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rebelliousstories · 5 days

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Out and About

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Child!Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @that-teen2003

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 858

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

A vault suit sticks out like a sore thumb in the desert of the Wasteland. It was so bright, and blue, and very impractical for the harsh reality of the terrain. That is why when he saw it, Cooper’s interest was peaked. That and the cowboy hat the person sported much like his own. Because it was not even a fully grown human wearing the offending garment; it was a child.

The Ghoul looked around as the small being was wandering the rough terrain with cautious eyes. Surely this child was not alone. But it just kept exploring as if it had done it its entire life. He kept a safe distance as he followed the child, just hoping that this belonged to someone nearby. But no one ever came. No mom, no dad, no authority of any kind came to collect this child.

It was currently climbing inside of an old house when Cooper noticed how fast the sun was setting. There would be horrible things coming for that child in the dark of the night. He heard a crash, and immediately drew his gun before running inside the decrepit house. What he saw shocked him. There this little child was, nursing a small fire with a can of cram in its hands that it was eating.

In the firelight, Howard noticed that this small child was a girl, probably no older than six. It reminded him of his little Janey that remained as vivid as ever in his memory two hundred years later. Without consciousness, he began to move closer by did not see the empty can that was right in front of him. He accidentally kicked the object, sending it flying and clanging about the home which startled the child. She let out a yelp, and held her food closer to her chest as she stared at the new person with fear in her eyes. Cooper held out a hand to calm her down, and placed his gun back on his hip. She moved closer to see who the new man was.

“Whoa.” She breathed out and nearly dropped her food. There was no fear left in her eyes after comprehending The Ghoul before her. Suddenly, she was up on her feet and ran straight to the man who was utterly confused. Even with him crouched, she only came up to his chest. Her tiny arms struggled to wrap around him.

“It’s you! It’s you,” came her exclamation. Her voice trailed off as she settled but Cooper was stiff as a board. Pulling the child away, he looked at her closer. She was thin and sunburnt from surviving the Wasteland but her teeth looked good still.

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, little one?” Cooper’s hairless brow furrowed as he knelt down to be on her level.

“You’re Cooper Howard. You’re da sheriff from T.V.” Her toothy grin showed. There were a couple missing, but she did not seem to care. Taking off her hat, she passed it to the man with all the innocence only a child cold have.

“Can you sign dis, please?”

That one ask broke him inside. He felt his heart shattering. It had been so long since someone had asked him to do that; he had completely forgotten the feeling. This little child had thawed his blackened heart in a matter of seconds.

“Where you from darlin’? Why you out here all by yourself lonesome and not with your momma?” Cooper chose to avoid her question, knowing that he did not have any instrument to sign the hat. The child, whose name was still a mystery, looked down at her feet that were kicking around sand before she answered.

“My mommy was behind me, den she wasn’t. She told me to run, so I did cause Mommy said I have to listen to her widout question here. I don’t know where she is.” Again, The Ghoul felt his heart break. Chances were, that woman was long dead and chose to spare her child the same fate. It seemed to have worked, but the could not have been out of the vaults long.

“Well, little one. What’s your name? Seein’ as you know mine,” said Cooper. He tried to smile kindly and not scare off the child, although she seems to not be the slightest bit afraid. She supplied her name, and took a much needed bite of food.

“Can I stay with you? It’s scary up here alone.” Even without those puppy eyes she was giving, Cooper already knew his answer. He nodded and walked over to the fire once more. Sitting with his back to the wall, Howard added some more tinder to the fire and was shoved slightly. The girl had moved his arm so that she was curled up against his side, with her head on his chest. Her can of food was empty and discarded as she drifted off to sleep.

Muscle memory kicked in. Cooper checked her breathing, and looked around for any potential threats lurking. With his gun at the ready, he slipped into a light sleep with a little girl on his chest once more.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader

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arctrooper69 · 1 year

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Born for This

This is my gift for @starborncyare-deactivated202303 as a part of the @cloneficgiftexchange (which you should go and check out bc there are a TON of amazing fic authors).

Prompt: "Cyar'ika no." // "But it followed me back to camp!"

P.S. Sorry for posting so late tonight. I meant to post it earlier but life got in the way. Hope you like it though!

Holy crap I tagged the wrong person 😱😱😱 I'm so sorry!

Warnings: None?

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"Where in the kriffing galaxy have you be -" Kix stuttered, cutting himself off as you walked through the door holding what looked like a large bundle of towels. Whatever you were carrying barely fit in your arms. "Uh...what is that?"

Before you could respond, the bundle began to wiggle and two long angular ears popped out of the top.

Kix's look of concern flipped to one of disbelief in a matter of nanoseconds.

Oh Force, not again.

Jesse and Hardcase had brought him an injured tooka the week before and it had wrecked havoc in his med bay when it got loose. Kix desperately hoped this wouldn't be a repeat of that disaster.

Though, despite his initial worries, he had to smile. You did look awfully cute sporting that wide grin of yours. He loved how the tip of your nose crinkled when you were truly happy.

Kix took a step forward, curiously peering at the creature cocooned in your arms.

Oh. Kriff.

He almost wished it was a feral tooka.

He slid his hand down his face and took a deep breath as he stepped back. "Cyar'ika," he said evenly, keeping his voice as calm as he could muster. "Please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

You looked down as the creature in question poked his head out from beneath the towel, large yellow eyes curiously gazing around the room.

"This little guy?" You cooed at the large cub. He barely fit in your arms.

"Little!?" Kix almost yelled, shooting you an incredulous look. "That thing is a gundark and could very easily tear you apart!"

As if on cue, the cub let out a purring growl before yawning, displaying rows of razor sharp teeth.

You frowned. "His name is Tiny and I don't think he likes what you just said about him."

Kix pinched the bridge of his nose, not quite believing the scene before him.

"You named it!?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"And....what made you decide to bring it here?"

