She nodded. “He was cheating and got another girl pregnant,” She said. “His son, Ruthie’s half-brother, is almost the same age as her. They’re only about a week apart in age.”

“Oh, god,” I replied, wincing. “What an asshole.”

“Yeah,” She said, sipping the tea. “He didn’t seem to think he’d done all that much wrong, but I was willing to give him a second chance. Except that he chose her. Five years of my life, down the drain.” She sighed. “Well… at least I got a really pretty baby out of it. She’s definitely worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She shook her head. “It is what it is.”

I talked to her while she ate, and afterward, she grew tired again. I took the empty dishes and closed her door, washing them before going to check on Ruthie.

She was sick for a full week, and I stayed for as long as I could each day, making sure that both Ruthie and Liana were well cared for. Liana finally gave up her protests on the third day and let me nurse her back to health. Eventually, she went back to work and the routine reasserted itself.

Another few months passed. Ruthie’s laryngeomalacia faded to nothing, and I expected Liana to put her in a normal daycare, but she insisted on keeping me around, saying that Ruthie was used to me and that she didn’t want to introduce her to a new environment that might distress her. I didn’t mind: I loved Ruthie and reveled in any excuse to stay close to Liana.

My attraction was growing into more than that and I knew it. I didn’t want to admit that I was falling for her, because that meant I’d have to quit working for her. And I didn’t want to tell her the reason for my resignation because I didn’t want her to think I was disgusting or a pervert. I knew staying was dangerous, but I kept telling myself that I was a professional. I would keep it under control and not do anything that would put my job or position at Ironblood’s in jeopardy. I would ignore my feelings and keep a professional distance.

Even still, there were things that were hard to ignore, like the curve of her small breasts visible beyond the low neckline of her dress as she bent down, the sway of her hips as she moved and swished the hem of her dress, the sweet loving smile reserved only for Ruthie, the lilting sound of her voice when she sang a lullaby, the way the sunlight haloed her hair as it touched it early in the morning. I had to mentally shake myself every time I caught myself staring at her, hoping that she never noticed.

School was close to being done for the semester, and Liana was more busy that normal preparing for the end of the season. One day, she surprised me by coming home early.

“Half-day?” I asked as I was feeding–well, attempting to feed–a jar of string beans to a wiggling Ruthie.

Liana looked harried. “No, I forgot some of my tools here and it’s been a hell of a day. I’m using my lunch break to just get out of there and take a breath.” She sat down heavily in the opposite chair and kissed Ruthie’s head.

“Hungry, then?” I asked. “I can make us some sandwiches.”

“Sounds great, I’m starving,” She sighed. “Is Ruthie done eating?”

I snorted. “I think she’s eaten all she’s going to.”

“I’ll put her down for her nap, then.”

Liana emerged from Ruthie’s room, closing the door behind her, just as I was putting the top piece of bread on both sandwiches. “Roast beef okay?”

“Anything would be okay,” She said.

I didn’t realize she was directly behind me until I turned and walked right into her, knocking us both to the ground. The plates with the sandwiches clattered onto the floor and the food went in all directions.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, pulling myself up on my hands so I didn’t crush her. “Are you okay?”

But she didn’t answer. Her eyes were trained on her lips, her pupils blown wide. She was breathing heavily and her hands clutched the fabric of my shirt over my chest, as if she didn’t want me to get up.

At that moment, I was standing on the precipice of a dangerous cliff, and without hesitation, I jumped.

My mouth came down on hers, kissing her hard, all the pent-up tension I’d been feeling over the last few months finally being released. She kissed me back just as hungrily, grasping the fur around my ears and holding me in place. Her pelvis moved underneath me where I lay between her legs, and my cock immediately began to stiffen. This was going very fast, but I couldn’t stop it. I wanted her so badly.

She reached between us and unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my pants, and unzipped the zipper, reaching inside to touch me, and I gasped in her mouth. As soon as I opened my mouth, her tongue slipped inside and she moaned. I broke apart for just a moment to slip off her panties, and I was back down, kissing her lips and face and neck as I pressed myself to her dripping entrance.

“Yes, yes, yes,” She chanted. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“So have I,” I said as I slicked myself down before pushing myself inside. She moaned loudly, but still tried to keep her sounds low. I had wanted to start slow and ease into it, but I couldn’t. I went hard and fast right out of the gate, desperate and needy. She seemed to appreciate it, though, wrapping her legs around my waist and spurring me on. I braced on one arm and palmed her breast over her dress with the other, my lips on her neck. She reached down and pushed the back of my pants down with both hands so that she could grab handfuls of my butt, squeezing and digging her fingernails in.

I could feel her having the orgasm underneath me even though she was trying hard to stay quiet. Her inner walls spasmed and her body went rigid, her eyes closed and her mouth open. I couldn’t slow down, I needed to get to that crest myself. It had been a while, and I had wanted her so badly.

I popped up onto my hands and looked down at her, and she gazed up at me, opening my shirt and running her fingers down my fur as my body slapped against hers, moving her back and forth against the floor a little aggressively, but she seemed to enjoy it, judging from the wide smile on her face. I could feel myself close to cumming just as her eyes rolled back again, her legs tensing around me. I felt myself release into her and my body locked up over her. All I could do was ball my fists and ride the wave back down until I collapsed over her, and she put her arms around me.

After the euphoria had worn off, my immediate next though was: What have I done?

A little awkwardly, I climbed off of her and helped her up. She went into the bathroom silently to clean up and I wiped myself down with a wet paper towel before straightening up my clothes. Liana came out of the bathroom just as I had finished cleaning what would have been our lunch off of the ground.

“So,” She asked sheepishly. “You’re in a lot of trouble now, aren’t you?”

I leaned against the counter. “Quite a bit, yes.” I sighed and took her hand. “I didn’t intend for this to happen. I meant to stay professional.”

She shook her head. “I think this was a long time coming, honestly. I’ve liked you for a really long time. I tried to stay distant, but it’s hard when you’re such a sweet guy.”

I laughed a little. “I’ve liked you, too. But I can’t be with you and keep my job.”

“I know,” She said. “I know how important your work is and I’d never do anything to jeopardize that. Well…” She trailed off and gestured to the spot on the floor where the two of you had made love. “I mean, not on purpose.”

“I know,” I said, pulling her into a tight hug. “I guess this is my notice of resignation from this position.”

She sighed shakily and clung to me hard before letting me go and giving me a kiss. “I’m sorry to see you go.”

The same day, I went to Jukah’s office and knocked on the frame of the open door. “Boss?”

Jukah was an orc, a little guy even by human standards due to a condition he had, but he had a very strong presence. He was the kind of guy people wanted to listen to. A leader.

“Hey, Sorka, what can I do for you?” He asked, shuffling papers to the side to devote all of his attention to me.

“Well,” I started reluctantly. “I need to quit the McAvoy job.”

Jukah cocked his head to the side. “Why? You love that position.”

“I have feelings for the mother,” I said, a little hesitant to meet his eye. “I can’t ignore them anymore.”

“Oh, I see,” He said, linking his fingers together. “How far has it gone?”

I scrubbed my face and was unable to answer.

Jukah sighed. “Look, I… I understand your position, but I have the reputation of the company to think about.”

“I know, sir.”

“You’ll be removed immediately from the home and reassigned.”

“I understand, sir.”

“And for god’s sakes, give it a week at least before you go back to her. And bring her flowers.”

My head popped up. “Sir?”

Jukah was shaking his head in a don’t push it kind of way, but continued. “No contact for a week. Then go back with flowers. And take her to a nice place. That’s an order.”

A wide smile broke out on my face. “You’re the boss.”

A week later, I followed orders and showed up with flowers in my hand. I attempted to apologize, but she kissed me before I could. Then she, Ruthie, and I went out for a nice dinner. Then, after laying Ruthie down for the evening, we spent a proper night together, just like we’d always wanted, only this time I planned to stay.

I was home again.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

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nuttyrabbit · 4 years

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Oliver the Barn Owl Bio

So a few weeks ago I made a post where I said I’d start focusing on my OCs more and that, combined with the recent redesign I got for Oliver, finally prompted me into writing something that’s been long, long overdue: an actual bio for the boy.

Before I get into it, I have to give a couple of shout-outs.

First of all, shout outs to @shinkumancer for doing this excellent redesign of Oliver. She’s come so far as an artist and character designer since his first design almost 4 years ago, and in general is just a great artist all around. Check out her stuff and buy a commission, I promise you won’t be disappointed!

The other shout out is to my absolute best friend @pidgeonspen who not only helped me put together this bio, but was instrumental in helping me figure out Oliver’s new direction and a lot of the details for the worldbuilding surrounding him. There’s so much we’ve worked on in relation to his character (as well as certain others I have yet to share) and I’m so excited to start actually sharing it and doing stuff with it, but I’m getting ahead of myself

If you got any questions, comments, feedback, criticism, whatever, feel free to shoot me an ask or DM.

With that out of the way, here it is: Oliver’s bio. As usual, everything’s under the readmore.

Name: Oliver the Barn Owl

Age: 20

Height: 3'4"

Occupation: Aspiring historian/mage. Currently wandering around Eastern Eurish/West Yurashia

Sexuality: Bi

Personality: Kind, curious, socially awkward, overly eager, gullible and naïve; Oliver really wants to do right by the people around him and help out when he can, all while striving to learn more about the world around him and find the answers he seeks.

Oliver dislikes needless violence, but is not entirely opposed to the notion of self defense. That being said, he will try to settle most situations through nonviolent means if possible, whether by taking a diplomatic approach or using his magical illusions to trick them. When he is forced to engage in combat, Oliver never aims to kill, instead seeking to subdue or render his enemies unconscious; the only exception is when he is faced with a life or death situation, and there are no other viable options left.

His naivete shines through in his quirky habits and lack of fundamental social skills, such as voice modulation, wherein he has trouble gauging the volume at which he speaks, switching from being jarringly loud to incredibly quiet. He also rambles on about what interests him, sometimes speaking so fast others may not be able to follow. He's self aware, but unsure how to fix these problems. Because of these factors, he doesn't pick up cues when he's being flirted with, as such advances can go over his head, and he's rather uneasy in crowds, at worst finding himself panicking and fleeing to a more secluded, private location.

His naivete is the root of much of his sweet, seemingly positive traits: due to his isolated upbringing, he isn't a worldly individual and, combined with his compulsion to help others and overtly optimistic outlook, has lead to him being used and manipulated, as well as giving second chances to those who clearly do not deserve it.

Skills: First and foremost, Oliver is skilled in the use of magic, mainly what is known as "dark" magic i.e, magic that invokes the powers of a demonic entity. Using his tome as a conduit, Oliver is able to cast a wide variety of spells, though his preferences usually lie in non-offensive magic such as that of illusions and healing. The former in particular is something Oliver is quite skilled in, being able to invoke something as simple as an auditory illusion and something as complex as creating mirror images of himself, though that is something that cannot be done for too long. In regards to healing, while Oliver cannot completely heal life-threatening wounds, he is able to patch up relatively minor wounds and cure basic ailments. He is also starting to get the hang of more outright defensive spells, such as barriers and even reflectors, though, like his illusions, these cannot be maintained for too long, and he is not as adept with these as he is with his other spells. Finally, Oliver is capable of using offensive magic in the form of basic blasts of dark magic, but given his pacifistic nature, he uses these as an absolute last resort and even then, does not aim to kill with them.

