Girls...

I've never doubted shifting because my dad was a shifter for years.

He told me stories from his one reality all the time, about how he was a warrior that could transform into a giant black cat, called iekkrans.

About all the other clans of wolves and bears and lions, how he made me a princess that knew how to fight any man that tried anything with me. How the warriors fight with music and create it with the clash of their weapons.

He told me about a crazed princess from another kingdom that was so unstable you could probably find her running down a road naked and not be surprised.

He told me how when you married someone in this reality you formed a spiritual bond so strong that if you broke it, it could kill you, and that HE had his bond broken and barely survived it.

He told me about how in courting culture, the only way to win a mate was to prove to the father you loved them. And the magic knew if you were lying. He told me then about 2 brothers that fought for my heart, and how the older one won.

He told me about eternal cities that were created from exoloding worlds, how those cities were permanent and euphoric, and how if you dare entered one you'd never be able to leave again.

He's told me so many stories about the warriors of the universe and how they become stone cold and trained to kill EVERYTHING they're commanded to kill.

My dad is a fucking bad ass, and I'll never doubt reality shifting because of him.

Current aesthetic : Desi women in paintings

Not my art

Jareth The Goblin King headcanons.

Talks to you about how lonely he was before meeting you.

Tries his best to give you whatever you desire.

Will try his best to cheer you up when you are upset.

Loves when you compliment his outfits.

If someone (a goblin) is confident enough to flirt with you he will 100% make fun of them.

Jareth is clingy. He loves spending time with you.

He loves to dance with you. If you don’t know how to dance, he’ll try to teach you.

Lowkey kinda creepy, but when you're not around and he misses you, he will watch you from his crystal ball.

He loves praising you and loves it when you do too.

He doesn’t like to get messy but if you paint or garden, he would watch you.

Likes to just lay in bed with you and likes to take in all your features. Gently caressing your body and drawing shapes on your skin.

First fanfic on this account! Feel free to send requests.

Dc Masterlist:

Batfam x Reader incorrect quotes

Batfamily x reader incorrect quotes #2

Jason Todd incorrect quote

I have come to fulfil my quest of supplying dark!Cardan requests so here we go: set before Cardan becomes king, he and his gang on cronies are still in school and so is the reader. Her and Cardan have an on off relationship and what I mean by hat is that he degrades her consistently, makes her feel like absolute crap only to then double back on his words and claim that she’s the opposite of whatever it is that he said. This has been happening for years so you can see how the reader is confused in this situation and it escalates to a point where she debates just stop talking to him. He finds out, makes a grand plan that sets his cronies on her and for her to then crawl back to him for comfort only this time… he offers her a drink that is poisoned with something that makes her more susceptible to what he says. Do he basically says that he’s all she needs and that she’s his and what not. Have fun!

OMG THIS WAS SO SO MUCH FUN

warning: DARK SUPER DARK DO NOT GO UNDER THE CUT IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH STUFF LIKE THIS (mental and mentions of physical abuse, yandere cardan, kinda soft cardan in the end, kidnapping, allusions to stalking), also mentions of sex (like the literal word)

ANOTHER LAYER

You weren’t enough. Not for him, not for anyone.

But that was on Wednesday. On Friday, no one was good enough for you. On Friday you had him worshiping you and lavishing you in affection. 

You didn’t get it. Not one bit.

One day it was “I love you,” the next it was “And how could anyone see anything but a disgusting mortal in you?”

Either way, you remained empty and confused.

Empty, like the glass of wine on your bedside table and the heart that he claimed you owned. Empty like the embrace you were held in, the sleeping prince behind you, arm around your waist.

~*~

He didn’t know what to feel about you.

On one hand, you were mortal. On the other, you were his, and nothing of his was less than perfect.

“Let them go, Cardan,” Nicasia would sigh. “They’re not worth it.”

And that was how she got the long, jagged scar down the side of her beautiful face. 

But of course Nicasia was still beautiful. Who else would he ever compare you to on the days he couldn’t stand that you were his? But you still were at the end of it, so he would try to make it up to you.

A prince’s affection is not something to be taken lightly. 

However, you only seemed to drift away from him every time he did something like that, every time he loved you. He needed you closer.