The gundark whined, knocking his head against your shoulder, blinking up at you.

"He was wandering around just outside the base. I think there's something wrong with his paw. He was limping and I thought you could help him!"

"It is a gundark, cyar'ika. Please get it out of my med bay before it eats someone."

Your expression fell. "But he's hurt! He doesn't have a mom anymore! We have to keep him!"

"No. Absolutely not. Go outside. Put it down immediately and go wash your hands."

"But he followed me back to camp! I think he thinks I'm his mom now. Please at least just help me patch him up!"

Kix sighed. Part of him wanted to yell at you, tell you that the cub was dangerous, that it could seriously hurt you. Kix had seen brothers be torn to pieces by these creatures. He could still hear their screams as they were eaten alive. He wanted that danger as far away from you as possible.

On the other hand, the amount of compassion you displayed towards this injured animal was the same kindness he'd seen you show daily as you helped nurse his wounded brothers back to health. You were born for this - he saw it everyday. Watching you be so gentle towards such a bloodthirsty creature stirred something inside of him. You were strong, he knew that, and as much as he tried to keep you out of trouble, danger just followed along behind, but you faced it head on with such a genuine, loving thoughtfulness. It was part of who you were.

Maybe it was time to act on those feelings that had been growing stronger day by day.

Kix chuckled softly as his hand grazed your shoulder. He smiled warmly, latching onto that growing sparkle of dedicated excitement in your eyes.

"Alright, cyar'ika. Let's see what we're working with."

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

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His Lioness.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), also known as arsenal’s number six, or currently, (Y/N) Styles.

A professional footballer who plays for women’s super league team, Arsenal and is the current captain of England, aka The Lionesses.

In 2017, at the age of 20, she met world renowned singer and actor, Harry Styles, who was twenty three at the time and had attended a Manchester United vs Arsenal game with his god daughter, Ruby.

When there eyes connected for the first time to say the both of them were gone for would be a complete and total understatement.

In 2019, after a total of two years dating, he got down on one knee, and became his and and wife when the clock struck midnight on December 31st.

Fast forward to 2023, they’ve now been a married couple for four years.

With him being an international popstar, and her being at the top of her game in the sporting world, what will 2023 bring to there chaotic lives.

authors note - this is really a series per say , just a place for when i have inspiration to write this trope, they will get placed here:)

his lioness.

in which, harry is dating the captain of the england women’s national team, and the euro final is taking place very soon, this is a selection of moments from the duration of the tournament.

lion cub.

in which, rumours are floating around about our favourite couple and when they finally get confirmed, the whole world turns into a frenzy, and there just watching from the outside, in a or full bubble of there own.

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doxypsychlean · 2 years

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Hi <3

I loved everything you wrote about Aegon. Could you please write some oneshot/headcanons (you decide) in wich Reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter and Aegon always loved her since childhood but they had a enemies to lovers relationship (she is a girl just like Arya/Lyanna personality and is always teasing him). But in episode 8, she is bethroed to Aemond and he needs to say to her his feelings. You can decide the ending, thank you :)

(Sorry my bad english :/)

Quick up 📅 - I kinda forgot abt the part where she's Rhaenyra's kid. It may have slipped my mind as soon as I read Arya's name lol. Anyhoo-

The Wolf And The Dragon

Aegon II Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: Explicit language

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off! Maybe indulge in a battle to the death with your sweet ol' granny. Probably steal your beloved pet.

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: It's kinda long ngl, but sickeningly sweet! Oh, yeah. Aegon isn't married to Helaena in this one. For my own sake, she's with her loving husband, Lord Sth-Sth of Sth-Sth. Cheers!

One of her father's men was dragging the young lady through the training grounds as the boys trained with Ser Criston and Ser Harwin. They all stopped to stare at her and the knight. She was biting, scratching and kicking at him.

"What do you care?! Seven Hells, let go!"

The man stopped and grabbed her by her small shoulders. He'd had enough of the little lady's antics for one day. He shook her as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Child, I've been there for all your life, I won't stand to watch you try and get yourself killed." The knight's face was turning red with anger. "You're of one and ten, you can't be walking around the capital without anyone to keep you safe! Do you realize what could have happened?!"

"Fuck. You." The girl hissed as she stomped down on the man's foot and spat in his eyes. She bolted, the man following close behind, while still trying to wipe the spit from his eyes.

"You wild beast, get back here!"

"She truly is a beast..." Aegon whispered to his brother and nephews as they all watched the knight tackle the kid to the ground.

"Ser Karstark, don't you think that's enough!" Harwin yelled out.

"Oh, want to come and deal with this thing yourself, Breakbones? It's not as easy as I make it look." Ser Brennard Karstark choked on his last few words, a small elbow slamming into his neck.

The girl got back on her feet, making a run for it once more.

On the next day, Ser Karstark was dragged the girl in the opposite direction, towards the training grounds this time. He was sporting a big purple bruise on his neck.

"I've told you so many times now, cub. You want to train, fine! I'll teach you! But picking attacking the guards is not the way to do it!"

The little lady only huffed in response as she reached down to her blade. She turned her head to the side, then struck.

Ser Karstark took a step back, the tip of the dagger almost making contact with his face.

"It is customary to wait for your opponent to bear arms before you try and chop his head off, wildling."

"As if anyone would wait for me."

She struck again, the knight dodging once more. Lady Stark circled around her opponent, her small eyes sizing him up.

To everyone's shock, the knight actually swung at her with his sword. The girl fell to the side as she rolled over, her silk tunic now covered in dirt.

"Good, good!" The knight nodded before he swung sideways.

She lowered her head, the blade of his sword passing right above it.

"Don't stay close to the ground for too long, cub..." Brennard warned as his took ahold of his sword with both hands. "The enemy will catch up on it eventually. And maybe do this!"

He yelled out as he put his whole strength into trying to lodge the sword into the girl's skull. She got back up. Her dagger was quick to find its target, slicing the knight's hand open.