Given both his isolated upbringing and nomadic lifestyle, Oliver is quite skilled when it comes to wilderness survival. He's able to forage for food, build rudimentary shelters and fires, and navigate all with relative ease. That being said however, when it comes to navigating urban environments, Oliver is completely out of his element and will quickly become lost and overwhelmed.

Hobbies: Oliver's hobbies revolve around his interests in magic and history; naturally, he loves reading and exploring. He often seeks out the libraries and bookstores of the towns he passes through, and will even investigate abandoned ruins and castles to satiate his curiosity, often taking barely legible notes in his tome. He can often be seen with his beak in a book, often forming a small collection of titles he's found or purchased with his spare earnings, though he tends to take on more than he can carry and so having to leave them behind is a bit of a sour point for him. He vows to one day get a library of his own so he can actually *keep* all of the books he finds on his travels.

Likes: History, magic, books (Mainly ones that pertain to the aforementioned topics), helping people, snack foods (Pretty much anything he can eat on the go, whether it be granola bars, pretzels, berries, etc. He's got a sweet tooth so anything that's super sweet is right up his alley), libraries, sharing his knowledge/findings with others, the cold (Grew up in it, so he's super comfortable in it as well).

Dislikes: Selfishness, cruelty, ignorance, crowds, excessively bitter food/drink (Not big on coffee), technology (Doesn't actually dislike it, he just has trouble actually using it), being lied to/manipulated (It's something he beats himself up over but continually falls prey to)

Backstory: Born in the remote, frigid forests of Sibral in Northeastern Yurashia, Oliver grew up in almost complete isolation, living in a simple wooden cabin with nobody else but his parents around.

Growing up, Oliver's parents attempted to give the boy the best life they could despite their circumstances, showering him with constant love and attention. They also attempted to provide Oliver with an education, with his mother teaching him the basics of wilderness survival including how to find food and basic first aid, and his father teaching him how to read and fostering his love for history. However, the foremost priority in terms of Oliver's education was in the art of magic, and it is here where Oliver received the most thorough teachings, with his mother teaching him everything she knew healing and defensive spells, and his father helping him to develop his signature illusions as well as some basic curses.

When Oliver wasn't receiving an education, he was spending most of his time either wandering around the woods by his home or reading the varied, yet also limited selection of books from his father's library. Not only did the stories within these books intensify Oliver's love of reading and interest in history, but they also gave him something far more profound: his beliefs. Whether set in fiction or reality, the novels all encompassed similar themes of good people making the world a better place simply by doing the right thing, even if they had to do so alone; the notion that no matter how bad things get or how bleak things look, the innate kindness and good in people will prevail even during the darkest hour - these are things Oliver took to heart and would carry with him for the rest of his life.

Things continued in this manner for most of Oliver's childhood and adolescence; his time split between education, reading, and strolling through the icy woods he called his home. In general, life was rather peaceful. However, the older he got, the more certain things began to bother him and gnaw at the edge of his mind. To start, his parents always seemed to dance around the big questions: "Why do we live out here all alone?", "How did you learn magic?", "Why are you so concerned about me running into 'demons'?" The demons question in particular was a sticking point for Oliver, as while his parents went to great lengths to warn him about "demons", they seemed to not know too much about them to begin with, or at the very least, weren't telling him everything. Then again, it seemed that they weren't telling him everything in regards to a lot of things.

Even outside of that however, there was something else that seemed to bother him: this growing desire to get out there. As much as he liked his home and his parents, he began to yearn to see the various places and people so vividly detailed in his books. He wanted to see what else was out there, what new things he could learn, what people he could meet and what experiences he could revel in. These sentiments of wanderlust only grew as time went on, and by the time he reached adulthood, it was becoming almost unbearable.

Which is why it came as a welcome surprise to Oliver that the moment he turned 18, his parents seemed eager to see him out of the house, helping him pack for what was surely to be a long journey, his father even giving him his favorite magical tome and cape, and his mother giving him a brand new outfit meant to show off her "handsome little boy". With a kiss goodbye and some words of encouragement, Oliver was soon off on his journey, thrust out unto the world with no real direction, yet still excited to see what lay beyond the confines of his isolated abode.

However, once Oliver got out into the world, he found that reality didn't quite match what he saw in his books. While many people he's met have been kind and compassionate like he expected , just as many have been callous, ignorant, or even outright cruel, attempting to either harm or take advantage of the owl's kindness and naivete. To make matters worse, while some have appreciated his magical talents, what he wasn't prepared for was the amount of people who treat his magic with fear, disdain, disbelief, and on rare occasion, violence. His parents had warned him that such things could happen, but he didn't imagine it could get as bad as it did.

While he has had many pleasant experiences thus far, and has even gotten to explore some of the locales described in his books, these unfortunate experiences have left their mark on the owl, and even though he still maintains his compassionate nature and optimistic beliefs, there is still a part of him that is hurt by what he's been through.

With all the unanswered questions hanging over his head - a list that only seemed to grow with each passing day - Oliver began to question things, such as why his parents had seemed to be in such a hurry to get him out of the house when he came of age.

Adding to the mystery, strange dreams have begun to plague his slumber - a voice belonging to someone (or something?), urging him to go to specific locations, searching for something important.

Now more confused than ever before, Oliver has one burning question taking precedence over all else:

Just what the heck is the "Jeweled Scepter", and why is it so important that he seek it out?

#Oliver the Barn Owl #OC stuff #Sonic OC #Sonic FC #Sonic #Archie Sonic #I've been thinking about making an OC blog just so I have all of this in one place and organized #What do y'all think?#Would y'all be interested in that?

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villainscomplex · 5 years

Text

the prettiest things

this was uhh og for the femslash music zine but it got canceled so i’m once again posting this late F

You can also find it on:

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Itsuka isn't entirely sure how she ends up being an impatient person with a group of equally impatient friends, but here they are, and there isn't really anything she can do about it. In her defense, when Momo tells her about a hole-in-the-wall cafe that her girlfriend performs at all the time, Itsuka doesn't really expect it to be so hard to find.

"Oi," Tetsutetsu drawls out, two steps behind her, "d'ya have any clue where this place is, Kendo?"

She has a vague idea, which really means no, but she's not willing to admit that, so she just huffs indignantly and doesn't answer his question. It's the first time he's really spoken up, as opposed to Monoma's consistent whining. She almost feels bad, and a part of her prepares to say something in reassurance, but then a half-faded sign tucked down an alleyway catches her gaze.

In hindsight, Itsuka knows Momo tends to exaggerate, and so she hadn't been expecting what's practically a literal hole-in-the-wall, but sure enough, there's Hideout, hidden comfortably behind two For Lease signs and a tiny insurance building. Itsuka stops, double takes, and then turns fully.

"Ah!" She exclaims, grabbing Tetsutetsu and Monoma by the hands and towing them towards the low entryway.

She hides a laugh - Tetsutetsu has to duck a little to avoid smacking his head, but Itsuka and Monoma have no issues getting inside. It looks less like a cafe inside and more like a nightclub, dark leather booths shoved up against the walls and scattered tables dotted with people of all sorts of character. The vibe is comfortable enough for such a dimly lit place, soft wisps of gray slithering along the floor like they'd used a smoke machine one too many times.

There's a little stage up front and most people are right up at the lip of it. It's a small crowd and there's nobody on stage, but it must be the place Momo told her about, where Jirou performed. Itsuka notes the wary look to Tetsutetsu's dark eyes and the unimpressed curve of Monoma's lip. Nonetheless, the three of them occupy a table, Tetsutetsu on one side and Monoma and Itsuka on the other, their backs to the stage. There's definitely a sort of club vibe, but it seems more like a secret restaurant.

"You said Yaoyorozu told ya 'bout this place?" Tetsutetsu asks, leaning over the table as a waitress comes to take their orders.

He's sort of side-eyeing some punk looking people nearby. Itsuka isn't particularly worried. Between herself and Tetsutetsu, it's hard for anyone to do any real damage. On the other hand, Monoma's texting away in the corner of her eye, clearly only here because Itsuka hadn't really given him a choice otherwise.

"Yeah," she tells Tetsutetsu, leaning over to explain the story while they wait.

It isn't until the waitress returns that there are some quiet noises from behind her, some feedback from the stage, and soft murmuring from the crowd. Itsuka thanks the waitress, but a guitar drowns out her words. Itsuka startles at the acoustic. She isn't expecting a sound like that in a place like this, and she turns just as the person begins to sing.

Her breath leaves her lungs.

It's almost funny. There's nothing particularly remarkable about the girl, tall and willowy, clad in a green turtleneck dress with equally dark green hair curling down just past her shoulders. Yet, just like that, she's caught up in the lopsided little grin on the woman's lips and the passion that blazes in her eyes. Itsuka's tangled in the way she looks beneath the lights, voice loud and sure, despite the song's lilting pace.

It seems to fill the room and capture the rest of the audience too. They're all enraptured by the sheer presence of this girl rocking forward on her toes, the heels of her boots tipping up off the stage. She looks like she belongs up there, and just for a moment, her gaze sweeps the crowd and Itsuka could swear their eyes meet. Even at first sight, not knowing the girl's name or anything else about her, Itsuka knows she's screwed.

Suffice to say, the girl continues to perform, and Itsuka's food goes uneaten.

"Oi, Kendo," Tetsutetsu nudges her in the shin with his foot beneath the table, long after the girl leaves the stage. He shoves her to-go box into her hands, finally startling her out of her own head. "You didn't even touch your food. What's up, man?"

She watches Monoma sort of glance up from his screen out of the corner of her eyes. He's worried in his own way, she knows, but he's the same way Itsuka is when it comes to their pride. She glances back at the stage, then back at them again and smiles.

"Nothing. I was just a little distracted."

She goes back. The next time, she goes alone. Tetsutetsu is working and Monoma is god knows where, as usual, so Itsuka goes alone. She isn't sure what she's hoping for - maybe to run into the girl again, if only to watch her perform, or maybe to actually talk to her or at least get her name. The girl's song cycles through her head on repeat, lilting echoes of wouldn't you like to, wouldn't you like to, and crooning tones of I'm falling in love with you.

The urge to hear her again drives Itsuka on. She doesn't see her the first night, or the second, or the third. Finally, she begins to ask after her, first a waitress — sorry, dear, she performed this morning — and then a manager — oh, her? She ain't scheduled again 'till next week.

It's frustrating.

She runs into Momo before she runs into the girl again. It's a surprise, really, when she sees Jirou step up onto the stage, dressed down in punk clothing that's fairly typical of the girl, electric guitar in hand. Another person slides into the seat across from her, and Momo's familiar, smiling face fits itself in Itsuka's line of sight.

"Itsuka!" She greets cheerfully. "How are you? You never told me you ended up coming!"

Itsuka gets the feeling she isn't going to run into the girl again, but seeing Momo is a nice change. Squishing down her mild disappointment, she smiles back and slips into an easy conversation with her friend.