He couldn’t breathe without you next to him.

He couldn’t live, not like this. He couldn’t live with his mind clogged up with thoughts of you.

So, if you didn’t want his love, what did you want? His hate?

If you wanted it, he’d give it to you tenfold. But the second, the very minute you wanted him fully, his love, everything he could offer you, he’d give it to you.

It hurt him more than it would hurt you.

~*~

And so here you were, once again crying into your pillow from the cruel prince’s equally cruel words. 

There were no more days that he would love you, no more days he would tell you how pretty you were. 

There was just pure hatred and sex.

That was it.

You had begun to miss those days despite the everlasting state of confusion you were always in.

He loves me. He loves me not.

He hates me.

That was it.

A knock sounded on the door, and your older sister walked in. She hated the faerie realm, but stayed for you, to protect you.

“I heard about what happened at school.”

You buried your face further in your pillow, willing your body to disappear in whatever surrounded you, air, magic, whatever.

She approached your body, sprawled on the bed. You could feel her fingers brush your back. “Do you want… would you consider leaving? We don’t have to stay once you turn eighteen-”

That was an idea. A very good one.

You loved him, you realized, but you needed to get away before he and his friends absolutely killed you. 

Your ribs twinged once again, a reminder of the afternoon.

You looked up at your sister, a woman who had so many of your features, and nodded. 

You had never seen her smile so wide.

~*~

It wasn’t working. 

You weren’t listening to him, though he supposed he couldn’t expect you to read his mind.

He could tell you to leave but he really meant to stay.

He could tell you that you were disgusting, but he really meant that you were stunning beyond belief.

But you still weren’t glued to his side as he’d hoped. In fact, you only seemed to get farther away from him, the only moments of contact being sex and whenever he laid a hand on you otherwise. Every crack produced one of equal magnitude in his heart.

Every cry that left your lips made him want to sob.

But it was for you, he remembered. So you would finally, finally give in.

But you weren’t. And he was terrified. Not only could you possibly be hurt beyond repair at any moment, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He would crumble. 

He couldn’t afford that.

~*~

You were gone. 

He was going to give you a gift for your birthday too. 

You were nowhere to be found; your parents were sobbing, your sister and yourself gone, your rooms empty.

You weren’t there.

You had left.

You had left him.

~*~

You didn’t come back either. Not the next day, not the week after, not even the month after.

That was a problem.

Wine made it worse, as did his friends. 

But, there was one thing that made it better. The opportunity to get you back.

His father would step down soon enough. There was no way he’d ever be giving the position to his youngest son, of course, that would be preposterous. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take it, and with it, you.

He could make anyone do anything that way. 

He could find you. His people would find you, and he would bring you home. One way or another.

And this time, he wouldn’t hate you, simply because he couldn’t. You’d be proud of him. He’d grown up.

~*~

You’d made a life for yourself. You had a job, a house, your sister.

No Cardan. Nothing binding you to the faerie world.

It was a breath of fresh air.

At least until you kept seeing little flashes of blue and green in the corners of your vision. Just little things, but not quite… concerning.

You were just being paranoid. 

~*~

He was sober. He was dressed in his most formal attire, down to the T.

He’d missed you. Beyond comprehension.

And you missed him, he hoped. But if you didn’t, there was always the vial of whatever sedative was in his pocket, if worse comes to worse. 

He didn’t want to threaten you.

So, with that, he rang the doorbell.

You’d done well for yourself, really. You didn’t do all too well, he could’ve done better if you’d just let him love you, step in and take care of you.

Leaning against the railing leading to the door of your…humble abode, he took in the garden. The smells.

You liked flowers. He took note of that.

Answering the door, you seemed to freeze.

“Prince Cardan.”

He smirked down at you, “King Cardan, actually. But you don’t have to worry about the title, love.”

Your eyes were still wide, wider when he dropped his title. You didn’t even notice the term of endearment. That was fine. There was more than enough time to let you become accustomed to love from him. You hadn’t received enough of it before. He was going to change that.

“I don’t care abou- ok, you need to go.”

“Well of course I need to go, as do you. Do you see what you’re doing to yourself in this place? You’re putting yourself down to a lesser station. You need to come home.”

