#she’s in the handmaids tale too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marlenesluv · 7 months

Text

book lover. (LN)

summary: you’re a booktuber, always posting about your books, coffee, music, and of course, your amazing boyfriend, lando norris.

warnings: none!

note: i’ll probably write another book reader for daniel as well. (the polls were close and idk i think they’d both be cute.) also, another note, haley pham, sara carroli, and destiny sidwell are bookstagram/youtubers, so keep that in mind while reading. this is for my taylor swift and books lovers, cuz me too.

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: landonorris, haleypham, and 246,275 others

y/n.user: “and it would’ve been sweet, if it could’ve been me”

view comments…

landonorris: are you breaking up with me????

|> y/n.user: HUH??

|> landonorris: the caption??????????

|> y/n.user: thats a taylor swift quote, lan. and it’s about the book i’m reading

|> landonorris: you NEED to update me on these posts before you post them

|> oscarpiastri: he was literally running around the paddock thinking you were mad at him

|> y/n.user: oh no, my baby 🙁🫶

haleypham: i cant wait for your new video :))

|> y/n.user: :))

|> booksfan: Y/N AND HALEY COLLAB????

georgerussell63: how on earth did you take a picture of your phone with your phone…

|> y/n.user: that’s not my phone….

|> georgerussel63: we’ll it isn’t landos?

|> y/n.user: i have other friends besides lando

|> landonorris: *boyfriend*

|> y/n.user: right, he’s also my only boyfriend

readerpop: live, laugh, love, y/n <3

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liked by: y/n.user, danielricciardo, and 346,015 others

landonorris: my little book worm🫠❤️

view comments…

danielricciardo: what book is she reading, lando?

|> landonorris: i think “the tales of the housewives”?

|> y/n.user: i’m reading THE HANDMAIDS TALE LANDO

|> landonorris: i was close

f1wagsupdates: OUR book worm, actually

landonorris.fanpage: they are too damn cute

carlossainz55: mate, i think she rather read than be with you rn😬

|> landonorris: she said she’s “escaping reality”

|> oscarpiastri: so “escaping you”

|> landonorris: what

|> y/n.user: THATS NOT TRUE, STOP STRESSING HIM OUT

formula1.fp: cutest f1 couple

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liked by: landonorris, des.sidster, and 251,947 others

tagged: haleypham

y/n.user: new video out with haley!! we read, drank wine, played uno, and suffered listening to lando and ryan talk about football🙁

view comments…

haleypham: literally, suffered. but at least we got reading time

|> y/n.user: so true

f1.edits: am i obsessed with the fact that y/n gives us lando snippets? yes, yes i am

|> y/n.fans: just wait, she said a while ago that she’s posting a video from game night with the grid

|> y/n.fp: is that even still happening??

|> y/n.user: mwahahaha, soon

|> y/n.fp: i think i j shit my pants omg

landonorris: everyone go watch my girlfriends new video!! she’s so pretty and cool and awesome and sexy and funny and adorable and etc

|> charles_leclerc: there isn’t a better promotion for this video

|> y/n.user: thanks lando! my boyfriend is also so pretty and cool and awesome and sexy and funny and adorable and etc!

|> landonorris: you think i’m pretty?🥹

|> y/n.user: my pretty boy

|> landonorris: ive passed out

|> maxfewtrell: YOU BROKE MY BSF

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liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 401,284 others

landonorris: date nights consist of book shopping, reading, and y/n taking pictures of me in a golf cart!

view comments…

y/n.user: good thing you’re the photographer in this relationship

|> landonorris: and you can read enough for the both of us

f1wags: cuties are being cuties

bookstagram.edits: so y/n has GOOD book taste, i see

alex_albon: i think y/n has an eye with the camera

|> landonorris: don’t lie, alex

|> lilymhe: at least y/n can read

|> y/n.user: GO OFF QUEEN LILY✊

formula1updates: pls pls why are they so sweet, WHY AM I SINGLE

carlossainz55: how did you manage to get a girlfriend who reads and deals with you

|> y/n.user: he offered to buy me books, so i give him gf content

|> carlossainz55: ah yes, this makes sense

|> landonorris: thats not funny

|> y/n.user: hehe

|> landonorris: let’s see how “hehe” that is when i don’t cuddle you tonight and throw ur books away

|> y/n.user: NO MY BOOKS

|> carlossainz55: AHHHAHAHA MATE OMG

|> landonorris:…..cuddles……

|> y/n.user: I MEAN- OH NO I NEED MY CUDDLES

f1xupdate: omg the comments HELP

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y/n’s instagram story:

seen by: landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 324,048 others

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liked by: landonorris, saracarrolli, and 399,824 others

y/n.user: “he was sunshine, i was midnight rain” (lando its just a t.s. song lyric i love you.)

view comments…

landonorris: i love you more☺️

taylorswift: you guys are adorable! i wish you nothing but happiness and love <3

|> y/n.user: TAYLOR!? OMG YAYWBFLWNR KENT FI CSMT OWKFKS HELP DIDKSD OMGBRODK

|> pierregasly: uh oh, taylor broke y/n….

|> des.sidster: OMG Y/N TAYLOR AHHHHHHHH

|> y/n.user: IK AHHHHHH WKEKDOSK IABRFKDJE

|> maxverstappen1: lando. your girlfriend is glitching

|> landonorris: she’s sobbing in my arms, she’s more than glitching, mate

f1.edits: i am LIVING for taylor being here

y/nxlando.fans: where did taylor, mother, come from?

y/n.user: GUYS TAYLOR FOLLOWED ME. TAYLOR ILY AND I HATE JAKE GRRRR JAKE

|> arthur_leclerc: GRRR?????

|> olliebearman: i get it

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(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #lando norris x y/n #lando norris blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris #lando norris x oc #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

Text

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: lucerys velaryon witnesses a moment he should've never laid eyes upon.

warnings: explicit language. fluff and girl dad!aemond. aemond also spits sexy poetry at his girl. uhhh lucerys signing his death warrant maybe???

notes: hehehehe i'm enjoying this pairing SO MUCH GUYS

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

It is Lucerys Velaryon, three and ten, that catches onto the relationship, though it was by honest mistake on his part. Or a stupid decision, perhaps. He never meant to lay eyes on such an intimate yet indecent moment.

The dinner held an hour before was an embarrassment to his family, that he understood quite well. It was wrong for him to provoke his uncle into a fury and, even worse, to allow his temper to flare past reasonable judgment. His right cheek still throbbed where his uncle Aegon slammed him hard against the table, nicking his browbone with the edge of the plate. But it was the look his mother gave him that seemed to float before him in the hallway’s darkness, against the very stones of the Red Keep.

She was disappointed in him, very much so. Daemon too, probably.

Lucerys felt the great need to apologize.

It clambered up his throat and settled deep within his head, causing his stomach to roil and fingers to tremble.

He needed to apologize.

