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wizkiddx · 3 years

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in your own way

so someone sent me this idea and I thought it was really cute and wanted to do it as a blurb but then I got all confused so it’s very shite and I can only apologise. also I am not no genius so pretending to be one was literally just putting words together they make no sense ahaha

Summary: tom gets self conscious of his intelligence compared to you

(bit of angst but mainly fluff ;))

tomhollandxreader

The doorbell ringing through the couch grabbed the attention of all five of you, your heads all whipping towards the door the round to each other. You’d already got the pizza (had demolished it too) and nobody had ordered any desserts - at least that you knew of. It had been a rather tame evening, your four uni mates all stuffed into you cosy but homely studio flat. Lix had just moved to London and had wanted some help with a new project that she couldn’t afford to cock up at her new job. So, assembling the ‘dream team’ back from simpler days, you were all crouched down over many print outs - trying to puzzle your way through how the plans could be redesigned to make the invention much more ergonomic.

“Don’t stop working!” The four around you all just groaned in return, Josh lightheartedly slapping your leg as you skipped over him. Laughing at their exhausted and almost beaten brains , you jumped up and hopped toward the door frame, picking a discarded pizza box off up the floor and onto the countertop on your way. As you reached the door you tightened your hair in the scrunch before painting a welcoming smile on your face and opening the door. Whatever you had been expecting, it was definitely not what you saw.

Warm brown ochre eyes, a mischievous grin and a bunch of beautifully arrange yellow and white flowers.

“TOM!”

Squealing his names, your body apparently decided to ignore the flowers he was grasping to his front, still choosing to throw your arms around his neck and pull him close - the precious petals squashed between your two bodies.

“God I’ve missed you!” He grinned into the side of your head, only stopping to press multiple kisses to the side of your face till you arched back and met him with your own lips.

“Thought we were meeting tomorrow? You asked against his lips, with a little smirk - you could have a pretty good guess as to why. He had just returned from a long shoot abroad and had planned on spending the evening with his parents and brothers, then in the morning the idea was for you to go get breakfast together. You would never dream of competing for his affection against his family, so had been more than happy to give them a day with their eldest back before you saw Tom. It was still early days in your relationship anyway, you actually only been a couple and in the same country for a matter of weeks, but of course the time he was away you made time for the long distance phone calls and FaceTimes.

“Mhmm well I just kept imagining you in a cold lonely bed and it’s not like I’m gonna let them all hop into my bed for quality time is it?”

“Well you are close!” Giggling back, Tom playfully gasped before releasing his one arm from round your waist - both of you chuckling at the crumpled flowers. You stepped aside to let him in, in all the excitement forgetting you weren’t alone until you turned around and were met with four pairs of beady eyes staring at you. Because yes perhaps it had slipped your mind to mention to them you had a boyfriend of six months, especially forgetting to tell Josh - who you had a complicated history with to say the least.

Cursing under your breath, you watched Tom freeze up, clearly shocked by the fact you had company too. He hadn’t met many of your friends, purely because you and him were still on the downlown. Not that that particularly mattered with these 4, you were more than certain they would have no idea who he was - as Lix had said before ‘superhero movies are just stupid peoples version of research papers. Innovative and exciting, except papers don’t require the variables to beat each other up to keep their audience entertained.”

So tom’s reputation wasn’t the issue in this situation…. Instead your ex boyfriend meeting his replacement. Josh could be cruel too when he was jealous, even if it had been a year and a half since you’d called your brief relationship quits, it was evident he still wasn’t completely over you either. The amount of drunken calls asking for a hookup was evidence of that.

You’d been almost transparent with Tom, he knew this name ‘josh’ was your ex, he was aware you were still friends and hang out. He didn’t know about the 3am booty calls but that was just to protect everyone, no other hidden agenda. He’d always regret it in the morning and beg for your forgiveness so it appeared very much to be a subconscious thought only copious amounts of alcohol could release.

“Sorry I didn’t know you had-“

“No no” You interrupted Tom, grabbing the flowers and placing them on the counter, ontop of the pizza boxes, before reaching out and squeezing his hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, let me introduce you guys.”

Following that preceded an awkward taking turns of hand shakes and small talk, though you were acutely aware of Tom’s tightening grip round your waist when the blue eyes boy introduced himself as ‘Josh’ - and in fact every time he spoke thereafter.

The small talk was nice enough, the group of you all resumed your positions on the floor with Tom now squiggled between you and you painfully awkward ex flatmate Will. In fact it was all going oh so well till Lix opened her big bloody mouth.

“So Tom, what do you do?”

He immediately tensed against your side, you saw his eyes widening with shock. Instantly reading him, you realised Tom was shocked by the fact they didnt know.

And he was! He assumed they hadn’t mentioned it purely out of respect, not wanting to make the situation awkward. They were, as you’d summarised to Tom before, nerds. As you were - no nerd shaming here. But this type of people were normally primed marvel superfans, or at least had some sort of awareness- so he was surprised to say the least.

“Oh uh I…. I’m an actor”

“Oh really?” Josh’s eyes widened and he smirked. You knew , you knew what was coming. “So you convinced Y/n that drama’s a good thing? She used to absolutely hate everything when we had to do it at college.”

“I hated drama classes, that doesn’t mean I hate the whole entertainment industry dickhead!” You tried to joke, tried to lighten the mood.

“Uh well she’s supportive of my stuff and I’m supportive of hers it doesn’t mean I have to like neuroscience either.”

“Neurobiologist. You’re a neurobiologist right Y/n?” For fuck sake. Will had no intention behind it at all. He was just oblivious to people and was so upfront at times it was painful, even if underneath it all he was the sweetest person you’d ever met. Watching Tom out the corner of your eye swallow thickly as he tried to compose himself you quickly worked to diffuse the situation.

“Yeh but it’s kind of the same thing isn’t it? I say either or a lot!” Josh took a swig of his half drunk beer before nodding at Tom.

“Acting though… it’s impressive. I definitely wouldn’t be able to persevere through all the rejection though, seems cut throat to try and make it in.” There Josh goes. Tom shifted, his hand dropping from you side and his eyes fixed on the beer bottle you’d given to him as he smirked.

“Yeh well the rejections hard when I was younger but I get that less now. Now I get to reject the parts I don’t like which makes it all so worth it.”

Josh’s face morphed just slightly in pain, as the penny somewhat dropped. Apparently Tom wasn’t the aspiring actor working 3 jobs between failed audition as he had assumed. Just as you were getting bloody desperate, a literal light went off in your head, shooting your back straight as you rifled through the haphazardly spread papers in front of you - the groups focus now away from the obvious tension between Tom and Josh.

“Y/n what do you need?” Lix asked slowly realising you might’ve just found the answer and not wanting to disturb the thought process. After asking for a pen and triumphantly ‘ah’-ing when you found the right plan you looked up with glee evident in your eyes first to Lix, then Will, then Sophie, then Josh.