When she's done with her performance, Jirou joins them, sliding in quietly beside Momo and nodding a greeting to Itsuka. They aren't particularly close, but with Momo as their common companion, she's at least friendly with the other girl.

"That sounded great, Jirou," Itsuka tells her.

Jirou shrugs a little. "I'm just comfortable performing here. One of the girls that sing here sometimes is confident wherever she goes."

"Progress is progress, darling," Momo reaches to take her hand, "you're making efforts to step out of your comfort zone and that's all that matters."

Itsuka hears the words, but they don't really register. "Other girl?" She echoes, straightening up a little. "Who? What does she look like?"

Jirou's eyebrows pinch together. "Uh, her name is Setsuna Tokage, I think. Dark green hair, dark eyes, kinda tall... Performs acoustics here a lot. Why?"

"Oh," Itsuka dismisses it quickly, "no reason. Just curious."

Setsuna Tokage, she thinks.

By some stroke of luck - or fate; Itsuka hasn't decided which one she believes more - she runs into Tokage again in the last place she expects to see the other girl.

Itsuka works part-time at a women's' clothing store downtown. Every day, she passes back through the city center, where people always flock and sight-see around the huge fountain. Oftentimes, there's someone giving some sort of performance in this area - from magicians to gymnastics and everything in between. Today, Itsuka whirls on her heel at the sound of a familiar voice, loud and confident over the chatter that fills the air, and sure enough, there's Tokage, dancing around on the edge of the fountain in her worn, black boots.

She's still playing her acoustic, strap slung around her body and the instrument bobbing with her every upbeat step. People slow to watch her, smiling and laughing as they listen or drop money in the open guitar case on the ground nearby. Itsuka watches her twirl on her heel, smile as bright as the sun, and without really pausing to think about how much time she has until she needs to be in her class, ducks into the crowd to get closer.

It's a different song this time, something upbeat and apparently popular, judging by the way some people sing along. The way she captures everyone's attention enraptures Itsuka, from the way busy people slow to glance up to the way kids laugh and tug their parents towards the girl who dances on the ledge of the fountain.

Itsuka listens until the crowds move on, and then she listens some more. She realizes, perhaps a moment too late, that she's been watching for a while.

"Hey!"

Itsuka outright stalls. It's probably comical how she glances on either side of her, then behind her, and finally points at herself, as if to say me? Sure enough, Tokage is grinning at her from where she stands precariously on the very edge of the fountain's lip, concrete nocked into the crook between the bottom of her boot and the heel. She laughs when Itsuka gestures to herself and nods, hopping down and gathering up her things.

"You've been here for a while, haven't you? Do you like music a lot?" She asks, crossing the short distance to Itsuka.

"Uh," Itsuka replies eloquently, "yeah, music, definitely. Music."

Tokage pauses suddenly, tilting her head a little. Her eyebrows furrow as if she's trying to figure something out, and Itsuka realizes with a start that, even though the chance is slim, Tokage might remember her from Hideout. Thankfully, she seems to dismiss it and sticks her hand out instead.

"Well, that's good to hear! Music's always a good thing," she laughs, "I'm Setsuna."

Itsuka feels her hand move to shake without thinking about it. "Uh, Kendo. Itsuka. Whichever."

She thinks she might just choke if this girl calls her by her first name. Setsuna beams, shaking her hand firmly.

"Alright, Kendo," she says, "if you're ever in the area, come say hi, yeah?"

Itsuka agrees a bit too quickly, watching Setsuna go. It isn't until the other woman is out of sight that Itsuka abruptly remembers she's supposed to be in class.

"Damn it," she curses, breaking into a run.

Itsuka's beginning to wonder if fate favors her or hates her with everything it's got.

Momo invites her back to Hideout and because Itsuka is either ridiculously lucky or really unlucky, Setsuna is there. Itsuka instinctively ducks behind Momo, hand darting up to hide her face. Momo's face twists into something like confusion in the corner of her eye, but Itsuka opts not to address it until they're seated. She's facing the stage, watching the low light catch the shimmering fabric of Setsuna's sheer cardigan.

"What are you hiding for?" Momo asks, tilting her head. "Hiding? What do you mean?" Itsuka tries to play innocent, really, but then she glances past Momo and definitely meets Setsuna's eyes, judging by the way the other girl visibly lights up, and then immediately ducks down again.

Momo, as always, is unfortunately smart. She turns around, glances up at the stage, and then looks back at Itsuka. It's clear on her features that she's already putting the pieces together.

"Oh," Momo's voice comes as a teasing little lilt, "do you-?"

Itsuka lunges across the table and covers Momo's mouth with both hands. "Don't you dare. If you say it, it makes it real."

Momo's eyes crinkle at the edges with silent laughter. It takes Itsuka a moment too long to realize that the music being played is no longer distinctively Setsuna's, and by the time it clicks, the chair next to her is already being pulled out.

"Hey, again!" Setsuna's smiling face fills Itsuka's line of sight. "Is this seat taken?"

"No," Momo replies cheerfully, pushing Itsuka's hands away with a mischievous little smile.

Oh, god, she knows that face. She watches with dread as Momo stands up, brushing her hands down to flatten her skirt. She's going to leave.

"I'm going to go talk to Kyouka before she goes on. I'll see you later, Itsuka."

Sometimes, Itsuka hates how innocent Momo looks. There's something playful behind the woman's smile, but she's already making her way towards the stage before Itsuka can say anything. She's left with Setsuna, who leans on the table, shifting to face Itsuka with her knee knocking slightly against her thigh.

"I thought I recognized you from somewhere!" Setsuna laughs. "You should have mentioned you come to Hideout! You were here the other night, right?"

The other night had been nearly two weeks ago, but yeah, Itsuka nods anyway. "I was," she admits, "sorry I didn't say anything. I didn't want to creep you out or something."

Setsuna laughs loud and wholeheartedly, and Itsuka's breath catches. "It takes a lot more than that to creep me out!" She tells Itsuka earnestly. "Do you come here often? I've only seen you that one time."

"That was my first time," Itsuka admits, "I liked your performance that time, though."

Enough to come looking for you multiple times afterward, she thinks but opts to keep to herself.

"The song was really pretty," she says instead.

Setsuna laughs. "It was just a cover. No big deal. Thank you, though." She tips her head. "Do you play any instruments?"

"Oh," Itsuka puts both hands up, smiling a little sheepishly, "no, no. I'm terrible at music. It's nice to listen to, but I'm tragically tone deaf and incapable of learning instruments. Don't even get me started on dancing. Somehow, I'm an entirely capable martial artist, but put me on the dance floor and I'll inevitably end up on my butt." Setsuna's little smile seems a little fond now. Itsuka wonders if she's imagining it, watching the girl prop her cheek on her upraised hand. Her eyes crinkle with a sort of amusement and she snorts softly.

"I don't think anyone is genuinely bad with music," Setsuna says, voice soft. "It's not just singing and dancing and instruments, you know? Music's everywhere. It shows itself in all sorts of forms - voices, city sounds, laughter... Nobody is genuinely bad with music. You can't be."

Her voice is so matter-of-fact that Itsuka doesn't even know how to answer it, but maybe that's just the way Setsuna's smile makes her heart slow. Itsuka maybe falls a little bit in love.

Maybe she'd like to dance with Setsuna one day.

Itsuka leaves Hideout that night with Setsuna's words in her head and phone number in her cellphone and against all odds, she ends up befriending the girl.

Setsuna falls into the habit of texting Itsuka when she's performing somewhere, and if she's not in class or at work, Itsuka's always there. Tetsutetsu gives her weird looks when he begins to notice how often she's gone from the apartment the trio shares, but he never questions her, even when she gives him vague excuses.

"S'long as you're safe," he tells her, waving one hand.

Setsuna lives in a small, one bedroom apartment downtown, where her balcony overlooks a miniature shopping center. This is where Itsuka begins to find herself often, on the couch or the floor while Setsuna sits on the counter of the open kitchen and plays her guitar. There's something about times like these that leaves her at ease, like she's in the dim cafe for the first time again, staring up at Setsuna as her words fill the room.

"Hey, Setsuna?" Itsuka murmurs into the darkness one night when she's staying over at Setsuna's again, tucked carefully in the blankets beside the other girl, close, but not too close.

For a moment, she thinks the other girl is asleep. But then she feels Setsuna shift a little beside her, not quite turning to look at her, but just enough to acknowledge her. Setsuna's leg brushes right up against hers, only slightly, but Itsuka is hyper aware of the contact point. She takes a steadying breath.

"Yeah?" Setsuna's voice comes, soft and quiet and so different than Itsuka's grown used to.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" She asks.

And maybe it's a weird question to ask a girl you're sharing a bed with, but Itsuka's curiosity wins out. She knows Setsuna couldn't possibly like her, but she's curious because she knows the moment she'd seen Setsuna in the Hideout that it had only ever been her. Setsuna's quiet for a while.

Finally, she murmurs, "I don't know."

Setsuna turns back over, and Itsuka thinks about it until she falls asleep.

The routine they fall into as the days go on is comfortable. Itsuka knows there's no way her feelings are going to be reciprocated, so she takes what she can get. Just being around Setsuna is comforting.

Itsuka's always been told she was hot headed and headstrong. It's true - she always knows where she stands on things and refuses to waver. She likes the stability that comes with it, even if it does often get her made fun of or seen as unattractive. She doesn't worry about it. She knows herself and her worth.

Something about the sheer confidence that radiates from Setsuna always throws her off. It's in every aspect of every single thing she does, from her smiles and laughter to her music and the way she moves when she tries to teach Itsuka how to dance at two in the morning in the living room.

It throws her off, but everything about Setsuna is just so good that Itsuka can't bring herself to mind.

Setsuna calls her as soon as she's out of class, days and weeks later.

"Hey," her voices comes out a little breathlessly like she's been running, "you know where Greenfair is, right?"

"The park?" Itsuka asks, confused.

"Yeah, yeah, I, uh," there's rustling on the other end, "I have a performance there. Tomorrow at sunset. Corotrie pavilion? You should come."

Well, it isn't like Itsuka has any plans otherwise. "Sure," she says, "but like, are you okay? You sound a little harried."

"Yeah!" Setsuna's voice comes quickly. "I'm fine. I'll see you there!"

Setsuna hangs up before Itsuka can get a word out and she frowns down at the black screen.

The temperature drops, the following day, as evening comes. Itsuka navigates her way through the park with some minor complications. She doesn't spend too much time at this park - she frequents the dog park with Tetsutetsu and his dog, and this place is on the other side of the city in comparison to their apartment. Nonetheless, Setsuna specifically asked her to come to this one, so Itsuka is here. Once the crowd starts flocking, it's easy to follow them to the pavilion.

Setsuna seems to just be getting ready to start, but she's shifting from foot to foot, black trench coat swaying around her legs. She starts strong and keeps going strong, putting her all into everything like she always does. It's something Itsuka admires about her - Setsuna always puts her all into every little thing she does and no less.

The sun dips below the horizon, and Setsuna's voice fills the night air, blending melodically amongst the crickets. The park lights up around them, lanterns and streetlights filling the darkness. The park is far enough away from the center of the city that Itsuka can see the stars twinkling overhead, and she smiles at the sight.

"This is going to be my last song," Setsuna's voice breaks through her thoughts, "so thank you all for coming."