Brennard looked at the blood that was spilling out of his hand, then at her.

"You play dirty, girl..."

"I do not wish to fight with honor when I can just do this."

Her small fist was now aiming for Brennard's nose. He let go of his sword, leaving it to stand there with the tip lodged into the ground below their feet. He caught her small hand by the wrist and punched her instead. The girl fell on her back, head slamming into the ground.

"Karstark!" Both Criston and Harwin yelled out, making their way towards the student and her teacher.

"Stand back! She wants to fight, so she'll fight!" Brennard yelled in return."Get up!"

Lady Stark jumped to her feet, eyes narrowing as she wiped the blood from her mouth. She used the moment to tackle her opponent to the ground.

"Finish the job." Brennard whispered to the child. "Do not let your enemies walk away. Do it!"

The girl's fingers found their way around the dagger that was hanging on the knight's side. She pulled it out and put it to his throat. The child was smiling down at him, eyes glowing.

"I win?"

Brennard laughed out as his hand ruffled through the short locks of hair on her head.

"You win! We'll make a fine soldier out of you, you'll see."

The two got up, each sporting a warm smile.

"Ya promise?"

Brennard nodded his head.

"But your training is not over yet." He turned to look at the two knights that stood close behind him. "We've seen you can tackle a grown man down to the dirt, but how will you manage with someone closer to your age and speed? Perhaps you should go against one of the young princes?"

Criston nodded. Him and Harwin went back to the boys.

"Prince Aegon against lady Stark then." He said as he motioned for the boy to take a step forward.

Aegon didn't move an inch towards the younger girl that was now staring at him with a devilish grin on her face. She scared him. She fought dirty and wasn't scared to take a blow to the face, even when it came from a grown man that was thrice her size. The girl didn't stand above stealing her enemy's weapon and using it against them either. On the contrary, if it were a real threat in front of her, she would have sliced the man's throat. The young prince realized everything he'd learned from both Ser Criston and Ser Harwin was useless against someone like her. Aegon had only heard of tales of the northmen, of their cold hearts and brutal ways. But now there was one in front of him. A child of winter and ice. A ball of rage with unruly, short hair. If Aegon didn't know her already, he would've thought it was a boy that stood in front of him.

There were no lavish dresses for her. No needlework. No singing. She was dirty nails. Unkempt hair. Grime. Blood. Sweat. Dirt. Adventure. Flying arrows. Hiss of daggers. Clash of swords.

"Ye fighting or what, aye? Don't have a whole day to wait ye." Her strong accent came through. She'd gone over and picked her weapon back up. The girl was waiting for the prince to come back to his senses, foot tapping impatiently as she twisted and turned the blade in her hand.

The fight was over pretty soon. The lady had knocked her prince down, elbow to his face. Ser Brennard knew what was going to happen, but made no move to stop his student. She broke his nose with that hit.

"I'd say ya fight like a girl, but... ya know..." She shrugged her shoulders at him as Karstark dragged her away with a proud smile on his face.

Eight years later Aegon had grown into a handsome young man. He'd grown into his soft features. His pale blue eyes stared at his feet, as kicked at some small rocks. Short strands of silver-white hair framed his face perfectly. He kept his hair on the shorter side. It was easier to manage.

Him and his brother stood next to the wide open gates that led into the castle's grounds. Aemond, unlike his older brother, had his hands folded neatly behind his back, waiting patiently.

"I don't understand, why did mother have to send us..."

Aemond nodded his head, signaling to his brother to look ahead. A group of sturdy looking men, covered in steel from head to toe, were coming fast towards them. At the front,just a few feet in away from the rest, a hooded rider. The jet black stallion this mysterious person was riding held its head high. The stomping of the horse's hooves had stopped.

"Prince Aemond! Prince Aegon!" A melodious, yet strong voice rang from underneath the hood.

"Lady Stark." Aemond greeted. "Welcome to the capital!"

The stranger hopped down from the horse and took their hood off. Aegon stared at her slack-jawed. There, in front of him, stood the most magnificent creature that had ever walked the earth. Porcelain skin w a scar here and there she'd most definitely got in battle. Sharp features, almost as sharp as the sword she had on her. Two big, bright eyes that shined with laughter. The only thing that reminded of the girl she once was, was her short dark hair. And her clothing. She'd never been the one to wear dresses. That hadn't changed either. Her long legs were covered in threadbare black pants that matched with her black tunic and boots.

"I trust your journey was pleasant?" Aemond asked out of politeness.

A short "aye" left her full lips, eyes trained on Aegon.

"Yer nose healed well, me Prince. Though it would seem there's something wrong with yer jaw..." She pointed towards his face, calloused fingers showing from underneath the sleeve. Her northern accent made a shiver run down Aegon's spine.

He couldn't bring himself to say something, the words refusing to leave his mouth. He nodded with a faint smile.

"Shall we?" Aemond's voice could be heard again.

"If ye don't mind, me and me men had spent long time on the road without a good challenge. We need a good fight"

Her men had jumped from their horses too, now waiting for their lady. Ser Brennard Karstark was standing next to her.

"Training grounds are that way, aye?" She nodded to the left, her eyes never leaving the older brother.

"Right, let's get ye to the stables, big boy." She finally looked away as she turned towards the stallion and ran a hand through his black mane.

Lady Stark handed the reins to the stable boy that had approached her with a soft smile and a nod of her head. The lad melted at the sight, tripping over his feet as he walked away.

"Ye two comin'?"

The woman walked away, her father's bannermen following close behind.

"Would love some audience while I kick this old bastard's arse to the ground." She pointed towards Ser Karstark as she and her men laughed.

"We'll see about that, Young Wolf." Ser Brennard said, even though he knew that was going to be the most likely outcome.