“We’ve been missing the whole point the whole bloody time. Look!” You jabbed your pen at an intricate diagram “It’s so bulky because we’ve been going on this assumption we need a battery and recharging ports but if we take that component out-“

“Then you just need a transformer for there” Will joined in with a sparkle in his eyes, him being the first to click where you were going with this.

“Exactly! And then size is no longer an issue and by placing an external detachable unit-“

“Y/N YOU GENIUS” “fuck that’s good” Lix exclaimed an dsimultaneously Josh much more inwardly praised your ingenious.

“We got it!” Laughing back, you encouraged all of them to join in with, noting down all the necessary inputs and outputs and components necessary to form a vague redesign.

Though it felt no time at all, the 5 of you consumed in mumbling through thought processes and logic of trying to actualise your theory, in reality it was almost 45 minutes before Lix leaned back with a relieved sigh. Announcing that you’d saved the day, she called time on the night, relieved that she could sleep worry free that night. You made light work between all of you of clearing her stuff up and saying goodbye to all of them with brief hugs. In all honesty, you were so in the zone you’d completely forgotten about Tom, who you were only alerted to when Lix went over to the kitchen to say bye as well. He’d obviously been there for sometime, clearing up all the greasy plates and pizza boxes, the flowers now sat in a vase in their full glory - or at least what was left of them after the crush injury.

This wave of insurmountable guilt washed over you, realising he’d come here after only spending a couple of hours with his family after a long haul flight home to fall asleep with you in his arms. Instead, he’d faced your rude ex, been ignored for the majority of the time he was here and he’d done the washing up. You fucked up.

Choosing till you’d finally ushered Will and Josh out, promising Will you would go and see their new shared flat soon, you closed the door slowly - knowing this wasn’t going to be simple.

You walked up and leant against the kitchen counter, watching him place the last two mugs in the top drawer of the dishwasher before pushing it closed and then closing the appliance door too.

“Thankyou for doing all this. You really didn’t have to.” He didn’t make eye contact, moving about the kitchen to wash his hands in the sink opposite. “And I’m really sorry I-I was gonna usher them out but the I worked it out and kind of got overexcited.”

“Mhmm … for an hour?” It was a rhetorical question and although he said it very quietly you knew he was demanding an answer.

“I know I know I’m a shitty girlfriend, I should’ve sent them away as soon as you got here. I am so so so sorry.” That statement was left in silence for a few, painful moments.

“I was the one who showed up here. Don’t worry about it.” It was muttered and god only know you were still very worried about it.

“No Tom I was a dickhead you have a right to be ang-“

“It doesn’t matter!” If it didnt matter, why the hell was was he answering so grumpily.Turning back around to you with a sigh, he spoke with shoulders slumped. “Look… lets just go to sleep yeh? I’ve had a long ass day.

He wasn’t in the mood to talk, you weren’t about the force him too - so with a small nod you half heartedly agreed. You knew you would have to address it at some point, but apparently now wasn’t the right time.

So without much more conversation the two of you got ready for bed, even if the atmosphere felt jilted and cold. It was rehearsed, this wasn’t not the first time he’d stayed over so like a rehearsed scene the two of you got ready and then wormed your way underneath the sheets. You waited for him to make the first move, which of course he did. Pulling you into his bare chest which you happily obliged to, your leg wrapping round his as you nuzzled into his chest. Both softly whispering ‘goodnight’ your eyes closed as you tried to sleep.

Except it didnt work and wasn’t going to. Mainly because Tom’s heartbeat was thundering right under your ear. So you were hardly surprised when he whispered in the quiet.

“Do we work?”

“What?” You arched up, a hand on his chest as your head hovered over his - your eyes burning into his in the dim light of the street lights. He sighed heavily, shaking his head and trying to avoid your gaze.

“I just- we have so little in common”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. I have no idea about even what you do! Seeing you with all of them tonight… you were enjoying talking about stuff I could never ever understand!”

“I don’t have a clue about scene direction or physical acting does that make you dislike me?”

“No course not!” He argued huffily, making you sit up in frustration and reach over to turn the bedside light on.

“Then will you please explain what is going on?”

“Just… just look I know intelligence is attractive and-and well you are and I’m not.”

That physically hurt you hearing him be so self conscious in front of. Clearly, you had made him feel like pure shit this evening and that guilt would surely eat you up later - but right now the focus was purely on making him feel assured of his own mind-blowing talents.

“Tom…it’s not intelligence that’s attractive! You know…” You sighed, how the hell were you going to explain to him how much you LOVED HIM.liked him, you hadn’t said that yet. “You know when you’re reading a script that’s good your mouth move along as if your living and breathing every single word. And you completely are oblivious to anything around Tom, I always thought if someone crashed into the house you wouldn’t notice cos your so into it. And then when your finally finished with it, no matter what time of the day or night, you’lll be like this excited puppy running in to tell me all about it. Or-or when you’ve visited a children’s hospital and you phone me bouncing off the walls, full of stories of how these kids inspire you….” Trailing off, you looked intently between both of his two brown eyes. “Thats passion right? And ambition?” He nodded minutely. “Thats what’s so bloody attractive. For all I care, you could be a supermarket shelf restocker if that’s what your passionate about and you would still be the most incredible person to me. I love your passion you idiot, I don’t care if you don’t know stupid facts about astrophysics or where in the brain control movement of your big toe! In your own way your so bloody clever and I love you because of you and your passion you idiot.”

“Seriously?” You nodded profusely at his whisper, now cupping both hands round his cheeks. “You seriously think…. I’m like a puppy?”

There was your boyfriend again, grinning from ear to ear as you giggled at him.

“Yes you most definitely are.” He gasped in fake shock, before pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours. Now straddled over his body with the duvet weighing down on your back as you tasted the minty toothpaste still fresh on his lips. After a short while you once again settled back down on his chest, feeling much more warm than mere moments ago, and confident that Tom was reassured and happy once again.

The silence lasted long enough for you to be slowly drifting off before a deep rumble had you blinking your eyes open, eyelashes dragging against his shoulder as you tried to focus on his voice.

“By the way…” Tom dragged it out, making you hum in encouragement as you listened to his slightly hoarse and sleepy sounding voice “in your big soliloquy just then… you said you love me?” You froze, desperately trying to claw a good answer or cover up. Completely failing, you went for the next best and oddly relevant statement.

“I don’t know what solliquarity means because its an actory word so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Solliliquy darling… but for the record, and I hope you understand this… I love you too.”

#tom holland fluff #tom holland #tomholland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland angst

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years

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Torch - Chapter 3: November

A/N: We are one day late but it’s here! Get ready...