And then she meets Itsuka's eyes and begins.

Itsuka's breath leaves her lungs. She's flung back to the first time she'd ever seen Setsuna, twisted around in the chair and staring up at the stage, heart thrumming in her ears like music. It always comes back to music, somehow, and the thought would have made her laugh if she wasn't so occupied with the way that Setsuna is stepping down and coming through the crowd.

All of these are the prettiest things, she recalls as Setsuna sings them, slowing to a stop in front of Itsuka, when I'm in love.

Her fingers slow on the strings with the last few notes and they reverberate into the cold air, leaving the two staring wordlessly at each other.

"I think," Setsuna breathes, "I do believe in it after all."

#kendo itsuka #tokage setsuna #bnha #kendo x tokage #momojirou #Yaoyorozu Momo #jirou kyouka #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #monoma neito #my writing #zine

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chaos2go · 7 years

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Ramble about the Deku Tree and Alden >U

Okay. Finally getting around to finishing this ramble. Sorry it took so long ;w; I had one of those times of “wow I really want to do this //does everything else” orz.

Just as a reminder, the stuff below is following my ‘headcanon’ of junk. So please don’t take it literally XD And I apologize for length. This is way too long haha.

So I’ve pretty much stated in my LoH lore before that I believe the Deku Tree can create life. It’s never really stated what he can do so I just roll with it given it makes explaining stuff a lot easier. And he’s supposed to be a deity of sorts anyway. He is a ‘spirit of nature’ after all so why not organic things? His specialty beyond ‘simple’ plants are forest fairies (aka guardian fairies), koroks, and his newest/most proud creations the kokiri (the intended form of the koroks).

Now even if he is a deity, it had taken him quite a few decades if not centuries to ‘perfect’ every sentient creation. He is proud of them and he enjoys watching them live their lives. They bring about a harmony he loves. They are not savage but rather innocent creatures. They have bouts of anger but they never outright really try to hurt anyone beyond survival needs. These creatures are his children. In all due respect, he wants to protect them beyond just his magic because he understands that his magic isn’t unstoppable. In fact, his magic is mostly that relating to creation of life.

Given legends of the past, the Deku Tree is worried about something bad eventually happening in his forest. This means that his creations will die in bloodshed rather than natural causes (not to say they can’t die to monsters or creatures in the forest in general). Not to mention his control over the Lost Woods is only so much. It has a strange magic of its own and the way to navigate it seems to change from time to time. The only way to protect his children is to create something unlike them.

The legends of the past speak of heroes. This would be something he would believe in but there are other things that stood out too. Robots, machines, and even of swords that have spirits. A lot of his interest went into these ‘mechanical’ aspect but the resources to make a machine let alone an understanding on how to make one was just outright lost. A sword spirit however was more in his field given his magic. It sounded a lot more organic than trying to make a machine. He put many fairies to work to try and find information on creating a sword spirit but not a lot of information was returned. Still it was enough for him to make an attempt and a chance at extra protection for his organic creations.

It took a lot of tries to actually create Alden properly. Creating life was pretty simple in comparison to making a metal statue mostly made of magic live. For a time he gave up and thought about perhaps making a new race to protect the forest. But then what to give them? He didn’t want to create any sort of monsters or have the creature(s) turn into them. And what if they died for some reason? There were so many variables that he wanted a constant. It needed to have a little consistency like he did. Having a protector of the forest meant sacrificing some things that made organic life better in his opinion. Plus it couldn’t die as easily.

A few more tries were given with more success but nothing solid. At times he’d end up with metal lumps, other times a spirit that only survived until the gem collapsed, or just a spirit that died for no reason. Eventually Alden was created using pieces of these spirits (in terms of metal body, not gems) and there is a celebratory moment. However the moment is somewhat shattered when he realizes Alden isn’t anywhere near what he expected. The spirit is outright confused upon creation and doesn’t know what to do. Even though he’s seen others have this problem, the fact Alden doesn’t shatter right away brings some pain. He’s lifeless compared to the organic creations. There is little will beyond asking for instruction on what to do. This really makes the Deku Tree regret his decision. Thankfully the fairies (and a few koroks) step in on the Deku Tree’s silence to make Alden start to ‘live’.

The Deku Tree gives Alden a simple purpose of protecting the forest before instructing him to meet the kokiri he will be protecting. Given Alden is just outright do and ask only simple -if not stupid- questions, he just pops out and gets scared by the reaction he got. Just backlash. He was told not to fight them yet he got rocks and sticks thrown at him. His instinct did want him to fight back. Instead he retreats and asks what he did wrong. The fact Alden couldn’t come up with making a disguise is actually somewhat troubling for the Deku Tree despite there being some promise given how he reacted to the event. There was a little hurt in how he acted which was a good sign of life.

From there the Deku Tree instructs him to make a disguise to fit in amongst the kokiri. The actual disguise takes a lot of work and quite a few attempts before he fits in enough for the kokiri to let him be. He actually had to observe -alongside getting feedback from his partner fairy- and choose. Thing is, even with a disguise to fit in he still lacked basic things others could do. He couldn’t emulate eating, sleeping, he ‘cheated’ at games, etc. He had to learn how to be a child and fitting in became a priority. In all honesty, it was part of his purpose whether or not it was intended.

Alden’s frustrations with fitting in became apparent to most in the forest. It actually became a bit of a joke and he didn’t mind playing to it to fit in. However being laughed at still stung him. Thankfully during his existence thus far the Deku Tree tried to teach him through stories. It was a thing he did every night with Alden when the kokiri were sleeping in order for Alden to learn more about the world he was in, the kokiri, and just how to ‘live’. Stories of heroes and such became Alden’s favorite as he could relate to them more because of what he is. Every once in a while a kokiri came too which meant Alden could observe a bit.

All in all, this was a big effort. More than the Deku Tree wanted to do. He honestly felt awful for creating Alden to be so lifeless at first but was so hopeful with how much he was growing. Even if he was a bully from time to time, he still was trying to live. Still he was a spirit with little soul. Alden wasn’t completely stupid or extremely smart. And he didn’t have a large range of emotions but rather a collection of emulations and reactions he understood for certain situations. He could be angry at the right moments or emulate happy at the right moments. Very little things were genuine unless it involved his purpose, a wrongdoing, or a chance to show off his powers. Really the only plus of anything there too was his speed, magical abilities (at the time due to the Tree’s power), and his skill with the sword. Unlike most others (including most people he’s met), the Deku Tree sees that Alden is mostly a machine of reaction at the proper times. And honestly, that is how I see him too. A very well studied one that goes to extremes. But back to the tree who wishes he could make Alden ‘real’.

The arrival of Link to the forest didn’t help Alden grow at all either. Especially when the Deku Tree could observe how little Alden changed. He was confused by the baby (as were many kokiri) but Link just had an understanding of everything so much easier. For a time, Alden even distanced himself from the kokiri as Link was growing because he couldn’t understand what the heck a baby was or what it was doing. The baby was annoying as far as he was concerned and he didn’t want to break Link either. He was more fragile than a fairy and cried every time he was forced to interact. If anything, he only got more confused on Link growing up. Despite knowing how Link got there and bringing him to the Deku Tree in the first place, Alden never once mentions this to Link. And in fact, he ends up being on of Link’s bullies given he chooses to be with Mido due to Mido’s status as leader.

Upon Ganondorf doing his crap in OoT, he honestly hoped that Alden would have died in that attack in some respect. Alden wasn’t a strong spirit but rather a mostly innocent one that had a hard time understanding how to ‘live’. Destroying him would be a good thing in that respect. At the same time, Alden was a great creation and he didn’t want him to die. Alden was dutiful and did everything in his power despite being bested. Alden chose to defend when he clearly could have easily stayed out of the situation. The lack of a real choice and the obligation to do his purpose is what could have saved the Deku Tree. Ultimately it would help shape Alden further though.

Skipping through Alden blaming Link for the Deku Tree’s death, revealing himself to Link, and outright continuing bullying, we get through the Forest Temple. The sprout emerges from the ground and isn’t exactly the same one as before. However it still carries some regret about Alden. It was partly saddened to see Alden still existed but glad to see he was still trying to do what he was created for. There was a sense of relief that he at least did one thing right with Alden. On the other hand, Alden didn’t consider the new sprout to be the same tree but wanted to listen.

The sprout specifically tells him that the old tree wanted to give him new purpose. Those being 1- Continue to protect the forest to the best of your abilities, 2- Do what you can to help Link, and 3 - Live your own life. The last one having the most emphasis which only confuses Alden. His entire ‘life’ has been fitting in and protecting the forest. So really he puts the second job as his priority. And that only leads to more issues given he is set on his duties and he is a spirit of reaction.

But that about sums it up without jumping to other games or LoH. Sorry it turned into more about the overall arc of his story. But eeeeh lemme just state this. There is a deep regret the Deku Tree carries about Alden. Alden however is a creature of reaction and learned behaviors rather than his own being. Given enough time, he would assimilate into another culture. Fitting in is his ‘life’ and little things do confuse him. Why a certain way of dressing? Why are some actions more preferred than others? He has many questions but refuses to ask them and instead just tries things in hopes of positive reactions when able. Otherwise he will observe unless he feels brave. As I said, Alden isn’t smart or dumb. He reacts. His entire character is about proper reaction rather than being him. His entire emotional range goes from extremely angry to extremely happy or extremely sad in a matter of seconds. There is very little inbetween so it can be as if he is hyperactive. The only time he tends to sound mature is when he feels there is nothing to react to and can state what he wants. It is confounding to him to be outside of the forest until he realizes that children can get away with certain things. He uses his childlike nature to Link’s advantage when the adult Link cannot do things. Fi has her smarts, Ghira has his emotions, Alden has a mix in terms of just reacting in the proper way at the proper time (which can be messed up!). So more or less he understands to an extent when to be happy, sad, etc.

To quickly jump to another games since I rambled about the rest, Alden’s second purpose becomes a major focus for the MM game. Especially since he becomes even weaker. Alden’s focus is broken to a point and he has a loss of powers. At times he is a hindrance to Link. At the same time, it also allowed him to speak his mind more freely. If anything he sounds a tad more intelligent than before if not emotional. He thinks about things and realizes why people might enjoy it. He’s seen a lot more in life than he ever would have in the forest. Being lost in these thoughts become is downfall however. There are joys/fears/etc. he’ll never understand and it kinda scares him a little. And it scares him even more that he won’t be able to protect Link from it. In the end he fulfillshis third purpose before he is ultimately destroyed. He spends time with Linkdespite time travel and enjoys things he hasn’t before. And as an upgraded sword, he can continue to protect Link. But that’s for that version.

Come LoH, the Deku Tree gets to meet Alden once again. There isgreat disappointment in knowing that Alden was left behind by Link but also ahappiness in seeing that he’s trying so hard to help someone else. Alden has chosen to continue his job and his reactions give more ‘life’. He seesKalla has rubbed off on him and he’s actually happy to hear Alden reject himwhen he states that he should stay. Still Alden is a lost cause as he seesgiven he is so strung to his purpose that living will never really happen. He’s still attaching himself to a forest dweller despite wanting to be outside of the forest. And the only reason Alden states he wants to stay outside is to protect the forest. Sothere will always be a loss for this magical life he created rather thanbiological. Little does the Deku Tree understand though that if Alden was to stay, he’d try to leave. Alden does want to protect the forest but understanding others to some degree might help. He in no way wants to be like them (he believes himself a kokiri after all) but it means a possible means to an end if he has to fight them.