Your eyes widened larger than saucers. “This is home.”

He arched one perfect brow, “No, it’s not. The palace is home, I am home. And you need to get going. This place is going to make you sick.”

“Cardan, leave.”

“I’m sorry, darling, I can’t.”

~*~

When you woke up you were somewhere other. 

Elfhame.

“You need to drink this, miss,” a servant said. Taking the cup you brought it to your lips, taking one large gulp, curing yourself of your parched throat.

But then, then you remembered. Anything could be in that cup. Any poison or enchantment.

Too late.

~*~

So there you were, two days later curled up in Cardan’s lap as he lounged on the throne, running his fingers through your hair, whispering what could be considered sweet words to you.

He did, you learned, consider them sweet. Sweet enough for you.

But, in the end, immortal and confined to the palace, they were just another layer of entrapment.

Love at first sight. / Squid Games!Men

summary; a little prompt for each men in squid game x reader.

also my english isn't my first language so i do apologize for a few errors! enjoys x

including; in-ho, thanos, myung-gi, dae-ho & gi-hun

In-ho: 

Praise yourself for catching In-ho’s attention amidst the chaos of the games. Not only did he manage to maintain his composure, but he also came to terms with the truth—it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him, but his heart betraying him. He had been ensnared in a dangerous blend of love and death. And no matter the cost, he was determined to ensure your survival, even if it meant faking your death and arranging for the guards to escort you to his shelter.

At first, his actions were subtle—a few fleeting glances, quiet assurances that you weren’t alone. He took it upon himself to ensure someone capable stood between you and danger. This resolve led him to seek out Gi-hun, cornering him with a whispered plea. “I’m not asking for much,” In-ho murmured, his voice low and firm. Gi-hun’s brows knit together as he glanced at you, understanding little of the request but sensing its weight. Though the urge to question why In-ho couldn’t protect you himself lingered, Gi-hun ultimately accepted—he, too, had his own plans to carry out.

Yet, watching Gi-hun hover near you ignited something unexpected in In-ho—a simmering, unanticipated jealousy. His blood boiled harder than he cared to admit.

It was Gi-hun’s proximity to you that set him on edge.

While 001 had extended a friendly hand, In-ho never anticipated him stealing you away entirely. The realization unsettled him, and during the chaos of the Carousel games, panic began to creep in. When he noticed you were nowhere to be found in the room, it nearly consumed him. The thought of losing you made his fists clench, and for a brief, irrational moment, he contemplated throwing a punch at Gi-hun. But it wasn’t until the final elimination, when the doors unlocked, that relief washed over him. There you were—your silhouette unmistakable behind Dae-ho.

In that instant, he didn’t hesitate. Rushing toward you, his breath hitched, words failing him. A shaky exhale escaped his lips, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. He almost laughed—a scoff of incredulity—before pulling you close, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head. Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips pressing a firm but tender kiss to your forehead.

“Silly,” he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. “I never should’ve trusted Gi-hun to keep you safe. Damn it, I thought I’d lost you.” The panic in his voice caught you off guard, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t expected such raw vulnerability from him—not now, not like this. A soft chuckle escaped you, an attempt to lighten the moment. “It’s okay,” you reassured him gently. “Dae-ho found me right away and made sure I was safe.”

That revelation gave In-ho pause, but he filed it away for later. For now, none of it mattered. You were alive and unharmed, and that was everything.

The kiss on your forehead wasn’t just a gesture of relief—it was a silent declaration. You were his, and no one—not Gi-hun, not Dae-ho, not anyone—would ever take you from him again.

Thanos: 

Once a retired rapper, Thanos now found himself thrust into a life-and-death struggle. Among his generation, it was no surprise that some idolized him—his presence commanding a respect so intense, it bordered on worship. To them, he was pristine, untouchable. But this adoration didn’t sit well with everyone, especially loners like you, who preferred to navigate the chaos without attachments.

Ironically, that aloofness was one of the many reasons Thanos found himself drawn to you.