Love,

@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

@gryffindormischief

Also on FF and Ao3

Torch: a Hinny canon compliant multi-chaptered fic featuring HBP missing moments. Updates every first day of every month, from September 2019 to August 2020.

_____

Hallowe’en, for all he knows of it now, was a boring event during the first eleven years of Harry’s life. Dudley would gorge himself on candy, gather up his cronies to increase their usual levels of Harry-focused torment, and Harry would simply wait for the day to end like he did any other.

Since his first year at Hogwarts, the end of October has generally been a mix of angst and some sort of life-endangering drama. In between, the Hallowe’en feast at least provided some form of light hearted fun.

When October 30th dawned, Harry had been looking forward to a day spent playing quidditch and avoiding Hermione’s heavy handed comments about the importance of revising early and thoroughly. By the time the sun sets, Harry’s almost hoping Voldemort plans to finish what he started fifteen Hallowe’ens ago.

At least he would only have to tolerate another twenty-four hours of Ron’s moping.

It’s not enough that practice was shite and they’re basically about to be destroyed on the pitch in less than a week. Ron’s got to go all dramatic and say he plans to resign . Harry finds himself wondering if there’s an encouraging way to say he’d rather have shite Ron than deal with McLaggen’s diva attitude.

After supper in the Great Hall, Harry loses himself in the rush of students and eventually wanders into the courtyard - moonlit and delightfully abandoned.

Finally feeling like his brain has an opportunity for quiet , Harry drops down onto the ledge surrounding the fountain and throws his arm over his eyes.

His spine pops a bit at being stretched so absolutely but in that good ‘am I creepy to enjoy this’ way.

Water spray tickles his bare skin, a touch icy despite whatever charms keep it from freezing over and Harry almost feels he could drift off. And maybe he does, until a throat clears and draws him from his funk.

Craning his neck only enough to identify the interloper, Harry finds Ginny Weasley eyeing him with a raised brow. “Don’t think pneumonia will get you out of this game.”

“Imagine if Oliver Wood heard I skipped out for a less than deadly ailment.”

Ginny laughs and wanders closer as Harry pushes himself into a sitting position and muses, “He’d probably be more disappointed I’ve let the Gryffindor team fall into such a state.”

Shrugging, Ginny picks at her fingernails and says, “Are you telling me Wood never lead a bad practice? You can’t put everyone’s performance on yourself. It’s up to us at some point, yeah?”

Harry glances up and meets Ginny’s gaze, so confident and strong when he recalls her blushing looks his first year.

Hell, she’s confident and strong on any litmus test and Harry can’t help but be bolstered by her words, ready to fight another day so to speak.

While he considers some new tactics to implement - on the field and in a more mental preparation type way - Harry finds he doesn’t feel the need to drop his eyes from Ginny’s.

And she hasn’t either.

It’s almost tangible, the feeling building in his chest. So much that he almost wishes it was mutual. Until he remembers Dean and severs the connection.

“Thanks, Gin.”

Her smile is small, but real enough. “Anytime Harry.”

___

By November 2nd, Harry’s so fed up with Ron and his constant fuming and grouching around, he’s almost willing to forget the past six years of friendship for the two minutes he’d need to properly bitchslap his best mate.

Seeing that nobody (maybe except Ginny) would regard such behaviour as captain-y, Harry sighs and sucks it up. There’s a match they must win today after all. So he pretends his little old hand slips with a dash of lucky potion exactly when Hermione happens to be looking. Oops.

At least now Ron’s chuffed and his ego oiled and pampered enough to pull some actual Keeping out of him. Harry can see it in the way Ron walks, prances, struts his way to the pitch - and he shakes his head and smiles. The match is certainly theirs.

It’s only when Harry catches a glimpse of red from the corner of his eye, rapidly obstructed by broader, less delightful Dean-shaped figure hovering over her for his own version of Felix Felicis: a kiss from Ginny.

Something inside Harry’s chest growls dangerously and he draws a long, shuddering breath to silence it. Not the time, he thinks.

Jaw set and hardened, Harry trots together with the Gryffindor team, entering the pitch in roaring, thundering applause. It’s deafening.

And they do win - how could they not? It’s exhilarating, and the whole team gathers in a spine-numbing hug around Harry, and Ron’s so proud and glowing the knowledge that this win is his as much as any of the others’.

Until Hermione just can’t help herself and confronts Harry so he admits, figures it’s safe to let Ron know it was all him now. No Felix, only him. But of course he finds a way to turn his win into a kick to his ego, it’s Ron.

Looking at his best mates hurt and mad, at Ginny disappearing with Dean, at his team chanting their way back to the castle in the midst of happy shouts from their fellow Gryffindors, Harry can’t bring himself to feel too excited. There’s an annoying voice at the back of his mind whispering that the worst is yet to come.

Dumbledore should just hire him to co-teach Divination with Trelawny and Firenze because it seems he’s a natural at it. Exactly as he feared, things do take a new, ugly turn just when he relaxes enough to forget about the looming danger of his best mates jumping at each other’s throats and Ginny points out that Ron’s already jumped - but not at Hermione and in a totally different way than Harry’s imagined.

Ron and Lavender. Lavender and Ron. All Harry can do is blink and...blink some more. Talk about unexpected.

The door to the Common Room slams shut and Harry closes his eyes tightly, silently curses Ron and slips out after Hermione, unnoticed. It’s hard seeing her like this, heart broken and crying all alone. Harry tries his best to support her, but he knows it’s useless...If he allows himself three seconds of honesty, he’d actually tell her that he’d been feeling the same for awhile. So they sit next to each other in silence, the sad and the broken.

Until Ron barges in, Lavender in a fit of giggles in his wake and Hermione looks more mad than Harry’s ever seen her. The insane, pained look in her eyes - it’s terrifying.

And she curses him, and Harry catches the shock on his best friend’s face before the birds hit and the pain sets in.

What a mess.

Later, when he says goodbye to Hermione in the Common Room, Harry climbs the stairs to his dorm feeling bereft, opens the door and readies himself for another blow.

But Dean’s inside, head leaning towards Seamus. It seems like Harry’s interrupted an important talk because both boys jump a bit when he walks in. Still, Harry pays them no mind and rushes out through the door, Cloak securely in his pocket.

“What the fuck.”

Harry grins. There’s only one mouth who could’ve said that, belonging to only one person who could’ve guessed there’s someone attempting to sneak out of the Gryffindor Tower invisibly.

“Hello to you too,” Harry bumps Ginny’s elbow from under the Cloak.

“Going incognito, are we?” Ginny arches an eyebrow, looking somewhere in Harry’s general direction.

“Too much drama, had to hide.”

She pretends to sigh, “Ah, well, I was about to hit the kitchen for some hot milk with cinnamon but don’t let me stop your little undercover mission.”

It’s an invitation to food and mischief and Harry’s not about to let it slip by.