So he stands before his uncle Aemond’s chamber, counting his breaths in some wretched attempt to steel his nerves. One, two, three….four, five, six….he repeats in his mind, over and over, as his knuckles ghost over the door…but then he notices the slight crack between the two doors. His eyebrow raises. It is large enough to peer inside, where he hears a soft voice, young and feminine.

His mother always did say he was naturally curious during boyhood, but she also would say that curiosity killed the cat, and snooping was a nasty habit for a realm’s prince to pick up. Against his better nature, Lucerys leans in for a small peak.

Lucerys recognizes her as his uncle’s personal handmaid- a young maid, fair and cheerful and beautiful. She smiled at him in the earlier hour, at both him and his brothers, when she passed by the three carrying a handful of freshly washed linens. He remembers it quite well, actually. Despite being clothed in plain servant rags, he had thought she was absolutely lovely. And she had been the only one to spare him a sliver of kindness, no prudence.

He saw her again later in the day, trailing after Aemond. His handmaid, Prince Daemon mumbled to his mother, a smirk on his lips. Ah, but a maid of her beauty does not stay one for long. His mother ignored that, and he tried to as well.

Inside the room, he sees the pretty handmaid rocking in a chair, clutching a tiny babe to her chest. Back and forth, forth and back.

No, he soon realizes, dark eyes widening. The babe is feeding from her breasts. Was she a wet nurse as well? Lucerys tilted his head at the thought. She did not look old enough to be considered one, the majority being well in his senior. He watches as she continues rocking, singing a lullaby beneath her breath before bringing the babe’s plump face to her lips for a kiss.

“The Mother gives the gift of life, and watches over every wife. Her gentle smile ends all strife, and she loves her little children….the Crone is very wise and old, and sees our fates as they unfold. She lifts her lamp of shining gold to lead the little children….”

His uncle then steps behind her, leaning to kiss her brow before her lips. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Lucerys hears the handmaid say, smiling up at Aemond. He grins, nodding. “Absolutely beautiful. A mirror of her mother, I’d say,” and he kneels to one knee beside the chair, pressing his forehead against her shoulder. He kisses the bare skin there- once, twice, thrice, and his mouth moves, but Lucerys cannot hear what he is telling her.

Whatever it is, though, it makes his handmaid giggle and shy away, shifting her gaze back on the babe.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

His nuncle sighs. “My girl, my love, I’ve told you before- I love anything and everything you give me,” and he reaches forward to take the babe in his arms, cuddling her close, “-but you have answered my wishes. You have given to me the most beautiful daughter, with your eyes and enchanting smile and nose.” Aemond glances at her, then bring her palm to his lips and mumbles against it, “And I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I have only done my duty, my prince. I am, as always, your humble servant.”

Aemond rolls his eye. “If I could give it, the realm would be yours, and you would rule as its queen. No more a fucking servant.”

The handmaid shakes her head, laughing as she leans back in the rocking chair. “I have no need for a realm; I’m quite content in having your bed and children as mine, my love.”

Ah. His uncle Aemond One-Eye has bastards. How many, Lucerys does not know, but the babe swaddled within Aemond’s arms is his and the handmaid’s, no doubt. He wants to let out the bark of bitter laughter bubbling inside his chest, to scream at the heavens and curse out any listening gods, before running to tell Jacaerys and Lady Baela and his Rhaena. Lucerys turns his attention back to his uncle. How dare he mock his bastard origins when he himself is fathering his own handmaid’s children.

To the health of my nephews- Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. ‘Twas only a compliment…do you not think yourself strong?

How dare he act any better. How fucking dare he. Aemond’s words did not wound him as much as before, not with the bastard baby lying in his arms.

It leaves Lucerys’s head pounding to the same beat as his heart. Bum. Bum. Bum. But then his breath hitches in his throat when his uncle lifts his head up, a lone purple eye meeting his own. Aemond gives him a cool stare. Dead. Dead. Dead. He rises to his feet, gently resting his daughter back in her mother’s arms, before standing in front of his handmaid, barring any further view of her.

“Aemond, what is it?”

Lucerys quickly pulls back from the door, stumbling and falling on his ass. All he can hear now is his heart hammering in both his ears and his uncle’s heavy footsteps looming closer and closer. “Aemond?” the handmaid’s voice calls out, loud and honeyed. “Where are you going?”

To murder me, the prince thinks, jumping to his feet. He turns to sprint down the hallway, braving only one final glance over his shoulder. What he sees terrifies him.

Aemond stands at the door, staring at him with a narrowed eye. The same glare he gave him during the dinner, cold and filled with pure animosity. If the Stranger was to be a mortal man, Lucerys would believe him to be his uncle, especially at this moment. There is a message twisted in his sharp features, in the furrow of his brows, the sneer curled on his lips, and the dagger clasped in his hand.

He won’t live much longer, less if his tongue shares what he witnessed tonight.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

3K notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

Hi darling sister wife! I have a request for a bookworm!reader who always has her nose in a book and has a huge crush on Eddie, but thinks he doesn’t even know she’s alive. And maybe they run into each other somewhere in town and he’s like “oh hey y/n!” and she’s dumbfounded lol

Love youuuuu - @corroded-hellfire

Anything for you, bb 💚

Warnings: none, all fluff <3

WC: 3.8 k

There’s a lump in your throat as you approach the wooden door marked “DETENTION” in scolding letters. You’ve never been in trouble before, always keeping your head down and doing the right thing.

But that was before you’d started reading The Handmaid’s Tale. You’d picked up the novel in the school library that morning, curious to see what all of the fuss was about. It was so gripping, so eerie, so chilling, that you didn’t want to put it down. And so you didn’t—you read it in the halls when walking between classes, during lunch as your friends talked about their prom dresses, even faking cramps during PE so you could sit on the bleachers and continue devouring Margaret Atwood’s words. None of that posed any issues.

You were nearly finished with the entire book by the time last period rolled around. Mrs. Click was droning on and on about the Enlightenment and its influence on European culture. It wasn’t anything the textbook didn’t already explain. How bad would it be to quickly read the final chapter in an incredible book while she yammered about a continent you didn’t even live on?

As you soon discovered, it would be pretty bad. Mrs. Click marched over to you as you tried to hunch down inconspicuously. She plucked the book from your hands and frowned. “Tell me, Ms. Y/L/N,” she’d snapped, never breaking eye contact with you, “what makes you so special that you can select your own reading material during my class?”

You could only shake your head, heat rising in your cheeks. “‘M sorry, Mrs. Click,” you mumble. Other students snicker around you, and you hear someone whisper, “what a nerd.”

“Well,” your teacher starts, placing The Handmaid’s Tale on her already-cluttered desk, “maybe you can come up with a better answer after detention this afternoon.” You nodded dumbly, too humiliated to protest the punishment.

The worst part? She never even gave you back the book.

Fingers trembling, you push the door open and take a seat all the way in the back. You’re the only one there; maybe you can avoid any further embarrassment if it stays that way. You take out your math textbook and start on the first problem, barely able to concentrate. Detention. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, but you hate getting in trouble. Hate having people mad at you, even if that person is your uppity history teacher. It’s why you’re such a goody two-shoes, a people pleaser; you just want everything to be peaceful.