#tiffy stfu #long post #alden #ramble #oc ramble

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technicallyoneofakind · 6 years

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Nymph Hugs

Authors Note:

Heyo! It's Yuni! Been a bit since I last updated or posted anything on the site. (Sorry those of you who read Greedy Souls, I haven't gotten back to it… I feel like if I continue I would write myself into a corner and ruin the fic. Hehe.)

I decided to write about Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch. I decided to write about Swaine. I like Swaine. I felt bad for him when I ran into him in game. I played blindly so his introduction in the game came quite surprisingly.

I wondered what he did in the days he "wondered off" after the events involving Vileheart. Oh yes, there are slight spoilers. Forgot to mention.

This is actually inspired by Wherever Girl's "Like a Brother" fic.

Leave feedback. If you don't like something, be sure to leave constructive criticism. I apologize in advance for any OOC-ness- especially anything to do with Swaine as he's the hardest to nail down, characterwise. People who use this as an excuse to insult and harass will be reported.

Anywho. Here's the fic.

Disclaimer: I only own a copy of the disk for the PS3.

~.~.~

He couldn't describe the despair he felt. He couldn't explain why he felt it either. It reminded him of when the three had gone to the past- the scene he had not experienced as a child. The scene that completely blindsided him and sent him into an abyss of grief for the next week after. Difference was, he knew deep down that there was at least a chance his friend could come back.

It wasn't much to go on…

In the boy's current comatose state, he might as well be dead. And if he didn't wake up soon…

The thief slammed his palm into the nearby hill, bracing himself against it as this grim realization hit him. Normally, there would be some sort of remedy to wake him… The rugged man opened his tired eyes, a hint of a smile of that small hopeful thought.

But they had tried everything. Reminding himself of this, his smile sank again, right along with his heart. It's not like the boy was "broken-hearted"… But then again, what would happen if more than one piece was missing? Who would repair him? How would they know what part to fix in his condition? The man clenched his fist, his gunslinging hand grabbing a fist full of grass, pulling a couple of blades out of the mountainside.

Maybe my brother…? Could he help him? The thief thought, his hands beginning to tremble from the sheer stress of it all. Damn it all… Outside the fairy, I'm responsible for those two. I should be able to do something! Anything! Anything to help… He pushed himself away from the hill, but not far. He looked out to the valley that gave Autumnia its name.

He had come out here to think. In times of major stress such as this, he found it better to be alone. The thief was sure Esther had already called him out on his disappearance to the loudmouth fairy. She probably thought he didn't care- an all too wrong assumption. The ex-prince cared more than he let on. The truth is, being around the young wizard in his current state did nothing but remind him of his failure, which only stressed him more. That's why he was away from the inn. Swaine knew if he stuck around, tension would build, and his emotions would get the best of him. He tended to get rather stubborn and irrational in that state, which didn't help anyone.

There were many times where the thief was the last one standing. There wasn't enough time during those types of fights to revive the other two. When the time came, the least heroic of the group was the one that pulled them through. He let a small chuckle escape him, thinking on it. The scrappy Dumbelemur turned Aye-Aye Sir, Vemahl, put up a good fight most of the time. To Swaine's chagrin, Oliver wanted to try something different with his team of familiars, putting Gunther into the retreat for safe keeping. Thinking more about it, he realized part of the reason he lasted so long in battle may have partially been because of Gemini, the Greater Naiad, and her well-timed evasion.

This was a different case altogether, though. This wasn't a fight against wild creatures. This wasn't the case of fighting on behalf of his friends. The pure-hearted one was in a state where even the distilled tears of a phoenix could wake him. The thief thought of asking his brother, but he had a feeling that he couldn't help and leaving to ask him would mean leaving alone, the Al Mamoon girl and Drippy looking after Oliver.

He knew that wasn't a good idea. He had a gut feeling that his younger brother wouldn't be able to help- having lived on the run as a common criminal helped develop a strong trust in his instincts.

He couldn't do anything, he realized. He couldn't return the favor when the time came. He couldn't help the boy that had saved him from a perilous life. He felt his strength leave him, his helplessness in the situation weighing him down. Feeling defeated, he sat down, leaning his back against the offended hill. He looked to the sky, a hand on one knee the other on the ground beside him.

A tear ran down the left side of his face- an action that shocked him. He hadn't cried since that night in Hamelin. He wiped the tear from his face, with the hand that was on the ground and stared at it. He closed his eyes, his body trembling. He felt alone.

There was a tug on his jacket sleeve. He opened his eyes and looked down to see the Greater Naiad in his regime of familiars. She didn't have her usual smile on her face, in fact, she looked rather concerned.

He sniffled. "Wh- What do you want," he whispered, his voice shaking. He didn't remember calling her to action nor did he feel her come out. He must have been pretty distracted.

She let the casting gem she held disappear into her and moved closer to him. The little sea nymph gripped his shirt in an attempt at a hug. Gemini's fluffy bauble gently rubbed his chin as she nuzzled his chest. Her cape and tendrils spread to compensate for her small size.

Swaine opened his mouth in shock, looking down at her attempt in comforting him. Nymphea wasn't a particular favorite genus of his, he recalled, but he also remembered using this particular nymph often in battle. He had unintentionally built a strong bond with her.

It reminded him of his brother, almost. There were times when they were kids that Marcassin would comfort him when he was troubled. Kind of like this, actually, the ex-thief thought.

He felt his shirt dampen suddenly, causing him to look down. Gemini was crying for him, attempting to use a healing ability she had long since abandoned. Despite how odd it felt, he felt some of his frustration leave him. He didn't know if it was because of the ability- it shouldn't have worked considering that he wasn't wounded- or because he had something comforting in a such a trying time.

"You're right…," he muttered, petting the familiar. "There's nothing I can do." He was still frustrated and confused, but less of a mess. He stood up and wiped the tears from his eyes and took a second to look back out at the valley. His spirits were low still, but the worst of the emotional turmoil was over. Going back there won't snap him out of it… He looked back at the still concerned Greater Naiad. But crying over something I can't help? Ha! What good will that do?

He threw a sad smirk Gemini's way and her smile quickly returned, her gem reappearing in her small stubby arms. "Thank you. Needed some relief, I did." He knelt down, stroking the feathery bauble on the nymph's cap. The nymph nodded and returned to his heart, a warm feeling washing over him briefly.

He sighed and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. He still felt useless, he still felt frustrated. He still felt despair. But he had regained the strength of heart he had recently lost. "Familiars are still creatures with separate feelings from our own. Why do I forget that so easily?"

~.~.~

A/N: Before most of your familiars become your familiars, they are considered beasts. They have feelings, personalities, and histories before they join your team, much like the human members of your party. There's a cave outside of Nazcaa that proves this because there's a bunch of "friendly" beasts that you can go on unofficial quests for, including one of my favorite species line: the naiads. When you consider the way they act in the creature cage, even as familiars, they're still partially separate when it comes to personality and mindset.

Yeah. I switched out Swaine's main one with the lemur. I was experimenting with his set up. He really likes using the nymph, though. It's weird since Gem's not in his "favorite" genus group… I tend to ignore the whole favorite type thing in the game sometimes, though I probably shouldn't. Greater Naiad's are evasive healer types with light magic attacks. I noticed that when I removed Gemini from his team, he seemed to faint more, so it makes me wonder if the ally AI selects the most strategically sound familiar at the time. (In the winter islands, Esther busted out Soliton, the Grandsun, because he had fire affinity.) Most of the time evading and healing is pretty sound strategy and it would explain why sometimes he's the last up to bat.

Outside game mechanics, considering how much he uses Gemini in my version of the game, I always wondered if there's some sort of familiarity between him and the jellyfish. Maybe it reminds him of his brother.

And yes… I do assign genders to my familiars. And now that I really think about it, outside of the undetermined gender of a few, most of my mains are male. I don't know how that happened.

This is a long author's note… Might write another fanfic inspired by a movie I watched recently. Considering how the thief closes himself off, it makes me wonder if there are talents he neglected to mention outright. *Hint, hint*

Anyway. I'm done writing half a page for one lousy author's note. No doubt you've clicked on another story by now. (Might make this a drabble fic named after the first chapter… Watch out.) You're probably bored of me talking. Bye.

#ni_no_kuni #swaine #One Shot

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jackdoakstx · 7 years

Text

A field guide to jerks at work

Ten years ago, the typically sober and staid management book genre welcomed an off-color title to its shelves. Despite a name unable to be printed in a family newspaper, Stanford professor Robert Sutton’s “The No A–hole Rule” became a runaway bestseller, selling 800,000 copies and sparking translations into languages including Polish and Japanese.

It was based on a simple idea, brought to life by crude language but grounded in academic research, corporate case studies and an entirely relatable idea: Companies that adopt a no-jerks policy simply perform better.

But if that book was largely written for managers and human resources wonks as a warning against hiring creeps, Sutton’s newest one is for the rest of us who actually have to deal with them. Over the past decade, Sutton says, he’s gotten emails – 8,000, he estimates – asking for advice about coping with jerks on the job.

There was the retail worker whose boss whispered insults and sexual innuendo in her ear. A pastor asking about how to manage nasty but non-paid volunteers. The young attorney suffering through a corrosive clerkship.

“The A–hole Survival Guide: How to Deal with People who Treat You Like Dirt” is his answer, offering ways of spotting and coping with the various kinds of jerks we encounter at work. After all, the abusive bosses, uncivil co-workers and tyrannical teammates who populate office cube farms are not all the same – and require different responses. In their natural habitat, they inspire fear and loathing, dysfunction and even depression. And as with many unwelcome pests or predators, outright avoidance is typically a good strategy.

But quitting often isn’t an option. To help identify the various breeds of difficult co-workers – and how to survive them – we spoke with Sutton, as well as a few other experts on hostile co-workers and toxic bosses he cites in his book. They are our field guides to coping with five types of jerks at work.

– The lone “bosshole”

Who they are: Research finds that rudeness in the workplace operates almost like the common cold, infecting a “carrier” who spreads it to others. Sutton cites University of Maryland researcher Trevor Foulk, who found that when people experience even a single instance of rudeness at work, they become more aware of it – and are more likely to respond in kind.

“You start seeing it, you start responding to it,” Foulk said. “You become more vigilant, more discerning, you tend to interpret things as rude.” That’s why, he says, it’s important for organizations to oust a single pompous jerk quickly.

What to do: One strategy is to try to switch teams within the company, Sutton says, pointing to Salesforce.com, which he says allows engineers to change teams without getting permission from their current boss. If that’s not an option, he suggests documenting the problems – and doing so with other people who may also feel victimized – and then reporting the problem to human resources. In a professional and amiable culture, “your chances for using the power structure are much higher than if you’re working in ‘jerk city’ ” – his name for cultures where problematic people are everywhere.