“Lead on.”

Ginny does grin, satisfied and raises her palms to feel around her, “Make way, I’m coming in.”

“You sure it’s enough space for the both of us?” Harry teases.

She takes one look at him and shrugs.

“Not my fault if that bum of yours got too big. You should really cut down on your treacle tart intake.”

Harry pouts and tickles her mercilessly in return. His fingers play over her middle, tickling everywhere as she laughs and dances away from him, Cloak fluttering around them but Harry doesn’t care. All he wants now is her laugh, loud and boisterous, and Ginny...Ginny, with her freckled face and blazing look, Ginny laughing in his arms as they’re hidden in plain sight. Ginny.

He doesn’t have the map, but by now sneaking to the kitchens is something he could do in his sleep. Overall, it feels nice to be doing something stealthy for reasons related to treacle tart and impressing a girl rather than investigating the dark activities of your classmates.

The journey from the common room passes quickly as Ginny murmurs cheeky stories about each of the portraits; likely made up and all the more fun for it. When he tickles the pear and slips inside behind Ginny, Dobby is immediately on them, nearly knocking Harry over as he tucks the Invisibility Cloak away.

Ginny grins at Harry over Dobby’s head as they’re ushered to one of the long tables and seated with much prodding from the house elf’s spindly fingers. As has become something of a custom, Dobby praises Harry to an excessive degree and with Ginny as witness, he can’t help but blush.

Once they’ve requested treacle tart and warm milk to go along with it, Dobby departs with a flap of his ears and Ginny nudges Harry. “Eleven year old me would be so disappointed.”

“Because I’m quite boring and sneak about to get treats?”

Ginny laughs. “No - that would’ve been a selling feature. I mean young Ginny fancied herself your biggest fan, but it appears she’s been overtaken.”

Grinning, Harry props his chin on his hand and for some reason decides now will be the time he’s finally able to wink without looking like he’s got something in his eyes. Based on Ginny’s stifled chuckles, he doesn’t succeed, but he can’t really hate anything that raises that smile on her face.

Dobby returns, deposits their plates and mugs on the table, and disappears off to manage something or other while Harry cuts two healthy slices from the fresh tart. “He’s never given me a singing card though.”

And then, to Harry’s everlasting joy, Ginny actually blushes and stalls for time by taking a sip so overlarge she begins coughing almost instantly. He rises, ready to slap her back or do any manner of things to set her right - even the torture of a purely medical press of his lips to hers - but she soon recovers.

Ginny swipes the tears from her eyes with a sigh. “That was not nice.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m both deluded and a delinquent.”

“Is that a quote from Umbridge or Skeeter?” Ginny asks around a bite of treacle.

“Joke’s on you, it was Snape,” Harry shoots back, taking a long sip of his milk.

“Well if the supreme potions master turned defense against the dark arts teacher says so it must be true,” Ginny drawls, placing air quotes around defense .

Harry pushes his glasses up, more for something to do than from genuine need, and nibbles on a bit of crust. “D’you trust him?”

Her smile is sad now, even as her eyes bore into his. “I find the number of people I genuinely trust gets smaller and smaller with each passing year. You’re probably the only person I would say that to.”

“Dunno if my agreement is a vote of confidence in the intelligence of your judgment,” Harry mutters, picking at his tart.

Scoffing, Ginny tosses a serviette in his face and cuts another sliver for herself. “Stuff it, you know you’re brilliant. I came here for sweets, not to fluff your ego so you turn into a preening arsehole,” she grins at the end, her lips twisted in a dangerous smile, “ Speaking of my brother -”

“He and Hermione may end me before ol’ Moldy-shorts.”

___

“Not like it’s any of my business,” Harry drawls, turning a page of the Prince’s book, “But shouldn’t you tell him?”

“And what exactly should I be telling who?” Hermione volleys right back, tone a little waspish.

Harry draws in a breath, already regretting he’s opened the subject - but they are in the library and if he’s forced to spend another hour with Hermione looking at Ron out of the corner of her eye and Ron looking back at her from two tables away, where he’s studying with Lavender and Parvati, he’s pretty positive he’ll basically move in with Hagrid.

“Ron. Why don’t you just tell Ron that you’re sorry?”

Hermione slams her book shut, looks at Harry dangerously.

“Whatever should I be sorry for?”

“Does it even matter?” Harry answers, clipped. “Look, Hermione,” he pauses and sighs, “the two of you are my best mates and it’s difficult watching you angsting around instead of talking and, you know, sorting things out.”

“Well then,” Hermione jumps to her feet like an angry cat, “I will go angst somewhere else then.”

Harry can hear her stomping out of the library, completely ignoring Madam Pince or anyone else for that matter. With one last look at Ron, Harry lays his forehead on the old battered book, removes his glasses and closes his eyes. Why is having feelings so complicated?

When Harry finally convinces himself that there’ll be no more studying in the real sense of the word for the day, he throws all his stuff in his bag, takes another look at Ron’s ginger head, hoping he’d somehow manage to telepathically convey that he’s acting a bit like a git for the wrong reasons, then trots out of the library, the castle, and down towards Hagrid’s.

Later, when he’s gorged himself on Hagrid’s special rock cakes and he’d drank enough hot tea to keep the cold outside at bay, Harry finally starts to feel better. It’s nice near the fire, Fang resting his big head on his lap as Harry scratches him between the ears.

“I heard Ron’s with Lavender, eh?” Hagrid starts, dropping on the seat next to Harry, his pink apron fluttering about him.

Harry raises one eyebrow, but grins, “News travel at the speed of light, then.”

“We professors know more than you kids think,” he chuckles pleased.

There’s a pause, interrupted only by Fang’s deep snores.

“How’s Hermione?”

Harry studies him intently before he answers.

“She’s been better, I suppose.”

“Ye know, Harry, I like Ron. He’s a good lad, but sometimes he’s not too smart,” Hagrid stares into the dancing flames of the fire and shakes his head, dark hair falling down in rings around his big, kind face.

“Why do you say that?”

“Yer a smart boy, ye’ll figure it out,” Hagrid winks. “And Hermione too, she ain’t the brightest witch o’ her age for nothing. They are somethin’ , those redheads. Right, Harry?” He goes on to chuckle and Harry can feel himself blush.

Yet he pretends he didn’t understand, finds a good enough excuse to leave and drags his feet back to the castle in the near dark of an end of day, his bag full with rock cakes and untouched homework.

He falls asleep that night holding the Marauder’s Map, eyes boring into Ginny’s dot, waiting for it to move and return to the Common Room, to at least exit the classroom it shared with Dean’s dot for the past hour. Ironic, if Ron only knew there was only one wall between himself and his sister…

Harry’s last thought before he dreams is of Hermione and how lucky she is not to have a magical Map.