Two weeks had passed since lady Stark had arrived to the capital. For Aegon, it felt like it was years ago. They'd been spending most of their time together, much to the Queen's dismay. At least they had the decency to drag Aemond along.

On the first night in the capital, the young woman suggested they go for a drink. When the second born son of Viserys the Peaceful suggested they stay in the Red Keep, both Aegon and her laughed in his face.

They snuck out of the castle later that night in search of a tavern. Aegon, being a frequent visitor to most of them, made the choice.

Soon after they'd entered the establishment, lady Stark challenged them to a bet, saying she'd drink them both under the table. Aemond, being Aemond, refused. Aegon accepted almost immediately.

He was in shock. The woman that sat in front of him was perfect. She cursed like a sailor. Told all the dirty jokes she could think of. Even challenged some stranger to a fist fight to celebrate her winning the bet. The Young Wolf didn't even bother to take his hundred gold dragons she'd won fair and square, but instead slapped his hand away.

"It's not about the money, me Prince!" She laughed out as she punched the stranger square in the jaw. "It's the thrill!"

The three returned back to the castle only when the light of the sun had started to bounce off the waters of Blackwater Bay. Aemond walked in front of them, impatient to get as far away from the two drunk idiots. They walked with a slow pace, hands thrown over eachother's shoulder and words slurring.

"One of them cods got ya good, me Prince, no offense meant" She said to Aegon with a grin. "If it weren't for me, that arse would'a split yer head open."

"Good thing you were around to save me then, my fair lady..." Aegon responded. He came to a sudden stop, his face contorting in agony. His hand unwrapped from the woman's shoulders as he bent forward and let out all he'd consumed right where they stood.

Instead of cringing in disgust, the Stark laughed hard, tears pricking at her eyes. She ran a hand through her short hair.

"Now from that yer knight in shinin' armor can't save ye, I am sorry."

Aemond grabbed his brother by the scruff, pulling him back up.

"We'll get caught with all the noise you're making, we have to go. My lady..." He looked at her, hoping at least one sober thought would make its way back into her head.

The Young Wolf howled again, hand patting Aegon on the back as he choked.

"What got yer knickers in a twist, hm? We've got all the time in the world."

" 'Tis but the truth!" Aegon said through coughs. "Do not worry, brother. I'll escort my, how did you say it...Ah, yes! Knight in shining armor back to her chambers."

Aemond didn't need to hear much else. He turned his back to them abruptly and left. The two snickered as they watched him walk away.

"Yer brother-" The woman threw her hand back over his shoulders as they began walking once more.

"Tell me about it." Aegon interrupted, doing the same as her.

After a detour that led them to the Kitchen Keep where they stuffed their faces with whatever was left from the dinner, Prince Aegon and lady Stark made their way towards her chambers. He'd promised to escort his savior back and he intended to do it.

As they neared the door, Aegon stopped her.

"This was the most fun I've had in a long while. Thank you, my lady."

"Aye, same here. Hanging around those old farts ain't as fun as it may look." She snorted.

The two laughed once more, then she dissappeared into her chambers, ready to sleep off the remainder of the day.

Aegon felt the same. He flopped down on his bed the second he found himself close enough to do it without smacking his head in the floor.

The same thing repeated the next day. Except Aemond wasn't with them. As the good prince he was, he'd ran to tell his mother about what his older brother and the lady Stak were busying themselves with.

The lady found herself sitting between the two brothers on that feast. She'd pulled her chair as close as possible to Aegon. On their last "walk" around the capital, she'd introduced him to the Skull and Dice game. The two now sat close to eachother, whisper-shouting the word "skull" as they rolled the dice and drank from their cups.

Aegon's grandsire and Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, was sitting across them. He smiled softly. The two were perfect for eachother. They shared the same interests- be it in books, hobbies or drinks. Why his daughter refused to give her oldest to the Young Wolf, he had no clue. She came from a great house, was trained in battle and proved to be quite intelligent, from what he'd heard her say. Sure, she liked drinking and venturing out of the Red Keep, and would also pick fights left and right. But so did his grandson.

Otto had come to the realization that the woman that sat next to his grandson was the way she was, not because she got to grow up in a castle where servants tended to each and every need of hers, but because she was raised amongst soldiers. Something her father had made sure of, once he agreed with the fact he won't be getting a proper lady out of her. The soldiers' ways had simply rubbed off on her.

Another thing that Otto had come to realize was how observant lady Stark was. She could be laughing and telling jokes, enjoying herself and her youth, but her trained eyes and ears were always turned to what was going on around her. She was a true northerner- rough and savage, but also loyal to the core and honorable. She'd be the perfect match for Aegon. If only his daughter would come to listen...

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems." Everyone's attention turned to the King. His gold mask was shimmering in the light of the candles as he spoke. "My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena..."

Viserys turned to face his second son, eyes darting to his first one and the Stark girl. He could sense it, all Hells were about to break loose with next couple of words.

"And my son, Aemond, will marry lady Stark, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes..."

They all raised their cups, except the silver haired man and the woman that was sitting next to him.

"Hear, hear!" Came from the Prince Daemon as he turned to smile at his brother.

Aegon didn't hear him. He was now staring at the Young Wolf, silently asking if what his father had said was true.

"If you'd excuse me!" He damn near shouted, eyes trained on Aemond, who in turn was staring in shock at their mother. Unlike Aegon, he knew a third betrothal would be announced on this feast. What he didn't know was that he'll be the one marrying the Stark.

"Aegon! Come back!" Alicent yelled after him, ready to follow.

"Don't, me Queen. I'll bring him back."

"Did you know?"

The halls were silent, all that could be heard were the muffled, hushed voices of his family, as the lot tried to listen in on the conversation.

"Did you know about it?!"

The woman stomped her booth on the ground, the sword that was hanging on her side shaking with the intensity. It was a warning for the prince to lower his voice.

"Aye, my father sent me for a reason. I didn't know I'd be marrying yer brother though..."