Christine Porath, a professor at Georgetown University who wrote a recent book on incivility in the workplace, says it’s also important to remember how damaging those dysfunctional bosses can be to your performance. She suggests investing more time in the people who are respectful.”You have to build up those positive relationships to help buffer or neutralize the negative one,” she said.

-The powerful bully

Who they are: The engineer with hard-to-replace skills whose creepy overtures get overlooked. The rainmaking deal maker whose boorish behavior goes unpunished. Whether they’re explicitly in charge or simply influential, too many organizations look the other way when top performers or top bosses behave badly. Sutton points to Roger Ailes – the powerful Fox News chief who left the media empire amid a swirl of sexual harassment allegations. “Going to HR didn’t seem to help anyone for years,” he says.

What to do: Tread carefully. “You’re fighting the cool kids,” Sutton says. In such cases, getting out is really often the best advice – especially if the behavior goes beyond milder incivilities. “This is one when you often leave, or when you hide, or when you lie in wait until their power diminishes,” Sutton said.Bennett Tepper, a professor at Ohio State University who studies abusive bosses, said that while he’s not suggesting a blame-the-victim mentality, it may be possible to make yourself less vulnerable.

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“Bosses who are jerks are usually pretty strategic about who they target,” he said, and may go after underlings perceived as weak. “If you present yourself as competent, capable and connected to other people, it may make you a less desirable target.”

Making yourself indispensable may even trigger the jerk’s selfish streak: “Most bosses understand the success of their employees also shines a bright light on them,” Tepper says.

– The clueless jerk

Who they are: Many of us. Sutton says his mantra is to be “slow to label other people as a–holes and fast to label yourself one.” That’s because many people are simply not aware how much their rude remarks or short-tempered outbursts can hurt other people. He contrasts them to what he calls “strategic jerks” – people who’ve heard the stories about how Steve Jobs pushed and pushed employees and think they too should unleash their verbal wrath on co-workers to achieve success.

What to do: If their intentions seem good, talk to them – or have someone they trust do so instead. “Sometimes awareness is enough, especially when the last thing they want is to be seen as a jerk by others,” Sutton says.

Porath agrees, but cautions to start by listing a fault of your own. “Instead of putting them on the spot and making them feel defensive, treat it like feedback,” she said.

For those who are aware – and are doing it on purpose – Sutton says they have to be convinced that “treating the other person that way is detrimental to their career. If they’re really strategic that way – and I always say the emotionally controlled a–hole who knows how to turn it on and off is the most difficult to deal with . . . you have to prove to them there are negative consequences to their behavior.”

– The petty tyrant

Who they are: The office administrator who approves the expense reports. The HR coordinator who slows the hiring process with added rules. These “rule Nazis,” as Sutton calls them, are people who lack prestige but have influence over the day-to-day details of work. Research, he says, has shown that when people have moderate responsibility but low levels of respect on the job, “they tend to take it out on other people, both to make themselves feel in some control and perhaps to exact a little bit of revenge.”

What to do: Unless you have the power to ignore them – or get rid of them – the best tactic is to give them some of the prestige they crave, Sutton says.

Tepper agrees. “The person you’re describing sounds like someone who is desperately wanting respect from other people,” he says. “The word ‘ingratiation’ has some negative meaning attached to it, but there are occasions where it costs you nothing to be pleasant. It’s incredibly disarming to other people.”

– The overbearing client

Who they are: The rude customer who’s far too demanding. Or the selfish client who cruelly ignores your needs. This is another tricky one. The power structure works differently, after all, when you’re managing a jerk on the outside rather than the creep within the organization. It’s not easy to fire the people who pay the bills.

What to do: That’s why both Porath and Sutton suggest that managing the overbearing client is really more about managing yourself. Try not to answer angry emails quickly and stoop to their level. Set down the phone and let them rant without listening. Remind yourself that the project will last only a few months. In other words: “Find ways to reduce the amount of damage you take in.”

from News And Updates http://www.denverpost.com/2017/09/22/dealing-with-jerks-at-work/

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laurendzim · 7 years

Text

A field guide to jerks at work

– The lone “bosshole”

-The powerful bully

September 22, 2017 Finding workers a challenge in Colorado’s bid for Amazon campus

September 22, 2017 Colorado landfills are illegally burying low-level radioactive waste from oil and gas industry, Denver Post learns

September 22, 2017 Uber to lose its license to operate in London

September 21, 2017 Facebook to turn over thousands of Russian ads to Congress, reversing decision

September 21, 2017 The ATM at 50: How it’s changed consumer behavior

Making yourself indispensable may even trigger the jerk’s selfish streak: “Most bosses understand the success of their employees also shines a bright light on them,” Tepper says.

– The clueless jerk

Porath agrees, but cautions to start by listing a fault of your own. “Instead of putting them on the spot and making them feel defensive, treat it like feedback,” she said.

– The petty tyrant

What to do: Unless you have the power to ignore them – or get rid of them – the best tactic is to give them some of the prestige they crave, Sutton says.

– The overbearing client

from News And Updates http://www.denverpost.com/2017/09/22/dealing-with-jerks-at-work/

0 notes

janetoconnerfl · 7 years

Text

A field guide to jerks at work

– The lone “bosshole”

-The powerful bully

September 22, 2017 Finding workers a challenge in Colorado’s bid for Amazon campus

September 22, 2017 Colorado landfills are illegally burying low-level radioactive waste from oil and gas industry, Denver Post learns

September 22, 2017 Uber to lose its license to operate in London

September 21, 2017 Facebook to turn over thousands of Russian ads to Congress, reversing decision

September 21, 2017 The ATM at 50: How it’s changed consumer behavior

Making yourself indispensable may even trigger the jerk’s selfish streak: “Most bosses understand the success of their employees also shines a bright light on them,” Tepper says.

– The clueless jerk

Porath agrees, but cautions to start by listing a fault of your own. “Instead of putting them on the spot and making them feel defensive, treat it like feedback,” she said.

– The petty tyrant

What to do: Unless you have the power to ignore them – or get rid of them – the best tactic is to give them some of the prestige they crave, Sutton says.

– The overbearing client

from Latest Information http://www.denverpost.com/2017/09/22/dealing-with-jerks-at-work/

0 notes

jimblanceusa · 7 years

Text

A field guide to jerks at work

– The lone “bosshole”

-The powerful bully

September 22, 2017 Finding workers a challenge in Colorado’s bid for Amazon campus

September 22, 2017 Colorado landfills are illegally burying low-level radioactive waste from oil and gas industry, Denver Post learns

September 22, 2017 Uber to lose its license to operate in London

September 21, 2017 Facebook to turn over thousands of Russian ads to Congress, reversing decision

September 21, 2017 The ATM at 50: How it’s changed consumer behavior

Making yourself indispensable may even trigger the jerk’s selfish streak: “Most bosses understand the success of their employees also shines a bright light on them,” Tepper says.

– The clueless jerk

Porath agrees, but cautions to start by listing a fault of your own. “Instead of putting them on the spot and making them feel defensive, treat it like feedback,” she said.

– The petty tyrant

What to do: Unless you have the power to ignore them – or get rid of them – the best tactic is to give them some of the prestige they crave, Sutton says.

– The overbearing client

from Latest Information http://www.denverpost.com/2017/09/22/dealing-with-jerks-at-work/

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sunshineweb · 7 years

Text

Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect

A few weeks back I was reading a report penned by Amay Hattangadi and Swanand Kelkar from Morgan Stanley. In that report, I came across a very intriguing word called “Echo Chamber”. The authors wrote –

The most telling reaction post Brexit was from a London based friend who apart from lamenting the outcome went on to say that he didn’t know of a single person who was likely to have voted “Leave” and hence felt that the outcome was rigged. This is what we called the “echo chamber” in one of our earlier essays. We tend to be surrounded by people who are like us and share our world view. Social media accentuates this by tailoring our news and opinion feeds to match our pre-set views. To avoid falling into this homogeneity trap, one needs to seek out and dispassionately engage with people whose views differ from your own and that’s true not just for current affairs but your favourite stocks as well.

The word ‘echo chamber’ painted such a vivid picture in my mind that I decided to give it a permanent place in my mental attic. Echo chamber has thus become an important node in my latticework of mental models.

Echo chamber effect feeds on a fundamental cognitive error called confirmation bias (sometimes referred to as commitment and consistency bias). Famous psychologist Robert Cialdini has written about this bias extensively in his seminal book, Influence – Psychology of Persuasion.

Just like every other human bias, the roots of confirmation bias can be traced by stepping into the jurisdiction of evolutionary biology.

Millions of years of evolution has wired the human brain to shun the inconsistencies in the environment – either by avoiding or by resolving. It’s extremely hard for us to harbour two conflicting pieces of information in our mind at the same time. This mental discomfort created by entertaining two or more contradictory arguments is known as cognitive dissonance.

The three-pound grey matter inside our skull has been designed by mother nature in such a manner that it’s optimized to conserve energy by getting rid of (by hook or by crook) cognitive dissonance. Even if it means being delusional.

Charlie Munger calls this Inconsistency Avoidance Tendency. The result of this tendency is what psychologists have termed as confirmation bias.

Rolf Dobelli, in his book The Art of Thinking Clearly, writes –

The confirmation bias is the mother of all misconceptions. It is the tendency to interpret new information so that it becomes compatible with our existing theories, beliefs and convictions. In other words, we filter out any new information that contradicts our existing views (‘disconfirming evidence’). This is a dangerous practice.

Image Source: hamiltonsthoughts.com

Confirmation bias manifests itself in our behaviour by making us seek those things which validate our prior beliefs. We tend to hang out with those people who agree with our views. We selectively watch those news channels which bolster our existing political inclinations. At the same time, when we come across a contradictory piece of information, our mind tends to either ignore it or call it wrong.

The biggest danger with confirmation bias is that, although it starts small, it compounds very rapidly. As we unconsciously construct an environment which is devoid of any conflicts and contradictory information, we get embedded deeply into our cocoon of beliefs. Beliefs that are prejudiced about how the world works.

There’s a vicious cycle at work here. The echo created by constant reinforcement and repetition of the same ideas inside our mental chamber turns us into someone who knows only one side of the argument. Modern information technology and ease of access to information has further exacerbated this problem.

In their article in livemint, Swanand and Amay write –

..social media systematically finds ways to ensure that we are fed with more of what we find appealing. Our Facebook feed is filtered based on previous history of “likes”. Amazon suggests books to buy based on our pattern of previous purchases. Twitter suggests whose tweets we should “follow” based on those we are already following. The online world has magnified the decibel level of the reverberations in an echo chamber manifold.

The positive feedback loop amplifies the effect and results in a mind that can believe in anything no matter how implausible or irrational.

Organized religions and cults have been the biggest beneficiaries of echo chamber effect. People of same religion flock together, share same myths and have the same world view.

For centuries, the term black swan was used as a metaphor for something which didn’t exist or something impossible. People believed that all swans were white. No one had seen a black swan before and every time someone spotted a white swan they would cite that as an evidence to confirm their hypothesis i.e., all swans are white.

However, one single observation to the contrary invalidated a belief derived from millennia of confirmatory sightings of millions of white swans, write Amay and Swanand. “But unfortunately, that is not the way we typically function. We do quite the opposite, which is to form our view and then spend the rest of the day finding all the information that agrees with our view.”