____

Over time, one of the strangest things Harry’s realized about his life - which seems quite adventurous to an outsider - is that it’s filled with long stretches of normalcy. The difficulty that is singular to his particular situation, is that even the most calm, boring, normal times feel like borrowed minutes that will turn sour and deadly at any moment.

Living with this sort of dichotomy of feelings leaves him to sleepless or fitful nights, and often a sour stomach that can’t quite manage to settle. As a result, his today breakfast is a sparse affair with barely buttered toast and a cup of tea so strong his spoon could stand.

Overall, when he takes a figurative step back and examines himself, Harry can admit he’s having something of a pity party. His best mates are quarreling like a couple on the verge of divorce, the girl he should think of like a sister is haunting his daydreams in decidedly non sisterly ways, everyone seems to be dating except him, and most days he’s torn between avoiding seeing Ginny and Dean or Ron and Lavender.

Really though, the thing he feels the most angry about is the fact that he really doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on any of that shite. He’s bloody sixteen years old and instead of spending his free time escaping the library and mooning over a girl who fancied him until right about when he...did not. He does not .

Regardless, the point is he’s spending most days diving into a genocidal maniac’s childhood and trying to determine exactly how his classmate is going to wreak dark magic havoc on the unsuspecting student body, rather than wallowing like a good, normal, angsty teenager.

So he does the only thing he knows. After breakfast, Harry manages to wedge himself between students and slip from the hall and out onto the grounds. Nothing like a good fly to calm his wild thoughts, he muses on the way.

He reaches the stands in record time, retrieves his broom and feels it hum to life in his palm, and finally trots out to the snowy pitch. Only to find he’s not the only student with the idea.

And as he watches her fly in graceful arcs across the sky, swirling and sending her hair twisting like a wild red pennant, Harry’s chest clenches.

She flips upside down, arms spread as she lets out a loud whoop and Harry feels himself breathe freely, even if just for a moment, and slips back into the shadows.

#itsblissfulbolivion writes #itsblissfuloblivion #torch #harry x ginny #hinny #hinny fic #ron x hermione #romione #hbp fic #torch chapter 3 #torch november

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zoebechtle-blog · 6 years

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Unlikely Chapter 4

Despite my throbbing head, Friday flew by. I tried not to check my phone every 38 seconds, but failed. I wanted him to text me, but he had to do it first. I don’t play by “The Rules” usually (hmmmm, given my dating history, maybe I should try) but out of sheer anxiety I never call or text first. It doesn’t mean that I don’t bite my nails while waiting, however. And more than once I’ve basically bitten a whole finger off waiting for a message that never came. I tried to distract myself at work by helping in the office in between appointments, explaining some procedures to Rose’s replacement (I’m sure telling her the total wrong thing). At lunch I decided to take a walk to occupy myself, but ended up sitting in the tea shop seven doors down eating a chocolate croissant and sipping Earl Grey. I was wearing ballet flats - there’s simply not enough arch support for a walk. Plus, my afternoon appointments didn’t need to see me sweaty. It was in the best interest of my patients. I was a woman of the people.

That evening Carly and I went to see Kinky Boots on the West End. It was my favorite and Carly had gotten box seats through someone at work. We sang like ninnies throughout the show, laughing and carrying on. Afterwards we hit a swank gastro-pub she’d heard about. As we settled in and were chatting about our days, she dropped the bomb I knew she’d been dying to ask, “So, Niall?”

“Nope.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“Yep. Spill.”

“Well yes, young Niall. He’s a friend of a friend. Perhaps you’ve noticed him at quiz night. Blonde thing, Irish?”

Biting into the olive in her martini, she stuck her tongue out at me. “Seems like he’s more than a friend of a friend. You two were almost snogging last night.”

“I was just playing with his hair. It was innocent. I do that to Paulie all the time.”

“Paul doesn’t practically drool on your boobs when you play with his hair. And he doesn’t look that cozy, either.”

“Stop.”

“Z,” she started. “He rea-...”

“No, Carly. I said stop.” I knew my irritation was evident. I had no poker face - anything I thought or felt was always on display. “Listen, he’s really nice and all the other stuff. But it’s nothing. NOTHING.” She tried to interrupt and I held up my hand. “Don’t. I will not get my hopes up. Because every time someone shows me interest I get a little excited, and I am not doing that anymore. It never ends well, and I’m not putting myself through it again. Remember Adam?” I took a long drink of my martini (Ketel One, extra dirty) and stared at her.

“Right. He was a dick.”

“He was a dick who lead me on for two months and then Aaron found out he had a girlfriend in Leeds. And before him there was Sam, and, um, Robbie. In college there was Dave. High school was Sean. And Kyle The Worst. I’m not doing it. Short of Niall Horan tattooing my name on his ass, I will not believe this is anything more than friendship.” For emphasis, I smacked my hand on the table, startling the tables around us. I eyeballed people who were looking, and stuck my tongue out at a kid about 7 who was staring. Like a sensible human being, he stuck his back out at me.

I’d been unable to get over my hissy fit with Carly, so we called it a night after one drink and no dinner. She hugged me outside of the pub. “Sorry, Z. I didn’t mean to upset you. But don’t shut him down. Friend or whatever, I think he’d be a good guy to keep around.” I nodded at her and hugged her back. I wasn’t mad at her really - she said the same things I would have said if the tables were turned. But Carly didn’t have my history with men, so she couldn’t understand where I was coming from. Sigh. I dug around my purse and found an emergency Valium in my container of miscellaneous pills, swallowing it as the cab sped towards my flat.

I slept late Saturday and Sunday mornings (okay, I sleep late every weekend) and ran errands. I’d begrudgingly let Hannah talk me into hot yoga on the condition that we got pancakes afterwards. I spent the rest of my free time on laundry, had dinner and wine at one of the other therapist’s in my office’s house, and caught up on paperwork. My friends all avoided any mention of Niall - I was assuming Carly had made everyone aware of my meltdown Friday night and they were tiptoeing around me. I was okay with that, though. I didn’t post on Instagram, but went on a few rants on Twitter. Nothing exciting happened, not that I expected it to. Sadly my philosophy on life was to set low expectations and never be disappointed.

Monday began earlier than I expected when my texts notifications dinged at 6:30 (my alarm was set for 6:45 - those 15 minutes make a huge difference). Having been raised to believe that no good came of late night or early morning phone calls, and having adapted this to texting as well, I fumbled for my phone, knocking it off the nightstand. Trying to get to it as soon as possible (Did someone need bail money? Had my sister-in-law finally snapped and murdered my brother?), I fell off the bed. Happy fucking Monday.

Niall. The text was from Niall. I rubbed the tiny knot rising on my forehead (which I knew would swelll into a goose egg by the time the morning was over), and opened it.

“Dragged everyone to quiz night . Not the same without ya !