The young woman had shut the doors as she made her way out and into the corridors. There was no point, the whole room was now sitting in silence, listening on Aegon scream his lungs out.

"You can't!You won't!" The prince yelled out.

"Oh, what do ya care? Yer not the one gettin' tied down against yer will! Yer free to do as ye wish!" She said, her voice booming over his.

"So you don't want to marry him?"

"Are ye fuckin' jokin' , Aegon, yer brother is a twat and a half!"

Inside the room, Daemon could be heard laughing without shame. Aemond's jaw clenched, his smirk dissappearing as he stood up. Rhaenyra slapped her husband's arm, even though she herself was sporting a smile.

"Then don't fucking do it!"

"And what am I supposed to do, huh? Get back in there and tell yer father, my King, that I don't approve? That I, the daughter of the man that had sworn an oath to him, will not do as I'm commanded?"

"You and your oaths and orders... Is your pride so important that you'll willingly go against what your heart desires?!"

"Pride?" The word came out as growl." If it were for me pride, I wouldn't even be here. But I gave a word to me father and did as I was told... And what do ya, ye spoiled cod, know of what me heart desires? Hm?!"

"I know I've come to love you. Just as you have." Aegon took her hands in his, soft thumb rubbing over her rough skin. "I know that I love spending time with you. Just as you do."

Silence fell upon the halls once more as the prince thought of his next words.

"I've never met someone like you before. Someone that is so...me. You like to drink, you curse, you fight. You know all the dirty jokes and all drinking games. And even with all that, you know when to put an end to it, even if you don't want to. You're not afraid to sock me in the face when you know I'm being an arse. Or drag me all the way to the small council meetings, so I could fulfill my princely duties. Sit with me through those never-ending history lessons, even though you'd rather go outside and train. You keep me grounded. You always know what to do. You always know what is right. I'd like to think that I, for once, know too. It's you. But if you insist on carrying out this order..."

His hands reached for her face.

"Marry me instead. You came here to a marry a dragon, right? There's one in front of you right now. Begging, pleading for you to take him."

Silence. Again. Aegon searched for her eyes, searched for an answer in them. But found nothing. He sighed heavily, hands falling to his sides. The prince walked around her, head hanging low in embarrassment. He reached for the door handles, ready to get back inside and drink himself into a stupor. Or untill the high-pitched ringing in his ears went away.

"Ye sure talk a lot... It's a good thing though, I won't have to waste my breath no more...with ya around."

Their eyes met.

"What? Ye plan on standin' there all night?"

The doors swung open before Aegon could reach her. He turned back around, his eyes meeting those of his father.

"Or both of you could just come back inside and sit down? Your King is to make a new toast..."

Rough fingers wrapped around Aegon's. She was standing right there, next to him. He looked up from their intertwined hands. A toothy smile had found its way on his future wife's face.

"As me King commands..."

Viserys turned his back to them as he slowly made his way to his seat. The two followed close behind.

"We're finishing the game, right?" Aegon whispered to her.

"Go find the dice, ye threw it as ya stormed out." She laughed quietly.

The Wolf and her Dragon entered the room once more, hand in hand.

#aegon ii x reader #stark!reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #hotd fanfic #dance of dragons #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd #game of thrones #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #accepting requests #requests open

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lee-sanghyeok · 5 months

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Okay as we know HYBE has been pivoting towards collaborations with games for their younger groups, such as Enhypen x Pokemon, Le Sserafim x Overwatch, and Newjeans x League of Legends. E-sports is a very lucrative market to tap into, so it's a smart move on their part.

So, I was thinking... what if Boynextdoor collaborates with Animal Crossing to make a cute, little song? The group's relatable, authentic vibe mirrors the cozy energy of Animal Crossing. In Animal Crossing, you have neighbours you can interact with, and they're the boys next door! If they wanna create additional material, they can use the boys' designated animal as a design for an Animal Crossing character!

A wolf for Jaehyun, a fox for Sungho, an otter for Riwoo, a cat for Taesan, a rabbit for Leehan (there are no fish characters in Animal Crossing currently, as far as I know), and a cub for Woonhak.

For a music video, they can blend real life scenes with 3D animation, much like 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit' but with updated technology, obviously.

Or a bit like the animation style of City of Ghosts (2021)

They can market it by having their mascots perform with them onstage, sell charms to put on your phone/bag, create a temporary campaign in Animal Crossing where you can play as the designated BND character, etc.

#boynextdoor

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literaila · 2 years

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do you want to follow?

spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer has to find a way to apologize--something that’s enough. but you don’t seem to care, either way.

abc’s masterlist.

warnings: angst, little spat, longer than usual, spencer is still dumb (obviously)

a/n: i... am not quite sure.

spencer doesn't ever use the radio.

not when he's alone in the car.

derek will play whatever he's listening to, tell spencer that it's a rite of passage, and if he doesn't know this song derek will never speak to him again.

it doesn't usually turn out like that.

rossi will listen to the sports station, shushing spencer when he tries to tell him the last time the cubs won the world series, and the probabilities of them winning this year.

everyone else prefers quiet, especially after a case. they like to lean their heads back, lift their feet onto the dash, take a deep breath and try to forget every little thing they've ever thought of.

every scream, every ounce of blood still staining their walls.

spencer can almost feel it; when someone is erasing the imagines from their mind. when jj starts humming because she's found some sort of serenity. when emily asks him about his weekend because she's finally got the energy to talk.

spencer knows when they've recycled one of their files. when they're no longer on the job.

he's never had the fortune of doing the same.

no, even when it's quiet in the car, something is always playing in spencer's brain. he can recall images with perfect clarity, can hear voices, and repeat words without even thinking about it.

when he drives home by himself it's to the white noise of a million memories.

he doesn't turn on the radio. and doesn't bother to try and forget what he already knows will haunt him.

he's fond of compartmentalization. of pretending that nothing matters.

except maybe this. you.

when he's driving home that night, spencer doesn't even think about the radio. he doesn't think about crime scene images or forensic details that might make or break this case.

no, he only plays his memories, quiet and distinct.

they're all of you, naturally.