The best armour against confirmation bias is to actively look for disconfirming evidence. The best way to arrive at truth is the process of eliminating what’s untrue. This is known as the process of falsification.

The father of evolutionary biology, Charles Darwin, was known to practice this diligently. Whenever he encountered an observation which did not fit his hypothesis, he would immediately make a note of it. He was aware that his brain would conveniently forget about exceptions if he didn’t take extra care in acknowledging and capturing it.

A year, according to Charlie Munger, is a wasted year if you haven’t destroyed one of your most cherished ideas. He likes to say –

We all are learning, modifying, or destroying ideas all the time. Rapid destruction of your ideas when the time is right is one of the most valuable qualities you can acquire.

On another occasion Charlie said –

Ask yourself what are the arguments on the other side. It’s bad to have an opinion you’re proud of if you can’t state the arguments for the other side better than your opponents. This is a great mental discipline.

As an investor, another important trick to avoid confirmation bias is to not talk about your investment ideas in public. Many successful investors, including Mohnish Pabrai and Guy Spier, follow this principle. They understand that the more they discuss and defend their investments in public, harder they pound it back into their own head, and tougher it is to change their opinion later.

Guarding against confirmation bias doesn’t mean that one remains indecisive. Making a decision under the spell of confirmation bias and going ahead with a decision in spite of disagreeing with it, are two different things. For that matter, you don’t always need all the evidence and agreement to make a decision.

Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger have starkly different personalities, plus both are ruthlessly independent in their own thought processes. It’s unlikely that they would have never disagreed with each in their half a century of partnership. But that hasn’t stopped either of them in making decisions despite the disagreement.

If you’ve attended our annual meetings, says Buffett, “you know Charlie has a wide-ranging brilliance, a prodigious memory, and some firm opinions. I’m not exactly wishy-washy myself, and we sometimes don’t agree. In 56 years, however, we’ve never had an argument.”

Disagreeing and having an argument about who’s right are two very different things. Argument stalls the decision making. Disagreeing doesn’t.

In his 2016 letter to shareholders, while talking about high-velocity decision making, Amazon’s CEO Jeff Bezos wrote –

If you have conviction on a particular direction even though there’s no consensus, it’s helpful to say, “Look, I know we disagree on this but will you gamble with me on it? Disagree and commit?”… I disagree and commit all the time. We recently greenlit a particular Amazon Studios original. I told the team my view: debatable whether it would be interesting enough, complicated to produce, the business terms aren’t that good, and we have lots of other opportunities. They had a completely different opinion and wanted to go ahead. I wrote back right away with “I disagree and commit and hope it becomes the most watched thing we’ve ever made.” Consider how much slower this decision cycle would have been if the team had actually had to convince me rather than simply get my commitment.

Note what this example is not: it’s not me thinking to myself “well, these guys are wrong and missing the point, but this isn’t worth me chasing.” It’s a genuine disagreement of opinion, a candid expression of my view, a chance for the team to weigh my view, and a quick, sincere commitment to go their way.

Warren Buffett once wrote –

What the human being is best at doing, is interpreting all new information so that their prior conclusions remain intact.

That’s why you need a devil’s advocate who can challenge your assumptions. Someone who can ask uncomfortable questions.

As an investor, it’s very important to have your own small group of intellectual peers to bounce your ideas. But be careful in selecting these folks lest your sounding board turns into an echo chamber for that would not only be futile but outright dangerous for your decision-making process.

The post Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect published first on http://ift.tt/2sCRXMW

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heliosfinance · 7 years

Text

Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect

Just like every other human bias, the roots of confirmation bias can be traced by stepping into the jurisdiction of evolutionary biology.

Charlie Munger calls this Inconsistency Avoidance Tendency. The result of this tendency is what psychologists have termed as confirmation bias.

Rolf Dobelli, in his book The Art of Thinking Clearly, writes –

Image Source: hamiltonsthoughts.com

In their article in livemint, Swanand and Amay write –

The positive feedback loop amplifies the effect and results in a mind that can believe in anything no matter how implausible or irrational.

Organized religions and cults have been the biggest beneficiaries of echo chamber effect. People of same religion flock together, share same myths and have the same world view.

A year, according to Charlie Munger, is a wasted year if you haven’t destroyed one of your most cherished ideas. He likes to say –

We all are learning, modifying, or destroying ideas all the time. Rapid destruction of your ideas when the time is right is one of the most valuable qualities you can acquire.

On another occasion Charlie said –

Disagreeing and having an argument about who’s right are two very different things. Argument stalls the decision making. Disagreeing doesn’t.

In his 2016 letter to shareholders, while talking about high-velocity decision making, Amazon’s CEO Jeff Bezos wrote –

Warren Buffett once wrote –

What the human being is best at doing, is interpreting all new information so that their prior conclusions remain intact.

That’s why you need a devil’s advocate who can challenge your assumptions. Someone who can ask uncomfortable questions.

The post Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect published first on http://ift.tt/2ljLF4B

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kendrixtermina · 7 years

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Extra Typology Vol #3 - Your Type & Your Life

As seen in the previous entries, one’s personality style can be seen as both a map to one’s inner geography and the scaffold of one’s outward direction - The experiences & people that you seek out & the way you react to them, as well as the ways you change or stay the same are all mediated by the inner filters that organize your experience, and once one considers all that it’s easy to see how one’s personality can be tantamount to a kind of ‘destiny’ or self-fulfilling prophecy -

Therefore, one may want to know just how exactly one got stuck with theirs.

Inborn Differences

At the present state of our knowledge, it is safe to say the the ‘Tabula Rasa’ theory is ripe for the trashbucket - Indeed we continue to learn more about how human babies aleady come ‘preprogrammed’ with an astounding lot of ‘software’ & in the process substantiate what anyone who had multiple children or numerous siblings may have observed for themselves: That tiny humans already come with notably different behavior patterns; and indeed it’s common knowledge at this point that both predispositions for disorders and ordinary run of the mill personality traits can run in families, though the exact interconnections of everything still present considerable mysteries.

In the psychological jargon, it’s common to use ‘the term ‘temperament’ for the hand of inborn tendencies you’re deal with an conception which gives you a range of possibilities & provides the base material for the environment to act upon, and ‘character’ for the possibility that is fnally realized through interaction with the environment & personal choice, the finished product if you will.

Almost from the first moments of life, parents may notice particularities in their new mini-me: Some babies cry a lot, some don’t, some are more easily soothed than others. Some quickly develop regular eating & sleeping patterns whereas others are harder to train to any pattern, some are meek & easygoing while others are prone to strong reactions -

Each of us enter the world with our own particular constitution, theshold and reaction patterns, and a study begun in 1956 has since shown that behavior at the age of 3 is a powerful predictor of personality in adulthood - A rambunctious baby generally becomes an active adult, a shy baby a reserved person etc. Turns out even small toddlers who have barely mastered talking & going potty can already be assesed & quantified by the following means:

Activity Level - Even an infant has a characteristic level of activity vs inertia, from sluggish to enegetic

Regularity - Some are regular in their eating, sleeping and other biological functions

Aprroach vs. Withdrawal - when presented with a new toy, food, peson or stimulus, does the baby generally react positively with interest or negatively & fearfully?

Adaptability - Does the child learn & adjust to new stuations & tasks easily, or do they have difficulty adjusting to change?

Threshold of Responsiveness - What does it usually take to get a ‘rise’ out of the baby? A stong sensory stimulus like a loud voice, or a mild one such as a soft voice? Does the child easily become overstimulated by sensory experiences?

Reaction intensity - Some kids react loudly to everything, whereas others are typically less intense in their positive & negative reactions

Mood - Even babies have characteristic mood patterns, varying from predoinantly cheerful to frequently unhappy

Distractability - Does the child tend to focus on tasks on hand, or are they easily

Attention Span and Persistence - How long does the baby typically stick with an activity, and wll they pesst despite difficulty?

...across cultures and regardless of the parent’s attitudes & actions. Even physiological responses (such as pupil widening & heartbeat increase in response to stress) can be measurably different as early as 4 months.

Of course genes alone don’t cause a baby to react to a new face with tears or an adult to go to pieces after a breakup - what they do determine is the way an organism’s brain develops and the range of its normal neurobiological & biochemical reactions that characterize its personal style of responding to the environment & like everything in the human body it can break or be broken.

Genes may present a range of possibilities, but it is experience that determines what becomes of those possibilities.

Environmental Impacts - A more systemic perspective

From birth, an infant begins to learn from others, adapt to their experiences within the family & to develop styles of coping with the environment - but in the light of the above, and of recent findings, this has to be viewed as a more reciprocal relationship: Rather than being passive victims of what life dishes out, we influence life just as life influences us:

Life shapes what will become of our genetic possibilities, but our inborn nature also affects what will happen to us. It’s not just that different people react differently to the same stimuli, but rather, from the beginning, a baby’s temperament affects the experiences they are most likely to have. A child’s temperament influences how their parents may react to them - and how the baby in turn reacts to the parent’s reactions, demands & expectations depends on those same qualities of temperament, resulting in a wide variety of parent-infant interactions.

Say, you have a meek, mellow, easy-to-handle baby - their parents are likely to be quite happy with them, and the baby themselves will learn that their parents are easy to please and that the world can be a pretty fulfilling place. Cranky babies, however, may iritate & frustrate their parents, some of which may overreact & mistreat them. A baby of more challenging temperament may bring out the worst in their parents, especially if those parents are immature or incompetent, with the result that the fussier baby will have an even harder time dealing with the parent’s negative reactions & become even more difficult to manage, whereas a chill undemanding baby will have their adaptability rewarded with love & attention -

If you consider this it’s easy to see how two babies could end up with completely different experiences of themselves, the world & their parents even within the same household. A child that’s more of a handful may be more stessful to their parents and elicit more unpleasant responses such as criticism or anger, to which they are in turn temperamentally more sensitive than other kids - a more sensitive kid may require more patience & undestanding than many parents can give, especially if the parents in question are immature, inexperienced, inflexible, disordered or bogged down with stress, conflict an outside factors like their financial situation - And if the parents are outright abusive, a child that talks back will probably bear the brunt of it.

This doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with a “fussy” baby- they’re just within the normal range & divesity of child developement, and indeed, given favorable circumstances, it may even present its own advantages: Place that same cranky baby in a well-to-do family with good verbal skills, and it will likely develop a higher IQ by age five than would their meek and easy-to-manage peers. In such families, a fussier temperament turns into an intellectual advantage because parents from higher educational and economic backgrounds tend to talk, communicate and interact more with these demanding children in their efforts to get them to adapt better, and this added stimulation promoted intellectual developement.

Studies conducted on tribal societies even suggest that they have better survival chances in times of scarcity - precisely because they make more noise & demand to be fed. Also, cultural attitudes can put a quantifier on this - in our society schools & nurseries are very comformist places where the staff needs to deal with a lot of kids so a more rambuctious child may be penalized, but a warlike society may prize aggressive behavior (and of course that’s where gender stereotypes rear their ugly head again because we at present accept a lot more ‘wild’ behavior from little boys)

The “Goodness of Fit” Theory

So what can we conclude from this? Well, that the interplay between the factors involved in making a person is complex, but we knew that already.