“Honey, I’m home!” a familiar voice calls out. Your head snaps up to see Eddie Munson burst through the doorway. There’s a loose cigarette tucked behind his ear, almost completely covered by his mess of curly hair. His grin widens as he spots you. “Hey, Y/N! What brings you to my home away from home?”

Your mouth goes dry. Eddie Munson knows who you are? The handsome, charismatic, sometimes scary-seeming metalhead knows your name? You clear your throat when you realize he’s staring at you expectantly, waiting for a response. “Oh, um, nothing. Jus’ something stupid,” you manage, picking at your fingernails anxiously.

“Yeah, well, I’m the king of doing stupid things, so, lay it on me.” He sits on top of the desk in front of you, leaning his forearms on his thighs.

The blush creeps back up through your body. “I got busted in Click’s class for reading.”

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion. “Reading what?” he questions. “Like, a nudie magazine or somethin’? That happened to me once, and Click was pissed. Never did get that magazine back either. What a shame.” He tuts gently at the memory.

“God, no!” You shake your head. “It was a book I was reading for fun. And not that kind of fun,” you add pointedly. “It was, um, The Handmaid’s Tale? The novel by Margaret Atwood?” It comes out as a question, and you could smack yourself for your timid disposition. “It’s about a group of women—the handmaids—who are essentially forced to be these birthing machines for their owners. Their entire worth is based on making healthy babies. And if they try to escape, the men of Gilead will hurt them.” Shut up, you scold yourself silently. He didn’t ask you for a damn book report.

But Eddie looks intrigued. “Well, that’s no Playboy, but it sounds really good. I’ll have to read it when you’re done.”

“That might not be for awhile,” you reply somberly. “Much like your Playboy, my book has been confiscated, unlikely to ever be returned.”

Eddie smacks his palms on his knees, startling you, but he pays this no mind. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “If Higgins comes in, tell him I had to take a leak.” And with that, he’s out the door.

What is going on? You thrum your fingers against the desk, considering your circumstances. You’re in detention with Eddie Munson, having a conversation about The Handmaid’s Tale. Never in your wildest dreams did you think this would happen.

Eddie returns triumphantly. “Ta-da!” he exclaims, holding up the novel in his left hand. He places it on your desk and smiles. “Now you can finish it.”

“My hero,” you put your hand over your heart and grin back at him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach. “Like the Robin Hood of books.”

“Robin Hood, huh?” he smirks, sliding into the chair next to yours, “I’ll take it. Better nickname than ‘The Freak,’ anyway.”

You frown, averting your gaze as you say softly, “I never called you that. And I never thought you were a freak, either.”

“‘Course not,” Eddie chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder. “‘Cause you’re a freak, too.” He laughs harder when you scoff. “C’mon, Y/N. Who else gets detention for reading?”

“Fair enough,” you concede. “Why are you here?”

“Besides this basically being my permanent residency? Um, I got caught cutting class? Or smoking in the bathroom? Or maybe it was because I flipped off Jason Carver in the cafeteria? I can’t remember what this one was, honestly. They all just kinda…blur together.” He waves his hand nonchalantly.

“One more question,” you start. “How do you, um, how do you know my name?” You took all honors and Advanced Placement classes, and Eddie…well, he certainly did not.

He gives you an astonished look. “You really don’t remember?” He continues when you shake your head bashfully. “You interviewed Corroded Coffin for the school newspaper last year! I invited you to come to the Hideout and see us in action, but you never showed.”

“Oh, yeah.” It comes back to you now. You’d been all dressed and ready to go, but your mom went ballistic at the thought of you in a dive bar. “I tried, but my parents are really strict.”

“So then don’t tell them!” Eddie says simply. “Just say you’re going to the library or something.”

“At 10 pm?” you raise your eyebrows. “If this is your idea of being clever, it’s no wonder you keep failing senior year!”

His jaw drops at your teasing. “And here I thought you were nice. Y’know what?” He scrunches up his face and eyes your desk. “I’m takin’ my book back!” And with that, he swipes it and clutches it to his chest.

“Eddie!” you shriek, giggling as you grab at the paperback, only to have him jerk away in response. “Stop!”

“Hmm…nope!” Eddie shakes his head, unruly curls brushing his cheeks. “This is a lot more fun for me.” He stands up and holds the book above his head.

You jump up a few times to try and snatch it back, to no avail. As a last resort, you jut out your lower lip in a pout. “Please?”

He uses his free hand to tap his finger on his chin. “What’s the magic phrase?”

“What?”

“Fine, I’ll help you out,” he sighs, feigning exasperation. “It’s ‘Eddie Munson is the smartest, most handsome man in the world.’”

You begrudgingly repeat the sentence, grumbling it under your breath. But Eddie still doesn’t hand over the book. “I said it!” you groan. “You gotta give it back!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention part two?” There’s a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes. “Now you have to say, ‘And because I heartlessly ditched his concert last year, I will make it up to him by letting him take me out tonight.”

“Me?” You can’t hide the shock in your voice. “Are you joking?” Why would Eddie Munson want to take a shy little bookworm out? He probably had outgoing, boisterous girls fawning all over him at his shows. Girls who didn’t care whether or not they got mommy and daddy’s permission to go to a bar.

“‘M dead serious, sweetheart.” Eddie gives you a soft smile. “Don’t say anything, because it’ll totally ruin my reputation as Hawkins’ evil cult leader, but I also love to read.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a tattered copy of The Hobbit. “This one is my absolute favorite. I re-read it, like, once a month.”

“I should’ve known you were a nerd,” you muse, looking up at him through your lashes innocently. “Honestly, the whole Dungeons & Dragons thing should’ve given it away.”

Eddie gently bops you on the head with his book. “So, whaddya say to that date?” He’s trying to sound confident, but you catch him nervously playing with the rings that adorn his fingers.

“I’d love to,” you answer honestly, heart fluttering as he takes your hand in his.

“Great! Let’s go!” He tugs you out of your seat, but you shift your weight so you sink back down. He looks at you, puzzled.

“We can’t just leave!” you gesture to the detention room. “I don’t wanna get in more trouble.” The last thing you need is another round of Click-induced humiliation.

“Why not?” Eddie asks. “No one comes in here. I usually just use this time to work on my lyrics, even though I’m supposed to think about what I’ve done.” He lowers his voice an octave and wiggles his fingers at the last part, making you giggle.

“You’re a bad influence, Eddie Munson,” you say, but you oblige. You tip-toe behind him, keeping a watchful eye out for straggling teachers or—God forbid—Principal Higgins. Eddie doesn’t let go of your hand until you reach his van, opening the passenger side door with a quick bow.

“Ladies first,” he grins, shuffling to the driver’s side and starting the car. It backfires at first, startling you, but he gets the engine to turn over on the second try. “Sorry, my Jaguar is in the shop.”