In the early days on the island, Thanos made no effort to reveal his interest. If anything, he mirrored your indifference, matching your cold detachment with his own. But when you began spending time with Myung-gi, the dynamic shifted. Thanos hadn’t expected it, nor did he like it. Watching you bond with someone else left a bitter taste in his mouth, awakening a tension he couldn’t ignore. The loner mindset had been his strategy for survival—a simple equation: fewer people, fewer complications. But your presence complicated everything, especially when it came to your effortlessly beautiful face, which he found himself stealing glances at far too often.

It didn’t take long for his resolve to crack.

Thanos had made himself a promise: to keep his distance, to ignore you as you ignored him. But that promise shattered the moment Nam-Gyu let slip a confession Thanos had sworn him to secrecy about. That little fucker, Thanos thought bitterly, though his anger was tempered by necessity—he needed Nam-Gyu to survive. Yet, when the truth reached you, it unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Instead of drawing you closer, the revelation pushed you further away. Your avoidance became more deliberate, more pronounced than ever before. It stung more than Thanos cared to admit. For the first time in a long time, he was unprepared—for your reaction, for the way it tightened a knot of frustration and longing deep inside him.

Which only added more tension between the two of you.

The final games loomed, a trial where survival would demand more than just cunning—it called for a kind of ruthless cleansing. Thanos knew, without hesitation, that when the moment came, he’d be the first to grab your hand and shield you. Even if it meant overreacting, even if it jeopardized his own chances, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Certainly not to Myung-gi, if it came down to that.

“You know...” he murmured late that night, his voice low and almost hesitant. Your back was turned to him, your body stiff on the thin mattress. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, couldn’t even steal a glance. Not after everything. The weight of his breath lingered against the back of your neck, and you flinched slightly, betraying your nerves. His presence, so close and unyielding, was suffocating yet magnetic.

“Tomorrow is... big,” he continued, his words faltering as his gaze shifted across the dimly lit dormitory. For a moment, his eyes locked on Player 333, who sat sharpening a weapon in the corner—a stark reminder of the danger waiting ahead. Thanos clenched his jaw, then turned his focus back to you.

“If we’re not careful...” he trailed off, his voice softening, almost breaking. “Who knows if I’ll ever get to see your beautiful face again?”He exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself, as if admitting even that much was a risk. “I know it’s—” 

Your head snapped toward him, your brows furrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut through the tension between you. For a moment, silence hung in the air, charged and heavy. Then, your voice broke it, calm yet biting. “If you keep this up, you might be the one ending up with a bullet in the face,” you said, your tone so nonchalant it bordered on cute—a contrast that left Thanos momentarily stunned. He blinked, almost scoffing in disbelief, one hand pressing dramatically against his chest.

“Ouch,” he drawled, his lips curling into a grin. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed into daggers. “Do. Not. Call me sweetheart.”

Before you could say more, Nam-Gyu chimed in from his corner, a mischievous smirk playing on his face. “I bet she’s in love,” he teased, his words practically dripping with mockery.

Thanos’s cocky grin widened at that, his eyes gleaming with a maddening mix of pride and amusement. The sheer arrogance in his expression made your fingers twitch, itching to slap that smug look right off his face. But instead, you gave him one final glare—a death wish in your eyes, though to Thanos, it looked like the beginning of a love story.

“I bet she is,” he echoed, his voice soft but certain, the words carrying a weight of truth that made your chest tighten. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and walked away, but his gaze lingered, following every step you took. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your finger without even realizing it. A wimp for you, and you alone.

Myung-gi: 

Everyone knew who Player 333 was—you included. Unlike many in this room who were desperate to claw their way out of debt, you knew Myung-gi only by name. You’d heard the rumors: how he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant, how his past was littered with mistakes and secrets. But something in you—a stubborn spark of hope, perhaps—whispered that he wasn’t as bad as everyone wanted him to be. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the stories let on.

Myung-gi had noticed you, though. He’d seen the way you were with Jun-hee—the way your smile seemed to ease her fears, how your arms would wrap gently around her petite frame after every game, grounding her, giving her the space to breathe. The quiet strength and warmth you brought to her felt almost unreal, a motherly presence in a place devoid of comfort.

It was that tenderness, that undeniable light, that struck him like a blow to the chest.

Myung-gi was in love.

And he hated every single moment of it.

