I'm So Tired Of Youtubers Making Fun Of Reality Shifters😭😭

this

Whoever lied about HBO making a Tom Riddle series better sleep with one eye open...

How jealous are they and how do they show it?

Characters: Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari, Tsu’tey

Warnings: None

Jake Sully

Jealousy level; pretty low. He’s a fairly confident man who knows that you are his, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just let others flirt with you. He’ll put his arm over your shoulder, his back straight as he does his best to appear strong and steadfast. He won’t tell the person off. Jake will inject himself in the conversation, holding you close and putting in a “isn’t that right, sweetheart?” here and there.

He’ll tease you about the situation later, betraying that it does bother him a little bit. “Seems like you made a new friend today,” “You would think you have honey on your ass from the way he was following you,”. When you settle on his lap with a smile, it’s clear that you see through him. He’ll sigh in defeat before shrugging his shoulders and pulling you against him, his jealousy quickly forgotten as he is the one who holds you in his arms at the end of the day.

Miles Quaritch

Jealously level; high. Miles is a possessive man who doesn’t like people ogling what’s his. Fuck, he can’t blame them, you being the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, but that doesn’t matter. He’s not opposed to hitting someone square in the face if they stare at you too long, nor will he apologize for it. “What? That fool should mind where his eyes wander.”

Him constantly hovering around you to make sure you are safe also allows him to see every little thing, which is not good for his sanity. Some days it feels like he’s pulling you aside every few minutes, his ears pinned against the sides of his head as he kissed you angrily. He needs to feel you, needs to assure himself that you want him. Blowing off some steam that way allows him to calm down a bit, and saves others some nasty bruises.

Tonowari

Jealousy level; medium. Tonowari has that quiet but intense type of jealousy. He’ll watch something happen from a distance. A look that crosses your conversation partner’s face, or a touch to your arm or hand that’s just slightly too familiar. He won’t approach, won’t say a word. He’ll watch and wait for the person to come anywhere near him afterwards. When they do, he’ll grab onto their arm, and stare. The normally kind chief can give an angry stare that would shake even the toughest soldier. He doesn’t need to say a word, holding the other’s eyes for a minute before letting go of them with a slight push. The message is clear; don’t come close to my mate.

Tonowari won’t mention it to you, his jealousy only noticeable because of all the extra affection he shows you. He’ll give you a massage, kiss all over your body and give you one compliment after the other.

Tsu’tey

Jealousy level; high. After everything this man has lost he definitely has some abandonment issues. When someone else expresses interest you, Tsu’tey panics and lashes out. He’ll jump the other, pressing a knife to their throat as he makes it clear you are his mate, and the only way they’ll ever get to you is over his dead body. It takes him a long time of laying in your arms afterwards before he can calm down again, his breathing rapid and his muscles tense. His fear is clear to you, and if you do your best to comfort him and give him physical affection, he’ll stare up at you with such intense loving that it makes your heart hurt.

JUST GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK OKAY.

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.

World's most moral army's most noble soldiers...

Vermithor: I value bravery and courage in the face of danger

Silverwing: This one’s so sad and pathetic. I’ve decided he’s my poor little meow meow

tom riddle—the man who fell from earth.

summary: tom riddle’s love language is literature.

word count: 1.4k

fanfiction no. 001

hey! this is my first fanfic on this blog so reblogs are really appreciated but also just any interaction :D

tom riddle? don’t waste your time, they’d tell you. heartless, merciless and unsettling in his every appearance, the very air around him seemed heavy and polluted. his superiority radiated from him—it was his very aura—piercing those who dared to meet his eye and challenging them to rethink their own inferiority, knowing they could not. he held himself so confidently, and his confidence was not misplaced.

his presence was always known, though he was often sly and discreet himself, but it was hard to ignore the shift in atmosphere when he was nearby.

but you tried harder still, to become lost within your world of fiction, and force the world around you to dissipate. with the right book, this was not a difficult task by any means, and only in the most raucous or unrelenting circumstances could you be lifted from your reverie.

“y/n!” your friend hissed louder than before, looking awkwardly and apologetically between you and tom riddle.

“what is it?” you asked impatiently, shaking their hand off your shoulder.

“it’s nothing,” another voice responded, causing you to look up to where tom riddle was looming above you with a faint smirk on his face.

gulping down your embarrassment, you took a shaky breath in, “am i in your seat?” you asked him, knowing the answer he would give you.

“yes,” he replied, walking around the table as he pulled his blazer sleeves down to his wrists, “but you can have it today,” he added, sitting down opposite you and your friend.

professor slughorn was not far behind mr. riddle, and addressed the class almost immediately, leaving you silent before the heartless boy, left to wonder what made him give up his seat to you.

such a tedious textbook and yet your face was buried in it for the better part of your potions lesson, avoiding the eyes that crept above the book’s spine. they were hard as stone, but with the right light, small, soft crevices appeared within them—it was as if you were catching a glimpse of the soft underbelly.

mere days had passed until you and tom met again. this time, you were alone. caught in a rainstorm, you waited under the cover of stone in the edges of the courtyard, watching students stumble over the wet cobblestone frantically. you held your bag tightly to your chest and watched the heavens above you unleash.

as you leant further over to see past the roof, searching for blue skies, your balance became increasingly unsteady. in an attempt to save your bag and books falling to the soaked ground to be ruined, you tried to regain composure without spreading your arms. as you became resigned to your fate, sure you would feel the hard ground collide with either your bottom or knees, a tight grip secured around your waist.

saving you from one embarrassment, you faced another humiliation upon turning around to view your rescuer—tom riddle. he’d appeared out of nowhere and his hair was not wet, but perfectly dry, as was his uniform.