“Of course,” you reply in a posh accent. “They just don’t make cars the way they used to.” You lean over to turn the radio dial, spinning past Eddie’s favorite station and straight for your own. Stevie Nicks’s voice wafts from the speakers as a Fleetwood Mac song plays.

“You’re really lucky you’re cute,” he tells you, flashing his signature smirk, “or I’d be totally pissed that you changed Ozzy for this.” If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think that you could do anything to anger him. You watch as his strong hand grips the gearshift, throwing the van in reverse. He reaches behind your seat as he backs up, tongue poking out in concentration.

You can’t stop the smile that blossoms on your face at the compliment. Eddie Munson thinks I’m cute. The thought buzzes through your body like a hyperactive bumblebee. You try to push it away, mumbling, “Where are we going?”

“D’you trust me?” He threads his fingers through yours, and you feel yourself heat up despite the coolness of his metal rings.

“Not in the slightest,” you tease him again, offering your sweetest smile. “After all, the last time you did something nice for me, it ended with you holding my book hostage. Which you still have, by the way.”

Eddie squeezes your hand affectionately. “Fair enough.” But he doesn’t give you any further information, just sings along with the radio despite his initial protests. It’s melodic and relaxing, and you find yourself staring at the way his soft lips move as he recites the lyrics and uses his forefinger to keep the tempo against the steering wheel. “Okay, y’caught me.” He breathes out a small laugh. “I kinda like their stuff. I mean, I wouldn’t spend money for their concerts, but I don’t mind it if there’s nothing else on. Or if a pretty girl wants to listen to them.” This time, he notices the way you hide behind your hair at his words. “C’mon now; don’t get all shy just because someone called you ‘pretty.’”

But he’s not someone; he’s Eddie. He’s the guy you’ve had a crush on for far too long, and he stole your book back from Mrs. Click, asked you on a date, snuck you out of detention, held your hand, and complimented you repeatedly—all within the span of thirty minutes.

“I was really upset earlier about getting detention,” you confess, steering the conversation away from your timidness and relentless crush on Eddie. “But you cheered me up and, um, that meant a lot to me.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he says, tipping an invisible hat. “But take it from me—detention isn’t the end of the world. Especially since you rarely ever get it.”

“Never,” you correct him.

“Huh?”

“I’ve never gotten detention. Until today.” You feel childish admitting it. Senior year of high school and this is the only time you broke the rules—and in such a geeky way, too.

“Well, it was an honor to witness you pop your detention cherry.” The phrasing makes you burst out with laughter, and you clap your free hand over your mouth. “Don’t do that,” he says softly, letting go of the hand he’s holding to nudge the one that’s pressed to your lips. “You have a nice laugh.” He pulls into a parking lot, finding the nearest spot before killing the engine.

“No way,” you whisper, gazing at the building. You’d figured he would take you out for pizza or s movie, but this is even better. “Eddie, did you bring me to a bookstore?”

He nods proudly. “This one has a little café inside, if you want a coffee or something.” He takes your hand again as you both stride towards the shop. “Pick out a book—it’s on me. Paperback, hardcover—whatever you want.”

“Hardcover? You really know how to spoil a girl, Munson.” Your tone is joking, but there’s truth to it. You normally only splurge for hardcover books when you have a gift card. You peruse the aisles, trying to quickly scan the spines for something that catches your eye. It wouldn’t be out of character for you to spend hours searching for the perfect book, but you didn’t want to drag Eddie along on a boring date.

“Let me grab us something to drink,” Eddie says as you start towards the ‘thrillers’ section. “How do you take your coffee?” You give him your order and promise to meet him by the café in a few minutes. “No rush,” he assures you, and he kisses your cheek quickly before ducking away and heading for the barista.

There’s a whole display dedicated to Stephen King, and you check out the offerings before settling on Firestarter. You’ve been meaning to read it, and now is the perfect chance to snatch it up. Before you go to the café, you wander over to the fantasy section. If Eddie likes Lord of the Rings, you’re sure to find another book he’ll enjoy here. Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire stands out; it’s dark and gothic and seems perfect for him. Pulling off the shelf, you make a stop at the cash register before joining him at the café. At a quick glance, you can see he’s chatting with the barista, so you sneakily pay for your gift to him, promising the cashier that you’ll be back to pay for Firestarter. He doesn’t seem too worried, and you flounce over to your date with a wide smile.

Eddie’s sitting at a table for two. There’s a steaming cup of coffee in front of each place setting, with a slice of chocolate cake and two plastic forks in the center. “Figured we could use something sweet,” he says nonchalantly, as though he didn’t just have a small panic attack trying to decide between flavors. His brows furrow when he notices the bag in your hand. “Hey, I said I was treating you to a book!” he whines.

“Don’t worry, I have my choice right here,” you tell him, flashing the paperback. “This is from me to you.”

He takes the bag curiously, sticking his hand in without looking. The tip of his tongue brushes against his upper lip, much like it did in the van, as he dramatically rifles through, conveniently ignoring the fact that there’s only one item in there. After a solid ten seconds of that, he fishes out the book.

“Have you read it? Like, do you already own it? Because I can return it right there,” you blabber, motioning to where the bored cashier is twiddling his thumbs, “if you don’t want it. And you can pick out something else.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says softly, cupping your chin with his left hand. “I love it, okay? I haven’t read it yet, but I want to.” He plops down on the chair as you slide into yours, relieved. “In fact, maybe I’ll read it right now.” He opens to the first page, and you giggle as his eyes scan the words. “Oh, I’m being rude, aren’t I?” He fakes innocence, making you laugh harder. “My apologies. I’ll read aloud so you can listen.” He starts speaking in his deep, dramatic Dungeon Master voice. Although he’s trying to be silly, there’s something comforting about having him read to you. You almost don’t want him to stop, sipping from your mug and drinking in the sound of him.

He slams the book shut and gently places it back in the bag. “So, besides read and piss off Click, what do you like to do for fun?” he asks, digging his fork into the cake slice and taking a bite. “Holy shit, this is delicious.”

You take another swallow of coffee. There’s still a hint of bitterness to it, just the way you like it. “I write for the school newspaper. Mostly just reporting on school events, student council budget reports…”

“And entertainment?” Eddie finishes.

“Huh?”

“Writing the entertainment section? Isn’t that why you interviewed us last year?” he adds, pushing the cake towards you as an invitation. You oblige, answering his question before eating.

“Oh,” you mumble, keeping your gaze trained on the confection. “I don’t normally do that, but I asked Nancy if I could cover it that week.”

“Oh?” He’s intrigued, and you’re grateful for the mouthful of cake when he follows up with, “And why is that?”

You chew carefully, probably more times than necessary while you consider your response. Fuck it; we’re already on a date. “Kinda had a crush on their lead guitarist-slash-vocalist,” you say shyly, “and I always wanted to talk to him but couldn’t work up the courage to do it, like, normally.”