“I’m shite at the science questions-wish ya were here Z .”

Holy fuck beans. I was wide awake now. As I processed this info, another text came in.

“Oh, and it’s trivia night here . Not quiz night . Americans ;) .”

That was flirty. It was definitely flirty. There was a wink emoji. I took a screenshot of the conversation and sent it to Hannah.

“HELP!”

“HELP!

“HANNAH LOUISE GET UP! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!”

“omg. he texted you! he’s flirting! that’s total flirting!”

“i’m totally squealing for you, btw”

“Right? Me too!”

“what did you say back?”

Fuck. I needed to respond.

“I haven’t. Shit, what do I say?”

“be clever.”

“Oh, that’s helpful.”

“z, it’s 6:40 on a monday morning. you’re lucky i’m awake.”

Okay, I can do this. I carried my phone (like it was my precious baby) into the kitchen while I started my Nespresso. I tried typing in several witty answers and deleted them before I could hit send.

“Sorry, my friend. You hit the quiz night goldmine with us on your first try. And damn those dirty Americans :)”

When I didn’t get a response in a few minutes, I gave up and started to get ready for the day. In the shower (washing your hair actually causes ideas to get loose, I swear) I thought of several comebacks that would have been much better. Damn. No response as I gave my hair a quick blow dry (then gave up and put it in a bun), tossed on my fast weekday makeup (BB cream, a quick swipe of eyeliner, and mascara...lipstick could be done on the tube), and tossed on a pair of gray khakis and a navy sweater. Nothing. Bullocks. I reminded myself that this was the exact reason I didn’t want to get excited about Niall in the first place-it was too easy to get caught up and let my emotions get dictated by someone else. With a concerned effort, I turned off my phone and tossed it in my bag.

When I finished with my 3:00 appointment, one of the part-time admins was standing outside of the treatment room we’d been in. “Zoe, you need to call a Hannah back as soon as possible. She’s called three times since lunch and sounds like she’s really upset. I hope everything is okay.”

Damn it, Hannah, you drama queen. I went into my (tiny) office and retrieved my phone, turning it on. 14 texts from Hannah, 8 from Paul, 2 each from Jess and Carly, and 1 from Brian. She’d sent in the troops. As I scrolled through, I saw one more I’d missed in my initial perusal - Niall. First things first, though: Hannah. I called her extension at work and she picked up, “Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

“Wow, that’s a professional way to answer the phone. I’m fine. Turned my phone off this morning.”

“Did he not text back?” People were shouting numbers behind her and the mere idea of it gave me a rash.

“Not right away, and I didn’t want to keep looking at the phone. Just checked it since you freaking called the hounds out on me. He responded.”

“And?”

“And what? I didn’t read it yet. I called you before Scotland Yard showed up at my office.”

“Well fucking read it!” her high pitched voice pierced the line. Ouch.

“I’ll text you shortly. Call off the posse, I’m safe.” I ended the call and stared at the phone a minute. Here goes nothing.

“I did hit the jackpot for quiz mates . Brains and beauty .”

I gasped. Literally gasped. And dropped my phone, narrowly missing my mid-afternoon San Pellegrino. Beauty. BEAUTY. But mate. But beauty. But mate. Gah! This is why my spinster plan was a good idea. Copied the text and sent to Hannah with my own “WTF?” note.

I hammered out a quick response, “Yeah, Paul’s quite the catch. You did well.” It was almost 7 am in Los Angeles (thanks, Google, because time zone math always tricked me). I didn’t figure Niall for an early riser, so back in the bag went the phone and I went into my 4:00 with Elliott, one of my favorite kids.

On the tube home I couldn’t resist and looked again. Nothing. So I did what any sensible person would do and ordered eggplant parmigiana take away. I got into my flat, changed into an old t-shirt - pants were totally optional in my house, took out my contacts, and plopped my ass down with my dinner. My Netflix and chill date was Italian and delicious. A little saucy, though.

At 9:30 my phone dinged with a text. I was half asleep and could feel the pattern from the sofa pillow indented in my face. I grabbed it and saw a text from Niall.

“Paul is a nice looking chap . Not who I had in mind, tho .”

Well fuck this, I was no good at playing cute. Trying to come up with a way to come and ask him if he was hinting at liking me, I heard another ding.

“Want to facetime? I’ll turn on the Lumineers and sing to ya .”

Oh, fate, you’re a cruel mistress. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like right now. There was marinara on the front of my shirt, and I’m sure some on my face. I highly doubted that my makeup had lasted for 14 hours. And I had dragon breath. (I know, he wouldn’t be able to smell it because we hadn’t invented that technology yet, but I’d know.) I pondered if I could put him off long enough to take a shower, get a blow out, and properly contour and highlight my face. Instead I opted for a coy response.

“What fun would your singing be if I couldn’t play with your hair?”

“I’m not really up for FT right now - Monday slug night. Talk, though?”

One minute and 43 seconds later, my phone rang.

I finally hung up the phone at 00:18, GMT. My cheeks hurt from the smile I was rocking. At one point I'd laughed so hard as Niall told me about being chased by stadium security guards on his Segway that I got the hiccups. He, in turn, laughed so hard he had a coughing fit. “We’re a right mess, aren’t we?” he said as we both calmed down, an occasional chuckle between us. “Suppose we are. But at least we’re entertaining.” By this time I’d abandoned the living room and crawled into bed, almost purring when my back hit the mattress.

“What are you doing?” he asked in almost a whisper.

“Getting comfy. Just laid down in bed. It’s my happy place.” The silence on the other end of the line was obvious. Did I just freak him out? I wasn’t trying to get all sexy times, I just got into bed. My shirt and panties were still in place, for God’s sake. “Uh, I didn’t mean happy place like sex. Well, I mean, I guess that happens here, too, well, has happened here, but I’m just, um, laying down. Ya know, it’s late and my bed is warm.” The babbling.must.stop. “I just really like to sleep.”

His chuckle calmed my nerves. “I like to sleep, too, Z. I guess I was just thinking about you gettin’ cozy in your pajamas.” The tiny yelp noise I made echoed through my room. And the phone. But before I could get awkward, Niall beat me to it.

“Not perverted. Well, maybe a little.” I could already see him pulling at the front of his hair while he tried to explain himself. He let out that damned adorable chuckle again and continued. “I just think you’d look cute curled up in a big bed with lots of blankets. Probably one your gran made ya or something like that.”

My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to explode. Unable to handle the sweetness, I laughed and said, “Do you have a camera or something in here? I thought you weren’t being perverted?” And I pulled the quilt my Grandma Bechtel made me in elementary school up closer to my chin. It scared me (in a good way, not a Jamie Dornan in The Fall kind of way) that he could imagine a scenario that was basically right on.

“I’ll keep my perverted thoughts to myself, promise. At least for now.”