"ben mentioned he was having someone over," you say, "you're..."

"spencer," he whispers back.

he reintroduced himself today. kept his eyes away, his hand frozen at his side.

it wouldn't have mattered. neither of you needed the introduction.

because "i didn't think i would see you again" you said to him once.

he hadn't even contemplated seeing you again.

it wasn't an easy thing, to look back over the memories. to fond over things that spencer couldn't even bring himself to miss. to think of you, and your laughter, and not feel that brand deep in his chest.

it wasn't an easy thing, to breathe through today without having a heart attack.

though, spencer's fairly certain that he's heartless. he hasn't seen any evidence to prove otherwise.

neither have you.

he drives home and listens to you slamming your car door over and over.

it's a practiced gesture. one that spencer never would have thought could matter so much.

he can hear himself calling your name--grating voice and wide eyes--eagerly looking for you.

"i just wanted to-"

"what, spencer?" your eyes were hard, vacant as you stared, almost looking past him. "wanted to let me know that you hadn't actually forgotten me?"

his words feel stale, now. like a mistake.

ruined by the years they'd been waiting to come out.

"or did you want to tell me 'i told you so?' are you going to gloat about being right?"

your voice is a hard recording in his mind. incomparable with the words from a younger version of yourself. the version that spencer seemed to understand, the version that wasn't looking at him.

a fly on the wall, a pest to be taken care of.

he can still feel the heat on his cheeks, the whirlwind exhilaration that came with talking to you.

he feels nothing--nothing--when he thinks of you now.

"what?" he'd asked, confused, shocked by your malice.

by the smile, cruel and cold.

he supposed he should have expected that. but, honestly, he didn't have time to consider that he'd ever get the chance to explain anything to you.

or that you might not let him.

"you never said how 'soon' it would be,” you throw the words at him like they’re knives “i guess eight years is enough time."

he'd repeated his question, but he wasn't sure why. he had no recognition of who was controlling his body, then. of who might be pushing him further towards the edge, just making you angrier.

he'd recognized the boldness, wanted to covet it in the protective closure of his hands. he wanted the memories--of you, of your smile, of your laughter, of that thing that spencer wouldn't even admit now--to remain intact.

but his grip was so strong, and memories are so often like glass.

they break.

"how's your mom?" you asked him with a silver tongue, a cruel nod towards him.

spencer could barely think to react.

but he knew that it wouldn't have mattered what he might've said then--in a parking garage, at work, eight years since the last time he'd seen you--you would've left anyway.

and you did, only allowing a quick scoff, a garbled word that sounded like really? before slamming the door in his face.

it replays now, like a warning.

like he should turn around.

but spencer's unable to forget. and he can't think of much else.

it's 9:03 am when spencer finally opens his phone.

when he gets the keyboard ready, and sits there with perfectly practiced posture, with a mind running ramped, and fingers waiting to type in the number he's already memorized.

spencer thought, at least, he could be considerate. he had penelope look up your office hours.

he had his coworkers staring at him with bemused smiles, had coffee pouring down his shirt, had twenty more seconds until the clock hit nine, and realized that he just couldn't call you.

not like this. not right now.

he couldn't just type in your number and make a request. he couldn't text you back or smile at strange emoticons.

he wasn't allowed to do this anymore.

and still, this was a part of his job. he was supposed to call you.

though, hotch hadn't explicitly said when.

so, three minutes past nine, spencer has no idea how he's going to greet you.

that is, if you even pick up the phone. spencer's not sure where you could've gotten his number, but he's pretty sure that if you have--if--you've already blocked it.

it's, at the very least, deserved.

still, he watches the clock tick. unlocks his phone again.

the battery's getting low.

he briefly thinks about sitting here all day. about listening to his friends theorize, about replaying your voice in his head until he can't breathe, and just never calling you.

it's certainly the easier option. even if he might get in trouble.

he can hear a car door slamming, can hear the sound of his heart completely dissipating.

he types in the area code.

apologizing is not enough. leaving you alone is not enough. pretending that nothing happened is not enough.

spencer's always struggled with this, see. being enough. knowing when to move forward and when to pull back.

he types in two more numbers and then double-checks the paper right next to him even though he knows that it's right.

he looks at the clock. it's 9:04. you've been at work for almost five minutes.

then, with no remaining ideas, solutions, or any sort of reason left in his head, spencer dials.

clicks the call button.

he listens to the ringtone--not really listening--and taps his knuckles against the desk.

there's no one else in the room, spencer knows, at least he has that.

at least if you yell at him over the phone no one else will hear. though, spencer might just quit if that happens.

he only waits for five seconds.

and then there's a quick and short: "hello?"

spencer feels the punch hit him directly in the chest.

he clears his throat. "hi?" he says, running a hand through his hair and scrambling to remember what he actually wants to say.

what he's supposed to be saying.

there's a pause, an exhale, and then your voice asking "can i help you?"

"i-" spencer hangs his head. looks up, tries not to start screaming. "it's spencer."

oh well, that should be enough.

"oh," you say, voice sounding much less warm than it was three seconds ago.

or maybe spencer's imagining things.

"i, um," he clears his throat again. "i was wondering- my team was wondering if you would be willing to do a walk-through of evan's room?"

spencer can hear ruffling on the other end, static he's not familiar with. "why do you want me-"

"mrs. jacobs--evan's foster mom--" spencer winces because yes, you already know that. "said that you would know more about it than she would, and it might help with our analysis."

silence plays on the line, though spencer is sure that you can hear his heart, running out of the room.

his arms have goosebumps and he's unable to move his legs.

this is a perfectly normal reaction, considering.