Eddie crosses his arms and leans back, smiling proudly. “So you hid behind the guise of your work to flirt with me?” He lets out a soft whistle. “And here I thought you had journalistic integrity.” He puts his hand over yours once again, rubbing his thumb over it rhythmically. “S’okay, because I totally have a crush on this reporter.”

“Fred Benson?” you joke.

Pouting, Eddie pulls the slice of cake directly in front of him. “Y’know what? You’ve lost your dessert privileges for being such a mean date.” To emphasize his point, he takes a giant bite while glaring at you. Chocolate frosting smears on his lips. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks when he catches you staring at his mouth.

“Actually, yes.” You start to lean over with a paper napkin in hand, but decide against it, bringing your lips to his. He tastes like sugar from the cake, burnt caramel from the coffee, and clove from his cigarettes, and your stomach flip-flops when he brings his hand to your cheek and deepens the kiss. “Mmm, my favorite,” you manage when you break away.

“What? Me or the chocolate?” Eddie asks, eyes blown wide just from a simple kiss.

You smile, biting your lower lip. “Right now? The cake, because you still haven’t given me back the book you stole in detention.”

He throws his head back and sighs. “But if I don’t hold your book hostage, how can I secure that second date?”

You brush a lock of hair out of his face. “What if I told you that you already have?” He looks genuinely astonished, so you elaborate. “Eddie, this is the best date I’ve ever had. I can’t think of the last time I was this happy.”

The handsome metalhead reaches into his worn backpack and takes out the book. “You probably already figured this out, but flattery works with me, so…”

You grab it victoriously. “Thank you,” you chirp, stowing it away before he can take it back. Eddie grins at you, just enjoying being in your company.

“I kinda have a little confession of my own,” he says quietly. You pinch your eyebrows together in confusion. “I, um, I didn’t have detention today.”

“Then why—”

“Saw you sitting there alone, and I wanted to talk to you. I keep lookin’ for you in the cafeteria so I can ask you to eat with us, but I never see you.”

You clear your throat. “Yeah, I-I like to eat in the library. It’s quieter there.” And you don’t have to deal with Jason Carver and his posse picking on you, but you withhold that information.

Eddie looks at you inquisitively. “I thought you couldn’t eat in the library.” He raises his brows. “You little rebel. Sneaking food in the library, reading for fun during class…” He trails off and chuckles. “You’re always welcome at our table. I’d really like it if you sat with us, actually.”

“Okay,” you agree easily. “I’d really like that, too.” You kiss him again and again, stopping only to indulge in coffee or cake.

Maybe getting detention isn’t so bad, after all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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arabellasleopardcoat · 3 months

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Pyrite - Chapter 1: Gold Crown

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader.

Chapter Summary: During your first week as the Queen's handmaid, you overhear something you shouldn't have.

Warnings: Discussions of death, grief, abortion, and scheming. None of those happen to reader.

A/N: Alysanne Targaryen, you feminist icon. Mostly context.

As you walk towards the Queen's chambers, you fight a yawn. Despite the excitement you feel, you are still tired, unused to waking up as early as this.

So far, you have led the life of a girl. Playing around the gardens with the other children, running errands for your mother. But today, your life will change. You will go from girl to woman.

Today will be one of the most important days of your existence. The only other event that could surpass it will be the day you finally meet the lady you will serve.

It's a labor of love, your mother says. To serve faithfully next to a Queen is to be strong and loyal, but most of all, loving. You will get to know all her secrets, only you will see her bared body, and all its imperfections. You will learn to love this woman as if she were your little sister, for you will be the only one to know her as she is. Past the crown and the jewels, and down to the very mortal flesh that a Targaryen Queen has.

The Red Keep is where your family has served for generations. Your grandmother is full of tales about the cruelty of King Maegor, and his various wives. Your mother has served Queen Alysanne faithfully, ever since both of them were mere girls. You come from a lineage of handmaidens, born to serve the greatest Queens Westeros has ever seen.

In your family, being born a girl is a blessing. When a boy is born, the family weeps for the opportunity lost. Your mother had been the only girl out of her siblings, and now you, an only child, get to learn her trade.

One of your earliest memories comes with being taught to read and write. A handmaiden must know all the recipes for beauty, and create her own. Never for embellishing herself, but rather her lady. Every woman in your family keeps her own book, tailored to the lady she serves. As a child, you dreamed of the day you would be handed your own journal, and today is the day it will finally happen.

You will get to meet Queen Alysanne today. She is the most loved and kind Queen your family has served. Your mother has always spoken highly of her, telling tales of her beauty and grace.

Her story is the story all little girls dream of living. She had married for love, defying her family, and ended up being the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She had it all, once. Riches, beauty and a loving family. But as of late, you know her life has not been the fairy tale it used to be.

One of her sons, Prince Aemon, passed away a few years ago. The loss of her daughter had made the Queen even sadder and morose, and now, her other son was rumored to be running himself ragged with the responsibilities that came with being Hand. He worked so much, his health was debilitating.

The Queen walked around the Red Keep as if in a stupor. Your mother said that she had left her changed. No longer, the Queen had a thirst for life, nor did she care much about anything. The only thing that had broken her out of her sadness had been the fact that her granddaughter, Rhaenys, had been declared unfit to be heir to the Iron Throne.

“If your Grace truly believes that women lack the wit to rule, plainly you have no further need of me.” The Queen had said to the King, that time. Everyone found her words so surprising, but not you. Your mother had always said she was a champion for women, noble and commoners alike.

The succession issue was not only the royal's, but yours too. On it depended whom you would serve, which Queen you would tend to for the rest of your days.

Prince Aemon left only one heir. Princess Rhaenys, a beautiful woman who inherited her father's eyes. It should be her who should be Queen, your mother says. It's only right. But she has already been passed over already, the King declared Prince Baelor his heir. Now Prince Baelor is weakening, and the issue resurfaces again.

You think that Princess Rhaenys would make for an interesting lady. She is married already and she has a young son. She would be the first Queen in her own right in the history of Westeros and that would make you at least noteworthy to your family history.

The other option is Prince Viserys. Prince Viserys is said to be peaceful and not very gifted with the sword. That's alright, though. He has a brother to do that for him. Prince Viserys is married to a young girl, around your age. Princess Aemma. They are said to love each other very much, despite having married as children. To her, you could be an older sister, you think. She is said to be very kind and royal, despite being an Arryn by birth.

Both of them have their advantages. Prince Viserys would no doubt bring stability, but Princess Rhaenys would implement changes that would surely benefit women.

It would be exciting to be part of such changes. Your mother always remembers fondly her first days as Queen Alysanne’s handmaiden, when she had convinced her husband to abolish First Night. A terrible northern custom that hurt people like you.

It had made waves, your mother had said. The Lords had not wanted to abolish it. But Queen Alysanne had interfered and saved thousands of young girls just like you.

It's difficult to think of the weak old woman laying on her bed as that same fierce Queen. You are allowed in her rooms at sunrise, with your mother and your journal. You watch as she prepares the room to rise her lady, and you sit quietly with the Queen's jewels on your hands and neck. It's one of your new duties, to warm them for your lady.