Why? Because he knew himself. He knew what he’d done to Jun-hee—how he’d left her while she was pregnant with his child, drowning in debt and fear. He’d been a coward, an asshole, and he knew it. That self-loathing festered, a constant reminder of his failures. And yet, it was exactly why he didn’t expect you to see him as anything other than the man he despised.

But fate had other plans.

Your first real interaction with him came after he saved you—something neither of you had anticipated.

It happened during the Bathroom games, where survival left no room for personal grudges. Confronting Thanos wasn’t at the forefront of Myung-gi’s mind, but then he heard it—your name, slipping from Thanos’s lips with such filth that it ignited a rage Myung-gi didn’t know he was capable of.

Everyone knew your past as an escort within the crypto community. Your name wasn’t hard to find, whispered in private conversations and occasionally tied to scandalous wallets. But Myung-gi knew better than to judge. Still, hearing Thanos—the retired rapper—speak of you like that, as though you were nothing more than a commodity, was the last straw.

“She was good for a foreigner. Not many—”

That was as far as Thanos got before Myung-gi’s fist collided with his jaw, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sickening crack of impact echoed through the grimy bathroom, followed by a faint splatter of blood. Myung-gi emerged from the stall alive but seething, his knuckles raw and his breath ragged. As he stepped out, his gaze immediately locked with yours. Jun-hee stood beside you, clinging to your arm for reassurance, but the look on your face was unreadable—a mix of surprise, understanding, and something softer.

A small, almost imperceptible smile crept across Myung-gi’s lips.

In that moment, he made a silent promise: no matter what it took, he’d make sure both of you got out of this alive.

Dae-ho: 

Dae-ho never believed in love at first sight. With everything he’d endured in his life—the trials, the sacrifices, the relentless pursuit of strength—he saw himself as a knight in shining armor, bound by duty but never destined for romance. That belief held firm until he met you.

It happened during the Carousel game. Like In-ho, he’d noticed you before—your stoic demeanor during Green Light, Red Light had left him quietly impressed. The way you moved, swift yet calculated, managing to evade the statue’s unrelenting gaze with precision, was nothing short of remarkable. It was then that something shifted in him. Against all reason, Dae-ho found himself believing in love at first sight.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. He even considered pinching himself, blinking twice to dispel the notion. But the feeling persisted, undeniable and maddening. It wasn’t until later, when you tended to his wounds after one of the brutal games, that he finally saw you up close—and the full weight of your beauty struck him like a blow. Your lashes fluttered delicately as you focused on your task, your fingers gentle but firm as you dabbed rubbing alcohol onto his injuries. He hissed at the sting, his lips parting in a soft groan of pain.

“Be still, please,” you murmured, your tone calm but commanding. Something about the way you said it—the quiet strength in your voice—silenced his protests. He nodded, his muscles relaxing under your care, though the tension in his chest was harder to soothe.

For the first time, Dae-ho felt vulnerable—not because of his wounds, but because of you.

“You know…” His voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was a softness to it that made you pause. You could’ve sworn his lips curved into the faintest smile. “I never would’ve thought I’d see you like this—healing me. Back at the Carousel, I swore to myself I’d keep you close, that we’d find the door as quickly as anyone else. But then… the next thing I knew, Thanos had taken you before I could…”

He trailed off, his words tinged with shame. The vulnerability in his voice made you glance up at him, your fingers stilling as you finished securing the bandage. His eyes widened at your sudden attention, and he immediately began to stammer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

You interrupted him with a soft sigh, sliding the remaining bandage back into your pocket. “Don’t apologize. We just weren’t lucky, that’s all. I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it—that I wasn’t just someone who had to count on others.” Your gaze softened as you added, almost reluctantly, “But… I have to admit, not having you there in that room—it was horrible.”

Your quiet confession was enough to undo him. Without a word, Dae-ho wrapped his arms around you, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. Still, he didn’t let go. His embrace was warm, protective, and when he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, it felt like a promise.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance, “I’m just glad we made it through. That you’re here with me.” His lips quirked into a small grin as he added, with a teasing lilt, “And that I get to cuddle with you for another night.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, the tension between you easing for a moment. For now, at least, you both had each other.