“what were you doing?” asked tom, cocking an eyebrow in disappointment.

“looking for blue sky,” you told the truth.

he scoffed in disbelief.

tom sat with you a while, waiting for the rain to stop. he wasn’t much of a talker, he rather communicated with his eyes and his expressions, which were often hard to read or understand. but he listened to you talk without interruption, and answered the few questions you shot his way.

“madame bovary?” tom’s eyes flicked to your bag which was falling open on the bench between you.

“yeah, have you read it?”

“once. i wasn’t keen.”

“why not?”

“i understand that the author’s ending was to further drive his narrative, but to me, he made her weak,” tom admitted.

“weak? i don’t think weak is the right word,” you shook your head in disagreement. “i think she was yearning,” you contradicted him.

“yearning?” his chuckle was hollow, disbelieving, “what for?”

“an escape. her whole life she felt trapped and overlooked.”

“and that is how you’d choose to find it? an escape.”

you were taken aback by his forward question, for you were discussing madame bovary, not yourself. “well, no.”

tom simply nodded as if to conclude that he was right, and though you had further thoughts swirling in your brain, you dare not speak them out loud. instead, you changed the subject again and carried on much the same as before—you talking, tom listening.

｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

as the days turned into a week gone by, tom had made very few appearances. however, each time you saw him, you could not forget the exchange, and found yourself reliving it in your mind several times a day. everyone’s unsolicited advice had disintegrated and fell on deaf ears, for you no longer cared for advice unless it was from desired lips.

“what are you thinking about?” asked tom, approaching your table at the library.

“potions,” you fibbed, watching him adjust his shirt sleeves as he sat beside you.

“that’s your astronomy text book,” he replied matter-of-factly.

you looked down at the table where your textbook was wide open, showing several images of constellations with detailed captions. you scoffed, avoiding his eye, thus missing the small smirk that stretched in the corner of his mouth.

“i have something for you.”

“you do?” you asked, and it seemed your heart was responding too.

tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a book with a neatly decorated cover and handed it over to you. keeping your eyes fixed to his, you accepted his gift with a polite but giddy smile.

‘jane eyre’

“i’ve been meaning to read this for a while,” you confessed, tracing your fingertips over the illustration on the cover. “thank you.”

“do tell me your thoughts when you’re finished,” said tom before getting up to leave.

so abrupt. it was as if he was almost embarrassed to have you know he was thinking of you, or at least he had been. you flicked through the pages and breathed in that familiar aroma of a fresh book and began at the beginning.

for such a detail heavy and long novel, you devoured each chapter within minutes. staying up late to finish just another page and reading within every spare second of your day became the norm until you had consumed the last word of the gifted book.

you clasped the book against your chest tightly, skipping down the halls of hogwarts as you looked for tom. you’d talked him rarely over time you were reading ‘jane eyre’ but you had seen him often. and always he saw you, carrying that book around as if it was your lifeline, your blood supply.

“i finished,” you informed him triumphantly, sitting down on the library bench next to him.

“and what did you think?” he questioned with a satisfied grin, closing his textbook gently and straightening his back.

“i think,” you began, “i understand why you like it better than ‘madame bovary’.”

“but what did you think about it?” he asked again, not much inclined to listen to his own thoughts through your words.

“i thought it was incredible. jane seemed…”

“yes?”

“like someone who would understand.”

tom relaxed, unaware he had been leaning forward and hanging onto your every word. he agreed with you, of course. he thought he might agree with everything you said. but he didn’t know how to tell you.

“can i give you another?” he asked. strange, for he did not often find himself asking for permission.

“i’d like that,” you accepted, inching your hand closer to his on the bench.

tom didn’t notice at first, nodding in approval and beginning to think of the next title he would give you. he always seemed lost in thought, like he was analysing both you and the situation you were in. what did he think of you? you wondered.

you slid your pinky between his little finger and ring finger and watched tom clench his jaw. his entire body tensed from the small interaction, the small and simple touch. and for a moment, he let himself forget about books and propriety, swiftly cupping your face in his cold hands and pressing a reckless kiss to your lips. he had to be quick, he feared he wouldn’t be able to do it if he wasn’t fast enough.

“you should read ‘sense and sensibility’ next,” he whispered lowly, “i have a copy.”

though your heart was leaping bounds and your breath was trembling, you managed a small response—“i’d love to borrow it.”

tom pulled away and collected himself, reopening his textbook, which you noted was astronomy, and said, “it’s yours.”

alright, hope you enjoyed that ! i don’t have a tag list but let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :D

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.

it's 2024 and i still refuse to leave the restaurant