For every developing child, they ey to wether their inborn temperament will mature into a positive outcome is what researchers call ‘goodness of fit’ - wether the baby’s individual temperament can fit harmonously into their family & large environment - Can the growing child with their innate abilities, wants and behaviors and the family or social environment meet each other’s needs and demands?

Every temperament provides advantages & disadvantages depending on the environment. When the parents, teachers or surrounding culture repeatedly asks more of a child than they can give at a particular time, the stress on the child may begin to distort the way their personality develops. But if the fit is good, it can ehance strenghts and help overcome vulnerabilities.

Most children develop resilient personalities that carry them through even the worst stresses of adulthood without developing psychiatric disorders then or later - experience toughes them but doesn’t distort them. On the other hand, though more rambuctious kids are at higher risk, just about any child can develop behavior problems from the excessive stresses that result from a poor fit - A very outgoing, active family may repeatedly push & demand too much from a sweet, quiet, passive stay-close-to-home child. A quiet, careful, stay-at-home family may uneccesary restrict forward, adventurous behaviors in an active, outgoing child. A sweet, cheerful, loving baby may be born to a very depressed mothers who can’t give the baby the rewarding feedback that healthy personality developement requires. An easily distracted child may develop a problem if their parents insist that they concentrate for long amounts of time without a break -

And though the parents of a child with problems may think the child’s temperament is at fault, the difficulty actually lies in the nature of the match between parent and child - and the opposite is true: An attentive, patient family may protect a kid with sucky genetics from developing problems by potecting it from life experiences to which they may be especially suceptible & prevent them from falling into unhealthy patterns, turning what could have been the beginning of much difficulty into temporary growing pains.

As for the noxious factors themselves it is to be noted that, overprotecting a naturally reactive and/or sensitive child actually made the reactiveness more likely to stick & result in a more shy or inhibited person than when the parents were accepting but made age-apropriate demands on cleanliness and behavior.

Another thing to note that it is less individual incidents and more systemic situations than can do harm, particularly in the child’s early years - To their surprise researchers found that divorce or the dead of a parent did not predict negatives outcome, but witnessing repeated conflict between the parents did - in other words the common cliché of “staying together for the children” may do more harm than good.

On that note...

Tipps for Parents

Do not try to treat all your children identicaly, but rather, accept and respect your child’s fundamntal inborn style & recognize that they may have special needs relating to their temperament. Objectively identify the child’s strenghts and vulnerabilities, and support their positive qualities and individual nature.

Above all, do not blae yourself or your child if they don’t meet your expecations. Don’t fight your child’s inborn temperamental qualities and don’t punish them for having difficulties. Keep in mind that your child’s temperamental difficulties do not in themselves meant that they are destined for trouble later in life - unless you get into a viscious cycle of negative reactions to each other. In fact, with good management, your rambuctious hell-toddler may turn out to be a highly creative, unusual, even exceptional person like many a famous leader.

A child with temperamental difficultis needs strong, loving management so that they can learn good coping skills.

Your Adult Life

Though your basic personality is ‘done’ by the time you exit your childhood, experience & biology continually mold & modify you, building on what has gone before and sometimes pointing you in new directions.

Diseases, injuries & medical conditions can sometimes alter long-established personality patterns (usually in an unfortunate direction), but barring such illness or injury, the brain physiologically remains adaptable thoughout the aging process, capable of reacting with the environment to form new connections among brain cells and to alter old ones - Indeed according to the latest neuroscience, the potential ability of brain cells to adapt or change may never deteriorate thoughout your entire life cycle -

Heck, the process of aging may even modify your personality in a rather pleasant direction. Researchers have detemined that people’s ‘panic centers’ decrease in activity after age 40, which is perhaps why most people seem to naturally mellow as they reach middle age. Adaptation may come easily or wth difficulty, but generally one’s pattern of responses always carries a built-in potential for expansion & change with it.

#oldham #personality #typology #oldham personality #extraTypology

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tinnyshinny · 7 years

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The Sexiest Quality In Anyone. (Hint: It’s Not Confidence.) Confidence is sexy, no doubt about it. Someone who knows how to do something well and owns that ability, that’s damn sexy alright. But there’s another related quality that I find even more appealing. Before we get to the biggest turn-on trait, let’s remember that quiet confidence ought not to be confused with outright arrogance, which is based in insecurity. When someone feels the need to boast, they actually lack confidence and subconsciously need to fill that gap in themselves with others’ validation. (Been there, dumb that, grew out of it—mostly—and got the t-shirt.) Aside from confidence, there’s another quality that spells admiration-worthy from where I stand, sit or sprawl… The quality I admire most in anyone is courage. We are all afraid of something. Some of us are afraid of many things, and some fear damn near everything. I have a friend who says “I’m scared” or “That’s scary” so many times in any given conversation that I’ve joked about penalizing him for using the word. I used to be a scaredy-chicken. I was morbidly shy as a child and didn’t participate in recreational activities, sports, music lessons, dance class, group activities, or anything social-oriented—and to me, social-oriented meant more than me and one close friend. As a teenager, I turned to liquid courage (read: alcohol) to erect a semblance of a social life. I was still scared most of the time. (And intoxicated when I wasn’t.) I admired schoolmates that participated when required and that even volunteered to join activities. I was not a joiner. A popular classmate, Vicky, was into every sport and social program imaginable and was often the team captain. She had the cutest dimples and a killer volleyball spike. She seemed fearless. I remember her infectious laugh and my wanting to be like her. To be her. As an adult, I developed a measure of courage (and confidence) in work, but clung to that old timidity despite my success, plus some heavy-duty-ego-based arrogance. (My shy-based insecurities needed that at the time.) When I walked away at the top of my career to pursue my passion—you’re reading it—I was terrified. I feared criticism and ridicule (from my previous associates and potential readers of my new endeavour). I did it anyway, and inasmuch as I was questioned and made fun of by my fear-driven old-world brethren, I’ve had a hundred-fold more positive feedback. Not that I need the validation, but maybe I do. It doesn’t matter. I was courageous. And courage inspires because we are all afraid. We’re afraid to go for the new job when we’ve hung our hat at this one for so many years. Or to audition for the play with our local theatre club. Or to finally talk with that woman on the boardwalk we usually just smile at. Or take swimming lessons when we’re 75. Or cry in front of our partner or the world…or travel half way around the world when we’re 40 and have never left our homeland. Or to tell our sweetheart we love them when we’re unsure they feel the same. Or to ask for forgiveness and admit we feel shame. Or to love our flawed selves and let go of blame. Daring greatly through vulnerability. This is Courage. Now, when I converse with people who talk about and live by their fears, I want to shake them and yell, “Wake up! Live, for Cristo’s sake!” But I remind myself that they’re on their own journey and the fears they feel are real and valid to them, as are the fears I hang on to and the ones I’ve overcome. Most people with confidence in something didn’t start with the accompanying skill. Whether it’s learning to rally the V-ball or making big-business decisions based on numbers and statistics and logistics and supposed-sure-thing strategies. Either way, it takes guts to go for it; to put ourselves out there subject to “failure.” Having the courage to try leads to confidence, because it doesn’t matter if we get good at the thing we tried, it’s the trying that matters. But what will they think of me? This was the most annoying fear to me, the one I was most crippled with. I thought it was only me, but I looked around—TV, magazines, movies, commercials, commercialism—and realized we live in a what-will-they-think-of-me society. When we become really, truly cool with ourselves, we need a lot less what-will-they-think-of-me stuff, but as ever-evolving, stimulation-requiring, supposed-intelligent beings we find other ways to worry about opinions. How many likes did my Facebook status get? How many retweets? Am I being judged for how advanced/basic my yoga practice is? How acclaimed is my kid in school? The list goes on. So, yeah, when someone walks to the beat of their own drum, I. Love. Them. It takes courage to stand out from the crowd. It’s okay not to as well, if that’s our authentic self. And courage doesn’t equal irresponsibility. Sometimes, the greatest courage a person faces is committing to taking responsibility for something greater than themselves, like family and children. But that’s also not an excuse to hide behind when it’s really fear holding us back from doing those heart-happy things (while still being accountable). Overcoming fears doesn’t mean doing anything overtly dangerous or simply stupid. It doesn’t have to mean jumping out of an airplane at 14,500 feet. (Though it can if that’s what does it for us!) I commit to taking chances and not worrying about what anyone else thinks. Or at least, caring less. I commit to trusting my path, whether I “fail” or “succeed” and that Life will catch me should my wings falter. Life really does begin outside our comfort zones. This isn’t a dress rehearsal, it’s a one shot deal, so sign up for those guitar lessons you’ve always wanted to learn or take a Spanish class or audition to sing in the choir or act in a play or join a club or take night classes to finally get that degree or apply for a loan for that start-up business. Or ask that special someone out. Or come out of the closet. Or stand up for something. Or speak out for someone. Or write and publish that damn memoir bubbling inside. What’s the worst that could happen? Whatever it is, it’s worth it. (Refer back to being safe and responsible, but still, as the saying goes: where there is a will…) Failure isn’t in not succeeding. Failure is in not trying. Because here’s the thing: if “they’re” talking about us, then we’re important enough to be talked about. And even though that’s an ego-based consolation prize, it may be enough to let go of fear long enough to impress ourselves by going for it—whatever “it” is! I hummed and hawed and fretted and feared about publishing my memoir. I was scared to have it out in the world to be judged and criticized and misunderstood. I did it anyway. And it doesn’t matter if it’s wonderful or wan or successful or forgotten, because I tried. And that makes me a damn sexy woman. We are all afraid of something. That’s why, in my world, when we look at fear with determined ferocity, I think— Courage. Is. Sexiest.

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sunshineweb · 7 years

Text

Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect

Just like every other human bias, the roots of confirmation bias can be traced by stepping into the jurisdiction of evolutionary biology.

Charlie Munger calls this Inconsistency Avoidance Tendency. The result of this tendency is what psychologists have termed as confirmation bias.

Rolf Dobelli, in his book The Art of Thinking Clearly, writes –

Image Source: hamiltonsthoughts.com

In their article in livemint, Swanand and Amay write –

The positive feedback loop amplifies the effect and results in a mind that can believe in anything no matter how implausible or irrational.

Organized religions and cults have been the biggest beneficiaries of echo chamber effect. People of same religion flock together, share same myths and have the same world view.

A year, according to Charlie Munger, is a wasted year if you haven’t destroyed one of your most cherished ideas. He likes to say –

We all are learning, modifying, or destroying ideas all the time. Rapid destruction of your ideas when the time is right is one of the most valuable qualities you can acquire.

On another occasion Charlie said –

Disagreeing and having an argument about who’s right are two very different things. Argument stalls the decision making. Disagreeing doesn’t.

In his 2016 letter to shareholders, while talking about high-velocity decision making, Amazon’s CEO Jeff Bezos wrote –

Warren Buffett once wrote –

What the human being is best at doing, is interpreting all new information so that their prior conclusions remain intact.

That’s why you need a devil’s advocate who can challenge your assumptions. Someone who can ask uncomfortable questions.

The post Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

Latticework of Mental Models: Echo Chamber Effect published first on http://ift.tt/2sCRXMW

0 notes

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