Okay, well I’ll be good and goddamned if my panties weren’t on fire. “You’re testing my restraint here, Horan. I’m a good girl.”

“I have a feeling anything I say here is going to lead us down a bad path.” His voice had dropped an octave, though, and I could practically SEE the sexual tension in the air. “And, for the record, uh, I think you’re a very good girl, Z.”

Struggling to keep my heart from actually packing up and abandoning my chest, I managed to respond. “I think I should say goodnight, Niall. Or good afternoon in your part of the world.” I barely recognized my own voice. It sounded a little higher and throatier than usual. Oh my god. It was my horny voice. I wasn’t usually in a position to actually listen to myself.

“Yeah I guess it is late there. You go and enjoy your beauty sleep. Not that ya need beauty sleep, I just mean I hope you sleep well. You’re already beautiful. Just, uh, sweet dreams, Z.”

Wow.

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faunaflanaganarchive · 4 years

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final assessment

Who: Fauna Flanagan & Eric Anderson @ericxanders Where: Cafeteria What: Fauna and Eric sit down to discuss their final assessment Content/Trigger Warnings: Some reference to negative sexual experiences and kidnap

Fauna was a little bit nervous to open up to someone that she didn’t really know, sharing things that were serious or personal wasn’t really her style. Usually she opted for surface chatter without any real depth, but she wanted to do well on the assignment so she straightened her hair and promised to just suck this whole thing up. Coffee made everything better, so the little brunette took a long sip of her iced drink and waited for Eric to arrive.

Eric spotted the Irish submissive easily. They’d opted for an early morning coffee — something casual, in neutral territory that would hopefully put them both at ease when it came to answering questions. He jogged to close the distance between them, and sat down on the opposite side of the table. He slid a Tupperware container into the centre. ‘Caleb made cookies. I figured every conversation is better with cookies.’ He grinned, before offering his hand to her. ‘Eric Anderson. It’s a pleasure to actually meet you.’

Fauna gave Eric a smile when he arrived, face perking up more genuinely when he put the Tupperware onto the table. “Now I’ve never met Caleb but I’ve already decided that he and I share at least four brain cells.” Fauna said happily offering her hand back. “Fauna Flanagan, wonderful to meet you too Sir.”

‘I might be bias but I’m inclined to believe everyone would get along with Caleb. He’s wonderful.’ Despite everything, he still felt that very strongly. Her accent was distinct but it wasn’t impossible to understand. ‘How are you? How’re you feeling about this?’ He asked. ‘It’s a little daunting isn’t it? To bare your secrets to someone you don’t know?’

“I believe you, there’s a couple of lads I’ve yet to meet around this place that I think I’m probably missing out on. I’ll add Caleb to my list to seek out.” Fauna chattered, unable to stop herself from opening the container and taking a cookie. “I mean.. it’s not really my style. I’m best known for talking about basically anything other than personal shite. But I’m willing to give it a try.. and I’m just glad it’s not one of those assignments that would in some way require me to take my clothes off, because I’ve had enough of doing that with strangers for a lifetime.” She joked, already nervous. “What about you Sir? How are you feeling?”

He considered the question for a moment, thoughtful as always in his answers. ‘Honestly, I’m not feeling too bad about the whole thing.’ While he didn’t like he let people in and know the vulnerable parts of himself, the sort of conversation this test required was one he was familiar with. It was more about getting to know him as a Dominant, and that was something he’d been doing for years. ‘Why don’t I start? Maybe learning about me will make you feel more at ease to talk about yourself.’

Fauna munched on the cookie as she listened to him, it was nice to know that he was confident it made her feel like at least he would drive the conversation and also hopefully keep her from wandering off on the fifteen tangents she was already thinking of. “Sure so um.. how’d you end up here at school? You’ve been here quite a while right?”

‘Honestly, it’s kind of a wild story. Obviously, we all have to come here at some point — but I was pretty happy doing my thing in New York and I probably would have been for a few more years but Blaine, my brother — there was a kidnapping thing. Is it kidnapping when the person is an adult? Anyway, that sped up my timeline a little.’ He explained, already feeling ludicrous for starting with such a story. ‘But yeah, that was in January last year so I’ve been here a while.’ He grinned. ‘What brought you here?’

Fauna almost choked on the cookie in her mouth when he said that Blaine had been kidnapped, her eyes studying his face to check that he was serious. “Um that’s.. I’m so sorry to hear that Sir. I’m glad that Blaine is ok now?” She said nervously deciding that she might have to be honest with him about her own arrival if he’d shared something like that. “Well.. I was at medical school in Dublin but I ended up in a dynamic that was less than healthy for me. It got a bit intense so I left uni and I already had this reputation back home that I couldn’t really get away from.. so I asked my Dad if I could start over here.”15 August 2020

How did he respond to that? Especially when he and Blaine didn't really talk that much at all, nevermind about things as deep as that. 'It sounds like both of us were brought here but circumstances slightly beyond our control.' he guessed, reluctant to pry too deeply. It didn't seem like something she was comfortable talking about. 'How have you settled in here? In terms of your mark, and classes?' he prompted. 'I think I was pretty well prepared to come here. We were brought up very aware of how things worked in society, and while we didn't receive specific training like the Lynns, my Mama always thought I'd end up with the Dominant mark.'

“Sounds like it.” The little brunette agreed. “I always knew I’d be submissive, so it didn’t really take much settling in.. I’ve been the submissive party in dynamics before.” She admitted, wrapping her hair around her finger. “My Dad is a real system nut.. like he loves that shit. Classes are fine, I’d rather be back at med school but I guess there are worse things I could do than learn how to have better sex.” Fauna admitted with a little shrug. “You’re in a claim? What’s that like.”

He laughed at her assessment of what they learned here -- and he realised, possibly for the first time, that when you broke it down to a simple form, that's what they were doing. 'I can't imagine having to drop your education midway through to come here.' he nodded in commiseration. 'I do -- Caleb. Provider of the cookies.' he smiled. 'Honestly, it never stops requiring work. It's wonderful. Having that deep connection with someone, that trust -- and honestly having it recognised by other people, is nice. I'm sure you've heard about some of the drama surrounding us at the moment.' This was uncomfortable to talk about. Everyone he'd spoken to thus far had heard about what happened.

Fauna took a long drink of her coffee. “Honestly I just wish I’d gone at least a little through residency before I got my mark, it’s going to be harder now. People have expectations of what kind of life I should have now, who I should be with when I’m only really comfortable with one person.” She admitted, pulling her knees up to her chin. “I’ve heard a thing or two, I know Morgan went a bit bananas on him or something.. It must have been a bit shit to have your personal business aired in front of luke warm macaroni.”