Gi-hun: 

Unlike the others, you weren’t a player. But you knew Gi-hun from the previous game he was in. He was so certain you had died right in front of his eyes back then that when he saw the mask ripped off your face—revealing you as one of the Guards—his shock was palpable. Another Guard had been taken hostage by the remaining candidates, and though you could have cursed every word that came to mind, you found yourself frozen, your voice stolen by the chaos.

In-ho was the first to recognize you. He knew you were on shift at this hour, but what he hadn’t expected was the look of sheer horror that crossed Gi-hun’s face when your name escaped his lips.

“Y/N...?” Gi-hun’s voice trembled, disbelief heavy in the air as though he was trying to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

“You know them?” one of the players sneered, their stolen gun now aimed squarely at Gi-hun. Bodies of your co-workers—faces you barely had time to register—lay scattered across the floor, lifeless, just feet away. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.

But this time, Gi-hun wasn’t about to let anyone lay a finger on you. He remembered the vow you both had made:

"We belong to each other. And I will get you home."

With those words etched into his resolve, Gi-hun made his move. Chaos erupted as the gun exchanged hands, bullets flying. The air was filled with deafening roars of defiance and the sickening splatter of blood.

In the end, In-ho stood back, his heart cold and unyielding, as he watched Gi-hun fall. The final shot rang out, and his lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Blood speckled your cheek, and you stared in stunned silence at the empty shell of a man you had once loved.

From the shadows, a familiar voice cut through the carnage, low and mocking.

“Welcome back home, love.”

You turned toward the source, and there he was Gi-hun—his gruesome smile sending chills down your spine.

HENRY WINTER X READER

LOVING AND SELFLESS WERE NOT TWO WORDS EVER USED TO DESCRIBE A MAN SUCH AS HENRY WINTER. When you entered Julian Morrow’s office, Henry looked at you with an amused look upon his face. Richard had only just recently joined the class, now you? Julian was feeling generous.

His cold gaze followed you to your seat before returning to whatever he was writing in his notebook. With little acknowledgment, Henry only lifted his head with Julian entered; a man he idolised and admired greatly.

Henry straightened his posture, closed his notebook and adjusted his already neat tie. He merely glanced at you.

As the class went on, Henry began to read out a passage from the Iliad.

"Early in the morning the gods of Olympus sent down the breezes, to fill the sails of our ships.” Henry recites, the words imprinted in his mind.

“It symbolises the human spirit.” He says, a knowing grin fighting to grace his lips.

“I disagree.” You speak up, almost regretting doing so as all heads turn towards you; Henry’s much slower than the rest. “It symbolises the life and death. They’re being led to death.”

Henry let’s out a stiff chuckle, completely insincere.

“You’re overlooking the larger symbolic value of the passage, which is the idea of the human spirit overcoming obstacles and adversity. The breezes represent their collective effort and resilience in the face of challenges, not death.”

You furrow your brows and notice Bunny’s eyes widen a little. “You're just trying to force your own interpretation on the passage to fit your narrative. Death and being led to it is a much more nuanced and accurate theme to the passage and it's the very essence of the human condition. It represents the truth about existence.”

Henry shakes his head and his jaw tightens once more. “The passage is a reminder that our collective effort and determination can overcome even the most difficult challenges and that is the core of the human spirit.”

You tear your eyes away from Henry’s for a moment before looking back and continuing to argue. “You see, that's exactly the problem. You keep glossing over death and try to replace it with some positive rhetoric but you can't escape the truth. Death is inevitable, inherent in life and the human spirit must confront it.”

Julian looks impressed, only leading to Henry’s blood boiling more. A hatred began to stir inside of him. Luckily for you it was the end of the class and Julian knew Henry could argue over this for hours.

“I believe both inferences are correct.” Julian attempts to disperse the flame yet there was no shaking Henry’s cold glare.

Henry is the first to leave the office after you’re all dismissed, his strides strong and determined. He pulled out the pack of Lucky Strikes from his breast pocket, dig for his lighter from his coat pocket and lit a cigarette up. He took a deep inhale.