"with you?" you ask, five seconds later.

spencer sucks in a harsh breath, tells himself not to feel disappointed at the worry he can hear in your voice, tells himself not to feel anything at all.

he doesn't deserve that.

the words struggle to come out, but eventually, they do. "if that's-" he breathes in, running a hand through his hair. "if that's alright."

"okay," you whisper, and spencer recognizes it as something else. "i can be there at noon."

spencer nods his head, forgetting that you can't see him.

"oh, and," he bangs his head against a wall.

"yes?"

"you should probably save this number. just in case we need to contact you about-"

you hang up before he can finish that sentence.

spencer's been in many stranger's houses before. he's lived through thousands of different microorganisms. he's processed the germs, expelled them from his body, and pretended to breathe more times than he can count.

and still, he's never been more nervous.

it's not even the house.

the house is comforting, it's a sanctuary for children. a home, spencer thinks, he might've appreciated it if he was evan's age.

it's a place with many neutral colors, filled with clutter.

but spencer can't quite breathe.

and he thinks about going outside--about sitting in the car, counting the lines he can see on his knuckles, and just running away.

he thinks about leaving you here, about faking his death and moving to a foreign country. they wouldn't be able to find him there.

but then he remembers that you've already shown up here--you're already in virginia and there's no knowing if you'll just find him again.

or he'll find you. either way.

and so, spencer only paces around the room. he pretends to observe the different books, pretends to profile things that he just can't see right now.

a strange sort of shame fills his system. usually, he's better at his job.

he thinks about going outside again, about waiting for you at the door, about greeting you with a smile and letting you take the lead. he thinks about how this might be if he wasn't such an idiot.

but he doesn't go outside. it's 12:09 and you still haven't called him.

maybe you blocked his number.

spencer waits, admittedly restless, and speaks to a local officer about the intricacies of light.

he really wants to scream about how you're going to show up--maybe, spencer's still calculating the possibility of you standing him up--and he's going to die of a heart attack.

but he says nothing.

he waits until 12:17 to contemplate calling you again. he doesn't think it'll get him far.

and then it's been two minutes more, it's been anxiety and helplessness and a strange sort of immaturity that only comes with being in a little boy's house, and finally, someone knocks on the door.

spencer doesn't actually think it's you until he answers it.

until he touches the doorknob, the little thing he might just understand, and you're standing behind it.

this time, you don't smile.

"hi," you say. "sorry i'm late. traffic."

and, well, spencer knows all about the traffic. he also knows that it's 12:19 and no current traffic would make you this late.

but he doesn't say anything about that. just purses his lips. "show me the way?" he says and his throat feels dry.

his body feels swallowed whole by all of the things he can't even begin to understand.

whatever.

"sure," you breathe out, not looking at him, and walk right by.

you don't even dare touch him.

he doesn't dare notice that.

you don't say anything to him about yesterday, about the phone call, or anything ever.

he doesn't know if he wants you to.

spencer follows you as you walk up the stairs, pretending not to count, not to notice your fast pace, or your indignant posture.

he doesn't say anything as you lead him to evan's room. he doesn't have any clue what to say ever.

you open the door, walking through, not looking back to spencer, but when spencer meets you in the room--he feels he understands why.

at least a little bit more.

your face contorts, which spencer notes out of the corner of his eye, as you look around. your hand goes out to touch something, then immediately retreats.

your brow is furrowed.

"you- you've been here a lot?" spencer asks, noting how your eyes are still on the shoes in the middle of the floor.

you swallow, don't look towards him. spencer's not even sure if you're breathing. "yeah, i..." you turn, look at the walls. your jaw is tense. "i make a lot of home visits, just to talk to my kids. evan, he, um," you shake your head, squeeze your eyes shut. "he got really attached-" you pause and laugh. "i guess i did too."

spencer pretends not to notice the way your head tilts back. the way your blinking speeds up and he can see your hands shaking at your sides.

he briefly forgets to think about anything else.

he wants nothing more than to let you release whatever you're pushing away from him. whatever you don't want him to see.

"he was homesick?" spencer guesses, trying so hard not to prod.

you nod. "his parents died in a car accident. it was quick. no, um, no extended hospital stays. they had a small family."

"how long has he been with the jacobs'?" spencer asks, even though he already knows the answer.

he read the file.

"six months now," you swallow. "he said his room was his own 'little cave.'"

"that's why mrs. jacobs didn't know if there was anything important in here?"

again, you nod, you don't look at spencer, you don't turn around. you stare at the wall. he can barely stand to look at you.

"i think it was something his parents used to say. he's a shy kid, and values his privacy."

spencer nods, but you can't see that.

"i was allowed in because i was his friend," you whisper, and spencer can barely pick up on the words.

but he can feel it from five feet away, the slowing of your breath, the picking up of your heart rate.

it's a familiar sort of grief.

"do you notice anything different?" spencer asks if only to distract you.

"no," you shake your head, finally look behind you again. but it's not at spencer. "it looks the same. you'd have to ask his parents if anything was missing."

spencer nods. "you- you mentioned something about being allowed in. was there anything in here that evan was secretive about? something that no one else would know?"

your head tilts up, your eyes glance away. "yeah," you whisper.

"where?"

you move towards the bed, undoing the covers and removing the sheets from the head of the bed. spencer watches with curious eyes. "here," you say, nodding towards a book hidden beneath everything else. "he liked to read at night."

you look over to the nightstand, open the door and take out a flashlight. "he made me promise not to tell."

spencer can feel the beginnings of a smile on his face, though, he doesn't let it slip. "anything else?"

you lift the mattress next, hands still shaking. "he put candy wrappers under here."

spencer must make a noise because you look at him, your eyes are a wonder that he can't even begin to explain.

they look nothing like they used to.