She looks frail, sleeping between the covers. Aged. Your mother draws the curtains of the room open. In the morning light, antiques and silks shine like jewels. It's ostentatious, and it makes you sick. Only the gowns in this room could feed three or four families for a year.

“It won't be long before now.” Your mother whispers to you. She opens the door and picks up a tray. On it, sits a grapefruit cut in half, eggs, tea, and bread. Your stomach growls. It smells heavenly. Your mother places it on the vanity where you sit, warming your Queen's seat and jewels. It's the worst kind of torture. Your stomach hurts with hunger and you think of your breakfast, a cup of broth that was heavily diluted with water.

As predicted, the Queen slowly starts to stir. She moves, long silver braid whipping around. She has very thin hair, and you wonder how your mother makes up for it. Your journal is ready to note down any tricks she deems to share. You are supposed to note times and other useful things for when the time comes for you to have a lady of your own.

“Good morning, my Queen.” Your mother curtsies, and you hurry to do the same.

“You brought your daughter.” The Queen rasps, eyes still cloudy with sleep. “Come closer.”

Your mothers urges you forward. You obey, unable to believe such an esteemed lady would want to look at you.

“You are a pretty thing.” The Queen says, brushing your cheekbone with her thumb. You lower your eyes, not wanting to offend her by gawking at her. Queen Alyssane's hands are like nothing you've ever felt before, made of the softest velvet. She has never worked a day in her life and it shows. Your mother's hands and yours feel rough by comparison. “Are you married yet?”

“No, my Queen. I wish to settle into my duties first.” You answer, demurely.

“Your duties.” She smiles. “You are a good girl.” Then, to your mother. “I suppose it's not only Rhaenys’s future at stakes, isn't it?”

“It seems like it, my Queen.” Your mother exchanges a look with the Queen. You would never dare gaze upon her like that, but they share a bond after so many years together. Almost a friendship. Or the closest thing to one that a commoner can have with a noble.

“Well. Hopefully, things will speed up soon. I doubt I have many years left, and Jaehaerys…” The distress can be heard in her tone. It makes you feel sad, too. What must it be like to love someone your entire life, and then being parted from them? If you had been in love with someone since you were a child, you wouldn't know how to live without them. It was that fear what had kept the Queen abed. After losing so much, she was afraid to lose even more.

Even if you were not a noble lady, that was a motivation you could understand. Losing your family would devastate you. Fear of it happening again would paralyze you too.

“The King will live longer, your Grace. There is no need to worry.” You said, softly. You weren't too sure it was your place to say so, but your mother's encouraging nod seemed to approve.

“Isn't it? When he insists on her not being Queen. He would rather bypass her rights again instead of naming her Queen.” The Queen said, sharply. Suddenly, she was sitting up straighter on her bed, eyes blazing with fury

“I do not presume to know the King's…” You tried to appease her, but she only became angrier.

“Do you not think it's a sign? Baelor will soon be struck down. I know it. His son is not fit to be King. Rhaenys can rule as well as any man, and she has her husband's support. He rides a dragon too. She also has a strong heir. Why would be Viserys be better?”

“The Lords would…” Your mother interjected, trying to save you from her wrath.

“A cock. He has a cock, and the Lords do too. It is time I show them it doesn't mean what they all think it means.”

And suddenly, Queen Alyssane was alive once more. She got up from her bed and started barking orders to her maidens, you included.

Your mother rushed to clothe her, draping silks over her. The Queen threw them all away, reaching instead for a black dress.

“Get me a quill, girl.” She screamed. “And summon Ser Otto. We have much to talk about.”

So you did. Everyone knew Ser Otto. He was the younger brother of Lord Hightower, and one of the most trusted men in the council. Tall and haughty, he did not take kindly to being summoned in such a way. But once he had a private meeting with Queen Alysanne, his mood greatly improved.

Many more meetings began to take place in the Queen's chambers. Another man had been asked to come and see her. Corlys Velaryon. The Queen said, loudly, that it was about him retaking his position as Master of Ships, but you could tell that was not it.

There was nothing to back your suspicions, though. You were not privy to what happened inside the Queen's chambers, and you only knew so much because you had been tasked with reading outloud her pending tasks each morning.

It was only when Queen Alysanne sent you to pick up some meat pies from the tavern she enjoyed that your suspicions were confirmed.

With your basket and borrowed gold from the Queen, you had gone to the tavern most highborn enjoyed. It was not a real tavern, in your opinion. You had been to a couple of those, with other serving girls and stable boys. Lowborn like you were not allowed here, just as they weren't allowed in the expensive pleasure houses of the Street of Silks. There was no explicit prohibition, but the prices said it all.

What it was, was a good imitation, for young lords to pretend to be having the real experience, and feel adventurous. It was also a good place for seedy meetings among the highborn.

You were making the queue towards the counter to purchase the meat pies, overpriced and made with much better ingredients than any tavern grub when you heard them.

“And you have a daughter, right?”

“A newborn. Alicent.”

At first, you didn't pay much attention, letting the conversation drift over you. It contained nothing out of the ordinary. Just a new father bragging.

“Alicent is a pretty name. Queen Alicent.”

“Laenor is…”

“Barely a few years older than her.”

But then, you realized. You knew those voices! They belonged to the men who often met with the Queen. The one with silver hair was Lord Corlys Velaryon, and he was the husband of Princess Rhaenys. The other one, you could tell, was Ser Otto. There was a third man with them, that you did not recognize. He wore a hood over his head.

“It has a certain ring to it, Hightower.” Lord Corlys laughed.

“We have to move quickly. Before the news spread.” The unknown man said.

“News?” Ser Otto asked, frowning.

“Aemma is pregnant. I fear, if she manages to carry to term, some might prefer Viserys over Rhaenys. If she births a boy…” Lord Corlys grimaced.

“A line of Kings, uninterrupted.” Ser Otto grimaced too.

“She will not birth a boy.” The other man said.

“We can't be too sure about that.”

“I should leave. I have to meet with the Queen in half an hour.” Lord Corlys got up and walked out, passing near you. He spoke the truth. You had read so this morning, on the Queen's itinerary. You tried hard to look very focused on counting your gold coins, despite the Queen having handed you the exact amount.

The silence stretched. Now, you could not hear them as clearly, but you were curious. So you stepped a bit closer and asked the cashier to warm your meat pies, trying to hear more.

“Make sure she does not give birth to a boy.” Ser Otto ordered.

“Trust me. She won't even announce it. I will make sure of it.” The hooded man's voice had a dangerous edge to it.

“We can't have threats to Princess Rhaenys around.”

“And future Queen Alicent, either.” The hooded man replied, his tone turning more teasing. You wondered who this Alicent was, and how they planned to place her on the throne. You did not know any Targaryen by that name.

“That, too. You will be rewarded handsomely, of course.” Ser Otto’s reputation did not indicate him to be humorous, but there was a hint of mirth in his words that could not be faked. He was pleased by the exchange.