You walked after him, attempting to keep up with Henry’s pace. Despite his leg he moved briskly.“Henry.” You called and his pace slowed before he came to a complete stop, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette. Henry turned around, his height towering over you. It was much easier when you were sat down; you would’ve never thought to speak up earlier if he was standing. “I didn’t mean to aggravate you before, I was just expressing my inference.” You manage to tell him.

“You didn’t aggravate me, your opinion wasn’t vital.” Henry responds simply in a selfish manner.

You couldn’t help but scoff a little. “Well neither was yours.” You say, your sudden distaste for Henry getting the better of you and making your words come out harsh.

Henry’s jaw tightened; a common occurrence that happened whenever your mouth opened you began to realise. “At least mine made sense.” Henry replies brutally before turning around once more and taking another deep drag of his cigarette.

Since then a rivalry blossomed — Henry’s mind challenging yours as you challenged Henry’s.

Despite Henry’s spewing hatred for you, Francis Abernathy, another peer, had taken a likeness to you. He invited you over to his aunt’s countryside estate, the group’s last visit before winter break yet your first visit.

It was grand and large, easy to get lost in the winding far hallways. You spent evenings in the living room, lay across the couches and indulging in the rich wine from the cellar.

Tonight was no different.

Your minds were fairly numbed and you gazed up at the ceiling as the others talked — unaware of Henry’s gaze upon you from the armchair close to the fireplace. It looked almost playful. Almost.

Bunny was bringing up a moment from the class in the previous term and you laughed, shaking your head. “Nope, that’s not how I remember it.” You say your laughter dying down. You then heard a faint stiff chuckle from Henry and all heads looked to him. He hadn’t spoken much all night.

“What?” You ask, a faint laugh in your voice. It was a nervous laugh, you never knew what Henry was going to say.

“Even when we aren’t in Julian’s office you still manage to argue with anything anyone says, it’s predictable.” Henry tells you, taking another sip of wine.

“Henry knock it off. It’s all in good fun.” Charles said with a scowl, pouring more wine into his glass.

“I’m just stating the obvious, you always have to know better than anyone. Come on, give it a rest for one night.” Henry tells you, his gaze more challenging than ever as he wore a satisfied grin at how your face dropped.

In Henry’s mind he was only being playful — to you he was nothing but cruel. The room suddenly felt warmer and you needed to leave the living area before smoke came out your fucking ears.

You left the estate and stood outside for a while, crossing your arms; a poor attempt to warm you from the cold.

A few moments later you heard footsteps wondering towards the front door; those familiar heavy footsteps.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Henry, lighting up a lucky strike. Quickly, you looked away and kept your jaw tight in a similar fashion to how Henry’s usually had his whenever you were near.

Henry glanced to you, his eyes roving you up and down for a moment as he exhaled the smoke. His eyelids were droopy and he cleared his throat before glancing away, intoxication taking hold.

“I was only trying to joke, it was a joke.” Henry informs you. You laugh falsely and look over to him.

“Jokes are funny.” You tell him and he grins, perching the cigarette between his lips as he got his Lucky Strike packet from his coat pocket. “Touché.” He murmured and held out the packet to you.

You looked at it for a moment before shaking your head and looking forward to the field. He put the packet back in his coat pocket and looked out to the field with you that was covered by darkness.

“I envy your perseverance. At first I hated it, then I began to love the challenge, the thrill of proving you wrong.” Henry tells you.

Your eyes remained forward yet you could see Henry in the corner of your eye, drawing closer. His hand reached up to caress your face, his hand large enough to cup your cheek and ear with his fingers not once calloused by work but by the scribbling away of his pen over the years.

As his fingertips grazed your cheek you grabbed his hand and shoved it away before making your way back inside.

“You intrigue me.” You hear Henry’s voice slur as you continue to walk. He wanted you to stay out there with him, yet drunken words, or any word at all from Henry didn’t matter.

You left to your room after that encounter and didn’t come down for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you saw Henry in the kitchen, up first as usual. You wished he was hungover, enough to stay in his room for the rest of the day.

His usual slick back hair was messier and his eyes were more remorseful. His top blouse button was undone and he lacked a belt. For a moment Henry looked human.

As you put the kettle on he looked you up and down once more, taking a sip of his own lukewarm coffee.

You didn’t look his way and looked out the kitchen window that faced the fields.