"i was helping him build a fort when i noticed. he didn't want to explain."

spencer swallows. pretends that his chest isn't burning. "that's fairly common in children his age. often it's about learning the limits of the household and testing boundaries. but for someone in evan's position, it's likely that he didn't understand the expectations of food and was still learning and adapting to new routines."

you nod but don't say anything.

"do you know about anything else?"

you move the covers back over the mattress, carefully putting the pieces of the bed back together. spencer stays silent, familiar with this routine.

and when you turn to him you shake your head. "does any of that help?" you ask, and it's like you're not talking to him.

it's like you've decided to pretend he's someone else if only to get some answers.

spencers hands clench at his side. "yes."

your brow furrows. "you're going to get him home, right?"

"i-" spencer realizes that you're finally looking at him and freezes. he tries to think, wills his body to take over control, but can't manage to say anything else.

you blink rapidly, watching him.

and then you take a step back like you're too close. like he might infect you from that proximity.

spencer can see it in your eyes.

"i have to-" you pause, breathe, look towards the ceiling. "can i go now? is there anything else you need?"

finally, spencer's able to shake his head.

you nod, look away from him, curl even further into yourself.

and then you walk away.

it takes spencer seven seconds.

seven seconds of wondering, of replaying your conversation in his head, of replaying every glance you gave him, every inhale of breath, every memory of a smile on your face.

it takes him seven seconds to finally think.

and then he follows after you.

he goes down the stairs, out the door, pretending not to know what he's doing, pretending that none of this means a single thing to him and that it's all fine.

pretending that he's not following you, for the first time.

he calls your name, remembers you slamming the door in his face, and still walks forward.

you pause, eyes puffy and expectant.

it takes everything in spencer to pretend that he doesn't know you were crying.

"did you miss something?" you ask him, not seeming to notice how flighty he feels, how flustered.

you don't smile, don't tease him about anything.

god, how he wishes you would just make another joke.

"i just-" he breathes in, swallows, tries to tell himself how much of a mistake this is, and then: "i just wanted to make sure that you're okay. i know-" he shakes his head. "i'm here if you need to talk about anything."

you blink, once, twice.

and then you look away from him.

spencer can actually see you putting distance between the two of you, pushing yourself as far away as you can get from him.

he can see the flashes in your eyes, something that reminds him of fire.

"are you okay?" he asks before he can even think about the consequences.

you laugh like this is all a cruel joke. quietly, you say, "you don't get to do this."

spencer's brow furrows, and he tries to move back. "what?"

you look at him, look away. "you don't get to do this." you repeat. "you don't get to walk up to me and act like we're friends and ask me if i'm okay-"

spencer tries to speak, tries to breathe, tries to think without getting distracted.

but you continue: "you can't just pretend that this is normal, that you haven't done anything to me. you don't get to pretend that everything is fine."

spencer swallows. "i'm not trying to do that."

you scoff. "you left, spencer. you don't get to act like that didn't happen."

spencer thinks about every single mistake he's ever made.

he thinks about a different possibility, one that he shouldn't be thinking of.

he looks at you and can feel his body burning.

"i waited for months for you to come back, and now, eight years later, maybe i'm finally okay that you didn't. maybe i'm not. it doesn't matter though, because you don't get to care anymore," your voice is rough, hard, and spencer can feel his bones being ground down with every word.

he tries to speak, but there's nothing in his throat. "i'm sorry," he says, he thinks, but it's not enough.

you still laugh.

"and you don't get to apologize!" you look at him, watching his eyes, he can see your body moving again. "i'm not doing this with you. you don't get to explain anything to me."

spencer gets it. he gets nothing.

"i didn't mean to offend you," he whispers, still looking at you. it's the first thing he's managed to say clearly.

and it's not enough. it doesn't feel like enough.

spencer can still feel that weight, that foolish feeling, that irritating guilt that won't just leave him alone.

but some part of him is glad.

he deserves that.

you watch him, seem to notice something on his face that he can't feel, and your eyes get wide.

you shake your head and scoff again.

"i can go," spencer says, looking away, finally. "really, i'll make sure that any more communication is with someone else-"

"spencer," you sigh out.

it's a plead, a beg for him to stop.

he does. he stops moving, stops speaking, stops thinking at all.

"we're adults," you say like it's a realization. "i'm not going to get in your way of finding an innocent little boy."

"i shouldn't have-"

"you're right. but i shouldn't-" you shake away everything.

spencer feels a splash of water fall on his face.

you shake your head again. "i shouldn't be treating you like this. i'm," you swallow, don't look at him. "i'm sorry. for yesterday and today. it's been eight years. we're nothing."

the last part isn't for him, spencer knows that.

"i can be civil. we're adults, " you say to him, voice quieter, calmer than before. "i won't... snap at you again. you just-" you sigh, drop your head into your hands.

and spencer understands. he gets it.

he doesn't know anything. he doesn't know how to be enough or how to fix this.

but he does know when to stop. his stubbornness has limits, and you seem to be one of them.

he doesn't want to win this when he knows that you've just been crying.

he never wants to win with you. he accepts defeat with open arms.

he hopes that he can forget this, as long as he lets it go.

"i won't do that, anymore," spencer says to you, but he doesn't quite know what that is.

is it thinking about you?

is it breathing in your proximity?

is it replaying your smile, again and again, and hoping that somehow it will shift onto your face now.

you nod. "thank you," you say, but spencer doesn't deserve your gratitude.

nothing.

he doesn't say a thing, finally manages to control his body again.

wills his heart to stop. tells himself that it's over.

over and over again.

"i- just, call if you need me, again."

spencer nods.

"i'm glad you're doing okay," you whisper, so low that spencer can barely hear it.

and then you're gone again.

spencer takes a deep breath in, telling his body to shut down. letting himself know that it's okay to forget this.

to remember nothing.

he tries to take in air, tries to collect his thoughts, tries to be anything but enough.

he contemplates the definition of nothing.

though, spencer can't quite decide what it means.

next part.

my masterlist here.

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