#The Secret History

[athenascult]

all those layers of silence upon silence - donna tartt

[melancholyfool]

Tender Love

Pairing: Henry Winter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Henry (the world's best boyfriend) braids your hair

a/n: i have two new obsessions. 1) making henry do sweet things for his girlfriend. 2) making henry show lot's of emotions. (i just want to write henry being a sweet little boyfriend, is that so wrong???)

Henry sits behind you on the bed, his legs bracketing your body, warmth radiating through the soft fabric of your nightgown. His fingers move deftly through your hair, slow, parting and sectioning it with quiet concentration.

You hum in contentment, sinking further into him. “You’re really good at this.”

Henry lets out a small huff, gathering another section of hair. “I should be by now.”

You grin. “Still can’t believe you do this for me.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your neck between strokes, the faintest whisper of lips against skin. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrug. “Most boyfriends don’t know how to braid.”

Henry’s fingers momentarily pause before continuing their careful weaving. “Most boyfriends should try harder, then.”

Your heart squeezes and you glance down at your hands, fiddling with the hem of your nightgown. “How did I get so lucky?”

Henry’s arms wrap around you suddenly, your unfinished braid slipping from his fingers as he presses his lips to the side of your head. His voice is quiet. “I’m the lucky one.”

Your chest feels so full you think you might explode.

Without warning, you turn and tackle him, knocking him back onto the bed, arms wrapped tight around his torso. He grunts in surprise as you straddle his waist, pressing rapid-fire kisses across his face—his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, the corner of his mouth.

“You’re too good to me,” you declare between kisses, hands cradling his jaw. “It’s unfair. You’re unfair.”

Henry lets out a startled laugh, grasping your wrists gently. “What’s gotten into you?”

Instead of answering, you grab his face and squish his cheeks, forcing his lips into a slight pout. You stare at him, your expression shifting from adoration to desperate and overwhelmed.

“I can’t take it,” you groan, burying your face against his collarbone.

Henry grins, his arms locking securely around your waist. “You can’t take what?”

“You.” Your voice is muffled against his skin. “You, being so... so wonderful. What am I supposed to do with this information?”

Henry strokes your back, thoughtful. “You could let me finish braiding your hair.”

You make an unintelligible noise, squeezing him impossibly tighter.

Henry chuckles, a deep, rich sound that rumbles beneath your ear. His hands roam idly, fingers slipping into your hair, undoing what little of the braid remained. He starts over, slower this time, lazily twisting the strands, as if he has all the time in the world.

And maybe he does.

Maybe here, like this, there is no time at all, just the steady rhythm of his hands in your hair, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the warmth of his skin and the weight of his arms holding you close.

You sigh, turning your head slightly, your nose brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt. "You're so patient," you murmur.

Henry hums, his fingers working through another section of your hair. "You deserve patience."

The simplicity of his words makes your throat tighten, and you close your eyes, pressing your lips to the hollow of his throat, lingering. "You make me feel safe, Henry."

Henry's hands still in your hair for half a second before they start again, even gentler than before. "Good," he whispers. "You are."

Silence stretches between you, warm and comfortable. His fingers continue their work and when he finishes, his hands fall to your shoulders, rubbing slow circles against your skin. You shift, lifting your head to look at him, and the moment your eyes meet, something softens in his expression.

You don’t think, you just move.

You surge forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, one that starts tender but deepens with every second, as if you’re trying to pour every ounce of feeling you have into him. Henry sighs against your mouth, his hands sliding up to cradle the back of your head, holding you steady.

When you finally pull away, you’re breathless, your forehead resting against his. Your fingers trace absent patterns along his collarbone, your pulse still beating wildly in your chest.

Henry brushes his thumb against your jaw. “You really do have a habit of tackling me, don’t you?”

You let out a soft laugh, breathless. “I can’t help it. You make me crazy.”

Henry tilts his head, smirking. “I like it.”

You groan, your eyes rolling back as you hide your face in his neck. “Don’t say things like that, or I’ll tackle you again.”

Henry’s arms tighten around you, his lips pressing against the crown of your head. “I wouldn’t mind.”

You lift your head slightly, eyeing him. “You wouldn’t mind if I just—” You press another kiss to his lips, then another, and another.

Henry laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

“I know,” you say, smirking. “But it’s your fault.”

“Oh? How so?”

“You’re too—” You whine dramatically, flopping back onto the pillows, arms thrown over your face. “You’re too good. Too sweet. Too—”

Henry leans over you, bracing himself with one hand against the mattress, the other slipping beneath your wrist to pull your arm away from your face. “Too what?”

You blink up at him, momentarily distracted by how he looks in the dim light. His hair slightly tousled, his lips still slightly swollen from your kisses, his eyes behind his glasses are dark and warm and impossibly fond.

You groan again. “Too perfect.”

Henry shakes his head as he dips down, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hardly.”

“Yes,” you insist, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. “And I’ll prove it by suffocating you with my love.”

Henry chuckles, letting himself be pulled down as you wrap yourself around him, arms and legs tangling together, the weight of him warm and steady above you. You press your face into his neck, breathing him in and for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

After a while Henry nuzzles into your hair, his voice a small whisper, a confession. “I like it when you hold me like this.”

You smile against his skin. “Good,” you whisper. “Because I’m never ever letting go.”

[imahotkn1fe]

(wip) Francis Abernathy and Charles Macauley

[etherealacademia]

february has been full of espresso, notebooks, and love.

[greenandsorrow]

I need Henry.

Read this book recently how’s my lineup

[somesparethyme]

redraw of an old camilla drawing :D

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

The height of romanticizing The Secret History is when Henry tells Richard he knew it was him who made coffee because it was burnt. Henry was stating a fact at best and making a dig at worst but Richard was like "Omg, he remembered uwu 😊🥺💗 ".

[raspberriedarling]

‘Wait.’ His voice was cool and Bostonian, almost British. I turned around. ‘Are you the new neanias?’, he said mockingly.

The new young man. I said that I was.

‘Cubitum eamus?’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

[whimsifae]

the most fun a girl can have is finding parallels, noticing patterns, making connections, contemplating

[super-nova5045]

and just when you think you’re at your absolute lowest a blonde motherfucker comes along and makes everything so much worse

[i-dont-trust-butterflies]

Please, don't stress about it so much

One day we'll all forget about it, remember?

[secret-history-hyperfixation]

I LOVE IT.

Charles doodles

[melancholyfool]

it’s a known fact that henry winter likes to intellectually fornicate with his girl.

[luciferslilith7]

..as autumn bleeds into winter...

...Goodbye November...

@luciferslilith7

[secret-history-hyperfixation]

amazing !!

Unreliable Narrator