“I would like to be Maester of the Red Keep, I think.”

One of the men laughed. The cashier knocked the counter in front of you, annoyed. He was handing you the heated meat pies, and expecting his gold. You paid him without a word. And as you walked towards the exit, bundled pies under your arm, you heard them toast.

“Hear, hear. To Grandmaester Mellos and Otto Hightower, Lord Hand.”

“And baby Queen Alicent.”

Your walk back to the castle was troubled. You were smart enough to know the implications of their talk. Did the Queen know? Considering they were meeting outside the Red Keep, it was doubtful. Besides, it didn't fit with what you knew about her. She may have disagreed with the succession, but she would never hurt her granddaughter.

Corlys Velaryon had left before the discussion took place. While as ruthless as his companions, the others seemed wary of involving him. Perhaps because, if the plan was discovered, it would affect Princess Rhaenys claim.

Your mind was racing. You had to tell someone. They were talking about murdering a babe not yet born! Would the Queen believe you? You knew her enough to know that she would not hurt you for speaking, but you doubted she would heed your warning. Instead, she would go straight to Ser Otto. A lowborn girl’s word against the word of a Maester and one of her advisors? The joke told itself.

Your other option was telling the Lord Hand. But Lord Baelor scared you. He was deeply protective of his children after the death of his wife. You didn't know him enough to know he wouldn't murder the messenger.

But you could not keep the memory tucked away either. It burned at you, when you were brushing the Queen's hair. When you were bathing. When you were attempting to fall asleep.

The hooded man said that Princess Aemma would not even get to announce it. Your time was running out. You had to do something.

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iwasbored777 · 2 years

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Commander Lawrence: Mrs McKinsey is a great woman. She has never stolen someone's husband.

Me: Bish, she stole someone's daughter.

#The fact he is defending someone worse than June #And he pretends she is better than june #I hate Lawrence too #The handmaid's tale #commander lawrence

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mistydeyes · 10 months

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eyes for the stars

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summary: The 141 boys can't help but feel slightly jealous about your celebrity crush. They can't help but wonder why you're so obsessed with them.

pairing: 141 x civvie! Reader

warnings: swearing, spoilers for Euphoria!

a/n: a little self indulgent because i too have all of these crushes (love my problematic ladies, sydney and phoebe <;3)

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price: pedro pascal

The minute you laid eyes on him you were hooked. From episode 1 of The Last of Us, Pedro became your very apparent celebrity crush. Who doesn’t love a strong parental figure who will do anything for his unconventional child?

Ever the observer, Price noticed how your Instagram stories were filled with reposts of Pedro at award shows, magazine covers, and even behind-the-shoot pictures. He even noticed the growing collection in your shared home of Mandalorian memorabilia. He couldn't help but feel hurt that his partner posted a celebrity more than him.

As Gaz looked over his shoulder he commented, "Looks like a more handsome version of you, Sir." "Get back to work, Sergeant" Price commanded, before shoving his phone back in his pocket. He couldn't believe that this was getting to him.

“You have a type, love,” Price said as you sat watching another episode of Narcos. It was your turn to pick a show to binge and of course, you picked this one. Price secretly wished you spent his leave watching anything else. You were glued to the screen as you sat in your boyfriend’s arms. “I do not,” you argued, “you and he are so different.” You rolled your eyes and he let out a small chuckle.

“He’s an older man who is surprisingly resourceful and doesn’t let many people in until he’s given someone to protect with his life,” he began and you realized the similarities, “Plus, look at him. I might start shaving my beard and only having a mustache for you.”

As the realization hit you, you couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed at his observations. You paused the episode and held his face gently. "I'd much rather have this mustached face here with me than him," you said and shared a loving kiss.

Price was later happy to say that your stories of the man were significantly less than before. Good thing he didn't see your phone wallpaper was of the very famous Pedro Pascal edit (yk the one).

soap: sydney sweeney

You both were unapologetic about your love for the problematic blonde on Euphoria. Although you couldn't condone her rumors about Glen Powell, you couldn't help but obsess over the gorgeous woman. A new Syd’s garage TikTok? Queue you running around your house to find your boyfriend. You both religiously watched her in episodes of The Handmaid’s Tale and White Lotus. Don’t even get me started on when she appeared on the red carpet, your texts were flooded with pictures and emojis.

There was always one rule between you and Soap: don't watch any Sydney Sweeney movies or shows without the other. He instituted that rule once the new Euphoria season was predicted to come out. As he left for another mission for the 141, he kissed you and said, "No Sydney without me, promise?" As you gave him your pinky, you wouldn't realize you would be breaking that rule later on that year.

To be fair, no one could have predicted that their mission would have taken until the end of November. Also, it was technically Soap's fault for not binging the show before he was deployed. However, since the call to duty was ever present, he didn't want to start a show without knowing he could finish it. You waited until August to finally start it. You had been dying since the season ended in February and had blocked all spoilers.

The minute the show started, you knew you couldn't stop. The plot line between Nate and Cassie was just TOO GOOD. Hours later, you had finished and were ashamed of yourself. You just had to know how the drama between Maddy and Cassie ended. Logging out of your account, you tried to hide all the evidence before your boyfriend inevitably came home.

It was December when Soap returned, excited to be home with you and even more excited to start Season 2 of Euphoria. As you made you both some popcorn, you heard an ear-piercing scream from the living room. You rushed over to see what happened but Soap stood there with a shocked face. "Bonnie, why does HBO say you finished all the episodes?" he accused and you knew you were done for. "I-" you started before he interrupted. "You betrayed me, worse than Graves," he said almost as if he was crying. As you looked at him sheepishly he said in a soft voice, "Please tell me that the rumors about Cassie and Nate aren't true."

gaz: henry cavill

Who could compete with Superman? Certainly not Gaz, in fact, he would get a little jealous when you mentioned your little crush. You loved Henry Cavill specifically the DC Comic version of him, not The Witcher. Gaz regretted ever letting Soap get you into the new films.

For the past year, your boyfriend would not hear the end of your pining for the dark-haired beauty. You were non-stop, always talking about his latest interviews and always having his films on repeat. Gaz even had to stop you from putting a framed picture of Henry on your fireplace mantle. You finally agreed that Henry belonged on screen, not in a frame along with your loved ones and your boyfriend.

Gaz miraculously was home for Halloween, a first! You had been invited to a party by your friends and decided on a Cat Woman costume. Oddly enough, when you asked Gaz what he was wearing, he said he already had it covered. This was his chance to show you who the real hero was. You tried to find out the best you could (even looking through his search history) but you could not find what it was.

"Babe, can you at least tell me you're on theme?" you asked over the phone, it was a few weeks before his return and you were anxious to know his secret costume. "Trust me, love, you'll be pleasantly surprised" he answered and you audibly groaned at his mysterious tone.