“Whatever I said last night I apologise.” Henry told you with a soft tone you were unfamiliar with.

“It doesn’t matter.” You mutter dismissively and keep your eyes out the window. You hear Henry sigh and he removes his glasses and rubs his temple in annoyance.

“It does, it does. What I said was true. I am intrigued by you.” Henry admits.

You scoff and shake your head. “You have a funny way of showing it.” You tell him bitterly, still believing he was fucking with you.

“It intrigues me that you challenge me. I’m not used to it.” Henry tells you. Your shoulders relax a little as the sincerity of his words dripped from his lips.

“I regret how I’ve treated you, please. May we be friends?” Henry asks, standing up from his seat. You glance over to him and he extended his hand to you as if you were creating a pact.

Slowly and uncertainly, you shook his hand and watched his face relax. It was new, something other than a clenched jaw.

Henry was a man of is word, his attitude and behaviour towards you dissipating from anger to a fondness of you. Little did you know it ran much deeper, that fondness soon submerging into desire.

When you worked together, to study or work on assignments it was like clockwork and everything fell into place. Your minds worked as one and Henry felt immensely foolish for creating your rivalry in the first place.

You returned to Francis’ aunt’s countryside estate in the spring where the fields were flooded with vibrant green and the odd clumps of flowers sat across it.

Everyone was outside, Camilla walking by the stream with Richard while Charles, Francis, Bunny and Henry played tennis. You were settled under a tree, shading from the sun and reading while seated on a picnic blanket.

You only look up from your book you were annotating upon hearing the approach of heavy breathing and look up to see Henry, his blouse unkept and untucked from his pants, a few strands of hair falling over his forehead.

“Was tennis really that intense?” You ask with a slight grin. Henry chuckles and lays down on the picnic blanket beside you. He rubs his forehead.

“Bunny can be very competitive.” Henry replies and you roll your eyes in a playful manner.

“What are you annotating?” Henry inquired, sitting up. You held the book out to him. Henry took it from your grasp and suddenly much more aware of how close Henry was seated beside you.

He flicked through the pages, his eyes concentrated as he focused on every word you wrote on each page and marvelled at it.

“Ingenious as always.” He tells you with a subtle smile, holding the book back out to you. You’re still reeling from the proximity. Why was this so overwhelming?

Henry looked back to you upon noticing your gaze and slowly lowered the book onto your lap. His eyes flickered to your lips for a moment before back to your eyes, a silent ask for permission.

When your lips part a little, he takes the indication and cups your chin with his fingers, bringing his lips to your own in a deep tender kiss. Closing your eyes, your body relaxes and you let your lips get taken by his, attempting to kiss back with as much affection as he did. His arm slipped around your waist and pulled you closer to him if it was even humanly possible.

Henry wanted every part of you.

His tongue slipped over yours and nothing felt better before the grating sound of a whistle was heard from Bunny mouth.

“Hey! We’re starting another game!” He yelled, unable to see entirely what was happening as the sun caused his eyes to squint, disorienting his vision.

Henry’s lips grazed yours now and he sighed in annoyance. He looked over to Bunny. “I’ll be over in a moment!” Henry yells.

He leaves one last desired kiss upon your lips before returning to Charles, Francis and Bunny, acting as though nothing had happened despite his lingering glances to you throughout the next game.

Just looked at a blog where the header description said 'sometimes I reblog posts I like so I don't forget them'.

And I feel like that, right there, explains so much about how the site has changed in the last few months.

People now think reblogging is an unusual behaviour, rather than a default.

Tumblr newbies, please, for the love of baby Jesus, reblog the posts you like. That is the whole reason the site exists - for you to collect all your shiny fandom objects in a single space. Which you can organize to your heart's content. Or not organize at all, if that's your jam.

Our blogs are intended to be collections of posts, not collections of likes.

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

One-shots:

The Cannibal Prince

Me & My Husband

Put me onto your Black Motorcycle (coming soon)

Headcanons

Aemond and Aegon ii Targaryen’s reaction to You running away

Jealousy Headcanons

How They Mark You

House of the Dragon characters x Sick!Reader

House of the Dragon characters with a s/o that hates Targaryens