'I know that your mark will make a difference. Caleb has aspirations of working for NASA -- and I know that they'll be hard pressed to find someone as capable, someone who'd work as hard but the fact that he's a submissive will make it that much more difficult for him.' he mused. 'I'm not sure I think that's a fair part of the system. Why are you only comfortable with one person? Have you tried to scene with other people?' he asked curiously. He knew all too well how easy it was to become most comfortable with one person and to focus your attention on them. 'Bananas is one work for it.' he half-laughed. 'It wasn't my favourite thing to have happened.'

“It’s a fucked up world, but there’s no point feeling sorry for myself. I think you can only try and do the best you can with your lot in life.” Fauna laughed a laugh that was more hollow than she would have liked at his next question. “That’s the funny thing about being here, everyone seems thinks that more is better. More scenes, more partners. Where I’m from more wasn’t good, and that’s not me turning my nose up at being sexually free.. I’m all for it, be with whoever, do whatever. But do it because you want to not because you think you have to. If you google me right now a number of explicit videos will come up of me trying sceneing or fucking. I wasn’t happy though, but I am happy now that I’m with Sawyer. Sex used to be this thing that I had to do, even when I first got here I had sex with people because I thought that it would make people like me. Now when I have sex it like.. means something.. sounds totally cheesy I know. But sceneing with Sawyer it doesn’t make me feel dirty, and I think that’s important.” Fauna responded.

‘I completely agree with you. I think when it comes to scene partners, more isn’t always better but I do think there are things you can learn about your mark, and how it fits you by exploring beyond one person. Scenes don’t have to be sexual.’ He explained. ‘I’ve done a few scenes with Sky Evans, none of which have involved nudity or sex or kink at all really. But I felt like I learned a lot from it. That’s the point I’m trying to make. Does that make sense?’ He asked.

Fauna nodded. “ I totally get your point and I’d be open to non sexual scenes with others especially because I’ll need them for points. Like if scene week came around again, I’d probably pick up a couple of non sexual things with Sawyers permission. And Sawyers not the only person I’ve scened with since I got here... I swear I’m not totally like starstruck... But I do just like believe in monogamy.” She shrugged being totally honest because it felt somewhat good. “So I guess I’d better ask what kind of scenes you like eh?”27 August 2020

‘I hope you understand I’m not trying to press you into behaving a certain way. It’s just — in my experience, people have a habit of forgetting that scenes don’t have to be sexual. And I understand why — we’re all young and sex is at the forefront of a lot of people’s minds.’ He laughed. ‘I like a lot of things.’ He continued. ‘My personal favourite is impact or pain play. Previously I explored a lot of public play and humiliation but those aren’t things Caleb enjoys as much so while I like them, they’re not something I’ve engaged with much recently.’ He explained. ‘You might class me as a walking cliche of a Dominant because I love orgasm control and denial. And short term TPE. I don’t think that’s something I could do long term but for short periods, it’s something I love. There’s nothing that compares to the feeling of having someone trust you enough to give all their decisions over to you.’ He concluded with a wistful smile. ‘What about you? I think I guessed that your ideal scene would be a role play one. Is that something you enjoy?’

“I didn’t get that vibe....I’m just a little cautious I guess. Because I’ve had a weird amount of people be opposed to my choices... “ She shrugged finishing her cookie. “I had you down as a Rigger, and I said your favourite scene would be impact based... so I wasn’t like madly off the mark I hope.” She mused, unable to not laugh when he brought up denial. “I mean I’m not going to pretend that I’ve not been working on a PowerPoint that explores the idea that all Dominants are secretly chaotic evil because no matter how nice ya’ll are.. you’re all into denial deep down.” She teased. “Are you serious? You guessed that? That’s so funny, literally my favourite kink in the whole world is roleplay. Me and Sawyer have like a whole rotation of characters. He has this thing for me dressed as Regina George from Mean Girls.. and I just like want him to dress up as a teacher read pride and prejudice to me and tell me how smart I am.” She laughed. “Though kink wise I’m pretty open I think, I like being choked, always up for a bit of TPE in the short term as well because I talk way too much for full time TPE, impact and I love overstimulation. Sawyer calls me Kitten and I wear the ears for him, put actual pet play is a no go.”30 August 2020

‘I’d probably say I’m more of a sadist, or maybe a caretaker.’ He assessed. ‘I’m definitely not a Daddy Dom so i don’t mean caretaker in that sense but the most important thing to me is taking care of Caleb.’ He explained. ‘I had you down as a brat.’ He admitted. He laughed as she went on to describe Sawyer’s love of Regina George. ‘I feel like I need to make a comment about him looking good with his hair pushed back.’ He teased.

Faunas face fell when he said he had her down as a brat, in Collins eyes that was the worst thing that she could be perceived as. “Oh... well.. I would really have hoped I didn’t come off that way. I um... i don’t know how I would consider myself. I guess you could put Kitten? I don’t know.. but please don’t put brat, I try really hard to be a good obedient submissive.” The brunette said nervously. “You should... he’ll probably get all het up.”

He watched her face fall and immediately felt guilty. With everything going on, he needed a win and Fauna had been so sweet — the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel bad. ‘Oh, a brat isn’t a bad thing. Not really.’ He assured her. ‘Or at least, that’s not how I meant it. Most brats I’ve met are good at playing the role. It’s not their whole personality and it doesn’t mean they’re a bad submissive. I didn’t really know much about you so I figured that sort of went along with role play.’ He clarified. ‘But if that’s not how you see yourself, I won’t put it in my final. I really don’t think you’re disobedient.’ He promised gently.

Fauna tried to fix her face, she knew that not everyone had the same idea about different words and she was sure that he hadn’t meant any harm. “I’m sure it isn’t... but it’s not how I would want to be seen you know? It’s okay.. I know you didn’t know anything about me, I’m just hoping you didn’t get a bratty vibe from the way I talk to Dominants.” She shrugged. “Thank you very much, it’s just not the way I’d like to be presented.” The brunette explained.31 August 2020

‘It wasn’t about how you talk to Dominants.’ He reassured her. ‘Honestly, you’ve been great to do this with. You’re sweet and obviously patient given you were willing to wait until I got my shit in order before we talked.’ He added with a slightly sheepish grin. He glanced down at his notes. They’d covered all the questions, and more than — he definitely felt like he knew Fauna much better than he had and it was interesting to see how his assumptions had played. ‘I was thinking — if you’re happy everything’s been covered, we could head into town and grab some breakfast together?’ He offered.

Fauna smiled, glad that it didn’t have anything to do with her conduct when dealing with Dominants online she’d hate if she had a bad reputation. “Thank you ever so much Sir, it’s been a pleasure doing this with you too. It was no trouble at all waiting for you.” The brunette promised and then smiled more widely. “Yup I think I have everything that I need, I’d love to go and get breakfast!” She responded family.

#gleedsmfinalproject #(( a meeting with eric ))

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