“Kyle, are you ready?” you called, dressed in your Cat Woman costume. You loved Lois Lane but something about the powerful energy Selena Kyle had plus her sexy attire made you pick this instead. As you adjusted your all-black outfit in the mirror, you heard your boyfriend descend the stairs. You turned around to see him dressed in Superman’s signature costume. The costume was of surprising quality, perfectly defining your boyfriend's physique and making his butt look great.

“I heard there’s someone who needs a superhero,” he triumphantly said as he struck a pose. You smiled widely and took many pictures. “You look amazing, babe! This is just like the movies,” you said excitedly as you kissed him on the cheek. “Bought it just for you” he winked, “Gotta let you know who the real hero is.” You laughed and punched his arm lightly. “Let’s go my Lois Lane,” he said and you grabbed his hand, getting ready to face the world with your hero.

ghost: phoebe bridgers

Now Ghost isn't like the rest of the 141 boys, he won't let his jealousy get the better of him. BUT COME ON, you were in love with Phoebe Bridgers, the haunting singer of Boygenius whose grey hair glistened in the moonlight. You owned every single record of hers and constantly pined over the TikTok videos of her on Taylor Swift's tour. You even bought you and Ghost her matching sweatpants with bones on the front and her name on the butt. He wouldn't admit it but he did love her style. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little twinge of jealousy whenever Kyoto came on the radio.

While on duty, Ghost could feel his phone ring. He answered immediately, knowing you only called for emergencies. He was greeted by you screaming. "BOYGENIUS IS COMING TO LONDON WE HAVE TO GO!!" you yelled excitedly. Ghost mentally slapped himself, he would have to remind you that this line was only for major injuries or death. "Love, Boygenius is not an emergency," he said sternly before you responded, "SIMON, PHOEBE FUCKING BRIDGERS WILL BE SHARING THE SAME AIR AS US," you yelled back. Ghost was glad no one was around because he would never hear the end of it. "Calm down, I'll see what I can do," he said before reiterating his love for you and hanging up.

When Ghost returned home, you were in a deep depression. You opened the door and looked sadder than he had ever seen you. "What's wrong?" he asked, closing the door behind him and taking you into his arms. You let out a few tears as you sat on the couch together. He noted you were all decked out in one of your many Phoebe hoodies and shorts. "I wasn't able to get tickets," you sniffled, "they sold out immediately." You knew it was stupid but your heart was crushed. You would never get to see her live.

"Well good thing I know a thing or two about computers," he said before pulling out his phone to show you a confirmation email. Your eyes widened when you saw he had secured VIP tickets to meet the band and watch from the pit. "Happy anniversary, my love," he said and you were speechless for a moment. "Simon, I think I could marry you," you whispered as you hugged him tightly. "Anything for you darling," he said and kissed you. As you excitedly confirmed all the details and peeked at the set list, Ghost felt the need to poke fun at you. "Do you love her because she has a thing for skeletons too?" That earned him a light slap to the chest.

The day of the concert, you could've fainted upon meeting the band. They were all so much cooler than you could have ever imagined. As you talked Julien's and Lucy's ears off, Phoebe walked up to Ghost. "Sick mask dude, gotta get me one of those," she said in her deep, chill voice. Moments later, Ghost almost had to subdue you as you tried to force the mask off his face to give it to her.

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

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— the hand that feeds you

pairing: dark!aemond targaryen x fem!handmaid!reader

summary: you’d shown kindness to aemond early on as his handmaid, from which a friendship bloomed. but aemond had grown a dependency on it, and on you.

warnings: obsession, pining, arranged marriage

a/n: i haven’t written for hotd in soooo long, based on this request! i did change it up and have them be friends rather than her not liking him <3

he would not leave you be. aemond targaryen was obsessed with you, his sweet maid, for years.

it had stemmed from his childhood, the day after the incident with the velaryons. his old maid was frightened of him, and his disfigurement. she’d quit once she fully laid eyes on the little prince, so horrified she ran out of the red keep and hadn’t come back since. but life goes on. your mother worked at the red keep, one of queen alicents ladies.

your mother had hoped for you to work by her, perhaps under the princess helaena. but alicent had hoped for someone to take aemond on, and with how sweet you seemed from your own mothers tales she figured it be best to trial you with him. and lucky it worked.

aemond was standoffish at first, understandably so.

he was cold and rude, never bothering to stay around long enough for you to get a word in, your efforts discarded. but over time you’d managed to get him to open up. your soft demeanour was suspicious to him, half the people in his own castle couldn’t meet his eye, they talked to him and tolerated him out of respect for his station, above them. not because he was aemond targaryen.

your kindness was one in few, a rare occurrence. and soon enough a friendship blossomed between yourself and the prince. it may not have seemed so by any on lookers but aemond felt comfort in your words, your touch, in you. you’d never meant it as anything else but friendly.

aemond was smart, and wise, unbearably so for his age yet it never seemed to register with others in his early years. you noticed, you helped him bring it out. and soon enough aemond found himself craving for you, however he could get you. and as he grew his love did too. unknown to you of course.

you’d watched him grow from a young boy to a grown man, skilled and talented, more so than most. you admired his hard work, the hours he spent into building himself up, getting past his reputation as the disfigured boy, a distinguished prince now. feared as well, his skill with his sword was fascinating, the way he moved and fought was remarkable. his gorgeous silver locks, and sculptured face.

he was fascinating, but you only saw him as a friend.

you were now a young woman, stunning and intelligent, a woman grown. you’d been moved to be under helaena, which had upset aemond deeply, but he didn’t let anyone know.

and of course he knew that men would be coming for you. your own lordly father drowning in marriage proposals for his own daughter, of which you were blissfully unaware under false pretence and promise that you’d marry whoever you wished.

so why not enter himself in the list?

his name was quick to garner attention of course, and rose to the top of your fathers list immediately. a targaryen prince, wanting his daughters hand in marriage. was there anyone else better?

of course not.

aemond would finally have the girl he’d hoped and dreamed for since childhood, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. you wanted this, right?

what aemond didn’t anticipate was your rejection.

“aemond you are but a friend of mine, a good one of course. but you’ll marry a gorgeous lady, more well known than i, you’ll be happy. and i’ll marry lord james, he’s quite sweet, i like him.” the two of you had been walking in the garden, talking of the future when aemond brought up the idea of your marriage.

his one good eye began to sting, perhaps there was something in his eye.

“y/n.” his voice was stern and unwavering as you stopped in your tracks, your dress spinning as you turned on your heel, “my prince?” he hated your formality, he expected it from everyone but you. “you are already set to be mine, out betrothal is set.” you shook your head immediately, “no, no my father promised!”

aemond found your crying incessant and irritating. “it’s set, there’s nothing you can do. would you rather marry a random man, or me? i know you, y/n, and i know i can treat you better than any man alive. i will spoil you, i will care for you more so than i already do. with me, you’ll never have to worry about anything.” your tears annoyed him to no end, yet he’d let you cry for now.

for when the tears dried, and a new day dawned, you’d be tied to him, forever.

and who on earth would you be to bite the hand that feeds you?

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